#happy and stupid and oblivious

[becasbelt]

I ALSO GET CONFUSED WHEN WRITING IN PAST TENSE why is english so hard

i am pleading with the english gods and i am asking them to make my brain understand how to write in past tense for things set in the present. i am begging the gods to make my brain so huge and so wrinkly so that i may possess this power

[nonbinarykai]

My hot take is that I think Kai did raise nya but he was an objectively bad and lacking parental figure (because he was like 7) who wasn’t able to properly fulfill Nya emotional needs and as a result (as well as the general stress of the situation) nya is as heavily traumatized as Kai.

[thatonegayship]

I loved the cowboy comic so much that I wrote a oneshot for it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/50934235 🥺 your art is BEYOND amazing, ty for the food

INCREDIBLE!!!!!

[deeisace]

Me the other day: yes he's a dick but it's been actually okay the last couple times I've visited my dad, I'll make an effort and get him a father's day card

Me now, halfway through the visit: actually fuck this I'm lying about train times so I can go home an hour early and he's not getting the card

[autumnrory]

i really think stucky fandom is the only one i've been in where making another relationship pretty much just as significant as theirs in fanfiction is the norm and obvs it used to not bother me but now it makes me crazy

like. i'm used to another pairing being together but then they break up and the main one gets together and you're like okay cool but stucky writers just muddy the waters and i'm like you know you can ignore them being with other people right this is fanfic you can do whatever you want you don't have to prop up this relationship to prove you're not misogynistic or whatever you can still write stucky exactly as they are without all this extra nonsense

[roocomehome]

everytime i want to make a love related Reo post, i remember that they are not a thing and that they are going through TURMOIL. They make me so ill, im hitting the floor and ripping the paint off my walls because of them

[maskedbyghost]

cw: manipulation, possessive reader, suggestive language

You told him you didn’t do casual.

You didn’t make it a big deal. You just said it like you meant it, not trying to sound dramatic or emotional about it. Just honest.

“I don’t do casual,” you said, eyes on your drink. “It always ends up messy, and I’m not built for that.”

Simon leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “That’s alright,” he said eventually. “I’m not looking for anything serious.”

You nodded. No reaction on your face, no shift in tone. “Then we can just be friends.”

He raised an eyebrow like he was trying to figure you out. “You sure?”

You smiled a little. “Yeah. I like hanging out with you. We don’t have to fuck.”

“…Alright,” he said, after a pause. “Friends.”

And that was the start.

Except friends don’t show up to his gym when he’s meeting a girl for a workout date.

Friends don’t slip him a text during his Tinder dinner like,

“you left your hoodie here again. i’m wearing it. smells like you.”

Friends don’t show up to the pub when he’s got plans with someone, all dolled up like you just rolled out of a damn music video, giving his date a once-over and offering a tight smile that says run, babe.

You’d always act surprised when things didn’t work out. “Oh no, she ghosted you? That’s so weird.”

And Simon? He wasn’t completely oblivious. But he was tired, and lonely, and honestly kind of lazy when it came to trying to figure women out, and you were just so easy to be around, so warm and funny and low-maintenance and somehow always around when he needed someone.

So when he started seeing you more than anyone else, it didn’t feel weird. It felt right.

He told himself it was just friendship.

Even when you leaned against him on the couch. Even when you started sleeping over. Even when he started feeling a little sick thinking about you with anyone else.

The night it finally changed, he had just come back from a shit deployment — nothing too dangerous, just long and annoying and cold, and you’d been waiting at his place (with your own key, because somehow that had happened), and you were in his clothes, curled up in his bed with takeout, and when he saw you like that he just… stopped thinking.

“You’re perfect for me,” he said quietly, almost like he was talking to himself.

You blinked, looking up from your phone. “What?”

“I was so fucking stupid,” he muttered, dropping his bag, walking toward you like something magnetic was pulling him in. “I didn’t see it. I don’t know why.”

You didn’t say anything right away. You just looked at him for a second, then smiled, slow and easy, like you’d been waiting for him to finally figure it out, like none of it really surprised you, but you were still happy to hear it out loud.

From there, it was easy.

The relationship happened fast. Slipped into place like it had always been there. He’d gone from “I don’t do serious” to leaving his toothbrush at your place, to falling asleep with his face buried in your neck, to holding your hand in public without even realizing he was doing it.

He was happy. Stupidly happy. The kind that made his friends suspicious and his coworkers tease him. The kind that made you look like the hero of some cozy domestic fantasy where nothing ever goes wrong and love is enough.

It wasn’t one big moment. It was a bunch of little ones that slowly added up until he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Like how you always just showed up when he had plans, how his phone would buzz with a text from you right before he left for a date. Or how you’d casually mention how certain girls “weren’t his type,” even when he never brought them up to you.

And then one day, while you were going through an old playlist together, you said, “God, I remember this song. I used to listen to it every time I thought about you with someone else.” And you didn’t even blink after saying it.

And the more he thinks about it, the more it starts adding up.

You’d played him. You’d baited him.

And now he’s sitting on the couch, watching you walk into the room in one of his old T-shirts, holding a bowl of snacks, looking like home, and he honestly doesn’t know whether to laugh or be pissed off or bend you over the arm of the sofa and remind you who he is.

You plop into his lap like you do it every day (because you do), nestling in like you’re settling into your rightful throne, and he wraps his arms around your waist automatically, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“You know what I realized today?” he asks, voice low.

You hum. “What?”

He tilts his head like he’s thinking it through. “We’re together because you manipulated me.”

You pause for like… half a second. Then?

“Yeah,” you say, nonchalant. “And?”

He squints at you, mouth twitching like he can’t decide if he wants to smile or frown. “You sabotaged every girl I tried to hook up with.”

“I did,” you say, and lean forward to grab the remote. “Most of them were trash anyway.”

“You tricked me into thinking you weren’t interested.”

“Mhm.” You don’t even look at him. “Worked, didn’t it?”

There’s this long silence, and then Simon groans and lets his head fall back on the couch dramatically.

“I should be mad,” he mutters.

“You’re not,” you say, smiling down at him like he’s your prize. “You love me.”

“Fuck, woman,” he breathes, eyes locked on yours. “That turns me on.”

You grin, shifting your weight so you’re straddling him properly, hands sliding up his chest slowly until your fingers curl around the back of his neck. You squeeze—not hard, just enough to make him feel it.

“You belong to me,” you whisper against his ear. “Always have.”

He shivers. Actually shivers.

“…Jesus.”

You kiss his jaw, slow and smug. “Say it.”

“…Yours.”

“Good boy.”

And yeah. He is.

PART 2

----------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6

[northstarshine]

makokuu brainrot has entirely encapsulated my brain. i want to put them in a jar and shake them around. i need to dissect these guys and figure out just what the fuck is going on in those dumbass heads. they're so smart but also so stupid for each other. except makoto maybe. he's not that smart

simultaneously love and fucking despise them (positive)

i like imagining that makoto and kusuke are tangentially Aware of each other’s existence due to both being extremely famous people, but that neither care enough to actually look into who the other person is. so one day they meet at some event (maybe they’re giving kusuke a nobel peace prize and makoto is there for Reasons or something. or maybe kusuke is designing the pyrotechnics they’re using as special effects in makoto’s new movie) and get to talking and realize. oh my god. this is the most annoying, abrasive, creepy weirdo i’ve ever met. i hate this guy. then they go home to cyberstalk google each other and realize their siblings are friends and immediately begin having some of the craziest celebrity beef of all time. nobody can figure out why celebrated british scientist Dr. Kusuke Saiki is suddenly shit-talking japanese pop idol Mugami Toru to the press, and furthermore, why Mugami Toru seems to hate him just as much, if not more.

then one day, seemingly out of the blue, they get photographed kissing at a private expensive resort by paparazzi and the media lose it

[whosmariaaa]

— drabble of this !

college! sukuna had been having a rough day. first of all, you were sick, so he didn’t see you all day. second of all, he had a big game tonight, but you were still sick so you couldn’t come and cheer him on. he was unbelievably pissed.

as their coach scolded sukuna for playing too aggressive for the nth time, his friends started picking up on his behavior too.

“awww, is lil’ old sukuna missing his girl?” gojo grinned widely.

“shut the hell up, before the guy cracks your fucking skull open,” toji replied, passing the ball to another teammate. sukuna simply had his teeth clenched, really trying not to show how pissed off he was and snap at gojo again.

he stole the ball from said teammate, roughly shouldering him, which caused another scolding from the coach.

“what the hell is up your ass, man? just play the damn game without trying to assault your teammates for once,” coach yelled through the court.

sukuna was three seconds away from assaulting the coach too if he didn’t shut his ass up. “i’m winning the fucking game for you people. be grateful, dumbass,” he argued back.

despite succesfully throwing the ball in the hoop, scoring yet another point, a few seconds later sukuna was on the bench was shouting back at the coach. safe to say the man was now fuming. all he wanted to do is go to your dorm and have you in his arms. now he was stuck in this trashy ass place.

eventually sukuna was let off the bench again, and they of course won. yipee, yay, happy ending. now he could finally go to you. but then to make matters even worse, gojo and toji forced him to go to their usual frat parties, calling him boring for wanting to go home. sukuna almost knocked their teeth out. God forbid a man wants to see his girlfriend.

now, one too many drinks in, and maybe half a blunt, and sukuna was gone. this was probably the drunkest he’d ever been, and that says a lot.

joining into all the stupid drinking games, beating up several guys for looking at him wrong (toji had to push him off before he actually killed someone in front of everyone (gojo was filming everything in glee)), and pushing off girls that weren’t you.

“damn, i don’t ever think i’ve seen you this wasted,” toji commented as he dragged sukuna back to the couch where gojo was.

“fuck you talking about? i- i’m not feeling shit,” he stammered, plopping onto the couch, which made both toji and gojo raise an eyebrow.

“still missing y/n?” gojo teased. sukuna turned his head, giving gojo a death stare. “what the fuck do you think? all i wanted to do tonight is be with my girl, and you useless idiots dragged me into… this shit,” he replied, words slurring slightly.

then, a mischievous grin appeared on gojo’s face. he pulled out his phone, unbeknowst to sukuna and started filming.

“wow, you really love y/n, huh?” toji chuckled, catching on to gojo’s doing.

“of course i do. you guys have been taunting the fuck out of me ever since i laid eyes on her. can’t get her out of my damn mind either,” sukuna started, completely oblivious to the phone pressed up in his face.

“didn’t ever think i’d fall in love. especially not with her. she’s a bitch. but i love her. more than anything, i think,” he rambled, “she’s my beautiful girl. and i love her attitude. and i adore the fuck out of… just her.”

gojo snickered, slightly tilted his phone so toji could see his screen and send it to you. you, oblivious to everything happening with your boyfriend at the moment.

but as soon as you opened your messages, and saw some video of sukuna, cheeks a little flushed, onto the couch manspreading, with music and gojo’s giggles onto the background you knew enough.

and yes, your heart did do a few flips at his words. sukuna isn’t very verbal on his love, but he tries. so yes, this is definitely an ego booster, and maybe you fell in love a little more. but this man is drunk out of his mind without letting you know AND called you a bitch.

so, after bribing their location out of gojo, you immediately went to the dorm, in hoodie and sweatpants, still feeling a little ill. but surely it didn’t take too long to find your boyfriend.

he twas throwing a sucker punch to yet another innocent man who has probably done no wrong, cussing him out. he shoved the guy off, making him hit the wall. you sighed and walked over to sukuna, and grabbed his arm to catch his attention.

he looked over to you, eyes dazed and narrowed in disgust. “don’t fucking touch me, you nasty bitch. i’ve got a girl,” he sneered in distaste, roughly pushing you off. was he actually serious?

“it’s me, you shithead,” you snarled, giving a slap to his bicep for pushing you away. then, he really looked at you, and his eyes immediately seemed to soften.

“oh, it’s you,” sukuna mumbled, his head tilting as that stupid smirk of his appeared. he stumbled closer to you.

“yeah, it’s me! what the hell, man! what’d you call me a bitch twice for?” you snapped at him. but you didn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest.

“mhmm, missed you, baby,” sukuna responded, pressing a kiss to your neck. you melted a little, but refused to show it. he was still wasted, and you were still angry at him.

“yeah, yeah, c’mon, let’s go to my dorm,” you muttered, a little quieter. he didn’t fight back once, he even seemed a little too eager to go back.

you said goodbye to toji and gojo, who were both smoking sukuna’s left over blunt. sukuna just threw up his middle finger without looking at them, because he quite frankly couldn’t keep his eyes (nor hands) off you.

after forcing him to take a shower, brush his teeth and drink some water, that man was still drunk. he held you in his arms, your head on his chest. he kept staring at you as if you hung the moon.

“you’re so pretty, sweetheart, y’know that, hm?” sukuna hummed, as he raised your head to look at him.

“i mean, you’ve only told me sixteen times this hour, but thanks,” you reacted, but you couldn’t help but smile a little.

“so fucking smart too. i’d die for you. i’d kill for you too,” he added, looking at you with heart-eyes almost. honestly, you felt butterflies in your stomach at his words. you pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“i’ve already killed for you, y’know that? that little bitch from the party. he’s fucking dead somewhere in a dumpster,” sukuna smiled.

well, then the butterflies kind of died, because his smile and tone seemed a little… too genuine.

but he was under the influence of alcohol, he was just babbling nonsense. sure, sukuna’s a tough guy, but he’s not a violent murderer. he’s your loving boyfriend… right?

but you just decided to shrug the weird feeling off and kissed him, and replied, “love you too, asshole.” and after that, sukuna fell asleep like a brick, soon followed by you, as the two of you laid on your dorm bed in peace that night.

──★˙🍓̟!! thank you sm for the request, you’re so sweet i literally love you to death omds😣💗 i do not know what to think of this part idk… but i do hope it’s readable! and thank you babe @yerimoon for giving me some motivation to write!! anyway, reader of course doesn’t know sukuna is secretly an evil little guy, but now shes lowk finding out😱😱 if you guys want more of this series lmk please!! thank you for reading!!! 💗💗

— taglist ! @imlikeacoffeeconnoisseur @stars4you777 @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @seizecherry @xlilycoco @v1x3n @go-go-gadget-autism @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @paradisestarfishh @13-09-01 @misticsilver @whosmarjj @seellove @aquariusscollection @satorushousewife @rwirxles @anonnieghost @bitchpleaseeeeeeeeee-blog @iminloveweveryone @poopooindamouf @phisen @ryomku @erintaro @clp-84 @mastermasterlist1p1 @katsukiseyebrows @happy2delivur @jup1tersuccubus @nxcxllxsevens @realalpacorn @kxgumi @crankyarchives @itsjustisa @junitries @kodzukensworld @bnbaochauuu @tomsxslvt @flwerie @bwlol7 @szuuyl @grignardsreagent @yourangel04 🍓

[sleep-0-deprived]

Could you do Dom! Yan teacher and Yan Bully fighting over a himbo reader?

Yan teacher vs Yan bully x male reader imagines~! ໒꒰ྀི˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ꒱ྀི১

Taglist: @yyuinaa @kimisbunny @asher-is-hotxp @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @dewday1 @blond3ang3l @creepy141dollie @m4r13ll @ihavezeropancreas @sooobiinn @just-ignore-them @fuckingmxonlight @nightwinglover101 @chasingknives

── ✦ ──── ✦ ──── ✦ ──── ✦ ──── ✦ ──── ✦ ─

Jus imaginin you bein a star football player- bein all handsome N’ fit but a total dummy— as oblivious to your surroundings as ever and boy if the captain of your team didn’t let you know jus how stupid he thinks you are!…oh he’s plain O’l cruel, makin you stay after practice slapping you for your mistakes grabbing your ass N’ groping you secretly on tha field like he owns you- he loves havin you to himself N’ making jokes bout you infront of everyone else but boy if he isn’t totally smitten by you…he’s full blown infatuated to the point where it’s insane? I mean he beats you bloody jus to see you look at him all pathetic

Jus imaginin bein a total pet for your college professor, I mean all tha extra tutorin has you close with him is all? That’s just it right!..? But oh no he’s dead set you’re his pretty boy- his pretty baby N’ all you can do is sit wide eyed like a pursed puppy before him, gosh he’d eat you alive if he could- he’d squish you N’ grab you like a lil boy toy but he can’t with that big O’l meanie who’s always by your side, but boy if your professor doesn’t like playin your hero, swoop in an Savin that pretty jaw from his blows.

Jus imaginin your bully givin up bein sweet on you, he starts bein all mean again, punching you N’ gripping you tight makin your big eyes swell up jus so he can angrily try N’ make out with you— poor you bein all confused not even protesting when his flushed cock is in your face, his tip all mushroomed and leakin all over the shaft N’ pressing into your inner cheek— he loves the way you pout, all sloppy with your drool on the ground sitting on your knees is a picture perfect sight to him. Of course your professor finds out, he won’t even look you N’ your eyes after that!

Jus imaginin your professor givin you the silent treatment- gaslighting and tearin your pretty boy status down til your needy and apologetic practically beggin for his forgiveness- these two men were ruinin you- a once happy go lucky man bein twisted into a toxic relationship between two big O’l meanies…N’ why was riding your professors cock the only way to get his forgiveness? “Mh, sirr- are you sure there isn’t a’nother wayy~” your voice is whiny gripping onto his desk with lewd plaps fillin up the room havin his hand on your hip with your lips pressing together forming an ‘O’ shape while his hands rest on your hips liftin and droppin you on his cock havin your insides squished to his size.

Jus imaginin your bully findin out about you and your professor— seein your flushed face and your limp when you show up for practice, it doesn’t take a genius to see you jus took the fuckin of a life time an’ he was full of rage that he wasn’t the man that gave it too ya. Oh how your poor body never catches a break- you’re bent over in the locker room grippin for dear life while he jus grunts and huffs angrily in your ear like a upset dog, your rim burns from bein stretched too long N’ your inner walls are all bruised N’ slick still from your professors cock- he can feel it and he knows you can too.

Jus imaginin the two men tryin to be at each others throats when you turn away N’ playing all nice when you’re around, your bully bein all ruthless T’ you jus so your professor can swoop in N’ be your savior, jus thinkin your bully tryin to be nice f’ once when he sees how close you are T’ the professor—maybe if he sweetens up he can have ya. Your bully bein mean to you until he sees you tuck tail and runin to Him..oh boy if that didn’t make his blood boil seeing you all clingy to that dumb old man—

[starsofang]

Single Dad!Simon who vowed to never trust another woman again after his failed past. He was locked up with the key thrown away, permanently off of the market.

At least that’s what he’d told himself for years. Now, he was beginning to have cold feet.

Simon needed a nanny, one that he could trust completely. He didn’t play about his child, and he’d be damned if he got set up with someone of ill intentions.

But, he was desperate.

Price needed him back periodically, even after his retirement, and he agreed. After all, money was tight when he parented on his own with a growing child.

That was when you came in. Soap had been a pal and recommended an old family friend, somebody he knew Simon could trust with his kid. Simon was skeptical, of course, but Soap had never done him wrong. Reluctantly, he agreed.

Simon wanted to have a trial period to see if you were truly built for the task. He wouldn’t let you off easily. His child was his world, and women weren’t exactly in his deck of cards when it came to trust.

You were as sweet as honey upon the first meeting with a smile that could outdo the sun. Your voice was soft as rain, flowing out of you like a summer song. You spoke to him with the upmost respect, and even more so with his child.

Simon knew he could trust Soap in guaranteeing somebody safe. You were the perfect candidate. He just didn’t know it would lead into him feeling emotions he’d buried a long, long time ago.

Attraction. Interest. A crush, dare he say, like he was a stupid high school kid that just saw the prettiest girl in class and fell head over heels.

He had a silly crush on his child’s nanny when he fully intended to keep it short and professional. That was the way he operated. He was like a working machine, and you had undone his mechanics so easily to the point he struggled to function.

Seeing you with his child only caused his attraction to fester deeper. His child became attached to your hip, smiling more than they had ever done, rambling nonsense to him every time he returned home and you left to go to yours.

It was becoming hard to deny it. You opened an old wound of Simon’s, awakening that deep and dreadful loneliness he felt every passing day. Every smile, every laugh, every Mr. Riley even though you were close in age, all of it had him on the edge of his seat.

He wanted more. He was tired of denying himself happiness. The idea of pushing away every woman was still very vivid in his mind, but denying you just seemed criminal the more time passed.

“I never got to thank you for allowing me in to your home, Mr. Riley,” you told him one day, ever so sweet.

“Thought I told you to call me Simon,” he grunted, avoiding your eyes as the two of you stood in the doorway.

“Right. Simon,” you corrected with a radiant smile. “You have quite the kid, I’ll tell you that. I always look forward to coming over. It makes my day seeing the two of you.”

Simon could feel his heart pattering against his ribcage. His hands were sweaty, and he prayed you didn’t notice him swipe them along his jeans.

“Both of us?” he hummed.

“Of course. You’re just as exciting to see, too, Mr. Ri- Simon.”

Simon’s lips quirked up the slightest bit, but his heart was in his ass. For the first time in a long time, a woman was making him shy and nervous, and it didn’t feel as bad as it did before.

“You’re always free to come over for dinner,” he offered.

“That sounds great, I’d love to have dinner with the two of you!” you exclaimed, beaming.

He didn’t understand how you could be so bright yet so oblivious at the same time.

Simon cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. “I meant, the two of us.”

You stared at him like he’d grown two heads, and he nearly slammed the door in your face from the sheer anxiety that spiked in him. He couldn’t read your mind or what you were feeling, and Simon wished he had never said anything to begin with.

“That sounds wonderful,” you said instead. Now it was Simon’s turn to stare at you crazy. “I’d love that.”

Simon realized he was staring too long, so he cleared his throat once again, giving you a brief nod and looking away. “Alright. I’ll text you a day and have Soap pick up the little monster for the night.”

When you agreed and left with the smile that made his heart ache, he didn’t waste a second in texting Soap, telling him he’d be on nanny duty for one night that week.

Soap was quick to agree, but not without a little “You’re welcome ;)” text back.

[injuries-in-dust]

This is hilarious...

Fans of Delicious in Dungeon are aware of Falin, when she was fully human:

And people who are familiar with anime tropes would recognise her as an "eyes always shut," character.

From TvTropes: "Characters whose eyes are fixed in that position are generally optimistic and almost always unconditionally happy, but more often down-to-earth instead of ditzy. These characters may be prone to comic obliviousness, but outright stupidity is rare. The exact way the closed eyes are drawn can add a lot to this trope — representing anything from serenity, dignity, smugness, humor, indifference or even someone trying to fake any of those."

Normally a character is just drawn this way, and that's the end of it. No one mentions it. It's just there for us to know the character via the trope.

But Dungeon Meshi actually gave a canonical reason why Falin is drawn that way!

From the wiki:

Falin looks like that because she's always squinting, because she's nearsighted!

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | dropping the towel

this photo of lando is taking me the fuck out rn LMFAO

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, & charles leclerc (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by 🫐) : pranking your boyfriend by pretending to drop your towel mid grwm (get ready with me), only to reveal you’re fully dressed...cue panic, confusion, and betrayal.

୨ৎ : genre : comedy ୨ৎ : tws : slightly suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 857 (this is kinda short im shocked...)

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was so fun icl ... anon ily also... happy birthday!! <3 🥲

ʚ・max verstappen

you had your phone propped up, mid-grwm recording, casually explaining your "makeup routine" while max was somewhere in the apartment, completely unaware of what was about to happen.

the second you heard his footsteps approaching, you went for it.

with the most dramatic expression possible, you grabbed the edge of your towel and yanked it off.

fully clothed underneath.

max’s reaction was immediate.

before his brain could even process what was happening, he launched himself forward, arms wide, entire body blocking the camera like he was defending pole position.

“BABY?! are you CRAZY?? STOP—oh… wait.”

his breathing was slightly uneven, his eyes wide, staring at you.

then, realization hit him like a red bull one-two finish.

his arms slowly lowered, brows furrowed, blinking like he just lost a crucial race strategy.

you stood there, fully clothed, biting back laughter.

max just stared. processed. stared some more.

then, in a voice filled with betrayal and exhaustion—

“what the hell, y/n?! you almost gave me a heart attack!”

you couldn’t hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter, while he ran a hand down his face, shaking his head.

max turned away, muttering in rapid dutch, something about “stupid pranks” and how you were going to be the “end of him.”

as he walked off, still cursing under his breath, you called after him, “love you, babe!”

without turning around, he just threw a hand up in frustration, mumbling, “yeah, yeah…”

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you were mid-grwm, camera rolling, when lewis strolled into the room, green juice in hand, completely oblivious to the chaos about to unfold.

instead of questioning it, he immediately hyped you up.

“damn, babe, you’re bold today!” he smirked, watching you dramatically grab the edge of your towel.

you yanked it off with full confidence—revealing that you were completely clothed underneath.

silence.

lewis just stood there, blinking, processing the absolute betrayal he just witnessed.

hands slowly went to his hips.

“…so you woke up and chose violence?”

you were already cracking up, but lewis remained stone-faced, slowly sipping his juice with a level of dramatic flair only he could pull off.

your laughter only doubled, while he shook his head in disappointment.

for the rest of the day, he casually roasted your “failed execution.”

“at least make it believable, babe.”

“i expected more from you.”

“where’s the dedication? the art? the drama?”

by the end of it, you swore he was more upset about the lack of commitment than the prank itself.

ʚ・george russell

george walked into the room at the absolute worst (or best) possible moment—just as you dramatically grabbed the edge of your towel.

his eyes widened in immediate horror.

"y/n, what are you doing?! we have neighbors!"

his voice rose an octave, hands already halfway in the air as if preparing to shield you from an imaginary audience.

then—you ripped off the towel.

fully clothed.

silence.

a long, deep, exasperated sigh left his lips, relief washing over him like he just avoided a pr disaster.

“i genuinely thought i was about to have a scandal on my hands.”

you were dying laughing, while george simply pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself as he straightened imaginary wrinkles on his already perfectly crisp shirt.

“you’re insufferable, i swear.”

as he walked out, still grumbling about your antics, you caught him checking the window blinds...just in case.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos walked into the room, immediately spotting you recording something suspicious.

his eyes narrowed.

“por favor, don’t do something crazy.”

you simply smirked, dramatically gripping the towel like you were about to change the course of his life.

carlos tensed.

and then—you yanked it off.

fully clothed.

carlos didn’t react at first.

instead, he looked around the room suspiciously, checking corners, squinting at the ceiling like there was a hidden camera crew lurking nearby.

“where are the cameras? lando put you up to this, no?”

you were wheezing, but carlos was still fully convinced this was some kind of elaborate scheme.

even after you swore it was just a prank, he shook his head, laughing.

“one day, i will get you back. hard.”

something about the way he said it made you gulp.

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles walked in at the exact moment you grabbed the towel, your expression all too mischievous.

his eyes widened in pure panic.

“mon amour, what are you doing?!”

in true dramatic fashion, he stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet in a desperate attempt to stop the inevitable.

but before he could reach you—you yanked the towel off.

fully clothed.

he froze.

one hand went straight to his chest, like he had just been personally victimized.

“you want me to die young, is that it?”

you were already doubled over in laughter, but charles wasn’t done.

with a deep sigh, he dramatically collapsed onto the nearest chair, running a hand through his hair like he had aged ten years.

muttering in french, he shook his head.

“ma copine est complètement folle… (my girlfriend is completely crazy…)”

still recovering from his fake near-death experience, he peeked up at you.

“you enjoyed that too much.”

you smirked. “oh, absolutely.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[lighting-and-shadow]

Ikigai, Part 2

Summary: You’re desperately in love with a man who already belongs to another.

Ikigai (n.) (Japanese): "A reason for being," the thing that gets you up in the morning.

Part 1,

Part 3

The same arms that cradled you last night now carry her. She’s unconscious (apparently because Sylus choked the life out of her and you will be pressing him on that later), and she’s beautiful. So beautiful that you tug on your sleeves a bit to cover more of your skin as you stare. The strange woman is a literal sleeping beauty, so you can’t help but keep your eyes on her.

But those details about her aren’t what make you truly stare. No. Something else entirely makes you stop dead in your tracks as you approach the twins and Sylus at the doors.

Her threads. As in multiple ones. Multiple soulmates and multiple bonds. They flicker in a way you’ve never seen before, and behave like winding paths. They’re each a gateway to a different love, to a different story. And she could choose which one to take.

You don’t know how you know this. But that isn’t new to you. Your power’s always been a mystery to you, seeing the bonds of soulmates even before they themselves have connected and formed. You know someone’s love story before they do. And you know what they’ve lost whenever you see a severed thread like James’. All this you learned through trial and error, since no one else sees what you see.

It got even worse once Evols started showing up and the Deepspace Tunneled opened. Like a puzzle you must assemble without instructions. Or a full picture. While blindfolded.

So, sometimes your ability just tells you things. Like now. It told that this strange girl, Miss Hunter as the twins call her, had multiple possible soulmates. It also told you of her multiple pasts. One of which you know quite intimately.

Sylus. You can’t bare to look at the man in question. From his heart protrudes his string, and on the other end of it is her. Her and not you.

You always knew you’d meet Sylus’ soulmate one day. And when that day came, you knew you’d be happy to see them love one another. But when you imagined that, you imagined he’d be their only love. Not one of many. Not some choice among different slices of pie.

You force yourself to keep walking. Pain creaks through you, like a car slamming on its breaks every few feet. Jagged and raw. Cutting.

”You aren’t her only one,” you want to say. ”You aren’t her only one, and you deserve better than that.”

Why? Why did this girl with so much love have to take from you the one thing you wanted? You want to pluck that stupid string of hers that belongs to Sylus and tie it to your pinky finger. You want to scream at the universe at how unfair this all is.

You don’t do anything of that. Instead, you fall into line with the twins as Sylus takes her to a spare bedroom. Part of you is relieved beyond words he didn’t put her in his own room. You think your heart would’ve given out there and then otherwise.

Once she’s carefully laid down on the bed, Sylus finally speaks.

“Kieran. Luke.”

“Yes boss,” they say in that weird unison thing they’ve always done; you find it strangely endearing.

“Watch her.”

He’s all business, acting as if this was an everyday occurrence. Like he always brought strange girls back to his home.

“Of course, boss,” Kieran replies. He gives you look when he does so. Even with his mask, you could tell what he was trying to say: ”you know what’s going on, right?”

You shake your head at him. His older brother is oblivious to the whole mess, sitting on a chair in the room and kicking his legs back and forth. You envy his silly disposition right now. You couldn’t afford to be nearly as calm.

Sylus and you quickly leave the room, and you guide him to his office rather than his room. Questions burn on the tip of your tongue. They well up inside of you, begging to be released. You can’t bare to let any of them out. So you tame them with persuasion like you’ve done to your clients and opponents in the past.

“He’ll tell you everything,” you think as you walk beside him. ”Just be patient.”

Patience goes out the window the second you two are alone.

“What in the ever-loving fuck do you think you’re doing, Sylus?”

“Name dropping me again, Gamayun. What have I done to bring forth your wrath this time?”

He casually leans against his desk, smirk on his lips and tension in his shoulders. You try to stand a ways away from his, but he uses his Evol to pull you closer. Your feet momentarily leave the floor when he does. The energy of his power is gentle against your skin, and caresses you in an almost apologetic matter.

You glare at him as he does this. He just leans in close to your face, one hand hovering on your waist and the other near your cheek. You stupidly lean into the touch.

Fuck me and my touch-starved self.

“Being sweet with me won’t change the matter at hand.”

“You think I’m sweet on you?” He leans in even closer. “And if it’s worked in the past why can’t it now? Perhaps I need to be more than just sweet…”

He trails off and brushes his fingers on your ear. Suddenly you feel too much. His breath. His skin. The gaze of his eyes. His coat. Everything.

You place a hand on his chest and lightly push. He immediately backs away, and his expression seems to stiffen a bit. You ignore it.

“No amount of sweetness will change the gravity of your lies. You brought a strange woman into the heart of our operation, and I won’t let it go.”

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Do not dodge my question, foolish boss of mine.”

“So feisty today.”

Sylus leans back on the desk and beckons you closer. You stand firm with your hands on your hips and eyes on his soulmate thread. Anything to keep your focus on the task at hand.

He sighs and says your name. You’re inwardly grateful; no Gamayun means no sweetness which means your weak heart won’t make you back out of this conversation.

“She’s a Hunter. One with a unique Evol that I’ll be needing for my plans. That’s all. It’s just business.”

Sylus walks towards you this time.

“Business you couldn’t be fucked to include me in?”

You both wince at your harsh words. You because you’re normally never this openly hostile. With anyone. It’s bad for your line of work. And the only other people you’re normally around are the man you love and his chaotic children henchmen. You’ve no need to be so.. crass.

Sylus winces because… well, you don’t exactly know. His thread gives off some weird feelings you’d rather not dissect. You worry you’ll glimpse into his first meeting with his soulmate, and you’d rather hear about it that experience that yourself.

“There was no need.” Sylus is firm with his words, but his reluctance to make eye contact with you tells a different story. His guilt almost makes you think that he knows how you feel about him, and that he’s sorry for what he’s doing to you.

Fat chance of that.

“Since when is there ever no need for my involvement? You literally drag me anywhere you possibly.”

“Because I fear you becoming a hermit otherwise.”

Your cheeks warm at his words. Stupid Sylus and his need to remind you of your early days working for him.

“Says the man who’s only other companion is his mechanical crow.”

“You don’t say? You know, Gamayun, I’ve seen the way you rant to Mephisto sometimes after certain deals. You’re not too far off to becoming like me.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“Even if I, perchance, do, it’s only because of you. And those “deals” you mention are the ones where you don’t give me much to work on. Like now.”

You two are back to square one. The light-hearted atmosphere is sucked dry in that moment. It’s been replaced by a weight, a fog, of uncertainty and worry. It takes you back to before you meant Sylus, all the way to high school, when something similar happened between you and the first person you fell for.

Those memories eat away at you. Strands upon strands of memories that twine with your nerves to create discomfort in every cell in your body. You only speak in hopes it would rid you of such pain.

“Why can’t you just explain yourself to me like a normal person?”

“Because you have no need to get involved.”

“Morana,” you try using his own tactics against him. “Please just tell me.”

You walk to him this time and cup his cheek with one hand. Sylus leans into the touch, basically nuzzling your hand. You love doing this to him. You love doing this with him. And you’re probably only doing this with him in this moment because you both know somewhere in your hearts you won’t be able to in the future. You doubt his soulmate will appreciate having another woman that loves him touching him like this.

So you’ll savor it.

“What’s the benefit of hiding such a thing from me, your partner?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with useless things.”

“So useless you’ll bring the twins?”

“They were just there for some fun.”

“Fun which you excluded me from? How rude.”

Sylus winces at your dry tone, knowing there was more to the story. Ever since he met you, he knew you had problems feeling left behind or excluded. You always felt like an outsider anywhere you went due to your powers. It got even worse once you realized you had no soulmate.

My relationship to them isn’t your problem.

So many times has those words been uttered to you. So many times have people spat them at you before they walked out your life for good, too in love to notice your broken heart. You wonder if this conversation with Sylus is the beginning of history repeating itself. If right now, the thread of your relationship is unraveling while his new one weaves together.

“Rude? Maybe. But necessary.”

“Why ever would you think that? You need to give me a valid reason.”

“You were sleeping in my arms so peacefully I couldn’t bear to wake you.”

“I said a valid reason, Morana. Not your usual nonsensical reasons.”

“It is a valid reason. I figured letting you sleep would be my way of making it up to you for stressing you yesterday.”

“It doesn’t. Telling me the truth might.”

“You drive such a hard bargain. You do remember I’m your boss, not the other way around? You work for me, sweetheart.”

“I do. But I’m more akin to a partner rather than a subordinate, even if I call you boss. So I’m entitled to the truth about your plans for this new person in our lives. I need to be involved, Morana. Why can’t I?”

“Because maybe I don’t want to get you involved.”

Your thoughts stumble at that. You shrink back from Sylus, dropping your hand and bringing it close to your chest. His eyes widen. You see the panic in them. It’s satisfying, in a sick way.

“Gamayun, that’s not what I—“

You don’t want to hear his excuses.

“You need something from her.”

Something you know you can’t get from me and you know I would stop you from taking.

Moments like these make you wonder if he knows. If he knows how you love him. If he knows you can see the threads of fate. If he knows that you know he’s not your soulmate but hers. If he knows you’re doomed to be alone.

But then you tell that part of yourself to be quiet. Because thinking about the what ifs would only drive you crazy.

“I do. And I will get it from her.”

You hold back a cringe at that. Stupid Sylus. That was no foundation for a relationship of any kind, let alone a soulmate bond.

“Not after such a hostile introduction.”

“Hostile? Me? Whenever have you known meet to be hostile, Gamayun.”

“The day we met,” you make a list of tallies on your hand as you speak. “Last week with that one arms dealer. Last month with the numerous explosions. James.”

His face twists when you mention the man. You roll your eyes.

“You and I both know that I have the best chances of resolving this peacefully.”

“Resolving. Gamayun, I haven’t done anything that needs resolving,” he smirks. “Not yet anyway. I’ll call upon your skills when they’re deemed necessary.”

It hurts a little to hear him say that, but you press on.

“Listen to me. The poor girl’s going through something; why else would an upstanding citizen of Linkon come here by choice? She’s in an unfamiliar environment. She’s been kidnapped twice. Once by you, and another by someone who, according Kieran, was going to kill her for what she had. And then you go and choke her until she fell unconscious. “

You caress his hair as you say this, leaning even closer despite your better judgement. His breath hitches and he gets closer as well.

“She’s not going to trust a word you say. And you and I both know the twins; negotiations and civil conversation isn’t their strong suit.”

The two of you laugh at this, and you vaguely wonder if this is how it feels to be a parent of insane teens. Because that’s what you think your life is sometimes.

“You’ve all made a bad impression on her. I haven’t. She’s in a sensitive spot, and I think the advice of someone with far more tact would do her good.”

“You got all that from just a glimpse? You’re better than even I thought, my sweet Gamayun.”

“Like I said before, being sweet won’t get you anywhere.”

You giggle when Sylus uses his Evol to mess with your hair. His hands hover around your waist.

“Just let me be the contact with her, alright? My relationship to her is far better than yours despite never truly meeting her. Whatever there is between you and her will be dwarfed by her grief.”

Guilt twists in your gut at that lie. Their relationship will never equal any relationship you have to either of them. But that bond doesn’t exist yet. So you’ll cling to those false words and hope they get you through this storm.

You think you have him. You think you’re about to get your answers. Instead, Sylus breaks your heart again. Except this time, it’s in a way you thought he never could.

“My relationship to her isn’t your problem.”

And just like that, you’re 16 years old again with your best friends. And then 12 with your friend’s father’s “new friend”. And then 10 with your former friends turned bullies. And then 7 with your first ever close relationship. All the times when someone spouted those same words just before they abandoned you. Just before they broke your heart, threw it the trash, and went home happily to their soulmate.

You can barely hold it together. You briefly register pushing him away, hands shaking and adrenaline practically going to war on your system. It’s different from the last time you pushed him away. So, so different. Your body betrays you in this moment. It’s on guard. It sees Sylus as a threat.

“Oh,” is all you muster.

You don’t need to see Sylus’ expression to know that your mask has slipped. All that practice acting and pretending means nothing now.

“I’ll just… I’ll just go. Yeah. I’ll just go.”

You think you hear Sylus protest. Or maybe you imagine it because you want him to chase after you unlike so many in the past didn’t. It doesn’t matter either way. You leave all the same. You leave and try to pick up the pieces of your heart while Miss Hunter slumbers away, oblivious to the plague of emotions her entire existence has brought you.

Author's Note: Also, please go to the original blurb to ask to be added to the taglist (it's impossible for me to keep checking every part every time I update).

Taglist: @eolivy, @rafayelridesfisheatsfish, @animegamerfox, @jasperjokester, @schrodingerskimdokja, @just--crys, @snowdynasty, @shi-thats-kiera, @mansonofmadness, @dwuclvr, @ameilli, @katiedoesstuff101, @everythingistaken00, @napa-the-yappa, @hanaluxx, @lovesick-sylus, @madam8, @tenaciouszombiewombat, @ladyparamount, @applepi405, @midnight-reverie, @69-gojos-wife-69, @bellagrayson-wayne, @phisen, @idkmanimjusthorny, @munchychuusy, @autumn2534, @poptrim, @sillyfreakfanparty, @zaynesfirefly, @flamedancer13, @thissmartdumbass, @mrsllawliet, @jeondyy, @ssetsuka, @dels-page, @that-lost-one, @johnnysactualgf, @mariquitas-en-verano@toelady, @sinnamon-bunn, @yesbiaswrecked, @doggyteam2028, @little-rays-of-darkness, @albatrossblue, @vyntheria, @silverianni, @browneyedgirl22, @tiklestar, @beaconsxd, @pepperushia

[bananasplit133]

‧₊˚ INVINCIBLE VARIANTS' JEALOUSY HEADCANONS ‧₊˚

Invincible Variants x Reader

ft: Mohawk Mark; Sinister Mark; Unmasked Mark; Omnivincible; Striped (Emperor) Mark; No Goggles Mark.

(other headcanons here)

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━❛

Mohawk Mark

Jealousy? Nah, he thinks it’s funny. Until it isn’t. He’ll laugh, tease you, throw an arm around your shoulders when someone flirts with you—but if that someone doesn’t get the hint? That’s when things get ugly.

 He turns possessive real fast. If another guy is flirting with you, he joins in—except now he’s the one whispering in your ear, tugging you closer, making sure everyone in the room knows who you belong to.

You’re his, and he makes sure everyone knows it. He won’t fight over you. He doesn’t need to. Because the moment he flashes that knowing smirk, that you can try, but you won’t win attitude, people back off real fast.

➽─────────❥

"You always come here alone?" The guy leans in, all charm and confidence.

You barely have time to react before a warm arm drapes around your shoulders.

"She doesn’t," Mark answers for you, voice dripping amusement. "She’s got me."

The guy tenses, barely masking his annoyance. "Oh. I didn’t realize—"

Mark grins. "Yeah, I figured. You seem real comfortable flirting with my girl."

You glare up at him, but he just winks.

The guy sputters, scrambling for an excuse. Mark doesn’t give him the chance. Instead, he leans down, lips just brushing your ear.

"You like the attention, don’t you?" he murmurs, smug. "That’s cute, babe."

You shove him off. His laughter follows you.

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

Sinister Mark 

He doesn’t get jealous. He gets insulted. Do they really think they stand a chance? He doesn’t just own you—he dominates every part of your life. Anyone trying to compete is laughable.

His presence alone is enough to send a warning. If someone gets too close, he doesn’t need to start a fight. One look from him is enough to make most people back off. If they don’t? Then they’re in for a very unfortunate fate.

If you’re the one making him jealous, he makes you regret it. He won’t yell. He won’t get visibly mad. But he’ll get quiet. He’ll get cold. And suddenly, you’re left wondering if you just made the biggest mistake of your life.

➽─────────❥

The café feels wrong. Too still. Too quiet.

You glance up—and your stomach drops.

Mark stands in the doorway, watching. Expression unreadable.

The guy in front of you is still talking, oblivious. You barely hear him over the sound of your own heartbeat.

Mark doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. But when your eyes meet his, you know.

You excuse yourself so fast it’s almost embarrassing. By the time you step outside, he’s waiting.

"Having fun?" His voice is smooth, almost amused.

You swallow hard. "It wasn’t like that."

He hums, tilting his head. "Wasn’t it?"

A gloved hand reaches up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You shiver.

"You can do whatever you want," he murmurs. "But don’t forget where you belong."

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

Unmasked Mark

He doesn’t want to feel jealous. He knows it’s stupid. He knows you aren’t his. But seeing someone else make you laugh, seeing you give them your attention—it kills him.

He gets insecure. He wonders if you’d be happier with someone else. Someone normal. Someone who doesn’t have blood on their hands.

When he gets jealous, he withdraws. He won’t confront you. He won’t start a fight. But he’ll pull away—and suddenly, you’re the one chasing after him.

➽─────────❥

You find him on the rooftop, staring at the city.

"Mark," you breathe, stepping closer. He doesn’t turn.

"You looked happy," he says, voice distant.

You frown. "What are you talking about?"

He exhales, rubbing his face. "That guy. Back in the café."

Realization dawns, and you groan. "Are you serious?"

He shrugs. "It’s not a big deal."

"It is a big deal if you’re out here sulking about it."

That finally gets a reaction. He shoots you a glare, but there’s no real anger behind it. Just something tired.

"You don’t have to stay," he mutters.

You grab his wrist before he can leave. "You don’t get to decide that."

His breath catches. Slowly, hesitantly, he looks at you.

You squeeze his hand. "I’m not going anywhere."

For the first time all night, his shoulders relax.

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

Omnivincible

Jealousy is irrelevant. Do you really think he’d let someone steal you from him? The thought is laughable. You are his. Not just in body, but in purpose. There is no scenario where he lets another take what belongs to him.

He doesn’t get angry—he gets amused. If someone flirts with you, he watches, curious, like an apex predator watching a clueless creature wander into his den. It’s entertaining.

That doesn’t mean he allows it. If they persist, his patience wears thin. His hand finds your chin, tilts your face toward his. Mine. It’s not a warning—it’s a statement. A universal truth.

He ensures you never feel unsafe. Not because he trusts the world, but because he has made sure no one dares to threaten you. Any potential threat—whether real or imagined—is removed before you even notice.

➽─────────❥

The guy across from you leans in, eyes flicking over your face. “Didn’t think someone like you would be here alone.”

You don’t get the chance to reply.

A shadow falls over the table.

Mark is standing behind the guy, arms crossed over his chest. Silent. Unbothered. His presence is total.

The guy doesn’t notice right away. “So, what do you say?” he continues, giving you a grin.

Mark clears his throat—not loud, not dramatic, just enough.

The guy freezes. Then, slowly, he turns his head.

Mark is watching him. Not scowling. Not glaring. Just looking. Completely composed, like he’s already decided how this ends.

The guy lets out a nervous laugh. “Uh… hey, man. You need something?”

Mark blinks at him. “You can leave.”

It’s not a suggestion.

The guy hesitates, glancing at you like maybe you’ll say something—maybe you’ll help.

You don’t.

His throat bobs as he swallows, then he stands, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh… I was just heading out anyway.”

Mark doesn’t move until the guy is gone. Then, with a quiet sigh, he slides into the chair across from you, resting his elbow on the table, fingers loosely curled against his chin.

“You attract the worst kinds of people,” he murmurs, amusement flickering in his eyes. Then, after a beat, he smirks.

“…Good thing I got here first.”

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

Target/Striped (Emperor) Mark

Jealousy triggers his aggressive side. He’s quick to anger, and if he sees someone flirting with you, he doesn’t just get mad—he gets violent. His jealousy manifests as a fierce need to assert dominance, often leading to confrontations.

He’ll mock you when you’re with others. Calling you lowlife is part of his charm, but it’s also a power play. He relishes reminding you of your supposed weakness, and if someone else shows interest, he’ll amplify that mockery.

He’s loud in his jealousy. When he’s upset, it’s hard to ignore. His voice rises, filled with raw energy and irritation, and he doesn’t care who hears him. He expects you to fall in line—and he’ll make sure you do.

➽─────────❥

You’re laughing with friends at the bar when you spot Mark entering. His gaze narrows as he strides over, fists clenched.

“What’s so funny?” he snaps, eyes fixed on you.

You try to explain, but he cuts you off. “Those losers? Seriously?” His voice is loud, drawing attention. “You’re better than this, lowlife.”

“Mark, they’re just being friendly—”

“Friendly? You think they want anything but to take you from me?” He leans closer, intensity radiating from him. “You belong with me. Not them.”

He glares at your friends, making them back off, leaving you feeling trapped between his anger and their confusion.

“Let’s go,” he commands, grabbing your wrist. You don’t argue

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

No Goggles Mark

Jealousy leads to chaotic amusement. When he sees someone flirting with you, he can’t help but make a show of it. He might tease the other person, enjoying the absurdity of the situation and pushing their buttons.

He has a playful demeanor, but his mood can shift rapidly. If the flirter doesn’t back off, his tone changes, revealing a more serious side. He’s possessive and won’t hesitate to remind others of that.

His humor masks a deeper intensity. While he enjoys messing with people, the underlying threat is always present. He wants you to know you’re his, and he won’t tolerate anyone else thinking otherwise.

➽─────────❥

You’re chatting with a group of friends when you spot Mark leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a playful smirk on his face.

As one of your friends gets a little too flirty, Mark straightens up and walks over, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, look at this! A little flirtation party without me? How daring!”

Your friend laughs, but Mark’s gaze is locked onto the guy leaning in too close. “You really think you can compete with me?”

The guy chuckles nervously, trying to play it cool. “I’m just being friendly.”

“Friendly?” Mark leans closer, a grin still plastered on his face, but his voice drops to a low, serious tone. “Let me make something clear: if you don’t back off, you’re gonna find out how not friendly I can be.”

The shift is instantaneous. The guy’s smile fades, and he takes a step back, sensing the danger lurking beneath Mark’s words.

“Wow, dude, chill,” he stammers, retreating a little.

Mark straightens up again, returning to his playful self as he turns back to you. “See? I told you this would be entertaining.”

You shake your head, trying to hide your amusement. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he replies, a cocky grin on his face. “But I’m also serious when it comes to you. Let’s get out of here before someone else tries their luck.”

[achilles-rage]

Is She Mine?

summary: when buck left pennsylvania, he unknowingly left you there, pregnant with his child. four years later he runs into you and your daughter at the grocery store.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: another buck with a kid fic, another baby name from my baby name list used<3 if you don't like the name argue with the wall. someone gave me this idea months ago, but i can't find the ask, and i know birthmarks like that aren't hereditary or anything, but just pretend lol. anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: barely edited (sorry), reader has a daughter (obviously lol), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

“Delia, come back here right now!” you whisper-yell down the grocery aisle, looking up right as you see your daughter disappear around the corner.

You’ve always been against kids on leashes, but lately, your three-year-old daughter has been single-handedly changing your opinion on them. You can’t take your eyes off of her for more than a couple of seconds before she’s gone; chasing after nothing in particular and probably talking to a random stranger or two along the way, if you know her at all.

You see flickers of her father in her; not merely in her appearance, but in who she is on the inside as well, and she’s never even met him. She’s extremely outgoing and talkative, and stubborn, and has a heart of gold. As much as you hate to see the painful glimmer of her father within her, it also makes you happy to think of your time with him.

You haven’t seen him since shortly after you realized you were pregnant. You were both in college in your home state, and when you took the pregnancy test, you couldn’t figure out how to tell him. You had ended up waiting too long, and when he told you that he was leaving to travel the world, you couldn’t stop him, as much as you wanted to.

You knew how miserable he was with his parents, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ruin his dreams. You knew all he wanted to do was get out of Pennsylvania, and you didn’t want to force him to stay with you just because you had done something stupid. 

You abandon your cart in the middle of the aisle and race after her, haphazardly pulling your purse up your arm as your eyes frantically look around you for a glimpse of her hair, or her light blue shirt. Or was it purple? God, you really need to start taking pictures of her before you go out with her, you think to yourself as your heart hammers in your chest.

Finally, you hear her loud giggle, and you let out a relieved sigh, following the noise and finally setting your sight on her curly hair and her blue shirt. Good to know you were right about that, at least.

“De, what are you doing? You can’t run away from m-” your words catch in your throat as you see that she’s talking to a man who’s bent down to her level and smiling fondly at her. 

When he turns and locks eyes with you, the smile drops from his face, and he stands up straight as his eyes travel down your body. His breath has been ripped from his lungs as he watches you pick up the little girl and set her on your hip, but before either of you can speak, your daughter squeals excitedly in your ear.

“Mommy, he’s got dots, too!” Her tiny hand shoots out toward his eyebrow, pointing at the birthmark above his eye, and you nod slowly, eyes still focused on Buck. Your sweet girl is completely oblivious to the tension between you and Buck; all she can focus on is that this random man at the grocery store has the exact same birthmark as her.

“Buck,” you breathe in disbelief, watching as the realization dawns on him. He knows exactly what he just heard. Mommy. And unless he’s suddenly extremely bad at math, he knows exactly what this means.

His eyes dart between you and your daughter, now seeing the mix of your features on her face. She has your eyes, and her hair is the exact same, but she also has his bright smile, and his nose, and of course, the same birthmark above her eye.

“Is she-” he begins, trailing off as he shakes his head. He’s trying hard to wrap his head around this situation, and the only thought running through his mind is why the hell didn’t she tell me?

“She’s three,” you reply softly, unable to bring yourself to say the real truth. He’s not stupid; you know you shouldn’t need to, and you don’t want to say a thing around Delia, anyway. 

“Why didn’t you-?” he begins again, but you cut him off, keeping a firm grip on your daughter as she wiggles around in your arms.

“You were miserable in Pennsylvania, I couldn’t make you stay,” you explain, your throat feeling tight as you feel all the emotions you’ve been shoving deep down for the past four years fighting their way to the surface again.

“You wouldn’t be making me stay, if I knew, I would’ve wanted to stay. You know that,” he tells you, brows furrowed. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you since he left. Leaving you in Pennsylvania was the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, but he knew how important it was for you to graduate, and he couldn’t ask you to leave with him and throw away your own dreams for his. 

Now, looking at you, and the little girl in your arms, his heart feels heavy. He feels guilty for not being there for you for four years. He wishes that he never left.

“And I wasn’t miserable. I had you,” he continues, his fists clenching at his sides as he watches his daughter wrap her arms around your neck and rest her little head on your shoulder. He wants more than anything to hold her, but she has no idea who he is, and that causes a pain in his chest.

“I’m sorry. We were young, and I didn’t know what to do,” you explain, guilt filling your belly. In hindsight, you know you should’ve told Buck; he had a right to know, but you didn’t know what to say.

“Well, I can’t just forget about this now. I can’t just go back to not seeing you, not seeing her,” he says, his tone pleading as he looks down at your daughter again, his eyes soft as he takes in her drowsy eyes.

“Delia,” you tell him with a small smile, tilting your head to the side and resting your cheek against the top of her head.

He smiles too, and you think you see tears forming in his eyes as he nods, then clears his throat.

“Delia,” he whispers. “She looks just like you,” he continues, louder this time. 

You laugh softly, shrugging as you squeeze Delia tighter to you. You’re thankful that she’s been quiet while you talk, clearly tired after a long day at the park, and then running errands.

“I think she looks like you,” you reply, and he chuckles softly, feeling a sense of pride fill his chest. He can’t believe he hasn’t been there to see his little girl grow up, and that you’ve had to do this all alone.

“Please let me see you again. Please.” You smile at his words; you knew Buck would want to help out as much as he could if he ever found out. You feel guilt eating at you as you see the longing in his expression, but this feels like a second chance, and you don’t want to cut him off again.

“Okay. But, can I call you later? I should get her home and ready for daycare tomorrow. We shouldn’t really talk about this here, anyway,” you say quietly, gesturing down to Delia. She may only be three, but she understands a lot, even in her sleepy state, and you don’t want to confuse her before you know what this is.

He nods quickly, then gives you his phone to get your number, and when he has it, you say goodbye before you go your separate ways. 

Your daughter waves haphazardly at Buck as you walk away, and you can’t help the grin that makes its way onto your face. She’s asked about her father before, and you never quite knew what to say. Maybe now she’ll actually be able to have the father she’s always asked about. The one that you’ve longed for for the last four years.

Later that night, when Delia’s in bed, you call Buck and set up a day for him to come over to spend the day with you two. You both agree not to tell Delia who he really is, at least not right away. First, you’ll just get her used to him, and then you’ll cross the next bridge when you get to it.

You weren’t at all surprised when the first time Buck showed up on your doorstep, Delia welcomed him in with a bright smile, grabbing his hand and bringing him into the living room where all her toys were scattered around. You weren’t surprised when Buck sat right down with her and played with her all day, either, only stopping for snack breaks.

Anything she would ask for, he would do, whether it was playing hide and seek, or painting with her, or throwing her up in the air as many times as she wanted while playing what she calls “rocket ship.”

Eventually, his afternoon visits ended up ending later and later, and you’d sit on the couch and talk long after Delia went to bed. You missed hanging out with him, and seeing him being so good with Delia had you falling for him all over again. 

It wasn’t hard to see that he felt the same; you could see the way his eyes wandered down your body, or down to your lips when you were speaking, but you never did anything about it. Your number one priority is Delia, and you don’t want to do anything too early and confuse her. 

One day, a few months after you had run into Buck, he’s sitting on the carpet with your daughter, holding two of her Barbie’s in his hands with furrowed brows as she explains to him who they are. You’re sitting with them, watching with a fond smile, when Delia stops, looking up at Buck quizzically.

“Are you my daddy?” she asks softly, her brows knit together in confusion as she eyes him.

Both you and Buck’s eyes widen, and your lips part as you try to figure out what to say. You knew this was coming, but you couldn’t figure out how to go about it.

“Why do you ask, sweetheart?” Buck finally says, tilting his head to the side as you watch them.

“Everyone at school has daddies. And, you love my mommy,” she explains, looking between the two of you. You tilt your head to the side and steal a glance at Buck, seeing the smile growing on his face. He meets your gaze for a second, raising a brow, and you nod once. You don’t know how this is going to go, but you want to try.

“Of course, I love your mommy. And I love you, too,” he assures her with a smile, bringing a hand up and tracing her chubby cheek with his fingers.

She smiles bashfully, tilting her head to the side, then stops for a moment, thinking. You can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she looks at the space between the two of you, spaced out, and then she looks back up at Buck.

“Will you be my daddy?” she asks, and your heart shatters when you see the nervousness in her eyes. Buck can feel tears forming in his eyes as he looks back into her eyes, and his heart somehow feels both full and empty at her words. He’s been hoping to eventually become Delia’s father for real, but hearing the uncertainty in her voice makes him want to hold her close and never leave her again.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll be your daddy,” he says after a moment, not wanting her to wait a second longer. He lets out a huff as Delia suddenly shoots up and launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and settling into his lap with an elated giggle.

“I love you, daddy,” she says breathlessly, nuzzling into his neck and squeezing him hard. You watch with a smile, tears forming in your own eyes as you see a tear slip down Buck’s cheek.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice shaky as he hugs her close to his chest.

He’s always wanted a family, and now that he has this one, he never wants to let it go. He just can’t believe he missed out on the first three years. He’ll have to make it up to his girls, he thinks to himself.

“I’m gonna go talk to your mommy for a second. We’ll be right back, okay?” he tells your daughter when she finally gets off his lap and goes back to playing with her Barbie’s.

When you’re both in the kitchen, and sure Delia’s distracted, Buck closes the space between you two, cupping your cheeks and bringing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. You hold his wrists as you kiss him back, caught slightly off guard but quickly regaining your composure as you move your lips in time with his.

When you finally pull back, you’re both out of breath, and he looks down at you with sparkling eyes, studying your face for a moment before bringing your foreheads together. 

“I want to be a real family. I don’t just want her, I want you, too.” he whispers, letting his thumb trace along your skin as he holds your face in his hands. You laugh in slight disbelief, then nod, letting a tear finally fall down your cheek. The last four years without him have been exhausting, and all you wanted was this, but you never thought you could have it. Except now Buck is standing right in front of you, telling you that he wants exactly what you want.

“I want that, too.” you tell him softly, then bring your lips up to his again, kissing him with newfound fervour. 

Your hands go to his chest, bunching up the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer as you part your lips and let his tongue slip into your mouth, searching. He keeps one hand on your face as the other goes down to your hip, holding you flush against him as he tilts your head further up into the kiss, and a low groan escapes his throat as he feels your plush middle pressed against him. 

You finally have to pull away when you hear your daughter’s squeal from the other room; yelling a high pitched “daddy!” 

You both race to the living room, letting out sighs of relief when you see her sitting in the same spot on the carpet that you’d left her, with a cheeky smile on her face.

“Can we have ice cream for dinner?” You scoff, laughing softly as you shake your head. You’ve seen that sweet little expression before; she knows exactly how to ask for what she wants, but unlike Buck, you’re more used to having to say no.

“Yeah, we can have ice cream for dinner, baby,” Buck replies before you can, and your head snaps in his direction, your eyes narrowed. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, however, as he’s smiling fondly at Delia as she squeals excitedly and makes her way to him.

When Buck picks your daughter up in his arms and finally turns to face you, you can feel the sliver of anger slip away, seeing how Delia is looking up at Buck with a dazed smile; clearly happy about finally having her daddy. 

“You’re already wrapped around her finger.” you tease, and all he does is shrug, a smile plastered to his face.

“Happily.” he replies, then leans down and gives you a gentle kiss. You both laugh when you hear Delia’s fake sounds of disgust, and when you pull back, Buck throws her up in the air, then catches her.

“Hey, if I’m gonna be your daddy, you’re gonna have to let me kiss your mommy, that’s part of the deal.” he teases as he throws her up in the air, eliciting a high-pitched giggle from her lips. 

“Okay, okay, okay!” she gets out through breathless gasps, and when Buck hums in victory and lowers her back into his arms, he gives her a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

You watch with a grin, and you can’t believe that you lived for four years without Buck. But now that he’s back, you never want to leave him again.

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