#Equality Isn't Always Fair

[atrayo]

Channeled Angelic Wisdom of the Jewels of Truth Series on the Love of God, Self-Love, & Equality Isn't Always Fair

Hello All,

I'm just posting at the tail end of this month of August. Hurricane Idalia just passed my region of Florida via the Gulf of Mexico yesterday or so. (i.e. I'm in Sarasota) So this has been a weird week breaking up my routine which is expected for Floridians during an impending hurricane strike. I'm all right thankfully.

In other news, I'm happy to Announce The Spirit University campus is now stocking my paperback editions (i.e. all 3  volumes)  of the Jewels of Truth series of books. The books are located over in their lobby on their bookstore shelf. The Spirit University is physically located at 373 Braden Ave, Sarasota, Florida, 34243. 

Now for the good stuff, today's trio of channeled angelic Jewels of Truth statements are on the topics of the Love of God, Self-Love, and Equality Isn't Always Fair. 

The first statement is Short or abbreviated in size which is for how I preface it for social media attention spans. The 2nd statement on Self-Love is self-explanatory by the angel in caring for one's psychological development versus roasting yourself over the spit. The 3rd and final statement is a lengthy exploration of how equality and its implementations within a society runs into complications. (citing the example of Affirmative Action in America briefly.)

Now without a further adieu let's explore these channeled angelic spiritual wisdom statements with the inquiry they deserve. Amen. 

Love of God:

3246) Wherever there is the Love of God. Angels will always be present upon any world of the cosmos. Amen.  ---Ivan Pozo-Illas / Atrayo.

Self-Love:

3210) For all the tribulations of this world and the earth therein are many graces left unspoken. One of which is of genuine importance which is a sustaining Self-Love by an individual person at large. As in a personal compassionate stance in all earnestness available. 

All Self-Love is a pivotal tenderness of the lesser ego mindset of your psyche. To continue the healing process from when this aggravated world triggers a negative response from you. Rather than just relying on external cherished people in your life such as lovers, friends, relatives, and even strangers. To bring to you the necessary supply of comforting compassion you may require at any given personal interval. 

This soon can become a personalized style of coping by self-care keeping your confidence private and empowered when the moments of counseling by others have all been spent already. This will also include Forgiveness when you are part of the circle of malcontent having aggrieved others with your mistakes. Whether these mistakes of yours are literal or created falsely by your inner critical ego mindset. Forgiveness is the medicine of God for the soul within us all. 

It takes great personal courage and sincerity to offer yourself the first dose of forgiveness before extending it to anyone else. Since personal accountability of taking a moral inventory of what went wrong on your end and by the hapless errors of any others in question along the way. Leaving aside the blame game of the ego finding fault elsewhere except what your contributions may have been with good or selfish intentions overall. 

When the majority of recriminations have been handled nearly then the self-care of loving yourself to a fuller capacity can begin anew. All Self-Love requires a steady heart and mind to implement with personal accountability to do better here and now and much later onward. Not just to play a fool's game of favoritism with other people's positive sympathy for your needs in seeking sympathy by the ego. 

To actually begin the caring internalized process of your own sacred heart spiritually guided by the truth that is holistic and inclusively compassionate for the circle of life. To evolve your divinity upon this chaotic world even when everyone else is angry to the point of committing tragedies. Very few people will understand what you are attempting to accomplish overall. So seeking their approval by consent in advance may very well end up poorly on your behalf. 

Such young or otherwise immature spirits can't see the merit in it until they have suffered greatly to the point of near ruin. Many find comfort in being bitter and angry as their first reaction without taking stock of the wider spiritual and psychological implications at hand in due time. When angry backfires it easily turns into self-loathing and god-awful depressive states of being dead inside. 

Loving yourself isn't about your sexuality, but your reunion with your blessed and great relationship with God foremost. If you are indeed well keeled as in being a balanced individual upon the world especially when chaos strikes. You'll be the voice of reason in the room when all others are screaming bloody murder. Such a state of Being Divine takes courage and responsibility when enacted with humility without seeking false praise from fickle people indeed. Amen.  ---Ivan Pozo-Illas / Atrayo.

Equality Isn't Always Fair:

3236) We may remark that upon the many things of note of the human condition. Equality is a beautiful archetype when applicable, however a difficult topic to wrestle with its proper scope of implementation. What is removed from one set of factors is added elsewhere regardless of the original intent. To serve one group of people effectively is to potentially injure another demographic of people elsewhere without careful caveats as to the consequences in net sum. 

To serve one group of people as a living cultural engagement must be practical and lead to outcomes based on an inclusive justice for all concerned. However, unintended consequences of social engineering will always creep into the argument whether the contrasting resistance is based on a valiant truth or propaganda based on shallow lying. 

Theoretical models will give way to observable conundrums when the philosophical treatise doesn't square by a balanced and fair approach. This is where branching alternative solutions may appear but most only offer relativistic solutions on a granular basis. Not just one outline of do's and don'ts must be instilled but an entire battery lumped together hoping that the maze leads to a righteous outcome for all concerned. 

Here is where what feels good as a so-called valid course of action isn't the simplest system to implement. Especially when the natural ecological world is involved in grappling with the needs of Mother Nature versus those of humanity at large. For instance, public parks with clear-cut grassy ways that are manicured to near perfection by municipalities the world over. Where families, friends, and strangers can commune with the natural world in great peace and merriment. 

Although such altruistic public spaces are ideal for the betterment of the human condition. They can introduce abhorrent foreign plants as shrubs, trees, and flowering bushes over time. Invasive species let alone domestic pets are abandoned here on a frequent basis by well-meaning former pet owners. The natural ecological biosphere does best where very little to no human interference is ever present. The constant mowing of the grassy plains is a disturbance to the natural world. Let alone the diesel gas-powered sound pollution it creates along the way. 

Better still is to have more State or National Parks closer to the urban spheres where applicable. Insofar that wildlife spilling over doesn't become a nuisance distraction for suburbs and other outlying areas overall. Such rugged State and National Parks are more conducive to the natural regional ecology rather than finely curated municipal city parks ecologically speaking. 

Where municipalities are a staple for the urban towards-suburban ratio of real estate needs coupled with infrastructure for the human condition. These are antithetical to wildlife and ecological flora and fauna to co-exist with humanity en masse. A gradual corridor is required for a fair transition point between the natural world and the human-engineered environs to be placed for optimal co-existence. 

Equality is an off-shoot of fairness that has its spiritual roots within compassionate kindness that is also with the holy nature of God himself. Equality when applied must be holistically coupled to uniformity or inherent imbalances will otherwise prevail. By undercutting the good nature on the one hand with the unintended consequences on the other hand. This leads to shallow results overall with a poison pill as the end effect. 

Another example is the racially ushered noble efforts of Affirmative Action by the Americans. A sociological governance model turned into public policy that ultimately was the best efforts turned into a nightmare by undercutting generations of shill politicians. 

To serve the needs of Afro-Americans and many other racial minority groups to have an even stab at the American Dream of social upward mobility. A great equalizer was intended to better society collectively however, the bigoted powers that be wanted the unfair status quo instead. What resulted was a temporary success, especially for scholastic higher education pursuits for a little over a generational time of 30+ years in America. 

Thus we the Angelic Host of the Heavens grimaced seeing the political shenanigans of so-called Christian servants serving the overall flock. With considerable efforts of making metaphorical lemonade for the populations of minorities upon America, we made the best of half-cocked circumstances as your collective guardian angels. 

To serve the sincere needs as it stands for Afro-Americans and other Indigenous Americans in particular as our brethren and sisterly family as souls with God. With the prayers of all concerned we maximized the Will of God perfect as it stands forever with a noble cultural stab at social justice in America. To have no bias, unlike the Caucasian discriminatory powerful elites of an entire nation. To upend a super-majority Anglo-Saxony fervor that has lasted for over a century was no easy feat by us who are the angelic fates guiding humanity to the promised land of God(dess) in Heaven. 

To preserve the needs of the many by the restraints of the few required a supernatural herculean effort. To pinch the Anglo-Saxony hegemony in the bud was no easy feat. Whether dealing with Christian Protestants and Roman Catholics alike to not turn upside down their idealism for the sake of petty gains over minority population controls. To begin healing a many centuries-long infamy by their ancestor's ancestors generations for free enslaved labor. Reparations as a form of equal social justice for a travesty that began long ago and when society matured sufficiently. Where the brave of heart collectively dared to care enough to love one another as Christos required of them as a Son of God. 

A terrible cost was placed on the backs of those who could least afford it to maintain such a noble gesture that was undercut by the powers of men that be in political authority. So the youth of a discriminatory nation trusted that they and their children's, children could finally succeed. This was true for only a while since the aperture of change can only be kept open for the maw of evil-doers who wouldn't seek to keep such an Affirmative Action public policy ongoing. 

To mobilize an entire generation of disenfranchised minority groups was no easy feat. But, the gap of upward mobility supported by the heavens took hold for a few decades until it did not upon this contemporary era of the 2020s  A.D. Discrimination of any kind that serves the least at the expense of the many is a rot best cut out at its source. Lest it spreads like gangrene and consumes the entire limb of a society at large. 

To care to the point that it hurts is to be like the heavenly angels in paradise for our spiritual hearts are tied to your human fates. Not alone as your brotherly and sisterly keepers ordained by the Will of God(dess). But, as also your spiritual family of another metaphysical kind an extra batch of unforeseen ancestors by means of the Macro Soul of God united in all lifeforms that Infinity can afford to offer Creation. We the angelic host care because you are our surrogate children through God him, her, and itself. We help raise you like sibling parental figures from on high and from afar and intimately to your most native breath of life. Amen. ---Ivan Pozo-Illas / Atrayo.

Ivan "Atrayo" Pozo-Illas, has devoted 28 plus years of his life to the pursuit of clairaudient-inspired automatic writing channeling the Angelic Heavenly host. Ivan is the author of the spiritual wisdom series "Jewels of Truth" consisting of 3 volumes published to date. He also utilizes a unique channeled angelic divination method called the Multi-Deck Divination System. Numerous examples of his work are available at "Atrayo's Oracle" blog site of 18 years plus online. You're welcome to visit his website "Jewelsoftruth.us" for further information or to contact Atrayo directly.

[audisive]

♪ BROOKLYN BABY. (💌) – previous part

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: the 141 believes the scot now.

tags: fluff, romance, soft!simon, you're basically their mom atp lol, bickering, there's a bet between gaz n soap, gaz secretly wants you shh, ooc characters, not proofread, price being the gentleman he is, he's seriously just watching everything unfold

       It's not always that Ghost is willing to let the 141 stay at his house for their traditions – which is just drinking beer and watching sports, really. In fact, he's always said something about his place being empty, so they always settled on someone else's. They stop asking after a year, and in turn, he stops having reasons.

It's not until Soap pops the question again when everyone else's houses are unavailable for a variety of reasons, his being that he left his faucet on and now his shitty apartment is flooded. You can only imagine the suspicion and shock when Ghost agrees (or, rather, simply grunts).

The drive is long, nothing short of 5 hours, and Soap spends the better half of it bickering with either Gaz or Ghost. He falls asleep by the next half, and when he awakes, he gawks at the lovely looking house before their car. There's two stories to it, a balcony, a front porch, and there's no doubt that there's a backyard.

Contrary to popular belief, no, it is not all black or plain at all. It's all equally surprising to them. The Brit isn't the type to care about the appearance and state of a house, usually. They do envision him in a mostly empty apartment with only a bed and a bathroom, though.

There's a delicate touch to where a rough man lives; the smell is almost heavenly when they enter the house. It's homely, the scent of newly washed sheets and lingering smell of food; there's a cat perched on the living room table that Ghost scratches the head of lovingly in a way that's so casual and natural. It's like they're at the gates of–

"Simon!" Heaven's bells ring in their ears, luring them into the doorway of the living room, and the sound of feet padding against the cold floor. There comes a soft-looking thing running into Ghost's arms, completely engulfing you.

You only notice the three familiar faces of your boyfriend's team members – though you know he considers them family if anything – when you pull away. An angel clad in only a cami top, shorts, and Simon's hand around your waist, you turn to look at the group with a surprised look on your pretty – Soap thinks that God, you're so pretty – face. "Oh, hi," you smile sweetly, obviously awkward at the silence and the staring.

"It's been a while," Ever the gentleman, the gruff voice is the first to speak up with your name uttered, the only who's actually met you – John Price. Soap is too enamored with the way you hold yourself and the fact that, holy fuck, even your name's pretty. Gaz raises a brow at the captain's greeting.

You smile once more – a genuine one now. "Nice to see you again, John."

"'S rude to stare, Johnny." Simon speaks out, a smirk under the mask. "Please excuse him, miss," Gaz adds, this beautiful man, and offers a charming smile.

"You must be Gaz," you hold your hand out, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Kyle forgets that a hand could be this soft and gentle, "and please, call me Kyle." He barely stops himself from turning your hand in his to kiss the back of it like one should to a lady so fair; his lieutenant has good taste in women, he'll give him that. And when you're out of the area, Soap is sure to rub it in Gaz's face. I told ye so! LT wis hidin' somethin' from us. A pretty something, that is. You don't miss the way he slips a twenty-dollar bill into the Scottish man's hand.

"Glad tae meet ye," Soap finally says, winking. "Understand why he wis hidin' a bonnie lass like ye from us." There's a mischievous glint in his eye, almost naturally so.

"A'm hurt, LT, but whit can I do? After all, we're just a couple o' brutes, arenae we?"

Simon watches in amusement, "you'll live." Soap is quick to move to your side as you lead the small group of hulking men through your shared home after that.

Simon is visibly more relaxed with you around. He's comfortable, that much is a given, with the way he's taking up most of the thankfully large couch with his manspreading. So is the 141. They're pampered like spoiled children (or pets, really) through the whole day.

Instead of just beer and faucet water, they're offered a variety of drinks in the kitchen that's enough to be considered a private bar. Instead of an empty belly unhealthily stuffed with beer and a mix of mediocre takeout, they're met with warm homecooked meals. They lose track of time quickly; the night falls by the time they've tired themselves out, and they've had not one, but two meals thanks to you.

(They're sure to commend your cooking skills and think of how lucky this tall brute of a man is blessed with a woman so soft and pliant and wonderful and– while Price is the one to be the most grateful, Soap compliments you the most. "A can practically taste the love." You laugh in turn.)

Gaz is the first to speak after a meal so lovely, they could simply just sleep on the floor comfortably and wake to the same smell of home. "It's a bit late, love, we should probably go."

"Thank you for having us," Price smiles down at you kindly.

"Ye've been lovely, bonnie." He wants to stay some more.

"Wait," you stop them, looking up at Simon for further approval. He's already looking at you with a reassuring brush of his thumb on the side of your hip and a nod. You turn your eyes back at them. "It's already late, you three should stay the night. We have enough room for everyone."

There comes, "we don't wanna intrude," then, "we can take care of ourselves, it's alright."

"Please, I insist." Your smile brightens, "I'll even cook breakfast before you leave."

The mohawk moves with a sigh, "now tha's just no' fair, lass. How are we gonna say no tae that?" You giggle. Only then do they find themselves tucked away in the guest room, and boy, you were right when you said it could fit them all if not more.

On the way to the bathroom in the late hours of the night, Soap catches a glimpse of light through the crack of your bedroom door to see his oh-so strong lieutenant, vulnerable in your arms. There's something natural about the way you cradle the large man and kiss his hair like it's part of your DNA, like you're programmed to do that 'cause Soap thinks you're simply unreal.

He's proud of his lieutenant, this lucky bastard. He turns another blind eye once more, but he's paid in full with another fulfilling meal by the morning.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Game that's a dating sim/time management style game, but you don't date anyone (or at least if you do, dating isn't the point). The premise is that you've gotten a new entry level job in your dream career in a town that's WAY too expensive for you to live in with zero available rentals, but due to a stroke of amazing luck and a distant family connection, you're able to score a rental in a nice community for a price you can just about handle. The catch is that you have to join the homeowner's association. Your landlord is distant, but expects you to keep in line with the HOA or get evicted.

The game consists of carefully managing your out-of-work time to keep up with the HOA's increasingly stringent list of rules about the appearance and maintenance of your property. If you don't spend enough time on yardwork and maintenance, you'll start to get violation warnings, but you also need to go to community events to avoid getting on the other members' shitlists and making enemies who'll look more critically at your property. You can buy leeway if you spend time schmoozing the other HOA people, helping them with crises, and siding with the more powerful figures in disputes. Your dream career is a background event in your life, focused more on keeping a roof over your head, but if you skip work to tend to HOA stuff you risk getting fired, and conversely if you put in extra hours and do really well you can get bonuses which you can use to pay a professional gardener or housekeeper and free up some more time. The power dynamic in the HOA can change, so be careful putting all your eggs in one basket relationship-wise lest your friends be on the outs and your enemies start looking for ways to get rid of you. But if you change your alleigances too often, you'll get a reputation as a fair weather friend, which can be equally dangerous. Getting too close to someone who ends up in a scandal could tarr you with an equally scandalous reputation, but you won't know what scandals are going on in the neighbourhood . Getting evicted or fired are both, of course, loss conditions, but showing up for work and [honing it in isn't too hard; you've always wanted to work at... uh... whatever it is that you're doing again. Never mind that. The most important thing in your life is making sure that the grass in the front lawn doesn't grow more than half an inch above the prescribed length.

[thebibliosphere]

One of the really fun and interesting things about writing a polyamorous romance as someone who is ambiamorous/polyamorous is finding new ways to make sure the narrative hits the expected genre beats without just sort of... mushing it into a pre-existing monogamous romance mold, which is what I'm afraid happens a lot of the time.

Trust me, it was my job in the publishing house to make them fit that mold. I hated it.

Reading other poly-centric romances, I can always somewhat tell when someone is writing polyamory from a sexual fantasy aspect (zero shade; I'm here for all the group sex) without actually considering how it functions as a relationship dynamic, which can often come off as... well.

It's lacking for me as a romance.

Erotica-wise, it's fine. But it misses the romantic beats for me that I want as a polyamorous-leaning person.

There's so much emphasis on the polycule and never the individual dyads within the larger relationship.

For example, in a triad, there are actually four relationships to handle.

The dyad between A + B. The dyad between A + C. The dyad between B + C. And the overarching relationship between A + B + C.

With monogamous-leaning authors or authors that've been pressed into conforming to the pre-existing genre beats, there's a tendency to treat the relationship as a homogenous mass where everything is fair and equal, and you treat all your partners the exact same way.

And I get it. It's easier to write everything as peachy-keen and to have external conflict be resolved with either acceptance or a brave confrontation.

But it doesn't always land for me as someone who wants to see my style of love represented in the genre.

In healthy polyamory, either closed or open, each relationship is unique in its own way. Taking the example of a triad again, the way A acts with C likely differs from how A acts with B.

And that's a good thing!

Because C might not want the same things as B, so trying to treat them both the exact same is a surefire way to make sure someone isn't getting their needs met, and that will lead to conflict.

Polyamory isn't striving for equality between partners but rather equity.

What are your individual needs, and how do I meet them, as well as meet the needs of my other partner(s)? What do you want from the larger relationship as a whole? How do we accommodate everyone without making someone feel neglected or uncomfortable? How do we show this in the narrative? How do we make sure character A isn't just treating B the same as C in every interaction? Do they ever fall into that pitfall? How do they remedy it?

It seems like common sense when you write it out like that, but it's a major pitfall I see time and time again. The characters never alternate their approach between partners, if there's any focus on the individuals at all.

The other major telltale thing I've noticed is that taking time to be with one partner is seen as a step down from the "goal" of the greater polycule.

The narrative is framed in such a way that they might start out with individual dates, but the end goal of the romance is to eventually be together 100% of the time all the time, and wanting individual time alone with any one partner is somehow "lesser."

Which is the goal of romance in monogamy, but it's not the goal of romance in polyamory.

Granted, you do need to end on a Happy Ever After or Happy For Now for it to fit the genre requirement. And a nice way of tying that up is to have everyone together at the end as a happy polycule all together all at once. I'm not disputing that as a narrative tool. I'm just pointing out that there's a tendency to present those moments as the sum total of the relationship when in actuality, there are multiple relationships that need to end happily ever after.

The joy of polyamorous love is the joy of multitudes. It's the joy of experiencing new things, both as individuals and as a polycule. If you're not taking care of the individual dyads, however, your polycule is going to crash and burn. You cannot avoid that. So why, then, is there such avoidance of it in stories meant to appeal to us?

Is it simply inexperience on behalf of the author? Or is it that they're not actually being written for us? Is it continued pressure to meet certain genre beats in a largely monogamous-centric genre? All of the above?

Either way, I'm having fun playing around with it and doing all the things we were warned against in the publishing house.

I'm having fun with Nathan and Vlad enjoying their own private dynamic that is theirs and theirs alone. I'm having fun with Ursula and Nathan being so careful and vulnerable around each other. I'm absolutely 100% here for the chaos of Vlad and Ursula without a chaperone. And I'm here for the chaos of Vlad and Ursula together and Nathan's fond, loving eye roll as he trails after them, too enamored to tell either of them no because where would the fun in that be...

Anyway. Don't mind me. Just getting my thoughts out while everyone else is in bed.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

hey i love your work so much!! i was wondering if you could do something where hotch gets lingerie for the reader. and the reader is like mmm no maybe not.. but hotch is like please just try it on to see if you like it?

reader is like ok, so they put it on and they are stilly kinda hesitant but when hotch sees them he is like star struck and… ya know shows them how pretty they are!! and he just praises the reader, maybe they do it in front of a mirror 🫣🫣

i think it would be cute, but you don’t have to write it if you don’t want, sorry if this is all over the place it was just a stream of consciousness!!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size!reader

— summary: to aaron, buying you lingerie was an act of love, to you, it was something new.

— warnings: lingerie wearing (obviously), slight body insecurity, illusions to mirrors being used for future... unsavory acts, kissing, heavy petting, praise, heavy kissing.

— wc: 745

⋆ a/n: hello hun!! i'm so glad you like my work and sorry that this isn't as detailed as you probably would have liked. funny enough i couldn't find space to fit actual smut in there, but never fear! it is still as equally spicy and fun!

masterlist | AO3

“What the fuck is that?”

Aaron held up a piece of lingerie that looked more like pieces of string and lace were sewn together than any actual cloth.

“Lingerie, honey.” He said with a deep chuckle. “And you want me to wear… that?” You questioned in disbelief. “That would be ideal, yes.”

There was a wince on your face as you continued to stare at the dark red thing. “Yeah… no. Absolutely not.” You crossed your arms. “Sweetheart, you don't even know if you won't like it.”

“No, I know I don't like it. How about you just see me naked?”

“As tempting as that sounds, I would like it very much if you were to try it on.”

Your eyes flickered from his to the bundle of lace.

Now, it wouldn't be fair to say no, because Aaron has indulged in many of your fantasies over the years, and he barely asks for anything, as well as always focuses on your pleasure. If you said no he'd drop the conversation entirely, he was never one to pressure.

You could see it in the burning of his irises that he wanted to see you in the lingerie, and he would never steer you wrong and pick something ugly. Oh God, just thinking about him going into a place like Victoria's Secret made your cheeks heat up.

With one final glance you sighed, sticking out your hand. “Fine, but I'm doing this just because I love you and… because I want to.”

He walked up and handed you it, pulling you into his side to give you a kiss on your head. “Thank you.” You just hummed before disappearing into the bathroom.

Oh you looked like a fucking clown.

You knew this would be no good. This was not flattering at all, at least in your eyes. You cringed, tugging at the straps that dug into your arms uncomfortably. You had never felt so… unsure sexually before.

“Aaron, I look ridiculous.”

“I'm sure you look great.”

“Did this thing not come with a robe?” You couldn't help but ask, because the outfit felt like it was missing something.

“It did.”

“And where might it be?”

“With me.”

“You're such a bastard.” You mumbled to yourself.

You took a deep breath to ease your nerves.

“Alright, I'm coming out, but if you laugh at me, I'm going to kill you.”

“In what world would I laugh at you?” He was right, you were being nervous and irrational and — God, you've never done this before. Was it hot in here? Were you sweating?

Stepping out of the bathroom was one thing, but Aaron staring at you speechless was a whole other can of worms.

You shifted anxiously in your spot as he approached you, his large hand cupping your cheek. His calloused thumb rubbed the hot skin of it softly.

“You look breathtaking.” His voice was strained. The other hand that wasn't cradling your face landed on your naked hip. He squeezed the fat of it, a light shiver shooting up his back at the feeling of the fat spilling through his fingers.

Your body thrums with excitement, your last hesitation slowly melting off of you.

“You think so?” You ask shyly. “I know so.” Aaron confirms with that warm, comforting voice of his. He connects your lips together and a light, surprised gasp exits your mouth. Your hands shoot-out to hold his strong biceps.

His lips molded themselves firmly onto yours, tongue exploring your mouth with desperate fervor. It was like he was trying to consume you, and a new type of fire burned in his veins. It was a rabid kind of need that threatened every part of him that was a gentleman.

You pushed away from him to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Your eyes fall on the mirror hanging on the well next to where you guys are standing and you groan.

“Ugh, Aaron…” You whine in embarrassment, burying your head into his hard chest. “Don’t be ashamed of yourself, sweetheart. You’re gorgeous.” You groan in embarrassment. “Why do you have to say stuff like that?”

“Because I mean it. I love all of you.”

“You really know how to sweet talk a girl, don’t you, Hotchner?”

“As much as I like sweet talking you, I like having you in my bed more.” He locked your lips again, nosy hands massaging and gripping at the chub exposed by the two-piece.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[grandlinedreams]

|| uhh i forgot the mating bond is just kind of a feelings/vibe pathway rather than talking so just assume reader is Daemati or smthing idk i'm too lazy to fix it and it's part of the fic

|| warnings: enemies(ish?) To lovers, mating bond fic, angst, some pining, cursing, nsfw ㅡ oral (f & m receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, piv unprotected sex (make informed decisions, kids!), breeding kink

You'd always been a sucker for fairytales.

You'd grown up on a healthy dose of them, tales repeated over and over with the weary affection of your mother as you clamored for them again. 

And what young child wouldn't enjoy stories of knights and dragons and damsels in towers? Where the villain was always clear cut, good and bad measured in black and white.

Too bad the real world never dealt with such things. No, there was no prince to kiss you from a death-like slumber, no knight to rescue you from a tower.

But there is a Cauldron, the Mother ㅡ and whatever gods exist to laugh at the hand that they've dealt you.

That's the only reason you can think of as to why you, part of Rhysand's Inner Circle, can only stare in mute disbelief at Eris Vanserra as the mating bond, mocking you with the idea of shimmering gold, snaps into place. 

“Are you done moping yet?” 

“For the last time, Mor,” you huff as you turn the page of your book, “I'm not moping. I'm busy.” 

“Busy,” Mor mocks. “Looks like moping to me. You need to stop hanging out with Az so much.” 

She waits all of two minutes before she's moving towards you, knocking the book out of your hands to drape herself across you like a contented housecat. “Come on, you need to live a little.”

“I'm four hundred and fifty years old,” you counter, hating the way a smile twitches at the corners of your lips. “I think I've lived quite a lot so far.”

“Being a bore with books and training isn't living,” Mor protests with a huff. “You've been acting weird for the last two decades, don't deny it.” 

You freeze. “I have not.”

Honey brown eyes meet yours. “Have too. You've been acting weird ever since that run in withㅡ” 

You slap a hand over her mouth. “Don't,” you hiss, then recoil. “Did you just lick my hand?” 

Mor grins as you wipe your hand on the couch before she eyes you, brow furrowing.

“Seriously,” she says, her expression sobering. “Did he do something? Because you know Rhys would want to knowㅡ” 

“No, Mor.” You push her off of you and stand. “He didn't do anything.” 

Left, right, dodgeㅡ

“Somebody's in a mood,” Cassian pants as he narrowly avoids your fist to his jaw, his eyes gleaming as he studies you. “Normally I have to drag you out here to train.”

“You don't have to drag me anywhere,” you fire back, pushing hair out of your eyes. “Just felt like it was time for a tune up of hand to hand.”

“And I get to be the lucky punching bag? I'm honored.” Cassian straightens, and you hate the way he studies you ㅡ the way Mor did, equal parts concern and curiosity. “Are you okaㅡ”

“Cauldron boil me, I said I'm fine!” You know it isn't fair to snap at Cassian, but you've felt off kilter all morning ㅡ since Rhysand had told you of the impending arrival of Eris ㅡ presumably to discuss the ever shifting agreements in the tentative allyship with him. 

Just hearing his name had put you off of your breakfast ㅡ not out of indignant disgust, though you wished it were. Anything but the traitorous lurch of the bond you'd hoped would bury itself and remain forgotten. 

Mate, it whispers, an adder coiled in the back of your mind. Your mate. 

Only if it snapped in place for him too, you remind yourself viciously. Only if you accepted it. 

And you won't. Not now, not ever.

“There you are.”

You force yourself not to freeze, turning slowly to lock eyes with the one person you'd been doing your best to pretend wasn't staying in your home. 

Eris eyes you, and the lazy trace over your legs and back up makes you want to slug him and preen in equal measure, the latter only adding to your mounting irritation. “What do you want, Eris?” 

He huffs, eyes gleaming. “Now, is that any way to talk to a guest?”

Pretentious asshole. Your teeth clench hard enough you think something might pop as you exhale. “My apologies,” you grit out, “how can I help you?” 

Eris’ eyes gleam, and you get the distinct impression that he's laughing at you. Not just at you, but at the shimmering coil in your head that sings in his proximity. 

He approaches and you take one wary step back after the other until your back meets smooth wall ㅡ and Eris is in front of you. He's devastatingly handsome, staring at you with an intensity that makes you want to punch him.

It also makes you want to ㅡ no. No. 

“Back off,” you hiss. 

“Or what?” He's taunting you. “If i were a lesser male, I'd think you'd been avoiding me.” His eyes glitter as he leans in. To anyone who could stumble upon the scene, it'd look…intimate. “But that can't possibly be what you're doing, right?” 

You should hit him. Tell him to fuck off, to get away from you ㅡ to leave entirely. You hate how he eyes you, the simmering song that your veins respond with in kind.

“Come on, little rabbit,” he exhales, voice low and almost a purr. “Where are those teeth you showed me last time?” 

You snarl, hand fisting into his shirt ㅡ and you yank him to meet your lips. It's an aggressive kiss across the board, teeth and tongue as he shoves you further against the wall, and you hate how something in you purrs at the pressure. 

This, at the very least, is horribly familiar. His touch is not unknown on your body, the snake of warm fingers against your sides so eerily similar to the handful of rendezvous so many years ago, a lifetime ago, before ㅡ 

Mate. A bond untethered, unanswered ㅡ and icy water douses the ignition of flame in your lower belly, sours the warm lips against your neck. 

“Get off me,” you rasp, ripping yourself free. “The next time you touch me, I'll cut your hands off.” 

“I want to get drunk.” 

“Hello to you too,” Mor blinks up at you, studying the tension in your shoulders. “Any special occasion or…? I feel like I should intervene if this is going to be a bad idea.” 

“Since when have you turned down a reason to go to Rita's?” 

Mor only frowns at you, then gentles her tone as she sets a hand on your shoulder with a call of your name. “Tell me what's going on,” she murmurs. “You've got us all worried, babe. Talk to me.” 

You debate telling her to forget it, to take it out in the training ring or to simply take a good, long walk along the Sidra ㅡ and then Mor presses gently, “Is it Eris?” 

You tense further, and she looses a curse. “I knew it was a bad idea to have him stay here. If he put his hands on youㅡ” 

“Mor,” you cut in. “It's not…not like that. Not anymore.” One eyebrow raises at the anymore, curious as she watches you. You exhale slowly. “My mating bond snapped into place.” 

Her eyes widen, and you can't stand the sympathy in her eyes ㅡ the idea that you're a star-crossed lover, helplessly in love with someone you aren't Cauldron-bound to. If only ㅡ perhaps you could handle that a little better than being bound to the person you are in love with. 

Who's never shown a hint that the bond has snapped into place for him. Never wanted you for more than the intervals of hands and teeth, murmured filth and promises that'd made your toes curl ㅡ and been all too happy to pretend you didn't exist except for those moments. 

“Oh,” Mor says, and your chest aches. She, of all people, knows how Eris is ㅡ and the way she stares at you makes it worse. “Oh, honey.”

She doesn't coddle you, because there are no tears to shed ㅡ you buried those along with your end of the bond, thrown a shield around it, tried to forget. You had no Prince, no Knight. 

(You'd never been good at being a damsel, anyways.)

You don't know what Mor says to the others, but you don't really care when it lands you at Rita's, snug between Cassian and Azriel and all too happy to drown your woes in the sharp tang of alcohol. 

You don't need coddling or pampering ㅡ you know what you need, and it drives you from the safety of your brothers, joining Mor to chase the pounding thrum of music. 

You're not sure when you end up with an unfamiliar Fae male's hands on you, only that you simply grin and welcome the advance, the simmering promise in his eyes to give you what you need to forget the ache in your chest ㅡ at least for tonight. 

And maybe tomorrow. And perhaps the next ㅡ whatever and however long it took for Eris to leave, to let you bury that bond back down where it belongs. 

It's as his lips are brushing over your neck that he's wrenched away from you and you blink, admonishment on your lips ㅡ and it dies a quiet, quick death at the absolute fury blazing in Eris Vanserra's eyes. Not at you, no ㅡ at the male who'd been touching you.

“Get your rutting hands off of what isn't yours,” he all but snarls, and you watch as the male disappears back into the crowd before Eris is focusing on you. “And you. Come with me. Now.” 

Some of the drowsy edge of alcohol is beginning to wear off, and you blink before your eyes narrow. “No.” 

A muscle in Eris’ jaw jumps. “We need to talk.” 

Defiance ignites in your veins, fueled by alcohol, the ruined distraction (from the very male before you), and the irritation that he won't just leave you alone. 

But maybe this is what you need ㅡ that final nail in the coffin, the claws to finally dig the bond out by the roots and get rid of it once and for all. 

So you grit your teeth, shoving hard against the ache of your chest as you bite out a flat, “Fine.” 

The trip back to the House of Wind is silent, tension rolling off both of you in waves. Eris doesn't so much as look at you, but the set of his jaw says he's still pissed. About what, you don't know ㅡ he's the one who came to crash your little party, acting as though he has a right to you.

He doesn't. The only claim he can say he has is the times he's made you cum on his fingers. You refuse to look at him, to entertain whatever self-righteous game he thinks he deserves to play. 

This is your home, not his. Regardless of how tonight ends, you will not be the one leaving. 

Somehow, be it for better or worse, you end up in your room. Eris surveys it, taking in all the little pieces that make this yours, then turns towards you.

Arms crossed over your chest, you raise an eyebrow. “Well? Talk, or get out. I don't appreciate you ruining my night.”

Anger flares, smoldering as Eris offers a terse, “I don't appreciate you letting other males touch you like that.” 

You scoff. “You don't get to boss me around, Eris,” you hiss. Your voice is sharp. “You make it sound as if you're my mate.” 

Eris’ eyes blaze, the flicker of flame at his fingertips as he snaps back, “Because I am, damn it!” 

You freeze. 

Eris, so much like the wildfire he embodies, keeps going. “I'm trying not to act like some feral animal, but you make it so hard not to when you parade around like that, it makes me want toㅡ” He cuts himself off. 

The silence between you is brittle, cracking under the strain of things unsaid ㅡ and then you break the silence.

“Makes you want to do what, Eris?” A gentle, tentative tug at that bond ㅡ reeling at the presence on the other side, an answer after decades of silence. 

His eyes lock with yours as he steps towards you. This time, you don't take a step back. “It almost makes me want to apologize to everyone who's about to hear you scream my name.”

You don't respond, but you don't have to. The shiver ripples through the bond, the blown quality of Eris’ pupils before he pounces. 

His mouth is hot against yours, demanding in ways both familiar and not as you moan, fingers digging at your hip before you're backed against the wall next to your dresser. Something clatters to the floor, but you can't bring yourself to care about anything but the wedge of Eris’ leg between your own. 

He licks into your mouth, muffling the choked sound as he grinds his thigh up against your core. You shudder at the spark of pleasure that ignites, a reflexive jerk of your hips to chase it as Eris nips at your jaw. 

“Tell me how many others have seen you like this,” he murmurs darkly against your skin, “so I know how many times to make you come so you'll forget anyone but me.”

You want to answer, you truly do ㅡ but he takes your beat of silence as a prompt to tense his thigh, and it wipes your mind blissfully clear of anything but the molten warmth pooling between your legs. 

It should be embarrassing, rutting against his thigh like some desperate animal in heat, but Eris meets every tiny noise that leaves your lips with approving nips of teeth in your skin and the wander of his hands to pull at your clothing until he meets bare skin. 

His fingers work from your hips to your navel, then to your ribs ㅡ and then he's pinching at your nipples, turning them to achingly stiff peaks as you groan and rock your hips harder against his thigh. 

And then he's slipping it away, leaving you to tremble and pant as you watch him. He could leave you like this, desperate and aching ㅡ and his eyes darken in answer before he's backing you against the dresser. More things clatter to the floor, but Eris doesn't give you time to care with the way he lifts you onto the now empty surface.

His mouth is hot against your neck, drifting to your collarbone, then to your chest ㅡ nipping and sucking marks you're sure will bruise ㅡ and then your abdomen, your core clenching around nothing when you realize his intent.

Lacquered wood creaks in protest beneath the hard curl of your hands on the dresser, fighting the urge to dig your hand into Eris’ hair as he takes his sweet time sucking marks into your thighs. “Eris,” you huff, head spinning with heady arousal and the remnants of alcohol, “please.” 

That deceptively soft mouth pauses as he looks up at you, eyes wildfire-bright. “Oh,” he murmurs, “say that again.” 

You blink before there's the barest drag of his tongue against your folds, prompting a sharp gasp and a whine when he doesn't repeat it.

“Come on,” he coaxes, watching you in a way that makes you want to smack him. Your frustration must echo down the bond, because all he does is laugh. “Manners, darling. Manners.” 

You squirm as he nips just shy of where you want him, and you groan. “Please,” you exhale, and Eris smirks.

“Much better.” 

And then his tongue is on you before you can curse at him, lips parting around a moan as he begins to work at your aching core. Your hand finds his hair at the same time that he flicks his tongue over your clit, and the answering groan that you get makes your eyes roll. 

Despite never having had his mouth on you like this before (not for lack of want, truly), Eris seems to know how to get the loudest sounds from you. Your head thumps against the mirror behind you, fingers curled tight in his hair as he works you steadily towards orgasm. 

His eyes don't miss anything, locked on your face and the way it contorts in pleasure, lips parted as you writhe and pant. It feeds his own pleasure, the steady ache of his cock in his pants as he renews his efforts. 

Your orgasm builds like a storm cloud, the ever tightening knot in your lower belly that has you at the mercy of the male between your legs. Eris knows how close you are ㅡ how can he not, with the way your thighs tremble, the steady leak of arousal against his tongue ㅡ and there's no small amount of pride to have you this desperate with just his mouth. 

The knot snaps when Eris digs the tip of his tongue against your swollen bundle of nerves and you arch with a sharp cry. He follows the shudder and jerk of your hips as you come, tongue rolling over your hot, pulsing core to swallow everything you have to offer. 

You whine as he works you through your orgasm until you're pulling him away, panting as he presses damp kisses to your thigh. “I certainly hope I haven't worn you out already,” he murmurs, and your breath hitches as warmth simmers between your legs again. 

Part of you wants to tell him that this is nowhere near the kind of talking the two of you need to do, to discuss the bond, to decide if you accept it or not. But you're shoving at him, single minded intent in the way you back him against the wall and sink to your knees.

If Eris is surprised at the way you shove at him, he hides it well, dark eyes tracking as you as you thumb at his hip bones, popping the button of his pants and tugging ㅡ leaving him bare before you. And then your mouth is on him, and it's hard to think about anything at all. 

There's pride to be had in watching his face contort with pleasure as you lick precum from his tip, sliding your tongue against the underside and feeling him throb in answer before you take him into your mouth. 

Eris groans as you envelop him in the wet warmth of your mouth, the deliberate press of your tongue against the underside of his shaft as you suck. 

“Fuck,” Eris swears, voice rough and hips jerking with a hiss when you hum around him. You can feel him throbbing, the steady leak of precum that slides down your throat as you swallow. 

His hand finds your hair, an echo of your own just moments ago and you let him guide you along his length. His chest rises and falls unsteadily, the glisten of sweat at his neck and chest, the soft grunt that leaves his throat when you suck harder. 

You watch his head hit the wall with a muffled thump as you curl your tongue against his underside, hips jerking once, twice ㅡ and then he's spilling down your throat with a groan that borders on obscene. 

You swallow before you pull back, and Eris pants as you bring a hand up to wipe at your lips. He watches you, tracking the way you slide your finger into your mouth to clean it ㅡ and then he's yanking you up, pinning you against the wall once more to kiss you.

It's an all encompassing kiss, sounds muffled as he presses into you hard enough that you can feel the stir of his cock against the apex of your thigh.  

“Eris,” you gasp against his mouth. “Eris, stop.”

He pulls away, eyes on yours ㅡ and the flicker of genuine concern makes your chest ache. “We need to talk,” you say, as if you aren't both in varied states of undress ㅡ or your mouth wasn't around his cock just a moment ago. “Actually talk.” 

You almost expect him to ignore you, to press for this ㅡ but his expression sobers, and it almost hurts to watch that desire for you snuff out like candlelight. “Okay.” 

Part of you wonders if Mor and the others are home yet, or if they'd heard the two of you ㅡ and wisely decided to make themselves scarce, because the house is as quiet as it's ever been.

Eris still looks far more composed than you feel, and you take a steadying breath as you wrap your fingers around the comforting warmth of the mug of tea before you. “...How long have you known?” 

You don't have to clarify, the gentle tug on the bond that's answered in kind on the other. “A while,” Eris answers, and it hurts that he seems focused on anything but you as he exhales. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to ask you to stay last time you were in Autumn Court.” 

Something dangerously soft unfurls in your chest, renders you mute as you study the curl of steam from your mug. You could have.

Eris’ eyes flick to you, then away. We both know that isn't true.

He's right. You never would have, and he would never have asked ㅡ you love Velaris, you love your family too much to ever stray too far. Perhaps that was also why you'd spent so long shoving the mating bond down, pretending it didn't exist ㅡ so that if it did snap in place for Eris, you wouldn't have to confront what you are now.

All you can feel is the ache, echoed in tandem, the way you almost wish that it wasn't there at all ㅡ and you recoil from the hurt on his end. He exhales. “Do you really…”

You curl in on yourself. “No,” you mumble, “I just ㅡ I'm terrified, Eris. We both know what we won't give up, and I don't…I don't know how we're expecting this to work.”

Eris is silent for several long moments before he moves, and there's the press of warm fingers against your jaw, coaxing you to look up ㅡ and then he's kissing you.

It's sweet, gentle ㅡ and it only makes you hurt worse as he pulls away to kiss the corner of your mouth, then your forehead. “We'll figure it out.” 

ㅡ

When I said we'd figure it out, this is not what I thought we'd be doing. 

You can feel his annoyance, the flare of it at your answering amusement. It's what's working right now. 

So you say. He falls silent, and you resume tying your leathers. What exactly are you up to, anyways? 

Training. You finish, making sure that they're in place properly before you exit your room. 

Such a shame I'm not there to admire you. 

Your heart, the stupid thing, gives a soft flutter that you know Eris is undoubtedly aware of. More like distract me.

Would that be so bad? You roll your eyes, shaking your head. You're the one who's holding out on me, love. Don't think I've forgotten.

That you haven't technically accepted the bond, that you'd instead offered what the two of you have been doing for the last few weeks since Eris returned to Autumn Court. Which was, in truth, perhaps, a coward's way out. 

Because for all your jabs and steady ebb and flow through the bond, you're still terrified. That though the Cauldron had given you him, he could still be taken away. 

There's the distinct feeling of warm fingers against your mind, stroking ㅡ trying to settle you. I've waited this long for you, you know.

Sunlight warms your skin. I bet I have you beat in terms of waiting. 

We'll see about that.

“There you are,” Cassian calls as you approach. “Thought I was going to have to drag your lazy ass out of bed.”

“As if,” you snap back, but you're grinning as you stretch. Cassian smirks, eyes gleaming ㅡ relieved that you're back to normal, if not perhaps a little cheerier than you have been in a while. 

No doubt in large part to me, right? You almost drop your practice dagger, rolling your eyes as you square off in front of Cassian. 

Not everything has to involve you, you answer, knowing that the barb isn't anywhere near as vicious as it could be. 

But it could, Eris answers. As I said, such a shame I'm not there to admire you. He pauses. Shall I tell you? Or let you imagine on your own?

Your movement stutters for a second as you swing too wide, rolling backwards to avoid Cassian's own lunge at you. I'm busy. 

So you're not imagining my head between your legs again? He sounds all too pleased with himself, with the way you fall silent ㅡ abruptly thinking of that exact thing, much to his amusement. Because I am. You're so cruel, not allowing me the pleasure of fucking you with my tongue again.

You block a blow meant for your middle, swinging your leg out. Sweat drips down your temple, the familiar ache of your body that sparring always gives you ㅡ and more, the curl of warmth at Eris’ words. 

Or maybe I should have let you finish on my thigh first. You certainly were eager. Your breath stutters. Or perhaps my fingers next? I wonder how many you can take. Last time it was two, yes? Should we try for a third? He pauses, ever the satisfied fox for how your end of the bond goes silent still. Or perhaps you'd prefer my coㅡ 

Eris. He's laughing at you now, amusement echoing even as you throw up the barrier, blocking him out. 

Across from you, Cassian eyes you. He's aware of that far-away look, the snap to clarity once more before your eyes narrow on him. “Don't,” you intone in warning, and he grins.

“What? I didn't say anything.” He straightens, dusting off one of his bracers, the gleam of the siphons in mid-day sun before he approaches to clap you on the shoulder. “I'd pay to watch you shut him up in person, though.” 

“That,” you murmur, “could probably be arranged.”

ㅡ

To be fair, you don't bake a lot. And it'd taken an inordinate amount of courage to ask Elain to help you, the soft, knowing look she'd shot you that'd made your cheeks color. 

But she'd helped you knead dough, rolling it out and crimping it into place so that now you had a pie. 

A pie that mocks you with the simplicity of it, the last minute effort of adding coarse sugar to the top so that it glitters like the frozen crests of the mountains. Simple ㅡ perhaps too simple. 

Nothing like the elaborate things you've seen in windows of bakeries, in glossy magazines ㅡ you've never been good at that. Decent yes, but never so to recreate anything so elaborate.

You groan, pillowing your head into your arms ㅡ only to lift it a moment later at the crisp, Autumnal scent that invades your senses. As if you'd need even that ㅡ there's the familiar tug at the bond that has you watching as Eris strolls through the door. 

You don't leap into his arms. You don't even tackle him ㅡ but there is a swiftness to your gait that has you against him in a heartbeat, face tucked into his neck. 

“Well,” he murmurs, “was my presence missed that badly?”

“Shut up,” you huff, but there's no venom ㅡ not when the knotted tension in your chest is easing, made quicker for the arms that wind around you, tucking you tighter against him. 

“Here I thought you'd be so glad to have me back,” Eris sighs in mock-lament. “Your beloved mate had to find a believable enough excuse as to why I had to come here. Don't you think that deserves a kiss?”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, even as the little bit of truth to your situation sinks home. Autumn Court is beautiful ㅡ but there's good reasons as to why Eris doesn't want you there more than absolutely necessary. Reasons that you forcefully shut out, instead studying his face ㅡ just as he spots the pie.

“What,” he murmurs, “is that?”

Your cheeks warm, even as you scoff. “A pie.” 

“Obviously,” Eris says, arm still slung around your waist. “But where did it come from?”

You study the wood paneling, the carefully detailed artwork from Feyre when she'd stayed here. The cabin isn't often used ㅡ and when you'd asked for usage of it, Rhysand had the audacity to smirk at you. Eris prompts you with a call of your name, and you almost contemplate winnowing and trying again later. 

“Me,” you answer finally. “I made it. For you.” 

Eris freezes against you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you before there are warm fingers on your chin, coaxing you to look at him ㅡ the only warning that you get before he's kissing you. 

You can feel the grip he has at your waist as he backs you until you meet the counter, your noise of surprise muffled by his mouth. “Eris,” you manage when he pulls away for a moment, “I worked hard on that pieㅡ” 

“And I'll happily eat it,” he huffs against your neck, voice low and rough as he lifts you onto the counter, slotting himself between your legs. “I'm busy right now.” 

You want to protest, but his teeth are bruising over your pulse, making you shudder and lean away, giving him more room to work. It earns you a low growl of approval as he busies himself with sucking marks into the column of your throat. 

One hand curls against his shoulder as the other slides into his hair, earning a groan when your nails curl against his scalp. Warm fingers slide up beneath your shirt to yank it upwards, contact of his mouth broken long enough to toss your shirt somewhere else ㅡ and then he's mouthing at your chest, tongue sliding over one achingly stiff nipple and then the other.

“Eris,” you exhale, “godㅡ” 

He nips sharply at the underside of your breast. “There are no gods here, love. Only me, and I don't share.” 

It's spoken in the tone you know is that primal edge of the bond, the innate need to take you ㅡ that'll have him near feral for days if another male so much as looks at you. It thrums in your veins, feeding your need to answer in kind as he grinds down against you, hard pressure against your core making your eyes flutter. 

And then he's pulling away to tug at your pants, kissing his way down one leg and then the other ㅡ and then that sinful mouth is on your core, just as he'd promised. The roll of his tongue has you moaning, hand in his hair to keep him from pulling away ㅡ even though you know he won't. 

You have no doubts that you're absolutely soaking as he presses into you like a man starved, keeping your legs parted as he fucks you with his tongue. Your back arches as he sucks at your clit, the sharp, broken cry that makes him smirk against your aching core. 

Your orgasm is looming, brought ever closer by every curl and roll of Eris’ tongue as you pant and writhe, fingers of the hand not occupied in his hair scrabbles for purchase against the counter beneath you.

As he'd done weeks ago, Eris works you through your orgasm as it washes over you like a thunderclap, letting up only once your noises have been reduced to whimpers and you're tugging at his hair.

Warm, damp kisses trail up your abdomen to your chest before Eris kisses you, and you moan at both the taste of yourself on his tongue and the fingers that he slides into you. 

You're slick enough that the slip of them is easy, and Eris groans at the way you tighten around him as he works you open. The stretch of his fingers has you keening and arching into him as his thumb finds your clit. 

“I told you,” he murmurs, “how I intended to admire you. But you making all of these infernal noisesㅡ” He curls his fingers and you keen, hips jerking against his hand. “And it makes it hard to stay focused.” 

You wish you could answer, you really do ㅡ but the way he's working you towards a second orgasm has robbed you of any eloquence beyond shuddering gasps and hiccuped moans. 

“My pretty mate,” Eris groans into your neck. He can feel the way you tighten as your orgasm nears, the lewd sound of his fingers as they thrust in and out of you. His cock throbs in his pants, and it's self-control alone that keeps him from spilling into his pants as you soak his hand as you come for the second time, making such pretty noises that Eris swears it's all he wants to hear for the rest of his immortal life.

He finally has the courtesy to lift you off of the counter, a slick mess left behind that he entertains the idea of making you clean up later with a hand in your hair and his cock in you as he takes you from behind ㅡ and the answering flare of arousal from you almost makes him want to do it now. 

But it's the soft plush of a bed that meets your bare back, legs parted to welcome the settle of Eris between them ㅡ deliciously bare, erection just shy of where you want him.

And despite the two orgasms he's coaxed from you, you have no qualms in telling him as you rock your hips up, head tipping back against the bed. “Fuck me properly, Eris.”

He raises an eyebrow, a Cauldron-sent menace as he tongues at the marks he's left on you, strawberry blossoms he's made sure will get the point across. “Ask nicely, love.”

You huff, then knock your leg against his hip, rolling so that you're straddling him now, hands planted against his chest. “You need to put that mouth to better use than pissing me off.”

“I already did,” Eris answers, cocky gleam to his eyes that makes you roll your own before he's hissing as you take him into your hand, guiding him to your slick entrance before you sink down.

“Being my mate doesn't excuse you annoying me,” you say, tone shaky for the way pleasure spiderwebs at the stretch of him inside you, the golden whisper of finally, finally, finally.

Eris’ expression is also taut as you clench around him before he offers a rough, “Say it again.” 

You stare down at him, aware of the way his pupils have blown so far you can't tell the color of his eyes anymore, the steady throb of his cock inside you. You don't have to ask what he wants you to say.

 You stretch over him, the slow roll of your hips that has him gripping at you even as your lips meet the delicate arch of his ear and you offer a breathy sigh. “My mate.” 

Eris snaps. You can't even yelp as you're flipped back into the sheets, moan leaving your hips as he bucks into you. The pace is aggressive enough that the bed creaks in protest beneath you, but you can't bring yourself to care. 

Nothing matters beyond the hard thrust of him inside you, tip knocking against that spot inside you that has you making sounds that'd put a pleasure-hall to shame. Your fingers curl against his back, rewarded with a groan that makes you tighten around him further as his hips roll steadily against yours. 

“Mine,” Eris huffs against your hair, then your temple, then your neck, the graze of his teeth making you shudder and arch into him. “Mine.”

Yours,” you gasp, choked cry ripped from you at the sink of his teeth against your skin.

One hand anchors him over you as the other skims over your breasts and down your abdomen to rub tight circles into your swollen clit. The contact makes you keen, and Eris huffs a rough laugh as you clench around him.

“Gonna come already, love?” You offer something that might be words, garbled and incoherent for the way pleasure is overloading your brain. It amuses Eris further as he watches your expression contort, the part of those pretty, kiss-swollen lips of yours as you mewl and moan.

“Two orgasms and still so needy…” He offers a playful click of his tongue. “Insatiable.”

As if he's faring better given that he's opted to simply grind his pelvis against yours now, intent on staving off his own orgasm for as long as he can in order to continue tormenting you with the pleasurable sink of his cock inside you. 

“Want you to come in me,” you rasp, a moment of clarity that makes Eris freeze above you for all of ten seconds ㅡ and then he's moving again, groaning as he fucks into you with renewed vigor.

“My pretty mate wants me to fill her up, huh?” He goads, slick fingers pinching at your nipple and tugging until you're crying out. “Want me to fuck you full of my seed? Go ahead and put a baby in you so everyone knows who you belong to?”

You don't get to respond because you're cumming hard, clamped hard around him as he manages one, two, three unsteady thrusts before Eris is pushing as deep into you as he can and groaning your name into your neck as he spills into you. The warmth of it makes you almost squeal, arching into him before he's settling over you, sweat slick-skin and a heartbeat to match yours. 

The next several moments are silent save for heavy breathing and the soft noise Eris makes as you drift your hand up and down his back. 

“Worth the wait?” Eris asks at last, and you pretend to think long enough that Eris pinches at your side in protest. “If you don't answer me, I'll just have to keep outdoing myself until you say otherwise.” 

“Is that so bad?” You challenge, and you can feel the twitch of him inside you, the way he's stiffening as his eyes flash.

“No,” he growls, “not at all.”

[noxturnalpascal]

Devotion 🖤 Masterlist

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

I. Stronger Together CH 1 CH 2 CH 3

II. Predator or Prey? CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

III. Path to the Future CH 9 coming soon CH 10 CH 11

Series Warnings: 18+ MDNI, canon-typical violence/death, death of clickers, guns, blood/injury, references to previous SAs (not described), Reader has low self worth & trauma, this group/cult is not feminist - women aren’t treated as equals, Joel has sexual relationships with other characters (not described in detail), possessiveness, manipulation, stalking/spying on, Joel gets mean, DubCon Oral, Joel gets abusive (verbally, mentally, physically (he hits, throws, and bites), thoughts of self-harm and suicide, talk of periods & pregnancy, unprotected PiV, oral sex (m & f receiving), come eating, DIRTY TALK, brief reference to breeding kink and creampie kink (but reader does NOT get pregnant in this story).

A/N: OBVIOUSLY this is canon-divergent, but it is post-outbreak. The events of outbreak day have not changed (sorry Sarah). Reader does have a developed background that plays heavily in her character arc, so in that sense she is very much an OC. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions.

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE

AO3 LINK

*🖤*NOTES ABOUT THE CULT & JOEL BELOW*🖤*

ABOUT THE CULT

The Cult's Core Ideology

Build up a community (and supplies) to return to a thriving society that can keep people safe & find a cure.

The Cult Operates by its 3 Tenants:

How Joel does it (what he "preaches")

I. Build Trust (We are Stronger Together)

Makes people feel beautiful, important, HEARD

Shares the wealth (food, shelter, women)

Seeks Power & Control to get others to help him

II. Us vs Them (The Predator Vs The Prey)

FEDRA is the enemy, do not trust them

Assimilate or Destroy all other people/groups

Attack them before they attack you

III. Gather & Prepare (Create a Path to the Future)

You can never have enough, always take take take take

The community you create now will determine future society (fair, honest, hardworking)

Once you are well-prepared and rebuild, you can work on finding a cure

🖤

Notes about Joel and the Cult:

He and Tess began this community together in 2010 after they met Bill and Frank and they felt that the QZ was becoming too dangerous and unstable. They settled in a small, remote town in the mountains of Vermont. Tess helps him "run" the community but she has a submissive role. (Their dynamic here is different from canon.) Tess has his respect probably more than anyone else does but she is not looked upon like an equal by anyone in the community.

Timeline/Ages:

This takes place in the fall of 2012, so It’s been 9 years since outbreak day. Joel is 45, my HC for Reader is Early 30's (Tess is 39/40). Reader's exact age isn't given, but she was in her early 20's on outbreak day and I wanted her to have experienced a fair taste of an adult life before the world ended. I didn't want to write the reader as inexperienced or with too large of an age-gap, although I think 11-14 years is still pretty significant. She has a history that plays a significant role in her personality (wary, untrusting). She has been hurt/abused by men - both those that took advantage of her when she was young, as well as by those that she trusted/loved. There are very few physical descriptions but she is very much an OC. Note that her age is not something that's explicitly mentioned because I did want to keep it inclusive. I hope everyone who wants to read this can use their imagination to fit themselves into the story in a meaningful way.🖤

[cherrychilli]

18+

AFAB reader, soft dom Steve, cockwarming, clit play, multiple orgasms

A/N: He's a menace.

Banner by cafekitsune

"Steve, this isn't fair", you whine, a pitiful sound that only widens the smirk pulling at his lips.

"Why's that honey?", he asks all too pleased and irritatingly knowing, tone dripping thick with condescension.

"Y-you said I could have your cock"

"and?"

"That you'd make me cum", you add, tone shying into a whisper.

"But I didn't say that I'd fuck you, did I?", he tutted as if it were the most obvious thing ever, pinching your waist to pry another whine out of you.

Steve Harrington was a fucking menace when he wanted to be and today, he proved it beyond any doubt.

It was near impossible to predict when he'd fall into a mood like this - equal parts sticky sweet chafing against cruel. You thought yourself safe when you'd cuddled up next to him on the couch after work, too wrapped up in his scent and warmth to realize the spider's web you'd just nestled yourself into.

You were very nearly lulled to sleep like that, cheek resting on his chest, the pleasant rise and fall accompanied by the sound of his heartbeat making your eyelids feel heavy.

But his hands kept you awake when they began to meander with some subtle grazing at first, seeking out the soft skin that peeked from underneath your skirt before those touches began to linger.

A quick squeeze here, a gentle nudge there and your thighs came apart just for him, making room for his fingers to rub at your clothed clit. It's a slow, leisurely drag with which he runs his fingertips over the bump, the kind of deliberate teasing that made you tilt your hips forward and chase his fingers for more.

And he was just as good at edging you with his words too - promising you release after release as your cotton underwear turned damp under his touch, his lips pressed against your heated skin with whispers of how badly he wanted to unravel you.

Most times he got you there just as promised. Falling into a rhythm that made your spine tingle and curve with his cock plunging into the wet heat between your legs until he overwhelmed you with a string of orgasms.

But at times like this you feel you ought to have known better.

You should have surveyed that glint in his eye when he pulled your sticky panties aside because it flashed different than the rest. And you should have tried to read between the lines when he said he needed to feel you around his cock, his tone no longer matching the sugary promises he kissed into your neck.

Maybe then you might have realized what you were in for.

But it's too late now. Your clothes lay discarded in a heap on the floor while Steve's left half dressed, pants undone, shirt unbuttoned and his chest hair tickling you from how it grazes against your bare back, now sheened with a light sweat.

There's no way to unstick yourself from the web.

There's barely enough room inside your head to think as it is. He's got you so full - trapped in his lap with his cock worked inside of you up to the base.

"Stevie, you promised you'd be nice", you try to counter but it comes out too weak and tremulous for your liking, made so by the way he's stretched you to your limit.

The way he's basking in your predicament is obvious, grin wide and breath fanning over your shoulder with a dark chuckle. His left hand slips away from where he'd been swiping his thumb lazily over your nipple, making a path down over your ribs and belly to tap his fingers gently on your mound when he reaches it.

"I did. And I'm going to treat you so good, darling", he coos, all smug and sacharine.

You don't doubt it when he places the pads of his fingers on your clit again, rubbing the needy bundle so tenderly that you're almost willing to forgive him.

"Oh...", your lips part with a contented sigh when sparks begin to crackle beneath your skin.

It's always different when there isn't a layer of cloth or lace in the way - so much warmer and more sensitive to his touch this way. Your walls pulse from the stimulation, wrapping tighter around the throbbing length he's inched inside of you carefully.

"Fuck, she must have missed me. Your pussy's hugging me so fucking tight", he chuckles again, this time noticeably less smooth than the first when he lets a soft groan slip through at the end of it. "Gonna play with this pretty little clit and feel you clench around me"

The need to lift your hips and drive his cock against every spot inside you that cries out for his attention is nearing unbearable but you're barred from doing so by the hand he's clamped over on your hip. Thankfully the other helps make up for withholding that much needed motion from you as he toys with your sensitive bud, making you stir and squirm in his lap.

"You're getting close already aren't you? I can feel how much you're enjoying this", he laughs, fingers circling your clit faster.

"Look at that sweetheart, she's crying for it"

Having him draw attention to it out only made you burn that much more fiercely. You've soaked him in the messiest way, creamy slick dripping down to his balls just from having you stuffed and played with. - not even fucked, as he so snidely pointed out earlier.

"Shit - I'm gonna cum - please Steve, can I?", breath hitching as you sought his permission.

You knew he liked it when you begged like this, the thought of him pulling his fingers away to teach you a lesson making your eyes burn with the beginnings of tears.

"That's my good girl. Go on, show me how good I'm making this sweet pussy feel"

Muscle memory kicks in quicker than conscious thought when you wrap a hand around the wrist he's wedged between your quivering thighs, hips quaking when the tension pooling in your abdomen winds tight and snaps.

His name lifts off your tongue like a prayer, cried out over and over as your cunt squeezes his cock tight in a flurry of rippling spasms. Your thighs grow tacky with your pouring emissions, the man inside you groaning heavy and deeply from the way your hot, silky walls pull and pulse around him.

The afterglow is a hazy, dreamy fog of bliss - like waking up to sunlight spilling on cold, bare feet slipping out from under rumpled sheets on a Sunday morning. He's kind enough to give you some time to recuperate, lips busy, telling you how good you did for him but as the fog clears, tendrils of disappointment creep in silently when you realize he hasn't cum yet.

Tipping your chin down to eye the sticky wetness evident between your legs, you recognize the mess as all your own, that satisfying crescendo of having him fill you up and empty himself inside you still out of your reach.

"Are you going to fuck me now?", you ask once you've gathered your breath, hope welling inside your throat.

"Not tonight, angel", he answers almost sympathetically but you know there's no real sadness there when his fingers glide over your swollen clit once more.

"Gonna make you milk me like this - gotta see how long you can take it"

[somewhereincairparavel]

If Percy can control a goddess's tears and saliva, poison, and water in a person's lungs, then why can't Jason and Thalia suck air out of someone's lungs to make them momentarily stop breathing atleast for a little while or smth? it's very much possible, i swear am i the only one who feels like the Grace siblings were severely underpowered considering that they're the children of the king of all gods? i get that uncle Rick probably didnt want them to overpower or overshadow Percy, but they could've had atleast a little more power.

Also, it's kinda obvious that Jason constantly getting knocked out is just a cheap and not very subtle way to make sure Jason doesn't "take" Percy's spotlight imo. Rick kind of overdid that to the point it became a joke, it's like he was afraid percy won't be seen as "cool" anymore, if jason had surpassed him, so he did everything he could to undermine jason's power to best of his ability, while simultaneously shoe-horning that jason is a Roman legend who had great achievements. Fine, don't give him new achievements, but couldn't we have gotten a flashback of his old achievements atleast? His fight with trojan, or him toppling the black throne, and fighting krios, atleast in Reyna's pov? Jason winning atleast one solid fight wont hurt anything or make us love percy any less.

It's clear that Rick CHOSE Jason to be Percy's equal or foil, but he never actually wrote them as equals with fair amount of power imo, it was a good idea to have them as parallels, but the execution was terrible. It made it seem like Jason simply exists for the sole purpose of making Percy look better (which isn't even necessary, mind you, bc Percy is always our OG king), by saying "ha! See! Percy is so much better than this useless upstart of a hero!" By giving him all the bad stuff percy doesn't have.

It's kind of like Cho from Harry Potter "existing" to make Ginny look like the superior partner for Harry and was discarded as soon as she served her purpose, scarily like Jason.

Jason's character deserved sm better. He had a great backstory, all he needed was a little more spice to his personality + a little more power

[moonswolfie]

You get caught by the sibling

Originally I was gonna write this for Lev but then I realised that I want to write this scenario for a fair amount of haikyuu boys so here we are (I decided to do characters who's siblings appear in the anime/manga excluding the miya twins and hoshiumi, sorry hoshiumi 😔)

I wanna write more for my boi hirugami, I just KNOW everyone's gonna be simping for him once the movies come out

CW: reader is gender neutral, I use the phrase "nii chan" cuz bro/brother sounds awkward, I use a name insert, some manga spoilers

Characters featured: Lev, Hinata, Kageyama, Tsukishima and Hirugami

˚ ༘ ೀLev Haiba

You were staying over at your boyfriend's place for the first time, and his family had been nothing but welcoming of you. They're all really sweet and excitable people, just like Lev himself.

That made you relieved, since you were scared his parents would be super strict or something, although that would be a little strange considering Lev's carefree behaviour.

Right now, you were sitting in his room in awkward silence. His room was surprisingly clean, you noted while looking around. (Alisa later informed you that he spent 3 hours cleaning his room before you arrived.)

"Hey, ummm..." you turned to him. He was looking off into a corner, eyes avoiding you nervously and a cute pink blush on his cheeks. He never usually acts like this. He isn't one to get nervous when asking for physical affection. He just asks you to hug him or hold his hand straight up. Or he just does it without even asking.

So that got you curious. "Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, eyes shifting to you. He looked excited, looking at you with wide eyes and a smile, waiting for your answer.

"HUH?!" that was the thing you expected to hear the least.

"Hey, don't be so loud! I don't want anyone to come here right now..." he said, a pretty pout on his face. You just stared at him, wide eyed.

You noticed his body slightly trembling, probably from trying to contain his excitement and nervousness.

"Let's... do it." you said, clenching his blanket in your hand nervously.

At your confirmation, he made a noise of excitement, smiling widely like an innocent boy whose mom let him get candy while grocery shopping.

"Okay. Sit still..!" he instructed, awkwardly grabbing your arms. You closed your eyes, too nervous to look at him lean in. The bed made a noise as he shifted closer, and you soon felt his breath against your face. You were sure he could hear your heart beating out of your chest.

"Levochka~ I came to- Oh my!"

Your eyes opened immediately, and you spun your head around to find a surprised Alisa at the door. You didn't see it, but Lev looked equally shocked.

"THIS ISN'T WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!" Lev shouted nervously.

"Ah, I'll come back later~ Have fun!" Alisa smiled cheekily and closed the door. Your head slowly turned back to him, and he looked both embarrased and annoyed.

"Damn it, and I was so close..." he mumbled.

"...You can still do it, you know?" you said, looking down at his blanket. There was an awkward tension in the room.

"Not now that the mood is ruined!" he grabbed his head in frustration, blushing wildly.

"Later, then." you shrugged, blushing wildly yourself.

˚ ༘ ೀHinata Shoyo

You were helping Hinata with his summer break homework, solving it together in his room. He thanked you excessively when you agreed to come over, but you could never refuse an opportunity to come over to his house anyways.

His mom was really nice and even brought you two cookies. Natsu seemed excited to see you, as she always is. She even asked you to play with her, but Hinata's mom explained why you came over and she had the cutest pout on her face after.

After a while, you two were finally done with the homework, and he looked over to you, an idea flashing in his eyes before his cheeks turned pink. He was avoiding your gaze nervously. You tilted your head slightly, curious about his behaviour.

"So, ummm... since you've come over and, uhhh, helped me and everything... I-I wanted to thank you." Hinata was bright red at this point and seemed really nervous.

You hummed in question, waiting patiently for him to continue.

"W-With a kiss..." he mumbled quietly, probably too embarrased to say it louder, but you still heard him. You giggled a little at how cute he was.

"That's the best form of thank you I can possibly get." you couldn't contain your smile. You saw him tremble a little in excitement, and he scooted closer to you.

"O-Okay... I'll do it n-now..." he whispered, and you closed your eyes, knowing that he would get nervous if you kept looking at him.

You felt his lips press gently against yours, and you felt his hair brush against your forehead. You didn't kiss Hinata often yet, so every time it did happen it felt special, exciting.

"Nii-chan, let's go play with your...EW!" Natsu slid open the door to Hinata's room without warning, scrunching her little face up in disgust when she noticed what you two were doing.

"Nacchan! I-" Hinata scrambled away from you, stumbling over his words and not finishing the sentence.

"I'M TELLING MOM!" Natsu yelled, running away without closing the door. Hinata was too shocked to move, but soon swiftly got up, face scarlet red. "No, Nacchan, wait!" he ran after her.

You could hear Natsu tattling "MOM! NII-CHAN IS KISSING [NAME]!" downstairs with Hinata nervously denying it, attempting to do damage control. You could hear Hinata's mom chuckling at the scene, too.

To be fair, you were laughing right now as well. Whether it was from embarrasment or amusement, you're not sure.

˚ ༘ ೀKageyama Tobio

Kageyama randomly invited you over today, saying he was home alone. You knew his parents are often busy, but his sister was usually home with him, so this was quite the opportunity.

Knowing Kageyama, you were sure he didn't invite you over to do anything weird and simply wanted to spend time with you alone since things tend to get awkward when his family is around.

That being said, all you were doing was sitting in his room in silence. It didn't really feel uncomfortable, though. You have a feeling Kageyama simply enjoys being in your presence and doesn't feel the need to talk around you. Either that or he's just awkward.

Suddenly, you felt your hand being grabbed roughly, and you looked to your left to see Kageyama looking at you with strange determination. You haven't ever seen him make this kind of face, not even during a volleyball match.

"...Tobio?" you questioned, confused by his behaviour.

"Kiss me." he choked out, furrowing his brows.

"Uhhh, what?" you raised your eyebrows in disbelief. There's no way he just said what you think he said. Where is this even coming from?!

"I said, kiss me." Kageyama grit his teeth, face completely red now. You have a feeling he just doesn't know how to ask for a kiss properly, holding back your giggles as you let him do what he wants.

He grabbed your upper arms, and you let your eyes shut. You felt his breath on your face, lips so close to touching, when you suddenly heard a gasp.

"Tobio-chan, you little charmer~" Miwa leaned on the doorframe, smirking mischeviously. You covered your mouth with both of your hands, eyes wide as you moved away from Tobio.

"Why are you home?!" Kageyama yelled, mortified. He immediately let go of your arms.

"Work ended early. And there's no way we aren't talking about this later." Miwa seemed awfully amused. Kageyama huffed in annoyance at getting his opportunity to kiss you ruined.

"Oh, and by the way, you were doing it wrong. I'll teach you how to kiss the right way later." she said, closing the door behind her. There was complete silence in his room for a long time after that.

You turned to Kageyama, who was still red all over, gently taking his hand. "Tobio, I-"

"Don't. D-Don't say anything." he said quietly, his hand wriggling out of your gentle grip. Oh well, gazing at a flustered Kageyama is also a great activity.

But you can't help but worry about what Kageyama will do with Miwa's advice.

After his parents found out he has a partner, they incessantly kept asking him to meet you. In their own words, they wanted to "know what kind of person would fall in love with a kid like Kei". And you couldn't really blame them, knowing Tsukishima.

˚ ༘ ೀTsukishima Kei

They were pleasant to you, treating you well and even letting you stay over for dinner. You were a little surprised at how different they are from Tsukishima.

He took you to his room as soon as possible, wanting to avoid his mom questioning how you two ended up together, what he's like around you and such.

His room looked about the same as you expected, and he let you sit down on his bed, joining you.

"Your family is so nice! I wonder how they managed to get a grumpy boy like you mixed in there." you commented, smiling at him. He rolled his eyes, that being the only answer you got.

You didn't really know what else to say, so you just sat next to him in awkward silence. Then, you suddenly got an idea. A very very fun idea.

"Kei." you said, leaning forwards. He looked at you from the corner of his eye, waiting for you to continue. "Let's kiss." you said in an excited tone, and his lips pursed, face remaining blank.

"And why?" he asked, turning his head to you.

"Don't couples do that all the time?" you tilted your head, acting innocent. He sighed.

"...Fine." he acted like this was a pain to do, but you didn't miss the tiny sliver of a smile on his face. He was definitely excited right now. You leaned close and accidentally bumped your nose against his glasses.

"Be careful, those are- mmph..." you pressed your lips to his before he could finish his sentence, trying not to smile too hard into the kiss. This feels awesome!

His arm slowly wrapped around you, deepening the affection.

"Kei, mom says that- Ah!" you quickly broke the kiss to find Tsukishima's brother, Akiteru, standing at the door, frozen in shock.

"Well.... This is unexpected. I'm glad you two are happy together?" he said, awkward smile on his face. He slowly moved to close the door, not wanting to disrupt you further but just before he did it, Tsukishima stopped him.

"If you ever tell anyone about this, I will murder you." he said, furrowing his brows. The door opened again slightly, Akiteru wearing a worried smile on his face in the crack of the door.

"I won't, calm down. Just what do you think of me?" he assured him before shutting the door. As you sat there, processing what just happened, Tsukishima slowly brought his hands to his face, pushing his glasses up to his forehead. He groaned loudly into his hands.

"Are you okay?" you asked cautiously, blushing yourself.

"Do I look okay to you? Of course not." he pinched the bridge of his nose, face red.

You came over to your boyfriend's house for another study session this week. Exam season has been wild this year and you're eternally grateful for his help in your studies.

˚ ༘ ೀHirugami Sachiro

His family welcomed you upon your arrival as usual, the dog being especially happy to see you. The two of you are taking a break from studying just now, talking about various things in his room.

You suddenly felt the need to be close to him out of nowhere, wordlessly settling on his lap and hugging him. "Oh? Why are you hugging me?" he asked calmly.

"Do I need a reason?" you mumbled against him. "I guess not." he responded, gently placing an arm around you.

You looked up at him, not even trying to disguise the fact that you were staring at his lips. He raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly.

"Can I...?" you asked gently, not removing your gaze from his lips. He chuckled, asking "Can you what?"

He definitely knew what you were asking for, but just wanted to tease you a bit. You pouted, grumbling "I know you know what I mean." His smile became wider. "You're right, as always."

Before you could ask again, he gently pressed his lips against yours, and you hummed happily, squeezing him in your hold. His other hand gently moved to your face, holding it.

"Now what's this I see?" you were interrupted by Hirugami's older sister, standing at the door with an amused smile on her face. "You hate when my boyfriend is lovey dovey with me, but it's fine when you do it?"

Hirugami let out an annoyed sigh. "I hate your boyfriend because he's getting lovey dovey with you in front of me. I atleast do it in private."

"Jeez, okay then, you prude." his sister narrowed her eyes.

"I'm not a prude, I just prefer to not make others uncomfortable by making out with my partner in the living room." Hirugami still had a calm smile on his face, which made his sister even more annoyed.

"Whatever." his sister huffed, closing the door and walking off. When her footsteps could no longer be heard, he looked back at you with a slight frown on his face.

"Sorry about that. Where were we again?" he asked casually. It surprised you how calm he is about the whole thing, while you were turning red from the embarrasment of being caught.

"I... believe you were kissing me..." you mumbled.

"That's right." he said, cupping the side of your face.

[libraryofloveletters]

Almost Isn't Always

Ruben Dias x Fem!Reader

Warnings: break ups, hidden relationships, one side of the story left untold, erling tries to shield him from the heartbreak, made up stats for a CL game, john is on 'ruben watch', alcohol and the consumption of, drunk texts/calls, drunk ruben, unspoken feelings equals heart break, blame is low-key on ruben, real madrid warning for those who don't like them lmao and a bit of reader x jude.

Word Count: 3.7k

Author's Note: per @themandaloriansdiaries request, she asked me to break her heart last night so here you go, I hope I make all of you upset in the best way possible <3

---

"Look," Erling turns his phone towards the man next to him, John leans over to see what was on the screen; Y/N L/N - Ex-Girlfriend of Man City Player, Ruben Dias, spotted out with another player.

The headline was garage and yet, John found himself taking the phone from Erling to scroll through the article. There are photos of you from your recent vacation, you're cuddled up with a guy but the photos aren't clear enough to make out who the player was, or if it was even a player.

"It's nonsense," John hands the phone back to Erling. "They just broke up, it's barely been six months. I don't think she's moved on already."

Erling locks his phone when he sees Ruben come into the locker room, his eyes shifting to the two of them and the sudden halt into their conversation doesn't go unnoticed by the defender.

"What's nonsense ?" He asks, dropping his towel on his seat as he looks for his shirt.

Erling shook his head, looking away but John didn't have the heart to lie to Ruben. He knew Ruben wouldn't lie to him if he was in that situation; he was always straightforward with people, it's only fair that John returns the gesture.

He takes the phone from the blonde, unlocking it and handing it over to Ruben. The Portuguese player scrolls through the article, pausing on what John can only assume was the photos of you and the other guy. Erling looks at John, who looks between him and Ruben, waiting for their teammate to say something.

"Is it true?" Ruben asks, finally handing the phone back over to John. His friend shrugs, "I don't think so. Y/n wouldn't do that to you."

"But you're not together anymore," Erling blurts, giving Ruben an apologetic look after his words as John glares at him, a look that says are you serious.

Ruben shrugs it off, pulling his shirt over his head. He picks up his bag, "heading out already?" Erling asks him.

"Yeah, training's got me exhausted." He fibs, grabbing his hoodie and his phone. "I'll see you guys later." He waves to his teammates before stepping out. He can hear John asking Erling why he would even say something like that before he turned, walking away from the locker room.

Ruben was pissed; he shouldn't be but he was.

He knew Erling was right, you weren't together and you didn't owe him anything but still, it hurts if it's true.

His knuckles are white from how tightly he's gripping the steering wheel, he doesn't even register the blistering feeling until he pulls into the driveway. His phone was in the cupholder and he couldn't help himself; picking it up and opening Instagram.

Carefully, he types your user into the search bar. He's met with a photo of you smiling on the couch as your profile picture; a picture he took. Ruben had unfollowed you after the breakup, he felt it would be best for him to detach himself from you and focus on his career rather than the heartbreak he was going through.

Nothing's changed since the last time he was on your page; there's the addition of a photo dump from your trip to Spain with your best friend but he goes through the photos, zooming up like Jack had shown him since before, trying to find a glimpse of this mystery man. The likes and comments were useless, there's nothing of importance in there. Just the usual set of people, your best friends, the girlfriends of the man city players, a few of his teammates - by few, it's just Erling and Jack.

A part of him wants to message you, to see how you are, to find out if there's any substance behind the photos he saw but he stops himself.

He knows he can't, that's just creepy. No need to be the stalker ex- boyfriend.

--

They've won their game the day before and they're off for the next 3 days; Jack's birthday just so happened to be the day after the match they just played, and he figured what's better than a party for his teammates to unwind a bit?

Music was blaring through the speakers, food all over the counters, liquor bottles between; there's a game of beer pong being played on their dining room table.

Ruben found his way to the kitchen, pulling a red solo glass from the stack before filling it halfway with some clear liquor - he wasn't exactly able to read the label at the moment. He poured what he assumed was some kind of juice into the cup before walking- wobbling- his way over to the bench in the hallway and having a seat.

He takes a sip of the contents in the glass, between the sour taste of the cranberry juice and burning of the liquor, his head spun for the millionth time that evening.

The phone buzzed in his pocket, he saw someone had replied to the story he posted for Jack's birthday but he got sidetracked by the thought of you. He holds the cup by the rim between his teeth as he searches for your number.

It's right where he left it.

He hits the message button, the chat opening. It's blank; he deleted everything he had of you - something he often regretted.

So he makes it his mission to fill it back up.

From Ruben: hi

From Ruben: y/nnnnnnn

From Ruben: hi y/n :)))))))))))

From Ruben: its jadks birthday where r u

From Ruben: miss yoou

The three little bubbles pop up in the bottom left corner, Ruben stops typing and waits for your message.

To Ruben: I know it's Jack's birthday.

From Ruben: fid u tell him happy birthdays

To Ruben: I did.

To Ruben: are you okay, rubes?

The nickname warms his heart, the sliver of hope he held felt as if it had purpose now.

From Ruben: yes are you coming to jaclk's party

To Ruben: I'm not.

From Ruben: why mot it's his birthday u should be herre

To Ruben: I'm not home, Ruben.

From Ruben: so coem home

To Ruben: I'm not in the country.

Ruben stares at the text, the anger bubbling up in him again. His fingers moving quickly over the keyboard as he types the next message.

From Ruben: so you're wit hyour new man? hwo could u do that to me? to us

The three bubbles appear in the left corner again but then they disappear, instead your face pops up. You're calling him.

Ruben panics for a second, unsure if he should answer but he does. "Hello?" He says, the phone pressed to his ear and a finger pressed over his other so he can hear you.

"Hi Ruben, are you okay?"

"Yes, why?" He spat, you can hear the anger in his voice. "Your messages are all weird, you're spelling words wrong. Are you drunk?"

"So what if I am? You don't control me, y/n."

"I know that," you tell him, rolling your eyes. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay but clearly you are."

Ruben feels bad, he shouldn't have spoken to you like that. "Wait y/n, I'm-" "I have to go, Ruben." You cut him off, "take care of yourself." Was the last thing you said to him before hanging up.

He's sitting in the hallway, slouched against the wall as he sips on the watered down, sour cup of warm liquor and he can't help but feel sorry for himself. How did he end up here? Ruben had everything; an amazing career, a wonderful girlfriend who loved and supported him through everything. He can't seem to figure out where he went wrong.

Someone appears in front of him and he looks up, squinting as he looks at the man. John sighs, taking the cup from his friend and smelling it.

"Mate," he grimaces at the smell alone. "How many of these did you have?"

"I don't know," Ruben admits to him. John, too, was wondering how Ruben ended up in this situation.

He helps his friend up, holding him by the arm as he walks him down the hall to the guest room. John puts him to sit down, moving the trash can from the bathroom to by the bed. Ruben's eyes were fluttering shut, the liquor finally kicking his ass. John pulls Ruben's shoes off, setting them beside the bed.

John pats Ruben's face, he opens his eyes a bit; "why'd you have to text her?" He asks him and Ruben's brows furrow. "Wh- what?"

"Nothing," John shakes his head, "call for me if you need anything," he says, leaving Ruben to sleep it off.

---

Etihad Stadium; the home of Manchester City and the stadium for today's game.

They were playing a Champions League match against Real Madrid. The boys were hyper focused on winning this game, just as they had done with the previous game.

Ruben was distracted, everyone could see that; everyone but Ruben.

In some ways, he knew this wasn't good for him. Obsessing over you when you've clearly moved on with your life, it's not good for him, it's not good for you.

As he made his way down to the locker room, a glimpse of a woman caught his eye in passing; long hair, the same complexion as you - surely you wouldn't be there. Especially not in a Real Madrid jersey; you always told him white wasn't your colour. Plus, the Madrid players were wearing their away jerseys, which were black.

Ruben convinces himself that he's seeing things, quickly making his way down the stairs and through the hallway to get ready.

"Yeah man, she looks good - happy." Jack says, pulling his socks down a bit. Erling nods, "I thought so too."

"Who looks good?" Ruben asks his teammates, starting to get ready for the game. Jack shares a glance with Erling before the taller blonde speaks.

"Jack saw y/n the other morning."

Ruben freezes; his heart feels as if it's going to jump out of his chest. "You saw.. y/n?" He looks at Jack, the man nods. "Yeah, she was at the bakery, getting coffee with- "

"With who?"

"Her sister," Jack answers quickly, not wanting to tell Ruben who he actually saw you with.

"Does she still overflow her cup with whipped cream?" Ruben smiles to himself at the memory of you.

Jack hums, dropping the topic. The last thing they needed was Ruben falling into a spiral right now.

It was too late, all of the things were adding up in his head, Ruben connected the dots one by one as he got dressed; you had gone to Spain on vacation and then you got spotted with a footballer. You aren't in the country for Jack's birthday and now he thinks he's seen a woman in a Real Madrid jersey, here, today, when they play Real Madrid, who looks like your carbon copy.

"Are you listening?" John nudged his leg when Pep walked in, the man started briefing them before the match. Ruben pushes the thoughts away, trying to focus on what Pep was saying.

It's a short walk to the tunnel, the boys head out into the pitch and Ruben finds himself looking at the away section, wondering if he'd spot you up there.

The match was brutal; Madrid kept them on their toes, as was expected, the entire match. A goal from Kevin at 42' put them up 1-0 over their opponents going into the half. Coming back at 56' was a goal from Jude which equaled the match. Finally, in the 87th minute, Ruben scores and they manage to run out the clock without going into overtime.

Nothing beats this feeling; a win at home was one of the best feelings you could have as a player. They were riding a high so to speak as they walked off the pitch. Most of the guys headed up to see their families that had come to the game and Ruben was going up to say hello to John's kids who had come to see their dad play.

He ended up hanging out John and the kids for a bit, holding the little man on his lap as they chatted.

Across the room he can see Jack with Sasha and the woman he spotted earlier. He's seeing her from the back, her hair covering the name on her back but he could make out the number; 5.

5 belonged to one player, their newest addition; Jude Bellingham.

Ruben felt sick when the woman turned; the smile on her face was one he had grown to love and still does, the same smile he used to wake up to, the same one he dreams about every night.

Your head tipped back, nose scrunched up as you laughed at what Jack said. You smiled at them, turning when you see John's daughter shouting for auntie y/n.

John tried to stop her but it was too late, she came running towards you and you excused yourself from the couple, bending down to hug the little girl. You held her hand as she walked you over to her dad so you could see her little brother.

"He's adorable." You smile at John, your hand on his shoulder as you admire the baby that Ruben held. You avoided your ex boyfriend's gaze, speaking to John and his little girl.

John glances at the baby, "do you want to hold him?"

"Could I?" You smiled, sitting next to John.

The man glances at his friend, John gets up to take the boy from him but Ruben stands, carefully making his way over to you and handing the boy over to you, arms tangled together as he slowly moves his hands away when you hold the baby. "Awh," you cooed, fixing his little Man City jersey. "Don't tell me it says Stones on the back," you glanced at John.

The words come out without him even thinking; "not like it would say Dias," John laughs. You can't help but look in the direction of Ruben, the man was already walking away and over to Erling who was a few feet away.

By the time Ruben looks back over at you, you were cuddled up on the couch with John's children, something that was a norm when you two dated as you would often babysit them. John took a photo of the three of you, you and his daughter giggling over something the baby did.

Ruben was so focused on you that he hadn't noticed the man that's walking towards Erling. "Mate!" He called, his hand stretched out towards his friend. Erling grins, pulling Jude into a hug. "Missed you man! How are you?"

"Good good, I mean, we lost but you know.. how are you?"

"Been good, can't complain." Erling tells him and Jude glances at Ruben. "Hey," he nods at the other man, Ruben looks over at him, nodding back.

Ruben's eyes follow Jude's steps over to you, the man standing behind the couch before he leans down to kiss your head. You lean back, smiling at him before he reaches over and rubs the baby's hand, the man walking around to say hello to John; he always forgets they know each other. John looks over in the direction of his friend, you can't help but look as well.

He was already walking away; the same nauseous feeling that you got when you left him resurfaced and all you wanted to do was leave, leave as fast as you could.

You stand up, carefully passing the baby back to John, giving him a quick hug before saying goodbye to his daughter. You and Jude were off for the evening, you stopped for him to say hello to a few of his teammates from the national team; all of them asking when you're coming back for a visit and you promised them soon before you two finally managed to leave.

---

The smell of baked goods and coffee welcomed you, the door of the bakery shut behind you. It was fairly empty, a few people scattered through the place as you stood in line, waiting to order.

After you order, you move to the side to wait. Your phone buzzes, it's your boyfriend.

From Jude: will you get the chocolate cookie I like?

To Jude: ordered 4 of them, that's enough?

From Jude: don't tell coach if I eat all three.

You smile, slipping your phone back into your pocket before the bell on the door chimes. You glance over your shoulder to see the one person you had been trying to avoid since you came home.

Ruben's eyes meet yours and you look away. The two of you end up standing beside each other after he orders, the awkward tension building by the second and you can't take it anymore.

Your eyes are fixed on the floor, waiting until the woman calls your number and passes the bag over to you. You can't get out of there fast enough but you stopped just outside the door to fix your coat.

Before you can walk off, someone calls for you; the same someone you tried so hard to forget.

Ruben stood across from you when you turned around, the two of you looking at each other. You sigh, unsure why you even stopped but you didn't have the heart to walk away from him.

You did it once and it almost killed you. You can't do it again, not so soon at least.

"Why didn't you tell me you were home?" He asks. Him referring to Manchester as your home angered you. It was your home but he had no right to say it like that, like he was your home.

You bite back the urge to roll your eyes, "I didn't know I needed to update you on my whereabouts."

"You don't," he says, "but we're friends, aren't we, y/n?"

You scoff, shrugging. "I don't know, Ruben."

The silence falls over the two of you again. It was late, the streets were fairly empty except for the occasional car passing by. Ruben stood that, as if he was thinking what to say next.

Just as you go to turn, he speaks; "Why Jude?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why'd you choose him?"

You cannot believe the audacity of this man. After everything, he still felt like he could question your choices. You sighed, rolling your eyes this time. "I don't need to explain my choices to you, Ruben."

He repeats himself, "you don't, but I'm curious."

"If you're so curious," you start, shoving your hands into your pockets, the handle of the bag loops around your wrist. "Jude's good to me. He makes time for me, he loves me, Ruben. He never makes me feel like I'm a burden to him."

"You say that as if I made you feel like you were a burden, y/n."

"You did, Rubes." You tell him, the nickname that once held love now tied the harsh sentence up with a bow. "I understand that you had just moved to the team and you wanted to focus on that and your career but you neglected me. When I did ask you for some time, which was very rare because I knew you were busy, you made it feel like spending time with your girlfriend, with me, was a chore; a burden."

Ruben stood there, unsure what to say as he listened to you tear into him.

"It wasn't fair for me to stay somewhere where I knew I wasn't going to be valued the way I should. I'm not saying you didn't love me, Ruben, but you and I both know there were a lot of things wrong with our relationship. You never loved me the way I loved you."

You looked at the man, you could see the sadness across his expression and as much as it broke your heart to see him like that, he deserved to know how you felt.

"Jude never does that to me, Ruben. He treats me with respect and he loves me, I know he does. It's obvious, I don't have to read between the lines like I did with you."

It felt like a weight was off your shoulders now that you finally told him how you felt. For a long time after your break up, you held a resentment towards him and you finally let go.

It felt good to be free of that, of him.

"I didn't-" he starts but you stop him, "I have to go." You move your hands from your pocket to hold the bag properly, "the pastries are getting cold."

"Okay," was all he said before you turned and walked the other way.

When you arrived back at the hotel, Jude was in the shower. The bathroom door left slightly ajar, you could hear his humming over the running shower and you smiled to yourself.

You hang your coat over the back of the chair, next plugging your phone to charge before unpacking the boxes from the bag.

"I didn't hear you come in," Jude says, stepping out of the bathroom. Your boyfriend presses a kiss to your cheek, reaching around you to snag a chocolate cookie from the box.

You smile, "you were in the shower, I figured you would be done soon and I was right." The man nods, sitting on the couch with the towel around his waist, eating his cookie. You pick out a donut, taking a bite before closing the box. You were about to join Jude on the couch when your phone buzzed.

Reaching over, you pick it up to see who it was.

From Ruben: I'm sorry, y/n.

From Ruben: I really am.

"Who is it babe?" Jude leaned back on the couch, looking at you. You set the phone down, walking over to him. "Jack. He said Sasha wanted to have lunch before we head home."

"It'd be nice," Jude smiles at you, his arm around your shoulders when you sit next to him. "Tell him yeah then."

"I will," you nod, "later."

---

taglist: @thesnailus @alwaysclassyeagle @lettersfromvenus @mehrmonga @callsignvenus @kmc1989 @valentinehrts @pulpfixion @ironmaiden1313 @candacels

add yourself to the football taglist!

[love-toxin]

DO U HAVE SUNDAY THOUGHTS…

/WHIPS MY HEAD AROUND EXORCIST-STYLE

(cws: toxic relationship, gaslighting, manipulation, yandere goodness)

It has to be said: big male manipulator daddy energy. If he wants you, he will ruin everything you love. He's smothering with endearment when you act according to his desires, and viciously brutal in his discipline when you go against his virtues. If you want out of his reach you'll just have to kill him because he's not interested in letting his pet personal attachment go.

Not that he isn't gentle at times, even sweet. He can be gentle and is actually very good at being so. He does truly love to see you smile and to feel your happiness flooding out of you; he loves the excitement in your eager gait when he shows you the Golden Hour for the first time, and all those colours and wondrous sights you've never seen before come to life in the dream. The reflection of all those brilliant, glimmering lights in your eyes is a sight he'll never forget.

But you are not his equal, for the simple reason that you require more guidance to be on your own. Sunday is convinced that you're a little lost lamb, delicate and unworldly, and that you need a proper mentor before you can even think of making your own decisions in life. Little do you know that he has no intention of ever seeing you in that light of equality, but to be fair, neither does he. He's just certain that you're a passion project requiring his help, and that is something he is all too happy to lend despite his many other duties to the Family.

That means, however, that you're essentially stuck with him. With Robin's death so fresh in his mind, he can't let something he loves out of his sight ever again. You must stay with him and be by his side every second of the day--aren't you flattered? He trusts you most implicitly, to the point that you've listened to all but only the most exclusive inner workings of the Family, which are the only times that Sunday will briefly excuse himself to have a meeting with his companions alone. Sometimes it ends with only himself coming back out, but if you haven't learned already you will learn to keep your lips sealed about those occurrences. "It's nothing for you to worry about." Sunday's famous words ring in your head, usually followed by a welcome distraction of tea or a walk or even some ice cream. Anything for his little darling.

Part of what makes Sunday so enticing--and in fact is probably a large part of why you'd get sucked into his facade--is that he offers you something you likely don't have; a family. And not just that, but unconditional love, support, wealth, affection, comfort, anything and everything you could ever want, even if it's not directly from Sunday himself. Although you're by his side nearly every moment of the day and he's all too eager to offer you attention whenever possible, being part of the Family and part of Sunday's inner circle means that you're part of something much bigger than yourself. The Family members treat you with dignity. The Hounds protect you. The people of Penacony adore you. And no matter where you are, no matter what you do, Sunday will never give up on his unending affection for you. It doesn't matter what it is. It doesn't matter what crimes you've committed or what guilt you feel for your past, whether you're a happy person or you're miserable, whether you can't hold up your relationships or you're an egregious people-pleaser; Sunday will never, ever give up on you, and that's rare to find in anyone, much less someone of his status and one with so much romantic affection for you. He'll tell you himself that he physically cannot abandon you, it's just...not within him to even think of it. You're meant to be together. That's the way it should be, forever and always.

[smalljxnnie]

⏝ִ︶⏝ִ︶⏝ִ︶⏝ִ︶⏝ִ︶⏝

THE KEYS ABOUT YOUR FUTURE LOVER

⏜ ︵⊹︵ ⏜ ︵ ୨୧︵ ⏜ ︵⊹︵ ⏜

01. 02. 03.

04. 05. 06.

˒ 🥛 ៸៸ ꒰ disclaimer ୨୧ ⋆

All of the images was collected and saved through pinterest. Take all everything as grain of salt as no one can really truly predict the future. Any resonated results are purely product of the current energy. Every option for each pile are from left to right.

˒ 🧂 ៸៸ ꒰ copyright ୨୧ ⋆

All right reserved by smalljxnnie 2023. Do not copy, re-publish, transmit, and exploit this reading in any way. Please do obtain permission of the creator. Any infringement of copyright are punishable by the law.

Pile 1

cards: strength - ii of cups - iv of wands

brave, confident, the one who you will tame, loves being at control, offers love in you, happy being with you, only have eyes for you, lots of eye contacts, being friends/partner with them, balance, equally love, attractive, could be an ex, will meet in them in an engagement or marriage, bless person, stable, protective & secure, love of aesthetic things, might be a successful or abundant person, enjoy family gatherings, might meet them on your way home and reunions/parties/ events, have self esteem and pride, people welcome them everytime they come home, have great neighborhood and family, isn't selfish and share success in others, has happy community or family, home person or likes being at home, often feels happy whenever they are in home, contented to everything they have, have happy work environment such as supportive co workers and a boss, might travel for work/ work overseas, have supportive environment, somewhat popular or famous, Leo sign (may name as Leo), Cancer.

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Pile 2

cards: king of swords - ace of wands - vi of swords

mature, powerful, intelligent and analytical, authority level, likes to speak the truth and brutal honest, communicate well, disciplinarian, set some standard for themselves and to others, more on reasoning and logic, head and not heart, heartless (cold), unbiased to people and a situation, detached and aloof person, strict, follow all the rules and regulations in every situation, splitting painful facts, detailed oriented, black and white is their favorite color, more on private side, the gifted or full of talent, ideas = action, driven individual, ambitious, charismatic, motivate and empower people, fast in action or the way of speak, accept every challenge, keep calm and cool every moment, racer, pretty daring in way of speaking and act, older, always wanted to be on top and at first, take risks, want to be original and unique, never be afraid to start over, slow in healing and moving on, often finding safest place, feels defeated when they are not on the top, carries negative attitude or beliefs, distance themselves to people, trust issues, likes boats or own one, Aries sign (may name as Aries) and air signs such as Gemini, Libra, Aquarius

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Pile 3

cards: v of cups, the tower - 6 of pentacles - 7 of cups

experience trauma in life, appear as sad, not feelin' satisfied in everything they have, multiple heartbreaks, have regret and shame, always blaming themselves, focus much in past events, lonely, isolate themselves from the others, feel that they are disappoint in life, have inner anger, have many what ifs, doesn't want to embrace change, fear of change, loss something or someone into their life, in pain, was abused, loss something because of natural disasters, loves to share to people who are less, help people in their needs, likes donating and leave tips, care for humanity, doesn't judge easily, give and will receive a lot, fair person, desire to understand themselves more, wanted to be honest to themselves, has priorities, hide their true identity, imagination and illusion, daydream, plenty of choices, too much opportunities and doesn't able to know what to grab to, can be lazy, isn't organize, unable to think clearly when lots of opportunities come together,

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Pile 4

cards: wheel of fortune - ix of wands - 10 of pentacles

good luck, destined to be each other, soulmate, fortunate, anxious about something, guarded most of the time, a hero?, someone who have more experience, patient and perseverance, strength, determine to anything, could be defensive, protective about themselves and the others, competitive, often stand alone, doesn't fight without a cause, lonely, competitive, desire of support and backups, thinking about the past mistakes, overwhelmed about too much commitments, responsibilities and burdens, prefer they were the only owner of something, financially stable, materialistic person, got high ambition in life, luxury, want comfort in life, value family, their family is supportive, wealthy/rich, came from wealthy family, have family business, celebrate a lot with family, an old school, respect elders, conservative, old fashioned person, some people here would only marry them for money, contracts, arranged marriage for money and power, at the same time doing a job and parenting.

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Pile 5

cards: vi of wands - 10 of cups - queen of wands

successful, lots of achievements and rewards, always at the top, the of all the people you meet, in higher position, a natural leader, stability, go getter, acknowledge by people, praise and support by everyone, supportive environment, supportive person, famous or popular, V.I.P, as always the centre of attention, particularly most of the time they were in spotlight, not selfish and share what they got(success), treat everyone with proper fairness, confident, can be prideful, may work in politics, often free in troubles, happy in what they have and got, there family is the sweetest people, likes children, is your soulmate, you were both destined to each other, will be in long term relationship, they are loving, good luck, blessed person, give gifts or have lots of gifts, contented to everything, relax, comfortable at home, home person, secure or stable in family and finances, fun to be with, playful, caring and supportjve, will give you a happy home life, grew up in a happy family, you already dream them before inside of your home, mature and strong, capable of doing most the things, independent, proud for who they are, might outgoing, doesn't fear to someone or to something, ambitious, determine in everything, inspire people, attractive, appear as sexy, fun and do jokes around, dramatic, can be friendly, offer a hand to people who needs help, protective and defend people who are close to them, bold and is daring, sunny, keeps healthy, eat healthy, athletic and sporty, athletic body.

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Pile 6

cards: the devil - king of pentacles - page of wands - ix of wands

depressed, have mental health issues, has addiction or obsessed person, materialistic, sensual, abusive/violence or were once experience abuse, mature, someone older, successful, rich (wealthy), midas touch, likes luxurious and expensive things, may own a bussiness, have too many qualifications, ambitious, lots of assets and possessions, high status, comfortable life, lots of money, has ability to buy whatever they want, secure and a protective about themselves, a hard worker, patient, someone who is cautious and people don't want to cross paths with them, skillful, the one who provides and earn, down to earth, resourceful especially to people who were need them, bussiness minded, can be friendly, supportive and likes to encourage people around them, generous in everything, faithful and committed in a relationship or to their career, set a standard, traditional, conservative, stubborn but they are slow to anger, value their worth, healthy physique, exercise, may own land/property, adventurous, intelligent and creative, travel, take the risk, entrepreneur, an inspiration, confident, childhood is important for them, may have child, loves children, often curious about something that caught there interest, open minded, charismatic, brave and has courage to do what is needed to, doesn't fear for the challenges, extrovert, extravagant, handsome/pretty, might be a student atm, playful and likes to have fun, likes sports, play sports, athletic, athletic body, lots of experience, prove themselves and what they can able to do, ready for the fight, too many commitments and burdens, responsibilities, force to do something that they don't want to, protective, tough person. competitive, likes to compete with people.

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[ancientgoddessofegypt]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT. 13 DIVINE FEMININE - ART OF TRANSFORMATION

So I want to get into the signs, houses, and aspects that express a form of transformation that isn't recognized thru them majority of the time. Scorpio placements will be one of the energies I get into, however it isn't the only one that has this gift down pack.

All placements have different forms of healing & transformation. I'm just highlighting the observations I've been getting from each sign listed thus far.

Aries Rising/Virgo Placements - > These two energies have an ability to let go of their environments, circumstances and going deep into the mind to let things happen. What I mean is, both these placements are strictly head first in a lot of what they do and this can be a pretty tricky battle. The way they transform is through the heart, and the body and the mind follows suit after. At some point in their reality, they will have to let the mind go, in order to form the life they wish to live for themselves more openly.

For aries however, this isn't typically their issue. Their issue lies in always moving with their head, and not being strategic like their Virgo pals. Moves made first without thinking doesn't teach them anything and once they learn to allow the mind to form a new way of doing things this is where they challenge themselves and create a new persona.

Scorpio Placements deal with transformation a lot differently. It is an everyday cycle, not something they can shut up. Unlike their friends the virgos and aries, they can shut this down through their minds and can easily suppress things quicker. Scorpios, unfortunately cannot get the same. Because they feel everything. And I mean everything. And internally, they know whats the spiritual reason as to why they are the way they are so their pain/trauma is justified. The art of transformation for these cats is to look into that mirror into the void and explore the rage, warmth, the things that matter and the things that don't and letting it shape them. They have the wounds to impact others with healing methods if they just listen to themselves. The way they transform is through the psyche, the unconscious realms. Their doing shadow work without all the journaling or magic. It just comes to them.

Pisces/Neptune Placements are constantly shapeshifting. Their form of transforming is strictly from the ethereal realm, and it finds its way through physical activity or thru the imagination. Their world is constantly shifting and changing and in most cases you can find it through their clothing style, the way they express themselves and even thru their perspective. All 3 of the things I mention in conjunction all align together when something mentally changes them, since they are ruled by the subconscious/unconscious part of their brain more then their peers.

Moon/Cancer placements have a dark side that at some point of their life they shift into. Most never see this to be a real thing until well... something or someone changes them to that direction. This transformation is almost inevitable. They have to learn the darkside of their emotions or else it'll literally hurt them in the end. They must go down the dark depths of their soul to conquer the hidden array of demons that they kept under their beds so long ago. Skeletons in their closet is an understatement, its not the type that we are normally use to seeing from this group. You wouldn't believe their like that.

On the brighter side, this shows that these people are multidimensional and not just the sweet loving nurturing breed of individuals they normally keep you accustomed to. When they get to this phase, they aren't for the weak. So get use to it when the get their because they'll balance out both personalities for the better.

Libra Placements - Have a mental transformation they embark in throughout their life. Their perspectives change them in a way that forms a fair yet equal link to other humans as they're prone to be more selfish in the beginning. The heart is also where they transform, and it is through love they really can make a difference. Everything is prone to mental physics first, then the heart leads the way. Their not use to showing all their skin, but usually when they do its because something or someone made them bare their heart, for better or for worse. If it gets worse, than they'll start being the ones to play you for your heart. If best, they'll learn to share that love in all ways as their charm lights up even more. For individuals who are normally private, their vulnerabilities is what sheds away the old demons and become aware of their souls embarking on ways compassion could heal them and others around them.

Virgos have to live a little, that's simple. Normally the picture perfect group, they have to focus on the heart and the body and NOT what the mind is telling them. They can't live in those rose colored glasses they made themselves. They gotta let things around them be as it may, and they can join the circus if they like. Being more open to things outside of their comfort zone challenges their old self, while creating a new one. Something shifts inside of their body before that transformation really starts to hit. Their the rulers of the maiden-mother-crone phase. Psychological something changes them during certain points in their life weakening they old self and making new beginnings form with experience. They are connected to the kundalini and the serpent mind. More to come on this seperately.

[hells-plaid-angel]

Dean had the lung capacity of a deep-sea diver. After years of holding his breath as he drove through tunnels, he'd honed the skill, only gasping for breath when the Impala's windshield broke through the darkness and into the light. The habit had formed as a child but lingered into adulthood as most childhood fantasies did.

As a boy, his father raised him on superstition. If you made a wish when the world was swallowed by blackness and you could hold your breath until the end of a tunnel, that wish would come true. Over the years he'd wished for a hundred stupid things. He'd wished his mother was still alive, that he lived a normal life or that a pretty girl would look his way. He'd wished his father had been the one who'd died in the fire. He wished he didn't feel that way.

Once Dean had blacked out in the backseat of the Impala when driving the I-90 through Boston. He'd come to with Sammy squealing like a stuck pig and John Winchester cursing like a sailor. For the next year, being in Massachusetts made him feel light-headed.

Kids and old men are similar in their love of rituals. Dean was no longer a child, but he wasn't ready to call himself an old man. The ritual had changed over the years, but at its heart, it was always the same.

Dean found his new ritual each night he woke from a nightmare. That night, he found himself in the bunker. The image of his hands covered in blood lingered in the darkness of the room. He held his breath wishing for the dream not to be true. He only breathed when he switched on the lights and found his hands clean. In his dreams, Cas was always dying.

The nightmares weren't helped by the fact that the angel had died, numerous times. His sleep-addled mind took time to sort fact from fiction. Had Cas come back this time?

Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that death didn't always stick. Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that the universe liked to make him suffer. Both statements were equally true.

In the nightmare, Cas had died in his arms. He'd awoken, held his breath, switched on the lights and choked out a breath, which sounded suspiciously like a sob. When the drowning feeling reseeded he found himself exiting his bedroom, searching for the object of his nightmares as a drowning man searches for land.

Dean would never admit to himself he was looking for Cas, but the knowledge was there. There were many things Dean knew but wasn't ready to admit.

Dean found the angel in the library of the bunker, absentmindedly flicking through ancient texts and Sam's collection of trashy fitness and lifestyle magazines indiscriminately. A heavy weight on his chest dissipated. Cas looked up at Dean's sharp inhale. He could breathe again.

"Hello, Dean," the angel greeted, as though he were late to some prearranged meeting.

"Morning, Cas," Dean spoke, for lack of a better topic of conversation. He collapsed into the seat beside Cas.

"It's currently 3:15 a.m. and the sun isn't scheduled to rise until 5:25."

"Thanks for the weather report, buddy," Dean griped. His tone lacked the usual exasperated edge he used when Cas said something that struck him as particularly alien, which was often.

"How are you, Dean? You seem... unmoored."

People in the twenty-first century didn't use words like 'unmoored'. Dean knew exactly what Cas wasn't saying. Dean seemed upset. If there was one thing Dean didn't cope well with, it was being anything less than 'fine'. They were experts in each other's pathology, which would always feel strange. Dean wasn't used to being known.

"Can we talk about something else?" Dean had been working on the concept of denial. However, avoidance was fair game.

"If I'm going to be staying here long term, I want to buy better magazines," Cas stated, tossing the magazine haphazardly. He'd been staying for longer than usual. Dean kept feeling like he was holding his breath, waiting for the angel to disappear.

"We can drive into town come morning. Need to clear my head anyway."

"You haven't been sleeping well," Cas observed, his eyes shifting their attention to Dean. The blue-grey eyes said more than his words. His eyes were an ocean to an inexperienced swimmer. Not everyone could read them. Dean could. There was something more to them. A strong rip beneath steady water. There was a storm raging beneath the surface.

"It's creepy that you've noticed that," Dean remarked.

"You haven't been very quiet."

Dean wondered how much Cas heard. Did he talk in his sleep? Did he call out Cas' name in the night? Had the angel heard the moments of weakness where Dean had let himself muffle sobs behind his hand?

"This isn't changing the subject."

"I've been changing the subject all week. Evidently, it's not working," Cas' voice was resolute.

He and Dean shared their stubbornness, which always led to unproductive stalemates. They were two bucks with their antlers interlocked, starving and trapped in their own idiocy.

"The thing about being human, Cas, is that things don't magically just get fixed because you want them to." Dean rebuked.

"I'm aware, but have you actually tried to fix it?"

They were fighting. Why were they fighting?

"Talking never really solved much in my line of work. You know that."

"Is this about work?" Cas questioned.

They hadn't had any difficult hunts in weeks. Cas knew it wasn't about the job. He wanted Dean to know he knew.

"It doesn't matter what it's about. That's not the point. You don't get it." Dean felt the truth pushing its way up to the surface.

"Then help me understand."

"The problem —." Dean began before he felt anger or frustration choke the words from him.

"The problem is you keep dying."

He'd expected Cas to baulk at the confession. Dean wasn't one for sharing fears or feelings. What he hadn't expected was the look of horror that settled on the angel's face.

Dean scowled and scrubbed at his cheek, quietly cursing himself when his palm pulled back wet. Over the years, he'd gotten good at crying quietly. He hated that he was able to hide it from himself. Men didn't cry. Dean didn't cry. It was a lie, not so much a superstition, but a fable. A story he told himself.

"Dean I — I didn't realise my death... affected you so much. I apologise for the oversight," Cas spoke slowly, as though deliberately choosing each word with care.

How the hell could Cas not know his death, every goddamn one, hurt Dean? Cas was family.

"Yeah, well, I pegged you for a lot of things, Cas. Stupid wasn't one of 'em. So just... Be careful. I'm going to bed," Dean mumbled, praying for a quick exit.

Cas grabbed Dean's arm as he passed, stilling him. Dean felt the restriction return to his throat. He held his breath. He wished Cas knew what he meant without having to say it out loud.

Neither man spoke. The silence stretched long and loud between them. Cas clung to Dean's arm like a dying man to a life raft. For his part, Dean was just trying to stay afloat. Slowly, almost imperceptibly so, Cas' palm slid down to hold Dean's hand. Dean let him, which was as good as a confession.

There would be no confessions. A confession implied guilt, something that Dean had in droves, but not about Cas. It wasn't a lie so much as it was a fable. If a story was told long enough it became history.

He and Cas were still in the dark, biding time between apocalypses. He wished that when they finally found themselves in brighter times, there would be no need for confessions.

[variousqueerthings]

something very aromantic coded in s2 of good omens is that crowley and aziraphale canonically take their cues of what a certain kind of relationship ought to look like from books and films. firstly, very relatable, I did much the same thing throughout my teens (and in some ways still do although I'm not trying to make myself "fit" by taking cues that I've been studying to be the correct way to do a relationship, I just enjoy performing them in the same way all life is performance when you're not-doing-body-and-relationship-to-other-bodies correctly inherently)

secondly, how it plays out in them messing unintentionally with nina and maggie. they don't understand the structure of nina's and maggie's whole thing as it applies to the reality of relationship structures in the world they're in; that nina is initially in a romantic relationship and wouldn't just jump from it -- no matter how bad -- straight into another one that was presented as "more" correct. because of course standing under an awning or dancing at a ball makes people "fall in love" (whatever that is) because... well, that's how it happens in the stories all the time, that's what these sorts of relationships are all about, "one fabulous kiss and we're good" -- it's a shock to crowley that he misread all the cues "you were crying and she was..." isn't that what this romance thing is that humans are always talking about????

thirdly it of course eventually circles around to be about what in the world their relationship is, but when they're trying to figure out what's going on between the two of them, there aren't any words that can neatly sum it up beyond "us" -- whatever it is, it's "us" against "them" (although aziraphale isn't quite ready for that) -- the them being heaven and hell of course, but to be honest, from an aro perspective, the "them" takes on certain human connotations to me as well, because it's all about how these two don't fit into structures and are punished for this not-fitting-in, and while they're not punished by the humans around them, they also aren't... human. they still operate somewhat from the outside of everyone else, even though aziraphale manages throughout history to create a fair few connections from the sounds of things

similarly to how they do it to nina and maggie, they try on these tropes with one another: aziraphale invites crowley to dance, crowley kisses aziraphale, and it doesn't fit quite right (the first because crowley is concerned with all the demons outside and so isn't paying as much attention to the dancing part of the whole thing, and the second because [insert another bunch of analysis here that's its own post]), but they've already been us the whole time. their attempts at explaining using alloromantic shorthand fall short, because they're hampered by needing to define themselves and their relationship with terminology that's suitably correct for whatever dominant structures they're in

fourthly, the fact that their cues for what their relationship needs to be shouldn't even really be coming from movies/books and humanity in the first place, it should be coming from gabriel and beelzebub. gabriel and beelzebub don't even try all of that "this is what romance is," they don't call one another romantic or kiss or even say words like partner, they're not interested in doing human-based customs or "fitting in." their language for one another is based around that song, and that's as much defining as it needs. whatever aziraphale and crowley are to one another is equally all their own thing, but aziraphale and crowley struggle with definitions constantly. they don't fit into heaven, they don't fit into hell, and humanity -- while more the place they've adopted for all its wild wonders -- isn't quite right either, because they're still being put in a box

it was fun to look out for as I was rewatching, because the way they interacted with alloromanticism really did read like two people who have exactly zero idea of how this applies irl, but that's okay, the fiction's got it handled, all they have to do is copy-paste = result, but then the stuff that actually is the romance in those texts becomes a series of contextless tropes, kind of like how amatonormativity often has those exact same tropes recycled in story after story that can't figure out why it worked the first time but not the next hundred times, except in this story it's on purpose. one fabulous kiss did not in fact solve things at all (nor was it fabulous)