#sometimes a person just wants to RELAX with something they LIKE and not be FORCED to deal with the sTRUGGLES of ~Life~

[farfromharry]

Summary: A late night swim with Lando ends up in an admission of feelings that were a long time coming

lando norris x reader

w/c 1565

A vacation with friends were usually some of your favourite moments. You didn’t always get to see them as often as you would have liked. So when someone suggested a group trip to some island somewhere, you were up for it. But tonight, things just didn’t feel right. The first couple days had been nice, fun and relaxing. By day 4 you were burnt out. The constant presence of other people has drained you in a way you should have really anticipated. Maybe leaving your safe cocoon of your bedroom had been a bad idea after all. You just needed a little ‘you’ time.

At some point, when no one was looking and everyone was laughing, you slipped out. There was a pool outside that you had found yourself drawn to for the last few days. It was nice out there, with the view and the peace. 

You didn’t end up being alone for long. 

“Thought I might find you out here.”

You smiled into your knees. If there was one person that was going to find you out here, it was always going to be him. Some of your friends had mentioned the possibility of Lando joining at some point when the race weekend was over. Max didn’t think he would, what with how busy his schedule was. He would probably want to relax on his own. And then he’d seen the pictures, saw you there smiling and knew he couldn’t stay away. He didn’t see you anywhere near as much as he would like to. 

He came and sat beside you without a word. Any normal person would have asked if you wanted company. Sitting out here surely meant you wanted to be alone. Lando’s company was different. It didn’t feel like you were trying to put on an act. You could be yourself with him and there was no judgement. He knew things worked both ways. 

For a while you both sat quietly. Simply being. 

It was you who ended up being the first to break the silence. “Everything was just getting a little too loud in there. Needed to breathe.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” He got it. A little too well actually. His whole life was a little too loud. He knew what it was like to be forced to socialise when it was the very last thing he wanted to do. Sometimes it’s important to take a break for yourself.

A sigh. He could tell it was one of relief. You didn’t need to pretend now. 

It was so nice to be around someone that just got you. “Missed you.” You remembered a time when you used to go to all his races. Back when he first started in F1 you were his number one cheerleader. Then life and work got in the way. Now it just wasn’t realistic. You wished you got to spend more time with him, but he was far too busy living his crazy lifestyle. And you would never make him feel bad for living his life. 

Your words created a flutter of something in his chest. “Missed you more.” That was the complete truth. There was something he felt when hanging out with you that he didn’t ever feel with someone else. You completed a part of him he was unaware was incomplete. 

Eventually Lando got tired of sitting still, something he did often. He got to his feet, pulling his hoodie over his head. Your brow furrowed. It wasn’t exactly boiling, so you had no idea why he was taking off his layers. It didn’t stop where you thought it was going to. Next came his shirt, then his joggers and finally his socks. Only when he stood there in nothing but his underwear did you have some idea what he was about to do. 

He noticed you eyeing him. Obviously he couldn’t just let it go. “What, you want the boxers off as well?”

You managed a laugh, a very nervous one at that, but your cheeks burned nonetheless. It wasn’t exactly something you hadn’t ever thought about. His flirting caught you off guard a lot though. He enjoyed every second of it. 

With a yell, he took off running, taking a dive into the crystal clear water below. 

“What are you doing?” The laugh that slipped out was completely involuntary. All your previous emotions were quickly replaced by bubbling laughter. 

He emerged from the water with a cheeky grin, shaking the water out of his hair like a dog. You rolled your eyes, splashing him back. It didn’t phase him. He simply shoved his hair out of his eyes and continued looking at you with a menacing look. He was up to something. 

In response to your question, he shrugged his shoulders. “Taking a dip. It’s nice in here. You should join me.” He waved his arms in the water, keeping himself afloat, but his eyes were permanently locked on you.

Considering you had come out here to get away from the chaos inside, you didn’t seem to hesitate when he wanted you to join him. He was transfixed when you pulled off your shirt. It filled you with a sense of power you didn’t know you could feel. With anyone else you would have hated the attention, but you were hopelessly gone for this one. You didn’t want him to ever stop looking at you.

Your shorts came off next. He whistled. You rolled your eyes.

A split second was all it took for you to make the decision to go through with it. Your choice of dive was a cannonball. Something to make the biggest splash possible just to bother him. 

Swimming in your underwear with the man you were in love with was freeing in a way you didn’t expect. There was more laughter from you in the past 10 minutes than you’d had all holiday. It was the effect he had on you.

At some point he’d stopped messing around, his eyes softening when he looked at you. The look he was giving you was too inviting to turn down.

You were the one to swim into his arms. 

There had always been some kind of unspoken thing between you. Things were easy with him. They felt right. But it was unclear to both of them why they had never acted on it. Maybe he didn’t want to drag you into his crazy world, the one that included hate and expectations, not to mention the lack of privacy. Maybe you didn’t feel like you belonged in his world. You weren’t a celebrity, or someone who wanted all that attention. You were just you and you liked it like that. But you also like Lando. And you like Lando a whole lot more than any of those other things.

With your arms around his neck, his own took your waist, keeping you pressed close to him. His head tucked into your neck allowing you to card your fingers through his soggy curls. You felt his breath against your skin as he sighed with content. For a short period of time, you just held each other. 

The first kiss to your skin caught you by surprise. His lips against your neck. It was a foreign feeling, though one you could get used to; would rather like to get used to. When you didn’t immediately push him away or react with disgust, he kept going. Another kiss to your jaw, the corner of your mouth. Then he wanted your permission. 

His eyes flickered between yours and your lips, silently asking the question. It was a wonder he couldn’t hear your heartbeat. His nose brushed against yours, thumb tracing your cheekbone. He wanted you to know this was more than just a random act of lust. “I think I love you,” he whispered. There was no ‘think’ about it really. He was just scared of rejection if he bared his heart. 

A breath left your lips. Your heart was pounding. Oddly, you were still at ease. Where you thought a million and one things would be running around in your head, it was quiet up there. You had been unknowingly waiting for this admission. “I know I do. Now, please kiss me.”

Who was he to say no?

Your lips met in a kiss that had been coming for years. 6 years worth of affection poured into one single act. It was overwhelming. It was almost enough to bring you to tears. You never knew you needed Lando like this. Now that you had him, you didn’t think you could ever go back to the unspoken feelings from before. 

If it weren’t for oxygen, you would have kissed him for hours on end. He couldn’t resist stealing one more kiss though. 

The kiss had been coming for so long that it didn’t need to be addressed. So neither of you spoke about it. He focused on something else instead. “They’re totally watching us, right now,” he muttered. How he knew, you had no idea. Maybe he felt their eyes on them.

Your head turned, looking right at the sliding glass doors where your friends were in fact all standing there, watching. They scattered as soon as they knew they’d been caught, pretending they hadn’t done anything. You laughed. Nothing was going to spoil the bubble you were in.

[hedwig221b]

Can we please get some sterek but with “dark” Stiles? Jealous, possessive, obsessive. 🤭🫣 on ur rec list I see Derek ones but not Stiles (sorry if I missed it)

Hmm, check out this fic rec and this AND this

Full and Void

Stiles could be meek, sure. In Derek’s arms, softened under the touch, pinned under his weight. He allowed himself to relax only in Derek’s sole presence. Stiles could also look meek. Small, scared. Let the enemies think he was hiding in his mate’s shadow. After all, no one would stop to think that the shadow could ever be dangerous.

build your bones by pineneedlepants

There’s something acid twisting in Stiles’ scent as he keeps staring at Derek, awkward silence surrounding them. Derek can practically see the gears turning inside Stiles’ head as he comes to his conclusions. ‘’Not a faulty wiring then, huh. Hunters?’’ Derek gives one sharp nod. ‘’The ones after you now?’’ Another sharp nod. ‘’Well, shit,’’ Stiles says, and Derek sees his face widening into a feral grin. ‘’If they ever cross me and mine,’’ he says with dark glee, ‘’they’ll be so fucking sorry for all of their life choices. I can promise you that.’’

the demon slayer by the_problem_with_stardust

Jaz sighs, leaning back against her alpha. “They’re going to tear us apart.” “No they won’t. Alpha Hale is an honorable man.” Maria presses a wry smile into her mate's neck. “It’s literally the only thing every other pack we’ve met with has agreed on.” “But his Emissary…” Jaz swallows hard, trying not to think of the stories they’ve heard. Stories of a man who banished a legion of demons to hell, using only the force of his will.

Surprise Gift by FairyNiamh

Stiles gives Derek a surprise gift. (This is dark and twisted. Read at your own risk.)

Alpha by Nival_Vixen

Stiles has been kidnapped by a serial killer known only as Alpha. Stiles finds himself far too attracted to the man that's probably going to kill him.

The Person You'd Take a Bullet For (is Behind The Trigger) by SadieHerondale

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, but until he gets Derek back, Stiles' actions are going to be worse than bad. And he will get Derek back, come hell or high water.

Blodrød by Onlymystory

A demon possessing Alpha werewolves leads a crazed pack to Beacon Hills. He's been stuck inside werewolf minds, when all he wants is a nice human meatsuit. Humans in packs are rare these days and the demon is practically salivating at the thought of possessing Stiles. It's strong, and the pack was taken off guard, unable to protect Stiles before the demon takes control. But like the demon says...humans in packs are rare.

The Pretty Things (are going to hell) by FaeryQueen07

“You have something of mine,” Stiles says, and he reaches for his hood, pushing it back to reveal the rest of his face. Lips curled up in a smile promising pain and eyes like death, he says, “And now I’m going to take it back.”

We Belong To Each Other by eeyore9990

A new pack comes to visit, bringing with it a beautiful young werewolf who seems intent on challenging Stiles’ budding relationship with Derek.

Perception by DiscontentedWinter 

Peter Hale's client is a murderous sociopath. The best thing Peter can do is get him committed to Eichen House, where he'll never see daylight again. He thinks.

all the kissing by wearing_tearing

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Stiles, Derek’s husband. Now would you kindly take your hands off of him?”

There’s A Beast In My Heart (He’ll Only Bow To You) by RayShippouUchiha

“Stiles.” Derek fucking whimpers and if Stiles wasn’t already dying he’d kill himself for making Derek sound so hurt. Stiles just wants to protect him so much sometimes because no one else ever seems to realize that Derek is so goddamn fragile and Stiles hates them all a little bit for not being able to see that. Or In an effort to expel the Nogitsune Stiles is given the bite but it all goes horribly wrong.

You Belong to Me by bloodwrites

Stiles is glorious when he's angry. The fierce energy that flows through him is almost palpable, and it excites Derek, makes him feel alive like nothing else.

cover me (i'll bear your marks) 

It had taken a couple of years but when Stiles finally realized that he could do things to Derek that no one else could, he never stopped using that to his advantage. It was little things, at first. He could make the man smile, make him laugh. Stiles liked to see Derek soften around the edges in a way that he wouldn’t if Stiles were anyone else. The first time Stiles had touched him— really touched him, fingers moving up underneath the alpha’s henley, lips trailing down the side of his neck— Derek had shivered and let out a whine. And Stiles had realized then that he was in love with the way he could make Derek Hale melt underneath his fingertips.

[masterlist link]

[riemanifests]

You don't need a method.

you really don't have to do anything but just assume / decide / claim / whatever you want to call it. like methods are just to help you but you don't need help, now some of you waver a lot and you are so resistant so in that case you might need the help but you don't need need the help. all you have to do to manifest what you want is accept that you have it now and that's it. yes i mean accept it even if the 3d shows you opposite or if you don't have proof, because that's what an assumption literally is something you accept as true without proof. the law of assumption is literally telling you that you don't need proof that your statement is true in order to manifest it, because it'll manifest anyways. but noo yall would rather trip over it still... ok you don't need time, proof, or even effort to make an assumption. that is something you naturally do as well as manifesting. you just have to accept whatever statement you want to be true as true now and that's it. and accepting it means you're not overthinking it, you're not contradicting it, and you're not even trying to prove it either you're just accepting it and letting it be. you just let it be and you do not do anything to or with it. and i get it, for some of us that is hard especially with doubts and when we're so tied to the old story or maybe the 3d is in your face, that is why you would then use methods. i think affirming is the best just because all you'd have to do is anytime you think about your desire is affirm the same statement that you're assuming, just to remind yourself like hey this is my truth now. one thing that will really help is knowing the basics of the law and the true true basic is just what you assume to be true will be true for you and that's it, it's that simple we just make it so complicated just because of how personal shit feels to us and even our old programming of thinking that you have to put in effort or do something to get something, but no in this case all you have to "do" is fucking decide that you have it and accept that decision. so just live your life, play those games, and do whatever you want. you don't need some routine or some super strict method either, like it's fun right but some of you don't even enjoy doing that shit so stop forcing yourself to do it. here's an example of how to go about assuming what you want to be true: 1. Ask yourself: What do i want to be true for me in my reality? ex: i want a new plushie of my favorite animal 2. Ok now time to tell yourself that what you want is now true i have a new plushie for my collection 3. Now accept it. Accept it to be your truth and just let it be. 4. Anytime you think about the desire reaffirm that statement and that is it. you don't need methods, they're just there to help you if you need that extra help with step 3 and 4 otherwise you're okay to just assume and move on. and if you think constantly doing your method just to see it in the 3d is actually helping, then idk what to tell you but im sure its much easier to just assume and live your life. also you do need to detach from the 3d for this because this isn't about immediately seeing it in the 3d or obsessing over needing it in the 3d, no shit you want it in the 3d too but you're going to have it because you now have it in your mind so you can just relax and trust. a lot of you do not have that trust you're scared and honestly sometimes you just need to be scared and do it anyways sometimes you just need to be willing to let go of the fear and go all in on assuming what you want. so assume, detach, and watch it manifest.

[cloverapple]

How I Shift On Command + How You Can Too

I don’t plan on posting anything other than this or starting a blog, so I don’t need anyone to “believe” in me. The only person you should trust is yourself—trust yourself to resonate positively with what you see online and click away if it doesn’t serve you. This is here for you to take from if it resonates. I literally only made this blog to post this here. My hope is that it reaches at least one person who can take something from this and apply it to their shifting journey. If not, and this post ends up here untouched, I’m just glad to finally get everything down in words and off my chest. 

Jumping straight to the answer because I’m not going to make anyone sit through a long post for it. The rest, the "advice," is here if you want to read it.

The "method"

I figured out what works specifically for me as an individual instead of following everyone else’s journey. Everyone has their “thing” that makes shifting click, a sweet spot that makes reality shifting possible. For me, it’s a combination of the law of assumption and inducing an altered state of consciousness.

During the day, I spend time affirming—or sometimes just reminding myself or keeping a little note nearby—things like:

I can shift.

I know how to shift.

I could shift tonight.

Shifting is accessible to me.

At night, I watch videos, look at Pinterest boards, or listen to music that reminds me of my DR. This ingrains where I’m going in my brain. Sometimes I do this for fun, and other times I skip it entirely.

When I lay down, I always lie on my back and stay somewhat still because I like the feeling of my body going numb. This isn’t necessary to shift, but I enjoy it—it lets me feel the symptoms of hypnagogia (that in-between state of wakefulness and sleep).

To meditate quickly, I count from 1 to 100 with a few affirmations in between to remind myself of what I’m doing. I do this until my body goes numb, and I start messing up the counting. Usually, the mistakes or random, nonsensical thoughts are my signal to start shifting.

At this point, I begin affirming the things I affirmed during the day:

I could shift right now.

I have the ability to shift.

I have the power to shift at any moment.

While I do this, I focus on the feeling of being in my DR—not my surroundings, not my senses, just the internal feeling of being there.

This is where “brazen impudence” comes in. I hard-force myself to feel like I’m in my DR. It’s not about imagining my surroundings but purely about embodying the feeling of being there.

Hypnagogic imagery and sensations like floating often kick in at this point. These are symptoms of your body falling asleep so your awareness can take shape in that sweet spot for shifting.

I continue this, then stop and start counting from 1 to 100 again, with affirmations like:

I can shift.

I know how to shift.

I could shift right now.

Then I repeat the process: using brazen impudence to force myself to feel like I’m in my DR.

Eventually, I reach that threshold between sleep and wake—a liminal state of pure consciousness. Body asleep, mind awake, I call this the “rabbit hole” which is honstly just a deep state of hypnogogia. It’s a state where anything is possible: lucid dreaming, astral projection, slipping into the void, shifting—anything.

When I’m in this state, I use brazen impudence to force myself to feel like I'm shifting to my DR and don't take no for an answer (I tell myself I'm in Barbados and shut the door in my own face). This can involve affirmations or just talking myself through it, either way I wake myself up there. Occasionally, I simply relax, expect to wake up in my DR, fall asleep, and wake up shifted.

Does all that sound complicated? Let me simplify:

Lay down and get comfortable.

Count from 1 to 100 on a loop with affirmations in between until you mess up the counting, get sleepy, or have your mind wander. Like this:

Me: *counts from 1 - 100* Me: *says a few affirmations/askfirmations* Me: *counts from 1 - 100* Me: *says a few affirmations/askfirmations*

On a loop until...

Persist in the feel of being in your DR—not focusing on surroundings or senses, just the feeling. Feeling is the secret.

Alternate between steps 2 and 3 until you’re in that relaxed body asleep/mind awake state, OR just straight up hypnogogia tbh. (That is, if you don’t already shift lol)

From there, choose what feels right: shift from a lucid dream, affirm, slip into the void, or just feel yourself in your DR like I do, convince yourself that either you shifted and are there, or are shifting and will end up there.

One thing I’ll tell you now—regardless of your circumstances, how long you’ve been trying, how long it’ll take, who you are, etc—is that you already know how to shift. You, reading this right now. You know how to shift, and there’s nothing you did to learn it. There’s nothing you can do to unlearn it. It’s something that will stay with you until the end of time.

Why do you think people shift randomly without prior knowledge of shifting? Even people who don’t believe in it? It’s because everyone can shift. You can shift.

Right now, stop reading this post and say in your head or out loud, “I already know how to shift.” Or, if that doesn’t feel right, “I already have the ability to shift,” “No matter what, I have the power to shift,” or “My mind knows how to shift no matter what.”

Can you argue that? No, you can’t. And if your mind starts throwing out “buts,” go back and read that again.

Shifting isn’t difficult, and no one struggles to shift. I’m sure you’ve heard it before—that shifting is simple and happens in seconds—because it does. You don’t struggle with shifting. You can shift; everyone has the power to. What you “struggle” with, so to speak, is figuring out what works for you, what your brain likes, how it operates—because everyone is different.

What ended up working for me more than anything was figuring out how I operate and modifying shifting to fit me—not forcing myself to fit shifting.

Will my method work for everyone? I have no idea. Unless you assume it will work for you, this is what works for me. I’m me, and you’re you.

Before you say “Oh, but I’ve tried everything and nothing has worked so far” and expect me to sit here and ask you “but have you really tried everything? <3” , listen to me. 

I could shift perfectly well with my own personal method before I started shifting regularly. I knew it worked well for my brain, but the thing that “blocked” me (so to speak) were my assumptions. 

When you sit there and say “I’ve tried everything and nothing has worked” that’s your assumption about yourself. You believe that nothing works for you, that you don't know how to shift, that you’re this powerless, lost baby shifter who needs guidance. 

There’s nothing wrong with this, it’s not your fault, and theoretically you could shift even with your “blockages” (I really hate that term), as shifting waits for no one.

This is why so many people shift randomly and with poor assumptions without meaning to. But you clicked on this because you want to know how you can shift consistently + on every time, and this is the answer I’m giving you. 

You find out what works better for you, be it affirming, visualizing, scripting, shifting awake, shifting asleep, shifting with hypnagogia, shifting with hypnopompic, shifting through lucid dreams, shifting with brazen impudence, through SATs, robotic affirming, through letting go, through putting your DR on a pedestal, through listening to music, through law of assumption alone, and many more. 

If that sounds overwhelming, please note that all of these are the same vehicles that get you to your destination. Just in different shapes and colors. Like how some people drive a car, others drive a motorcycle, others walk, others swim. The movement forward is always the same. 

What you’re doing, no matter how you’re doing it or in whatever state of consciousness you’re doing it from, will always be:

Assume it's true, feel it, receive it. “Assume and persist,” “ground yourself in the assumption,” you’ve heard it all before. 

How to Find What Makes You Shift On Command

You could either test different techniques (affirmations, visualizations, scripting, lucid dreaming, etc.) and see what feels natural to you. 

You could (and I love this one because it’s a cheat code) Assume you already know what works, and let the law of assumption guide you. “Manifest it” so to speak. 

Pay attention to your life, because you already shift on command, you've been doing it your whole life, but I guarantee you haven't noticed it. Pay attention to you, like how easily you slip into hypnagogia, your dream recall, or how strong your intuition is, maybe you put too much emotion into a scenario you don’t want in your life and it inherently manifests, things like that. Pay attention to the thing that makes you go “huh, that was weird”

“But Clover, I tried everything you mentioned above and still haven’t found my method!” 

My darling. Listen up. Come closer—I’m about to let you in on a secret. The way you apply the law of assumption isn’t one-size-fits-all, because assumptions and beliefs are not linear. It's the same every time, yes, it's a law. But just like you, the way you can use it is unique to each person.

Let me tell you how easy it is so you don't think I'm over-complicating it

You could, for instance, believe you’ve got $1000 in your bank account right now and act like it, fully living in the end. Or you could believe you’re going to have $1000 in your account and act like it’s already on its way. Or maybe you believe something’s going to happen that’ll bring you that $1000.

The same applies to shifting. It’s been a game changer for me. I used to struggle so much with things like:

“You’re already in your DR, just act like it.”

“Ignore the 3D.”

“You’ve already shifted.”

Do those methods work? Absolutely, they work beautifully. But like I said, if it doesn’t feel good or true to you, don’t force it.

My dearest, darling reader. If the story you see in your 3D is that you can’t shift, can’t find what makes you shift, are you just going to sit there and accept it? What is more satisfying? Think with me here: accepting that you don’t know how to shift and cannot shift, or persisting that you do know how to shift? 

“Clover, but I’ve been trying for 4 years! I’ve tried everything and I still haven’t shifted”

So that's your story? Your story, your assumption is that you’ve been trying for 4 years and haven’t shifted? If you’ve resonated with the phrase above, that’s your story. And there’s nothing wrong with it, but! there will be no magic solution for shifting. Or a magic method. Or a person like me giving you advice, that can make you shift without you changing your assumptions first.

“But I don’t want to reprogram my mind! It doesn’t work for me. I don’t want to do robotic affirming 24/7, I want results now!” 

I know, right? It’s annoying having to do these 100-step methods, and drink charged water, and have to beg the universe for your desire, and loop affirmations in your mind that directly contradict what you’re experiencing in the 3D.

“Oh ignore the 3D, the 4D is your only real imagination!” they say, as you sit there, clutching your phone, rocking back and forth in bed, repeating affirmations you don’t resonate with while dreaming of being railed by your S/O.

Believe me, I've been there, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I asked myself why couldn't these basic steps that worked for everyone else work for me. I blamed myself for not trying hard enough, for being lazy, for inconsistent. When all that time, the answer was me. I needed to manifest/shift in a way that felt good for me.

Just remember, the law of assumption isn't complicated, and the way you apply it is not one-size-fits-all. Reprogramming the mind through continuous repetition and affirmation works, and if that resonates with you or feels effective, you should absolutely go for it.

However, at its core, you don’t inherently need to reprogram your mind. It’s as simple as assuming your mind has already been reprogrammed and watching it unfold before your eyes. You do what feels right to you.

For example, if person A does better with visualization and listening to music, why on earth are they affirming and listening to subliminals?

If person B feels better scripting in a notebook, why the hell are they reprogramming their mind?

If person C feels good reprogramming their mind, why are they taking the simple route?

Funny, isn't it? Which is why if you've read all of this so far, and you have not resonated with it, just click away. Go find another post or advice that feels true to you. The words I'm writing right now are not universal, they're not the absolute truth. That's the beauty of the law of assumption. Whatever you believe to be true, becomes true.

I didn’t feel good with the affirmations “I’m already in my DR” and “I already shifted.” Do they work, are they true? Yup, but I didn’t feel good ignoring the 3D, even when I knew the 4D was the true reality. So I swapped them for affirmations like "I'm shifting to my DR", “I’m going to shift to my DR”, swapping things like “I already shifted” to “I’m shifting” because those are the kinds of affirmations my brain loves. 

I've heard a silly bit of misinfo that these affirmations stating future events put you in an infinite loop, and that they don’t make you achieve your desire. That’s not true? At all? Makes me laugh, really. Because here I am, “master shifter” or whatever name people give it in this reality, shifting as much as I want to wherever I want with these types of affirmations.

Yet here I see every day on the internet, people implanting stubborn little rules and regulations to a practice that has been done for ages, a universal law that will work even when you don’t care for it to work. 

How I Shifted The First Time

The law of assumption is what made me shift in the end. Initially, I surprised myself at the beginning of my shifting journey because I shifted three months after starting it. I woke up one morning in my DR room, felt it was real, knew it was possible, but accidentally shifted back because it was too good to be true. 

What followed was a period of losing my mind; I shift back to my DR for a few seconds (mini-shifts), fully shifted to different rparallel ealities, and filled the hell out of shifting journals with my discoveries as I went along. But I never fully shifted to my DR and stayed there. I wanted to permashift. I was so focused on leaving my CR and going to my DR permanently, frustrated because I knew I could shift, knew how to in theory, but was stuck in this endless loop of assuming I couldn't make myself shift and had to rely on spontaneous shifts.

And then one night it clicked when I was reflecting on the law of assumption and reality shifting. I knew shifting was real. I knew I could shift. Everyone can shift. I had shifted before. I would continue to shift even if I gave up on shifting. I could shift that night if I wanted to. I could shift that night even if I didn't want to. I knew how to shift. And so do you.

These are all assumptions I went to sleep with in mind, laying there, feeling like an idiot as it all clicked for me. 

If there was no doubt in my mind that I could shift that night, why wouldn’t I be able to shift? 

What followed was an overwhelming sense of peace washing over me. I let go. What more was there to be done? I could shift. There was no crying or screaming that could make me shift more than I could right then. 

I laid there and started my process. Just like I mentioned earlier. I began counting from 1 - 100 on a continuous loop. With affirmations that I could shift, I knew how to shift , I could shift that night.

And then I reached hypnagogia, and began inducing the feeling of being in my DR, just like I mentioned earlier. That liminal space rabbit hole shortly followed. I could go anywhere I wanted then. I could lucid dream. I could astral project. I could slip into the void. I could shift, and I did. Just…letting go and inducing the feeling of being in my DR. Not the surroundings, not the 5 senses, no affirmations. Just knowing that I was in my Dr. 

It was peaceful. 

I was at ease. 

And then I was woken up by a violent crack of thunder because my dumbass scripted my DR wakeup scenario to be in the middle of spring, and it was raining -_- 

I woke up in my DR, fully grounded, fully there, pinching my skin purple because I couldn't believe I was looking out the window at my DR city.

I wish I could tell you that I remained cool, but I so didn’t. I sat in bed for a good 10 minutes, mouth agape, repeating “oohh fuck it’s real….ohhh my god it’s real…whaaat the hell.” 

And then I paced around my room panicking, giggling like an idiot, checking my DR phone because all my friends and DR life was on there as evidence, opening drawers, looking at myself in the mirror, and straight-up freaking out. 

What followed after that was incredible, something I lack the words to describe. I spent a few weeks in my DR before shifting back, spending a few weeks here and then shifting back–here, back, here, back and forth, spending more time in my DR then my CR to the point where I consider my DR my true reality, and this one as my “other” reality. 

I shifted back here in early December of last year, and I’m here now before I shift back permanently—meaning, I’ll shift there, and then the next time I shift will be to another DR or a waiting room somewhere in the multiverse. I’m taking a "break" so to speak and hanging out here until events I scripted in my DR start to happen, and my life changes (positively, all good things I assure). 

I’m not sure if the person or people who find this post will care, but my other reality was originally called my “Witch DR”, where, as the name suggests, I’m a witch :) But not the fun kind, with a broomstick, a cauldron, and a pet cat though 😂The kind where I have to be up early for work in the mornings, can’t keep a cat because the building I live in doesn’t allow it, and have more responsibilities there than I do in this reality. 

One thing I didn’t expect about shifting before I lived there the first time is that—it’s life. You will have good days. You will have bad days. You will fuck up. You will laugh so hard that soda comes out of your nose. You will cry more than you ever have. And the people you once saw on a TV screen are very real, and can be very annoying lol. I miss my DR friends dearly right now, but I can’t go poking around the internet for videos and pictures of them because it feels so weird. 

Gut feelings are strange. I use them as a compass in both realities whenever I have to manually flap the butterfly’s wings and take a route. I felt compelled to write this post, and I’m not sure why. But if what this post has the power to help one singular person and help them realize their power, I'll be beyond happy.

[slowfuckintheafternoon]

18+ only please and thank you

Gaz who won’t let you jerk off in peace.

It’s not that you don’t like having sex with him, it’s just that it’s been months since his last deployment, and it feels like forever since you got to connect with your body on your own terms.

You just want to explore yourself again, that’s all. He's been taking good care of you, but you want to take care of you. You want to take your time with yourself, lingering on the most sensitive angles that only you can find. It hits the spot sometimes to just lay back, relax, and get yourself off again like the old days.

But miserably, you’ve been getting home at the same time as him for weeks, and it’s made it nearly impossible to be alone. This weekend, though, you're determined. You're going to make it happen, one way or another. You're going to get that solo wank if it's the last thing you do.

But it seems like as soon as you’ve fully attached yourself to the plan, your boyfriend is suddenly an inescapable force of observance.

All of a sudden he wants your in-depth advice on vacation ideas, following you around the house like a lost duckling. He even turns down drinks with his mates, which is absolutely unheard of, just to spend incredibly inconvenient time with you.

The one weekend you want him gone, and he's become the most constantly around person imaginable, much to your irritation.

It’s absolutely unfair. There’s nothing wrong with wanting a private wank, and you shouldn’t have to feel like you’re sneaking around to get it. But every time you think you've gathered your courage enough to ask, you'll look over at him and he’ll just be standing there, so cute and seeming so happy to be near you, so you don't ask.

You don't ask, and you don't wank.

You start withdrawing from his hugs and touches, hoping it'll put off your the usual weekend fuck, because you just know it'll suck all the satisfaction out of your wank. You can't ask, but you can't seem to let it go either, because it's somehow become a need. An actual, emotional need for something that shouldn't matter that much, but it does. It matters that you aren't getting time to yourself when you need it.

The hours continue to pass, until you find yourself in the last afternoon of your weekend, and you swear he hasn't sat his ass down away from you all day.

You touch yourself a little bit in the bathroom, desperately hoping it'll be good enough, and you'll be able to just get it over with and go back to normal.

But it's not good. It's rushed and anxious and completely unenjoyable, so you give up before you even manage to get yourself wet.

And of course, as soon as you've washed your hands and stepped out of the bathroom, that man is right there waiting for you. You can't help the flicker of annoyance on your face when you spot him sitting there on the corner of the bed.

"Um, I think I'm going to..." You pause, picking up your car keys from the dresser, but then setting them back down. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'll stay home. Do you need to go anywhere? Run any, um, errands?"

Kyle frowns at the suspicious, hopeful blinks you're throwing in his direction. "Not particularly."

Unconsciously your fingers grab hold of your keys again, and you only realize you're doing it when his eyes follow the movement.

"Oh, okay," you ramble, shoving your keys away, and feeling like you suddenly don't know what to do with your hands. "You gonna... pop round to see your mum today?"

Kyle stands up slowly, openly eyeing your nervous body language. Your gaze wanders to the dresser because you can't stand to look at him, can barely think past the haze of repressed feelings and self denial and the deception. It's not fair, it's not fair. When will you get what you need?

“D’you want to see other people?” he finally asks.

Instantly your eyes snap up to his face, to the pained expression he’s failing to hide.

“Like, open the relationship or something?" he continues in that too-calm voice. "If you haven’t been satisfied lately, then we can talk about—“

“Kyle, no. What the fuck? No.”

He visibly sets his jaw. “Then what is it? Cause if we’re breaking up—“

“God, shut up! Just shut up for a second. Oh, god."

You start giggling before you can stop it, not because anything is funny, but because you're incredibly nervous. He still looks so worried, and it's still so hard to say, but you might as well just spill your guts at this point because the giggling is making things worse.

“I just wanted to, um, m-masturbate, um by myself, because we just have sex now whenever I’m horny, and I haven’t got to do it in a while. Without you, I mean. All by myself. Oh, god, this is so stupid."

Another giggle slips out, and you’re braced for his hurt feelings, maybe a rare bit of anger poking through the surface.

But instead he suddenly lets out a barking laugh. “That’s it?? You’ve been torturing me all weekend just cause you needed some alone time?”

"It's not funny, Kyle." Nevermind that you're failing to suppress more nervous laugher.

"Oh my god." He wipes his hand over his face, seeming utterly dumbfounded. “Oh my god, what a relief.”

And then your boyfriend spins around all dramatic, and flattens himself against the wall, laughing obnoxiously with his head buried in his arms.

“A fuckin’ wank.” Comes his incredulous voice, half muffled by his forearm. “Just... wanted a wank. All that for a wank."

“You’re being annoying,” you mutter. “And I still haven’t got my wank, thank you very much.”

"You're right." Kyle straightens right up, looks you dead in the eye, and smiles. "And you're gonna get it right now."

"Ha ha, very funny."

"Look at me." He takes one step towards you, pointing a finger at his suddenly grave expression. "I'm fuckin' serious. We're getting you that wank."

The idiot takes you by the hand -- you're incapacitated with giggles, by the way -- and leads you straight to the bed, helping you up onto it as if he was your personal masturbation chauffeur.

"You stay there," he instructs you, only to scurry off and quickly return with your water bottle and your phone.

"For hydration--" holds up the water bottle-- "for visual aids--" holds up the phone-- "for moral support--" leans down and kisses you straight on the mouth.

"Baby, I love you."

"I love you too. I'm gonna go pop off to the shop so you'll have no distractions. You stay there, and please for the love of god, tell me the next time you need a wank."

"You're the best!" you call after him, tucking yourself into the blankets.

"Yes I am."

Soon the place is quiet and still, and it's just you in your fluffy bed, wonderfully, deliciously alone.

You starfish your limbs out in the sheets, once you're good and naked. Let all the fabric drag against your bare skin and sigh happily.

You are happy. You're so happy with Kyle.

It's a good wank, too. You get out your vibrator, and find exactly the visual aids that you want, and you let yourself savor the buildup, without any reason to hide what you're doing.

Soon your brain turns to mush and you cum in your nice comfy bed, cradled in the sheets that smell like your boyfriend. It's lovely. It's wonderful. You click off your sex toy and catch your breath with your fingers pressed tight to your clit, basking in that gooey warmth as long as you're able.

And then you miss him. Like, instantly, as soon as you're done cumming. You miss Kyle.

You should be gratefully taking advantage of his absence to be alone in the bed, maybe grab a few more orgasms for yourself, but instead you find yourself snatching up your phone. You scan through the last few texts he's sent you, imagining hearing them in his voice.

Fuck it. Might as well just call him.

"Alright?" he answers after a few rings.

"Yeah, I'm all finished. You can come back now."

There's a laugh on the other end of the line that makes you smile from ear to ear. "I haven't finished my shopping."

"Okay, but hurry back if you can."

"You missing me, baby?"

Another smile. "Yes. A little."

"Ahh, well. Just a little isn't too bad, I've got a list."

You half laugh, half growl at him. "Come back, please."

"On my way."

It does seem like he's immediately on his way, because he returns so quickly, you imagine he just set down his basket right there and fled the store. You've been too relaxed and lazy boned to even put away your vibrator, but you're so happy to see him that you sit up naked in bed and reach out your arms for him to join you.

That man's face. He's getting worse and worse at hiding how much he likes you.

It just takes one look, one second of having him wrapping his arms around you in a reunion hug, before you're suddenly, violently horny again.

Good news, he's right on board with that idea. Soon you're both tugging his clothes off, and he's tucking himself into the sheets with you, his fingers finding you already so wet and welcoming from your time apart.

This is what your body wants. It's a dumb animal that wants to feel safe, and get the things it needs, and it especially wants him. All of him. His tongue in your mouth, his happy sounds mixing with yours, his cock inside you after you manhandle him onto his back.

You want to ride him. Give him a chance to lay back and relax, and give you a chance to take care of your man who takes care of you. You smile down at him while you bounce on his dick, feeling that familiar stirring of emotion in the top of your throat.

He belongs to you. You want him forever.

It has you going slower, stroking your hand up his body, across his jaw. Feeling and memorizing, and accepting him as yours while you grind his cock in and out.

"Kyle." You're not expecting your voice to crack, so you swallow and try again. "Kyle, I love you so much."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

"Do you want to get married?"

It slips out before you can stop it, before you can cut yourself off or pretend it was a joke, or do anything but inhale in nervous shock.

Kyle's blinking up at you with an equally surprised look on his face, holding your hips tighter than he was before, until you stop moving.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, "I didn't mean--"

"Stop it." Something deadly serious has settled over his face, and he pushes you up and off him in one careful motion.

Shit, fuck, why did you say it? Why did you have to ruin everything?

"Forget I said that, we don't have to get married, I don't even know why I said that--"

He's pushing you off him, throwing his legs over the side of the bed to get away.

"Kyle, please--"

"Shut up! Just shut up." Your boyfriend quickly fumbles his hand around in his bedside table drawer, and then retrieves a...

Jewelry box.

"Oh my god," you whisper, clapping your hand to your mouth.

"I was gonna... That is, I was planning on something else, sometime next month, but..."

"Oh my god," you repeat, relieved tears suddenly stinging your eyes.

"Feels a bit stupid to do it like this, when we're halfway through a fuck, but lord knows I can't reason with you once you've got it in your head that I hate you, so. Will you marry me?"

He starts to sink down like he's about to belatedly get on a knee, but like an animal suddenly untethered, you're already launching yourself at him.

"YES!" you squeal, swinging your arms around his shoulders and giggling like an insane person while you take him halfway to the ground.

You both can't stop laughing after that, especially when he's shaking so much he can barely get the ring on your finger. It's a beautiful, sparkly one, just like you always imagined.

Somehow, between kisses and excited whispers, you both make it back to the bed. He gets you under him and twines your fingers together next to your head, the hand that's now bearing the ring he'd hidden away for you.

And then he fucks you, nice and slow, until his shaking has vanished. That man kisses you like you're precious, keeps pulling back to look into your eyes and smile, like you're the most wonderful thing he's ever seen.

And he keeps fucking you like that, slowly grinding himself into you, keeping your hand in his.

"You gonna be my wife?"

"Uh huh."

"We're getting married, baby."

"I know, I'm so happy."

"I'm so happy, too."

[quarterlifekitty]

Weaknesses part 5: complexes

Note: this is jokes!! Please don’t take my cartoon pathologizing too seriously!

cw: some daddy kink level stuff

Gaz has a soft spot for girls who suffer from oldest sister syndrome. Girls that are a little world weary and too grown up at too young an age from caring for others while not having people to rely on. He just loves how pleasantly surprised you are literally every time he does something helpful that you didn’t ask him to do. Doing the dishes. Spackling that hole from the picture you took down. Refilling the air in the tires. Bleaching the bathtub. Very small things— but you’re so used to being the only one who can stay on top of things. Literally the high he gets from telling you to sit down and relax is unparalleled.

Soap is, quite frankly, into girls who grew up thinking they were ugly. It’s a terribly selfish, but he likes telling you all of the dirty things he thinks of doing to you, how he feels like someone’s knocked him upside the head when you enter a room in a new outfit, how he has to take a cold shower every time you’re going out to some event and he gets to see you dressed up. Honestly, he has to take the cold showers pretty regularly. Seeing how you’re flustered, and you don’t 100% believe the things he says— so he has to put in the time to make you believe him. You’re the kind of girl boys would dare each other to ask out in middle school, and now Soap has the absolute pleasure of convincing you that sometimes you make him so turned on that he thinks he’s about to throw up.

Ghost likes outcast girls. He likes how you eye him with a little bit of suspicion when he chooses to hang around you. He sort of gets this idea in his head that he’s the only one that can handle your eccentricities— handle you. That other people are afraid to approach you but he’s not afraid of anything. That his interest in you is because honestly, he has a much more refined palate than any of the shitheads you’re surrounded by. And you know what? He likes the idea of you as a couple being the scary, freak ass couple. Two lone wolves becoming mates.

Price likes former gifted students. He loves that you’re talented and quick, yes, but he also can’t help but get excited by all of that pressure that’s on you— that you put on yourself. He gets to be the one that relieves it. He’s the one that gets to lavish you in praise, and he’s also the one who gets to pin you down and force you to take it easy for a little while. He loves gently handling any mistakes or missteps, rationally perceived or otherwise. Because he can tell no one’s ever bothered to treat you so gently, have they, sweetheart? They’ve just been content to push you to your limits and have you run yourself ragged because you’re special. You are, he won’t deny it— but you’re also a little thing that hasn’t seen enough nurturing, in his eyes.

König loves so called “high maintenance” girls. Girls with high standards who know what they want, who have gone through some partners that couldn’t take the heat. He gets a very unique sense of control out of it— knowing all of your rules, rituals, likes, dislikes. Like Ghost, he likes thinking of himself as the only person who knows how to handle you— that everyone before him has just been unworthy of you. That he is strong where others have been weak. And you know what? It’s not rotten work. Not to him. Not if it’s you. He’s just built different.

Nikolai… I’m just going to say it. He likes girls with daddy issues. He kinda throws his whole self into relationships at times, and he likes it when he can be your everything. Your love, your friend, your hero, your source of approval from an older man. And he loves a brat. Because he knows you only act that way because someone didn’t pay attention to his special girl in the past. You’re testing him— daring him, unsheathing your claws to see if he’ll flinch and he never will. He’ll endure it all and chip at your defenses until you’re the soft, satisfied, sweet girl he knows you really want to be. Lavishing you with praise and attention, bragging about you to anyone who will listen. He wants you to have a complete breakdown because you’ve been holding it all in and putting up walls for so long that you don’t even know how to cope with being in the arms of someone who will always catch you when you fall.

[eeksburner]

Lover

Simon Riley x Wife!Reader

I cannot stop thinking about Ghost and being a cute domestic wife for him

Tw: Intense gender roles, kinda stalker Simon, smut if you squint

(Note: I am not a tradwife nor do I condone forcing gender roles and societal pressures onto anyone, I just wanna be a cutesy wife for Simon Riley)

Simon prefers you call him Simon over Ghost. He thinks that since he's literally married to you, there's no reason for you to call him by his call sign. Calling him Simon is much more intimate for him and he likes separating you from everything he endures as Ghost. He just wants to be your Simon.

He knows he's gone for long periods of time. Time you spend not talking to him or doing couple things. He makes up for it, though, by doing anything you want when he's at home. If you're tired of planning, he's got you. Simon has a whole list of random things to suggest when you just want to be taken care of without worry.

He LOVES spoiling you. In his line of work, he gets down and dirty. He loves knowing you don't have to do anything of the sort (unless you want to). He pays for your nails to keep them pretty, unlike his dirty, battered ones. He will get you monthly subscriptions to whatever you want, beauty boxes, gaming passes, entertainment, etc. All luxuries he can't experience while at work. Simon knowing you're the opposite of him, clean, spoiled, safe, is enough to keep him working forever. Giving you everything he can't have. His love isn't all monetary, but a lot of it is when he's away.

Simon loves watching you. He gets major anxiety about you when he's away. To help with this, he installed security cameras in and around the house. When he gets the luxury of a WiFi signal, he'll check in on you. If you happen to see a little green light flash on while eating, relaxing, cooking, or any other mundane task, you'll offer him a smile and a wave. Sometimes you'll blow him a kiss (or give him a private show).

We all know Simon is physically fit, but that doesn't mean he has any type of expectation for you. He loves whatever you have to offer him, as long as you're in good mental and physical health (remember, being physically healthy comes in different shapes and sizes!) Simon is completely enamored with you. He believes he was blessed to be the only man on earth to be married to a real goddess. He would build a statue of you by hand (if he wasn't so bad at any type of art). If you want to go to the gym, he'll buy you the best membership he can. If you don't, he'll buy you something else that occupies your time.

Simon loves feeding into your hobbies, whatever they may be. Coming home and seeing something new you created or hearing about something you've learned makes his day 10x brighter.

You love cooking for him. It took a lot to break down his walls and food is one of them. He appreciates the time and effort it takes to plan and execute a meal as well as the skill needed to cook as well as you do. The best brands and foods for his wife only! Nothing makes him feel more full of you and your love than when he's eating something you've made for him, other than when he praises you and you get a little twinkle in your eyes and a smile on your face.

You also happen to love keeping the house nice for him. You clean fairly often, though it's not hard to keep up after one person (and any pets you may have). You like knowing he's trusted you with one of his largest assets, his home. It gives you a sense of power knowing you're the only person who controls what kind of house he comes home to. Messy, clean, minimal, tacky, bright, dark, etc. Simon appreciates anything and everything you do for the house. Knowing you've gotten everything taken care of and decorated in a way you both like is like heaven to him and lifts a huge weight off his shoulders. He loves smelling a clean house after smelling nothing but dirt, blood, gun powder, and stinky men for days. (He couldn't care less if the house was a cardboard box, as long as you were there and you still loved him.)

If you want to work, go to school, learn a trade, or be a stay at home, he supports you. You don't even have to explain yourself to him, Simon trusts you so much that even if you were to say "I don't know" he would hear trumpets because an angel just spoke to him.

Nsfw: Despite what people may think, Simon typically isn't a dom. He spend a majority of his time directing people and being an authoritative figure at work. That isn't even mentioning how tolling it can be knowing you took a life and the physical exhaustion his work takes. He likes being taken care of, however you see fit. Sometimes he'll be a dom, but only if he's been away from work and needs to let off some steam.

The sweetest ever. Cuddles, words of affirmation, snacks, whatever you need. He feels as though his sole purpose since he met you is to make you feel like nothing less than a deity. Sometimes he'll get insecure over his ability to take care of you or not being around, but one kiss from you, perfect you, and the perfect life you maintain for you both and it fades away.

Overall, Simon Riley is the hottest, most doting husband to exist, ever.

[marifilue]

Gravity

Wordcount: 651

Tags: Fluffs, established relationship

Pairing: Logan Howlett x GF!Reader (no use of y/n)

Oneshot: Logan being touch starved but never admit it

Logan is touch-starved—always has been, always will be. He’d never say it out loud, wouldn’t even entertain the thought, but you can always catch it in the smallest gestures.

He’d never ask you to lay on top of him, curled up in his arms. Never said those words in that order before. But once you’re there, he won’t let you go. His arm stays locked around your back, firm, unmoving. Try to shift, and he grumbles low—“Where you goin’?” or “Nah, not done yet.” Like it’s nothing. Like he doesn’t need this.

Sometimes, he won’t let you up for reasons that only make sense to him—like if someone’s knocking on the door. But if you need water or a bathroom break? That, he allows.

You’d been watching some show for hours when Logan finally came home. He didn’t say anything, just sank onto the couch beside you, wearing nothing but his white tank top and jeans. The scent of cigar smoke and leather clung to him, familiar and grounding. His thigh pressed against yours as he settled in.

He glanced at you briefly, then back at the screen, fingers twitching against his knee.

"You alright?" you asked, biting back a knowing smile.

"Yeah," he hummed, flicking his gaze to you again before shifting slightly. Slowly, his left arm lifted to rest along the back of the couch—an invitation. A silent request.

Normally, you’d give in without hesitation, but tonight, you felt like making him work for it.

"How was the meeting?" you asked, feigning obliviousness as you kept your attention on the screen.

"Long. Exhaustin’." His voice was rough, but you caught the flicker of impatience in his tone.

"Aww I'm sorry to hear that." You said in faux empathy.

His fingers found the hem of your T-shirt, idly toying with the fabric, tugging just enough to be noticeable.

"You like my shirt?" you teased.

Logan huffed, his fingers tightening ever so slightly. "Stop messin’ with me."

Oh, the look on his face—priceless. You burst into laughter, and his frown deepened.

"What’s so funny?"

"I just think it’s cute that you want to cuddle. Just ask, Logan." You nudged him playfully.

His smirk was slow, deliberate. "Dunno what you’re talkin’ about. I don’t cuddle."

"Oh, really?" You turned to face him, eyes glinting with mischief. "So if I just do this…"

With a playful push, you sent him backward until his head hit the armrest. Before he could protest, you climbed on top of him, pressing your ear against his chest, where his heartbeat thudded steady and strong.

"You wouldn’t mind, right? Since you don’t cuddle," you teased, grinning.

Logan exhaled deeply, his hand slipping beneath your shirt, cool palm pressing flat against your back, fingers splayed as if grounding himself. His breath ruffled your hair, and when he spoke, his voice was a low rumble against your cheek.

"Guess I can tolerate it."

You tried to focus on the TV, but the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you made it impossible. His arm tightened, just enough to keep you there—his personal human blanket, small against him, yet somehow the only thing holding him together.

Minutes passed, the room sinking into an easy, quiet warmth. Logan's breathing slowed, the tension in his body melting bit by bit as he relaxed beneath you. His other hand found your side, fingers tracing absent patterns against your ribs, lazy and unhurried.

"You’re warm," he muttered, half into your hair, voice thick with exhaustion.

"You’re comfy," you murmured back, smiling as you closed your eyes.

His chest vibrated with something close to a chuckle, but he said nothing. Just held you, hands never still, always lingering—at your back, your side, your hip, like he needed constant proof you were there.

And, well… you weren’t about to go anywhere. Not when he clung to you like a lifeline, like you were the only force keeping him steady in this world.

His gravity.

[iamthatonefangirl]

YOU WANTED more thoughts?? here i am.

mean n possessive dads best friend bucky whose always known you have a crush on him

OR (and?)

also you yapping n overthinking and bucky stopping you by fucking you

-@nevereclipse

sneaky - nsfw dbf!bucky barnes

please be warned this is... deranged. uncle kink. (not actual uncle because it's dbf) BOTH ARE FULLY GROWN ADULTS 18+ OKAY. you have been warned, read at your own discretion. series masterlist.

~~~

sneaking around with your dad's best friend probably wasn't the best idea you'd ever had.

what made it worse? every time your dad referred to him as your "Uncle Bucky." you cringed every time you heard it.

yeah, that's who he was to you your whole life. but hearing it now, knowing what you knew...

it put a bad taste in your mouth. a reminder of what you absolutely should not be doing.

but the way he fucks you isn't worth giving up just for peace of mind.

you wonder, sometimes, if that's what people who cheat on their partners think. that no matter how wrong it is, how many people you hurt, it just feels too goddamn good to give up. they're willing to go to insane lengths to keep the secret and keep their families together. they want to have their cake and eat it too.

because even though neither of you are cheating on anybody, that's exactly what you're both doing.

~~~

"fuck, that's my girl," he groans as you get down on your knees in front of him. you'd been sitting on his couch, watching something on netflix, anything, when you got carried away. only thirty seconds into the show.

maybe you're just insane, but there's something about being on your knees for him, bowing down to him, knowing how wrong this is...

he's supposed to be a father figure in your life, and what are you doing? you're blowing him with no remorse for your actions. you've done it before, and you're looking forward to doing it again.

his hands massage your scalp, encouraging you, "come on. be good. you can take it all," he says, pushing further into your throat and holding your head there, making you take it.

"love seeing you take all of me. love knowing I'm the only one who gets to fuck this little throat, huh? ain't that right? my own personal call girl?"

you nod as best you can while he holds you in place.

"yeah. my little girl. all grown up now, such a slut for her uncle, huh?"

your face warms so much you feel like you're sitting in front of the furnace. he loves rubbing this in your face, reminding you of what you're doing, forcing you to get off on it.

"that's right. you know your place, I know you do. I taught you so well."

he holds you there for you don't know how long, massaging your scalp down to the back of your neck, before bringing his hand to the front of your throat and pressing on where it bulges, thanks to him.

"my girl," he hisses. "none of those little college boys can fuck you the way you need. you needed someone you know, someone you trust, ain't that right?"

you might cry from how embarrassed and turned on you are right now.

"that's right. so needy for my cock, every fucking time, knowing how stupid you're being. you just can't get enough."

you're startled when his phone rings. he doesn't bother moving you, making you sit there while he looks down at the screen to see who it is. when he ignores it, you finally relax.

"you know I've been taking care of you your whole life, darlin'. course I'm gonna take care of you now. gotta take care of all your little needs cause no one else can, not like Uncle Bucky can."

and then, your phone rings in your pocket.

"fuck, is he calling you now?" Bucky groans.

and that's when you freak, shoving yourself off of him and falling backwards onto your ass on the floor. you reach for your phone in your back pocket.

Bucky asks you, "the hell are you doing? you're not done."

your voice is fucked when you quickly tell him, "my dad knows I'm with you! I told him we were getting dinner!"

Bucky's eyes widen. normally you tell him you're at a friend's place.

he nods and you hurry to answer.

"hey, Dad..." you try, clearing your throat, trying not to sound like you're absolutely wrecked.

"yeah, no we got takeout... yeah, Bucky's outside... yeah..."

you eventually hang up the call, both of you sitting there, startled.

no matter how much Bucky taunts you about it, it's not fun when you're reminded of the reality.

"he asked me why we didn't invite him and my mom," you tell him quietly from your spot, still on the ground.

you're both silent for a minute, the tv still playing in the background as you the awkward moment drags on and on.

you eventually both decide it's best to call it a night.

~~~

you both know better than to be reckless at this point.

but sometimes, you just can't help it.

you were trying to hop in the shower one afternoon, turning on the water, waiting for it to steam up the room. minute after minute ticked by as you stood there, naked, pleading the water to get hot.

you curse the universe when it doesn't, because it's just your luck that your dad isn't home to fix the problem.

so you shut off the water, wrap a towel around yourself, and go sit on your bed while you make a call.

"hey you, what's up?" he asks.

"can you come fix my pipes?" you tease.

Bucky stutters for a moment. "wow, that's... bold of you to say. I take it your folks aren't home?"

"you're right, they're not. but no, I'm being serious, the hot water won't turn on. can you come over and take a look at it for me?"

"yeah, sure. be over in a few."

you don't bother putting on any clothes, waiting around for the knock at the door still clad in your bath towel.

when you answer the door, you can't help yourself.

"oh, mister, however am I supposed to repay you?" you ask, pretending to be distraught, but it's ruined by the fact that you can't stop laughing as you say it.

"you're insufferable," he teases, stepping inside and yanking the towel from your form as he walks to the closet where the hot water heater is.

"hey!" you yell, reaching for the towel again.

"nothing I ain't seen before. besides, it'll encourage me to do my best work if I got an incentive for payment, don't ya think?"

that's how you end up in the shower together, hot water fixed, thirty minutes later.

he's got you pinned against the ice cold tile wall, hooking one of your legs up and around his waist. his fingers trace the skin of your thigh, his other hand behind your head to keep it from hitting against the hard wall.

"yeah, that's it. gonna let me use you, aren't you?"

"yes, yes, Bucky," you whine. he's teasing you, running his tip up and down your folds. he stares down at the sight, working you up to make you so desperate you'll do whatever he wants.

you start begging way too soon. "please, Bucky, I can't wait. please," you say, drawing out the last syllable.

he has no mercy, continuing to tease, before pulling back entirely.

"Bucky!" you cry, the only word in your mind.

"you know what I want to hear," he whispers in your ear.

he did this on purpose. he always does this on purpose, goddamnit.

"please, Uncle Bucky?"

he groans in approval, finally pushing himself into you, opening you up for him once again.

except it doesn't last long, because with the water raining down on the both of you along with the force of his motions, neither of you can keep your feet in place, and you keep slipping.

"god, least we tried," he laughs, turning off the water and picking you up bridal style to take you to your bedroom.

he barely gets the chance to lay you down when you hear the front door unlock downstairs.

you make eye contact. you're fucked, you're fucked.

"go put on your clothes. spray your shirt with the shower nozzle, tell him I sprayed you after you fixed the hot water," you whisper to him, pushing him off of you.

you both scramble to put on your clothes. Bucky does as you instructed, and you freak out when you see your sheets covered in water. you didn't bother using your towel, which clearly, was a bad move.

you're pretty sure your dad buys the excuse.

~~~

a few weekends later, your parents invite Bucky over for family dinner. he texts you before coming over, "wear a skirt for me, pretty girl."

now, as you sit at the table eating dinner, you know why.

he sits there, trailing his prosthetic fingers up and down your thigh under your skirt, all while your parents talk to him like normal. there's very little for you to contribute, so you're lucky you can focus on keeping your shit together while he messes with you, occasionally pinching your skin to keep you on edge.

"Bucky, we have something to ask you about," you hear from across the table.

his hand stops, and your jaw freezes in the middle of chewing.

"uh, what's that?" he asks them.

"we think there's something you're not telling us. and we think it's something you're both keeping from us."

you're fucked. you're done for. it's over.

"it's not what you think-" he begins, only to be cut off.

"have you started seeing someone? you've been happier lately. and knowing our daughter, she's probably already figured it out, but you've sworn her to secrecy, right?"

you let out a sharp exhale.

you're safe.

"yes, yeah. that's exactly it," he tells them, continuing to make excuses that he didn't want to say anything yet, it's still new...

his hand begins moving under the table again.

~~~

later that evening, you express a craving for ice cream.

"I'll take her," Bucky says before anyone else responds. "and I'll have her home before curfew."

you feel a pang in your chest when your dad assures Bucky, no need. we trust you with our daughter.

you know Bucky feels the guilt hit, too.

it doesn't stop you, though, from finding an empty parking lot and getting in the back seat as soon as possible.

"fuck, what would you have done if they'd found out, hmm? would you have admitted you had a thing for your uncle, baby?" he taunts, moving your hips down on his as you straddle him, riding him the way he likes.

the windows are already coated in condensation, the both of you so eager and pent up from the stress of the evening.

"no," you pant, tossing your head back.

he brings a hand to your throat, making you look at him.

"nuh-uh. you're gonna watch me while I fuck you. you're never gonna forget who it is that's fucking you like this, you hear me? I'm never going to let you forget."

~~~

when he drops you back at your house that evening, your mom asks, "vanilla?"

"I'm sorry, what?" you ask, confused.

"you get vanilla? you got some white stuff right there," she points to the corner of your lips.

you don't tell her you didn't go for ice cream.

~~~

guys I am sorry for this one... I had to

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[seasidefallenangel]

i give an unending dream to you

men who can't fathom a future without you - so they refuse to let it happen ft. sae itoshi, sunday, malleus draconia

this is from @saetiate's post that she was kind enough to let me write a piece based off of

notes: yandere vibes (i'm back to my roots), fem reader, mildly unhealthy relationships, heavy possessiveness on the boys end, title is from this please listen to it and i'll give you ten thousand kisses

༄ sae:

“it’s like i’m fucking talking to a brick wall. the same shit keeps happening and it feels like you’re not trying at all,” you spit out with vitriol, slamming the cabinet shut in the kitchen as the wood splinters beneath your force.

if sae is even hearing you, he shows no signs of it. the entire time you’ve been screaming at him, throwing things, making accusations - he’s just been sitting atop one of the chairs at the island. his demeanor seems rather bored, if anything. you almost wish he’d fight back just so you know your words are reaching him in some way.

it’s only once tears of frustration begin to well in your eyes that he finally sighs and has the gall to ask, “are you finished?”

the sheer audacity of the question causes your tears to fall with anger, spiking your temper once more. you’re half a second away from cursing him out again but you know it’ll get you nowhere. instead, you clench your fists and huff before grabbing your car keys and silently making your way to the front door.

sometimes you forget just how fast sae is, because it’s as if he teleports in front of the door. he stares down at you with what seems to be indifference, but you know him well enough to sense the quiet fury behind his eyes - waiting to break free from its confines.

“you’re not going anywhere,” he tells you with no room to argue, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “not until your little temper tantrum is sorted.”

even though you try to tug away from him, it’s clear he’s not letting this go. sae is both the unstoppable force and the immovable object in everything he does. 

he brushes his lips against your ear for a brief moment before kissing beneath it. his voice is nearly a whisper when he speaks, “if you’re done being a brat, i’d like to at least get a word in before you leave and do something stupid.”

you narrow your eyes at him and scoff. well, at least he’s finally acknowledging you. “and if i hear you out, then can i leave?” his lips twitch in amusement. 

“not a chance.“

༄ sunday:

the parlor car is eerily silent, the rest of the express having sensed the incoming argument and opted to retreat to their rooms. sunday’s wings are twitching anxiously as he hovers close enough for you to be in his reach but not enough that you’ll freak out on him again. 

“my dove,” he says in that soothing voice of his, “don’t you feel you’re overreacting just a bit?” 

you want to crush his windpipe for even suggesting it, but something seeps into your brain as his words wrap around the depths of your psyche. it tells you to relax, let yourself be held in your lover's embrace once more. it’s peaceful, calming, alluring in its desire for you to submit yourself into what you know so well.

it’s not your voice at all.

“i should’ve known a control freak like you would try some shit like this,” you manage to get out through gritted teeth. forgive him, he loves you so dearly, echoes in your mind. the words nearly spill from your lips if not for you putting all your willpower into keeping your lips shut.

his expression goes from concern to disapproval in an instant. the sudden invasion of your personal space as he makes his way over isn’t lost on you. it’s his pattern - guilt, control, smother. 

“it seems i’ve underestimated you, my little rebel,” he muses, bringing your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. “denying the harmony’s influence so easily -  it seems you’ve gotten strong without mentioning it to me.”

the implication of his words is clear ; if you can escape his honeyed words, what else will you do to slip from his grasp?

“no matter. you could do with some more training, wouldn’t you agree?”

༄ malleus:

the library is dead silent as you flip through one of the beginners magic textbooks crewel had given you. not that it’s odd for a library to be quiet, but the reason it’s more empty than usual is a rather odd occurrence. “can you linger a bit less menacingly?” you murmur in an irritated tone. 

malleus simply blinks owlishly at your request from the other side of the table. you’re used to him following you around out of sheer interest for your ‘human tendencies’ (his words, not yours), but you underestimated how annoying it would be when you’re in the middle of a disagreement. 

after a few more moments you slam the book shut with a huff, fully aware you’re not going to get any meaningful studying done with him staring you down in your peripherals. when you stand from the seat he echoes your movements. the students part and scamper away from his path as he follows behind like your shadow.

there’s honestly a good chance you’d be less angry with him if he just gave you some space like you desired, but he’d rather have his horns ripped from his skull than leave you alone for more than thirty seconds.

“have you found it within your heart to forgive me yet, beloved?” he asks calmly, as if it’s somehow your fault that you’re even upset to begin with. 

your head whips around in a flash, rage contorting the usually delicate features of your face. he’s either a bonafide manipulator or completely dense, and both of the options seem to piss you off equally at the moment.

“give me a fucking break, malleus!” you yell, not missing the way his eye twitches from your lack of using his nickname. “i put up with a lot of your shit, but i’m seriously sick of you treating my friends like they’re criminals-”

“spade does have a charge on his record, my love,” he counters smoothly, which does nothing to satiate your anger. you pull back when he tries to reach for you, but the swirling clouds beginning to form in the sky make you think twice.

“i care a great deal about your safety and wellbeing. it’d do no good for my future betrothed to be involved in something that endangers your reputation or, sevens forbid, your health.”

out of sheer pettiness, you mutter under your breath, “keep acting like this and there won’t be a betrothed for you to marry.”

his self control snaps like a twig as lightning strikes the bench nearby, making you scream and instinctively leap towards him for protection. his arms quickly wrap around you like a python, trapping you against his body.

“there will be a wedding, and you will soon see the error in your ways. i simply pray you one day come to understand that everything i do is out of my endless love for you,” he coos, but it feels more like a death sentence. whatever his ‘love’ entails, you’re not sure if it’s something you want to stick around for.

not that he’d ever give you a choice.

[baxndaid]

sal fisher x reader 🖇️🎼💍 -- popular!reader headcannons!! + scenario

a/n ; i need him so bad sorry.........idgaf..............pls request more sal

(🎵) - he judged you a little bit a first like he didn’t mean it but it just came naturally since you surrounded yourself with all the bullies, jocks, and standard mean girls

- you were lowkey a mean girl too like you had your little group and you should snicker and laugh whenever sal and his friends walked past

- and while you DID feel a TAD bit bad, you and your friends would make fun of his prosthetic head sometimes </3 it was just for a laugh

- but yes, he didn’t like you very much - with people like travis, he could somewhat understand since travis had home issues and… had no friends 🤓 you? you had everything by the looks of it

- you were popular, pretty, and everyone seemed to gravitate towards you

- overall, you were the cliche mean girl who bullied the quirky main characters (who sal and his friends, ever so graciously, gave themselves the title of)

- speaking of cliche, you two started talking when you both were forced to sit next to each other in math class, and you hated math

- he would help you though, which surprisingly you appreciated, in turn, you would help him with his art class portfolio which he also appreciated

- this didn’t mean you were entirely nice to him either, far from it, but when it was just you two it was a lot more chill and you could visibly see him relax around you when your friends weren’t there

- sal desperately wanted to be able to talk to you confidently without you or your friends shoving him into a locker, he wished you could talk to him as nicely as you did in math class

- because you worked so well in class together, you were often paired together in projects

- sally would be the most excited since that meant more alone time with you, while you were teased by your friends (they told you that you should pack pepper spray before you stepped into his room just in case, how loving!)

- as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was attracted to you, i mean, who wouldn’t be

- he would often space out while his friends spoke amongst themselves, a distant look on his… eye? larry caught on and thought that his best friends strange behaviour came from a girl he liked~ awww

- yeah little did he know 💔 it’s the worst person you know

- larry wouldn’t take it likely knowing that sal has formed a small crush on the person who terrorises him and his friends on the daily

- “dude! you know how bad she can get!”, ashley agrees, sal waves his hand at them dismissively

“it’s fine guys!”

- larry glares at the back of his head as sal walks away, knowing that he has a class with you next

- his friend group thinks your a demon and you’ve possessed him into liking you despite your behaviour

- back to you two, as time passes you get friendlier with sally, the bullying turning into teasing, even with your friends around

- you didn’t miss how sally looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking, he would stutter and look around frantically if you caught him, you thought it was cute

- he wouldn’t show you his face, since you’ve made fun of his prosthetic before and he didn’t want to ruin whatever weird relationship you had built by showing you his disfigured face

- sally is one of the most patient (and slightly pathetic) guys you’ve ever met, so naturally, you form a small crush on him too, but you’d never admit it

- when he walks by you in the corridor, you’d yank his backpack towards you harshly, making his back jolt into your chest

- you’d then wrap your arms around his shoulders, essentially trapping him with his back towards you, and ask him about his day

- sally was a little apprehensive as first, being unable to tell whether you were about to bully him or casually do something sweet and brush it off straight after

- though he soon found that 9 times out of 10, you would be doing something affectionate ❤️

- his friends didn’t like this, obviously, but in due time they’d get used to you, they just wanted to know if sally was being messed with or if you were genuine

- sally would probably have to be the person to confess becuase lord knows your way too stubborn to admit that you actually like the blue haired guy you’ve been bullying just a while prior

- he would be sweating his ass off while shifting in his chair while he found a good time to confess, while you cluelessly played with his cat

- his dad wasn’t home, and he made larry wear a wig and makeup so he could practice his speech (in which todd and ashley recorded without the two knowing)

- but his memory failed him and his mind went blank, so he decided to wing it

- he tapped your thigh, distracting you from gizmo, and you turned to look at him curiously. he looked like he was falling apart as your gaze practically pierced into him

- he gulped silently and turned to you fully, his eye(s) looking down, and told you his feelings (the best he could at least)

- you stare at him for a minute, silent, to be honest he was getting a little upset at the lack of response. he wished you’d say something, anything instead of looking at him like he just killed somebody (💀)

- to his surprise, you leaned in slightly, but stopped and touched the chin of his prosthetic

“can i?”

- he gulped, and nodded his head as he reached for the straps behind his head to take his prosthetic off with ease. he only undid the first one, and only lifted the mask enough for you to reach his lips

- his mouth had a small cleft up to his nose (or whatever was left of it), on the left side of his mouth, his teeth were exposed, scars and missing flesh adorned his face

- despite this, you leaned in fully and managed to close the gap between you, sally’s hand reaching for yours as you kissed, you held each other

[mommyslittlebird]

The Desire to Nurture

Married!WandaNat x Reader

Summary: While settling into to your new living situation, you come upon an opportunity to be the one to taking care of Natasha, instead of the other way around.

CW: Mentions of injuries, white coat syndrome

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I apologize this one is still pretty short. I’m really struggling with platonic fluff and pacing things correctly, but the chapters will hopefully get longer as I get into things I’m more familiar with writing (i.e. romance and smut).

A/N: I got a little emotional at the end of this one.

Chapter 4 of A Room of Your Own

———————————————————

Settling into the house came easier than you anticipated. The days flowed in an easy rhythm of classes and time spent with Wanda and Natasha. You grew close to them rather quickly, perhaps by necessity or perhaps by some other worldly force pushing you together. 

It was almost like a “love at first sight” type of situation. Granted, this wasn’t quite love, but there was certainly something. There was a sort of immediate familiarity, a magnetism that you couldn’t explain. It just seemed like you were meant to be around them. 

Getting to know them wasn’t like getting to know two strangers you had only met a few weeks ago. It was like reintroducing yourself to a friend after years apart. There just seemed to be a pre-established baseline. 

You surprised even yourself with how much comfort you were finding in physical affection. You had always been an affectionate person, but most people never saw that in you. You came off as standoffish to most, and they just assumed you didn’t like to be touched. You, being a little nervous about initiating physical contact, just accepted that people didn’t want to touch you. Sure it wasn’t something you were proud of, but you had sort of come to expect it. It didn’t necessarily make you sad; it was simply a fact of your life. 

That is, until Wanda and Natasha came along. 

Wanda’s touch was always gentle. She kept short acrylic nails that she would use to massage your scalp or run down your spine. She had found a spot on the back of head and neck that would put you in a boardline hypnotic trance when she scratched it. She couldn’t help but chuckle every time she felt your body relax and watched your eyes glaze over. 

Your favorite spot on the massive couch in the living room became the leftmost armrest because Wanda's favorite spot was the leftmost cushion. You would sit slightly in front of her so she would idly rub your back while she watched tv or read her books. 

Natasha always teased you. The L shaped couch was easily large enough to accommodate 8 people and yet you insisted on sitting on the armrest like all the other seats were taken. You didn’t mind the teasing though. It was no secret you were growing fond of Wanda and loved it when she gave you attention. 

Natasha’s affection was always a lot more playful. She was certainly the less physically affectionate of the two. Sometimes it was just a little too much for her to be cuddled, and she needed a bit of space. But that didn’t stop her from giving you affection in her own little ways. 

The woman was like a walking space heater, so she was always warming up your cold hands letting you stick your feet underneath her while she sat on the couch. Not to mention, always being hot usually meant she found relief in your cold extremities. She liked to grab your wrist and put your hands on her cheeks or the back of her neck.  

You weren’t exactly sure how it started, but the two of you had a bit where one of you would fill their cheeks with air, and the other one would squeeze their face until the air came out in a funny, raspberry-like noise. 

When she was feeling particularly impish, you and Natasha would play wrestle. Mostly, it just consisted of Natasha wrapping her arms around you and picking you up while you pretended to try to get away. Sometimes she would flip you upside down and throw your feet over her shoulder, which always earned her a chiding from Wanda. 

You had adjusted your schedule to only have in-person classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You were going into healthcare, so with your general education classes out of the way, you were mostly just doing clinicals and labs anyway. You spent the other days with Wanda in her home office, silently working in the reading nook. The nook–previously pristine and untouched, flanked by two small, neatly organized–was now completely overtaken by you and your things. The decorative throw pillows were replaced with large, comfortable body pillows, and where there had been an ornamental, scratchy, wool blanket, there was now a fluffy grey throw covered in little sharks. Wanda did, at least, insist on keeping the blanket folded when you weren’t using it. 

More and more of your things were starting to find their way out of your room in general. Wanda even hung up a picture of the three of you in the stairwell. It was from a time you’d gone out for ice cream and both you and Natasha had gotten chocolate all over your mouths. Wanda had chastised both of you, resulting in her getting a sloppy chocolate kiss from Natasha, and a kiss on the cheek from you, covering her face in chocolate as well.

You started to feel less like a guest and more like a roommate and a friend.

You still weren’t exactly clear on what Wanda and Natasha did for a living. You knew they both worked for Stark Industries, though they had very different positions there. From what you had gathered, they’d actually met there when they were assigned to the same unit. Wanda had since retired to a much more cushy position that she could do from home. Natasha no longer did field work, but rather switched to training new recruits. They had talked minimally about their jobs before saying they retired because they were getting older and didn’t want to spend their time getting shipped across the world on long ‘missions.’ What these ‘missions’ entailed was still unclear, but you got the sneaking suspicion you weren’t really supposed to know. 

On one of these easy, slow afternoons, you sat in the living room with Wanda. The two of you were sitting side by side, reading, when you heard Natasha come in the garage door. 

“Well if it isn’t my two favorite ladies,” she smiled, stopping to kiss Wanda on her way in. “How’s your day been, my love?” She slung her duffle bag off her shoulder and threw it in the corner. She grabbed her shoulder, wincing and sucking her teeth as a jolt of pain shot up her arm. 

“Did you hurt your arm?” you asked, closing your book and turning your attention to them. 

“Yeah,” Natasha groans, rolling her shoulder to relieve the pain. “I’m not sure what I did to it.”

“Do you think maybe it’s ‘cause you're almost 40 and you spend your days wrestling with 20 year olds?” you teased. Wanda laughed. 

“First of all, almost 40 is brutal. I’m 38,” Natasha started, mouth wide like she was offended. “And second of all, I’m gonna wrestle your 20 year old ass into the ground.” She pounced on you, wrapping her arm around your thighs and picking you up upside down. You squealed and giggled, kicking your feet in a faux attempt to get away. After a few seconds though, Natasha gently laid you on the floor, grabbing at her shoulder again. 

You stood up and reached out to touch her. “Are you okay?” you asked, quickly switching from silly and fun to serious and concerned. 

Natasha nodded. “Yeah. I probably just need to rest it for a little while.”

“Can I look at it? That’s what I go to school for, you know,” you asked, gently grabbing her bicep. 

“I thought you were going for philosophy or some shit,” she said, taking her hand away and allowing you to move her arm freely.  

You gently moved her bicep, testing her range of movement. First and foremost, you needed to make sure she didn’t tear her rotator cuff. “I do that too, as a minor. I have an English minor as well, but those are more just hobbies.” 

You poked around at her arm for a few more minutes, assessing as much as you could. “Nothing is dislocated and it doesn’t feel like anything is torn, but you should probably get an MRI just in case-”

“No!” Natasha interrupted harshly, tearing her arm from your hand. “It’s fine. I just need to rest it, like I said earlier.” She quickly moved away from you, fiddling nervously with the zipper of her bag. 

You looked at her, confused, then to Wanda. Her lips tightened, as if she was trying to silently apologize for Natasha’s harshness. But in looking back to Natasha, you saw all you needed to know. She was afraid. Of all the horrifying things she’d faced in her life, Natasha Romanoff was scared of doctor’s offices. 

You gently approach her from behind, saying her name in almost a whisper. “Natasha…”

She turned around to tell you off, but the look she received from both you and Wanda made her decide otherwise. You weren’t angry or stubborn. You weren’t even confused. You understood. She let out a breath she had been holding and visibly relaxed. 

You both stared at each other in silence for a long moment before you spoke up. “We don’t need to talk about it. I understand,” you said in almost a whisper. “I have some things… here that might help, but we don’t have to do anything right now. I’m not gonna try to make you do anything right now.” 

Natasha looked at her feet, anxious and embarrassed. “Yeah…” she finally said. “Yeah, just… let me take a shower really quick and we can talk after.”

You both headed upstairs, her to the shower and you to your school bag. Given your field of study, you had started carrying around a small bag of medical supplies: just full of basic things you were good and familiar with. 

Natasha was out of the shower in under ten minutes and you met both her and Wanda in their room. Immediately, you could tell Natasha had calmed down quite a bit. Wanda was helping her wring out her hair while she tried not to move her shoulder. “Alright doc, what have you got for me?”

“Well, I have some menthol and methylsalicylate cream,” you said in an overly pretentious tone. “So, IcyHot, basically. And I have some kinesiology tape in…” you looked down into your pack, drawing out three rolls of tape, “blue for boys, pink for girls, and camo for… hunting expeditions? Take your pick.”

“Well, we all know I love a good hunting expedition. Give me the camo,” she chuckled. 

“Alright,” you said, dropping the other two rolls back in your bag, “take off your shirt and get on the bed.”

“Woah,” Natasha teased, “at least take me to dinner first.”

Wanda chuckled, peeling the shirt off over her wife’s head and smacking her in the torso with it. “I don’t recall you being the type that needed to be wined and dined,” she retorted, playfully shoving Natasha face down on the mattress. 

You crawled up on the bed, first kneeling next to Natasha, but then deciding it would be better to straddle her waist. You started in on her shoulder, gently massaging the sore muscles. She groaned with a mix of pain and relief. “Do you usually get this up close and personal with all of your clients?”

You shook your head, continuing to press the base of your palm into her back. “I don’t usually do this on a king size mattress.” As you started to rub the cream onto her shoulder, you couldn’t help but admire her back. She was so strong, toned with muscles from the base of her spine up to her broad shoulders. Her skin was so smooth and warm, surprisingly mostly unblemished despite her choice of career. Without thinking, you gently traced your hand down the side of her spine, taking in the soft expanse of her ribcage and shoulder blade. 

You were torn from your drifting thoughts when Natasha said, “damn, while you're up there you should just do my whole back.”

“I will if you want me too,” you replied, not quite able to tell whether or not she was joking.

“You’re very good at this,” she groaned again as you circled a particularly tight muscle. “Even when you’re pushing on it like that, you’re very… gentle.”

You smiled and blushed a little at the compliment, wiping the excess cream from your hands with a cloth. You worked your way down her spine, diligently kneading the rest of her back. She started to make little noises as you made your way to her lower back. “Mmm… fuck that feels good.”

You turned your head to find Wanda, leaning in the bathroom doorway, smiling impishly. “Careful. You might make me jealous,” she quipped, but the look on her face told a different story. She looked to be enjoying this as much as Natasha was.

The look gave you a renewed sense of confidence. You shifted slightly, adjusting your position so you were now kneeling on Natasha completely. “I don’t normally do this with my patients, but since you’re so well behaved….” You leaned forward, pressing the full weight of your knee into the muscle just above her pelvis bone. 

She hummed with delight. “Mmm, you might just be my favorite… physical therapist? Kinesologist? Is that what they call you?”

You chuckle. “I’m technically a ‘non-surgical orthopedist’, but right now I’m just your roommate kneeling on your back. This would be… frowned upon in my practice.” You shifted again, rolling off her back. “Alright, you can sit up. I’ll tape you up.”

Gently, you helped Natasha sit up. You carefully avoided looking down, fearing one glance at her bare chest might cause you to melt into the mattress. You grabbed a strip of the tape and stretched it carefully over her injured shoulder. “There. You can shower with it and everything. I’ll reapply it when it starts to come off. But you’ll have to limit physical activity and try not to lift anything too heavy. Including me, so don’t even think about trying to tackle me.”

You and Wanda helped her get her shirt back on over her head, giggling as she tried repeatedly to put her arm through the head hole. You sat back on your feet with a giddy, pleased smile on your face. It felt good to be the one helping them. You’d spent the past weeks trying to come to terms with being cared for by the two women. They had assured you as many times as you needed to hear it that they were doing this because they wanted to, because it made them happy too, but you had never truly believed them until right now. 

Sure, maybe a massage wasn’t the same as completely opening your home to and caring for a person, but this feeling, this pride, of knowing you had been able to help and bring relief was elating. You spent so much time thinking of yourself as a thing that had to be dealt with, but maybe there was some inherent pleasure to nurturing as well. You felt good. You felt useful. You felt appreciated. 

You’d read once about inmates in prison adopting pet roaches or toads because “... we all, in some form or another, have the desire to nurture.” Maybe that's what you did for them. Not in giving massages, or doing the dishes, or helping bring in the groceries, but in just existing here, for them to nurture and love. 

The weight of your burden on them suddenly felt no heavier than that of a little bug in a prisoner’s jumpsuit. You were wanted here. You always were. But you could see it now. Not in the relief on Natasha’s face, but in the smile on your own.

[demonic0angel]

Danny ends up in Gotham with no memories of his past or ghost powers. In an attempt for more power a rouge observant weakened Clockwork with liquefied blood blossoms, sent multiple rouge ghosts through the portal to occupy the rest of team Phantom before stabbing Danny in the back with an electrified blade coated in liquefied blood blossoms as well. This forced Danny into human form as his core cracked, leading to him having amnesia.

Danny ends up working at a low rent hair salon after the owner finds him in an alley behind the shop and patches him up. He's also staying in the apartment above the salon. He doesn't get the danger when a robber tries to rob the store. Danny sits the robber down and gives him a hair cut and listens to his woes, and treats him like a normal person. He encourages him to do better.

This keeps happening and goes from petty criminals to some of the rouges. The bats are kinda freaking out when they find out that Harley and Ivy opened a therapy office and flower shop and that the Riddler opened a one hundred percent safe and legal escape room business. Tim gets sent to investigate the salon and becomes fast friends with Danny.

"So, what type of haircut are you looking for?" The boy asked, as he draped a sheet over Tim.

Tim hummed and then said in a very serious tone, "Low taper fade."

He got smacked at the back of the head for that.

"Don't you start!" The boy said, though he was laughing.

Tim pouted. "Ow!" It didn't really hurt, but he'd take whatever he could in order to make this nameless boy open up.

The boy gasped. "Oh no! I'm sorry— I was just joking! Does it hurt a lot?" He ran his hands through Tim's hair, rubbing at his scalp. The sudden touch made Tim jump before he relaxed at the massage.

Tim shook his head and said, "No, no, it's fine."

The boy leaned down to look at his face and then sighed. "Do you really want a low taper fade?"

Tim snickered. "Nah, just a trim, please."

The boy laughed. "Sure! I was worried I had to shave you bald."

Tim gasped in mock horror as the boy laughed again. They chatted some more, trading stories and making jokes until Tim finally asked, “Hey, I heard that this place gets a lot of visits from villains? Is that true?”

The boy blinked. “Villains?”

“Yeah. I heard that Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy was here. And the Riddler. And Mr. Freeze. Is it true?” He asked, trying to sound eager.

The boy chuckled. “I’m not too sure? Sometimes, people come in here and threaten to rob the store and I try to calm them down. I’m not really sure if they’re villains, I’m new.”

Tim blinked.

“… you’re new? To Gotham?” Huh. He hadn’t expected that from someone who had supposedly been able to talk down Gotham City villains.

There were a strange amount of newcomers coming to Gotham lately. Batman and the others had been hearing rumors of a red haired woman tearing up the underworld in search of something and had apparently even made contact with Red Hood.

The boy was oblivious to his thoughts and only nodded, trimming more hair. “Yeah. The owner of the salon found me after I was on the streets and then patched me up. So I’m working here to help him out.”

Tim nodded slowly.

“Say, what’s your name again?” Tim brought out his hand. “I’m Alvin. Alvin Draper.”

The boy blinked again and then smiled. He shook Tim’s hand and turned him back around to take off the protective sheet. “Daniel,” he said. “Daniel Nightingale.”

[undiscovered-horizon]

[It’s considered good etiquette to ask a man about his wife’s wellbeing. Except if the man in question is Dracule Mihawk.]

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

Garp hates having to call Mihawk, mainly because of the warlord's attitude. Used to the usual "yes, sir!" of the Marines, a man with his own will and agenda is not something he entirely knows how to navigate. Especially since both of them know that the World Government needs the warlords more than they need the bureaucracy. And that doesn't exactly help in exercising power.

His attempts at diplomacy have burst into flames each time and today isn't going to be much different:

"How’s the missus?" Garp asks in the nicest tone he can force although he's aware that Mihawk knows how much the vice admiral hates asking for Dracule's assistance.

Mihawk only scoffs. "Are you calling just to spoil my mood or is there another reason for your impertinence?"

"I was just trying to-"

"Don't," he cuts him off in a stern voice. "If you have business with me, speak fast. If you're interested in my wife, I know where you live, Garp. I'd suggest losing your unwelcome nosiness before you lose something else."

Little did Garp know at the time but his little question was possibly the worst strategy he could think of. Dracule Mihawk is not like most men and the mere mention of his wife by acquaintances only enrages him. Work and private life do not ever mix. And he'll be damned if someone tries to breach that, even in the form of a courtesy. Therefore, the rest of the call was filled with openly insulting answers that were bold even for Mihawk. A veiled threat or two also found their way into their rather tense conversation.

You know he's done with Garp when he lets out a frustrated grunt. Sometimes you wonder if this grumpy, forever dissatisfied version of him is the only side of Mihawk his acquaintances know. Maybe he really is two men in the form of one.

He's sitting at his desk, thinking about something and not bothering to get up for now. Considering the fact that his hat is lying on the table and not on his head, Mihawk is probably not planning on going out anytime soon. Then again, judging by his spoiled mood, his homestay is a blessing for the first poor sods that would cross his path.

In slow steps, you stroll to his side, letting your hand brush through his hair. He doesn't say anything, only leans his head further towards you. The thing about Mihawk is that he loved to reject and decline but he never does so to you. No, in your case it's the opposite - he revels in allowing you whatever you want.

So intimidating and combative, yet soft and looking for intimacy. Truly, two men with the face of one.

"My mother used to say that each grey hair is one thing we worry about," you say quietly. "At this rate, love, your whole head will be white by noon."

"Your mother also says that milk goes sour because gnomes piss in it," he retorts. Yes, your mother and her strange folk beliefs... She's probably the only person Mihawk can force himself to be nice to despite his dislike.

His response earns a hearty laugh from you. Clear as day, you can see his posture relax as he listens to the music of your happiness. If he even thinks about the possibility of Garp or any other of his acquaintances hearing it, he might just get furious again.

"Well, nobody's perfect," you say between chuckles.

Then, Mihawk gently grabs your hand and lowers it to his face. With softness and passion that hardly befits a man of his infamy, he kisses the inside of your hand. "You seem to be doing so effortlessly."

[bewitched-if]

"A love not so genuine, a love so forced it was made to feel real."

As of June 28, 2025, Bewitched is an 18+ interactive fiction for mature themes such as: child neglect, major character death, violence, emotional manipulation (caused by the curse), and more.

[ DEMO ] ✧ [ RO INTROS ] ✧ [ WORLD LORE ] ✧ [ CWS/TWS ]

Overlooked your whole life, you never had any friends to turn to—except the neighbor's kid, who you could not even call your friend. Even your parents cared about others more than they cared about you. They made it clear that you were the bane of their existence, that they're ashamed to call you their child.

Sometimes, Jules tries to comfort you. They didn't know that they were the reason you were always lonely. Overlooked. Jules embodied perfection, kindness, intelligence—everything you were not. You wanted to be them. You wanted to be loved. Wanted to feel how it's like being the person everyone either wanted to be or to be with.

And now, you find yourself somewhere completely foreign. In a world filled with empires, kingdoms and dukedoms, you were suddenly the beloved heir and child of a highly respected House and Heart Lady's child. You were the so-called saint of the empire, loved and adored by all.

Everything felt surreal, forced. Everyone worshiped you, loved you, no matter what you did, no matter how you acted; they all just turn a blind eye.

You were right.

Stumbling upon an old mage's book, there you face a truth: the body you now inhabit cast a curse—bewitched—everyone—surprisingly affecting everyone but a certain group of people into loving you forever.

What will you do with this discovery? Will you continue to live through this artificial affection? Or will you fight to break the curse, risking everything to free yourself and those around you from this unnatural bond?

In a world where everyone loves you, will you ever find out what true love really means?

Play as male, female, non-binary.

Customize your character, your original body and the child of Heart Lady.

Romance any of the six romanceable options; but earn their trust first.

Find a way to break the curse.

Or maybe even meet the original soul of this body?

Buy interactive drabbles in-game using hair pins. [in the works, more info coming soon.]

✧ These are your victims companions throughout the game. Will you befriend them or will you go for something more?

Juniper de Verburgh: Crowned Heir of Kleian Empire - Embodiment of: Jules : [NB] [RO]

Juniper is the Emperor's child and Kleian Empire's future ruler. They are often considered as angelic, intelligent, and attractive. Everyone either wants to be them, or be with them. Their hair is long, straight and red while their eyes are dark blue with porcelain skin. They remind you of your neighbor's kid, untouchable and perfect. Their personalities are similar too; charming, playful and excessively flirtatious towards you. You would think being engaged to someone will stop them from being touchy with Heart Lady's child, let me tell you something: No it won't. Perhaps, it is because they're affected by the spell? Or are they?

Celeste Roselli: Matriarch of Roselli Manor - Embodiment of Beatrice : [F] [RO]

Celeste took on the role of Matriarch of Roselli Manor after her father’s passing. Since then, she’s grown distant, serious, and almost impossible to approach. Her life revolves around work, her sister, and her responsibilities, leaving no room for rest or relaxation. The vibrant person she once was has faded, replaced by someone barely recognizable to those who knew her before the tragedy. She has long white hair that is ridiculously curly. Her skin is a deep shade of chestnut, while her eyes is glowing red. She reminds you of Beatrice, who was a girl who used to watch you get isolated and overlooked. She made no effort to befriend you, instead watched you get pushed around and left out. She was distant, cold, and shy. Celeste needed someone who she could call her home, her rest. Maybe that could truly be you?

Calliope Roselli: Celeste's Sister - Embodiment of Ophelia: [F] [RO]

Calliope is nothing like her sister. She is stubborn, fierce, and foul-mouthed. She often gets into scandals due to her recklessness and short-tempered nature. It's easy to get on her bad side, and when you do, you're in for hell. She shares her father's short, slightly curly hair and blue eyes, while her skin and hair color mirrors her mother and sister's. She reminds you of Ophelia, who was your ex-best friend and the only friend who betrayed you. Ophelia used to protect you from people, and you're not sure if you're fond of their similarities. Will you tame their fire, or will you get burned?

Rhys Stevyn Nicolei: Duke of Vasina - Embodiment of Feliks: [M] [RO]

If Rhys could pick one person who he hates the most in the whole galaxy; it would be you. You don't know the reason for his hatred, but the original soul must've done something to offend him, and it doesn't help that Rhys is suspicious of you because everyone seemed to love you. Rhys kind of acts like Juniper in a way, flirtatious, known for his hook ups and carefree attitude. Rhys has a neck-length, long braided black hair. His eyes is a deep shade of violet with olive skin. He reminds you of Feliks, who was your older sister's best friend and your rival. You and Feliks always tried to one-up each other, and to be honest, Feliks found solace when he found out you were a sore loser, a loner. It only made him joyful. How far will you go to make sure Rhys does not find out about the spell?

Kieran: Commander of Kleian Knights - Embodiment of Wren: [M] [RO]

As the Commander of Kleian Knights and your bodyguard, Kieran takes his job very seriously. You thought along with the four, that he would be the same and be immune to the spell, but what the hell is this arrangement? The original soul and he have a friends-with-benefits type relationship? Kieran has heterochromia eyes: left eye; gray, right eye; red. His caramel skin is always dirty due to spars, his hair is brown and tied up. Kieran reminds you of Wren, who acted like your protector and close confidant, he always looked at you with longing stares as if he wanted to kiss you. One thing led to another, and you found yourself falling in love and you thought he did too. But joke's on you, he didn't love you. He made a bet with your sister that if he could get you to fall in love with him, your sister would date him. All of it was fake. How are you supposed to know if Kieran is affected by the spell or not?

By falling in love it could either mean: 1) MC fell in love with the idea of being loved, 2) MC had actually fallen in love with Wren.

Zara/Zeke Montclair: The Magician - Embodiment of Zoya/Zivon: [F/M] [ RO ]

Z is known to be quite... an outstanding magician. Often caught causing trouble in many ways, like accidentally setting their own tower on fire, losing valuable items given by the emperor, making kids cry, getting people sick due to their magic... Zara has short lavender hair, while Zeke has a long one. Their skin tan brown, while their eyes are black. Z reminds you of Zoya/Zivon, Your childhood friend who returned to Russia. Zoya/Zivon would always make you laugh when you were sad, always bring you food when you were hungry and starved, would always share their toys with you, would always play with you. Even though they had other friends to be with, they always chose you. But now that they're gone, you probably won't ever experience that happiness ever again. Once the only source of your happiness, now gone.

Kara (rename-able) [IRL] - Your older sister: [F]

Your sister... she's not really the easiest to get along with. Being seen as perfect in your parents' eyes, she got away with everything. Like getting into physical fights with you, humiliating you in public, messing with your stuff, et cetera, et cetera. She makes it clear that she hates your guts, and that she is overjoyed to see you suffer. How would she react when she sees you gone?

Mother [IRL] - Your mother: [F]

Your mother doesn't care about you. Not one bit. She is often away for her business trips, leaving you and Kara alone, but when she does come back, she doesn't even bat you an eye and focuses on Kara instead. She turns a blind eye whenever Kara picks on you, in front of her, unbothered. She probably doesn't even care that you're gone.

Father [IRL] - Your (step-)father: [M]

Your father... you don't have much say on him, honestly. The only time he ever talks to you was when he needs an errand child, or when he joins in on your mother yelling at you for whatever reason. There was one time where your mother asked you to buy things for your sister because she was too lazy, where you walked in on your father making out with some random woman at the back of a 7-11. He threatened to throw away the stuffed bear your biological father gave you if you ever snitched on him. He's probably overjoyed to see you gone.

??? - An otherworldly being: [?]

The voices in your head that make you go crazy, mental, second-guess, commit a crime.

reblogs appreciated <3 | demo: writing prologue; please be patient!

[nlvrr]

HIS STYLIST | jude bellingham

summary: jude is hopelessly smitten with his stylist, but no matter how charming or flirty he gets, she remains oblivious to his feelings.

warnings: none!

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

a/n request more people to write about or anything! im on christmas break and want things to write about!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the studio hummed with the usual sounds, tailors fussing over fabric, the drone of a few lights being adjusted, but to jude, it was all background noise. his focus was entirely on her, the way she moved around him, so careful, so assured. every step she took seemed to amplify the heartbeat that echoed in his chest.

it had been months since they started working together. months of fitting, adjusting, watching her hands smooth over his collar, or adjust his cuff, with professional precision. she was his personal stylist, and from the start, their relationship had been entirely business. but somewhere along the way, it had shifted for jude. each brush of her fingers against his skin, each moment when their eyes would meet for just a second too long, made him feel something deeper than what he had ever intended to feel for someone simply doing their job.

“relax your shoulders, jude,” she said, her tone gentle but steady, her hands reaching for the edges of his suit jacket.

he did as instructed, but it was hard not to stiffen when she got close, when the heat from her body pressed against his in subtle, fleeting moments.

“better,” she murmured as she moved back. her fingers lingered over him for just an instant longer than was necessary.

“always so perfect,” he said with a playful grin, trying again to flirt, hoping she’d notice, hoping maybe, just maybe, she’d let her guard down this time.

she didn’t respond right away, but when she did, her smile was small and polite. “that’s the goal,” she said, as if it were just another part of the job.

he watched her, studying every move, and for a second, he imagined what it would be like if she smiled at him without that professionalism, the mask that never quite cracked. he could tell himself over and over that it was a lost cause, that she was just his stylist, that this thing he felt, this longing, was a silly infatuation that would fade. but it never did.

“you know,” he began, voice smooth but with a quiet edge of vulnerability creeping through, “i feel like i should thank you. you really have a gift, making all of this look effortless.” he gestured to his perfectly tailored suit, smiling a little too brightly. “it’s hard to feel this… good.”

she didn’t seem moved by his words in the way he hoped. instead, she adjusted his cuffs, still cool and collected. “it’s just what i do.” she flicked her gaze up to him, those eyes holding a faintly amused glimmer. “your job’s harder than mine.”

he wanted to say this wasn’t hard. that looking at her, feeling this constant pull toward her, was the hardest thing he’d done in months. but instead, he forced a light chuckle. “maybe you’re right. but it can be difficult to make perfection look effortless.”

the moment stretched. she stepped away, adjusting a few things on his jacket that he was fairly certain didn’t need adjusting. “it’s all about the details.” her voice was soft, easy to brush off as just her doing her work. professional. detached.

jude, however, had spent months thinking about those details. the way she looked at him sometimes. the way she shifted just a little closer when she was measuring his sleeves. the subtle touches that made his heart race and left him wondering if, just maybe, she noticed him the way he noticed her.

but he couldn’t let her continue to be this distant. couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t bother him, couldn’t ignore the way his chest felt tight at how polite and professional she remained—how impossibly detached she seemed to be when it came to him.

“i need to say something,” jude said suddenly, his voice thick with nerves. he hadn’t meant to say anything like this. he wasn’t even sure how the words had gotten this far.

she paused, fingers still on his sleeve, but now there was a shift in her posture—curiosity, but no immediate panic. no expectation that anything could be different.

“what’s up?” she asked, finally turning to face him fully. there was something almost friendly in her gaze now, a flicker of openness he hadn’t expected to see.

jude’s throat tightened as he swallowed. this was it. he knew he couldn’t keep hiding it, not forever. he took a breath, gathering every ounce of courage he had, and said it before he could second-guess himself.

“i like you. more than just well, more than just professional. and i’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to make it… go away. but it doesn’t. so, i figured if i didn’t tell you, i’d just keep pretending, keeping my distance, but i can’t anymore.”

for a beat, the world seemed to freeze. she stared at him for a moment, her lips parting slightly as though she was processing his words, but not in the way he hoped.

“oh,” she said finally, the shock clear in her tone. for a second, jude’s heart fell, but she quickly recovered with a soft laugh. “well, i didn’t expect that.” she seemed to smile, but it wasn’t exactly the response he’d imagined, not the warm acceptance he’d hoped for. she was still standing a little too far from him.

“yeah, um…” he had to swallow to push the nervous energy down. “i thought maybe you… might feel the same way.”

she blinked, and jude’s heart thudded. “i don’t know,” she said with a light shrug, but there was no edge in her voice—nothing that would outright shut him down. “i mean, i think you’re great and all. i just… didn’t think you saw me that way.”

the tension lifted slightly. her words weren’t a rejection. no, they weren’t exactly a refusal. but they weren’t confirmation either.

“i guess that’s fair,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair in that awkward, sheepish way he always did. his mind reeled at her unexpected reaction.

“but,” she continued, eyes gleaming just a little, “i wouldn’t mind seeing where it could go. i did notice you, you know. you’re not the only one who’s been… thinking about this.” there was that smirk again, playful this time, as though she’d already known all along.

jude’s chest felt lighter, though his heart still pounded. maybe it wasn’t as disastrous as he had imagined.

“you—seriously?” his voice cracked with hope.

“yeah. dinner, maybe. we’ll see,” she said, teasing with that cool, knowing smile.

he let out a relieved breath. maybe she hadn’t been entirely oblivious after all. but for now, the playful banter and guarded interest between them had finally found its space.

and he was willing to take it one step at a time.