#she doesn't have a lot of time as she makes it out to be

[valentinedrifter]

Days with Somi: Expression

male reader x Jeon Somi

~13.9k words

A/N: I apologize if the plot (there's plot?) doesn't make sense because all the recent Somi pics got me dented in the head.

Thanks to @suchsweetstories for the beta read!

Enjoy.

Jeon Somi loves having sex. 

Specifically, having sex with you.

You call it her ‘love language’. Her way to shower you with affection. Which you have to admit, for someone like Somi, checks off all of the boxes.

Receiving Gifts? Being able to fuck her on the daily is a gift itself. Especially when she offers up anal.

Physical Touch? You can spank her ass and grope her tits and she’d tell you to do it again. She even encourages you to do it as much as you want.

Quality Time? She’d fuck you anywhere if she gets in the mood. Your apartment, her apartment, the fast food restaurant’s bathroom, your car in a public parking lot. The post-sex cuddles you have with her are amazing too.

Words of Affirmation? Her screams of, quote: “Fuck, yes, more–” are enough to push you to go harder. She’s also expressing her appreciation of how good you’re pounding her pussy.

Acts of Service? Either she wakes you up with a blowjob or you wake her up by eating her out. It usually ends with one–sometimes both–of you being late to work. It’s one hell of an alarm clock though.

Sex has become a pivotal portion of your life ever since you started seeing her for a couple of months now. And it’s not like you’d ever say no to doing it with Somi. You made that mistake once, and while it was…an experience, you’d rather not have to call in sick because she fucked you too hard. 

It’s the fact that sex is the only consistent way she shows her feelings for you that makes it feel a little bit superficial. 

She comes over to your apartment angry at how the latest batch of makeup she made was shipped to the wrong address? She won’t ask you for comforting hugs, she’ll tell you to push her legs over her head and dick her down till she can’t walk. 

You get frustrated over the new Return-To-Office policy your job announced because the office is an hour drive? She won’t say a word, just pull your pants down and squeeze your cock in between her tits.

You won’t lie, sex with Somi is Grade A, Top Tier, Perfection. You’ll never get tired of her body, her moans, her willingness to do anything. What you are tired of, is the absence of romance—for the lack of a better term—in your life.

Not in the physical way, no, she already gives you enough to last a lifetime. It’s that the emotional link that you feel was starting to degrade.

You want to be able to do the whole “Netflix and Chill” bit without it ending in the couch getting wet. To be embracing her as you wake up in the mornings. To spend the day doing nothing together.

And it wasn’t like she doesn’t say the words that you’ve been wanting to hear, because she does. She just says it with ‘your cock’ instead of ‘you’ a lot more than you’d like.

You’re starting to think that this is becoming more casual, something to scratch her itch, some sort of fuck buddy set up instead of as a couple. Maybe when this relationship with Somi was still at its infancy would you consider that type of deal–purely physical–because that’s what this was built on.

Thinking back, it’s how it’s always been. Even as she first approached you at the bar you two met. She ordered what you had—a shot of whiskey—and started off with small talk. You two got to know each other, and you may have had a few too many shots that made your lips a bit looser. 

That’s why when you drunkenly tell her that she was hot in that white crop top she was wearing, and that you wanted to lick the alcohol off her stomach, all she does is smirk. The next words she said sobered you straight up.

“When and where?”

And that’s how you ended up playing body shots inside her apartment. It started off innocent enough. Well, as innocent as playing the sort of game that inevitably gets you both drunk and fucked.

You two kept in touch after that night. After a week or so of trading messages and a few racy pics from her, she invited you to meet up again.

This is when the cycle began. One of you invites the other to meet up for something, you do said something, and you two end up doing each other after. Then it happens again.

Somewhere along the way feelings were aired out and you two started to see each other more seriously. At the same time, railing Somi into any nearby surface became a 9-5 job.

Yet you can’t help but want more than that.

To be honest, you might be overthinking things. Maybe you should have sat her down, talked like two responsible adults, and figured out whatever’s happening between you two—really just you—before it got out of hand.

So you do the responsible move. Ask a friend for advice. 

Although, you might have asked the wrong person.

���You’re overthinking things.” Aeri deadpans, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’m not overthinking it.” You deny. “I’m just…stressing about it.”

“That’s the same thing.” 

“Look, are you gonna help out or not?” You scowl, crossing your arms.

“Fine. But you’re presenting to the boss next week.” She sighs, dramatically placing her drink down on the table. “Here’s what you do–”

The next hour becomes a weird lecture consisting of Aeri laying out an entire thesis of plans on how to woo Somi with your heart and not with your dick. You needed to note it all down just to make sure you didn’t miss anything.

After some planning and finalizing some dates, you settled on a beach trip. It was ordinary, casual, relaxing. A chance to have fun without too many shenanigans involved. You can even take her to the nearby festival that’s going to take place for some celebration too.

Of course, the trip being with Somi makes that a pipe dream. 

Day one was mostly spent on actually getting to the venue, getting a feel for the area, and checking into the hotel. 

And everything was going great. It was all going according to plan. After you take a break from all the driving you’ve done you told yourself that you’d take her out to see the tourist spots.

Said break is how you two end up at the hotel’s restaurant, enjoying the cuisine of different nations, the aroma of delicacies, the sound of the piano fluttering across the air. You had to veto room service because no breaks and no eating would happen otherwise.

“Oh my God.” The clattering of metal hitting ceramic fills the table. “I’m so full.” Somi’s slouched over the chair, hand over her stomach as you finish up your own plate.

“You did get two plates worth of dumplings.” You shrug, stabbing your fork down on a leaf. “And the crab too.”

“But it was so good.” She’s justifying, arms out across the table. “I kinda want more.”

“And make your ass explode all over the bathroom later?”

“Fuck you.” She laughs, throwing a napkin at your face. “Like you won’t be doing that later.”

“O–kay.” You exasperate, gesturing down. “Not in front of my salad.”

“Come on.” Her chin’s resting on a hand, tilting her head as she smirks. And it’s that smirk, that fucking smirk, that always precedes your downfall to the drug that is Somi. 

Ruining her is usually an eventuality, especially given that you’re going to be alone with her for the next few days. But this time, you will not falter. You remind yourself why you’re here, what the point of this entire trip was about. That this is to show her how much you–

Oh Goddamnit.

Somi’s finger is on her tank top, stretching the fabric outwards. Her tits are practically squished together, making them a lot more bigger than they already are. Then she pulls down, and you find out that she wasn’t wearing a bra this entire time. You also find out that the only thing that was on her boobs were a pair of nipple tape covering her buds.

“You sure you don’t want to?” Her finger’s moving across her top, showing you more of that milky white skin, and she knows that you’re getting hooked. “I even brought lube.”

“Somi-” Your hand springs up, slapping her hand away and pulling her top back up in one smooth motion. “I thought we said no funny business outside the hotel.”

“We’re still in the hotel aren’t we?” Of course she’s gonna pull semantics at you. “Just a little quickie before we head out for the festival.”

The line’s set, and you’re tugging it. “You just can’t help yourself, can you.” 

She’s lifting her arms above her head, emphasizing her chest, her tight clothing rising with it to show her stomach, defined and toned from all the yoga lessons she’s been doing. You unconsciously grip the table sheets.

“I just wanna show my appreciation for my sweet, sweet boyfriend-” She’s reeling you in, hard, and you inevitably let yourself be swept away. “-who set up this entire trip and drove me all the way here so early in the morning.”

You’re thinking of happy thoughts, the logistics of the rest of the trip that you have yet to do with her, the caesar salad that you’ve been enjoying. Anything to stop yourself from appreciating the view right in front of you because this is getting out of hand.

The chair screeches. “So whenever you’re done here,” Somi’s standing up, giving you a very nice view of her cleavage as she does. “I’ll be heading back up and getting myself ready.” That smirk is still on her face when she leans in. “Maybe if you’re fast enough you can have a piece of my ass.”

Your resolve is officially gone, the idea of having Somi’s sweet, tight ass once more becoming too tempting as she walks away, waving her keycard at you like it was some sort of prize. Your eyes are glued to her waist moving from side to side.

Sinker.

—

You had to sit and wave at the waiter to pay for the food. Normally you’d go right up to the cashier to do that but a particular brunette made it hard to stand up. Once you manage to get up from your seat without your hard-on in full display to the other patrons, you immediately speed walk it to the elevator. 

You’re falling back into the same repetition of Somi causing trouble, dragging you to another round of debauchery. You already tried to set ground rules by only doing it inside the hotel, but you suppose you’ll need to re-negotiate it to just being in the hotel room.

Which, thinking on it, was where you were going. Sigh.

She’s irresistible, and she knows it. Shit, she flaunts it whenever she can around you because she knows you’ll give in eventually.

Maybe you can slip in one dose of Jeon Somi’s tight ass before you move on with your plan to take her out for a romantic date. Considering the plan’s already screwed up as it is, all cause Somi—and by extension, you—decided to have some fun. 

Though, you really should stop this. Say no. Sounded simple enough. Just one word. Lay it out flat.

But the seed’s already planted. The picture of her in your hotel room, waiting, naked, touching herself, prepping for all the dirty things you’ll be doing to her; Your inhibitions get shot to pieces.

You already know what’s going to happen when you walk through that door. She’ll be somewhere in the room—the balcony, you bet—ready for you to ravish her. And for all intents and purposes, you might as well enjoy the detour.

Soon as you open the door to your hotel room, the TV’s blaring out music and the bathroom door’s open. You take your shoes off before walking up to the doorway to be greeted with the unholy sight of Somi.

Naked, leaned into the bathroom counter where she uses the mirror to glance at you, her ass swaying as one of her hands are in between her legs and the other resting on the cold marble right next to a clear little bottle.

“Hey there.” She sighs out. “Just–finishing up.” Her eyes are fluttering shut, two fingers pumping into her puckered hole, already knuckle deep at this point. Somi knows the drill when it comes to preparing herself for anal; she has it down to a science at this point.

Her hand slides over to the bottle, pushing it towards you as a silent suggestion before she ruffles her hair, making her all the more ruinable. You’re shaking your head, but you step behind her anyway, unbuckling your belt in the process.

“Always a tease.” You’re pulling your pants down, your boxers following after to let your cock feel the cold air of the bathroom.

“Like you don’t love it.” She replies, orbs blinking open, looking at you through the mirror with fuck me eyes as she pulls her hand away from her hole. “Ready when you are.”

You’re applying an ample amount of lube onto your cock, stroking to help cover your entire shaft as you move closer, resting yourself on her ass. “You’re excited.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ve been horny ever since we got in the car.” 

You scoff. “You’re always horny.” 

She laughs. “Who wouldn’t when you have that cock–” Your tip’s pressing against her asshole, making her unable to reply as she feels you push into her. It’s splitting her open, her tight, slick ass taking you in slowly.

“Hurry up.” She’s taking deep, steady breaths as she presses back onto your cock, adjusting to the feeling of your cock inside her, taking even more of you as you grip her hips. As you bottom out, she lets out a groan, smiling through the pain of taking your entire dick up her ass.

“You’re getting impatient.” A hand lifts up from her hip to grab one of her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh. “Thought you’d wanna take your time.”

“You still gotta take me to that festival.” She moans out as you’re pulling out slowly, letting her get used to your size before you stretch her out again. She clenches around you, impossibly tight, as you slowly begin to buck into her. “And I wanna get to–Fuck, that’s it–get to the beach too.”

She loops one of her hands around her neck as a harness, pulling herself up to give you a kiss. “So as much as I want to enjoy this–“ Another sigh slips out of her, the pleasure slowly erasing any of the pain that she’s feeling. “–You need to dick me down, fast, so we can enjoy our vacation.”

You smile, dipping down to pepper kisses around her neck. “Something we agree on, babe.” Your thrusts progressively get faster into her, enjoying the feel of her ass, the lube doing wonders for the both of you as she braces herself once more on the counter.

She’s so unbelievably snug, the feel of her abs flexing on your hand as she sucks you in so much easier now, the wet, sticky, warm hole overtaking your mind as you get to pounding her asshole.

”Fucking missed this ass, didn’t you?” She’s watching you over the reflection, your gaze laser focused on the bounce of her ass. It was hypnotizing, seeing it recoil from how hard you’re ramming your cock into her. 

“I never say no to your ass.” You grunt out, gripping her hip a bit firmer, squeezing her tit a bit harder, hammering a bit faster as you enjoy hearing her whimper your name out, her hand shooting up to hold onto yours as she shifts her body to lean into you instead.

”Then ruin my ass–“ She’s grinning, squeezing her breast over your hand. Her other hand is moving back down between her legs again, circling her clit, adding even more to the bliss she’s feeling. “–ruin it for anyone else.”

You oblige, hand crashing down on her ass before you grip her again, near the small of her back this time as you get rougher, thrusts getting more frantic as she starts to sing all these filthy words out.

“God, love you in my ass. Love it when you stretch my ass out, filling me, breaking me.” She’s on a tangent, muttering out all these porn star-y lines as if she is one, and honestly? She can probably make bank if all she had to do was take dick. “Gonna–Gonna make me your whore, aren’t you? Make me take your cock in all my tight fucking holes till I can’t fucking walk anymore–”

A sharp crack airs out, followed by a chuckle, slow, breathy, enticing. Her tongue’s out, tracing her lips. “Do it again. Slap my ass some more.”

And you do it. God do you do it. Your palm’s leaving hard slaps on her skin, leaving it with red marks that gets her even more fucked up as she watches, mouth widening at how much you’re utterly obsessed with her and her ass.

“Only think about cock nowadays don’t you, you stupid bitch.” You pinch a bud, giving her another slap on the ass. Whether she tightens up from the slap or the degrading nickname, you can only guess. “Guess it’s a good thing you’re getting mine.”

”Yes, love your cock–“ Somi’s rubbing herself faster now, fingers getting desperate as you slam harder into her hole, unrelenting. “Own this ass–” Her eyes are rolling back, her entire body starts to tremble, losing herself as she grips the counter again, letting herself be used like a doll. 

”Oh, fuck–“ She lets out this scream, raw, husky as liquid starts to drip out of her, dripping down her legs all the way to the tiles. Her head slacks downward, eyes shutting, her ass somehow gets even more vice-like than you thought it could get, making you murmur out a curse, reluctantly pulling out of her ass to stop yourself from following her.

Her fingers are persistent, working her clit when you spread her ass, looking at her gaping hole. You grip your shaft, lowering it down to her pussy, slick from her cum, dragging it up and down, the feeling of her heat making you wet your lips.

She shudders when you push inside her cunt, legs still shaking as you bury deep inside her. Her ass may have been tighter, but the feeling of her pussy being so much more slicker and the way it was radiating heat makes you groan out.

“Miss my pussy too?” She purrs, using the mirror to look at the both of you. Her hair’s a mess, brown strands sticking out all over the place, tongue playfully peeking out as that damn smirk forms on her mouth while you start fucking her.

“Just getting a taste.” You’re wrapping your arms around her, locking eyes with Somi through the glass as you lean in to whisper in her ear. “Promise to cum inside your ass.”

She grins, leaning back, mouth dropping open as you start to pick up the pace, her  body rocking forward every time you get balls deep inside of her. “You better. Want that cum filling up my ass, baby.”

You’re still focused on her face, from the way her eyes are rolling back again, from how rough you pummel into her, her mouth that’s panting out moans and begging for more of you, your cock, your cum. Her gaze never loses sight of you, watching you pound her into the marble.

Then you feel it. That all-familiar stirring in your balls, making you go feral, and she can sense it too, by how she pushes back against your hips, letting her take you for a ride.

You’re holding onto her tits, squeezing the soft flesh, rolling her nipples between your fingers, tugging at them, while Somi’s grounding herself by the counter as she’s bucking, grinding her ass against you whenever she takes you all in.

Her ass is fucking unbelievable to look at, soft, firm, bouncing with this rhythm that edges you closer to the end. The slaps of her backside hitting your pelvis is all you can hear, fueling you further to bursting. That tightness in your balls is building, the feel of her wet, hot pussy sending you to the deep end before you spill inside her.

“Gonna cum, Somi, fuck–” You lock up, going for one last push to cross the finish line as you send it, deep, filling her completely with your length.

The pressure breaks, hands sliding down to hold onto her curves, locking her in place as you cum, shooting up her pussy, the few hot spurts painting her walls. Then you remember where you’re supposed to cum, and pull out abruptly. Cum’s still leaking out as you press your tip into her asshole, flooding her pucker with your load.

“That’s it.” She stills, moaning in tune with every pulse of your cock, filling her ass, rolling her hips as you thrust, stuffing her with cock, giving her every bit of your cum. “So much hot, fucking cum all inside me.”

You slump over Somi, resting your head by her nape, completely spent and she’s glowing. As if your cum was some sort of energy drink that invigorates her, looking like she wasn’t pounded into the bathroom sink. 

“So–” She plants this sloppy kiss on your cheek, a snicker coming out of her as she rests her head on yours. “My ass still as good as you remember?”

“Always.” You sigh out, pulling out of her and drawing her into your arms. “Now shut up and let me have this moment.”

Her lips curve upwards, air scoffing out through her nose as she leans into you, running a hand through your hair, damp from your past actions. She leaves another kiss on your shoulder, soft, loving.

“This is nice,” she mutters out, nestling underneath you.

You hum in agreement, seeing yourself smiling over the reflection of the mirror.

Even if you two have done this so many times, you’d never get tired of having Somi in your arms.

—

After the bathroom incident, you both took a shower—separately, of course, you didn’t want any more unpredicted scenes happening—and walked to the nearby festival. Fucking about in the short trip to the venue was something you’d expect coming from her.

“Why is the festival so far away from the beach?” Somi’s fixing her bucket hat, using the nearby window of a cafe as a mirror. “You said that it was nearby.”

“It is.” You place a hand on the small of her back, steering her away from the window where people were definitely watching her model for free. “It’s a ten minute walk.”

“That’s ten minutes too long though-” And the countdown’s at five. You’re rushing her to the crossing, guiding her out of any more trouble. “-and my feet are starting to hurt.”

“Somi, we just got out of the hotel.” You deadpan. “And how does your feet hurt in All-Stars?” You stop at the other side, turning your head to face her.

“Because you’re walking too fast, jackass.” She pouts. It’s not something you see everyday from her. “Slow down a bit, enjoy the scenery.”

You know what she meant by ‘scenery’. It was Somi-speak for ‘Let’s find a place for a quickie’. One more way to derail this break you’ve planned for weeks. And you were not gonna fall for it a second time.

“Somi.” Your voice is stern, calling her out on her bullshit. “Seriously, not outside.”

She rolls her eyes, lips jutting out just enough for it to look adorably pissed off. “It’s just a joke–”

“No, it wasn’t.” You cut her off. “I know you. And that’s not a joke.”

Some would think you’re being too harsh on her. Normally, you’d agree. But you need to put your foot down this time. The glare on your face surprises her, like she wasn’t expecting you to push back on something that’s become the norm in your relationship.

She’s a walking trouble magnet. Anytime, anywhere. It didn’t matter if it was a risky fuck in a public bathroom or getting fingered at a park. If she wants to get off, she’ll more than likely drag you to it. She usually expects you to follow through. Do whatever type of fucking on whatever surface is nearby. 

You can tell she doesn’t like hearing it. It was foreign. Unfamiliar territory that she’s stepped on. Wasn’t like you want to say it either, because you don’t. But Somi was pushing, even with that ‘hotel only’ rule-thing in place. 

Somi knows it. She had to. It’s why she hasn’t said anything. Only stared, searching, sighing. You know you’ve won when she adjusts her bucket hat and purses her lips together.

“You’re no fun today.” She says, wrapping her arms around yours, hiding her face from your gaze, and mutters something you barely heard.

“...But I get it.”

You let air come out through your nose, and relax just a tiny bit. Enough for her to know that you’re not truly mad, and maybe a tad bit disappointed. Her arms tighten their grip. She exhales, dramatic, exaggerated, theatrical.

“I hope you know that you owe me one later.” Her smirk is creeping back onto her face, the teasing coming back in full swing. And perhaps, even a bit of understanding slipping in.

“Yeah, yeah.” You shake your head, giving her an amused little smile. “Put it on the tab.”

She giggles, leaning into your side as you continue walking. Her head turns.

“Is that coconut?” She asks, leaning just a bit more to smell your scent.

“Yeah, why?” You’re turning a corner, a small sign pointing to the festival’s venue stuck on a wall.

“Nothing.” She gets comfy in your arms, resting her head on your shoulder. “Smells nice, is all.”

This is nice too; Quiet, comfortable, enjoying each other’s company.

Until you feel it. The crowd getting thicker, the chatter and the footsteps matching the beat of the traditional drums. You felt livelier, hell, the entire place felt alive, and the smell of mouthwatering, rich, smoky, meat enters you.

Rows upon rows of food stalls are lined up; The sizzling meat, the cold boba, the multitude of grub tempting you to take part in it.

“Oh my God.” Somi lets go of your arm, slipping downward to hold your hand instead. Her stare is darting, left, right, looking between the display of delicious delights. She feels warm. “We are so eating first.”

“I thought you said you were full.”

“After what we did earlier, I need a little pick me up.” She’s dragging you to the nearby booth, the aroma of sweet, sweet meat filling your nostrils, and by God you wanted one too.

Sausages, kebabs, fishcakes. Everything looked so good you can’t choose where to start. It’s a good thing Somi does, as she takes a skewer of pork—maybe beef? You weren’t sure—and a cup of fishcakes, already pulling out change from her handbag to pay the vendor, giving her thanks while she’s at it.

She turns to you, already taking a bite of her skewer, taking the top piece off before she practically moans.

“This is sho good.” She’s shameless with the food, swiping her tongue to get the sauce off her lips, the sounds coming out of her bordering pornographic, getting her the occasional odd stare from others. “You want some?”

Shit, if the smell didn’t tempt you, the way she ate the meat would have.

She’s offering you the stick, and you were about to take it off her hands before she pulls it away, an “uh-uh” coming out disapprovingly. 

“What?” You ask, looking back at her, head tilted, giving you a look. She holds it up one more time, closer to your mouth this time. 

Your eyes cycle back and forth from hers to the stick, trying to figure if there’s some sort of ulterior motive that Somi’s trying to pull. But seeing her round ebony globes turn to crescents, face grinning, brows wagging lets you know that she really does want to feed you her meat. 

Your breath catches briefly before you let out this airy laugh. This doesn’t feel remotely close to the Somi you know, but you’re enjoying it either way.

“Unbelievable.” You mutter out, leaning in to bite the cube of flesh off the stick, chewing it slowly, savoring the flavor of the meat—definitely pork—and the sweet taste of the sauce it was dipped on before Somi bought it off the stall.

“Told you it’s good.” She’s already smug about it, finishing up the skewer before she uses the stick to dig into the fishcakes. “Almost as good as yours.”

“Did–did you just compare me to pork?” 

“Yours is still the best, babe.” She’s smirking, putting a piece of cake into her mouth before walking away. “Let’s go see what else is on the menu.”

You two move through the area, trying out whatever peaks catches your interest, like those fish bread that had bean paste inside, some fried dumplings, and a bowl of spicy ramen that you could get for free if you ate it within the set time limit. 

Both you and Somi left that shop a few bills short and egos bruised.

Your tongue is scorching from the heat and spices of whatever monstrosity of a ramen bowl you just ate, half tempted to take off your jacket while you’re at it and Somi’s wiping a tear from her eye, huffing short breaths. Just trying to recover from how fucking spicy the noodles were, and trying to salvage any shred of pride you two have.

“I think I’m dying.” She hisses out, fanning her face with her bucket hat. “We need milk or something. Anything. Just–what the fuck was in that ramen–just needs to be cold.”

You're scanning the nearby stalls, trying to find something that can alleviate this flame burning your mouths. Ice cream, shakes, something freezing. You’d take plain old water if it was kept frozen for hours on end.

Then you see it. Squeezed between two vendors, condensation dripping down the glass dispenser, ice and lemons floating over the body of water within. You can feel how cold it is from a mile away. It’s a Godsend, a light to guide you out of this hell, and Somi sees it too, speed walking towards the kiosk with you right behind her.

As soon as you approach the owner, he’s already preparing cups as if he knows everyone who’s tried the ramen came to his stall. Freezing cubes, citrusy yellow fruits, chilly H2O, all combined into a concoction that would bring forth paradise to the inside of your lips.

Somi doesn’t bother with a straw, she just pops the lid open and starts chugging it down while you’re still paying for your drinks, saying your thanks as you start drinking your own plastic cup. It’s refreshing, dousing the blaze in icy cold liquid.

The lemonade does its job, allowing a respite to finally breathe again. Somi’s already finished her drink, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, letting out a laugh.

“We’re checking every instant ramen pack we buy after that.” She says, shaking her head, blowing air through her mouth, still feeling the effects of the noodles. You let out this hum of agreement, too occupied with the bliss of the cold refreshment.

“Oh yeah.” You finally sigh out, licking your lips. “That was worse than your cooking.”

She swats your arm, light but firm enough to make you almost drop your juice. 

“My cooking’s great!” Her brows furrow, cheeks puffing out.

“Exactly. That was made by the Devil. Anything’s better than that.” You shift your grip, making sure that nothing spilled onto your hand while giving her a look.

She rolls her eyes, muttering about how ‘ungrateful’ you are when her gaze flickers past you; Her brows raise, jaw slacking slightly making you turn your head to follow her sight.

Your lips were about to part, to ask her what she’s looking at, until a deep boom cuts through the festival. It was slow, steady, pulsing, shaking the ground with each beat. Everyone around you stirs, turning to the source near the open area in the middle. You see costumed dancers with large fans on their hands. The beat of the drums goes faster, and you’re unconsciously taking Somi by the wrist, pulling her towards the performance. 

The show is spectacular; the colors of their dresses swirling around, the lights bouncing off them. They dance like a well-oiled machine, giving the spectators a show of a lifetime.

Your head turns, glancing at Somi, who’s just as immersed as you were, a glow in her those small orbs that you can get lost in that only ever shows when she’s gazing at things she cares intimately about. The orange light frames her face perfectly, the flickering shining through, a rawness in how she’s watching being written in her visage.

You can tell that she’s not just watching. The way her lips are still parted, her body nodding to the beat. She’s taking it in, losing herself in it, oblivious to the outside world. Oblivious to your staring.

Everyone’s focused on the dancers, the ballad of drums thumping along with each step they take, the muttering of the crowd as they’re wow’d by the show blending in with the smell of the nearby food stands. But all you’re focused on is her.

Somi’s blowing you away under the warm hue of the lanterns, a honeyed light encapsulating her hazel hair that makes her look like a Goddess; Shit, she probably is, and you can’t help but trace every little feature of her face; The curves of her cheekbones, the fullness of her lips, the light in her eyes. While everyone’s breath is taken away from the performers, yours is taken away by her.

She looks like she’s a dream that you’ve all but imagined. One you could spend the rest of your life looking at.

And you want to tell her. God, do you want to tell her.

But you settle for holding her hand instead, giving it a light squeeze. She squeezes back.

“It’s beautiful.” Her focus is still centered on them, talking about the performance.

“Yeah.” You’re talking about her. “It is.”

She turns, locking her gaze onto yours, and she realizes that too. 

Her grip on your hand gets tighter as the last beat drums out into the air, the group posing, bowing, thanking everyone. Claps and cheers sound out as everyone slowly returns to what they were doing before.

Just like the two of you do, when a smirk appears on her face. “Getting sappy on me?”

“Shut up.” You chuckle, walking backwards, your hand never letting go of hers as you continue on exploring. The warmth in your chest still lingers.

She lets out this tiny teasing giggle, fingers squeezing playfully, letting herself be strung along the crowd. The entire place feels even more lively than it was before the dance, the swarm of people occupying the stalls once more, the energy at an all time high. 

You can still smell the aroma of the kebabs, trying to pull you back in for another taste. You see the hellish ramen shop full of people lined up to take on the challenge; The lemonade stand has pre-made cups ready.

You nudge Somi, nodding to the stand, where the current contestant’s booking it to buy said juice, causing you two to laugh at the similarities.

You and her floated, going everywhere, doing everything. Listening to the band that performed earlier do a much more calmer beat. Watching Somi try—and fail—at shooting darts.

“You good?” Your arms are crossed, amusement coloring your face as she’s aiming at the board, an eyelid closed, tongue sticking out at the side, arm cocking forward. “I can do it for you, you know.”

“Shush.” A moment. An arm extending. A thunk in the air.

“Nice.” You’re clapping. “You hit nothing three times.”

She grunts, slamming down coins on the table. “You do it then.”

And you did. You hit dead center twice. You got a small keychain of a lantern too.

Somi’s sulking, arms crossed as she stares at the board, muttering out one word. “How?”

“You’re just bad.” You can’t help but be smug about it.

You got another smack on the arm for that.

The sun’s starting to set when the both of you ended up at the souvenir portion of the place, where you can see another line on a small photobooth on the side, stalls of handmade jewelry, charms, candles, whatever can be kept as keepsakes after today.

You’re window shopping—mostly—while Somi’s going through each and every one of the sellers, picking up trinkets that catch her eye. A bracelet here, an amulet there, she’ll try them all.

You’re mostly sticking to one, browsing through columns of rings, some similar, others completely different; A variety of colors, simply intricate designs, silver and gold bands all presented in ring boxes. A few have stones adorned on them, or have engravings etched in the metal.

Yet you only see one, tucked away in a corner. You hover over it, brushing your fingers over its container, and you pick it up.

The ring itself is made of this ashen grey metal, a thin turquoise line running in the middle, looping around it. It doesn’t scream attention, but there’s something fitting about it that makes you want to-

“What you got there?” Somi’s back with you, staring at the box that you’re holding. 

You blink, and you have an epiphany; The ring wasn’t for you, it’s for her.

“Put it on.” You take the ring out of the box and place it down, and you can feel the merchant look away and whistle.

“You’re proposing already?”

“Thought it would suit you.”

She laughs, takes it off your hands and twirls it, examining it for herself. She smiles, small, almost unnoticeable, and slowly slides it on her ring finger—it fits perfectly.

“What do you know,” Somi’s admiring it on her hand. “It does suit me.” There’s a fondness in the way she says it, as if she already likes the feeling of having it on her finger.

You were expecting her to follow up on that proposal joke she made before she put it on; She didn’t.

You had that gut feeling that she’d like it earlier, but the way she looks at it catches you off guard. Like it was something that she didn’t know she needed. Like a memento that came from someone special. Someone like you.

And that was all you needed to know to get it for her.

“So what did you get?” You’re nonchalantly changing the topic, trying to hide your excitement by fishing a few more bills out of your wallet, making a subtle face at the seller like you were asking for the price.

“This.” She says just as you pay and grab the ring box from the table. “You got me this.”

“Oh.” You shrug. That wasn’t the response you were expecting. “Well, I-uh, I hope you like it.”

“I love it.” She corrects, thumbing the ring. “I’m never taking it off.”

“Now who’s getting sappy?”

She makes this noise—happy, embarrassed—and shakes her head, smiling. “I hate you.”

You chuckle. “No, you don’t.”

She doesn’t answer. She only tugs you by the hand. “Come on, I heard there’s fireworks and the beach has the best view.”

You can’t help but tease her a bit when your brow raises and your lip turns upwards. “You didn’t get me anything did you?”

“Keep talking and I won’t get you anything at all.”

—

You can feel the festival’s energy stay with you two when you reach the outskirts of the beach, the faint smell of all the food you’ve passed by lingering on your clothes. But the chaos of it all is dimmer, the coastline not as populated, with only a few scattered around the area.

You took the long way back, enjoying the nightlife scenery of the area—without shenanigans—seeing everyone else enjoy the festival just as you did, the orange lights being replaced with the moonlight, some of the organizers prepping the colorful rockets that will dazzle the crowd later on.

Somi hasn’t stopped smiling, fooling around every other moment, raving all about the fireworks like it's the New Years and she needs someone to do that kissing tradition people do when it hits quadruple zeroes.

Wasn’t like you’d say no. Win in your books really.

The both of you end up on a pathway of rubble and stones, eventually coming across a set of benches looking towards the shore. She acts first, moving forward, pulling you with her to sit on the wooden chair.

Other than the sound of the waves crashing and the cicadas, it was finally quiet. A nice, comfortable quiet. Enjoying the silent peace, away from the chaos of the festival.

She rests her head on your shoulder, hand still looped around yours. “Borrow your jacket?”

“Sure.” You don’t hesitate, already moving to take your jacket off. You pull away from her for a moment to slip it from your shoulders and drape it over hers, securing it over her arms.

“Thanks.” Her fingers take a hold of the leather, pulling it closer to herself before she nestles back against you. A moment passes between you two, then–

“It’s still fucking cold.”

“I can always get you another bowl of that ramen–”

“No. Snuggle me.”

“O-kay.” And snuggle her you did. Arm over her shoulder, a kiss on her forehead. You two stay like that for a while until she takes another whiff of you, and squints.

“You really need to tell me that perfume you’re wearing.” She states.

“I’ll hand you the bottle back at the hotel.” She pouts.

“Just tell me the name already.” She whines. It was cute.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” She’s puffing her cheeks. It was cuter.

“Killjoy.” She elbows lightly. “Gonna snoop through your luggage for that bottle.”

“And now you’ll never get it.” You grin. It turns into a laugh when she elbows you a bit harder this time.

You two quiet down after, enjoying the view of the beach. She’s holding on to your hand, that ring on her finger glinting. She stares at it, smiling like an idiot again.

“Really outdid yourself this time, huh.” She mutters, too low for you to hear.

You hum, glancing down at her still staring at her hand. “Did you say something?”

She meets your eyes, giving you that look that she had back when you two were watching the performance happen. She holds it a beat too long, and opens her mouth to speak—

“Aeri told me.” She starts, gaze staying on you, even as you look away. Of course Aeri is a rat. “About why we’re here.” She chuckles. “And I think I should clear things up between us.”

“You don’t have to-” A nudge stops you from continuing.

“Shut up and let me talk.” Even when she’s serious there’s still that faint teasing inside of her. But it gives way when she breathes in and holds it, and lets it go.

“Every ex I’ve had was there because I’m ‘hot’. The easy fuck. And I knew about it.” She continues, thumb moving around the ring once more. “So I leaned into that stuff. I love doing it anyway, so I thought it’d be a win-win for everyone, you know?” She looks away, back to the shoreline. “But it didn’t feel right. Like–like yeah the sex was good–you’re the best–” She clarifies, and that kind of made your ego swell up a bit.

By a lot, actually.

“–But it was just sex. Honestly felt like I was booty call than anything else.” She shakes her head, sighing, tired from remembering those times, but pushes on anyway.

“So when we started fucking, it was different.” Her fingers tighten around the jacket. “It was fun. Well, sex is always fun, but it was funnier–”

“Funner.” You interject. Another elbow.

“Shut up.” She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, with you it’s sorta not like that. I actually want to fuck you because I–”

She licks her lips, a little embarrassed about what she’s going to say next even though you already know what she’s about to do anyways.

“–I love you and I know that I don’t say it too much and I knowIshouldbutlikeIdont–”

“Somi, breathe.” Your arm over her grips her shoulder, just enough to ground her back from her short crashout.

She leans back into your chest, hiding, whining, breathing. One last deep inhale, and she’s sitting back up.

“Okay, okay.” Somi exhales, shaking off any sort of fluster she has left. “I’m fine, good, chill.” A finger pokes your chest. “You really need to tell me what your perfume is.”

“If it lets you say ‘I love you’ more then I’ll get you an entire bottle.”

“Oh my God.” She laughs, hand over her face. “You are not gonna tell me the name aren’t you?”

“Maybe after the trip.” You shrug, chuckling yourself as you watch her laugh harder.

“Such a jackass.” She lets out, her laughter dying down. “Seriously though, you might think that I fuck you for shits and giggles like Aeri said you were thinking. And while I appreciate the fact that you did all this–” Her hand finds yours, soft, firm, assuring. You can feel the ring indent against your skin. “–I also appreciate you a lot more. So don’t you fucking doubt that, got it?”

“Yes ma’am.” You smile, pecking her lips. “Love you.”

“...Love you too.” She smiles, hiding behind her hair this time. “Even if you won’t give me your damn perfume.”

“You are obsessed with finding out what it is.” 

“Yeah, and I am losing my fucking mind about it.” She’s back to cuddling you, your arm over her frame, dumb dopey little smiles on each of your faces. The small quiet moment passes, then—

“Sorry if I brought up exes, just–thought it was important.”

“You let me know I’m your best fuck. Nothing to be sorry about.” You get another light ribbing for that, but the giggle that comes out of her doesn’t deny your statement.

Something else was gnawing at you though.

“Did Aeri really rat me out?” You ask, scoffing, noting that you shouldn’t trust Aeri with any more secret trips. And maybe advice too.

Her eyebrows hike up. “What, because she let me know that you’re a closet Romeo in hiding?”

“I want to say that I’m more Han Solo than Romeo when it comes to romance.”

And the laugh that comes out of her sounded so genuine, so beautiful, so hers. “And I’m Princess Leia?”

“I mean,” You exaggerated, prolonging the word out in the air and making this face at her. “It’s better than being dead as Juliet. And Romeo too.”

She laughs harder, and you can’t help but get drawn into it too. It’s contagious, her energy, her teasing, her everything.

Eventually it dies down to small giggles and chuckles, and you’re back to having that comfortable silence with her. Then she stands up and turns to you, arm outstretched towards you. “Come on Romeo, still gotta get you something.”

“Are you trying to cheapskate by getting me a seashell?” A grin appears on your face as you let yourself be dragged away by her once more.

“Don’t forget about the fireworks.” She tosses over her shoulder, hurrying the both of you towards the sand, kicking off her shoes. You tug off your own, taking both pairs with you, leaving footprints down as you follow her into the grain.

The cold salty breeze of the sea hits you, and you see Somi waving to some of the people she passes by. Her hair flows down her back as the wind blows through, tilting her head back to feel the air, smiling as she closes her eyes. You wish you can take a photo of her because fucking hell is she beautiful.

Her head’s turning before you can, that familiar playful glint in her eye alongside a warmth that you’ve been craving for. So much so you’re unconsciously letting a smile break out of your face.

“What?” She asks, lips curling, as if she already knows where this is going. “Does Romeo have something to say?”

You don’t speak, only walk forward. Somi’s an arm’s length away when you drop your shoes onto the sand and take a hold of her, wrapping your arm around her waist, another resting on her cheek. She doesn’t pull away, if anything she leans into you, her own arms closing around your neck, and before you can act on kissing her, she’s pulling you instead.

Everything fades when her lips meet yours; All you can feel is how soft she is, the faint taste of fishcake and lemon hitting your tastebuds, her fingers threading around your hair. The way her cheek leans into your hand, the heat of her body molding to yours.

It’s different, not unlike every other kiss you’ve had with her. Desire, arousal, whatever you call it, it’s muted, replaced with warmth, joy, love. Less of a flicker and more of a flame, slowly gaining strength and settling within.

When she pulls away for air, the sight of her grinning is the first thing you see, breathless, eyes brighter than the shine of the moon. “Love you.” She utters, pecking your lips briefly, arms resting on your chest.

You only tilt your head, resting your forehead on hers, hands staying on her waist, keeping her close. You press your lips against hers, and it’s all the words she needs to feel how much you love her too.

A crack in the air splits the moment, making you turn your head to see bright lights in the air, the first wave of fireworks bursting into rainbows, crossing the dark skies.

“Told you this was the best view.” She says, eyes reflecting the colors in the clouds, the sounds of people cheering in the background muffled by all the cracking in the sky. 

You’re still holding her close as you watch the night get infected with the festival’s energy, each explosion painting the stars. The colors dance on the both of you—gold, crimson, azure—and you just can’t get enough of staring at her. 

“Ten out of ten.” You let out, no longer afraid of being caught by her. The smile on her face says she knows you’re talking about her, just like she did back at the festival. She doesn’t tease this time, accepting it instead.

Eventually the pauses between each wave of fireworks get longer, and you’re left with the sound of the waves crashing, the crowd splitting up into silent murmurs.

She sighs out, a small one, but you can feel the weight of everything leaving her. A laugh slips out, that familiar, joking little laugh with a hint of friskiness behind it.

“So,” A tug of your hand, and you’re heading back to the path out of the beach, passing by to pick up your shoes. “Wanna head back to the hotel and fuck all night?”

“Somi-”

“No, no.” She clarifies, swinging her arm and yours follow. “Romeo needs to realize that I love him. So I need to show him how much I do.”

…Oh.

There’s no teasing in there; Just pure honest resolve coming out. And when the words from before and now finally start to sink in, and your heart start to beat faster from the desire and the warmth that comes with all the implications of them. Physical, emotional, mental, spiritual.

Wasn’t just you thinking it’s all about fucking for her anymore. Not after that. You were just too wrapped up in your own thoughts to see the bigger picture. 

Maybe you did overthink things.

You don’t even feel her tugging you for a kiss, your name whispering out her lips. “I want this. I want you. No bullshit.”

And she means it. You believe her. With everything that she’s saying and doing and wanting and needing.

“I want you too. All of you.”

“Good.” She grins, and that was the brightest thing you’ve ever seen today. “Cause you’re not getting any sleep tonight.”

—

If there’s one thing that you didn’t regret paying for, it’s the hotel room. It wasn’t a suite or anything high-end nor was it any of the simple ones. It was the type after that, with the softer bed, the balcony view, a bigger TV—overall, just better.

So when you’re pushed down on the couch, Somi climbing on top of you, tongue shoved down your throat, you’re glad that the couch was pretty soft. You’re also glad that you can feel her tits pressing up against your chest when you kiss back.

She rolls her hips and gives your lower lip a bite that just fucks you up; She knows it too, when she grins and steals another kiss. Your hands rests on her waist, still rocking, grinding onto you. 

Somi’s everywhere; Resting on your shoulders, playing with your hair, slipping underneath your shirt. All the while her tongue is fighting yours, your own hands playing with the edges of her shirt.

You can feel your cock stirring, thickening underneath your pants, and it encourages her, keeping the slow pace that’s driving you insane.

“Someone’s enjoying this.” Her hands finally rest on your chest, face inches away from yours, that damn grin plastered on her face. She does it again, slower this time, and the sigh that comes out of her sounded like heaven on earth. Her grin widens, eyes flicking down to where you’re straining underneath your pants. “Really enjoying it.”

“Hey,” You squeeze a hip, smiling. “You fuck yourself on my lap like that, it’s kinda hard not to.” 

She hums, bringing your hands up to her tits, squeezing them over the shirt, molding them to be yours once more. You’ve felt her breasts so many times, through fabric, lace, bare, and you’ll never get tired of being able to have the privilege to cup them in your hands.

“God, Somi,” You groan, both from the way she’s forcing you to grope her chest—you’re into it as much as she is—and the way her hips are still rolling. She’s always been enthusiastic about sex, but this, this felt different. This is her offering everything, heart, body, and soul.

It wasn’t about her pleasure tonight. It was about yours.

“Does Romeo need help?” She asks, grinding, circling her weight down on you, making you squeeze harder on her tits. Intentional or not, she didn't care, all she does is let out another laugh because she knows you’re this close to throwing her to the bed.

She doesn’t wait for you to reply, take action, anything. Somi’s sinking down on her knees with this greedy, hungry look, her fingers making quick work of your belt buckle as she pushes your pants and your boxers down, your throbbing cock freed.

You know what’s going to happen; She’s done this so many times, she’s perfected the art of it. And you can’t wait.

“Fuck-” Somi licks her lips, wrapping a hand around you. She jerks you off slowly as she settles in between your legs, getting closer to your cock. You can feel her breath being so damn close. “Gonna worship you tonight baby.”

And the way she drags her tongue from the tip to the base in one agonizingly slow lick makes you wanna just, shit, you don’t even know. She was hot, wet, too damn slow, your cock twitching in her hand as she went back up to your head.

The next few minutes were her tongue tracing along your cock, leaving kisses where she knows you’re weak to, leaving your cock covered in spit, and she hasn’t even taken it in her mouth yet. 

She’s a damn tease, leaving you dying from the pleasure, arms gripping the couch as you let her do whatever she wanted with your cock. Her hands aren’t idle, stroking your spit-laden cock, playing with your balls, breathy little moans coming out of her mouth when she twirls her tongue on the tip.

You’re this close to begging, the need to thrust into her lips growing higher. But you won’t. Even though this is for you, it’s her play, and you’re here to enjoy the show.

You don’t even realize you called her name out, only that a smile appears on her face when she starts licking past the base of your cock and down to your balls. She takes one of them into her mouth, wetting them, her hot breath enveloping, encapsulating.

And the way she sucks on them, God it was like she wanted to kill you. Her tongue coating one, two, both, while her hands were playing with your shaft, jerking you, using her nails to trace the veins, thumbing the tip of your cock.

Somi’s a fucking menace, and she knows it. 

“Still alive?” She mutters, letting your balls go with a pop, sucking in her spit, drooling it all over your cock, making such a pretty mess of you.

“I need,” You’re desperate, panting, your own hands finding solace in her hair, resting, gripping, cock painfully wanting her mouth on it. You can’t even fucking talk, because this wasn’t pleasure, it was torture.

“Tell me.” She says, mouth hovering over your tip, letting out these pants that make your cock ache even more. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“Somi-” You can’t. Not when she’s fucking teasing you with her tongue, running it all over your tip, those brown eyes darkening with a need for your cock, your words, your end.

“Come on, Romeo.” You can barely call it jerking off with how much she’s slowed her hands down. “You can do it.”

“Shit, need you-” You’re thrusting your hips, throwing away your pride to silently beg instead of telling her what you want.

“Just one word, baby.”

“Somi, please-”

And her mouth takes you. All of you.

You swear a bell rang out the moment her lips came into contact with your cock, because the only thing you can see is white, and she’s the angel that’s coming to bring you to Heaven.

Once she takes your entire length, she stops, holding you there inside of her throat. Her tongue’s flat under your shaft, trying to move and get a taste of your balls. You don’t know how long she’s had your cock in her mouth, and you don’t care. You already lost count when she got on her knees.

She pulls back, spit coating her chin, dripping down her shirt. Strings of them are still connecting her lips to your cock as she wraps them back into you, sucking on the tip, tongue working all over, and her hands are back to pumping you.

“So good,” She lets out, lips still making out with your tip, giving you a cheeky wink that is making you lose your fucking mind. She takes more of you, mouth so damn hot, cock drowning how it’s getting wetter, cheeks hollowing as she starts to suck.

You thought you were dying when it was just her tongue. You’re six feet under when she starts bobbing her head on your cock, and she isn’t just worshipping. Fuck that, this is murder. 

There’s no method to her madness. She’ll go with slow, shallow, deep strokes, memorizing every inch, every vein of your cock that makes your toes curl. Suddenly she ramps it up to eleven and fucks her face on your cock, burying you inside of her throat, bracing yourself by gripping her hair tighter. Or she’ll be doing it somewhere in-between, her tongue flicking the tip, hands jerking you, eyes staring into yours.

“You love this, don’t you.” It’s a statement, one she makes after she’s throated your cock. You can’t let out a response when she’s coming back down, lips making out with your tip instead of going back down to the base.

You’re losing your fucking mind. Every time you thought she’d settle into a rhythm, she switches it up, keeping you on your toes, lips grinning, tiny little giggles coming out of her while she’s giving your cock the best blowjob you’ve ever had.

“Fucking adore this cock.” Your cock’s pushing against her cheeks, giving you this one hell of a view. “And it’s all mine.”

Her eyes did not fucking help. Every flick of her tongue, stroke of her hand, bob of her head. Those dark eyes did not leave yours. She’s already ruined you for anyone else, but this is ruining you.

The only thing you can do is let out these weak groans, moans that were borderline begging, just trying to hang on to the ride she’s giving you.

“God–” She starts, spitting another batch of saliva down your cock, her entire face a mess with spit and . “I could do this all night.”

Somi loves it. You know she does. Relishing in it, thriving off of every flex of your leg, every twitch of your fingers, every thrust of your hips.

It’s fueling her, knowing that you’re letting her do anything she wants to you. It’s a goddamn power trip, and she lets you feel how much she’s enjoying you wrapped around her pretty lips.

The moans she’s letting out causing those vibrations to spread all over your cock. The gags that follow were fucking filthy, so wet, so raw. Her throat’s pulsing, contracting around you whenever she takes you down all the damn way. Every choke is a sign of victory that keeps her going, fingers digging your thighs, spit leaking down her mouth.

She pops off of your cock, sucking in a breath. You heard it differently. Messy, needy, undeniably Somi. She’s grinning as she comes back to sliding her tongue over your shaft, spit all over the place.

Somi was not lying when she’ll be worshipping your cock tonight. She’s staking her claim on you, letting you know that nobody else can do it like she can. She’s in the top 1 percent of sucking dick, and you’re extremely lucky to have met this whirlwind of a woman.

“Gimme.” She doesn’t bother asking if you’re close. She can see you’ve been wanting to burst ever since she put her lips on you. “Gimme all that cum, baby. I’ll take all of it. Mouth, face, anywhere you fucking want.”

“Somi–” You growl, teeth gritting, the urge to ruin her entire face with your load at an all time high. Your hands pull her hair, signaling where you want it. “Fa–shit, babe. All over your face.”

“Yeah?” Somi’s stroking you faster, eyes locking with yours, sticking her tongue out as she opens wide. She’s just as fucked as you were, hair all messy from the pushing and pulling you’ve done, strands of it sticking to her flushed cheeks, spit running down her chin.

She’s the filthiest she’s ever been on her knees, and all the nasty things she’s saying, every single word that comes out of her mouth, that sent you over the edge.

“Gonna ruin me? Cover me in your cum? Turn me into your cumdump–ah!”

You're all over her. On her forehead, over her eye, on top of her nose. She’s gasping, moaning, reveling in your cum. She’s getting messier, cum on her hair, her cheeks, her lips.

“Fuck yes,” She draws out, licking her lips, having a taste. “Always so much cum.”

It’s a damn shame you couldn’t commit the view to memory because all you can feel is how good it was when Somi’s jerking you off, covering herself in you. It felt even better when she shoves herself back down her throat, swallowing the last few drops.

You groan, feeling her cheeks hollow out one last time, draining you of the last few drops you let out. You finally get a good view of her after the fallout of your orgasm, and she is drenched in white, one eye closed, lips stretched in a smile even with your cock sandwiching them. 

She pulls your cock out of her lips, and she grins while you’re still sitting on the couch reeling from whatever the fuck that was.

“Oh my God,” You sear her cum-streaked face into your brain, her shirt wet from the spit and cum, because holy shit does she look shamelessly ecstatic with how dirty she is while you’re still remembering how to breathe. “You’re just–what the fuck?”

Somi laughs, tongue flicking out to catch a drop of cum sticking to her lips. Her fingers aren’t idle too, scooping up the cum and sucking them clean. “That’s one.”

“What, are we–” You adjust yourself, watching how she cleans herself up of your cum. Every stray, every glob of it lands on her mouth, and she’s enjoying it like it’s ice cream. “Are we keeping score?”

She smirks, hands dropping down to grip the hem of her shirt, and she’s pulling it over her head, landing somewhere behind her—you don’t care—showing a lacy black bra. 

“Round two?” The bra comes off too, and you’re left looking at two very convincing arguments to keep going.

Then she’s coming back down to your cock, giving you these lazy licks, cleaning you up, taking care of you. You consider it the third argument, your cock stirring, twitching back upwards.

“Come on, Romeo. My tits still need to be fucked.” She says, cupping said breasts, giving them a good squeeze. She leans down, letting a trickle of her spit fall down between them; You are so fucking screwed.

Somi’s pulling your hands to her tits, holding them over her hands. You already had a feel of them earlier, but God are they—she—the best you’ve ever held in your arms. 

“Relax, baby.” And she’s wrapping her perfect fucking tits around you, soft, warm, killer. “Just enjoy.”

She starts slow. Tits sliding up and down your cock, hands pressing around her chest. Yours, hers, it didn’t matter. She presses tighter, the pressure, pleasure, both increasing as every pump between them sends your already sensitive cock to another orgasm.

“Holy shit,” You groan, because it’s the only thing you can do. She has you wrapped around her finger, her tits, her tongue, which is occasionally licking your tip whenever it peaks and God, this is going to make you cum so damn fast.

“You can move, you know.” She’s even encouraging you to, letting out another glob of spit down her breasts, moving faster. “Fuck my tits, fuck them like you own them.”

And you do. You thrust up, once, experimental, and she slides down. Then another. Your hands settle on her shoulders. Another thrust. She squeezes tighter. The tempo goes faster.

“That’s it. Use my tits. Make a mess all over them. Want to feel it all in my tits, baby.” Somi’s riling you up again with all the dirty words that come out of her mouth. “Your slut wants more of your cum. Please. Please.”

Her shoulders are your lifeline, pumping faster, her tits bouncing with each stroke. She’s biting her lip, watching you—eager, hungry, devoted—fall apart under the slick, warm cushion of her breasts.

It’s all sending you closer to pumping another load onto her. Her tits, her face, her moans. It’s like you’re in a lucid dream with the way it all feels. Soft, tight, wet, it’s all too much for you, and that aching in your stomach is coming back too strong, too fast.

You’re so fucked out of your mind from earlier that your pace doesn’t last. Your rhythm stutters, and she picks up right where you left off, even faster than you did.

“Yeah, that’s it–” She’s gasping, her hot breath teasing you with every thrust. “Cum for me. Come on, baby, give me more.”

She puts her tongue back in the mix, leaning down to flick the head, and that makes you lose control.

Your hand takes a hold of her cheek as you give one last pump, hot spurts painting her chest, filling her cleavage, lining her collarbone.

Somi’s still fucking her tits on your cock, milking you for every last drop and you’re left shaking. Legs, hips, it didn’t matter. All you know is that you’re cumming for her, and her chest is your next canvas.

And when you’ve given her what she’s wanted, you’re slumping back, vision foggy, body suffering from the pleasure that Somi’s has brought before you. 

She’s grinning, giggling, laughing. Your cum’s all over her, dripping down, sticking onto her like glue, a pearl necklace fashioned over her. She’s licking the cum off her tits, scooping up the bits she can’t, having her second serving of your cum for the night.

She’s making a performance out of it, now and before, when she cleans herself up. Drawn out moans, hums, teasing little giggles. Eyes holding yours.

“So,” Somi takes a hold of your cock, lips on you once more, and it’s more painful than pleasurable this time. She’s still hungry for more and shit, you are too. Hungry for her.

“Shower?”

—

You didn’t even make it to the shower when you decided to pick her up, place her on the marble counter, pull her jeans down, and push her thong to the side. She was drenched, her pussy glistening, dripping in arousal. And you are starving.

Your mouth is on her pretty lips, tongue swiping everywhere. Teasing her slit with slow, teasing licks, fucking her entrance with your tongue, flicking her clit with your thumb. She’s trying to drown you with her juices, the taste of her so sweet and pungent.

“Keep going–fuck, right there–” She’s gasping, cursing, grinding on your mouth. Her soft thighs are wrapping around your face, pulling you deeper, nails digging into your scalp. The pleasure’s taking over her entire being, filth spewing out of her mouth.

You’re holding her thighs, forcing them apart before you start to fuck her with your fingers—two—while your tongue moves to flicking her clit. Her walls are squeezing them, tight, wet, hot.

“Oh my God,” Somi’s panting, watching you feast on her pussy, tracking the hand that gave her thigh a little slap—a warning—before you reach upwards to cup one of her tits, feeling how good it molds to your touch.

You pinch a bud just as you curl your fingers insider her, hitting her right where you know will fuck her up even more. And she does, moaning, squirming, trembling all for you.

“I’m so close–please, please, please–” Somi’s singing you praises, hips thrusting into you, wanting to chase that high that you’ve been holding her back from, edging her from achieving it.

Until you decided that she’s been a good enough girl for you and started pumping your fingers and your tongue faster. You grope her breast harder, watch her fall apart for you, her voice peaking, begging. Her pussy making these filthy noises with each thrust of your fingers.

You give her tit another greedy grope, and you raise your hand to give it a rough slap. That’s enough to send her spiraling, reeling, cumming.

“Fuck–fuck–fuck–” Somi’s shaking, thighs quivering, back arching as the pleasure consumes her. You’re fucking her all throughout it, sucking her clit. She’s dripping down your fingers, your chin, the counter.

“Shit, baby–” Somi’s pushing your head off, her own resting back onto the mirror behind her. Her legs are still twitching as you stand up, caressing them. “This payback from earlier or what–”

“A guy can’t eat his girlfriend out?” You peck her lips, one of your hands reaching up to cup her tits as the other is brushing up the inside of her thighs.

“Make that two and a half then.” She chuckles, and for a second there her eyes had this loving glint, layered with the normal teasing gleam in them.

“Now, seriously. Shower and then we make it three.”

—

“Cumming!”

Somi’s wrapping her legs around your waist, back against the glass, pussy tightening around your cock. Her chocolate hair is sticking on her face, wet from the warm water that was falling around your bodies.

Her toes are curling as you pound her throughout her orgasm, her arms pulling you tighter, moaning profanities into your ear while you readjust your grip on her ass and give her slow, deep thrusts to keep you from slipping under the tiles.

“Harder–fuck–fuck me harder–” Her pussy’s gushing around you, thighs shaking, holding onto you for dear life as you slowly start to thrust faster. “Want, want your cum inside–shit–”

You grunt as her nails start to dig into your back, burying your face into her neck, biting hard enough to leave marks. She whimpers, legs locking around you, pussy somehow squeezing you tighter, and it’s getting to you.

Her soft, big tits pressed against your chest, her sighs directly reverberating into your ears combined with the sound of wet flesh slapping together, pussy clenching everytime you hit her g-spot.

It’s making you want to go faster, harder, deeper. You’re getting desperate to chase your high, all because of Somi. 

“‘M close.” You groan just as she cries out, her pussy pulsing, another climax approaching her body. She pulls away from your neck to press her lips against yours—needy, loving moans humming out of her as she tangles her fingers into her hair.

And that was all it took to make you cum, slamming into her, spilling your cum deep inside, the ecstasy crashing over your body as you lean forward to have the shower glass support the both of you. 

Somi’s shaking, milking you of every drop, screams echoing around the bathroom as she experiences another wave of pleasure rippling her entire body. 

The sound of water falling and breathing is the only thing left filling the air, the both of you clinging to each other to bask in the afterglow.

“Fuck, Romeo.” She giggles, forehead pressing against yours. “First you go down on me, now this?”

“What can I say,” You nuzzle back into her neck, leaving a kiss over one of the hickeys you’ve left her. “You got me all worked up back on the couch.”

And she laughs, head tilting back, and even with the water blinding you she looks so beautiful.

—

Your hands were busy groping her soft, full ass when she straddles you, back facing your chest as she rubs her pussy on your length before she eases herself down. She’s taking all of you, pussy dripping, heat wrapping around.

“God, this cock,” She sighs, arching her back. “Still so hard for me.”

You’re loving the way her pussy’s clenching around you, taking your length every time Somi bounced that tight ass of hers. Your hold on her ass tightens when she starts to pick up speed, that rhythmic sound of skin hitting skin starting to permeate the air.

It’s a symphony of moans spilling out of lips, creaks of the bed underneath you, and wet slicks of her pussy gripping your cock playing in the room, and you had the best view in the house when she starts to roll her hips like that.

“Babe, what–what the fuck–” The next few seconds were spent spouting out the dumbest shit you’ve ever said in your life, because the moment she leaned forward and popped her ass out even more to fuck herself on your cock you were losing mental capacity by the second.

“Want it slow?” She slows down and turns her head to look at you. It’s torture hidden in paradise, the pace she’s bouncing almost stopping to a crawl. “Or fast?”

“Whatever you want, just, you–” You can’t help but crash your hand down on her ass, the smack rippling the air. Somi takes it the wrong—or right, who gives a fuck—way and starts to ride you, picking up right where she left off; Ruining you.

She’s unrelenting now, fucking herself on your cock, that hypnotizing ripple of her ass staring back at you, drawing you in, drowning you. From the way she’s moving her hips, hitting every deep spot inside her on every drop of her ass, the curses that she’s singing; It’s all so fucking devilishly heavenly.

Hands grip the sheets, holding on for dear life as she’s getting more and more unhinged with how she’s slamming down on you. One of them reaches up to her ass, that goddamn ass that looks so fuckable, you can’t stop yourself from sliding your thumb over her asshole.

“Y-Yeah?” She’s too lost in her own pleasure to give out any sort of decent reply, her voice coming out as whimpers and moans and cries of pleasure in between all of it. “Want, want my ass again don’t you Romeo–”

You push your finger in the entrance, and she starts to break.

“Oh shit–” She gets impossibly tight as she starts convulsing, toes curling, body falling, hips still fucking fucking. One last slam of her ass and she’s lost it, moans, whimpers, screams; All in a span of a few moments.

You take it as a sign to move. Leave another slap on her ass as you sit upright and pull her towards you, falling back down as you start to fuck her, chasing after your own orgasm, the want to give another coating of your load inside of her growing higher and higher.

Hands grab everywhere; Her tight stomach, heavy tits, her neck. You’re not letting her rest after her climax as you give her neck a little squeeze, her cunt clenching around you, and that makes you see stars.

She’s coming with you when she’s pulled for a kiss, sloppy and needy and so adoring. Tongues are fighting when you’re buried deep inside her, taking every single drop of hot white cum. She’s groaning, feeling all of you pour into her.

And when it ends, you’re both catching your breath, 

“You might end up killing me tonight.” She mutters, leaving these little pecks and kisses over your jaw, your cheeks, your lips.

“You’ll do me in first.” You reply, hands coming back down to wrap around her waist as you pull out, feeling your spunk leak out onto the sheets.

She giggles like she always does, leaving another kiss on your lips, cheeks flushing from uttering the next words that come out of her. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Somi.” You grin. Two simple words and you’re getting all giddy again. “Love you too.”

—

You two didn’t really stop.

There were breaks in between, of course. Get a glass of water, have short cuddly moments, make out sessions before she pulls you into another round. Or vice versa.

It’s a back and forth, really.

She drags you outside to rail her in the balcony, the cool air hitting the both of you as the view of the beach greets you. Somi’s loud, uncaring of the nearby rooms as you pump her cunt full of another load.

You have her head dangling off the side of the bed, fucking her face, lodging your cock down her throat. Spit’s running down her face as she takes every inch of you, trying—and failing—to finger herself in time with your thrusts while you’re holding onto her tits until she can drink all of the cum that you’ll inevitably feed her.

Somi’s shoving you back down the couch, cock up her ass as she rides you. Her tits are fucking hypnotizing, and you’re latching onto one of her buds, sucking, swirling, nipping. She’s crying out, shoving you deeper into her cleavage as you fill her ass.

You’re fucking her on top of the table, her back scraping the wood. She’s pulling your hands to her tits, giving one of them a slap before pinching her hard nub, another staying down to rub her clit. You leave a kiss on her forehead as you cum together.

She’s on top of you again—on the bed this time—as she grinds her hips, her walls gripping, pulsing around your cock. She took it slow, deliberate, teasing, enjoying how much you’re squirming underneath her. Her nubs are brushing against your chest as she locks lips with yours, all tongue, until your legs lock up and you’re cumming inside her.

The hotel was a complete mess by the time you two were done.

You ended up back on the bed, the both of you spent. Your cock is aching from the amount of times you came in the last few (How long were you two fucking?) hours while her cunt’s leaking all the cum you’ve dumped inside of her.

Somi’s draping an arm over your chest, her fingers tracing shapes on your skin. That ring you gave her never came off the entire night.

“Nine’s a hell of a record.” She smiles, curling up to you, breathing heavy from all the activities. “Best night of my life.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, playing with her hair. “Tell that to my dick.”

“I don’t hear you complaining.” She slaps your chest, light, teasing. “You loved it.”

“You’re not wrong.” You leave a kiss on her forehead. “I do.”

“Love you too.” She smiles, reaching up to give you a kiss. She’s warm, that tingly feeling rising out of your stomach. You’re both grinning into the kiss, slow, deep, hands cupping her face, hers resting on your chest.

The next few minutes were spent talking about the random things that crossed your minds.

Shit like showers—

“We’re gonna need another shower.” 

“I’m too sore.”

“I can probably carry–”

“...I take it back. I can’t move either.”

Getting Aeri back for ratting you out—

“You seriously think Aeri would hook up with him of all people?”

“I mean, they kinda already did.”

“What the hell, since when?”

“The night after they fucked–”

“Don’t be a smartass, Romeo.”

The plans tomorrow—

“We’re hitting the beach tomorrow.”

“You just want to see me in a bikini.”

“And maybe dunk you in the water. But yeah. Bikini.”

Somi being a lovingly clingy idiot for the first time—

“Love me.”

“I am loving you.”

“You’re not doing it enough.”

It was dumb, pointless, and sorta ironic. From the quiet moments that you wanted and the copious amounts of sex you tried to avoid, it felt oddly worth it.

And it was just the first day. You don’t know whether you should be jumping for joy or scared for your life.

But you can’t say that you can ask for anything else—

“Wanna have another go to round it up?”

“Somi–”

Now, if there is such a word that combines happiness and fear, that would be what you’re feeling right now.

Still worth it.

[batsovergotham]

🦇 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗼 𝗪𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗚𝗿𝗮𝘆𝘀𝗼𝗻 | A DETAILED GUIDE

regarding the project: whether or not you have read the comics, this is a straightforward tutorial for anyone wishing to write mark grayson more precisely. brief notes. genuine emotional breakdowns. no lecturing. no gatekeeping. just a straightforward, honest look at what really shapes him and how to use the source material to portray him accurately.

a/n: i posted the poll about making a how to write mark grayson guide today, but honestly... i’ve been working on this for a while, ever since i posted some fics. it started because a few people mentioned that some of my mark breakdowns helped them with their fics, and i thought it might be nice to have something more detailed all in one place. so even though the poll went up today, this guide’s been in the works for a bit hehe i really hope it helps anyone who wants to write mark more true to the comics! thanks for reading!

in the invincible comics, if there’s one thing about mark grayson, it’s that he’s stubborn as hell when it comes to his ideals. like, painfully stubborn. there are so many times where he just flat-out refuses to back down from what he believes is right, even when everyone around him is telling him he’s being naive or that it’s gonna blow up in his face. and since the show hasn’t gotten to a lot of these moments yet, let’s talk about some comic only examples that really show just how stubborn (and sometimes reckless) mark’s idealism can be.

okay, so first off: the whole fight between mark and cecil stedman (the government guy who runs the GDA)? it's turning point of mark's view of the GDA and what it truly means to be a hero. it also begins to shed him of his naivety.

basically, mark finds out cecil’s been doing all this shady stuff behind the scenes like building an army of zombie cyborg supersoldiers (the reanimen), working with literal evil clones, just... real villain behavior. cecil’s whole mindset is like, “yeah it’s awful, but it’s for the greater good.” and mark? hates it. the second he finds out, he’s ready to fight.

and cecil’s response? he doesn’t even try to explain himself anymore. he just sends a whole damn army of reanimen after mark to try and beat him into submission. it’s brutal. mark gets swarmed, blasted with this crazy sonic device they rigged up, he’s getting absolutely trashed, and he still refuses to back down. he barely escapes, pulls some of the guardians together, and marches right back to finish what he started.

they trash the reanimen, it’s a mess, and at the end, cecil’s standing there like, “i did what had to be done.” and mark, bleeding and furious, basically tells him to shove it. he straight-up quits. no backup, no government support, nothing just him deciding he’d rather be completely alone than be part of something he thinks is wrong. like... that’s mark grayson. stubborn to the end.

Universa Arc.

so, universa’s this alien warrior who shows up on earth basically trying to steal the planet’s energy to save her dying world. mark and eve fight her, they win, she gets thrown in prison. standard superhero stuff, right? most heroes would’ve been like “cool, problem solved” and moved on. but not mark. mark can’t let it go.

he actually goes out of his way to visit her in jail. just to talk. and when he finds out she was only doing all of this because her people were desperate not because she was evil or power-hungry or anything he immediately goes into “let’s fix this” mode. like, no hesitation.

and he doesn't just feel bad about it and leave, no, mark convinces the warden to let her go, helps her find a way to safely get the energy she needs without hurting anyone, and sends her back home to save her people. universa is so stunned she literally promises to repay him someday.

it’s honestly one of the purest things he ever does. he refuses to just see her as “the bad guy.” he sees the person underneath. he believes that people, even enemies, can do the right thing if you give them a real chance.

was it a little naive? yeah, kinda. but it worked because mark’s the kind of guy who means it. like, really means it. and people can tell. that’s why his idealism hits so hard. he never gives up on the idea that there’s a better way.

Oliver and Allen VS Mark

okay, so one of the most heartbreaking examples of mark’s idealism clashing with the people he loves is the whole scourge virus situation.

basically, allen the alien and mark’s half-brother oliver come up with this plan to release a modified version of the scourge virua, the same virus that almost wiped out the viltrumites, to finish the job for good.

and mark? mark is horrified.

he’s not just worried about the viltrumites (even though yeah, some of them deserve it). he’s thinking about the humans. he’s thinking about the risk. he’s thinking about how unleashing something that dangerous ever is just crossing a moral line you can’t uncross.

so he tries to stop them. and it turns into a full-on fight. it’s messy, it’s emotional, and somewhere in the middle of it all, oliver, desperate and panicking, accidentally infects mark with the virus. mark almost dies.

and even after all that, after being betrayed and almost killed by his own brother, mark doesn’t blow up in rage. he’s just heartbroken. because for mark, the real tragedy isn’t what happened to him. it’s that people he loves were willing to risk something so horrific, to cross a line he’s spent his whole life refusing to cross.

like... he would literally rather fight his own family, risk dying, than give up on his ideals. he genuinely believes that the ends don’t justify the means, even if it costs him everything.

The Final Battle with Thragg and Mark's Monologue

by the end of the comic, we really get the full picture of who mark grayson has become. all that stubborn idealism, independence, and moral conviction he’s built up over the years? it all comes to a head during his final battle with thragg.

and the thing is...mark’s not just throwing punches. he’s saying everything he’s believed, everything that’s come to define him. he straight-up rejects thragg’s whole worldview, the viltrumite mindset of "strength over everything." and while they’re fighting, mark gives this monologue (mid-fight, because of course he does) that honestly just hits you right in the chest:

“you see us as people living only for conquest, measured only by the size of our empire. no room for peace. no room for compassion. no room for love… the truth is you were holding us back… we can be a force for good. we can spread peace throughout the galaxy. we can love and be loved. we can be happy.”

like... that’s so mark. even after everything he’s been through, even while he's locked in a life or death fight, he still believes people, even viltrumites, can be better.

and it’s not just talk either. this is what mark actually wants. he’s trying to turn an empire built on war into something good. it’s insanely idealistic, yeah, but it’s 100% real. and what’s really cool is that he’s doing it his way. not the way any viltrumite leader before him would’ve done it. this is mark’s independence on full blast, he's building something new, completely breaking away from the old viltrumite pride and brutality.

thragg, of course, can’t even wrap his head around it. and mark beats him, physically and symbolically. it’s basically proving that compassion and strength aren’t opposites. mark’s showing that being a good person doesn’t mean being weak, and being cruel doesn’t mean you’re strong.

if you’re writing fanfiction that covers late-series or post-series mark, this moment is a huge thing to keep in mind. by now, he’s not the uncertain teenager anymore. he knows who he is and what he stands for. but he hasn’t lost that earnestness, that moral fire he had as a kid, if anything, it’s gotten stronger and sharper.

mark taking down thragg with conviction shows the kind of leader he’s grown into. he’s not just reacting to problems anymore; he’s actively trying to shape a better future. people look up to him, even people who used to be enemies, because of the integrity he shows. not because they’re scared of him, but because they respect him.

another super important thing: even after all that, mark doesn’t turn into some dictator. like, it would’ve been so easy for him to say, “i’m the strongest, i’m in charge now.” but he doesn’t. he stays focused on making things better. he pushes for the viltrumites to actually protect earth, to integrate, to live differently. he keeps that humility.

even at the height of his power, he’s worrying about being a good husband, a good dad (the finale shows his future family life), and living up to his ideals. he never stops checking himself because deep down, he’s terrified of turning into what his dad was.

so if you’re writing a future!mark or an alt ending where he’s leading the viltrumites or running with huge responsibilities, always keep that in mind: no matter how powerful he is, he’s still that same kid who’s scared of losing his humanity and who’ll do anything to protect it.

Now that we understand the Idealism surrounding his character, let's discuss how to actually write him.

okay so if you’re writing mark grayson in fanfics, one of the biggest things you have to remember is that he is not a soft boy. he is not a “yes man.” he is not some passive sunshine character who just agrees with whatever the hell his friends or love interest says because he’s so sweet and loyal. that’s just not who he is.

mark is kind. he’s empathetic. he loves deeply. but he is stubborn as hell when it comes to his beliefs. like painfully, frustratingly stubborn.

he doesn’t just roll over when someone he loves disagrees with him. he doesn’t abandon his moral compass to avoid conflict. if anything, he’ll fight even harder against the people he cares about because he believes so strongly in what he thinks is right.

this is the guy who:

tells cecil (the literal head of the GDA, who helped him post omni-man) to fuck off to his face because cecil’s methods are too corrupt.

tries to rehabilitate a literal eco-terrorist (dinosaurus) because he genuinely thinks they could do good together, even when everyone else calls him insane.

punches his own little brother and one of his best friends (oliver and allen) in the face when they want to use the scourge virus to wipe out the viltrumites, because he refuses to believe genocide is ever the answer even when it would save billions of lives.

goes into exile on an alien planet with his family instead of accepting a “peaceful” dictatorship run by robot, because he would rather lose everything than live under tyranny. then, he eventually comes back and kills robot himself.

like... mark is kind, yes. but he’s not compliant. he’s not someone you can easily sway just because you’re close to him. he doesn’t make decisions based on what’s easiest or what’ll hurt the fewest feelings. he makes decisions based on what he believes is right, even if it blows up his relationships. even if it hurts people he loves. even if it isolates him.

so when you’re writing him:

let him argue. let him push back when something doesn’t sit right with him.

let him get angry when his beliefs are challenged. he’s emotional. he’s reactive.

let him stand his ground even when it costs him.

let him care so deeply it hurts him sometimes.

don’t be afraid to show that he’s wrong, too because sometimes his stubbornness backfires horribly (like trusting dinosaurus). but even when he’s wrong, he’s never malicious. he’s never apathetic. he’s trying.

he’s not cold. he’s not cruel. but he’s also not a people-pleaser. he’s willing to lose friends, mentors, allies, and even his home if it means doing what he feels is right.

common mischaracterizations you should avoid:

making him a soft, easily manipulated boyfriend who never questions anything.

making him prioritize romance over his core values without struggle. (like, if you have him abandoning his morals instantly for love, it feels wrong. he might bend, but it would mess him up inside and cause conflict.) DO NOT CONFLATE HIS MORALS WITH WHAT THE GDA BELIEVES!!

making him unrealistically calm and detached. mark feels everything with his whole chest. when he’s hurt or angry, it shows. he doesn't bottle it up perfectly.

writing him like he's just “along for the ride” emotionally. mark makes decisions. he moves the plot. even when he’s wrong, he’s active, not passive.

writing mark grayson right means letting him be a mess sometimes. it means letting him get bloodied up in fights he probably can’t win. it means letting him make terrible mistakes because he believed too hard in someone. it means letting him love people and lose people and still keep standing, still keep hoping. still keep fighting for the better world he dreams of.

because that's what makes him invincible. not the powers. not the strength. it’s the fact that even when everything in him is broken, his body, his mind, etc, he keeps fighting for what he believes in.

bad vs good characterization examples for mark

example 1

bad: "are you sure about this?" he asked, voice trembling. "i mean... if you think it's right, i'll go along with it. i trust you." (he says nothing else. he just follows along. no hesitation, no conflict, just blind loyalty.)

why it's wrong: this makes him sound like a passive puppy who just goes wherever the story/author pushes him. mark is loyal, yeah, but he’s not a yes man. if something feels wrong to him, he’s going to say something even if it starts a fight.

good: "i don’t know if i can go with you on this," mark said, frowning. "i get why you want to do it... i do. but it doesn’t sit right with me. it’s not who i want to be." his hands flexed at his sides, restless. "i’m not trying to fight you. i’m trying to make you understand." (there’s tension. there’s conflict. but the love is still there. he’s standing his ground because he cares.)

example 2

bad: mark nodded immediately. "you're right. i didn’t even think about it that way. i’ll change everything i'm doing for you." (he has no independent thought. he never questions anything. he changes core beliefs instantly.)

why it's wrong: mark can compromise sometimes, but it’s never instant. if he changes his mind, it comes from hard conversations, real consequences, or deep emotional shifts. he doesn’t just flip a switch because someone asked him nicely.

good: "maybe you’re right," mark muttered after a long beat, his jaw locked. "but you can’t expect me to throw away everything i believe just because it's easier." he exhaled, frustrated, running a hand through his ebony hair. "i need to think. i can't just... pretend this doesn't matter."

key reminders when writing mark:

he’s stubborn. like cartoonishly stubborn. even when it’s inconvenient. even when it costs him everything.

he’s idealistic. he genuinely believes doing the right thing matters, even if nobody else believes it anymore.

he’s emotional. he feels everything with his whole chest. anger, sadness, guilt, hope, it’s never muted or put down for the sake of plot purposes.

he’s reactive. mark doesn’t always think things through. if he sees something he doesn't like or someone he loves in danger, he moves first, thinks later.

he’s not a people pleaser. even if he loves you, if you’re doing something he thinks is wrong, he’s gonna call you out. loudly.

he fights with people he loves. not because he loves them less but because he loves them too much to let them destroy themselves or cause harm to other people that causes conflict in what he believes in.

he’s not a soft boy. he’s kind. he’s empathetic. but he’s also willing to bloody his fists and risk his life for what he believes in.

he’s not passive. mark makes choices. even when they’re bad ones. he’s an active character who moves the plot forward.

he’s wrong sometimes. his idealism blinds him. he trusts the wrong people. he fucks up. and he owns it (eventually).

he doesn't believe violence is the first answer (especially at the end of the series). but when it’s necessary, he doesn’t hold back. if he’s in a fight, he’s there to win.

he can’t be guilt tripped into giving up his morals. you can hurt him. you can betray him. but you can’t make him become someone he’s not.

he keeps hoping. even after all the betrayal, death, loss, heartbreak he's gone through, he never fully lets go of hope.

NOTABLE MOMENTS TO HELP CHARACTERIZE HIM IN YOUR FIC

“DON’T EVER THREATEN MY FAMILY!!” – Issue #33.

this is mark at his absolute breaking point just pure protective rage, screaming at angstrom who just hurt his mom. it’s a simple line, but it hits because you can feel everything behind it. the second someone he loves is in danger, mark doesn’t hold back. he doesn’t care about looking heroic or calm, he just loses it. and that’s something to keep in mind if you’re writing him, when mark’s temper explodes, it’s not about his pride or getting even. it’s about protecting the people he loves. period. he’s like a lion protecting his cubs its all instinct, no hesitation. so if you’re ever writing a scene where a villain’s threatening someone close to him, picture mark practically shaking, shouting until his voice breaks, just burning with that raw, desperate anger. it’s not polished or composed, it’s messy, it’s emotional, and it’s all love underneath it.

“THIS IS BEING A SUPER-HERO? I'M JUST STOPPING CRAP FROM HAPPENING AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT. I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING REALLY WORTHWHILE… …AND WHEN I FAIL… MY GOD, I FAIL BIG. WE HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE THE WORLD, EVE… …BUT INSTEAD THINGS JUST KEEP GETTING WORSE.” – Issue #81.

it’s not just some random thought he brushes off. you can tell it hits him. like... what if everything he’s been doing hasn’t actually changed anything? what if he’s just patching holes in something that’s already falling apart? it’s honestly a gut-punch moment because mark is usually so stubbornly hopeful. but even he isn’t immune to wondering if any of it’s enough. and it’s such an important part of who he is, he doesn’t just blindly believe everything’s fine. he feels it when it isn’t. he questions himself. he struggles with it. if you’re writing fanfic and you want to show a more introspective or vulnerable side of him, especially after something rough happens, this is the kind of feeling you want to tap into. not him giving up, but that raw, exhausted moment where he’s like, what’s the point if nothing ever really changes? it makes him feel real. because even with all the optimism and fight he’s got, sometimes the weight of it still catches up to him.

HOW TO WRITE HIS HUMOR/MORE LIGHT-HEARTED SIDE

mark isn’t all heavy drama and serious fights, he actually has a ton of light, funny moments, especially early on. like when he first starts getting his powers and his coworker asks him about his future, he just says

“finish high school, I guess.”

which is funny because he already knows he’s about to step into something way bigger.

there are little moments like that all over, times when he’s play fighting with william, or throwing out corny jokes, especially about stuff like science dog (his favorite comic, seance dog in the show). even though a lot of this guide focuses on the heavy, emotional stuff, it’s important not to forget these slice of life stuff

if you’re writing fanfics with him, adding in those little jokes or funny lines can really help keep mark in character. think about it like how spider-man cracks jokes during fights except mark’s version is a little less snarky and more dorky he jokes the most when he’s around people he’s comfortable with, and it’s not because he’s not taking things seriously it’s because that humor is just a part of who he is.

DISCLAIMER!

one of the biggest differences between comic mark and show mark is that comic mark is definitely rougher around the edges, especially early on. he’s not the super polished, always perfect hero type. in the early issues, mark can actually be kind of crude, he uses slurs (like the r-word) and makes some offhanded gay jokes, usually when he’s goofing around with william. it’s definitely surprising when you read it now, but it’s also important to understand that it’s part of his growth. it’s not written to make him look good, it’s showing that he’s a dumb teenage boy who hasn’t figured everything out yet. he says thoughtless, insensitive stuff because he’s young, immature, and still has a lot of learning to do.

and the comics let him grow.

later on, when william comes out to him, mark doesn’t just brush it off or make another dumb joke, he’s genuinely supportive. he accepts william without hesitation. and from that point on, you can see a clear shift, mark stops using slurs, stops making those kinds of jokes. it’s not a huge dramatic “lesson learned” moment, but the change is there. he matures. he gets it.

the show sort of skips over this whole messy, realistic part of his character arc. animated mark is a lot more careful and a little more "clean" from the start, he doesn’t really say anything offensive, and he’s framed as a lot more socially aware right out of the gate. which makes sense for a modern audience and a tv format, but it does smooth out some of the rough growth we see in comic mark.

comic mark’s early immaturity makes his later kindness and emotional intelligence feel earned. it’s not that he’s perfect, it’s that he chooses to grow, to be better, to really care about people in a way that goes beyond surface-level acceptance. that’s a huge part of what makes comic mark feel so real. he screws up, he says dumb stuff, but he listens, he learns, and he changes.

CONCLUSION AND FINAL NOTE!

at the end of the day, mark grayson isn’t about being perfect. he’s about trying. he’s stubborn as hell, emotional, sometimes reckless, and way more human than people give him credit for.

he holds onto what he believes even when everyone’s telling him to give up. he fights for the people he loves even when it costs him everything. he messes up (a lot), but he always, always tries to be better. that’s what makes him mark.

when you’re writing him, don’t be afraid to show all of it, the anger, the humor, the doubt, the stubborn hope that somehow refuses to die even when everything’s falling apart. he’s not supposed to be perfect or untouchable. he’s supposed to feel real.

sometimes he gets it wrong. sometimes he crashes and burns. but the point is, he keeps going. he cares even when it’s easier not to. and that’s why people love him.

i hope breaking all this down helps if you’re trying to write him, understand him better, or just see where he’s coming from. because when you really look at it, mark’s whole story isn’t about being the strongest guy in the room it’s about being the one who refuses to give up on people, even when it would be easier to stop caring.

thanks for reading! and honestly, if you ever feel stuck writing him, just go back to that core idea > he never stops trying. that’s who he is.

[kbb306]

1. No, but she would have liked one.

2. She has a little sister and first aid training. She'll be fine.

3. ".....tall."

4. Eh, maybe maroon?

5. She would absolutely give a speech defending her father. He's....not the brightest and they both know it, so she overcompensates.

6. She trusts her best friend Ellie Otten unconditionally. She doesn't have any hard "no" for this, except when it comes to asking her dad about romance.

7. Impulsive, yet stubborn./"Only three words? What kind of question is that?"

8. There's a whole thing about puzzles with her family. Best not to ask.

9. Depends what your definition of "non-sentient" is.

10. A few years ago, she'd have said "old enough for medical school." Now that she has a little sister, she's starting to miss childhood.

11. "I would pay for a medical scholarship."

12. Romance weirds her out (unless it's Jay)

13. "Never let a bully know they've gotten to you."

14. Jay Pinkerton (she's still struggling to accept she falls as fast and hard as her dad once did), singing.

15. Playing nice with people she doesn't like

16. Michigan is near constant sweater weather. Not a lot of concern for fashion in a small town like Eaden anyway.

17. She'll protect children with everything she has. It kills her that ABIGAIL actually wants to stay in That Place.

18. "Tongue? How would that even- ew!"

19. "It doesn't matter how much I study. Logarithms will never be a thing that people actually need, and they will never make any sense."

20. Jazz music (or at least, the town's reaction to jazz music)

21. If anyone actually knows her father and STILL thinks he could be dangerous, that's a deal breaker. I almost wrote a scene like that.

22. Not really a pet name, but her dad's nicknames for her are a treasured memory.

23. Yearns for novelty, knows they need stability. Her family has a big secret to keep.

24. Doesn't spare anyone's feelings but her family's (usually)

25. See #23

26. Effort, all the way. You think a five year old who just fell out of a tree has any real talent for medicine? Dr. Dillon patching her up back then is what *inspired* her, but the skill was all worked for ever since then.

27. Understanding. Forgiveness is earned.

28. If Wheatley's opinion of Jay counts, yes.

29. Aperture. More recently, that time she accidentally shut her own life support off.

30. If taking GLaDOS down wouldn't devastate the little girl She somehow adopted, Sophie would *destroy* Her on behalf of the whole family.

Read more about Sophie here:

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3192879

oc asks that reveal more than you think

Do they sleep with a stuffed animal? If they have multiple, who’s the favorite?

Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child?

Ask them to describe their love interest.

Do they look good in red?

Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech! Will they give one, and what about?

Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is?

Describe them in three words. Now let them describe themself in three words.

Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate them?

Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)?

What age do they most want to be right now?

They’ve won the lottery. Spend, or save?

Do they like romance in the books they read (or in the book they’re in)?

Name one thing their parents taught them.

Would they agree with the term ‘guilty pleasure’? Do they have any?

What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work?

If money wasn’t a limit, what would they wear?

Do they like children?

Kissing: tongue or no tongue?

Do they study before tests? Practice before job interviews?

What do they like that nobody else does?

What would it take for them to break up with someone? What would be the last straw?

Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to?

Stability or novelty?

Honesty or charity?

Safety or possibility?

Talent or effort?

Forgiveness or vengeance (or…)?

Would they date a fixer-upper?

What recurring dreams do they have?

What would they do if they knew it would be forgiven?

[victoryai]

7th Lord in the Signs (spouse focused)

I already wrote on 1st lord in the signs here so I guess you understand what I mean by 7th Lord in the signs.

7th lord in the signs is only concerned about which sign the 7th house Lord is in. It don matter here which planet is your 7th lord but rather which sign your 7th lord is placed in.

7th Lord in Aries: Spouse acts in a direct and straightforward manner, often driven by impulse. Has a prominent face card, with a nice build, but not very tall. Making decisions spontaneously, and sometimes lacking strategy. Hardly procrastinates I guess 🤷 and very adamant in nature. Good thing that they're decisive In nature and able to defend their territory.

7th Lord in Taurus: Spouse is concerned about money, financial stability and security and food 😉. Or better still, spouse has good looking pockets and might be a big spender. Wants all the luxury and comfort, believes that sharing is not 🚫 caring and everyone should have their own stuff, probably stingy 🤷, a foodie, plumpy in nature, clear skin, beautiful/handsome of course.

7th Lord in Gemini: Spouse is likely to be on the slimer side, not to tall too, likes music, dances and writes stuff in free time. Has a small 🤏 feature somewhere on the face, maybe small crafty eyes 😂, does a lot of overthinking, wonders how he/she is supposed to digest all the goddamn information, good communicator and can probably spend the whole time talking to you, admirable wit.

7th Lord in Cancer: Spouse is traditional in nature, family oriented and too sensitive sometimes. Seems like a kind person, hardly weird and in their senses most of the time. Loves privacy and prefers to sulk than spill it out sometimes. Rollercoaster emotions range from 🤣😂😅😄😁 to 😐🥲😪😭. Not tall too. Probably plumpy in body nature and attitude.

7th Lord in Leo: Spouse has big dreams, and one of them is being a star, spouse loves to be appreciated (I mean who doesn't want that). If it's a lady,she's wants nothing less than baby girl treatment. Considers flirting a good exercise to check if their still attractive 😂. Will probably tell you that they had a lot of options but settled for you, just kidding of course, also hates to be unnoticed, 😎

7th lord in Virgo: Spouse is very practical in nature and can notice the tiniest of details. Calls a spade a spade probably because it's a spade 🤷. More logical than emotional, interested in health and wellness, probably loves animals alot. Very organized and put together, more on the slim side and looks younger than actual age. Never forgets anything that is important, and stands through with you during tough times.

©Victoryai

7th Lord in Libra: Spouse is beautiful of course, diplomatic in nature and friendly, has a good deal of acquaintances, more feminine in nature and behavior, popular among the ladies 🤷, has great taste and hardly ever sober. Spouse is well liked by a lot of people and is balanced in nature. Takes a little too much time in making decisions but they make good ones. Not aggressive and hardly oppressive.

7th Lord in Scorpio: Spouse is magnetism itself, a secretive person very different from the rest. Has an air of detachment to them but if they get attached to you, then 💀. Probably, gets things from others easily, has gone through some major shit and transformation, not easy to decode, beautiful/handsome of course , has probably a experienced near death situation.

7th Lord in Sagittarius: Spouse has a great deal of knowledge and experience. Probably travels alot or is a foreigner to you in some way. Always in good spirits and hardly ever down except it gets too hard. Will probably tell you an ancient story you haven't heard of. Good humor and face that always looks like he/she is laughing. Religious person or has strong beliefs.

7th Lord in Capricorn: Spouse is a serious person and doesn't fool around most of the time. Might be a public figure or someone who has to keep up with their reputation in public. Looks a lot better in older years, is a leader and has a great deal of responsibilities sometimes, someone in a place of authority to others, will make a good Boss and father figure.

7th Lord in Aquarius: Spouse is unconventional and refuses to accept some "norms", innovative thinking, preferring to walk alone than follow a wrong crowd. Spouse is spontaneous in nature, getting ideas on random days and mostly bad timing😂, eccentric and a lil 🤏 weird, might be in the crowd but is not part of the crowd, possesses unusual intellect. OMG I think your spouse is so much like me🤔😂

7th Lord in Pisces: Spouse is easily lost in thoughts, empathetic in nature and emotionally smart. Has one particular activity he/she is addicted to, has spiritual gifts and probably interested in spirituality itself, Painfully quiet sometimes and preferring isolation rather than company. Has a big heart and forgives a lot, but do they forget?🤔. Sleeps too much or dreams too much. Could be very deceptive too 🤫.

©Victoryai

[momotonescreaming]

STWG Daily Drabble - Outsider POV

Happy Birthday @penny00dreadful !! 🎉🎁🎈🎂 Steddie | G | 882 words

"He's quieter around you," Wayne comments to Steve, looking through the open archway to see Eddie standing at the kitchen stove. "Not in a bad way, mind you."

Eddie's wearing a stretched Metallica shirt and a pair of Hawkins High gym shorts, socks slouching down his ankles from lack of elastic. Rocking in place as he stirs something on the stove, to the tune of one of Wayne's old records he put on quiet for background noise. He's finishing cooking the last of their dinner, having pushed his uncle away when Wayne said he could finish up so Eddie could spend time with his boyfriend. But he started cooking it, Eddie said, and so he was going to finish it.

Wayne thinks he's just trying to impress Steve — not that Steve needs much impressing. They became closer when Eddie was on the run, after all. But that's all behind them now, all of them packed up and out of Hawkins to the big city of Chicago. It's not so different, Wayne thinks. He still works a hard factory job, with coworkers that aren't quite friends, in a small home with Eddie. They're just in an apartment this time, and not a trailer.

Steve moved up with Robin in their own apartment, working and figuring himself out while she went to College — as Eddie tells him. It's nice that Eddie has people up here. As much as he loves his boy, and is glad he still wants to spend time with his old man, Eddie needs people his own age.

People who understand him. Who understand what happened to him.

Wayne can love him, and hold him, and give in a safe place to land — but he doesn't know and he doesn't want to pry.

Steve just makes an inquisitive noise, turning to Wayne from his spot on the couch next to him, beer in hand. Raises an eyebrow, opens his mouth, but doesn't quite say anything. Wayne watches and takes a sip of his own beer as Eddie's boy processes what he's said. Waiting before he speaks. "How so?"

"Now Eddie ain't exactly one to withhold his opinions," Wayne starts, to Steve's amused snort. They've both heard his angry rants, and his excited chattering about the things he's passionate about. "No matter what situation he's in. But he doesn't need to perform around you, the way he does with others."

Wayne's watched as Eddie puts it on like a cloak, settles the mask over his face — as he switches from his boy Eddie, to the mean and scary dungeon master. He's loud, brash, larger than life, in your face. Takes the words others throw at him, hardens his shell, and throws them right back.

He's different now, in more ways than one. In some ways he's a little more open, a little more understanding; hell, he's watched sports without complaining about jocks and oppression and popular sports being the thing that kills the sense of self. In other ways he's a little more withdrawn, a little more scared, not going out as much — recovering. But he's better now, all things considered, out of Hawkins, out from under the thumb of that oppressive little town. Wayne didn't quite realise how much until they left.

With Steve, he's quieter. Calmer. He doesn't need to put on the mask, the act, perform the person he feels he has to be. Eddie, dialled up to 11. Wayne isn't one for words, not the way Eddie is, but he's more himself with Steve. In a way he only was with Wayne, not that he's trying to toot his own horn. It took years, and a lot of work to undo the damage Wayne's brother did to his nephew, to make him comfortable with him.

With Steve, it feels as easy as anything. He's settled into an easy dynamic with Steve, they don't need to pretend or try to be something different or bigger and better. They can just be Eddie and Steve.

They can be comfortable in gym shorts and sweatpants, making dinner and sharing a beer with Wayne. He doesn't want to intrude, not when they don't have many spaces they can be comfortable, and be together, but they insist they want him there. Eddie wants his uncle to meet his boyfriend, wants to include Wayne; and Steve jokes that he needs another person to tease Eddie with, a person he can talk basketball with.

"I try." Steve simply says, smiling as he looks at Eddie through the archway into the kitchen. Eyes warm and face softening at the sight of him. With his frizzy hair even frizzier with the heat and steam clouding their tiny kitchen. With his weary body gently bobbing to the music. It's nice, Wayne thinks, seeing his boy settle into something. Into contentedness. Be more himself, and not the himself he feels he has to be. "I mean, it's the same with me, y'know?"

"There was a lot of pressure to be a certain type of person, and I think we both had to sorta, have it shocked out of us." Steve continues, turning to look at Wayne. He looks so young, and yet so wise in his years. "But we're here now, and I can be quiet with him too."

[werevampiwolf]

Also Historical Examples (some of which continue today)

The mines (children can drag carts through smaller tunnels, which is cheaper to dig, and you can pay them less!)

Industrial Revolution factories (everything from machines that regularly take off body parts to things like the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire, which resulted in so many deaths because the doors were kept locked during shifts to prevent theft, meaning employees couldn't escape the blaze)

The entire institution of chattel slavery (I know slaves aren't actually employees but slaves were regularly worked to death, and a lot of it was due to the mindset that the people who do the work to make your money are easily replaceable and just a business expense and not, you know, Actual Human Beings)

Never forget, every right you have as an employee, no matter how small, was fought for and probably died for.

Ford banned his employees from speaking

Within the last few years, there was pushback against a law in Texas requiring that people working outside in the summer, in as high as 120°F heat, be given a 10 minute break after two hours so they can drink water

Factory jobs often had 12, 14, 16, or 18 hour shifts, six to seven days a week

Children as young as four (and sometimes even younger) were regularly hired for incredibly dangerous jobs, like picking broken threads out of running machines in the textile industry

Hell, a few years back, one of our soda machines was spraying water into a display case, and I was given the task of drying it up after it was fixed.

Me: [on radio] "This display doesn't have bulbs, but the other cases in the same circuit are on. Is this one actually disconnected from the mains or is it just bulb-less?"

Boss: [annoyed] "what is your concern?"

Me: "well. I'm being asked to stick my hand in a box of exposed electrical stuff and water."

Boss: "Oh. Just try not to touch those."

I ended up cleaning it up, and the other cases remained on. I'm lucky that I wear EH-rated work shoes because I used to do repair work and didn't trust my boss. I was afraid that if i refused, she'd just make someone else, who wasn't wearing insulating shoes and potentially had no idea of the danger, do it. And she didn't give me the task because of my shoes, because I never told anyone about them. The only way she could know is if she spent enough time staring at the bottom of my shoe to see the little EH logo stamped into the sole and knew what it was.

"It doesn't help your credibility to exaggerate, most employers wouldn't literally work you to death" like, I used to work in distribution. If booking a truck driver for back to back shifts until they fall asleep at the wheel, crash, and die counts as being worked to death, I have personally met employers who've worked employees to death and gotten away with a slap on the wrist. It may not be universal, but it's a hell of a lot more common than a lot of us would prefer to think.

[wendichester]

I've been reading your stuff all day, and I LOVE it omg

Could you maybe write something where reader is a hunter who works with Sam and Dean from time to time but they don't know each other that well and one day when they come back from a hunt she kind of hurries off because she doesn't want them to know that she can't afford a motel room. But either Dean or Sam finds out that she's been sleeping in her car to save her money for meals etc.

Thank you in advance <3

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ four wheels and an empty stomach,

summary. hunters life really doesn't pay off. you've been sleeping in your car and definitely not eating enough. but tonight, this will be different.

pairing. dean winchester x reader genre. angst

wordcount. 504

notes / warnings. reader experiencing hunger and homelessness. emotional vulnerability. exhaustion. depravation. // i hope you're all safe 🩷

It’s raining by the time you finish cleaning up the hunt. Not a heavy, stormy rain—just that sad, needling kind that soaks into your clothes and makes everything feel a little heavier.

You pull the zipper of your jacket up to your chin and throw a quick wave at Sam and Dean, who are still arguing about where to get burgers.

“I’m gonna head out,” you say, trying to sound casual. “Catch you guys next time.”

Dean’s half-turned toward you, distracted. Sam’s digging through his pockets for the Impala keys. Neither of them really notices when you slip away into the parking lot.

Good. You don’t want them to.

Your car’s parked under a flickering streetlight—ancient, rusty, and barely hanging on like you. You unlock the door as quietly as you can, toss your duffel in the backseat, and climb into the driver's side.

You crank the heater even though you know it’ll drain the battery by morning. Small price to pay to not freeze your ass off.

You curl up on the front seat, hoodie pulled over your head, and close your eyes.

Tomorrow, maybe you’ll have enough cash for a real bed. Maybe not. You’re getting good at pretending the ache in your ribs is anything but hunger.

You’re almost asleep when you hear it.

A sharp knock on the window.

You jolt upright, heart hammering, breath fogging up the glass.

Dean Winchester stands there, rain dripping off the brim of his jacket, frowning like he’s just been punched in the gut.

You scramble to unlock the door, embarrassment burning hot under your skin.

“Dean, I—I was just—” you stammer, no good lie ready.

He doesn’t let you finish.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he says, voice low and rough, almost broken. “You sleepin’ in your car?”

You grit your teeth, furious at yourself for getting caught. You don’t need pity. You’ve survived worse. You don’t need—

Dean crouches beside the car, rain soaking into his jeans, hands resting gently on the frame like he’s afraid you’ll bolt if he moves too fast.

“Why didn’t you say somethin’?” he asks, so soft it guts you.

You stare down at your hands. “Didn’t wanna be a charity case.”

He lets out a shaky breath, like he’s biting back a hundred things he wants to say.

Finally, he just holds out a hand.

“C’mon,” he says. “We got two beds. You’re not sleepin’ out here. Not while we’re around.”

You hesitate, shame coiling hot and thick in your gut.

Dean’s smile is crooked, a little sad.

“Not charity, sweetheart. Family.”

And somehow, that word hits harder than anything else.

You take his hand.

Dean tugs you out of the car like you weigh nothing, tucks you under his arm like you belong there, like you always have. His jacket is warm around your shoulders, and when you glance up at him, he just squeezes you closer without a word.

The rain keeps falling.

But for the first time in a long time, you’re not alone in it.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[rainyhideoutnight]

spit roast with tfem lottienat <3. cw. blowjob, breeding, p in v sex, lots of cum, praise, degradation, slight dacryphilia. dom!lottie, dom!nat, sub!reader. mdni.

"are you ready?" lottie mutters once she pulls away from the kiss, her body pressed against your front. nat's standing behind you, littering kisses along your neck as her hands hungrily grope whatever skin she can reach.

you're all still fully clothed, but you can feel the heat in the room. they both want you, that's clear, you can feel it with how tightly they're pressing their bodies against yours, sandwiching you, making you feel how hard they both are.

"yeah." you murmur, voice shaky as your underwear soaks through with excitement. nat seems particularly impatient, due to how she's rubbing her bulge against your ass. she cups your cheek and tilts your head to the side to kiss you passionately, lottie shivering at the sight. "c'mon, let's get you out of these." nat orders after she pulls away. you feel two pairs of hands slowly taking off your clothes, piece by piece, treating you as if you were made out of porcelain. their perfectly synchronized movements only serve to arouse you further, your heart beating out of your chest once you're completely naked and they start taking their clothes off too.

you climb on the bed to get on your hands and knees. lottie kneels in front of you and nat gets behind you. from this position lottie looks even bigger than you expected. she seems to pick up on your nervousness, and cups your cheek with her hand to make you look at her. "relax, baby. i'll take it slow, okay? tap my thigh if it's too much." she says soothingly, to which you nod.

nat teases the tip of her cock on your entrance, not pushing in yet, staring at you as you lick a stripe up lottie's cock before wrapping your lips around the tip, gaining a groan from lottie. "god yes, take more of it, baby." she urges softly, and you start bobbing your head back and forth to slowly get more of her into your mouth. she's cooing and guiding you through it so softly that you feel yourself getting even wetter than before. nat can't take it anymore and pushes her hips forward, slamming into you to the hilt, moaning lowly. you cry out around lottie at the sudden intrusion, the vibrations making her hiss in pleasure, but she scolds her. "nat, be gentle."

nat just grunts in response, starting a rough pace that has your whole body rocking forward, as her hands grip your hips tight enough to leave finger imprints. "fuck, she feels so good, lottie. so fucking tight." she groans as she pounds into you, trying your best not to choke on lottie everytime nat delivers a particular hard thrust. lottie has her eyes on you all the time, moaning lowly as you keep sucking her and moaning around her. she threads her fingers through your hair, touching you gently, as you look up at her with big eyes. "you're taking us so well, baby. such a good girl."

meanwhile, nat's having the time of her life. you clench so deliciously around her shaft that she's having a hard time controlling herself, panting wildly as her tip hits your cervix with each thrust. the room is filled with a dirty symphony of nat's grunts, lottie's moans, the sound of skin slapping against skin and your muffled whimpers. it doesn't take you long to tip closer to your orgasm, due to all the attention you're receiving, as well as nat.

she brings her hand down to flick your clit from side to side, bringing you closer to the edge as her thrusts get sloppier and her voice gets whinier. "please— oh god, please come with me baby." it's her tone what finally breaks you, and your orgasm rips through you with a loud moan, gushing around her cock. nat's front slumps on your back as her hips give shallow little thrusts, pumping her sticky cum inside you as her teeth sink into your shoulder to muffle her cries. after you've come down from your high, lottie slips out of your mouth to let you take a breath, still incredibly hard.

your breath's still shaky as nat sits up and pulls out, watching with bated breath as her cum dribbles out of your hole, before they switch places. "hey, you okay?" nat asks softly, to which you nod, bringing your face closer to her crotch to start kissing her inner thighs right beside her soft cock.

lottie grabs the base of her cock and pushes the droplets of cum that drip down your folds back into your hole with her tip, also teasing it in before pulling back repeatedly, her free hand fondling the flesh of your ass. you whimper against nat's skin at your own sensitivity from the orgasm, and the sight is enough for nat to make her cock twitch again already.

"she's such a slut, isn't she, lott?" nat says in her raspy voice, amused by your need to please them. lottie hums in response, before finally sinking down inside you slowly. "so eager too." lottie muses in a deep voice.

you whine at the feeling of being stretched out once more, the sensation of lottie so deep inside you making you feel a little dizzy. nat fists your hair to press your face closer to her cock slick with your arousal, giving you an encouraging look. you silently comply, wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking gently, while your hand strokes the rest of her to get her hard again, as lottie starts moving in deep, slow thrusts.

lottie tries to be gentle, to take it slow, she really does, but she gives in more and more to her pleasure as your hole hugs her cock just right. her hands spread your legs even more, now splitting you apart with each thrust. "oh fuck, such a perfect pussy, i can't wait to fill you up too." lottie moans breathlessly behind you, as nat pushes your head further down making you gag on her hard cock, your eyes watering.

you feel completely defenseless as they both use your holes, your head clouded with pleasure. lottie plunging your hole, nat bobbing your head up and down, their sinful sounds of pleasure — you can't even think straight, your mind set on being good for them and taking it all.

you feel so close already, so close to the edge, that your walls clench tightly around lottie, making her moan loudly. "yeah, you're so close, i can tell. let go for me baby, just like that." she encourages softly, her voice sweet like syrup but breathless from exertion, as her hand snakes your lower tummy and presses down to where her bulge is, the action making you instantly tumble into another orgasm. you cry out as a few tears run down your rosy cheeks, the knot on lottie's abdomen finally snapping as she sinks balls-deep, emptying her heavy cream inside you with a sinful groan. the sight is too much for nat and a few seconds later she shoots her load into your throat, before pulling you away from her cock by the hair to paint your face with a couple spurts of cum.

lottie remains inside you for a bit longer, panting and shaking, as you rest your head down on the soft blanket, your heart pounding in your chest and your body completely exhausted.

lottie finally pulls out gently to let you catch your breath, pulling you down on the bed with her to spoon you from behind. nat stands up to walk out of the room for a moment, returning with a rag in hand. she kneels down in front of you and gently wipes away the mess off your face. "are you okay? was that too much?" she then asks softly, putting down the rag aside to lay down and cuddle you, once again leaving you in the middle. you shake your head, closing your eyes as you let them pamper you. "i'm okay. that was good." you murmur, feeling lottie press soft kisses on the back of your neck, as nat's hands caress your sides.

you'd gladly be in the middle of them anytime.

a/n. thanks for all the support guys love yall <3

[hatosaur]

this show sucks and i'm angry

i'm back on this blog for the very specific reason that i'm filled with spite and rage. i Must talk about how bad tlou hbo season 2 is. spoilers (and lots of hatred) ahead.

(i know i stated before that i wouldn't be watching; that was a fuckin lie)

the show is so...pretentiously written in the second season because they keep adding insignificant fluff that overall weakens the story beats. the game story is neat and clean in that it doesn't waste any time, because, go figure, it doesn't make for a good game story. the player wants to get in there. tv shows don't have the same needs but god, that doesn't mean that you can stretch everything and fill in the gaps with frivolous, drawn out dialogue that explains EVERYTHING that the characters are thinking.

the game really shines in the brevity of its dialogue -- its quiet, contemplative scenes that allow you to sit in the emotions of the moment. the show does the exact opposite and tells us TOO MUCH. first episode, we re-acquaint ourselves with these characters; what have ellie and joel up to? surely we get bits of the sudden iciness between them. nope, dina has to straight up ask joel, "why is she mad at you?" how's joel feeling about it? surely, it's up to viewer interpretation. maybe we can read joel's expressions and interactions with other characters -- nope, he goes to ✨therapy✨ now, and we have to be told what ellie and joel's relationship is through a brand new, useless character who adds zero impact to the story's themes/messages. great. cool. i love being told what's happening instead of just seeing it for myself.

each episode is worse than the last (and there are only three out at the time of me writing this!) with completely bizarre writing choices and massive tonal issues. abby is perhaps the most egregious example. i won't talk about my gripes with the casting because it's a dead horse. instead, let's talk about how she killed joel. abby prefaces the act by going on this longgggg speech about who exactly she is, what she's there for, who joel killed to make her do this, xyz, everything under the sun. then as she grabs the golf club and continues her speech, joel tells her to "shut the fuck up already and do it." joel saying the game's version of this ("save whatever speech you got and get it over with.") is badass, because it implies that it could've been anyone related to someone he's killed in the past, but it just happened to be abby that day. the ambiguity of whether he knew who exactly he killed or not adds to the tragedy of the story, because this was the one guy he had to kill to save ellie. in the show, it's almost comical, because we're fed this long speech that is entirely unnecessary and kills the flow of the scene; she JUST shot him in the fucking leg, you can't just go into a monologue after that. him knowing it was jerry he killed means fuck-all to the story. it works to the story's detriment, in fact, because it's a story about blind revenge, and it's a recurring thing in the game that these characters don't know what the fuck the other's motives are; they just know each other's actions.

the final blow on joel lacked the brutality and rage of the game. like, impaling him? is it meant to like, show that this scrawnier abby has a different set of abilities now that she doesn't have muscles to prove her prowess as a killer. in fact, what is it now that makes abby a daunting character? is it her drive to kill? is it her obsession? is it her being slightly more fucked up than her friends? because none of this was telegraphed to the audience. she just read as a hurt person. which SHE IS. but again. we're not meant to know this much about abby this early on. the show flouts the game's use of perception and throws everything it possibly can at the audience all at once, sacrificing the mystery of the narrative.

episode three is the worst of the episodes that are out (again, how are things this bad at just episode three?). we fast-forward to jackson three whole months after joel's death. it's implied that ellie was...committed to jackson's equivalent to a psych ward and that's the reason. i don't mind setting the stage for ellie's trauma as it's a huge part of the story. but three months? that takes so much of the wind out of the sails of the story. (the story is so bogged down by modern expectations of mental health. no, we don't need to see joel in therapy. no, we don't need to see ellie in the psych ward. these moments literally, literally don't matter.) dina has withheld info about joel's death (let's not get into the weird choice to swap tommy and dina for patrol; yet another nonsensical choice), and the two go through fucking LEGAL AVENUES TO GET AFTER ABBY? what the fuck?? you have ellie, a character who throughout the entire course of her life as a young person has seen absolutely no reason to respect authority figures, systems, or processes, and yet she has to wait for the people of jackson to vote on whether she should go after abby or not. ellie gets her own speech on what her motivations are. again, we know what her motivations are, it's pretty easy to tell, considering it happened in the previous episode. AGAIN, this entire scene doesn't impact the story in any way whatsoever...except in one way, as perceived by craig mazin.

seth (homophobic asshole) vocally supports the proposal, and this leads to him later giving ellie one of his guns as she's leaving jackson (which she does regardless of the vote, fuck fuck fuck why are they doing this). they share, i guess, a "meaningful moment" and they left. because do you guys get it yet? the show's about clashing forces needing to get along. because if we all just understood one another's intentions a little bit, maybe we'd be alright in the long run, right?

maria is the one who intercepts the girls as they leave, in the game. go figure, they make her black in the show and shelve her completely in the second season. i would think if they wanted to press a little more on the domesticity of jackson life, they would've kept this connection but...no. give the screentime to the white homophobe. because his actions totally needed to be justified, right? (for those who don't watch the behind-the-scenes featurettes, neil druckmann paints seth as a character who, in his own eyes, seeks to protect his community "in his own way." fuck off.) progressing the story in this way through a homophobe is so fucking morally corrupt. i get that they might be wanting to make a point about a perceived "unforgivable" person having the chance to redeem himself, but come the fuck on. we're in the middle of one of the worst moments in modern history for queer people and you choose to do THIS.

on the note of how they're depicting queer issues, LET'S TALK ABOUT WHAT THEY DO TO DINA (beloved, proudly bisexual partner of ellie). ellie and dina's relationship in the show is very different from the game. i'll maybe save the whole can of worms for a different post, but in episode three in particular, dina (in the game, an assured character; a rock for ellie's instability) doesn't confirm her feelings toward ellie. in fact, she dances around it; she poses the question about rating the kiss, the two banter, and dina confirms to ellie instead that she went back to jesse. what. the fuck? she plays off the kiss as something girls do when they're high, or drunk, or whatever. giggles and says, "you're gay, i'm not. i wanna know how good i was." which is the most insane fucking line in the show so far.

now, the present theory is that dina will realize she's bisexual later. but why? what room is there in this story for that? why did craig mazin make the significant change to explore dina's sexuality, and why does he think he's the guy to do it? because he's already fucked up. he's made dina ditzy, he's affirmed ellie's insecurities about the kiss, he's made her go back to jesse (ensuring she gets pregnant because of that fuckass timeskip). i won't deny that these things might happen to bi people irl, or that exploring a character's realization of their sexuality is something that could be depicted more. but why make this change from source material to adaptation? why add this to the ever-growing list of plotlines added on top of the base one?

at present, ellie and dina's relationship is left up in the air, removing the stability that both would've been able to rely on as the story progresses, and effectively making them "gal pals." tale as old as time, i guess.

the show will inevitably be praised for its queer rep anyway, because it's bolstered by the bill and frank episode (a positive example of original content from the show) and the kiss scene from episode one (more racy than the original's slow and sweet kiss because i think girls should makeout on screen more anyway), but genuinely? it's not hitting this season and i don't have hope it (nor the previous issues) will get better.

[the-barefoot-hatter]

#copied from prev:#harry potter was not a covert attempt to brainwash children into fascism#they're very milquetoast 1990s british liberal#she used to fucking hate the tories#and yes there WERE some tells in her books that she had ye olde unexamined biases

#but in the wake of her going off the deep end people have twisted that into#''she was always a hateful bigot and hp was actually a nefarious attempt to corrupt children into sharing her bigotry''

#and like#no#she was once a well-meaning fairly progressive normie who just didn't think too hard about her own background assumptions about the world#and then she got famous and then she got older and she got radicalized by people who targeted her on purpose because she had#enough money and cultural caché to turn into real influence

#and she was completely unprepared to defend her worldview from people who were telling her that her knee-jerk reaction was always right#and anyone who said otherwise was not only a jerk but also a dangerous villain who wanted to hurt her and other innocent women and girls

#and y'all are not nearly as immune to those tactics as a lot of you think you are

#fuck the ghoul that jkr has become but the story of how she got here is not the story of a crypto-fascist who made it into mainstream#it is the cautionary tale of a normal decent person who fell down a bad rabbithole and got swallowed up by a hate movement

#re-writing history so you can pretend she was always evil won't protect you from sharing her fate

#you have to put in the effort to interrogate your own biases and your own knee-jerk disgust reactions#you have to take a minute every so often to step back and CHECK if you have ended up in an echo chamber bubble and touch grass a little

#because radicalization doesn't happen overnight and it can happen to any of us#it's very easy to let yourself believe that you're Correct and anyone who disagrees with you is Obviously Evil

#you have to force yourself to double-check that notion from time to time and to hang onto EXACTLY what it is that makes the other side wron#you can't just say ''well they're conservatives so obviously they're evil'' because that is how you wind up at ''these men are hurting youn#''girls by PRETENDING to be women in order to take advantage of the protections feminists have spent decades fighting for! and we shouldn't#''even be surprised really - men are awful after all. all they do is TAKE from women and PREY ON young girls. we all know this from our own#''bad experiences with men. and we were right to hate them for it! you see!!'' and whoops now you're a fucking terf

#it's easy it's so easy it's so fucking easy and i promise you i PROMISE you there is a hate group out there who has your fucking number#no matter how good and progressive and leftist you think you are there is SOMETHING that could radicalize you into hate if you let it#there is an argument about how certain people are Just Fundamentally Evil that would appeal to you and make sense to you

ok im going to #seriouspost for a second here. I don't think Harry Potter is a manifesto. I think it was a flawed passion project that millennials latched onto because of the fantasy of sticking it to their mean teachers and arbitrarily categorizing themselves (hogwarts houses; it's the thinking millennial's astrology). I think the fact that the series got popular when and how it did was very much a product of its time.

I don't think Harry Potter is the biggest symbol of JKR's bigotry. I think the most flagrant sign of that was how she responded to critics. I watched her become radicalized in real time. I watched how she doubled down on her racism when she was called out for the ways she promoted her tragically mid fantastic beasts movies. I watched her chase marginalized teenagers with a double digit follower count off of twitter for daring to criticize her thought process, and no one with any kind of power standing against her because she was the one who was paying them. This isn't to say Harry Potter is without flaws. This is to say she really didn't give a shit about that. Getting rich and powerful is a hell of a drug, and she had enough sycophants that she had no reason to care about what her critics were saying.

She was convinced that she was a martyr; a voice for the unheard; a leader for the ages, so of course her detractors were the bad guys. And I think we should take this to heart. We should see this as an example of how easy it is to get radicalized; if you think of yourself as a paragon of virtue, you are going to think that whatever you see as good and right is an objective fact. Most people don't know this, but the majority of terfs start out as trans allies. You are not immune to propaganda! You are not immune to falling into dangerous ideologies!!!

This is why the most important thing you can do as an activist is to listen. Do NOT think you're above being wrong; do NOT develop a god complex; do NOT form an identity out of being right all the time. Involve yourselves in the groups you claim to speak for. Listen to trans women; share resources that help trans women; familiarize yourself with the diversity of experiences that trans people have and the struggles they face.

No, none of you are as bad as JKR because you don't have her money or her power. You will likely never have the capacity for harm she does. But check yourselves. Do not affirm yourselves into thinking you always have the moral high ground. Watch yourselves; humble yourselves; check yourselves for signs of cult behavior and internalized prejudice. You are always learning. You will always be learning. Do not allow yourselves to get a power trip from brushing off marginalized voices.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

How would Bruce be affected after the kidnapped fic ?

So many people liked this fic, I have to do a follow-up post! But here's the post if you all want to see it again. Kidnapped fic

Reader is avoiding the bats at every chance they get. Like, you're not even 6 ft apart; isn't that enough? You need them far away from you. They're the reason you got kidnapped in the first place. You weren't a child of Bruce Wayne; if you weren't associated with him, this could have never happened. Not only that, you start to blame yourself. Like a lot, you think maybe if you were strong like Damian, you could have fought them off. Maybe if you didn't rely on them for almost everything, then you would have been safe. You're spending every waking moment and every hour with your mom. She's holding you tight, saying everything is going to be okay. She sleeps with you in your bedroom and never leaves your side. It's crazy how you feel so much safer with her than you'll ever feel with the bats. But since you're at a distance from them and won't even speak to them, their yandere tendencies are literally skyrocketing. Bruce is using the Batcomputer to find the goons that kidnapped you and ruin their entire lives. Dick is literally outside of your room asking—no, begging—for you to let him in. He leaves little notes at your door, trying his hardest for you to talk to him. At one point, he's going to bust down that door just to try and comfort you. Jason knows what it's like to be abandoned and forgotten. He did call you a spoiled brat, but he never really meant it. He's your big brother. Please let your big brother help you when you need him the most; he can relate to how you're feeling right now. He swears just let him protect you; he wants to be the one to save you, whether you like it or not. Tim is watching your every move. You finally feel confident enough to go out alone by yourself, but he's two steps behind you, staring. He had a nightmare that you were taken away again. He opens your door and watches you sleep for hours, just to make sure that you're still there. Duke is trying to help you gain confidence by going outside and being out at night, but every time he tries to hold your hand or keep you close, you pull away instantly. It breaks his heart to know that he has to keep you at arm's length because that's the only way you guys can connect. But don't worry; he'll be the night light in the city of darkness just for you. You and Damian have a tough relationship; really tough. But he just doesn't find it fair that you're confiding in Alfred or your mother or everybody else except him. When he tries to get close to you, you flinch away. He's not going to hurt you; he swears he's not. He may be the grandson of the demon head, but he's nothing like Ra's, and he's trying to prove that to you and to himself. It doesn't matter; he's chaperoning you no matter where you go, forcing you to hold his hand or stay close. As Robin, it's his job to keep people safe, especially the people he cares about, even if they don't know that he cares about them.

[valeelavvale]

Glitter Heart

featuring : Oscar Piastri/reader; Oscar Piastri/family

summary : (requested by anonim) : Oscar wins again an he celebrates with his loved ones.

genre : romance/family

word count : 909

He could still hear the roar of the crowd outside, it echoed in his ears and it was a wonderful sound.

Oscar had started the season with a slip but, once he regained his balance, he started running like a flash. Two victories one after the other, the top of the championship. It still didn't seem real to him.

"It's not a dream," his girlfriend whispered in his ear, hugging him from behind while he was sitting.

"Come on, repeat it with me: it's really happening," she laughed again.

Oscar laughed shaking his head "I'm still not so sure," he joked.

"Well it is, it seems that on the track you are not the disaster you are at home!" Hattie, the eldest of his sisters, declared.

"Nicea s always Hat..." he replied sticking his tongue out at her.

"Kids!" Oscar's mother's voice echoed behind them "You are too good at putting up with all of us," she laughed at her son's girlfriend shaking her head.

"Oh, I'm used to you by now, Nicole, you know, I feel like part of the clan," y/n laughed amused "When I can, I even participate in the arguments!".

"I don't want to have to start scolding you too!" echoed the woman amused "I prefer when you help me put an end to these guys' arguments."

"I still think that we should swap her with Oscar, leave him at McLaren and keep her as a sister, we all gain," Edie commented without taking her eyes off her phone.

"I don't feel appreciated," Oscar exclaimed loudly.

"I appreciate you a lot," his girlfriend whispered in his ear amused without being heard by the rest of the family.

Oscar laughed, when he brought his parents and siblings along it was always a mess, when it was just y/n it was much quieter, but he had to admit that celebrating a victory with the whole clan, as y/n called it, wasn't so bad.

"Come on, we have a table reserved for dinner soon," she said giving him a kiss on the cheek "And I have to help your sisters choose what to wear first..." she laughed.

"All three? You know I'm jealous of my family lately, you spend much more time with them than with me and it doesn't make me happy," he joked turning his face to look at her.

"You should have seen the shopping I did with your mother this morning..." she laughed amused "Come on, from tomorrow it's just you and me again and we'll go out to celebrate without parents, little sisters..."

"... We can’t go out at all, we can celebrate at home," he smiled amused.

"Let's see how you behave tonight... If you argue with your sisters or not," she joked.

"Or what will you do, put me in time-out?" he teased getting up "I'm going to change," he continued giving her a kiss.

Y/n felt at home in that family, the fact that she had never known her mother and that her father had long been such an inconsistent presence in her life had pushed her to love even more the family atmosphere she breathed with those people.

With Oscar she felt at home, wherever she was, in any hotel, anywhere in the world.

It didn't bother her that his family was very present, that sometimes she had to consider sharing her boyfriend even when she might not have wanted to.

There were moments for them, they always managed to escape the confusion, close themselves at home, lying on the couch talking, watching dozens of episodes of TV series ignoring the phones that kept buzzing with messages.

She liked being the older sister that Hattie, Edie, and Mae pretended to desperately want instead of Oscar, when in reality, they adored no one as much as they adored their brother.

They had built the largest Barbie city in Mae's room, even Oscar once, when they were having lunch at his parents’ house, started playing with it (trying to build a city circuit to make Ken race).

Oscar loved that y/n didn't feel the weight of a family to which he, perhaps, was too attached.

Not that he didn't know how to set limits, but it was difficult to keep his sisters at home when their brother was traveling the world racing in a Formula 1.

-

After dinner, Oscar's parents and sisters had returned to the hotel, mainly to give the winner a break from the girls' chatter and to give him and y/n some time to celebrate the victory of a perfect Grand Prix together.

"In Miami, it will be just you and me," he commented passing an arm over her shoulders and stealing a kiss.

"I don't mind the idea at all, nothing against your family but... Sometimes I like having you just for myself," she smiled.

"When it's too much y/n, tell me..."

"...it's not too much, not now, okay? I love your family and I hope you've noticed how much your family loves me," she joked amused "It's okay like this, you're always traveling the world, I have to share you with so many people, the team, the journalists, the family... Then there's this little piece that remains for me and that I love to death," she smiled as he stopped to give her a kiss.

"I love you," the boy said with that simplicity he always had.

"Me too," y/n replied "And your sister stuck a glitter heart on your back," she laughed before kissing him again "I might have cut it out myself, a sign of my love, right?" she whispered.

"You're worse than them..." he muttered hugging her.

He was happy, really happy.

[adieutristana]

Could you do the sfw Alphabet with Jinx?

of course! thank you for requesting <3

big love by fleetwood mac on repeat rn

summary; jinx headcanons in the format of the sfw alphabet (using this template.)

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, (very brief) angst, jealousy, sweet stuff all around

men dni.

a; affection. (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?

jinx is very affectionate, and she shows affection in a lot of ways. but her favorites are physical touch and gift giving. she's incredibly touchy, always wanting to have an arm around you, your fingers interlaced, or her head on your shoulder. it's both her way of showing you she cares, and reassuring herself that you're there and real.

in terms of gift giving, all of her gifts are handmade and deeply personal. she makes things like silver lockets out of scrap metal, welded bouquets, music boxes that play tunes she's heard you hum (albeit a bit out of tune), and picture frames with crude drawings of the two of you. she pays attention, and it shows very clearly through what she makes you.

b; best friend. (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

jinx is easily the most unpredictable and chaotic, yet fun friend you've ever had. she's not super conventional. the two of you don't talk every day, still enjoying her solitude, and she always has an aura of mystery to her. but it doesn't mean she values your companionship any less.

the friendship likely would start due to you being in a similar line of work to her, one of silco's errand girls or someone pushing shimmer in the common market. you'd run into each other while both on jobs, got to talking, and found you enjoyed each other's company. you've heard of her- who hasn't? the daughter of the eye of zaun can't exactly go unnoticed.

you start finding time to hang out outside of work, jinx often inviting you back to her hideout to watch her tinker or watch movies with her. she's not sure exactly how the whole 'hanging out' thing goes, she hasn't had someone to call her friend in years. but damn, if she isn't excited to finally have one again. most of the initial visits consist of her doing things she'd normally do by herself, except now you're there too.

but as time goes on, she starts taking you out to the lanes- you tag walls together, sit on rooftops, point out constellations.

"so that one's ursa minor-"

"ursa major." you correct.

"huh?! you're seeing things! that's ursa minor!"

she also asks if you'd like to help with some of her explosives, but you insist that marketing is your strength. she tells you that you're no fun.

c; cuddles. (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

oh, jinx loves to cuddle. she's a bit unpredictable and unconventional. there's times where she'll fully starfish on top of you or curl into your lap without warning, just because she feels like it. "you're warm," as she puts it. but she also does love holding you and being held, feeling you nestle into the crook of her neck and the sensation of your warm breath on her skin. she sleeps a lot better when she's with you.

often when cuddling with jinx, one of you will fall asleep because she won't want to move. and by the time you wake up, you're a tangled mess of limbs, unable to tell which leg belongs to which person. but she enjoys this, the feeling of being intertwined with you. she wants to be as close to you as humanly possible- physically and emotionally.

also, jinx insists on being the big spoon most of the time. even if you're taller than her, she wants to hold you in her arms and have you close to her chest in that way. her lips ghost over your neck, your shoulders, your temple all from behind while she whispers sweet nothings, like "so pretty," or "love this, love you." she does let you be the big spoon every now and again, but it's usually a way to comfort her in times of need.

d; domestic. (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

i think jinx would want to settle down eventually, but definitely not any time in the near future. and her definition of 'settling down' isn't the most conventional, more so just... slowing down a bit, maybe taking more days off to spend with you in tranquil moments. but she doesn't expect to ever completely cease her wild ways.

in terms of cooking, the girl is a hazard. she's set stoves on fire more often than not, she likes to experiment with condiments and spices until food is almost inedible. she's the type of person to leave bread in the oven for an extra fifteen minutes, insisting that it'll be fine, then gets surprised when it burns. in short, she usually lets you do the cooking.

cleaning is something jinx is actually pretty good at! she doesn't really care to keep her own space tidy, clutter's never been something that's bothered her. but if you need help cleaning a space, or you move in together, she'll be all too eager to help. might even offer to organize some things for you.

e; ending. (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

jinx is the type of person who gets attached. i mean that- attached. she doesn't see herself ever breaking up with you, she doesn't consider that an option. but if something comes up that makes her feel as though she needs to break up with you, or it'll be what's best for you, it'll be an internal battle.

she'd start distancing herself at first, to slowly separate from you as much as it kills her inside. even if you ask what's going on, noticing her distant behavior, she'd wave you off with something like, "don't worry about me, toots, just got a lot goin' on."

but she has to tell you eventually what's going on. her voice would be cold, colder than normal as she avoids your gaze. her cuticles have dried blood around them, and you can tell this has been weighing heavy on her. "...i'm sorry, baby, i think we should break up," she murmurs, her very being trembling. "i don't want to do this. i don't. but i'm not good for you, i think i'm just holding you back."

her eyes would be filled with unshed tears, one slipping as she chokes out a pitiful sob. "you deserve better than me, okay? i'll let you find that."

f; fiance(e). (how would they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

jinx is scared shitless when it comes to commitment. she isn't used to things in her life lasting for long- people have been taken from her time after time. she's been thrown into so many different events and ways of life, she doesn't let herself get too attached to one thing. but that changes when she's with you.

you're the only person, place, or thing she can see herself ever committing to. she is committed to you, from even before you officially are together. jinx doesn't take relationships lightly at all, she wants to live and die by your side.

that being said, she is still a young adult. she absolutely does want to get married to you, just not right away- maybe after three or four years of being together? though she will refer to you as her wife casually, even before you're married.

gentle; (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

'gentle' as a concept is a bit foreign to jinx, it'll take her some time to get there. at first she's confused as to why you're gentle with her, why you care about her as a person beyond an asset. beyond her reputation. but over time, she comes to accept and even embrace that. you're a peaceful force in her life, the only person she considers sanctuary. she wants to be the same for you in return.

jinx isn't the best at expressing her emotions in a healthy manner, but she's gotten a lot better at it since meeting you. she's much more gentle with you than with herself- checking up on you to see if you've eaten, if the temperature in her hideout is okay, if you're feeling alright emotionally. physically, she isn't used to being gentle. but the more gentle embraces you pull her into, and the more soft kisses you press to her jawline, the more she comes to enjoy this kind of touch. even reciprocates with her own (clumsily) gentle hugs and cuddles. the tranquility is odd, but welcome.

h; hugs. (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are they like?)

jinx love love loves hugs. they're a greeting, a farewell, even a 'i just felt like it' thing for her. she's the type to want to be constantly touching you, so hugs are one of her favorite things to do, and they're constant.

her hugs are borderline bone-crushing. she's capable of gentle hugs, but she wants the two of you to be as close as humanly possible. she holds onto you like you're her anchor, as if you'll disappear if she lets go (part of her believes you might). all while peppering your face and neck with sweet kisses and swaying you side to side.

i; i love you. (how fast do they say the l-word?)

pretty fast. jinx knew before you even began officially dating that she loved you. but she didn't want to accidentally scare you off by saying it too soon, so she waited until about a month into your relationship to finally say it. though the anticipation was killing her- but the fact that you said it back without any hesitation made every second worth it.

j; jealousy. (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they're jealous?)

jinx gets very jealous, very easily. she's borderline possessive. in her mind, you're hers- why should she have to share you with the rest of the world? it's not that she doesn't trust you, it's that she doesn't trust other people.

she's not a fan of you being physically affectionate with anyone else, aside from maybe your family members. other than that, seeing you hugged by others or told others love you... it sets her off.

she gets pretty volatile when jealous. she could see a guy approach you at the last drop, and within seconds, she's got the cold barrel of her gun pressed to her neck.

"back off," she'd bite, her eyes dark and brows furrowed. "or i'll have no problem pulling the trigger."

k; kisses. (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

jinx's kisses are just as unpredictable as she is. sometimes she'll go slow and gentle, her plump lips moving against yours in a sweet rhythm. sometimes it's a chaste peck, usually a stolen kiss or a greeting. sometimes they're heavy and desperate, a mess of teeth and tongue and slobber while she claims you.

it depends on the day, really. and she doesn't have a preference.

jinx loves to kiss you anywhere she can reach, really! your cheeks, your nose, your jawline, your neck, your hands, your collarbones, your cheeks, your shoulders- but as cliche as it is, her favorite is your lips. there's something just so sweet about being that close to you, feeling your breaths intermingled and tasting you.

jinx's favorite place to be kissed is also her lips, but other than that, i'd imagine she likes her neck being kissed. not only is it intimate, the plush of your lips against milky skin, but she gets to feel you so close to her. that's what she craves, really.

l; little ones. (how are they around children?)

well.. we saw her with isha in season 2. jinx is pretty good with kids, and even enjoys their company from time to time! it's like a hidden talent- she can calm down crying children by cracking a few jokes. she can comfort them with her gadgets or by taking them into her arms, and giving them little pep talks. she's not exactly the nurturing type, but she does still care and want to do right by the kids she comes across.

m; morning. (how are mornings spent with them?)

in bed. jinx is not a morning person at all, so you'll often wake up in her embrace, one arm lazily slung over your body while she snores away. if you even think of getting up, she'll whine much like a child and tug you back into her arms. though she'll allow it if you're making food- just be quick.

"mm... too early," she'd murmur. "baby, it's eleven in the morning." "doesn't matter... too early. just wanna stay here with you."

n; night. (how are nights spent with them?)

crazy, chaotic times. jinx is very much a night owl- she could be up to truly anything. she'll tinker and experiment at her workbench with you taking notes by her side (she says you're her favorite distraction), or run with you through the lanes while you tag walls. she likes to plan movie nights on ripped dvds she made, take you to rooftops to watch the stars, the like. it's truly a gamble depending on the night.

but she's also not opposed to late night board games, or making pillow forts, or making scrapbooks... literally anything. jinx truly comes alive at night.

jinx rarely sleeps at normal hours, so prepare to be kept awake at two in the morning while she rambles on about some new tech she's planning on ripping off from the 'pilties,' or complaining about sevika harping on her about some job. she's chatty, she's energetic, and she's fun, most of all.

o; open. (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

jinx is pretty reserved when it comes to her past. when it comes to her interests, her personality, her likes and dislikes- she's an open book. any question you have about those topics are questions she'll answer enthusiastically, but if you ask about what happened before she became jinx, it's like she closes in on herself.

she would begin to reveal things about herself slowly- her relationship with vi, why she was taken in by silco, seeing her parents' bodies, becoming jinx. though you usually have to hold her through those retellings, her voice trembling and knees pulled close to her chest.

it's not that she doesn't want to tell you these things- it's that it feels like she physically can't. talking about the ghosts that haunt her past feels as if she's reliving those events, every single time she tries. she often can't talk about her traumas for more than a few minutes at a time, becoming too overwhelmed. she will let you in eventually, little by little, just be patient.

p; patient. (how easily angered are they?)

jinx isn't exactly the most stable, but i wouldn't say she's easily angered. she becomes angry during jobs, she gets angry at injustice, she gets angry at herself. but very rarely at you. i feel like the only ways to get her angry would be if you were trying to provoke her, such as trying to make her jealous on purpose, if you messed with her belongings or inventions, or tried telling her what to do. if there's anything jinx hates, it's feeling tied down and controlled.

q; quizzes. (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

jinx remembers anything and everything- from your favorite color, to your middle name, to your hometown, to your birth date and the time you were born. she makes it a point to know every little detail there is to know about you, she knows you like the back of your hand. sometimes, you think jinx might know you better than you know yourself.

you could be curled up next to jinx in her cot, grumbling lightly as she nudges you with her elbow.

"hey. what's the sad face for?"

"just hungry," you huff, to which jinx immediately swings her legs over the cot and springs to her feet, making her way to her mini-fridge. when she comes back, she's holding a container of strawberries.

"how did you...?"

"you mentioned you liked them," she shrugs, sitting back beside you. you'd mentioned liking strawberries once in passing, on your first date- which was several months ago by now. but these are fresh strawberries. she remembers.

r; remember. (what's their favorite moment in your relationship?)

as cliche as it may sound, your first kiss. it was her first kiss ever, and although she didn't have anything to compare it to, she swears up and down that it's the best there ever was. it was nothing short of perfect.

the feeling of the plush of your lips against hers, your breaths intermingled, your arms snaked around her waist, your lips finding a gentle rhythm- it's everything jinx could ever wish for. just off that one kiss, jinx became addicted, quickly wanting more and more.

s; security. (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

incredibly protective. being with jinx, you have natural immunity from the rest of zaun's forces and most of piltover. they're all too afraid to fuck with her, by extension, you- the person she cares most about. anyone who even looks at you wrong will get a cold glare at best from jinx, and a gun to their head at worst. jinx doesn't really need protection; she's always been pretty good at fending for herself, but she'll let you try by speaking up for her or delivering a few punches before she steps in. she finds it cute.

although it does give opposing forces like smeech's crew and piltover's enforcers incentive to try and use you for something like ransom or an inside resource to get to jinx. if they take away the one she loves most, or turns her against her, they've got gold. but jinx will be damned if she ever lets that happen.

t; try. (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversary gifts, everyday tasks?)

so much effort. jinx puts her entire heart and soul into your relationship. dates are often unorthodox but fun and deeply personal- your own firework shows, day-long shopping trips at your favorite places, making your favorite foods together after she's gone out to get (steal) all of the ingredients. although, most of the cooking/baking is on you.

anniversary gifts are also deeply personal. she's the type of person to document absolutely everything via a journal and/or photos, so chances are she'll give you a scrapbook with sweet comments underneath pictures like 'she looked so beautiful here! i mean, she always does, but especially on this day.' or, 'my love <3 she's just the cutest.' she's also partial to lockets or any other kind of handmade jewelry, and she'll absolutely take you out for a night on the town. anniversaries are very serious!!

even in everyday tasks, she won't half-ass anything. if you ask her to pick up a prescription for you, she's opening the bag and making sure the pharmacist gave you exactly what you need in case of any errors. if you need to be up at a certain time, she's waking you up thirty minutes before then- just because she wants to make certain that you're able to make it where you need to.

u; ugly. (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

jinx isn't the best at keeping you updated with her whereabouts and going on. she's so used to being on her own and not having anyone to answer to that she'll fully up and leave for hours at a time with no indication or communication of where she is. then she'll get confused as to why you're upset, as if she wouldn't also be upset if you did that. she gets better at it eventually and you start sharing your locations on your phones, it's just gonna take some time.

she also tends to pick at the skin around her nails when she's nervous or fidgety. you'll often have to give her a pen to click or ask her to just tap her foot if she needs to be doing something so badly, just not making her cuticles bleed.

that, and... she snores. really loud.

v; vanity. (how concerned are they with their looks?)

not much. she does her makeup and she's very proud of her hair, and i imagine her to be content with how she looks. but overall, not too bothered about her image one way or the other. not the type to sulk over not meeting some arbitrary beauty standard, but also not the type to get arrogant over her looks.

w; whole. (would they feel incomplete without you?)

absolutely, jinx would. she didn't feel truly complete before she met you, and she wouldn't ever again after meeting you. to jinx, you're her better half. her missing piece, her soulmate. although you've assured jinx time and time again that she is a whole person, she insists otherwise. you complete her. your patience, time, affection, and love completes her.

x; xtra. (a random headcanon for them.)

jinx learned to burn cds shortly before meeting you, so a lot of her gifts to you are in the form of a cd with a clear case she's written all over. a track list, as well as a name for the cd- like 'lovey dovey songs :)' or 'songs that make me wanna throw stuff!'

she also draws all over the disc itself with her paint markers and maybe even puts glitter on them. she likes to keep it fun. yes, she could just make you a playlist online, but there's something so much more intimate to her about physical media. going through the effort to rip files and burn a cd so you have a one-of-a-kind disc. and the look on your face every time you receive one gives her all the incentive she needs to do it over and over.

y; yuck. (what are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

one thing jinx hates is a boring person. someone who's never up for adventure, only wants to stay in their comfort zone and never wants to explore other avenues. so she would hate that in a partner as well- being with jinx means that you're signing up for late-night runs throughout the lanes with spray paint cans, impromptu homemade firework shows, dance parties in her hideout, and gaming until unholy hours of the morning. if you're not up for any of that, she'll quickly grow annoyed.. sorry.

z; zzz. (what is a sleep habit of theirs?)

jinx's sleep schedule is virtually nonexistent. she doesn't get much of it, truth be told, and when she does, it's just whenever she feels tired. whether that be at seven in the morning, three in the morning, or six in the evening. it doesn't matter.

that, and she snores. sleeps with her mouth open and snores, the only way i can think to describe it is like when a dad falls asleep on the couch. it's loud enough that you can hear her from other platforms in the turbine that supports her hideout... yeah. it's almost endearing.

and jinx insists that she sleeps better when you're there, cuddled up with her! so eventually, you're gonna have to tune out that snoring so you can get some sleep yourself.

[miraculousshitandgigles]

I've been wanting to post something like this for awhile as well but I couldn't find the words.

A lot of these posts also bring up Marinette stalking, I don't think you ever met a teenager before have you. I can't remember how many kids I have met who have unhealthy depictions or understandings of love and they need to be corrected or helped. Everyone encourages Marinette for like the first 5 seasons and when she's called out it's like at least you didn't watch him sleep kinda, response. Like don't take it too far and I myself love stalker Marinette I honestly think it's fun to play with but I also work in heath care so I actually fucking know what I'm talking about when I say kids don't know their doing something wrong unless you explain it in a lot of detail why. Not the vague ass shit they did to Marinette. Yes including teenagers they're actually worse because it might take a few more times because they're starting to set habits.

Marinette hasn't been properly sat down and told hey you can give Adrien space. You don't need to know his diet. Or Marinette haters will bring up she doesn't love the real Adrien which I say we didn't watch the same show then. Marinette caught a glimpse at Adrien heart in origins and fell in love with that. When she learns that Adrien doesn't like something she supports him 100%.

I don't even ship Marinette and Adrien 99% of the time because they have better ships 100%. But that doesn't mean they aren't a good couple you're just wanting to be nitpicky about a show that's writing has always sucked. The basis of miraculous ladybug is what I think everyone loves not the actual show. Most fanfictions are based on other fanfictions. I didn't even like tuning in every week to the show until season 6 dropped. I got into MLB as a 13 year old I'm 22 now working in heath and started rewatching the show 2 years ago and weekly for season 5 and 6. But saying the show is any best media in fiction is a stretch it lasts this long is because of us.

I'm sorry it took 6 seasons to write a show that's any good. When the show started everyone thought it wasn't even going to get a season 2 where now 6. And people are adults now and people are realizing the show is problematic and Marinette is the center of it, no. She's just the most obvious since she's the main character, and Thomas astruc is a 40 year old dude who didn't know how to write teenagers.

Who words were for some reason listening to again like we didn't all agree last year he's a piece of shit. Make up your mind and form a opinion that isn't a brain dead response to your strong reaction to that fact all of sudden we got back to back bangers of seasons.

Marinette is not perfect and I bet if we saw the show from any other character we see them in either a better or worse light too.

If being a "Marinette stan" means I can understand that Gabriel Agreste is the reason Marinette is lying to Adrien in the first place and that she would never have done that if Gabriel had not manipulated her and that Nathalie should be the one telling Adrien the truth and not the 15 year old child and that Marinette's lies are hurting Adrien and that is awful and a tragedy and OBVIOUSLY she shouldn't have lied but that Marinette is also a victim of Gabriel and that Marinette is doing everything she does out of her deep love for Adrien and not to intentionally hurt him and that Marinette is 15 and acting 15 and that sometimes main characters have to do bad things and make mistakes to have a story and that those mistakes don't make Marinette a bad person but a good person in a very very very bad position.........

Then I guess I'm a dirty filthy Marinette stan.

[minh907]

Why not a Jinwoo x Reader, where the system sends Jinwoo a quest telling him to go out with Reader? Reader actually doubles Jinwoo's XP points, and he goes out with Reader just for that reason. One day, Reader hears him talking about it, realizing he doesn't love her and is using her, she leaves.

Except Jinwoo realizes he really loves her, only he had to lose her to realize it. So he decides not to use the points he's accumulated and stops going on raids to prove his love, except Reader refuses to talk to him.

And one day, a really dangerous portal opens in the middle of South Korea. All the hunters are gathered, but they're not effective. They need Jinwoo. Jinwoo, who hasn't used any portals since Reader left her, says he'll only help if Reader comes back with him. President Go Gun Hee calls Reader and tells her what Jinwoo told him, Reader looks at the President and Go Gun Hee tells her that one person's life doesn't matter when you can save several. Reader who looks at the meeting room and sees that all the other hunters are looking away and don't want to help her, Jinwoo is there with a smile finally happy to see Reader again kneels and all his shadows are also kneeling in front of their queen and he says his words to her: '' my dear and tender just a word and I will do everything you want '' Reader whose eyes no longer have any shine whispers the words that the President said over and over again (that her life is worthless) and ends up looking at the people in the room and Go Gun Hee realizes that he may have made a mistake (if Reader decides to turn against them)

Fall for a lie.

Sung Jinwoo x Reader.

_____________

You should have known this.

That this love is nothing more than a lie.

How pathetic!

You fell for lies, and even indulged in them.

Your hands were clenched at your sides. Your vision was blurry, your eyes were stinging, tears were gathering in the corners of your eyes, then falling like waterfalls. You started to cry and just couldn't stop. It was like your heart was being held in an iron grip and twisted till it hurt.

You loved him.

You really loved Sung Jinwoo.

And now you realized that this love was a lie. He didn't love you. He was with you for the power, for the double XP you could give him from some damn system.

Today is your one year anniversary, you plan to go to Jinwoo's apartment with a surprise for him. The watch you bought for him, carefully wrapped, is still in your hand, placed in a nice bag, along with the photo album of the two of you. The watch that you spent a lot of time earning money to buy for him, the album that you spent a lot of time making for him.

You go to his place with excitement, only to receive a bucket of cold water in return.

You heard what Jinwoo said to Beru, when Beru asked if he really loved you. Beru didn't understand human love, but Beru could feel Jinwoo's feelings, he was curious.

You heard Jinwoo laugh. "No, Beru. I don't love her."

"Then why..?"

"She's useful, that's all. She can double my XP, and dating her is just a system quest."

Your eyes widened in shock. Disbelief and pain rushed over you.��Your heart stops beating.

"The system gave me the mission, and the strategic advantage was too good to pass up. Double XP just for being by her side? I couldn't refuse."

You're just a tool.

The gift bag slipped from your numb fingers, falling to the floor with a thud in the middle of the apartment hallway, and Jinwoo clearly heard it. When Jinwoo ran to the door and saw you there, his horrified expression confirmed everything.

Looking at your pained face, looking at the tears, he realized that you must have heard what he said. He panicked, even though he didn't understand why he was like that.

"Baby, Y/n, I-", he reached out to you.

"Don't 'baby' me-", you yelled at him, tears still streaming down your face, choking your voice, "You bastard, Sung Jinwoo!"

You stepped back, tears blurring your vision. "Don't touch me."

"It's not what you think-"

"I've heard enough," you whispered, stepping back. "Our entire relationship was just a mission for you. A way to level up faster."

"That's how it started, but-"

"But what?" Your voice caught. "Were you ever going to tell me? Or was I just a tool to power you up forever?"

"I love you," Jinwoo said, his voice desperate in a way you had never heard before.

"Love me?", you laughed sarcastically. "No! You just wanted to use me, that was your goal from the start."

Jinwoo's eyes turned bitter, his hand still reaching out to you, but he couldn't say anything more, because he had somehow written that you were right, that his original purpose of approaching you was to level up faster.

"But-"

"I loved you. Deeply," you cut him off. "But you were the one who destroyed this love." You pointed at your heart, laughing bitterly. "Destroyed my heart."

Jinwoo struggled to breathe after swallowing hard because his tears threatened to escape. Deep guilt weighed down on him with the strength of steel shackles that constricted his movements.

You picked up the gift bag from the floor and threw it at his chest hard. "Today was our one year anniversary, you fucking bastard!" You broke down in tears and ran off, leaving Jinwoo staring at the door, bewildered and alone.

Jinwoo stood still like a statue, his fingers still trembling where you had pushed him away. The act of throwing the gift bag at his chest didn't hurt him, but your words did. It hurt like a knife cutting straight to the bone.

He bent down and picked up the bag. Inside was the expensive watch you had worked overtime to buy, and a thick album. He opened it.

The first page was a photo of the two of you together on an autumn evening walk, you smiling brightly, your hand tightly clasped with his. The next page was your neat handwriting. 'Every moment with you, I cherish. I don't know what the future holds, but right now, I'm truly happy...'

His hands clenched the album. He felt his chest tighten, his breathing becoming heavy. In his mind, he kept hearing your footsteps as you walked away, your sobs, your calling him 'a bastard'.

Why did his heart hurt so much?

He should have been happy. The quest system was complete. His level increased dramatically. But none of it mattered anymore.

____________

It all started about two years ago, when Jinwoo received a strange mission from the system.

The familiar blue light of a notification flashed in Sung Jinwoo's vision, interrupting his fighting stance. He paused, letting the notification expand before his eyes as his darkness dissipated around him.

[Misson: Heart's Power]

[Description: Form a bond with [Y/N]. Her presence will double the experience points you gain from all sources.]

[Reward: XP multiplier is 2x when near L/n Y/n]

[Failure: None]

[Accept?]

[YES] [NO]

Jinwoo's eyebrows rose in surprise. The system had never given him a personal quest like this before. He knew who he was - a mid-level hunter who had caught his eye during the recent guild negotiations. But a romantic relationship for XP? It seemed ridiculous. But the rewards were too tempting to pass up.

"Double XP," he muttered to himself, already calculating how much faster he could level up with such a reward. It was too valuable to pass up.

Since then he has been trying every way to get close to you.

The Hunter Association headquarters buzzed with activity as hunters prepared for their upcoming raid mission. Jinwoo spotted you sitting alone in the cafeteria, reviewing documents while casually stirring a cup of coffee. Perfect opportunity.

As he approached, several nearby hunters fell silent, eyes widening as they watched him purposefully walk across the room. Jinwoo paid them no attention, focusing solely on his target.

He called out your name, standing in front of your desk.

You looked up, clearly startled to see the infamous S-Rank hunter standing before them. Your coffee spilled dangerously close to the edge of your cup.

"H-Hunter Sung!!!???" you stuttered, quickly setting your spoon down. "What can I help you?"

Jinwoo sat down in the chair opposite you without being asked to. Several nearby hunters were now staring.

"I have noticed you," he said bluntly.

Your eyes widened. "Me? Why?"

"The way you handled the Gangnam Station incident last month. You led your team so well despite the surprises." Jinwoo maintained a stoic expression while his eyes radiated his determination. "Very few hunters possess the ability to adapt so rapidly."

Your cheeks flushed. "I was just doing my job. Anyone else would-"

"No," Jinwoo interrupted. "They wouldn't. Most hunters panic or freeze when their plans go awry. But not you." He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "I need someone who shares perspective. Someone who can see what others miss."

You looked confused. "To raid?"

"Dinner," Jinwoo replied. "Tonight. 8pm at Haru."

Your mouth fell open. People needed to book their reservations at Seoul's upscale Haru restaurant at least a month ahead since it maintained premium pricing. More importantly, had Jinwoo just asked you out?

"I... um..." you tried to form a coherent answer.

"Do you have other plans?" Jinwoo asked, his expression calm but somewhat challenging.

"No, but-"

"Then I'll see you at 8." Jinwoo stood up abruptly. "Wear something nice."

He turned and walked away before you could react, aware of the whispers breaking out around the cafeteria.

Jinwoo smiled to himself. Step one was done. Now he just had to make her fall in love with him within a week. For double the XP, he could do that. It was just another quest, after all.

That evening, Jinwoo arrived at Haru ten minutes early, wearing a black suit that his sister Jinah had helped him pick out. He rarely dressed formally, preferring practical clothes suitable for combat, but the quest parameters were clear. This wasn't a combat quest; it was a seduction quest.

You arrived at exactly 8pm, looking nervous but elegant in your outfit. Jinwoo found himself actually enjoying the sight, a fact that surprised him. He thought the quest would prove less monotonous than he initially imagined.

After sitting at your private table with Han River view you expressed yet again your confusion about being here. "I still don't know why I am here."

Jinwoo looked you straight in the eyes. "I want you to."

"How so? We've hardly talked before today."

Jinwoo had his answer ready. He couldn't reveal the true reason, but he needed something that sounded true.

"We frequently face death in our profession," he said, in a low voice. "That makes us ponder on life... And on what's worth living for." He stopped, looking closely at you. "I've been alone for so long. Only thinking about getting stronger. But, to be honest, I've recently figured out that strength isn't the only thing worth living for."

That wasn't a total lie, actually. Those words seemed true as he was telling you.

You stared at him, totally astonished. "So you came to the conclusion that I'm part of these unexpected new good things of life?"

Jinwoo allowed himself a little smile. "You're not like the other hunters. You're not threatening me and you're not trying to use me."

You started laughing gently. "Most people would say that I'm not interesting enough for you."

"Most people are stupid," Jinwoo decisively replied.

That yielded him a big, honest smile from you, and Jinwoo suddenly felt a little satisfied to see it. "Forget about this hunter story. Tell me something about yourself that doesn't involve dungeons or monsters."

As you spoke, Jinwoo found himself genuinely listening - not only to fulfil his task, but actually because he was intrigued. Maybe that mission would be more interesting than what he thought.

The infamous Hunter Sung Jinwoo continued to pursue you after that first dinner. Your relationship developed quickly. But what started as a calculated move began to feel more natural than he expected. You were smart, observant, and could make him laugh in a way that few others could.

To you, it was like a dream. Jinwoo himself had noticed you. Every moment together felt magical, watching Jinwoo slowly open up, revealing glimpses of the person behind that fearsome reputation.

You accompanied him on less risky raids, providing support and strategy while Jinwoo's power grew exponentially thanks to the double XP he gained from being with you. Months passed, Jinwoo confessed to you, and you accepted him with love and joy. He invited you to join more raids, brought you to guild meetings, even let them wait nearby during training sessions.

You thought he loved you. You believed him that he didn't want to leave you for even a second. You were infatuated with him without a doubt.

But sadly, it was all a lie.

All to maximize his profits.

How funny your life is.

______

Since he turned into a Hunter Jinwoo had never felt powerless regarding his destiny but now faced this experience. He stopped participating in raids, stopped training, stopped leveling up. No more hunting sessions. No more plans to climb the ranks. He let everything go, because everything was meaningless without you.

There was only silence.

And a blank screen with no answer on the other end of the line.

How many times had he called you? Ten? Twenty? Hundreds? He couldn't remember. When phone calls rang unanswered for long periods he experienced a sensation of someone choking his breath and squeezing his lungs.

You blocked his number.

You requested to be transferred to a branch of the Hunter's Association in another district. A place so far away that no one would hear the name 'Sung Jinwoo' every day.

When Jinwoo arrived at your apartment, the place that held countless memories, all that greeted him was cold emptiness.

The room had been cleaned out. Not a single photo. Not a single letter. Not a single trace of you. It was as if you had never existed in his life. As if you had never been important enough to be kept in any of your memories.

And then, ironically, the System appeared, as if in mockery.

[MISSION STATUS: UNCOMPLETED]

[Return to L/n Y/n to continue receiving double XP.]

He chuckled. A bitter, tired laugh.

That was all the system saw in you, a reward, a utility, a temporary 'buff' in a never-ending game.

But Jinwoo did not. For the first time since he had gained his power, he chose not to use it. He had gained countless experience points while being with you, both in battle and in real life. But now, he let it all gather dust. No distribution. No stat increases. No skills added.

Why?

Because each of those numbers was the harshest reminder of how he had traded your heart for them.

He stopped participating in raids. He refused invitations from the Association. He did not respond to messages from other Hunters. Even when high-level gates appeared, Jinwoo remained on the sidelines. The darkness no longer swallowed his enemies like before, it swallowed him.

The shadows sensed it. They could no longer hear the King's cold, steady voice. They felt empty.

One night, Beru, the most loyal shadow, the one who had known no fear, finally couldn't bear it and approached Jinwoo. He was sitting alone in the dark room, the phone screen emitting a dim light, displaying the last text message from his friend. "Happy one year anniversary!"

Beru knelt down. "My King," he said, his voice trembling slightly, "This humble one does not understand. Why don't you hunt? You will become weak. The world still needs you..."

Jinwoo raised his head, his tired eyes staring into space. "Because power has no meaning without her."

The words were simple, but Beru fell silent.

Throughout his life as a hunter, Jinwoo had lost so much: his father, his youth, his freedom. But he had never truly understood the meaning of loss, until you left. Not dead, but alive, but gone forever from his world. Quietly, Jinwoo looked back at everything he had: power beyond the reach of ordinary people, fame, money, power.

But without you, all is just a mountain in the middle of the desert.

He whispered something that no one heard, except the shadows around him, and the dark night sky. "I wish I had never taken that mission, I wish I had just loved you, as a person."

_________________

The news was broadcast on every channel. A giant gate had appeared in the center of Seoul, unleashing monsters of unprecedented power. All S-rank hunters had been summoned immediately. The situation was dire, with analysts predicting catastrophic casualties if the gate was not controlled within a few hours.

Go Gun Hee, the President of the Hunter Association, personally called Jinwoo. "We need you, Hunter Sung. Korea needs you."

"I will help on one condition," Jinwoo replied. "Bring Y/n to me."

The President was silent for a moment. "Is this really the time for a private conversation?"

"That's my condition," Jinwoo said firmly. "No Y/n, no Sung Jinwoo."

A few hours later, you were escorted into the emergency command center, where all the hunters and top officials had gathered. Their eyes were dull, lacking the spark that Jinwoo had once found so alluring.

You hadn't expected a call from the Hunter Association, much less from Chairman Go Gun-Hee himself. When he explained the situation, the disastrous gate, and Jinwoo's request, your first instinct was to refuse.

"He's using me again," you said bitterly. "Just another tool to get what he wants."

"I understand your feelings," the elderly chairman said, his voice serious. "But the pain of one person cannot be greater than the lives of millions. Please, the city needs you."

Those words echoed in your mind as you were escorted into the Association's conference room. All of Korea's top hunters were present, their faces dark as they contemplated the impending disaster. No one looked you in the eye.

And then Jinwoo appeared, standing apart from the others, his eyes shining as you entered. The sight of him, skinnier, with dark circles under his eyes, made your heart clench in betrayal. As your eyes met his, Jinwoo slowly knelt before you. Around him, the shadows of himself, Beru, Igris, and everyone else, also appeared and knelt, bowing to you as if you were their queen.

The room was completely silent.

Through his broken voice Jinwoo spoke to you saying "My dear and tender....Utter a single word and I will fulfill your every wish."

Your eyes remained fixed on the scene in front of you. Behind you, Chairman Go Gun-Hee cleared his throat in annoyance.

"Hunter Y/n," he said, "Understand that one life is not important when we can save so many."

Those words, so similar to what he must have said to Jinwoo, hit you like a physical blow. You looked around the room, at all the hunters avoiding your gaze, at Go Gun-Hee's annoyed yet determined expression, at Jinwoo still kneeling before you.

And something inside you broke.

"A person's life doesn't matter," you repeated, your voice hoarse. "Is that what I am to all of you? A tool to be used when convenient?"

Your eyes, once shining with admiration for these hunters, now became dull. The temperature of the room seemed to drop as the hunters shifted uncomfortably under your gaze.

Chairman Go Gun Hee shifted uncomfortably, suddenly realizing the potential mistake he had made. The atmosphere in the room was changing, not just because of Jinwoo's presence, but because of what you represented to him. If you decided to reject this manipulation, if you turned your back on all of them in this vulnerable moment...

The lights in the command center flickered as Jinwoo's aura began to dim, reacting to your distress. Everyone present felt a chill run down their spines as they realized: in trying to manipulate you, they might have made the enemy much more dangerous than the monsters pouring through the gate.

The room fell silent again.

Suddenly, an explosion sounded from outside the window, a part of the gate had broken off, and giant creatures began pouring out into the streets, screaming madly. Every screen in the room showed one thing.

Seoul was falling.

An S-rank Hunter shouted, "We don't have time! Hunter Sung-"

"Shut up," Jinwoo growled softly, not taking his eyes off you. He was still waiting for your decision.

The entire room seemed frozen. They couldn't give Jinwoo orders. They couldn't confront Jinwoo either. All they could do was wait for you to speak.

You looked out the glass door, where the sky above Seoul was tearing apart, where the screams of people echoed like a death knell. You knew that if you said one word, just one word, Jinwoo would unleash darkness, destroying all those creatures in a matter of minutes.

You know, if you silently turn away from this place, the world might not have a second chance.

You take a deep breath. "Jinwoo."

He reacts immediately, eyes wide.

"I won't forgive you. Not now. Maybe never."

"...I understand."

You explain to the other hunters that you do not want innocent people to endure harm because of our conflict. "I'm not doing this for you. I make this decision because children need protection from the senseless violence around them."

Jinwoo performs an earnest deep bow which symbolizes his commitment to a goal beyond his own survival.

"Go out," you say softly.

And so, Jinwoo walks away. Black light billows out with each step he takes, darkness erupts, hundreds of black shadows tearing through space as they rush out of the base.

Every hunter, every person in the room gasped as they watched the scene unfold like a flood of darkness pouring down on the city. Jinwoo didn't need them anymore. He just needed you to speak up.

And you did. Even though your heart was still broken. Even though your trust was still broken.

After this, would you forgive him?

______________

Note: This request was sent on April 13th and I started writing it about 2 days later, but I'm just now finishing it. I'm sorry Anon 😭😭

I feel like I have posted so many angst lately??

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

Angstrom Levy plays his hand. You fuck it up. [Invincible Variants x reader]

[Part one]  [Ao3] [5]

6 * Bad Dog [5.5k]

"Since all those lost years when I thought I was the monster,

It turns out I was really the prey

Masturbating and waiting for the raid,

And hating every little thing about you all the way!"

The Ruminant - Go Hang

        The acrid breeze makes his blue curtain of a mask flutter. "Give us our shit." You almost don't think it's Mark talking, his voice is so different, so stereotypically New York native.

        The man standing on solid air ignores him. Good eye sliding from one Mark to another. "You're down one."

        "We're down a lot more than that, numbnuts." Mohawk throws his arms out. Gesturing to the empty space where other Marks could have been, but weren't. 

        "To be expected. This reality is much more resilient than most." At that, the men surrounding him bristle.

        "You meant for us to die." Baldie accuses, crossed arms tensing with the need for violence. "You were never going to deliver."

        The man, Angstrom, though you don't quite know it yet, laughs. Holding a scarred finger out to point at you. "I have though, haven't I? More than half of you wished to see this one again."

        You are slack in the arms of your savior. Conscious but head spinning with the sudden change of atmosphere. It was a good thing none of them could see your face behind the mask, see that you were awake and biding your time. 

        But he knows you're awake. The one holding you, the warrior raised on Viltrum from birth. He feels your pulse pick up under his hands, hears the skip of your heart, the faint smell of fear induced sweat under your armor. The others aren't close enough to sense it, you hide your feelings well, play dead good as a possum, but he knows. And he tells nobody.

        "You've all had a turn, so I think my end has been delivered." He finishes.

        The one with a bare face looks at Angstrom, confused. "I have no idea who that is. Where's William?"

        "Yeah." Backs up the long masked one. "Like I'd even give a fuck about some... whatever." he waves his hand, uncaring to find a word for some insignificant bug.

        Despite the backlash, Angstrom smiles pleasantly. "I'm aware in your realities, you didn't know or care for (Y/n) (L/n). That is perfectly acceptable. Don't think I've forgotten about the deals we've all made. But to fulfill them, I'll need you to find this dimensions Mark Grayson and bring him to me."

        Eyes twitch. Lips curl.

        "No," Scars finally says. He looks to you in the arms of that straight-laced Viltrumites arms and barely contains a smirk. He's going to enjoy ripping you out of them. Tearing his arms off for touching you. "I've got what I want. I'm done with this place."

        "You are aware I could leave you here or somewhere worse, correct?" Angstrom doesn't sound the least bit concerned regarding the mounting tension. The cracking knuckles. The nasty grinning-snarls, thirsty for a little more blood. 

        "You won't." Lensless hums, "We'll kill ya before you get the chance."

         "Then we'd actually be stuck here forever, dumbass." Mohawk barks. "We'll just torture him instead, duh." 

        Angstrom rose a brow. "There's only one of her left in all existence, remember that before you threaten me."

        You are consumed by crackling green light that seems to statically stick to your armor. You are falling, then not, draped over Angstrom's arm like a coat. Still trying to play knocked out. "I have the perfect reality ready for her if any of you move." He says before you're settled. "Pit of man-eating octomen I've been starving for months, waiting right here." A ring of power encircles your body, not touching you but threatening with its presence. "Move and she's there."

        "I don't care, man." Long Mask says. 

        Angstrom ignores him. "Get me Mark Grayson."

        "You've got ten of him right here," Emperor says. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll drop it."

        Angstrom laughs, nastily. So hard he shakes you in his grip. "Am I dog now, Mister Grayson?"

        "You're no better than one," Emperor replies.

        "Look at you all- looking at me like you want me to die. After everything I've given you." Spit flies off Angstrom's lips, landing on your visor. "I met so many of you with snot dribbling out your noses over this thing," he jostles you in his grip as you grit your teeth, "this worthless animal who in so many dimensions joins your conquest. Just some regular human who adds absolutely nothing to nearly every timeline. I don't get the appeal, but I don't have to. Do as I say or she dies."

        You observe the Marks. Ready to pounce. To throw caution to the wind. Some are hesitant, actually using their brains but enough of are ready to fucking shred you think you might get eaten by whatever an octoman is.

        It leaves you with no other choice. It was just a bonus it'd get him to shut up. You were dead tired of hearing this guy's voice. Hearing any guy's voice.

        You let out a weak, groggy groan. Catch Angstrom's attention, which is all you need. Watch the grin spread across his busted face. "Look who's awak-"

        "Bite off your tongue." Blood comes out of your nose in such a rush it splattered against the inside of your helmet. Power ripped from you all at once, used on this guy you didn't know, but definitely didn't trust. 

        Drip, drop atop your helmet. Then came the rivers of blood down his chin. Weaving through his beard. Tongue stuck all the way out his mouth, teeth grinding down, down, down. Sawing, squelching. He blinks, tongue half removed from his mouth, when your hold snaps. A scream that was more a gargle, splatters more blood across your visitor. You're thrown, ass over heel.

        His words are thick with pain and a brand-new lisp as he says, "Bad dog!"

        The sickly green light surrounds you as a portal opens up behind your back, snapping shut before the closest version of your ex could reach you. The last thing you saw was him smiling with blood bubbling over his lips. 

        Your landing was surprisingly soft. Skidding to a slow stop on silky tan sand. Scrambling to your knees to see where the portal was. Gone. No green, just a cloudless, hazy sky. Sun fat in the sky. Beating down harsh on the black metal of your armor. Around you there is nothing but more sand and ruins of a society long forgotten. 

        You don't know what happened. Don't know how to process what happened. Calling out to the nothingness, "Bring me back!" To no reply or help at all.

        ***

        "You-!"

        Biting off your own tongue was something the deeply deranged and suicidal did. Despite that criteria, Angstrom Levy had never wanted to do such a thing, but there you'd been- making him do it. 

         He was in acute shock. Slow. Unable to dodge the hands grabbing him, the fists beating him, not with his tongue dangling half-cut out his mouth. Threats came pouring in quick as they were delivered. Ribs broken. Ligaments torn, good eye gone red with burst blood vessels. 

        It'd lasted thirty seconds, maybe less, but a voice cut through the violent haze. "We can't get her back if he's dead." Said the boy who killed his father and wore his cloak. God, if Freud were still around. 

        The words didn't calm them, but soothed the blows like a balm. Mohawk had him by the collar, choking him with it. "Open the portal, cocksucker."

        Angstrom rose a hand, the only one he had left after that Viltrumite loyalist chopped the other off. He let it open slow, teasingly so. Power roiling under his skin, revenge on the mind. They'd thought they'd had him down and out, but he was nowhere near dead. He never planned to keep them along for the full ride. The plan was always to betray them. This was much sooner, and much bloodier, than planned. So be it. 

        "There." He heaved. They turned, looking into the opening to a new world. A world so dry it'd evaporate the marrow out of your bones. 

        Phantom didn't speak. Just shot his black and blue body through. One down, nine to go. 

        "That world," he begins, tongue awkwardly flailing over the bottom of his mouth, blood spilling down his throat just to be hacked out, "-that world has major time dilation. She could be very far from the origin point by now. Miles. It'll take him too long to find her... I can't-" He let the portal waiver, looking unstable, "I can't hold it long."

        "You can and you will." The ex-prisoner grabbed him by the balls. Through Angstrom's pants but still. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. 

        If guilt tripping wouldn't work, he had no other choice. "Wait... I can.. I think I've found her." More portals zap open all around him. Nine in total. "Do you see?" They turn, just to watch the portals shoot closer, swallowing them all whole before snapping shut. Leaving them to fall in the sand and Angstrom alone to his devices. 

        ***

        You'd tried it all. Screaming. Looking for an exit. Digging. Trying to call someone, anyone on your phone that had not a bar. All while the sun beat at your back. You didn't give up, not really, just resigned to moving somewhere else. Powers, you knew, were stupid. Angstrom could find you again even if you'd left the dropoff.

        You walked. Migraine gnawing at your temples. Power stores drained out. Boots dragged in the sand, prints sifting away as soon as they were made. Moved from wreck to wreck for the tiniest slivers of shade. Baked inside your helmet until you popped it off, wiping at the drying blood with your gloves. When there was a breeze, it felt like a hairdryer, making your eyes water.

       Two hours, you'd walked to find nothing.

       The sun moved slow, the sky fading to a dull purple, but you knew the second it dipped below the dunes, you'd be dead without a fire. Deserts don't stay hot without sun. Planks were easy come by, old wood waiting to disintegrate into the sand. You rooted through the tool belt attached to the body armor. Tear gas, a high-powered taser, a flare, a knife, ammo for a gun you didn't have, and a to-go first aid kit. 

        You tried the taser on the wood. It made the old thing crumble in your hands. You tried again to the same result. Again and again as the sun crossed the sky and the heat began to ebb. 

        ***

        He flew through the desert, combing it in a gird. Square mile by square mile, searching. Growing more desperate by the second. Head filling with what if's. 

        It's faint, a mere vibration in his left ear. He banks hard. Following. Forcing his hearing to it's limit- catching grains shifting below his flight path. Then it comes again. Audible this time. Bzzt. Lil more to the left. Bzzzzt! Not long now. He starts to slow right as the sound pinged from below. BZZZT!

        "Fuck you, motherfucker." Came out from a line of beams fallen together to make a concrete tent.

        He landed gently, trying not to make a dust cloud and scare you away. Watching your back as you tried to light a plank ablaze with a taser. It crumbled in your hands. You scoff, kicking debris into a cloud that makes you violently cough. 

        You could turn and see him. Husky purple dusk not yet camouflaging his blue-black body suit. But you don't. Instead, you keep trying to tase the remaining sawdust into flames. It doesn't work. 

        He floats above the sand, slowly rolling into your view. 

        ***

        Chaos. Total, absolute, chaos.

        Nine of them in the middle of some desert planet, tenth fucked off God knows where. No Angstrom to take them out. No (Y/n) to soften the blow. The rage settled in like a beat behind their eyes, a thrum under their fingerpads. They wanted to choke each other for existing. 

        Their personal genie had betrayed them, left them for dead. 

        He wasn't the first to blast off into the desert. Searching for a way out, for you. He was, however, first to shoot into the sky for a birdseye view. The atmosphere thinned, going from an ugly yellow to the familiar dark of space. Above the sphere, he hovered, seeing only sand. Around the planet he went, hoping, then finding those hopes were something juvenile. 

        The search extended into space. For other planets. He noticed then, flying through the cold dark there were no stars or gas giants or distant worlds. Only the planet they landed on and the too-close sun. 

        As if Angstrom Levy had found the one reality in all of existence with one dead world. One big, sandy, uninhabitable world. The perfect place for them all to die. The search could be expanded later, with more of them looking, but he doubted even their Viltrumite bodies could reach any planets if he couldn't see them. 

        He was angry, but couldn't fault the guy. He was going to rip off Angstrom's balls after all. He'd find a way out of this, the same way he'd found a way out of that hell of a Viltrumite prison. Scarred beyond recognition. Coming home to find the love of his life dead and long buried. 

        Except that now you were down on that sandball, somewhere. Hopefully alive. So why was he angsting up in space? 

        ***

        The taser shot out, connecting thick prongs to his suit. Electricity traveled fast through the carbon fiber, penetrating to his skin. He didn't seize and drop. He took it like he was nothing but thin air, like you were imagining him in a wave of heat induced hysteria.

        The prongs retracted and he took that as cue to step down into your concrete hut. Coming closer, slow, hands up over his chest like he wasn't going to hurt you- as if you'd believe that.

        You hear it. Something moving so fast the air splits around you. 

        You don't know what you're going to do. Shout? Duck? Gasp? You don't get to decide because he's on you. Holding you hard against himself, feet inches off the ground, hand pressed firm over your mouth. Head tracking the sonic spec in the sky as it passed over. When the coast is clear, he sets you down and backs off. Not leaving your nothing of a camp, but any space willing given by these freaks was noticeable. 

        "Leave." Power doesn't even bother to tickle your throat. You had jackshit left. Wouldn’t have jackshit for days if your luck stayed bad. You'd only blown yourself out like this one time- that day at the beginning of the end of your life. You'd never used your power on someone else powered before. Barley used it period. Only on little, meaningless, petty things. Until you used it all at once to save his life. Then on him. Blowing out you out like a tire. Failing. 

        Now you were here. Staring at a fully masked version of him, unable to control him or your life again. 

        Yet you try, "Go." The taser finds its home in your belt, replaced by the tear gas canister held over your head. "Or I'll set this fucking bomb off if you get any closer." It's a lie so obvious you couldn’t put your chest behind it. "I'll kill us both, I swear to God."        

         He doesn’t move. Your helmet sits on the ground at your feet. You wonder how fast you could set the tear gas off and put the thing back on. If the GDA-enhanced tear gas would make you go blind.

        As you fingered the pin, he pulled something from his belt. A short, metal pin. He approaches the pile of wood you’d made. You back up, knowing he'd catch you if you ran. Knowing you didn't have energy for any more running. He cracks the metal against a shred of concrete. Sparks rained down on the dry material and then there was fire. Small but as he stepped back, blaze growing. 

        Technically, you knew what he was doing. Starting a fire so you wouldn’t freeze to death, the breeze as the sun went down already cool. But mentally? You had no idea what he wanted. You knew that he was one of the ones that asked for you, that knew some version of you and decided thousands dead was worth it. Even though he was the first to your side on multiple occasions, you couldn’t know what he wanted. If he wanted something in exchange.

        The sky had gone a deep gray. Cold settling in between the sand dunes like an old bone's ache. You could leave, but the growing fire was your one and only shot of living. Just a guess, but the taser thing wasn’t going to work. 

        "What do you want?" You asked, shuffling closer. Still gripping the tear gas hard, reared over your shoulder like a weapon. "Tell me or I'll set it off."

        "I'm not going to hurt you." Through that demon of a modulator, you catch a softness, Mark whispering a secret he hadn’t told anyone else. More genuine than you’d heard from any of these alternates. 

        "How do I know you're not lying?" But there is no reply, and you don’t think he is. He's done talking and you're done fighting. 

        He sits first. On the edge of an uneven slab, leaving plenty of room for you. You watch him carefully. Sure he's going to lunge, a lurking predator luring you into a false sense of safety. So you lean against the wall instead, watching him and the fire. 

        He does lunge eventually, ten minutes later. Dashing forth to stomp out the fire as another body streaks across the sky. Tense as you both watched it go by. Waiting until there’s nothing but the night. Then he was back on his knees, cracking the stick onto new planks.

        "What is that?" You're still standing. Arm lifting the canister overhead once again.

        He looks up from the fire at you. Black going brown in the light. Tentatively, tortuously, and against every nerve in your body, you sit. Slip the tear gas canister back into your belt. Hoping he'd talk if you seemed a little less hostile. 

       "Tell me where I am. Who the fuck was that?" 

      You’re not shocked when he says nothing, only annoyed by your acceptance of it. He can’t bring himself to ruin this moment with you, finally alone. Hearing your voice, even angry, was like an angel’s song for the damned. Your face like something out a dream. Any nervous tics, little movements, shifts in your weight, was studied and tucked away to categorize and compare to what he knew. 

        You at seventeen, nervous and shy and sweet. Could you have become this bitter thing had you lived? Surely not. He'd have made sure you were taken care of. Made you into a wife with nothing to fret over. He hates him. The Mark of your dimension. Wants to turn him inside out for letting whatever happened to you- happen.

        You watched him right back with no knowledge of what his gaze meant. None of the same interest, but watching for the same things, instincts of being prey. Wondering when the slowly stalking fox was going to pounce, if the gaze was a challenge. In the thickening night, he was starting to blend in. You could still see his outline and the dark lenses reflecting back your stare. You try to look past them but can't, can't read anything from the blank, dark slate. You look away, wanting a momentary reprieve, backing down from the challenge. Movement. Your gaze right back, tense all over. Hand on the taser holster.

       The mask is off. Chin up, he is bare. There is stubble dark on his jaw, skin paler than you recalled Mark ever being, his hair a shaggy mess that hung past his ears, eye bags deep, nearly purple. He was Mark, no surprise there, the surprise was the slate blue of his eyes. Just like his father's. 

        You pull the taser out, but not wanting to escalate further, voice almost a whisper after you’d grown used to the quiet. "What do you want?" He looks up at you under dark brows and long lashes. It reminds you so much of your Mark you want to strike him, but think better of it. "Answer me." 

        It comes out breathy, hardly audible. "I just-" Two syllables and his voice breaks. Cracks right down the middle. He shuts his mouth, hand going to his throat, thumb massaging. He swallows, tries again but all that comes out is a hoarse sigh. His brows knit in frustration. He’d talked more than he was used to in the past few days, and with the dry air and nerves, what was left of his vocal cords wasn’t going to cooperate. 

        You don’t know what’s wrong with him, but now you understand why he wore that modulator.

        The mask goes back on. He's given up trying to talk, trying to show his belly like he wasn't a threat. You suspect violence, harassment, almost get up anticipating it, but it doesn't come. You're about to settle down when the ground shudders just outside your camp. You don't get the chance to check what it was because it steps inside between the concrete pillars.

        "We've been working together to find a way out of this shithole and here you two've been, love shackin' it up." His mask flutters in front of his face as he talks. Sand stuck to his tracksuit where blood had wet it. "Jesus, yer lucky I found you. Those other dudes have been losing they's fuckin' minds."

        Phantom rises, dashing the small fire away. He'd know his alone time with you would be short. They'd find you both eventually, but he was glad to have had it. Even if you looked at him with such disdain. For so many years, that's all he wanted. His voice failing him was punishment for letting you die, for letting this version of you get stuck in an unending desert. He'd make it up to you. Find a voice to say what needed to be said.

        He steps towards the other. Long mask, long face, you don't quite know what to mentally call him yet- steps back. Making room for Phantom to exit the ruin. 

        "I'm not leaving." You tell the newcomer, though you grab the helmet. To throw at him? To cover your head from the cold now that the fire couldn't ward it off? 

        "You dunno if I've found a way out or not and yer just gonna act like that?" His laugh is humorless, "Glad we weren’t a thing in my world."

        Behind him, Phantom jerks his head, a 'come' gesture. Wind, not a breeze, cuts through the dunes and sends winter cold through the cracks in your armor. Settles under the fabric, making you shiver. 

        "Do you have a way out?" You demand.

        "Would'a left your ass behind if I did." He says, stepping further back. Annoyed but understanding you wouldn’t come within a certain distance; despite how fast he could liberate your head from your shoulders. "Come on," he lifts inches off the ground, "the longer you're gone the edgier those shitheads get. I can't take it anymore." 

        You really, really, really did not want to see any of them. You look back to your concrete shack. But. Survival is easier in groups, right? You know what else is easier in groups? Mass murder. The second you got your powers back, you were taking them out like you'd set out to do. Sure, you'd probably only kill one or two more of them but it'd be enough to kill Mark Grayson four times before you went to hell. Only then did eternity of torture sound bearable.

        You also couldn't make a fire, it was freezing, you had no food and you'd be starving soon, and you had nothing to drink but codeine, which was a bad idea. 

       Phantom waited for you on the ground. Tracksuit, ah there's that convenient nickname, hovered low in the sky waiting. "Let's go already." You can't fly and something tells you Tracksuit isn't willing to walk however many miles it is back to camp. 

        Phantom taps his masked cheek. At first you're disgusted, thinking he wants you to lay one on him but realize, he's telling you to put the helmet on. You'd seen those old stories of superhuman and regular-Joe-human romances going bad because their lover flew too fast and all the human's skin was flayed off. You didn't want to go to the others, but you really didn't want to go without skin.

        You put the helmet on and he moves towards you. Slower than the first time he scooped you up and took you to the sky. He definitely felt bad about dropping you. Elbows move under knees, strong hand supporting your back. Lifting off gently this time. Accelerating slowly enough for Tracksuit to scoff and shout, "Dude, move it!"

        You'd never been flying like this. Before, it was too quick to process, too much adrenaline. Now you were burnt out and empty enough to actually process the passing dunes. To feel your body relying on his for support. You would have liked it, really, if it wasn't one of the crazy Marks- which was pretty much all of them. Horrified at any time he'd drop you or dangle you by an ankle until you cried, "Uncle." He hadn't seemed the type, but he also ripped off Psychopomp's arms the second time you met him. He wasn't as forward as the others, which made him less predictable. 

        The whole flight you were scared shitless, because the second it was over, things were only going to get worse. The bright side was, things were always awful before they got better. Thinking about killing Mark calmed you down a fraction.        

        Even in the distance, you could see the camp. No mountains to hide its orange glow. The only thing of note for miles upon miles. 

        Tracksuit sighed with relief, "Thank God." He shot forward, gone, leaving you and Phantom to meander along. You'd noticed he'd significantly slowed. Sucking up all the remaining alone time with you he could get. Hovering hundreds of feet over a massive bonfire. Figures below, waiting with baited breath. 

        Phantom contemplates the success rate of leaving. Running with you. Surviving alone together. His black boots touch down on the sand. He sets you down, keeping a hand at your back as you wobble to your feet. Unaccustomed to flying. Human heart fluttering in your chest.

        You get no peace or relief. 

        Just Mohawk flying forward and almost knocking you over "Dickhead," he hissed before his fist sent Phantom careening into the desert night. Phantom catches himself, but stays further back, hidden in the dark. It was chilly but this planet was nothing compared to the vacuum of space. To what his life had been before seeing you again. The fire, here and there, were for you. Warmth and signal. He would keep watch from the shadows. 

        The perpetrator turns to you, sand stuck in his mohawk. "You good?"

        You don't meet his eye. Opting to stumble closer to the bonfire, trying to avoid eye contact with the Marks standing around.

        "I thought you'd need it," Omni-Wannabe says. 

        "Where are we?" You stare into it. Hoping they don't notice the answers aren't forced out of them. That they don't piece together the only reason you're not going batshit is because you're powerless.

        "A desert," Lensless kicks at the sand, "Duh."

        "What desert?" It's hard to keep the venom out of your voice. 

        Emperor stretches his legs over a rock. Leaning back in his low earthy chair, looking like he meant to be stranded. "You tell me. You're the one who got us trapped here."

        You don't bite the bait. You can't fight back, so opening your big mouth is the last thing you should do. But he's looking at you like he wants to chop you to pieces. You go for fawning but not too out of character. "Wasn't expecting anyone to end up here with me."

        Under the yellow fabric, his brow twitches. "After all the chasing and defending, you didn't expect backup?"

        "I didn't ask for backup." You say, "I have no idea what's going on. One second I'm working, the next this guy," your arm gestures to Mohawk who grins, "is beating the shit out of my boss."

        Emperor's muscles tighten. You'd said the wrong thing. Towed the line too willy-nilly. He says, "You really must be dumber in this world if you haven't figured it out yet. Don't speak to me until you do." And goes back to watching the fire.

        Crisis averted.

        Somebody thinks it's a good idea to rest their fat, meaty hand on your shoulder and say, "Are you okay?"

        When you turn it's the bald one. Wearing an expression you think is concern.

        You can't help moving away and snapping, "Get off." 

        "D'aww, somebody mad their geriatric handler didn't pick them up?" Scars is right behind you. Not close enough to touch, but too close for comfort. He could push you into the fire and you'd be roast dinner. "Not expecting to deal with the consequences of your actions, were you?"

        This time, for real, you hold your tongue. Stuck straight to the roof of your mouth. You are not fucking with this guy.

        He touches you the same place Baldie did. You're scared to shove him off. Baldie was a mistake, one that could've gotten you killed. Scars would be a mistake that would get you killed. 

        "Hey, look, she's afraid of me!" He announced like it was an honor. "That's a smart girl, but where's that fighting spirit? Come on, I wanna see you try n' hurt me again."

        You don't reply. Don't move. Don't breathe. 

        "Your heart just skipped a beat, there, Dregs. Don't tell me you're gonna avoid me by killing yourself again." His fingers tighten on your shoulder. Nearly bruising. "I won't let it happen again." He's masking his anger being here with nine of himself by playing with you. Relieving stress. 

        "You're wasting your energy antagonizing her." The grip lightens immediately, someone else to play with. Scars' violent attention turned toward the bare baby-faced version of himself. 

        "You telling me what to do?" Tension cracked off his split lip.        

        "No." The other says evenly, "But we're stuck in an alien desert. Now's not the time to pull some master-slave dynamic bullshit on some girl you don't even know. Be smart."

        Scars slipped around you, prowling toward the sat man. "And how do you suggest I 'be smart'." 

        He started counting off on his fingers, "Get more firewood if you don't want her to freeze to death. Search ruins for something that could get us out. Look for food. Rest, conserve energy, because we don't know how long we'll be stuck here. My guess is until we get ourselves out because there's no way Angstrom is coming back for us."

        "He will," Lensless says with unwarranted confidence. "He has to know we'll find him and kill 'im. It's dumber to let us be mad n' stuff."        

        Maskless shakes his head. "He chose this planet because he expects us to die. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not fighting you guys over some human I don't know. If you're smart, you'll do the same." He slides off the rock and lies himself sideways in the sand. Head propped on his elbow like a pillow. "At least shut up or go to sleep so you can kill echother quicker tomorrow."

        Scars took two steps toward him before an arm jutted out, stopping him. Omni-Mark stood between the two like a wall. "He's right. We should sleep while it's cool. Search more tomorrow."

        "Who said you're in charge?" Emperor snipped despite being deeply unhelpful.

        "I'm not trying to be," he said, "it's just a suggestion."

        One you take. Moving away to the other side of the blaze while their bickering went on and on. You sat on a rusted pipe. Maskless a few feet to your right, brow furrowed but eyes closed. The Viltrumite to your left, arms folded behind his back. Posture painfully straight. His eyes flick over to you, head not moving. 

        You don't see it, but he's content with the situation at hand- for now. He could take the others. Savvy enough to survive in the harshest conditions where the others surely weren't. He'd conquered harsher planets than this without help. Atop of all that, you were choosing to be by his side. That is enough for him, for the moment.