𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : After a long, exhausting day filled with stress, frustration, and mounting pressure, you try to keep your emotions bottled up—even if it means snapping at Dex from time to time. Feeling guilty, you begin avoiding him, but Dex refuses to let you shut him out.
𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 + 𝐅𝐃𝐍𝐈 mature content below.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : Emotional distress and frustration /Raised voices / snapping during arguments /Intense emotional vulnerability / Possessive and obsessive behavior / Breath play themes / Consensual choking imagery / Power dynamics / Heavy tension and intimacy / Mentions of anger and destructive thoughts / Protective/Codependent undertones
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭
Everything irritated you. The sound of your keys hitting the counter too hard. The lamp in the corner flickering because the bulb needed replaced. your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing with overdue bill reminders, your landlord had emailed you twice in the same afternoon. Everything had piled up so high in your chest it felt impossible to breathe around it. Dex had noticed immediately. Of course he had, he always noticed. You barely made it halfway through changing out of your work clothes before he asked if you were okay, and you’d snapped something short at him without meaning to. The look on his face afterward made guilt twist in your stomach hard enough to hurt.
So you tried to keep your distance.
You were pacing the kitchen when he finally spoke up. “Hey.” You ignored him, yanking the fridge open harder than necessary. “Hey,” he repeated softer this time. “What?” Dex leaned against the counter, watching you carefully. Not annoyed. Not angry. Just focused completely on you. “What’s wrong?” Dex stared at you for a few quiet seconds, studying your face so carefully it made your chest ache. He could read you too easily. Every little twitch. Every clenched jaw. Every forced breath. “You’ve barely looked at me since you got home,” he said quietly. “You snapped at me twice, and you only do that when you’re overwhelmed.”
You sighed sharply, dragging a hand over your face. “Dex—” He pushed off the counter, stepping closer. “Talk to me.” You looked away from him immediately. Because if you looked at him too long, you’d crack. And apparently that’s exactly what happened anyway. “Everything’s just…” You laughed bitterly under your breath. “Fucked lately.” Dex stayed quiet. You appreciated that about him. He never rushed you. “Work’s a disaster, I’m behind on bills, I’m exhausted all the time, and every little thing is pissing me off.” You shook your head. “I don’t know. I just feel…” You exhaled hard. “Like I could tear this whole fucking building down.”
You were exaggerating mostly.
Dex’s eyes stayed on yours for a long moment before he said quietly. “Let it out on me.” Then he walked backward toward the couch and sat down. Confused, you watched him spread his arms slightly along the back cushions before tilting his head toward you. Your eyebrows pulled together immediately. “What?” His eyes stayed fixed on yours. “C’mere.” There was something steady in his voice. Certain. Like he’d already decided. You hesitated before finally walking closer. You started to sit beside him, but the second you got close enough, his hand caught your hip. A startled laugh escaped you as he pulled you straight into his lap.
“Jesus—” Your hands landed against his shoulders to steady yourself. His grip stayed firm against your waist, holding you there easily. Your faces were only inches apart now. Dex looked up at you with that same unwavering focus that always made your pulse stutter. Like nothing else in the room existed except you. “Tear me apart.” The words should’ve sounded reckless. Instead they sounded sincere—Completely sincere. Your eyes searched his face for hesitation and found none. Slowly, cautiously, you slid your hands higher from his shoulders to his neck.
Dex inhaled sharply. You felt it beneath your palms.
Your fingers wrapped around his throat carefully at first, testing, unsure if you should even be doing this despite him asking for it. His lips parted slightly. “Yeah,” he whispered. Your pulse thudded. You squeezed a little harder. Not enough to hurt him. Just enough to feel the tension in your own body shift somewhere else. Dex swallowed hard against your hand, eyes flickering half-shut for a second before opening again immediately to watch you. Dex’s grip tightened subtly at your waist. “It’s okay.” Your breath caught. His eyes never left yours. Calm. Open. Wanting you closer instead of pushing you away. “You can squeeze harder.” You hesitated for half a second before your thumbs pressed in deeper.
Dex inhaled sharply through his nose, his head tipping back just slightly against the couch. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. The anger inside you started unraveling slowly after that. Not disappearing completely. The constant pressure in your chest started fading little by little until all you could focus on was him beneath you. The way his hands stayed steady on your hips. The way he trusted you completely. The way he looked at you like you were something precious even with your hands around his throat. “That’s it,” he muttered hoarsely. “C’mon.” Dex made this low sound in his throat—half breath, half groan—and your stomach flipped.
“You’re insane,” you muttered. A faint smirk tugged at his mouth despite the pressure around his neck. “Probably.” You huffed out another small laugh, this one genuine. “There it is,” Dex whispered immediately, eyes softening. “Been waiting for that.” Your grip loosened slightly. His hands slid up your sides slowly, thumbs brushing back and forth beneath your shirt. Your hands slid from his throat to the sides of his neck instead, fingers brushing through the short hair at the nape of it. You leaned your forehead against his. “I got lucky with you,” you admitted quietly. Dex’s expression softened instantly. “No,” he said, voice low and honest as his hands pulled you closer against him. “I’m the lucky one.”
Idk if you're still doing requests but I'd like to suggest an Invincible Variant (Mohawk, Viltrum or Lenseless) x Male Reader? (They're stuck on Og Earth and can't go back home)
Where they are weirded out by Reader because of how different they are on the field during their fight in contrast to their personal life. Their fight Reader was extremelly intense, blood thirsty, cunning and with nothing to lose, but in their civies, they're calm, cool, almost like an older brother type. It didn't help that during the fight where this "Mark" almost died, the Reader didn't have their magical powers cause they were sealed off.
In short it's just them adjusting to their new life with their newly found predator. You can make it romantic, spicy or platonic if you want.
I'm sorry if this was long and didn't make any sense.
You're Not a Hero Either, Dude.
Characters: Viltrumite Mark x MALE! Hero/ ex-hero reader.
Summary: Mark gets stuck on a world thats not his, stranded, alone, and maybe...happy? He doesn't know why you didn't kill him, or why you're so different', but hell if he's not gonna stay with you.
TWS: Violence, gore, blood, organs being torn out mentioned, reader mentions being suicidal, Mark mentions being slapped around but its brief.
Type: Spicy scene at the end/ implied smut, angst to fluff (?).
Mark doesn't know who you are.
Well he does, but not this you.
You who was crushing in his windpipe instead of kissing up his throat. You who was straddling his hips, holding him down to kill instead of love. You who was holding him pliant against the floor, letting Spawn pummel into him. You who was somehow taking on his strength when the rest of these...weaklings you're protecting for some stupid reason couldn't.
The Y/n on his Earth? Well first of all, he's dead.
Mark remembers the day his father crushed your head in.
His Y/n.
Mark always knew about Viltrum, about his father, about how his mother didn't know, about how she would never -could never- be on board with what he was planning.
He was prepared for that.
When his father crushed his mothers head in, her blood seeping into the brown wood floors of their home; revealing to her that they -together- had killed the Guardians of the Globe. Mark didn't blink.
When his father had taken out the GDA, Mark at his side; pummeling every, single, last, hero that stood in their way. Mark didn't waver.
When his father made him crush Rex's head in, when his father made him tear Eve in two, when his father made him rip William's guts out, when his father made him pull out Ambers heart, when his father made him turn Robot into parts? Mark didn't think twice.
But you?
Mark still remembers the day like it was yesterday. It haunts him, the sound of your skull being crushed, playing in his head over, and over, and over. The look in your eyes when you suddenly felt his fathers hand envelop your head. The way your mouth opened to say something, only to be stopped by his fathers quick work of you. The way your body fell forwards, blood dripping from his fathers hands. The way your brain splattered flat across the floor.
"It was quick, painless, work Mark." He father uttered, his dads voice feeling thousands amongst thousands of miles away as he watched your blood stain the floor, stain your being. The same body he was holding in his arms just a month ago, gone.
He never saw you the same since.
He never saw you again since.
He stopped breathing that day. Stopped living. At least, stopped living fully.
So, when he saw you, pummeling towards him; not even a hero costume on, not even a single piece of armor, not even a single person for back up, not even a semblance of a plan as you rushed in to save your friends?
He breathed again.
A true breath of fresh air.
However, this worlds you, this Marks you?
You weren't the same.
Each organ torn out was a sharp remember of that.
Mark couldn't breathe.
He couldn't see
But he could feel.
He could feel how he drowned, choked, seizing in his own blood. He could feel how copper filled his nose. He could feel how blood sloshed everywhere; he could feel how it splattered, feel how it filthied, feel how it painted the walls, feel how it painted your face. He could feel his fingers curled into the muscle of your bicep. He could feel your flesh. He could feel your skin. He could feel your warmth. He could feel his brain hit his skull, feel his brain rattle with every punch to his face.
He could feel as his organs detatched from him. He could feel how his bones cracked, yet it didn't matter.
Because it was you.
You had always ruined him in more ways than one.
Your touch had always torn through him. Back home when you had kissed him on the forehead; he would feel chills ripple down his spine and throughout his entire body. The need to latch onto you forever, feeling you so he could breathe in your sent, soak in your warmth, feel your presence.
It was the same now, you were just tearing through him in a different way.
Mark couldn't go back home after that. After loosing his honor. After loosing to you. He ended up staying on your Earth, hiding, waiting.
He doesn't even know how he survived, yet some hopeful part of him he didn't know still existed in his sick and twisted mind hopes that you kept him alive on purpose. That it wasn't a fluke, that you couldn't kill him because you loved him. Or at least...you loved your Mark.
And as many ways as he liked to think you were his Y/n, it didn't take long for him to figure out the differences.
He watched you, followed you, examined you, waiting for the day he could approach you.
Once, he thought about killing your Mark. He could take your Marks place, make you fall head over heels for him again, make you marry him, make you love him, make you settle down with him.
Yet, the mere second he lunged at Mark, snatching him out of his college and aiming to pull his heart out-
"I killed you in my world, I'll kill you again!" Mark roared, hands clasping around your skull as you spun through the sky with him. Your Mark had fallen flat to the ground, no doubt passed out and down for the count; and he couldn't help but scoff, "Besides, you're weak!"
"Says the one stalking me like a lost little puppy." You mock, your lips curling, smiling, "Aw boo, hoo, Poor Markie got his ass beaten and now needs a new Master because his old one won't take him back." Your face drops, "Why don't you hump my leg while you're at it, chump."
Mark grits his teeth, jaw clenched. He hates how his skin shivers and coils when you touch him through his suit. He hates how he can't tell if the reaction is because of the loving touches from his you, or the skull shattering punches from you. He hates how he can't tell the difference, and he hates how he has a reaction in the first place.
You're bloody, you're repulsive, you're everything that he's supposed to be and what you're not. Blood seeping through your mouth, staining your teeth, staining you, staining his vision of you.
When you both hit the ground, spiraling through the clouds before creating a crater few could only dream of in some random farm field; he saw the wounds on you, the way you're worn out, the way you still fight. It runs a shot of fear down his spine, making him sweat in a way he never thought he could when he realizes one thing; you don't have your full powers. He could snap your neck if he got the chance, you wouldn't be able to regenerate, Yet here you were, going all out.
He could kill you.
He couldn't.
He wouldn't.
When Mark met this worlds Mark, he realized one thing; they were nothing alike.
So how?
How did Earth stay so safe?
How did Earth prevail when Viltrum set its sights on it as one of the only breedable planets?
How did the weaklings here keep their planet safe?
That's when Mark realized a second thing.
It was all you.
Your Mark didn't have to tear out hearts because you were here.
Then he realizes a third thing.
You're nothing like his Y/n.
Because you're not cradling him, telling him sweet nothings in his ear that melt his cold heart. Because you're not kissing him until his lips get swollen and he can't breathe. Because you're not soothing his bruises, ones he most likely earned from a fight with his father - instead, you're causing them.
Because when you stand over his beaten body, when you stand over his heaving form. You're not bloody because you were beaten, you're not bloody because his father crushed your head in, you're bloody because you choose to be. Because it gives you joy, because it makes you grin, and laugh. Your cackle fills the air as you trick him again and again; tearing him apart bit by bit. Doing a little pout that reminded him of his you when he almost got the drop on you, making him hesitate, making him pause.
He should never pause.
And when he can't stand anymore, when you're gripping his neck, when you're hoisting him to danging infront of you; he suddenly realizes why you kept him alive.
You're toying with him.
Mark can only grit his teeth, pain shooting down his legs, tingling to his fingers as you snicker at him. Your throat is torn open, a clear sign that you didn't even have most of your powers; yet you were still throwing him around like a rag doll.
"You thought you were such a big thing, didn't you?" You mock in a baby voice, a short laugh leaving you before you sigh in content; your nails curling into his esophagus as you drop your smile, "Yet you are just the same as us small, weak, humans." You throw him to the ground, already turning around as he yells out in pain - disinterested, "You're just the same decaying, organic matter that we are."
Your first few meetings go like this. He'd attack Mark, you'd show up, leave him for dead, and he would leave to heal for another time.
Seeing as he couldn't get to Mark, and seeing as he couldn't get to you, much less beat you when he's stuck here without Angstrom. He decides to change tactics.
He decides to live.
"Hey, no way!"
Mark can't help the way a shiver shoots up his spine when he hears that chirpy voice, when he feels a familar hand on his shoulder. His eyes are wide as he looks up at you, out of all the seats in the lecture; you choose the one right next to his. Mark can't help but think it's on purpose.
He grits his teeth, getting ready for whatever bullshit you're about the send his way.
But he melts when you smile at him.
A true, real smile.
Your smile.
"You're totally the dude I beat the shit out of the other day!" You grin, patting him on the shoulder, "What, did you leave the whole 'Conquering another Dimension' thing behind?" You pause, teasing grin crossing your face, "Actually don't answer that, it'll be a nice surprise if I get to beat the shit out of you again."
It's hard adjusting to a world were people don't bend to his will, hard adjusting when he can't just use his powers willy nilly again.
But it's not hard seeing you again.
Every breathe feels a bit lighter when he remembers you're here, when he sees you, and sees you he does. He doesn't realize how nice is it, he doesn't remember it, just being...normal. He likes going to class with you, he likes going to college parties, he likes waking up everyday worrying about grades instead of whether his father would smack him across the planet for messing up whatever thing that day.
He likes seeing...you.
The civilian you at least.
You hadn't been a hero in months, ever since your second semester of college. At the end of things though, you hadn't seemed much like a 'hero' anymore anyways. Throwing yourself in every situation you could, letting yourself get torn up like it wasn't the end of the world. He likes you much more as a civilian...content, air-headed, kind, happy.
He doesn't like you acting like him.
"I could crush his head in." Mark suggests, watching you twirl around in your desk chair. Seeing how long you could balance a pencil on your upper duck lip before getting dizzy, "I'll teach him a lesson. One he needs to learn." Marks voice is calm, blank, the idea of violence not jostling him.
Your eyes wonder off, mind in thought before shrugging. Eventually, the pencil falls and Mark watches you scramble to try and catch it before it plummets to the ground; small curses leaving you when you fail.
"You shouldn't let his filthy hands touch you like that." Mark spits, nails tearing into your bedsheets as anger spikes through his mind, eyebrows furrowing, "Touching you all willy nilly, inviting you on...dates."
"He's just a dude, dude." You snort, interlocking your hands behind your head as you lean back; still spinning, "Some lackluster, desperate, loving fool-"
Marks voice drops, his head snapping over, "Love?"
You roll your eyes, "Figure of speech. Now do your homework."
Mark huffed, ignoring the hint of irritation that was swallowed deep into his mind as you basically ignored him, "I thought we were going to do it together."
"We can." You mumbled half ambitiously, "But I kinda already did it...so...I kinda only invited you over because I know you're flunking the class."
Marks face heats up, rubbing the back of his head and muttering. He knows you're messing with him, and he knows you're just trying to help, especially since apparently this worlds Mark sucks at school too; so you're used to this.
This worlds Mark...
His eyes wander over towards you spinning around whilst he takes his textbook out of his backpack.
This worlds Cecil had been hesitant to let Mark stay in any place but a jail cell until you said you'd watch over him at college, you went to the same one anyways, for the same major, so what was the harm? Cecil didn't even take a second to agree. Either knowing you could tear all of Marks organs out in a mere second, or even just not wanting to deal with him amongst everything else on his plate. Maybe it was both.
Eve and William wanted nothing to do with him, and this worlds Mark was wary...The only time the two interacted was when your Mark threatened him if he came near his family, saying some not so nice words as you stood by in silence. Your Mark seemed to be less anxious when he learned you were his sitter though.
That was the last time you interacted with your Mark too though, he doesn't even see you text the guy. It churns some weird part in his stomach he didn't know he still had there. You were the love of his life on his world, his one treasure, the one human that made him hesitate what he had to do. Here? Mark didn't seem to give two rats ass about you.
"Dude?" Your voice speaks up, and Mark becomes acutely away he was just staring, "You good? Don't tell me that Calc homework has you shaking in your panties already?"
Mark just sighs, face hardening. He can feel his eyebrows furrow without permission.
"I want to ask you something." Mark states, eyes not leaving your form as you sit up and stretch with a tiny groan: his eyes wandering to the skin of your stomach that peaks under your shirt.
You yawn as you lean back, "Yea, shoot dude. I got you."
"Your Mark." Mark says, watching you tense, "You guys don't...talk."
"So?" You mutter, and Mark can't help the way but notice your face hardens ever so slightly.
"People don't just accept a murderous Viltrimite from another world to live with them." Mark narrows his eyes at you, studying you, "But you did. Even when you and your Mark don't seem...close."
"So?"
"So." He spat, pausing to cool himself off, "I thought the only reason you took me in was because I looked like your..." He feels bile in his throat, "Friend." Not boyfriend, "But you two aren't even acquaintances."
You hum in thought, "Well firstly, you may be the same person technically; but you're still different people mentally." You mutter, eyes lazing to the side, "Like I mean, you used to be some super, evil, murderous conqueror-" You stop when he glares at you, "No offense- and Mark never was. So...two different people...you know?"
"Yet, you still took this, 'murderous conqueror'" in, there had to be a reason." Mark raised an eyebrow, not backing down as he saw you shift uncomfortably in your chair, "You tried to kill me at first."
"You tried to kill me." You quirk an eyebrow at him.
"I tried to kill those idiot weaklings that you for some reason call your friends," Mark narrowed his eyes, jaw clenching, "Not you."
You scoff, a laugh reverberating through your throat even as he stared at you, "So you're telling me you came alllll the way here to kill everybody but me." You sit up, sighing, "Mark, even thats a lie you can't-"
"I did."
You pause, and he sees something turning in your head as you look over at him in confusion; eyebrow raised, "Huh?"
"I did." Mark repeats, standing from your bed yet not quite moving yet. He doesn't stutter, doesn't quiet his voice, he just looks straight at you; not backing down, "I came here to kill everyone but you."
Silence.
"O-Oh." You say a little weakly.
Mark just stared at you, eyebrows furrowed as he sighed deeply, "I'm not sure if I should be happy or revolted by the fact that you're not dating this worlds me." He choked, hands curling into fists so had that they shook, "Instead-" He grits his teeth, turning his back to you, "He's dating that- that skank."
"Woah, woah, woah!" You stand up, hands up like in a surrender, "First of all, Eves not a skank-"
Mark whipped his head around to hiss at you, voice scarily leveled, "Thats what you got from that?"
You put a finger up, pacifying him, "Second of all, let me finish, second of all, "We're dating in your world?"
Mark turns his head away, "We were. My Father crushed your skull in."
You can only blink at the way he said that, like he was just telling the weather, or whats for lunch, "Oh..." You mutter, eyes looking off, "Huh..."
"So I came here." Mark ranted, raging, fists shaking, "I came here, prepared to fight him for you, just you. I came here, knowing that my mission was to ruin him, to take over this world, but it wouldn't have mattered if I succeeded or not if I had-" He paused, his head whipped around; watching you freeze. He's sure he looks like a maniac right about now. Eyes wide, pupils taunt, a look of anger he hadn't had for a long time on his face.
You yelp when he suddenly appears infront of you, hands enveloping your face, holding your cheeks so warmly, yet so firmly. Your hands fly to his, cupping them; maybe in surprise, or in fear of what he would do.
"If I had you..." He muttered, voice scratchy, shaking, as he shook his head; finally quiet as he touched his forehead against yours. Panting.
"Mark, dude-"
"So don't!" He snapped, eyes opening to glare at you, opening to watch every expression on your face, opening to see you, "Don't lie to me and tell me you didn't take me in for no reason. There has to be one, there has to be! Say it-" He grits his teeth, "Say it."
You don't shake at the anger in his voice, nor at how blown his pupils suddenly were. His hands were still gentle against you despite his rising rage. They were careful, pliant, like you were broken glass that could shatter at any moment. Everything went to his eyes, watching, analyzing, waiting, sear-
"We kissed once." You mumbled, eyes dropping "In highschool. He was curious, experimenting, and-"
"You fell in love, he didn't." Mark finished matter of factly, leaning away from you."
"How did you-"
"It was different on my Earth." He clenched his jaw, "mutual." He turns your head, grip firming around your face to make you look at him, "I had to chase you for awhile, but it was worth it." He studies your face, the way you look up at him like some sad puppy; shock in the way you blink at him, "We had sex one week later."
"O-Oh." You muttered, and you hope to hell he doesn't see how your ears heat up in embarrassment.
He tilts his head at you, dropping one hand to cradle your chin in the other, "Stop looking away from me."
"Stop forcing me to look." You grumble, swatting him in the side of the head.
"So you like him, thats why." Mark looks at the ceiling like the answers sketched on it, "Thats why you took me in," He looks back at you, "He's your...crush."
"Crush is so highschool." You groan.
"Did you stop being a hero because of him?" Mark hinted, "You stopped before you even came to college."
"Eh.." You mutter sheepishly, "I kinda...lost...most of my powers suddenly. After fighting you the first time actually."
Mark blinks at you.
"I can still fly...and have super strength...thats about it though." You sheepishly take his hand off your face, "Lost my magic mid fight with that long haired you guy."
"So the second time we fought-"
"When you tried to kill Mark?" You sigh, sounding bored, "I was completely powerless, yeup. And all the times after that."
"Then why did you-" He furrowed his eyebrows, silent for a moment, "You fought me without your regeneration powers? That's suicide-"
"Its life." You mutter, rubbing the back of your neck.
He's silent for a moment. For the first time in the conversation his voice quiets, "I could've killed you."
"But you didn't." You shrug half-hearted, "Look, not to do the whole, 'edgy' emo thing, but I thought I wouldn't make it to college. Thought I'd be dead by now, either from a villain...or myself..." You mutter, looking away, "I don't know, after Mark and I stopped being friends. Everyone else kinda stopped talking to me to, and since I'm an orphan, I didn't really have anything else to live-"
"You're not allowed to die."
You just him a weird look as he stares at you, face hard, "Mark-"
He seizes your wrists when you try to speak, "You're not allowed to die. I love you isn't that enough?"
"Mark," You shake him off you, nervously taking a step back; pressing a hand to his chest when he tries to follow, "You love your me, the dead one, as harsh as it sounds. We've never date-"
"I like you." Mark insists, head tilting like a dog.
"Well yes, but not me-"
"You don't think I can fall back inlove with you again over six months?" Mark questions, staring at you, "I loved you. I love you again. I still love you. This you, and that you."
Oh god, this wording was getting so confusing.
"Don't you love me?" He insists, stepping forwards and your back finally hits the desk.
You jostle, looking up at him, "Mark I-"
"I see the way you look at me." Mark leans down, breathe ghosting your face. Intruding in your space, "You undress me with your eyes."
Your cheeks heat up, "Hey now."
"We can date." He insists, hands planting themselves on the desk to cage you in; nose brushing yours, "You don't need that...delinquent."
You pause, ducking your head down to avoid his gaze. To avoid how your necks flares up and how your heart beats faster.
"He's disgusting. Abandoning you." He leaned down to speak in your ear, voice unwavering, "We wanted to kiss you first, he was probably embarrassed, not enough of a man. He couldn't even join the empire."
You groan, unsure at how to react as he practically felt you up with his nose; grazing the tip of it down your neck. "At least he didn't leave the Empire." He stopped at your words, sharp eyes turning to you. You look away, muttering, "Sorry..."
Mark lets a simple sigh slip past his lips, like he was used to the snark you gave. When he leans in, your skin flares up when he suddenly presses a soft kiss to your neck.
"Dude-" You jostle, hands scurrying up to press up against his chest but he catches them.
He leans back enough to look at you straight in the eyes, "Tell me you don't want it."
You swallow harshly, eyes wide and lips shaking as you try to look away but he doesn't let you; one of his hands freeing a wrist to catch your chin,
"Tell me." He insists, listening to your breathing get shaky.
It's silent for a few seconds, your eyes to his, your breathe is shaky, your face is heated, and your mouth is parted into words you can't yet form. Yet he's calm, patient. Scarily quiet, actually.
"Let me be the one..." He looks down at you, staring, calculating, "To make you want to live.
You paused.
"Let me."
It's silent, tense, and it seems like the deathly silence would go on forever; keeping you both here. But it doesn't.
"You-" You give him a weak smile, "Your mouth isn't just good for villainous monologues, is it?"
There's a moment were you swear you see him, grin, smile even, one you haven't seen from your Mark in a long time. Yet you don't get the chance to savor it as all too quickly his lips are on yours. It starts off gentle, pliant, even; and you groan. He's quick, hand coming up to swipe everything off your desk and onto the floor; pressing into you like he's trying to absorb you, like he's trying to make you one being.
You feel him twitch, his cock almost immediately awakening as your skin meets his; like some indecent animal who had been waiting too long to pounce.
And the second your head hits your desk, the second his hands slide up to pin your wrists in place?
You know you're a goner.
.☆∘˚˳°🦕∘˚˳°☆.
A/N: I lowkey went off script but I hope you enjoyed! 🥹
For anybody not caught up: Tennessee just passed a new map that pretty much makes it so black neighborhoods have no power in local votes. Two things about this. While protestors were chanting "No Jim Crow", white Tennessee lawmakers were caught laughing on video. On top of this, Representative Justin Pearson and his brother KeShaun Pearson were arrested for trying to give their takes on the matter (which is not only their legal right but literally his job). If you give a shit about black people, help fight this. We can't allow a return to Jim Crow.
I was today years old when I learned that when you type “otp: true” in AO3 search results it filters out fics with additional ships, leaving only the fics where your otp is the main ship
"Huff, I'm nearly there. I'm-" Scott took a glance at his phone screen, squinting at the bottom of the app to check the time left. "-fifteen minutes away. I called to let you know, that's all. I can handle this."
"It's been almost a whole year, Scott. You sure you're not going to... I don't know, get a little emotional when you see him?"
Scott picked up the sound of Laura's voice in the background, muffled, but the underlying scolding tone was easily heard. He chuckled under his breath and listened to the couple go back and forth for a bit, finding himself... surprisingly calm for the time being.
He'd left Saratoga Springs in (Y/N)'s car expecting to end up dry-heaving on the side of the road at some point, but he was fine.
(Y/N) had ultimately chosen the Long Island center over the one in the Hamptons. That meant long expanses of flat fields and vibrant trees while he drove through the hamlet where the center was located, the serene scenery around him helping him keep his nerves at bay.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel along to the beat of the song playing from the radio, his mouth in a relaxed smile.
"Okay, okay, Laura says it's perfectly fine to get emotional," Greg grunted, and Laura spoke again. "She wants me to remind you that (Y/N) is medicated, and that he might seem off, but that he won't have to be on medication forever. She thinks once he's back and finds some stability, he may be able to lower his dosage and eventually get off it altogether, okay?"
Scott fought to keep the smile on his face. "Got it."
(Y/N) managed to keep up his promise of staying in touch for the first three months, but then he had agreed to stay a little longer, and what had been meant to be a four to six-month stay turned into eleven whole months.
He responded to Scott's emails every once in a while and called him at least once a month, updating him on how things were progressing or telling him drama he'd seen or overheard, but Scott still felt out of the loop.
Again.
He told himself it was fine, that (Y/N) was receiving the help he needed, which was made more obvious when Laura told him (Y/N) had been prescribed antidepressants. Scott was glad for it, or at least he convinced himself he was. He only wished (Y/N) had been the one to tell him.
"Hey, I'll call you when we're on our way back to the city, okay?"
"Alright, take care."
"You too, man. Thanks for everything."
Scott fiddled with his phone to hang up the call and slumped back into the driver's seat, twisting the wheel to pull down the private road leading up to the center.
It had a good property, lots of forested acres meant to help patients reconnect with nature through long walks or hikes. He'd spent the first few weeks analyzing every piece of information on the website and studying all the photos provided, trying to envision (Y/N) there.
(Y/N) had muttered over the phone during his first month that he felt as if he were in a cult, so Scott assumed it took him a while to warm up to the idea of hiking with strangers.
He'd had his own private bedroom and made the offhand mention of a therapy dog and the fancy food they served in the cafeteria. He complained frequently about the family counseling sessions with his parents, but eventually reluctantly admitted it wasn't so bad.
Gradually taking his foot off the gas pedal, Scott handed his ID over to the security guard at the gate, muttering a polite thanks and sliding it back into his wallet before he took a turn into the parking lot area. He pulled into a spot and grabbed his phone, suppressing the anxious bouncing of his knee and taking a deep breath.
Scott
I'm here!
Scott set his phone aside and released the air in his lungs in a long exhale, rubbing his palms over his pants and keeping his eyes trained on the side mirrors until he spotted (Y/N) approaching.
(Y/N)
Ok.
He straightened up and ensured the car was unlocked, a slow smile stretching out across his face as giddiness exploded in his chest. (Y/N) popped the trunk open and set his luggage inside, coming around the side of the car and getting in.
"Hey!" Scott greeted, his ears warming at the blatant excitement in his voice.
His eyes flickered all over (Y/N) to drink him in after so long. He seemed alright, if not tired from his slightly half-lidded eyes and the way he stretched out in the car a bit as if he'd recently woken from a nap.
His cheeks looked a little fuller and his thighs a little thicker. Scott tried not to ogle him too much, but his gaze automatically lowered to the skin that exposed itself with (Y/N)'s little stretch. He made out some faint stretch marks.
Control yourself.
"Can... Can I get a hug?" Scott asked, tugging on his seatbelt to face him.
(Y/N) snorted softly and nodded, leaning over to wrap his arms around Scott. Scott squeezed him in a tight embrace, his face burying itself in his neck and taking a deep inhale. He smelled like himself, alongside a faint smell of cinnamon and vanilla that clung to his skin and clothes, likely from a candle.
Scott sighed, pleased. "I missed you. A lot." He told him as they pulled back, his hands coming to rest over the steering wheel while he waited for (Y/N) to buckle himself in. He put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot, turning his attention to the long road ahead. "Are you hungry? You want me to stop anywhere?"
"Nah," (Y/N) replied, propping his arm up on the glove compartment between the seats and resting his temple against his fist. "I had lunch already. The food was always good, at least. Lasagna was on the menu today."
"Sounds delicious." Scott smiled, glancing at him. "So... you liked it, then? You think it was a good experience? You have... everything you need to feel okay again? I, uhm, I heard you're on medication and all that. I wish you had told me."
(Y/N) shifted slightly in the seat, crossing his ankles and lifting his head to prop his chin over his fist. "I didn't want you stressing, Scott. I didn't tell you things so you could focus on the season, which apparently didn't change anything 'cause I hear the Admirals barely got far." He clicked his tongue disapprovingly.
"I know." Scott had heard plenty of disappointed opinions from sports stations and channels. He'd do better in the 2015-2016 with (Y/N) finally home. "Tell me, then. Everything. How was it?"
(Y/N)'s silence left him frowning, his head turning so he'd be able to glance between him and the road a couple of times. (Y/N) swiped his tongue over his lips in slow contemplation, his gaze not quite meeting Scott's.
"Detox was, uhm... rough. I was a dick to everyone because I felt like shit. I was throwing up all the time and, uh... apparently had a seizure at one point. Don't remember much about it."
Scott stared at the road, his mouth agape. "What?"
"The nurses and all that got it handled, but... it wasn't fun. They gave me this thing called, uh, acampro- acampr- some shit like that to help with cravings." (Y/N)'s hand dropped and he fiddled with his fingers, rubbing them together and pursing his lips. "I think... it put some things in perspective. I defintely don't want to go through something like that again. The whole detox experience was agony."
Part of Scott understood why (Y/N) or anybody else hadn't called to tell him. He knew if he'd been told, he would've dropped everything to be at the center to demand to see him, and it would've completely consumed his mind throughout the entirety of the season.
Another part of him only felt frustration. He wanted to be trusted with that kind of information!
"The psychologist did prescribe me antidepressants. They- I don't know, they kinda suck. They're supposed to make me calm, but they really just make me tired all the time. Sometimes, if I get up too quickly, I get lightheaded. Oh, and they make it hard to get hard." The corner of (Y/N)'s mouth quirked.
Scott chuckled despite himself, his eyes rolling. "I doubt you were getting much action in there to make that a serious problem."
"You'd be surprised," (Y/N) muttered, and Scott's head whipped around to look at him wide-eyed. He blew a raspberry. "Pay attention to the road, dumbass. I meant other people. There were some serious love stories going on in there. Lots of Romeos and Juliets hoping to reunite after leaving."
"Huh..." Scott hadn't considered romance in rehab before. "Good for them. I'm sure the nurses and staff weren't too pleased about it, considering it could be a distraction, but it must be nice to have someone to rely on. Someone to fight for. I bet for those who don't have many people on the outside, it's a great feeling."
"I guess." (Y/N) reached his hand out to search for a better music station. "You would've totally fallen in love in there. You're... desperate."
"Desperate? How am I desperate?" Scott's shoulders shook with a little puzzled laugh, his brows furrowing slightly. "If I were desperate, I would've gone on a million dates by now. I would have slept with half of New York's male population."
Sort of. Maybe. He hadn't built the confidence for that kind of thing yet.
"Mm, you would if you were out," (Y/N) said, settling on an rnb station and nodding his head along to the song.
He gazed out the window, watching the buildings pass by until they hit the highway, his face growing neutral. Scott gripped the wheel a little tighter, smiling a little to himself. Things had occurred in his life, too. Things he hadn't yet told (Y/N) in his various emails to him, although he'd ensured to keep him updated on everyone else.
"Actually, I... I came out to a lot of the guys. I'm working up to it, (Y/N). I... I want to be out and happy and- and living the life that I want soon. I don't know if I'm ready to come out to the league or be the first publicly gay NHL player, but I'll get there. Eventually." Scott revealed, his smile widening.
It'd been terrifying and nauseating, but he'd done it with the support and encouragement of Carter and Greg. They had his back through and through, providing him with the reassurance that he needed to feel comfortable enough to take that step forward.
It'd come as a surprise to most of the guys he told, but they'd accepted him with ease after processing and adjusting. It felt... freeing. He couldn't imagine how it'd feel once he was fully out to the world.
No more hiding how he felt, no more anxiety over how he looked or acted, no more pretending. He'd be able to go outside and freely love whoever he chose to date.
(Y/N) raised his brows at him. "Whoa, good for you, Scott. How'd that go? You must've been shitting a break, huh?"
"It definitely wasn't easy, and it took some of them a bit to really process, but they understand. Bennett actually suspected it, apparently. He... He told me he thought I had a crush on you, but he always told himself that it was nothing." Scott's cheeks burned as he spoke, moving one hand from the steering wheel to scratch his temple. "Kip's been giving me a lot of advice. Every time a celebrity comes out, he tells me."
"Kip's still hanging around?" (Y/N) looked forward, his mouth twisting into a line. "Another desperate one. I bet he was hanging around like a shark after I left. How's that been like? Am I going to get to your place and find him on the lease, or will I get the mercy of not having to live with him?"
"Kip and I aren't together, (Y/N). I... I let him down easy a while back. We're just friends, okay? We hang out at my place sometimes, and I get him tickets to games if he's interested. He's good company. You'd know if you weren't so grumpy." Scott reached toward him to pinch his cheek, chuckling when (Y/N) swatted at him. "He asks about you from time to time."
"Well, he can't exactly be a dick about me when he wants to get into your pants, Scott. I'm sure that wouldn't go over well." (Y/N) folded his arms over his chest, sucking his teeth. His head shook lightly. "Besides, I get a pass, don't I?"
Scott shot him a look. "No, you don't, which I'm sure you know well."
"Yeah," (Y/N) sighed, slumping in his seat and sinking into his hoodie. "Accountability, or whatever. Honestly, I think you're the only person I have to make amends with right now."
"Not really."
"I was an asshole, okay? I knew it then, and I know it now. I- I took advantage of your kindness, and I made you miserable in your own home." (Y/N)'s head lolled to the side to look at him. "Scott Hunter, I apologize for being unkind, ungrateful, and an overall jerk to you while I was staying in your home. What can I do to fix this?"
Scott's lips parted to reassure him he had to do absolutely nothing, that he'd been forgiven long ago, and then, a thought struck him.
"Live with me." He answered promptly, nodding to himself. "You can fix things by living with me, keeping me company. The guest bedroom is yours. You can pay whatever amount of rent you want, and we can establish some rules. That's how you make things up to me."
(Y/N) stared at the side of his head blankly. "I can make up for making you miserable while we lived together... by living together?"
"Yep." Scott flashed him a smile. "We can divide chores, I guess, and you'll have the place to yourself during games, unless you want to come with us. I can make us breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day, and you can wash the dirty dishes. We can switch who cleans what on certain days, and maybe we can eventually adopt a pet. Maybe an emotional support dog, or something like that."
"Roommates don't adopt dogs together, Scott."
"Yes, they do."
Scott nodded quickly, slowing down with the traffic until he came to a full stop. He smiled at him, his gaze softening in the slightest. He'd been inviting Kip over constantly to fill up the silence, to the point that Kip would occasionally bring one or two of his friends along to hang out.
"Roommates get pets all the time."
"That's dumb." (Y/N) crinkled his nose. "What happens when one moves out? Who gets the poor pet then? Or do they share custody? I'm not sharing custody with you, Scott."
Scott grinned. "Never move out, then."
"That would be your reasoning." (Y/N) rolled his eyes. "You're so predictable, man."
"Well, those are my terms. I will only accept making amends with you if you move in with me." Scott's voice was light and teasing, his arm propping on the glove compartment and tilting to jab a finger into (Y/N)'s side playfully. (Y/N) grunted, his head shaking again. "What do you say, (Y/N)? Will you live with me or not? 'Cause my place is the cheapest, nicest home available you'll find right now."
"You're unbelievable," (Y/N) huffed out a little chuckle. "Fine. Fine. I'll live with you in your gigantic penthouse, but I don't want to hear strange noises whenever you have someone over, and I want to be notified when Kip comes over. I... will play nice with him because he's your new best friend-"
"He's not."
"-and I guess, he's been keeping you company while I've been gone, so I have something to thank him for. That doesn't mean he and I are going to become friends or anything, though. I don't like smoothies enough for that, but I'm sure you've become a regular at that dumb shop. Strawberry, or whatever."
"Actually, it's pronounced straw-plus-berry." (Y/N) deadpanned. Scott's grin widened. "Jus' letting you know. Kip's passionate about getting the name right. He told me very firmly that it's not strawberry, it's straw-"
"I heard you the first time, Scott." Scott cracked up. "I'm not deaf, buddy."
The rest of the ride home was comfortable, filled with light conversation about the previous game season and stories (Y/N) had heard from others who'd been staying at the center.
He recounted funny moments and serious chats he'd had with one of the on-site therapists, as well as how the family sessions had gone and the referrals they'd provided to him for aftercare.
Night had fallen by the time they arrived in the city and parked, and Scott felt ten times lighter than when he'd left. They stepped into the elevator and rode up to the unit in silence, and he opened the door for them once the elevator reached his unit.
He watched, relief spreading through his body, as (Y/N) walked into the penthouse and headed down the hallway to the bedroom.
(Y/N) was home. Permanently.
Scott's teeth dug into his bottom lip, failing to bite back the wide smile on his face while he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of the couch. He took out his phone and tapped on one of the conversations, his legs leading him to (Y/N)'s bedroom.
He could already envision some of (Y/N)'s old things that'd been sitting in storage filling up the apartment. His stomach fluttered.
Scott
(Y/N)'s home. He seems to be doing better.
"Hey, do you want me to whip something together for dinner or..."
Kip
That's great! Happy for you both.
Scott swallowed at the sight of (Y/N)'s shirtless upper body, his hoodie crumpled up in his hands. He'd lost some mild muscle definition and gotten a little fuller in places... and all Scott wanted to do was take a bite of him, or maybe have (Y/N) take a bite. His face flushed immediately at the thought, and he averted his eyes, tapping his phone in his palm.
"Uhm," He cleared his throat. "Do you want me to order something? Pizza? Uh, there's- there's a new place that opened down the street that does delivery. They have a lot- a lot of options." Fuck, man. "What do you, uh, think?"
"I would kill for some chicken wings," (Y/N) replied, tossing the hoodie into the laundry basket and hooking his fingers into the waistband of his sweats, dragging them down his legs.
Scott tried to focus on (Y/N)'s face and not where he wanted to dig his fingers in or press his mouth against. He nodded a little too rapidly to be casual. "They have that on the menu, I think. Uhm, you don't want them boneless, right? With fries and- and a drink?"
"Mhm." (Y/N) laughed breathlessly and dropped the sweatpants into the basket, too. He motioned to the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower. Maybe... we can watch some movies together? Maybe try to get through as many Star Wars movies?" He tilted his head, his smile faint.
Scott perked up. "Yeah, yeah, totally! I'll call the place and, uhm, I'll put on the first movie once you're done. I'll probably take a shower, too."
"Great."
"Great!"
With a wide smile, Scott turned and fumbled with his phone a bit, finding the restaurant and giving them a call. Once he placed the order, he headed to his bedroom and grabbed some fresh clothes, setting them on the bathroom counter and searching for a different contact next. He pressed the phone to his ear, his fingers fiddling with the drawstring of the pajama pants.
"Hey, Hunter. Get home safely? How's our firecracker doing so far?"
"It was a smooth drive back home." Scott turned the shower nozzle on and stepped into the doorway so his voice wouldn't be muffled by the noise. "(Y/N) looks good. He seemed to like the center, though he's... kind of low-energy, I guess. I think it's the medication, but other than that, he... he seems fine. I can see the old him coming back little by little, and.. he agreed to move in with me."
"Really?" Greg sounded surprised. "Well, look at that. I bet you're excited about having him around more." Greg chuckled. "It'll be easier to job-search once he gets settled back in. You think he has anything in mind? Laura says it'd be less stressful to have a specific area he wants to go into."
"I don't know." Scott leaned against the doorway and watched the mirror slowly fog up. "I wouldn't mind taking care of everything. I make enough money to support at least three families, and I'm sure he's still got plenty of money in the bank."
"You know him, Scott. He'd go insane being stuck doing nothing all day." True, true. Keeping busy would keep him from giving in to any cravings, too. "Have you talked to Murdock? Maybe he's got a job he can give (Y/N). Then, he could come with us during the season. The guys would probably like having him around again."
Scott hadn't heard (Y/N) make any mention of wanting to visit rinks or even reminiscing about his days as captain yet.
"I don't think he'd be happy about being around Zullo, Huff." No amount of therapy would prevent (Y/N) from picking a fight with him. It'd take a miracle from some magical deity to ease the grudge both of them had when it came to Frank Zullo. "I doubt he'd be happy about being on the sidelines, too. I'll talk to him, see where his head's at."
"Alright. Laura and I will be on the lookout for any job offerings that might interest him. I gotta go get the kids into bed, Scott. I'll talk to you later."
"Alright... thanks again for everything, Greg. It means a lot to me, and I'm sure it means a lot to (Y/N), too."
"Anytime. We're a family."
Hanging up, Scott stripped and hopped into the shower, washing away at his skin and rubbing shampoo into his hair. He rinsed his hair and body, patting himself dry after turning off the shower and changing into his pajamas.
He checked his phone for any updates on the food as he rubbed a towel into his hair before he tossed the towel into the laundry basket and walked back out into the livingroom.
(Y/N) sat on the couch in the livingroom, his legs crossed and his attention largely on his phone, typing away. Scott grabbed the remote and sat down beside him, resting his arm along the backside of the couch and searching for the first Star Wars movie.
He set the remote aside, nostalgia creeping in when the iconic soundtrack filled his ears, which brought back an onslaught of memories of them sitting together and watching the movies.
"So much space, and you have to sit right here?" (Y/N) raised his foot to lightly kick Scott's knee, his head tilting to lean on the back cushion. "Clingy."
"I missed you." Scott cooed, the hand on the backrest reaching toward him, his fingers brushing along the back of his head. His eyes roved over (Y/N)'s face, taking in every inch of him and committing it to memory. "I haven't seen you in what feels like years, (Y/N). Let me have this."
"Drama queen," (Y/N) mumbled, moving his head so it'd rest over Scott's arm. Scott's skin tingled with delight. "You've always been so dramatic."
"Me?" Scott shifted to face him, leaning in inch by inch, his eyes lingering on (Y/N)'s lips. "I'm the dramatic one?"
The corners of (Y/N)'s mouth raised, his head lifting. "Definitely."
Scott stopped when (Y/N) placed his hand over his chest, an apology swiftly forming on his tongue, but (Y/N) surprised him by leaning in, closing the distance.
Scott's arms immediately wrapped around him, pulling him in against his body, leaving (Y/N) sitting halfway on his lap. His hands dipped beneath (Y/N)'s shirt, eagerly exploring his back and sides while their tongues brushed and licked into each other's mouths.
(Y/N) pulled back a little too soon for Scott's liking, his forehead pressing against Scott's. "I don't think I can- I can get, you know."
His face warmed, his eyes jumping away in embarrassment. Scott peered down between them. The evidence of his interest was noticeable, but when he tentatively pressed his palm against (Y/N)'s pants...
"Oh." Scott breathed out, trying to mask his disappointment. It stung, faintly, but he reminded himself it wasn't his fault.
"Yeah, I might make an appointment and see if I can get on a different medication that'll make my dick work again," (Y/N) sighed deeply, his bottom lip rolling into his mouth. He adjusted himself on Scott's lap. "I... did think about you. A lot." Scott's eyes shot up, widening slightly. "I... I don't know how ready I am for a relationship, but... I do.. like you. I think I have for a while, and never realized."
"Really?" Scott set a hand over (Y/N)'s back, keeping him steady while he sat up. His heart picked up in pace, and his skin flushed furiously beneath his clothes. Holy shit. "You... like me?" He cracked a smile, playful. "(Y/N) (L/N) has a crush?"
"Oh, I take it all back, you ass," (Y/N) groaned, his hands pressing against the couch to move back, but Scott wrapped his arms around him to stop him. "I take it back. I take it back. I don't like you, actually. You never crossed my mind. I was actually thinking about Kip the entire time. As a matter of fact, I was thinking about Rozanov and his stupid dumbass smirk."
"Uh-huh." Scott laughed, bright and giddy, and he buried his face in (Y/N)'s chest to hide the pure delight on his face. "I'm sure you were thinking about them, and not your best friend whose been in love with you for years, and you never noticed."
He hadn't realized how relieving it was to talk about it openly with him now. His head tilted back.
"So much for having a good eye."
"Fuck you." (Y/N) laughed, slapping his shoulder. "You can't even tell when someone's into you, Scott."
Scott surged forward, claiming his lips in a sweet kiss, and feeling on cloud-fucking-nine about it. "We can take things slow." He agreed when he pulled away, helping (Y/N) slide off his lap and back onto the couch. "We can figure things out once you get your medication sorted. I don't mind. I'm... just happy you're here with me."
(Y/N) looked away from him meekly, and it took everything in Scott not to lean in for another kiss. "I'm happy, too."
one of my patients came in for an emergency visit, because she snapped the wire on her retainer watching the movie when MBJ took his shirt off she clenched her teeth so fucking hard she snapped it. that is the fucking funniest shit ever to me this tiny 17 year old girl thirsting so goddamn hard she busted steel
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