#I think Bad tried to explain too much too often

[novamariestark]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 - Bᴜᴄᴋʏ Bᴀʀɴᴇs [𝒟𝒶𝓎 𝟣]

pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Reader

synopsis: you are Pepper's younger sister, not by blood but that never bothered either of you. Without realizing it, you become the caretaker for the Avengers, so when a new member joined, it was only natural you'd do the same for him... Bucky Barnes

song inspiration: Lover ~ "Can I Go Where You Go?"

fandom: Marvel

warnings: none that I know off. Just my bad version of fluff i suppose lol

[A/N] this ended up far from what I originally imagined last night and probably would have been different had I not had such a busy day today. Bloody outside world 🙄sorry it sucks

Peace.

Love.

Hope.

Belonging.

All things that Bucky has not felt since the '40s. Things he didn't think he'd ever feel again. Things he believed he didn't deserve to feel. That was until he met you.

For reasons he still can't explain, you didn't immediately cower away from him. Him who had been responsible for countless deaths. Him who was a killing machine. Him a monster.

Instead you did the complete opposite. You were polite, kind and understanding. More things he didn't think he deserved and you picked up on that really quickly.

You knew that Bucky was still a tumbleweed of nerves, so you tried to do as much as you could to make him comfortable and make the tower feel like home to him without freaking the absolute shit out of him accidentally.

You never pushed him. You never tried to pry into every last thought that was swimming around in his head.

You were just... there. A gentle presence that existed beside him. That calmed him more than he realised.

More often than not, he found himself near you, whether you were sitting at the dinner table, or if you were sitting at the kitchen counter, he would too.

If he has a nightmare and starts roaming the tower, pacing away because he can't sit still, you would be sitting in the kitchen waiting for him with a mug of warm milk with honey and cinnamon, something your parents gave you when you had nightmares as a child.

It became routine, unfortunately, not because you didn't want to be there, but because you'd prefer that he didn't have the nightmares in the first place. He's already suffered enough and yet, some nights, Hydra still has him in a chokehold.

Months go by and the routine is still in place, but Bucky finds himself having fewer nightmares. They still occur, just not as often. Lately, he's been dreaming a lot about you. About your smile, your laugh, your eyes, all things that made him smile. Not just that small, barely existent one he usually does. An actual, genuine smile.

He didn't deserve you, he didn't deserve your friendship, he didn't deserve the peace that your presence gives him. At least that's what he keeps telling himself over and over.

It wasn't true. Sometimes you think he still sees The Winter Soldier and himself as the same thing. But they're not. They never have been. One was a weapon that Hydra wielded, the other, an innocent man who just wanted to serve his country, forced to live with the grief, the guilt and the trauma that was forced upon him.

The more Bucky's feelings for you grew, the more he buried them. Not because he wanted to. He buried them because he thought he would hurt you. And that scared him more than anything.

He was doing a good job at ignoring those feelings, for the most part, until you bought him a present.

"It's not my birthday," he had said, confusion painting over his features as he looks at the date on his phone, that you had taught him how to use, "Is it?"

You laughed, moving to come and stand next to him, "It's gotta be your birthday for someone to buy you a gift?"

Bucky shrugged, "I guess not but, I don't think I deserve this, doll,"

God that nickname always made your stomach do 100 cartwheels. You bit your lip, turning your head slightly so he didn't notice the giddy smile on your face.

You compose yourself and turn back to him, "Well you do," you told him, you voice firm and leaving no room for arguments as you picked his right hand up by his wrist and bringing it upwards, flipping it over in the process. His fingers subconsciously opened up and you place the keys on his palm.

"It's all yours,"

"I can't believe it," he said as he stepped towards it, admiring every inch, every detail, "How did you know to get this bike?"

"I have my sources,"

"Steve?"

"Yeah,"

He smiled turning back to the bike and just thought to himself for a moment before turning back to you.

"Thank you,"

It's literally the biggest smile you'd ever seen on Bucky's face, which was a shame because he had the most beautiful smile you'd ever seen and you wanted to see it more often.

And so you did see it more often. But you didn't know that that smile was only ever on his face when you were nearby and everyone started noticing this. Except you.

Everyone kept dropping hints here and there and yet you still remained oblivious. Bucky was thankful for that. The last thing he wanted was something like rejection to take away what you guys had.

--

The cold sweat clung to his skin as he jolted awake, breath ragged and heart pounding like a drum. The room was dark, silent—filled with only the sound of his heavy breathing. Your face, covered in blood, pale, lifeless faded away from him like sand slipping through his fingers.

Quietly, he rose and made his way down the hall to start his ritual, his light footsteps adding to his uneven breathing.

When he calmed down he made his way down to the kitchen to find you were waiting in the kitchen, just as always—warm mug sitting on the counter, waiting for him. The faint scent of honey hit him on his way to his usual seat.

You smiled at him, expecting him to sit down next to you as he always does but he doesn't. Instead he pulls you into a hug.

"Please don't go," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly, as though he was on the verge of breaking into tears.

"What?" you asked as your arms automatically wrapped around him. "I'm not going anywhere Bucky. What would make you think that?"

"My nightmare... you died,"

Your fingers thread through his hair, gently, soothingly stroking as you speak just as gently to him, "It will never happen, Bucky. I'm surrounded by avengers,"

He apologizes as he pulls away, you just smile and say that it's okay. The rest of the night, you sat in silence.

--

Parties definitely weren't his thing. Yours either but Tony being your "brother-in-law" somehow meant that your attendance was mandatory. Every party Tony has ever thrown, you had bailed 10 minutes in when no one was looking, but this time you had company.

You had slipped into the seat next to him, on the table hiding in the corner. He watched everyone as though they were someone coming for him. You knew he was uncomfortable just by the look on his face.

"You wanna leave?" you asked him, pointing to the door. Bucky looked over at where Tony and the others were, "Don't worry about them, they'll understand,"

And that led you to sitting on your bed, watching Finding Nemo of all things. It was a film that you knew and loved. It was also innocent and lighthearted.

By the end you were a sobbing mess as you always were after this movie. You looked over and Bucky's eyes were glossy and one stray tear that escaped was rolling down his cheek.

Your hand instinctively moved to wipe the tear, Bucky looked at you and your hand out the corner of his eye. Your actions paused and you mumble sorry before pulling your hand away.

Your hand doesn't make it very far though when it's captured by Bucky's. Your gaze flicks between your joined hands and Bucky's beautiful blue eyes.

His metal hand moves to move a stray hair from your face, the cool metal shocking you slightly.

He smiles and asks "If you get lost, can I go too?"

You smile softly, squeezing his hand. “Always.”

[ninjago-toad-modern-au]

You wanted him, he's here !!!

⚡Jay Walker⚡

More info about him :

Crashout every 2 minutes

When he does, his Scottish accent resurfaces strong

But usually it's not very strong (but never inexistent)

He's actually using that scythe with chains (?) (whatever it's called) but can honestly master any weapon with chains/ropes/etc

When fighting, he uses less his power than the others (except maybe Kai) since it's hard to control and can be very dangerous for the persons it touches (that's also why he uses gloves)

His style of Spinjitsu is inspired from taekwondo (if you look closely, you can see traces of Cyclondo in his movements)

He has a big scar on the left side of his body : it has been caused by his powers in Seabound, when he fixed the Hydro Bounty. As a consequence, he has Lichtenberg figures and he's paralyzed on the high left part of his face (eye, eyebrow). It comes with a very bad eyesight in his left eye and a loss of audition.

He's the only one of the ninjas to constantly have a bag, because at first it was for his glider. He built it bc he thought that could be a good idea with his power of lightning and bc he thinks it's cool. And when Cole is not here, he's the one to keep all the supplies, which annoys him a lot

In terms of civilian life, he works for Lobbo's Totally Rad Arcade. It's one of the only jobs he did he feels ok. Not too much pressure, he's around things he likes and he can occasionally show his skills to everybody.

He's surprisungly good at administrative work (I'm not sorry)

When people ask him about the scars, he always tells a different story. Every occasion is an occasion to seem cool

Yet he usually covers the biggest part of his scars bc he's afraid it can scare people

He visits his parents every weekend. They don't come into Ninjago City often bc they hate city life

Also regularly visits Unagami and Milton Dyers

He lives with Nya the floor above her garage and always wears his yang necklace, even when he sleeps

Down bad for Nya, always tries to rizz her even if they've already been together for years

He still has pointy teeth from when he was transformed in a serpentine in s1

He was Cole's best man at his wedding

He's part of the tech team with Nya and Pixal. He's mainly in charge of the desings

Doesn't know his bio parents are Libber and Cliff Gordon, but knows he's adopted. He never searched for anything about them (he didn't have enough time between two apocalypses) and is separated between the want to know what happened and the fear of what he could discover

Him and Lloyd bond around comics, when they're together, they're the ultimate geeks

Surprisingly, he's now the ninja who gives the best love advice of them all. Him and Nya went through so much so he knows what he's talking about

Crashout every time Kai doesn't listen to his advices

Noisy af

Certainly ADHD

Can't focus on something he finds uninteresting

Has a special interest for trains and knows Ninjago City's subway map inside out

Was bullied in school for his origins, his interests and his physical appearance, that's why he wore concealer and straightened his hair in the first seasons (and partially explains his comportment)

After the Merge, he got lost for a moment in the Land of Madness, but found his way back pretty quickly

Has a motorbike, it's like his baby

I had a lot of thoughts, apparently. (Maybe don't expect so much for others ?) If you have any questions, my ask box is open !

Hope you like it (and the art)

- Toad 🐸

[jessaerys]

watching jack saint's video he just posted about the last of us and he's probably one of like three video essayist i would trust with that hornet's nest of a videogame/tv adaptation to be empathetic and have an understanding of what makes a good, compelling narrative while also critiquing the political influences in the work itself without condemning anyone who finds the work of art meaningful and ANYHOW for the most part i am very pleased with his takes. very comforting, very refreshing, very nuanced, i love you jack saint

BUT there's this section around the 27 min. mark where he says "when ellie tortures one of abby's friends for information (...) she is emulating joel in the first game, so much of the second game revolves around ellie's resentment towards joel as explored by the pain she goes through when she tries to do for joel what she knows he would've done for her. and in fairness i thought the show also flobs(?) this pretty hard with this weird obsession craig mazin has with ellie being some secret sadist who craves torture and murder (...)" and here he overlaps footage of ellie from the show (violence enjoyer) and ellie from the videogame (haunted at what she has done), says, "watch this scene, and tell me ellie is, in any way, enjoying what she's doing."

and his point is pretty well explained, right, and not even incorrect as far as my understanding about the ellie-joel relationship in the game goes: it's all about both of them learning from each other; about joel being both a loving life-changing figure towards ellie and also a bad role model, and emulating what she learned from him is what leads to the tragedy of the second game - later jack saint goes on to talk about how ellie teaches joel to open up to people and how thawing that empathy within him is also what leads to his death when he decides to save abby's life not knowing she would later come back and kill him, right, the mortifying and even deadly ordeal of human vulnerability. he says, "this is part of what complicates ellie's relationship with joel, his behaviors didn't come from some cliche sadistic dark passenger, they came from his desire to protect people. this is the point. the things we often value most in people (love and empathy and loyalty) can often lead us to doing truly depraved things out of those feelings of obligation." he goes on to say, "she loves joel, but also there are things inside of him that terrify her and make her feel like everything else is just another constructed fantasy, and it is her who pays the consequences for those parts of him he was scared to show, because through that love those parts of him become parts of her."

ANDDD it's like. well to be 100% clear he is not wrong. that is a lovely and extremely compelling storyline and character relationship, y'know i get it. BUT as someone who was first introduced to the characters via the show it drives me absolutely bonkers bananas that this is one of the most common critiques i hear of the hbo adaptation, that joel is too soft and ellie is too sadistic, that this dilutes and undermines the above ^ meeting of opposites that is at the center of the game's emotional storyline, ellie's light and joel's darkness and how they affect and stain and change each other and what it says about love and attachment and the epic highs and lows of human connection.

but i don't think changing their characters does that!! adaptations are not a zero sum game!!

like i don't know how why it's SO difficult to find compelling a version of the last of us where ellie is like joel, where she has a penchant for violence inside of her too, where their connection is born out of that recognition of the self through the other and where joel both sees himself in ellie and wants to protect her from this dark passenger (which jake saint uses derogatorily but you know what, it's actually a really helpful shorthand to explain this inherent innate viciousness some people do have! like it is a thing that happens, in real life!) while also accidentally nurturing it in her, while also accidentally triggering the tragedy of ellie abandoning herself to this bloodthirst in part 2, repeating his steps just the way he taught her, because that is how the so-often-mentioned-it's-like-a-broken-record ~cycles of violence~ that tlou revolves around happen within the structure of the nuclear family. how is that not another layer! to the Themes!

like it's such a subtle but crucial difference, right, ellie pursuing revenge because joel has tainted her with his violent ways in the game (which assumes that, had ellie and joel not crossed paths, violence would never be a choice a young ellie would make as she serves this narrative purpose of apotheosis of the innocence of youth born to a cruel world); and ellie pursuing revenge because joel has in his pursuit to protect her from the dark passenger that he is too far gone to excise from himself, ironically enabled the violence within her in this greek tragedy fashion; joel has been dead from the beginning, in trying to change his own fate via the daughter-mirror he has instead condemned her.

and i think that subtle internal difference in both of those emotional truelines is pleasure. what if instead of being afraid of the horrible things joel has done ellie sees herself validated in it? attracted to the precipice of it? doesn't that make her even more of a participatory agent in her own unraveling? doesn't that give her character much more agency and substance when it comes to the ugly thing she twists herself into?

i don't know man it drives me crazy i guess because it reminds me of the whole perfect victim approach people have to similar father-daughter dynamics wherein the dark passenger is instead sexual abuse; how people cannot possibly fathom that the victim can too be an agent in their own desecration, that the disciple-daughter can even enjoy it and ask for it, and it doesn't make them any less of a victim.

show!ellie and joel are wuthering heights, they are a vampire and a fledgling. and it's not that i don't understand the symbolism of game!ellie and it's not that i don't find it compelling i just think making her a little feral is a billion times more interesting for girls who are just like their father! because here's the thing i just SHRIMPLY don't think this would be nearly such a big fucking deal if ellie was a boy!!! if this was a story about a father-son relationship!!! i think if ellie had been an innocent bright eyed boy in the game that is later given this dark passenger in the show, people would be like ooohh so much more nuance!! so it's really hard not to see this critique as gendered!

as if this subtle twist of the knife in ellie's characterization detracts from the marrow of the story rather than simply shape ellie differently around it which is, you know, what happens with adaptations. in jack saint's defense he is busy fighting much bigger demons: male videogame players with the emotional intelligence of roughly a three year old

[primadonnabish]

I definitely see a sequel that explores all the unresolved plot points like Celine and Rumi, Rumi's parents, Jinu, Mira & Zoey's backstories,

The Other Saja Boys backstories, etc.

Here's what l imagine the general story of the sequel will be:

Since the Honmoon is rainbow instead of gold demons can still pass through but maybe that serves a purpose. We now know that demons (some of them) don't actually want to steal souls but do it for survival and because Gwi-Ma is a powerful evil force that they fear. We also know a good chunk of demons (I'm assuming the ones that used to be humans) despise Gwi-Ma because he tortured them with their past mistakes and regrets.

What if for this sequel since Mira & Zoey are humans and went though their own struggles.

Gwi-ma actually came to them with offers when they were at a low point but had the power to reject his offer making them worthy to be recruited by Celine to be the two other huntresses. However while Mira and Zoey were able to reject Gwi-Ma, they also explore and see how those that did accept Gwi-ma's offers aren't truly unforgivable terrible beings who don't deserve redemption because very often people can make bad choices and mistakes but have good intentions behind them but unfortunately made their choices out of moments of selfishness/ desperation or because of the cards they were handed in life led them to make unfortunate choices. Basically something to show that you can't judge someone at face value for their circumstances and the choices they made because when you see the full story, you can see how they ended up where they are and even see that you were actually close to doing the same.

Next up Jinu and The Saja Boys. I already elaborated many times that after giving Rumi his soul, Jinu is very much bounded to Rumi's sword. Because of that he is bounded to Rumi and can change from human spirit form (like a ghost) to a sword form. The subplot focus could then be on Jinu & Rumi growing closer then before while figuring out how to truly set Jinu's soul free. Meanwhile for the other four Sajas they were sent back to the underworld, and unfortunately so was Gwi-ma. Gwi-Ma seemed too easily defeated for being the big bad so l think he was sent back to the underworld and is

now even more cruel than before fuming that he was so close only to lose again. Meanwhile, the four Saja’s who saw Jinu as a brother to them are a little mad a Rumi since Jinu sacrificed himself for her, but even more p!seed and hate Gwi-Ma more since he was the one that turned Jinu to ashes. In this anger they for Saja’s argue with Gwi-ma and allude to starting a rebellion to overthrow him. Angered by this attempt at rebellion he goes to destroy the four Saja’s but they manage to escape to the human world now wanted fugitives of the underworld, either no where else to go they seek huntress for help staring their frenemies team up. Finally we have Rumi & Celine, after the events of the first movie we had no follow up to their argument. Perhaps this makes things awkward between them as Celine refuses to talk to Rumi after Rumi chose to embrace her half demon side (though the public and fans think Rumi just got some sick new tattoos). Rumi tries to talk to Celine but she still refuses to accept Rumi’s demon side which leads to another argument, this os followed up with Jinu coming back in his spirit form explaining how he is now Rumi’s sword and they just talk for a bit after a cute reunion which is cut short when the Saja Boys appear at Huntrix’s door there is a bit of a fight before the boys explain what’s going on and they have a small cute reunion with Jinu. After some talking the team decides to work together. Some plot and story happens and the team is eventually discovered by Celine & Bobby, Bobby has panic attack learning the demon are real thing while Celine argues saying how demons can’t be redeemed and trusted, but Celine argues and shows how she is wrong but Celine is still stubborn which leads to the backstory of Rumi’s parents which I not entirely sure how that goes but I’ll leave that up to y’all to decide what Rumi’s Parent’s story is. More story happens and progresses (now with Celine joining the team and Bobby calming down and becoming the team’s “guy in the chair”. Moving on to the final fight where The team is fighting off Gwi-Ma Jinu (in sword form) and Rumi are trying ti land the finishing hit but are overpowered it looks like they are about to lose but then Celine comes in and sacrifices herself for Rumi, finally looking at her and apologizing. By Giving her soul to Rumi and becoming her new sword, Jinu’s soul is set free and he now has a physical form again and like Rumi his demon markings are now pearly rainbow colored. Gwi-ma is defeated, Bobby now manages Huntrix & The Saja Boys, we get Jinu x Rumi properly alongside other couples (y’all can decide which ones those are I’m personally rooting for Zoey X Abs x Mystery & Mira X Romance). Roll end credits showing a compilation of Huntrix x Saja Boys recreating famous Kpop memes and being crackheads on variety shows. This is just a brief plan out of story ideas to tackle in the sequel. Some Final notes I have are that I hope the Saja Boys get proper names in the sequel RN I refer to them by their Headcanon names: Jinu, Daeun (Baby), Jae-hyun (Romance), Garam (Mystery), and Beomseok (Abs). And I feel like this story can add on to my analysis of how Celine & Gwi-Ma represent Kpop companies with this sequel showing Celine as what Kpop companies should do then they mistreat their artists: Apologize and make it up to them properly. While Gwi-ma represents what should happen to Kpop companies when they mistreat their artists and refuse to change for the better: be defeated and lose everything with their artists taking their business and success to a better company that will treat them right. Anyways those are my Ideas for a sequel feel free to share what else you can add. 💗

I know that the directors of Kpop Demon Hunters have said that they already have ideas for a sequel, and all I could think is what would sequel even be about???

There has to be demon related issues or challenges. It can’t just be about the girls hanging out and fighting the demons etc for 2 hours and I know some would like that, but there has to be conflict and issues.

Would it be about Rumi’s parents? Would it be about Jinu? I honestly don’t want to hope too much because I’ve been hurt before when it comes to Enemies to Lovers romances. But I honestly cant imagine a sequel without Jinu. It wouldn’t be the same.

Yeah, it's weird to imagine Kpop Demon Hunters without him. Especially because his character always seemed so important. Sometimes, you would see Ahn Hyo-seop's (Jinu VA) name pop up before the names of May Hong (Mira's VA) and Ji-young Yoo (Zoey's VA) in many credits of the movie. They surely left space for a possible Jinu comeback (and we only see Mira and Zoey killing Abby and Mystery, with Romance and Baby nowhere to be found, so maybe they just came back to the demon world and might appear too). A sequel could explore more of Mira's family, Zoey's background, how the three girls came together and were trained by Celine, the story of the Sunlight Sisters and Rumi's parents, Bobby could find out about it (because king deserves to know, I need to know more about him, Celine was their former manager, so how did Bobby step in, are Bobby and Celine half american like Zoey, etc) and as the demons don't have a master anymore, it could show them fighting the very few demons who still steal souls and trying to make peace with the demon world and maybe Gwi-ma's return too (because he was defeated too easily and some have the thoery he might be Rumi's dad, which I don't believe in) or introduce a new villain final boss that took Gwi-ma's place. And it could show Celine being opposed to Rumi exploring her demon side and trying to be in good terms with the demon world because it goes against everything she believes and hunters were taught in the past, how the new rainbow honmoon works, how the other demons can maybe "heal" themselves from their shame and having rainbow marks too, like her, instead of the usual purple patterns, etc. At least that's the direction I'm going for in my ao3 fic lol. There are many possibilities, I really hope it becomes a trilogy/franchise (and with a theatrical release, I need to see it on the big screen)

[shadowslocked]

The worst part about CC!Bad pulling away from the political lore is that he was genuinely so excited for it. Bad WANTED to start beef with Forever, he was practically kicking his feet and giggling about it last stream. He was teasing the chat about wanting angst, and the drama of miscommunications and not understanding each other, and in general was really looking forward to it

And now he's decided to drop this lore thread because of the fandom

It hasn't even been that long since his stream ended.

I hope he sleeps on it and reconsiders, at least decides to do a more lighthearted conflict with Q!Forever, maybe something more petty so he's not just completely abandoning his character's morals but man this just sucks

[snekdood]

bitches prolly out here psychoanalyzing my old art on behalf of my abuser to cushion their belief that im a Horrible Person but then dont see the irony when I point out the shitty things my abuser has drawn and how I see it as clear evidence of their mindset and beliefs (of what's okay to do and how to treat people) descending and pairing that along with everything else they've done and it paints a clear picture of how this person got to the point of thinking it was okay to abuse me the way they did and then the people looking for reasons to hate me through my art will act like "they're just drawings !!!" about their art. which one is it. does someones art say something about them or not? or does it only say something about them if you hate them?

[the-s1lly-corner]

Wearing their jackets (slasher edition)

I need to write slasher stuff more.... I also need to watch scream like I said I would... and other films... but alas cotl rot is too strong

Characters: Jason, brahms, bubba, Thomas, Michael

Notes: reader is gn, cold weather baby!!, in Michael's bit yoy wear his coveralls because he refuses to throw a jacket over it

CWs: none

JASON

Built like a polar bear, he's so used to the cold that he just shrugs it off as he goes into the woods to get fire wood for you

Actually offers his jacket to you until he can get a fire started to keep you warm- he doesn't want you to get sick! Don't worry about him! Especially if this is zombie Jason, the cold doesn't really.. effect his undead body that much...

Doesn't mind it if you steal his jacket from him, he takes it as you being cold- but if you explain that it's partly because you miss him he feels.. bad.. he didn't mean to take so long in the woods he promises

Even if you said it jokingly he's going to do his best to make up for his brief absence

BUBBA

let me tell you, as someone who lives in texas: the winters get brutal. Incredibly cold, he's definitely got at least one coat somewhere... and even if he only had one he would let you take it

But... please stay close to him by the heater, he knows you probably want to go do something else with him but it's truly too cold to not be able to do much else without freezing in their old house- even worse if this takes place in their new home in the second film... underground

He thinks you look really cute in his coat and he tries to let you know that- hes... a little bashful but you think it's sweet

You both probably end up cuddling into one another under the coat together

THOMAS

Once more: texas gets incredibly cold in the winter depending on the time of year and where you are. He's got a coat somewhere

Not that that he really uses it, built like a polar bear like Jason. He tolerates cold pretty well, hardly seems phased by it.. he's so laser focused on his chores and work around the house that you often find him still working outside

And he's given his coat to you because you have a lower tolerance than him... maybe you can convince him to come snuggle with you under it? Maybe? He'd hate to leave his chores unfinished but he doesn't like saying no to you

Very heavy coat, very thick

MICHAEL

Completely unphased by the cold, he also doesn't have a jacket. The best you can do is take his coveralls when you FINALLY convince him to take them off so they can be washed

Does not like sharing his things, the likelihood of him humoring you after you put them in is low. May actually take them off of you himself... not incredibly rough but there's intention to yoink them back

If you're cold then go get a blanket or you're own jacket... why steal his things without asking?

It completely flies over his head that jacket (or rather clothing) stealing is common for couples

BRAHMS

Move over give him his sweater back he's FREEZING! If he needs to he's going to wear the sweater with you in it!

HATES the cold and he's going to make it everyone else's problem, please don't let him catch a fever reader! Please!

Fire place? Lit. Blankets? Gathered. Sweaters? Worn. You're more likely to see him leave the walls during the colder months so he can snag your body heat, too

Lets it go to his head if you let slip that you stole his sweater because you missed him... hes basically hovering over now- well, more than he did before

[gojosatoruhumper]

Don’t leave me behind | Yeon Si-eun x reader

Summary: what if Y/n was the one that got hit by the truck instead of Si-eun?

Warnings: kind of angsty, comforting fluff

WC:1.7k

Notes: I think it is a little rushed, but I already got a better idea in mind, ill try to upload it as soon as I can

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You and Yeon Si-eun have been friends for a little while now. You are Su-ho’s sister, always been close with him. Although you were only a year younger than them, Su-ho always tagged you along with Si-eun and Beom-seok.

You were shy around them at first but grew close to them, especially Si-eun. You could see right through him - he really needed a hug and someone that cares about him.

Su-ho would always tease Si-eun about you, telling him to not hurt you and always take care of you, even calling him brother in law to piss him off even further.

At first he hated the constant teasing, but soon realised maybe he did care a lot more about you than he should have.

At first it started with lingering stares that lasted a little too long, then studying sessions with him when you couldn’t understand certain subjects because Su-ho wouldn’t been much help.

He didn’t show it directly but he really did like helping you, quiet time together and you two being so close together when he explained the questions.

Sometimes when his dad wasn’t home you would cook him food as a thank you, inviting Su-ho from time to time.

And sometimes when he was focused on his own work he would suddenly hear your breathing change - you would fall asleep. At moments like these he would gently tuck you into his own bed, texting your brother you fell asleep and would be staying the night. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but he would definitely crack a smile at the sight of you, peacefully sleeping in his bed.

You always felt bad when you would wake up in his comfy and warm bed while he slept on the couch.

You would always scold them for getting into fights, helping them with the wounds, cuts and bruises. You would always feel sorry for them. But never Beom-seok. As well as you could see right through Si-eun, you always had a gut feeling Beom-seok wasn’t as nice.

And after the incident, you broke. After you heard what happened to Su-ho you ran straight to the hospital.

You opened the door, tears already falling down your cheeks. Si-eun was already sitting there, you could see how broken he was.

He almost thought you were gonna be mad at him, for not coming to him in time. But how could you be mad at him?

He stood up, now fully facing you as you walked over to him, sobbing.

“Y/n” he said just above a whisper “I’m sorry” he felt his eyes watering, a hot tear streaming down his cheek.

You looked up at him, “Si-eun why are you sorry?” “None of this is your fault” you continued crying, suddenly feeling warm hands around you. “He’s going to be okay” he tried to reassure you, not even sure himself if his friend will really be okay.

You both stayed the night at the hospital, you falling asleep on Si-eun, staining his shirt with your tears. He woke up before you, slowly getting up and putting his blazer on you. Even with your eyes closed he could see how swollen and puffy they were from crying.

As he stood beside you, he gently brushed your hair out of your face with his delicate fingers, observing you. He always has been an observer.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

And well after him beating up Woo-young and Beom-seok, he needed to move to Eunjang high school. In his mind he did that for Su-ho and you. You cried in his arms once again. And he let you.

Eunjang was further away from your current school, which is closer to Si-eun’s old one. But that didn’t stop you from visiting him as often as you could. Sometimes even taking a taxi to his home late at night when he couldn’t fall asleep.

The sleeping pills didn’t work, but you sleeping next to him did. You started seeing him more than a friend a while ago, but never saying anything since you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had.

You could see that Si-eun was still having a hard time in school, getting into fights again. You would always patch him up, like you used to.

His mom didn’t mind having you around, she could see you had a good impact on her son. When Si-eun’s friends spotted you two together walking home, the teasing started all over again.

Si-eun never stopped blaming himself for what happened, but you always reassured him it was most certainly not his fault.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

It was late already and you were heading home, worried about Si-eun. He told you what has been happening in school and it made you so anxious. You felt your phone buzz, picking it up.

“Hello, is this Y/n, Ahn Su-ho’s sister?” you were confused for a second. “Yes?” you answered, eager to get home faster so you could go check up on Si-eun.

“Im calling from Sungang University hospital, i couldn’t reach anyone else but you, your brother is in critical condition, is there anyone who could come right away?” You stood in the middle of the crosswalk, frozen.

You felt tears swelling up “..huh?” you said, still frozen in shock as you look up to a truck driving. Everything went black.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Si-eun got the heart wrenching phone call. You were in the hospital, Su-ho in critical condition. He dropped everything he was doing, not waisting any time, running as fast as his legs could go. He couldn’t lose you as well. He wouldn’t ever forgive himself.

As he stepped into your room, machines connected to your body, he was fuming with anger. Angry with himself, if he was there, with you this wouldn’t have happened.

He checked up on you and Su-ho, and finding out Su-ho was doing better he went back to your room. He stayed there by your side till morning, falling asleep to the beeping sounds.

You were moved to another room in the morning, only an oxygen mask and a heart monitor connected now. Hu-min, Hyun-tak, Jun-tae as well as your grandmother came in to check on you during the day. Si-eun needed to go back to deal with Beak-jin but he couldn’t bring himself to leave you like this.

The sun started to go down and he was still worried as ever. His eyes were on you, all day and night.

He was now alone with his thoughts, thinking about all the times you were there for him. He couldn’t thank you enough for that. He felt guilty for putting you through so much worry, you always checking up on him, always coming over to cheer him up the best you could.

He felt you shift on the bed, hand reaching for the mask on your face, trying to take it off. Your eyes landed on Si-eun, not even thinking you started smiling to yourself, he really cares about you, doesn’t he? He stood up.

Suddenly your smile dropped as a sat up, stinging pain appearing in your head. You whined at the pain. “Y/n, lay down” he said, but you didn’t move. “Is he okay..?” you asked with furred eyebrows, eyes looking at Si-eun with concern. “He’s okay now, don’t worry” he somewhat smiled at you.

You loved it when he smiled at you, it showed how he cared about you. And right now he looked so cute with messy hair, standing and looking at you.

But suddenly you can see tears prickling at the corner of his eyes as he watched you. “huh, Si-eun is everything okay?” you asked. “Y/n I can’t lose you, not after what happened to Su-ho” he sat down, looking at your expression.

You didn’t want him to worry about you, he already worried about enough things, you couldn’t make it even harder for him than it already is.

“Si-eun” you spoke, throat dry. “Hm?” he replied, raising and eyebrow. “Come here” you said, moving more to the edge so there was somewhat space in this small bed.

He stood there for a second. “I said come here, please?” you asked. He slowly got in bed with you, looking at your delicate face. “Si-eun I’m fine, nothing will happen to me” you explained, knowing he probably was blaming himself for what happened to you.

Your faces so close you could hear his light breathing. You reached your hand to his face, brushing his bangs from his eyes. “Si-eun did you know how pretty you are” you say, barely awake, whole body aching, your hand going back to your side.

He stiffened in shock, not knowing what to do, he never really knew what to say in situations like these. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew what to do. His hand was on your cheek, caressing it, slowly bringing his face to yours, just millimetres away.

Your heart was beating now faster, the beeping on the screen going faster, making you a bit embarrassed. He closed the gap, his chapped lips coming in contact with yours.

You both broke the kiss, him surprised at his actions. You smiled at him, bringing him closer, hugging him and resting your head on his chest. “Can you please stay with me for tonight?” you asked, now eyes closed.

He relaxed a bit, not replying. “Y/n..” he said, looking up at the ceiling, bringing his hand over your torso, hugging you lightly. “Hm?” you hummed, listening to his heart beat.

“I think.. I think I’m in love with you” he said, cracking the smallest smile, you couldn’t see it, but you could tell by the way he said it.

You stiffened up, but relaxing seconds later, hugging him harder. “I love you too, Si-eun” you replied, almost in a whisper. “Please never scare me like this again” he asked, closing his eyes and bringing you even closer to him, hugging you harder, like he never wanted to let go and protect you from all the horrors in this world.

[essycogany]

Rare But Not So Rare Sonic Moments

Sonic Swooning Over Amy

So, Sonic’s been kind of the driving force of Sonamy recently. Let’s analyze that.

I’ll show Sonic having feelings for Amy in almost every media aside from Fleetway and the few cartoons she isn’t in. I’ll also present the “whys” in more detail then just “Amy calmed down.” While that’s part of it, I’d like to add my own can of worms. And possible headcanons too. Bear in mind I never grew up with Sonic, so forgive my mixed opinions.

While I love Amy having a crush on Sonic like the energetic sugarplum she is, nowadays Sonic’s oddly been the drive of their dynamic. Any examples of it beforehand? Let’s look outside of the games first.

Sonic X

This Sonic takes more time to himself. He’s introverted, so his feelings for her isn’t displayed as obviously as the others. In fact, most people think he didn’t like her in this show because of how much he runs away. He even manipulated her by flirting in one episode. In my opinion this show has Sonic running away from Amy more often than not. Hot take: Sonic and Amy never had a real conversation either. They didn’t…talk like they do now. Unless you count,

“Oh, Sonic I love you!” “Ah! C’mon, Amy. Knock it off!” No, it wasn’t constant but still common.

From my point of view, the conversations were short lived to none existent. It was the same in the earlier games too. Compared to how they talked to other characters or now, you might be able to notice. At least until Sonic And The Black Night where he talks to both The Lady Of The Lake and Amy. The two would also have visual gags of Sonic getting aggressively hugged by Amy. Or Amy falling on her face while trying. Aside from one moment in Sonic Riders where Sonic put Amy in danger, it wasn’t good or bad. Just cartoony for lack of a better term.

Maybe I’m just insane. You decided.

Anyhow, their dynamic in X is clearly built on actions. Like Amy giving Sonic a seashell bracelet and Sonic giving her a rose. Those little things. While I do prefer them being able to hold longer conversations, I don’t mind how X handles them. But let’s get to Sonic’s crush. I assume in Sonic X Sonic is conflicted. He’ll run away from Amy or try to pull from her on most occasions and others Sonic would constantly hold onto her when he doesn’t have to. For a long period on time no less. Amy’s the same way. One moment she’d be head over heels and other she’s bashful. Goes to show how young they were I guess. I have no clue as to why Sonic liked her back because there wasn’t much to go off of. Except the bracelet moment or her general kindness like feeding him one time. She was a bit much to him and most characters back then.

It’s possible Sonic just liked her and that was it, but I’d imagine due to all of the hand holding and small reciprocated gestures were enough to convey something was there. Straight forward and simple like the show itself. I headcanon this Sonamy being where the boyfriend gets dragged into a relationship and is fine with it. This version of Sonic’s attraction seems to be chaotic pink hedgehogs apparently.

Sonic Boom

Should I even explain it? Might as well because not only do I have something different to say, but these two haven’t been brought up much. Sonic and Amy’s romance mostly is played for laughs. Not saying their love for each other means less because of that, but the humor is the main reason they exist. Much like why in the main canon they started out the way they did. Regardless, I’ll dive deeper into Boom!Sonic’s affection for Amy to the best of my ability.

Boom!Sonic is egotistical, so whenever he thinks Amy’s crushing on someone else, it bothers him. Apparently he’s the only one she’s allowed to like. No “Radical Speedsters” or “Celebrities” can take her attention away from him. Like in Sonic X he tries to keep his crush to a minimum. Even though both him and Amy are terrible at it.

The moment in “Fortress Of Squalitude” a episode where everyone is a bit rude to Amy, close to the end Sonic says, “We may have a hard time saying it Amy. But…well you know.” Then she responds with, “Yeah, I know.” It’s such a sweet moment. Not as powerful as most moments with them but for Boom it’s very nice. Sonic and the others still value her as part of the team, but it’s Sonic who expresses it out loud. Goes to show how much he cares about her for even attempting to open up in this instance. Didn’t even have to finish the sentence. Amy understood perfectly. I also noticed how much he tries his best to impress her. When he needs to return her book back, finds her hammer in Archie, (Vector did it in the show and Sonic got jealous) shows off randomly or dreams about her, and stopped racing to get her some eggs in one episode.

The funny thing about this Sonic is how much of a people pleaser he can be. Especially since the towns people are very spoiled and ungrateful. He wants to be needed and that’s possibly why he goes out of his way to do special things for Amy like go out on picnics, implied dates, and comforts her. She’s very take charge in Boom and Sonic has no problem calling her out when he needs to. Much like Amy in the show and games. Sonic will even put effort into doing things he doesn’t feel like doing for her. How honorable of him. Sure, sometimes he tries to make her jealous and isn’t perfect, but he tries. I believe Sonic likes Amy because again like Sonic X Boom isn’t canon, so more outright reciprocated feelings are allowed in this case. Not to mention the dude likes being shipped with her in the show. Which is a win in my book.

Sonic enjoys bugging Amy much like a playful boyfriend. He probably admires her leadership, but I’m saying this by observation. It could be for anything. Maybe he thinks she’s cute when she’s mad and finds her temper amusing. It could also be for her stubbornness. Some people like each other because of how much they can relate to their partner and in Sonic Boom’s case they’re two cuts of the same cloth. Although still different, due to the show’s theme, they carry the same condescending, slightly self centered, hotheaded, stubborn, and humorous traits. But they’re still good hedgehogs with a heart of gold and usually makes reasonable decisions. Not to mention they’re both equally shy about their crushes. In Sonic Boom, Sonic and Amy is that married couple who doesn’t get along much, but when they do you’ll understand why they stay together.

Reboot Archie Sonic

I haven’t read the comics (unless you count watching a few dubs and internet reviews) but I’ll give my limited thoughts. Luckily there’s not much to say. Although most people believe it was unintentional, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch that someone from Archie thought it was a fun idea to have Sonic crush on somone in this reboot. Maybe it’s unintentional but it doesn’t seem that way.

I’m basically using this part of the post to ramble about how Reboot Archie’s Sonic still manages to be a casanova. He’s like a mixture of his old self and how he is in the games. That’s also why he acts the way he does around Amy. Could it also possibly mean he’s meant to like her canonically too? Reboot Archie did have to follow a more accurate way of writing Sonic after all. Anyways, let’s run down the list of Game!Sonic if he was allowed to be down bad for Amy like they’re already dating. Which is how I view this continuity. It’s basically if Boom and X had a weird fusion and this version of Sonic’s crush was the result. Except here he manages to be more bold and upfront. He knows what he’s doing. Here’s a run down.

First of all, THIS. No joke, more of these interactions would send me to the moon. I would explain why but the panel speaks for itself.

Sonic says, “I was worried about you.” Which he hasn’t admitted to her before this to my knowledge. He states this by giving her a side hug. Along with other out of nowhere physical affection and flirting. Not to single out Sonally fans. Sonic and Sally clearly have a close connection people appreciate and I respect that. In any case, Sonic and Amy in Reboot Archie also matches energies so much. They’re both clearly running off the same brain cell. You’d think they were together. They’d be a chaotic couple that’ll do the most outlandish things and somehow manage to survive them. After willfully risking their lives they’d do it again because being normal and safe is boring. I promise you, this version of Sonamy would be a huge force to be reckoned with.

-I’d also like to mention my friend Salty showed an example of Sonic being jealous of Knuckles coming with Amy on a mission and it’s brilliant. Dude gets all bratty about it too. Archie!Sonic does not play around. The post in question.

Sonic Prime

Already talked about this in another post, but I want to mention it again. Prime!Sonic is the most sensitive version of the character, so it’s no surprise he displays his admiration for Amy freely and out loud.

This moment says enough on its own. Sonic’s like this throughout the entirety of Prime and even changes the tone of his voice when speaking to or about her. It’s so authentic and adorable and makes him stand out against other variants.

Amy’s crush on Sonic in Prime is up to interpretation, but I don’t think she likes him in that way personally. Like other characters, Amy tends to be done with Sonic’s childishness. Guess she thinks he’s probably too immature to be boyfriend material whether she has feelings or not. Sonic on the other hand, acts how you wouldn’t expect. I personally see him as his own interpretation, so I’m fine with it. If he wants to have goo-goo eyes for Amy in Prime, it’s cool.

Prime!Sonic has it bad and I wouldn’t be shocked if he’d be the one wanting to go out on dates. Maybe he’d cook dinner for her sense he cooks in the show. I’d imagine Amy declining at first, but does it after his constant begging. They’d be swapped version of most emotional to least emotional. Prime!Amy would be a girlfriend who feels more like a parent than a partner.

Unleashed/Black Night

No one can bring up Sonic Unleashed without the lovely Amy meeting the Werehog scene. I love how Sonic didn’t like Amy hugging him, but right after she left he solemnly mopes around for probably the first and last time. He’s never in any game slowly moped around disappointedly before. Proving he only has certain reactions when it comes to Amy Rose. At least in some continuities. Unleashed gives you a choice to go on a date with Amy or not. Then the next game Sonic Team followed through with it, but ended up having Amy mad at Sonic for missing it. At least Sonic tried. Not to mention his reaction to The Lady Of The Lake and him flirting is fun to watch.

See how Sonic still likes her back but it isn’t because she’s “calmed down?” She’s still the same excitable love strucked Amy. There must be something more to it. Other than the obvious answer with Sonic Team wanting to do something with the pear. I have no idea why but having multiple hints even in the past must’ve been done for the fun of it. “We created this love interest but then railed back to Sonic not reciprocating her feelings. But we still want to market them as a couple in some way.” This franchise never cease to confuse me.

Amy encouraging Sonic in one of the cutscenes could’ve been where he started liking her back. Not in the way he does now, but he admired her none stop compassion and might’ve wanted to return the favor. “Eh, she’s sweet. Maybe a date won’t be so bad.” The fact he went out of his way to get her a chilidog and flirted with a different version of her should tell you enough. Of course it would take a while before anything else happened. 

IDW/Sonic Frontiers

Yeah, after issue 2, Sonic’s never felt the need to run from Amy. From the comics to Sonic Frontiers there’s a lot of moments of Sonic being somewhat emotionally candid. Not by much, but close. I believe Amy’s the reason for that in a way. Sonic’s not afraid to hang out with her anymore. He even hugs her back on some occasions. “Ames” was a nickname from fanfics and Boom which became canon over time and he occasionally calls her that.

Sonic wishes to share an umbrella and spend more time with her. He also gets excited to see her more often. It’s like Reboot Archie but slightly toned down. At least up until the hard to trigger lines from Sonic Frontiers. The same game where he outright admits to being worried about Amy and smiles back at her with a Coco looking between the two. Then he supports Amy’s decision to leave etc. We all know where we are now.

Crazy how the more you look into this franchise the more tiny details you notice. It’s also crazy how much Sonic’s been into the love interest he originally was already supposed to love. To me, Sonic had a crush on Amy in Unleashed but fell in love with her in IDW. What makes Sonamy gripping though is how unique it is compared to most romantic relationships. Leaves it to be more entertaining whenever something unexpected happenes. It keeps you engaged.

Why Sonic Crushes On Amy?

1. Amy doesn’t want to slow him down. Obviously because of IDW issue 2’s love confession with Amy saying “I can’t change you. I don’t want to change you.” Amy joins Sonic and he includes her more often because of that. His speed is no match for her persistence anyways.

2. She shows compassion and love for those around her. Not just to Sonic, but everyone. She’s the definition of soft hearted. Even for people Sonic and his friends would be weary about. Think about now in the recent comics and games where Sonic’s trying it out. I do think it should be more of Amy’s thing then Sonic’s but it just goes to show how much she probably inspired him. Who knows? Even in the past he had respect Amy for her tenderheartedness.

3. Amy’s energy matches Sonic’s. Though sometimes she can be overly enthusiastic compared to him. Even before now, Amy’s always been adventurous and that’s probably something Sonic liked from the start. Not in a romantic way, but in a respectful way. If he were to have a partner he’d need someone to keep him grounded and be on the same level. No exceptions.

4. Her loyalty. No matter what Sonic does (including times she disagrees) she’s one of Sonic’s most loyalist companions. Obviously other characters are too, but Amy has her being a long time childhood friend/Sonic 06 and Unleashed going for her. 06 for trusting Sonic over Silver and Unleashed for still loving Sonic despite his transformation. Heck, before she knew who the Werehog was she wasn’t disgusted. Amy’s commendable for that.

From all these points here physical attraction isn’t included. What I like about both characters is their crushes don’t stem to how they look. Though it is worth mentioning Sonic has called Amy “Radiant” in TMOSTH, but that’s probably the closest we’ll ever get to an outright physical compliment. From Sonic at least.

- Side note thanks to @saltynsassy31 again, Sonic and Amy’s dynamic can be summed up as not a relationship but rather a situationship. Yes, it’s a real word. What does it mean? Basically two friends who has crushes on each other but doesn’t do anything about it. Just a fun detail for you guys.

Why Did Sonic Run From Amy In The Past?

I’ll make this quick, but the reason Sonic ran from Amy wasn’t because he didn’t like her. On the contrary. Sonic always could’ve ran at his normal speed to get away from her. Sonic’s the fastest thing alive. Why would he let someone he “didn’t like” catch up to him? I personally think he enjoyed the thrill of the chase. It’s why I believe he misses it nowadays. Though I do understand Sonic didn’t often treat Amy like a friend. Not in a way I can understand at least. Not that I think their relationship was bad, but from what I’ve seen, it was more told then shown due to Sonic and the gang not including her on missions. Amy normally had to catch up with them which was a running gag. Especially in SA2. It might be why some prefere her in stuff like Reboot Archie, Boom, IDW, and Frontiers. Because Amy’s friends includes her on adventures now. At least in my opinion. Correct me if I missed anything.

Final Headcanon

Since Sonic in the games has been the one to push the Sonic side of Sonamy much more then Amy does for herself, I’d like to think in most cases (especially as their dynamic grows) Sonic would start carrying other versions of him traits like trying to mess with her.

He’d want to get her to chase him more often and Amy would probably ask once or twice, “What’s going on and why are you acting weird?” He’d definitely play it off as him fooling around. Sonic doesn’t know much about romance, but he does know what Amy likes. Maybe he’d ask her out or go on a bunch of traveling missions. Anything to get her to pay attention to him again. After all, there’s been examples of the guy feeling ignored by her in and out of canon. It’s possible.

-There’s also a consistent detail where Sonic’s finally ready to open up but has to deal with Amy doing her own thing. Or when he’s face with different variants of her, he’s flirtatious with them. For the fastest thing alive, he has terrible timing when it comes to making his mind up.

Conclusion

Welp, there you have it, darlings. Examples of Sonic crushing on Amy more than some would think. It’s a Sonic character analysis and Sonamy post all in one. I know there’s more, but I think this gathers examples from the actual content.

Stay Creative! 💜

[beastyeastfreak]

Read your Beast Cookies x Human Sized Reader! Can we get a part 2 of that with the Beasts navigating life with their beloved? Such as going to work with them? Learning about new foods and such?

Absolutely!!! I think at some point the beasts figure out how to turn human/humanoid so the first half will be cookie sized and second half will be human sized

Cw and tags: lighthearted, romantic, fluff

Written pre silent salt update

Mystic flour

🌾 - At first, shes reluctant to ask for help. She navigates and learns silently, usually out of sight. After some adjustments she’ll ask you for help. Not directly, she’ll look at a place she wants to be and stare expectantly at you to hold your palm out for her. She can re-enter the game at any point, and she definitely will if you don’t treat her like a fellow human and like a small cookie. Its testing to say the least, you have to be completely dead faced when shes backhandedly threatening another cookies life or hold back “awww”. She is this powerful figure in the cookie world, able to end kingdoms if she sees fit. But here she was, sitting in the palm of your hand at chest height.

🌾 - After she gets used to being around giants, she decides to attend family gatherings and occasionally work with you. Of course in hiding, she’d rather not be treated like a toy. You end up sewing in a comfortable spot in your bag where she can sit and not be crushed. Why she wants to come with you is beyond you until you have a bad experience at work. On your lunch break she comes out and speaks to you. Reminding you it doesn’t matter and helps you calm down. This is done out of care but hopefully it will also be further convincing for you to join her in the cookie world when the time comes.

🌾 - She loves getting gifts from you, if you give her something she always takes it with her back into the game unless its to help her in the real world. Letting her touch you or following what she asks is another way to earn her affection. She’ll often sit with you while you’re at your desk, if she sees you stressed she’ll have you lay your head down and meditate with her for some time. She tries to get you to come with her, suggestions to join her in the cookie world. You deny, she doesn’t mind, you will come around, she’ll drag you in if you have to.

🌾 - Of course soon she figures out how to make herself human. She doesn’t come to work with you one day, you come home and set your things down, as you do she comes behind you and places a hand on your shoulder. You freeze, she speaks. “I understand why you wont become a cookie with me, this form is an improvement.” She says and you turn around and hug her much to her surprise.

🌾 - Now in this form, she has to get used to a body rather than surroundings. You’ll catch her not using her thumbs and grasping things like she would in cookie form, all fingers stiffky wrap around something. She’s hesitant at the thought of water and the food you eat but slowly gets used to it. she insists on going in person where you go (obviously not to work anymore). She speaks for you at restaurants, she follow you in to the store like a ghost and stare threateningly at anyone who looks at you weird. She comes with you into family parties if they’re tame enough, they all wonder why she already knows their names.

🌾 - Not wearing her usual icing felt odd, you explain its far too formal for this day and age. After a while she sort of develops a more modern style still matching her aesthetic. Thats one of the many lifestyle changes she goes through, she of course cant eat jellys for sustenance so she’ll try food off your plate often times or put something she’s interested in in the shopping cart.

🌾 - She is extremely scary, you could be laying in bed cuddling with her at night one minute and the next she’s no where to be found. You get up and see two bright slit eyes and a dark figure in the hall nearly scaring your dinner out of you. She’s calm every time, by the end of the first month of her being human you’re immune to scary things in the dark. Mostly because she scares you unintentionally but also she scares everything else off intentionally.

Burning spice

🏜️ - Burning Spice doesn’t ask this being thats a hundred times larger than him for permission. He just does what he wants. Unfortunately, the cookie world is more fragile than your world due to it being all baked goods. No matter! He’ll find a way to break everything anyway. Where Mystic Flour will have you hold her, he just climbs onto you. It leaves tiny little holes in your clothing you have to sew up.

🏜️ - His destruction is humorous in your eyes, he talks a lot of crap for someone you almost step on once a week. The both of you poke a lot of fun at eachother, he calls you weak you call him small and cute, its all out of love though. He threatens to kill anyone who gives you an issue, you just lean your head on the table and nod along. He can tell you find his threats amusing but just you wait.

🏜️ - He likes to blare loud music, anything with hard bass, guitar and drums he loves. He likes animal planet or nature documentaries, i know that sounds crazy bear with me(pun intended). As herald of change he watched countless civilizations rise and fall, animals are constantly fighting to stay alive and relevant. He’s amused seeing beings with such short life spans documented being born and dying, just like those kingdoms on a much smaller scale.

🏜️ - his favorite form of affection is touch. He’s the equivalent of your cat laying on you and burning you up, its amazing how much heat a little cookie can have. Going to sleep with a snoring beast laying in your hair or on your chest is surprisingly comfortable. He likes to accompany you places when you’re not expecting it. “How are you not soggy?” You hear outside the shower curtain one time. “He should not have spoken to you like that…” you hear from your bag as you exit a conversation with a coworker. It ends up becoming rather helpful, pep talks are the best from him. He seems to think customers are enemies to be slain the way you describe them.

🏜️ - Finally at some point he figures out how to become human. You had just gotten home and complained to him, still in cookie form, how much you hated your job and he told you he’d make sure you were respected and protected as his partner should be. You thanked him but it was clear you were just playing along. You went to take a shower and change and when you exited he was standing there, a very imposing human bearing an axe longer than your table, longer than you are tall. He laughed heartily, “Is a change of form convincing enough? Will you believe me now when i say i will bring destruction upon those who harm you?”

🏜️ - It took some time but you convince him to not murder people and destroy public property in your world. He’s fond of rage rooms which is your way of appeasing him. He’d really like boxing and wrestling if you could figure out how to get him an id or explain his gem and antennae, if not he’s fine just watching it with you. If you do get him into some matches, he is a MENACE. He’s easily winning matches, taking punches like a brick wall and dishing them out like a professional. Of course you may have to pull him out before they start questioning his identity. You take him to a lot of concerts too, he enters a mosh pit no one comes out alive unfortunately. He’ll also put you up on his shoulders so you can see and no one bumps into you.

🏜️ - You don’t need to be assertive, he’s doing that for you. Someone got your order wrong? He’s opening up the car door and walking inside to get it fixed, no questions asked. His warmth thankfully carried over to his new form, he definitely lays flat on his back taking up the whole bed so you have to crawl on top of him to cuddle. You dont even need blankets, he’s a massive heat pad. He’s more of a cuddle bug than you’d think.

Eternal Sugar

🌷 - She doesn’t really need help getting around, you often find her hovering around the ceiling on a soft blue cloud, or lazing on the leaf of a blooming houseplant, or on your bed. If you have a pet, she has them obedient to her within days. If they only knew sit before, suddenly they could fetch items or move things for her. She’s the worst influence if you’re a procrastinator, she wants you to be happy and so why should you worry about that little issue? Just relax, turn on the movie you both love! She loves to just lounge around with you, seeing you happy and relaxed is her biggest goal and she’ll do anything to achieve it. Anything.

🌷 - From the second you walk into the house she’s softly fluttering to you with a yawn. She’ll sit on your shoulder and have you talk about your day. “Oh i have to do this-“ no you dont, you’re tired! You need to lay down, she’ll help you relax. With her, you lose track of time as if it didn’t exist to begin with. She’s easy to talk to, she just wants you happy and you want her happy, win win when you’re both lazing around rewatching a show deep into the night.

🌷 - She wont ask anything of you, but if you give her things its appreciated. You may try to accommodate by adding house plants when you notice a flower growing marvelously all of the sudden when shes around, soon you have a garden. You obviously can’t keep actual cakes and desserts out like decorations, but candles and anything to make the house smell sweet she’d like. If you take her anywhere, she’s the easiest to have unhidden. From a glance she looks like a bird, you can probably just keep her in your pocket or on your shoulder.

🌷 - She’s napping in the crook of your neck one spring day, you’re both laid on the couch. You’re fast asleep when you feel like theres a weight on you. You stirr but then hear the sound of her yawning, but it sounded loud. You open your eyes to see you’re being laid on by Eternal Sugar still, but shes now a human still with large wings and pink skin. She opens her eyes as if sensing your eyes on hers. “Is something wrong?~” she says before kissing your flushed cheeks with a small wing twitch.

🌷 - Unfortunately she’s impossible to bring anywhere unless you figure out how to hide her wings. She doesn’t mind not leaving the house, just gives her a reason to keep you lazy and in her arms. When its dark, she can definitely go out if you want to walk but rarely will she choose to. She’d much prefer to lay in bed with you eating sweet snacks, in fact when you have to go to work thats exactly where you’ll find her when you’re home if she’s not in the game.

🌷 - You smell so sweet from your proximity to her. Sweet in a way that a carnivorous plant is. You are her little tempting treat, witches forbid anyone else become tempted to take a bite or harm you. She doesn’t want to learn transformation from Shadow Milk but she will if she finds her future garden goer is being bothered. Your coworkers and friends are probably sick of hearing how much you talk about her when they haven’t even seen her. It’s mutual though, the beasts have to endure her gushing about you as well.

🌷 - She’ll always wrap you in your wings when you get anxious or sad, letting you hold onto her while she guides you somewhere better. She makes sure you know theres always the option to live the rest of your life in the garden, but if you decline thats ok. Because slowly she had wrapped you around her finger. From the first time you listened to her to take a break to the millionth time you had watched something with her instead of going to visit a friend. You didn’t need her garden, she had turned your home into one.

Shadow Milk

🃏 - Can you imagine the reaction on his minions faces when he returns with one big lipstick mark on his face? No, but gradually their jaws drop less and less when he comes back with that same mark nearly every day. He swears he’ll bring you back one day but Black sapphire doubts it and doesnt show it, Candy Apple hopes he doesnt.

🃏 - He doesn’t need much help getting around, he floats and summons small things. He will request things from you like him sized furniture or maybe a stage. Like Burning spice he kind of just accompanies you wherever. He likes to put you in situations that make you have to lie. One month you have a pet cockatiel then the next a cockatoo. Little changes to play with your friends minds, yet the evidence was right there. He would change his form to play along with these lies.

🃏 - He hates tvs at first, he’s appalled at the idea that you can just watch something that isn’t live performance. But after a couple episodes he slowly eases in, if you mention his affinity for it while he’s nestled under the covers on your chest, he’ll get mad, deny it and float off to watch it in secret. His favorite thing to watch are recordings of theater shows and while you’re not home he watches cartoons. (argue with the wall i know he does) He asks you to go watch some new show at least twice a month. He also preforms for you occasionally, arts and crafts is his favorite way to spend time with you.

🃏 - Well, the time comes and he hones the ability to One day he promises that soon he’ll be able to preform for you without you needing to be so close to his little stage. On a big stage, with other actors. And he’d dip you down and kiss you romantic movie style You clearly didn’t take it seriously but still went along with it because you liked the idea, he just grinned and asked you to go get something for him. When you return he’s gone, great… hide and seek. You look around for a moment but out of no where your hand is brought over your head and you’re spun without warning. After a moment you find yourself exactly as Shadow Milk said he’d do, and there he was in human form doing just that.

🃏 - From then on he’s sort of just this sudden boyfriend you have to introduce to everyone. He had poor social skills in the cookie world, he has abysmal social skills in the real world. He’s interesting though. He brings his minions out (in human form of course) if you ask or if he needs help with something. His first intention was to bring you into the cookie world but now that he’s entered a world where misinformation is spread left and right he’s decided he’d add your world to the roster of places to conquer.

🃏 - Black Sapphire absolutely starts a podcast or a radio show from your house, Candy apple cookie becomes a horrible influence on local children. Shadow Milk is rather mysterious about his free time. You know he gets into a lot of acting roles(after changing into something less blue) but for some reason it seems like hes always up to no good. Had you just released a potential monster onto society? Yes, but for now he seemed relatively harmless so maybe he wasn’t too much of a concern. unless he decides to run as a politician

[guiltyandashamed]

headcannons: jealousy

The 7 brothers and their responses to you getting buddy buddy with someone else.

Lucifer

Outwardly calm, inwardly devising a plan to remove the other person.

He tells himself it's beneath him to be jealous—but the way his jaw ticks when you're laughing a little too hard at someone else's joke gives him away.

He won’t interfere directly but will mysteriously show up at your side, arms folded, expression unreadable, standing just close enough to claim territory.

If you ask him directly? He’ll deny it, then casually change the subject and assign you more tasks so you spend more time near him.

You know he's jealous when he offers to escort you to RAD, normally he leaves earlier than anyone else, but he'll put his responsibilities aside (temporarily) until he's satisfied with time spent with you.

Mammon

Horrible at hiding it. Truly, pathetically bad.

Starts off huffy and sulky, arms crossed, muttering under his breath. “Tch, what’s so great about them anyway?”

Gets louder the more he tries to act like he doesn’t care.

Will suddenly be clingier, draping himself over your shoulder, bringing up shared memories loudly in front of whoever made him jealous.

May go full on “I’m your first, remember?!”

Will probably demand cuddles or attention afterward and won’t let go until his pride is patched (which may take a while).

Leviathan

Avatar of Envy, duh.

Withdraws first. Goes quiet. Eyes follow you but he doesn’t say much.

Starts comparing himself to the person you're talking to, convinced they’re cooler, more normie-attractive, probably a better match.

Will game aggressively to distract himself, drown himself in anime and manga, but he starts seeing parallels so he freaks out even more.

Needs reassurance, a lot of it. His face will be hiding in his hoodie and you know you've won him over when he finally stops hiding in it.

Satan

Possessive in subtle ways.

Doesn’t make a scene, but will insert himself into the conversation with charm that borders on cold.

Suddenly has facts or anecdotes that one-up the person you're with, effortlessly.

His smile doesn't reach his eyes when he’s jealous. That’s the tell.

Will call you out later in private, “You seemed very entertained tonight.”

If you reassure him, he relaxes instantly—maybe even smirks and says, “Good. I don’t share what’s mine.”

Asmodeus

Jealousy? From him? Never... unless… wait, are you flirting??

Overcompensates by trying to outshine whoever you’re talking to. Laughs louder, touches your arm more often, plays the charm up to eleven.

If it doesn’t work, he deflates a little.

Will pout in your room later, lounging upside down on your bed, demanding, “Do I not make your heart flutter anymore?”

Needs physical affection to feel reassured: cuddles, kisses, anything to remind him he's still your favorite.

Once soothed, he snaps back to being sunshine and glitter like nothing happened.

Beelzebub

Confused at first. Then bothered. Then protective.

Doesn’t know why he suddenly doesn’t like the way someone’s leaning too close to you, but it makes his stomach twist in a way that isn’t hunger.

Watches you quietly, then stands behind you like a silent wall.

Subtly moves you closer to him—maybe by offering you food or gently steering you away.

If pushed too far, he might say “I think you’re standing a little too close” straight to the point.

Tells you afterward, “I didn’t like the way they looked at you,” and hopes that’s enough to explain it.

Belphegor

Doesn’t hide it. Blatantly obvious.

Glares openly. Broods. Gives the person you're with a long, deadpan stare that makes most people nervous.

Will pull you into naps more often. Hugs you tighter. Might whisper snide things about the other person as he drifts off on your shoulder.

“Tch. Can’t believe you were smiling like that for them”

Will absolutely steal your blanket and refuse to share it until you give him a kiss or acknowledge he’s your favorite.

Grumbles less once you curl up next to him, but still mutters “Mine” under his breath when he thinks you’re asleep.

[lazy-ahh]

YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE GOES GOOD WITH GAMING?

pairing mark grayson x male reader

you’ve waited weeks for him to return from his mission, and now he’s here, warm and insistent against you, while your ranked match blares ignored on the screen. the worst part? you don't mind losing. despite the weeks of hard work. you want his lips on yours, his weight pressing you into the chair, the way he murmurs "i missed you" between kisses like it’s a confession. but you’ve clawed your way to this rank-up game, and you never quit—even when mark’s tongue is lapping up the precome leaking from your tip and your fingers are trembling on the keyboard.

taglist @hhoneylemon , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure , @roryroro , @cynvia

mark’s been gone for weeks—some off-world mission, because apparently, the universe can’t handle itself without him. not that you’d admit it, but you missed him. more than you should. more than you’d ever let him know. you caught yourself staring at your window too often, half-expecting to see his silhouette against the glass, that infuriatingly patient tap-tap-tap before you’d let him in. as if he didn’t know you left the damn thing unlocked for him every night. typical.

everything reminded you of him, which was unacceptable. so you buried yourself in distractions—school, homework, then straight to your pc, booting up marvel rivals before you could even think about how quiet the room felt without him. the game had been his idea, of course. he’d all but shoved it at you, that stupid, eager grin on his face as he said, "just try it. if you hate it, i’ll never bring it up again. but you won’t." as if he hadn’t already known you’d love it.

at first, he was the one explaining everything—mechanics, lore, all that useless trivia he’d absorbed like some kind of nerd-shaped sponge. "see, magik’s portals work like this—" or "no, don’t engage yet, strange’s cooldown is—" annoying. endearing. you’d never admit either out loud. but then you got better. faster. soon, you were the one calling shots, dragging his sorry ass through ranked matches while he laughed in your ear, loud and unguarded, every time you pulled off some insane play. "holy shit—did you just parry that ult?! that’s illegal. you’re actually cracked. YOU JUST SAVED MY LIFE OH BABY I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU-"

he never complained, even when you outclassed him. just watched you with that quiet, proud look, like he’d somehow won just by getting you to play. sometimes, when you were both too tired for another match but not tired enough to log off, he’d let his character idle beside yours in the lobby, humming some off-key tune while you fiddled with skins. "you’re keeping me up," you’d grumble. "then kick me out," he’d shoot back, knowing full well you wouldn’t.

now, with him gone, solo queue was a nightmare. you tried comms, but it was a coin toss—either decent teammates or the kind of toxic dps mains who threw matches the second things went south. you added a few tolerable players, grinding comp at set times, but most of your matches were still solo. and you’d climbed. platinum, after weeks of stubborn, teeth-gritted effort. you could already picture mark’s reaction—that mix of irritation (probably pretend) and admiration he got whenever you outdid him. not that you’d gloat. much.

the real problem would be playing together once you hit diamond. he was still stuck in gold, and you refused to smurf. so for now, you were stuck in elo hell—platinum I to diamond III, then back down again, in a cycle that felt like the universe mocking you. but you’d figure it out. you always did. and when he got back, you’d make sure he knew exactly how much ground he had to cover to keep up.

you were half-heartedly proofreading your essay, the queue timer ticking away in the corner of your screen, when your hand moved before your brain could stop it—grabbing your phone, unlocking it, immediately swiping to mark’s messages like muscle memory. it was a bad habit at this point. every idle moment, every second of downtime, your fingers betrayed you, pulling up his chat like some pathetic reflex. and there they were, still staring back at you: his last messages from weeks ago, before comms cut out and space swallowed him whole.

your thumb hovered over the screen, tracing the timestamp like you could will it to change. then—there. that stupid, stupid one-liner he’d sent right before losing signal: ‘try not to miss me too much!’ as if he hadn’t known exactly what he was doing. as if you weren’t already doing exactly that.

a quiet, involuntary laugh escaped you, sharp and fond all at once. "idiot," you muttered, but the word came out too soft, too warm, and you hated how easily he could drag that out of you. like you were some sappy romance protagonist instead of yourself. you tossed your phone back onto the desk, maybe a little harder than necessary, and forced your eyes back to your essay.

it didn’t work. the words blurred together, your focus already frayed, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. stupid. stupid markus sebastian grayson, turning you into this—some lovesick fool who couldn’t even function right without him around. worst of all? you knew he’d be grinning if he saw you like this. that smug, infuriating look he got when he realized he’d gotten under your skin.

you gritted your teeth and stabbed at your keyboard, queue be damned. you had an essay to finish. and not think about him.

and then—as if the universe itself was mocking you—tap-tap-tap.

your head snapped up so fast your neck protested. for a second, you wondered if you’d finally lost it, conjuring him up out of sheer, pathetic longing. but no. there he was, floating outside your window like some overgrown, dirt-streaked moth, his stupid grin brighter than the goddamn moon behind him.

mark looked wrecked—hair a mess, suit scuffed, one of his lenses cracked—but his smile was the same as always: crooked, too-wide, the kind that crinkled his eyes and made his stupid dimples pop. like he’d been waiting for this moment, like seeing you was the best part of his damn day.

and then—because you were a fool—you scrambled for the window like some desperate rom-com lead, fumbling with the latch like you hadn’t left it unlocked for him on purpose. your face burned. disgraceful.

mark’s expression flickered—confusion, then worry, his smile dropping as he darted forward. "baby? is everything alright?"

before you could even attempt to salvage your dignity, he was inside, his hands cradling your face like you were something fragile. his palms were rough, still warm from flight, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he searched for injuries. "you okay? you look—" he paused, studying your flushed face, the way you were very pointedly not meeting his eyes. then, slowly, his lips twitched. "…oh."

oh. like he’d just figured you out. like he knew.

you wanted to die. "shut up," you muttered, but it lacked any real bite—not when your traitorous heart was pounding loud enough for both of you to hear.

mark’s grin softened, something unbearably fond in his eyes as he leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. "missed me that much, huh?"

"no," you lied, immediately.

he laughed, quiet and warm, and you hated how it made your chest ache. "liar."

and then—because he was the worst—he kissed your stupid, burning cheeks, one after the other, like he was savoring the way you squirmed. "it’s okay," he murmured, lips brushing your skin. "i missed you too."

you were never living this down.

and then—because he was the absolute worst—he kissed your stupid, burning cheeks, one after the other, lingering just to feel the way you tensed under his touch. "it’s okay," he murmured, lips brushing your skin like he was savoring every second of your embarrassment. "i missed you too."

you were never living this down.

just as you opened your mouth to snap something—anything—to wipe that smug look off his face, your pc chimed. the two of you turned in unison, and there it was, flashing bright and mocking on your screen: match found.

"shit," you hissed, scrambling back toward your desk. "i forgot to fucking cancel queue—"

mark barked out a laugh, loud and delighted. "no way. you’ve been grinding rivals this whole time?" he was already following you, leaning over your shoulder with that infuriating grin. "aw, baby. did you miss me or the game more?"

you elbowed him hard enough to make him oof, but he didn’t budge, just hooked his chin over your shoulder as you frantically clicked to lock in your character. "shut up. i was bored."

"uh-huh," he drawled, eyes scanning the screen. then—"holy shit." his fingers dug into your shoulders. "you’re one game from diamond?!"

you could feel the grin in his voice before you even saw it—that stupid, contagious excitement thrumming through him like a live wire. it was unbearable. worse, it was working, that familiar warmth pooling in your chest despite your best efforts to stomp it out. pathetic. since when did you let him sway you so easily?

"took you long enough to notice," you muttered, aiming for derision but landing somewhere dangerously close to fond. your chest tightened traitorously when he let out that low, impressed whistle—the same one he used when you pulled off something reckless in the field. like you’d impressed him.

"damn. guess i’ve gotta step up my game." his lips brushed your temple, lingering just long enough to make your fingers twitch on the keyboard. you jerked your shoulder up to shove him off, but he just laughed, the vibration of it rattling through your ribs. "carry me when i’m back in gold, yeah?"

"in your fucking dreams," you snarled, but the bite dissolved the second his laugh vibrated through your shoulder—warm and familiar and alive, filling up the hollow spaces his absence had carved into your room for weeks. your traitorous heartbeat steadied against your ribs, and you didn’t shove him off when his chin dug into your shoulder. pathetic.

you’d never admit it out loud—would rather chew glass than acknowledge how much you’d missed this—but his presence at your back, solid and warm and breathing, made your fingers stutter over the character select screen.

then mark, the insufferable bastard, decided words weren’t enough.

his lips found the hinge of your jaw first—soft, teasing—then the corner of your mouth when you tilted your head automatically. "distracting me on purpose?" you muttered, but the protest cracked when his teeth grazed your bottom lip.

"is it working?" he murmured against your mouth, all smugness, and you hated how easily your body betrayed you, leaning towards him with a scoff that turned into a sharp inhale when his tongue swept over yours.

his hands cradled your face like you were something precious, thumbs brushing your cheekbones as he kissed you slow and deep, the way he knew unraveled you. your fingers curled around his wrist—anchoring, needing—while your other hand slid up to cup his jaw.

when you finally pulled back to breathe (because unlike him, you were human, damn it), mark didn’t go far. his forehead stayed pressed to yours, lips swollen and curved into that stupid, satisfied smile, his breaths just as uneven as yours. his eyes were half-lidded, dark with something unbearably fond as they traced your face—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your fingers still clung to him like you’d die if he let go.

"missed you," he whispered, like it was a secret.

you swallowed the i missed you more threatening to spill out. "shut up. i’m trying to rank up." you shoved at his chest, but your fingers curled into his suit instead of pushing him away—another pathetic betrayal your body refused to stop committing.

mark’s grin turned wicked, eyes flashing with that infuriating knowing look as he chased your lips before you could even think to turn back to the screen. his hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he kissed you again, deeper this time, hungrier. his tongue swept against yours, slow and teasing, then insistent when you made a noise embarrassingly close to a whimper.

you could feel his smirk against your mouth, the way his free hand gripped your thigh to pull you closer, his body pressing yours back into the chair until you were arching up into him without thought. his teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging just enough to make your stomach flip, and when you gasped, he took advantage, licking into your mouth like he was trying to memorize the taste of you.

your hands were everywhere—one fisted in his hair, the other clutching at his shoulder, nails digging in when he nipped at your tongue. his breath hitched, and the sound went straight to your already-fogged head. you could feel his heartbeat where your thumb brushed his pulse point, wild and alive, and it made something possessive curl in your chest.

then—

the sudden blare of the match-starting music ripped through the haze.

you jerked back, breath ragged, lips swollen and wet, just in time to see your character standing idle on-screen, the round start timer already counting down.

"fuck," you hissed through gritted teeth, fingers scrambling across the keyboard with desperate precision. mark blinked, dumbfounded as he processed your sudden panic before chuckling, that infuriatingly warm puff of air hitting your pulse point. "seriously?" his arms tightened around your shoulders in protest, nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck like some overgrown cat refusing to move from its favorite spot.

"you're really playing right now?" he murmured, lips forming the words against your skin in a way that made your fingers stutter on the WASD keys. the amusement in his voice was unbearable, especially when you could feel his smirk pressed into your shoulder.

"one game away from diamond," you muttered, the words coming out flatter than you intended. the forced casualness did nothing to mask the frustrated and disappointed edge underneath. "if i leave now, i lose twenty fucking points."

mark sighed dramatically, the full weight of his disappointment radiating through his entire body before he finally—reluctantly—peeled himself away. the sudden absence of his warmth against your back felt criminal, and it took every ounce of your pitiful self-control not to spin your chair around and drag him back by his sinfully narrow waist. "fine, fine," he conceded, stretching with exaggerated resignation. "I'll go shower. but you owe me," he added, pausing just long enough to press one last kiss to the top of your head—chaste but loaded with promise—before sauntering toward the bathroom with that infuriatingly perfect sway to his hips.

you waited until the bathroom door clicked shut before allowing yourself one single, shaky exhale, your fingers finally steadying on the mouse as you looked at your character. the screen blurred for just a second before you violently blinked it back into focus. damn this stupid game. damn mark for being so distracting. and damn you most of all for caring about either.

the match loads in with that familiar chime, and suddenly the world narrows to the glow of your monitor—every neuron firing, every muscle coiled tight with precision. your fingers dance across the keyboard in practiced patterns, movements sharp and lethal despite the phantom heat still burning where mark's lips had been moments ago. focus. you need to focus.

the numbers don't lie—48% ult charge, one teammate already flaming in chat, the enemy hawkeye picking your supports like fucking target practice. your teeth grind together hard enough to hurt. stupid. you never should've filled as support. if you'd locked in iron fist from the start, this match would've been over already.

when the third round starts with another pathetic stagger, you snap. "swap with me," you speak into voice chat, voice steady and determined, already selecting iron fist before the whiny psylocke main can protest. the second the lock-in confirmation pings, your shoulders drop half an inch—better. this you can work with. this you can carry.

your crosshair finds the enemy healer's skull just as—

warm fingers skate up your inner thigh, slow and deliberate. mark's palm presses flush against your leg, his thumb tracing idle circles through the fabric of your sweats.

your entire body jerks so hard your knee slams into the desk—mark's suddenly between your legs like some fucking phantom, all sharp teeth and wicked gleam in his eyes as he looks up at you. "what the fuck," you snarl, but he just presses a single finger to his lips, the bastard, like this is some goddamn library and not your room.

"don't let me distract you," he murmurs, voice dripping with false innocence—and then his clever fingers are sliding your sweats down with agonizing slowness. you should shove him off. you should. but your hands stay frozen over the keyboard even as your pulse jackrabbits in your throat.

then his mouth—fuck—his mouth is on you, and the world narrows to the wet heat of his tongue dragging up your cock in one long, filthy lick, from base to tip, slow enough to make your thighs tremble. he lingers at the head, swirling the flat of his tongue over the slit just to hear the choked noise it punches from your throat. bastard.

he does it again—slower this time, savoring the way your hips jerk up, your fingers flexing like you can’t decide whether to shove him off or pull him closer. but mark just hums, amused, and pins you down with one broad hand splayed across your stomach, his grip firm enough to keep you in place but gentle enough that you could break free if you really wanted to. (you don’t.)

then he sinks down, taking you into his mouth inch by inch, his lips stretched tight around you, his tongue pressing up against the underside in a way that makes your vision blur. he pulls off just as slow, dragging his teeth just shy of too much, before diving back down like he’s got all the time in the world. like he wants to ruin you.

and the worst part? he’s watching you the whole time—eyes dark, lashes low, his gaze locked onto your face like he’s memorizing every twitch of your expression, every bitten-off curse. like your pleasure is the only thing that matters.

it’s unbearable.

your character dodges a stun on pure muscle memory because christ—the way mark hollows his cheeks, lips stretched obscenely around you, the wet slick sounds filling the room every time he pulls up just to plunge back down. his eyelashes flutter against flushed skin when your thighs instinctively squeeze around his head, and your mouse creaks under your death grip, sweat rolling down your temples as you choke back a moan that's been building in your throat for minutes.

"m-mark—" you hiss through clenched teeth, but he just hums around you, the vibration shooting straight to your spine. your foot kicks out involuntarily, knocking against a wall as he picks up the pace, lips red and slick with spit, watching you unravel above him. the match is chaos—your team screams comms in voice chat, frantic calls to focus the enemy tank, but all you hear is the filthy slide of his mouth and your own ragged breathing.

you're so fucked.

mark's tongue drags along the underside of your cock with practiced precision, swirling around the head before sinking down until your hips twitch against the chair. his throat works around you, warm and tight, and you barely register the kill feed flashing on-screen as your healer dies, leaving you alone on point with the overtime bar bleeding out. for one delirious second, you think there goes my rank-up game—but your hands move anyway, your body reacting on pure instinct as you somehow, somehow clutch the round.

"p-please—" the word tears out of you like a surrender, raw and desperate in a way that would’ve had you recoiling if your brain wasn’t reduced to static. your fingers twist in mark’s hair—pulling? pushing?—as your hips stutter helplessly. "mark, please, go—ah—go easy—" it’s pathetic, how your voice cracks on the last syllable, how your thighs tremble under his palms like you’re some inexperienced kid instead of—

mark listens, but not the way you wanted. he pulls off with a filthy, wet pop, your cock twitching against your stomach, flushed and glistening under the low light. the bastard has the audacity to grin, lips slick and swollen, breath coming in quick puffs against your overheated skin. "that good, huh?" he rasps, dragging his tongue along your length in one torturously slow stripe, savoring the way your abs clench violently.

you barely have time to gasp before he’s mouthing at the head, pressing wet, open kisses along the vein underneath—teasing, always teasing—his breath scorching where you’re oversensitive and throbbing. then—just as the enemy team respawns, just as your team’s frantic pings flood the screen—he swallows you back down in one smooth slide, deep, until his nose brushes your stomach and he stays, throat working around you in slow, deliberate pulses.

your hips jerk instinctively, chasing friction, but mark just digs his fingers into your thighs, pinning you to the chair with infuriating ease. the contrast is maddening—the game’s frantic audio in your headphones, your team’s character voice lines of getting hurt, the enemy pushing point—while mark’s mouth is nothing but molten stillness, his tongue pressing just there every time you twitch. sweat drips down your temple. your knuckles whiten on the mouse. you can’t tell if the choked noise that escapes you is from the hawkeye headshot that just wiped your backline or the way mark breathes through his nose, content to let you unravel in his grip.

his eyes flick up to yours through his lashes—dark, amused, the bastard—lips stretched obscenely around you as he watches your screen with detached interest. like this is just another game to him. like he knows you’re two seconds from either throwing the match or throwing your dignity out the window to fuck into his throat.

somehow—through the haze of sweat and mark’s fucking teeth grazing you on an upstroke, through the way your thighs tremble around his shoulders—you clutch. iron fist’s ult meter hits 100% with a deafening chime. your muscles coil, every fiber taut with tension, and mark’s grip tightens on your hips in warning, nails biting into skin. but you launch yourself into the backline anyway, the kill feed exploding in a burst of color. triple. quad. your team’s hysterical screaming in voice chat drowns out the wet, obscene sound of mark finally moving, sucking you down to the root just as "victory" flashes across the screen in blinding gold.

your team continues to scream—cheering, cracking jokes, their earlier hostility forgotten in the adrenaline rush. you would've thought this was a beautiful moment if you weren't currently being sucked off by your boyfriend. you mutter a breathless "gg" into the mic, lips twitching at the chorus of "holy shit, w fucking iron fist!" before you’re cutting them off with a sharp click of your mouse. the headset hits the desk with a clatter.

you don’t even get to savor the win. mark’s hands are on your hips now, dragging you to the edge of the chair with a roughness that makes your stomach flip. his nose presses into your stomach, lips sealed tight as he swallows around you with a filthy, shuddering groan—like he’s been waiting this whole fucking match to ruin you properly. your back arches off the chair, fingers tangling in his hair hard enough to hurt, but he just moans around you, eyes fluttering shut like this is exactly where he wants to be. like he’d happily die here, between your thighs.

"f-fuck—mark—" you whimper, but it’s too late. he’s not stopping this time.

his tongue drags along the underside of your cock in a slow, filthy stripe before he takes you deep again, one hand sliding up your chest to thumb at your nipple through your shirt. the dual sensation punches a ragged noise from your throat, your hips jerking involuntarily. mark hums in approval, the vibration rippling through you like a live wire. his free hand slips under your thigh, hiking your leg over his shoulder to press you even closer, until you can feel every hitched breath he takes through your skin.

he pulls off just to mouth at the head, tongue circling the slit with agonizing precision, and you whine, high and desperate. his eyes flick up to yours, dark with something unbearably fond even as his lips glisten with spit. "love you like this," he murmurs against your skin, voice wrecked. "all mine. fucking perfect. i missed you so much baby, you don't even know the half of it—"

then he’s sinking down again, taking you until his throat flutters around the tip, and you’re gone—fingers tightening in his hair as you spill down his throat with a broken cry. mark swallows every drop, lips staying locked around you until you’re twitching from oversensitivity, until your grip on his hair loosens to cradle his face instead.

when he finally pulls away, his lips are swollen, his cheeks flushed. he rests his forehead against your thigh, breathing hard, and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh—soft, reverent. like you’re something sacred.

"welcome home," you mutter, voice hoarse.

mark's grin is worth every goddamn second of the wait—all bright-eyed and breathless, his lips kiss-swollen from where you'd bitten them. you're still coming down from your high, chest heaving, fingers trembling against the keyboard where you'd gripped it too tight. you should shove him off. you would shove him off. any second now.

"baby," mark murmurs, and fuck, the way your stupid traitorous heart lurches at that tone—all soft and reverent, like you're something precious instead of a mess of sweat and frustration and arousal. his fingers trail down your stomach, feather-light, and you hate how your body arches into the touch before your brain catches up.

"don't—" you start, but it comes out hoarse, ruined. mark just smiles, that dorky, infuriating smile that makes your chest ache, and presses a kiss to your shoulder while his other hand navigates your mouse with infuriating ease.

"c'mon, diamond boy," he teases, clicking queue with one hand while the other slips lower, fingers tracing your rim in slow, maddening circles. "wouldn't want you to lose your hard-earned rank, would we?"

you choke on air when his fingers slide past your lips—calloused and tasting faintly of salt—pressing down on your tongue with deliberate pressure. "suck," mark murmurs, and your traitorous mouth obeys before your pride can protest, hollowing your cheeks as you work his fingers wet. his breath hitches when your teeth graze his knuckles, his other hand fisting his own cock through his pants at the sight of you—lips stretched, lashes fluttering, teary-eyed, that fucked-out daze already clouding your expression just from this.

then those slick fingers are dragging down your stomach, pushing past your thighs, and—"fuck—" your hips jerk when one curls inside you, crooking just right. "you're insufferable," you spit, but it loses all bite when your hands scramble uselessly between the desk and his wrist, torn between shoving him away and grinding down onto his hand.

mark laughs against your pulse point, the vibration rattling through your ribs as he adds a second finger with that same unbearable patience, stretching you slow. "keep playing," he breathes into your ear, twisting his wrist to drag a broken noise from your throat. "i wanna see you try to focus when i'm fucking you full of my cock."

the match loads in with that obnoxiously bright chime, but the sound barely registers—not when mark’s fingers crook just right, scissoring deep and dragging a broken moan from your throat. your vision whites out for a second, hips jerking uselessly against his hand as he adds a third finger, stretching you with that infuriating, practiced ease.

"fuck, you’re tight," mark murmurs against the shell of your ear, his free hand sliding up to palm your chest, thumb brushing over your nipple. "when was the last time you touched yourself, baby?"

you choke on a gasp when his fingers press deeper, hitting that spot that makes your thighs tremble. "few—fuck—few weeks ago," you manage, voice ragged. "didn’t— didn’t do shit. couldn’t—"

his teeth graze your earlobe, sharp and teasing. "couldn’t what?"

you hate how breathless you sound. "couldn’t reach deep enough. wasn’t—hnng—wasn’t you."

mark groans, low and filthy, his fingers stilling inside you just to feel how you clench around them. "christ, you’re gonna kill me," he mutters, but he’s grinning when he nips at your jaw. "lucky for you, i’m real good at reaching where you need me, huh?"

you scoff, the immersion breaking for a second as you look at him unimpressed, "did you really just say that—ahh—" and then he curls his fingers just so, and you’re pretty sure the entire universe short-circuits.

mark withdraws his fingers with a slick sound, and the emptiness is agony. your head drops forward, teary eyes staring down at yourself—flushed, trembling, needy—and you hate how pathetic you look. how wrecked he’s made you already. his cock twitches in his pants at the sight, and the groan he lets out is filthy. "look at you," he murmurs, voice rough. "all desperate for me."

before you can snap something defensive, his hands are on your hips, hauling you up with that stupid superhuman strength of his. you stumble, legs shaky, but he steadies you effortlessly—then drops into your chair, pulling you down onto his lap in one smooth motion. the heat of him sears through his clothes, and you feel him, hard and eager beneath his boxers, the fabric damp where he’s been leaking for you.

"there," mark murmurs, his breath hot against your ear as his hands slide up your thighs, pushing your legs apart wider. you can hear the smirk in his voice when he adds, "better view, yeah?" his fingers make quick work of his own pants, shoving them down just enough to free his cock—already hard and leaking against your back. "still gotta pick, baby," he teases, nipping at your earlobe when you hesitate on the character select screen. "unless you wanna dodge? though, i don't think you can dodge in this game."

you scoff, locking in iron fist with more force than necessary. "shut up."

the game loads in a blur of colors and sound, but all you can focus on is mark's teeth sinking into your shoulder as you guide your character toward the point. his hands roam your chest, pinching and teasing until you're squirming in your seat. "f-focus on the fucking game," you mutter, even as your hips push back against him.

mark just laughs, low and dark, before licking a stripe up your neck. "giving yourself pep-talk? how cute."

"i swear to god, markus sebastian grayson, if you say one more cheesy thing i will throw you out of my room."

when the enemy team finally pushes in, bullets and abilities flying across your screen, mark chooses that exact moment to shove two fingers past your lips. "suck," he orders, and you do—tongue swirling around his digits, moaning when he curls them just right. he pulls them out slick with your spit, trailing them down your stomach before reaching between your legs.

"f-fuck—" you choke out as his spit-slick fingers circle your rim, teasing before one pushes in to the second knuckle. your back arches off the chair, thighs spreading wider despite the game still raging onscreen. "mark—!"

"that’s it," he growls, his free hand groping your chest as he works you open again—first one finger, then two, scissoring slow until you’re panting, your neglected cock dripping onto your stomach. his own erection grinds against your lower back, leaking precome onto your skin. "still gonna carry, or am i too distracting?" he taunts, curling his fingers just so until you see white.

you barely register the starlord that flanks your team from behind you, killing your punisher as mark withdraws his fingers, leaving you clenching around nothing. "look at you," he murmurs, lining up his cock—thick and flushed and yours—against your hole. "already fucking yourself back on my fingers like you’re starving for it." he pushes in slow, just the tip at first, and the stretch burns so good your toes curl. "shit—" he groans, hips stuttering when you clench around him. "still so tight, even after i loosened you up. fucking perfect."

he pulls out until just the head remains, those shallow, teasing thrusts making your nails scrape against the keyboard. "more—" you demand, voice cracking, but mark just laughs—bright and smug—keeping the pace agonizingly slow.

"beg prettier," he murmurs against your ear, and you’re going to fucking murder him later.

the thought evaporates when your character dies on screen, a sharp "fuck!" tearing from your throat as your head thuds back against his shoulder. mark’s chuckle vibrates through your spine. "distracted, baby?"

"shut the fuck up," you groan, but your hips twitch back against him instinctively, seeking friction. his hands tighten around your waist, holding you still.

"uh-uh. you wanted to play." his teeth graze your earlobe. "so play."

then your character respawns, and you barely have time to register the 30 SECONDS OF OVERTIME warning before mark slams up into you in one brutal thrust, filling you completely. your back arches as you come with a choked gasp, vision whiting out around the edges—

"that’s it, sweetheart," mark praises, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to bruise before soothing it with his tongue. his arms cage you against the desk, his cock twitching inside you as he murmurs nonsense into your skin: "so good for me, taking me so well—fuck, look at you."

you’re trembling, oversensitive, but the game’s still going. with a shaky breath, you force your hands back onto the keyboard, your movements sluggish as you try to focus past the haze. mark hums approvingly, resting his chin on your shoulder to watch the screen, his cock still buried deep. every slight shift of his hips—every lazy pulse inside you—has your fingers stuttering on the keys.

"c'mon, baby," mark murmurs against your jaw, his breath warm as his fingers trail higher up your thigh. "carry us." his other hand slips around your waist, pulling you back flush against his chest—solid and familiar and home after weeks of empty space and staticky comms. "missed watching you play," he admits quietly, lips brushing your earlobe. "missed watching you win."

you're going to strangle him. after you win.

his nose nuzzles into the space behind your ear, inhaling deeply like he's memorizing your scent. "god, missed you," he continues, voice going rough around the edges. "mission was hell without your voice in my ear. kept thinking about how you'd chew me out for taking stupid risks." a soft laugh vibrates through his chest and into yours. "missed that too."

your fingers hesitate on the keyboard for half a second before you tilt your head just enough to press a grudging kiss to his jaw—the closest part of him you can reach without twisting your entire body. "i missed you too, beloved," you mutter, the endearment slipping out despite yourself. "but right now, i'm trying to focus."

mark makes a wounded noise at the nickname, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "say that again," he demands against your throat, lips dragging wet and insistent over your pulse. "c’mon, sweetheart, just once more—" his hips shift minutely, and fuck, you feel it—the way his cock twitches inside you, already so hard it makes your breath stutter. your grip on the mouse tightens reflexively, knuckles going white around it as you try to focus on the flickering screen instead of the heat of him buried to the hilt.

"later," you rasp, securing a kill and kicking away through sheer muscle memory. "if you can fucking behave."

mark groans like you’ve wounded him, but he mostly stills—except for the way his fingers keep tracing absent, possessive circles low on your stomach, except for the way his lips keep finding patches of skin to suck bruises into between ragged breaths. "better win fast then," he murmurs, teeth scraping your shoulder in warning. "cause i missed all of you, [y/n]."

your eyes flick down instinctively—and there, just below your navel, the faintest swell where the tip of him presses up inside you. the sight punches a shaky noise from your throat, your body clenching around him before you can stop yourself.

"f-fuck—" mark’s whimper is wrecked, his forehead dropping heavily between your shoulder blades as his hips jerk involuntarily. you can feel him throbbing, the slick drag of him as he accidentally pushes deeper. "christ, you’re gonna kill me," he grits out, fingers trembling where they splay across your stomach like he’s mapping the bulge.

you swallow hard, throat bobbing against the thick press of him inside you, forcing your attention back to the screen even as your thighs tremble on top of mark's. "then fucking stop moving," you snap, but your voice fractures halfway through, turning the command into something embarrassingly close to a plea. the kill feed lights up with your username in bold strokes but the victory does nothing to hide how wrecked you already sound, how your walls flutter around him when he chuckles darkly against your neck.

"you're doing so good, baby," mark murmurs, lips dragging along your pulse point as his hands slide up your chest. his thumbs brush over your nipples through your shirt, teasing just enough to make you jolt but not enough to truly distract—not when you're finally gaining ground, finally winning. "carrying this match and taking me so well..."

you bite back a whimper, fingers flying across the keyboard as you cap the point. eight minutes. eight agonizing minutes of mark's cock seated deep inside you, his hips making tiny, barely-there rolls whenever you did something particularly impressive—a well-timed ult, a perfect parry—until you were dripping around him, your sweat-slicked back sticking to his chest. you don't even remember when you (or mark) had taken your shirt off. the start had been a disaster, but after forcing that useless jeff to swap, after taking matters into your own hands, your team steamrolled through the enemy like they were nothing. just like you knew they would.

the victory screen flashes gold, the triumphant DING of your rank-up swallowed whole by the filthy, wet sound of mark’s cock driving into you—deep, too deep, the angle so brutal your vision whites out for a second. his hands lock around your waist, flipping you before you can even process it, and suddenly you’re straddling him, knees digging into your chair as he yanks you down onto him with a groan that rattles your bones.

"fuck, look at you," mark gasps, voice shredded. his fingers scramble over your hips, your stomach, your chest—like he can’t decide where to touch first, like he’s starving for all of you at once. his hips snap up, relentless, the thick drag of him punching a broken noise from your throat. "all mine. perfect for me."

his praise is molten, spilling between feverish kisses, between the slick clash of tongues as he licks into your mouth. you can taste your name on his lips, sweet and desperate. his cock brushes that spot inside you with every thrust, just right, and your back arches on instinct, nails biting into his shoulders hard enough to bruise.

"knew you could do it," he growls, hands fisting in your hair to tilt your head back, exposing your throat to his teeth. "knew you’d win. my brilliant, beautiful boy—"

his voice cracks on the last word, and god, the way he’s looking at you—eyes black with want, lips swollen from kissing you stupid, his usual awkward confidence unraveled into something raw and needy—it’s worse than the pleasure, worse than the way his cock stretches you open. because this? this is mark grayson coming apart beneath you, for you, his breath coming in ragged bursts as his grip on your hips turns possessive.

you’re both a wreck—skin gleaming with sweat, your thighs trembling where they bracket his hips, the filthy, wet sound of him sliding into you over and over until your vision whites out at the edges. his grip on your hips is brutal, thumbs pressing into the bone hard enough to bruise, holding you down as he grinds up with a snap of his hips that punches a sob from your throat. "mark—!" his name comes out broken, slurred between panting breaths, and he’s no better, his voice ragged as he chokes out, "that’s it, baby, take it—fuck, just like that—" like he’s unraveling, like he’s worshipping you.

you cut him off with a sharp roll of your hips, stealing the groan right from his lips as you take control, your fingers tangling in his hair to yank his head back. "shut up," you mutter, but it’s fond, "you’re so fucking loud." his hands scramble at your back, blunt nails dragging red lines down your skin as you ride him with ruthless precision, chasing your own pleasure just as much as his, the whimpers and groans coming from his lips not stopping. the chair creaks dangerously beneath you, your forgotten headset hitting the floor with a clatter, but you don’t care—not when mark’s thrusts are growing erratic, his rhythm faltering under your relentless pace.

you lean in, teeth scraping his cheekbone before you kiss him, messy and biting, swallowing his gasp as you nip at his bottom lip. "gonna come already?" you taunt, voice rough, "thought you had more stamina than that."

mark growls—low and feral, the sound rumbling through your chest like thunder—and suddenly the world tilts. his arm snakes around your waist, hauling you back flush against him with a brutal yank that makes your gaming chair screech in protest. your chest meets his, sweat-slick and heaving, as he manhandles you like you weigh nothing.

one hand fists in your hair, wrenching your head back to expose your throat while the other grabs both your wrists, pinning them behind you with crushing ease. "stay still," he groans against your ear, voice ragged with want, and then he’s moving—snapping his hips up hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs, each thrust deeper, meaner, the angle punching ragged moans from your throat.

you’re burning. tears streak down your face, hot and humiliating, but you can’t—fuck, you can’t stop the way your body arches into him, the way your thighs tremble as he fucks up into you with punishing precision. his hand gropes your ass, fingers digging into flesh as he holds you at that perfect, devastating angle, every drag of his cock lighting your nerves on fire.

"that’s it," mark pants, his breath scalding against your shoulder. "take it. fucking take it." his pace turns brutal, the wet slap of skin on skin drowning out the game’s distant lobby music. you don’t care. can’t care. not when he’s ruining you like this, not when every snap of his hips has you sobbing, oversensitive and wrecked but needing more—

"fuck, look at you," he pants against your ear, voice wrecked as he watches his cock disappear into you with every snap of his hips. "taking me so fucking good—god, you feel perfect—" his words dissolve into a whimper when you clench around him, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he fucks into you with desperate, uneven thrusts.

you can feel him everywhere—the heat of his chest pressed against yours, the bite of his fingers on your wrists, the relentless stretch as he bottoms out again and again. "gonna—fuck—" mark's warning is barely coherent, his whole body tensing as he pulses inside you, his release hot and overwhelming. but he doesn't stop—can't stop, not when you're still clenching around him, not when your own orgasm is so close.

his hand slips between you, calloused fingers wrapping around your neglected cock, and it only takes three rough strokes before you're coming with a broken cry, painting both your stomachs in streaks of white. mark groans as you tighten around him, his hips stuttering through the aftershocks as he mouths at your shoulder, your neck, anywhere he can reach—like he still can't get enough even now.

mark gathers you against his chest as you both come down, his lips pressing shaky, open-mouthed kisses to whatever skin he can reach—the sweat-damp curve of your temple, the corner of your swollen mouth, the frantic rabbit-quick jump of your pulse. "so good," he mumbles against your throat, voice wrecked and raw. "so fucking perfect for me. missed you—god, missed you so much, baby." his arms lock around you like steel bands, all that stupid superhuman strength trembling with the effort of not crushing you.

you feel him shift—his softening cock dragging slow and filthy out of you, the obscene wet sound making your thighs twitch—then pause. his breath hitches when he sees it: his cum starting to leak from your used hole, glistening in the dim light. a rough noise tears from his throat, and before you can even process it, he's pushing back in with one sharp roll of his hips, the thick head of his cock scooping up the spill and stuffing it back inside you where it belongs. "mine," he growls, biting at your shoulder as he seats himself to the hilt again, making sure not a single drop escapes.

you should shove him off. should snap something scathing about his disgusting possessiveness, his pathetic need to keep you full of him. but your traitorous hands fist in his hair instead, dragging his mouth to yours in a biting kiss as your legs lock around his hips. his groan vibrates through your chest when you arch up, taking him deeper—like you couldn't bear to let him pull away either. pathetic. you're both so fucking pathetic.

so. this was supposed to be a quick little 3-4k one-shot. supposed to be. but then reader and mark decided to have feelings (gross) and now here we are at 7.7k words of competitive gaming, unresolved tension, and mark being absolutely insufferable (affectionate). whoops? anyway, hope you enjoyed this self-indulgent mess as much as i enjoyed writing it—because honestly, i have no regrets.

[sinning-23]

Calling Them By Their Full Name

OPLA Headcannons! I thought htis was a funny little thing lol. Anyway enjoy

Warnings: slight mentions of nsfw topics but nothing too serious

Sorry for any spelling errors!

Luffy

-ohhhhh that did not sound like your usual happy, loving voice.

-he knows he fucked up and now he’s hiding from your wrath.

-“MONKEY D. LUFFY, GET YOUR ASS IN THIS KITCHEN. NOW.”

-you could hear a pen drop from how quiet the ship got

-ok so maybe he ate that super expensive, super special dessert you had been saving for a while now. And like, it was going to go bad! All he wanted was a little taste! Than a taste turned into accidentally eating the whole thing.

-He was gonna tell you, honest! But it had proven obvious you found out before he could. He seen you round the corner with RAGe on your face and tears in your eyes.

-"TRAITOR!" You yell, throwing a tired punch to his chest.

-“I’m sorry mami, I’ll find you another one. Promise.” He hums, peppering your face with kisses, squeezing your face between his palms when he did.

-There’s no way you could stay mad at him for long

Zoro

-whoa whoa whoa why are you so ANNNGRY

-hated when you call him by his full name like that, makes him feel like a child being reprimanded

-“RORONOA GODDAMN ZORO.” You boom, Nami’s jaw dropping at the sound. Even she could tell you were pissed

-he’s the sassiest mf alive so he’ll probably just be like, “who the hell are talking to woman?!”

-“You’re a real piece of work you know that??” You’re still yelling and he wastes no time rolling his eyes at you and grabbing you by your waist, the action shutting you up.

“Wanna stop yelling and be a big girl and tell me what’s wrong?” He teases, that stupid smirk you love falling over his features at your speechlessness.

-It’s not often you say his full make but when you do he makes sure you’ll never forget it that same night.

-“Say my name baby, real loud.” He groans, a hand around your throat to steady spent body as he slams back into you

Sanji

-I know thats not a cigarette i smell Vinsmoke Sanji."

-awe hell. Yout tone is deadly. he tried he damndest to stomp it out before you rounded the corner but nope.

-You never use his full name like that. Never.

-did he just get chills?

-"Of course not my love!" He lies throigh his teeth but before he can say anything ese you re lips are on his, you fist gripping the fabric of his shirt.

-He knew he was caught, the taste of tobacco mixing with your usual mint. You pull away, smoothing his shirt out with a warning smile.

-"Don’t lie to me again, I’ll always know when you do, Black Leg." You explain , taking the small cardboard box from his pocket and walking off.

-Even though it was ment as a threat, he couldn't help but feel hotter than ususal. God he loved it when you talked all serious to him.

Bonus: Mihawk

-You know better than to use his full name. Orr to even call him anything besides the usual endearing pet name.

-So when he hears his name called with nothing short of rage, hes trying to figure out who you think you’re talking to.

-"Dracule. Mihawk." You spit, holding the empty bottle in your hand

-Ok so your rage was warented cause he managed to drink the entire vintage bottle of wine you'd been saving...it wasn’t like it was on purpose!

-He doesn’t even bother to look up from his book, just barely giving you a slight glance when you were right in front of him, pointing to the bottle.

-"Id watch your tone darling." he warns, smirking at the way you purse your lips and turn away with a fierce attitude he'd be sure to deal with later.

-“Oh shove it up your ass Dracule.” You scoff, trying to quicken your pace but failing when he’s already behind you, his much larger hand holding your wrist as you yelp.

-His look says it all. You’re screwed.

-So now you’re sitting pretty, bent over and counting each time his hand meets the sore and slightly reddened flesh of your ass.

-“Now, what’s my name again darling?”

[itsmarsss]

cool. [Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader] (Diary of a Wimpy Kid)

(from the vault)

You start working as a babysitter for the Heffleys, but a certain someone seems to be bugging his parents to go out more often. Why?

Words: 6,164

Warnings: like one slight sexual/porn innuendo

[. . .]

"What do you mean someone to watch me?” Greg yelled, exhasperated.

Rodrick laughed out loud at the whole situation. “Wait is little Greg here getting a babysitter?”

“Yes, and she starts tomorrow night," their mom replied, matter-of-factly.

“Mom, I’m in seventh grade! I don’t need a babysitter!”

“We’d believe it if the last time we left the two of you alone you hadn’t directly disobeyed the only thing we told you not to do and thrown a party while we were gone," their dad explained.

“Wait. Mom. So I don’t have to watch him? Like ever again?”

“No but you should be ashamed of the reason why-”

“Hell yeah!”

“Rodrick-” He was already up the stairs on the way to his room. She sighed. 

“Mom you can’t do this to me. Do you know how bad it'll be if the guys in my grade find out you got me a babysitter?”

“They’re not gonna find out, sweetie.” She patted his head.

“And it’s not negotiable.”

“What your dad said.”

"Dad!”

“I’m sorry, kid! But if it makes you feel better, since Rodrick will be here and we’re getting a babysitter because we can’t leave the two of you alone, she’s teeechnically his babysitter too, right?”

“It doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I tried," he shrugged.

“Where are you two even going tomorrow?”

“We’re having dinner! " Susan exclaimed, excited to talk about it. "Alone, finally, because-”

“Wait couldn't she technically be Manny’s babysitter then?”

“Thank you for caring so much about what I had to say, son.” She sighed once again. “She’s not Manny’s babysitter because Manny’s gonna stay with your grandma.”

Greg huffed and made a point to be extremely loud when stumping upstairs to his room, immediately getting cornered by Rodrick. 

“So… a babysitter, huh? And I thought your seventh grade couldn’t get any worse.”

“D´you think it’ll be that bad?”

“Dude they probably got you an old lady who smells like a museum whos gonna make you eat soup at like five PM and sleep at seven.”

Greg widened his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, worried at the thought of what his brother was making him imagine. “You think?”

“Yup. And I’m not even talking about the total humiliation it's gonna be if someone your age finds out.”

“Crap.”

“Good luck with that.” Rodrick was obviously enjoying the mere thought of the torture that was going to follow.

. . .

“A babysitter?” Rowley asked, rather loudly. Greg quickly put his hand over his best friend's mouth. 

“Dude! Can you be quiet?”

“Hmmph!” Rowley tried to protest.

Greg released his hand from over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Why do I need to be quiet?”

“Because I don’t want anybody to know!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Rowley!”

Rowley just shrugged. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed. A babysitter sounds fun! Maybe she’ll read you bedtime stories! And play board games with you!”

Greg just looked at him incredulously. “Just don’t say anything about this to anyone., okay?"

Rowley suddenly started to look really nervous. “You know I can’t lie…”

“It’s not lying! It’s just not mentioning it! No one’s gonna ask about it.”

“Okay. Fine.” He didn't seem that sure about it, but Greg knew he'd try his best.

. . .

You took in a sharp breath before knocking on the front door. It took no time for it to be sprung open, and you were greeted by a smiling Mrs. Heffley. You retributed the smile. 

“Hi Mrs. Heffley!”

“Hey, sweetie! How are you?” She asked as she ushered you into the house, startling you when she closed the door behind you as you walked in. 

“I’m alright! How about you guys? Your dress looks so pretty!”

“Oh my God, thank you! You know it’s been ages since I’ve worn a pretty dress to go out, you can’t trust three kids with a pretty dress, they're always gonna ruin it.”

“Oh God that must be hell,” you laughed along with her. “Where are you guys headed tonight?”

“Looking forward to having dinner in peace,” she laughed again. “Manny!” she yelled suddenly, startling you yet again.

A little boy walked in in his diapers, holding his pants up with both hands. 

“Manny can you just please put on your pants?” Mr. Heffley followed the kid around, frustratedly asking him for what you assumed must have been at leat a fourth time to put his pants on, judging by the tone in his voice and the sigh that accompanied it.

“No!”

“Manny!” Ms. Heffley yelled yet again. The kid did what he was supposed to.

“Um I didn’t- is Manny gonna be staying with me tonight?”

“No! No,” she laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re taking him to my mother’s house.”

“Oh, right. Okay.” You tried to let out how relieved you were. Little kids were a whole other level of difficult, specially at Manny's age.

“Darling are you ready?” Susan asked her husband.

“Yeah! Yeah.”

“Greg!” she yelled again.

“What?” The boy yelled back from his room upstairs. 

“Y/n’s here! Come say hi!”

“Who’s y/n?”

“Your babysitter!”

He came downstairs. Very slowly. “Mom I already-” He stopped.  “You’re not an old lady!"

“Gregory! We don't say that to people! What is that about?"

“I’m sorry! I meant- Rodrick told me my babysitter was gonna be an old lady who smelled like a museum."

"Of course he did," Mr. Heffley said, under his breath.

You pretended to smell yourself. “I think I might smell more like an art gallery maybe,” you joked.

“I’m so sorry about this."

“It’s fine, Mrs. Heffley! Don’t worry about it. Now you two go have some fun, alright? Come on."

“Yeah! Okay. Right. There’s money on the table, you can order whatever you want for dinner the kids will eat whatever. Just grab the money before Rodrick comes downstairs or he's gonna pocket it. If you need anything you can call, okay? Really, anything.”

“Don’t worry about it! I promise I’ll call if anything happens! But I think we’re just gonna stay and eat some food and watch some movies, right Greg?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Please be nice, Greg. Oh and if Rodrick bothers you tell him I said he’ll be grounded if I hear he's not letting you work alright?"

“Sure thing! Thank you. Now go!” You joked, pretending to send them off.

. . .

You and Greg had both sat down on the couch in the living room.

“So. You’re not an old lady.”

“Nope.”

“Are you in high school?”

“Yes I am.”

“What grade are you in?"

“I’m a senior!”

“Oh. Rodrick’s a senior too.”

“Cool! I don’t think I’ve seen him around though.”

“Lucky.”

“Why’s that?”

“He makes my life hell!”

“Well don’t you make his life hell at least a tiny little bit?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“That’s just your job.”

“Trust me no girls like him.”

“Whatever, Heffley. So what do you wanna do?”

“Can we play video games?”

“Depends on what you have.”

“Apocalypse of The Damned?”

“I have never heard of that in my entire life.”

“You’re gonna like it I swear!”

“Alright. But you have to bring me the money your mom left on the table, I’m gonna order us some pizza.”

“Deal!” He ran out to the kitchen, getting back with the money in no time.

. . .

“Hey I was thinking. Can my friend sleep over?” Greg asked, obviously having been preparing himself to do so for the past few minutes, while furiously hitting buttons on his controller as you scrolled through your phone, having gotten tired of playing at that point. 

“Um. Is your friend gonna give me any trouble?”

“No! You can- you can trust us.”

“Is he annoying?”

He seemed to take his time to think of an answer. “A little. But he’s pretty cool.”

“Fine, I’ll ask your mom.”

You clicked on Mrs. Heffley’s contact name. 

hi mrs heffley

how's the date going? im sorry to interrupt

You didn't even have the time to finish writing the next text before she was calling you. You picked it up.

“Is everything okay?” Susan asked, clearly worried.

“Oh, yes. Everything’s fine, you don't have to worry! I’m so sorry to interrupt your date, Greg wanted a friend to stay over and I just wanted to see if that’s okay with you.”

“Is it Rowley?”

“Sorry?”

“The friend, is it Rowley?”

“Is it Rowley?” You asked Greg, leaning away from the phone, to which he just nodded his head yes. “Yeah, Rowley.”

“Okay, of course he can! And don’t worry, I’ll pay you extra for it.”

“Oh, that’s really nice, thank you. Now you should go back to your date, I'm so sorry to bother.”

“No worries! Are you sure everything’s fine?”

“Yes! We ordered pizza and we’re playing video games right now. Everything under control.”

“And Rodrick?”

“Uh, I haven’t really seen him honestly. He definitely hasn’t left his room though.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Bye!” You hung up.

“So?”

“Yeah, call your friend. Ask him if he has any board games we can play!”

Greg did as you said, and, in about half an hour, a little boy with a yellow shirt with a dog on it stood at the door.

“Are you Greg’s babysitter?’

“Uh yeah, I am.”

“Cool!" He looked at Greg behind you. "You told me she was old!”

“Rowley!”

“What? You did!”

You laughed at the interaction and let them do their thing, only asking them to stay by the living room so you could keep an eye on them. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone again as you knew the pizza should be about to get there.

The doorbell rang in no time. You stood up to pay for it, grabbing the large-size pizza and tipping the delivery guy, who didn’t look very friendly at all. You brought it in. “Hey Greg can you go call your brother?”

“Yeah!”

He ran up the stairs, and you set the box down on the dining table, Rowley sitting down. Greg came back.

“He told me to bring it to him.”

“Why?"

"He just doesn't wanna come downstairs."

"You don't have to do it.”

“What? He’s gonna beat me up for it!”

“Not with me here. I got you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Chill out.”

. . .

“Hey you little asshole? I told you to bring my pizza!” A voice exclaimed from the second floor, and Greg muffled a quiet ‘shit’.

“Hey don’t say that!” You scolded Greg for swearing as a reflex.

“Hey? Are you not listening?” Rodrick was clearly close to the kitchen now. He walked through the door. “I said get me so-” he stopped dead on his tracks when he saw you.

“Who’s this?” He asked the boys.

“That’s Y/N,” Rowley said, through gulps.

"And I'm right here you know? You could just ask me who I am."

“Well who are you? And what are you doing… here?” He leaned over the wall, in a poor attempt to look cool. You had to fight yourself tas not to laugh uncontrollably at the sight.

“Well I seem to be your babysitter for the night.”

“What?”

“Did you also expect an old lady? You know, that's a really common and really hurtful babysitter stereotype, you really should think about the things you say now.”

“Wha- huh- yeah- I’ll just-” He let out a weird laugh, and walked up to the table, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and stuffing it into his mouth, seemingly to shut himself up.

“Well we’re gonna watch a movie after we’re done eating. You wanna join?”

“Oh he’s not gonna-” Greg started talking, but Rodrick quickly interrupted him, almost choking on his food as he did so.

“Yeah! Yeah! What are we uh- what are we watching?”

“Zathura.”

“What the fuck is Zathura?”

“Don’t swear in front of them!”

“Sorry.”

Greg looked at Rowley like Rodrick had just gone insane. Did he just apologize?

You laughed. “I’m kidding. You guys don’t mind, do you?”

They both slowly nodded their head no. 

“Cool. As long as you don’t repeat it in front of your parents, alright? Don’t wanna get me in trouble.”

“We’re not five!"

“Well you do look like it,” Rodrick commented, and Greg stuck his tongue out at him.

. . .

“This movie doesn’t make any sense,” Rodrick commented, pointing at the screen.

“It’s not supposed to! It’s a kids movie about a magical board game,” you pointed out.

“Let me guess, did Rowley pick this one?”

“For your information, I did. You got a problem?”

“No.”

Rowley had, in fact, picked this one.

Greg and Rowley shared a look again. This was getting bizzarre.

The movie was over in about half an hour, and it was time for you to put Greg to sleep.

“But it’s so early!” The boy complained, and you laughed.

“I know, but you don’t have to sleep now, you just gotta go to bed! I can’t, like, force you to sleep.”

He let out an annoyed groan before agreeing and pulling Rowley with him by the wrist. “Fine.”

“I’ll be upstairs in a few!” You yelled out, and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes from dinner. It wasn’t really something Mrs. Heffley had explicitly asked you to do, but you had those extra minutes and wanted to get on her good side. 

What you didn’t expect was to come in to find Rodrick still standing there, startling himself when you walked in.

“Uh hey!” His voice was high-pitched, clearly not expecting to see you there so soon.

“Hey.” You wordlessly walked to the sink, starting with the dishes. And then he offered to help you, which didn’t fit the image you had of him at all.

“What?”

“I said do you want some help? I can dry them.”

“Uh sure. Thanks.”

He just nodded, grabbing a cloth. “So did you put them to sleep yet?”

“Yeah they’re supposed to call me when they’re ready. Then I’m pretty much done.”

“Are you leaving like right after?” Was he… disappointed?

“Well not right after, your mom still has to pay me.”

“Right. She paying you extra for the dishes?”

“No,” you laughed, “just wanna score some points. This job’s good money, you know? But don’t tell her I said that.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You nodded, a little awkwardly. “So what’s the deal with the van?”

“What?”

“The huge white van parked right outside? I assume it’s not your mom’s.”

“Yeah.”

“Couldn’t you have picked a better color?”

“What?”

“You know something other than the classic creepy white van?”

He actually laughed. “I don’t think a creep would have ‘löded diper’ written on the door.”

“Maybe you’re just trying not to look too suspicious.”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Was he… flirting? Well, that was… an attempt.

“What, are you inviting me? You know, I was taught not to get into creepy white vans with strangers.”

“We’re not strangers!” He held his hand up for you to shake, which you did. “I’m Rodrick.”

“Y/N.”

“So. Ho'wd you end up babysitting Greg out of all people?”

“I mean, your dad posted something about it in the newspaper and my mom told me about it. Some extra money, you know?”

“And you’re sure it’s worth it? I mean he’s a big pain in the ass.”

“Aren’t all brothers?”

“I’m not.”

“Right. You’re like a dictator to him!”

“No I’m not!”

“He was scared you were gonna beat him up if he didn’t bring you pizza.”

“He’s dumb. I wasn’t gonna beat him up that badly.”

You laughed. “Well, we’re done. Thank you for the help. You can go now if you wanna.”

“You sound like a mom.”

“Oh my god! Stop trying to make me sound old! I'm some granny cinderella who turns into an old lady who smells like a museum when midnight strikes," you teased him, and he scrunched up his nose in embarrassment.

"Right. He told you about that.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. To be fair, I never had a babysitter, you know? I just thought they were all old and boring.”

“Do you think I’m old and boring?” You joked.

He snorted. “No, you’re pretty.” His eyes widened, realizing what he’d just said. Way to go. “Not in that- well not that you’re not pretty, you are, but you know what I mean. You’re uh- you’re pretty compared to what I- expected?"

It was stupid, but you could feel yourself blush a little. Why was it that you always fell for the most absolute idiots? “So I’m pretty… compared to an old woman.”

“I think you should let me start over.”

“But-”

“Y/N!” You heard Greg yell from upstairs, and you left the kitchen to go see him, going up the stairs and entering his room.

“Okay, we ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes!”

“Both of you?”

“Yup.”

“Okay I’ll believe you. But your mom told me you’re on thin ice.”

Greg rolled his eyes and both boys got on the bed. 

“Okay, goodnight. If you don’t sleep right away don’t make too much noise.”

“Are you coming over tomorrow?”

“Why, did you actually like me?”

“Just a little.”

You smiled. “Well no. But I think I might next week.”

“Cool! ‘Night, Y/N!” 

“‘Night!”. You closed the door behind you, and walked downstairs to wait for Mrs. and Mr. Heffley to return so you could go home. 

You stopped on the hallway to send your mom a quick text saying you were fine and should be leaving in a few before making your way to the living room.

To your surprise, Rodrick hadn’t gotten back to his room. Instead, he was laying on the couch, his entire body draped over it as he scrolled through his phone. He sat right up when he saw you. “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey. You not have anything to do?”

“I’m offended. But no I don’t.”

You laugh, sitting down beside him. “Okay. Well your parents must be on their way, so. Don’t have much to do either.”

“You wanna watch something?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well a real movie.”

“Zathura’s a real movie! I like it!”

“You actually do?”

“Yes!”

“Whatever. Well an adult movie I mean.”

“Uh, an adult movie?”

“No! Not that kind!” He was blushing furiously and you found it hilarious. 

“Yeah whatever. What do you have?”

You ended up settling on a Marvel movie, but you barely had the time to start it before the doorbell rang, and you had to go get the door.

“Hey Y/N! I’m sorry we took so long, we had to go get Manny.”

“That’s fine! Rodrick and I were just about to watch a movie!”

“Rodrick came downstairs?” Mr. Heffley sounded genuinely surprised.

“Well you can finish it if you want!”

“Oh, no, I really should get going. We can finish it another time.”

“Oh well. Okay.” She put Manny down and grabbed her wallet, handing you your money. “Here, with the extra from Rowley. Hope they didn’t cause too much trouble.”

“Oh they were so cool! I was surprised.”

“Oh that’s great to hear! If they haven’t traumatized you too much we’d love to have you sit them again.”

“Oh definitely! Just give me a call.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Are you driving home?”

“Oh, no, I’m actually walking. I thought we’d be done a little earlier.”

“Oh that’s not good, we can take you-”

“I can take her!” Rodrick yelled, almost falling off of the couch in his eagerness. He stood up, walking toward you. His dad looked like he was short-circuiting.

“Are you sure?” His mom asked.

“Yeah! Come on, let’s go.” He walked quickly past the front door and into the white van.

“Sure. Bye Mrs. Heffley!”

“Bye sweetie! Tell me if he bothers you too much!”

You walked towards the van, getting in on the passenger’s seat. He turned the engine on in silence. There was an awkward atmosphere surrounding you, and you didn’t know why.

You cleared your throat. “So uh. Thanks for driving me.”

“Yeah it’s chill. Where do I turn?”

“Oh let me just- give me your phone.”

“What?”

“So I can put the address on the GPS?”

“Oh. Sure.” He handed it to you after unlocking it, and you did as you said. 

“Turn left in 200 feet,” the disembodied voice said, and he did.

“You don’t have to uh- do these things for me. You know, drive me home, help me with the dishes. It’s nice, but I’m not gonna tell on you if you don’t.”

“I know. I uh. I want to.”

“You wanna do the dishes?”

“I wanna help you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Fine.”

You got home pretty quickly, as you didn’t live a long way from the Heffley residence, and got out of the car. 

“Thank you for driving me! Goodnight.”

“Yeah!” Rodrick yelled back, and waited for you to get in to drive off. There was a smile on your lips you couldn’t shake off, and you felt stupid for it. Was the weird wannabe rock band kid really having an effect on you?

. . .

On wednesday, you got a call from Ms. Heffley again. And then on friday, and saturday, and sunday. This could not be normal, right? But it was money, so you obviously wouldn’t refuse it. So you pulled up to the Heffley residence for the fifth time on sunday, knocking on the door as usual.

Greg opened it this time, greeting you with a confused expression. “You’re here again?”

“Miss me, kid?”

“Are they going out again?”

“Apparently.”

“Mom, Y/N’s here!”

“Oh hey sweetie! Thank you for coming!”

“No problem! Where are you off to today?”

“Well we’re going bowling. Rodrick found us these pamphlets at the mall and wouldn’t stop bugging us about trying it out, so we decided to give it a go.”

“Oh he did?” That was strange.

“And you seem to have things so under control! I can’t believe we’ve been going out so much!”

“Well I’m happy to hear it. When will you be back?”

“I’d say eleven if that’s not too late for you?”

“Oh definitely not! As long as Rodrick can drive me.”

“Oh that won’t be a problem. You ready, darling?” She asked her husband, who walked by holding Manny in one arm and a huge bag in the other. 

“Yeah.”

"Everything there?” Susan asked him, referring to the bag. She turned back to you. “Manny’s staying over at my mom’s for the first time today. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Yeah!" You exclaimed, not really getting all the excitement about it. You supposed you would if you were his mom. Right now you were just happy you didn’t have to watch over him too. Little kids were always more difficult. 

“Okay bye everyone!”

Greg and Rodrick were right behind you the moment you closed the door.

“Can we make pasta?’ Greg asked, and damn, the little dude must have had some sugar because he looked like he’d downed like three energy drinks at once.

“Well yeah. I make a killer pasta. Is Rowley coming today?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool.”

“Do you want help with the food?” Rodrick finally spoke up, and Greg looked at him like he was speaking Greek.

“Sure.”

“Are you okay?’ Greg couldn’t contain himself from asking him.

“What do you mean, assface?”

“Did you just offer to help with the food?”

“Yeah?”

“Who are you?”

“Oh shut it, dickhead.” You didn’t miss the nervous glance he gave you, clearly signaling something about you to Greg. And then Greg seemed to figure something out, his eyes going wide.

“Oh! Is that why you-” Rodrick looked alarmed, putting his hand against Greg’s mouth to keep him from talking, but he managed to get himself free. “Is that why you’ve been trying to get mom and dad to go out all week?”

“Hah. Don’t know what he’s talking about, pssht.” Rodrick laughed nervously.

“Uh sure. Well I’m already hungry so I’m thinking early dinner and then we can make dessert?”

“Yes!” Greg yelled.

“Okay but if we’re making the food you gotta set the table. Deal?” 

Greg groaned in annoyance, but agreed. “Fine.” He went on his way, and you and Rodrick made your own way to the kitchen.

“So,” you started, as you grabbed the pasta from the cabinet. “You’ve been trying to get your parents to go out all week.”

He looked everywhere but at you. “Uh, I don’t know what the kid’s on about.”

“Well, shame. Cause I was gonna thank you.”

“For what?”

“Well the more times a week I work the more money I get right?”

“Oh right. Right. So yeah you can thank me.”

“So you were setting them up to go out. Why?”

He shrugged, trying to seem cool. “Wanted to be alone.”

“You’re not alone now. You could be in your room. Or like out with your friends or whatever.”

“I didn’t anticipate that you’d actually be cool.”

“Oh you think I’m cool?”

“Yeah.” 

The water started to boil, and you threw the pasta in the pot, stirring it with a fork.

“Cool. You’re kinda cool too. You know when you’re not trying to be impressive.”

“I’m not trying to impress you!”

“I didn’t say you were trying to impress me .”

“Well I was.”

“You were.”

“Did it work?”

“Why’d you want to impress me?”

“Cause you’re cool. I wanted you to think I’m cool too.”

“Huh. Maybe I do.”

“Cool.”

“Y/N I’M DONE! I THINK ROWLEY’S HERE !” Greg’s voice came from the dining room.

“I didn’t hear the doorbell, are you sure?” You yelled back, walking past Rodrick to get the front door. Maybe you were too lost in the conversion to hear it, because the boy was standing right there when you opened it.

“Hey Y/N!” He said with a smile, greeting you with a hug, which was very on-brand for the kid. 

“Hey Rowley. You alright?”

“Yeah! I brought water balloons!”

“You did?”

“Well they’re not full of water yet so they’re just balloons but yeah.”

“Cool! You should tell Greg!”

“Will you play with us?”

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t have clothes I can get wet-”

“Well that’s not a problem!” Rodrick said, and you frowned in confusion. “You can borrow mine!”

“Oh I don-”

“C’mon, Y/N, you really gonna disappoint the boy?”

“Shut up. Fine, but you’re playing too.”

“Deal.”

“Yes!” Rowley exclaimed, before taking off, presumably to go find Greg.

“Well you wanna go up to my room?” Rodrick asked, apparently having otten some confidence from out of the blue, sporting a cocky smirk.

You laughed. “You wish. Just bring me a t-shirt.”

“Yeah. Someone’s gonna be looking like the number one Loded Diper fan out there.”

“If you bring me a white shirt I will beat you up!” You yelled, and he was already on his way upstairs. You took the past out of the pot, mixing it with the sauce you’d made, which was the easiest one you could find.

Rodrick was back as soon as you set the pot down on the table, handing you a gray shirt that , of course, had ‘loded diper’ written on it in terrible handwriting. 

“Thanks.” You draped the shirt over your shoulder and all of you ate in silence, apparently all stupidly hungry for some reason.

You were done pretty quickly, but made sure to get Greg and Rowley to promise to help with the dishes this time, since there were more.

“Okay! We’re gonna get changed!”

“Yeah me too!” You yelled back, making your way to the bathroom, changing into Rodrick’s gray shirt.

It didn’t hang as loose as you thought it would, and you laughed at the thought of Rodrick wearing a tight shirt for no reason. You supposed it was an old one he decided to turn into loded diper merch. Loded diper. What a stupid fucking name. You guessed it was fit. 

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. Rodrick. “You done? These kids are little demons, they talk so much!”

You laughed, unlocking the door and grabbing your own shirt before opening it. 

“Hello?” He looked wide-eyed, like his brain was malfunctioning, staring profusely at his shirt. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Fine. The shirt alright?”

“Yeah. A lot smaller than I expected. Does Rodrick Heffley wear crop tops?”

He shrugged, embarrassed. “Sometimes. That bad?”

“No.”

“Chicks dig the crop tops, you know.”

“Oh do they?”

“Don’t you?”

“I guess I’d have to see you in one to give an opinion.”

“Yeah that’s not happening any soon."

“Shame.”

“What?”

“I said let’s go.”

You barely had the time to walk into the front yard before Rodrick was hit on the face by a huge water balloon. You turned to see a terrified-looking Rowley at the other side. Rodrick gained his bearings again. 

“Oh you’re in, you little shit!” He seemed way too determined on winning this, but who were you to judge?

Him and Rowley occupied themselves with each other pretty much the whole time, as you did with Greg, until you got hit rather strongly in the back. You stopped what you were doing, which was aiming your next balloon at Greg, who was right in front of you, and turned around to see Rodrick laughing at you.

“Motherfucker-” you cursed yourself mentally for swearing in front of the kids, hoping they wouldn ‘t tell on you, and launched the balloon at him at full speed, it landing on his chest. 

“Hey!”

You played for about half an hour more until the sun set, and you decided it was best to get back inside. All three complained, and you laughed at the situation, because you supposed you did sort of sound like a mom when trying to convince them to get in, but they ended up listening.

“Okay what are we watching tonight?” You asked as you closed the front door behind you and dried your feet on the mat by the entrance.

“Oh can we watch a horror movie?” Greg asked.

“Nope, we know how that ends.”

“But we’ve changed!”

“It’s been less than a week!”

“People change!” Greg tried to plead, but you knew Mrs. Heffley wouldn’t like it if you caved in.

“No can do, Gregory. We can watch that Adam Sandler movie you wanted though.”

“With the little kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

You were halfway through a second movie when the boys decided it was time for dessert, and you still had a little while before the Heffleys came back, so you decided you’d all bake cupcakes.

They didn’t turn out as great as you wished they would, but also weren’t half bad. They were a little flat and maybe a little toasted on the top, but were otherwise pretty edible. You covered them with some frosting and ate them as you finished the movie.

It turned out when you were done the Heffleys still hadn’t come back, so you decided to put the boys to sleep then. You came back to Ridrick looking at you at the other end of the hallway. 

“Hey,” you said, not expecting him to be there.

You stood there in silence for a few moments before he cleared his throat and started talking.

“Um do you wanna hang out? ‘Till they're back?” It was funny, with him. One moment he’d be full of confidence, flirting with you at the max, but, in a second, his entire demeanor would change and he’d look unsure, insecure to ask you anything.

You were starting to wonder if he wasn’t just being a stupid hormonal teenager and if he actually, maybe, had a little bit of a crush on you. But you wouldn’t entertain those thoughts, of course. First because you could be completely misinterpreting the situations, and second because you needed the job, and you hadn’t gotten enough of a read on his mom to know if she’d be cool with that.

Still, you did have nothing else to do but scroll through your phone as you waited. “Sure.”

“Oh! Cool. Uh, my room’s right there,” he pointed to a white door by his left, and you followed him in. It actually looked pretty cool. It was sort of exactly what you expected his room to look like, except maybe a little messier, if that was possible.

To each their own, I guess. It’s not like you were the cleanest person to ever walk the Earth. You sat down on his bed, and he opted to sit down on a beanbag just in front of you.

TIt's safe to say things were a little awkward. “Uh. So. Cool room.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You studied the multiple posters he had glued to his walls. “Oh, The Cure. Cool.”

“Yeah. They’re not like super my style or anything. But they’re cool.”

“What would be your style?”

“I don’t know. Hard rock.”

“Huh. I don’t know. You just look like one of those guys who like rock but secretly listen to Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber or something when they’re alone.”

“What- what I would never- I don’t-” busted. 

You laughed at him as he tried to deny it. “I think it’s cool.”

He stopped. “You do?”

“Yeah. Taylor Swift’s cool.”

“Yeah uh. Girls dig that.”

“Do you really know what girls dig or do you just make random guesses?”

“I’m well-informed.”

“Oh are you? You have a girlfriend or something?” Subtle.

He scoffed. “Pfft. Yeah.”

“Uh- huh.”

He gave in. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay”

“You're a girl. What do you dig then?”

“What a romantic way to phrase that question. I guess I don’t know. Never stopped to think of it. What do you think we dig?”

“Uh. Bad boys?”

You let out a laugh. “Yeah I guess. But it depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether they’re nice to us.”

“So you want bad boys who are actually nice.”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Uh. But I can be nice.”

“Who said you’re a bad boy to begin with?”

“Um rock band? Cool eyeliner?” He motioned to himself, mockingly.

“Well who do you wanna be nice for?”

“Uh. You? Obviously.”

Your smile faltered. There was the confidence making an appearance again.

“What?”

“Uh. You know. So I can uh- practice. For other... girls?”

“Right.”

“Or maybe not.”

“Okay I ‘m lost.”

“Do you wanna go out with me? ” He blurted out at rapid speed.

Okay, sudden much? “What?”

“Uh. We could… go to the movies or something? You seem to like movies.”

“Right. But as a… date?”

“Yeah.”

You thought about it. It was just a date, it’s not like his mom would get mad about a date, right?

“Sure.”

“What?”

“I said sure.”

His eyes widened, he didn’t seem to have been expecting a positive answer. “Oh! That’s cool! That's- cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

He began standing up. “Well, do you wanna-” In that very moment, before he could finish, the doorbell rang, and you made your way past him, running downstairs and getting the front door. 

“Y/N! How are we?”

You hoped the blush on your cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt as you talked to her. “We’re great! Greg and Rowley are already in bed, Rodrick and I have been uh. Hanging out.”

“Oh that’s nice of him!” She turned to face her husband, who, in turn, grabbed your wrist. 

“What have you done to him? Are you some sort of witch?” He asked you.

You laughed awkwardly. “Oh it’s all him! He was showing me the posters in his room, we like the same bands!”

“Oh do you uh. Like rock too?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well we’re taking too much of your time. Is Rodrick driving you home?”

Oh, right. Shit. He was.

“Yeah I uh, think so.”

With that, he walked into your view, holding up the van keys. He’d apparently put on shades, probably so his parents wouldn’t see he had eyeliner on.

“Why do you have sunglasses on?” Mr. Heffley asked him as he walked past them.

“It’s called fashion, dad!”

Mrs. Heffley handed you the money for the night, and you went on your way, getting into the van with Rodrick, who, by now, didn’t need the GPS to get to your place. Except he wasn’t driving to your place at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanted a slushie. That cool?”

“I guess.”

He stopped by a 7/11 and bought each of you a slushie and some chocolate bars, which you ate outside. The wind started to get harsher, and you crossed your arms around your chest for warmth. He caught on to that, taking his striped hoodie off and giving it to you. You looked up at him, confused.

“What?”

“You’re cold.”

“Yeah but you’ll be cold.”

“Rockstars don’t get cold.”

“You’re not a rockstar.”

“Not yet."

You raised an eyebrow at him, unamused.

"Just take it!” 

You did, and put it on. This one hung looser than the shirt you’d borrowed earlier. It did help. You tried your best to contain the smile that was insisting on forming on your lips. You knew it was dumb.

“Thanks,” you mumbled under your breath, and you could see him smirk, proud of himself. “You’re so cheesy. Wouldn’t take you for it.” 

“I’m not cheesy. I’m just not an asshole.”

“You kinda are.”

“Shut up!”

You ate in silence for a bit before you decided to say what was on your mind. “Hey about that date?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t… I don’t know if we should do it.”

He tried to seem chill about it, but he looked a little hurt. “Why?”

“Well it’s not that I don’t want to! I do. For… some reason,” you added, trying to lighten up the mood. “But do you think your mom would be cool with it? I mean I don’t wanna lose this job and I don’t know if she’d really like us being alone if we’re dating.”

His face lit up. “So you’re thinking about dating me?”

Oh, you’d messed up big time now, he’d never let this go. “No! That’s not what I meant!”

“I think it is.”

“Fuck off!”

“Oh we’re using big boy words now?” He grinned.

“Shut up.”

“Well. Don’t think that should be a problem. They don’t have to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“What, do you tell your parents everything? They don’t have to know we’re dating.”

“Yeah but we’re not dating.”

“Not yet.”

“Shut up!”

“They don’t have to know we’re going on a date, then. Plus, the days you work can be like little dates.”

“Yeah except there will be two children up our asses.”

“You can manage.”

“Fine, Heffley. But if I lose my job you’ll be owing me. Like literal money.”

“Deal.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

[. . .]

A/N: sometimes ur 20 pages into a diary of a wimpy kid rodrick heffley oneshot and you ask urself wtf am i doing with my life. this is the product of that. i wrote this THREE YEARS AGO WOW so i edited some of it to post it here but nothing major cause i didn't want it to lose its energy lol. btw i was in fact like. actually in high school at the time lmao. luv yall!

[lilyinmysoul]

But Not Kiss

PervDBF!Joel X FReader

Summary: Drabble about Joel jerking off to his friend’s daughter’s pictures.

Notes: Joel and reader do not interact at all, Joel is a parasocial pervert and incredibly lonely, by lonely I mean he hasn’t been touched by a woman in years, age gap, reader is fresh out of college, masturbation (m), palming, can be considered dark!joel, no outbreak, a bit of proofreading, I’m having writing block and this is what I came up with.

On most nights in Joel’s bleak and lonely home, he would wind down after work with a cold beer in hand, the TV playing an old rerun on cable or a DVD fished from his old collection in the garage.

But it was Saturday, and Joel had a duty as a good neighbor and a reliable friend to your father. Joel does work too much, but he’s not the workaholic that he seems to be—he’d never work weekends. He finds that as long as he tries to convince himself that he only helps your dad out of the goodness of his heart, his mind begins to believe it.

They’ve got lots in common—they root for the same football team and drive the same model of truck. They both like country and old rock music, listening to it while they crack open a cold one. But Joel wasn’t quite sure why his attention would stray so often from his newfound companion and fall onto his girl instead—maybe it was how striking he found your features, or the fact that he’d been alone a long, long time. Either way, while he couldn’t ignore it, he could try his best to make it seem justifiable—clear his guilty conscious. Maybe it wasn’t too bad, he was just captivated by you, that’s all.

Despite your father’s friendly and outgoing nature, he and Joel were never close. That was, until four months ago when your dad asked for his help hauling in his daughter’s things. ‘My girl’s just graduated college,’ your father had explained. ‘She’s movin’ back in for a little, figurin’ things out.’ He was over the moon, and so was Joel as soon as he had seen you.

It wasn’t a crush; Joel was an adult. Deny it as he might, it was nothing short of an infatuation. Each glimpse of your face would catapult his heart rate and have it beating something dangerous in his chest. He’d go about his day with thoughts of you lingering in his mind, pleasant little daydreams of your face, your words, your body.

In recent months, Joel had begun to accept your father’s friendly advances, his presence in your home more frequent with the more time they spent. He’d assure himself that he wouldn’t pay mind to you and your tiny night shorts, but for some reason, he’d tend to be over in the evening time, once you’d changed into your pajamas.

Joel wasn’t big on small talk, but with you around, he’d make an extra effort to interject with a question or a little compliment—he couldn’t help it. What was once lingering gazes shifted into something more consuming. He joked to himself that maybe you were omnipresent with the way that everything reminded him of you, but the statement held some truth.

He had just waved your dad goodbye, the heavy wooden door shutting behind him. The blinds of the house were open—wide open—and he could still see your figure through them as he ambled down your driveway and began his course down the sidewalk. He had gotten two beers down before you had arrived home, your sweet voice and kind face doing something strange—but not unfamiliar—to Joel. He wanted to stay, to watch you, but he knew, then, that he needed to go. When he had felt a familiar twitch in his pants, he made for the door with a polite farewell.

Now, his mind was still clouded with ideas of you. In past weeks, it had become increasingly difficult to think of anything else, his everyday tasks overtaken by thoughts of you completing them with him. He had thought about holding you, kissing you, having you. He liked to imagine your hand in his while he completed his most dreaded chores, knowing that if you were near him, it wouldn’t be nearly as bad.

His home is only three houses down. It’s a short walk, but his pace is slow, somewhat of a stroll as his mind continues to wander. He’s in no hurry, but the sparks in his lower stomach are spreading—as they do each time he sees you.

Joel’s house has come into view now, his step quickening as his destination nears. Up his driveway he walks, and up his steps he goes as his restless mind leads back to you.

Fishing the house key from his pocket, he fumbles for the right one before sticking it in the lock. It turns and clicks, and his door creaks open as he pushes it in, shutting it behind him.

He locks the door, kicks off his boots, and double checks the lock again—just to be sure—before his tired body starts up the stairs. He ignores the fridge and its cold Coors Lights, the idea of a shower, and his comfortable recliner. There is something better: having a hand down his pants—something he has denied himself too long, for each time his mind wanders to you. Joel can’t touch himself without imagining you doing it for him, and this fact makes him feel despicable. His friend’s own daughter, just short of half his age. It seemed, though, that the more clouded his mind became with your image, it bothered him less and less. You seemed like something of an eidolon; though, you were very real, yet seemingly out of reach.

Joel knows exactly what he’ll do once he makes it inside his room, so he fishes his phone from his back pocket. The little phone was outdated and small, but it had a clear enough display. He rubs his thumb over the screen a few times before turning the cold knob and stepping into his bedroom. Joel flicks on the dim light, approaching his bed as it dips with his weight when he sits. It’s made up and empty—as it has been for all too long—and he wishes it wasn’t. He longs for you in his bed, or any woman, really. But, he works so much, there is so much to do… or maybe, he just doesn’t have the social capacity to go out and meet people. The phone lights up as he presses the side button with a calloused finger—this will do.

For a moment, Joel’s lock-screen looks back at him, his rare guilt and hesitance creeping back in. An impatient, yet relaxed left handed travels to his eager bulge, staving off his rowdy mind as he contemplates his actions.

By every sense of the word, Joel was horny, and he knew what he wanted. He could pull up a clunky porn website on his pocket relic, but his mind would stray to you again. He spends another moment thinking indecisively, before unlocking the phone and pulling at the button on his jeans with his free hand.

With a zip, they are open, and he sighs. Joel feels fucking pitiful, but determined either way. Theres a little wet stain of pre-cum on his faded blue briefs, and he takes it as a sign to keep going.

Rather than opening a search engine, he opts for his gallery, guiltily scrolling to his destination—maybe the way he diluted himself was deliberate. Was it totally normal that he had a folder in his phone for photos of you? Maybe; you were just his neighbor, after all. But now, it was something a lot different from a so-called innocent collection of snapshots.

Opening it finally, Joel is met with just nine pictures. It isn’t much, but it’s enough. For a moment, he thinks that he doesn’t see you nearly enough to be thinking about you like this, with a longing so intense, but he brushes off the thought. With a few more squeezes to the rock-hard tent in his boxers, Joel eases down the front of the elastic waistband, just enough for his aching length to spring free.

Joel’s cock has longed for a whole lot more than his fist, but he just couldn’t have it, so he wets his fingers in his mouth. Lightly, his fingers trace over his length in delicate strokes as he begins to scroll through the images.

He selects the first picture, an innocent frame of you in a heavy jacket and boots standing next to Joel. This one had been taken by your father and sent to him—if only he knew what it had been used for. You had been working on building the deck outside of your house together—Joel had volunteered to show you both the ropes. Hammer in hand, you were smiling at the camera, and to Joel, it was the greatest sight. His hand establishes a steady pace, his rosy tip leaking a hearty bead of pre-cum just from the thought of you. He often imagined that beautiful smile looking up at him, your knees planted on the ground. Maybe you’d be impressed by his size, or just glad to see him. He found your teeth adorable, and so were your lips. He didn’t have to wonder if they’d feel good around him, he knew they would.

Joel gives himself a tighter stroke this time, the pressure in his stomach intensifying. He scrolls to the next picture, one you had posted of yourself on the couch with a bucket of popcorn, wearing your skimpy pajamas.

He loved those ones, the thin fabric that you’d pay almost no mind to. The low neckline of your tank top left a clear view of your cleavage, and a hiss leaves his mouth as his hand speeds up. In the photo, your legs are bare and graceful. Your shorts cover almost nothing and your tiny shirt leaves your belly button visible. It’s equally adorable as it is arousing, and Joel feels his pleasure mounting as his slick fist courses up and down his length, seeking a release that only you seemed to be able to give him.

Joel takes an extra moment to trail his eyes over your arms and neck, each feature he loves about your lovely appearance; kind and sweet, welcoming and ever so attractive. He pictures your warm hands wrapped around his cock, or your sweet mouth whispering and begging him for his touch. There is something so tantalizing about your saccharine eyes and how he envisions it would feel for them to meet his, lovingly.

The following picture is one that Joel had taken. You displayed a tray of cookies proudly after pulling them from the oven. It had been a nice day—you had offered him one of your creations and asked him to snap a photo. The accomplished look in your eyes was so sweet, and he imagines that the camera was gone, and your beautiful smile had been pointed toward him, instead.

Joel is frustratingly close now, his imagination straying beyond the photos as he pictures you now, sitting on the bed, or lying underneath him. He wants to know what you feel like, what you think of him. His mind conjures what kinds of sounds you might make when you cum, how you touch yourself, and how often.

He feels the coil in his stomach about to snap, and mutters your name to himself a few times. It seemed to be a sacred word to him, something that delivered infinite comfort and arousal. With a few final strokes, his tip leaks with cum as it spews out in ropes, spurts of the cloudy liquid landing on the phone screen, overlaying your picture—your sultry smile. Joel sighs and wipes his fingers on his denim jeans, standing up reluctantly to get clean.

Thanks for reading!! Reblog if you liked, feel free to send an ask

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I am genuinely so proud of my wife for becoming a crafts person over the last few years.

Like, I was always a crafts person. I was an arts and crafts kid. My parents sent me to classes or summer camps or after-school clubs pretty much continuously from when I was about 5 years old, and over the years I did metalsmithing, stained glass, polymer clay sculpting, loom weaving, oil painting, charcoal drawing, clothes-making & tailoring, carpentry, woodcarving, macrame, miniatures, beading, jewelry-making, basket weaving, leatherworking, paper-making, bookbinding, papier mache, decoupage, sand sculpting, and probably more that I'm forgetting. There was never a day in my life while I was growing up when my entire bedroom floor wasn't taken up by 2-5 different ongoing art projects. As an adult, it's given me the firm confidence that I can walk up to pretty much any crafting skill, and get the hang of it, and enjoy doing it.

My wife never had that. She wrote, but that was really her only artistic outlet. Art & craftsmanship were just not any of her business. She always expressed admiration for my gumption when it came to making things with my hands, usually with a "bigger idiots than me have done it" attitude, but she was certain she'd be bad at it if she tried it, and that she wouldn't have fun. As evidence, she would offer every time in her life when she had attempted to learn a craft, and didn't have fun, and all the Arts And Crafts kids picked it up a lot faster than her.

Which like - yeah! Learning how to do a new craft is a skill all on its own! Fine motor control is a skill developed over time! So is spatial reasoning, and materials intuition! She wasn't just 'trying to learn wreath-making,' or whatever, she was trying to learn how to learn how to make something with her hands AND wreath-making, at the same time, so of course it would take her longer than the kids who already had the first part, and of course it would be more frustrating for her. I knew she wasn't uniquely bad at crafts: she just didn't know how to approach picking them up, because she was never encouraged to learn.

And then the pandemic hit.

And while we were all trapped inside and going insane in new and exciting ways to all of us, she tentatively decided to pick up embroidery. She probably wouldn't stick with it, she explained: she'd probably be bad at it. It probably wouldn't be fun. But she thought embroidery was pretty, and literally what else did she have going on?

And then she did stick with it. For over a year. And she got pretty good at it! She embellished a baseball hat for her sister with cactuses and wildflowers from where they grew up which came out adorable. She made an embroidered portrait of one of our friends' cat that they still have displayed in their entryway. And she discovered - and remarked on it often, with mild surprise - that she was having fun. She'd say a lot of stuff like "this stitch was so frustrating at first, but now that I get it I really like doing it," or "I kept getting this tangled but I've figured it out now. I just needed to relax."

Then she took up pottery. We did that as a couple for about a year, too. Now she's a knitter.

And it's just been so great, to see her eyes light up when she sees a sweater she likes, and hear her say, "I could make that!" She's slowly let go of the perfectionism that I think holds a lot of people back from doing crafts: that dismay when you make a mistake which leads to discarding a whole project, or starting something over. More and more she's taking on the veteran crafter attitude of "oops lol, whatever I'll just keep going." She's picking things up faster. She's taking pleasure in learning incremental steps. She's started to see crafting as something that relaxes and engages her, instead of as something inherently frustrating. I've gotten to watch her learn to find joy in making something with her hands. I always knew she was creative and artistic and capable of learning how to do anything. It's been so much fun to watch her start to take that on as part of how she sees herself.

We have this running joke about how she will prematurely declare herself to be in an era. Like, she'll go swimming twice and announce that she's now in her "swimming era," and then never go swimming again. Or she'll make one smoothie, buy a bunch of fruit, and declare that we are now in a "smoothie era," and then a week later we have to throw out a bunch of fruit that's gone bad.

The other day (while she was knitting, and I was sitting on the couch next to her doing crochet), she went, "I feel like I've gotten - like, I'm a bit crafty these days, I think. Like, I've done a couple of different crafts, and gotten pretty good at them. I think this is now, kind of, you know...something that I can say that I do."

I supplied that I would even go so far as to say that she was in her "crafting era."

Her eyes widened. "It's an era?"

I pointed out that it was something she'd been doing pretty much continuously for the last three and a half years. That feels like the start of an era to me.

"Yes," she decided. "It's an era. This is my crafts era. I'm a crafts person now."

She's planning to make me a sweater with a duck on it for fall.