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euphoriaslux · 5 months

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two’s a party.

summary: you recently transferred to stanford, and decide to tutor a tennis player in your class. he has a friend. severe indecency ensues.

word count: 3.3k

warnings : smut, threesomes, f!oral receiving, swearing, smoking, drinking. slight cuck energy if you squint (i’m sorry ((no i’m not))). no challengers spoilers!

a/n: this fic got away from me big time but this movie has rotted my brain and as a result i have written utter debauchery that i will not apologize for. just had to get this out of my head, enjoy!

stanford science hall. monday , march 3.

You swear the last thing you’ll hear before your body is lowered into your grave is the process of lactic acid breakdown.

It’s 2:30 PM. Kinesiology 189 with Professor Wilson, a lanky middle-aged man with a PhD in exercise science and a half-grown beard that you don’t think will ever fully grow in, is almost over. He’s teaching Extended Studies of the Human Body in a humid classroom filled with student-athletes, most of whom are trying to stay awake, trying to hide that they’re taking a nap, or making no attempt to hide that they’re on their phones. You don’t really blame any of them, because the professor’s voice is so soft and monotone that it feels like he’s begging everyone to pay attention to anything but him. You’ve managed to stay somewhat on course with the thread of today’s lecture, the notebook in front of you filled with scribbles of incomplete molecular structures and somewhat legible drawings of the muscular anatomy of a hamstring.

This class is required for your biology major since you’re on a pre-medicine track. You don’t know why you’re doing it, the whole doctor thing, but you’ve developed a weird fixation for this class. The functionality of the body, how muscles stretch and tear with each movement, and how amino acids work to build them back even bigger.

And, possibly because of the tennis player who sits four rows ahead of you every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

His last name is Donaldson. You know because of the faded label on the massive bag he throws on the floor every time he walks into class, at least ten minutes late with a backward Stanford Tennis cap on his head. His first name remains a mystery, partly because he never talks in class, and mainly because you’ve made no attempt to speak to him. You like to think it’s because you’re so focused on the curriculum.

Professor Wilson knows your name, though, since you’re in his office hours every Thursday at 11 A.M. In part because he gives out most of the answers to his homework, and because you just transferred to Stanford your last year and very desperately need a letter of recommendation for medical school. Hence why you agreed to tutor a student with lower than 60% in the class during one of your meetings. And why everyone in the class was staring at you right now.

“... first come first serve, so reach out to her sooner rather than later.”

You give a tight-lipped smile, glancing around the room. Most people have looked away, back to their distraction of choice, but you meet eyes with the fluffy blonde-haired tennis player.

stanford library. wednesday, march fifth.

It’s 11 A.M., and you feel like your brain is about to explode if you look at another practice set.

“Hey”.

Your head whips around to the harsh whisper, only to be met with the blue-eyed mystery from your class. He has that large bag slung over his shoulder, with the end of a tennis racket peeking out of it. His hair is slightly stuck to his face, and his compression tee is slick to his chest like a second skin.

“Hi,” you whisper back. He smiles before tossing his bag on the floor and sitting in the chair across from you, either unaware of or completely ignoring the glares he’s receiving from the other students studying.

“You know,” he pulls out some kind of nutrition bar from his bag, unwrapping it and taking an aggressive bite, “for someone advertising their services, you’re pretty hard to find.”

“You’re in Mr. Wilson’s class, right?” you ask, hoping your subdued voice will remind him that he’s in a notoriously quiet place. He hums, pointing at you with his half-eaten snack.

“And I’m trying not to fail, but you didn’t leave your number anywhere in the classroom, and you bolt after every class. So how am I supposed to patronize your tutoring services…” he trails off, his volume the same level as when he walked in. You furrow your brows as he leans back into the chair.

“That’s when you say who you are.”

You feel a burn on the back of your neck as you tell him your name. He glances down towards the problem set you’ve nearly finished.

“How do you turn in any of those, I can’t get halfway through one of them.”

You pause for a moment before leaning slightly across the table to whisper:

“This new weird thing called studying. I think it just got approved by the CDC.”

“Very funny,” he shakes his head as reaches for your binder with your class schedule printed out on the front of it.

“Why are you taking so many bio classes?”

“Because I’m a biology major,” you can’t help the sarcasm dripping from your voice, and he looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, you’re making this too easy for me,” you raise your hands in conceit.

“I have practice every day at five so you can tutor me for like an hour beforehand,” he says before standing up, crunching up the silver wrapper and stuffing it into the front pocket of his blue jeans. You scoff at his sentence.

“Well, thank you for so generously fitting me into your schedule,” you roll your eyes, turning the page in your textbook. He grins.

“Tell the coach you’re there for Art. They’ll let you through.”

stanford tennis courts. friday, march 7th.

It’s 4 PM, and the California sun is sweltering. Your shorts feel like they’ve become a part of your legs, and your bag feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. By the time you make it to the tennis courts Art is already on the green concrete, shirtless with beads of sweat dripping down his face and chest. You hear his grunts as he sprints across the court, hitting the ball toward a slightly taller brunette with dangerously short red shorts. You watch them at the entrance for a few minutes, slightly entranced as the two play so seamlessly, as if they know every move the other person is going to make. You force your eyes away as you walk up the bleachers, stepping over leftover water bottles and chip bags to sit down and grab your notes from your backpack. It takes a couple more minutes for Art to notice you, yelling your name after he turns around to grab a ball his partner had hit particularly hard. You wave, and he says something you can’t hear to the brunette before the two of them jog across the courts and up the stands to where you are, blocking the sun as the two stand side by side.

“Who’s your friend?” you ask as you stuff the problem set you were working on in between the pages of your notebook.

“I’m Patrick,” he says, with a toothy smile and his ears poking out from under his hair. He has a bit more of a boyish charm to him than Art does, whose eyes are glued to his brunette counterpart.

“Are you in Mr. Wilson’s class too?”

Patrick opens his mouth to answer but Art speaks first, slightly pushing his friend with his shoulder as he says “He doesn’t go to Stanford, too busy being a tennis pro.”

Patrick rolls his eyes but his smile doesn’t leave his face. You notice how different this Art feels from the one in the library, how direct his playfulness is and how close he and Patrick stand together, their sweaty torsos nearly melding together.

Interesting.

“Like, Andre Agassi level pro?” you smile as the two of them laugh. Patrick raises the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his forehead, and you can’t help but take a glance at the exposed skin just above his waistband.

“Sorry, he’s like the only tennis player I know.”

“No, no I’m taking that as a compliment that you think I’m on the level of Agassi. No takebacks if you see me play,” Patrick points at you.

“Will do,” you salute, turning over to Art.

“You ready to study?” you ask him as he makes a comically loud groan, his head falling back. Patrick laughs, reaching over to ruffle his friends hair.

“You do remember that’s why I’m here, right? Midterms are in two weeks.”

“I definitely have not forgotten that.” he says. You purse your lips just as Patrick’s eyes seem to light up.

“I’m staying at the Courtyard Hotel for the weekend. You two can come over and study, I need to review my last match anyway. Kill two birds with one stone,” Patrick suggests.

“Just studying?”

“Just studying,” Art says, wrapping his arm around his friend's shoulder. You glance between the two of them, trying to decipher the unspoken communication they seem to be doing. But you can’t crack it, so you shrug.

“Sure.”

“Let us finish this set, and then you’ll have me all to yourself. Sound fair?”

“Wow, what a privilege. Don’t take too long, it’s hell on Earth out here!” you yell the last part as Art jogs down the steps and back down towards the net. You look up once you realize that the sun is still being blocked, and Patrick is still standing in front of you.

“You ever play?” he grins, flipping the tennis racket in his hand.

“Tennis? God, no, that would not be a pretty sight. I’ll stick to what I’m good at,” you gesture to the books and notes in your lap. Patrick nods.

“If you ever want to learn, I could teach you sometime, you know if-” he’s cut off by Art yelling his name, and you both glance to see him with his hands on his hips.

“Go, don’t keep your boyfriend waiting,” you wave him off, and you swear you can see him blushing. Must have been the glare.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says over his shoulder as he runs toward Art.

courtyard hotel. saturday, march 8.

It’s 11 pm. There’s a cold shiver in the elevator as you wait to get to the fourth floor, your tennis shoes tapping against the floor as one hand plays with the handle of the pack of beer in your hand while the other crumples and re-crumples the piece of paper with the hotel room number Patrick scribbled on it.

what are you doing?

You don’t have time to think about the consequences of your actions as the robotic voice signals that you’re on the fourth floor, the elevator doors fluttering open. It’s like your feet have a mind of their own, as you find yourself almost mindlessly wandering through the hotel halls until you’re planted in front of room 4B. You raise your hand to knock on the door but before you can make contact with the wood it’s thrust open, and Patrick is standing behind it. His dark hair is slightly tousled around his face, his striped shirt unbuttoned and his black boxer briefs low on his waist. He’s smiling, that same big smile as before, but his face is a little flushed, a gentle pink hue touching his cheeks. The two of you don’t say anything for a few seconds, as if you were both testing to see who would concede first to acknowledge the other’s presence. You raise the pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon in your right hand.

“I brought studying fuel.”

You were never good at waiting.

Patrick laughs before he moves slightly out of the way to allow you to walk into his room. It’s small, with a queen-sized bed and a tiny desk, and the A/C emits an odd rumbling sound as it smacks against the window. Clothes and scorecards are strewn across the floor, and the scent of cigarettes permeates the room. You place the alcohol on the floor before deciding to sit on the bed, kicking off your shoes as you cross your legs. Patrick seems to stall for a moment, smiling to himself before closing the door behind him. He doesn’t lock the door, but you didn’t notice.

“Art’s not here yet?” you ask, watching as Patrick walks over and tears open the cardboard case, cracking open a can. Taking a sip, he leans against the desk as he smiles.

“Art can be bad with time.”

“As I’ve noticed,” you reach your hand out to motion towards the drink and Patrick hands it to you, staring as you take a large sip.

“Well,” you wipe the side of your mouth, “I told him to bring the topics he wanted to study, so I guess we can’t do anything until he gets here.”

Patrick nods with a slight pout, his fingers playing with the pop tab of the can. “I guess we can’t.”

“How’s tennis… stuff,” you laugh as you finish the question, not sure of exactly what to say.

Patrick seems to tense a little at the mention of the sport, moving over to sit next to you on the bed. His knee grazes your leg and you feel a slight buzz at the contact as he takes the beer from your hand.

“I’m kinda fucking it up right now,” he says, and you furrow your brows.

“How? You were like, really good yesterday.”

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. He hands you the beer and you finish it off, placing the empty can at the bottom of your feet.

“I’m good with Art. It feels so fucking natural and easy with him. But in my other matches, I don’t know. I just … can’t replicate it.”

You nudge him with your leg.

“Sounds like you two were made to play tennis together.”

He makes a noise of agreement, his hands slowly moving to ghost over your thigh.

“You and Art are pretty close?” you ask as he plays with the bottom hem of your shorts, but he doesn’t say anything. You take his silence as a yes.

“Do you ever get jealous?”

“Of Art?” he asks, almost incredulously. You shrug.

“Yeah, or jealous of the girls he’s with. Either or.”

Patrick sits on that for a few moments before smirking.

“What’s mine is mine, and what’s his is mine.”

You laugh at that, a real deep laugh, and Patrick giggles next to you, the both of you tipsy from the can of beer you finished. You reach over and put your hand on his flushed face, rubbing your hand across his cheek.

“What were you doing before I came?” you feel his face warm even more against your skin as you position yourself closer to him.

“Practicing- or, sorry, rereading my scorecards from my last match.”

You tutted as you moved your hand to the back of his neck, gently running your hands through his hair.

“You can tell me the truth, Patrick.”

He turns his head to press a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand before looking up at you as if to check if that was too much. Whatever your expression is gives him the confidence to move down to your neck, his tongue licking your skin.

“I think you know.”

You feel a pull in your lower stomach at his words, muffled by his mouth nipping at the sensitive spot just below your ear, and he sucks hard enough for you to put your hand around on his face at the pressure. Pulling his face up, the two of you stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, and his eyes glance toward your lips. You wanted to wait, to make him beg and plead for it, but your body seemingly pulled you forward as your pressed your mouth onto his.

You were really quite bad at waiting.

He tastes like tobacco and faintly of the fruit medley in the dining hall, and you sigh as his lips interlock with yours and his hand grabs the back of your neck, pressing you into him. The kiss gets messy and hard, his tongue gliding over your bottom lip and into your mouth as you lift your leg to straddle Patrick, grinding into him. He whimpers into the kiss as his calloused hands drop down to the waistband of your shorts, hesitating for a moment before dropping his hand into your underwear. You grind just a little bit faster as his fingers press circles into your clit, covering your mouth with your hand as you moan.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as he uses his other hand to guide your hips, and your move your hands down to tug firmly on his hair. You can feel your climax building, the pressure in your stomach getting closer and closer to taking you over the edge-

You both jump at the sound of the hotel room dor slamming shut. Art is standing there, in that damn backward cap and a Stanford tee shirt as he crosses his arms over his chest, saying nothing as you and Patrick sit up straight, him adjusting his crotch and you smooth down your shirt, avoiding his gaze. Finally, the silence is broken by Art laughing.

“Christ, I’m not the cops,” he slips out of his slides as he waltzes over and opens a can of beer, drinking about half of it in one go. You look at him, and at Patrick, and then back at him, not knowing what the hell you just got yourself into.

“You want to fuck him right?” Art asks, and you can’t help your small gasp at how easily he said that. You glance at Patrick, hoping he’ll know what to say, but he’s just staring at Art.

“I-um,”

“So, no one’s stopping you,” Art cuts you off, taking a final swig of his beer and moving to stand directly in front of you. You open your mouth to try and explain, but before you can talk Patrick’s mouth is on yours again, his hand roaming your body. His grip is firmer now, his fingertips digging into the side of your stomach. He tugs at the bottom of your shirt and you separate, breathless as you pull your shirt over your head and toss it on the floor. Patrick’s mouth moves down to your neck, then your collarbones, and then your chest as he reaches around to take of your bra, and you feel on fire from Art’s gaze across the room. As Patrick kisses down your stomach and yanks down your shorts, you turn over to meet Art’s eyes.

“Come here.”

Whatever resolve Art was holding onto crumbles as he quickly takes off his shirt and slips out of his Nike shorts, tossing his hat on the dresser. In a flash Art’s hands are on your neck, tilting your head around to kiss you as Patrick lifts up your hips so he can take off your underwear. Art’s lips are softer than Patrick’s but he kisses you a little bit harder, his hand cupping the base of your neck. Somehow, they both taste the same. You moan into Art’s mouth as you feel Patrick’s tongue swirl around your clit, rolling your hips into his mouth as Art’s cock presses into your back. It’s just so much so fast, and that familiar buzz starts to pool in your lower stomach.

“Look at him,” Art turns your head to Patrick and you look into his eyes as you cum, Art’s hands hold your head forward as a wave of euphoria crashes over you. Patrick’s hands are digging into your hips as he stares up at you and Art. Your chest heaves up and down as you try to catch your breath, leaning against Art as Patrick leans back up, his mouth a few inches from yours.

“Who do you want first?

#challengers #challengers fanfic #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson fanfic #patrick zweig fanfic #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x patrick zweig #art donaldson x patrick zweig x reader #mike faist #josh o’connor #mike faist x reader #josh o’connor x reader #mike faist fanfic #josh o’connor fanfic

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pitstopfc · 2 years

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waking up at 9:50 for the 10am kick off and falling asleep before the 4pm match’s 2nd half is my speciality

#wc22 #i stay awake for longer than 60 minutes sitting down challenge

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gavramous · 4 months

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gaz is out of commission after a rough mission. a broken arm, some bruised ribs, and a minor concussion have left him on bed rest in a hospital close to base. he gets visits daily, from his sister who happens to live nearby, and from price, ghost, and soap, keeping him up to date with the happenings at work.

the recruits are a pain in the arse, as always, soap tells him. price lets him know that there's no update on makarov at the moment, but laswell is chasing a potential lead, so fingers crossed. but ghost, after he's asked how gaz is feeling, usually just sits there, reading a book. not that gaz is complaining, because, if he asks, ghost will tell him what's happening in the story.

he apprciates it all, their comraderie, their care for him. they don't have to visit him so much, with their busy schedules, but they do, and he treasures their relationships.

it's ghosts 'turn' to sit with him for the day. they don't actually hold any sort of consistent order for when they visit him, but price said that one time, and it's stuck. ghost had walked into gaz's room with two apples and sat down on the chair to gaz's left. he immediately pulled out a mean looking knife - how he was able to get that thing through the hospital to his room, gaz has no idea - and starts slicing the first apple.

"how'r you faring then?"

"horribly, sir," gaz tells him. he's said this every day since he's been admitted. he's not really doing horribly. well, not physically, at least. sure, his ribs still ache, but he's mainly just bored out of his mind.

"mm, you don't look too good."

seems ghost is over his pessimism. "how kind you are to me."

ghost tuts, and holds out a slice of apple for him.

"what's this?"

"an apple, garrick, you're not that far gone, are you?"

"oh, full of jokes today, huh? obviously i'm asking why you're cutting me up an apple like you're my mum."

"ought not to question your mother so much, hm? just take it."

so gaz does. he's never one to turn down fresh fruit. through his chewing, gaz thanks ghost. ghost hums in acknowledgement, and there's silence as gaz eats. once he's done, ghost cuts and hands him another slice.

ghost breaks the silence after a bit. "it's weird, you know that?"

"what is?"

"your addiction to apples."

"i'm not addicted."

"no?" ghost challenges. "you eat at least one every day."

"what are you even paying that much attention for?" gaz questions.

"can learn a whole lot from observation." ghost shrugs as he hands him another slice.

"yeah? from eating habits?" gaz takes the offered slice.

"like you wouldn't believe." ghost is obviously joking. okay, maybe it's not obvious, gaz isn't soap, with his eerie ability to read ghost's jokes and moods like an open book with size 60 font, but he's getting there. and he's pretty sure ghost is joking right now. so he chuckles and says, "you're full of it."

ghost waves his knife in gaz's direction. "watch yourself, sargeant," he says, eyes crinkled slightly, pleased that gaz understood he was joking.

ghost is a little weird like that, gaz thinks. he's subtle and dry with his humour, leaving it up to others to figure out if he's serious or not, and he always seems pleased when people get he's joking. maybe it's his way of being seen. gaz is assuming now, he knows, but he's got nothing else to do, cooped up in this room. he enjoys trying to decipher the way his friends work every now and then. he feels he understands them better this way.

"why'r you fueling my addiction then?" gaz jokes back, "you obviously disapprove of my habits."

ghost doesn't answer. instead, after a minute or so, he asks, "you want another slice?"

"yes please."

he's hit with a wave of appreciation for ghost in that moment. he's found somewhat of a family in this team, and he'll value it for as long as they're able to work together.

#this is my ghost and gaz besties agenda post! they are best friends!#ghosts love language is acts of service and gazs is being cheeky <33 #mw #gaz #ghost #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #cod #mw2 #cod mw #chittering #drabble #fic #kyle garrick #simon riley

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cosmicdream222 · 6 months

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Wake up with your dream life: affirm & relax challenge

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・。.。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

This is a challenge suggestion created by @leilth that I expanded upon ❤️

This challenge is going to help: calm your anxiety & stress, remove negativity, help reprogram your mind for manifesting your dream life, shifting, or entering the void.

Most beneficial for people with: overthinking tendencies, overactive minds, stress & anxiety, difficult circumstances

Why affirm & relax?

Most people have heard about affirm & persist, which has a lot of baggage attached, and may be seen as “robotic” or a chore. We’re switching that mindset up now.

We’re affirming because thinking positive thoughts makes us feel good. We’re thinking all the time anyway, we might as well be thinking thoughts that make us happy.

We’re relaxing because we know our dream life is on the way and we don’t have to do anything to deserve/earn/achieve it.

We’re not forcing ourselves or doing techniques to “get anything”. Like doing a yoga class or getting a massage - we’re doing it because it’s relaxing & makes us feel good.

We already know our desires belong to us, the techniques are just calming the doubtful human mind to make the transition easier.

We are relaxing and not obsessing about a deadline or time crunch because we know time is an illusion and our success is inevitable.

Challenge steps!

1) Decide your focus/intention. Do you want to wake up with all your desires? Master the void? Shift to your DR? Decide now and make your script or desires list, if you haven’t already. Got it? Alright, it’s yours! All you have to do now is sit back and relax and wait for your reality to conform.

In the meantime, here’s what you can do to relax and embody your desired state until it materializes:

2) Pick a sub playlist or make your own. I have curated a couple playlists with trusted subs you might want to try:

If you have a lot of negativity and unfortunate circumstances in your life, this playlist is for releasing negativity, curses & toxic people and manifesting a better life.

I collected a bunch of subs for this challenge that include topics like waking up with your desires, manifesting overnight, shifting, self-concept, blockage removals, boosters and more. The first sub in the playlist is one that can be looped overnight to wake up with your desires.

Subs for the void state

Pick the ones most relevant to you and make your own playlist to use daily.

3) Listen to your playlist 30-60 minutes a day. Try listening once in the morning and once at night, but any time works. You can also loop your playlist in the background throughout the day or night and listen while doing other things.

For about 10 minutes of your listening time, try to relax and breathe deeply while sitting in the psych-k position.

4) Listen to an aff tape for 10 minutes while doing psych-k or another calming exercise. Instead of psych-k, you could also try SRT, tapping, breathwork, lying under a weighted blanket, or any other calming exercise. If you do it with psych-k then do it 5 minutes each sides.

My aff tapes:

comfort & relaxation

self-concept & void concept

master shifter & master manifestor

I’m living my dream life

5) EFT tapping for your desires twice a day. You can follow the basic script I provided here, but try to use your own words with whatever specific emotions you find coming up for you in the moment. Try to tap for around 10-15 minutes. In the morning just after you wake up & before you go to bed are the most powerful times.

You can also do quick mini tapping sessions throughout the day. It’s fine to just tap only on one point while repeating your affs for a positive tune-up.

6) Each hour say your affirmation 30 times. Set a repeating reminder on your phone with one blanket aff such as “I have all my desires” or “I woke up with my dream life” or “I’m in my desired reality” or “I have mastered the void” and repeat 30x when it goes off. It’s ok to repeat it in your head if you can’t say it out loud.

The specific number of 30 affs is based off Cleo’s 12hr movement challenge which was very successful for many people who tried it. Feel free to repeat more or less based on your preference.

7) As you are drifting off to sleep: imagine, affirm, or intend to wake up with your desires. You might picture a brief scene opening your eyes to your desires in the morning (if you’re good at visualization). You could repeat the same aff you have been repeating throughout the day, or pick a short phrase that would make you feel successful like “I did it!” to loop until you fall asleep.

8) Repeat daily until you wake up with your desires!

NOTE: You may or may not see 3D acting up but again it's a good sign that what you are doing is working. You can tend to the 3D but don’t react to it. That’s just the old story trying to pull you back. Treat those old thoughts and circumstances like unruly children, firmly tell them “no!” And don’t let them get away with anything!! You are the boss now!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・。.。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Daily Activities Summary:

1) Listen to your sub playlist for 30-60 minutes. It’s fine to listen while doing other things. Try to sit in the psych-k position while listening for at least 10 minutes.

2) Listen to an aff tape while doing psych-k (or other calming activity) for 10 minutes. Just breathe deep and relax while listening.

3) EFT tapping for 10-15 minutes, once in the morning & once in the evening, more if you want!

4) Affirm with your main aff 30 times each hour you’re awake.

5) Affirm or imagine waking up with your desires as you drift off to sleep.

6) No identifying with 3D circumstances, tell negative thoughts “No!” and counteract them with your affs.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・。.。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Why do we do each method?

Psych-k: we do psych-k sessions while listening to subliminals or aff tapes because it helps calm our nervous systems and connect both sides of our brains, releasing stuck stress and speeding up the process of learning the affirmations.

Tapping: we do tapping because it helps us to remove all blocked energy & emotions holding us back, replacing it with beliefs that say we already have our desires. It helps us shift our state to feel like we already have what we want and makes it easier to accept our new affs.

Repeating affirmations: we are repeating affirmations each hour so we saturate our mind as much as possible and remind ourselves of the new story. We’re doing this to calm the impatient overactive human brain that wants to keep telling the old story.

SATS/lullaby: Imagining your desires fulfilled or repeating affirmations as you go to sleep are some of the OG methods of loa manifesting. Whatever you think of right before you fall asleep is going to powerfully affect your subconscious mind.

How long is this gonna take??

Everything depends on how much resistance you have and your personal mindset and journey. We’re not making deadlines or limits because time is an illusion right?

But on average, both EFT and Psych-k have been proven to permanently change beliefs in about 7 sessions. So one week should be more than enough. Since we’re also doing tapping and affirming and listening to subs, it’s gonna work from all angles, speeding up the process even if you have doubts, fears, or limiting beliefs.

Now stop scrolling and go affirm and relax!! You’re gonna be living your dream life in no time at all! 💕

#manifesting #manifesting challenge #affirm and relax #reality shifting #loa #void state

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urlocaldesertdweller · 17 days

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(Stanley X Ranger/Cop! Reader)

inspired by _heyitsjei on TikTok https://www.tiktok.com/@_heyitsjei/video/7411525022759570704?lang=en

im in love with the dymanic of ranger/cop of gravity falls in a strange relationship with the famous but sneaky Stan Pines. (suggestive, subtle mention of erection, making out, sensual touching)

You were an inspiring new ranger on the streets of Gravity Falls! You would accept any job from Blubs or Durland, and they had just the plan for you.

You had to look over a sneaky con artist named Stanley Pines. His age, in his 60s, made you think twice about this gig. Until you had your first encounter with him.

When you drove to the tourist trap that was his home, before you could even knock on the door, you heard a loud older voice scream about how the police were here in a panic.

You give a few knocks, which startles an entire argument between the older voice and a couple of younger voices within the home. After a couple more minutes of waiting and making sure you look clean from your hat and ranger pin, the door opens.

A young girl with a nervous smile looks up at you, and then when looking up, you see what you believe is Stanley, who looks clearly uncomfortable and is forced by the little girl to come and answer the door. She quickly introduces herself as Mabel, stepping aside to let Stanley enter the doorway and take a good look at you.

You didn't look intimidating as you smiled with a warm greeting for a ranger. Mabel relaxes with your first moment of greeting, and then you explain why you are here. To keep a close eye on Stanley Pines for a while, by orders of Sheriff Blubs.

Stanley's nervous grin falls into a frown as he scratches his back, groaning that he's basically going into a glorified retirement watch by a cop. With a mild eye twitch, you extend your hand to shake hands. Mabel elbows his side, and he sighs and takes your hand in shaking it. What surprises you is him pulling you in patting you on the back and whispering this.

"Good luck, kid; a young cop like yourself will have a rough time with an old but experienced dog like myself."

He lets you go, and you act as though he had challenged you. You walk back, confused but determined, looking back at the cabin.

...

You'd have your weekly to daily checkups on Stan Pines. You stood firm against his tricks and frustrating antics, from bribing you to straight-up attempting to lie in front of your face. But you weren't Sheriff Blubs of Deputy Durland.

From warning to fines, Stan made sure to give you the stink eye as you beamed with pride doing your job. Of course, this man would step and dabble crimes involving you having to take him into the office for questioning.

Once, you'd pulled up proof that he was not only scamming people out of money for some party but also carrying various weapons within his home.

You pull into the booming outdoor party; you don't falter when you feel the wave of groans as you step out of your vehicle; Stan makes sure to comment about you being once again the party pooper. This only made things tense between the two of you as you stepped right into the middle of the dance floor, hands on your hips, staring right at Stan.

You couldn't help but glance at the way he was dressed; it suited and looked good on him for being in his 60s (the party outfit in "Swooning over Stans"). Stanley would catch you but say nothing in front of such a crowd. He smirks.

"I'm afraid you're coming with me, Stanley Pines. You had fun while you had it tonight, but I'm taking you in for crossing the line with this party!"

The surrounding crowd ooohs as you pull out your cuffs, and you watch Stan visibly tense up; he looks almost ready to run, but you rush up to the porch walking behind his back. He resists, but you manage to cuff him behind his back. Thanks to the other young twin of Mable, Dipper stopped him from running.

You lead him towards your car as the crowd watches the show. From insults to snarky comments about the way you are handling and touching him in the back of the vehicle, you only roll your eyes. As you double-check the locks and yell to the party to continue as they pleased, you drove off back into the roads towards the town.

The tension only grows between you as you stay quiet and keep your eyes on the road, only sparing some glances at him in your mirror to ensure he isn't escaping, also maybe to enjoy the exposed chest where a gold chain is nestled in chest hair and his man-boobs.

However, Stanley would finally talk about how he didn't miss how you looked at him at the party and now. You are surprised by this; you nearly choke on your spit and swerve slightly on the road. You cough, clearing your throat as you tilt the mirror, and you glare at him with your meanest eyes, making Stan chuckle as you enter town.

You were unaware of having to use the oldest cop cars known today and that the literal child's lock was set and entirely available for Stanley in the back.

You do your best to cool your face down from Stans's comment, which oddly seems to come at a consistent rate until you were realized too late from the sound of the lock being shifted and the door opening.

You stop immediately as Stan jumps out of the door into the streets while screaming for freedom. The people walking gasp and shout at the sight. You jump out and make a run yelling for Stan to stop while he mocks you and laughs. He's a decent runner for an older guy...until his knees fail him, and he slows down quickly.

Being the tryhard cop you are, you tackle him and press him hard into the ground on top of him. He groans and shifts underneath you; the sight alone relaxes the people around.

You have to admit the man caught a young cop like you off guard, and you even found yourself breathless from the chase. You lean beside his ear, laughingly from when he challenged you.

"...I don't..need any luck to catch you! And I thought that you were... experienced, no.?"

Stanley straight-up growls with frustration and tries his hardest to move out of your grip. He even dares to thrust into you with shock, but it only makes you hotter and keeps the grip on his hands harder.

The crowd then becomes confused by the odd tensions and weird movements the two of you are making and leaves the scene.

With enough shuffling, you manage to get him back in the car; for good measure, you get an extra pair of cuffs on his ankles, to which Stan can't help but give a low whistle at the sight of you below and between his legs.

You give him a stink eye and slam the door on him before returning to drive to the office.

You feel the tension only become thicker between you and him as you think yourself tugging on the tight collar of your shirt, and you find Stan unbuttoning just one more button and sighing leaning into the seat, legs wide even with the cuffs. He was going to be the death of you for sure.

Things are thick as you grab him out, you swear you could feel him cursing under his breath but you keep on pushing him into the lit building to have him situated.

You huff and finally return him to the building. Your Sheriff and Deputy are found playing with a paper fortune teller at the main desk. They look equally as flustered when you surprise them with Stan by your side looking as though the two of you were making out.

You get the keys to the cell he will be momentarily set in. You sit him down to take off the ankle cuffs, the heat between you grew as you realized that Stan was closing his thighs you look up in question to look at a very red Stan.

…Oh my, it doesn’t take awhile to realize what Stan is feeling right now. You quickly stand and back away unsure and Stan admits.

“Shit kid, You can leave me in here if you’re uncomfortable… This is such a bad time.”

You gulp finding yourself tugging out you collar once more. You feel yourself getting red and hot but you shake your head and sigh as you step forward towards him in response.

Stan is clearly surprised by your reaction.

But what makes everything tip is when you sit on his lap making him groan which is covered by his hand shoved into his mouth.

Hands and lips are thrown at once. Stan is quick to wrap his arms around you, your lips met hot and soft.

His hands softly rub into your hips through your clothing, as you feel for his skin through the window of his unbuttoned party shirt.

You both push in with your tongues, even with a heated make out session you both seem to have a competition as you both fight for dominance. The fact that this is your first time making out with some one definitely says something about you.

He comes over top more experienced, especially when he thrusts into you making you gasp and pull away breathless and tugging on your shirt desperately wanting to cool down.

But Stan stops you when you reach for your buttons.

“Don’t. This can wait when you aren’t on the job okay sweet cheeks? You are, amazing for a cop but I don’t want me to ruin your job.”

You nod and pull away out of the cell locking it and smile at Stan to which he winks at you and finger-guns you.

“But I promise you a hell of a good time somewhere else, beautiful.”

You are definitely going to look forward for that in the future. Maybe he isn’t so bad after all.

#stanley pines #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls #stanley pines x reader #grunkle stan x reader #stan pines x reader #stan pines #stanley the man you are

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