#except the memories are still subconsciously there............

[localcanadiancreature62]

The effects of Bill's conditioning on Ford + Other stuff:

One of the main effects is Dissociation. Ford's mind is partially shattered similarly to the way canon Fidds' is,although the difference is that Ford is still functional save for a few dissociative episodes where he ends up breaking something or zoning out midway into conversations while canon Fidds is completely unstable and insane.

This happens because whenever a real memory appears in his mind a memory that he ACTUALLY had instead of the various memories Bill implanted in his head,he ends up subconsciously trying to bury it as he believes that only the memories that Bill made are the ones that are real and thus it results in him dissociating. Another reason why he dissociates instead of his mind completely breaking like canon Fidds',is because Bill's mind fuck powers are different from the memory gun.

His mind warping is a fixated form of reality warping where whenever he manipulates a part of the brain,the changes he made are permanent until the subject is shown the entirety of their real memories before said changes were made. The dissociation is also a way of the subject subconsciously rejecting the mind warping despite the changes being fixed.

This is why Ford was dissociating in the first part of the A Perfect Day in the Perfect World fic. Also he constantly has headaches from the dissociation and also the occasional ringing in his ears (real life ear ringing comes from head injuries :]).

Bill doesn't do anything to fix this,as he knows full well that the cause is the memory erasures as if he fixes it then that would mean letting go of Ford. Another effect is Ford's self esteem getting warped. The fact that all of his "family" and his dear "friend" don't actually seem to care about him due to them being shallow bastards (little does he know that they're literally fake ass copies that were MEANT to be husks),makes him think that only Bill cares about him.

This also makes him think that even despite his ego,he isn't worthy of being loved or taken care of as he concluded that when only his partner is his support system and none of his family nor his friend actually cares about him then he deserves such treatment as he's worthless to everyone except for Bill.

Bill doesn't even feel guilty about this one,as it's a sign of his plan to have his genius all to himself is working. Ford simultaneously thinks that everyone loves him while also thinking that everyone doesn't care about him,the first part is due to his renowned reputation as the most influential CEO in Oregon while the other part is cuz literally no one but Bill loves him. This man is gonna need some therapy by the end of this,and a lot of hugs. Ford has depression now,also he has a hard time sleeping without Bill as he's terrified of being alone. He is horribly terrified of being alone as that would mean dealing with the aching feeling that no one but his dear triangular husband is actually there for him. He has depression and also is slightly unstable because of the fact that he has no one but Bill around,he is secretly depressed over the fact that he only has his husband for company as i mentioned before that he still feels negative emotions no matter how happy the Perfect World makes him. His instability shows from him acting paranoid and antsy whenever Bill isn't around,such as thinking that Fiddleford or Stan will hurt him or feeling like he wants to claw the walls when he's alone without his dear muse. Bill doesn't know this as the genius only acts this way when he's out in the multiverse doing his job as it's guardian,which means that he's entirely unaware of the fact that Ford is actively losing his mind from the isolation he forced on him just to have the man all to himself.

Bill's views on Ford's dwindling sanity changes a lot depending on his mood. Sometimes when he's fulfilling the "dear husband" role and is putting his energy on loving Ford,he gets guilty over indirectly causing the man to be this way but he denies it as he knows that fixing him would also mean letting go of the genius. Other times when he's trying to teach his researcher husband a lesson aka torturing him whenever he's going against him,he fully embraces Ford's suffering and is even proud of it as it's a sign of his plan to have the genius all to himself is working. In conclusion,Perfect World!Bill is just as unpredictable and temperamental as Canon Bill but it's just not as obvious due to him usually being happy go lucky from being SO glad to finally have his genius at his side while he's ruling the universe just like he always wanted.

Ford is secretly scared of Bill but he doesn't know why. Although it's because he subconsciously remembers that the triangle tortures him via mysterious healed wounds and blurry memories of a yellow figure hurting him. He occasionally flinches around Bill whenever the isosceles touches him and feels as though he's walking on eggshells whenever he talks to him,although he tries to ignore it as he's certain that his dear muse loves him and that strange figure wasn't him. Bill is fully aware of this and he didn't completely erase those memories on purpose,so that he could keep his ̶h̶u̶m̶a̶n̶ ̶p̶e̶t̶ husband in line. The only other person besides Bill that notices Ford's change in behavior is Fiddleford,as he is the only copy that has SOME semblance of sentience and real emotions although the amount he has is very low. Fidds occasionally worries for Ford and gets suspicious of how that triangle treats him based on the fact that the man flinches whenever he puts his hand on his shoulder or refuses to talk about his arguments with Bill whenever he asks,but Bill himself makes sure to erase these feelings and thoughts from him immediately to avoid Ford finding out about everything :].

Bill and Ford fuck often cuz marriage,however Bill doesn't get rough on him like he usually does anymore because he knows that hurting the man while he's keeping up the "dear husband" act would make him question things and thus try to leave him. Although he occasionally DOES get rough on him but he makes sure to make Ford forget immediately,during these rare occasions he basically plays with Ford like a human toy and utterly destroys him without any regard for the genius' pleasure at all,he just uses him up like a toy to satisfy himself. Ford doesn't remember those times at all,although he has blurry memories of getting knives stabbed everywhere on his body including his nuts and also getting his head bashed on the floor while the isosceles fucked him. Bill made sure to reverse the effects of every encounter,as he didn't want to have a broken toy. Plus whenever they normally bang,Bill is usually in his triangle form but he just summons a pp for himself so that he can properly fuck Ford (i refuse to make a human form for this specific Bill when i recognize him as the triangle). Also also whenever they bang normally,Bill is surprisingly gentle and tender with the fucking and he does in the most vanilla way since he has come to truly care about Ford even if it's under layers of possessiveness and manipulation. Bill does vanilla sex even if it's boring as he's willing to compromise for his dear husband. He knows that Ford likes being gently fucked so he does it anyway despite it being lame to him,plus he likes fucking his genius either way so it's fine. Also Ford makes sure to make up for that boring banging by pleasuring Bill himself so it's not all bad.

Ford is technically STILL a paranormal investigator,although it's more professional now that his company the Oregon Institute of Oddology gives him more resources and equipment for studying anomalies better such as traps lures as well as nets. He usually leaves the actual company work to Fiddleford whenever he's out studying anomalies in Gravity Falls,which the hillbilly doesn't mind as he was literally made to help deal with Ford's work.Bill erasing a memory from a person's mind mentally taxes them,which is why Ford gets tired whenever he erases something from his brain such as an argument or most negative experiences. The reason why Ford is still himself and has everything besides his memories intact is because Bill can't bring himself to change his beloved genius,if he took away his negative emotions and traits then he wouldn't be Ford anymore. Just a shell of him like the rest of the Perfect World inhabitants such as Fiddleford and Stan. Which is why Bill forces himself to deal with the man's outbursts and emotional lows,because he wants to be there for him even if it's difficult. Plus he could just erase his memory of negative experiences anyway so it's fine either way.

Ford isn't aware of the fact that he's living in a dream world,however Bill told him that he did a lot of positive changes to Oregon and Gravity Falls which explains why everything is different (he isn't technically lying though,he just leaves out the part that he replaced the og Dimension 46'/ with a dream version). (i just realized that half of this is just Bill being characteristically selfish and vile).

[wisheswagered]

"Miss... Journalist."

The tone of Frederick's voice lies somewhere on the line between restraint and suspicion. There may be nothing that suggests that it'll be impossible for him to communicate with Alice honestly... but it's clear that he doesn't trust her - or perhaps there's some other emotion lying under the surface that he's trying to hold back...?

Even so, he makes no moves to leave or attack. With the cane held in his hand and standing tall, there's almost an air of dignity about him, though it's slightly ruined by the obvious heavy shadows under his eyes.

"Good day to you." A simple greeting, well-rehearsed. "...If you're here to listen to me perform, I'm afraid you're a little too late."

@prsonatm ( starter for alice! )

[salemlunaa]

THE ACT OF SHIFTING CONSCIOUSNESS IS OWED TO YOU ❃

No matter what your aims are, shifting is for you and will always be easy.....

There are many things people can do with the void state/the state pure consciousness, and no matter what you are doing you need to know that shifting is owed to you. And in my asks and dms it’s made clear that a lot of you don’t know the different forms that shifting can come in

So before i get into it, Let’s get acquainted with the different ways you can utilise the void in terms of shifting!!…

Standard shifting

A person who will shift with the intention of coming back to where they are now aka their base or current reality. Being this person, you may have multiple drs you want to go to and will have “safe words” which can bring you back to your cr when you want

example: having a winx dr, having a kpop dr and a nepo baby dr at the same time, frequenting between each one, or which ever one is their “main” dr

Permashifting

A person who has one reality that they want to shift to, forever, perma-shifting= permanent shift, you can still have ties to your old reality and have memories from it but ultimately you can’t go back unless you tried to by shifting again, which wouldn’t be that much of a hassle because you still have some recollection of your old reality

example: Leaving your old reality while still having some recollection of the life you live before. You live this life recognising that you have shifted to get here and you are still somewhat tied to your old reality

Respawning

Being this person, you will have one reality that you live in forever. It’s kinda in the name, you reset, as soon as you shift consciousness to you desired life, it was always your life, you will cut ties with whoever you were before and live this way forever. A lot of people script a time stamp in which they forget everything, you will have pre prepared memories from birth up until the day the present day. You are expecting to live the rest of your life in this reality.

a smart example from a dm from one of my consenting mutuals: “I’ll shift there and it will be 02:00 I’ll be all excited about the fact that I shifted, have time to give my success story and bawl my eyes out from sheer happiness, and around 4 hours in (about 06:00 ) I will forget everything and fully cut ties with who I used to be and the life I used to live”

I want you to resonate with one and apply your knowledge where you need to because shifting consciousness is owed to you. Whether you’re doing it for a small while, going to multiple realities or one big shift of your consciousness cutting ties with where you were before. It doesn’t matter, it is owed to you and it is easier than breathing.

If you have a conscious mind, which yes you do or you wouldn’t be reading this, then you have a subconscious mind, and that means that shifting consciousness is a basic ability for you.

There is no such thing as something too big, one form of shifting isn’t “easier” or “harder” than another so whatever you wanna do, don’t be scared, you’ve got this!! There is a reason you’re here. Your subconscious mind knew you didn’t deserve all that you went through and all that you are going through and it led you here. Because of the horrible way humans have been conditioned, we live in a world where people mock shifting which is ironic , as it is a basic ability just like walking and talking, except it uses the mind and not the physical body. I want you to think of your desired reality/realities, whether you are thinking of 12 or 4 or 1, you need to understand that your desired life already exists, you already have it. It’s not a dream, you’re god, you give life to all that you touch with your mind.

I don’t think you really understand so I will say this again:

what you see: script + void/“I AM” state ➯ my dream life is finally real, me and my physical body are finally in my dream reality

you see yourself and some small part of some bigger process, when in fact, you are everything and everything is instant

what actually happens: i’ve created my dream life in my head ➯ as god i give life to everything my i touch with my mind, there for it is real

it’s an immediate chain of events, not a process. stop relying on the I AM state to give you something you already have, the void state helps you shift consciousness to a reality that is already there, and nothing more than that , it doesn’t create, you have already created. you have the power, the void is just a state of pure consciousness that helps you shift your awareness to which ever reality you wish to go to.

side note: As a respawner, all are welcome here, especially my fellow respawners and my permashifters (it’s nice to see both communities grow as i never used to see posts for permashifting or respawning)

no matter what you intend to do with the information you have learned on this app, your desired reality is yours, it was owed to you the second you thought of it

so stop doing nothing about the information you have, you don’t have to struggle in life, throw the teachings of society out the door and realise you can have all that you want, whether that be 1 dream life or 20!! LOCK IN MY LOVES

GET EXCITED ABOUT YOUR NEW LIFE/LIVES, ITS OWED TO YOU!! 🎆💋

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 15: Bonnie

Summary: Your heat is over and your pack has moved on with their lives, settling back into the familiar routine. Except, some things have begun to change, and you're not entirely sure if its for the better.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7456 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, oral, handjobs, overstimulation, P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, switch Johnny, Johnny's lingerie kink, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, mention of nightmares, brief talk about killing and violence, insomnia, fluff, and of course a bit of angst

A/N: This chapter was an absolute bitch to write. I'm not kidding this was a nightmare. I'm happy with the changes I've made though, and how things are progressing. We've made a little bit of a time jump here, but not much. I think I'm getting sick so, posting the chapter before I inevitably pass out again. Oh, and Happy Easter everyone that celebrates.

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

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Your eyes fly open as the alarm blares. They burn as you squint against the bright phone light. An arm reaches over you, the warm skin sliding against your back as he fumbles to turn off the offending noise. 

You let out a quiet groan as you catch the numbers dictating the time on the screen before the phone is placed back on the nightstand. “‘S too early.” You grumble, rubbing at your crusty eyes. 

“Go back to sleep.” John murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before he shifts, climbing over you to get out of the bed. He tucks the blankets back around you before slipping into the bathroom. 

You won't go back to sleep. The last time you'd glanced at the time on your phone had been two hours ago, at 2 A.M. You’ve been awake most of the night, as you have been the last couple nights. You haven't been sleeping well. It was like your heat opened a floodgate and now every time you close your eyes, you're transported back into the past, back when you were a child. Back when things weren't fine. 

You've started trying to avoid sleep, waking constantly during the night from nightmares or from your brain’s own fear of them starting back up. It’s only been a week since your heat ended, and yet you feel no more rested than you did coming out of it. Nothing you’ve tried has worked, not even staying awake until you inevitably pass out prevents your subconscious mind from pulling up the horrible memories of your past. 

Even sleeping next to your alpha hasn’t provided any comfort for your mind. His presence isn’t enough to quell the fear in your mind that the nightmares might come back, that the memories might surface. 

Even he can’t protect you from this. 

You close your eyes as the bathroom door opens again, pretending to sleep as John dresses for his morning workout. He’s quiet, near silent as he moves about the room. It’s almost terrifying how quiet they can be. Though, you suppose, if your survival depends on it, it’s a skill you’d spend plenty of time honing. 

John grabs his phone from the nightstand, running a gentle hand over your head before he leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. You lay there for a few minutes, trying not to let the guilt eat you alive. You should tell them you’re struggling to sleep, that your mind is plaguing you with memories from your past, but you’re afraid of what they might think of you. You’re not the perfect omega, you’re not as whole as you might seem. 

You’re held together with duct tape on the inside. They already have enough to worry about now, they don’t need the weight of your misery thrown on top of the loads they all carry. 

You let out a long breath, turning over in John’s bed. You press your face into the pillow, inhaling the imprint of his scent on the fabric. It’s still warm where he was laying, and you shuffle over into that spot, letting your body go lax as you imagine him still there with you, arms still wrapped around your body. You want to bury yourself in his arms, press against his chest until you sink into him and become one. 

Only then, perhaps you can feel safe enough to sleep. 

You press your face further into the pillow, every inhale filled with John’s scent. It lulls you into a daze, the hypnagogic stage between sleep and wakefulness. 

You jolt as a hand touches your arm, calluses smoothing over the bare skin. You blink your eyes open, letting out a quiet groan. It’s light outside now, the room bathed in white light instead of the yellow tinge of the nightlight John had bought for his room for you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” John says, gently squeezing your arm. He’s already dressed for the day, hair still damp from the shower. You hadn’t even noticed he’d returned. 

You roll over, rubbing your eyes. “‘S fine. Didn’t even know I was asleep. Breakfast time?” 

John hums, leaning over you. “Almost. You’ve got time to get ready.” 

You blink up at him blearily, your mind still trying to wake up completely after your short nap. You stare up into his eyes, getting lost in their blue depths. You feel like you could swim in them, his deep earthy scent drawing forward memories of camping and swimming in the lake. Memories you could pretend were happy, memories not tainted by fear and grief. 

“Christ,” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, your lips moving against his as you kiss. You trail a hand up his arm, sliding it to his back. His shirt is soft, thin enough that you can feel the muscles in his back as you smooth your hand across his shoulder blades. 

“Wish I could stay here all day.” He murmurs, his face pressing into your throat. You tilt your head for him, a quiet groan rumbling through his chest at your sign of submission. He sighs, pressing his nose against your scent gland for a moment before he straightens back up. “Got a job to do.” 

You let out a groan as you stretch, arching your back. “Fuck your job.” 

“I’d much rather be fucking you.” He says, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip before he stands up, grabbing the shirt you’d worn to slip into his room last night off the floor. It’s one of his, one you’d stolen from his laundry hamper while he was in the shower. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that.” 

You grin, pushing the sheets down before sitting up on the edge of the bed. You rub your eyes tiredly, stretching again before pulling on his shirt, slipping your slippers on. You pad back to your room, changing into more appropriate clothes for breakfast. You’ll be left to your own devices again afterward as the guys return to their normal training schedule. You won’t be napping this time, though, you fear. Instead you’ll be looking for ways to keep yourself awake. 

You and John walk hand in hand to the mess. It’s been a while since you’ve been inside of it, and you find you’ve grown to miss it a bit. You don’t miss the stares, the looks that pass over you and your entwined hands as John leads you to the line to get food. It’s like they know, like they all somehow witnessed what had transpired over the last couple weeks, like they had all been spectators to it. 

John makes your tray for you again, carrying it to the table where the others are already seated. You take your normal spot next to Kyle, both him and John sitting closer to you than before. Perhaps they were picking up on your nervous energy, but even Johnny and Ghost seemed to be sitting closer. You cast a glance between them before digging into your tray. Something had transpired, but you’re not quite sure what. 

You might never get to know. 

It’s quiet as you eat, the coffee bitter and watery, but you don’t care. You’ll suffer anything that might give you a boost of energy to make it to lunch without falling asleep. 

Johnny walks you back to the barracks after breakfast is over, his arm around your waist as you take your time crossing the courtyard. He’s oddly quiet compared to how energetic he usually is this early in the morning. Something must have happened to make him silent. 

“Johnny?” You ask after a group of soldiers jog past behind you. 

He hums, looking down at you. His eyes are still bright, but his brows are slightly furrowed. 

“Is everything alright?” You ask carefully, not wanting to risk pushing any buttons. 

“Aye.” He answers after letting out a sigh. “Jus’ an incident in the gym this mornin’. Nothing ye need tae worry about.” 

You raise your brows at him, silently conveying your desire for more information, if he can give you any. 

“Just some alphas talkin’ shite, like they do. Callin’ ye the 141’s whore. Askin’ if we all take turns or if ye let us all go at once.” He says, his tone practically seething as he leads you into the barracks. “Simon reminded them of their place.” 

You can only imagine how that went. 

Despite their obvious tension at the jabs made at you by the other alphas, you don't feel as angry as you probably should. Being called a whore was a bit demeaning, but part of what was said wasn't entirely wrong. Perhaps it's just some leftover hormones surging from your heat, or maybe being claimed has shifted your feelings towards your packmates, but the idea of being shared by them has warmth spreading through you. The mental images piecing together in your mind of taking them all at once would probably make the alphas that made that jab at you blush furiously. 

“Johnny?” You ask, turning to him when you reach your door. 

“Aye?” He stares down at you, his blue eyes soft as they gaze down into your own. 

“I, uh, I wouldn’t mind if at least part of what they said was true...” You sink your teeth into your lip. “You...uh...you’ve been waiting for a while...for your turn.” 

He gulps, shifting slightly on his feet. You can’t tell if he’s nervous or excited or something in between. 

“Well, I’ve been officially cleared to partake in more...strenuous activities..” 

“Christ.” He breathes, crowding you against the door. For a moment you’re worried he might just do it right here, right now, but instead he leans in, close enough you can smell the coffee he had with his breakfast. “I’d love that, kitten.” He bites his own lip as he stares down at yours. “Let me know, and I’ll be ready for you.” He leans down, closing the short distance between you as he kisses you. 

You lean into him, kissing him back. It feels like the first time you kissed him, except you can feel the hunger, the restraint behind this kiss. You can feel how much he’s been holding back, how long he’s waited to finally have this moment. To think of anyone desiring you in such a way makes your head spin. He wants you for you, not what you can do for him, not what you can give to him. Not even just for what’s between your legs, even if that’s what you’re going to do. 

He wants to be with you because you’re you. He doesn’t have to, he could choose not to, but he does. 

He pulls away, staring down at you. His eyes are darker now, speaking promises of what’s to come. “When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.” 

“You're tired.” 

You blink, your gaze snapping to his face. You had been drifting thoughtlessly, quite enamored with a single spot on the floor. You're not sure how long he let you stand there, empty-headed and practically dozing upright. 

You rub your eyes, trying to force your brain back to awareness. “It's early.” You give the excuse, toeing off your shoes. “Been a while since we've done this.”

“You're going to have to work extra hard to gain it all back.” Ghost says, pulling off his sweatshirt. 

Your eyes are immediately drawn to his arms, the strength in them, the tattoos on his skin. You bite back the desire to move closer, to get just a glimpse at one close up. You want to sit and trace them, hear the story of every single one. You want to push his sleeve up, watch the way his muscles bulge and flex, see how far his tattoo goes up his arm. 

You snap yourself out of your thoughts, moving onto the mat before you do something embarrassing like starting to drool. You watch him as he stands at the edge of the mat, brown eyes taking you in as you stand there. Something tickles in the back of your mind, a hint of fear, the sense of sudden danger prevalent. What would you do if he suddenly ran at you? Try to dodge and make it to the door? Where would you go? The med center again? 

“Easy.” He grumbles, sensing your obvious tension.

Your gaze snaps back to him, his posture relaxed as he stays still. “I'm putting a lot of trust in you.”

“I know.” He says, standing almost as still as a statue. You wonder how he can possibly be so still, but you suppose it's something he learned to do. “I should never have broken that trust in the first place.”

Your eyes widen, brows lifting as you stare at him. You didn't expect such a straightforward apology from him. You haven't really gotten one, until now. You hesitate as you stand there in silence, Ghost obviously waiting for your response. 

“I don't know if I can forgive you.” You finally say. 

“You shouldn't.” He shrugs, his gaze shifting to the wall behind you. “Even if you weren't really in danger, it was still a dick move.”

Your eyebrows raise even higher. “An apology and admitting you were a dick? Should I be worried?”

He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Consider it an offering of amicability, for Johnny. I know you two are getting close, so inevitably we're going to find ourselves around each other more often than we have previously.”

“Well, I suppose I could accept that.” You say, shifting on your feet. “I don't think you could convince Johnny otherwise.”

“Hardly. He wouldn't listen anyway.” He finally moves, shifting on his feet. “You gonna put your hackles down so I can approach?”

You take a deep breath, relaxing the tension in your body. You don't really have a reason to fear him, despite what he did. He hasn't given you a reason to fear him since then, and he's even gone so far as to apologize in his own way. John wouldn't have allowed this to start again if he didn't trust Ghost not to do something that might put you in danger. 

John trusts him, so you should be able to as well. 

Ghost slowly approaches, your eyes watching him carefully until he's directly in front of you. You stare up at him, holding his gaze. You wish you could see the rest of his face on the off chance it might give you a hint at what he's thinking and feeling. You wonder if that's partially why he wears the mask. 

Ghost holds out his hand and you place your own in his. It's so much bigger than yours, his long fingers engulfing your wrist as he wraps your hand. You could probably do it yourself by this point, but you like making him do it. You like the way his hands hold yours, the roughness of his skin against your own. 

He starts out reviewing things you already know. Punches, kicks, dodging. It doesn't take long for you to get back into the groove of things, moving like it hasn't been nearly a month since your last training session. You notice the fatigue faster than you had during your last session, but you expected that after almost a month, paired with your heat two weeks ago. 

“Now, punching and kicking will only get you so far in a fight.” He says, giving you a moment to breathe. “Almost all fights are going to end up on the ground. Even if your goal is disarming enough to escape, the chances of you and your opponent ending up on the ground is highly likely.” 

He swipes your feet out from under you before you can even blink, nearly knocking the wind from you as you land on the mat on your back. He’s on you quickly, dropping to his hands and knees over you. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him above you, his hulking form seeming even larger from this angle. Your mind begins to run wild, imagining all the things that could happen in this position. 

“Focus.” He grumbles, arms flexing as he presses his hands into the mat where they rest on either side of your head. “You don’t want to be in this position in a fight. You’re too vulnerable.” 

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. You are vulnerable like this. Even with him, someone who doesn’t want to hurt you, it would be so easy. Your head begins to turn, your gaze leaving his as instinct begins to take over. 

“No.” He snaps, gripping your chin to turn your head back so he’s looking in your eyes. “You do that in a fight, you’re not going to see the other side.” 

You gulp, trying to ignore the warmth of his fingers on your face, the firmness of his grip as he keeps you from showing submission to him. That’s not why you’re here. He’s right. If you do that in a fight, it’ll be over before you even have a chance to run. 

“Your legs are far stronger than your arms. Use them to your advantage.” He says, showing you how to get him into the right position to flip him. 

You know he’s helping you as you flip him onto his back. If he really was fighting you, you’re not sure you could have done it, even if you managed to land enough of a hit to disarm him. You wind up on top of him, sitting on his stomach. The position doesn’t help your racing thoughts, and you pray you can keep enough control over yourself so you don’t make it obvious. 

“Use your legs to pin my hands.” He directs you. You shift your knees slightly, trapping his hands against the mat. “Good.” He says, laying still under you. “You can’t hold a bigger opponent down here for long, but that’s not the point. This gives you a moment of opportunity to go for the face or the neck. Stun them and that gives you a headstart. If you have a weapon available, then you have one less person to worry about chasing you.” 

You gulp at his words. It hadn’t even crossed your mind during your training. He had said it so simply, so easily. You suppose it is to him, after years of doing it, after countless moments where it’s his life or theirs. Is that what he tells himself? Is that how he rationalizes it? Is there so much blood on his hands now that killing is as easy as breathing? 

You wonder how they all rationalize it. They all have blood on their hands, they all have killed, and will kill again. Every time they leave and come back, it’s with more blood, more nameless faces on the list of lives they've taken, all in the name of the greater good. 

Is violence and death really the path to the greater good? 

“What?” He asks, sensing your inner turmoil. 

You sit back on his stomach, your body rising and falling with his even breaths. “I don’t know if I could do it.” 

He tugs his hands from beneath your knees easily, resting them on the mat next to your legs. You can feel his fingers twitch as the blood rushes back into them. “You might not have much of a choice.” He says, holding your gaze. There’s a softness in his gaze you have never seen before. “Sometimes it’s the only choice. If they’re attacking you, they’re better off dead. Even if their goal is to take you alive, the things they’ll do to you.” He shakes his head. 

He’s speaking from experience. You know he’s seen things, witnessed the brutality omegas are subjected to at the hands of the worst kinds of alphas and betas. He’s watched omegas die in front of him while he’s sat helpless.

His hand lifts, cupping the back of your head to pull you down closer to his face. You catch yourself with your hands on either side of his head, fighting the urge to tense your shoulders. His hand doesn’t move from the back of your head, his fingers not even twitching as he holds you steady. 

“If they’re willing to do it to you, how many others have been on the receiving end? If you’re not willing to be the last, how many others will come after you?” He says, his gaze intense as he stares at you. “I hope you never have to, but you always have to prepare for the worst.” 

He holds you there for a breath, staring up into your eyes before he releases you, flipping you off of him and onto your back on the mat. He pushes himself up to stand, staring down at you as you lay there, catching your breath and thinking over the last few moments that transpired. 

“Come on. It’s almost time for breakfast.” 

It’s quiet in the rec room. The TV is off for once, only the hum of electricity and the occasional turning of a page the only sound breaking the silence. You and Ghost are the only two in the rec room, both of you relaxing silently as you read. He’s in the chair as usual, and you’re stretched out on the couch. 

You’re only halfway paying attention to your book, still thinking over your conversation with Johnny earlier, and what transpired in the gym during your training session yesterday. You know how much Johnny wants to be with you, and you're more than willing to go that far with him. You like Johnny, more than just as a packmate. It's hard not to fall for him with his confidence and his playful demeanor. You know he's been desperate to take things to the next level too. 

All he's waiting on is you saying the word. 

He will never force you into it. He'll impatiently wait for you to go to him, to tell him that you want it. All jokes and teasing aside, you know he'd never make you feel like you were being forced into something. 

The thought makes you want to cry. 

“Pull his hair.” Ghost’s voice cuts through the silence, nearly making you jump. 

You lower your book so you can see him, eyebrows raising in surprise at his words. “What?” 

“When you finally fuck Johnny, grab him by the mohawk. He likes it.” Ghost says, not even looking up from his own book. 

You stare at him wide-eyed, wondering for a moment if he can read minds, or if you’re just not quite as subtle as you think you’re being. 

“I'll, uh, keep that in mind.” You say, lifting your book again to hide your blushing face. 

The room descends into silence once more, the two of you continuing to read as if nothing had happened, as if that conversation hadn’t transpired. You wish it felt that way in your mind, though. The mental images Ghost’s words have drawn up drowning out the words on the pages that you’re trying to read. You’re trying not to get worked up further, but you can’t help it. After your training session and the thoughts that had come to mind with Ghost, and now these new images of Johnny, you’re sure your scent has begun to sweeten with arousal. 

You need to rectify this, and fast. 

You knock on the door, shifting nervously on your feet. Your hands have disappeared in your sleeves, the weight of your phone in your pocket the only thing keeping you from floating to the ceiling and dissipating into the air from the anxiety. 

Your stomach nearly drops from your body as the door swings open, Gaz standing there in his full glory. 

“Everything alright?” He asks, staring down at you with those big brown eyes. “You look nervous.”

You swallow the nerves, nodding in response. “Yeah, I just...wanted to talk to you for a minute.” 

He steps away from the door, brows still pinched in worry and confusion as he motions for you to enter. You brush past him as you step into his room, taking a look around. You haven't been in his room before. It's slightly smaller than yours and John's, and it doesn't have a private bathroom. There's artwork up on the walls, and a couple of plants on his desk, along with a few personal belongings. It's neat and tidy, not that you expected anything less. 

“What did you want to talk about?” He asks, turning to face you after closing the door. 

You take a deep breath, calming the nervous twist in your stomach. You shouldn’t be nervous. It’s a natural thing to bring up to packmates. You blame it on the fatigue from your lack of sleep putting you on edge.

“I wanted to ask you something.” You start, staring into his big brown eyes. They’re so beautiful, so expressive as they stare down at you. “Johnny and I...we’re going to...sleep together soon and...I just wanted to make sure that was okay? In case maybe you wanted to go first?” 

Kyle’s lips slowly lift up into a smile as you stare at him nervously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “He’s been an absolute tosser since before your heat, and he’d only become utterly unbearable if he didn’t get to go first.” He steps up closer to you, grinning down at you. “For the sake of everyone’s sanity, I don’t mind being patient. Besides,” He leans down, his breath fanning your ear. “I at least know what you look like naked, so I can occupy myself while I wait.” 

Your face burns with warmth at his words, a shiver running down your spine. He’s not wrong. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, lost to your heat, naked and stuffed with John’s knot. Your brain flashes back to the start of your heat, the feel of his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your pajama pants. You swallow thickly, meeting his gaze as he pulls back. 

“Enjoy your time with Johnny, love.” He slips his hand into yours, lifting it to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready.” 

You feel a bit out of breath as you leave Kyle’s room, and you’re sure your scent has sweetened with arousal and excitement. You might have been tempted to just jump Kyle’s bones right now, had it not been for your desire for Johnny, and your commitment to letting him be first again. You know Kyle’s right. You’d never hear the end of it if Johnny didn’t get the chance to be next in line. 

Now you just have to find him and tell him the good news. 

“Ye look nervous. Are ye nervous?” 

“I mean, this is a big step...” You say, wrapping your arms around Johnny’s neck as he shifts you into his lap. You try not to think about how strong he is, how easily he moves you. 

“Ye don’t have tae do this, if ye don’ want to.” He says, looking down into your eyes. 

“It’s not that...” You say, shifting in his lap. “It’s more...there’s no going back after this.” 

He wraps his arms tighter around you. “If I didnae want it, I wouldnae offer. Yer a fucking stunnin’ omega, kitten. Would be crazy not tae want ye.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, your gaze dropping from the intensity of his own. His stubble tickles your fingers as you trace the line of his jaw, working your way towards his lips. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip as your fingers trace the jagged scar on his chin. 

“Just...go easy on me? At least this first time?” You say, tracing his lips with your fingers. 

“‘Course, kitten.” He says, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. “Wouldnae want to scare ye away.” 

Your eyes widen slightly at the implications of his words, your stomach fluttering with excitement and a hint of fear at what he could possibly be alluding to. His hand lifts, gently grasping your chin, tilting your face slightly. He closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. 

“Don’ worry.” He murmurs against your lips. “Take good care of ye.” 

You hum against his lips, tasting the chocolate he’d been snacking on when you sought him out as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand leaves your chin, sliding down your throat to rest right at the base of your throat, fingers splayed across your clavicle. His thumb rests right on the edge of your mating mark, the pressure making you shiver. 

Johnny pulls you tighter against his chest, your arms wrapping around his neck. He moans against your lips as you shift against him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your ass. It’s not the first time you’ve felt it, but this time it’s different. This time you’re going to do something about it. 

“Fucking christ, take ye right here on this couch, if I’m not careful.” Johnny groans, nipping at your bottom lip. 

“Then best take me to bed, Sergeant.” You say, pulling back slightly to give him what you hope is a sultry look. 

The groan that’s pulled from his lips is downright salacious, something flashing in his eyes as you call him by his rank. He curses, tightening his hold around you before he stands, maneuvering you so you’re tossed over his shoulder. You let out a squeak of surprise that’s quickly replaced by giggles as he packs you down the hall to his room. 

He sets you on your feet once you're inside, closing the door. You look around his room, surprised to see it full of art supplies with drawings and paintings all over the walls. You stare open mouthed, taking it all in. It's messier than John and Kyle's rooms, though there's still a sense of order to it. A chaotic order, but you suppose that explains Johnny perfectly. 

“You draw?” You say, studying the art on the walls.

“Aye,” Johnny says, coming up behind you. “In my free time.”

“I didn't know that.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “They're beautiful.”  

“Thank ye, kitten.” He wraps his arms around you from behind, reminding you of why you came in here in the first place. “Not quite as beautiful as you.”

Your face warms at his compliment and you tilt your head back, staring up at him. “You're such a charmer.” 

“Try my best.” He grins, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “Promise I'll show ye my drawings later.”

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck. “I know. You're desperate.”

“Been waitin’ weeks for this, kitten.” He groans, grinding against you. 

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You tighten your grip around his neck, jumping into his arms. He manages to catch you, stumbling half a step back as his hands grip your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, lifting yourself so you’re face to face with him. 

“Christ.” He groans against your lips, walking forward until he reaches his bed.

He drops you on your back, your body bouncing on the mattress as he settles on his knees over you. His eyes have darkened as he stares down at you, your stomach twisting in excitement. Warmth has started to pool between your legs, your scent sweetening with arousal. 

Johnny’s hands are rough as they slip under your shirt, tugging it up over your head. He groans, eyes fluttering as he realizes you’re without a bra underneath. He curses quietly, something you can’t quite understand as his hands immediately close around your breasts. Your lips part as he squeezes the flesh in his hands, leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. You gasp at the sensation as his lips close around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he’s a man starved. 

Well, you suppose he is. 

He has been waiting for quite a while for this opportunity. Something about it makes your brain tingle, arousal pooling in your stomach at the thought of someone desiring you that much. 

It’s not just him, though. Three of the four members of your pack have expressed their desire for you in such a way. The thought makes your head spin. You’re just a simple omega, and yet, here they are going half crazy over you. 

Johnny releases your nipple with a pop, shifting so he can give the same attention to the other one. Arousal continues to pool between your legs, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. You drag your fingernails across the back of his neck, a shiver wracking through his body, his hips grinding down against your thigh. 

“Fuck,” He gasps, releasing your nipple to stare up at you.

You repeat the motion, dragging your fingers slower. His eyes roll back, hips grinding harder against your thigh. He’s so sensitive, you think, pushing your thigh up against him. He lets out what can only be described as almost a whine, rutting his hips against your leg. 

“Fuck,” He curses again, pushing himself back up onto his knees. “Tonight is about you, kitten.” He takes a deep breath before slipping his fingers under the waistband of your pants, tugging them down quickly and tossing them on the floor next to your shirt. 

He sinks his teeth into his lip as he stares down at your panties, one of the pairs he got you on your shopping trip before your date with John. You had changed into them specifically for Johnny, remembering how excited he’d looked when he bought you five pairs of the lacy garments. He groans quietly as he runs his fingers over your lace covered skin, slowly lowering his fingers between your thighs. He glances up at you, meeting his gaze and you give him a nod before his fingers dip lower, trailing the wet spot on the lacy fabric. 

You part your legs more for him as he rubs you through your panties, quiet moans leaving your lips at the feeling of the friction from the fabric. His eyes are still on you, glued to your face as the pleasure begins to build just from his touch. You buck your hips against his hand, searching out more. More pleasure, more of his touch, more of him. 

“Look at ye, needy little thing.” He groans, his thumb dragging up your slit until he finds your clit, slowly circling it through the fabric. “Barely touched ye an’ yer cunt’s already soakin’ yer skids. Fucking sweet little thing, so needy for me, aren’t ye?” 

You push yourself up onto your elbows, staring down at him. “Are you going to sit there and run your mouth all night, or are you going to fuck me?” 

He grins wickedly at you. “I’m just gettin’ started, kitten.” 

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee before trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His thumb continues to stroke you through your panties, applying more and more pressure as he gets closer and closer to your center. He whispers out a curse as he shoves your panties to the side, revealing your glistening folds to him. He leans forward, warm breath fanning your slit before he closes his mouth around you. 

You gasp at the sensation, dropping back onto your back on the bed as he drags his tongue through your folds, flicking it across your clit before he closes his lips around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he did your nipples earlier. Pleasure shoots through you as he eats you like a man starved, slurping away at your pussy obscenely. 

“Fuck, Johnny!” You gasp, legs trying to close around his head, but he holds your inner thighs, keeping them spread. 

You’re not going to last very long, not with him alternating between sucking at your clit and swirling his tongue around it like that. He’s done this before, and you can’t help the momentary spike of jealousy at the thought of him between any other omega’s thighs now that he has you. 

“Gonna cum!” You whine, hips bucking against his face. 

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess all over my face?” He groans. 

You curse, your back arching as he continues to work you up, hands fisting his sheets. 

“That’s it.” He groans against your clit, dragging his teeth over the sensitive bud. “Be a good omega for me.” 

You cum with a cry, soaking his chin as he continues to tease you. He laps at your juices, not slowing any as he works you through your orgasm, even as you begin to shake with overstimulation. 

“I-I can’t.” You gasp, the burning feeling starting to pulse through you as he continues to suck at your clit. It’s quickly becoming too much, the feeling overwhelming you. 

Ghost’s words flash through your mind at that moment, his suggestion yesterday while you both spent time in the rec room reading. You reach down, sinking your fingers into Johnny’s mohawk, gripping the short strands. He lets out a groan as you tug, pulling his face from your pussy finally. His chin is glistening with your release, his tongue darting out to lick your juices from his lips. 

He follows as you tug upwards, drawing him away from your pussy. He crawls up your body until you’re almost face to face, your fingers still tangled in his hair. 

“I said that’s enough.” You say, slightly breathless from your orgasm, but you put as much authority in your tone as you can manage. 

“Yes ma’am.” He practically whines, the muscles in his arms flexing as he sinks his own fingers into the sheets around you. 

The sudden shift in control has something buzzing in your brain, the back of your neck tingling. You’re an omega. You’re not supposed to be in control, and yet, here Johnny is, practically folding in front of you. A thrill shoots through your veins at the thought of what you could make him do, what lengths he’d go to for you simply because you have him in this position. 

“Take your clothes off.” You say, releasing his mohawk. 

He sits back without complaint, tugging his shirt over his head. You take him in, the hard lines of his muscles, the dark hair on his chest, the line disappearing under the waistband of his pants. You lick your lips as he undoes the button on his pants, undoing the zipper before tugging them down with his boxers. 

His cock is hard and practically standing at attention as he kicks his pants off. He’s slightly smaller than John, but not by much. Your pussy clenches at the thought of him inside you, but you’re not ready for that quite yet. You guide Johnny back up to your face, pressing your lips against his. You can taste yourself on him, making him groan as you lick into his mouth. 

You guide him onto his back, trading places with him. He settles beneath you, his hands lifting to your hips, but you push them back as you pull away. You smirk down at him for a moment before you move, changing your position so you’re facing away from him. You trap his hands against the bed with your legs like Ghost showed you, sitting yourself on his taut stomach. He has a clear view of your ass still sporting your lacy panties, your wet folds pressed against his skin. 

“Simon show ye that one?” He asks, flexing his hands under you. He could easily overpower you and free himself, but he doesn’t.

“Uh huh.” You say, wrapping your hand around his cock. 

“Hells bells, what are you two gettin’ into during trainin’?” He groans, obviously starting to picture the lewd things you and Ghost might be doing. You wonder how he’d react to seeing you on top of Ghost like you were yesterday. 

“He’s just teaching me how to defend myself.” You say, slowly pumping his cock. “I’m finding there’s not much of a difference between fucking and fighting.” 

Johnny lets out another groan, but you’re not sure if it’s because of your words, or your hand on his cock. You continue to pump his length, feeling the softness of him in your hand, squeezing gently to feel the vein running along the bottom side. Johnny lets out a choked groan, hands twitching again under your legs. 

“Fuck, I cannae last much longer.” He gasps desperately, his length twitching in your hand. 

Pearly white beads of precum have begun to slip from his tip, and you can’t help but lean down and drag your tongue across his head, gathering some in your mouth. He lets out a whine that rivals ones of your own, his hips bucking as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm. 

“Please, kitten, let me cum inside ye.” He begs, pulling his hands free from underneath you so he can grip your hips. 

You pull away from his cock, sitting up on his stomach. He’s panting, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. You shift yourself again, turning back around to face him. His eyes are hooded as he stares at you, pupils blown with lust. His lips are parted as he pants, sweat beading on his forehead from the strain of holding himself back. You push yourself back until you’re hovering over his cock, pulling your panties to the side with one hand, grabbing his length with the other. 

You groan as you sink down onto him, bracing yourself with a hand on his stomach as he stretches you open. His hands settle on your waist, squeezing your hips as you work yourself down his length. 

“Fuck,” You breathe, pressing your hands against his abs as you sink down completely onto his cock, your hips flush with his. 

“So fucking tight and warm,” He groans, his grip near bruising around your hips. “Fucking feel fantastic, kitten.” 

You slowly begin rocking your hips, using your hands on his stomach for leverage. Your toes are curling already from this angle, the tip of his cock brushing that spot deep inside you with every rock of your hips. Small whines and whimpers leave your lips as you fuck yourself on his cock, squeezing your legs around his hips. They’re shaking already, and you know you won’t last long in this position. 

Johnny seems to notice that as well, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to guide your movements. You’re starting to sweat from the effort, your thighs burning, but it feels too good to stop. You’re getting close again, the stretch of him inside you paired with the high of having such control over him just a few moments ago driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

Johnny pushes himself up as your movements begin to slow, wrapping his arms around you to shift you in his lap, laying you down on the bed facing the footboard as he slots himself over you. He takes over, thrusting into you, setting a frantic pace. Your head falls back as he pounds into you, your back arching as he folds his body over yours, pressing his face into your neck. 

“Gonna cum for me? Need tae feel ye squeezing ‘round my cock.” He grunts, nipping at the skin of your throat. 

You let out a whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. “Just like that.” You pant, squeezing your legs around his hips. “Don’t stop!” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He groans, continuing to rut into you like your pussy is the only thing that can save his life. 

You practically see stars as you cum, squeezing around his cock as pleasure jolts through your body like electricity. Your hips buck against his, grinding together like some sort of forbidden dance as he’s forced into his own orgasm by your walls squeezing around him. His hips stutter before he stills, warmth spurting into you as he cums. You hold him there, his body trembling with yours as he groans into your throat. 

“Fucking hell.” He moans, starting to shallowly thrust into you. He’s still hard, his cock dragging through your sensitive walls as he continues to fuck you despite having just orgasmed. “Never gonnae tire of this sweet cunt.” 

He probably won’t, you think as he continues to slowly thrust into you again. 

You’re in for a long night. 

NEXT ->

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[listleven]

Why you can never fail in manifestation......and why you think you have.

Cue: revision

Your ego. Your subconscious limiting beliefs.

Your ego contradicts the law. It tries to save you from failing when the law literally can't fail. Ultimately making you give up persisting and going back to the 3d.

And even if you do persist, for example manifesting ice cream after school and thinking you already have it but when the time comes the scene you imagined doesn't happen. It's because of your limiting beliefs. You may not even realize you still have subconscious limiting beliefs. In these cases perform revision and persist in your power. Practice self concept. And you will find you never failed, you did get ice cream after school and because time isn't real, and your 3d will give in to your 4d. Don't say something like, but why didn't it happen that moment. Time doesn't exist. It happened in your 4d so it will show up in your 3d. It's like any other manifestation technique.

Basically revision is a manifestation technique that eliminates the concept of time. It's really good for beginners who get discouraged. It also affirms the belief that time isn't real. And it's really easy, you can simply affirm a memory did or didn't happen. Envision it. Whatever you want.

I also have a few people in my DMs who ask me about the void. To that you can simply accept that you go in the void at every attempt because you do. If you have had "failed attempts" Revise. Bc in the 4d no you didn't??? Ex. all those failed pure conscious attempts are not real , you actually have induced them in the 4d. If you keep persisting and accept that all those "attempts" worked, the 3d will conform. So revision is just any other manifestation method.

You can do this with grades as well. Breaking these beliefs takes practice. Just keep going. Envision it and accept it as yours. Even if the 3d shows you the opposite, perform revision. It's simple like any other technique in manifesting except your doing it for the "past" and because time doesn't exist and the past isn't real. Revision really is like any other manifestation method.

~ With love, Jyspire

[sunnyskiesscareme]

My Heart’s Racing, and it isn’t the Exercise

Luke Hughes x reader

Summary: Luke Hughes has a gym crush, and his brother wants a sister in law

Warnings: there’s a reference to like… dropping a weight on his head to induce memory loss, you’ll understand if you read it 😭 other than that, nothing!! (Unless u include Luke embarrassing himself but that’s just cuz he’s a cutie patootie)

Notes: I’m so sorry I’ve barely posted!! Uni is kicking my ass. Still, I appreciate all the support on my previous fics!! Y’all are so kind!! Also, a lil reference to the readers job as a hairdresser

Luke was sure that if y/n wasn’t here, he’d cry.

He had explicitly told his brother that he needed to be at the gym within 10am-11:30am, and no later. He hadn’t told him why, exactly, but he thought he made himself pretty clear anyhow. It wasn’t like Jack to be late to anything, but Jack had expressed that he believed you couldn’t be late to the gym in the first place. To him, it was a personal pleasure. Luke would have agreed if it weren’t for the girl with the strict schedule, who went everyday, at the same time, with no exceptions.

He couldn’t explain that to Jack without the certainty of him telling the whole Devil’s team about his little crush, and suddenly the chirping would go beyond anything he’d ever live down. So instead, when Jack would roll his eyes at his brother with a comment about being uptight, Luke would bite back with a reminder that Jack had assigned certain coats to certain hooks in the entrance way. Surely, Luke was not the uptight one in that apartment.

Jack had only hurried things up when his brother threatened to leave without him, jingling his keys and walking to the door with exaggerated stomps. Still, they had only left the house at 10:41, and for reasons unbeknownst to Jack, Luke had refused to switch to the gym nearest their building. It was 10:53 when they got there, and Luke ignored his brothers scolds for his crooked parking job, rushing to check who was at the girl’s favourite machine. It was then that Luke realized he had never learned her name. Had she ever even had a full conversation with him?

She was there, in all of her beauty, but Luke didn’t crack a smile. Instead, he walked over to the chest press for his warmup as if he had never seen her. His sudden stop-and-stare session did not go unnoticed by his brother, who not so subtly squinted his eyes in her direction, trying to find what had his little brother so dazed. His eyes flickered to the dejected look on his face, back to the girl, and then to the foot that Luke was subconsciously tapping. A knowing grin grew on Jack's face before he wiped it off with the back of his hand, wringing his wrist out in an act of preparation for his dead-lift warmup. He halted when he began to pass by Luke, stomping his foot on the ground exaggeratingly as he turned to his brother.

"Luke, Luke," Jack said, bending down to reach ear level with him. "You see that girl over there? The one on the, uh, the walking thingy?"

"The elliptical." Luke corrected, a little bit too fast. He’d learned the name of the machine a while ago, just in case he needed it one day.

"Yeah, whatever. She's real pretty, huh?"

Luke's eyes met Jack's so fast it hurt, and he blinked a couple of times to make the room stop spinning. His knuckles turned white at the grip he had on the bars of the machine, despite having paused the lifting to speak to his brother. "What- why?"

"I think I’m gonna ask her out."

"No!" Luke yelped, and those in the gym who weren't wearing headphones or struggling to breathe with the intensity of their workout glanced over at him curiously. His cheeks burned bright red, and Jack had to repress a smirk. "She’s," he shook his head, "She's not even your type."

“What? Of course she is. You don’t think she’s pretty?”

“She’s-!” Luke started, chest puffed up and eyes wide as he went to defend the girl. That was, until the smile on his brothers face looked a little bit too evil to be classified as adoring, and Luke squinted his eyes at him. “What are you trying to do here?”

Jack let out a girlish giggle and gave him a smack to his knee. “I think you think she’s pretty!”

“Shut up!” He wacked his brother right back.

“I think you’ve beaten me to her!”

“Jack, stop.” Luke begged, gripping his brothers wrist strongly enough for Jack to wince, his eyes wide as saucers.

Jack snickered, wringing out his wrist. He glanced back at the girl, whose machine beeped as she finished her cool down. “C’mon! She’s done. Go talk to her!”

“What? No!” Luke refused, his voice much quieter and harsher than his brothers. “No, she’s leaving anyway.”

Jack glanced at the girl again, who had finally stepped off of the machine and stood in front of a window. Her silhouette was black as she tipped her head towards the ceiling to chug down some water. He looked back at Luke. “I don’t think so… looks like she’s just having a drink before her next workout.”

“No.” Luke shook his head, certainty in his movements. “It’s 11:30. This is when she leaves.”

Luke seemed to have not realized the weight his words held before he said them, and quickly made himself busy with his machine before Jack’s head jerked foreword, his jaw dropped far enough that if he had dared to look, Luke would be able to count all of his teeth.

“Woah, woah, wait a minute!” He said, stepping in front of his little brother so that he had no casual excuse for avoiding his gaze. “Is this why you’ve been whining every day about when we get here?”

Luke cringed, ending his first rep early to stick an earbud in his ear. “I’m working out. Can’t hear ya.”

“Oh my god!” Jack gaped, yanking the earbud back out. “This is why I have to go to a gym 15 minutes away from my apartment- that has a gym in the building?”

“It’s only 10, don’t be such a baby.” Luke groaned, seeing no point in trying to hide his little secret any longer.

“Oh my god. Luke, I’m being serious right now, if you don’t go talk to her- I will.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.”

Luke’s eyes worriedly flicked back to where she stood before, but let out a breath when she wasn’t there anymore. He didn’t know wether it was of relief or disappointment, but he forced himself not to dwell on the weird feeling in his chest. “She’s… She’s gone anyways.”

Jacks head whipped to the window and then back to his brother so fast that Luke was surprised he wasn’t in pain. He quickly promised himself he’d give him pain if he looked at him like that any longer- his brows slightly furrowed, eyes more pitiful than annoyed. Jack let out a soft huff. “Next time then.”

---

Jack was ready before Luke was the next morning, bouncing on the balls of his feet on the mat in front of the door. Luke walked sluggishly, something he hadn’t done since he had first seen her. He was sure this would be the last day at her gym- certain he’d be too humiliated to return.

“Could you wipe that look off your face, please?” Luke asked, annoyed.

His grin only grew, flashing his recently fixed straight white teeth. “Why would I? Todays the day- Lukey Boy is getting a girlfriend!”

Luke rolled his eyes.

The 10 minute car ride was mostly silent. To Jack, it had felt like the longest ride he’d ever taken, even with all of the complaints he’d given about the length of the drive in the past. This was most certainly the worst of them all. To Luke, it had been the shortest. He’d listed multiple plans for certain scenarios in his head, noting that if he really needed to, there were weights near the elliptical she used that he could drop on his head if he needed to forget he’d ever seen her. Maybe his brother would feel bad enough to never bring it up again. He planned to run a few fast miles on a treadmill beforehand, so that he could build up some adrenaline, and blame his red face on the exercise.

Jack walked in with a pep in his step, only stopping when his brother suddenly grabbed his wrist. His face was white and his eyes wide, and Jack had never seen him so scared to talk to a girl before. “She’s gonna think I’m a creep.”

“No she won’t! Just… don’t be a creep, and you’ll be fine.”

Luke releases his brothers wrist to run a stressed hand down his face. “I hate you.”

“Luke, it’s gonna be fine, I’m telling you.” Jack tried to reason. He sent him a funny smile, “Plus, you’re in the NHL. what girl would say no to that?”

Luke didn’t laugh, and Jack licked his lip awkwardly. “Buddy, just do it. There’s no use comforting you now- she hasn’t even rejected you yet!”

“Yet!”

“No!” Jack gripped Luke’s shoulders tightly. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Now go. Now. It’s time.”

Luke almost tripped, his feet too nervous to react to the push his brother gave him. He prayed that it was too bright outside to see the reflection in the window her machine overlooked, and that she didn’t see any of that. He stood awkwardly a safe distance away from her, looking back at his brother who gave him a not-so-subtle thumbs up.

She was changing the song coming through her headphones when she felt the presence of someone next to her. She turned, startled when someone was actually there. He was tall, but had a young, sweet face. His hair was long enough for him to have to push behind his ear and she could imagine him hating it. Most people with curly or wavy hair did, she had learned from work, but his was her favourite texture to cut and work with. She’d recognized him well. He seemed to have a similar schedule to her, and she had used him as proof to her friends that she wasn’t uptight. He was too handsome to look at, she had decided one day. She couldn’t afford a gym crush, not when she was doing so well with her gym streak. It would complicate things. She flicked an earbud out, giving him a friendly, but curious smile.

“Hi.” He said, the word breathy.

“Hi.” She said back with a slight chuckle. “Did you need something?”

“Oh! Sorry, uh,” she didn’t notice Jack watching them, cringing at the way his brother stuttered. “I was wondering… if I could use that machine.”

She blinked at him, eyes flickering to the 3 other ellipticals lining the large window, still and unused. She nodded anyway. “Uh, yeah! Sure!” She said, stepping off and beside the guy, who looked much taller from the new angle. “Are, are the other ones not working?”

“Uh-“

“Nope!” She jumped at the loud voice behind her, looking right in time for her to miss how Jack stepped on the machines cord, unplugging it. He smacked his hand on the buttons exaggeratedly, proving to her that it wouldn’t turn on.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I’ve been hogging the only working one, haven’t I?”

“No, no! You’re okay. Uh, I just, um-“

“My brother thinks you’re pretty!” Jack blurted out, cutting off his stuttering.

Luke looked mortified, shoulders curling in on himself. Y/n reddened, her lips unintentionally curling up into a giddy smile. “Oh! Thank you!” She let out a nervous chuckle. “Um, you’re his brother?”

“I’m so sorry.” He said instead of answering, and she hoped he didn’t look so sick because his brother lied.

“Don’t be! I’m,” she let out another nervous chuckle, “I’m very flattered.”

“You should let him buy you a smoothie from the drink bar.” Jack suggested, grinning wildly. Y/n felt brave under his enthusiasm.

“Jack!” Luke pleaded, fists balled up.

“He doesn’t have to pay.” She said, and she smiled awkwardly at their intense gazes. “Uh, I mean… are you thirsty?”

“You want to get a smoothie with me?”

“Well, sure! Only if you tell me your name though.” She giggled

He looked at her, his gaping lips turning up into a smile. “Luke.”

Luke had never loved his brother more. He hadn’t listened as he came up with some excuse for leaving the two of them alone. Something about already having water or having to get his workout in while he could, Luke assumed. He didn’t really care. He had imagined a million ways his day could go, and he had somehow lived the one he didn’t think would ever happen. He smiled at her, panicking when she began to reach for the pack she had around her waist. “I’ll pay!”

She looked back up at him. “Wow! A cute boy calls me pretty and buys me a smoothie in one day? This isn’t what I imagined would happen when I walked into the gym today.” She giggled, walking with him.

“Yeah… neither did I.”

[keisobe]

── ౨ৎ ‧˚ 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 (𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧)

・⸝⸝ some hobie brown headcanons where you’re the complete opposite of him + not completely proofread

notes. this was inspired by the anon who requested for “polar opposites” (i’m still working on that request TT). i’m a sucker for couples with different aesthetics because it reminds me of hachi and nana hshshddh ♡

you guys share an apartment together, and the contrast between your guy’s decor can be laughable. hobie has crumbled newspaper cutouts and band posters sprawled all over his walls— graffiti to roughen it up even more. while you had a dainty wallpaper with printed flowers, topped with assortments of neatly lined photos of you and hobie taken during your dates.

that’s why the living room in your apartment is completely bare. except for some framed photos of more cute memories and the dried flowers that hobie (stole) bought you on your first date. mostly, the trinkets you both own are scattered around the apartment.

hobie would be pouring cereal into a pink, bunny ceramic bowl. while you drink raspberry tea in a ridged mauve mug with the words ‘fuck capitalism’ written in hobie’s scratchy handwriting. and yes, you did take hobie to a pottery class as a cool date idea (he thought it was a cute idea too).

hobie always wears a copious amount of studded leather belts but also, your plush keychain(s) securely clipped onto his belt loops. hobie loves to show them off whenever he’s out with his bandmates— “ain’t it a lil’ cute? ‘s even got a lil’ blush on ‘s cheeks.” and that doesn’t limit him during his nightly patrols, he would get a few insults about having a ‘stupid toy’ on his belt, to which he would punch the daylights out of them and trap them in a thick layer of web.

you also proudly accessorize your bags with hobie’s handmade keychains. your favorite was a little replica of his guitar and a pink star that “represents you”. but because they are personally made, he would leave song lyrics and flirty comments written in the back of each keychain— marking the date when he gifted it to you.

going shopping with hobie was also lots of fun. there was a nearby boutique that you always shop at; selling exclusively skirts and dresses adorned with frills and bows, and hair accessories that are covered in pearls and ribbon (he honestly sticks out like a sore thumb but he couldn’t care less). hobie helps you pick out stuff, taking clothes off the rack and asking you to try it on. he compliments you every time you show off, giving you a little twirl and whispering a suggestive comment that makes you slap his chest. if you decide that you weren’t particularly fond of the outfit, hobie would go out of his way to put away said clothes back into its rack whilst having a good chat with the shop owners (they love him to bits).

one time, you decided it would be fun to wear some of his stuff. putting on a studded leather choker he left on his bedside table, you walked out with your chin held high and a grin so big. immediately, hobie felt like he combusted five times and went over to graze a hand over your leathered neck— “you’re an absolute looka’ babe.”

whenever you guys are out, he would always keep an eye out for your skirt. not in a weird way, but to make sure it doesn’t show private bits that would entertain creeps that would pass by. that’s why he would subconsciously linger his hand on your hips and he would always let you sit in the subway train, amusingly eyeing down at you drawing whilst he holds onto the upper railing— guarding you with his solid frame.

you’re a real sucker for british dating shows. it wasn’t like you believed in them, but found them heavily entertaining. hobie had always been fond of the things you like, even though they completely contrasted his personal aesthetic and interest. but he cannot, for the life of him, agree with dating shows. as you snuggled into him and share a fluffy blanket— watching the latest season of said dating show, he would cackle as he gives snarky comments at every moment and heavily criticize the whole concept of “making yourself look li’ a knob on the telly” (you sent him to his room afterwards, he apologized the morning after).

MOCHIFILM © 2023. please do not copy, translate, or modify any of my work. all of my works are not permitted to be posted on any other sites.

[ts4ritsa]

₊˚ପ⊹ thinking about you

ft. caelus, dan heng, welt yang, gepard landau, & jing yuan from honkai: star rail * ˚ ✦

tags / cw ✎ gn!reader, sfw, men who just have you on their minds while doing casual/everyday stuff, implied crushes

CAELUS ✰

caelus, once again, found himself immersed while exploring the shops in penacony. that particular day he was in a giving mood, trying to find little souvenirs and gifts that he could get for his companions on the astral express. including you!

except he subconsciously wandered off into certain sections, only getting pulled in by products and goods — from snacks to fragrances and jewelry — that he felt that you would like when he was supposed to be looking for everyone else as well.

checking them out probably longer than he should have… he didn’t even think he was until a moment of realization hit him when he told himself he was gonna find something for march but he caught himself looking at stuff he knows she would definitely not be interested in, rather you would be.

as caelus thought about it more, he tried to tell himself it wasn’t much and shrug it off, though embarrassment arose a light blush on his face whether he liked it or not.

then he looked down at all those bags he was carrying… yeah, it mainly consisted of stuff that reminded him of you.

DAN HENG ✰

among the archives, dan heng was looking for something in particular — a book you had given him the last time you saw each other. he had forgotten all about it due to missions and other urgent matters taking up so much of his time. but now, he had some time for himself since his comrades were out running quick errands

while searching for it, he tried to recall the story that you had told him before you handed it to him. it was a silly romance novel that you enjoyed a lot when you were younger. you told him whether or not you were actually a fan of reading books didn’t matter, only that this one novel pretty much had you in a chokehold for the longest time

he, for one, was never drawn to romance genres. but, he couldn’t help but be curious with the way you described that book. it was amusing and he admired how you were still able to remember so much about it even after such a long time. dan heng found himself asking you to share the name of the story, saying he’d like to check it out when he had the chance. luckily for him though, you had a copy of it in your bag since you were planning on donating it to a local bookstore.

as he laid in his bed reading it, he could understand why you and many others could find the story appealing, but it just was so silly to him. nevertheless, dan heng would never judge you for your taste, not in a serious manner anyway.

while flipping through the pages, he could see that the past you had written… little notes on the pages of your most favorite parts.

well, now dan heng was definitely looking forward to the day he’d get to see you again — so he could bring it up during conversation and see if it would elicit a cute response out of you

WELT YANG ✰

on regular days, welt could be seen sitting at one the coffee tables that belonged to the lounge of the astral express. usually he would be flipping through pages of books he picked up or creating visuals of his interstellar adventures in a sketchbook.

every journey that welt found himself in has had a part in shaping the person he had become. whether it was full of laughter, sorrow, or indifference, all of it had meaning in the end. he had made a lot of acquaintances and traveled with many companions. standing among that social circle he built up over the years, was you.

you, who had somehow managed to capture the interest of the wise and sophisticated man widely known as “welt yang.” there had been many profound moments that you shared, some where you both got carried away by the streams of time, laughing and exchanging friendly banter. he often reminisced of those lovely memories.

but there too were some involving more serious and dire situations. times where you agreed to stand next to him, aiding him and his allies in times of crisis. so many times where you put yourself at risk. he couldn’t help but wonder, why? but you made it clear to him — that all of it was in order to witness a future that you believed was right.

he vividly remembered remembered the smile that was plastered all over your face after you told him that, after winning one of the most treacherous battles ever with him. and that was actually what he was sketching today! he wanted to preserve it in art, before it would inevitably become a distant memory

perhaps, he thinks, a chance where he will be able to work with you once more will arise soon. after all, the universe is full of possibility, is it not? welt would like the company.

GEPARD LANDAU ✰

on a day-to-day basis, gepard was responsible for ensuring that the silvermane guards were in line and prepared for battle at all times. though that was only one of the many tasks he handled everyday, after all his role beared tons of duty and responsibility.

in order to be worthy of the title “captain,” one must act professionally and remain composed no matter what the situation at hand is. gepard is fully aware of this fact, and so he has dedicated himself to building up high levels of patience and tolerance over the years. still, no matter how much he trains himself, nuisances and troublemakers can get under his skin every now and then.

one night after dealing with an entire group of incompetent soldiers, gepard was in a relatively bad mood. usually it would be just one or two of his men slacking off, fooling around, but this time he caught five people acting out of line. not just that, but he discovered there were fragmentum monsters that snuck into the silvermane guard restricted zone — nearly finding their way into the administrative district. so, he was rightfully irritated.

luckily, all his duties for the day had been taken care of so he was all set to leave. but, gepard still had an uneasy feeling after the mess from earlier. so just in case, he decided to go on a quick patrol through the city before heading home.

as gepard was passing by belobog’s history and culture museum, one of the trams ahead was slowing down, as if it were ready to make a stop. he thought nothing of it and continued walking. the tram eventually came to a halt and the automatic door opened— wait, could that be…?

gepard recognized the attire on the figure that emerged from the vehicle. from the shoes all the way up to the jewelry — he knew it all too well.

despite the rare moments he has gotten to see you, he’s actually been able to memorize the appearance of the clothing you wore. anticipation and excitement was building up in his chest, more than he’d like to admit. and as he looked up, he saw… that it actually was not you.

his expression dropped immediately when he realized. a few seconds after, a slight blush formed on his face too. did he really just… feel that eager to see you? gepard certainly enjoys having you around, that much is true, but why did he feel so warm inside at the idea of seeing you just now? his previous mood even melted away immediately at the thought of it.

how unlike him. the person had already went about their way. poor gepard continued to walk forward, but… that feeling and blush was taunting his face and his mind for the rest of his patrol.

JING YUAN ✰

as the divine foresight and one of the seven arbiter-generals, jing yuan handles dozens of affairs each day. he is also famously known all around the xianzhou for his tendency to never waste a second on any situation that needs urgent attention.

because of this, the people of the luofu have been able to live their lives in peace and prosperity. he, too, is often able to enjoy himself freely with all the rewards that come out of finishing his work.

as jing yuan strolled around the streets of aurum alley, trying to decide what xianzhou delicacies he’d like to snack on today, the emptiness of a certain spot in the area managed to catch his eye. a table, and while technically it was a regular spot that any person could occupy, it was usually a spot that he found you at.

and when he did see you, jing yuan would join you — but not before taking you by surprise in some way, like by placing a hand on your shoulder. he would chuckle at the way you’d turn your head around confused and slightly dazed. but upon seeing him, your expression would visibly soften and you would greet him warmly. your voice brought him at ease, every single time.

he’d ask you if you’d give him the pleasure of joining you, to which you would always reply that he doesn’t even need to ask. but of course, he will continue to do it anyway — he just can’t bring himself to give up that adorable sight of you being caught off guard.

back to present, jing yuan quickly recalled why you weren’t around. you told him the last time he saw you there. to put it simply, the astral express had requested your assistance for a quick but important upcoming mission. he remembered how you were enthusiastic, curious, and a bit nervous. what could they possibly need?

jing yuan chuckled at your question, but he assured you that you would be safe in the crew’s hands. you shrugged, not doubting his words, just the uncertainty of what the expedition could consist of. perhaps you could find a way to get him involved — or, maybe, you could ask the express to take you and him along with them to their next stop. see what may lie in store.

thinking back to your words as he approached that special table, jing yuan smiled to himself. he’d like to take you up on that offer someday, when given the chance.

©2024 ts4ritsa

a/n: my first hsr fic guys did I burn the food .. also is it obvious who I like more haha eventually I’ll bring myself to do this with more of the guys

[celuere]

Teaser

pairing: Arlecchino x fem!reader

Context: You‘re getting bored during a Fatui meeting so you decide to help yourself out with your wife<33

Content: stimulation, semi-public, arle has a dick here because I said so, Pantalone is yapping too much, Arle and reader are married, mentions of giving head

I‘m writing this while I have to get up for a 10 hour shift in 5 hours so there might be a few grammar mistakes here and there🙏🏼 Will be writing part two later!

NSFW utc, MDNI

A bored yawn threatened to escape your lips as you listened to Pantalone‘s never ending scheming as you were seated at the end of a rather long Mahagoni table. The wine glass in front of you obviously untouched.

In an attempt to cure the almost deadly boredom inside of you, your gaze wandered over to Tartaglia who was more or less about to fall asleep, then over to Columbina who seemed to be more interested in grooming the feathers on the back of her head rather than listening to her colleague until your eyes stopped at a familiar hair clip neatly keeping the red-white hair of your wife together.

Her head was turned into Pantalone‘s direction, making it seem like she was genuinely interested in whatever he was spouting at the other end of the table. But of course, knowing the fourth Fatui Harbinger since the cute age of six years, you knew way better by the way she was fidgeting with the various rings on her black fingers, including your wedding ring. She was bored to death.

She probably already noticed your lingering stare too, but obviously decided to ignore it for the sake of avoiding Pantalone‘s attention.

Rude.

You let your eyes wander further down her trained body, her biceps more than noticeable, even underneath her jacket. You subconsciously bit your lip at the sight. Especially at the memory of what that biceps look like when she is pressing her hand onto your mouth to keep you quiet as she fucks her dick inside of your clenching cunt.

With a deep inhale, to keep yourself focused, you reached after your wineglass, bringing it to your lips to take a small gulp. You licked the red stain off of your lips to avoid making a grimace at the bitter taste.

God this tastes awful.

Sighing as you place your glass back down onto the table, your eyes moved back to your wife‘s hands once more, her fingers now eerily still.

So she is paying attention to you.

This made a lightbulb go on right above your head. I mean… she probably will kill you for it but a little fun never hurt… right? And before you could stop yourself your hand already wandered underneath the table, where you carefully rested your hand now on Arlecchino‘s thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

And for the first time of this meeting she finally turned her head back to you, crimson-black eyes piercing into yours as she raised an eyebrow at you, not opening her mouth but it was enough for you to know what she wanted to say.

What do you think you‘re doing, dove?

A simple smile grazing your lips as your hand slowly made its way up her inner thigh, inching closer and closer to her groin until you cupped the rather soft bulge in her pants. She sucked in a harsh breath at your bold action but her facial expression was still not faltering. How typical for a diplomat of her kind. Always in control of her emotions.

Except for one thing.

She could turn away and cover the lower half of her face with her cursed hand all she wanted but you could feel her thighs tense up as you gave her dick a gentle squeeze, now rubbing your thumb almost agonizingly slow over the fabric covering her.

You saw her free hand suddenly gripping after her own glass of wine, bringing it up to her mouth to take a big gulp. It‘s not like she could get drunk with the balemoon bloodfire flowing through her veins anyways. But still… she didn’t stop you, she didn’t grip your hand, nor did she shove it away.

So you took the opportunity to now move your whole hand up and down over the growing bulge in her pants. You noticed her wet her lips every now and then, head already turned back to Regrator but the way her breathing intensified more with each rub of your hand gave it all away.

Peruere Snezhevna was enjoying this.

You debated for some time if you should actually pull down the zipper on her pants and give her cock a nice handjob but this would obviously be too much for this setting. So you stuck to gentle rubs, giving her a tight squeeze here and there as you slowly but surely felt a small wet spot form on the fabric. Goodness, just the thought of you cleaning up this mess with your own tongue had you pressing your thighs together. The way she‘d always get a good grip on your hair as she settled her dick in your throat while she studied your pretty face trying to handle her length like a good girl.

You were interrupted in your daydreaming as you heard a quite „crack“ next to you. The cause? Arlecchino‘s hand is currently gripping onto the poor wineglass for dear life. Everything else about her seemed normal, even calculated if it weren’t for your wife‘s knuckles turning grey as we speak.

You bathed in her misery, pressing your hand down against her boner, nicely squeezing her until you felt her hand releasing the glass and gripping onto your hand that’s been slowly torturing her for past minutes now. Guiding it up and down the tight fabric, the feeling of the wedding ring on her finger almost hot against your own skin as she cursed something quietly underneath her breath in fontainian, something you couldn’t quite catch.

The feeling of your soaked panties didn’t make this situation any less difficult for you to keep up a normal front. Will this man ever stop talking? It’s not like anyone is listening anyways.

You almost winced as you felt her sharp nails suddenly digging into the skin on your hand and there you felt the soft twitching of her dick underneath the layer of clothes as her thighs tensed up.

She just climaxed. Inside her boxers.

You slowly inhaled, licking your lips as you carefully retreated your hand from between her legs, throwing a side glance over to Arlecchino only to be met with an almost deadly side-eye which made the butterflies in your stomach only light up even more. Her breathing was controlled. Too controlled in fact. Her nails now tapping over the fine wood of the table. Most likely debating whatever she would do with you tonight. That is until you heard the scrapping of wood against the tiles of the polished marble floor as she stood up from her seat, almost immediately throwing her big fluffy coat back over her shoulders to conceal whatever just went on between her thighs.

„Ladies, gentlemen. My wife and I sadly have some urgent business matters we still to have to take care of. I‘m deeply troubled to announce our immediate departure from this meeting.“, there was almost something like jealousy in everyone’s eyes as Pierro dismissed the both of you with a simply wave of his hand, probably because you managed to escape from Pantalone’s never ending scheming.

You were on your feet in no time as you swiftly followed her to the door, her hand grabbing yours while she dragged you outside as a sentence in fontainian left her lips, so quietly you almost thought you were imagining things now.

„Wait until we get home.“

[fangsandfeels]

The vagueness of Astarion sleeping mechanics drives me mad sometimes

So, the game says that elves don't sleep - to the point where it's ironically stated that the only way for them to experience sleeping is to either drink a potion of Angelic Slumber or "get hit really hard with a chair".

Instead, they enter a semi-aware meditative state (Revery) where they experience memories from their past lives (usually most positive and emotional parts). Or they just sorting through their current memories.

Now, we've seen Astarion meditating if his way of lying on a bedroll is anything to go by. He is also immune to sleeping spells. We could also see him sleeping (in a Durge run). I know that devs technically recycle the same sleeping pose for all romanced companions, but still. Also, Astarion has nightmares, which is not typical for elves.

Of course, when I was going through the lore, I scratched the surface, but from what I understood, Revery is supposed to be a controlled state, and nightmares aren't exactly controlled.

But, I've found a very interesting bit that (so far) is still considered part of the official canon:

Elves can sleep and dream just like any human, but almost all surface elves avoid doing so. Dreams, as humans know them, are strange and confusing to elves. Unlike the actual memories of one’s primal soul, present life, or past lives, dreams are uncontrolled products of the subconscious, and perhaps the subconscious minds of those past lives or primal souls as well. An elf who dreams must always wonder whose mind these thoughts first arose from, and why. Priests of Sehanine Moonbow are an exception: they sleep and dream to receive signs from their god, and elves consult such priests to interpret their own dreams."

From: Mordenkainrn's Tome Of Foes, Chapter 2: Elves

And not only does this little bit explain a lot, but it also provides some food for your fic writing purposes.

Now, I'm entering the headcanon territory, so be warned.

Astarion's access to Revery got horribly fucked up after he had been Turned. Not only does he no longer have access to his previous lives since he is technically dead and plucked from the cycle, but he also can't even have his happy or good memories before he became a spawn. Even if they are still there, somewhere in the memory palace, getting to them requires going through the catalog of traumatic and painful memories he acquired after being enslaved by Cazador. It's like running through a burning house trying to rescue your family photo - and the hall gets longer each time. So, entering a trance means confronting the worst memories of his life over and over because there is nothing else there.

Due to this Astarion may resort to sleeping, which elves don't usually do. Elves don't like dreams because dreams are subconscious, and they can't be controlled, which scares them. For Astarion, however, it means there is a chance of him subconsciously dreaming of something nice or just being blissfully empty. However, it doesn't safeguard him from nightmares which (because they are the product of his unconsciousness) get even more twisted than simple memories.

Additionally, there can be a possibility that after becoming a spawn he got cut off from meditation and trances completely, relying on sleeping only: at least, the cut spawn epilogue by Withers mentions how while Astarion needs to sleep again, he doesn't sleep alone. While we don't know what that means exactly (and whether it will ever be implemented in the game), I assume that the tadpole gave him the ability to meditate back, but it was a small improvement because his memory headspace no longer holds happy memories capable of offering solace or refuge.

So, my personal headcanon is that he switches between meditating and sleeping depending on how aware he needs to be, and whatever option feels less torturous at the moment.

For instance, in his Origin run, when he remembers the moment of Cazador carving scars into him, he is in a trance. Which is why the memory is so horribly vivid, as if he is reliving it anew.

However, when he has a nightmare where Cazador finds him, he is sleeping and experiencing a memory affected by his subconsciousness. Which is why he jolts himself awake and desperate to know the limits of his freedom.

So, yes, the man literally can't catch a break.

On a happier note (and for your hurt/comfort fanfiction purposes), once Astarion starts traveling with Tav and the group, his memory bank gets updated with memories that are actually fun and nice, so he has something to linger upon when he is meditating. Sleeping gradually becomes a bit more pleasant experience because his subconsciousness got more material to work with, so the quality of his non-controlled dreams has to gradually improve.

[themeraldee]

Homelander getting coming to the penthouse to check on because Ryan and y/n have been in the penthouse but, they've been silent for nearly two hours and he was starting to get concerned only to walk in and see y/n and Ryan knocked out, ryan cuddled into y/ns side, and y/n having a protective arm holding him to her side

Homelander has been trying to get them to bond for a while now but y/n is too nervous about him thinking that she's trying "take his mom's place". So how would he react? Would he be jealous? Proud? Would he join and make it a cuddle pile?

The surprising lack of loud clattering, cheering or talking from his penthouse has Homelander going through two scenarios. Either you two have had a fight and are both pouting on the other sides of his home or something much worse has happened.

Unless he tilts his head all the way back in this meeting he's not really sitting at a good angle for his x-ray vision to reach his floor. But the lack of explosions and fire alarms going off has him calming down.

When he finally manages to make it back he's surprised to be presented with a third secret option. You and Ryan are tucked in against each other, lounging across the couch, with the occasional soft snores breaking the silence.

The sight alone makes his heart ache and stomach twist like he's never felt before. After the countless conversations you and him have had about being part of his little broken family he's got going on with Ryan, the relief at seeing you be subconsciously so protective of his boy is immense.

Part of him wishes he was there when you both comfortably settled into each other and dozed off but coming home to the sight is just as heart-warming.

He takes a photo on his phone. He's no photographer by any means, barely able get it to focus. The angle isn't the best but the spirit is already captured.

With a giddy smile he can't hold back he slides right next to Ryan, careful not to disturb him. Getting into position that's comfortable and close enough is difficult. Kids grow up so fast. Ryan is no exception to that. Not long ago Homelander could easily scoop him up and prop him up against his chest. Now Ryan is all long sprawling limbs and while Homelander can still easily pick him up, it's not the same.

Homelander also wraps an arm around both Ryan and you, leaning over a bit to keep his head closer to you. He doesn't try to fall asleep, more content with watching the peaceful rise of your chests, committing the serene scene to his memory in full technicolor detail.

Hopefully next time you two will wait until he's back so he can join in on some quality cuddle time from the start. For now though he's just happy to be finally been given a chance at something that he's been depraved of his entire life.

A family.

[alvfr]

🌹 hii! Any Marvel content?

Btw the Rot snippet!! Amazing!

Aaah, thank you ❤️ And I thought for sure I had some Marvel-writing laying around, but I couldn't find it so I decided to act on my impulses and write this little thing I've had in the back of my mind for a while. It went slightly beyond a snippet, but I am who I am unfortunately. also I headcanon that xavier does not read minds unless permitted, which is in line with how this movie ended originally. paring: logan | james howlett/reader cw: fem mutant!reader, no use of y/n, set after days of future past, implied memory loss or time travel shenanigans, profanity, no smut wc: 1.9k

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

It is considered cliche to start a story with someone waking up, but that is nonetheless where this story begins. When everything you knew or thought you knew about the world changed. And out of every way your life could be turned on its head, you never thought it would be to the soothing tones of Roberta Flack playing on the radio. From the depths of your subconscious rose a tiny voice asking a question. What radio?

Roberta’s voice overpowered your internal one and became the first thing to wake you from a deep and comfortable slumber. Too deep and too comfortable, perhaps, compared to what you were used to. The same went for the bed — too soft and too warm and too nice smelling. A part of you tried to piece it together and failed. What bed?

For several long seconds before you fully woke, you pondered if you had died sometime during the night and woken up in heaven. More and more of your body stirred, though, indicating vitality. Including your eyelids that blinked open only to immediately squeeze shut at the incessant sunlight streaming in through the window. Faint alarm bells chimed in the back of your groggy mind. What window?

Still, not enough to break through to the rational part of your brain, you settled further into the fluffy pillow and closed your eyes again. A slight breeze tickled the back of your neck though and you twitched in annoyance. You twisted your head this way and that, but the tickling continued so you tried turning around to pull the covers up over your shoulder. Except you found yourself locked in place by something warm and heavy. Someone warm and heavy whose breath continued to tickle the back of your neck.

Your eyes burst open, and your entire body froze, not daring to even breathe. Your mind finally caught up to the unnatural warmth that came from the way your body slotted together with someone else’s in the large, comfortable bed you had never seen before. In a room you had never seen before. You twisted your head to peek at the person behind you, the one pressed flush up to your backside. With their hairy legs entangled with yours, with their scruffy face nestled into your neck, and with their muscular, heavy arm splayed over your midriff. 

First, you saw nothing but large tufts of dark brown hair, but your movement must have woken him. Definitely a him. Sun-blessed skin, a solid, rugged jaw covered in something that went way beyond a five o’clock shadow, and deep-set, weary eyes that remained closed for now. He grunted and groaned as if wordlessly admonishing you for disturbing his peaceful sleep, and his arm around your waist tightened. Much like yourself, he squeezed his eyes shut first and rubbed his face back down into the pillow and your neck, scratching his scruff onto your bare skin. Shockwaves spun through both your mind and nerve endings when he absentmindedly placed a kiss on your exposed shoulder.

“What the fuck?” you whispered, not really sure why you had not bolted from his grip. It was almost like that even if your mind could not comprehend what you were doing in this strange bed with this strange man, your body had no qualms about it. “What the fuck?”

“Hng?” the man grunted again and took several tries to blink his tired eyes fully open. Unfamiliar hazel eyes stared at you, and you stared back, watching his lip curl in irritation and his heavy eyebrows pull down to a scowl. Somehow, the sight of you did not seem to disturb him, quite the opposite, in fact, as he leaned over with eyes half-closed and kissed you right on the mouth. Soft, chaste, warm. Familiar in a completely unfamiliar way and gone before you could even comprehend what had happened. A sound vibrated through the man’s chest, almost a growl before he promptly closed his eyes and laid back down. “Hrmm.”

Every part of you burned, a hot blister running everywhere you still touched and where you had touched. Your mouth hung open from where his kiss had landed, a hint of wetness on your bottom lip that chilled in his absence. Both the intimate act itself and the strange nonchalance with which he did it made you want to implode. 

You held your breath, unable to either inhale or exhale, with your head reeling at the idea of being kidnapped by some weirdly cuddly pervert before his grip on you tightened and his eyes snapped back open. The confusion shone off of him, and you stared at each other, both unblinking and unmoving.

His voice came gruff and heavy with sleep, “Who the hell are you?”

“Who the hell are you?”

His focus danced around the room, not settling on either you or the interior. He tilted his head backward in the direction of the radio but did not fully turn, probably because you pinned him down with the way you lay. “What year is this?”

“What year is this?”

Now he did turn around, flipping over so you fell back onto the mattress. The movement tugged down the covers, revealing his hairy muscular chest that your fingers itched to run your hands over, and you dug your nails into your palm instead because what the fuck? You didn’t even know this guy, and even so, you could feel the way your stupid body pulled toward him. 

For some reason, the man stared at the fancy radio that declared it was playing ‘Golden Oldies’ on the holographic display and let out a tiny sigh of relief. “Twenty-twenty-three?” he asked you as if that was the most important question where you lay half-naked in bed together. “Is this twenty twenty-three?”

The earnestness of his question made your own take the backseat for a spell. You sat up, noting how you had on an unfamiliar black t-shirt, and rubbed your face. “I thought it was, but with the way you’re asking, I’m not sure anymore.”

“Is everyone,” he swallowed, and you noted the way his throat moved, “alive?”

“Define everyone,” you mumbled, but something glinted on your hand, and you pulled it away from your face to look at it. That had not been there last night, either. A ring. A simple, nondescript golden ring. Almost like a wedding ring. “What the fuck is this?”

The man raised an eyebrow, seeming unconcerned, and ran a hand over his scruff. “Hey, no judgment.”

Ignoring him, you pulled off the offending object and gave it a critical glance. “Who the fuck is,” you squinted at the tiny text, “James Howlett?”

“What?” His panicked tone spoke volumes, and you turned to stare at him. Was he James Howlett? When you said nothing, his voice grew tighter. “What did you just say?”

He had frozen with his hand still up by his face, and you both noticed it at the same time. The disturbingly similar ring on his finger and you wrenched it off him before he could protest. It was the same cut as the one you had, just larger and thicker, and with a different engraving, this one containing your name.

“What the fuck?” you snapped and tore out of the bed, mind overriding your meddlesome body as you hurled the rings at him. Then followed with the books from the overfilled bookshelf by the window. “What kind of disturbed, twisted, pathetic loser are you? You kidnapped me to live out some—”

He dodged the incoming projectiles, sounding more weary than angry. “Hey. Hey! Calm down!”

“—stupid handmaid’s tale bullshit fantasy—”

The man grabbed a book from mid-air and yelled, “Hey! I didn’t drug you or kidnap you, okay? I’ve never even seen you before!”

“Right! Sure! You just happened to have a ring lying around with my name on it in case I happened to wake up in your bed for some reason? You’re sick, mister! Sick!” You reached for another book but grabbed hold of a picture frame instead and were about to fling it at him. Except you caught sight of the picture, eyes widening to an unnatural degree, and held it up. “What in the ever-loving reverse Stockholm syndrome is this?”

The picture showed you, in a wedding gown, next to him, in a suit. Remarkably realistic, down to the genuine smiles on both your faces and the flurry of confetti that rained down over you from beyond the frame. 

“Whoa, hey, I’ve never seen that before. Lady, listen to me, last thing I remember, I was in 1973 trying to fix the future.”

“Oh my god, you’re insane. You’re completely out of your mind! I’m leaving and so help you god or anyone else if you try to stop me! I’m a mutant, you know; I can kick your ass seven ways to Sunday!”

The man’s face locked somewhere between confusion and amusement from where he sat in the bed, surrounded by books and messy covers. It did not occur to you that you should have been scared of him before you strode across the room, heading for the door. Almost as if your body overrode that particular feeling, as if deep down you knew this man would never hurt you.

Your brain was fully onboard with the getting-the-hell-out-of-here-plan, however, and you tore the door open only to reveal a hallway you had never seen before filled with kids you had never seen before. All kinds of kids, really, some of them obviously mutants and some at least human-looking. The myriad of noises and displays of powers momentarily distracted you from the bald man in the wheelchair right outside the door that you were sure you had seen before.

“Good morning,” he said with a polite smile, fingers steepled in front of him. “I’ve come to inform you that we’ve regretfully had several students complain about noises from your room. Again. I must ask you, again, to please keep it down as long as you are staying here near the dormitories. I know this is an inconvenience, but the refurbishment of the teacher’s lodgings is expected to be completed within a few more days. We have, wisely as it seems, included several layers of soundproofing.”

“Charles?” 

“Holy shit, you’re Charles Xavier.”

“Language, Professor Howlett,” Charles fucking Xavier said with a raised eyebrow. To you. He called you Professor Howlett and you could not even think of a reply while he raised a wrist to check his watch. “Speaking of, don’t you both have classes to teach?”

You only stared and let out a strained whispered, “What?”

“Charles,” the man behind you — presumably James Howlett — repeated, and you heard the rustle of cloth as he got out of bed. He sounded breathless when he said, “You did it.”

“Did what, Logan? ” 

Okay, maybe the man was not James Howlett? Either way, he came to stand next to you but paid you little attention from where he stared at Xavier. Open-mouthed, in awe, relieved, happy?

When Logan said nothing, Xavier gave you both a short nod. “Just keep it to an acceptable volume, please. Everyone knows you are happily married; there’s no need to remind everyone quite as frequently as you are. And get dressed, please! Class starts in five minutes.” 

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

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[grunckle]

My view on the cycle.

Cycles are probably the most mysterious part of Rain World lore, and a common consensus I see on them is things involving multiple, branching timelines. However recently I've heard a theory that I believe fits in much better with the narrative and lore.

The main base of the theory is the karma flower dialogue from Moon,

"This is a hallucinogenic plant. They used to call it a 'Wheel Flower'. It became the symbol for enlightenment as it momentarily enables a creature to let go of its carnal self, and to contact the selves of other planes - dreams, memories, imagined worlds."

The theory summarized is that when we sleep, we can have possibly countless dreams of death. These are our, "cycles" in game. But eventually we wake up into a true reality, which is revealed to us when we progress and rest again. In this way the player and all other creatures act as a sort of seer to other terrifyingly realistic subconscious probabilities, (dreams and imagined worlds) until actually experiencing one true reality. If death is your reality, then you simply reincarnate, which is what happens in hunter's campaign via cancer death.

Karma fits into this by being the one thing that "remembers" these dreams. Even if your death wasn't real, your karma is still affected by it and is tied to you in reality.

I prefer this theory to the timeline theories because of the aforementioned karma flower dialogue, but also because timeline theories have a whole lot of complications when it comes to how ancients tracked time and objectivity. I just believe this theory is a good bit simpler and fits better into what we're already told.

But of course it poses one problem, with this theory it implies that all the slugcats we play as (except Hunter as I mentioned) would have never actually "died" in real life. But, if you've ever played Dark Souls and heard of hollowing then you might know what I'm getting at. By giving up, you do die. And the vast, vast majority of Rain World players give up. Very few make it to the end, the ones that did are skilled enough to have never died outside of these subconscious worlds.

[louvaine]

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader synopsis: slow, sometimes uneasy, mornings spent with the love of your life. mornings you want to have for the rest of your days.

The early morning sunrise is welcoming as it spills through the crack in the blinds, swallowing the room up in a blend of soft oranges and reds. The sun continues to make a slow ascent over the horizon, waking the world with a gentle explosion of comfort as it splinters across the sky, expelling the lingering nightmares pulling at your subconscious. It’s the first time in weeks that Aaron’s next to you, so close that it’s hard to decipher where your body ends and his begins.

“Aaron.”

A soft grunt.

“Aaron.”

His eyes flicker.

“Baby,” another murmur.

But he still doesn’t wake up to the affection in your voice.

Nor does he acknowledge the faint touch of your fingertips as they dance across his abdomen, tracing the old scars that blemish his skin: memories of a survival of the fittest, where the reaper’s blade had permanently sliced his skin and almost destroyed the future you’d been building together. His body is eerily still except for the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he takes a breath, freckled skin pale against the dark sheets beneath him.

He looks peaceful; innocent.

Angelic in the early morning fragments of light.

Except you know Aaron Hotchner is anything but holy.

“Aaron,” you whisper, mouth pressed to his ear.

There’s a brief moment where there’s nothing and then, without warning, he’s quickly shifting his position, fists closing around the covers in anticipation of them being snatched from him. Even when he’s half-asleep, he seems to know you better than you know yourself, predicting the moves you want to make before they even enter your mind. There’s no flicker of regret or annoyance at the way he can read you so well, because this is the life you’d always dreamed of; curled up in one another’s warmth as though the world doesn’t exist outside the two of you. It’s barely dawn but you find yourself wishing that this moment never ends, that you never have to sacrifice another moment with him for the sake of his job.

“Morning, baby,” you hum.

He presses a tender kiss to your shoulder.

The sun dances along his skin as he adjusts his body so it rests against yours, the palm of his hand brushing innocently against your thigh. His touch doesn’t linger before he’s reaching for you again, toppling your body back onto the mattress and trapping you underneath him.

“I can’t breathe,” you groan out.

“Should’ve let me sleep in then.”

He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, following the slope of your neck until eventually his forehead is resting against yours. There’s a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and it feels like you’re in a freefall, spinning out as you experience all the butterflies you felt when you first met, falling in love all over again. It doesn’t take much; it never has when it comes to him.

“Let me go, Aaron.”

He kisses you, then murmurs, “Never.”

A smile crawls across his face when the sound of your laughter echoes through the room. He’s still holding you close, feeling the thrum of your heartbeat against his as he profiles the way your body subconsciously seeks him out. He watches as you follow his movements, craving the closeness as you lean back into his emanating comfort as though you won’t be able to survive without him.

“I hate you.”

“Didn’t take you for a liar.”

Aaron’s kiss is warm and a little sleep-sour and slow, soft lips moving against yours. It’s chaste at first and incredibly sweet, making your stomach flip as you open your mouth. Aaron chuckles at your obvious neediness, breath ghosting over your parted lips, but obliges, licking his way into your mouth and deepening the kiss.

“I missed you,” you whisper into his skin.

Aaron’s been gone for longer than he ever has before, working through a backlog of cases that he can never talk about. He’s spent the last month speaking up for victims who no longer have a voice, but for each case the team dedicates themselves to, the weight of the burden that comes with it increases tenfold. The aftermath is written in the tired lines of his face, and this time, it matches the dark purple bruising across his cheekbones and split skin of his knuckles that look raw in the muted shadows of the sunrise. Seeing Aaron hurt makes your heart ache in your chest and all you want to do is take him in your arms and never let him leave again. 

“How are you feeling?”

He nods, reassuring. “I’ll be fine.”

He almost sounds like he believes it, and deep down, it might be true. But all you can see is the bruises, the vacant look in his eyes, the fact that he looks like he’s been through hell and there’s not one single part of you that takes him at his word. There’s always a brief period of time when he gets home that he’s still Hotch, the stoic Unit Chief, the man who never smiles, all detached and cold, eyes closed off in a way that sets your frayed nerves on edge.

It takes time to teach himself how to just be Aaron again.

“And you? How are you?”

An ever-steady silence begins to grow, settling amidst the distance but he doesn’t loosen his grip. He allows you as much time and space you need to readjust to having him back, knowing that the thread tying you both together could slip from his grasp at any moment. He watches you, a sharp-clawed glance that pierces through skin until he’s so far deep into your soul, he can see straight through you.

“Better, now you’re here,” you answer.

He can feel the catch in your breath and the way your pulse races under his touch and knows, without a shadow of a doubt, you are his home and there is nothing in the world that could stop him from coming back to you.

“What are you thinking about?”

“How I’d sell my soul if it meant you’d never leave again.”

The words seem to trigger something in him, something so visceral you can almost feel it in the air. He pulls back, not too far, but creates enough distance that he’s able to scan you, seeking some clarity in the way you can’t meet his eyes. His keen eye surveys the room like there’s something out of place, like there’s something missing, something he hasn’t noticed before. He just can’t put his finger on it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Aaron──”

“I don’t deserve you.”

His voice is hollow; muted.

It’s something he’s thought about far too often before, losing himself in the what-ifs. He has this recurring nightmare where he loses you too, like he’s lost everyone else who meant something to him. He’s so used to losing those he loves, he doesn’t understand what it means when someone stays, when someone survives. 

“Don’t say that,” you beg.

“It’s true──”

“I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

He shakes his head, and holds you tighter; there’s no telling when he’ll let you go again. It’s a tangle of bruised limbs against soft, dewy skin and arms entwined until there’s barely any space to breathe in between. He nudges his nose against yours as he mumbles soft, overdue apologies against your lips, like he’s trying to make up for his absence with excuses you’ve never really needed or excuses you’ve never once asked for.

“Aaron?”

His eyes soften as they meet yours.

He savours the way the morning casts a subtle light over your body like a soft caress of a hand, highlighting the soft freckles on your skin. He never takes this for granted, knowing deep down in his bones that he’s lucky to have you waiting for him at home, regardless of the bitterness inside him, regardless of the sacrifices you both have to make to stay together. Somehow all of the darkest times are instantly dwarfed by moments like this.

“Honey,” he says, with a grin.

“Why are you looking at me like that?

 “Any reason why you’re on my side of the bed?”

The observation, as unexpected as it is, coaxes a laugh out of your throat, the sound bubbling up in your chest before you can stop it. It seems like a mundane thing in the grand scheme of things. Minutes ago, the room seemed smaller, the sombre mood immersing you in bruises and nightmares and the metaphorical distance separating twin souls.

“I missed you.”

Aaron frowns, then asks, “What?”

“It’s just──the pillow still smells like you,” you explain, voice low as you rest the palm of your hand against his jawline. “It made me feel a little less alone, like maybe you were here by my side all along. It sounds stupid, I know, but it helped.”

“It’s not stupid,” he breathes out.

He reaches out for you, fingers intertwined with yours.

He’s careful as he drapes his body on top of yours, leaning down to press the gentlest of kisses against your lips. It’s brief, but it’s filled with every ounce of the love he feels and your chest tightens at the gesture, choked up with the sudden rush of emotion. He kisses across your nose, then your cheek until eventually he seeks a path down to your neck, pressing another kiss there before he rests his head against your chest, hugging your body tight.

“I love you so much, honey.”

His voice is quiet; subdued as the confession lingers.

He’s said it before, a thousand times, in a hundred different ways but this feels different. He’s clinging onto you like an anchor in a raging storm and he’s afraid to drown in your absence. He says it again, and then again, and it strikes against your entire being as you melt further into his touch, relishing the moment before the outside world steps in to destroy it all over again.

But here, in this moment, his sacred declaration settles in your soul and for the first time in months, a semblance of peace washes over you.

A simple reminder that you’ve found a home in Aaron, and he’s found a home in you.

[vividxpages]

✩‧˚౨ৎ˚✩‧ The Great War PART 3₊✩˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧

PART 1 + PART 2

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 2700

summary: You've made it to Dragonstone, but there still is distrust against you in the air and Jace has had enough of it.

warnings: nightmares, arguments at council

a/n: Thank you for all the love this little story has been getting. 💕 I'll upload all three chapters on my ao3 account too!

𓆩♡𓆪

We can plant a memory garden Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair And we will never go back

Fire ghosting over your skin. Warm brown eyes looking into yours from across the dinner table. A first shy kiss, exchanged in the safety of a childhood bedroom. Naked feet on cold stone. Hatred racing through your veins as you watched your brothers bully him. Learning what a bastard was. A dagger in too small hands. Blood sullying the floor. Tears Suffocating as the advisors of your family talked about endless marriage arrangements, tucking on your arms like you were a doll about to break in half. Your dragon and his, dancing in the sky. and anger and nothing to be done about it. A sapphire eye watching you closely. Sister…what a delight it’ll be to end you-

You awoke with a strangled gasp, shooting up and gripping your own throat to rip away the cold hand you had just felt there. Nails scraped over your sensitive skin, nothing to hurt except for your sensitive flesh.

The darkness of the bedroom stared back at you, a silent monster in the corner of the room, far away from the few candles that were still burning and dripping on the window sill.

Your own breath was too loud in your ears and quickly, you clamped a hand over your mouth and closed your eyes, trying to silence yourself.

Silky blankets pooled down at your waist and as quietly as you could, you looked over your shoulder at Jace sleeping peacefully next to you. One arm outstretched into the space where you just had laid, he had not awoken from your startling. His mouth was slightly open and his dark curls were a stark contrast to the light pillows his head was resting on.

Earlier tonight, you had been attending dinner before retreating back to his rooms together. You both had sat by the window, sharing a bottle of exquisite wine before falling asleep, inseparable and cuddled together in his big bed.

Perhaps the liquor had been the mistake.

It had been some days since you had arrived at Dragonstone, but so far you had not been able to shake off the memories of King’s Landing and your family. You had tried your best to hide your unease, despite how lucky you felt to finally be by Jacaerys’ side, but the nightmares came for you anyway.

You took a deep breath and touched your healing shoulder; the bandage having been changed by Jace just this morning. You were here and you had nearly paid with your life for it – gratitude should’ve followed you with every step. And still, the wheels in your head kept on spinning.

Jace let out a small huff in his sleep, his hand flexing as if his subconsciousness told him you were not in his embrace anymore. You brushed the sweat away from your brow and forced yourself to lay back once more.

The tension seeped out of your bones as you cuddled closer to Jace, gladly accepting the warmth of his arms around you, his sleeping form hugging you to him like a beloved childhood trinket. His cheek rested on top of your head and you placed your hand on his heart, feeling how calmly it beat underneath your palm.

All you needed was some rest and those nightmares would not come and plague you anymore, you tried to tell yourself. Everything was alright now, Jace and you would be alright.

You tried to believe your own thoughts and drifted off into sleep again, own hand still on Jace’s heart as the other found its way into his hair.

♡☁︎⋆｡˚

You should’ve expected that it was a mistake for you to be at council.

The newest wounds of the war were still fresh and you could not deny the resemblance of you and your kin, a girl with light hair but the wrong features and blood walking through the mighty halls of Dragonstone. For Jacaerys, there had been no question whether to bring you along to the council meeting or not.

To him, you had always belonged.

Belonged to his family and to him, without any hesitation.

But this was not shared among some members of the council and so, when you had walked in by Jace’s side, you already had felt the skeptical gazes of the lords in Rhaenyra’s services. When you sat down next to Jace and they knew you were not going to leave again, you knew it was going to be a long day.

Throughout the meeting, it did not get better.

Whenever it was your turn to provide usual information about Aegon or the ones in his service, you could feel the doubting looks of Rhaenyra’s council men on you, questioning your honesty and barely listening. Across the room, Baela gave you a sympathetic smile as you were once again cut off, reminding yourself of your own mother in Aegon’s council.

Unheard and powerless.

Where you had been forced to leave off, Jace often continued the conversation, pointing out various things you had told him in the privacy of his chambers, but when Rhaenyra turned the conversation towards possible methods to block the capitol’s provision system, one of the older Lords finally had enough.

“I believe it is wiser to discuss such matters without the presence of the prince and his…company.” One of the lords interrupted Rhaenyra. “A raven does not take long to reach King’s Landing after all, Your Grace.”

You blinked in surprise.

Beside you, Jace tensed visibly.

“And by all means, what are you referring to with this?” Rhaenyra asked tiredly, rubbing her temple.

“I only mean the best for the purpose of our rightful Queen and I doubt the presence of our newest guest here on Dragonstone benefits such meetings as this one.” The lord smiled slyly. Even Rhaenyra seemed to stunned to give an immediate answer.

You watched as Jace’s hand curled into a fist on the hilt of his sword.

“My lord, I do not intend to ever go back to King’s Landing, nor do I wish to correspond with my brothers.” You formulated your words carefully. It was at least one benefit of your upbringing; you knew how to control your temper while you could almost feel smoke coming from Jace next to you, the dragon in him barely staying under his skin. “I’ve chosen my side in this war. Vhagar and her rider did not chase me across the bay because my brother and I thought of it as an entertaining game.”

“Then why have we not once received a demand of the princess being returned back to the capitol?” He challenged you and you tensed, jaw locked. “I’ve warned the members of this council of such a reckless decision, stating that it is as grievous as an open attack in the field to help one of their spouses, a girl too, escape and yet I was ignored.”

“You had no say in this matter.” Jace cut in, glaring at him from the other side of the table. Your heart fluttered at his stance, the powerful will in his eyes to defend you in front of everyone. But you were not quite done yourself yet.

“You also seem to overestimate my importance in this conflict, my lord.” You regarded him cooly. “If I can be of service for my queen with any knowledge I might have, I will be. But my family does not need me by their side. I could’ve thrown myself out of the highest tower of the Red Keep, it would’ve been just as indifferent for them.”

But you knew the damage was already done.

You wore the colors of your beloved now, the colors of the true Queen and yet they saw Alicent Hightower when they looked at you. Or worse, a vicious vessel of your brother right in their middle, having seduced the eldest son of their queen, to mess with his mind and outplay them. A witch, a whore, a spy.

After your harsh statement, only the crackling of the fireplace could be heard through the hall, your chest aching with how much you had to fight yourself not to show your fury and distress.

“All I’m saying is-“

“I believe we’ve heard enough from you-“ Jace interrupted him curtly.

“that the whispers our sources passed on to us are not to be treated lightly. If they are true and it has been planned to wed Aemond with his sister, the very woman who warms the bed of our young pri-“

“One more word about her and I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to my dragon.“ Jacaerys exploded, his voice thundering through the council room.

“Jacaerys.” Rhaenyra called for order. She glared sternly at her oldest and the guilt in your stomach only intensified. You were the reason it had escalated like this. “You’re dismissed from council for today. This conflict is already complicated enough, I don’t need arguments in my own rows. And you won’t ever speak about her and or son in this manner. Or I will be the one feeding your tongue to my dragon.”

Embers still burned in Jace’s eyes as he stared down the lord. You stepped to his side, tugging at his sleeve in order to get his attention, but he stayed fixated on the man, the desire to run him through with the sword he carried evident on his face. Had he even heard his mother’s words?

“Jace.” You said quietly. “Let’s go, come on.”

Your beloved did not look at you yet, but you felt the smallest tension drain out of him as you rested one hand on the hilt of his sword. Slowly, as if he was considering it in his mind, he stepped back from the table, turning to look at his mother.

“My queen.” He nodded once and swallowed, voice shaking the tiniest bit. “If this…insult to me and her decides to roam the hallways of our castle after today’s meeting alone, I cannot guarantee your council won’t be missing one of its members tomorrow.”

You could feel his hand shaking in yours as you led him outside, bringing a safe distance between the two of you and the council. It felt like Jace was about to rush back and draw his sword if you let go of him now.

When you reached one of the alcoves by the windows, the breeze from the sea refreshing your mind, you stopped, allowing yourself a moment to lean your head against the wall and take a deep breath. You could hear the waves crashing down on the shore, the faint screech of a dragon in the distance…

Once you were ready to open your eyes again, Jace’s dark ones were already on you.

You looked at each other, content in the silence between you. Not able to help yourself, you gave him a sad smile and crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Well, I suppose this wasn’t a very successful council meeting.” Your voice sounded tired to your own ears.

Jace was not done yet, but you could’ve figured he wasn’t. “He was in the wrong to insult you like this, you are the princess-“

“I’ve done nothing so far to gain their trust except for leaving my home behind.” You pointed out.

“They should trust you simply because I trust you.” Jacaerys argued, shaking his head with a grimace. “Instead, they’re splashing out their poison, undermining me and my mother’s authority for our decision to bring you to us, to safety.”

You sighed, pushing away from the wall and stepping in front of him, cupping his face in your hands. He closed his eyes at your soft touch, exhaling through his nose and shuddering just like Vermax did sometimes. To your relief, he leaned into it after a moment, accepting the small comfort.

“Their words mean nothing to me.” You whispered. “The only thing I’m regretting is giving you such troubles…”

“You could never trouble me.” Jace said in all honesty, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. After a moment, his gaze darkened again and he added: “And you’re not going to marry Aemond. I will not let that happen. You don’t ever have to go back there and we’ll stay together, alright? I’m going to meet my end before I’ll let any harm come to you.”

You shook your head, not letting him see how much the thought of losing him terrified you. “Their sources are wrong. There have been no plans of marrying me to anyone. Like I said, my family does not see me as this important. They already have one sister as queen.”

“You are important to me.” Jace asserted, his hand a comforting presence on your waist. “You are my princess, always have been.”

You sighed, leaning his head against his shoulder and letting him hold you in the empty hallway. There was nothing more you wanted to do than melt into him, safe and sound in your prince’s embrace. How different things would’ve been for the two of you if there had been no war. Back in King’s Landing the fantasies of what could’ve been kept you awake at night, wondering if Jace and you would’ve been long betrothed now if your mother had never claimed your father had changed his mind on his deathbed.

But none of it mattered now.

The past could not be changed and neither could be your alliances and your love for him. You had chosen and you had done it well.

“I love you.” You murmured and he mirrored your words with a sweet kiss, one finger delicately lifting your chin and hugging your waist. The kiss built you up, made you feel strong and loved and unshed tears sprung into your closed eyes at the tenderness he treated you with.

“I love you too, my princess.”

His princess. You smiled into the crook of his neck, blushing although the unease of the council meeting had not yet left you completely. Jace’s warm breath brushed over your ear and you were sure he was going to stand here with you for hours if it made you feel better.

Your fingers played with his curls and you placed a little kiss on his throat. “Care to take a quick ride?”

“In the sky or our bed?” Jace murmured and you drew back abruptly, a cheeky grin already on his face.

“Are you the same prince who threatened to feed a man’s tongue to Vermax mere minutes ago?” You teased him back, although his question did spark some…creativity in you. “Because I do not recognize him now.”

He chuckled as he took your hand and urgently led you outside, the salty air and the sunshine of the day brushing away the last bad memories of earlier. You could see your dragon and Vermax dance with each other above the grounds of Dragonstone and everything seemed a little brighter now. On the slope, red poppies grew and he bent down to pluck on, delicately placing it into your hair.

You smiled at each other as you held still.

“Let me race you and if you’re lucky, I’ll think about that second option.” You smiled brightly at him, although you knew you could not resist him anyway, not when it had taken so long to be by his side. And Jace brushed your comment aside as he sticked out his tongue, knowing well enough that it did not take much to get you riled up, just as he always desired you, every minute of his day, forever.

All of your problems were not solved.

War was on your doorstep and you knew this was only the beginning of a long fight.

But when you ascended into the sky with Jacaerys on Vermax by your side, you knew you were not standing alone anymore.

You had him and the love you two shared and no war was ever going to be strong enough to change that.

taglist: @alyssa-dayne @littleblackcatinwonderland

[awkwardandeccentric]

I think Octavia knows more than she’s letting on.

Let me preface this by saying I will not allow any Octavia slander or victim-blaming for Stolas. Octavia is a child and Stolas is surviving domestic violence. It’s an on-site block if I see that nonsense.

Having said that

Going off my own experiences watching my parents, I always knew something was…off. I couldn’t place it. I couldn’t name it. I was too young to understand the concept of abuse. My parents were married. They loved each other…right?

Unlike Stella and Stolas, my parents actually had loved each other at some point. But that didn’t change the fact that my earliest memories are of extreme stress, living in tension I didn’t cause but felt it was my job to fix. If I couldn’t fix it, I needed to avoid it.

Octavia seems to go the avoiding route. She plays music whenever she can, she tries to stay out of her parents’ way, and she doesn’t react at all to her mom throwing her dad’s plants around or screaming while tossing their butler at him.

Stella, by abusing Stolas, is also abusing Octavia. How do you think that affects her? Even if Stolas and Stella keep the worst of it away from her, she’s still hearing her mother use racist, degrading language towards her father and seeing Stella be violent with his things. She’s still learning that that’s an acceptable response to stress. Having a parent lose their shit at you for the simplest of things also dysregulates your nervous system. Chronic yelling is abusive because it puts you into fight/flight/freeze mode 24/7. That’s going to wreak havoc on your mind and body. Octavia has learned to keep her head down and stay invisible so she doesn’t have to deal with it (as is not her job. The abuser is always 100% at fault for the abuse. It’s also not a child’s job to protect a parent).

We also know she had nightmares as a kid of Stolas vanishing. I’ve seen speculation that this is her powers manifesting and I don’t disagree- this is a fantasy show- but I also think her subconscious knows there’s danger in her home. Her little five-year-old mind knows something is very wrong and the consequence of things not being made right is her father disappearing (and she was right. Stolas is only alive because Andrealphus convinced Stella to call off the hit).

We also never see her actually interact with Stella. Every time she talks about her parents, she’s either talking about Stolas as an individual or both of them as a unit. There’s no portraits of her playing with Stella. She never mentions good memories of Stella. She knows subconsciously that Stella is an unsafe, uninvolved parent and Stolas is her safe place.

Except, Stolas is fighting back.

There’s this thing that’s not talked about often called ‘reactive abuse.’ It’s when the victim is pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed until they yell back or hit back. And then the abuser gets to turn around and say “oh my god you’re so abusive how could you do this to me??”

When Octavia is complaining about Stolas and Stella “screaming at each other” I think what she’s actually seeing is Stolas pushed to his limit and biting back after 17 years of keeping himself as small and quiet as possible. But because she doesn’t have this language or knowledge, to her, it looks like he’s fighting with Stella, the known aggressor, for no reason.

Where am I going with this? Idk. Set this girl up with a case worker and a workbook on domestic abuse.