#yes i know he did not think through what he said here because he never actually thinks

[melioristicbeast]

“Sorry,” Stiles said, unsure of why he was apologizing. “I’ve never heard that song before. Did you write it?”  Derek looked uncomfortable, maybe a touch embarrassed, which was answer enough. “It’s good. I like it. It’s calming.”  The small smile he got in response melted his heart a little bit. Fucking hell, he was so gone for this asshole. Stiles didn’t know what he was going to do. He wished he’d never realized how much he loved him. Wished he’d just continued to think they were best friends and nothing more. It was slowly going to kill him being so close, and yet so fucking far. Clearing his throat, he brought the book back up to continue reading, muttering that Derek should keep playing. He did, his fingers plucking gently at the strings, filling the loft with soft music. It really was calming, and soothing. Stiles really liked it. He liked it even more when he realized Derek could honestly express himself with the guitar. It still wasn’t a voice, but it was something, at least. 

Actions Speak Louder than Words (ch18) by @isthatbloodonhisshirt

This fic is what spurred me to start doing sterek fanart back in the beginning of december - magic!stiles, cursed!derek, stiles/jackson terrifying everyone else as friends - an incredible 430K story with a completely endearing slow-burn and slowly unfolding exploration of the characters and their relationship, made complete with the perfect bow of cursed-mute-Derek because 'Derek's eyebrows have a language of their own but only Stiles is fluent' is my favorite and this author does it SO well. And gives Derek a guitar. Derek plays a guitar!!

Ella, consider this my loveletter to your works - they all, this one in particular, buoyed me through a tough time in my life and brought me back to a love of drawing that I haven't had in years and a fandom that has been so generous in their support of my silly art. Thank you for sharing your works!

And a huge thank you to everyone's support so far - the sweet comments in replies, the unhinged all-caps tags, yes-and'ing my silly ideas and headcanons, i'm just over here kicking my feet and giggling and definitely not getting teary-eyed over it no siree no lacrimal action happening here

[wonderjanga]

Bro, You Suck at Disguises

Billy sucks at disguises and the JL really wants to say something about it, but at the same time the disguises somehow work.

Flash, GL, and Marvel: *all hiding in some bushes*

Flash: “All right, so we’re all here- Cap, what the fuck are you wearing?”

Marvel: “What do you mean?” *wearing the mustache and nose glasses*

GL: “He means what the fuck are you wearing? Dude is that your actual disguise?”

Marvel: “Uh… yeah?”

*silence*

Flash: “Bro, go home and change.”

Marvel: “No, my disguise is fine. Look, watch.” *stands up out of the bushes they were hiding in and walks over to the entrance*

GL and Flash: *watch as Marvel says something to the goon and is somehow, they don’t know how, but somehow let in*

Even if Cap’s disguise worked, it was still shit. They chalked it up to Marvel interacting with low level goons, because there’s no way that would fool an actual villain, right? Right…?

Both Barry and Hal later watched as Lex Luther talked straight to Billy’s face about evil plans.

Then there was the time Diana asked him to show up to a UN meeting with her in disguise.

She was greeted with him wearing a button up that not only barely hid his suit, but his lightning bolt was also shining through the fabric. She honestly doesn’t know how he wasn’t found out, but when she heard one of his interactions with an older ambassador…

Old Lady Ambassador: “Where’s that glowing coming from?”

Marvel: “It’s my pacemaker.” *pulled that straight out of his ass*

Old Lady Ambassador: “Oh, I see!”

Wondy: *confusion*

Then there was a time Marvel just put on some glasses, didn’t even bother to put something on over his suit, just glasses. When someone came up to him and asked if this was a “cosplay”, Billy just said yes and ran with it. After all, the real Captain Marvel doesn’t wear glasses so he’s obviously a fake.

This was also a joint mission with Superman, so Clark reacts about as well as you would expect.

Marvel: *surrounded by a crowd, all taking photos and talking about how good his “cosplay” is*

Supes: *watching this*

Marvel: *notices him and pushes through the crowd* “Mr. S- er Mr. Clark!” *waves*

Supes: *staring and slowly starts to look offended* “Are you making fun of me?”

Marvel: “What no? What do you mean?”

Supes: “I… never mind.”

Marvel: “No, tell me! Did I do something to make you upset?”

Supes: *sulking because seeing Marvel made him think his own disguise is stupid* “No, you didn’t. Let’s just get the mission over with.”

[siri-ike]

The spray was never supposed to last long. So when Tim came home and heard Dick say he'd sat there with "Bruce" for three full hours, he was concerned, to say the least. He can't still be in his fantasy. He can't still be this docile. Real Bruce wouldn't even be this docile, let alone "elementary school arson record" Bruce. But he just sat there. Staring at anyone who came into view.

His grip was tight, much tighter than he could pull off when he was high. And no way would Nightwing ever ask him to stop. He'd hold him forever if not for all their pesky human needs like eating and sleeping. Speaking of sleep, shouldn't he be getting tired? "Hey, Bruce?" Dick whispered so as not to disturb too much. "Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?"

Bruce shook his head. "I fell asleep, during Gray Ghost." His voice was calm and low (for a child), and he didn't even try to un-bury himself from his dad's hold.

This is big. He slept and didn't lose his memory. Dick waved Tim over.

"What?" Tim spoke at a normal volume.

"He didn't forget dinner." Dick kept whispering, but his excitement shined through. "He woke up at 4:43 pm yesterday, we had dinner at 9, afterward, he got to watch some Gray Ghost tapes and fell asleep. At 4:43 am he woke up again because Phantom was destabilizing as usual, but when Zatanna asked him what happened, he told her about dinner. He Remembered Dinner." Dick really emphasized the last part.

"That's great," Tim brought his tone down to match Dicks. "So then he's stable?"

"Stable? Dude, no. He's aging backwards."

"Oh, right. I forget people are supposed to get older." Tim said, fully serious. "I'll run some tests, and we should keep monitoring him."

"How about we run tests, and you go to your room and take some melatonin." Dick suggested. Let's see if he knows how aging works in the morning afternoon.

One hour later, at 9, Bruce was willing to eat. Dick hadn't left his side and could attest that he was calm non combative and ate like he hadn't seen food in a month. "Please don't be Stockholm syndrome, please don't be Stockholm syndrome," He repeated in his head. "It's too fast to be Stockholm, I can't let him leave. He thought he was dead a few hours ago. Wait, did he ever say he didn't?"

"Hey B? I, uh, Bruce?" He addresses the boy across the dining table.

"Yes, Father?"

Crap, crap, crap. Other age appropriate swears. Dick doesn't look anything like Thomas. If anything, he looks like Martha. No, wait, he looks like his own parents. Unless.

"Bruce, what is my name?" Nightwing fiddled with the mask in his hands.

Bruce just sat there, confused. Like he didn't expect him to have a name at all. "You're... you're, uh," He looked shamefully down at his food. "I don't know." His voice quivered.

"It's ok, Bruce. My name's Richard Grayson, Dick for short." He reassured. "Just one more question, alright?" He gave Bruce time to consider and nod. Nightwing put his arms down on the table and looked Bruce in the eyes. "Are you alive?"

"No~" his guilty expression instantly turned to utter glee.

Nightwing thought for a moment. "Are you dead?"

"No." He giggled.

"Then what are you?" So much for "one more question."

"I am not bound by life or death."

Dick didn't recognize the language, but it sounded otherworldly, almost like a mix of TRAP music and demonic incantations with a hint of backwards English. He also needed a minute.

"Alfred?" Dick asked head in his hands, slumped over in a chair in a corner of the kitchen. "I'm starting to think my son might be the devil."

"Master Dick, all parents think their children are devils from time to time. I certainly thought it with each of you, and look how you turned out... raising more hellspawn." He joked, kind of.

Dick couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "I think we need to move up our meeting with Harley." He sat up, hands on his knees as if to brace himself. "Bring her here, rather than go to her."

"Isn't she in Arkham right now?"

Nightwing pulls out his phone. "I'll figure something out." He scrolls through his contacts and finds two Jim Gordans. He picks the one with the incognito picture.

"Commissioner Jim Gordon." Jim answers.

"Hi, this is Nightwing. Remember that boy, a month ago, who claimed to be a clone of Batman?"

"Yes, he showed up right before all of you dropped out of the world. Did he survive?"

"Yeah, he's... something. Look, I need Harley Quinn."

"Harley Quinn, the clown or Harley Quinn, the doctor?"

"The doctor."

"You know there are plenty of psychologists in Gotham."

"And none can handle these sorts of things without losing their minds, too."

-Silence-

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

*click*

"Why do you need a doctor?" Bruce had innocently popped in, probably to talk to Alfred.

"Hey, buddy." It was impressive, really. Not many people can sneak up on him, especially not so casually. "Harley's a friend of ours. She's just going to talk to you. Think you could do that for me?" Dick has raised more than enough titans to know you can't force kids that age to do anything.

"M-hm." Bruce turned toward Alfred. "I had water and sleep and darkness, but my head still hurts. Can I have something?"

"Oh, dear." Alfred put his hand on Bruce's forehead. "Well, your temperature is normal. Where does it hurt?"

"Here, and here." He he presses on his forehead, then to the sides of his head just above the ears.

"I'm gonna give you one more Ibuprofen, and we'll do some tests after that." Alfred put the medicine box back on its top cabinet shelf. "How does that sound?"

"Good," Bruce placed the pill in the back of his throat with his hands like he was auditioning for a horror movie, then he downed the water like a normal person. He was about to head out but stopped. "Alfred? Can I have candy?" He pointed at the fancy glass bowl full of chocolate covered salt caramels.

"Last I checked, sugar does not remedy headaches... you can have one." Alfred didn't even look at the puppy eyes. He is not willing to put up a fight for something so small.

Bruce delightfully lifted the lid and, careful not to touch more than one, picked out a treat. He likes the ones with blue marzipan.

Nightwing watched him leave the room without a care in the world. "I think you just got played."

"The headache is real. And I believe more than just swelling. He may no longer be throwing up and seizing. But he's been asleep for almost a month, only waking up for an hour or less, always at the same time. Then there's the more recent confusion in identity. Those are not psychological symptoms. They are neurological." Alfred gave his most serious "listen very closely, I'm not even going to buffer this with sarcasm" face.

"I'll schedule a brain scan."

Clone Danny long post

The footprints lead Alfred out of the room and to the right but quickly dried up on the short hair carpet.

Alfred checked every room to the right of Danny's. He had to have left the family wing. 40 minutes of searching later, Alfred was about to go down yet another hallway when he heard faint music and metal clanging. He walked closer to the sound until he could make out some words.

🎶I- can hear the sound of violins🎶

🎶long before- it begins🎶

The gym. Someone is at the gym. He told Dick to relax. This is the opposite of relaxing. He stops for a moment outside the door to gather himself. People listen to empathy more than anger. When Alfred pushed the door open and looked down at the workout area, he didn't see a disobedient clown. No. Instead, he was forcibly dragged back to 1989, staring at a 13 year old Bruce doing chest presses. He always looked the most at ease when he was at the gym. The rest of the time, he would be looking for his parents' killer or discovering seacret organizations. Alfred used to cherish the time Bruce spent at the gym because he knew it was the closest he could get to calm. Shortly, Danny put down his 3 kg weights and addressed Alfred.

"Morning, Alfred. Breakfast already? Thought I had more time." He sounded like Bruce, more than just his voice. Danny had his own way of talking, but this was all Bruce.

"Young Master," best not to object to his perceived reality, whatever that may be. "It's almost seven in the afternoon, not morning." The sun would have spoiled that for him anyway. "And dinner will be ready in two hours."

"Oh, ok. I'll be there at nine then." Danny simply went over to the next station in his routine. Right as he sat down on the floor, something seemed to dawn on him. "Alfred? Did something happen to me?" He asked innocently.

Alfred remained frozen, staring at the young boy. "What would give you that idea?"

"I woke up in a different room than usual, I had to switch down all my weights, and the files in my father's office have been moved. And then you came in looking like you've seen a ghost." Ever the detective.

"Nothing gets past you. I'm afraid you had a rather bad fever and spent a few days in bed. I would like to examine your health, but it can wait. Let's say, eight-thirty? Before dinner?"

"Kitchen at eight-thirty, got it."

Alfred left the room and braced himself on the door. He thinks he's Bruce. He probably thinks it's the 80s or 90s, too. It's a good thing most everyone is out hunting down clues and/or committing extreme acts of violence.

Danny had changed into an all black suit (bowtie and kerchief included) before coming to the kitchen at 8:27. Hmm, he does like to be punctual. His temperature and heart rate were normal, for once he didn't have bags under his eyes, which responded in time to light. But, he was definitely younger than he was when he arrived. Dick wasn't imagining that.

"Can you tell me your name, age, and today's date?"

"Bruce Thomas Wayne, 12, almost 13, today is November, uh," He struggled a bit. "17th? Maybe a bit later, 1988." He avoided eye contact. "Just so we're clear, I wouldn't have known today's date even if I hadn't been sick."

Alfred smiled a little, remembering how much he used to care about getting good scores on everything. "I'll be sure to include that in the report." He retorted sarcastically, earning a small grin back. "Now go wash up, dinners almost ready."

As per routine, Alfred started by bringing out the helthiest dishes. They all knew it was a trick to get them to eat vegetables, but no one was ever willing to wait. Danny was so hungry, even the brussel sprouts were appetizing. Now if Alfred could just stop staring at him and actually put the container on the table.

"Alfred?"

"W, what?"

"Are you OK?"

Danny had combed his hair when he'd asked him to wash up. This was Bruce. This was the boy Alfred raised. The one who had fallen asleep in his arms every night for months because he refused to be alone in the dark. The one who used to "forget" to tell Alfred about the handfuls of peanut butter in his pockets, ruining thousand dollars dress pants on six different occasions. The one who wanted to keep street cats knowing full well he was allergic.

"Do you need a day off? Or maybe a week?"

"What? No. I'm alright master Bruce. Just, uhm, glad to see you have your appetite back. That's all." Keep it together now. He set down a steaming glass dish full of baked carrots, sweet potatoes, bell peppers, onions, brussel sprouts, broccoli, cauliflower, and mushrooms.

Danny took as big a serving as he could fit (vegetables can only go in the top right on his plate), making sure not to let the butter run too much. The next dish was steamed turnip. Crap. Another vegetable. Can't mix them. Can't put it somewhere else. The only option is to finish the baked vegetables fast.

By the time he finished his quarter of a turnip, six more dishes had already shown up. How many people does Alfred think live here?

At 21:11 Dick walked into the dining room. Dressed in a plain shirt and pants. The two boys looked like they were going to entirely different events.

"Hello." Danny invited. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"This gentleman is detective Richard Grayson." Alfred interjected. "Master Dick, would you care to join us for dinner?"

"Oh, where are my manners? Here, have a seat. There's plenty of food."

The dinner after that was awkward, but nice. It's good to have some company once in a while. Ever since his parents died, it's just been him and Alfred.

He did wake up late in the afternoon, so it shouldn't be such a surprise that he got to stay up and watch his gray ghost VHS tapes way later than his usual bedtime. Only interrupted occasionally by Alfred, making sure he's keeping all that food down. He had to have been really sick. He doesn't even remember throwing up recently.

He must have dosed off at some point because he was awoken abruptly at some horrid hour of the night by an ear pierceing scream. He hurried to its sorce in the family wing where he saw what looked like another Bruce, except this one had white hair and wore a black onesie. He appeared to be melting into a glowing green sludge. Bruce knelt down and grabbed the boy, who stopped screaming. Opting to bury his face in Bruce's chest instead.

Alfred came just as the gruesome scene was over. 4:50 am, same place, same time, every night. Alfred had hoped something had improved when the screaming stopped early. But rather than the typical gorey mess, there was Danny, inconsolable and covered in slime.

"Wh, wh, ah?" Who was that? What was that?? Why was that???

"Master da- Bruce." At lightning speed, Alfred was on his knees and holding Danny. "Come on, you don't have to be here." He tried to lift him up, but Danny resisted.

"...Why do you have the carpet cleaner?" He accused. "Did you know this would happen?"

[moonyswifee]

Nemesis and Tutors

Remus Lupin x fem!reader [part 3]

summary: enemies to lovers, full moon week. remus is pretty exhausted, snape and avery being jerks like always.

warnings: violence, swearing, fluff, banter, she/her pronouns used for reader, mentions of blood and injuries, use of wizard blood slurs.

word count: 1.5k words

a/n: hi lovelies, i knoww this part is late, so sorry to all the people who wanted a part 3, but here it is! sorry i couldn't write it sooner, i have been so busy lol. i have had such a bad writer's block, i could not come up with good ideas for the plot at all. i had this idea, and i think its pretty good, but hope you all like it!!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

-------

You return back to your dorm, your mind still reeling. What the hell was that? You did not know why you were suddenly feeling this way, and more than that, you definitely did not know why you were feeling this towards your sworn nemesis, Remus freaking Lupin.

Those were just feelings…of annoyance. That’s it. Nothing, nothing more than that. You sigh heavily and dump your bag on your bed.

Lily looks up from her bed as you enter. “Hey, how was tutoring? By the way, I got us those ginger cookies that were out of stock”

You shrug absentmindedly. “Eh.”

Lily chuckles softly and shakes her head, the response valid from you. She leans back on her bed, flipping through her book. “Was Remus terrible, then?” She asks teasingly.

You blink and look away, your heart skipping a beat at the name. “What? Why would I care what Remus was like? I mean-" You scoff a small nervous laugh. “Remus can just like, go missing, for all I care. Like, I just hate him, you know, I hate his guts. That man is intolerable. Completely and utterly infuriating. Did I mention I hate him?” You blabber defensively, almost like you were trying to convince yourself that you hated him.

Lily blinks and furrows her eyebrows in confusion and surprise. “Oookay? Are you okay?” She asks in concern.

You nod with a wide grin. “Me? I’m fine- I am. I am just���amazing. Why, how are you?” You say with a nervous laugh.

Lily narrow her eyes, and looks at you with a tilted head. “Why did you get so…defensive when I mentioned Remus?” She asks in amusement.

You huff. “Because…I hate him. Yep. I. Hate. Him.”

Lily nods slowly, with a slight smirk and goes back to reading. You’re relieved Lily seems to have dropped the subject. You walk inside the shared bathroom, sighing.

Lily calls out from the bed, still looking down at her book. “Do you like him?” She asks with a knowing smirk.

The bathroom door opens so fast it might have broken. “WHAT?”

You look at her with a horrid expression. “Why would you say that? I hate Remus, I don’t like him, Jesus.”

Lily smirks up at you triumphantly. “I never said anything about Remus.”

You groan and face palm yourself. How did you fall for that one? Lily, unbeknownst to your agony, sits up in bed and looks at you with the most excited grin. “Oh my god! Do you have feelings for Remus?”

You huff and narrow your eyes, pointing a threatening finger at her. “I don’t have feelings for Remus.” You grimace. “The only feelings I have for Remus are hatred. Pure hatred. And anger. And frustration. And infuriation. Is that a word? Is infuriation a word?” You ask, threatening finger still pointed.

“Yes, it’s a word.”

“Great! That is exactly what I feel for him, then.”

Lily puts her hands up in defense, smiling. “Okay. You hate him. I got it.”

You huff. “Good. Now where are those cookies?"

-----------

The next time you saw Remus, he looked as pale as a ghost. There were deep bags under his eyes and he looked like he could pass out any moment.

You knew why it was. It was the week of the full moon, and those days had to be hard. You would know, you had read all about lycanthropy the day you found out about Remus. Out of pure curiosity and thirst for knowledge, of course. You found yourself almost concerned for him, in a sense. You weren’t one to empathize with Remus, but you weren’t made of cold stone, either.

You sit down, late as always, on the desk next to him. Remus sits up, wincing slightly, and opens his books. “Where did we leave off last time?”

You open your books and show him the last topic. You look at his tired expression. “You’re not going to lecture me this time? Scold me for being late?”

Remus sighs and closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again, looking at his book. His head was bursting. “Not really. Sorry to deprive you of the pleasure.”

You narrow your eyes at him and start working. You look at Remus as he explains the topic to you, and you almost feel bad, listening to him drawl on about the effects of Veritaserum.

His eyes are tired and his face is pale. The brightness in his expression is gone. You find yourself thinking how unfair it is, for someone innocent to be affected so much by something that wasn’t even their fault. You almost feel yourself pitying him, stuck in this library and teaching you Potions. But you know Remus would never want pity. He’s just not like that. It’s the one thing you can bring yourself to admire about him.

As you study, you try to keep to yourself as much, to not bother him. Not because you care, but because you don’t want to get into an argument.

After a while, you hear hushed (or not so hushed) voices from the other side of bookshelf. The voices snicker quietly. “I would be embarrassed if I was him.”

You distinctly recognize the voices as Snape and Avery’s. The library is quiet, and you and Remus can hear every word they are saying.

“Yeah, always hanging out with those two arrogant pricks like their lapdog. I can bet they only keep him around because they feel bad for him.”

“And have you seen his face? It’s all scratched up, like some scary monster. He’s such a freak.” They snicker.

Remus feels his entire face heat up, and looks down at his book. Normally, he would say something, stand up for himself. But, he was too exhausted to even stand up right now. You notice Remus’ embarrassed gaze on his book, and your hands clench subconsciously. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

Avery snickers, “Must run in his blood. I mean, what would you expect after his father married that filthy muggle?”

Snape continues, “No wonder he doesn’t hang out with many people. I don’t know why Lily goes near him, anyways. Hanging out with Half-bloods like that Lupin. Serves her right for being a mudblood, I guess.”

That was the last straw. With a loud scrape of chairs, Remus and you both got up. Before Remus could make his way to them, however, you had already beat him to that. You stood with your hands clenched into tight fists and a death glare fixed on the two slytherin boys.

“What did you say?” You ask dangerously, your jaw tightened.

Avery and Snape faltered beneath your stare but retorted back, “You heard what we said. He’s a lousy, fucking filthy Half-blood who can’t keep his mouth sh-"

A sickening crack was heard as Snape was cut off with the courtesy of your fist to his crooked nose. He groaned in pain, clutching his nose. Remus stood with his eyes widened, his gaze fixed on you. Was this a dream? Had you really defended Remus? Had you just punched someone for him? He almost felt surprised at the little flutter his heart did.

You lean down, your glaring eyes level with Snape, who was still holding his bleeding nose. “No one gets to talk about him like that except for me.” You say, in a threatening dangerous voice. Remus would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little intimidated by you himself, as he watched with his mouth gaping.

You stand back up, and Snape and Avery scuttle out of their seats, running away from there as fast as they can. As they leave, you shake your hand slightly, wincing as you look down at your now injured knuckles.

Remus stands there speechless for a moment before he finds his voice again. “I didn’t know you could throw a punch like that.”

You grimace at you hand and look at him. “Well, there’s plenty you don’t know about me, Lupin.” You say, but there’s no real hindrance in your voice, only a weird gentleness and concern in your expression.

You both stand in silence for a while. “Thank you.” Remus says sincerely. “For…doing that.” He’s touched albeit a little awkward. Who knew Remus Lupin would be thanking you one day?

You didn’t, that’s for sure. You blink at him, caught slightly off guard by his gratefulness. You look away, flexing your hand. “ Yeah, well…He was saying stuff about Lily, too.” You say attempting to be as nonchalant as you can with your knuckles bleeding from punching a guy in defense of Remus.

Remus nods, looking at your hand. “You should, um…You should probably get that cleaned up.”

You huff slightly with a slight smile. “By Pomfrey? No way. She’s scolded me far too much for scraped knuckles and bleeding noses. I would never hear the end of it.”

Remus finds himself chuckling slightly at your statement. “I could help.” Remus offers casually.

You look at him, surprised by his offer. “What?”

He blinks. “Oh, I mean…I um, I have some experience with…this stuff.” He says, gesturing vaguely to your scraped fingers. “I just…I could clean that up. I mean, I kind of owe you now.” He shrugs.

You nod slowly, looking thoughtful on the outside. “You do owe me. Okay, fine. How do I know you’re not just taking me to your dorm to murder me in cold blood?”

Remus rolls his eyes with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Ha-ha. Very funny. I still hate you. Come on, smart-ass.”

You smirk slightly as you both pick up your bags and make your way out of the library. “Yeah, I know. I hate you, too.” Your heart felt otherwise. You sigh quietly.

This was going to be one long night.

-----------

thank you so much for reading!! ♡ let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

taglist:

@boromoony @blueikky @daydreamandforget @lupinzlover @cinnamongirlmmaya

[cloverapple]

Thank you for posting! Reading your stuff is a lot of help, and your shifting method is awesome sauce i've been using it for the past two nights (the reasons for why I didn't shift i'm self-aware of and will proceed accordingly, not writing it down here because i feel like it's unneccesarry and don't think you can say much abt it) what I was curious if you could give advice about is: fear of shifting? Don't get me wrong i really want to shift. Been on this journey for years for a reason! And i think soon i'll finally do it, as i've never been as consistent, putting in actual work, as I am and as I do now. Last night, when body was truly asleep and it was just only me, I did my thing trying to shift. And suddenly this weight settled on me, as if the world was too big and too heavy, and i immediately thought "I can't do this" and rolled over with the decision to just simply sleep. Today i talked with a friend about this, and he said it's probably "a fear of shifting, a fear of responsibility", and honestly I agree with this take. Of course I will try again tonight, and will keep doing so until I can push through this feeling and actually shift, but i was wondering if you had a word of advice? Thank you <3

• The way I see the fear of shifting is like: that fear you felt right before the shift wasn’t a failure, it was a sign you were right there.

• Think about it: why would your mind suddenly scream "I can’t do this!" and slam the brakes when you were on the edge of what you’ve been working toward? It’s because, on some level, your subconscious knew shifting was about to happen.

• It accepted it as real, as possible, and that’s exactly when the fear kicked in. That fear isn’t about shifting being impossible, it’s your mind clinging to the familiar, trying to protect you from stepping into something that it's your current reality. Our brains are wired to favor what we know, even if what we know isn’t what we want. It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff with a parachute—you know the parachute will open, but the ground beneath your feet still feels safer.

• So, no, you didn’t fail. Don’t look at that fear as a blockage because it’s not. It’s a precedent to progress, a signpost that you're on the brink of success. Fear is just your mind’s way of saying, "This is real."

To work through it: First, understand that fear is just another form of anxiety—and anxiety, at its core, is the same physiological response as excitement. The only difference is the story you tell yourself about it. When you feel that fear creeping in during the day, don’t shove it down. Let yourself feel it, but flip the script. Visualize the moments you’re genuinely excited for in your DR. Happy, comforting, exciting things that make you want to shift. Feel how easily that fear morphs into anticipation. Emotions are malleable, and once you start associating that tension with excitement instead of dread, you’ll find it easier to move forward.

What you really need to do if fear is your issue, is let go. Stop putting shifting on this towering pedestal. Yes, it’s amazing, but it’s also normal. The more you treat it like this huge, mystical event, the more your mind will see it as something to fear. Shift your perspective. Talk about it like it’s just another part of your day, think of it as routine, affirm it as something natural. Trick your brain into seeing shifting as regular and unexciting, and it’ll stop resisting. Because at the end of the day, shifting isn’t some impossible feat. It’s just you becoming aware of another space you already belong in.

• But let’s go even deeper, to stop that freeze response from hijacking you the next time you’re at the doorway to your shift. We’re going to eliminate the fear before it even has a chance to rise. (yes I'm giving you optional homework because I'm the worst 😁)

The "Normalize Your DR" Exercise

1. Document Your CR Routine. Write down your current daily schedule in your CR. What time you wake up, eat, work, study, relax, everything. Create a schedule.

2. Now create a parallel schedule for your DR. You could do this for the day you're going to wake up in your DR, or next day, depends on what you scripted and feels better for you. What are you doing at each hour? How does your morning routine look? Who do you see? Where are you?

3. Sync CR Time with DR Time. Match your CR schedule to your DR schedule. For every hour in your day, mentally check in with what you’d be doing in your DR at that exact time. This repetitive syncing normalizes your DR in your mind. It becomes part of your routine, not some distant, unreachable dream that your mind fears shifting to.

4. Visualize Throughout the Day. As you go through your CR, take moments to pause and visualize your DR. The more your mind gets used to the idea of being in your DR, the less foreign—and therefore less scary—it becomes.

I hope you can take something from this. Good luck! 💚🩷🫂

[alewritesfics]

Bridging Realities

VI. 𝕭𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖌.....𝖙𝖔 𝖕𝖔𝖊𝖙𝖗𝖞 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: unedited, slow burn, eventual smut/ spicy scenes, some angst but happy ending, playful banter

A/n: sorry for the long wait but small chapter before we get to the good parts hehehehe 🫣

⏮️                ⏸️                  ⏭️

“oh, you’re here” you say as you saw Anthony step into the room where Lady Danbury had orchestrated a poetry reading “Miss Sharma will not like this” you chuckled

“Who cares what Miss Sharma thinks?” Anthony said as he approached you, a playful expression on his face.

“you if you plan to woo her sister” you state “I take it you decided not to give up then” you take a bold leap of faith and loop your arm through his as you pulled him towards the main room where everyone was

“Why should i?” He asked

“Because her sister is so against the match?” you hummed “I have told you, if there is many a things against it, perhaps you should set your eyes elsewhere…”

Anthony scoffed, though he didn’t pull away from your touch. If anything, his arm tensed beneath your grasp, like he was weighing the sensation of your hand against the words you had just spoken.

“And where, pray tell, should I set my eyes instead?” he asked, his voice dipping into something lower, something unreadable.

You glanced up at him, feigning indifference even as a strange fluttering stirred in your chest. “That is for you to decide, Lord Bridgerton,” you said smoothly. “But if a match is met with such resistance, perhaps the wise thing to do is to—”

“Give up?” he cut in, his gaze sharp as he turned to look at you fully. “So you have said, multiple times, in fact”

You faltered slightly, surprised by the intensity of his expression. There was something almost challenging in his eyes, as though he were daring you to say it again.

You inhaled, composing yourself. “Yes,” you said, steady. “If one must fight so hard to make something fit, perhaps it was never meant to be.”

Anthony’s jaw clenched. “And yet, some things are worth fighting for.”

“Are they?” you mused, tilting your head as you both came to a slow stop just before the threshold of the main room. The soft murmur of conversation and poetry recitations filtered toward you, but the tension between you and Anthony made everything else fade into the background.

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, he seemed to hesitate—as if debating whether to say what was truly on his mind.

“You are quite determined to see me fail in my pursuit of Miss Edwina,” he said at last, his voice quieter now, laced with something almost teasing. But beneath the playful lilt, there was an edge—one that made your breath catch.

You smiled, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I only suggest that a man should know when to walk away.”

“And yet, you hold on to me now,” he murmured, glancing down at where your arm still curled through his.

Your fingers twitched against his sleeve, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the closeness between you. The warmth of him. The way his scent—something crisp and faintly spiced—lingered in the space between you.

Slowly, deliberately, you unlooped your arm from his. “That was merely to escort you, Lord Bridgerton,” you said, voice light, though your pulse was anything but steady.

Anthony’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if trying to unravel something he couldn’t quite place. Then, with a knowing smirk, he straightened.

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Then by all means, lead the way.”

And with that, you turned on your heel, stepping into the main room.

“Pardon me. Lady Danbury?” Anthony said as you both stepped into the room

“Lord Bridgerton, I did not expect you” Lady Danbury said surprised

“No, I seem to have fallen off the guest list” he said, I chuckled as I wandered away towards where Eloise and Penelope where behind the couch Miss Edwina was sitting on “Surely you would never deny a young man you’ve known for nine and twenty years the pleasure of your company?” he smiles

“Apologies, Viscount, you appear to be late again” Kate interrupted him “We were bringing the evening to a conclusion –“

“Surely Miss Edwina has time for one more?” Anthony said, looking at Edwina “I spent the whole evening crafting something, an original, would you like to hear it?” You scoffed under your breath, making Penelope hit your arm softly, you give her a sideways glance before looking in front when Anthony took to the front of the room

“What is it –“ he cleared his throat “truly to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty, so much that all your defenses crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her. To honor-“ he looked up

Your heart fell slightly as you saw him glance at Kate “ to hon-“ he crumpled up the paper and threw it at the fire “My apologies. I cannot do this. I cannot claim these words as my own, they’re someone else’s entirely” his eyes then caught yours

You gave him a nod encouragingly “ Truth be told, I’m not-“ he sighed , his eyes leaving yours “I’m not a man of poetry. Words of flattery are beautiful and sweet, but they are also hollow, unless accompanied by action”

“Miss Edwina, I could stand here, and pretend to be someone I’m not” he looked at her “I could pretend to want the very same things as you, but I’d be lying. I may not be able to, offer the display of passion, that you truly deserve. But I assure you that when it comes to action and duty, I shall never be found lacking. And I hope that is what will speak louder than any pretty words ever can” he bowed his head before he stepped away towards the refreshments table

You were about to follow after him but you saw Edwina approach faster. You stayed rooted in your spot, your gaze stuck on them as they conversed. You saw Anthony raise his eyes after some time, his gaze first going to the right of you, where you knew Kate stood before meeting yours.

You felt sick as he gave you a small triumphant smile but you returned it nonetheless.

You had done things to try and change the storyline, to move his gaze towards you and in the end, you can’t help but feel that he’s still slipping away from your grasp, still very much stuck on marrying out of duty…

Or is it that he’s getting stuck on the woman that he’s supposed to be with?

⏮️                ⏸️                  ⏭️

Taglist:

@talkativecarnation

@imafangirlofeverything

@stopeatread

@smartiepants217

@magical-spit

@ifilwtmfc

@kitkat27

@electronicexpertshark

@annareidprofiler

@zestygingergirl

@noirrose21-blog

@ericityyy

@neenieweenie

[loveandmurders]

Never forget: ya're a Sinclair (Sinclair brothers x adopted Sinclair sister!reader - Part III finale)

And here we go for the last part of this little series. Let's be honest this is my favourite chapter, the ending makes me feel so good.

You can find the imagine and the other parts of this series here :

A little imagine // Part 1 // Part 2

Hope you'll enjoy! <3

Warnings: no proof reading, jealous and overprotective!Sinclair brothers, mentions of sickness, death and blood, very morally grey reader, mentions of the Sinclair brothers desiring you, a few strong words, violence feels a little bit too good

The next morning, you were a little bit surprised to find the three men already settled at the kitchen table. They were so deeply focused on their conversation that they didn’t hear you coming. 

“What’s up?” you asked and they all jumped and looked up at you.

“Ah hello, darl’” Bo hummed as he got up for his good morning hug. Your two other brothers did the same. They all hugged you a little bit longer and tighter than usual. 

You noticed they didn’t answer you right away, so you quietly started to eat before Vincent started to sign to you:

“What do you want to do about your “family”?” he asked and you felt how tense they all were, waiting for your answers like lions ready to jump on their prey. 

They had always been very protective of you, but it felt different than usual. A new kind of fire was burning through their veins. You could tell they were ready to destroy everything if it meant keeping you theirs. You were reassured because it meant your parents were wrong about you - you were loved and lovable -, but you were also quite curious about this.

“I don’t really know. I kinda just want to let the karma deal with them. I mean, Lydia will die if I don’t do anything, and her husband’ll lose it without her. Being that powerless will destroy him.” you replied with a little shrug. 

The night had brought you a lot of peace, especially after having spent the evening being cuddled and looked after by the Sinclairs.

“There is still the other one” Bo groaned and Vincent and Lester quickly nodded their heads in agreement with that

“The other one? Sean?” you hummed with a raised eyebrow. You had to admit that it was amusing you a little bit to see them acting like that. “You’re jealous?” you teased

“Ya ain’t needin’ anyone else in your life but us. He’s a threat to this family” Bo replied, his eyes seemed darker than usual.

So that was a yes.

“He is no threat” you tried to reassure them

“If ya ain’t lettin’ us kill him, then he is” Bo argued back and you were a little bit stunned.

“So it’s not about what I want to do to them, it’s about what you want to do to Sean” you replied “I don’t care about him” you said, even though a little part of you still wanted to know more of him “But I do care about you, and my parents would quickly know something happened to him. They would call the police and the lead would easily drive them to Ambrose. I can’t let you do something that stupid.” you tried to reason with them.

“We can find ways, do ya think we’re idiots?” Lester asked and you were a little bit taken aback that even Lester was so eager to have Sean dead.

“They know about Ambrose, even if they don’t know where it is. Yet. Look, I know you’re good at killing and smart, but this is very unnecessary. Sean is no threat. You’re the ones I love.” you said, getting a little bit worried now

“Of course we are” Bo smiled but it didn’t fully reached his eyes

“Look, I need to go to work. We’ll continue this conversation tonight.” you said, trying to get away from this for the moment. 

You stood up.

“Lester’ll drive ya to work this morning, and I’ll come get ya tonight” Bo said. 

And it wasn’t a question. You watched them all, in complete bewilderment. It was the first time they were acting that way, the first time they didn’t care about your freedom as long as it meant you were safe and by their side. You could tell how thin the line between siblings and lovers was getting now. You didn’t know what to say; you wanted to argue back but it was obvious the three men wouldn’t back off.

“You don’t trust me?” you finally asked

“We don’t trust him. And we want ya to be safe.” Lester tried to smooth things out

“Somethin’ wrong with that plan, love? Maybe ya wanted to spend some time with Sean without tellin’ us?” Bo asked, he wasn’t hiding his paranoia or jealousy at all

“Of course not” you simply shook your head; you didn’t want to upset them any more they already were

“Then it’s settled” Bo hummed and you found yourself nodding. 

You looked at Lester

“Do we go?” you softly asked and Lester got up. 

You kissed the twins on their cheeks before leaving the house with Lester.

You settled in his truck without a word, and Lester started the engine. After a little while of driving, Lester couldn’t stand your silence so he put a hand on your knee. His eyes never left the roads.

“Hey, sorry ‘bout that. It’s just that ya’re very important to us. And we don’t wanna anyone hurtin’ ya… Or takin’ ya away from us.” he tried to explain. You nodded

“Of course and I really appreciate it. You know, I was worried that… I don’t know…Maybe that you’d agree with my parents or that you’d want me to join them. And you are clearly showing me that you won’t do this but… But isn’t it a little bit extreme?” you replied

“In no world, we’d’ve wanted ya to leave us… Or to let ya leave us. We’d go crazy without ya, ya know. And I'd like to admit we are overreactin’ but… But it feels right knowin’ we are keepin’ ya safe by our side” Lester sent you a quick glance as he felt his cheeks reddening. 

You were speechless. If Lester was behaving that way, you couldn't even imagine what the twins were thinking or feeling about all of this. 

“I didn’t except any of you to react that way” you admitted

“We love ya” Lester said as if it was explaining it all

“I know” you smiled and relaxed. “I love you the three of you too”

One thing was certain, the little voice inside your head, the one that had tried to remind you that you were unlovable and unloved, shut up. You thanked Lester for the ride as he parked in front of your work and kissed his cheek. He happily hummed and let you go. 

You barely had the time to settle in your office before receiving a new message from Sean. He told you how sorry he was. He wanted things to be fixed, he wanted you to be part of the family, no matter his mother’s conditions, no matter if you didn’t want to help her. He said he saw things in you he would like to discover, he said he needed to take care of his sister, he promised you a happy life. Of course, you knew he was trying to manipulate you. You wondered if you shouldn’t delete his message because if your boys ever read this, they would lock you up inside Ambrose. 

You did that, just to be safe.

Days passed, Sean tried to contact you again and again, while the Sinclairs tried to convince you to kill everyone over and over again. They wouldn’t do anything without your consent, but it was driving them crazy. 

In the meantime, Lester and Bo drove you to work and back home everyday. They were all a lot more attentive to you, a lot more demanding for affection as well, and a lot more gentle. You were really caught up between two families, both sweet talking to you to hide how dangerous they were. But only one truly loved you, and you knew it. You didn’t mind the way the Sinclairs were acting toward you, in all honesty. It felt nice; you were really their little matriarch. The price was they were completely terrified you would leave, even though you clearly said you didn’t want to do anything with Sean or the rest of your biological family. But as long as you refused them to be killed, the Sinclairs weren’t able to fully believe you.

You knew you needed to make a decision at some point; and yet it felt too wrong to kill them all. To kill Sean. You couldn’t be angry at him for having your parents’ love: it wasn’t his fault if you had been abandoned. You weren’t too sure how long things would stay like that.

And it seemed that fate decided it was enough after a few weeks.

You were at work when you received a message from Lester: He found Ambrose 

You didn’t understand what that could mean; or you didn’t want to understand. You closed your office door and dialled Lester’s number.

“Hey” he softly whispered as he answered his phone right away

“What’s going on?” you asked, biting on your bottom lip

“Sean. I met him on the road. Thought he was a tourist but I understood who he was when he asked me where Ambrose was. I asked him why he needed to go there and he said that he was pretty sure that his sister was still livin’ in there, even though he couldn’t find the place on the maps.”

You stayed silent, you didn’t know what to think, what to feel, what to say. You felt a lump in your throat and then you became very nauseous. You felt tears in your eyes too. Lester worried over your absence of reaction. He called your name twice before you went back to reality.

“This can’t be happening” you said

“Bo and Vincent won’t kill him without your consent” Lester said, thinking you were afraid of what was going to happen to your brother. “I warned them about his arrival. Bo will probably just talk to him, to try and drive him away from you.” Lester continued

“I… Look, I’m coming over” you finally said

“The twins can deal with this. I can promise you…” Lester started but you cut him off

“No, no. Ambrose… Ambrose can’t be stained with his presence” you finally whispered, without even realising what you were saying before hanging up.

You quickly got up and grabbed your stuff. You went to your boss and told him you really needed to go, that something happened to your family. You had never left work like that and your look of pure distress convinced him you were saying the truth, so he let you go. Actually, you would have let him fire you if it meant being allowed to go to Ambrose right away.

Ambrose had always been your safe place. You were happy to come back home every night, to spend time with your real family, to be away from reality. It was your bubble. And you couldn’t let anyone other than the Sinclairs go there. You felt a new kind of panic you never felt before. The thought of Sean in your home was making you feel awfully sick. Bo had been right, the man was a threat to your family, to your happiness, to Ambrose.

You couldn’t let this happen.

You drove to Ambrose and when you arrived and saw Sean’s car parked near Bo’s shop, some crazy thoughts washed over you. You had thought that you were simply going to give Sean some money for him to leave. But now you started to feel pure anger and disgust. No, it couldn’t be so easy for people so cruel to you. They couldn’t win. You went into Bo’s shop, grabbed a screwdriver and punctured two tires of his vehicle. 

“If he wanted to come to Ambrose that badly, he won’t ever leave it” you whispered to yourself. 

You put the screwdriver back to its place before opening one of the counter drawers. You found the small gun that Bo was hiding there, just in case he would need it with the tourists. You put it in your pants and walked toward the house.

You found Bo and Lester sitting at the kitchen table with Sean. Vincent was listening to the conversation from behind the basement door. He just wanted to jump and kill the man, but he knew he couldn’t do that without your approval. Sean smiled at you when he saw you. You licked your dry lips. Bo was trying very hard to be his charming self but he only dreamt of destroying Sean. Lester was just there to make sure the twins didn’t kill him, even if he wanted him dead too.

“What are you doing here?” you asked Sean who smiled even more

“Wanted to meet your family. You spoke so much of them. I thought it was important for them to meet me as well, so we can all be friends.” the man replied

“You shouldn’t have come” you simply said and Sean arched an eyebrow at you. 

You heard the basement door being opened and you saw Bo and Lester sitting up. The three men noticed how strained your voice was. There was something dangerous about it. Even Sean felt it.

“Look, I’m sorry if I upset you. It was really not my point.” he said “Truth to be told… I hoped your family and yourself would understand that you are needed. Mom… Mom is at the hospital right now, but if we can’t pay, they won’t keep her” he explained and real tears appeared in his eyes. 

“So you came here, instead of staying by her side” you snapped

“They had lost hope in you, but I didn’t. You are my sister” Sean replied and you let out a very dry laugh at that.

“So they don’t know you’re here?” you asked and Sean shook his head

“Mom’s out of it today and dad’s completely focused on her. He thinks I’m trying to get a loan from a bank.” Sean said.

He was hoping to sound pathetic enough for you to feel bad and to help him out. But he simply signed his death warrant. You walked closer to the table, right in front of him. You quickly grabbed the gun before aiming at him. 

“Wow, wow, okay, Y/N, what… what’s going on?” Sean panicked

“I’m a Sinclair, you piece of shit. No one harasses me, no one fucks with me and no one comes into my home uninvited.” you said “You thought I’d be an easy prey, hmm? You thought you could come here and make me feel trapped in my own fucking home?” Sean got up and tried to beg you. “You are the mouse here, and I’m the cat. And since you so wanted to play with me, I’ll play with you. I’ll give you 5 minutes head start”

He didn’t have time to understand, you simply shot him in the thigh, twice. 

The sound of the shots was deafening but you enjoyed it. You enjoyed the blood instantly spreading through his clothes. You enjoyed his scream of pain as he fell to the ground. You enjoyed how he tried to run away.

Bo and Vincent were ready to rush after him, but you called them and sat down. They looked back at you.

“I said he had 5 minutes head start” you told them as you put a timer on your phone “Don’t get me wrong, ya’re amazin’ and incredibly hot, but even with two bullets in the leg, he can manage to drive” Bo told you with urgence

“Not without two working tires” you smiled and the three men watched you as if you were their queen, desire for you rushing through their whole bodies.

Sean finished in the House of Wax, Lydia died in a pathetic motel room, Mark killed himself the next morning.

And no one ever mourned them.

[sibyllinebooks]

hi!! part two of the jealous stiles thing. please.

ohohoho *rubs my evil little hands together* i am SO glad you asked

stiles is tired. he was distracted the whole time at practice and he still can’t seem get the image of that guy flirting with you out of his head. it’s this thought that causes him not to notice you as you’re standing on the side of the lacrosse field, fiddling with your hands, until he practically runs into you.

“oh, hey.” his greeting is casual and his tone questioning, not like the usual playful smile and exuberant tone you’re so used to receiving but you decide it’s just because he’s not used to you being at school so late.

“hey. so my car totally died on me and my parents are stuck at work. can you give me a ride home?” your tone is sheepish, hesitant to ask since he’s been so unlike the usual stiles you know all day. but everyone else was already gone and you had no other choice.

how could he deny you?

“yeah. yeah, i’ll give you a ride home.”

your shoulders sag in relief as you both head to the familiar blue jeep in the parking lot. you’re both quiet as you walk but you’re almost certain you see him open his mouth and close it again several times, almost as if he wants to say something but then decides against it.

“so, the new guy thinks he wants to try out for lacrosse.”

it’s your attempt at starting a conversation but the comment has the opposite of your desired effect. you can hear his quiet scoff as he throws his lacrosse gear in the back and you turn your head as you climb in the passenger seat, catching his eyes that are full of an emotion you think is anger. or maybe annoyance. whatever it was, you knew it was unhappy.

“okay, seriously stiles? what is going on with you? you’ve been a total jerk all day and you’re barely speaking to me. did i do something?”

his gaze softens and you could swear that there’s remorse in the lines of his eyes as he looks at you. and he hates himself for making you think that he’s upset at you. for holding you at arms’ length when you had nothing to do with the new guy hitting on you. his ire could never be directed at you, especially not for this.

“no. ‘course not. just think it’s a little strange that this guy is here all of two seconds and already aiming for a date with the first girl he sees.”

your brows raise and he catches it, his face morphing into that embarrassed look you know so well as he sputters his next words.

“not- not that i mean he shouldn’t ask you out. i mean, if it were me and i had you offering to show me around, i’d ask you out too.”

“okay.” you purse your lips slightly, still not fully understanding what his problem is.

“i don’t say yes to dates with guys i just met, by the way,” are your next words as you look over at him. “i like to get to know someone first.”

his hair is still damp with sweat, one hand on the wheel of his jeep and the other resting on his leg as he sighs. you’ve never seen anyone be more attractive, never been more attracted to stiles as you are in this moment. he looks like a god, one you’d happily worship if he let you. ( on your knees. )

it takes a moment for your brain to fully process what his earlier statement implied, realization setting in your bones.

“wait. are you saying you’d ask me out?”

“depends on if you’d say yes. but you just said you don’t go on dates with guys you just met.”

“it’s a good thing i didn’t just meet you, then.”

the only sound is the way his breath hitches and his gaze becomes something you can only describe as predatory. like he wants to eat you alive, devour you whole. and that makes something in you snap.

you don’t say a word as you place your lips on his.

he wastes no time reciprocating, his hands finding your body and he tugs you, gently, from the passenger seat and into his lap. your hands thread through his hair, stopping at the nape of his neck. the way he kisses you is possessive, hungry, his hands holding your hips hard enough to bruise and you wish you’d known that all it would take for stiles to kiss you was someone else flirting with you.

you pull away breathless, his gaze causing shivers to run down your spine and set your body on fire.

“maybe i should make you jealous more often if it means you’ll kiss me like that again.”

“i’ll kiss you like that whenever you want.”

the confession makes your heart melt. and you can tell he means it, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the center of his world. you recognize it because it’s the way you’ve always looked at him and the way he used to look at lydia. you just never thought you’d see it towards you.

“i’m holding you to that.”

[rebelliousstories]

Puppy Love

ValenFics

Relationship: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes x Reader

Fandom: Marvel

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 861

Main Masterlist: Here

Marvel Masterlist: Here

Summary: Bucky was a skirt chaser in the 40’s; this is just a fact. Bet you never heard about this tale from the era though.

Consider Donating: Here

1942

You would think that someone as smooth and cool as Bucky would have trouble getting a date. He had been with plenty of dames, charmed dozens of ladies. So why was he having such a hard time with this one girl?

This one girl in question; Rebecca’s totally swinging friend. There was a major problem with it too. Rebecca refused to help him land a date with her because she was her friend. Any time she would come by their apartment, he tried to be there to welcome her in.

Sometimes he thought that she was interested in him. If Bucky let her into the apartment to hang out with Rebecca, she would brush her hand across his chest as she passed. When he would walk her and Rebecca to the door after they were done, she would press a kiss to his cheek.

James would offer to walk her home, talking the entire four blocks back. If he saw her in town, he would offer to hold her shopping, or walk her around. Bucky would just so happen to find out her shift at the diner that she worked at and would bring her flowers on her birthday.

And each time, he thought that this might be his chance. This might be the time where he could ask her out. But then, the other instances happen. She would ignore him when she came in, going straight to Rebecca’s room and promptly shutting the door. Other times, if he offered to walk with her and hold her shopping, she told him that she was just about to head home anyways, or that she really did not have much to carry.

It was these times Bucky questioned whether or not she was as into him as he was into her. Because each time that he thought she was, and was about to ask her on a date, something would happen to disparage that. He just could not take it much more. Which is why he was currently on his way to her apartment that he had walked her home to a hundred times before with flowers in his hands, and an open heart.

Knocking on the door, Barnes waited patiently for it to open. Instead of her, it was her dad. A big military man that stood eye to eye with the boy. As steady as he could, Bucky started. “Hello, sir. My name is James “Bucky” Barnes. Is your daughter home?”

“What if she is? What do you want?” The squinting of the father’s eyes, Bucky had come to know with his experience, was rarely a good sign.

“Well, um… I want to take her out on a date, sir.” He stated, subconsciously straightening his back, and pushing his shoulder behind him.

“You’re the Rebeccas’s older brother, right?” He said it like he was interrogating him.

“Yes sir.” Bucky stated, feeling the heat a bit.

“Daddy, what’s going on?” Her sweet voice drifted into the room. Coming out from her bedroom, she wore a red button down top with cap sleeves, and a matching red skirt. Her cardigan on top was black, but covered in red and pink hearts knitted throughout. Safe to say, Bucky was glad her father spoke first because he was speechless.

“This young man has come to ask you on a date.”

“Bucky?” She asked, finally noticing who was standing there.

Shaking his head, James cleared his thoughts. “I was hoping that I might be able to take you for a walk through the park, maybe some ice cream. I’m aware it’s too short of notice for the dance hall tonight but I figured, this would be the next best thing.”

As she walked closer, he could smell her perfume more clearly. It was such a beautifully clean scent, with just the barest hint of vanilla. Bucky struggled to keep his wits about him as he watched her.

“You brought those for me?” She pointed at the small bouquet in his hands. It was not much, but at least something.

“Of course. Pretty flowers for a pretty lady.” Bucky smirked, passing them over. Meanwhile, her dad stood there with a sour look on his face. Noticing this, he retreated just a bit after passing the flowers, while she put her hand on his shoulder gently.

“Daddy, don’t scare him. Bucky is a gentleman. He’s Becca’s big brother. If you should trust anyone with my safety for an evening, it’s Bucky.” The way she advocated for him nearly made the man blush. “Let me go put these in water and then we can go.”

After she left, her father leveled the younger man with a look, and held out his hand. Once Barnes had slipped his into the shake, her father gripped tight, and shook hard. “Treat her right, or I make sure that you have to move out of town.”

Feeling thoroughly terrified, but trying not to show it, Bucky nodded. “Yes, sir. Understood.”

“Ready to go, Bucky?” Coming back in, she had also grabbed her purse on the way. Released from the handshake with her father, James held out his arm towards her.

“After you.”

[xadenviolct]

Well...

I finished it.

And I mean, I took as long as I could, since I really didn't want to get to the end--mainly because, like with Iron Flame, we now know absolutely NOTHING about the fourth book and I'm in a perpetual waiting hell.

But at the same time, I couldn't hold off too long, because with every day, the potential for spoilers being seen increases, etc. And the very, VERY last thing I ever want is for any of these books to be spoiled for me.

With that said...

SPOILERS FOR ONYX STORM BELOW THE CUT!!!

I MEAN IT! BIG SPOILERS!

ALL-THE-WAY-TO-THE-END-OF-THE-BOOK TYPE SPOILERS!

Because I'm putting my thoughts, my reactions, etc. (which will probably all be kinda disjointed, and rather lengthy, so bear with me on that...)

So yeah--

YOU. HAVE. BEEN. WARNED!

Now that that is out of the way--

(and yes, I've had that gif saved here for this very purpose)

First, I'll say this--

I am so very glad we got other characters' views in a few chapters. I absolutely loved getting Imogen and Rhiannon, (and of course some Xaden POV) and I know--I know that Quinn's death hit a hell of a lot harder because it was in Imogen's view than if it had been anyone else's.

I absolutely sobbed with that one. Like, put-the-book-down-for-a-moment sobbed. Liam Mairi dying type sob.

It was just... oh my HEART. HURT.

And Andarna deserves the world, okay? No one -- dragon, human, ANYONE -- is allowed to be mean to her, to upset her.

I will literally fight those dragons for Andarna, okay?

(Yes, okay, ONE of them wasn't a complete ass, but the others? I wouldn't have minded Tairn roasting them all. Or taking a few eyes.)

I was also so damn sure Mira would be dead in this book. Which, yes, okay, she kinda did-- but not really. The big "this death really hurts" moment was with Quinn.

Which I'm still reeling about, okay. It hurts!

I will also say that I absolutely LOVED the way the title got worked in at the end.

I mean, my heart broke, and I hated it, but I loved it. I definitely figured he'd fall farther by the end of this book--I mean, it would have greatly decreased the impact of Xaden turning venin at the end of Iron Flame if we went and found a cure and he got better by the end of OS.

So while I was still expecting him to sink further into that darkness-- That doesn't mean I still didn't want to yell at Rebecca for doing it!

Although--I think I might be willing to grant a bit of "okay" on it, because that final push seemed to be Xaden being all, "NO ONE TOUCHES AND HURTS SGAEYL."

Which I am 10000% for.

Saving Violet was the catalyst in IF, saving Sgaeyl was the catalyst in OS.

And I am also THRILLED that she didn't break the bond! I know that was going around as a possibility, that Sgaeyl was so pissed, that Xaden would turn deeper into darkness and she'd break the bond, but I'm glad she didn't.

I NEED more Xaden and Sgaeyl. I just do.

(I am also firmly convinced that Naolin did similarly to Xaden--in that he pulled from the source to save Brennan, he turned but his motivations were sort of in the right place, etc.--and Tairn had to break the bond or Naolin did or something to that effect and that is just another reason Tairn is so anti-Xaden (especially) in OS. Because he went through it all with Naolin, and he knows (in that "I'm Tairn and I know everything" way) that there is no cure, no saving, etc. But he also trusts Sgaeyl, Violet, etc. at least enough to let them walk this and not just torch Xaden outright.)

AND XADEN'S MOM WAS IN THE ISLE KINGDOMS!

I mean, there is still more there, I know there is. There's more to the story of why she left, why she never said anything, etc. etc.

But that was definitely a complicated bit of emotion in those chapters.

There are also so many more questions I have about Violet in regards to Dunne, to the temples and the gods/goddesses in general. Like, I know I need to reread OS too, with note taking and close watch and all that, but I still have questions.

What does it all mean? Theophanie was also built up as a major player and then she... dies. So now I wanna know who is even bigger than Theophanie--or is it going to come down to a Xaden versus Violet moment?

That will definitely be a very. giant. painful. moment.

And was it Garrick at the end? Or Bodhi? I'm pretty sure it has to be one of them, right? Like I said, I'd have to reread the whole thing--and especially that chapter with Xaden--but those are the only two that would fit his inner thinking criteria:

Male (since it mentions as a "brother")

Someone who'd known what he was struggling with (a la turning venin) for months, so basically from the beginning.

Someone he never would have ever thought would do it

I feel like it's Garrick, over Bodhi. Because Garrick left Imogen in Draithus, we didn't hear/see him again, and he's "missing" in Violet's chapter at the very end. (I cannot remember if Bodhi is mentioned or not...)

But it has to be one of them, right?

And now I wanna know why--to both of them! Either of them! Whoever it is--TELL ME WHY!

Pancheck is dead now, too, right? I was so sure it was gonna be Daddy Aetos being the asshole traitor but at the same time, maybe I just wanted to really really hate him for every other reason.

Still don't quite know why it was Pancheck--I'm pretty sure I missed several clues, that's for sure--but at the same time, he did know everything. He was perfectly positioned to be the traitor and all that...

And why was that the ending?

I seriously turned the page, and saw the "acknowledgements" starting on the next one, and I was all--

You have GOT to be fucking kidding me! That's it?! That's where it stops?!

I need all the answers.

What happened to make Violet ask/tell Imogen to take her memories? What happened in those "missing moments" to bring us to that point?

At what point did Violet tell Imogen to take the memories? WHAT memories (specifically) that happened in that missing time?

I knew I'd be completely reeling by the end of this book, but I didn't realize I'd be reeling this much!

And VIOLET'S SECOND SIGNET = INNTINNSIC!

Type of, but yeah. We're still going with that.

There are way too many things about inntinnsics that we don't know because of them being killed the moment it manifests, so yeah-- still many more questions.

And that is one damn powerful signet!

Now, I wanna know if she hones it, works on it, will it only be in dreams? Like, she can apparently meddle in them, influence them (subtly, perhaps, right now, but yeah--) so if we call it a dream-walking inntinnsic (or whatever "official" name the signet gets, IDK), but that's right now, right at the beginning.

Is it possible that she could meddle in conscious thoughts?

Aaric having precognition was something I figured out rather quickly, though; especially by that point when he tells Violet to guard Dunne's temple, etc.

It's like "oh yeah, he knows future things, etc."

And finally--

MARRIAGE? Wow!

I mean, I was kinda getting the vibe that it would happen at some point, sure. And then especially with that chapter's heading being about lieutenants marrying right after graduation, etc.

I just need to know the details. I mean, we all do, I'm sure, but when did that happen? Like, officially happen?

How?

Tyrrendor is protected because it's Violet's, by marriage (I'm assuming) and Xaden knows she'll do right for the people... But again, WHERE IS BODHI?!

What the holy fucking hell happened?!

Everyone knows Xaden is venin now, of course, and apparently a powerful one too. Is it possible to skip over steps? Like, can you go from an initiate level straight to a Sage (bypassing the asim level) if you channel enough and/or are powerful enough?

Again, I need to reread certain parts especially, but I'm getting the vibe that Xaden didn't just up a level. Or if he did, he'd been asim longer than we initially realized, so he's Sage level now...

I. DO. NOT. KNOW!

And I have so many questions!!!!

[doomdoomofdoom]

When I said "Vote Blue now so you can vote Third Party in the Future. Because if you don't vote Blue now, you may not be able to vote in the future at all", I wasn't exaggerating.

[tampatom12]

In my "Finding Cute, Funny & Weird Old Photos of Him" Era 😅🤷‍♀️🌟💯🔥💞

[prismatica-the-strange]

Nope, I'm still crying

[rafesangelita]

i feel like rafe has a major housewife kink

warnings: mentions of traditional stuff (just for the sake of the kink, please don’t stone me ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১), rafe is kinda misogynistic, fingering, slight dacryphilia, unprotected sex, rough sex, headlock, reader is too fucked out to think about anything else, degradation, slapping, dirty talk, hair pulling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, baby tapping threats

“i can’t— oh my, god. rafe!” your eyes fluttered shut for what felt like the hundredth time already, your thighs trembling as both pleasure and pain wracked through your body. rafe had no regard, nor did he care about this being your fourth orgasm as he rubbed your clit into overstimulation like his life depended on it. “yes, you fucking can,” he grunted, forcing your thighs open as they threatened to shut around his hand, “m’gonna keep you cumming until i see tears running down those cheeks.” you cried out at his words, your back arching into his chest at the overwhelming sensation.

rafe hadn’t even fucked you yet, and you were already on the verge of tapping out. flipping you over, rafe snaked an arm underneath your tummy before pulling you up, wasting no time in pressing your face into his pillows. stroking the small of your back, rafe groaned at the sight. he could see the body glitter on your skin, the little specs glinting underneath the dim lighting of his room. “fuck, i wish you would just let me have you already.. i’d make sure to slut you out every single day.” you whimpered when he delivered a harsh smack to the globe of your ass. “you just don’t know,” his aching tip prodded at your entrance, “i’d make sure you’d never have to lift a finger ever again.”

wrapping your hair around his fist, rafe slid into you without warning, drawing a shriek to leave your lips. “you shouldn’t be working in that fucking club,” he said through gritted teeth, “you should be here with me, letting me take care of you. i’ll come home and you’ll be waiting for me with a hot plate,” leaning down, rafe yanked your head back so his mouth was next to your ear, “you’ll keep this place spotless and i’ll buy you whatever the fuck you want,” just then, he wrapped a bicep around your neck, your chin tucked between the crease of his elbow and his forearm, “fuck you however you want.”

rafe’s words were punctuated by his thrusts, your acrylics scratching at his skin as you held onto him for dear life. “just picture that; me using you for all that you’re good for.” maybe it was because everyone who knew you, especially your girlfriends at the club, knew you wouldn’t be settling down anytime soon, or at all for that matter, but the idea of locking you away in tanneyhill and never going anywhere without you hanging off of his arm, making you fully reliant on him, financially and emotionally, it turned him on beyond words could describe. “you don’t even know what i’m saying,” he laughed, “you’re too cock drunk to understand.”

you whimpered pathetically, tears running down your face as he planted a slap to your cheek. “gonna fill up this cunt and trap you, maybe then you’ll understand what i’m saying when i put my baby inside of you.”

[peachylynnie]

you make him lose his cool

word count: 900-1k per lead synopsis: in which you provoke them, and they love it. (inspired by kiss of life's igloo) contains: fem!reader x lads men (separate, non!mc), established relationship, downbad men, NSFW CONTENT MDNI (i'm talking grinding, oral sex implications, etc), song lyrics, and cursing. a/n: UPDATED WITH CALEB AS OF 2/1/25 i feel hot whenever i listen to this song. i hope you do too while reading. enjoy! do not plagiarize or translate. lads men do NOT endorse plagiarism. reblogs & comments appreciated. lads masterlist | tagged: @vvintqz (ik this is technically the reader teasing xavier but u said to tag u when i write xavier so i hope u enjoy)

caleb

What you heard? (What you heard?) But it's never what you think, trust

it's impossible to surprise caleb.

he always knows what you're up to.

whether you're just waking up from a heavenly two-hour nap or going out to get your hands on the latest edition of your favorite blind box series, he's always there.

last time you tried to cook yourself a meal (ever since you started dating, he hasn't let you lift a finger), he came home early and snatched the spatula away from you, insisting that you sit down and look pretty for him while he makes his signature braised wings.

you're not sure how he does it. maybe he has a secret camera or a tracker installed (ha). though, you don't have any complaints. you think it's fucking hot how he's never away from you.

even so, you've been wanting to surprise him for a while now. blame it on your desire to fluster him as much as he flusters you. you're going to surprise him AT LEAST once in your lifetime.

which explains why you're in an apron right now, with absolutely nothing underneath.

to be honest, you were hoping to surprise him with homemade apple pie since he's always cooking for you. but again, you want to fluster him. thus the apron, a long piece of denim fabric wrapped tightly around your waist and hung dangerously low at your chest. you can't deny how delectable you appeared when you looked in the mirror, admiring your exposed arms, legs, back, and neck—anything that would drive the esteemed colonel insane. you felt jittery just thinking about the look he would have on his face when he walked in through the door of your shared home.

however, your joy is short-lived when your phone rings while you slice up some apples in the kitchen.

"what's with the apron, pipsqueak?"

you put the knife down with a sigh. "do you have a camera installed in here or what?"

caleb chuckles into the phone. "wouldn't you like to know?"

"i would like to know so i can turn the damn thing off and actually surprise you for once, dipshit," you retort playfully as you adjust your phone between your ear and shoulder, picking up the knife to continue chopping. you suppose you should still make the pie since you already got the ingredients out.

"aw," he mocks, his voice dripping with arousal. "did my little pipsqueak dress up just for me?"

"yes," you snap, rolling your eyes. "but this little pipsqueak is about to change since you ruined her surprise."

your threat does little to faze caleb, as evidenced by his endearing laughter.

"don't be upset, pips," he teases into the phone. before you can scoff at his audacity to tell you not to be upset, your ears catch the hurried footsteps in the background of the call. it doesn't take long for you to hope your boyfriend is on his way home—on his way to you. sure enough, his next words cause heat to pool between your bare legs.

"keep the apron on. i'll be home soon."

after he hangs up, you put your phone down with a giggle, eager for what's to unfold once he arrives. however, you still can't help but wonder if he actually has a camera installed because how the fuck does he always know what you're up to? you frown as you turn your head left and right. you don't see any red flashing lights in places that could provide him an optimal view. nope. nothing in the corners of the ceilings and nothing in the walls either. before you can convince yourself your boyfriend is somehow omniscient, you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

his dog tag. seems like he forgot to put it on after putting on his uniform. you pocket it, hoping to give it to him when he gets home.

but your mind is truly one of a kind. as caleb likes to put it, resourceful during the most critical moments.

because when he's balls deep inside of you, coaxing your second orgasm out of you, you get the bright idea to fish your shaky fingers into the pocket of your bunched-up apron and put. it. on.

caleb's eyes widen upon seeing his dog tag on you. there it was, the important item he forgot this morning, resting between the delicious valley of your breasts, bouncing up and down while jingling an enticing melody.

"fuck—pipsqueak, you—" he thrusts harshly, pistoning into your sopping heat. you throw your head back at the sensation, allowing him an even better view of his chain, mingling with the beads of sweat on your collarbone. shit, he's so turned on right now. not only were your swollen, sweet lips adorning his name, but so was your pretty little neck. it filled the young colonel with pride. and enough vigor to bring you to your third release, as evidenced by the endless slamming of his hips and the clenching of your thighs.

"good girl," he helps you through your high before letting go of your waist, hoping to give you a break. "i'll go get a towel. stay here."

but when your pilot of a lover goes to leave, you wrap your legs around him and pull him to you, causing him to collide with you. caleb hisses at the contact, sensitive more than ever.

"don't push it, pipsqueak," he warns as he plants both of his arms on the kitchen counter, caging you in. "you need to rest."

"i don't think so, colonel," you prop yourself on your elbows, meeting his eyes boldly. "i don't think so at all."

caleb swears he feels his mechanical arm short-circuit because what you do next is just fucking tantalizing.

you pinch his dog tag and bring it to your mouth.

his breathing quickens substantially when your teeth take the shiny piece of metal as their prisoner. it's not long before his dog tag is trapped between your seductive canines and your thighs are tightened around his waist.

with a shameless smile, you jut your chin towards the man, signaling to him to make his move.

caleb growls, seizing the chain with both hands and bringing you to his face.

"i warned you, pips."

extra (in honor of his official installment)

as you munch on some apple pie in caleb's embrace on the couch, you can't help but ask.

"how did you know about the apron but not the dog tag?"

your boyfriend sniffs before answering, a little bit of pie still in his mouth.

"i couldn't check the cameras on the way home."

"oh that makes sense."

"…"

"wait, what?!"

sylus

Glass room, perfume, Kodak on that lilac (alright) Slipping on my short dress, know he like that (like that)

there's nothing like getting ready in sylus' bathroom. not because of the sheer size of it (it takes at least a day to explore his residence), but because of how good you look in the mirror right now. you can't help but smile as you step back to get a full look at yourself.

sylus went all out for tonight's auction.

he gifted you a tight-fitting ebony dress, its gorgeous silk straps accentuating your shoulders perfectly. he also gifted you a pair of evening gloves, its velvet fabric wrapping around your arms flawlessly. of course, the dress came with priceless jewels and heels. as you twirl in front of the mirror, the scarlet gems on your ears glimmer, and the cherry kitten heels on your feet click. oh, you look so good, you can kill.

but what seals the deal is the neck accessory he got you.

an intricate, black choker made out of lace. fucking lace. a scoff leaves your mouth when you notice the ruby medallion hanging at the center. his taste is as clear as day.

as you reach behind your neck to clip the choker, the man of the hour walks in. you meet his eyes through the mirror, your hands still at the back of your neck. "sylus."

"miss," he acknowledges in return, an unmistakable smirk appearing on his lips. his eyes trail down your figure. "you look stunning."

"thanks," you giggle as you hook the choker clasp. "you don't look bad yourself."

and you're absolutely right. although he has his usual dress shirt on, his outerwear is completely new. a gorgeous red blazer, adorned with inky brush strokes, sits proudly on his shoulders. moreover, his accessories are new (he's never worn any before). cuffed around his right hand is a sleek platinum watch, spotlighting his forearm deliciously. hanging from his left ear are silver chains, shining unashamedly. you can't help but bite your lips as you admire your lover in the mirror.

yeah, sylus went all out tonight.

catching the hazy look in your glittered eyes, he tilts his head before grinning, "like what you see, sweetie?"

you roll your eyes playfully before returning to the sink. "yes, actually. didn't know you were capable of wearing something other than black."

sylus chuckles as he leans against the wall, arms crossed. "i've worn colors other than black before."

"if you're talking about the two outfits that have the belt around the sleeve," you list nonchalantly as you pick up your lip gloss. "they don't count. they have black on them."

"i'm talking about the red cardigan, sweetie," he counters smoothly, eyeing the lip gloss in your hand.

"ah." you run the wand over your parted lips, enjoying the feeling of gloss on them. "touche," you say, bending over the sink to see if you missed a spot. you do, however, miss the way sylus' fingers tighten around his arms when your dress hikes up. smacking your lips together, you lift the wand to reapply. "but you barely even wear that. so that doesn't count either."

sylus hums, barely paying attention to what you just said. his eyes are transfixed on the wand. he's mesmerized by how it travels across your lips, slathering them with sticky, shimmery syrup, leaving him thirsty for a taste. not to mention the sounds leaving your lips whenever you press them together. sweet, squelching sounds that have him pressing against you in mere seconds, his hands gripping the edge of the sink.

at first, you were taken aback by his sudden proximity. but after feeling something prod at your back, you smile amusingly before placing the wand down. "i'm assuming," you swiftly turn around and wrap your arms around his neck, his eyes widening as you pull him closer. "there's been a change of plans." you slowly lick your lips, collecting some excess gloss. as it drips from the tip of your tongue, you ask with a tilt of your head, "how late are we going to be?"

that's it.

sylus crashes into you, his tongue desperately trying to lap up the excess gloss. his hands haphazardly roam all over your body before lifting you onto the sink, pinning you down as his lips smear your lip gloss everywhere. you moan, trying to match his fervor. the sinful mixing of breaths, saliva, and gloss floods your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around him and bring him closer to you. he welcomes the action, gasping and grinding into you.

by the time he pulls away for air, both of you are left panting like dogs, mouths and chins smothered in sheen.

your eyes never leave sylus' as you wipe your chin, a string of gloss and saliva hanging prettily from your gloved palm. with a groan, he dives into your neck and sinks his teeth into your collarbone. you throw your head back at the pain, whimpering when he soothes the spot with his tongue.

but when sylus traces a finger up your back, you freeze immediately.

why?

oh, because he's unzipping your dress.

"sorry, sweetie," he chuckles into your perfumed skin, savoring your surprised reaction when he drags the zipper all the way down. "we won't be late."

you look at him in confusion, barely processing the silk straps falling off your shoulders.

he leans in and whispers into your ear.

"we won't be going at all."

xavier

Heart attack, IV when I walk the street Vitamins that D, I'm good, I'm healthy

your starlight of a boyfriend collapses onto the bed, his legs hanging off the edge and his pants dangling pathetically from his ankles.

you giggle at the sight, wiping your lips clean of his release. as you rub a drop between your index finger and thumb, you notice the texture's a bit thick, almost like jelly.

"xavier," you call lovingly, rising from your knees and crawling on top of him. he barely responds; his eyes are screwed shut with beads of sweat trailing down his face, neck, chest, legs, everywhere. shit, what did you do to him? he can't get his chest to stop heaving, his mouth to stop watering, and his ears to stop ringing. he can't do anything. not with the way you looked so pretty on top of him, especially after making him release so intensely in your mouth.

"xavier," you repeat as you cradle his face, making his dazed eyes meet yours. "when was the last time you drank water?"

"water?" he pants. "i'm not sure. why do you ask?"

"well," you show him your fingers. he gulps, flushing a deeper shade of red. "this tells me you haven't been drinking enough water."

you get up to retrieve some water from the kitchen. xavier whines at the loss of contact. although he tries to stop you from leaving, you easily slip out of his weak embrace (he literally got his life sucked out of him; cut him some slack). after you reassure him with a kiss on his forehead, you open the door. "i'll be back soon."

he responds with a whimper before closing his eyes. before he knows it, he falls asleep.

not even five minutes have passed when you return to the room, a glass of water in your hand and a packet of vitamins in the other.

"xavier?" after placing the items down on the nightstand, you sit on the bed to admire the view. there he is, sleeping soundly with his shirt unbuttoned and pants unbuckled, his chest slowly rising up and down and his cute nose scrunching every so often. you almost feel bad when you wake him up. almost. as much as you like watching your boyfriend sleep, he needs his water and vitamins, considering how much energy he uses to fight wanderers.

"wake up, xavier," you coo. "you need your vitamins."

he stirs, peeking one eye open to look at you. cute, you think. "i'm too tired, angel." he whines before closing his eye again. "i'll have some later."

"come on," you chuckle. "at least drink some water. you're dehydrated."

hoping to keep him awake, you litter his face with kisses, repeatedly pecking his adorable features. his droopy eyelids, his button nose, his fluffy cheeks, his moist forehead, his small chin—not a single spot is missed.

his little laughs repay your efforts. before you can continue your bombardment of kisses, his arms wrap around your shoulders, successfully pinning you down to him. you're surprised by how quickly he replenished his strength.

"you're trapped," he points out cheekily. "now we can both sleep."

"xavier," it's your turn to whine. "you need to drink some water. besides," you try to get up but fail miserably due to his tight embrace. "you need to scoot up, and i need to lay down properly if we both want to sleep." still no signs of letting you go.

you sigh before poking at your boyfriend's waist, causing him to yelp.

he immediately lets go of you, rubbing the spot you just touched. taking the chance to escape, you stand up and reach for the glass and vitamins.

"meanie," he pouts. "i thought we agreed to not tickle each other for today."

"that's because you try to tickle me all the time," you retort playfully, opening the packet of vitamins. "besides, i only tickle you as a last resort. unlike you, i'm nice." you pop the vitamin in your mouth and bring the glass to your lips.

"as if." he yanks up his pants and crosses his arms. "last time i checked, being nice means letting your boyfriend sleep peacefully," he quips as he turns away from you, hoping his grumpy little act will coax more kisses from you.

instead, a hand comes into his view and grasps the sheets. furrowing his brows, he shifts back to ask what's wrong but is startled to find your face hovering above his. 

"angel, what—"

you press your lips into his, your free hand gripping his chin. on instinct, xavier opens his mouth, expecting your tongue to greet his. however, his eyes widen when he feels something pour in. oh. he greedily swallows the water and vitamin, his fingers weaving into your hair.

you pull away abruptly, a drop of water trickling down the corner of your lips. before he can say anything, you grab the glass of water and drink from it again, your hooded eyes never leaving his. xavier groans at the sight, his chest heaving for the third time today. and it's barely afternoon. oh, you're going to be the death of him.

he's sure of it when you return to his lips, water flowing into his mouth so sensually as his tongue reaches out for more. this time, you rest your entire body on top of him, allowing him to grab at your hips and thrust upward, desperately rubbing against your clothed core and seeking any type of friction that could relieve him of this growing desire you satiated with your mouth less than ten minutes ago. he never wants to drink water alone ever again.

“a-angel,” he moans when you pull away again. “why?” 

“you need more water, xavier.” you tease with a lick of your lips. “gotta make sure my boyfriend is hydrated, ya know?”

with that, you go to stand up and reach for the glass. however, the room spins as xavier pins you down, your positions switched and your wrists restrained above your head. your eyes widen, realizing you might've pushed your boyfriend too far. 

"angel," dark, cerulean eyes burn into you before glancing at the glass. “that's not enough water.”

rafayel

Yeah, white tippy-toe summer, I make him go dumb, duh He doubled down on that text, says that I'm the only one

(heads up, reader doesn't have to be mc but they know about rafayel's identity as the sea god and he calls you his beloved bride)

rafayel isn't sure how he got here.

you, on top of his bare chest, nibbling at his neck and dragging a finger down his clenched abdomen.

"c-cutie," he stammers. "someone might see."

he's not wrong. you're at the beach after all. but it's a private beach, one the artist rented for a date. so really, what's the harm in pinning your boyfriend down in the sand and showing him how much you appreciate him?

"you're the one who said this place was private, raf." you giggle before sinking your teeth into him, eliciting a moan. "besides, we both know why you suggested a date at the beach. don't tell me you forgot." you trail your finger along the waistband of his swim trunks. he jolts, his half-lidded eyes meeting your misty ones.

of course, he didn't forget. but considering the current, scandalous situation he's in right now, his memory is a bit hazy. as you twirl the drawstring with your index finger, rafayel bites his lip and tries to remember how exactly he got here.

last thing he remembers is you excitedly texting him about your package coming in.

a package, pft. no big deal, right?

wrong.

he almost dropped his phone when you sent him a picture of the package, more specifically, you wearing its contents.

a gorgeous two-piece swimsuit in the color of his hair. fuck, lavender has never looked so good on you. the way the tight, skimpy fabric hugged all the right places, making you seem so so malleable. the way you posed in front of the mirror, your face bridling with innocent excitement but your body positioned so so temptingly. shit, he hopes this exhibition ends soon because his slacks feel suffocating all of a sudden.

it wasn't long before he spammed you with a hurricane of texts consisting of flattering emojis and praises about how you're the only one he'll ever love (dramatic but heartwarming) and how he would love to take you on a date at the beach as soon as this stupid exhibition is over so you can swim in your new set to your heart's content (totally not because he wants to see the real thing).

yeah, now he remembers. he got himself into this situation. you even tried to stop him.

"uh," he recalls you hesitating through the call. "aren't you tired from your exhibit?"

"nope," he immediately answers, causing you to raise a brow. "not at all, cutie. i'm in tip-top shape. what better place for us to test your swimsuit than the beach?"

"us?" you repeat amusingly. "since when was testing a swimsuit a two-person thing?"

shit, he got caught.

"raf," you giggle at his silence. "if you want to see me wear this in person, you can always just ask, you know?"

"w-what?! no!" he acts as if you insulted his artwork. "i just thought it'd be a good opportunity for us to go on a date and to test the quality of your swimsuit! what if one day you go into the water and it gets untied or something? what if i'm not there to protect you from prying eyes? you can never be careful enough with swimsuits, especially shipped ones!"

"uh-huh," you drawl skeptically. "i'm sure a triple-knotted bikini will SOMEHOW get untied by the waves."

"come on, cutie," rafayel whines. "i know a perfect, private place! i'll even bring the food, the blankets, everything! please?" (he purposely emphasized "private" because no way in the seven seas is he going to let anyone look at you in a bikini)

you sigh before observing yourself in the mirror once more. the bikini DID look good, and you DID buy it for future swimming dates with rafayel. might as well, right? besides, you can't say no to him, especially when he begs so cutely like that.

"fine, raf," he remembers you giving in with an endearing sigh. "send me the address of the beach once you're done. i'll stop by your place to pack your swimming trunks."

and here you are, resting on top of him and drawing figure eights with your fingertips IN his swimming trunks.

he would laugh at the irony if it weren't for your provocative actions. you were the one who brought him his swimming trunks, and now, you were the one making him wish you didn't bring them so he could see how pretty your fingers looked right next to his—

yeah, he definitely got himself into this situation. he has no one to blame but himself for his predicament. it's his fault he's currently twitching and throbbing underneath you as you breathe into his neck and tease doodles into his thighs.

"oh fuck, cutie—" rafayel jerks his head back when you suck on his adam's apple. your mouth felt so good. you felt so good. 

after pulling back with a 'pop,' you trace the red mark with your free hand, admiring your artwork on your artist of a lover. unfortunately for him (fortunately, really), this causes him to squirm uncontrollably. the simultaneous stimulation from your right hand on his thigh and your left hand on his neck was just too much for the lemurian. he swears he's this close to bursting all over the sand like a messy, wet bubble. 

suddenly, you stop, withdrawing both of your hands from his body. 

"c-cutie?" he lifts his neck to look at you but finds himself confused as to why you're sitting up. though, his confusion is quelled when you reach behind your neck. 

oh. 

your hands come into view, each one tugging on the strings of your top.

oh fuck. 

he doesn't even see your top fall. no. he's completely frozen (and hard) when you lay back down on him, smushing your now-exposed chest into his abdomen, allowing him a view that brings roses to his cheeks. (he can feel your nipples rubbing against him).

"oh, god of the tides," you purr with a smirk as you press your ear into his chest, relishing in his rapid heartbeats. "you promised you would test this swimsuit with me." before he can deny your reminder of his mistake from the earlier call, you grab his hand and bring it to rest against your swimsuit bottoms, causing his breath to hitch. "won't you make good on your promise?" 

rafayel swallows shakily before nodding. 

"anything for my beloved bride." 

zayne

Mm, yeah, I make him lose his cool Yeah, I make him go mmmmmm ah! ah!

doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, reduced to this.

a red-faced mess, losing his cool in a rocking chair, thanks to his lover shaving his chin on his lap.

his lover, who just so happens to be wearing a nightgown, a silk, sapphire nightgown with lace ruffles and ribbons that drove the man insane.

to make matters worse (better), your bare thighs were on either side of his hips, caressing and stroking him whenever you would move to shave his chin.

don't even get him started on the fact that you're sitting right on top of his crotch. he prays to any merciful soul out there that you don't feel him growing down there-

he inhales sharply when you reach behind him for a towel, your chest mere millimeters from his face.

"you okay, zayne?" you ask with faux concern.

"yes," he clenches his jaw. it's taking him everything to not dive in and lick, suck, bite—anything to relieve him of this torment. "please hurry."

"hurry?" you pout with a tilt of your head. "but why?" you lift his chin to wipe some excess shaving cream. "do you not want me to shave you?"

"no, darling. it's just—" his hands fly to your waist for stability when you place the towel back in its place. shit, every time you lift yourself onto your knees to reach behind him, the chair moves more and more, resulting in a pattern where when he leans back, you press into him, and when you lean back, he presses into you. it's not helping that this pattern deliciously resembles a certain rhythm in bed.

"it's just?" you repeat to him, stroking his jaw to inspect for stray hairs.

he doesn't say anything. how can he? he can't just spill about how badly he wants to kiss your sweet lips, squeeze at your delectable chest, rip your enticing nightgown apart, and take everything you have to offer. no, he can't. not when you approached him so innocently with a cute smile on your face after he came home, asking if you could shave him. (he almost fell to his knees when he saw what you were wearing). not when you look so beautiful gazing at him from above, handling his skin with addictive yet gentle touches, and glowing underneath the moonlight from the open windows. shaking his head, he grips your waist with renewed resolve.

"it's nothing," he closes his eyes. "please continue." he would rather drink alcohol than misinterpret your innocent intentions.

except there was nothing innocent about your intentions at all. you admit, it's fun to tease zayne like this. the way his lips would chase after your fingers whenever you traced them, the way his eyes would falter whenever you leaned in, the way his breath would hitch whenever you moved your hips, oh it all made you feel wanted. and who could want more than a gorgeous, capable doctor who looks at you as if he's going to die if he can't have you?

you. you want more. you WANT him to have you, take you, right here on this rocking chair. you thought teasing him with a few shifts of your hips and some purposeful closings of distances between his face and yours would relay the message. but no. he's either completely oblivious or has the will of a steel that's been fortified ten times over. because even though he's made it incredibly clear that he wants what you want (his blushing cheeks and shortage of breaths are hard to miss), all he's done is sit there and take your teasing.

you frown, retracting your hand. what's it going to take for doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, to give in?

a lightbulb flashes in your head.

"hang on, i missed a spot," you lie, lifting yourself up once more to reach for the shaving cream next to you. "i'll make this quick."

and with that, you slam your hips down.

he groans out loud, eyebrows furrowing and fingers tightening around your hips. he still hasn't opened his eyes though.

"are you sure you're okay, zayne?" you ask innocently, twisting left and right. "i'm worried about you."

"w-why," he starts hoarsely, his fingers gripping for dear life, trying to stop you from moving so damn much. "why would you be worried?"

"oh, i don't know," you smear shaving cream all over his jaw before trailing your fingers down to his neck. "you just seem so…" you slowly trace a heart on his collarbone, eliciting a pretty gasp from him. "out of it."

zayne's eyes jerk open, glaring at you with unprecedented focus. you smile cheekily before pressing yourself deeper into him, eager to bear witness to what he'll do and say since he finally opened his eyes.

though, your smile doesn't last long. in an instant, his hands pin yours behind your back, causing your back to arch and your lips to part.

"i'm starting to think," he secures your wrists in his right hand and brings his left to his face, wiping away the mess you made. "you're doing this on purpose."

you grin. finally. he finally got the message. unable to hide your excitement, you lean in next to his ear and whisper, "what are you going to do about it, doc-tor?"

he inhales sharply, yanking your wrists.

"perhaps," he growls. "it's time you get a taste of your own medicine. prescribed by yours truly."

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ ah-ah, barbie, you're so fine! ❞

special treatment : thighs edition

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : kamo choso + itadori yuuji + higuruma hiromi + ryomen sukuna

☾₊‧⁺...cw : pussy eating, facesitting, somnophilia, dirty talk, fingerfucking, overstimulation, praise kink, degradation, desperation, oral fixation, squirting, creampie, choso being whiny, yuuji being a little shit, yuuji is 21yrs & a college student, hiromi being pussydrunk, sukuna being whipped

✧ k. choso : poor choso, ever since the first time he's gotten a taste of what's between your thighs, he's begging you every day just to eat your cunt. but today? today must be a bad day, because choso is desperate. his already between your thighs, whimpering and whining as he mouths at you through your underwear, tears in his eyes as he begs you to give him a little taste. once you do, his eyes are rolling back just from the first lick.

"you taste so good, fuck, so good, thank you, thank you, mmph, so delicious, i can't get enough." "can you cum again? i know it's been 4 times already, but please? please, please, pleaase, pretty thing, i need itttt..." "oh my goddd, you're cumming? yes, yes, cum on my tongue, pretty please, i'll fuck you so good after, just keep cumming, don't hold back." "stop-stop running away, i know your pretty pussy is all sensitive b-but i just, i can't stop...but you know you can say the safeword and i'll stop, right? ...what? you-you like being overstimulated...? fuck, fuck, okay, let me make you squirt on my tongue then i'll fuck you good, okay?"

✧ i. yuuji : yuuji's always been a smug little shit whenever it came to teasing you. what starts off with him tickling you and blowing raspberries into your stomach turns nto hot kisses against your stomach that let down to the waistband of your underwear as he pushes your shirt up higher on your body. he can't help but grin up at you when he notices the wet spot on your panties from his little kisses.

"d'awww, bunny, y'so cute! look at how wet you are. is that 'cus of me? ehehe, i know, i know, teasing is mean, but i can't help it...you're just so adorable." "y'know i can practically feel your heartbeat whenever i kiss it? mhm, i can feel that, pretty girl. don't cover your face, baby, you're so cute!" "your thighs are so soft. i could stay between here forever, fuck goin' to classes or missions, i'd rather just eat you out until you pass out." "open up these legs a little more, let me get my fingers in there...thereeee we go, such a pretty lil' bun, aren't you?" "you're so messy! did i do this to you? yeah? aww, my pretty girl likes meee! i felt how you squeezed on my fingers! so cute!

✧ h. hiromi : ever since you made a comment about his nose, saying 'doja is right about big noses' in passing to him, hiromi has been curious. curious enough to the point where he looks it up, seeing the video of said woman. so, you wanted to sit on his face and grind on his nose, hm? you've never sat on his face before but he was sure to change that.

"i don't care if you think i'll die, i want you to sit on my face. i'm giving you the chance to either have control of your pace or let me do what i want with you. so, what's your decision?" "see? it's not that bad, angel, you forget your husband isn't some weakling...now c'mon on, get yourself right over my mouth, let me taste you." "god, you're so beautiful like this. i need you on my face more often, you're dripping all over my mouth...such a good girl for me." "heh...i knew you said my nose was perfect for sitting on but i didn't realize it would get you this riled up. go ahead, sweet thing, you can keep grinding that clit on it...just like that, just let me make you feel good." "good lord, i never wanna leave between your thighs. so fucking sweet, shit, angel, you've got me wrapped around that pretty finger. c'mon, let me devour you all night, i'll let you get up when i'm done."

✧ r. sukuna : getting sukuna to lay on his back without him instantly taking control of the situation was easier than you thought. hell, even crawling up higher so that you were hovering over his face was too. but little did you know, sukuna was intrigued, liking the side of you where you would just take control of him, knowing that only you had the right to do that...especially if it meant he got to eat you until you soaked his face.

"you know i should kill you for thinking you can just sit on my face like i'm some kind of personal chair. i am the king of curses, not a piece of furniture...what? ...hm. i guess you do look...good over me like this." "...huh? sorry, i wasn't listening. when are you going to sit on my face? you keep blabbering, but i can see the way that sticky cunt is dripping for me. are you gonna just let it go to waste?" "oh. shit. you've been holdin' out on me, haven't you, diamond? shit, i can see all of you from down here...nah, keep grinding on my face, little one, use me for your pleasure...let me see you cum on my mouth." "such a fucking slut. my mouth is coated in your cum, but you still wanna keep going? my tongue that good for you?" "no, no, i'm not letting you back down until you beg, diamond. tell me how badly you want me to fuck your pussy with my tongue...hm. good enough."

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