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lukolabrainrot · 3 months ago

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I am going to talk about some of my thoughts about why I believe N's behavior changed as the PR tour progressed. I am also going to talk about my thoughts on if L&N ever got "jiggy with it" 😂 I'll try to get to my thoughts on Toronto and Ireland tomorrow.

Before I start though, I want to mention that I am trying to come to my theories/opinions based off of things I have been able to observe, and verified information online. Obviously though, I don't actually know any of these people irl, so I am never going to understand the full story of what is going on between L/N. All of this is just my thoughts and theories on what is going on based on what has been put out to the public. There has been a lot of speculation online about everything, but I am going to try and not give that information too much weight when coming to my conclusions here. I am interested in hearing everyone's thoughts/opinions though, since this story has a lot of moving parts. Just wanted to put this disclaimer out before moving forward with more of my thoughts/theories.

Alright, on to the main course (this is going to be a LONG post btw)...

N on the PR Tour

I want to start off with the following that we know to be fact about N:

She is INCREDIBLY private about her personal life, especially her dating/romantic life (the same isn't/hasn't really been true about L). In fact, I don't believe N has ever publicly come out as being in a relationship with anyone since she entered the entertainment industry/been in the public eye (although I can't 100% confirm this, so please let me know if there are any articles/or something on her SM where she has publicly confirmed she was in a relationship at some point)

She is VERY online, and very careful about controlling her public narrative

She is a naturally touchy and affectionate person with people, but she seems to hold her true feelings a lot closer to her heart, and it seems to me, that she is kind of "on" in public (which is actually an important skillset to have as someone in the entertainment industry because you really need to know how to stay in control of your public narrative--your fans are your livelihood)

She LOVES photography/taking photos (it is one of her love languages I believe)

Now as I mentioned, L was always a lot more of an open book on the PR tour about his feelings for N (refer to my post here). N seemed to be a lot more reserved/gaurded during the tour when it first started in January, but everything shifted in like April when the world tour started. Below are my thoughts:

N started to become a LOT more obvious through her nonverbal cues about her genuine feelings for L as the tour unfolded. I will say that I believe PART of it probably had to do with getting a little "lost in the sauce" with the energy of the tour. However, I think the larger factor was that L & N were pushed together for many months (in close quarters), and were therefore forced to have conversations about their feelings for each other that I think they had been tiptoeing around for quite a while. From what we then saw from like the middle of Italy (I'm an Italy truther), there was more of a confidence, security, and contentment in how they interacted with each other that signaled to me feelings were shared and reciprocated.

Like I mentioned, she is a PR queen and very, very private about this part of her life. Therefore, why would she decide to be so obvious about her feelings on such a public stage when she knows people analyze everything? Well... I believe this is her way of publicly acknowledging their romantic feelings for each other without ACTUALLY publicly acknowledging anything more than "work besties" is going on with them. Which totally makes sense when you think about it because 1) The fandom would LOSE IT rn 2) That would put a LOT of public pressure on them, and I think these feelings they have shared with each other are very new (but had been brewing for a long time), and I don't think they are confident enough to go public. There is also, of course, the A of the whole situation, which L needs to figure out how he wants to move forward with that. TLDR, the situation is very messy, and I think there is a lot that L/N need to process in private regarding each other out of the public eye. I am pretty confident though that this tour put them in a situation to confront, clarify, and establish what their romantic feelings are for each other outside of the show (and they were reciprocated), and they are taking the space right now to explore that privately.

Lastly, because I really like analyzing photos and N loves taking pictures, let's talk about those "boyfriend pics" of L she posted since the world tour started. Yes, she was promoting the show, but a lot of those pictures (especially recently) have a very specific vibe. She wants the world to see him the way she sees him. She loves that man, clear and simple. He shines around her, and she knows that. I think it’s also especially telling that she posted the most recent boyfriend pic of her last day of filming (which was the most obvious one in my opinion) now that A is publicly connected to L. It was a statement in my opinion, that regardless of all the drama unfolding, her and L have a really deep and meaningful connection that is special to her. I think it also served as a message that we don’t know the full story, which I think is a positive thing for us Lukola fans. Now I can’t predict the future with these two, but I am fairly certain we wouldn’t have been seeing the type of behavior we saw from them on the PR tour, and the types of photos she has been posting of him lately, if they weren’t confident in moving forward with their romantic relationship in the near future (especially since A has been in the picture for quite some time). I think these pics serve as another crumb that they are a little more than just work besties.

One last note, I think the reason our PR queen started slipping up and changing her answers to certain questions on the tour is because SHE WAS REALLY HAPPY WITH HIM. This can be a whole separate post at some point if people are interested, but I am almost certain from everything I have observed regarding N, that she is quite jaded when it comes to finding a romantic partner, and has been hurt in romantic relationships in the past. I feel like L is the more sweet, hopeless romantic between the two. I think he allowed her to heal some of her relationship wounds. I think there is something about L and the experiences they’ve shared together that has reignited something within N to make her feel more hopeful about having a deep romantic connection while she can still be very independent and successful in her field. And I think it specifically has something to do with who L is when he is with her and how he treats her. I get the impression he has really altered the way she sees certain things related to romantic relationships. My whole point is that I think they both know what they have, and they know that if they can get on the same page, this relationship would get serious pretty quickly. Therefore, even though N is really private with this part of her life, for L, I think she would publicly acknowledge their relationship, but only when/if they are able to get to a point where they feel confident enough that their relationship would be able to withstand the pressures from the public. They just aren't there currently because of all the other confounding factors, but I don't think that necessarily signals where they will be in like 6 to 8 months imo...

Have L/N ever gotten freaky deaky irl?

From before the PR tour, I just don't have enough information to confidently say yes or no. A lot of people have different opinions on this, and some people think they casually dated near the end of filming season 3/sometime last year (but we don't have any proof of that). This is what I will say:

N still follows J (and vice versa I believe, please lmk if I'm wrong?), so I don't think there is any bad blood there. This makes me pretty certain that L/N never acted on any physical feelings for each other until after that relationship was completely over. I do think though that L/N have had a spark for a while (and tbh, I think L has kind of had a thing for N since they met, and his feelings for her have always been stronger). Therefore, this likely played a part in him emotionally distancing from his relationship with J when season 3 started filming, but at the end of the day, we will never know the specicifics of why they decided to part ways. My guess is that there were a lot of reasons that relationship did not end up working out considering how serious that relationship was.

Considering how WILD L/N's sexual chemistry is, it wouldn't surprise me if they hooked up at some point before the PR tour. But considering L was on Raya by February/March 2023 (from my understanding?), and the fact that N was SUPER busy last year and traveling a bunch, I just don't think there was any time for them to have anything more than something super casual/no commitment (if anything). Even if they did maybe hook up some, I don't think they really directly addressed the depth of their feelings for each other, which is why we saw all that behavior between them on the tour, because I don't think any clear boundaries had been put up and their feelings came flooding back.

Now I feel a lot more confident that somethingggg intimate happened at least once between them on the PR tour. Here are my theories:

I don't think things were great between them at the beginning of the tour (like January) because feelings I think started popping up again for these two during the reshoots in December 2023, and then the NYE kiss comes out, and N and L are feeling disconnected and aren't really on the same page about the tour.

I think they had some conversations in private, because by the VDay event, they seemed a lot more on the same page (and L was giving N those total heart eyes). The extra layer is that (I believe?) A accompanied L to the city the event was in (I think NYC?), but even though A was staying with him, L was STILL looking at N like THAT during the event (which I think speaks VOLUMES).

I think though there were a lot of things they still weren't talking about, and everything came to a head when they got to Italy, which is why the vibes were off at first and it seemed like there was tension between them. This also occurred soon after the Instyle stunt, so I feel like N probably had some feelingssss about that.

I have recently been converted to an Italy truther, so I believe that Italy was where L/N finally addressed/readressed some of their feelings for each other, and N was trying to get some clarity on WTH was going on with A, and making sure it wasn't going to mess anything up with the tour. But I think they "kissed and made up" 😉 and got back on the same page. Which is why there was the shift in Italy, and why we saw what we saw for the rest of the tour.

Not sure exactly what happened of course, but I get the feeling something physical happened after they started having some BIG conversations about each other that they had needed to have for a long time (and I think they continued to have these conversations with each other as the tour progressed). Let's also remember that these are two very non-confrontational people, so I feel like there must have been a LOT of pent up feelings/emotions for them to publicly show that they weren't super happy with each other/beefing during the beginning of Italy.

I also definitely think they physically acted on their feelings in Brazil (like they just had the "glow" imo 😂). And the eff me eyes, c'mon. Like Brazil continually reminded me of that New Girl quote "The stench of filth and lust is all over this room." It just seemed pretty obvious to me 😂 Especially considering the events that transpired right after that with A, and between L/N for the rest of the tour.

Lastly, I know a lot of people believe that L/N didn't physically act on their feelings because the tension would go away. However, I actually think it's a good sign that tension is still there, because I think it shows that there is a pretty deep connection between these two, and they are still feeling that pull/sexual energy after having sex. They kind of remind me of like two friends in a friend group who just admitted their true feelings for each other but aren't ready to go public, but are also having crazy good sex, so they are super obvious and can't really hide it when they are together LOL Regardless if they had ever physically acted on their feelings before the tour, I think these experiences (IF they did indeed occur), helped L/N get clarity if their strong feelings and attraction for each other went past the show and their characters. And I personally think they got that clarity 😉

Wowww okay that turned into an essay LOL, but I think the TLDR is that the situation seems very complicated right now, and I think there is a lot that L/N are needing to figure out in private. But I don't think that negates or invalidates what we saw between them on the PR tour, or that they were "faking" their feelings. Human beings are messy and imperfect, and that is okay. I think the part that still really confuses me is the whole A of the situation, because I just can't wrap my head around it. I would love to hear other people's opinions though on how she factors into all this, so if you have theories/questions you would like to add to that discussion, drop them in my asks. Because I have thoughtssss 😂

#it's complicated #people can be messy #and that's ok #a picture is worth a thousand words #Seriously though #WHAT DO THEY PUT IN THE WATER IN BRAZIL 😂#lukola #timelines #lukola theories

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subskz · 9 months ago

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hii :) my first time ever sending an ask on here but what do you think skz safewording would be like?

hihi ^_^ welcome!

slight warning for mentions of crying and subdrop!

chan - usually, it’d take a lot for channie to reach the point of safewording. he can endure almost anything if it’s for you, and he hates the idea of disappointing you in any way, no matter how many times you tell him that you’d never be disappointed over him prioritizing his comfort. he can’t help but wanna put you first, so a lot of the time he’s genuinely fine as long as you are. however, channie is a naturally soft sub and really craves being taken care of. on days where he desperately needs that gentle dynamic, he might still agree to a rougher scene without question if that’s what you’re in the mood for, and he takes as much of it as he can for you even when he knows he’s not in the right headspace. you can tell right away when he’s out of it though, his reactions are delayed and his eyes have a far-off look to them, and not in a good way. you’d probably need to be the one to drag it out of him instead of him safewording himself, which always gets him a gentle scolding bc the last thing you want is for him to force himself. he feels immensely guilty for it and may even start to cry. not necessarily bc you hurt him, but bc he feels so vulnerable and frustrated w himself, like he ruined things for you. he tries to reassure you that he’s okay even as his tears spill over, he apologizes a lot and has a hard time facing you out of shame. but the moment you take him in your arms, he calms down instantly. he nuzzles into your neck and lets your sweet words reassure him, reminding him that he’s not just there to be of use to you. he’s extra extra clingy afterwards and would either want to continue w a softer scene, or if it’s a full subdrop, he just needs to be held and looked after by you, reminded that he’s safe. lots of kisses and cuddles and praises as you attend to any sore spots on his body, wash him up, and give him snacks and water. he basks in every bit of being babied by you, even if it makes him shy

what he needs most after: words of affirmation, to be babied/cared for

lino - he also rarely safewords—probably the least out of all the boys—but not exactly for the same reasons as chan. minho can already have some trouble w the vulnerability that subbing entails, so having to admit to you when the play gets too rough for him is a challenge. it makes him feel kinda weak and insecure, esp since a lot of the time, he’s the one who asked for it in the first place by bratting out so that you’d punish him. his reactions and body language would let you know when smth’s up with him before he actually communicates it. he’s less playful, less provocative, and he goes very silent. it’s not uncommon for him to go nonverbal when he’s deep in subspace, but in this case he stops making any noise in general, like he’s purposely holding back his voice. that subtle difference tells you that smth’s off. sometimes you have to prompt him a bit to see what’s wrong, other times his safeword quietly slips out. he also might prefer a safe gesture over a word so he doesn’t actually have to say it, it makes it more comfortable for him to express that he needs a break. he makes sure you know he’s okay, but doesn’t immediately fall into you for comfort. he’d need a few moments for himself, just to come back to his senses, process what he’s feeling, and become a little grounded again. afterwards, he still doesn’t say much and doesn’t really need words of affirmation, but he needs to feel close to you, he doesn’t even try to hide it. he nuzzles his face into you like a cat, rests his forehead on your shoulder humming softly, locks your fingers together/strokes your hand, and throws his leg over you to trap you close to him. a lot of the time he safewords bc he feels far away from you, like the sex had become cold or emotionless, so he just needs a reminder that he’s still loved by you

what he needs most after: to quietly sort out his thoughts, to feel close to you

binnie - most of the time when binnie’s safewording, it’s more of a physical reason than emotional. he’s got a bit of pride too, so initially he feels kinda embarrassed letting you know that smth hurts too much for him to continue or that he’s too overwhelmed to take it anymore. but his pain tolerance isn’t the best, so even if he wanted to he wouldn’t be able to hold it in for long before the word slips out. it’s usually very sudden, like one slap or stroke too much is the breaking point. in the case of degradation/humiliation, he’d say it a lot sooner bc that would be one of the quickest ways for him to feel uncomfortable w a scene if it goes too far. despite the way he squeaks out his safeword in a panic, binnie tries his best to be lighthearted abt it afterwards. he doesn’t want it to be a big deal, bc he knows that these things happen and the last thing he wants is to make you feel guilty for possibly hurting/upsetting him. he handles it so sweetly and maturely, maybe joking w you a lil bit too so that you know he’s okay, whining smth like “that hurt y’know~ i know i’m strong but i can’t help being weak for you~” and playing up his cuteness just to lift your spirits. though he tries to brush it off as nothing serious for your sake, that isn’t to say he doesn’t need comfort himself. if he reached the point of safewording, he’s in a fragile state of mind and he makes it no secret how much he wants to be looked after by you. he needs lots and lots of praise, he needs to hear that he did so well for you and how proud you are of him for enduring it. he’ll let you fuss over him w no complaints, enjoying every bit of being coddled and cared for, letting out the sweetest little hums and wiggling happily when you kiss his sore spots and rub soothing cream on his skin

what he needs most after: praise/affection, to be pampered and relax together

hyunjin - i think hyune is the type to like more intense play than most of the other boys (not all the time, he can very much be a soft sub too! but he’s also a huge masochist) so safewording might be a more common occurence for him bc there will inevitably be more instances where the scene gets too overwhelming for him, or he just isn’t in the right headspace for it. usually he’s the one begging you to go harder, to be meaner to him until he’s covered in marks and bruises and maybe even some degrading words written on his body. but he needs a lot of aftercare bc as much as he lives for being under your complete control like that, he can get very stuck in his head once the haze clears—overthinking and mentally degrading himself for being so gross and needy asking you to do all these things to him. sometimes those insecure thoughts surface in the middle of a scene, and sometimes the pain simply becomes too much for him to enjoy. his emotions show all over his face so more often than not, you can realize smth’s wrong before he even says anything, maybe even before he himself realizes it. he’d be very prone to crying after he safewords—whether out of relief, guilt, embarrassment, or just a need to let his emotions loose. he needs to he treated w a lot of care and gentleness. as rough as jinnie likes it, he still has a sensitive heart. he needs to feel safe and secure, all he really wants is for you to clean him up and hold him until he feels grounded again. but if he’s already feeling self-conscious abt asking so much of you, what he needs most of all is reassurance. lots of validation and words of comfort just so he can come back to his senses and stop convincing himself that he’s messed everything up or that you’re upset with him. he’s also very physically clingy!! if he doesn’t have any injuries/sore spots to attend to then everything else can wait in that moment, he just wants to cling to you and hear your murmur sweet words in his ear

what he needs most after: physical comfort, reassurance and communication

jisung - he is very vocal abt his needs and desires so communication is rarely an issue between you two! hannie’s eager reactions always let you know what he does and doesn’t like (and chances are, he likes most things lol) so it’s not a common occurence for him to get to the point of safewording. i think he’d be most likely to on days where he feels out of it, kinda like chan. maybe he thought he wanted you to be mean to him, to tie him up so that he can’t touch you, degrade him and rough him up bc he usually loves it. hearing you talk down to him, yanking at his hair, pushing his face into the mattress relieves his stress and excites him like nothing else, so he’s always a bit confused when he suddenly doesn’t feel right in the middle of it. hannie also has a lot of soft sub tendencies and loves being spoiled, so on days where he isn’t feeling his best, he thinks it’ll make him all better to just let you take control. but once the scene actually starts he realizes midway that what he really needs is to be taken care of gently. the moment you say smth that’s a lil to cruel or make his skin sting a lil too much, he safewords. he doesn’t understand why he feels so sensitive out of nowhere and that just upsets him more, he’d often cry after safewording like chan and hyunjin bc he feels so overwhelmed and weirdly guilty/ashamed, like he’s disappointed you. all it takes is the sight of your worried face as you ask him what’s wrong, and he bursts into tears. he falls into a very vulnerable headspace and needs a lot of comfort from you during aftercare, both physical and verbal. he asks a lot of questions to make sure everything’s okay like “i’m still your good boy, right? you’re not sad, right?” he becomes even clingier than usual, you physically cannot peel him off of you and no amount of kisses is enough for him!

what he needs most after: words of praise/reassurance, to be babied

felix - i think lixie is a very flexible sub who either wants it very soft or very rough depending on his mood. he’s very experimental and always curious to explore new things, so most of the time he’s the one asking you to try out harder or more unconventional kinks. even when you’re doing a rough scene or when ur nervous abt trying out smth new, he keeps a sweet air of playfulness that makes you both feel comfortable. he doesn’t safeword often, but when you’re experimenting there will inevitably be times where smth doesn’t go as planned. he takes a moment or two to process his thoughts before saying it, esp when he’s deep in subspace and thinking doesn’t come as easy—he’s very dependent on you. sometimes, you have to be the one to make the decision if you notice smth’s off w him. he rasps out his safeword very suddenly and, if he’s not restrained, reaches out for you like a reflex to hold on to you. lix is another one of the boys who’d likely start to cry afterwards, almost the instant he says it tears well up in his eyes. it’s usually bc he’s overwhelmed, but he also can’t help but beat himself up inside for asking so much of you, then changing his mind once you try it. he clings to you immediately and apologizes a lot, sweet angel would try telling you he’s okay even w tears streaming down his face. comforting him might make him cry even more bc he realizes how safe and loved he is w you, and that just makes him more emotional. though he cries a lot, it’s a very cathartic release and he’s usually back to his bright, sunny self after you hold him for a while, shower him in affection, and wash up together. he’d like doing smth fun afterwards like playing video games or cooking/baking to feel more like himself again

what he needs most after: physical affection, to spend time with you

seungmin - he’s another one of the boys who doesn’t safeword often, bc seungmo is very aware his boundaries from the get-go. he’s diligent enough to anticipate what he would and wouldn’t be okay with, and makes sure to be clear abt it. that being said, you can’t always predict everything that’ll happen during sex, so there may be rare occasions where smth goes too far. he’s calm abt it for the most part. it’s very matter-of-fact and he doesn’t treat it as a big deal, just utters the word quietly so you can know he needs to stop (he may also prefer a safe gesture like lino) sweetheart seungmo made sure to learn all abt the right affirmations to say to you in a situation like this, bc he knows it can make you feel just as bad or guilty as him if a scene goes wrong. even when he’s a bit dazed and disoriented himself, he still takes your feelings into consideration. the first thing he does is tell you that he’s okay, he isn’t upset w you, and that he isn’t badly hurt. he might need a moment to compose himself and steady his mind, but he definitely still wants to be close w you afterwards. other than physical discomfort, his main reason for safewording is usually bc he feels distanced from you, esp if you were hard domming him in way that felt detached. he can handle harder dynamics only as long as he feels that the love and care are still there. once he’s calmed down a bit, he’s a bit quiet bc he feels self-conscious abt what happened, even when it’s nobody’s fault. his go-to method of aftercare is to take a nice warm shower/bath together, and though it makes him shy, you notice him allowing you to coddle him more than he usually does. he softly murmurs that you don’t have to, but he still lets you fuss over him w no resistance as you wash his hair and body, leaning in to your touch and letting his eyes flutter shut blissfully. you can see him soften little by little as you clean him up, and he eventually lets loose enough to talk abt it properly in case there’s anything to change in the future

what he needs most after: domesticity, to feel cared for/cherished

jeongin - innie doesn’t have a lot of trouble actually saying his safeword, a lot of the time when you try new things out together he might impulsively say it in a moment of panic bc he’s nervous, then change his mind once he relaxes again. when he feels unsafe or uncomfortable w something, it slips out pretty quickly without him needing to think much abt it, like a reflex. the color system would probably work best w him so he can warn you with “yellow” instead of immediately jumping to his safeword to stop the scene, bc he gets a bit embarrassed once he realizes he just needed things to slow down a bit and not completely stop. though innie might have the least trouble setting that boundary out of all the boys, funnily enough, he tends to beat himself up over it the most, second only to chan. he’s curious abt trying new things, always itching for you to experiment new kinks w him, so when he starts to get cold feet abt smth that he asked you for, he feels very silly, ashamed, and frustrated w himself. he avoids your gaze after safewording and has a hard time answering your questions abt what’s wrong/what he needs from you, bc he feels so guilty for not being able to handle it, he doesn’t think he deserves your concern on top of that. innie always wants to impress you, especially if you’re more experienced than him, so he can’t help but take a childish approach to his mistakes. you can tell when he’s inwardly berating himself bc he gets very quiet, letting you fuss over him and hold him without any complaints, only ever really speaking up to apologize to you. it’s one of the few times he really seeks skinship from you, but what matters more to him than that is your spoken reassurances. he needs to know that he hasn’t disappointed you, and hearing you praise him for how well he did is a definite way to lift his spirits. focus on the positives, tell him how proud you are of him, and that you can always try again when he feels ready for it. the best aftercare for him is doing things to take his mind off of the embarrassment, like carrying on with your day once you’re both cleaned up and doing fun things together like playing video games, going shopping, or going out to eat until he feels like his normal self again

what he needs most after: praise, to distract himself and spend time with you

#ask #💌 skz

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burnthoneydrops · 1 year ago

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can you write another jaime tartt imagine with a his girlfriend borrowing one of his headbands?

Tickle Fight (j.t. x gn!reader)

pairing: jamie tartt x gn!reader

word count: 678

warnings: language?

a/n: ahh! another jamie tartt request coming at you! i ended up making this one gender neutral unintentionally cause nothing really came up while i was writing it about it being a girlfriend specifically (which was kinda cool). hope you enjoy!!

You’re cleaning up the water that spilled on the bathroom counter from you washing your face when Jamie calls out from the bedroom. “Babe?”

“Yeah?” You hang the towel back on the hook and take note of the fact that it sounds like he’s rummaging around for something.

“Have you seen my headband?”

“Which one darling? You have about seven million,” you comment as you apply moisturiser.

“The one I was using at training yesterday, it’s slightly scuffed at the corners,” he says as he closes one of the drawers.

“Nope, I don’t think I’ve seen that one. Not since yesterday anyway,” it’s not like you were totally staring at it in the mirror or anything.

“Are you sure? Cause I could have sworn I put it on my nightstand but-” he comes around to the bathroom doorway and stops when he sees you. “What have you got there?”

You put the moisturiser container down as you quickly swipe the headband off your head, gripping it behind your back. “Nothing”.

“Oh no, you can’t hide from me now, I’ve seen it. How dare you!”

“Jamie no, I swear, I didn’t know it was yours,” you try to save yourself, already knowing where this is going.

“Oh, uh-huh, totally believe that,” he darts one arm to grab the headband from behind you, but you move to the side. “If you’ve got nothing to hide, then why can’t I see your hands?”

“Listen, love, it’s not that serious,” he darts out his other arm, causing you to move to the other side.

“Damn babe, with reaction speed like that, we should get you out on the pitch”. You smile, thinking you’ve distracted him long enough for you to sneak past him and out of the bathroom, but he doesn’t budge, blocking the doorway. “Now, let’s try this again. Have you seen my headband?” He raises an eyebrow, smiling slightly.

“Nope,” you don’t even think, wanting to see how long he’ll hold this up.

“Alright then, you leave me no choice,” he quickly wraps his arms around your waist, hoisting you off the floor and carrying you over his shoulder back into the bedroom.

“No Jamie!” you laugh, “put me down!”

“Nope, not happening babe. You lie, you have to deal with the consequences”. He lays you down on the bed, and you raise your hands so the headband is now over your head. “Aha! Would you like to hand it over now?”

“Never!” You’re laughing like a little kid.

“Fine, have it your way,” he smirks before leaning in to tickle you, running his quick fingers up and down your sides. Your legs kick his thighs, trying to get him to stop nonverbally as you can’t breath from how much you’re laughing.

“Jamie, Jamie please!” You finally get out after a quick breath.

“No headband, no stopping,” he carries on.

“Fine!” you fling your arms forward, “here’s your stupid headband!”

Jamie grabs it, striking a victorious pose, holding the headband in the air. “Aha! Victory is mine at last!”

You roll your eyes and scoff, “you’re just lucky it looks good on you”.

“Oh you think it looks good on me huh?” He questions as he pushes his hair back with it.

“No! Don’t get all cocky now-”

“Too late, you already said it,” Jamie once again grabs your waist, but this time he leans all his weight forward so he falls on top of you. “You think I’m hot”.

“Jesus Christ you’re heavy, get off of me!” You shoot back, though it’s muffled by Jamie’s shoulder.

“Just admit it babe, you can’t get enough of this,” he replies, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Fine, you’re hot or whatever”.

“Now, was that so hard?” Jamie questions as he puts all his weight on his arms, pushing himself up and off of you.

You flip him off, rolling over to the other side of the bed as Jamie falls back down to his previous position and cuddles up behind you. He may be dramatic, but you love him for it

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x gn!reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #phil dunster #ted lasso imagines #jamie tartt imagines #afc richmond

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zenala-art · 5 months ago

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Do you have an infodump on your captain Agent 4?

Firstly, thank you so much for the ask and interest!!

Secondly, I sure do! Conelia's my first and main Splatoon OC so she has. a lot. of lore, and I'll gladly infodump some stuff :D

Let's start with her general reference sheet! I think it makes for a nice introduction:

I think the first thing anyone asks (reasonably so) when I tell them that she's the captain is "Why not Agent 3?" In my agent story, Agent 3 is completely MIA since the end of Octo Expansion, and even without taking that into account, Conelia spends a lot more time with Marie and Callie than he (being very introverted) ever did, and she's definitely more dedicated to being a good fighter. So, when it came to choosing who's going to be the next captain, she was a very clear choice.

Being one of the captains of her competitive team, she was already used to this sort of responsability, too! The NSBS sure can sponsor her dream of being a professional competitive player, and this just meant more time to be spending with the Squid Sisters, which can't be a bad thing in her opinion.

Here's an overall of my (active) agents:

Asra and Radish are a bit outdated since I've added more interesting things to their lore since I made this picture, but the rest pretty much remains the same!

Conelia really enjoys Asra's company as her first pupil, being much more proactive and giving more pieces of random advice than we see the Captain do in the game. After the events of ROTM, the two of them very often communicate mostly through sign language, since it usually feels more comfortable for Asra (who is mostly nonverbal due to some circumstances in their life, but with Conelia they sometimes speak). She's super excited and wants to teach Asra everything she can, acknowledging that they "have a lot of potential".

She also has a long friendship history with both Agent 3 and Agent 8, but they might not be super relevant to the conversation at hand? I do have this relationship chart from some time ago that could be a fast, superficial view however (don't mind the old designs, drawings are a little old, but the info is still correct):

So yeah, if we talk about the general character, Conelia has most of the attributes usually associated with Agent 4 (the excitedness and general perceived vibe, the "always busy with school" aspect of it, living far from Inkopolis or Splatsville, etc). The most important aspect of her personal life that I feel affects how she handles leadership (and therefore her work as a captain) is having inattentive parents who forced her to be independent since way too young.

It took her some convincing from the Squid Sisters to accept recruiting a new agent, even though 8 is mostly not working with them anymore - she just wants to do everything herself all of the time, even though she knows that workload would be too much for her.

I won't go too far into detail on her personal life right now (or I'd make an actual essay here), but hopefully this infodump was interesting to you :D once again thank you for the interest and the excuse to dump about my ocs in public

#splatoon #splatoon 3 #agent 4 #captain 4 #captain splatoon #conelia #oc #oc infodump #inkling oc #agent 4 oc #splatoon agents #asks

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 years ago

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it's okay, you're okay

A/N: this is a really old fic, literally the very first thing I ever wrote, so don't judge it. it was originally posted back on the 21 of February 2022. at first, I didn't really want to repost it since it was very clearly the first thing I ever wrote, but since it had become a lot of people's comfort fic, I decided to re-edit it and post it again.

Warnings: Spencer Reid x reader, hurt/comfort, meltdown, crying, going nonverbal, sign language

Word count: 1217

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

You just needed to get home. That’s all you needed to focus on. One thing at a time. One step at a time. Just keep moving, don’t want to have your body freeze up in the middle of the city, that would be extremely impractical.

Focusing your vision on the ground, soon you were there at the door to your and Spencer’s place. One step at a time, slowly but surely, up the familiar stairs you trekked. The noise from the streets below had now been muffled and almost completely silenced, making your heartbeat that much more deafening in your ears. You were so close, almost home, at your safe place, and that finally made your body start to understand and let go.

It took some time to unlock the dark wooden door because of just how badly your hands were shaking at this point. And as soon as it creaked open and you stumbled over the threshold, it took but a second before you’d leaned all your weight against the door, closing your eyes and focusing on your breath.

In, out, in, out, in-

“Hey Y/n, I didn’t hear you come home.”

Cracking your eyes open just a peep, you spotted your boyfriend walking into the living room. His warm smile quickly melted away and morphed into a worried frown as he saw the state you were in.

And with that, you let go of the last ounce of control and burst into tears.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

Rushing towards you, he reached out but didn’t quit touching you.

“What happened?”

Your eyes were unfocused and darting around the room. You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out, not even a squeak. Flexing both hands a moment, testing that that ability hadn’t slipped out of your fingers yet, you lifted your hands and started to sign ‘speaking’ and ‘hard’ to the alarmed man in front of you.

“Okay, that’s okay, baby. I’m right here,” he comforted, lowering his head slightly to be at your level, “how about we get your coat off and then go sit on the couch?”

Nodding, but not moving to remove your outerwear, Spencer slowly reached out and pealed it off for you, then kneeled down to give you a hand with your boots. Reaching out, settling yourself on his shoulder, he looked up at you and your eyes took in every part of his face. Every little twitch of an eyebrow or the worry lines that just didn’t wanna disappear.

As he rose up again, you were still holding on to his body for support. “Y/n, can I touch you?” he asked, hands out ready, “I know that’s not always what you want when this happens, but can I?”

Sniffling, you nodded, and he wrapped his long arms around you, aiding you towards the brown leather couch in the middle of the room.

Sitting down, still clutching onto Spencer’s shirt like a kitten, he asked, “are your hands cold too?” and shakily you reached one out for him to inspect. With a sharp intake of air, he said, “oof, wow. If you wanted blue nails so bad you could have just told me, I’d have helped you paint them,” he tried to joke, “do you want me to go get some gloves? Try and keep them warm?”

Not wanting him to leave, you shook your head.

Feeling him suddenly move a bit under you only caused you to clutch on even tighter. “I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry, just grabbing a blanket,” he said as you felt the aforementioned woollen blanket wrap around your shoulders.

Looking deeply into your eyes, he tried, “is there anything I can do? Anything you need? Anything that could help you right now?”

As per usual in a situation such as this, your mind had gone blank, not knowing what the answer could be. Taking a moment, trying, and failing to come up with the answer, you ended up simply shaking your head and shrugging your blanket-covered shoulders.

“Do you want to talk about what happened? Maybe write it down?”

To that, you definitely knew the answer and quickly shook your head. Your breathing, which has at this point become a little more under control, started to pick up again.

“That’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it right now.”

Curling up and settling back against his chest, you unconsciously tried to copy his breathing, just concentrating on the rising of his lungs and the soothing circles his hand was making on your back.

You knew that even though this was not something he experienced on a pretty regular basis, he still knew exactly what it was like. He had told you about some of the few times he had experienced it. Like when he went to see his father for the first time in his adult life.

After a while, when the struggle to breathe started to fade, your eyes began to wander around the room, eventually settling on the deck of cards on the table. “Oh, yeah,” his eyes followed yours, “I was fiddling with a new magic trick this morning.”

That comment caused a smile to creep up on your lips. Glancing up at him, he asked, “do you want me to show you one?” and you nodded gently, “I don’t know if that one is ready for an audience yet, but I think I have a few other ones up my sleeve,” he smiled, reaching over to pick up the deck.

“Okay,” he quickly shuffled the cards, then spread them out for you to pick one. After doing so, you then put it back into the pile so he could shuffle it again. After making the last shuffle a little extra extravagant, he raised the deck up to your face, “I need you to blow on this card, please,” and you did so with a light giggle.

“And this is your card,” he announced with a big flourish presenting to you the 2 of spades. Shaking your head, his smile fell and he asked completely seriously, “that’s not your card?”

“Wait, hold on, okay,” he ran his thumb over the corner of the cards one more time, then proceeded to tap them twice and ended with a big magical gesture with his fingers, “this is your card,” with more confidence, he showed you the 7 of diamonds. Again, you shook your head, smile only growing with each second.

“You serious? That’s not your card?” he pouted dramatically, inspecting the cards a bit in faked annoyance, “hold on… Oh,” he then glanced up at your face, no, he was staring at your ear. Reaching up behind it, he asked, “that your card?”

You heard a whooshing sound and turned to look as in his hand, still right by your face, and there it was. The queen of hearts.

Giggling, you nodded hard. Even though he had let you in on the secrets of some of his sleight-of-hand skills, it still never failed to impress you.

‘I love you,’ you signed.

“I love you too, so, so much,” he leaned forward and placed his forehead against yours. “Hey, how about I go make some hot chocolate and then read a bit to you? It can be anything you like.”

#lea’s writing #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #autistic!reader

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beatingtheouijaboardallegations · 1 year ago

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wish there are less people invested in one single narrative of nonspeaking / nonverbal identity.

feels like there many different “traditions” or something of nonverbal nonspeaking activists and each small community all says same thing, same origin story same definitions same words same talk points. and I understand this because we are all autistic! we are all echolalic we all echo language and ideas from the community we surround selves with. but find it really hard when echo words becomes ddogma becomes thing you can’t say differently and just assume everyone thinks same thing or else not really in group.

(going to try to use “nonspeaking” for first community and “nonverbal” for second community because that’s what each one of these communities usually prefer. language hard so sorry if don’t do this consistent.)

like if I go to one of I-ASC (international association on spell to communicate) conference or one of their neuro lyrical events online. as a nonspeaker since birth who does have experience of “learned language without having speech”, of people assume don’t understand anything until finally found way to express self that world understands, and people still doubt am really the one saying this. in some ways relate to these people much much more than people on here who mostly became nonspeaking later in life and have very different upbringing not raised as a person with a DD not grow up without speech. places like the I-ASC and the Spellers community and impAACt and local meet up group for nonspeakers feel like family to me, feel like my people who move and talk and live like me.

but. there things in these community that are very black and white. that just can’t relate to. don’t relate to mantra of “speech is motor, language cognitive” for example. or “it’s not about don’t understand or about I don’t want to, it’s about can’t make body do it.”. because my motor issues interact with language processing interact with cognitive stuff not able to neat separate. yes AAC is freedom but I still have to make a lot of compromises to express self with words. have to leave out a lot or (more often) add a lot unnecessary stuff because there things that brain stuck that just can’t say in a way people will understand.

think this is true for lots more nonspeaking people than organizations like these (which were started + run by speaking people and communication & regulation partners and SLPs) say is true. a lot of nonspeaking people in these communities encouraged by speaking people in movement to focus emphasize on “we don’t have intellectual disability we can communicate with words just as good as you can, the motor problems is all that there we don’t have any language problems .” because this is what parents and speaking autistics and well meaning allies/communication partners think is important. they think the way to value us and to say we feel and think and know and should have rights (which we should!) is to distance distance distance far far away from any associate with intellectual disabilities with language disabilities with cognitive disabilities with process differently.

so as long as can be acceptable enough nonspeaker to them they support. which does not feel like support. nonspeaking doesn’t mean non thinking but intellectual disability and language deficit and cognitive disability doesn’t mean non thinking too. and a lot of people in these communities do have more complicated relationships with language but are told by speaking people in these communities to not talk about that only talk about motor stuff or connect everything back to motor stuff. which doesn’t feel like support. feels like flatten make easier make more convenient.

and then when I go on tumblr and see the nonverbal people speaking out here. i started out not on social media mostly in offline AAC and speller advocacy and someone told me there was good community of autistics with good range of support needs on tumblr so I joined. and do find bigger range of autistic and nonverbal nonspeaking experiences able to talk about here. able to talk about mental illness & psychosis & dissociation (which even nonspeaking advocacy communities assume nonspeaking people don’t have these problems or not capable). able to talk about “challenging” behaviors that so so stigmatized. able to talk about language and cognitive stuff. able to talk about gender and queerness without be policed (a lot of professionals and communication support people in nonspeaking advocacy are weird conservative and don’t think can know our genders / sexualities even though always talk about presume competence. it weird.) just saw beautiful post about nonverbal trans experience with gender that I loved. really like that people with intellectual disability getting heard, that we challenge expectation to have “proper” writen language. speech therapy and even learning how to use AAC, learning how to use letterboard etc was always about correct every mistake, about fade prompting, about use grammar properly so other people think competent. and have been able to let go of that on here because the language norms are so so different.

but at the same time I feel like there lot more stuff that not useful. lot of focus on right words to say, a lot of calling out other blogs, a lot of trolls, lot of drama that really doesn’t exist in real life nonspeaking community. like frustrated when go in nonverbal or nonspeaking tag and most posts not about nonverbal people human rights or experience, but about words. specific about people saying go nonverbal, someone trying to say it’s good or someone trying to say it’s bad. every other post about someone ask for right word to say instead of “go nonverbal”, or list of other words to say. or people asking whether or not they’re nonverbal or semiverbal or lose speech. and even within nonverbal community on here lot more talk about words than about justice. or even about lived experience of be nonverbal. people forget that real world outside tumblr tags exist sometimes. that there people living without communication, people being deny communication, people in institutions, people without resources. and that there are ways to change that and to self advocate besides changing what word you call yourself.

not saying words not important. yes it is annoying and bad when people talk abouit going nonverbal and forget that we exist. yes am grateful to people who decide to change what word they call themself to not erase us. but frustrated with how there not really conversation, one opinion just take as The Nonverbal Opinion, just like how it is in offline nonspeaking / speller community.

not seem like these communities are interacting, are compare notes on experience are combine to synthesize into something better. into what community could be. community that leaves no one behind. community that doesn’t claim to speak for everyone, doesn’t claim account for all experiences but still says all nonspeakers exist and all deserve rights. doesn’t tell anyone “don’t talk about your experience with X because it doesn’t fit what we want to tell the world that nonspeaking people are like.” where everything able to be talked about without it ever make less true that all of us need respect and rights more than any one word / idea.

curious if anyone have ideas for how to make this community.

#new pinned post hello #am in AAC user discord server where it does seem like there people from all these different tradition & belief & experience #but even that mostly have people who grew up speaking and not a lot of full time AAC users #nonverbal #nonspeaking #community #long post #AAC #disability #dd stuff #ouija talks #spelling communities

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littleesistler · 7 months ago

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the amazing digital circus - age regression headcanons

so I got this request from the amazing and fellow age regressor @alechans-cutetickles

I’m not super deep into the tadc franchise but I’ve got a few headcanons here. I’ll also use myself as an example since I only know how I act when regressed to aovid dumb stereotypes. This is just my opinion and I only watched the tadc when it came out so let’s see if I can make a few good ones.

Pomni

would probably be the biggest brat and curse a lot. Like when age regressed, at least for me, I don’t really regulate my words as much. So I’ll tell all my options in big words that aren’t always so nice. So yeah a cursing little kiddo that will see what she can get away with.

Age 5-6

Kinger

would totally dress up and play princess and king. A mini or just big makeover. Full out makeup, nails, dress, hair. I do that do and it’s so fun during play dates. Just a full out slaying king even more then usual since the age regression brings out the extra drama queen.

Age 9-10

Zooble

I think would either go nonverbal or have a hard time talking. Many slured words and baby language. And get irritated and frustrated when she can’t explain her feelings. I do this a lot too and it’s very annoying and I get mini tantrums like she totally would. Age 2-3

Gangle

Since emotions are more extreme in little space she would totally be very crafty to express her emotions. Kandi jewelry, Hama beads, crochet and knitting. Making little gifts for herself and others. I do this a lot as well since my older age regression gives me lots of motivation and inspiration. Age 7-8

Jax

The king of pranks and bad jokes. Just running around and causing trouble behind the caregivers backs. Pretending to be a good leader and then just letting loose. I do this too when I’m with a trusted care giver and when caught give the most biggest puppy dog eyes.

Age 10-11

Ragatha

Just cry and cuddle. Very much overwhelmed the first hour or the whole time of age regression. So cuddles, gentle tickles and lots of stuffed animals and toys to comfort and clam down. Emotions become very big for me and just crying and being a bit sad is a good way to calm down after a long day.

Age 1-2

Caine

Lots of games and jokes. He loves a good competition so anything competitive and he’s on. Playing pretend, spots, video games. Anything and all. But be carful he kidna tends to put things in his mouth if he losses or get frustrated. Like me hahaha

Age 4-5

Yup so there you have it and sorry I’ve kinda been in and out of little space all day today and yesterday so a few things might be a bit messy. But oh well. This was really fun so just send in more ideas to me. ❤️🤲

Next post will be the lucid dreams I promise🥹

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liam-an-siorc · 7 months ago

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My essay on my Fanny button might be autistic

Note: I have been thinking about this so much and now want to share it because I 1) seen others say the same thing 2) seen that the bbc ghosts fans won’t get mad over headcanons about autism and have a lot of them so that’s cool I will say now

Why Fanny button might be autistic

In this essay I will tell you why I think Fanny button from ghosts is autistic and I think she’s a high masking autistic. It won't be a great essay but hopefully will get my point across. I researched high masking in women for this because that’s a specific thing and I really think it’s her I think it really explains a lot of her because Fanny can sometimes be misunderstood by other characters In the show and people who watch the show and there is a reason for this, fanny puts up such a character sort of like she acts so intense all the time and then it’s hard for people to really see past this but what I think happened to make her like this was that when she married George she started masking a lot more because we see in the Christmas special “he came” she was very different before she is very talented at math autistic people can be very talented in something and love it a lot a special interest perhaps* but she was told she can’t do this it’s for men now when I’m thinking about this I’m thinking a lot of this was impacted by the time she was in and being a woman in this time which is why I researched autism in women specifically masking is alot more common in AFAB people because of society alot so it can still apply here it’s just worth noteing the context and differences in society speaking of the time she was in an how society was then okay a common thing alot of autistic people say or feel is “its like everyone was given a book on how to be human at birth and mine was lost” that didn't attuly happen but that's just what if feels like and this is mainly referring to socialy but fanny did attuly get this book there where rules told to everyone then about how to act how to communicate and act around people how your ment to seem etc so when she married George and he did not love her she thought “I need to follow there rules better if I follow them completely he will love me” and she did she learnt these rules and followed them masking. What makes alot of people who may think Fanny is autistic think this is how hard she finds it to accept change now I have looked at the criteria for getting an autism diagnosis and she dose fit it the only thing is that traits had to have been there since you where a child and we can't know that because we never see her as a child for the sake of this we will assume she did so this here is the first part which is social.

A. Need to have persistent deficits in social communication and social interaction across multiple contexts, as manifested by the following, currently or by history

Deficits in social-emotional reciprocity, ranging, for example, from abnormal social approach and failure of normal back-and-forth conversation; to reduced sharing of interests, emotions, or affect; to failure to initiate or respond to social interactions

Deficits in nonverbal communicative behaviors used for social interaction, ranging, for example, from poorly integrated verbal and nonverbal communication; to abnormalities in eye contact and body language or deficits in understanding and use of gestures; to a total lack of facial expressions and nonverbal communication.

Deficits in developing, maintaining, and understanding relationships, ranging, for example, from difficulties adjusting behavior to suit various social contexts; to difficulties in sharing imaginative play or in making friends; to absence of interest in peers.

So to fit the first part of the autism criteria you need to have or have had persistent struggles I'm each of those areas as it says above so I will go through them now

On this one I want to go back to thing thing about “it feels like everyone was giving a book at birth on how to be human and mine got lost” referring to social interactions but Fanny did literally have this book there where rules for social interactions and if you followed them then your doing good which is why I think she used these rules to mask but even if someone who is autistic is following all these rules sometimes and I dont actually know how i just heard that people who aren't autistic can still just tell that there is something different there is no way we can see this unfortunately because we only have bits of her life but we know she did have friends who she would mainly talk gossip with but moving on to her death which we have of course much more to go off she dose say very out of pocket things one example which I think alot of people think she was purposely trying to insult Alison but I think she was not really trying to do that she was saying amd making a point of how Alison seemed and that she was not lady like and following the rules whatever but i don't think Fanny saw an attualy problem with what she was saying and this is the “when you first arrived here I though you where a prostitute” she doesn’t really see how this could upset or offende someone she just speaking her mind with no filter she dose not have a filter even when following the rules she was given she still says things which she didn't realise she could not or would not be appropriate so I still think yes to this she dose communication in a strange way with the other characters she can be quite blunt and rude not knowing she is being because it fits within her rules that she knows. Another thing worth noting here is that fanny is closest with the captain who is also quite obviously autistic I think*2 and neurodivergent*3 people tend to become friends with eachother like that.

The main thing I can think of for this is In fanny's body language she always has the same pose same face on she dose notice others body language because she does give out to Alison from doing things not like a lady but again that is most likely learnt she learnt this is how a lady is meant to have her body language and she learnt exactly what to do and look out for when they did the panto for Alison she could not do a different character for fairy God mother and evil step mother the tone the body language was exactly the same despite them being obviously very different characters.

Fanny shows little interest in forming friendships with her fellow ghost, Martha Howe Douglas even says on the podcast that she doesn't like any of them I don't think this Is fully true but it is worth noting also note that many things said on that podcast where also not fully correct I think so it is to be taken with a grain of salt, Fanny definition of friends is “peers and intellectual equals” but a better definition is “a person with whom one has a bond of mutual affection” so she dose not understand friendships fully, I also think she tends to misinterpret others relationships for example when you read the book you can see how obvious George's affair with the butler and gardner was she also panicked a lot when she was briefly attracted to Mike she made it alot more dramatic than it really was it took her a while to catch on to the fact that she was being just as bad as Betty in the final and she did not notice the captain being gay either most of the ghosts noticed this. She again dose not fully know when she's being rude I don't think she doesn’t know what is and isn't appropriate to say to Alison and the other ghosts, she also viewed Alison as her own daughter which I did notice that but some people did not it was not the most clear on account of how rude she was to Alison so alot of people did not notice she dose not know why this matters and maybe thinks she's being A lot more obvious as a mother then she really is. Said before but diffrent context when they where doing the panto she could not do a difference between he fairy God mother and evil step mother very different character.

As well as that you also need to have three of the four traits I will put next

B. Restricted, repetitive patterns of behavior, interests, or activities, as manifested by at least two of the following, currently or by history

Stereotyped or repetitive motor movements, use of objects, or speech (e.g., simple motor stereotypes, lining up toys or flipping objects, echolalia, idiosyncratic phrases).

Insistence on sameness, inflexible adherence to routines, or ritualized patterns of verbal or nonverbal behavior (e.g., extreme distress at small changes, difficulties with transitions, rigid thinking patterns, greeting rituals, need to take same route or eat same food every day).

Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus (e.g., strong attachment to or preoccupation with unusual objects, excessively circumscribed or perseverative interests).

Hyper- or hyporeactivity to sensory input or unusual interest in sensory aspects of the environment (e.g. apparent indifference to pain/temperature, adverse response to specific sounds or textures, excessive smelling or touching of objects, visual fascination with lights or movement).

I will now go through if and when I think she shows these behaviors

So a lot of the ghosts do things like this more obvious ones would be the Captain, Mary and Robin I am being honest I don't notice these as much in Fanny but let's go through it, one of the main things people notice is in the captain and all the noises he makes mary pat and fanny do this also (+Robin echolalia) Mary more than Pat but Fanny does this also!! Listen to her there's a video somewhere on YouTube titled the sound of fanny or something she does the same sort of stimming noises that they do another thing this is a bit of overthinking perhaps but the way fanny stand her posture the way she holds herself if you look at it she does almost the same one all the time and it's like she holds her own hands and has then on front of her and she sort of moves around the hands now if you copy this posture and you hold your hands tight and you sort of move around the hands it's like hers so I think she's holding her hands tight she's trying to keep still but still moving around that suppressing stims??? Maybe I think so she also if you look close at her hands her thumb moves every so often and sort of very small strokes her hands this could be the stim that got out of her trying to suppress it if you look at her and if you look at the captain in that scene where havers gives him the letter about France surrendering and he runs to the window he is quite obviously If you watch it then you watch him as a ghost, suppressing stims the feel of that scene is very similar to the feel of fanny's scenes. Also when she was combing robins hair could also be a stim thing feeling textures can be a stim.

This is why people usually if they do think Fanny is autistic think it, she can not handle change like at all it can not affect her ons bit and she can't deal with it she get really stressed and really annoyed about it she can not handle it, she does come around to change eventually for example the land being sold she gets very upset about it then she goes off she calms down she talks about it to Thomas and then she is okay she has a big reaction is very upset by it and then she regulates and eventually accepts it. I also think her insisting Alison follows all her rules to be a lady could be part of this. It is common in autism to care a lot about rules and get stressed if they are not followed but not everyone is like this. I definitely think that's part of this as well as other things. When mary got sucked off she panicked alot she first did not process it which delayed processing can also be a thing with autism I do think she shows this sometimes for example when Alison got pushed it took her a bit and then she got mad but that was also her thinking alot and being lost in thought, she doesn't really process it until Mary's moving on starts bringing up change in her life and now she realize something is missing this is going to be different and her friend is gone she has no idea what to do with herself after realizing this she just panics.

Fanny most definitely has fixations I think one of them was murder she wrote which she was very fixated on for a while so much that she brang it into her own life (death) if it weren't for that they would not have known about Lucy I do this also I try bring whatever I'm currently fixated on into every aspect of my life every project I do I learn new things because of it it really makes its way into your life, I also with Dante Dante the stuffed dog I'm not sure is that an object because it was a dog but now is it still a dog or an object dog or and object/dog? But yes, saying you love a stuffed dog more than anything In the world I think is an unusually strong attachment to a thing. Another note is that she is very good with animals. She had a lot and I think I heard that that is common with autistic people but I'm not sure.

Now this one is a bit harder because she is dead but I said before but combing robins hair sensory seeking feeling textures she very much did not like it when she had to go I'm the basement because she did not like the plague ghosts or the environment for sensory reasons could be both this one is more hard because they don't feel everything In death so I do not know.

So Fanny Button dose fit the autism criteria the best I can try prove that I am not a doctor I just really love ghosts and i think this explains a lot about her character

In conclusion I believe fanny button is autistic I believe she fits the criteria for autism and I think she is specifically a high masking autistic I think without that detail it doesn't make sense but I love this theory because it makes her make sense and it helps you to think about her character better.

Goodbye

Notes 2

*the maths thing was never mentioned after that though but you can have multiple special interests so I could be that and something else like maybe all her ladylike rules or her pets gossip don't know

*2 I also think mary is autistic specifically they all have traits lots of them and I'd say I could do this for most of them but it is worth noting, noting that's all we can completely ignore it after this but in TV shows the characters they are people but they are different then people so it's much easier to see autistic traits and traits of anything like for example personality disorders that maybe if they were a real person it would not be the same but that's it I love all the theory's regarding this and they all fit and make sense

*3 yeah they are all neurodivergent probably also I think Fanny and the captain are very similar and show a lot of there autistic traits in the same way or similar

hopefully all this information is correct thank you for reading if you have anything to add I would love to hear it

#bbc ghosts #fanny button #bbc ghosts fanny #lady button

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specialinterestshows · 1 month ago

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Make the most of the short moments when your abusive girlfriend, Rhea Ripley, leaves you around Damian Priest’s girlfriend in the second chapter of my reader x OC fic, Left To Face This Together (based on my amazing boyfriend @domripley ‘s fic Left To Face This Alone.)

Warnings for this section: Abusive relationship mention, controlling behavior

Left To Face This Alone Together (Part 2 of ?): The Most Dangerous Language

“Do y- does the adventurer really have a brother?”

Your rephrasing was to help Lucia stay present; acknowledging her current situation only made things more stressful for her.

“…She does,” Lucia whispered sadly, suddenly fighting back tears.

The sight of her tearing up because of something you’d said made you reach your hand out for hers without thinking, wanting nothing more than to provide comfort. She flinched reflexively, before realizing what you were doing and relaxing. Her hand was surprisingly soft as you held it, giving a gentle squeeze and making her smile.

The two of you would continue your story in the brief moments when the members of the Judgment Day were together, but out of earshot. Since that fateful day you first spoke with each other, the longest the two of you had been together without being watched or listened to had been less than five minutes at a time. Fearing you’d lose communication altogether, Lucia had agreed with you on a few nonverbal signals that seemed like innocuous gestures.

First, one for each member of the Judgment Day - to indicate that person was doing something of note:

Each ear was a dragon; left for Rhea, right for Damian. Scratching the top would signal these two. Scratching the bottom would signal the next member closest to them; left for Dominik, right for Finn.

Then, urgent signals:

Scratching the back of your hand meant something terrible was going to happen soon, and that you needed to find a way for the two of you to meet as quickly as possible.

Fiddling with the end of your shirt or dress meant it was unsafe to continue the conversation - usually because someone might be watching. This particular signal was one Lucia used now, letting go of your hand to draw your attention to the sound of footsteps approaching. You moved quietly back to where Rhea had left you and feigned interest in getting some dirt out from under your fingernails.

“Te estás portando bien?” Damian’s voice boomed from the doorway as he walked in.

“Si, señor,” Lucia replied - a much faster response than she could give when the two of you spoke.

As far as Damian was concerned, Lucia only ever spoke Spanish; if he caught her speaking in English, she was punished. He only spoke to her in Spanish as well, and usually had Dominik do the same when looking after her. The purpose of this was twofold: threats could easily be made against her around those who didn’t speak Spanish, and she lost practice speaking and responding to English, making it even more difficult for her to ask for help if she sought any.

“Vamonos,” Damian commanded before turning to you, “Stay here. Rhea’s orders.”

With that, the two of them left and you were alone, wishing you’d had more time with Lucia. She was so sweet, so caring, so imaginative - you knew she deserved so much better than what she had to endure. When had she last seen or talked to her brother? When would she see you again, so you could make each other smile?

You kept telling yourself that you should be satisfied just being able to talk to someone else who was going through the same thing you were, especially since she had shared a way to help distract you from your horrible reality. The truth was, you felt as though you never wanted to stop being around her; that - like the knight and the adventurer in your stories - you could look for a means of running away together.

The longer Rhea’s fixation on you lasted, the more laughable any sort of “happily ever after” had seemed - until you met Lucia. The hope she stirred within you was the only thing that kept you going most days. Yet, the very fact that you felt hope again was terrifying, because it meant eventually having to become a true knight and take on two dangerous dragons. But for the happiness of a kind-hearted adventurer and both of your freedom? You just might risk it.

[end part two of ?]

Part 3: “Healing Spell”

Tag list (thank you!)

@domripley , @falloutboy-lover , @sinderellanightwolf

#wwe fanfiction #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley #the judgment day #damian priest x oc #damian priest #reader x oc #the judgement day #specialinterestshows presents #left to face this together

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watatsumiis · 2 years ago

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There is just something so awooga to me about hybrids in the sense that their emotions are so clear to read! The way their ears flop or stay up, or just the way their tails could wag when they see you or something they like! It, it just warms my heart :)

Yesss it’s such an adorable concept and oh so fun to write! Regardless of how composed a character is, as a hybrid they wear their hearts on their sleeves and it’s painfully easy to tell when something is bothering them.

Some rambling below the cut about the animal hybrid characters (I dunno how else to refer to them djhkjhd.

Content: just some headcanons and platonic fluff! Reader is gender neutral but not referred to much.

Characters: Diona, Sucrose, Yae Miko, Gorou, Tighnari

Side note: I use they/them pronouns for Sucrose because of how I personally interpret/headcanon them and their gender! I’d appreciate it if those referring to them while commenting on this post specifically could do the same just on here, please!

Diona doesn’t even try to hide the way her catlike parts twitch and flick about when she’s annoyed - if she’s mad, she wants everyone to know it. It’s a communal problem now, so you’d better look out for that tail fluffing up and the ears going back! However, she can get very shy when her tail sticks up and waves about of its own volition when she sees somebody she looks up to or considers a friend. Diluc once offhandedly commented about how her ears twitch forward whenever she’s listening intently to someone she admires and now she just. Covers them with her hands or a hat which makes it so so much more obvious (don’t tell her that though).

Sucrose is super insecure about their animal parts, so they tend to just hide them away wherever possible, folding their ears down and tucking their fuzzy little tail into their clothes. This means they have very little practice actually controlling their subconscious reactions to things if their ears and tail are exposed for whatever reason. Their ears twitch up and down excitedly when they’re happy about something (usually an experiment gone well or a cool item to collect/observe). They tuck themselves up all small and unassuming when feeling shy (which is pretty much always unless with someone they know well or on their own). Albedo keeps a little handbook documenting what different expressions of Sucrose’s may indicate in more detail.

Yae Miko has lived with all her quirks for long enough to be able to have almost full control over them. Her tails she keeps hidden away whenever possible - attempting to touch or grab where the tails should be will earn you a smack on the hand and a stern scolding. Miko learned some time ago to use her ears as a bit of a nonverbal indicator for when she’s talking to those she’s close with - with some practice, it becomes easy to tell when she’s teasing or joking if you pay attention to the subtle twitches and turns of her ears. If she’s particularly amused, they’ll wriggle up and down and set her earrings jangling against one another. Sometimes, if she’s very excited (or perhaps mad) you may catch a glimpse of soft pink tails wagging. If you’re extremely good, she may let you touch them some day.

Gorou has no semblance of control over his puppy aspects. It’s painfully obvious what he’s listening to and what he’s feeling. A lot of these match up very well with the behaviours of normal dogs, so it’s not exactly a hard or complex language to learn and adapt yourself to. His ears swivel to the direction of whatever he’s listening to or flatten against his head when he’s upset, his tail wags when he’s happy, and coils up between his legs when he’s scared. He barely even seems to notice it until someone points it out. His soldiers tend to place even more trust in him since he wears his emotions so plainly - he couldn’t lie to them, even if he wanted to. Sometimes the twitch of his ears in a certain direction can be read as a nonverbal indicator that there’s enemies preparing to ambush from that side. If you point out his body language, he gets extraordinarily flustered and pouts.

Tighnari also exerts a large amount of control over his ears and tail - it takes a lot of effort and is a learned behaviour from when he used to study at the Akademiya (someone’s fascination in his hybrid genealogy could very quickly derail a conversation). He consciously has to allow himself to not keep his tail still and ears held rigidly, unless he’s very involved in whatever he’s doing (whether that be a conversation or some particularly interesting research). He’s also beginning to learn to use his ears and tail as nonverbal tone indicators. He sometimes struggles with others reading his tone as inherently stern or mean (especially Collei, who is heightened to that sort of stuff), so he has a whole library of different gestures that may mean different things. A flop of one ear may mean he’s confused about a statement, a twitch backwards could indicate sarcasm or amusement. There’s a work in progress visual handbook being passed around the Forest Rangers for the made up language he’s going for. To other hybrids it may be completely off putting since it’s designed more for the consumption of his friends and the other rangers.

Please don’t steal, repost, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing!!

#general barks #this took me so long. to write. hsjkghkjdf #asks #diona #headcanons #my writing #genshin #genshin headcanons #Tighnari #Tighnari x reader #Gorou #Gorou x reader #Yae Miko #Yae miko x reader #sucrose #sucrose x reader

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fishwithtitz · 1 year ago

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The Five Times I Hooked Up with Mary Goore (and the One Time I Couldn’t) - Chapter 3

Summary: I swallowed roughly and let out a shaky breath. What I was experiencing wasn’t feelings. No, it was need, and the anticipation of an orgasm from Mary paired with my own touch deprivation was all it took to bring me to the edge.

And I hoped that tomorrow he’d fucking push me off.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Mary Goore x OFC / 11.4k words

Warnings: language, vaginal sex, graphic depiction of manual stimulation, recreational drug use, alcohol, mention of death/post-mortem care

aO3 link

Chapter Three : Hook-up #3: The Kitchen

It had been a while since I’d been out in public past 3 am. Hell, it’d been a while since I’d made it to last call.

Tonight had been one of Thomas’ band’s bigger shows, and this time, it didn’t take much begging from Des for me to join in on the fun. It was the weekend which meant work was a distant thought easily shelved to the back corner of my mind. After a couple too many cheap tequila shots and a peer-pressured beer before drinks were cut off at the venue, I felt loosened but content, and I made no argument to Mark’s suggestion to hit up an all night restaurant for some greasy food to soak up the booze that coated our stomachs.

So, here Mark, Des, and I sat at a rounded booth at a 24-hour diner as we waited for the rest of the group to join us. Cracked vinyl scratched against the backs of my knees and the dark yellow foam all but clawed its way through the time-worn rips. As I crossed a leg over the other, my arms came to fold underneath my chest and rest against the chipped tabletop, lost in unimportant thought.

“Doll,” A hazy voice tickled my ear and began to break me from my daydream. “—hey, Dahlia!”

I jerked a bit as I felt a hand brush my shoulder and looked up to see Thomas, Greg, Mary, and another one of Thomas’ band mates that I couldn’t remember the name of for the life of me.

“Mind letting us in?” Thomas asked, hand just barely reaching out to motion to the empty booth seating beside me.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry,” I chuckled a little, tone more embarrassed than I’d like to admit, and slid out of the booth to let Thomas slide in next to Des. The momentarily nameless drummer and Greg popped in beside Thomas, leaving myself and Mary to squeeze in last. Mary gestured to the seat as if to nonverbally say ‘go ahead,’ and I crammed myself in next to Greg. Mary slid in beside me, weirdly careful not to accidentally knock elbows or brush his leg against mine in the close quarters. I tried not to think anything of it.

Greg dipped forward over the table and grabbed at the small stack of menus. He tossed one to Mary and I before distributing a few more across the table. I pushed the sticky, laminated menu closer to Mary and relaxed my forearms against the stained tabletop.

As everyone settled, chatter about the show was drummed up and compliments were slued around the table to the three sweaty musicians that occupied the booth. They explained that they were held up by the venue and a nearly stolen guitar, though luckily no fists were thrown and the instrument had been misplaced by the bassist by accident.

The conversation was cut short by an older employee approaching our table, apron tied high over her robust hips, and she looked around at our motley crew before asking what we wanted to order. She had a gritty voice — tone so rough that I could visualize the sandpaper coating her vocal cords — but her kind, tired eyes showed through the otherwise roughened demeanor.

We took turns ordering and by the end of the ordeal, I debated submitting the waitress’s name for a Presidential Medal of Freedom for the sheer amount of patience she demonstrated with a group of overly drunk adults.

Thomas and Des had decided to share a fairly large breakfast platter and a ginger ale (and due to the queasy look on Des’ face when Thomas ordered it, I imagined that most of the food would be sanctioned to Thomas while the ginger ale was her futile attempt to even out the alcohol-to-stomach acid ratio in her gut). Mark insisted on a burger, and Greg had (almost too quickly) insisted on an entire chocolate silk pie. The drummer, who I was now certain was named Vince, stuck with the carafe of coffee we had requested, while I ordered French toast and extra crispy bacon. I had jokingly requested it to be nearly cremated, which did not amuse the waitress. Mary stuck with pancakes.

As the waitress bustled off to ring in our food, Greg raised an eyebrow at Vince.

“You’re going to try to eat my pie, huh, asshole?” He said disbelievingly.

The drummer shrugged and leaned back in the booth. “Ask me nicely enough and I’ll eat your ass, too,” he said with a wink, puckering his lips for a kiss before earning a swift shove in the shoulder and what I swore sounded like a “fuck you”. I heard Mary and Mark laugh and I couldn’t help the chuckle that seeped past my lips.

Feeling a little bolder after settling down with our anything-but-ordinary group, I leaned a couple inches closer to Mary, our height difference putting my cheek close to his jaw.

“Never pegged you as a pancake man, Mary.” I said quietly enough for him to hear (or at least I had hoped). “It’s oddly endearing.” I smirked at him from his side, flashing my own grey eyes with a snarky glance.

Mary raised his eyebrows with near mock disapproval. “Almost as endearing as you giving post mortem instructions for your breakfast side,” he quipped, his own stare never leaving mine as he fumbled with the paper tie on his silverware.

“At least I didn’t order something with a face on it,” I shot back, referring to the whipped cream and strawberry smiley face that came with every stack of pancakes.

Mary shrugged. “Cremation tends to get rid of the face, doesn’t it? I’m sure your order had one at one point.”

I shot him a glare that bordered on playful and somewhat offended, and before I could even open my mouth to retort, the waitress returned with a large carafe of drip coffee and enough mugs for each of us, announcing that she would be back with Des’ ginger ale in a moment. Vince all but tackled Greg to get to it, knocking elbows as he quickly filled up his cup. The acidic, distinct smell drifted across the table to settle between us, and after Greg poured his own mug, I filled a couple for Mary and I.

Vince took a sip of the blackened liquid in his mug and almost groaned, while Greg shook his head, adding a packet of sugar to his own. “Oh, hey, Mary,” Greg began, “you think you could fill in on bass on Wednesday when we play at The Shredder? Pete has to work and if he calls out again, he’ll get fired.”

Mary took a sip from his own steaming mug. “Can’t man,” he said.

Vince looked past me to Mary, leaning forward a bit over the table, “Fuck, why not?” he asked.

Mary shrugged and looked down at his cup. “I have plans.”

Greg raised his eyebrow at Mary. “Dude,” he began, his tone growing a little more combative and most definitely annoyed, “if you don’t want to do it, just say so.”

“I fuckin told you man, I’m busy.” Mary’s voice was now somewhat louder as he leaned forward to peer around me and back at the two bandmates, his sandy hair falling like a curtain over his left side as if to unknowingly shield other tables from the conversation.

I could feel the tension building between the three men. In my still drunken haze, I reached forward to grab a single-serve plastic container of coffee creamer and stabbed the paper top with my fork.

“Can’t you reschedule or something? This is important. We can’t cancel this gig,” Vince pleaded, his own tone much more reserved, and if anything, a little desperate.

“Sorry, I don't know what to fucking tell you,” Mary started, lifting his hands up halfway in the air as if to punctuate his point, his annoyance now glaringly obvious.

I could feel the anxiety at the conflict rising in my chest as he spoke. In the middle of his sentence, I had turned the creamer cup upside down and squeezed it into my coffee, four streams of the thick, room temperature dairy squirting audibly into my cup. “Mooooooooo!” I droned out in a low tone as I roughly milked the container like an udder.

“-I can’t exactly fucking reschedule my mom’s birthday- why the fuck are you mooing?!” Mary’s gaze shot over to me as he interrupted himself, a look of frustration painted on his features.

I didn’t exactly know what to say, so I kept my widened eyes locked on his, fingers still kneading the plastic creamer as it let its last few drops into the mug. A round of snickers bordered the table at this and I licked my lips and swallowed.

“Just, uh…breaking the tension…” I murmured, folding my lips under my teeth in defeat.

Luckily, Vince’s voice sliced through Mary and I’s tense moment. “…you’re missing a show for your mom’s birthday?” He looked at Mary as if he had grown another head and chuckled incredulously at him.

Thomas, who has been chatting with Mark and Des on the other side of the table, must have overheard this as he suddenly cut in with a serious retort. “Don’t talk shit on Mary’s mom, man. She’s fucking rad.” His face stretched into a defensive scowl as he turned to Vince.

Mark, who had decided to finally get his own mug of brew, quickly poured the rest of the carafe into the final mug. Thomas must have gotten his own cup earlier. “She helped out when they couldn’t afford some of their gear,” he explained emptying some creamer into the now cooling coffee, sans mooing, “used to drive us to shows when we were younger, too.”

I knew that Mary and Thomas definitely went back a ways, but I had no idea they had been friends for that long. Even more surprising was that Mark was also included in their history. I suppose I had assumed that they would have all been in the same band if they had been close for so many years, which even in my intoxicated state, I realized was ridiculous.

Tail between his legs, Vince mumbled something to the effect of “let us know if something changes” and shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he drank from his chipped mug, eyes cast down at the stained laminate.

The table grew awkwardly silent for a quick beat, which luckily was broken as the elderly waitress sauntered over with a couple of large, oval-shaped plates in hand. She set down what appeared to be the greasiest burger I’d ever laid eyes on right in front of Mark. Thomas and Des’ shared heaping breakfast platter of eggs, bacon, and hash landed at their place setting and Des (who looked notably less queasy) quickly snatched a triangle of sourdough toast to munch on. I took the opportunity to break the ice with Mary while everyone was distracted by the wafting aroma of diner food.

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s sweet of you,” I said softly as I leaned in, just close enough so that he could hear my compliment. I looked up at him and flashed him a softened smile.

Mary looked at me with a millisecond of surprise before his own features relaxed a bit, and I swore I could see a hint of a redness creep onto his cheeks. I filed away to save for later - I had made the infamous Mary Goore blush.

“What are you getting your mom for her birthday, Goore?” Des’ mouth smacked on her toast as she all but sputtered out the words. Yep, I thought, looks like she’s feeling better enough to pry. The girl may be hot, but she wasn’t always the most couth.

Mary ran a hand through his hair, raking his fingers through to the nape of his neck. “No clue” he sighed, “she’s fucking difficult to shop for.”

“Why don’t you just make her something?” Des replied, crumbs dotting her lips and threatening to fly as she chewed.

Mary let out a chuckle and grinned in response. “I gave up on the macaroni crafts years ago,” he said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Des rolled her eyes and reached over to grab a strip of bacon from the breakfast platter, earning her a side-eye from Thomas. “I meant, like, dinner,” she clarified.

The waitress returned with Greg’s pie and a stack of small plates. She sat down the pie in the middle of the table and Vince reached towards it, Greg slapping his hand as he swooped in to scoot the pie closer to him. He waved his hand as if to say “we won’t need those” as the waitress tried to set the dessert plates on the table.

Mary shook his head at Des. I couldn’t tell if he was used to Greg’s antics or if he just wasn’t paying attention. “Already have that part covered. We do Chinese takeout every year. Birthday tradition.”

By now, Thomas was stuffing eggs into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, and I was impressed with Des’ fortitude in keeping a straight face at the sight. “Dessert?” he said after swallowing.

“Just make her a cake or something,” Mark added, dipping a fry in the ketchup slathered on Thomas’ eggs.

“Or a pie!” Greg added. I turned to my right to see him with an abnormally large slice of chocolate silk in his hand, filling and chocolate shavings dripping down his fingers as he began to chomp at it like a slice of pizza. This was apparently the line for Des — she looked at him with an expression of pure disgust— something short lived as her face seemingly lit up with an idea.

“Doll could help you!” Des waved the stub of bacon at Mary, before motioning it towards me. “She’s great at baking.”

Mark groaned in delight, eyes rolling up at the ceiling dramatically. “That cake you made Tommy was killer. Are you sure you didn’t put crack in it?”

This earned a genuine laugh from me, and I took a small sip of my now cooled coffee. “The only powder I fuck with is sugar,” I jest.

“Seriously, Mary, you should have Dahlia help you,” Des said soberingly, earnestness etched in her voice, “This is her wheelhouse.”

This time, it was my cheeks that began to flush. She wasn’t wrong. I had spent years honing my baking skills and often used them to cope with stress or as a way to show my love for friends and family. Hell, I’d made her more snickerdoodles than I’d like to count. Despite this, I still felt a deep discomfort at my talents being broadcast in front of a table of much more talented musicians. I’d always longed to have a “real” talent — one I could hang my hat on at the end of the day — but whatever higher power that existed (if one existed) decided to grant me the power of edible chemistry. To humor me, they also added a slow metabolism and abysmal self-control.

I paused for a couple of seconds before turning my head to look at Mary. He had been staring at me, for how long I wasn’t sure, but I drank in the strands of hair that framed his sharp jaw peppered in stubble, tracing the line of his strong brow bone that seemed to mellow whenever I tried to study the meaning behind his eyes. I wet my bottom lip with the tip of my tongue before casting him a small smile, hoping he’d pick up on the telepathic signal that of course I’d be happy to help, and curl my fingers around the pitted ceramic glaze of my mug.

He returned the look, and for a moment, I felt as if my guts were melting into my ass. I’d been staring, AGAIN, and not only had he caught me, but he seemed to be figuring out just how to make my knees weak as he spoke. “Yeah, maybe.”

Much to my relief, the waitress came back once more, nearly out of breath as she plopped my french toast down in front of me. She muttered out an apology and explained that a few more tables had arrived and they were understaffed. Mary’s plate came next, sliding across the smooth surface of the table as it landed inches from the edge.

I grabbed a crisp piece of bacon and chomped down on it as I looked at Mary’s stack of flapjacks. The once beaming face of fruit and whipped cream had turned into an almost unrecognizable blob of melted goo and droopy berries that weirdly resembled Sloth from The Goonies, only incapacitated. A giggle bubbled up from my stomach and I clasped a hand onto Mary’s shoulder, leaning in to murmur in his ear.

“Looks like yours is ready for post-mortem care, afterall, Goore.”

🜏🜏🜏

A few days and a pounding hangover later, I lazed on my living room couch with a homemade smoothie in one hand and my phone in the other. My cat, Bones, was perched in my lap as I listened to the light rain pelting the window pane across the room. It was a lights-off kind of evening. Although it was still bright enough for some of the glow to filter in through the glass, it was dim in the small front room, and I felt it the perfect ambiance for comfortable socks and silent scrolling. Nights like these weren’t made for the radiant glow of TV against the walls.

To put it simply, today was shit. My coworker, who was habitually late to arrive, showed up hours late to work with not as much as a peep as to why. Though I wasn’t the kind of person to continuously cover for her irresponsible ass, I knew that if both our responsibilities weren’t done by the end of the day, it wouldn’t matter who arrived on time and who arrived late: we’d both be fucked. So, in true pushover fashion, I sped through both of our laundry lists of tasks in remarkable time. The clock was pushing 4PM when I finally sat down to shove a KIND bar in my mouth as some sort of respite meal.

After any other difficult day at work, I’d likely be downing a glass of wine or sucking the life out of my vape pen, but the taste of this past weekend still hung heavy on my tongue and threatened to turn my stomach every time I thought of it. I’d seriously contemplated skipping dinner and going straight to bed. Still, my grandmother’s voice hung heavy in the back of my mind as I passed the fridge and I begrudgingly plopped some frozen fruit, spinach, yogurt, and juice into my blender. If I didn’t have the energy to cook my meal, I’d just have to liquify it.

As Bones purred aimlessly in my lap, I rubbed my feet together in circles, enjoying the feel of my cotton socks on my sore soles and the comfort of the throw pillow tucked haphazardly underneath them. I swiped past various poems, artwork, and occult content on my screen, sipping my green drink intermittently, and tried to mollify my anxious (and still very much frustrated) mind. Unexpectedly, my phone vibrated, a message popping up in the notification bar on my screen from an unrecognized number.

hey

I crinkled my eyebrows and opened the text message. There was no history of a conversation and a quick search of my contacts turned up nothing. I contemplated just ignoring it, but I could see the unmistakable three dots dancing underneath the text.

is that offer still open?

I rolled my lips over my teeth in thought and wracked my brain to try to think about what the mystery person was referring to. Nothing came to mind. I quickly typed out and sent a response.

Who is this?

Again, the three dots flashed - this time just briefly before the sender replied.

Mary

All the progress I’d made in stilling the stressed leech feeding in the pit of my stomach instantaneously vanished. Mary and I weren’t really on texting terms. We’d seen each other around more than a handful of times since the first night we officially met at Thomas’ house party. Yes, we’d gotten to know each other in ways that I didn’t know my other friends, but in no way were we close. We didn’t make any efforts to see each other — especially just the two of us. Just like Mary said during our roof rendezvous: we were two people engaging in some platonic head. There were no feelings, no complications, and no expectations. Still, just the thought of exchanging words back and forth made my chest palpate and my muscles tense. Why the fuck am I anxious right now? I found myself thinking. I let out a slow breath, shook my head, and tapped out a response, his own lighting up my screen a split second later.

Oh hey. Which offer?

The baking one. For my moms birthday It’s cool if you cant

I barely realized the smile pulling at the corners of my lips. Mary hadn’t seemed that interested when we talked about it at the diner. I felt a tug of pride swell deep within me that he’d reach out to me privately for help with something important to him.

I can help. Are you wanting a cake? Orrrr

Yea sure

Flavor?

Shit I didn’t think about that. Ummmm Not chocolate

I let out an audible snort at his answer. From the little I’d gotten to know about Mary, he wasn’t one to extrapolate.

Very specific, Goore. Thanks.

Her birthday is Wed. When should I be over there to help and what do you want me to bring?

I stared at the screen for a minute and chewed at the chapped skin forming on my bottom lip to quell the flop of the smoothie in my stomach. I’d just assumed that Mary had wanted me to make the cake for him, but no, he wanted me to help him make it. The two of us. And apparently, at my place.

I opened the calendar app on my phone and scrolled through Tuesday to confirm I hadn’t committed to anything else before shakily sighing and typing out a text back.

Tomorrow at 5? I have everything here.

Cool. Address?

394 Rosway

See ya then

I plopped the phone down on the cushion space beside me and inwardly groaned. This would be the first time that I’d be intentionally meeting with him alone. I hadn’t really hung out with a guy in a pre-planned way since I’d been with Brody. Each time Mary and I had been around each other, the night had started with another purpose in mind, another social reason to share the same space.

Bones chirped from my lap, his yellow eyes nearly glowing up at me as he studied my response in the muted evening light. Had I known any better, he was using the moment to comment on my reaction.

“It’s just a friend helping out a friend. I’d do the same for Des,” I said, reaching out to pet his soft fur before quickly adding, “-or Thomas, for that matter.”

Bones exhaled, his arms reaching out in a stretch with claws curled before spiraling into a sleeping position, chin resting on my thigh. I followed suit, sinking back into the comfort of the couch cushions that enveloped me, shutting my eyes as my smoothie glass found its way to the side table. It took a conscious effort to bat away at the butterflies rounding about in my gut. I didn’t know why my body was reacting this way. Friendships with guys weren’t a new concept to me, and that’s what this was — a friendship. One still in its infancy.

Nevertheless, snapshots like movie stills stretched across my closed eyelids. My dress hugging Mary’s thighs as he moved his fingers inside me. His hand clasped against my mouth as he purred out “Shhh,” emerald eyes hooked on my own slate ones. My legs squeezing the sides of his head, golden brown locks of his hair brushing past my thighs as I came undone on his mouth. His spend dripping down my thr-

I swallowed roughly and let out a shaky breath. What I was experiencing wasn’t feelings. No, it was need, and the anticipation of an orgasm from Mary paired with my own touch deprivation was all it took to bring me to the edge.

And I hoped that tomorrow he’d fucking push me off.

🜏🜏🜏

I’d managed to leave work a whopping ten minutes earlier than I’d expected to, which I’d hoped was enough to allot extra time to take a shower before Mary stopped by. Luckily, working through lunch had actually allowed me to leave my job an hour earlier than usual, so I was ahead of schedule. I’d managed to make a strawberry filling for the cake before I’d left earlier this morning, and I’d crossed my fingers multiple times throughout the day hoping that it’d be set enough to use by the time he arrived.

After filling Bones’ bowl with kibble and tossing my keys on the counter, I kicked off my shoes and beelined to the bathroom. I glanced down at the clock on my phone. 4:30. I only had a half hour.

Tying my hair up in a claw clip, I stepped into the steam of the shower and soaped up in a matter of minutes. After a quick shave and final rinse, I stepped out, dried off, and reapplied some basic makeup before unclipping my tresses.

I ran my fingers through the strands to release the few tangles that had gathered throughout the day and made my way back into my bedroom to scout my closet for something to wear. I found myself flipping through the hangers of dresses before stopping myself. I had zero reason to dress up. I was baking, afterall, and this wasn’t a date or a social outing. I opted for a pair of black leggings and an old Misfits tee, leaving my feet bare.

The next fifteen minutes began with me setting out the ingredients and baking tools we’d need, but my flow was continuously interrupted by my mind’s need to tidy the house. After the fifth interruption, I scolded myself. You’re not inviting the damn Queen to dinner, Doll. I shook my head and threw the shoes I’d absentmindedly picked up back in the living room. A living room needed to look lived in, after all — and the dishes in the sink could go fuck themselves.

A knock on the door brought me back from my mental argument and I padded through the short hallway with a withheld breath to unlock it. Beyond the oak entryway stood Mary in a ripped Carcass tee, jeans, his infamous leather jacket, and Chuck Taylors, his hair falling around his shoulders in messy light brown waves. His left hand clutched onto a couple of grocery bags, while his right was miraculously slid into the tight confines of his studded pocket.

“Hey,” I stepped to the side and shot him a quick warm smile. “Come on in.”

Mary made his way through the threshold and I clicked the heavy door shut behind him, turning to watch him take in his surroundings. His hand still shoved in his pocket, I studied his reaction to my small home, the bag hung around his wrist swishing slightly as he scanned his head from left to right.

The house I occupied was fairly small — just about 1,000 square feet — and was old. I didn’t mind the size. On the contrary, it was the perfect set up for a single person and I felt that the old cottage feel gave the home character. The breezeway into the house was short and opened up to the left into the quaint living room. Just past the end of the living area, a doorway led straight ahead into a dinette attached to an open kitchen poised on the left, while a doorway at the right opened up into a hallway that turned to the bedrooms and bathroom.

“This place is yours?” He asked before craning his neck to look at me.

I nodded. “Yep. Just me.” I went to shove my hands in my own pockets before remembering that I’d chosen leggings and awkwardly sliding them down my thighs as if I’d totally meant for it to happen. “Well, and Bones,” I added as I felt the black feline rub up against my ankle.

Mary crouched down and offered his hand out to the cat, who tentatively sniffed it, whiskers twitching, before slowly approaching the leather-clad man. Bones rubbed his cheek against the outstretched hand and let out a soft purr when Mary began scratching under the feline’s cheek. My mind flashed back to our conversation as we’d walked from the convenience store to the roof that one night so many weeks ago, and my lips curled with nostalgia as warmth pooled in my gut. Mary wasn’t joking about being an animal person.

I realized that he was still holding the bags and I suddenly felt like a huge asshole and terrible host for not offering to help. “Here, let me grab those,” I said as I reached forward, taking the plastic bags before pivoting to move down the hallway. The bags were heavy. “What the hell did you bring, Goore?” I asked him lightly with a chuckle as I walked through the threshold to the kitchen area, plopping the bags on the countertop with an audible thunk.

Mary followed and came up beside me, battle jacket having been discarded and thrown somewhere in the living room, before pulling the plastic sheathing down to reveal two bottles of cheap red wine and a two liter of Coca Cola. While it suddenly made sense why the bags were so heavy, I still had no idea what his thinking was behind the combination of drinks.

“Red wine and Coke?” I questioned, turning to look at him quizzically.

Mary was balling up the plastic bags. “You’ve never heard of a calimocho?” He slid past me into the kitchen over to the sink and opened up one of the cupboards beneath, closing it quickly before snapping the next one open to find the trash can.

“...I can’t say I have.” I replied as he tossed the trash in and made his way back to the wide, open countertop, grabbing one of the bottles of wine. Luckily, he’d bought one with a twist-off top, so there was no need to worry about a cork. He mirrored the action with the bottle of Coke, and I shifted to grab a couple of tumbler glasses from the cabinet before filling them with ice.

I set down the glasses and watched as he poured in enough red wine to fill the glass about halfway in each. He topped both off with the cola and gave each a quick swirl before handing one off to me. I accepted the glass tentatively from him and lifted it to my nose. The smell was distinctly soda-like, but the earthy, sweet, spiciness of the wine came through as I took a large inhale.

“The last time I trusted your drink-making choices, Mary, the result was a watery beer in a leaky gas station cup,” I said as I lowered the glass from my nose.

Mary scoffed. “That was an impulse buy. This is a real drink - one of my Basque buddies introduced me to them a few years back.” He reached out his cup and clinked it against mine, causing a bead of the liquid to drip down over his rough fingertips. I felt a pang of heat in my core as I thought about those fingers curling inside of me. Stop it, I scolded to myself.

We both took a sip and as soon as the drink hit my lips, I let out a surprised noise of delight. He wasn’t lying. It was ridiculously good. I took a small gulp before setting it back down on the counter. “Touche,” I admitted in defeat.

A quick beat passed as Mary leaned back against the counter, sipping his drink, and I shook my head and clasped my hands together awkwardly. “Right, so,” I took a few steps to the counter space that hugged the near wall, facing him, “I was thinking of a vanilla bean cake with buttercream frosting and strawberry filling. Is that okay?”

Mary shrugged, but I could sense that instead of his usual nonchalance, his posture insinuated trust. “You’re the expert. I defer to you.”

We both put our drinks to the side and washed our hands in the clean side of the sink (me trying not to imagine where those hands had been as the sudsy water slid over the chipped black paint that donned his fingernails) before setting up shop at the larger run of counter. I pulled my hair back into a high ponytail with the spare tie on my wrist.

“Okay, so you have your dry ingredients and your wet ingredients,” I started, hand motioning to each pile of pre-organized ingredients that I’d set out for us.

“Are the dry ingredients hard to please or are the wet ones just perpetually horny?” he asked with a smirk. I shot him a look and he put his hands up to his chest in defense. “Just curious!”

I ignored the comment and grabbed a glass bowl to place in front of him, before playfully shoving a box of cake flour to his chest. “Put three cups of cake flour in here. Be sure to level each cup so they’re equal.”

Mary obeyed the instructions carefully, then added in the leavening ingredients and salt as I gave him directions for each, mixing them (albeit somewhat awkwardly) with a fork.

“Dry ingredients are done. Now for the wet-” I shot him another look when he wagged his eyebrows at me with a smirk, “-unwrap both of the sticks of butter and plop them in here.” I pointed to the mixing bowl, then moved the paddle attachment aside to give him room.

After the butter was added, Mary cautiously measured out the sugar and added it into the mixer. “I thought you said these were wet ingredients?” He questioned, pointing to the sugar. I let out a chuckle.

“They are. Sugar is considered a wet ingredient because of how it acts with moisture.” I could see another one-liner brewing behind his eyes, but he must have gotten the hint that I was at least trying to be serious, because he bit his tongue.

After showing Mary how to cream the sugar (“Gently - I don’t need to scrub chunks of butter off the walls!”) I watched in amusement as Mary tried to crack each egg without getting shells into the batter, a litany of curses following each egg as he had to fish the slippery pieces out with pinched fingers. Some vanilla bean paste and almond flavoring later, and we were ready to combine.

“Okay, so we’re going to add the dry ingredients and the buttermilk in batches,” I said, turning my head to pick up the carton of buttermilk. As I looked away to grab the last ingredient, Mary dumped the flour into the mixing bowl and turned on the mixer, bumping the lever to full speed.

A cloud of flour poofed up into the air, swirling around the both of us as if a midwestern tornado, and I fought the urge to cough as I tasted the salty baking soda that coated my lips. I flung forward and shut the mixer off.

Turning around, I saw Mary shaking out his shirt with a guilt-ridden grin. A light dusting of the dry mixture coated his cheeks and brows, with some of it clinging to his hair. I let out a puff of air to blow the flour-smattered strand of hair from my eyes and looked at him with a seething glare that did a piss-poor job of hiding my amusement.

“You’ve lost mixer privileges.”

Ten minutes and a quick sweep later, the batter was finished and poured into three round cake pans. After throwing them into the oven and setting the timer, we dusted ourselves off a little more thoroughly, grabbed our drinks, and headed to the living room to wait.

I sunk into the right side of my plush brown couch with a large exhale, Mary rounding the other side of the couch to follow. Plopping my feet up on the coffee table, I leaned back, head rolling to the side to look at the metalhead next to me.

I was expecting to meet his eyes, but instead, he was taking in the decor of my living room. The walls were a jewel-toned green (a painting project that Des and I took on a couple of years back) and the furniture, which was nearly all old and thrifted, contrasted the cool tones with warm wood and brass accents. An out-of-commission fireplace sat just in front of us, while a line of bookshelves stood soldier-straight against the right side of the back wall. A bar cabinet and plant shelves hugged the far right side of the room, while the left side held a series of paned windows floating above an old record cabinet.

As Mary surveyed the room, I chewed on my lip, trying to drink in his reaction. His eyes roamed across the various paintings and prints I had hung on the walls, some of a more occult nature, while some boasted a more classic mix of impressionist influences. When he saw the record cabinet, he popped up and over, sitting cross-legged as he started to thumb through the crate of records beside it.

“Quite the mix you’ve got here,” He said as he held up a Carpenters record with a smirk. I chuckled and nodded, turning to face him as I snuggled into the arm of the couch.

“I like a lot of different types of music. Some of those are inherited, some I bought.”

I took a sip of my calimocho and watched as Mary perused the collection, stopping as he pulled out an Alice Cooper record. I nodded towards the turntable as if to say “go ahead.”

With Billion Dollar Babies playing in the background, Mary popped back onto the couch, converse skating across the tip of the coffee table as he leaned back with a sigh. My head was still turned to him, fingertips clutching the sweaty tumbler glass, and I took in the curve of his eyelashes and slope of his cheekbones.

Other than the sounds emitting from the turntable, it was oddly quiet. Time with Mary was usually filled with easy conversation, but I was having trouble knowing exactly what to say. He must have picked up on this because he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at me, smirking.

“Do I still have shit in my hair or something?” he asked as he caught my stare.

“Shut up,” I laughed, reaching over to throw a pillow at him. The tension seemed to break as he laughed, throwing the pillow back at me playfully. I smiled at him and brought my legs to criss-cross underneath me.

Mary took a sip of his drink before setting it back on the coffee table. “Thanks for, uh, this. All this.” He reached up to scratch at the back of his neck somewhat nervously.

I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s what friends do.” Reaching down, I dusted a little smear of leftover flour from my knee and continued. “She seems really special to you. Your mom, I mean.”

Mary mirrored my posture by turning to face me a little more head on. “Yeah, she is. She’s fucking great.” He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back a little, moving his legs from the table to cross one ankle over his knee. “She’s never been anything but supportive. Even when I fucked up. Or when I was too stubborn to listen to her.”

I cast him an encouraging smile, a look of both understanding and empathy on my face. “Just the two of you then?”

“Yeah,” Mary said with a sigh, reaching over to take another long drink of his calimocho. “Dad died when I was young.”

My eyes widened a little at this admission and my expression fell to one of concern. “I’m sorry. That’s-” I let out a shaky exhale, “...that’s really shitty.” I didn’t do well with death. I never knew how to comfort those who’d lost someone important to them. I mentally cursed myself for such a bland response, but Mary didn’t seem to mind.

“Eh, shit happens.” he swirled the half empty tumbler glass, ice cubes clinking against the cool shell. “Besides,” he shot me a playful smirk, “it left me with just the right amount of daddy issues to farm sympathy from hot chicks with nice tits and a penchant for leather.”

My face dropped for a split second before I let out an incredulous and obviously uncomfortable laugh. “Jesus Christ, Mary. What the fuck.”

He laughed and raised an eyebrow at me in response, taking another sip of his drink before standing up. “Refill?” he asked. I nodded and he disappeared into the kitchen to pour us another round.

As I reclined a bit, my vision moved to study the patterns that danced across the painted plaster of the ceiling. Mary was starting to open up to me (even if it was in his usual “sarcastic Mary” way). I wondered if that meant there was an expectation that I also open up to him, or if sharing anything too personal would scare him off. He already knew about my bad breakup with Brody, but the majority of our conversations centered around music, movies, and our mutual connections.

Mary gently clunked my glass against the top of my head to alert me that he was back, and I grabbed it with a small thank you. This time, he plopped down a little closer to me — our legs brushing up against each other — and I felt the skin prickle underneath the fabric of my leggings.

“So, how’d you score such nice digs?” he asked, his right arm coming up to rest across the back of the sofa.

I looked down at the ice in the cup. He must have replenished it, because the cubes were bigger, and each breath I took seemed to shake them just barely within the cup. “I inherited it,” I began, “From my grandma. She left it to me in her will when she passed.”

“No shit?”

“It’s been a point of contention in the family ever since.” I paused for a moment, trying to hide the sad smile that automatically painted the corners of my lips. “But I like it. It’s perfect for just me. I don’t have to worry about a house payment, and I’ve been able to transform it into my own space over time.”

Mary’s tone sobered a little as he shifted in his place on the sofa. “Do you like living alone?”

I pinched my brow in thought for a brief moment. “Most times,” I let out a breath. “It does get lonely. Des used to practically live here, but she’s got her own thing going now — which, good for her, of course — so… it’s just me most of the time.”

Mary leaned back a little, body still facing my own as he looked up and craned his head around to gaze at the decorated walls. “I’d love to have my own place. No one to clean up after except yourself. Walk around naked. Put shit wherever you want.” He stretched out his legs to rest on the coffee table once more. “I room with Mark and he can be a huge dick sometimes,” as if to make a point, he pointed the glass towards me, finger aimed dramatically, “and he snores.”

I let out a laugh and felt that warm, comfortable joy that Mary seemed to bring with him creep back into my stomach. “You’re welcome over here anytime you feel the urge to put a pillow over his face while he sleeps.”

Mary chuckled. “Cool, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Shifting in my seat to bring my legs underneath me, I took a long gulp of my drink, now feeling the buzzing effects of the red wine. I’d drunk enough that I was past the point of feeling drowsy and had safely arrived at feeling loosely confident. “Not to disappoint,” I started, a smirk blooming across my lips, “but I don’t walk around the house naked.”

“That’s easy to fix. You’ve already got the ‘put shit wherever you want’ part down pat.” Mary motioned towards the pair of shoes that I’d thrown earlier that sat towards the wall and I felt myself bristle, a touch of embarrassment coloring the apples of my cheeks (or maybe that was the wine?)

“Wow, asshole. Thanks for pointing out my flaws as I do you a favor.” I tugged my thumb backwards to motion towards the kitchen behind me, doing my best to ignore the innuendo he clearly wanted me to catch.

The long-haired man in front of me leaned to the side to set his glass on the coffee table, kicking his feet off as he snaked his body closer to mine. “Sorry,” he began, legs adjusting as he started to close the distance between us, the volume of his voice lowering in both pitch and volume, “let me make it up to you.”

Mary’s hand reached out to clasp right above my knee, his thumb pressing into the meat of my leg just enough to drive home his point. By now I could feel his exhales dancing across the pores of my lightly freckled skin. It seemed that things had gone from zero to sixty in mere seconds. I lightly swallowed and my eyes traced a path across the Carcass logo hugging his chest and up his neck, landing on the lips that were now dangerously taunting me.

I didn’t realize that I had been inclining towards him as well until his free hand grasped onto the back of my neck, my hair catching between his fingers as he pulled us together. Immediately, I noticed the tang of the Coke and wine on his lips and caught the faint smell of smoke lingering in his hair from a hours-past cigarette.

A noise that was somewhere between a squeak of surprise and a whimper tumbled from my throat, just barely audible as it escaped into his own mouth, and I brought my hand to curl across the curve of his shoulder, thumb pressed to his fabric-covered collarbone. Nearly as soon as our lips met, he pulled away, but before I could complain, he dove back in with a tilt, opening his mouth to swipe his tongue across the soft bend of my bottom lip.

As we kissed on the couch, his thumb now curving around to press lightly on the side of my throat as he gripped my neck, the world seemed to pause in time. I was completely consumed by his taste, the feel of his fingertips against my skin, and the aggressive need that both of us breathed as our movements became more hurried.

Mary’s right hand began to travel up the expanse of my leg, inching along to rest against the curve of my hip and ass, and I felt fire shoot through my ribcage as he squeezed the flesh there. Without another thought, both of my hands moved to slip underneath his shirt and dance along the skin underneath, warm and surprisingly soft against my fingertips.

With a loud jolt, the timer to the oven began to sing, causing me to jump and Mary to pull away simultaneously. I cleared my throat just barely and raked my hand through my hair. “Timer to the, uh — cakes are ready to be taken out.”

I sprang up and into the kitchen to turn the blaring alarm off. Luckily, a quick test of the pans showed that each cake was almost perfectly cooked. I pulled them out and set them on the range to cool, tossing the tea towel I’d used as a potholder aside as I turned to face Mary, who’d followed me into the kitchen.

“We, um, need to make the frosting while they cool,” I explained, motioning back toward the mixer.

I couldn’t quite decipher the look on Mary’s face. He clearly wasn’t flustered by the quick makeout on the couch. In fact, he looked oddly composed, if not a little arrogant at my excitement.

Pulling out a spare mixing bowl, I gestured towards the makeshift workstation with a slight swing of my head. Mary came up behind me and rested a hand on the countertop, caging me in.

“You’ll want to add in both sticks of butter,” I said as I wet my lips, handing him the two sticks. He unwrapped them and plunked them into the bowl. As I turned it on, one of his hands came to rest on my hip, the other returning to the countertop.

“What next?” His lips were just a couple of inches from my ear, eyes cast forward as he watched the rotating paddle.

“V-vanilla,” I stammered out as I felt his fingertips squeeze at the meat of my hip. I closed my eyes and let out a breath. He picked up the vanilla and one of the measuring spoons, waiting until I nodded in response to his guess at the amount before letting it drizzle into the whirling mixer.

His other hand grasped the other hip before traveling down my thigh, grasping onto the front as he twirled his wrist inward to dance between my legs. “...and then?”

My arm jutted out as if in reflex to grab the bag of powdered sugar resting against the backsplash. “Dry- urm - w-wet ingredients.”

“Hmm,” his voice now sounded arguably more sultry — reminiscent of when he was shushing me on the couch with his fingers deep inside me — and I felt a shiver run down the length of my spine. “I’d help, but I lost mixer privileges. Maybe you should show me how to do it?”

I nodded and dumped half the bag in, pulsing the speed so as to not recreate Mary’s cloud from earlier, and waited a beat before pouring the rest in, repeating the motion. Once it combined, I drizzled some heavy cream in, fighting the urge to slam my eyelids shut at the chuckle that fluttered across my neck as Mary fought the urge to undoubtedly make a cum joke.

Careful not to elbow him, I scraped the sides of the bowl and mixed in the last bits of the dry powdered sugar before detaching it and setting it aside. Slowly, I turned around in his arms and looked up at him. The iconic Mary smirk was permanently etched into his face. I could tell he was having a field day with my reaction to him, and I cursed my inability to keep my shit together in front of the bullet-belted thrasher in front of me.

It was silent for what seemed like ages but in reality was probably a few seconds. I half expected Mary to resume what we’d started on the couch, but after staring directly into my soul, he pushed back and dusted his hands before shoving them in his pocket.

“Alright, what’s next?” he said coolly.

I nearly glared at him. Instead, I took a mental breath and grabbed the frosting, shoving it a little harder than I’d intended to into his chest.

“The part you’re best at: getting frosting everywhere.”

Mary beamed.

🜏🜏🜏

Mary continued his cool demeanor as we leveled the cakes, only breaking slightly when I gave him a piece of the scraps and he nearly moaned at the taste with a “Fuck, I made this?”

I showed him how to set and frost each layer, and when I turned around to grab the strawberry filling out of the fridge, I pretended not to see him swiping a taste of the frosting out of the bowl. Moments later, the cake was filled, the crumb-coat was completed and briefly chilled in the freezer, and I was showing Mary how to put on the final coat of frosting.

He stood at the counter with the icing spatula in hand, rubbing the frosting against the side of the cake gingerly. I almost snorted at his dainty touch and reached around him, my front to his back as I grabbed his hand and directed it against the confection.

“You can be more forceful. It’s not a porcelain doll.”

Mary shot me a smug look. “Is that a subtle way of telling me you don’t like it rough, dollface?”

I felt the familiar pang of heat at my insides and I fought back another groan before realizing the compromising position we were in. Taking matters into my own hands, I gripped onto his wrist a little more forcefully, pushing myself up against him as I peered around his height at the cake.

“Not everything needs a delicate hand, Goore.” I snapped back, pushing his hand with the knife down to evenly coat the side of the cake, my other hand wrapping around him to turn the cake plate. As much as he tried to act unbothered, I could feel his breath pick up as my leg brushed against the back of his.

We finished the final coat and I handed him the remaining strawberry filling, watching with amusement as he pooled it on top of the cake, letting it drip down the sides while commenting on how it wouldn’t be from him if it didn’t look at least slightly bloodied (which, to be fair, earned him a solid laugh from me).

“Voila,” I said, standing back with my hands on my hips. Mary mirrored my action and I felt a soft warmth in my chest as I watched his proud reaction. “I’ll be right back to help move it into the fridge. Just give me a sec.”

I popped down the short hallway to the bathroom and quietly shut the door. Leaning over the vanity, I looked at myself in the mirror and studied my features. There was still a tiny bit of flour at the back of my scalp, and my leggings had a smattering of white fingerprints across them. Reaching down, I rinsed my hands with cool water before splashing some on my neck and drying it with a cool towel. This punk was going to be the death of me.

When I returned to the kitchen, Mary turned around abruptly, the frosting bowl in one hand while the other was scooping a finger full of frosting into his mouth.

“Go at it,” I chuckled, “You earned it.”

I met him in the kitchen and leaned back against the counter peninsula, arms crossed over my chest as I watched him with poorly hidden glee.

“Just had to make sure you’re not trying to poison my mother,” he reasoned, and I laughed again, shaking my head. “This is seriously fucking tits, Doll.”

I felt the heat tinge in my face again. “Thanks, Goore.”

He moved toward me, taking his finger to scoop a bit more frosting before setting the bowl down beside me, his body now inches from mine. He held out the icing covered finger just millimeters from my lips and I thought about his chipped polish digging into my thighs.

Parting my mouth, I dipped my tongue out just enough to lick at the tip of his finger before bringing it between my lips. He was right — the frosting was fantastic, but as I savored the sweet and salty creaminess that coated my tongue, I let my mind wander to how he tasted in my mouth not long ago as I lapped up the spend he shot down my throat. Maybe it was that thought that caused me to start sucking at his finger, eyes gazing doe-like upon his, while I swirled my tongue across his fingertip.

I could have sworn that I saw Mary’s emerald eyes physically burn as he watched me, moving from flirty to completely feral as he popped the finger from my mouth and dipped his head in, tongue tracing against the line of my bottom lip.

He pulled away, hunger still nearly evident as he grabbed onto the curve of my hipbone with his now frosting-free hand.

“I think I missed some.”

With that, he crashed his mouth into mine, this time much harder, and he immediately shifted to deepen the kiss and roll his tongue against my own. His hands moved down to box me into the countertop and I whined, snaking my own arms up to loop around his neck as I pulled him fervently into me.

All of my self-reserve clambered from my body. Despite feeling fairly sober from the mixed drinks, I knew my core had been poisoned with need — lust-drunk and willing. If Mary tried to take things further, there was no way I’d be able to resist.

Gripping the backs of my legs, Mary pulled me to sit up on the wide, open countertop, and used his knee to kick my legs open as he gripped onto my lower back, all but shoving me into his lean frame.

His hips rolled to grind against me and I let out a pleased hum against his lips. As my tongue danced against his own, lips moving as if in song, I could taste the saccharine proof of our time spent together, the vanilla mixing with an aftertaste of coke and wine and the flavor that was so distinctly Mary. I inhaled deeply against him through my nose, and felt my senses beam with the mix of smoke and his since shed-leather and my own growing arousal slick between my legs. I thought about his torso on top of mine, of the length I’d only felt in my mouth finally pumping into me, and my abdomen tensed at the vision painted behind my eyelids.

My legs moved to wrap around Mary’s middle and he growled before he broke the kiss just briefly to pull at the hem of my tee shirt to rip it over my head, my bra immediately following. My arms returned to his middle and I began to fumble with the clasp to his metal-adorned belt, struggling just briefly before I heard it fall to the floor with a loud, heavy clunk.

Mary took the opportunity to tear his own shirt off and toss it haphazardly behind him. Our lips came back together hungrily, nearly tearing at each other like we would wither without taking and giving and taking and giving, and I’m certain I almost broke the button to his jeans as I aggressively popped it open and ripped down the zipper fly.

Even with the painted-on tightness of his jeans, they were down his legs in record speed, and he reached a hand down to awkwardly pull on the laces to his converse before shaking and kicking both them and his pants off, earning a giggle from me against his lips. His hands returned to my sides and I felt the pads of his thumbs dig into my pelvic bones wantonly, aggressively. As if I wasn’t just Doll, but his doll.

Pulling back, I took in the sight of the man in front of me. My eyes flitted over the tattoos on each of his arms, raking over his shoulders and pecs as they trailed down his abdomen and to the trail of hair framing the waistband of his boxer briefs. This was the first time I’d seen him so exposed, skin on display, and I mirrored his feral gaze with my ashen eyes as I raked a hand through his golden brown locks, pulling him eagerly back to kiss me.

Mary’s fingers dipped into the waistband of my leggings and he began to roll them down, almost hesitantly as if asking silent permission, so I moved to grab onto the edge of the counter and lifted my lower half to allow him to push them, along with my panties, down past my ankles.

After I kicked the remaining clothing off my body, the cool air kissed at my skin, and I swallowed the feeling of exposure away while Mary closed the gap between us. I could feel his warmth as it tickled my goose-bumped flesh. His lips traveled down the line of my jaw to my neck, and I instinctively craned it to the side to allow him better access to the spot above my collarbone that made my knees putty. I could nearly feel myself dripping onto the counter beneath me, and his still-clothed cock twitched against my inner thigh.

“Mary?” I let out breathlessly, eyes still closed at the sensation of lips on skin.

He let out a low hum. “Mmm, dollface?”

I reached past the band of his boxer briefs and wrapped my hand around his shaft, holding it firmly before I started to stroke it. He let out a choked noise and I, myself, sputtered out, “Condom?”

Mary detached from my neck hastily and reached down to his jeans piled on the floor, rifling through the pockets until he found his wallet. I heard the unmistakable wrinkle of foil as he pulled the condom out, and I reached forward, snatching it from his hands eagerly before ripping it open. Mary shoved the fabric covering his cock down his legs, kicking them off mere seconds before I grabbed his length once more, expertly rolling the condom down to the base of him. His head dipped forward to my shoulder and he groaned out a breathy “fuck”.

Reaching between us with one hand, Mary grabbed his member from my grasp, his other hand pulling my hips closer as he slid the tip of himself against the wetness of my pussy. He flicked it up and down teasingly, and I whined out, hands coming to clasp at his neck.

My slick now coating him, Mary pushed my inner thigh to the side and lined himself up with my entrance before pushing in tantalizingly slow. It was as if he wanted me to feel each inch of him while he felt each clench of my muscles around him.

We both let out breaths we didn’t know we had been holding. Mary pushed in to the hilt and I let out a slight gasping noise, an intake of breath at the pure fullness and stretch of him, and my forehead came to rest against his as our lips all but brushed against one another.

“You are so goddamn tight,” he purred, pulling out halfway before sinking back into me. I uttered a moan, helpless and wanting, and he began moving more steadily in and out of my core. My legs wrapped tightly against his hips and backside and I finally connected our lips again, though the jolts of each of his thrusts served as distraction from my attempt to all but swallow him whole.

We moved like that, rhythmically at first before he picked up the pace, a hand coming to cup at my breast, thumb pressing at the nipple as he fucked me into the counter. My head unwillingly tipped back and though my eyes were open, my vision clouded with swirls of grays, purples, and fiery oranges at the heated sensations between my legs.

Mary grabbed my breast roughly before reaching up to pull my chin down, thumb on my lip as he looked me directly in the eyes. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he grunted, his other hand gripping roughly just above my backside as he pulled me into his hard shaft. I looked down and saw my arousal gathering around the base of his dick and I bit my lip, feeling that tugging in my abdomen increase with every movement.

My hands moved to wrap under his arms, curling around his back as my fingers dug into the flesh there, half moon shapes and scratches likely patterning his skin as I held on like letting go would mean certain death.

On his next thrust, Mary shifted his hips up and grazed against my sensitive spot, resulting in an unrestrained cry of pleasure from deep in my lungs — a noise I didn’t know I was capable of making. I looked back into his eyes, my own threatening to water from complete overstimulation and ecstasy, and he used his free hand to rub over my mound. “Please,” I choked out, not above begging for him to slip his fingers against my clit.

His lips tugged into a devilish smirk, and the dark Mary that I’d heard whisperings about throughout town flashed before me. “You want me to touch you, babydoll?” he practically growled out. I nodded restlessly, biting my bottom lip as I held back another keening noise bubbling in my throat. “You promise to cum on my cock?” he asked, beginning to stroke the circumference around my clit as he maintained a powered look into my eyes.

“Yes,” I breathed out, swallowing roughly as I pushed my hips back against his to show my enthusiasm and obedience, “Yes, Mare, I promise.”

He grinned at the nickname I’d never before used and danced his thumb across my nub like a whisper before bearing down harshly, flicking it twice before shoving his hips roughly against mine in quick succession. My vocal cords all but melted from my throat as I groaned out, completely depraved and taken, and I squeezed my eyes tight at the sensation. Mary let out his own string of curses as I clamped down around him.

“S-so-...close,” I rasped out. He must have been too, as I could feel him increase his speed in his thrusting, his chipped black fingernails digging into the flesh of my backside as the other hand stroked me sloppily yet steadily. The pulling that had been building since our collision on the couch began to spill over, and I felt the electrical bolts spreading like lightning down each limb, across my scalp and to the tip of my nose. “Mary!” I shrieked out, my restraint betraying me, virtually screaming as I came undone around him.

As each part of my body tensed from my orgasm, Mary picked up speed, removing his hand from between my legs to grasp at my other hip, fucking into me with wild abandon. His own moans were nearly as loud as mine, and each movement burst starlight through my cunt. Mary’s body trembled, pelvis stuttering as I felt him twitch inside of me. Mere moments passed before I could feel his cock roughly kicking inside of my walls and for a split second, I wished that we’d forgone the condom so I could feel his spend as it coated me.

After a few more pumps to ride out his high, Mary leaned forward, hands bracing himself on the counter around me as his forehead rested against my shoulder. We were both breathing heavily, him more so, and I reached up to play with the sweat-dampened hair at the nape of his neck, kissing against his shoulder.

He let out a breathy laugh and slid out of me. I could feel him pulling off the condom and tying it, but as he moved to throw it away, I caught his wrist and pulled him back into me.

“Stay for a second,” I asked, surprising even myself at the request. He humored me and ran a hand up my thigh to rest there, pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

“Was this the real reason you came over?” I asked after a minute had passed, our breathing now somewhat evened and the chill of stillness pricking at the sweat on our bodies.

Mary shook his head. “It was just the icing on the cake.” He flashed a grin at me, and I groaned, slapping his chest playfully and earning an “ow, fuck” in return.

He stepped a few feet away to throw away the condom before returning, hands rubbing soothingly at my thighs as I tried to ignore the feeling of the edge of the countertop biting into my ass.

Extending his arm out, Mary brushed some of the scarlet hair matted to my damp forehead. I closed my eyes at the touch and allowed myself to smile at the sweet gesture. The smile was short lived, however, as I thought back to his joke.

“Fuck…” I said, eyes opening to stare back at him, “...we forgot to put the cake in the fridge.”

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