#//I learned so much through working on this

[gutsby]

Stutter

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Your daughter says her first word.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v (interrupted & brief!). Sibling bickering. Throwing of one (1) sneaker at Uncle Tommy’s head. Mention of thigh riding. Feral!Reader. Pregnant!Reader. Dutiful-and-Viagra-Popping-Peepaw keeps you satisfied through every trimester, always 🫡 You and Old!Joel are having Irish Twins because I said so.

Note: Y’all all know it, but Jolene is a song by Dolly Parton 🤠

Word count: 2.4k

“AAH!”

This was the closest your baby had ever come to talking. It was almost half of a coherent word, though not quite.

Joel was convinced she was trying to say ‘Dada.’

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be persuaded to believe that this noise was anything more than just happy baby babble. She’d been saying much of the same for the last ten months, and not once had her sweet and toothless ramblings ever amounted to a sound that was intelligible.

This was fine by you. Your child was already growing way too fast for your liking, and with each and every day she got bigger or learned something new, you couldn’t help but see it all through a bittersweet lens. You wished that she could stay this tiny forever, but at the same time, you adored watching her blossom into her own little person.

That was partly because she got to be more like Joel everyday. In looks, mannerisms, even how she smiled.

“The two of you are gonna have matching grins soon enough,” Tommy had said to your daughter one morning, chuckling. “You’ll be growing teeth, Joel’ll be losing his.”

From where your old man was stirring formula in the kitchen, he shot Tommy a dirty look. He grumbled.

“Jackass.”

Joel scowled, and your baby clapped—whether from amusement or a desire to be fed, you couldn’t be sure.

If you’d had the energy to do it, you would’ve intervened. But as it was, you were eight months pregnant with your second child, and preventing bickering between brothers wasn’t high on your list of priorities. It was more, like, getting foot rubs from your husband and trying to help your daughter take her first steps, maybe say a word.

No one was more committed to the latter than Joel, though. Even as he fed her, he was trying to teach.

“Who’s givin’ you baba, baby? Is it Dada?” he cooed, hovering the bottle over your daughter’s upturned face.

Hankering for milk and not particularly giving a shit who was handing it over, the infant let out a frustrated cry.

“AAH!”

“Very close, sweetie. It’s ‘Dada’,” Joel corrected gently.

“Give her the Da-damn bottle, man,” Tommy groaned.

“Language,” you chided your brother-in-law. Then, pushing to sit up: “Give her the dang bottle, Joel.”

Your daughter was rewarded with her milk in less than a second. Joel let out a deflated kind of sigh but smiled at his little girl, who kicked her pudgy legs in her high chair like this was the single greatest day she’d lived to see. She drank her milk, Joel watched on, and Tommy had to stifle a snicker. His big brother shot him another glare.

“Relax, Dada.”

“Jackass.”

“Boys.”

Baby babble listening never really stopped, no matter the time of day. No matter what you were doing, whether that was cooking, cleaning, baking a tray full of cookies, taking a walk, or else fucking sideways in your bed, Joel always remained vigilant. This morning was no exception

Joel was just working you up to your climax, spooning you from behind and thrusting rhythmically while you moaned and whimpered into your pillow. You were so close. Your eyes were about to shut in the throes of ecstasy, bliss reaching you at any minute now, when a sound startled you both. It was loud and obnoxious.

A whooping cheer.

“Hell yeah, baby!!”

Of course, that was Tommy’s voice. Who else would it be? Your brother-in-law was almost always over at your place these days, mostly to hang out with your baby and bug his older brother, and you and Joel normally didn’t mind because it meant that you two could have a little alone time before your family grew to four in a few weeks

Today, it meant you wouldn’t get to orgasm.

Joel jumped out of bed and threw on his pants.

You went after him almost as fast—albeit waddling, wincing slightly at the loss of contact between your legs—and you trailed behind him to the living room, having just slipped on a robe to see Tommy and your daughter.

Presently, your child’s uncle was clapping like a maniac.

“She finally did it!” he sing-songed to you and Joel.

“Did she—shit, did she talk?! What’d she say?”

That was Joel, drawing closer faster than you could blink. He was approaching the two of them with wide eyes, expecting news that your baby had finally talked.

While he did that, Tommy pointed.

On the floor, your infant daughter was holding an empty bottle of beer. She peered curiously at Joel, then at you.

“Baby grabbed her first beer! She’s officially a Miller.” Then a shit-eating grin spread wide over Tommy’s features, and he beamed at his brother. Like this was a momentous occasion and something to celebrate.

“AAH!” your baby shrieked, unsure what else to say.

Then she clapped, bottle still grasped in her tiny hand.

Joel narrowly refrained from smacking Tommy upside the head, though you could tell that it was taking effort.

Instead, he did what he always did, and he glared. Hard.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me, Tomm—” he started.

“Joel. Language,” you half-sighed, half-groaned.

Tommy snickered, and you shot him a look, too.

“Don’t start,” you warned. “I’m not in the mood.”

As you and Joel turned to leave the room, you heard a soft, barely audible laugh. You cast a glance Tommy’s direction, and sure enough, that fucker was smirking.

“Sure sounded like y’all were in the mood before…”

Referring to you and Joel banging, obviously.

At that, as he walked, Joel grabbed the nearest shoe off the floor and chucked it at his little brother’s head. Tommy ducked easily, and it missed by a lot.

“Nice hands, feet!” Tommy called jokingly.

“Jackass,” Joel griped back.

“Language, please.”

You were fewer than two weeks from giving birth.

Whenever you stood, it felt like your knees were about to give out, so you regularly stayed on the sofa. Vegetating. Playing with your baby. Occasionally receiving foot massages from your doting, near panic-stricken Joel.

You suspected if the two of you were to have any more kids after this, he would always be nervous about labor.

He milled frantically about the house, checking the fridge and the cabinets and your hospital bag to make sure that you and your daughter would be well taken care of when the delivery took place—as if your water was about to break at any second, and Tommy and Maria weren’t a stone’s throw away to take care of your child.

“We’re gonna be fine, Joel. Sit down,” you pleaded.

From across the way, in the kitchen, you could see the father of your children comb a hand through his almost completely gray locks, and he exhaled a ragged breath.

If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought he might’ve been the one in his third trimester, pacing around like his backside was on fire or someone just threw on some Nickelback or Creed and he couldn’t make it out to the dance floor on time to sing along.

Typical dad.

You loved him for that.

You also couldn’t stand to see your old man worry, so with a wide-arcing arm, you beckoned him to the sofa.

“Baaaby, my feet hurt,” you pouted, pain exaggerated.

Joel was by your side in no time. He sped so fast he probably almost displaced his hip making his way over, and you had to bite back a little smile. You lifted your arms as if to say, ‘Come here, please, I missed you.’

You’d be making that sweet, peri-geriatric man a daddy at least ten more times if he kept looking at you, and looking after you, like this. He crouched beside the couch, and both of his knees audibly popped in turn.

Your daughter had just started to doze off in her playard.

Thankfully.

You smiled.

It had taken you hours to get her to nap in the afternoon yesterday, and now you had the perfect little window, as well as a golden opportunity to make the most out of it. With your due date so close on the horizon and your hormones going wild at all hours of the day, you wanted Joel at random times. Inconvenient moments. You got one whiff of his Old Spice or the Icy Hot he regularly applied to his old, achy muscles, and you felt feral.

You felt that now, tugging him onto the couch.

In no time at all, thanks to your big, round belly, you had to be the one straddling him. You wasted no time climbing on, gaze raking hungrily all over Joel.

“Aw, sweetheart…” your old man murmured.

You couldn’t quite tell whether it was from appreciation, arousal, or complete exhaustion. He had popped three blue pills this week alone to keep up with your raging libido, and for that, you were indescribably grateful. You wouldn’t ask him to do anymore work this afternoon.

“I’ll—I’ll just ride your thigh,” you stammered, already lifting the hem of your nightdress as you scooted back.

Joel blinked haltingly.

“No, no, I can—” Then his voice broke off in a groan when you pressed yourself onto his leg. Squeezed your thighs tight around one muscular, cotton-clad quad and caused his cock to stir in his pants. He swallowed and looked up. “—I can get hard an’ fuck you real nice. Just gimme five.”

More like ten or twenty, depending on how well he fared without his Jackson-brand of Viagra waiting on standby.

You smiled and shook your head. Started rubbing yourself gently over his leg, knowing how quickly you were likely to climax right now. It wouldn’t take much.

You were so aroused you almost couldn’t breathe, and your baby was sleeping peacefully across the living room. Now was the perfect time to make this happen, and Joel wouldn’t have to lift a finger. You let out a sigh.

Running a soft, delicate touch down the front of Joel’s shirt, you felt a wave of desire wash over you. Whether it was aided by the fact that you were very nearly nine months pregnant by now or simply infatuated with this man, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t care. You started rolling your hips gently, and Joel’s hands moved up your sides.

He liked to feel you. He loved to see you all swollen and glowing on account of how he’d knocked you up with his baby. Joel still couldn’t believe this some days, and he knew he would do anything to keep giving you more.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that, and you’ll be changing diapers for the rest of your days, old man,” you teased.

He didn’t seem to give a shit.

In fact, as you moved your lower half over his leg and started grinding lightly, it was like you could see him picturing the nursery, one crib after the next until you had enough kids to create their very own baseball team.

You were fine with that. You grinded even harder.

And, thanks to the state of your hormones and your never-ending need for the man underneath you, you knew a climax wasn’t far. You let your jaw go slack, and you rode Joel’s thigh without another thought in your mind other than finishing, and giving him a dozen babies

“I’m so close, Joel,” you whimpered. “So, oh…”

“That’s it, sweet pea. Ride daddy’s thigh.”

He coaxed and cajoled you to no end. Rubbed his broad, callused palms over your hips and helped you bounce on him lightly, ignoring the fact that you were both still fully clothed. You were close. Joel was in awe, so wholly in love that he could hardly keep drawing breath without thinking to himself how lucky he was. How perfect it was.

How badly he wanted to fill you up as soon as he—

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeeeeeeeeeeene!”

Fucking shit.

Like an EF5 tornado—destructive and completely unwanted—Tommy Miller shot through the front door.

He was so lost in singing the old country tune that he didn’t even notice you and Joel at first. He just strolled in, taking his sweet time and belting as loud as he could; as he did, you scrambled off Joel’s lap. You cursed under your breath when the next noise that rang out was a wail.

A shriek.

You immediately knew it was your daughter, and could only surmise that it would turn into crying, so you stood.

On two wobbling legs with one ridiculously heavy belly, you pushed to your feet and started after your daughter.

At the same time, Joel was making moves himself—standing and barking at his brother, nostrils flared.

“Ever heard of knocking, Tommy?!”

“Shit, Joel, I’m so—”

“AAH!”

You approached your baby’s playard, where she was currently standing with her round, sweet face perched over the bars of her little bed, and you lowered your voice

“C’mere, sweet girl,” you cooed gently.

And really, you meant to pick her up. It was just that your bump was so big, and the rest of you was still so lightheaded from standing so fast, and you had to take a beat. Meanwhile, Joel was busy chewing Tommy out.

“—she could give birth at any damn minute, y’know—”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again, I swear.”

You were about to chime in yourself, tiredly say it was fine, just be more careful next time, when a new, loud sound caught you off guard. This time, it wasn’t Tommy.

You cocked your head to the side, as did Joel and his brother. The noise shot off again, exactly like before.

Your less-than a year-old baby was clapping her hands together gleefully. But that wasn’t what shocked you.

What snagged the attention of all the rest of you then was the sound that accompanied it—high-pitched. Shrill.

“Jacka!” your daughter giggled, stomping her little feet.

You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t speak.

Clearly, your baby had no such issues herself.

She gripped the top of her crib and shook the bars, staring directly at her Uncle Tommy and smiling big.

“Jackass!”

Tommy coughed. Joel choked.

For a second, you thought you might go into labor.

Your baby, entirely oblivious to everyone else’s reactions, just stood there and laughed. Uncle Jackass Tommy was here, and that meant she got to play—and maybe crack open a cold one afterward if she played her cards right.

There wasn’t a chance Joel could’ve ever predicted that that would be her first word, so he stood there, stunned.

And when his sweet, tiny, beaming bundle of joy turned a gummy grin to him, he had no choice but to smile back

When she laughed again, Joel laughed with her.

Then you joined, and Tommy followed, fast.

Alright.

‘Jackass’ works.

[heartyluv]

I LOVE how you write the lads guys!!! May I please request taking advantage (in a kind way, of course) of zayne’s medical expertise and asking him silly medical questions? Just like really random stuff! lounging around with him at home or being out and about while asking those questions would be so funny and I’m sure he would kind of like it lol

Note: This idea is too cute, I love it. Thank you so much, luvly. I felt like this works best as headcanons, so I hope that’s okay. 😚 Enjoy!

Creds to @/strangergraphics for the dividers!

Warning: Just a brief explicit headacanon after you and Zayne have been intimate.

Zayne/Reader

✴︎ Dating a doctor meant that you officially had a walking medical encyclopedia for a boyfriend and you had no shame in utilizing his knowledge. Thankfully for you, Zayne was always happy to deliver whenever you asked him all kinds of questions.

✴︎ I feel like when you start getting comfortable enough to ask him, it’s really simple things. Like it’s questions about your personal health at first. You’ve definitely asked him something like; “Babe, how do I make my headaches go away faster?” and “What do you think are the best vitamins I should take so I don’t have to keep taking gross ones that aren’t doing anything?”

✴︎ Not only does Zayne answer your questions, but he gives you some deeper insight so that you have your own knowledge about things. And you like learning from him—especially because of the way he looks at you as you stay hooked onto his every word.

✴︎ He loves the little text messages you send him. You ask him something almost everyday, sometimes even attaching a photo for reference LOL. I picture you at the supermarket, stumbling upon these new health beverages that you want to try out. But if your Dr. Zayne says that they’re simply drinks full of more sugar than actual benefits, you’ll have zero problem putting them back on the shelf. “Do any of these actually work for gut health? I sent you the nutrition label. What do you think?”

✴︎ I believe he always takes your questions seriously, but you have moments where you ask him something so ridiculous that he can’t help but laugh. “Zayne, babe… I ate like three apples and a pomegranate, and now my mouth feels weird. Am I dying?” Don’t catch him on a day where he’s feeling goofy either, because he might scare you a little bit.

✴︎ “You may have oral allergy syndrome, my love.” Just imagine his tone being dead serious and the silence that follows. And when you start losing it over the phone, he tries to calm you down, but he’s just smiling so hard at your theatrics. When you search it up and you start worrying if you’ll ever be able to eat another mango again in your life, he tries to suppress his laughter, all while attempting to soothe you at the same time.

✴︎ You’ll be walking around while you guys are on a date and will randomly ask him how many calories does he think you’ve burned, just to see how accurate he is compared to your walking app that tracks all of that for you. Not only does he get incredibly close, he’s also able to do the same with the amount of steps you’ve actually taken.

✴︎ “Quick, we’ve been walking thirty minutes, normal paced. How many calories? Go!”

✴︎ Just wait till you start watching one of those medical shows. You never watch an episode without him because you have to know how accurate the writing is. He’s gotten through three seasons with you and sometimes, he’d answer questions before you even asked because he just knows you so well. And you legitimately learn so much that even you start pointing out unrealistic things yourself.

✴︎ “That doesn’t even make sense. He was hit in a major artery, wasn’t he Zayne? He shouldn’t even be able to argue with a doctor right now.” He’s so proud of you, by the way. How information sticks with you. And honestly? He finds it sexy—particularly knowing that he’s the reason why you know the things that you do.

✴︎ Times when you try to eat healthier, you always ask him how many calories something will be if you take something out or off. Like you’d still eat junk food or foods that aren’t exactly healthy, but you wonder what the difference will be if you add a vegetable. LOLLL.

✴︎ “Zayne, if I put only mushrooms on the pizza, is that better?”

“Honey, I think it’s best to just discard the pizza entirely in order to properly fulfill the goal you intended to reach.”

“But Zayne…It’s Friday and it’s pizza.”

✴︎ Some more questions off the top of my head from you would be; “If I eat more carrots than usual, will the decrease my chances of having to wear those thick bifocals when we’re old?

“If I’m on top more often when we have sex, will that tone my thighs out more?”

“How is it possible to drink a gallon of water a day? There’s just not enough time to drink all that liquid.”

✴︎ Omg, you totally believe that ginger is like the cure all and you even make him eat a raw slice of it a day LOLLLL. He admits that it has its benefits, but when he tries to tell you that you have to do more than just eat ginger, you listen, but you’re still so insistent about it.

✴︎ “Despite the benefits and your complete belief in the sacred ginger, love, please make sure you continue to take your daily supplements. Add to your regimen so that you improve your health—don’t take from it believing that something is an optimal replacement.”

✴︎ This one is a little explicit. But, I imagine you and him finish having sex, he’s on top of you, both of you already came and feel good. And even when you’re breathless, even with the glorious man above you, you can’t help it when you ask: “Do you think we’ve met our quota on physical activity for the next few days?”

✴︎ Zayne can’t help but laugh, leaning down to kiss your neck. But he’s also filthy enough to move his hips just a little, hinting that he in fact could go again and says, “I think it’s best to try again… One more time, just to be safe. I’m sure the quota will be more than met once I’m finished with you.”

✴︎ Of course you’re going to let him fuck your brains out again. Why wouldn’t you let Dr. Zayne take care of you? What kind of patient would you be if you didn’t?

[abyssyby]

Hi! Loved your most recent fic with our favorite family, it was so angsty but so good! I wonder if this is gonna make it even harder for the boys to say goodbye to Sylus before he goes off on a mission (and maybe even their mom when she has to travel for work too). Like, we've already seen it was tough before, but it was more of a "I'm gonna miss you" sadness but now that they've been on a mission themselves it's like, "Missions are NOT fun, they're scary, please don't go😭"

hello!!! thank you for reading two birds on a wire 🥺 genuinely one of my most favorite stories i’ve written so far so i feel incredibly blessed and i appreciate each and every reply on it 💕 — yes, the twins are definitely more reluctant to let papa go now since they know what’s in store for him on his ‘ishuns (missions).

kyros would be very time conscious. well, firstly, he’d be holding onto papa’s legs and sobbing by the door (if sy had a difficult time leaving then, he’s definitely suffering now). he’d be sobbing and begging him to stay—

“five mimits!” he doesn't know what minutes are. but sylus has stayed for 4 ‘five mimits’ now, so he’s convinced they mean ‘stay’.

his voice is squeeze out of his throat, small and pitchy, begging desperately, “five— five mimits, papa, pease! pease!”

sylus has to drag his leg all the way to the door, and take an extra ten minutes to soothe kyros in his arms before promising he’ll call or be back at a certain time.

Kyros has mephisto tap on a gentle tinking bell to let him know the time, and eventually learns how to read big hand and small hand on the antique grandfather clock. you find him sometimes staring up at it, and when he spots you or the big twins passing by, he points up and asks, “time? what time?”

“just a little bit more,” you’d tell him, knowing the time sylus is supposed to call too.

“much more?”

“hmm, about three songs, angel.”

so he waddles over to the record player, asks you to help him put on sylus’s CDs and counts. by the end of the third classical song he’s listened to, he uncovers his ears (the last song ended with loud trumpets) and runs to the house phone/holo-caller, where sylus’s holographic face pops up.

sylus’s heart melts when Kyros or both Kyros and Lucian’s big eyes fill up his screen as the call goes through.

“papa, come home now.”

“one sleep, angel.”

kyros definitely gets huffy puffy. snuffing through his nose like an angry little dragon and stomping his little feet in disapproval. “don’t want sleep!”

“then how will it be morning?”

kyros’s brows knit together at that. sylus watches the gears turn behind his eyes. and then, softer, more hopeful— “i sleep now, papa. i make morning.”

sylus grins, cleverly cocky and effectively charmed. “good night, turtle.”

when kyros wakes, papa is always back home. either lifting him out of his bed or waiting for him by the fireplace. kyros walks up to him quietly, climbs on his lap, lays sleepily on his chest and listens to his heart. he feels much better now.

lucian is action-driven— anxiety manifested in mischief and pranks.

little pranks, essentially harmless in nature, but it effectively causes sylus delays.

"lucian?" sylus calls, voice loud but not angry. more amused.

lucian emerges from the hallway, hands behind his back. bright red eyes round and ‘innocent’. "papa?"

"did you put butter in my shoes?" he grimaces, eyeing his slippery stained socks.

"oopsie— AAA papa, no run you slip!" Lucian is giggling, sylus has phased before him and picked him up. blowing raspberries in his cheeks and nuzzling his nose to his ticklish neck. "papa!"

sylus loses all sorts of things the minute he’s set to leave. until he follows the trail of animal cracker crumbs/plastic cars/paper stars where he finds lucian tucking them away under his pillows, into his pants or in mephisto's treasure piles.

sylus confronts him about it when he gets chocolate fingerprints on an important document. with a stronger voice, exasperated and tired, he lifts lucian up by the back of his shirt just as he runs away.

lucian is already teary as sylus sets him in the crook of his elbow. "i sorry, i sorry!"

but sylus can't find it in himself to truly be mad. instead he keeps up the front (very difficultly) and scolds lucian. and then when he gets his points across, he brushes the tears away from his eyes and kisses his brows. "why are you being naughty?"

lucian is sniffling, hugging sylus around the neck, seeking forgiveness. "don't want papa— don't want papa go—"

"you can just ask me, angel." sylus says sympathetically, fingers pushing sweaty bangs away from his forehead. he presses his forehead against lucian's. "just ask, i will listen."

"you say no."

sylus's heart aches. "not always."

"yes always!" lucian says, angry little fists coming down onto sylus's chest with no real force. but sylus feels the frustration spear into his heart nonetheless. "papa go— papa go to scary mishins!"

"Lucian, I—"

"Papa will died! Fly and fall and died!" he yells. devastated, traumatized, upset. he'd been the one with his eyes peeking out his shirt during the crash landing, he'd been the one who saw the strain in sylus's eyes and the grinding teeth when he held them and yelled at his pilots during the mission. "I don't want papa died!"

Sylus squeezes his eyes shut as he accepts the soft blows of anguish loaded fists. enduring, he presses his forehead against the little boy's to calm him. "Shh... shh..."

something in lucian snaps, his voice breaks and he collapses against sylus's shoulder in sad sobs. "i scared, papa. please stay, please."

sylus feels the weight on the corners of his lips as he teeters to tears himself. he nods then, sighing in defeat. although, he was fairly certain that even without the tears, without the pranks, sylus would always find a way to say yes.

"Alright now, alright," he shushes, rocking him side to side and planting a kiss to his wet nose. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here."

"Papa—" Lucian cries. Just that— papa, papa, papa— over and over, like he'd been running from a monster. Now seeking refuge, comfort, and safety in him.

Sylus clicks his tongue, swallowing repeatedly keeping himself from crying still. He rubs lucian's heaving back, drawing slow circles to match with his breath. He hums a tune into his temple, letting his broken melody aid his fluttering heart.

It won't be easy, it will never be easy, leaving home. But he swears, he will do everything to make it easier for Lucian. And if that means staying for tonight, then he will stay.

—

this got away from me again hehe thank you for sending in this ask, reading & thinking about the twin babies! have a wonderful, wonderful day, anonnie!

✧˚ ⋆｡ read two birds on a wire here | read more with the little twins here || more sylus thoughts ✧˚ ⋆｡

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Life imitates art - Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: 2.6k words. Jack is sent into a tailspin when the woman he’s been eyeing for months at his amputee support group arrives at the Pitt in a gurney. Based on this request by @seasiren212!

Warnings: canon-typical depiction of wounds and medical situations, cancer in remission, some medical jargon, reader’s history of BKA, Jack’s history of AKA & accident, age gap, angst, etc. The most unrealistic part of this fic is a doctor spending this much time with one patient (live laugh love the U.S. healthcare system).

a/n: ugh I cried a little bit while writing this. I’m so passionate about oncology care mwah. Abbot is working day shift in this fic. Surrender yourself to the plot and pretend he’s covering for Robby if you must. Divider credit!

At 23 years old, your leg was amputated just below the knee. You’d been fighting bone marrow cancer for a while now, and you were running out of treatment options. To mitigate the risk of significant metastasis, your oncologist recommended an amputation.

So it was off with your leg.

Before the amputation, you’d spent months in and out of the hospital. Somehow, despite the fatigue, aches, and genuine existential crisis over whether this reality was a fate better than death, you graduated with your Master's degree in art history after completing most of the program virtually from your hospital bed. You got special permission from the dean of your university’s college of the arts to defend your thesis from the hospital. Your nurses arranged for you to use a conference room on the floor and made sure everything was thoroughly cleaned to prevent the risk of secondary infection.

Your IV was hooked up to some medications you couldn’t pronounce, but by now, you’d learned how to wave your arms around wildly without letting the tubing hinder you. The thesis committee didn’t go easy on you during your defense just because you were sick. Good. You didn’t want them to. You’d researched and studied your ass off, and earned the right to defend your thesis. The one you’d spent countless sleepless nights and nauseating days working on. So what if you were presenting at UPMC’s Cancer Center?

The oncology unit staff were the first to celebrate you as soon as you made it out of the conference room with happy tears in your eyes. In the time you’d been presenting, the halls had been decorated with streamers. Balloons surrounded your hospital room, and you were given an elaborate bouquet of artificial flowers. You did it.

The RN who’d been caring for you the longest was the one to push your wheelchair across the stage during your hooding ceremony. The oncology unit staff lined the front row of the audience and cheered louder than you’d ever heard.

“MA” looked pretty damn good after your name in your email signature. The Master of Arts degree hung proudly on the wall of your apartment, a forever reminder of your resilience through it all.

It took grueling months to find the right prosthetic and get it fitted properly, and even more years of physical therapy to allow you to be here today, giving narrated walking tours through the Carnegie Museum of Art.

Jack met you at his amputee support group.

At first, he assumed you were there as a student. You were quiet. Observant. Some of the local clinical psychology degree programs assigned students to attend open support group meetings. The large, structured tote bag that followed you to every meeting supported his theory. He imagined you had a laptop, a textbook or two, and a can of Red Bull in the bag, if he had to guess.

You didn’t take notes like other students Jack saw in the past, but you didn’t seem like the type that needed to take notes in the moment, anyway. You were a breathtaking wallflower at the meetings, it was hard not to notice you. The floor-length dresses that complemented your body and draped across you in all the right places were delicate and dainty. Jack was dying to know if your personality matched your exterior.

If Abbot had to guess, he’d say the mystery girl at the amputee support group was in her mid-to-late twenties, though she didn’t necessarily dress like it. Your wardrobe was all maxi skirts and long flowy dresses, cardigans and cable knit sweaters, statement earrings and small chain necklaces. Jack overheard one of the younger group members complimenting your clothing style one day, describing it as “serving cottage core meets coastal grandma chic.” Whatever the hell that meant.

At one of the meetings, you barely showed up on time. You were flustered and a bit disheveled, blowing a stray strand of hair out of your face, but still beautiful as ever. An intricately decorated lanyard and your employee badge hung out of the purse’s wide mouth.

Your name, MA. Art Historian, Curator, and Guest Guide. Carnegie Museum of Art.

Hmm. Jack wasn’t really one for the arts. He was most creative when figuring out how to perform complex medical procedures in unconventional situations. He was methodical and analytical in his life. He approached situations and his work with scientific precision, but he could be tempted to give the museum a visit if it meant he might run into you.

The Pitt’s ambulance bay was never empty for long. Gurneys rolled in and out of the ER all day and night. After all his years in emergency medicine, few things surprised Doctor Abbot anymore.

Until you rolled in.

Dana was the first to reach the EMTs, taking report as she guided them to an available room. Doctor Abbot watched from the provider desk, his mouth slightly parted as his eyes tracked you the whole way across the Pitt.

The charge nurse barely made it out of the room and assigned the patient to Abbot before he jumped out of his seat and bee-lined to room five. “On it,” he said, to no one in particular. Dana stood back and observed his uncharacteristic movements for half a second with her hands on her hips before returning to her millions of other tasks.

Doctor Abbot pulled back the exam room curtain to reveal you sitting on the gurney, fidgeting with your museum badge and shaking your exposed shoe back and forth.

“Hi, kid,” he greeted, donning gloves. He took note of the prosthetic leg covered in floral designs resting next to your hip. Not a student. An amputee. Abbot hummed inwardly.

“Oh. Hi, Jack,” you responded, surprise gracing your face. You knew he was a doctor; he mentioned working at the hospital a couple of times during support group meetings, you just didn’t know he was a doctor here. You took him in. Frustratingly, he was handsome as ever in his black scrubs with toned, muscled arms that threatened to burst out of his short sleeves, with a badge that read Dr. Abbot. Attending Emergency Medicine Physician. Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.

Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but notice that his gray curls were a little more mussed than usual, like he’d run his hands through them at least half a dozen times. You yearned to follow suit.

Mateo followed Doctor Abbot into the exam room not long after and glanced between you and the physician a couple of times, trying to decipher the dynamic. It was obvious the two of you knew each other, but he kept quiet and set up the WOW for orders in case Doctor Abbot needed it.

Jack sat down smoothly on a rolling stool and scooted close to your bedside. Maybe closer than was necessary, but no one in the room objected to it.

“What brings you in?” He swept his eyes over you analytically. You looked fine on the surface, sans the removed prosthetic accompanying you against the bed rails.

“Bum leg,” you sighed. This was embarrassing. Even when you leaned back against the gurney, unsuccessfully attempting to relax, you never broke eye contact with Jack.

“Figures. Mind if I take a look?” Abbot replied without missing a beat. He rubbed his chin, eyes darting between your face and the raised slope of your leg underneath your dress.

You hesitantly pulled up your skirt to reveal the angry red skin surrounding what was left of your knee joint. For some reason, exposing your thigh felt intimate, even in the hospital. It didn’t look good, and it admittedly had Jack concerned, but he wouldn’t let you know that. At least not yet. It didn’t look like cellulitis, at least not on the surface. There was no wound weeping or skin dimpling. He’d still run cultures just to be safe.

“Are you resting your leg often? Do you remove the prosthetic?” He ran through a slew of questions. Sure, he knew more about amputations and prosthetics than the average physician, but he wanted to know more about your story.

“Well, I’ve given roughly 8 hours of walking tours through the museum every day for the past week, plus 2 hours today,” you rattled off your schedule. It was strenuous, but this was the life you worked and studied and fought to build for yourself. You had no regrets.

Jack gave you a stern look, and you shrank under his gaze. You almost reminded him that he was being hypocritical, with his 12-hour shifts at the Pitt, but decided against it.

“What else?” He pressed. You sighed.

“I can put my socks and sleeves on, but they’re tighter than normal. The prosthetic will fit on, but it hurts.” The a lot was silent, but you both knew it was there. “I was limping this morning, and I eventually fell while giving a tour,” you continued. Doctor Abbot immediately scanned you for signs of any other fall-related injury. No bruises or bumps as far as he could see. “But a guest caught me. And the museum director insisted that I get checked out. Even though I’m fine,” you finished, exasperated.

“You and I must have different definitions of ‘fine,’ my friend,” Jack exhaled and leaned back, just far enough to not topple off the stool.

A comfortable silence fell between you two while Jack weighed treatment options. This was more of an outpatient specialist matter, but he was glad you came in. He’d learned more about you in the past 15 minutes than he had in the past 3 months of staring longingly at you during the amputee support group meetings.

Mateo felt like he was intruding on a private moment. He cleared his throat and started preemptively entering orders in your chart.

“Cultures? For cellulitis rule-out, Dr. Abbot?” The physician nodded thankfully to the nurse. Jack didn’t miss the flash of fear that crossed your face. Doctor Abbot ordered an ultrasound as well, just to make sure there wasn’t an underlying abscess forming, potentially evidenced by the edema at the end of your limb.

You cleared your throat. “Could you also run a CBC?” you asked, wringing your hands together. Abbot nodded again and stood, dusting his hands on his pants to keep them busy.

“Why?” It wasn’t accusatory. He’d do it anyway if you asked for it; he just wanted to know why.

“I’m in remission. Bone marrow cancer. Doesn’t hurt to check for signs of recurrence when funky things happen,” you shrugged, though you were obviously tense as you gestured to what was left of your left while pulling your dress skirt back down.

The room went silent.

That definitely would’ve been added to your chart’s medical history if you hadn’t come in by ambulance and instead had the pleasure of meeting Lupe at registration.

Up until now, why you attended the support group meetings wasn’t Jack’s business. Now, you were his patient. Your health and history were absolutely his business now.

Doctor Abbot offered a small smile and agreed to the additional test. You didn’t want his sympathy, he knew that better than anyone. He knocked on the door frame on his way out with a promise to be back shortly.

For a minute, Jack pondered what it would’ve been like to know he’d be losing his leg before it happened. When he had his accident, the decision was made for him. The blood loss had been near fatal. He’d long since passed out when the military medics realized they were forced to decide between his life or his limb, the lesser of two evils. He wondered if he had the time to plan a new reality beforehand, if things would be any different. Any better. He didn’t think they would.

He thought you must’ve been young when you were diagnosed with cancer. You were young now, notably younger than him. He wondered when you had the amputation, how old you were—how young you were. The ‘stump’, as you called it, was healed. The multiple incisions left silvery scars on your marred skin. You had lived without the leg for quite a while now.

Mateo drew your blood panel and cultures. He carefully added the bottles and tubes into a stat biohazard lab bag with the promise that an ultrasound tech would be by soon.

“Good news and bad news,” Doctor Abbot strolled back into your exam room with results as soon as he could, true to his word.

“Good news: Blood cultures were negative and the CBC was all within normal limits. And the bad news,” he continued, scrolling through your chart on an iPad before looking up at you. You nodded with a sharp inhale and gripped the gurney’s side rail, prepping for whatever diagnosis he might deliver. His eyes softened.

“Bad news,” he said quieter, “is you’ll need to stay off that leg for a while. At least until some of the inflammation goes down. I’ll leave the specific guidance up to your prosthetist. But for now, doctor’s orders are to cut back on the 8-hour walking tours. You got a wheelchair?” He asked with his arms crossed over his distractingly broad chest. He was solution-oriented, but not convinced you would heed the medical advice. You were strong-willed, that much was evident.

You groaned and threw an arm over your face to cover your eyes. You thought of the wheelchair you’d shoved to the back of your closet years ago. After a few beats of silence, you nod. You’re not happy about the plan of care, but you agree to it nonetheless.

“Do you have someone to take you home?” Jack asked, shuffling your discharge paperwork to keep his hands busy. Otherwise, he might give in to the urge to reach out to you. 

Everyone you knew was either working or busy. Internally, you felt like a burden. The people in your life didn’t feel that way, but it didn’t make the guilt go away. You chuckled inwardly. What doesn’t kill you gives you a dark sense of humor.

“I’ll figure it out,” you replied nonchalantly, already opening the rideshare app on your phone. Jack frowned. If he weren’t in the thick of his shift, he’d offer to let you hang around in the lounge and take you home himself, but that wouldn’t be for another 5 hours. At least.

“I’ll come check on you after my shift,” he resigned. It wasn’t a question or an offer.

“You don’t have to do that,” you looked up at him from beneath your lashes, shocked that he would even suggest such a thing.

“I insist. It’ll make me feel better knowing you’re okay,” Jack replied without missing a beat. So he cares about you. Hmm. His hands found his hips, only adding to his inherent sass factor.

“You don’t know where I live,” you retorted. The banter was fun. God forbid a girl take advantage of her amputation to flirt with a silver fox trauma doc.

“I’m literally two taps away from finding your address in your chart,” Abbot smirked. He wasn’t lying. A couple of gestures on the iPad later, he was parroting your address back at you.

“Fine. But you better bring food with you.” It was your turn to leave no room for argument. You eyed him up and down, watching the way he squared his shoulders with confidence.

“It’s a date,” Jack replied easily, without thinking. You couldn’t tell whose cheeks were more flushed, yours or his. He didn’t dare take it back, though. Either way, you agreed.

“It’s a date.”

a/n: At the risk of sounding desperate, I'm begging y'all to leave comments and interact with my work. The likes are so super duper appreciated but I kind of feel like I'm posting into a void when 99% of the engagement is likes with no comments. anyway!! COMMENTS ARE REALLY APPRECIATED!! They keep me motivated to write more <3

Find more of my writing on my master list.

Turn on post notifications @thesewordsxupdates to get notified when I release new fics.

[uncle-fruity]

[Image ID: tags from Tumblr user strawberri-syrup that read: #how do u translate knowing u do this into actually fixing it #my lack of communication has killed all my friendships and idk where to start /End ID]

Hey, good question! It's one thing to know about what your behaviors are and another thing to know how to change them into new (hopefully helpful) behaviors. Idk if this will help you, but I'm going to bring up some strategies to help folks break free of their people pleasing habits.

Let's focus on you, first. Being a people pleaser requires you to objectify and dehumanize yourself in the process, so that is what you're working against. When you people please, there is a part of yourself that has decided your comfort and your needs are not as important or worthy as other people's comfort and needs. This isn't usually a conscious decision, but rather learned through past experiences and current insecurities. It's why a lot of people pleasers have a history of emotional abuse: the abuser requires you to shut down your emotional needs and predict their moods, and when you can't do that (no one can forever) they punish you. So you might very well have picked up the message that you are only as good as you are useful or only as good as you are patient/nice and that any amount of "negative emotion" (anger, sadness, disappointment, etc) will not be tolerated even by people you love.

That is a hard cycle to break out of. So, to start, I think it's good to take some time to reflect on what emotion or belief drives your need to people please and bottle yourself up. Working against feelings of insecurity, fear of abandonment, fear of ridicule, fear of conflict... that's the hardest part of this, but it's also the most important thing to practice. But there are things that will help you.

So let's say you've already figured out why you act like this. You know why you tend to people please and you're in the middle of processing your feelings about it. Good! That will be an ongoing process. But reflection and wanting to change aren't much without action behind them, and that is much harder than just thinking about things.

So! First really actionable thing you can do is set some boundaries! You don't have to do the scary telling your friends part yet, you just need to know what your boundaries are. A lot of people pleasers don't know what their boundaries are. They might have boundaries, but they let people walk over those boundaries because they don't recognize that they were boundaries to begin with. So, define those. Maybe you don't like being touched in certain ways. Maybe you get anxious and need to leave in certain situations. Maybe you need to have a dedicated time for just yourself without anyone contacting you... idk what your needs are; I'm not you. But you are you and you know what you need and want -- or at least have a better chance of figuring it out than I do.

Remember!! Boundaries are something *you* enforce for yourself. Obviously, a good friend will respect your boundaries, but if someone doesn't respect your boundaries, it is your job to respond to that. Let's say you have the boundary, "Don't yell at me/raise your voice in anger when we're having a disagreement." Well, you can't control someone who doesn't care about your feelings and will walk over your boundary even after you told them about it. What you can do is control your response. So, when you think of the boundaries you have, you should also consider what you will do in response to someone crossing that boundary. In our example, perhaps a good response would be to walk away, leave the conversation until the other person can talk to you with respect for your needs.

I've spent a long time on boundaries, but that's because it's one of the most important things for a people pleaser to understand about themselves. Think of people pleasing like muscle memory. If you do it enough, it will be your default mode of action. You won't have to think about it to do it. But breaking your current muscle memory and rebuilding that memory into something else will require intention and dedication. Boundaries help you focus your intentions and define your needs. Many smarter people than me have talked about boundaries before, so look into some resources about how to make and maintain boundaries if you want to learn more.

Next, setting expectations. This is about understanding where your limits are and having conversations with the people you love before it becomes an issue. Best example I have is one of my own experiences. I am very bad at responding to texts and messages when I'm overwhelmed or busy. I can go weeks without responding if the matter isn't urgent. But this can be a problem in my relationships if that behavior goes fully unaddressed. People start to feel like you're avoiding them or blowing them off. So I started setting expectations for folks -- I was open about the fact that my response times are bad. I was clear that it was not a personal thing when I didn't get back to people. And I made sure to reassure people that even if I'm not responding, I am *looking* at the messages soon after they're sent, and I *will* respond if there is an emergency or if there's a time sensitive question. I haven't had a problem with this since having open and honest conversations up front *before* it became a real problem.

All that to say, if you know you have preferences or behaviors that might conflict with your relationships, talk to your friends about it and make sure y'all are on the same page. A lot of times, people pleasers feel like they need to anticipate the needs of the people around them. That can be good and bad, depending on how you go about it. But it is much easier when you actually talk to them about their needs and expectations. This should be a two-way conversation. Everyone involved should state their needs and together you should define expectations within the relationship.

The communication part is really the key here. It isn't bad to want to care for your friends. It isn't even bad to occasionally put your own preferences aside in order to compromise. But if your friends don't know that something is upsetting you, they can't do anything about it. Which cycles around to the emotional abuse pattern of "mind reading." When you hide your anger or resentment, you are essentially making your friends read your emotions and anticipate your needs. It destabilizes the friendship. If your friends don't know what upsets you, how can they know that they're upsetting you if you don't speak up? Not only that, but if they're trying to figure out why you're upset, they might read it wrong and find solutions for problems you don't have while the original problem continues to churn inside you. That is ALSO a thing people pleasers do.

Another example. I have a people pleaser friend who has the history of emotional abuse etc etc. There was a time (years ago) when she'd get drunk and show me her tits and like. Yeah. I appreciated looking at tits. Love that stuff. But what she anticipated is that I would want to have sex with her. So she offered one day (she was sober, fwiw) and I said sure! But I always like to have a conversation about what people are into and all that. She dodged so many of my questions about what she liked, what she wanted, etc. Not only that, but I felt like she wasn't really listening to me when I was talking about what I liked and she didn't ask any questions to get to know my preferences better. So when we finally got to the sex part, I was stressed out. She sounded like she was faking her pleasure. She didn't want to touch me in any way that really felt good to me. She just expected me to use my strap and have my fun. It made me feel absolutely terrible about myself. Like, I didn't need to have sex with her. I didn't think that her showing me her boobs was naturally going to lead to sex. Looking back, this was a particularly rough time for our friendship, so we eventually had a conversation about it. It came out that she only had sex with me because she assumed that's what I not only wanted but expected from her. I honestly felt extremely hurt. I'd originally thought she *wanted* to have sex with me, and that was the only reason I agreed to do it. I felt ugly and undesirable when she didn't want to touch me. I felt like her fake pleasure sounds were condescending. Not to mention she tried to dirty talk in a way that supremely turned me off, which might have been avoided if she was actually engaged in our conversation talking about what we wanted/liked in bed.

The point of that story, though, is that it really damaged our friendship and was a blow to my (at the time) fragile self-esteem. These days, I'd be able to spot some of these red flags and choose not to have sex under those conditions, but at the time it was hard to recognize what was happening until it was over. I learned that she would not be forthright with her own needs and desires and whatnot, so I had to start checking in with her when she offered to do certain things. Questioning her like, "Do you really want that? Do you *know* what you want right now?" And being clear that she could not read my mind and that I didn't appreciate her trying to. That if I wanted something from her, I would ask directly and respectfully and that she was always allowed to say no if she didn't want to and I wouldn't get angry at her for refusing me. Years later, we are still friends. There are still rough spots we need to work out, but she has gone to therapy and is finally dating someone who doesn't treat her like an emotional support girlfriend. It has taken her years, but she is finally working to correct some of her people pleasing behaviors, and we have a better relationship for it. It took her awhile to believe me when I said I would tell her directly if I was upset and that she didn't need to worry about me dropping subtle hints at her.

Which, I think, finally brings me to my last point. So far, I've talked about defining your boundaries and setting expectations within your friendships. I've explained through example why the behavior can actually recreate patterns of abuse or cause harm. A lot of this stuff you can work on alone, but there is another thing you need to be able to work on changing your people pleasing ways: a good, trustworthy friend.

I started being able to talk about my emotions, my needs, my annoyances, my angers when I finally felt like I had someone who would listen to them without getting angry and flying off the handle. When I first started dating my current partner, I was in awe of how level headed our conversations were when there was conflict. They listened to me. They told me how they were feeling. We worked together to see where the issue was and what we could do to address the issue in the future. It was my partner who brought up problems they had, and it was those direct conversations that made me feel safe enough to speak up when I had a problem. It gave me a space to practice being vulnerable with someone I knew loved me and wanted the best for both of us. On the other side of this, I believe my friend that I mentioned above really started to make progress when she started therapy and when I showed her that I was serious about being open and honest with my emotions and that she wasn't obligated to fix my problems for me. It also helped that she got out of a cycle of dating toxic fuckheads who enabled/encouraged her people pleasing behaviors so they could take advantage of her.

The fear of abandonment, fear of ridicule... the stuff I talked about up front. Those are not illogical fears when most of your life you've been taught that you will be punished for your emotions. You need to surround yourself with people who will encourage you to speak up for yourself. You need a friend who will check in with you and make sure you're not just saying "yes" because you feel like you should. You need people who are clear about what they want and need from your friendship.

Standing up for yourself, expressing your emotions, stating your needs, setting boundaries -- you can only do so much alone. The hardest part is deciding to take that leap of faith in your friends and gritting your teeth hoping for a good outcome. Hopefully, you have decent friends who care about your feelings and who will make an effort to support you. But let me be clear: if your friends treat you badly because you've done the hard emotional work to start setting and maintaining boundaries, those are not good friends. I am a big believer in cutting toxic people out of your life when you can, because you *do* deserve better. And, thankfully, most people are not going to react badly to you having preferences and opinions and feelings. It's normal for someone to have their best interests in mind, and as long as they aren't hurting other people, it's okay to have hard emotions like anger, disappointment, sadness, etc. But it's okay for you to have standards for how you are treated in your friendships/relationships. It's not just okay, but it's absolutely essential for healthy relationships to thrive. And it is hard to trust when you've had a lifetime of feeling like you can't trust others to treat you with respect, but you still have to try. And you don't have to be emotionally invested in people who treat you like an object whose job it is to keep them happy. Even just having one friend that you feel safe to be vulnerable with can make a huge difference and give you a way to practice these things.

Tl;dr -- define your boundaries, have a plan for how to respond if someone crosses a boundary, have conversations with your friends to set expectations within the friendships even if there is no current conflict, and believe that you deserve to have a voice and that you are worthy of the full range of human emotion. Ultimately, you have to find a way to convince yourself that you are worth caring about, and you need to surround yourself with people who do care about you and who will help you learn healthier behavioral habits.

Sorry for the long post, but hopefully there's something you can take away from it. Perhaps others will have other strategies they'd like to add, but knowing your boundaries and learning to care about yourself are at the core no matter what.

You're not actually a better friend for not articulating and respecting your own needs, limits and boundaries. Your lack of communication and boundaries is not some impressive sacrifice. You're not doing anyone any favors by acting like you're okay with things you aren't okay with. You're just building burnout and resentment that will eventually damage the relationship in question. And when you eventually snap and walk away because you silently overburdened yourself to be a "good friend", it won't be the other persons fault

[robobarbie]

I turned 30 today!!! Happy birthday to ME!!!! Here's a picture of me with the guy I've been dating. He's kinda like a mix of Toasty and Quest -- a glorious combo.

It's been a while since I posted here, so I figured a 30th birthday is the perfect time for a short little reflective post. Can't believe I'm older than all the BP LIs now -- crazy stuff!!!!

Anyway. Here's some things I recommend from experiences in my 20s.

1. Try therapy

As y'all know, I've pulled back from a lot of stuff online. I've been going through a bit of a life reset since 2022, but it started really getting better when I finally ripped the bandaid off and started therapy in 2023. It wasn't an easy start, but it's helped me actually address bad habits within myself that I thought (incorrectly) I was dealing with well on my own. It's freeing. It's humbling. It's made me excited for what's ahead.

2. Exercise

I started working out seriously in my mid-20s and went through waves of how active I was. But when I was active, I saw a noticeable difference in my mood and energy, especially when it came to managing my misophonia. It's not a cure-all, but it is a great boost that helps me through each week. I focus on weight training and love it for the challenge 💪 do whatever feels best to you!

3. Accept not being "the best"

Like many of you, I grew up pretty smart and that led to a lot of feelings of personal failure if I fucked up in even the smallest ways that made me look "lesser" (non-perfect scores on tests, failing to understand concepts my coworkers got easily, etc). This even used to bleed into game dev, where suddenly a lot of people looked up to me after BP. Learning to let go of that pressure was freeing. I am not a figure on a mountain top -- I am just me.

4. Keep your hobbies fun

I hated game dev for a while because of things like in #3. It became something I had to do to maintain some arbitrary status instead of something I did for fun. It was hard to recognize that in myself and correct it, but I'm glad I did. So, sorry Adonia AI is taking longer than I thought, but I am simply loving life too much rn!!!! And I love game dev again too, which is the best realization of all.

5. Spend time with people

It gets harder to make close friends as you get older. People get busy. Life gets hectic. You get tired. But making the effort to spend time with people is important. Study after study shows that the healthiest and happiest people as they age are those who have good bonds with other people. And I can definitely feel that.

-----------

Love y'all. Stay healthy and stay safe 💚

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Dangers of Dream Walking -Oneshot

Word count: 5748

Y/N hated her power.�� The ability to dream walk was at times nice, but mostly it was a literal and figurative nightmare.  People dreamt crazy and unhinged things all the time, so it was rare to ever step into a happy dream.  She couldn’t understand why she was born with it, what good it did her or anyone else.  It wasn’t like she could manipulate the dreams.  She could only watch on as a casual observer.  Until she met the Avengers.

She had been knocked out by a piece of debris during another fight the Avengers were having, and had dream-walked right into a memory of Wanda Maximoff, who was temporarily knocked out as well.  But this time, Wanda turned and looked right at her in the dream and talked to her.

“You can see me?” Y/N asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Wanda said simply as her memory played out behind her.  “How are you here?”

“I…I dream-walk,” Y/N explained, walking toward her.  “I think I got knocked out and now…”  The image of a young Wanda and what Y/N figured was her brother playing in a field of wildflowers distracted her.  “I’m sorry,” she said, sensing the sadness in Wanda’s eyes.  “I don’t have control over it.”

Wanda tilted her head and analyzed her.  “But you can,” she replied.  “I can see it in your mind.  I’ll come find you, dream-walker.”  Then she and the memory disappeared, and Y/N hopped into a new dream.  A week later she was surprised to open her door to Wanda Maximoff in the flesh.  “I told you I’d find you,” she said cheekily.

From that day on she had been taken in by the Avengers.  She wasn’t an official team member, but had been working with Wanda on honing her power and using it to be able to tap into specific people’s dreams, then using the connection of being in their mind due to the dream and then going through their memories and thoughts.  She even learned how to start manipulating the dreams, changing the circumstances or interacting where she could to make it so nightmares turned into softer dreams.  It proved useful when she was able to get into an operative’s mind and find the coordinates and plans for the next attack.  And it proved even more useful once the Avengers fell apart, the Blip happened, and then Wanda disappeared.  After everyone came back she was lost for a while until Bucky Barnes asked for her help.

“We’ve got a new guy that has…well, some mental issues,” he explained.  “And I think your abilities might be able to help him work through those issues and make it so he can access his powers without the dark side taking over so easily.”

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I can try,” she said.

That’s when she met Bob and started working with him extensively, and was recruited back into the New Avengers.  They became like family to her, and she loved being able to be a part of something bigger again.  She, Yelena and Ava would have girls nights.  Alexei would compliment her abilities heavily and praise her for her efforts with Bob.  Bob was awkward and quiet, but seemed to enjoy their quiet moments of reading together and then forming their own two-person book club.  Walker was still an asshole, but she was able to get him to simmer down most days.  Then there was Bucky.  Sweet but serious, sarcastic but kind, dangerously strong but soft, and devastatingly handsome Bucky.  

Y/N pushed her feelings for him down deep, not wanting them to affect her working relationship and new friendship she had made with him.  But it was getting harder the more he tended to seek her out after rough missions or bad mental days and she would help him drift off into a dreamless slumber, or as he sat next to her during team movie nights, or as the little friendly touches started between them that eventually morphed into long hugs and him kissing the side of her head before they left for another mission.  He was usually quiet, not the one to start a conversation and preferring to be a casual observer, but when they were alone he talked and asked questions.  

At night she usually took heavy sleep aids to help her completely knock out so she wouldn’t accidentally walk into the team’s dreams.  Something about the pills helped her mind go fuzzy enough to have her own dreamless sleep and not unwittingly walk into other’s minds as she slept.  Then one night a year into living at the Watchtower with them she had fallen asleep after a long day working with Bob.  The mental exhaustion had worn her out, and she hadn’t taken the sleep aids.  That was the first time she had seen it.

Her eyes opened in what looked like…Bucky’s room?  She looked around in confusion, then heard heavy breathing.  He wasn’t in his bed.  The edges of her vision looked blurry, and she realized she was dream-walking.  Shit, she thought.  I’m in his dream...dammit.  She didn’t mean to, and willed herself to try and wake up, but then the breathing got louder and turned into grunts.  Her curiosity got the better of her, and if it was a nightmare maybe she could at least help him ease out of it.  She followed the sounds to his bathroom where the door was slightly opened.  She peeked inside, then silently gasped, her mouth dropping open dramatically.

It was partially a memory from a few weeks back when he’d come home from a mission with a nasty wound along his chest and she had tried to help him clean it up since he refused to go to the med bay because, “I’m a super soldier, doll, I’ll heal soon.”  Bucky was sitting on the lid of the toilet like he had been weeks ago, shirtless with a bandage on his chest that she had placed there after cleaning it, but in this dream he was fully naked and she was now on her knees between his legs sucking him off.  Y/N’s eyes widened in comical shock as she watched herself suck Bucky’s cock lewdly, letting out little mewls, moans and gags as she tried to take all of him, her right hand fisting what she couldn’t and stroking him at the same speed as her head bobbed up and down on him.

“That’s it, doll, fuck,” Bucky groaned, his metal hand holding back her hair and his right hand cradling her jaw.  “You’re so good at this, you know that?  Such a good girl.”

Dream Y/N made an affirming sound as she pulled up off of him for a moment to breathe then smiled up at him.  “Your good girl,” she said seductively before lapping at the head of his cock, her spit dribbling down his shaft.

“Damn right,” he huffed.  “My good girl.”

Y/N had walked into wet dreams before, always quickly walking out of them with her hands over her eyes or ears, but this time she stayed and watched.  It was strange to see herself doing something so vulgar, so dirty, and enjoying it.  But all she could really focus on was Bucky’s face.  The way the ever-present crease between his brows was now from a look of lust and desire, his mouth agape as he breathed, every once in a while biting his bottom lip as his head fell back, then looking back down at dream-her with the most lovesick expression she’d ever seen.  The way his lips said the dirtiest words and praises to her, how gently he cradled her head and she could see him struggling not to thrust into her mouth.  

His breathing got faster, and the sexiest whimper bubbled up from his throat as he tensed.  “I’m gonna cum!” he whispered, then a moment later he held her head down and shuddered as he let out a long, loud moan that echoed in the bathroom, his hips rutting into dream-her’s mouth.  Dream-Y/N whimpered as well, swallowing as much as she could.  Bucky sat there for a moment before pulling her up and off his cock, wiping at her lips with his flesh thumb and smiling at her.  “Let me see, Y/N.”  Dream-Y/N obediently opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue to show him she swallowed it all.  “Atta girl,” he smirked, then kissed her deeply.

Y/N felt the pull in her mind and watched the vision go hazy, then she woke up, gasping for air as she sat up straight in bed.  She was in her room again, looking around frantically as she pieced together what she had seen.  There was a deep ache and wetness between her legs that made her groan in discomfort and she fell back on her bed in a huff.  “Fuck me,” she breathed exasperatedly.

***

She knew she shouldn’t pry, that she should take the sleep aids and forget she ever saw it.  But she didn’t.  She let herself fall asleep naturally from then on and purposefully sought out Bucky’s dreams.  He didn’t dream about her every night, but more often than not he did and she was the star of his fantasies.  His wet dreams were quite…colorful.  The positions he put Dream-Y/N into were intense, and the way he spoke to her was dirty but also sweet and endearing.  Every time she would leave his dream she’d have to cum afterwards, pathetically muffling her cries as she pleasured herself to the memory of his dreams night after night.  

During the day when they interacted nothing changed, but she felt herself looking at him more often, which was quickly picked up on by Yelena and Walker.  They teased her about it, and she tried to deny it but ultimately would just roll her eyes and walk away.  “I mean, he’s nice looking,” Yelena said as she nudged Y/N’s shoulder.  “Why don’t you go for it?”

“Go for who?” Bob asked.

Y/N jumped in her seat and wheeled around to face him.  “Jesus, Bob!  How do you just appear out of nowhere?”

“I don’t,” he chuckled.  “But seriously, who are you going for?”

“Bucky,” Yelena said.

Y/N turned to her and smacked her arm, making Yelena yelp as Bob nodded.  “Oh, yeah, you should,” he said with a small smile.  “He stares at you, too.”

She turned back around and smacked his arm, making him yelp and step away.  “Both of you stop it,” Y/N hissed.  

“Why are we smacking people?” Bucky’s voice chimed from the other side of the common room.

They all whirled around to look at him in surprise.  “‘Cause they deserved it,” Y/N said quickly, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, adding a little shrug at the end of the sentence.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at each of them then huffed a laugh and shook his head.  “I’m sure,” he smiled.  “Ready for your lesson, doll?”

“Yep!  I’m coming!” Y/N said in a more chipper tone, then turned to Yelena and Bob once Bucky was out of sight.  She made a “zip it” motion over her mouth to them, and they both snickered as she jogged away to catch up with Bucky.  He led her to one of the many training rooms, holding the door open for her as she thanked him and stepped in to find a table set up with guns lined up on it.

“Alright, first, I’ll teach you how to put one together,” Bucky said, his tone turning professional.  “Then we’ll practice shooting.  Sound good?”

“Okay.  Remind me why I need to know how to shoot a gun?” Y/N asked teasingly as she stared at the array of guns on the table.

“It’s a good skill to have,” Bucky said, coming up behind her and grabbing one of the assembled guns.  He flicked the safety off then with his other hand handed her some ear plugs.  She quickly took them and put them in her ears, then watched as he raised the gun and took merely a second to aim and shoot at a target on the opposite side of the room.  It hit the bullseye perfectly, the gunshot still ringing in her ears and making her wince.  He then met her gaze and shot at the other four targets without looking.  Her eyes widened as she held his stare, then looked at the targets.  Each of them were perfectly shot through the bullseye.

“That was hot,” Y/N said with raised eyebrows and a blush on her cheeks.

Bucky laughed, a blush painting his cheeks as well as he put the safety back on and set the gun back on the table.  For the next hour he taught her how to put one of the simpler guns together, how to load it, unload it, clean it, and then it was time to practice shooting.  Y/N wasn’t good at it.  The feeling of the gun in her hands felt unnatural, and the kickback made her flinch each time.  She still hit the targets within the outline of the body drawn on them, but not in any fatal areas.

“You gotta get behind it,” Bucky said with a slight laugh in his voice after watching her tense up after the last shot.  “The recoil won’t be as rough if you do.”  She took a deep breath and aimed, angling her body a little differently.  It helped as she shot, the recoil not making her feel so off balance.  “Good.  Again,” he said with a smile.  After a few more rounds he stepped behind her.  “Left foot forward,” he instructed, slightly kicking her shoe to make her step forward.  “Right foot back.  Square shoulders,” his hands directed her shoulders to face the target better.  “Lean forward to anchor yourself.  Elbows slightly out to absorb recoil,” his hands slid down her arms to put them in proper position.  “Engage your pec muscles to squeeze your hands together, wrists locked.”  His hands slipped back and down to her mid-back as a secondary anchor, barely touching her.  Then he leaned in toward her ear.  “Now aim.”  His voice dropped, and she had to suppress a shiver as she aimed carefully.  “Take a deep breath,” he said quietly, his breath tickling her ear.  She inhaled deeply.  “Let it out, and shoot.”

Y/N slowly let out the breath and shot.  The recoil wasn’t nearly as bad that time, and it hit right in the middle of the forehead of the target.  She let out a surprised huff of a laugh, and felt Bucky’s hands squeeze her sides.  “Good girl,” he said proudly.

She froze.  He said it.  He fucking said it.  In real life.  To her.  She tried to school her expression as she set the gun down and he stepped away on shaky legs.  “Um…thanks,” she said, clearing her throat.  “I, uh…excuse me.”

“What?  Where are you going?” Bucky asked as she stepped around him.  “We’re not done yet.”

“I just need a minute,” she said, walking fast out of the training room and towards the nearest bathroom.  The second the stall door was closed she leaned against the wall and stuck her hand down in her pants.  Once her fingers made contact with her clit she moaned, shutting her eyes tight as her mouth hung open.  She was already so wet just from him touching her during the lesson and calling her a good girl that she immediately pumped two fingers inside her sopping pussy, causing a full body shiver to roll through her.  Did she Pavlov’s Dog herself into nearly cumming every time he called her that from watching his wet dreams?  Just as her thumb was flicking at her clit and getting her close she heard the bathroom door open.

“Doll?” Bucky’s voice called out.  She silently cursed, her hand stilling in her pants as her eyes snapped open.  “What happened, huh?  Did that freak you out?  I’m sorry, sometimes that first lesson can be a little intense, actually shooting the target like that.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” Y/N said hastily.  “I’ll be there in just a minute.”

She heard him sigh and then walk toward the stall she was in.  “It’s okay, Y/N, just talk to me,” he said softly.

“I’m fine.  Seriously.”  Her wobbly voice did not help her case.  Her fingers twitched inside her and she lightly gasped, trying to be quiet.  

“Y/N, what are you…”  He stopped, then she heard the almost imperceptible sound of a deep sniff.  Goddammit, she thought.  Damn that super soldier serum.  There was a long pause, then he shuffled closer to the stall door.  “Are you…touching yourself?”

Y/N wanted the earth to swallow her whole.  This was so embarrassing.  Of course he knew.  How would she explain this?  There was no good explanation.  She’d have to tell him about the dream-walking, watching him fuck her crazy in his wet dreams for the past couple of months.  She ripped her hand out of her pants and flushed the toilet with her free hand, tucking the wet one behind her back as she opened the stall door.  Bucky stood ramrod straight, his eyes looking dark and analytical as he stared down at her.  “That’s crazy,” she said, skirting around him as best as she could.

As she tried to walk away he suddenly grabbed her and pushed her toward the tiled wall.  She squeaked in shock as he caged her against it with his arms, his left knee moving between her legs and invading her space.  His metal hand reached around and gripped her wrist she was hiding and pulled it back around carefully and up to his face.  His bright blue eyes looked sharper than usual as he looked her over, his breathing heavy, and when her fingers were close to his face he broke eye contact and stared at her wet fingers, still soaked with her arousal.  His eyelids fluttered as he tilted his head and his nostrils flared as he sniffed her fingers.  He then met her gaze again and brought her fingers to his mouth, opening wide and licking at them.

Surely this was how she would die.  Her heart thundered in her ears, she blinked rapidly and her mouth fell open as she watched him lick then suck her fingers into his mouth.  He closed his eyes as he tasted her, and the hum he let out vibrated around her fingers.  She sighed, her head falling back against the wall.  Her knees shook, threatening to give out, and his flesh hand wrapped around her back to hold her flush against his body and keep her upright.  He finally pulled her fingers out of his mouth and opened his eyes, licking his lips as he stared at her.  “You taste delicious, doll,” he whispered.  “Why were you touching yourself?”

She swallowed thickly and dropped her gaze to his chest.  “I…I needed to,” she said weakly.

“Why?” he asked firmly, his metal hand letting go of her wrist and then pulling her chin up to make her look at him.

Y/N couldn’t handle the intense look in his eyes and the shame so she shut her eyes.  “I’ve been dream-walking into your wet dreams for the past few months,” she confessed quickly.  “I didn’t mean to, I just forgot my sleeping pills one night and suddenly ended up in your dream and I saw myself giving you head.  I’m sorry.”  She felt overwhelmed and inhaled shakily, trying not to cry.  “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t say anything at first, then she felt him move and kiss the side of her mouth.  Her eyes snapped open as he pulled away and he smirked at the look on her face.  “What else did you see me doing to you?” he asked.

Y/N huffed.  “Y-you…you fucked me in the shower,” she whispered.  “And on your bed.  Then during a mission.  Basically everywhere,” she stifled a laugh at the memory of all the places and ways he’d dreamed of fucking her.  

“What was your favorite?” he asked, his metal hand sliding down to her throat and wrapping his fingers around it.  He didn’t squeeze, just held her there as he stared at her.  

“I…all of them,” she breathed.  “I loved all of them.”

His smirk widened into a wicked smile.  “Especially when I called you a good girl?”

Her eyes rolled back in her head unwittingly and she whined in his face.  “Yyyeeesss,” she grunted through gritted teeth.

Bucky moaned and kissed her.  Y/N gasped through her nose, kissing him back and trying to keep up with how passionately he was kissing her.  His tongue slipped into her mouth, and she could taste the remnants of her arousal as she entangled her tongue with his.  His flesh hand moved down her hip, over her ass cheek, then up to her breasts, kneading them and leaving a tingling sensation in his wake.  His metal hand slightly squeezed her throat, pulling another whine from deep in her chest.

“Fuck, doll,” he groaned against her lips.  “So responsive.  Just like in my dreams.”  He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers as they both breathed heavily.  “Lesson’s over.  Let’s go upstairs and you can choose which dream we recreate first.”

She nodded frantically.  He let her go and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the bathroom and walking with purpose toward the elevator.  The entire ride up he didn’t say anything or move, watching the floor numbers rise as he held her hand firmly.  When the elevator dinged he nearly ripped her from the elevator and dragged her to his room, shutting and locking the door behind her and then pushing her against the door.  He kissed her again, his hands roaming over her eagerly.  Y/N melted against him, letting him move her and kiss her any which way he wanted to.

“How do you wanna start, Y/N?” he asked as he licked at her neck.  “You wanna suck me off like that first time you saw me?  Or do you wanna fuck me?  I’ll do whatever you want.”

Her hands were shaking as she gripped his shoulders, trying to ground herself so she wouldn’t collapse.  “Do you…do you actually want to do this?” she stuttered, her self-doubt kicking in.  “I u-understand if you’re…mad or–”

“Stop that,” Bucky said, gripping her cheeks and making her look at him again.  “What you saw in my dreams is exactly what I want.  You.  I want you.  I’ve been falling for you from the moment we met, doll.  I want your body,” he kissed her lips.  “I want your mind.”  He kissed her forehead.  “I want your heart all to myself.”  He dipped down and kissed the spot over her heart, making her almost sob.  “I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours.”  The look on his face and the hope in his eyes was almost too much to bear as he gazed at her.

“I want that,” Y/N nodded.  “I want all of that.  I’m yours, and I want you to be mine.”

“Already am,” he shook his head with a knowing smile.  “I’m yours.”  He kissed her again, but this time it was softer, sweeter, and the tenderness made her whimper against his mouth.  Her hands moved up to hold him by the back of the neck and keep him close to her, and he used the leverage of her hands there to lift her and make her wrap her legs around his hips.  Bucky turned them towards his bed and laid her on it, continuing his kisses as he stayed there with her for a moment.

When he moved his kisses to her cheek and down to her neck she finally found her voice.  “I want…I need you to make me cum with your fingers,” she said.  “I need to cum so bad, Buck.  Please…please honey…”

“Mmh, I like that,” Bucky smirked against her neck.  He quickly stripped her of her clothes, leaving her naked and splayed out on the bed.  His eyes hungrily gazed at her as he stripped himself, and she ogled him openly as his flesh hand moved closer to her pussy.

“No, not that one,” Y/N said.

Bucky looked like he short circuited for a moment, his eyes widening as he stared at her in shock.  Then his eyes narrowed and he brought his metal hand forward, hovering it over her pussy.  “You want my metal fingers?” he asked, sounding perplexed and in awe.  She nodded, smiling softly at him.  He let out a long sigh, like he was relaxing after a long day, then brought his metal hand up to her face.  “Open up,” he instructed.  Y/N opened her mouth and he dipped his middle three fingers into her mouth.  She licked and sucked them, loving the way the metal felt against her tongue and giggling at the clink sound they made against her teeth.  When he felt like they were lubed enough he pulled them out of her mouth and brought his hand back down between her legs.  “Good girl,” he praised her with a knowing smirk.  

She visibly shivered at the praise, and he sunk two fingers into her without warning.  Y/N gasped, her back arching at the sudden but pleasant intrusion that her body had been yearning for.  He pumped his fingers slowly, letting her get adjusted to them and watching her carefully, making sure she wasn’t in any pain or discomfort.  His eyes couldn’t seem to decide whether to stay on her face or her pussy, mesmerized by the slick sounds coming from between her legs and the moans and whimpers falling from her lips.

She was so close already, and whimpered at the need and desperation that made her hips tremble in his hand.  The metal felt amazing inside her, somehow staying cool against the immense heat radiating from her pussy.  Bucky could tell she was struggling to finish and leaned over her a little bit, bringing his face close to her pussy.  He suddenly spit on her clit, and she flinched at the added warmth as well as the sound, her breathing getting even heavier at how hot that was.  His metal thumb started circling around her clit, rubbing in his spit as his fingers continued to fuck her.  He watched her squirm for a moment before getting close again and then licking at her clit.  Her hips bucked into his face, but that only seemed to drive him on as his flesh hand held her left thigh tightly to hold her down, his metal fingers moving faster inside her as the tip of his tongue flicked her clit.

“Holy fuck, doll,” he mumbled against her.  “So good…let go and cum, Y/N.  Be my good girl and cum.”

The build-up of her orgasm was finally about to tip over the edge.  She reached down and gripped Bucky’s hair in her fingers, tugging at it as her hips grinded against his mouth.  He moaned, sucking at her clit hard, then teasingly nibbled at his with his teeth.  She came with a shriek, her legs clamping against his head as she bucked against his face again and again.  Bucky kept moaning into her, his mouth and fingers refusing to stop and letting her ride out the orgasm as long as she wanted.  

Once she stopped shaking he gave her one last broad lick and eased his fingers out of her, then put them in his mouth and licked them clean.  She watched him enjoy her cum, the arousal rebuilding quickly.  “Honey,” she breathed.  His eyes flicked up to her face as he pulled his pointer finger out with a pop.  “That was so good…thank you,” she huffed.

Bucky smiled and wiped his hand on the comforter before climbing over her and slotting his hips between her legs.  His cock was heavy and hard laying on her pussy and lower stomach.  Her hips squirmed again at the feeling, and he smirked watching her writhe uncomfortably, her lustful frown as she looked down at him making him beam.  “So desperate for my cock, doll?” he teased, leaning down to kiss, lick and suck at her tits insistently.  

“Yes,” she said unabashedly, her fingers back in his hair and scratching down his scalp.  

“Is this how you want it?” he asked, dragging his lips across the skin of her chest.  “The dream where I fucked you hard and fast on my bed, with you begging me to fill you, huh?”

“Oh my…GOD YES!” she grunted.  

He chuckled against her sternum before moving back up and kissing her.  “On your stomach, doll,” he instructed.  Y/N immediately rolled over, planting her knees on the bed and raising her ass in the air with her face down in the bed.  She heard him huff another laugh and then position himself behind her, rubbing his cock through her soaked lower lips.  His flesh hand slapped her ass cheeks, and she whimpered again at the sting that he rubbed out gently.  “Such a good, obedient girl,” he said lowly, teasing her pussy with the tip of his cock over and over again.  “Go on.  Beg.”

She turned her head to try and look at him as best as she could, her eyes pleading with him as she shook her ass back against his hips.  “Bucky, honey, please…please?  I need you to fill me.  I want your fat cock to fuck me and fill me up, please.  Please please please, honey?  I’ll be so good.  Your good girl.”

His eyes rolled back at that and his mouth dropped open.  “Damn right you are,” he groaned, then thrust forward and filled her completely.  Y/N yelped at the sudden stretch and fullness, her face smooshing back into the bed as she dropped her head down and her own eyes rolled back.  He was perfect.  She had never been so full in her life, and she knew instantly that she was ruined for any other man.  Bucky let her adjust for a minute, a deep hum vibrating in his chest that she could surprisingly feel through her pussy, then he rolled his hips.  That pulled a whine from her, and from then on it was like a bargain between them.  A roll of the hips for a moan.  A hard snap for a whimper.  Widening her legs for a grunt and hands squeezing her ass cheeks.  They were playing with each other, learning what the other wanted and responded to the most.  Y/N had never felt so turned on or completely loved and cared for, and it made her sniffle as she started to cry.

“You crying, doll?” Bucky asked, laying his front over her back and kissing between her shoulder blades.  “Does it feel that good?”

“Yes, honey,” she moaned, her fingers grasping the comforter in a death grip.  “Never been so…mmh, full before,” she said.

“Really?  Aw, buttering me up, huh?” he asked, the teasing tone coming back full force, his lips tracing along her back and his teeth nipping at her randomly, making her tense up.  The way his beard was leaving goosebumps along her sensitive skin was tantalizing.  “Gonna keep praising me ‘til I cum deep inside this pretty, sloppy pussy?  God, you’re better than my dreams, Y/N.”

Y/N shivered at all the different sensations coming together to make her start tipping over the edge of another orgasm.  Her face thrashed against the bed as the pace of his thrusts picked up, snapping into her hips so hard that the slapping of skin echoed in his room.  His fingers gripped her hips hard, and she knew she’d be bruised and sensitive the next day, but that somehow made it even hotter.  “Oh fuck…fuck, fuck, Bucky I…ungh,” she groaned as her pussy pulsed around him.  “Fuck me full, honey!  Please!”

“Yeah,” he huffed, the pace getting even faster.  He leaned over and adjusted his feet on the bed, making it so he was mounting her.  He tucked his face into the side of her neck, his heaving breaths heating her ear.  “Take it, doll.  Take all of me like the good girl you are.  And all mine.”  Bucky bit her shoulder, not hard but enough to make her shudder.  “Mine,” he growled around the muscle in his mouth.

Y/N came careening over the edge, cumming so hard around his cock that she screamed and shook violently beneath him.  Her pussy pulsed in waves as the orgasm rolled through her body and to each extremity, her vision going white as her voice was muffled into the mattress.  Bucky clenched behind her, his hips pistoning into her a few times more until he whimpered in her ear and then shoved himself as far in as she could and stiffened.  Another deep hum vibrated through him as he came, and she could feel the warmth increase inside her as he filled her up just the way she wanted.  

It took her a few minutes to come back to herself, but when she did she could still feel him rutting into her from behind, his lips still at her shoulder but kissing and licking at the bite mark he left, and his hands generously massaging over her back, sides and hips.  He gripped his cock between them and squeezed, making sure to get every last drop of cum was emptied into her still undulating pussy walls, her hips twitching periodically.

“Good girl.  You’re such a good girl,” he said, his voice sounding tired.  “Did so good for me, doll.  That was amazing.  Thank you.  Thank you for walking into my dreams.  My pretty dream girl.  Fucking hell…”

She giggled as he turned to his side and pulled her with him, keeping his cock tucked inside her as best as possible as he settled them more comfortably.  “My dream man came to life,” she teased, reaching back and pinching his hip.

Bucky laughed and grabbed her hand, pulling it up to his mouth and kissing her fingers.  “Your dream man.  My good girl.”

She nodded and leaned her head back into his chest, and he kissed her top of her head near her hairline.  “Your good girl.”

@nerdreader

[matchatarot]

Did you miss me, Bunny? I felt through this reading that while I’ve been away, you’ve been working on your shadow work and manifestations. You can be proud of yourself! Let’s take a look at the positive things you’re currently manifesting. To pick a pile, don’t overthink it; choose the one that draws you in the most while thinking about the reading’s intent. Only take what resonates!

Love, Matcha ♡

☆ masterlist

1 ₊˚.༄

You might feel the energy shift in your gut, but I doubt you’re seeing the grandiosity of what’s coming next for you in the material world just yet. You began putting the effort into your manifestations a long time ago. It was a mental effort, related to your self-respect and values. You’ve been fiercely true to yourself by protecting what you stand for. You’ve learned to protect yourself from the evil eye, making decisions based on your deepest desires and aspirations. Some people have been trying to dim your light for years! It seems like family members and past friends were jealous of your ambition and tried to make you doubt yourself. You might have had a group of girls (or gossipy guys) that you thought were your best friends, but were talking behind your back about how they don’t believe in you every time you try something new. They simply lacked the mental capacity to visualize their own path to success, so they made you the target of their insecurities. I am so proud of you for continuing to put in the effort, Bunny.

You’re manifesting so much abundance! You’ve laid the perfect foundation for it, and now it’s coming fast. I see that right now you might be standing at a crossroad, a little reluctant to take action because you have no idea what’s next, however, as soon as you take that leap of faith, it’ll all start to come in! You’re manifesting a total restructuring of your life. You’re manifesting a lifestyle based on your desires and values, one where your manifestations will always come easily, a space in which you feel seen and loved. You’re manifesting a divine counterpart! For some people reading, it’s a love interest, for some, it’s a new empowering group of friends, but for most of you, it’s both! Not only are you manifesting the person you’re going to marry, but you’re also manifesting your potential bridesmaids and groomsmen. A soulmate and a soul tribe. They’ve been manifesting you for a long time as well! You’ll recognize them because of how funny and smart they are! They’re interesting to talk to, and they’ll always push you to follow your heart and take action! You’re manifesting new adventures and travel! If you’ve had the funds to book a trip but didn’t because you want to save money, book the ticket. I see this trip unlocking a lot of beautiful new opportunities for you, it’s an action that‘ll attract your spiritual counterparts in your life!

Keep standing firm on your beliefs! Keep indulging in what feels in your heart like your soul’s true purpose. You’re manifesting love and divine union, Bunny.

222, bear, feathers, snow, violin

↳ book a personal reading with me on ko-fi ★

2 ⊹˚˖ ☆

Bunny, I am so proud of you for walking away from what wasn’t aligned with your highest path. You’ve always been an ambitious dreamer; you know you’re destined for a life of abundance. In the past, you’ve put effort into so many projects, most didn’t bear any fruit. You’ve sacrificed your old way of thinking for a new one, this shift is what’s bringing you your manifestations. You’ve entered a totally new era, you’ve looked back at the past and assessed your mistakes. Now, you move differently. You’ve let go. You trust the universe, you’re more flexible with your wishes, the energy flows effortlessly, and you’re more than ever consciously co-creating your future with the universe. You’re consistent and committed to your abundance mindset. Lack mentality was responsible for most of your past failures. You’re now understanding that to walk your highest path, you need to tune yourself to the highest vibration. There’s no space for doubting your potential.

You’re the star, Bunny, and you’re manifesting whatever you want. Honestly, you have a profusion of options. You’re stepping into a powerful frequency that’ll attract all kinds of new opportunities to you. It’s as if wealth, love and new experiences are manifesting you instead of the opposite. If you’ve been using manifestation mantras, they’re working. It’s funny because in the past you’ve been yearning for all these options, but it might feel a bit overwhelming when it comes, to be honest. Tune into your intuition and allow yourself to be more precise with what you want for the future so that decisions will be easier to make.

You’re manifesting a love union, or an highest form of commitment in your relationship, if you feel like you’re already with your soulmate. For the ones that haven’t met this person yet, they’re someone you either dreamed about at night or wished for while looking at the sky, maybe you saw a shooting star or an eclipse and thought of them. They’re searching for you right now, either consciously or subconsciously, either way, life is bringing you two together. If you’re already in a relationship, outside factors that are negatively impacting the dynamic will disappear. For example, if they’re always working on the days you’re off, the schedule will change and allow more time together. Your relationships with people will generally become easier and more balanced. You might lose some friends because there’s this purging of your old life going on right now, but the ones that will remain and the ones that will come in will be as loving to you as you are to them. The relationships you’ll have in the future will be ones where love and effort are reciprocated.

Keep treating yourself as the main character of your life and dreaming big. You’re manifesting so much more than you wished for!

646, 777, four leaf clover, sunflower, swan

↳ book a personal reading with me on ko-fi ★

3 ‧₊˚ ♡

After taking time to connect with your intuition, deepening your spiritual knowledge and studying your passions, you’ve decided that it is time to take the lead in your own life. You’ve always had beautiful intentions and interesting ideas, but now you realize that it’s time for you to connect with your masculine energy and take definitive action towards your goals. You don’t care about ruffling feathers, you’re willing to take the necessary steps for your potential to flourish. You’ve been underestimated in the past, the ones that have doubted you are in for a show, Bunny.

Wealth and fame are rushing towards you! You’ll bask in glory! You’ve made the perfect moves. Your mind is so mysterious, you’re such a spiritual being. You’ll manifest this abundance in a very peculiar and different way. Technology or social media will take an important role in your ascension. You might work in digital marketing, or you’ll become an influencer, something in that vein. You’ll become successful suddenly, and your life will shift to something you’ve only seen in your fantasies. Sometimes, it’ll even feel like a dream. It’ll feel like you’re in another dimension, negative memories of your past will fade, and you’ll soon be living a totally new reality. You’ll finally feel whole. Your success will come from something that now seems insignificant, but your vision will define its success.

In the past, you’ve been treated horribly by people pretending to be your friends or even members of your family. They’ve made fun of you for being different, lacking in areas they glorified for some egotistical and superficial reason. This storyline is giving the trope of the nerd that’s made fun of in high school for their geek hobbies that end up being the boss of their past classmates and become insanely rich because they started a tech company. Anyways, your haters are gonna be shocked, ahah! They’re gonna be speechless, so jealous! I love it, they’re getting their karma, they’ve really been nasty to you. They’ll watch you closely and resent you for the rest of their life. Don’t feel bad about it, they’re putting themselves through it. If you’ve been manifesting a specific car, you’ll be able to get it! For some of you, it’s multiple. If you’ve been postponing getting your license, you’ll end up getting it in a moment of your life where life feels so easy you might as well! You’ll have the control over your life you’ve been craving.

Keep taking confident action and introspecting, Bunny! You’re the powerful leader you think you are, and the life of your dreams is just around the corner.

396hz, air, blue agate, Hecate

↳ book a personal reading with me on ko-fi ★

decks used: oracle of heaven and hell by Travis McHenry, art oracles by Katya Tylevich, modern witch tarot deck by Lisa Steele, les vampires oracle by Lucy Cavendish, art oracles by Katya Tylevich

★ photo credits go to their rightful owner

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

A New World | Yandere Monster's World

Rules | Buy me a Kofi!!! | Commissions(Shorts, ASMRScripts, etc.)

Thinking about an alternate dimension with no humans. No rumors, no myths, and no ancient burial grounds that suggest they might exist. Only the creatures we write about and make stories of. Hairy 5-meter tall hairy giants, vampires that drink the blood of any they can get their hand on, gorgeous beauties that feed on the souls of all they drown at sea. It’s a monster lover’s dream. The races of course are in factions by race navigating peace as best as they can but it continues to be a contentious mission. 

Of course not helping their case, a new species is being introduced to the pool.

You. 

A dimensional traveler meant to test out a better place for humans to live. Of course, your soulless employers drop you in with limited supplies and promise they’ll return you in five years of course if you're not dead. 

But this monster world is far from ready to have a human come to their land. At first, they mistake you for a defanged good-natured vampire; flexing your technology as a silent show of dominance. Typical of those snotty fang-havers….but things get weird when the council of monster representatives finds the Vampires so in awe of your existence. 

“No fangs?”

“Imperviousness to the sun!?”

“You are like nothing we’ve ever seen–”

“Or smelt! Your blood—”

“We’ve never tasted anything more divine!”

After using a small reusable syringe technology is amazing from your pack and give them a couple of droplets. Only for one taste to have the vampires writhing in heat so feverish they can’t help but drool and pull at their suddenly too-restricting clothes.

The other representatives are baffled. Are you a witch?! You have a better temperament than any and you haven’t requested any hearts or weird herbs to sate some hunger of yours. The Witch representatives check you next, doing the usual checkups witches must go through.

“Alright now open your esophagus.”

“Uhm I can’t do that. I can open my mouth, though. Ahh”

“GASP! What on the Withering Lands is that pink thing hanging in the back!?”

“My uvula?”

“Oh my, should you be showing that to us?!”

“Yes, we may impregnate you that way.”

“That’s not how it works for me.”

Though for good measure and their imploding curiosity, they take a sample of your saliva. Learning from those narcissistic vampire they only pour a hint of it into their cauldrons. Taking a sip, their chemistry demands their brain think of an answer and yet….why are their pants wet? Oh dear they’ll need to satisfy themselves quickly or they’ll be unable to stop themselves from pouncing on the odd creature that brought this along.  It brings the council into an uproar some call for your immediate execution, others want to take you for further experimentation, and others hope to have what the vampires and witches were having. 

One of your immediate allies is the Elves the hosts for this council meeting. Escorting you from the courtroom as they mull about possible solutions, willing to hear out what you might have to say. Oblivious to the tension among the kingdoms and each specific problem, you can’t offer much. That leaves the Elf representative, an audacious fifth prince, at his wit's end. Near tears he expects you to watch awkwardly as the sparkling water falls from his eyes, not rub against his back. 

“Hey it’s okay we’ll figure it out. I really appreciate you looking after me.”

Your words fall on deaf ears as the elf is immediately thrown into disarray. Even through his clothes, the warmth of your hands has the most naughty parts of him stand at attention. The tips of his ears are the shade of the planet’s crimson moon and the nails he’d always kept beautifully shaped make indents in the wood. His guards happily fall to restrain the creature responsible only for them to suffer the same fate. 

It dawns on you just how terrible of a situation it is then you realize the door is locked and the monsters suffering from your effect have been thrust into a mindless rut where their all convinced you will solve their problems. 

And maybe you can, after all, you are the only human in this world. If you made these problems surely you can fix them. 

[mcondance]

Smoke with barely legal virgin reader who he makes ride them for their first time since they “wanted to be grown” and “was talking all that slick shit at the juke joint”

don’t hate me but i feel like this is more elias than elijah sorry friend tw big ass age gap, reader is quite literally freshly 18 so talks of that, elias is a nasty man, reader is a virgin, uses of “girl”, written in a southern accent

oh my god yeah.

just turned 18 a little less than 3 months ago, can still smell the milk on your breath when he’s close enough. can still see that sparkle in your eyes, the same sparkle you look at him with when you’re talking shit that gets his dick hard and so obviously trying to make yourself look older than you are.

elias can see through it all. with those wild eyes, he can see straight through that silky little dress and right on through to your body underneath it, the body you slink over the counter top in a vain attempt to gain his attention.

unfortunately, fortunately, for you, elias has never been the twin to make the rational decisions.

“she a baby,” smoke tells him, ducked off in the corner the day elias starts to give in, but elias is chewing on a toothpick imagining what he could do to you.

“shit,” he starts, “that girl know what she wan’. can’t give her nothin’ she ain’ been askin’ fa’.”

“gon’ give that girl what she askin’ for and see how that work ou’.”

elias ain’t never listened to his brother when it came to women, and he don’t plan on starting now. not when you ‘bout the easiest lil’ thing he’s seen in a long time.

he don’t know how it happened and you don’t either, but someway you end up at the little place he bought with straight cash, that little green dress he’s had the eyes for decorating the body he’s soon to have his way with.

he isn’t your first kiss, but he’s your first kiss like this. he don’t care that you haven’t been touched, he don’t care that the way he’s kissing you and licking into your mouth is definitely too much for a virgin like you, he don’t even care that you’re obviously overwhelmed and biting off more than you can chew.

he loves this shit.

he don’t respect you enough to take your clothes off, and he damn sure don’t respect you enough to even lead you to his bed. right on the couch is how he’s gonna take it from you, thighs spread under you while you grind on him and think to yourself about just how you’re gonna take all of it.

“ay, girl, get this up,” he slurs against your lips, pulling at your dress before he reaches for his belt buckle. desperate and willing, you meet him there and help him loosen his belt and then you’re reaching into his pants and pulling him out of his boxers. overzealous little thing, excited, eyes bigger than your cunt.

“you grown, girl?” he asks, rubbing himself through your oh-so abundant wetness, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, golds shinin’ like his blown eyes. you nod, whining as you feel his tip glide against you like cold whiskey down your throat. “yeah?”

you feel grown right now. grown as hell. growner than you’ve ever felt before.

“lemme see how grown you is, then. baby talkin’ all tha’ slick shit at the joint, lemme put that money where that mouth is.”

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared. but stack’s so fine and it’s now or never, you can’t go back on your word after all you said and done. you wouldn’t go back even if you wanted to. you ain’t letting this go.

elias fucks you like you’ve been takin’ dick for years. hands wrapped around you, big hand pressed to the middle of your back, he stuffs you full and has you choking on your words, has your thoughts jumbling and folding in on each other. green fabric slips down your shoulders and leaves your whole chest bare for his disgusting eyes.

elias feels powerful, and vile all the same. goddamn cradle robber and he don’t feel nothing but pride and power.

“you just a baby, girl, don’ know nothing. but i’ll teach ya’. i’ll teach you good, girl. learn you everythang you wanna know.”

[xjulixred45x]

Hello! a Twisted Wonderland question and thought food if you’re comfortable with this. I read some about your thoughts and stories about Diabolik Lovers, But I had this imagine that what if Yui Komori is in Twisted Wonderland (bonus: what if Yui used to befriends with the Yuus back before the Twisted Wonderland)?

(cracks knuckles) MY TIME HAS COME

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS IDEA FOR MANY REASONS: 1- Yui is saved from the Sakaboludos, 2- she ends up in a world where she's treated like the hero she is, and 3- most importantly, CAN YOU IMAGINE WHAT YUI WOULD BE LIKE WITH ANY OF THE TWST GUYS?!

I imagine if Yui were to end up in Twst, it would be during the events of Haunted Dark Bridal or Dark Fate (the games where, personally, I think Yui suffers the most physically, emotionally, and psychologically, whether from the Diaboys, Richter, Cordelia, or any of these otherworldly creatures). Maybe Yui was trying to escape from the mansion or from one of the vampires when the black carriage ran her over and she ended up at the admission ceremony (poor Yui probably thought Kanato would have put her in a coffin).

Yui definitely finds Grim more adorable than scared and tries to hug him despite the imminent danger. Grim still refuses to be called "cute" or adorable by her, but he doesn't object to physical affection whenever Yui picks him up to hug or carry him around NRC. He also acts as her literal guard dog, preventing students with malicious intent from approaching Yui or trying to hurt her. He claims it's because of the tuna she gives him, but everyone knows it's a lie.

Yui is VERY naive, but that doesn't mean she can't see through the fact that Crowley isn't looking for a way for her to return home, so, out of habit, she ends up resigning herself to this new life. Hey, at least she's not being abused now, after all.

The idea of Yui facing the Overblots is both terrifying and very interesting. We know Yui is much stronger (both physically and mentally) than she looks, and, above all, she's a good person. She would see the injustices committed by several of the Overblot victims and WANT to stop them; it's part of her nature. Will she come away with a few scratches? Yes, but satisfied and having earned respect and a couple of hearts? Also yes!

Speaking of which...

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is one of the first to notice Yui's accommodating nature (and, to a lesser extent, her fear of rejection/anger if she decides to be more assertive), so it's especially fitting that Yui stops by Heartslabyul when Crowley is killing her with extra work. He's not above scolding the headmaster for giving his assignments to a young girl he SHOULD be looking after (especially when said young girl is so polite and sweet).

Riddle LOVES it when Yui tries to discipline Ace and Deuce, even if it's something of a losing battle. He's very happy to know there's someone who enjoys order and thanks Yui for her help in trying to keep the two of them under control (he KNOWS that if the three of them get into trouble, it's Deuce's fault, and Yui is spared the scolding. Always). Yui has often tried to help with unbirthday party preparations, whether it's helping with the food (this girl knows how to cook almost as well as Trey) or taking care of the Hedgehogs.

Riddle and Yui as a couple would be so funny and sweet at the same time. Riddle makes it a personal goal to be intimidating for himself and Yui (they're both short, but Riddle is barely taller than Yui, which is another aspect Riddle loves). They both LOVE unbirthday parties and making desserts together (Yui stops Riddle from putting sauces that shouldn't be on a cake). Even if Riddle is awkard with comfort, he is definitely enraged to learn what Yui went through in his world, he assures her that she doesn't have to be afraid now that she is in NRC, and that if anyone tries to harm her, he will cut their heads off himself.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona tries to ignore Yui at first, probably because he's not completely convinced by her "goody-two-shoes" attitude, of course, until what happened in his Overblot, and he's starting to see her differently, not just as a helpless girl, but as someone quite clever, not as someone passive, but with quite a bit of character. Someone he can respect.

Yui is probably the one who generates most of the interactions between her and Leona, whether it's helping Ruggie with his errands, running into him at the botanical garden, and trying to get him to go to class. She's stubborn, Leona can recognize that too, as well as the fact that she's not easily intimidated. No matter how many times he tells her to leave him alone or even bares the fangs at her, she looks at him with a bored expression and continues on with her business. Leona finds her fun, interesting. Besides, Leona would be lying if he said Yui's attention doesn't feel special, nice.

As a couple, it would be quite interesting to see, since they're practically polar opposites. Yui is a super sweet and kind girl, Leona is... Leona, it's a mystery to many how these two ended up together in the first place, but honestly, there's no science to it. Leona makes Yui feel capable again, he lets her know in his own way that she matters (to him specially), that she feels safe with him (he definitely suggests, with a very serious and angry face, putting the Sakamakis in cages if they ever cross paths with them. Yui can't tell if she's being serious or joking).

Azul Ashengrotto

Let's be frank, even before the events of Book 3, Azul probably tried to scam Yui in some way if it weren't for Grim/Adeuce telling her not to accept things from strangers at school. Though honestly after that, I can see Azul being genuinely interested in Yui singing at the Monstre Louge in exchange for some favor she wants (we know from her official song that this girl can sing VERY WELL).

Another one who's taken aback by Yui's genuine kindness thinks there must be a catch, and genuinely ponders for hours when he realizes that no, Yui doesn't want to abuse him in any way, she just wants to be his friend. Yui ultimately generates a strange feeling in Azul, a desire to protect her. This girl clearly trusts too easily (according to him), and Azul will happily prevent other lesser students from trying to take advantage of that (which translates to Yui going to Monster Lounge a lot for "better protection" and singing/entertainment services).

Both Yui and Azul suffered quite a bit from comments/bullying due to their physical appearance, though Azul genuinely can't believe people have called Yui UGLY (UGLY? YUI? ARE YOU BLIND?!?-Azul), so I can see Azul being very big on compliments and words of affirmation, actually quite good with comfort and surprisingly patient. Both he and Yui are traumatized people, with many insecurities, just on different levels, and Azul is more than willing to support Yui while she's healing. It's what she would do, after all.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim and Yui are polar opposites, but in the opposite sense that with Leona, Yui probably didn't expect Kalim to receive her in such an abrasive, but above all, warm way. Hell, the guy wanted to do a PARADE just for her arrival. Everyone in Scarabia was super friendly, and above all, Kalim never made her feel like she owed him ANYTHING for all of this. He made her feel IMPORTANT without expecting anything more than her being happy (Yui most likely cried about this, much to Kalim's concern).

Kalim and Yui are equally oblivious when it comes to not trusting people, equally naive in many ways. They generally want to believe the world is full of good people despite everything they've been through. Probably just as Kalim might casually mention his trauma from being poisoned as if it were nothing, he'd be horrified if Yui did the same about what happened with the Sakamakis. He might even burst into tears when he finds out what she went through and hug her for a couple of hours.

A relationship between these two would be too much for NRC to handle; they'd be too brilliant (they're two sunshines combined). Kalim would make it his personal mission to ensure that Yui is spoiled the entire time she is in Scarabia, spending a good amount of time in the sun (to recover from the anemia), eating a ton of food, and lots and lots of cuddles!

Vil Schoenheit

Vil most likely noticed Yui immediately thanks to her striking appearance, and Vil was most likely the one who approached her first for a similar reason as Epel: he sees great potential in Yui. However, Yui doesn't really have any interest in such things, though that doesn't stop Vil from giving her advice or correcting her every time he sees her (things like fixing her tie/bow, telling her not to slouch, telling her that someone with her face shouldn't wear (insert generic outfit), etc.).

Vil is completely INCREDULOUS and almost offended when Yui tells him that "certain people" convinced her she was ugly, probably ending up forcing Yui to spend an entire afternoon in Pomefiore to get those ideas out of her through skincare and self-care. After his development, Vil finds Yui absolutely adorable, not only for her looks but for her attitude toward things, although he tends to get in the way if he thinks someone is trying to take advantage of Yui's goodwill, it's a reflex.

I can't describe a relationship between these two other than pure glamour and face card. Vil can't really show much of a relationship because of his career, but luckily Yui is more of an introvert/lowkey person. Small but meaningful things like spending time together at Yui's house, going somewhere new, going out to lunch, or just being with each other are enough, especially when one of them is dealing with their own demons (the Sakamakis? Don't worry, Vil has an extra-strong poison he wants to test on them firsthand).

Idia Shroud

How Idia and Yui managed to interact without Idia leaving his room or suffering a panic attack at the sight of a real-life pretty girl within 10 meters of him IS the true mystery of NRC. Oh well, most likely they met thanks to Ortho (the best chaperone ever), and you can't convince me that Yui wouldn't want to know what the heck manga is after being raised Catholic her whole life (Idia: My time has come (proceeds to give a 200-slide presentation about manga, Yui taking notes)).

Especially after their Overblot, Idia is convinced that Yui must be disgusted by him, or hate him, at the very least, repulsed by him, but when Yui opens up about her own traumas, what happened to her in her world, why she still doesn't want to come back, he can't help but start to believe that she actually sees him as a friend. Someone that nice is so rare in NRC, he could at least make an effort to maintain that, right?

Don't ask Idia how he got to date Yui; he doesn't know, it just happened. Yui may be somewhat introverted, but she seems extroverted compared to her otaku boyfriend. Idia is definitely the type of boyfriend who shows off his girlfriend a lot (probably because he himself never thought he'd have one). He may be a piece of shit, but anything Yui does? Incredible, excellent, fantastic. He won't be able to protect Yui in the conventional way, but that doesn't make him any less overprotective (the kind of boyfriend who puts tracking apps on both of their phones, starts crying when Yui takes more than 10 minutes to get to her room (he thinks she's dead).)

Malleus Draconia

Malleus expected Yui to be terrified of him like everyone else, but he definitely didn't expect her to see him with eyes wide open and filled with a feeling he never thought he'd see in a human: not fear, not terror, but FASCINATION. Yui doesn't just talk to him casually, call him silly nicknames, touch him as if he were just another student, but, whether she knew who he was or not, she always wanted his company. Malleus was overjoyed, but he also wondered: Why?

Malleus may be a two-meter-tall horned boy, but he's one of the gentlest boys Yui has ever met. She herself tells him she could never be afraid of him, which leaves Tsunotaro rethinking his existence for a solid hour. Him? GENTLE? It wasn't something he was associated with often, if ever. It's something Malleus learned to appreciate from Yui, that she saw things, people, through different eyes, not in the conventional way, that no matter what wrong you've done, you can be better.

Malleus as a partner is VERY devoted. Not only is he physically glued to Yui most of the time, but he shows love in many ways, both dragon and Fae (and some simply Malleus being AUTISTIC Malleus). Things like receiving jewels from the horde, date nights, going to see gargoyles, slow dancing in Diasomnia's lounge, among other things became common for Yui at this point, but most of all, many words of love and appreciation, Malleus will make sure that Yui has a very comfortable life, and being very, very loved (and the Sakamakis will have a very short life--).

Conclution: Yui is the ultimate Mc and should be put in twst for all the pain the Sakajerks have caused her.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[mistyheartrbs]

i'm sure i'm not the first person to take issue with this (checks notes) 25-year-old episode but WOW do i hate riley and how they wrote him off in 5x10.

from the beginning he's a character out of place in buffy. he's condescending at best, chauvanistic at worst, all while the narrative insists he's Really A Good Guy! he's Really Secretly Good and he just Didn't Know that demons had feelings! the initiative plot drags s4 down and every scene he's in makes the show feel like molasses. he's not funny, he's not cool, he's not complex or layered either. btvs is generally pretty good at adding new characters to the scooby gang and making it feel natural - oz, anya, tara, spike to a degree, even dawn - but riley is a drag through and through, a character from another show.

and there is the potential for something interesting there! dropping an all-american macho military man into the very woman-centric world of buffy, seeing how he fares. a fitting (if trite) plot for riley would have been he's initially protective of buffy, then realizes she's stronger than him and that makes him feel emasculated bc he has like a decade of military programming to overcome and then he overcomes it and accepts that buffy is canonically one of the most powerful people in the world.

and instead we just. don't get that? he never learns and, worse, the episode frames him as being in the right. he's not the one punished for his reckless and actively dangerous behavior (i'm not even going to go into the implications of the vampire brothel thing given that 1) i do not expect a 1990s monster of the week show to be tasteful or nuanced about sex work 2) sarah michelle gellar's delivery of "tell me about your WHORES" was the best part of the episode) bc he goes off and lives his demon-killing dream while buffy's left handling all of this, punished for not forgiving him within like an hour of confronting him.

and buffy herself is a flawed person! she's vindictive and impulsive and materialistic, she holds others to a strict moral code she herself doesn't always uphold, she runs hot and pushes her friends away because she thinks she can carry the world on her shoulders. these are all things that make her interesting and give her foils, and that COULD have made for some really interesting tension with duty-bound riley, but instead we get exhausting "you won't let me take care of you :(( i feel bad because you're stronger than me :(((" when he's not actually offered to do much of anything.

5x10 comes so close to genuinely condemning him and addressing the ugliness and misogyny that's been at the root of their relationship from the beginning - buffy calls him out for issuing an ultimatum! - but then xander's brought in to deliver the "message" and buffy has to humiliate herself running after that helicopter.

when spike says that buffy "needs a little monster in her man" he's obviously projecting and talking about himself (and angel) but, at its most generous, what he's saying is exactly right. because buffy has that darkness in her - faith sees it, spike sees it, giles sees it even if he refuses to admit it - and she needs someone to acknowledge it and not try to make her lesser. she needs a sparring partner. riley tries to goad her into hitting him and she refuses because she knows she'll hurt him. he forces her to hold back. and it's horrible that whedon and co try to convince us in this, riley's goodbye episode, that that's something worth chasing a helicopter for.

[amandapearls]

𝓔𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮 𝓦𝓮𝓮𝓴 ✨🦇

@emerieweekofficial

In ACOSF we learned that Emerie’s wings had been clipped against her will, and it’s always been a headcanon of mine that one day a healer would be able to fix her wings.

I just know that Nesta and Gwyn would search through a million books trying to find a solution on how to heal clipped wings. Or maybe Feyre, having some of Thesan’s powers, could learn how to heal clipped wings or get assistance from Thesan. Between Nesta, Gwyn, and Feyre I think they could find a solution 🩵🩵

I just know Emerie would love flying through the starry skies at the Night Court.

Thank you so much @renitorii for creating this beautifully magical artwork of Emerie enjoying the night sky. She looks so lovely and happy!

@renitorii It was a joy to work with you!

Character belongs to Sarah J Maas

[13thpythagoras]

lollll yesss #omnist vibes...insert spirituality/religion rant below

I mean when you look at the evolution of so called "Indo-European Language families," it also might make sense to consider the notion of "Indo-European religion families," with Hinduism being the primary oldest tree in that forest, with Buddhism branching off specifically from Hinduism in a loosely similar way to how, perhaps, Christianity and Islam branched off from Judaism(?). It's all part of the same living tree of spiritual truth to me, perhaps a coral reef of spirituality, ultimately united with African spiritual beliefs too when you look back far enough into the past lives scene. I don't see any of it as wrong, perhaps except for the mean exclusionary caveats that might assert "only one is right and the others are wrong," to me is like saying Spanish is wrong and English is right- when these religions are really more just spiritual languages, which can be used to communicate higher-vibrational truths. I don't see any genuine religion, or language, as wrong, and it's so fascinating to consider that even early Christianity held that reincarnation was the case, and that one of the early-midieval councils struck this from the Christian dogma, perhaps under Justinian and Theodora circa 538ce (?) roughly the same decade the bubonic plague made inroads to Europe by historical coincidence / for ease of reference. So perhaps here with one revolutionary idea or anarchist spirituality mindset bringing reincarnation back into a religion from which it's been banned is a bit soulpunk mayhaps😂😅🫠... (balancing no Gods no masters with the fact that I've also just soberly and literally at about 8:15am on roughly April 9, 2012 while leaving home on my work commute, seen a point of light flitting through the leaves of a dying oak tree like a busy hummingbird in fast forward 2x, and after 30 seconds of me gawking and my mind being totally shattered by something that defies all laws of my known physics, as I pull out my phone for a video this badboy flies up and the fuck away over the damn horizon in less than a second, and it's so fkn bright, and I'm in a hilly area so the horizon's maybe an 8th of a mile away, but I can still see this thing easily flying as it crossed the horizon...it was that bright. Yet dimensionless apparently. So go ahead and continue not believing in God (I'm also not saying what I saw was omnipotent or omniscient, but I could feel it inspiring new ways of much faster thinking in my brain, it was like I was intuitively reading its body language somehow, there may have been some telepathy going on with this buddy, maybe not, tough to say if it was me or it thinking the new thoughts this new experience inspired in my head...felt like a hyperfast oscillation of disbelief and belief. Many dozens of times a second...) but that's still a true story, just cold hard facts, so I do know we need space in leftism for spiritually charged revolutionary energy, let's keep the antiracist mindset and constant improvement mantra.) I'm always open to learning more and evolving and changing and adapting, let's fkn goooooo!!!

Italian Nirvana

[trafficblrpositivityproject]

shout out to everyone in the fandom who is speaking english as a foreign language to interact with others here! learning and constantly using a second/third/etc language is incredibly impressive, and i feel like it is often forgotten due to the “defaultization” of english in online spaces. everyone doing so to make friends and create art deserves so much recognition, and thank you so much for being here and sharing your work

To everyone joining this fandom through their second language!!!

[flofaiiry]

dedicated to my bae @erwinsvow bc she gets it. and to all other charlie reid truthers bcs how is there like NOTHING written abt this man 💔💔💔

charlie reid and controversially younger gf!reader. so many thoughts being thunk. maybe ur a criminology student and u did a tour in the chiefs office with a class to learn about the cpd and he stops by to talk to ur class about jobs w the police. mayhaps he spots a keen student at the front of the group, little notebook in hand, asking questions and listening intently (you). shamelessly rakes his eyes down ur body when u ask a question about arrest rates or something he honestly couldnt care less right now bcs his main thought is how good u look in that skirt and how much he'd like to see u out of it. somehow finds the words to answer your question despite his thoughts being anywhere but on appropriate things. right before ur group leaves he pulls you aside with a hand on ur back, passes you his card and says if u have any questions don't hesitate to call him.

in classic ditzy 20 year old college girl fashion u believe he has nothing but the purest intentions and just wants to help u succeed in the field so u reach out a day or two after to ask if u can pick his brain about crime stats in chicago or whatevs for a paper ur working on. he of course says yes and tells u to come by later that night to his office. it's late when u go. dark. the building is empty except for a janitor & you & charlie. you ask him how he got into policing, and how he worked his way up to deputy chief. he answers ur questions at first, but then is much more interested in talking about you.

he asks u what a pretty girl like you is doing studying crime in a city like this, all the while his eyes are stuck staring at anything other than ur eyes. ur thighs clench and u cant help that familiar feeling that starts growing between ur legs. you start to notice the way his eyes linger on your bare legs and the neckline of your shirt that doesn't leave much to the imagination. you notice how he smiles when you blush at his compliments or calls you a pretty girl.

nothing more happens, not that night at least. but you can't get his voice and the way he looked at you out of your head so you decide to call him again, tell him you've got an exam in your policing class coming up and you could use his help to study (ur an all a's student, you can hold ur own with studying but he doesn't need to know that!!). he tells you he'd love to help but he's left the office already, he tells u to give him a bit to get back and he'll meet you there but before he can say anything else you tell him it's fine, that you can just go to his place, if it's okay with him (of course it is, he hasn't been able to get you out of his head either).

so you arrive at his house a few minutes later, strategically wearing a little skirt & a shirt that dips way too low. charlie's jaw drops the second he opens the door, he steps aside and invites u in. he asks if u want a drink, you tell him you're not technically old enough to drink, to which he laughs and says he won't tell anyone.

"who developed the UCR?" he asks, flipping through your notebook, glasses on the tip of his nose.

"fbi"

he nods. "when?"

"1929."

"its purpose?"

"to streamline crime reporting across departments."

"good girl." he says under his breath.

"if you want this to stay productive you're gonna have to stop calling me that." you say, trying to fight off a smile by biting your bottom lip.

he turns his head to you, looking at you from just above the frames of the glasses, "sweetheart, i don't think this was ever just productive"

and when i write this into a fleshed out fic then what....