#but can you truly have faith without doubt?

[enslaughts]

@huntalie. . . liked for a starter.

life had stopped making sense to laura lee the moment their plane plummeted from the sky. glimpses, maybe, here and there, shapes in her periphery, but by the second plane raining fire and brimstone upon them, she'd only kept on falling. head over heels far after she'd already hit the water. o thou of little faith. wherefore didst thou doubt ? maybe it was the moment you let us fucking sink. and yet, there is no other word for it but faith, this hellfire reflection in her eye. it devours the cabin, their home, like a lion, leaving nothing but skin and bone to pick through, blacker than black. at least it's warm. it'll be warmer in hell, something certain in her whispers, a root taking hold. a certainty of the un - seen, made seen before their very eyes. faith. the only thing that's made sense to her since the moment their plane plummeted from the sky ; this is judgment. righteous, holy fire for the blasphemers.

but the innocent were always damned with the guilty. firstborns swallowed in the plague. travis didn't deserve to lose his only home now that his brother was dead. lottie didn't deserve it either, akilah, gen, melissa, natalie. they were already suffering, half frozen, half starved, half dead. what more could it want from them, what more could it take ? what more could they give ? a home. their only home, for their only meal. maybe it was a fair trade after all. but no. no, it's only fair the taste of javi is forever turned to ash in their mouths, but not for all of them. travis, natalie— natalie tried. she was going to feed them all, despite lottie's offering, despite their heresy against it, she was going to feed them. heed the altar call and lie down upon it, and now look at her. ram in the thicket made archangel, forged in fire to light their path forward, chosen by the cards, the wilderness, lottie. who was laura lee to question it ?

so she doesn't. she has faith in lottie, and lottie put her faith in natalie. and god saw the light, that it was good : and god divided the light from the darkness. laura lee knows this, if nothing else : natalie is good. and because she's good, she will doubt herself, just as lottie did, and this is why they're good, why they're chosen. their home is in each other. “   you're not alone in this,   ” she whispers, fierce, forcing the glow in her gaze to shine on natalie's. what a way to start a reign. but light will always shine brighter in the dark. “   have faith in lottie. in yourself. we've made it this far.   ” what more could they lose ? where could they go now but up, after they'd already walked through the gates of hell ? doesn't that depend on which way you're going : out, or further in ? “   you got us this far.   ” not only your skill, but your kindness, “   you've been a faithful servant, natalie. now it's our turn. we just have to give it. . . more of the same.   ” here, cold hands find another's, slow, wary as an animal, but holding tight. “   more faith in it. trust, in each other.   ”

[cerealbishh]

"You get to see her understanding of how things really are. And so that becomes much more present on the surface. (...) In this season, we get to see her fall deeper in love with him but also navigate those challenges. And also becoming an anchor for Rhett but also struggling with his decision, 'Is this what I want for my future as well, as much as I love this man?'." - Isa in an interview with The Knockturnal(x)

[consciouschunkofmoss]

the amount of times ive come to tangle my thoughts of utena with a hora da estrela is very much worrying but also hey im having fun making these little analysis comparisons

you know its just something about a vessel who is so bare of its own self that is presented to be, innocently so with the childlike wonder that is to be given such a person seemingly lacking in personal life and any other upfront defining traits, such a raw culmination of an outsider experience where you can so easily miss the underlying bursts of vivid living and yearning for both the insignificantly small pieces of oneself crumbled in frigid hands putrid with the will of mere existence, and the extravagant bursting of any and all cloth that drapes their unknowingly burdened shoulders to the point of forceful and rigid transparency

[awildtei]

I know this is not new information, but I've seen a fresh wave of people confused about what the fuck Andrew planned to do as a 5'0 man with a knife against the literal mafia, so.

I think the fact that neither Neil nor Kevin lost their faith in Andrew’s ability to protect them after he was attacked by Drake (unable to stand his ground against a single man with a bottle, let alone the Yakuza/Nathan with their guns) is the best proof we have that the deal was never about physical protection. This is confirmed by the way Neil never expects Andrew to save him from his father, in fact cuts him loose before Baltimore as soon as danger is truly near.

Andrew is a pretty self-aware character, and he wouldn't make promises he knows he can't possibly see through, so I think he knows what Kevin and Neil also know: what they need from him, and thus what he promises, is not physical protection.

To Kevin, he promises safety from the Moriyamas, and the way we see him enact that safety (at Kathy's show, at the banquet) shows exactly what it's about: when Riko starts getting into your head, when he makes you doubt yourself, makes you think maybe you should go back to Evermore, I won't let you. I will get you away from him, I will treat him like he's just some dude to remind you that you can face him without kneeling. I will be your spine until you find your own, I will stand my ground for you until you can do it yourself.

That's why the scene when Kevin gets to the dorm with his tattoo and Andrew's eyes show so much feeling is huge not just for Kevin but for Andrew: because that was the whole point of their deal, Kevin has found his spine, Andrew bought him the space and time to do it.

To Neil, he promises safety from the people hunting him down, and that means: I will give you something to build a life around (keys, drives to nightly exy practices, someone to lean on, someone who will listen without flinching). When you feel like running, I will be someone you can call to come pick you up. When you forget, I will remind you who you are: Neil Abram Josten.

Andrew stands between Kevin and Riko and between Neil and his father not as an impenetrable wall but as an obstacle in their vision: not shield but focal point.

(Makes me think of that scene in The Haunting of Hill House, Hugh holding Steven's neck to keep him from looking at the ghosts, saying, Look at me, just look at me, keep your eyes on me. That's what Andrew’s constantly doing --even literally, when Kevin is spiralling after Wymack tells the team about the district change and Andrew makes him look away from his broken hand and up at him).

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 5.2 k Summary: Yup it’s König with a Virgin!Nun!Reader folks. This is all @wordstome 's and @melancholic-thing 's and their König & religion post's fault! :( Tags/warnings: PINING. Eventual smut, eventual blood & minor injuries. A cute, sweet, silly story with undertones of religious despair. Watch out for possible mistakes concerning Catholicism, I was more interested in the forbidden love trope.

Part 1

You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city. 

You bumped into him one day. Literally bumped into him, or then he bumped into you; you’re not entirely sure who’s to blame here, but you would’ve fallen to the ground had he not grabbed you by the arm and hauled you back up and against him. 

It was just to prevent you from hurting yourself, but your mind short circuits for a moment when you’re pressed against the broadest chest you’ve ever seen. The man is tall, so tall you have to crane your neck to see who has such lightning-fast reflexes.

Worried eyes look down at you from above, but the man’s expression softens when he sees how frightened you look.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

He starts to fuss about being in such a hurry without any particular reason and asks if he can make this up for you somehow.

Could he offer you a lunch or something? No, how about a drink? He’s truly so sorry.

His accent is charming, and the genuine regret and worry make you quickly judge him as a safe enough person to grab a coffee with. Accidents happen, and it’s not illegal to sit down with a man you just met, right?

You tell him you don’t drink drinks, but a coffee would be nice. The man raises an eyebrow when you reveal to him that you’re not only a teetotaler, you’re also a nun. 

“Ah… So you prefer a simple life?” 

He takes you to a dark, cosy cafe around the corner. His inquiry leads to a conversation on the joys of silence and simplicity, then on philosophy, faith, and the cons of modern life. By the time he grabs you a table for two, you’re already discussing how people are always on their smartphones nowadays, looking for instant gratification and pleasures and how it wrecks their brains. You both gush about how nice it is to steer away from all that. 

You find yourself talking to him with ease about your life choices. How the anxiety reached a point where you wanted to get away from all the fuss, and how much peace this solution has brought you. How you have meaning and purpose these days, and how you doubt you’d be able to adjust into a modern society anymore. He gets what you mean immediately, saying he only feels at home when he’s alone in the mountains. How he’s been alone his whole life, really, and that it doesn’t scare him anymore, on the contrary.

You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe. Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

He’s attentive and curious without being your usual pervert on the sly. You’ve had enough of men looking at you like you’re the forbidden fruit after hearing about your life choices. 

This man doesn’t try to seduce his way into your pants; he listens to your insights and agrees with you on how silence does you good, especially in times like this. You wonder what he does for work and why he’s here because clearly, he’s not local. You never get to ask him because the conversation ends far too quickly. 

He receives a message on his phone, cruelly reminding you that the magical bubble has burst and you’re back in the modern world. He looks crabby about the interruption too, especially when he says he has to go.

You both agree that you had a nice talk and should continue it sometime – why not tomorrow? Same time, same place.

So you meet him again. 

And again… And again. 

You find out he’s in town for at least two weeks, but when he finally reveals what he does for work, your stomach sinks. He tells you he’s working for some private military contractor and can’t really share any details about his work. When you ask him does this mean that he kills people for money, he falls silent.

“I guess you could put it like that.”

He’s looking at his shoes when he says it, somewhat embarrassed or sad. His feet barely fit under the table, so he has them stretched out, leading to a waitress almost tripping on them one day. Your heart is squeezing inside your chest when he rises immediately and apologises like the perfect gentleman, helps the lady up and never gets insulted by the murderous glares the woman shoots at him. 

He gives you his codename, König, and that he comes from Austria, but then refuses to share any other personal details. You don’t even get to know his first name. You do talk about your childhood, you talk about your schools and what you were supposed to become when you grew up. He tells you about his love for hiking, and you tell him about your dance hobby. 

The usual “Oh? Nuns are allowed to dance?” comment has you laughing. 

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.”

“What’s ‘twerking’?”

It’s so funny how you seem to know about modern trends more than him. You know about Tinder and TikTok through your friends; it’s just that these things are really not for you. Still, this König knows even less about dating apps and internet challenges than you. 

It makes you intrigued: he could have dozens of women right now if he wanted to. And not only because he’s attentive and kind: he’s so big and tall that most women would beg him to whisk them away. All he needed to do was go to a hookup site and deal out some likes. 

Most of his muscles are packed in the shoulders and chest area, making it challenging for him to fit through a door. You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue. You ignore your filthy thoughts of wanting to get pressed against those pecs again, you pay no attention to the fleeting musings on how good that short stubble would feel against your neck if he ever chose to kiss you there.

A soldier and a nun make an odd pair, but you find yourself enjoying his company more than anyone elses. He seems to wait for your meetings with eager but polite enthusiasm, too. You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little. Killing is a sin, but he has tried to protect life in his own crude way.

You start to include him in your prayers. First, you ask for the Lord to guide this man away from the path of killing. Then, slowly, you ask him to be protected from harm, you only pray for him to be safe. 

And you say nothing of this new acquaintance to the others. You ought to, but your lips remain sealed.

You’re allowed to have friends and visit them, and it doesn’t matter if the friend is of the opposite sex as long as the meetings are purely platonic. Which they are. This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting, so why would you bother to tell anyone? It would only lead to troubled sighs and concerned questions, and you really don’t feel like answering them right now.

You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores. The relationship turns out to be far from platonic.

König can’t even keep his eyes in check. 

They travel down your neck and land on the smallest amount of cleavage, barely visible in the loose, dull shirts you wear. They slip further down and stop to admire your breasts next, then quickly rise back to your collarbones as if this was just a mistake, just an absent, wandering gaze. You know you’re wearing a semi-helpless stare by the time he meets your eyes. The blue steel in his is completely swallowed by hunger.

You want to believe it was only a momentary lapse, but then he does it again. Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet. He usually starts to talk about something trivial right after, or asks you a quick question as if nothing ever happened.

Those stolen glimpses stay with you for the rest of the day though. They give you intrusive thoughts during morning prayers and evening silence. You’ve never felt this… adored.

He has a quiet, commanding presence, and you feel like a mouse under his gaze, a mouse who’s always thoroughly examined. At the same time, he’s so polite and so charming that you can’t think ill of him. He always takes your coat and brings you coffee, always asks how your day or week has been, and actually listens to you speak. He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over. 

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his. 

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking. But you sense there’s something more at play here. He’s simply not like other men. 

You fear he’s seen hell; in fact, he must walk there every day. From what he tells you, you understand that he has suffered a lot and could use your prayers. But it’s also quite clear that he’s not a victim anymore. 

It’s difficult to see this utterly charming teddy bear in front of you, enjoying his large cup of coffee and giving you the occasional husky laugh, then imagine the same man bursting through a door and starting a massacre. Marching in some dark, dirty recess with a rifle or a shotgun in his hands, hunting down screaming people and putting down his already bleeding enemies.

Because that’s what you imagine in your mind when he tells you he’s sometimes used as an insertion specialist; a human battering ram in short.

You look at his hands around the mug, long fingers curled in search of warmth. He has short, trimmed nails and no sign of blood under them… But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

…

"Oh honey. Soldiers are the worst," your friend sighs when you meet her at another cafe, different from where you meet your killing machine. It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

"He probably owns a Fleshlight," she mumbles with her mouth full of croissant.

"A… A what?"

She starts to cough at your innocent inquiry, and you know you didn’t hear ‘flashlight’ in the first place, it’s just that you’re not sure if you want to know what on earth she’s talking about now.

When she finally survives the munch she almost choked on, she politely tells you what a fleshlight is, and you find yourself not rolling your eyes, but actually thinking about König using one with need.

Christ have mercy…

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way. “Couldn't hold a conversation for his life. Unless it was about guns... And when I went over to his place, the walls were covered with pictures of naked women. It was so pathetic I had to keep myself from laughing. And oh god, now I remember! He offered me microwaved mac and cheese for dinner…"

You sip your coffee and listen politely to your friend ramble about some guy she used to date. She has a lot of these stories, and all of them are worth hearing. Sometimes you think if you’re living your unlived sex life through your friend, the way you’re so curious about hearing all the different descriptions of male genitalia and the crazy, funny, downright unbelievable scenarios that have happened to her. 

Some of the tales are so gross you’re quite happy you haven’t indulged yourself in casual sex. And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve.

Being a nun isn’t so bad... At least you haven’t wasted your time on shallow men.

"He put so much chili in that shit that my makeup started to run," she continues her story about the poor excuse for a dinner and a date. Usually, the food leads to sex in these tales, and you’re a hypocrite for wanting to hear more.

"Did you sleep with him…?"

"After that? No thanks," she looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "I pretty much fled the building."

Even the most sad, pathetic, crappy tales make you both laugh, especially if enough time has passed. You laugh now, too, both at your friend falling for a man simply because he was a hot soldier and at the poor man who was in obvious need of an interior designer and a cook. Or a girlfriend… Or a mom.

"Look. I'm saying this because you're my friend." She says after wiping a few tears from her eyes, "And because you’re a virgin and a goddamn nun. Like come on, how many years have you been locked up in that dreadful monastery?"

"Convent," you correct.

"Whatever. I'm telling you this man is just looking for some easy pussy while he's deployed."

“I wouldn't call a nun an easy…ugh, you know.”

“Perhaps he likes a challenge then, “ she shrugs. “Men like to hunt.”

"It’s not like that,” you quarrel, trying to ignore the way her lips purse with amusement. “He's been very nice to me and… we have these great conversations. We talk about really deep stuff, you know? He explained the difference between Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard to me last time we met–"

"Ok, that's even worse. That's a red flag."

You look down at your beverage, sullen and beaten. She’s the first person you’ve told about meeting a man over a coffee, and you’re already doing it wrong.

"Does he ever look at your tits?" She asks all of a sudden.

"What?"

Your friend crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head, looking like an overly self-satisfied detective.

"Do you ever catch him staring at your breasts," she rephrases the question as if she’s talking to a lame person.

"Well… Uh. Yes, sometimes–"

"Well there you have it. Man's just bored with his fleshlight."

"Shh! Keep it down, would you…? Good God..."

"Don't take the name of the lord your god in vain," she chimes. “But seriously, it’s no wonder. If only we could get you out of that convent, there would be a line of men at your door.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

You roll your eyes - your friend always loves to exaggerate things. If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else. That’s why you became a nun: to find something stable in your life. You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him. As always, your friend was not on the same page with you.

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

“Look, even if he wants something more, I’m not up for it,” you try to convince - both yourself and your friend.

“Mm. What a shame,” she smirks. “Is he handsome?”

“Yes, but–”

“Mmh. Deep voice?”

“Umm… It’s memorable?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “Okay fine, it’s nice and deep and I like it. And I love his laugh,” you confess, and your friend does a silent little ‘yay’ and ‘I knew it’ cheer. You know it would be a field day for her if you finally got laid. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve always treated your friend as some sort of devil’s advocate.

You allow yourself to gush a minute, maybe two, about his muscles to your beloved devil. You tell your friend about his broad back, how wide his shoulders are, you tell her about the easy smiles he always sports with you. You describe the tactical pants and the snug black t-shirts he wears in detail, you confess he has a nice butt and that he’s so big he can't even fit the table. 

You tell her how König starts to talk with his hands if he gets excited and how you have to fear he’s going to knock something over and make a mess. You tell about his blue eyes and the way they always soften when he looks at you, and looks at you often. All the time, really. He doesn’t even see other women, uh, you mean, other people in the cafe. He’s polite to the waitresses but never fully acknowledges anyone else but you.

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are. 

"I'm sorry babe… Someone has to give you the tough love," she reaches for your hand across the table. "Do you understand that if this guy is not working for the regular military, he's probably doing some war crime type of shit?"

The way you rush to defend your steadfast soldier who probably has his hands covered in blood, would make your abbess sigh.

"No, no, actually, he's working against these human trafficking cells–"

"Ok, he shoots human traffickers too, that's great. Good for him. You're still about to step into a pile of traumatised, immature, emotionally unavailable soldier shit. Trust me."

"Just because your soldier was like that doesn't mean mine has to be," you blurt.

Gosh - that was a good old Freudian slip...

"Yours now, is he?"

"No, that was… It just slipped."

"So you've actually thought about banging this guy?"

"What?! No."

"You have," she insists with a widening smile.

"No. No, I–"

"Oh my god. You're about to forsake your vows," she brings her hands together in excitement. "Oh my god, oh my god. This is amazing!"

You feel your lips snap into a thin line.

Just whose side is this woman on? Does she want to protect you from heartbreak or push you into some man's lap just for shits and giggles? 

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. Nothing exciting ever happens behind the walls of your 'monastery', nothing but endless prayers and boring lectures and monotonous chores. Of course she thinks it's about time you got a round of good dick. She just wants to hear a filthy story when you return from your secret little fling, a fling that could get you kicked out of the convent for good. 

"How tall is he exactly...? Does he have big hands?" 

Your friend's eyes are shining with excitement - apparently the possible war crimes and atrocities König has committed are forgiven and forgotten.

"What does that have to do with anything…?" 

"I can tell you what to expect in the dick department," she smiles with an impish grin.

You eventually leave the cafe with a dirty soul and a skittish heart.

The way your friend described your new acquaintance's probable blessings in the "dick department" left little to the imagination, and now you're actually scared. 

This man has been so polite towards you, so kind to you. He's offered you coffee and pastries and cake along with an intellectual challenge, but now it's all ruined because all you can think about is what's inside his pants. How big his hands are, and how they correlate with what's downstairs. How nice it would feel to lay under him, with his chest pressed against yours, how divine it would be to get pinned down by him. How those strong, narrow hips would fit between your legs, broad shoulders eclipsing the view above as he slowly crawls on top of you. How he'd kiss your neck, your collarbones, your mouth, with such hunger that your legs eventually give in and spread wide open.

You return to the convent with a heavy heart and distressed thoughts, but find some solace in your evening prayers.

Nothing has happened, you remind yourself; these are only thoughts. You have seen a man who's interested in you for half a dozen times. You took part in a shallow, mundane, earthly conversation today with your friend, but nothing carnal or wrong has happened. Everything is the way it has always been.

You’re safe now, completely safe here. There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends. 

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought.

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete.

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

But the heaviness follows you to your room; it makes your chest feel dark and thick. You don’t say your last prayer before bed. You don’t want His eyes upon you tonight.

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

…

The next time you two meet, he crosses a clear boundary. 

König has started to take you for walks, sometimes suggesting you two could visit a museum, clearly wishing you’d show him around the city. In truth, he’s the one parading you around like you’re his cute little lady. He pays for your museum tickets and brings you ice cream while you sit on a bench at a park, grabs your arm to draw your attention to a few swans swimming in a pond. And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

Because…

One time, when you’re walking down a hill path, admiring the sunset, a big, warm hand wraps itself around yours. 

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart.

You allow yourself to bask in the warmth of the huge, calloused palm for a few more seconds before ripping your hand away. You take a few hurried steps and turn, noticing he has stopped to look at you with guarded hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise even if König is the one who went off limits, “but this is not appropriate.”

“Entschuldigung… I know. That was out of bounds,” he raises a hand over his heart and bows his head a little, watching you from under his brows. You could keel over from how the gesture reminds you of Arthurian romances, of knights who place their hand on their heart to swear they’ll never disgrace a lady again. 

Instead, you nod, your soul saved but your heart sinking like an anvil dropped in the sea. You’d want nothing more than for him to do it again, to grab your hand in his and never let go.

The rest of the walk happens in awkward silence, and you thought he would keep his distance - Christ, you thought you would keep your distance - but he insists on walking near to you, and so you continue down the path with your fingers still touching each other every now and then. You don't even try to move your hand away.

I’m going to die, you scream internally while looking at the bleeding sunset in the distance. You can’t look at him; you can’t even talk to him. It’s like your body is pumped full of some drug these days.

Falling for someone so hard is making you feel faint; your insides are churning and turning and your brain is a mess. Your heart is racing so fast that you’re afraid you’ll end up having a heart attack one of these days.

He’s probably used to this: the thrill and the adrenaline, a world laced with rush and extremes, indulging in things such as guns and explosions and blood and women and darkness.

You only have your safe routines, your sisters, a few friends you meet over coffee, a family you visit thrice a year. You’re not used to being bombarded with hormones and raw emotion like this. You have never, ever lusted after a man like this. The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake.

“Do you still want to see me?” He asks apologetically when you approach the convent which has now started to resemble a frigid, uneventful prison.

“Of course,” you hurry to say. “Just… No more holding hands. Ok?”

“Ok,” he chuckles softly, and you stop and turn.

He’s never been this near to where you live, and you’re afraid someone will see you if he escorts you to the door. You can’t be seen with a man in your current state, that would be a catastrophe. Anyone in the building could tell that this friendship is far from platonic.

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. You even swallow when you look up into his eyes. They’re so soft now that the ice has almost disappeared, devoured by longing, a thick and sinful darkness.

“What if I don’t want some other girl?” 

His voice is so wickedly gentle too.

You can see he’s fighting an inner battle to not touch you again; he’s standing toe to toe with you, towering above you, with his shoulders slightly hunched. If someone walked behind him, they wouldn’t even see you’re there because of how close you two are standing to each other. You can’t back away from him because you’d bump into a tall iron gate - in fact, you’re half-pressed against it now. 

“I’ve enjoyed our conversations,” he continues with a throaty voice. God, how you would melt if he used that voice in bed…

“So have I,” your voice comes out as a wavy whisper. “But there can’t be anything more than that... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…”

It’s mischief and seduction, darkness and deception, and your insides squeeze into a tight little knot.

“Please… Let’s just keep it the way it was,” you plead with eyes that beg the complete opposite.

“Sure... I will try my best, Kätzchen. Is this your convent…?” 

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

“It’s just around that corner,” you explain with a frail voice, hating how it betrays every single thing that crosses your mind.

“Good to know,” he replies, with no shakiness to his voice at all. He seems to enjoy making you so flustered; he seems to draw strength from people weaker than him. Which is probably 99 % of the population…

“How so,” you peep, already praying that he wouldn’t come to try his luck with the poorly locked windows. The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers. König wouldn’t even need to use his insertion skills to get in.

“Now I know where to find you if I come to work here again,” he shrugs as if innocent. As if his eyes didn’t betray a few filthy thoughts too.

“Are you… Are you leaving then?”

“Soon.”

Your heart is about to break after two weeks of knowing some random guy, and you feel like the silliest woman in the world.

You try to remind yourself of what your friend said: this man just wants some easy pussy. He’s just bored with his fleshlight. Men like challenges, they like to hunt. You think about Lucky Luke and all the other cowboys who came and went as they pleased, breaking hearts and then riding into the sunset.

This cowboy only got to hold your hand though... And he’s saying he doesn’t want “some other girl”. Of course there’s a chance that he simply visits a brothel after discussing philosophy with you, or goes to a club or whatever, but you don’t want to entertain such horrible thoughts. 

“I’ll miss you, then,” you try to sound neutral while he’s looking down at you like you’re his first love.

“Ganz sicher, I will miss you too. Perhaps I’ll visit you, work trip or not?”

“That would be nice.”

“It might take a while. But you won’t forget me, ja?”

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. His breath quickens, and his eyes start to wander again. 

“...Are you sure I can’t hold your hand?”

You give him a shy smile, then quickly guide your eyes to the pavement. This König is definitely taking it as some love confession when a girl says she will pray for him. Your insides turn to jello when you see his hand close into a loose fist, then open with a spasmlike stretch. He wants to touch you so badly that he has to physically fight against it.

“No…?” He inquires high above you, so desperate that you’re quite sure he’s not frequenting any brothels in the area. He might stroke his cock to the thoughts of you, though…

You shake your head softly, then raise your eyes back to his. What a silly, silly man. If only you weren’t a nun, you’d let him do whatever he wants with you. Even abandon you after using you in every which way, because to be under that adoring gaze is worth a thousand heartbreaks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

There’s more desperate hope in that question, and you wonder if tomorrow is the last time you’ll see each other. Soon could mean anything, but you can’t bear to hear the exact time and date when he leaves. Not tonight.

“Yes. Same time, same place,” you agree, then flee from under the dark, adoring stare to the safety of your cloister. 

[enviedear]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ got what i wanted, but it's never enough for me

⤷ jacaerys velaryon ⊹ ࣪ ˖

౨ৎ synopsis— battletorn and bruised, you’re one sword swipe away from death when jacaerys finds you. if the wound searing into you isn’t causing enough annoyance, then surely your prince’s reprimanding will.

౨ৎ warnings— w@r, injury, canon divergence (isn’t it always), brat!jace (he’s so stressed, he’s taking it out on reader sorry), bastard!velaryon!reader, arguments, reader isn’t fully trusted by team black. 2.1k words

request ⊹ series masterlist

your entire body sears with pain, not at all akin to anything you've felt before. above you are the sounds the roars of dragons, around you the sounds of dying men. moaning and weeping, praying and making peace—it drills an ache deep into your skull.

you glance down at your torso, wincing when you see the large chunk of armor missing. gritting your teeth, you brace before pressing your fingers to the exposed flesh underneath the gnarled metal. your armor has left deep scrapes along your side, the patch of flesh filed down to the very muscle.

with great effort, you rise, fingers still pressing into your own wound. the sword at your side is sheathed, afraid your arms could not beat to hold it any longer. there's a white cast across your vision, a chill to your flesh.

you wish immediately to have stayed atop vermax with jacaerys. you have no doubt that he is handling himself with grace, every bit the deliberate warrior prince he's described. yet here you are, grounded and wounded— haunting a maelstrom of a battlefield.

you shut your eyes momentarily trying to steady your mind at the very least. it provides no aid.

you're the bastard of a dead man, what use is masquerading as if you won't inevitably meet the same fate. you still sense the slightest bit of contempt from the queen, court meetings often ending before you can speak— her eyes watching you, as if daring you to break out of line.

sometimes, you truly want to, to step into the role of 'master of complaints', but this is war. you funnel all resentments into your fighting. the words you want to spew at the roundtable reshape into the cuts tore into each of your foes.

vaemond velaryon could afford his grips until he couldn't, and it seems his daughter will do the very same. you began too incensed, angered at a comment by the prince.

jacaerys shares his mother's unease of you. rightfully so, you are a bastard to the man who sought to revoke the late prince lucerys’ title. your allegiance to her grace has never wavered. you are and will always be, a faithful servant to the crown. your own mind far different than your father's.

perhaps that is why the prince's comment etched itself so deep within your heart.

like always, the dragonpit had been scarce for company. entering only to be met by the prince and one of the keepers.

“my prince.” you had greeted, bowing your head slightly until he had addressed you in return. tasked to ride out with him as the head of your secondary regiment, you nervously approached his dragon.

“my lady.” his voice had been sharp, albeit princely. “vermax is ready, we’ll leave shortly.”

he had turned from you right after to whisper something to the dragonkeeper, his hands on the grip of his sword. he had looked back at you one last time before mounting his dragon.

you neared, “i have never had the privilege of a dragon ride. anything to note, my prince?” your words had been meant to ease any tension but when the prince simply offered out his hand without reply, you began to second guess your choice.

jacaerys helped you upon the dragon's back, and you took your place behind him. there was a long pause before he replied, his muscles taut, “keep your hands here,” his own hands directed yours toward ropes attached to the saddle. then, whispered and almost indiscernible he added, “and away from your blade.”

that's why you fled, as soon as vermax dipped low enough toward the battlefield— you jumped. you forwent the ease of watching the battle from above for the challenge that is an open combat. it was easy at first to guard off attacks on foot. but you must have made it look a bit too easy, as swarms of knights threw hits your way, you're lucky all they managed is the gory gash at your side. your life remains, slowed and tense, but there regardless.

you catch your breath, shallow and uneven, pushing through the blinding discomfort. Determination fuels you, and it is the only thing propelling you forward. the chaos of the battlefield doesn't pause, doesn't show mercy, and neither shall you. the prince's words still echo in your mind, a bitter reminder of your place in this war. let it be a foolish wish, but you want more than anything to rise above the mistakes of your father.

your eyes scan the area, seeking any sign of jacaerys, but the prince and his dragon are nowhere to be seen. you grit your teeth, frustration mingling with worry. you can't afford to think about him now. survival comes first.

a sudden movement catches your attention, a knight of the usurper is charging toward you, sword raised high. you reach for your own weapon, but your fingers barely grasp the hilt as he nears. the knight's blade descends, and you scarcely manage to roll out of the way, pain flaring in your side. you stumble to your feet, using every ounce of strength to stay upright.

with a desperate lunge, you unsheath your sword, parrying the knight's next strike. your movements are sluggish, each one sending jolts of agony through your body. but you fight on, deflecting blows and striking back with whatever strength you can muster.

the knight's eyes are wide with surprise as you hold your ground, and in a moment of hesitation on his part, you find an opening. you drive your sword into his stomach, feeling the resistance as the blade cuts through armor and flesh. the knight falls, a choked gasp escaping his lips.

you lean on your sword for support, breathing heavily. the battlefield is a blur of motion and noise, but you force yourself to stay focused. you can't afford to falter now, so close to breaking through their lines.

the taste of blood is on your tongue, metallic and bitter. you don't know if it's yours or someone else's. the battlefield is a mess with death, every step a reminder of your own fragile mortality. you press forward, each step an exercise of sheer willpower.

a roar sounds overhead, louder than the fighting below, and you look up just in time to see vermax swooping low, flames spewing from his maw. jacaerys is astride him, his expression fierce and determined. for a moment, relief washes over you, but it is quickly replaced by the realization that you are in the path of his attack.

you dive to the side, narrowly avoiding the scorching heat. the fire engulfs the enemy soldiers ahead of you, their screams piercing the chaos. you struggle to your feet, the adrenaline surging through you, numbing the pain.

jacaerys spots you and directs vermax to land nearby. he dismounts swiftly, eyes scanning you critically.

"you're hurt." he forces out, voice tight with concern.

"i'm fine, my prince." you manage, though it's clear you are anything but.

he steps closer, his hand reaching out to steady you, "you shouldn't have jumped. you would have been safe."

"you did not want me there.” you snap back, the hurt from his earlier words still fresh.

jacaerys recoils at your harsh words, his eyes flashing with dismay, "my words were reckless," he says, trying to defend himself. "i was anxious... but i never want to see you hurt."

you stare at him, torn between anger and gratitude, "that moment may have passed us, my prince. perhaps you could help me instead by finding a way out."

jacaerys nods, his focus shifting back to the battle ahead. "we need to reach the castle's gates. there's a concealed passage that will get us through to our own lines."

you swallow, the pain in your side flaring up again. "i can't go on like this. you need to ride vermax back to the lines yourself and get help."

jacaerys shakes his head, his face set in determination. "i won't leave you behind. we'll make it together, just as we promised the queen."

with renewed urgency, he helps you move forward. the city gates loom ahead, a beacon of hope in the midst of chaos. but your strength is fading fast, every step more difficult than the last.

"almost there," jacaerys murmurs, his voice a lifeline. "just a little further."

you nod, clinging to his words. the gates draw nearer, and you can see the secret passage jacaerys mentioned. it's a narrow opening, just wide enough for the two of you to slip through.

jacaerys helps you inside, the walls of the passage providing some relief from the battle outside. he guides you through the dark, winding tunnel, his hand steady on your arm.

once inside, the confined space seems to press in on you, amplifying every breath, every heartbeat. the flickering torchlight casts long shadows, making the passage feel even more claustrophobic.

"you shouldn't have jumped." jacaerys echoes his earlier words suddenly, breaking the tense silence. his voice is blunt, riddled with frustration.

"i couldn't stay." you retort, your own temper flaring despite the pain. "not after what you said."

"i had one moment of unease!” he snaps back, his eyes flashing with anger. "do you have any idea how dangerous it was to go off on your own? when i am meant to protect you.”

"protect me?" you scoff, your voice rising. "by treating me like a traitor? alluding that i, of all people, would gore you in the back?"

"i was mistaken, my lady.” he admits, his tone drops but his ill-temper shines through, your weak title sounds foreign on his lips. "but you made it all worse by acting so carelessly."

"carelessly?" you laugh bitterly. "i was proving something. i am not my father, jacaerys. i have never challenged you or your mother." you drop his title, speaking to him as a peer now, "i deserve to be here."

"and your demonstration nearly got you killed!" he shouts, the sound reverberating off the walls. "do you think that would have proven anything?"

"maybe not," you reply, your voice shaky with emotion. "but at least i would have died fighting. an honorable death."

jacaerys steps closer, his expression fierce. "i do not wish you to die." he says, voice low and intense. "i need you alive. we all do."

"then stop doubting me." you breathe out, words barely audible. "stop treating me like the enemy."

his anger dissipates, replaced by something subdued, more vulnerable. you’re completely unfamiliar with such a look upon his face, "it is not your loyalty i doubt, nor you. not truly." he says quietly. "i doubt my own ability to keep you safe... to keep this entire kingdom safe. this war has become utter perdition."

the confession takes you by surprise, and for a moment, you seem to feel the weight he carries, the burden of leadership and the fear of failure. your anger ebbs, replaced by tentative understanding. in all the years you’ve known the prince, never have you both been at such a state of understanding— albeit frail.

"jacaerys…" the name escapes your lips like a question. you reach out, almost instinctively, touching his arm lightly. his gaze meets yours, a mix of strife and resolve swirling in his eyes.

"i am sorry." he says, his voice a ragged edge of emotion. "i did not mean to contest you. i just… worry."

"i know," you reply softly, your own anger dissipating with each passing heartbeat. "i know you didn't. it's just the war getting to you, it muddles my head just the same."

silence settles like a shroud around you both. for a moment, the world outside the narrow passage wilts away, leaving you and the prince in this fragile sanctuary.

"we should keep moving," jacaerys finally breaks the quietness, his hand still lightly resting on your arm. "the passage leads to safety, to maesters."

you nod again, grateful for his steadying presence. together you navigate the dark tunnel, your body pressed against his. his strong hands never once leave you, providing constant support.

when you emerge from the passage and into the relative calm of your own lines, relief washes over both your features. people rush to tend to your wounds, their movements efficient and practiced. mostly blurs to you, head still pounding. jacaerys stays close, fingers pressing slightly into the pulse at your wrist.

"you need rest." he insists softly, his gaze beating down on you.

"and you need to go be the prince. go lead your men." you reply, not willing to let him linger over you while the battle still rages.

he hesitates, brown eyes flicking down to your wrapped wound, "promise me you will rest?" he finally requests, monotone.

"i promise." you assure him.

jacaerys nods, pulling away to attend to his duties. you watch him go, your mind a mess of emotions.

[plutoswritingplanet]

You Started It pt. 2(Buggy The Clown x F!Reader)

a/n: GMFU, that's all i have to say. this chapter was strongly inspired by the song Shikayat from the movie Gangubai Kathiawadi,

Warnings: General Asshole Behavior from The Man Of The Hour, Hostage Situation, Light Bondage (lmao), Some Good Old Smexual Tension.

Summary: The time for your great performance finally arrives, but the culmination will surprise both you and your captor.

Part 1.

You awake to the sound of music. Drums, trumpets and bells fill your ears, shaking you from some pleasant dream, where you could run free with your brother and his crew. Instead, your forehead aches from the way the bars of your prison dug into it, while you slept. Your legs are sore as well, dangling above the floor, wooden planks leaving marks on your thighs. Your joints crack, as you try to straighten yourself to the best of your capacity, an unpleasant shiver running up your back. Groggily, you wipe left-over tears from your eyes. The music wires itself into your brain, like a bug drilling inside your skull.

Then, someone yells. You know the voice all too well. The music stops immediately, and with a quickened pulse, you hear footsteps approaching the door to the backroom.

He waltzes in, a spring in his step betraying his barely contained excitement. It's been a week since your faithful conversation, and you haven't been moved from your spot above ground. Like a bird in a cage, he has kept you locked, visiting even more often than before. To feed you, give you some water, drink in the sight of you, pester you with questions you had no intention of answering. Truly, your purpose here must've shifted from solely being a Hostage, to providing Entertainment. Just like he's said when you first got here.

"Hostage!" he exclaims, as soon, as the door closes behind him.

"Captain" you answer, voice tired and still traced with the remnants of sleep. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He's not bothered by your sarcasm. You're not sure if he even registered it, with his giddy state.

"Today's your big day!" he jumps a few steps in your direction, wobbling on the balls of his feet,

At your confused, if slightly annoyed expression, he raises his hands, and that's when you notice the elephant in the room. A costume, folded neatly in his arms, one, you're without a doubt expected to wear. It's pink, baby pink and frilly to say the least. You can see an ungodly amount of ruffles, and sequins, and small golden bells. It makes your face involuntarily scrunch up. Never in a million years you'd be caught wearing such a pink thing of your own accord. But, as much as you hate the sight before you, the show must go on. You know it, and he most definitely knows so, too.

You flinch, when the Clown throws the costume to the side, lets it collide onto the table, bells ringing loudly. Then, he produces a key from the pocket of his trousers

"Be good, or else" he warns, and you nod, because what else can you do.

The soft click of the lock is like music to your ears, and as soon as the man opens the door, you nearly moan at the feeling of your legs finally being able to stretch. He watches from the side, as you unfurl yourself from the cage, limb by limb. Oh, the feeling of solid ground under your feet is almost too much

"I really cooped you up in there…" he muses to himself, and you contain the venomous look you were about to throw him.

Instead, you opt for stretching out your sore muscles, rising your hands as far above your head as you possibly can, and try to ignore the spark in his eyes, as he watches your shirt ride up your stomach, Finally, he clears his throat, crosses the room to the table and gathers the costume back in his arms

"Don't take long" he winks and points his chin towards the dressing room screen, tucked away against one of the walls.

Grabbing the amassing of fabric from his arms, and trying really hard not to touch him, you retreat to hide behind it. The screen is big enough to cover your body, but your head peeks above, and you shoot a cautious look towards the clown. To his credit, he hasn't moved any closer, rummaging through one of the chests at the end of the room. Your eyes catch a glimpse of something metallic and very sharp, disappearing into the inside pocket of his coat, and your heart jumps to your throat.

Your hands now shaking, you lay out the fabric, trying to get a good look at the costume, before you have to inevitably put it on your body. As you look at the full garb, it doesn't look as intimidating, as before. The ruffles, although pink and obnoxious, are flowing nicely with the entirety of the outfit. It is, however, much more revealing, than you've anticipated, and against your better judgement, you throw a single, judgy look towards the Clown, who immediately catches your eye at the other side of the screen

"Chop-chop, we haven't got all day" he smiles at you, full teeth on display.

Shaking your head, you begin to undress, movements slightly skittish, from the sudden anxiety running up your spine. The outfit slides against your body with ease, the fit being slightly too big on your figure. The expanse of your stomach lays bare, ruffles from the hem of the skimpy top tickling your ribs. Your legs are also, almost completely exposed, the lower half of the costume turning out to be a skirt with rather deep cutouts on the sides. It's a shame you don't have a mirror anywhere nearby, although perhaps it's for the best. You don't know if you could stomach to look at yourself in this ridiculous getup

"Ready, Hostage?" his voice startles you against your will, and after a couple of deep breaths, you step out from behind the screen.

His face remains blank, but his eyes feverishly run all across your body, taking in the image in utter silence. Again, anxiety rises in your gut, this time however, you begin to worry that somehow, this isn't enough. That this isn't the vision he has conjured up in his head, and anything deviating from his vision was sure to anger him beyond belief. You bite your lip in anticipation, as he slowly starts to walk towards you. Then, to your utter confusion, he kneels down just in front of you.

Silence envelops the two of you like a blanket made of tar. It pours into your lungs, making you unable to breathe. His hands are steady, as he reaches out and places them on one of your ankles. Your mismatched shoe slides off your foot under his gentle tug. Then, the other one. Your bare feet hit the floor and that's when you realize, you've begun to shiver

"The audience will love you" he breathes, voice quiet and reserved, almost unrecognizable from his regular, flashy persona.

Then, his hands retract to the inside of his coat. Your breath hitches, as he pulls out a golden cuff adorned with the same, small bells, which are currently attached to the rest of your outfit. Your brows furrow, and another, unexplainable feeling blossoms in your stomach, as you watch him lean down to clasp the cuff around your ankle, the second one following closely behind. His hands linger for a moment, and another surge of trembles runs through you. He's warm, and his fingers are calloused, but somehow, your skin doesn't seem to mind. If anything, you'd risk saying the way he softly slides his digits up your calf is enjoyable. Troubling and confusing, yes, but enjoyable nonetheless.

You sway in your place, as he rises from his knees

"Give me your hands, Hostage" since when has this nickname become so affectionate on his lips, you can't remember.

One part of your brain reasons, that it's a recent development, caused by the time you were forced to spend in his grasp. The other, more treacherous part supplies, that this strange intonation has been there from the very start. You were just too stubborn to notice it.

The tremors running through your hands, as you raise them to present to him, are honestly embarrassing. Your head hangs low, to shield your face from his gaze. It's no use, he can see right through you. The flush in your cheeks, your mouth falling slightly open, the shine in your eyes. He eats it up like a man starved. Reactions, that's what he's after, and with the way you've been acting, you've given him quite the show already.

It's quiet again, safe for the occasional jingle of the bells, as he gently locks two bracelets around your wrists, identical to the ones on your feet. His fingers toy with the golden clasp, brushing against your running pulse. Tension builds in your stomach, as his eyes finally look up to yours. You would've believed you were solitary in your confusing feelings, if his breath didn't come out in quick gasps through his painted lips. Lips, which in this quiet moment seem much too appetizing than they had any right to be.

"You look perfect" his breath brushes against your face, "There's just one little thing, that's missing, Hostage."

Your brows scrunch together, as you watch him reach into his pocket yet again. A beautiful silken scarf slides between his palms. It's pink as well, adorned with constellations stitched in with a shiny thread. Your confusion deepens, when he grabs your hand and turns your wrist up. Then, your heart drops.

Between the rows of small bells, you can see a golden loop attached to the cuff, identical looking back at you from your other wrist. You try to voice your protest, try to wring out your hand, but his grip on you tightens, and he tuts quietly under his breath.

"Can't have you flying away now, can I?" he weaves the scarf between the loops, and ties your hands together, leaving the fabric to drape in between

"How the hell do you expect me to perform with my hands tied?" your voice comes out much weaker than you've anticipated, betraying your growing fear.

To that, he looks up with a grin, yet his eyes remain cold, causing your whole body to shiver.

"You're a smart girl, you'll figure it out."

His finger detaches again, flying towards your nose and pushing it hard enough to make your entire face scrunch up. Then, he grabs a handful of the fabric, tugs on it to check the binds, and starts walking towards the door, not sparing you as much as a glance. And you follow, obediently, trying to make his head explode with your brain.

It's your fault, really, the feeling of disappointment and anger swirling around in your head. All this sudden quiet intimacy has clouded your judgement, and you've forgotten who you're truly dealing with. Oh, how you wish you could do anything to hurt him. How you wish, your brother would rescue you already, free you from this prison, not only physically, but mentally as well, so you won't have to think about this stupid, homicidal clown ever again.

If he senses you fuming behind him, he doesn't comment. And why would he? You're still following him, as he drags you through the stage, right to the middle of your future dance floor.

Your eyes dart around the place, trying to find anything, anyone, who could help you escape this predicament. To your surprise, and later, horror, the Circus is completely empty. Not a soul shares your fate. Not the public, not his Freaks, not even the Announcer. The silence makes goosebumps erupt all across your flesh, and words get stuck in your throat, as Buggy turns to face you with an unsettling grin plastered across his lips.

"I thought a private performance would be much more appropriate for you, my Hostage" his smile widens at your expression.

You want to scream at him, punch him in his stupid face, but all you can manage is glare daggers at his stupid face. Suddenly, the lights flicker on, startling you, as beams of light flow around you, only to fall right on the two of you. Buggy grabs your face, squishing your cheeks between his palms. His enthusiasm would be contagious, if you weren't scared shitless by this entire situation.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to a one-of-a-kind performance" he whispers inches from your face, "My dearest Hostage will dance for her life… and for your entertainment."

He lets go of you, forcefully showing you away, and you take a step back to stabilize yourself. The lights focus solely on you, and in the brightness surrounding you, you realize, you can't see anything besides the middle of the dance floor. Cackling like a madman, the Clown steps back, his hands clasped in front of his chest. You almost call out for him, as he slides into the shadows, but any sound dies on your tongue.

You're alone, again. Your breath quickens, as your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. This is not at all how you've envisioned this performance to go. Well, above all things, you didn't expect it would happen at all. Your brother should have freed you by now, and while you had your utmost faith in him, you couldn't shake the feeling of deeply seated worry. Which is why, you had to endure this torture. So you can see your brother again, when he finally comes for you. With a determined expression, you nod your head at the darkness and raise your hands, getting into, what you hope would look, like a dancing stance.

He holds you in anticipation for a moment longer, as any great showman should. And then, music floods the stadium. Bells and violins, distorted slightly by what you assume is an old gramophone. You recognize the song, thankfully, your face falling slightly, as you remember the meaning. A love song, of course, about hatred and affection. Bitter-sweet. Your limbs feel heavy and awkward, but you start to move nonetheless.

He wants a private show? You'll give him one, he won't forget.

The rhythm picks up and so do the movements of your hips. Bells jingle all around you, as you slide from one place to another, clouds of dust flying around your feet. The scarf turns out to be a major distraction, as you're unused to being bound. It takes you a while to get the hang of it, but once you do, you make the fabric dance with you, flowing around your body with satisfying grace. The song becomes even faster, and you twist and turn, ruffles jumping, as you run, accompanied by the bells. Your feet start to hurt from the roughness of the floor, but you ignore it completely.

The song drops before the second verse, and you follow the rhythm to the floor. Using all the acrobatics you've picked up through the years, you begin to writhe in the sand, adding a clap and a stomp, bells jingling to the music. That's when you finally see him, crouched down right in front you, watching your dance with a tilt to his head and something terrifying swirling behind his eyes. It makes you falter in your choreography, makes your guts twist with a feeling too close to arousal.

Then, a glint of something silver catches your eye. It swishes through the air, and plants itself right between your legs. A knife. Sharp and polished to perfection, it embeds itself into the wooden floor, splinters flying from the impact. The scream you let out would make a Banshee cringe, as you push yourself as far as you can from the weapon

"Now, now" Buggy calls out across from you, his silhouette barely visible in the darkness" The show must go on, Hostage."

He sounds terrifying, like some demon from your darkest dreams. But the music still plays, and you'll be damned, if this is what takes you down. So, you wipe your forehead with the silk scarf, contort your body and stand up, straight as a chord. Now, it's no longer a simple performance. Your blood boils inside you, fear giving space to anger and, strangely, some sort of misplaced ambition. You want to impress him, you want to make him frustrated, angry. Dust flows around you, as you resume your dance, movements much more confident, violent even.

He stalks you from the shadows, producing another knife from his pocket. It shines, when he lets it fly in your direction, but you don't even flinch, when it swishes right by your ear. Then another, grazes your torso, as you bend backwards. This one nicks you right below your ribs. You can feel blood running down the length of your stomach. No matter. Your eyes still follow him, and he steps closer to the light. Another knife, inches from your left foot. And closer he stalks. You can see the tips of his shoes enter the spotlight.

That's all it takes for you to make a decision. You won't play this torturous game any longer, and as the music nears its climax, you close the remaining distance between the two of you, hands flying to the collar of his shirt, fisting it tightly.

You're panting, so is he, as you stare at each other, all innocence gone from your respective expressions. Fury, oh, fury, you're not sure if you want to kill him, or kiss him, and as he produces one last knife from his pocket, the sentiment seems to be mutual

"You started it" a growl frees itself from the depths of your chest, and under your tight grip on his shirt, he shudders violently.

There's heat pooling into those blue eyes irises of his, enveloping you completely in the moment. But then, his eyes follow your scowl down to your lips, and you realize, you've never tasted face paint. What an interesting experience it would be.

This moment of tension is broken almost immediately, as clouds of smoke fill the tent, seemingly out of nowhere. Suddenly, something yanks you backwards by your arm, something puts a knife in your hand and something yells for you to run. So you do, you turn from the Clown, his figure drowned in smoke, and you run as fast as you can, without looking back. He screams some words you're too scared to decipher, his voice breaking. A disembodied hand flies in your direction, but you dodge it expertly. One more tug from the hand gripping your arm, and you fall through a thick curtain.

The sun outside the Circus tent blinds you, nearly making you lose your footing, but a pair of strong arms hold you in place, and a familiar head of ginger hair turns around to face you

"Come on, the ship is not far" Nami yells, and you can't contain the smile blossoming on your lips.

The Hostage, freed at last… Or so she hopes

[tarotwithavi]

You from the eyes of your future lover/future spouse

Read part 1 here

How to choose a pile?

Take a deep breath and close your eyes. Kindly ask your spirit guides to show you the right pile for yourself and then open your eyes. Whichever pile catches your attention is the right pile for you.

For my female audience , I'll be using she/her pronouns in this post.

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Pile 1

When I'm with her, I feel an overwhelming sense of strength and confidence, as if I could conquer any challenge that comes my way. She embodies everything that brings me joy and fulfillment. Being in her presence makes me feel like the luckiest person in the world because I have her by my side. Her mere existence has the power to make my wildest dreams a reality. Not only does she inspire me to reach for the stars, but she also motivates me to become a better version of myself. Her influence pushes me to strive for greatness in all aspects of life. Just knowing that she is there for me, supporting me, and believing in me, helps me heal wounds that were never caused by her. Her presence alone has a transformative effect on my well-being, bringing me solace and restoration. If her love were poison, I would willingly drink it without hesitation or remorse. Such is the depth of my devotion and the extent to which I value her affection. I yearn to be of assistance to her, to be a reliable pillar she can lean on. I aspire to be her rock, her unwavering support, providing comfort and strength whenever she needs it. Being with her fills me with an indescribable sense of empowerment and joy. She is my beacon of happiness, encouraging me to strive for greatness and inspiring me to become the best version of myself. Her love and presence heal me in ways I never thought possible, and I am eager to reciprocate by being her steadfast support and ally.

Pile 2

Describing her is a challenging task, for she possesses a depth that transcends the confines of ordinary words. She carries an aura that attracts wealth and prosperity wherever she ventures, as if they were faithful companions by her side. From a distance, she appears strong and bold, yet I sense a vulnerable little girl hiding within her, fearful of the harshness this world can wield. She has distanced herself from those around her, for nobody has truly comprehended her essence. No one has made an earnest effort to unravel the intricate puzzle of her being. My deepest desire is to be the one who unravels that enigma, the person who embraces the challenge of understanding her complexities. I yearn to discover every missing piece and gently place it in its rightful position, completing the beautiful picture that is her. I want to penetrate the walls she has built, to listen to her unspoken fears and insecurities, and to offer solace and understanding. By becoming the person who comprehends her deepest self, I hope to bridge the gap between her and the world that often fails to perceive her true nature. I want to be the companion who supports her unconditionally, providing comfort and encouragement as she navigates through life's labyrinth. It is my aspiration to create an environment where she can fully express herself, knowing that she is truly seen, heard, and appreciated.

Pile 3

The moment our eyes met, I was immediately captivated by her essence, as if an invisible force had bound my heart to hers. Prior to meeting her, I had been skeptical of love at first sight, dismissing it as a mere romantic notion. However, in her presence, all doubts were washed away by the sheer brilliance of her beauty. She has bewitched me completely, leaving no room for retreat. Even if her allure leads to my demise, I would embrace it willingly, for the privilege of experiencing her presence outweighs any consequences. Her presence has an intoxicating effect on me, causing me to lose my composure in the most enchanting way. It is as if she holds the power to unravel the layers of my soul, igniting a fire within me that I cannot control. My hands yearn to touch her, to explore every corner of her body, as if searching for an uncharted territory that only she possesses. Every flaw she may perceive within herself, I view as perfect imperfections, enhancing her unique beauty and making her all the more irresistible. Words fail to fully express the depth of my admiration for her. She is a work of art, a masterpiece without blemish in my eyes. I am eager to shower her with praise, to extol every facet of her being, and to make her feel cherished beyond measure. In her presence, I find myself stripped of pretenses and laid bare, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. It is an indescribable sensation, this all-consuming affection, where reason and logic are overshadowed by an overwhelming desire to be closer to her. She has become the center of my universe, a gravitational force pulling me toward her. To love her is to lose myself willingly, surrendering to the magnetic power she holds over me.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Leap of faith - Lewis Hamilton

It can be read as a separate one-shot. But with the story it just makes it so much better

Sequence: Not just a pretty face / I need you to let me go / Fly on my own / Leap of faith (bonus)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: couple who went through a lot finally getting their happily ever after 🥹❤️

wordcount: +2k

a/n: Their story has my whole heart and I thought they deserved this closure❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Laughter and clinking glasses filled the air, the glow of fairy lights casting a warm light across the open Californian sky. Guests were scattered around tables, their faces glowing with joy and a bit of alcohol.

In the midst of it all, the newlyweds stood at the center of attention, surrounded by family and friends who had gathered to witness this moment.

Lewis stood there, his fingers lightly gripping the mic as he looked around the room.

His eyes landed on Y/n, and his usual confidence softened into something more tender. He took a breath, the kind that spoke volumes without saying a word, then began to speak with that familiar, easygoing tone.

"I've been thinking a lot about what I wanted to say today. You all know I’m not really one for speeches—well, at least not ones that don’t involve a podium anyway. But today, standing here, looking at Y/n, I realize that there are some things that need to be said. Things that have been in my heart for a long time, but that maybe I haven’t always found the right words for."

He glanced down at his new wedding band for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before looking back up at her.

"When I first met Y/n, I was... let’s just say I was a little too sure of myself. I thought I knew what I wanted out of life, what it meant to be successful, to be happy. But Y/n... she changed all of that."

He paused, his eyes softening as he took in her face, the way she looked at him with that mix of affection and amusement that only she could pull off.

"I won’t pretend that our journey has been easy. It hasn’t. There have been times when I wondered if we’d ever get here, if we’d ever figure out how to make it work. But through it all, there was this pull—something that kept drawing me back to you. It felt inevitable."

There was a brief silence, the kind that came when words just didn’t seem enough, but he pressed on, his voice a little softer now.

"Over the years, I’ve felt so many things for you, Y/n. Admiration, frustration, pride, fear... love. So much love.

“But more than anything, I’ve felt lucky. Lucky to have met someone who sees me—not the driver, not the celebrity. The real me. And even luckier that, despite everything, you’ve chosen to stand by my side."

He shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips as if he was still a bit in awe of it all.

"You’ve taught me that love isn’t about finding someone who’s perfect—God knows neither of us are that. It’s about finding someone who’s willing to grow with you, to fight with you and for you, to laugh with you when things are good and hold you when they’re not.”

“It’s about finding that person who challenges you, who pushes you to be better, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard."

His voice caught slightly, just for a moment, and he cleared his throat before continuing.

"There were times when the distance, the pressures, the lives we lead seemed like too much. But every time I doubted, you showed up. You were always there, with your strength, your sarcasm, your endless belief in me. And slowly, I started to believe too. Believe that we were worth the fight, worth all the doubts."

He stopped, letting those words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, his tone more thoughtful now.

"I’ve thought a lot about what it means to commit to someone, to truly give yourself over to another person. It’s not something I’ve ever taken lightly. But then I remember when you asked me if I'd catch you. And how I just knew, somehow, that I could never let you fall. That I would always be there, arms wide open, ready to catch you."

He paused again, his eyes never leaving hers, and there was a rawness in his voice.

"You’ve been my biggest challenge and my greatest adventure. And through all the ups and downs, all the doubts and fears, one thing has remained constant: my love for you. It’s been tested, pushed to its limits, but it’s also grown stronger because of it. Stronger because of you."

There was a brief silence as he let those words sink in, both for himself and for everyone listening.

"I’ve come to realize that loving you, Y/n, isn’t trying to fit into some perfect mold, some idea of what we’re supposed to be. It’s embracing who we are, flaws and all. You make me want to be a better man, not because you ask me to, but because you deserve nothing less."

He took a deep breath, the emotion in his voice becoming more apparent as he neared the end of his vows.

"I’ve been in some pretty high-pressure situations in my life. But standing here today, committing my life to you, is by far the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

He smiled, a little wistful but also full of hope and love.

"You’ve always been the one, Y/n. Even when I didn’t know it, even when I tried to deny it, you were always the one. And, standing here, I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t want to. Because I’ve found home."

Lewis’s voice dropped to a near whisper, the words meant only for her, even as the room listened intently.

"I’m all in, Y/n. I’ve always been all in, even when I didn’t realize it. And I can’t wait to see where this leap takes us next. Because whatever happens, wherever we go, I know one thing for sure—I’ll always catch you."

He let out a small, almost relieved sigh, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Then, with a soft smile, he added,

"And I promise, for as long as I’m breathing, I’ll never let you fall alone."

As the last word left his lips and he smiled at his wife, Y/n stepped forward, closing the space between them. Her arms wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly, as if to anchor herself in that moment.

He embraced her, his lips brushing softly against her hair, leaving a tender kiss there as he breathed in her familiar scent for a minute, before she let go and nodded at him.

Y/n took a deep breath as she took the microphone from Lewis, her fingers lightly brushing over his fingers as she gazed at him.

His vows had been everything she expected and more, and now it was her turn.

She could feel the weight of the moment, the anticipation in the air, but as she turned away from him, there was a flicker of something in her eyes—mischief, affection, and a hint of that vulnerability she rarely let anyone see.

She glanced at the guests, her smile widening as she began to speak, her tone warm but laced with the familiar sarcasm that everyone knew.

“Well, that was something, wasn’t it?” Y/n’s voice carried through the room, earning a ripple of laughter. She turned her gaze back to Lewis, playfully narrowing her eyes.

 “Leave it to you to set the bar so damn high. Now I’m standing here, realizing that I should’ve probably gone first. But hey, that’s always been our dynamic, right? You go ahead, and I’ll catch up when I’m not that scared anymore.”

The guests chuckled, and Y/n took a moment to collect her thoughts. The teasing edge in her voice softened into something more genuine as she shifted her gaze back to Lewis.

“First off, let’s get this out of the way— you guys have no idea how much I’ve been trying to keep my cool all day.” She winked at the crowd, earning a few more chuckles.

“The fact that I’m standing here, in front of all of you, without a single escape plan in my back pocket is... growth.”

Her gaze shifted to her mother, who was sitting with tears already glistening in her eyes.

“I see you, Mom. I know what you’re thinking: ‘Finally, she’s not running.’ But, you know, there’s a story there.”

Y/n’s voice softened; her smile more tender as she addressed her mother.

“I get it now. All those times you tried to guide me, protect me from the world, from heartbreak—I know you were just trying to give me the best. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I wasn’t listening, or worse, like I didn’t care. I did. I always have. I just... I had to figure it out in my own stubborn way”

She paused, letting her words sink in. Her mother nodded, lips trembling with a smile that spoke volumes more than any words could.

“And Dad,” Y/n continued, her eyes finding her father’s across the room.

“You always knew, didn’t you? You saw something in Lewis long before I did. And me, being me, I just rolled my eyes, thinking you were too eager to hand me off.” She laughed, shaking her head.

“But you were right. As always. And you never pushed, never pressured. You let me come to my own conclusions, and for that, I’m so grateful. You knew I needed time to figure out that Lewis was my away to learn how to fly.”

A wave of emotion caught in her throat, but Y/n swallowed it down, keeping her tone light as she turned to address Lewis’s parents. Her smile softened as she met their eyes.

“And to my future in-laws—Carmen, Anthony and Linda – God, I can’t believe I’m saying that out loud—thank you for raising a man who is patient enough to deal with all of this.”

She gestured to herself with a grin, drawing laughter from the guests.

“I know you probably didn’t sign up for a daughter-in-law who has a habit of running. I know it hasn’t always been easy, watching us go through everything, but I hope you know how much I love him. Thank you for welcoming me, quirks and all, into your family with open arms. I promise to take care of him, to be the partner he deserves.”

She turned then, her gaze locking onto Lewis. The room seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them in that moment.

“And you” she began, her voice softer, more intimate. “Lewis... where do I even start? You’ve been my constant when I was chaos, my anchor when I was drifting.”

Another pause, her voice almost choking as she took one of Lewis’s outstretched hands.

“I begged you to let me go. I was so scared—of us, of what we were becoming, of what I was feeling. I thought if I ran far enough, fast enough, I could escape it.”

She took a breath, her eyes glistening.

“But you—God, you just wouldn’t let me go, even when I didn’t deserve you. You stood there, you saw right through all my bravado, and you told me you weren’t going anywhere. That you’d wait. And you did.”

She said the last part almost to herself, nodding incredulously.

“You waited while I sorted through my mess, while I ran from something I didn’t fully understand.”

A tear slid down her cheek, and she let it fall freely.

“I’ve been thinking about this day for a long time—Feels like I’ve been calling you my partner, my best friend, my everything for so long, but now… Husband. That’s a whole new level. I mean, look at you, sitting there all smug, knowing you got me to sign my life away."

She let out a small laugh, lightening the mood for a moment as everyone else felt the tension ease, only for her expression to turn more reflective again.

"Seriously though … when I first met you, I wasn’t looking for forever. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I was looking for tomorrow. I was stuck, scared, trying to navigate my own storm, and you—you were like this ridiculous beacon of light, just… shining. And I couldn’t ignore you, even though I really wanted to."

She paused, smiling as she recalled those early days.

"I kept telling myself, ‘Don’t get involved, don’t fall for the guy with the world at his feet.’ But then you’d do something… something so small, like remembering how I take my coffee or noticing when I was having a bad day without me saying a word. You were patient when I needed time, persistent when I pushed you away, and through all my doubts and fears, you became the person I couldn’t imagine my life without."

Y/n looked down for a moment, taking a breath before continuing.

“You lit something up in me that I didn’t even know was there, something that made me feel like I was enough. Like maybe, just maybe, I could be more than the sum of my fears and insecurities.”

She paused, her eyes softening again as she looked at Lewis.

"We’ve been through it, haven’t we? And I don’t just mean the glamorous stuff. I’m talking about the hard nights, the distance, the moments where I didn’t know if we’d make it through.”

There was a soft murmur among the guests as Y/n’s voice lowered, the raw emotion in her words unmistakable.

“We’re standing here today because you never let go, even when I wasn’t sure I could hold on."

Then the room was silent once again, the weight of her words hanging in the air.

“You’ve taught me that love it’s something you choose, every single day. That it resides in the little things—the way you pull me closer when I need it, the way you let me push you away for a bit when I’m too scared to let you in. It’s about the quiet moments, when you’ve stayed by me even when I didn’t ask, because you knew I needed you. The times when you’ve held me together when I felt like falling apart.”

She took a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly before she regained her composure.

“I know I haven’t always been the easiest person to love. I’ve put up walls, kept you at arm’s length because I was scared of what it might mean to really let you in. But you never gave up on me. You never walked away, even when I gave you every reason to.”

Y/n’s voice trembled, but she steadied herself with a deep breath.

“Falling for you felt like coming home. Like finding the place I was always meant to be, the place where all the chaos was worth it”

She looked back at Lewis, her eyes shining with and her voice thick.

"Lewis, you were my leap of faith. And trust me, I’ve never been a fan of heights. But with you, it’s all about rising. Rising above my fears, my insecurities, all the things that used to hold me back."

She paused, blinking back tears as she smiled at the guests.

“You’ve been my rock, my safe place, the one who’s seen me at my worst and still loved me through it all.”

She wiped her cheek with a shaky laugh.

“There’s something terrifying about that, isn’t there? The idea that someone could know you so completely, so intimately, and still choose to stay. You’ve chosen me, even when I wasn’t sure if I could choose myself.”

She took a deep breath, her voice trembling with emotion as she continued.

“I always think back to that night – you know the one – when I asked you if you’d catch me or if I’d have to learn to fly on my own. You didn’t hesitate. You just opened your arms and let me fall… fall into you.”

Y/n’s breathing trembled again.

“And that’s when I knew. No matter what happened, no matter where life took us, I’d never be alone. Because I had you. I had this incredible man who was willing to catch me, over and over again, no matter how many times I stumbled.”

Y/n’s voice broke slightly as she spoke her next words, her tears flowing freely now.

“I’ve always been scared of letting go, of giving myself over to someone completely. But with you, it doesn’t feel like falling. It feels like flying. Like coming home.”

Y/n took a moment to steady herself before she added, with a smile through her tears.

“Lewis, I’m all in. My husband, my partner, my leap of faith, you’re the one I choose, every day and in every way.”

Y/n wiped at the corner of her eye as she finished, giving Lewis’s hands that extra squeeze.

“So here’s to us, to our forever. I can’t promise I won’t drive you crazy, or that I’ll ever stop being a little bit of a mess, but I can promise to love you fiercely, endlessly, and with everything I have. Thank you for being my anchor, my safe place, and most importantly, for being you.

There was a pause as she took a last breath, her eyes never leaving his, her smile bright on her features.

"Okay, enough with the mushy stuff. Cheers—to love, to learning how to fly, to taking the leap."

______________________________________________________________

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[spider-chris06]

Do you know why Spider-Verse Miles is my favorite Spider-Man?

He, without having a choice, had to do in two days, what took all the other Spider-Sonas in the multiverse weeks, become Spider-Man, all under the unimaginable pressure of being the successor to the previous Spider-Man of his universe, which left the bar too high, having to meet everyone else's expectations, and having to go through a tortuous journey while learning from his mentor.

Even when the spider-gang not only didn't trust him but even seemed to dislike Miles at first (Except, of course, Gwen and Peter B, who are very special cases)

And pressing him to see if he was ready and treating him like just a kid (Even Peni).

All so that he then went to his uncle, who was like a second father to him and someone who truly understood Miles, only to find out that he had always been a hitman, going so far as to almost end with the life of his nephew, until he realizes what he was about to do and... well, tragedy happens.

The death of Uncle Aaron, due to the depth and history behind it, remains the most tragic "death of Uncle Ben" in all of cinema... ever.

Miles stopped being the same since then, and even when a hurricane of emotions possessed him, he learned that no matter what, Spider-Man always gets up and keeps going, at the same time he learned to take his leap of faith. Before becoming Spider-Man he had a normal and happy life, but after being bitten by that spider his whole life fell apart, but of course, Miles is someone truly strong and full of determination thanks to the people close to him.

In two days, he surpassed almost the entire Spider-gang, and in a year and a half he become almost a professional as Spider-Man, even giving lessons to everyone else, and making it clear to Gwen and the others what truly means being Spider-Man, not standing by crossed arms while someone is in danger, but trying to do everything you can to save everyone, doing both things, even when it seems impossible, Spider-Man should always try, because everything it's possible.

At the same time that Miles felt stabbed in the back by the same people to whom he wanted to dedicate his entire future just to see them again since he felt alone and sad inside in the world without them, and, specially, without Gwen.

And let me remind something, Miles actually thinks she doesn't even love him and only sees him as a friend, but he still wants to see her

On the ATSV betrayal, he release all that hurricane of emotions that he had to swallow and accumulate inside during ITSV and during that entire year and a half for not having time for ALL those things said before, leading him to have anxiety and panic attacks (Something confirmed in the synopsis of the short "The Spider Within")

All so that they later reveal to him that he was a mistake, an anomaly, that he should never have been Spider-Man, that he killed the Peter of his universe, causing everything that gave MEANING to his life fell down in just a few minutes, leaving Miles more traumatized, mortified and with more trust issues than he already had before.

He really became one of the most tragic character of all the saga (Along with Peter B and, put it in some way, Miguel O' Hara)

And just because Miles looks with a cool and chill personality doesn't mean he's any less traumatized and mortified on the inside (An example is Andrew Garfield's Spider-Man).

Even though in the comics that nickname is only used because that is what his universe is called, in the movies, on the other hand, even though there are people on the internet who deny the fact that he is currently becoming an unstoppable phenomenon that is marking an entire generation and will mark future generations, Miles Morales proved to be, without a doubt, the Ultimate Spider-Man.

As a bonus, even though she always screwed up with everyone around her, both the living and the dead, Gwen showed that she really loves Miles and that he truly is the love of her life, however, needless to say, she has a lot of work to do in her redemption arc to be able to fix things with Miles, which will be very difficult but not impossible, even more so taking into account all the hate she received for everything that happened in ATSV.

Now she has to PROVE not only to him, but to all of us viewers, that she truly deserves to be with Miles, that they can have a life together by her own merit, and that all the hate towards her after the ATSV release it's truly unfair.

However, I have to be realistic, there are characters like Peni or even Peter B who should not be anything more than simple 'acquaintances' or 'partners' for Miles, since, with what they did, the term "Friend" It's too big for them.

In any case, Miles has the last word.

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by the wonderful @chennqingg <3

Wonders [EoH]

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader feat. Teddy Dixon

Summary: Sometimes is all you need a wonder in a broken world...

Warnings: usual TWD stuff? lots of fluff, talks of pregnancy, slight angst, dad!Daryl

The Whisperer Era!

Word Count: 2,1k

a/n: I had to write this. 🥹 Hope y'all like this! 🤗

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Ted?" You called out for your son; voice echoing through the little cottage. "Outside, momma!" Your son answered loud enough for you to hear; feet carrying you straight towards him.

The nine-year-old sat on a small log just outside the cottage. He was highly concentrated on making his first own arrow. His tongue poked out of his mouth and touching his upper lip; eyes fixated on the task ahead. Dog laid beside him on the grass. The faithful canine rarely left the boy's side. Not since Daryl told Dog to always protect Teddy. He understood the assignment. Smart animal, without a doubt...

Daryl was not far. Only a few yards away; chopping wood, so that he could always have an eye on his son.

It had gotten noticeably colder. That was the reason why your husband spent more time with hunting and especially chopping wood. Fall was making itself known and preparing you for the winter, which was probably already lurking just around the corner.

"Oh, you almost finished it?" You spoke in a bright voice; crouching down beside your kid to admire his good work. Teddy nodded proudly, "Mhm. Look!" and showed you the arrow. Of course, it was far from perfect and couldn't be used as a weapon. The tip was blunt - on purpose. Daryl didn't want Teddy to hurt himself. After all, Teddy was still young and his skills not entirely developed yet. But for that, the arrow was good. His father taught him well, you thought with a smile, like you did so often.

"Wow, that's amazing, baby. I'm proud of you," you smiled warmly at the boy and ruffled his long chestnut brown locks. Your son smiled up at you as well. "Thanks, momma."

You could feel Daryl's eyes on you; watching the scene in front of his eyes - which reminded you why you actually called your son...

"Teddy, could you go and check on the rabbit traps? I have to talk to daddy." He nodded, "Okay." and hopped from the log, before he carefully placed the arrow on it. "Take Dog with you and be careful, yes?" "Sure, momma. Dog, c'mon." Dog lifted his head and immediately jumped to his feet and fallowed his best friend.

You could still feel your husband's eyes on you, but this time you could tell that he was a bit confused.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened up again and made your way over to Daryl, who continued his work, now that you were on your way to him anyway. It had gotten colder, yes - even for Daryl, who had switched to wearing sweatshirts and long-sleeved shirts instead of t-shirts and shirts turned to tops with the sleeves ripped off. With a small grunt, he lunged out and precisely split the wood in two with his axe. You would've lied, if you said that this wasn't sexy in some kind of way. But now was not the time to ogle your man... You had something important to discuss...

"Daryl? Can we talk?"

Your husband looked at you with a mix of concern and confusion, but nodded. "Sure." He snuffled and placed the axe aside. "Do I have ta be worried?" You swallowed and looked down; fingers fumbling nervously with your shirt-sleeve. "Honestly? I-I don't know." A deep frown formed on the archer's forehead. Now he was really concerned - and you could see it clearly on his face. After over ten years being a couple, you could read this man like a book.

"Ya don know? Sunshine, wha's that s'pposed ta mean?"

Your eyes darted to Teddy for a short moment; watching him in distance check on the rabbit traps together with Dog. He had grown up so fast... Sure, in a world like this he had to, but you'd have loved to give him a better childhood and youth. Not cruel and full of death and blood. Was this truly something you wanted to bestow on another- "Hey, Y/N..."

Daryl's voice ripped you out of your thoughts; his hands on yours caused you to turn your head to face him again. "Wha's wrong? Talk ta me. Please." You swallowed once again; taking a deep breath. "Daryl, I... I missed two cycles. One happened before, but two..." You could see the gears turning in his head. He blinked; his palms twitching around your hands. "Darlin'... Are you... Are you tryin' to tell me wha' I think yer tryin' to tell me?" You nodded. "Uh.Huh..."

Daryl let go of your hands again and started to pace up and down; fingers scratching his goatee covered chin. You watched him for a few moments; giving him some time to process this - until you couldn't take the silence anymore. "D-Daryl? Say somethin', please..."

Your husband stopped dead in his movements for a moment, before he almost hastily started to search his things together. Crossbow, vest, map.

You frowned; now utterly confused. "Daryl?" He strapped on his crossbow, "'M goin' out; find a pharmacy and get a test." and smiled at you. Truly smiled. The first smile in months - hell, even years after Rick's disappearance, which reached his eyes.

You were slightly surprised and taken aback, but you certainly didn't complain. "A-Alright, sure, but now? Sweetie, it's gettin' dark soon..." Daryl was already making his way over to his bike. "Don care. I gotta know, sunshine. Hell, I wanna know." "Uh, okay," you were still rather flabbergasted, as you followed him. "But be careful, yeah? Be safe." The archer leaned slightly to the right, in order to press a quick, but loving kiss against your lips. "'Course, sunshine."

And off he went.

Your eyes fallowed him as long as you could; crossing your arms over your chest as the chilly breeze hit your body.

"Where's daddy goin'?" Teddy appeared beside you; Dog in tow and three rabbits in his hands. You looked down at your little boy; "Just on a small run. He'll be back soon." adjusting the red bandana around his neck. "Let's go inside, huh? It's getting cold."

Your son nodded and followed you inside the cottage.

It had gotten late. By now it was pitch black outside - and raining. Daryl wasn't back yet and so slowly started your worries to creep in. Therefore, you occupied yourself. Made sure everything was walker safe, took care of the rabbits, fed Dog, had dinner and spent some time with Teddy, before you wanted to send him off to bed. But, of course, like always, the nine-year-old refused to sleep. Not until his father was back. You had no other choice but to let him.

Another hour later, you finally heard the familiar sound of a motorcycle. A relieved sigh left your lips, while your son was already storming out of his tiny room and straight towards the door. He had heard it, too.

A few moments later, Daryl stepped inside; bringing a good portion rain, leaves and wind with him. He quickly shut the door, put down his crossbow and shed himself of his wet poncho.

"Daddy!" Teddy sprinted straight into his dad's arms, who lifted him up and hugged him tight. "Hey, bud. Yer not asleep yet?" Daryl looked at you and you silently told him why; Teddy still clinging to him. Daryl understood, of course and walked with his son without further ado to the boy's room, which was right behind your bedroom. For safety reasons, of course. "Good night, baby." Teddy turned to smile tiredly at you; hand tucked neatly into Daryl's. "Nighty night, momma."

While your husband tucked Teddy in, you hung up the wet poncho to dry. Now that Daryl was back from his little run and the worries about his well-being ceased, there was space again for the previous thoughts and fears to come back again. The missed cycles and the possibility of being pregnant. It wasn't like you didn't want to be, no. Actually, it would be a wonderful surprise, but... So much had changed around you since Teddy. The world had changed around you. Being pregnant wasn't that 'easy' anymore...

You didn't even notice that you were totally lost in thoughts, but when a strong arm wrapped itself around your waist, you snapped out of the bubble.

"Teddy asleep?" Daryl nodded. "Mhm." You felt the urge to be close to your husband; hoping that this would take your doubts and fears away. So, you leaned into his half embrace and slung your arms around his torso. Daryl immediately got the hint and wrapped you up in a big, protective bear hug.

"You okay?" You heard him ask then; concern swinging within his voice. "Yeah, 's just... You know..." You felt the archer nod against your head. "Let's find out?" "Let's find out."

Daryl handed you three different brands of pregnancy tests with a shrug. "Didn't know which one's good. Ain't ma specialty. Jus' thought 'm bringing them all." You took them. "It's okay, sweetie. Just gonna take all of 'em to be sure."

Said and done. With shaky hands you did what you had to do, before you returned to your husband, who was pacing again up and down the room like a wounded animal.

You placed all three tests upside-down on the little, wooden dining table; taking a deep breath. "How long do we have ta wait?" "Normally 'bout a few minutes," you answered and turned to face him. He nodded. Once more you stepped up close to your man; needing to ask the question which was occupying you since the first thought of pregnancy crossed your mind - even though he already gave you a nonverbal and kinda verbal answer. "Daryl..." You whispered his name; laying your palms on his chest. "Would you... Would you want this? A-Another baby? Would you be... happy 'bout it?"

You felt how one of his arms encircling your waist; the other hand cupping your cheek. "Darlin', I'd be the happiest man on earth. After all the things which happened..." He paused for a moment; swallowing hard - and you knew exactly what he meant. "Yeah. I'd be happy." You smiled softly; rubbing his pecks gently. "Truly?" Daryl nodded, but could definitely see in your eyes how troubled you were. "Yes. 'M not gonna... do the things I did ten years back. I promise." You shook your head. "'S not what I'm worried about, Daryl... I... The world has changed around us. Being pregnant is not that 'easy' anymore..."

The archer chew on his bottom lip; listening to your every word, before he nodded again. "I know whatcha mean, sunshine. 'S nothing easy in this world anymore, but we got each other. We'll make this work, 'cause we both want tis, right?"

A single tear rolled down your cheek as you smiled. "Yes."

Your husband reciprocated your smile and hugged you tightly; reassuring.

"Let's take a look, eh?" He whispered then; slowly letting go of you. You nodded, "Let's take a look." and took Daryl's hand in yours; gently pulling him over to the small dining table. You stared at the three plastic sticks; nervosity still coursing through your veins. "D-Daryl, can you...?" He squeezed your hand and stepped closer to the table. His eyes met yours as he nodded.

You swallowed hard and took a step back; watching how his calloused fingers danced over the tests. Daryl lifted all of them up and slowly turned them in his hands; eyes focused. "A-And?" He didn't answer you; just kept on staring. "Daryl!"

At the call of his name, he finally looked up; one of the biggest smiles you had ever seen him smile stretched over his whole face. "Well... Looks like we're gonna have 'nother baby, sunshine."

You blinked; needing a moment to process his words. "They... They're positive?" Your husband nodded; still smiling broadly. "All three of 'em?" Another nod. "Yeah," Daryl stated and turned them for you to see. And indeed... They were clearly positive.

"Oh my gosh..." You clapped your hand over your mouth; tears immediately blurring your vision. Yet you saw Daryl placing the tests aside again and stepping up to you; his hands finding their way around your waist. He pressed his forehead against yours. "'M happy about this, sunshine. I truly am. This is wonderful," he said in a low voice; holding on to you. "We got this, yeah?" You nodded; happy tears rolling down your cheeks as your hands clasped gently onto the lapels of Daryl's vest. "Yeah."

Both, you and Daryl enjoyed this little moment you had together; relishing in the joy of the news.

You started to giggle; taking Daryl a bit by surprise. "Teddy's gonna be over the moon 'bout this." Your husband agreed. "Hell yeah. He 'n Dog are gonna be the best big brothers." You giggled once again; the cutest scenarios already forming in your mind. "Oh, I'm convinced by that."

Tags: @celtic-crossbow @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @mischief-dream @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @wolfsmom1

[lotusmi]

⊹ learning to take what is yours in your mind

assumptions, beliefs and acceptance࿐

"You have nothing to do but convince yourself of the truth of that which you desire to see manifested.- Neville"

"I am asking you to believe your Imagination is Real" + "Chances are you truly are NOT giving yourself what you want because you feel some ''impossibly'' in it. Forget that. All things are possible in the Imagination. Do it anyway. Just do it. Do what? What you deeply want. Do you for only you, you Inner Self." - Edward Art

Your Imagination is your real reality. In Imagination you can claim to be or have anything you want, simply because you wanted and then decided you have it already. Since everything is already created in Imagination, every desire you could think of already exists, and it's already yours. What you assume you have or are within is always reflected by the outerworld.

Acceptance of a desire does not have to do with accepting something in the 3d, but with a inner conviction of having what you want in the real reality, 4d, Imagination. This does not means you cannot doubt it, it means that even if you doubt, you still will get it because you decided if you persist in having.

If you still think it's hard to assume something new to yourself, it's probably because you did not understood yet that Imagination is the only reality, and that what you see in the outer world is but a reflection of your Imagination. Everything starts within, as within, so without. Your goal is be IN IMAGINATION ONLY.

☆Making things, changing things, creating things, it's not your goal. Your goal is change the feeling of "I", fulfilling Self in Imagination only.

1. I remember my only goal is to BECOME the one I want to be IN IMAGINATION ONLY. 2.  I think about something I want to be, anything. Then I assume I AM that IN IMAGINATION, and in Imagination I can be all things. 3. When I say the words, “I AM” I am not speaking about this outer-body but the Inner Man. The Inner Man to me is I AM and I know that all I must change is I AM to change my life. 4. I accept that I AM that Inner Man EXPERIENCING in present tense what I desire. - EdwardArt

How to assume?

'by believing the thing you want already exists in your life'

Assume -> to believe that something is true, even though no one has told you or even though you have no proof [no evidence in 3d]. Acceptance of an idea, even if there's no evidence.

"you will have faith that what you are stating, though there is no outward evidence to support it, is a fact in consciousness"

"Their faith was their great expectancy, their inner feeling [knowing], their inner conviction that something miraculous would happen, and that their prayer would be answered, and it was"

"faith is always a decision. No one can force you to believe in anything. The choice is yours."

Belief -> an acceptance that something exists or is true, especially one without proof [of 3d].

There is only one way to believe something truly and completely: Take action as if it is true, regardless of lack of evidence, doubts, fears, etc (...) = DECISION.

Acceptance -> agreement with or belief in an idea, the action of consenting to receive or undertake something offered. A person's assent to the reality of a situation, recognizing a process or condition (often a negative or uncomfortable situation) without attempting to change it or protest it.

☆ Accept that you have what you want in Imagination.

"Your inner acceptance must become an intense, unalterable conviction which transcends both reason and intellect, renouncing entirely any belief in the reality of the externalization except as a reflection of an inner state of consciousness." - Neville Goddard

What do you want? Dare to appropriate it, dare to actually appropriate the feeling of the wish fulfilled.

feeling = knowing | feeling of the wish fulfilled -> knowing your wish is fulfilled in Imagination because you decided, then It's done.

"you determine what you want in this world [decide], and you go right into that state [wish fulfilled]. And then ignore the facts[ignore 3d, BE in 4d] Suppose the facts now still deny what you did…it doesn’t matter, let the facts remain [it's done, persist in your assumption], they’ll dissolve." - Neville

+ methods (visualizing, affirming, listening to subs, etc) are just TOOLS to make yourself REMEMBER (feel/know) you have your desire.

+ READ -> Imagine as if there was not outside world. It is just you and your wonderful imagination. [how to feel]

"You cannot wait for the world to change to what you want. You must change what you are and have in Imagination. If you are tired of what your world is reflecting, you can be confident it will keep reflecting that until you change YOU inside your Consciousness. This calls for radically giving yourself what you desire IN Consciousness." - Edward Art

♡ "Stop telling me what you don't want and tell me what you ARE."

[ihaveverything]

Limitless manifesting for beginners

part I - basic concepts

part II - states, techniques, change

ʚ part III - mental diet, sats

part IV - daily life, time

part V - resistance, faith, the ''real'' world

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

On your journey to success, you may find that manifesting does inevitably come with an art of discipline and persistence. However, this is not to say it’s tiring, draining, difficult, or effort based at all. The discipline comes naturally, and persistence is without resistance. As the creator of your reality, you are met with infinite probable selections. Infinite states you may occupy, therefore leading to infinite possible realities you could experience. Taking responsibility for this and making the decisions that align with the life you wish to live is being, not doing or trying

Mental diet

The process of mental dieting can be quite confusing at first because there is a constant nagging reminder that you are supposed to return to fulfillment as frequently as you can. However, this is not about setting a schedule or reminders throughout the day to try to slip into the state a certain number of times an hour. Even though returning to states should be easy and the goal is to truly embody that new identity as much as you can, it is common for people to get distracted from being, and focus too much on trying.

It’s understandable to experience some good days and some bad days. There will be days when it’s easier to feel optimistic about the Law in general, and days where all you want to do is give up and spiral. The key point here is that positive thinking and optimism isn’t the reason why you can maintain a more stable mental diet. Mental dieting is to help change your beliefs. Each moment you return to the state of the wish fulfilled is to identify with a different probable reality where you are experiencing your desire. It is a choice you are making to feel what it would be like to have your desire. It is not thinking about your desire with little conviction. There is a difference between “okay I have my SP back. did I feel it right?” vs “I accepted the feeling of being back together, therefore I am experiencing aligned thoughts and emotions due to my conviction in knowing this will reflect into my 3D.” Acceptance is always the first step in this equation. Trying to do anything, whether it be forcing the state of the wish fulfilled, forcing the 3D, or using effort based techniques such as robotic affirming are all less efficient than accepting what you want to be true for a moment.

“Stop trying to change the world since it is only the mirror. Man’s attempt to change the world by force is as fruitless as breaking a mirror in the hope of changing his face. Leave the mirror and change your face. Leave the world alone and change your conceptions of yourself. The reflection then will be satisfactory.” ― Neville Goddard, Your Faith is Your Fortune

Additionally, there is no such thing as waiting to feel fulfillment. It’s understandable to have fear or doubt around feeling like you are unable to fulfill yourself whenever you want, but the truth is everyone needs to stop waiting. Make the decision now. Don’t tell yourself you’re gonna go all in tomorrow or next week or after the next motivational video. You occupy a state of awareness every single moment of the day. There is no excuse not to give yourself your desire now, because of the following quote:

“I will be” is a confession that “I am not “ The Father's will is always “I AM.” Until you realize that YOU are the Father (there is only one I AM and your infinite self is that I AM), you will is always “I will be.” ― Neville Goddard, The Power of Awareness

When you are feeling down on days where you’re not so confident about your manifestation skills, it’s at core a reminder that you are still viewing life as someone who is “trying” to obtain a desire that seems separate from you. We have been manifesting and creating our whole lives. Even your personality is based on the beliefs that created your environment starting from when you were born. We often let our mind run on autopilot and allow it to entertain negative possibilities that we expect to unfold even when nothing has been seen in the 3D yet. We place such faith in expecting the worst when it is unseen, but we rarely do the same for the positive best outcome, because society has taught us all about probability, things going wrong, luck, and every other reason which implies there is something or someone outside of ourselves that can control an individual’s reality. Expectation of the negative, whether it be you’ll never get that SP back, they are in love with someone else, you will lose that job, or overall the Law just doesn’t work will often lead to feelings and emotions of fear, lack, anxiety, etc.

“Sensation precedes manifestation and is the foundation upon which all manifestation rests. Be careful of your moods and feelings, for there is an unbroken connection between your feelings and your visible world. Your body is an emotional filter and bears the unmistakable marks of your prevalent emotions. Emotional disturbances, especially suppressed emotions, are the causes of all disease. To feel intensely about a wrong without voicing or expressing that feeling is the beginning of disease – disease – in both body and environment. Do not entertain the feeling of regret or failure for frustration or detachment from your objective results in disease.” ― Neville Goddard, Feeling is the Secret

When manifesting anything, the key to being is knowing how you and your desire are one. Everything already exists within you, and that combined with how creation is finished should be a powerful understanding that brings you to realize there is no such thing as “doing” this or that to make your 3d change. Your awareness of being is enough. By conditioning yourself into an identity / state you become one with it and manifest that state into reality. You, while far more than the state you are one with, have to become it by placing your awareness on it. Doing this is as simple as the decision to be something, you choose to become aware of being that state, and it manifests when it is natural. It should be noted that the time it takes to make something natural is dependent on the frequency, not the length of time, so do not expect months or years to yield results. In fact, such a long time with no success is a blatant mistake that you are either lacking discipline in your mental diet, or a failed approach due to more effort than being.

“The future must become the present in the imagination of the one who would wisely and consciously create circumstances. We must translate vision into Being, thinking of into thinking from. Imagination must center itself in some state and view the world from that state.” ― Neville Goddard, Awakened Imagination

“To move into another state or mansion necessitates a change of beliefs. All that you could ever desire is already present and only waits to be matched by your beliefs. But it must be matched, for that is the necessary condition by which alone it can be activated and objectified. Matching the beliefs of a state is the seeking that finds, the knocking to which it is opened, the asking that receives. Go in and possess the land.” ― Neville Goddard, Awakened Imagination

Everyone has their own choice for what method they prefer to use for manifesting. Some people like affirmations because it feels like a solid statement that helps them feel into the state. Others may choose visualizing since scenes may help them get their imagination running. Ultimately it does not matter what you do as long as you are focusing on the end result while patiently knowing that it will become your reality. We all gained interest in the Law because of what it promises us, but if you aren’t being the promise first, then results won’t come to you no matter how much “effort” you put in. As Yoda once said in Star Wars:

“Do or do not, there’s no try.”

SATS

Your sleeping hours are just as important as your waking hours of life. Your sleep plays a major role in your manifestation, so the last waking state you occupy is crucial. “You must be in the consciousness of being or having that which you want to be or to have before you drop off to sleep. Once asleep, man has no freedom of choice. His entire slumber is dominated by his last waking concept of self.”― Neville Goddard, Feeling is the Secret

A method of aligning your state with the wish fulfilled while you are drowsy is commonly known as SATS. Although SATS is often done right before falling asleep, there is nothing special about the time of day you do this. It is equally effective to do SATS as soon as you wake up or during the day. It is an extremely helpful way to manifest, but it differs from techniques such as affirmations, visualizations, scripting, etc because it’s a state. Affirmations themselves hold no meaning, and the scenes you visualize aren’t what manifests either. State Akin to Sleep refers to the deep state of consciousness during meditation or just before falling asleep. The reason why Neville recommended this method is because your last waking state is what dominates your entire sleep, and it sets the ground for your next day. You will often find that falling asleep in the state of the wish fulfilled vs in a state of lack can be very different for how easy your mental diet is the next day.

There are 2 different ways to go about SATS, but ultimately they both aim to achieve the same goal: making sure your last waking state is aligned with having your desires.

The traditional way is what many people know. Finding a comfy position, visualizing a short 10-15 second scene that implies your manifestation is fulfilled, looping that scene until you fall asleep.

The second way is simpler because some people feel like looping a scene puts too much emphasis on trying to “make it work” or “do it right” instead of focusing on the feeling and being part. There will always be people who don’t enjoy doing that, but because the goal is to fall asleep in the state of the wish fulfilled and not necessarily how perfect your scene is, so an alternate way is to enter that state right before you knock out, and it will be just as effective.

Your SATS scene does not have to be perfect at all. It doesn't matter if you visualize in first person or third person or how you go about this, because your only goal is to focus on the intention you set for your scene. Just like your daily mental diet, knowing and conviction is what brings about your desire. This is also why it's not absolutely necessary to loop the scene and even beat yourself over it not being a perfect cycle.

source tba

[eamour]

daydreaming and imagining

when it comes to manifesting, people like to either daydream or imagine their desires which does sound like pretty much the same. nevertheless — it's not. daydreaming does not equal imagining, vice versa.

daydreaming

meaning · thinking of your desire

to daydream replaces the term "thinking of your desire". when you are daydreaming, you occupy a state of mind where you view yourself as well as your desire separated from each other. you could also say that you only pass through your desired state without truly embodying it and end up going back to your old dwelling state (wavering). you don't claim to have your desire, nor do you declare yourself to be in possession of it. you feel distant to it, almost as if it's impossible, unrealistic or illogical to achieve. you are desiring, aware of wanting your desire, craving and longing for the feeling, making you experience the lack of it. you feel uneasy about how your current reality looks like as you are waiting for some sort of movement or shift. you are dissatisfied about the present moment and view your manifestation as a target you need to aim for, perceiving it as a goal to attain. internally, you know that your desire hasn't been realised yet and wonder how it could possibly materialise. you analyse and examine your outer world a lot, judging it by its looks. you often ask yourself if your desires are ever gonna unfold. thus, you rely on the evidence of your senses, using the 3D as a tool to validate you. by waiting for its confirmation that you ask for so desperately, you automatically assign meaning and also power to the outer world. you let the physical world determine and dictate your mental world. by doing so, you give away control, but still continue to feel responsible and guilty. you repeatedly spiral, wondering what you could be doing wrong, not having full faith or trust in yourself. you don't quite believe in yourself and tend to give in. you endure the 3D as best as you can but often times, you consider your desire to be out of reach. you dream of the mere possibility and depend on the next moment you feel a motivational boost. frequently, you start to doubt, feeling uncertain and unsure about your ability to manifest. you find yourself feeling incapable and scare away from seemingly "big" wishes and wants. you feel needy, irritated and confused. you fight feeling resistant or pressured towards how you want your life to be like. you are afraid that you might never manifest your desired life.

imagining

meaning · thinking from your desire

to imagine can be used as a synonym for "thinking from your desire". as the term says, when you imagine your desires, you think from the point of view where you have them already. you experience them and live life from having whatever it is that you desire. you occupy the state of your wish being fulfilled, knowing and accepting that what you want already exists within you. you understand that nothing can exist outside of you and that life happens from you, so you trust yourself, believe in your capabilities and have faith in the law. you feel calm, confident and content as you are fulfilling your inner self, leaving the outer world as it is. you don't feel the need or the urge to change or control the 3D. there is simply no need for you to stress, worry or struggle. you understand that everything is yours, creation is finished and it all exists already. all you do is step into the state of having and being, living in the end where you got it all. you are one with your desire, you are connected to it as well as all the other contents of your reality. your desire has now become a part of you and you are free to chill, relax and to surrender. you have full trust that your desire will and has to unfold exactly how you want it and don't disturb your inner peace by overanalysing or unnecessary questioning. you don't need to rely on external proof, making your state of being depend on the outer world. you are the owner of your desire, the owner of your reality and stay unbothered by any physical circumstance. you are unaffected by anything that isn't favourable for you and refuse to be led on or negatively influenced. you remain living in your imagination, declaring it to be your one and only reality. whenever you desire something, you know that you don't go outside of yourself, searching for what is already within you. anything you could possibly seek, exists in your mind.

with love, ella.

[lucienarcheron]

Spirit Meets the Bones XXXI

Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Author’s Note: dare I say...the end of my blue balling era has come.

shoutout to @divinerivals for being on this journey with me <3

Tagging: @climb-the-mountian / @rosewood-cafe / @vanserrass / @readthelastpaage / @teddyhoneybear / @zenkindoflove / @animezinglife / @positivewitch / @clockwork-ashes / @carnythian / @secret-third-thing / @runningwiththeoceans / @that-golden-lyre / @thedarkinmansfield / @readychilledwine / @goldenmagnolias / @mali22 / @maidr-00 / @electromagnetic-waves / @eastofatlanta / @moobell55 / @bibliophiliaxvignette / @devilsfoodcake22 / @weesablackbeak / @ladywhilemia / @alohaangels / @feysandfeels / @corcracrow / @dawneternal / @gracie-rosee / @mage-neve / @illyrianvalkyrie / @rainbowsnowflake /@queenoftheworld1998 /@wolvesnravens

Find it all here.

Pieces of her heart were being chipped away at what he was suggesting. As if Iris would be able to simply…continue with her life should he be taken from her. 

She had no doubt – none that Eris didn’t cherish having a mating bond as deeply as she did. For him to sit here and plan for her to move on…

As if she would have a life with her mate dead. 

“Are these the kind of thoughts you’ve been sitting on the last few days?” she finally asked. “This is what’s been going on in that head of yours?”

When Eris said nothing, Iris couldn’t help her scoff of indignation and she shook her head, rubbing a hand to her forehead in true exasperation, anguish clogging her throat. She was still struggling with the idea of leaving him on that cursed day and here he was, trying to find ways for her to cut her losses and continue life without him. 

“And you have the nerve to say that so casually,” she muttered and felt her chest tighten painfully. “Like the loss of my mate is something I’m supposed to accept. Like it’s so simple to…adjust.” 

He scowled, working his jaw. “It’s not simple. None of this is simple but if I can do anything to protect you, I will.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” he said through clenched teeth. “If everything goes well and he’s dead by the end of it, I will ravish you to our heart’s content.” 

She stared at him incredulously. “If I slapped you right now, you’d deserve it.”

“I know.”

“What happened to ‘have faith it’ll end in our favor’?” she snapped. “I know you’re worried but for you to think that I’d be able to — to just move on should something happen to you…What is the matter with you?”

“I’m trying to take all the precautions I can, Iris.” he hissed. “The mating bond is a living thing – it’s real and people can sense it if we are together. They can scent it and while I can hide it as best as I can, there is always a fucken risk. Had we gone farther this morning – had our scents mingled – the mating bond would be strong, Iris. Far stronger than what it is now and the risk will be infinitely higher. Should anything happen to me, I don’t want it to be so catastrophic for you. If we can avoid it even a little bit –”

“There is a risk for everything, Eris!” she snarled and tried not to stutter as she continued, “Whether something happened to you or not – being mates won’t go away.”

“That is exactly why I don’t want anyone to know. In the event something happens to me, you’re not hunted down like an animal.” he snapped and avoided looking at her again. “If I can’t give you peace while I’m here, at least let me give you some peace if I’m gone.”

Iris could only stare at him, her hands slacked at her sides, her chest so tight. That ache she had felt this morning while watching him sleep returned in full force and she wanted to double over at the pain. The idea – the mere thought of anything happening to him – that he would cease to exist — a panic like no other unfurled through her whole body. 

Did he truly think he mattered that little to her? That she was somehow only sticking around at the convenience of being his wife and mate? 

“You’re being mean, Eris.” she said so miserably, that it made him finally meet her gaze.

“Iris.” he said softly, grimacing and she shook her head, distress coursing through every inch of her being.

“Are you truly so unaware of how much you mean to me, that you think the idea of you dying wouldn’t devastate me?” she whispered. “That I would want to have an out if you’re not with me?” 

Eris felt his insides shrivel, his body running both hot and cold, feeling wrecked by her words. He couldn’t help but look away, down at his hands – hands that had so much blood on them and would need to be soaked in more blood to get to the light at the end of the road. And here she was, saying things that would make it even harder for him to let her go.

As she watched him process, the way she always did, she thought back to her hesitation to confess her feelings to him for fear of him not saying it back. But knowing Eris and the way he was…she knew he needed words from her. He stayed in his head so often, Iris didn’t think he’d realize just how much she felt for him unless she said the words.

“Eris,” she called to him and he couldn’t stop himself from lifting his head and sharing a glance with her. “In case it wasn’t abundantly clear, I do not want to have a life without you.”

She said it so calmly – like the words wouldn’t crush him, to hear her say that. Even if he knew – he knew how she felt – for her emotions were usually a mirror to his own, but he was hit all over again with how badly he needed to hear it and it always seemed like she knew exactly what he needed. His wife – mate, who watched him the way he watched her, memorizing things about him and his wants, his needs.

He could hear the rapid beating of her heart, the flush on her cheeks giving away how nervous she was to say those words, like Eris hadn’t been drowning in his feelings for her since their first night together. 

Like he wasn’t so very overwhelmed by the sheer force of her existence. 

As if he wasn’t fighting just how obsessed he was with having her in his life.

“I’m not going to deny how I feel when everything is on the line like this.” Iris continued and took a step towards him. “I have been having all these feelings and it scared the shit out of me. Then we find out we’re mates and suddenly, everything about us makes sense.” She paused for a moment, swallowing as they watched each other, another type of declaration sitting on the tip of her tongue but Iris wasn’t ready yet; she’d save that for another day. “I’m not going to sit here and let you make plans that separate us because of what your father could do,” she said, waving a hand helplessly. “I’m not going to let him win.”

“I don’t want him to win.” he could only bring himself to say, his voice hoarse. 

“That’s exactly what you’re doing when you sit here and say those things to me,” she said. “When you belittle what we have and how – how significant it is. I’m your wife and mate and that’ll never not be a risk. We were complete strangers yet somehow, the stars aligned and here we are. On the cusp of something that’ll change the trajectory of our lives and everything we know…” Her mouth was set in a firm line as she continued quietly, “I’ll be damned if I let you think that you can hold me at a distance because of what may or may not happen. When you try and act like it wouldn’t ruin me should something happen to you. ”

Eris felt any resistance he had start to crumble. 

“The Mother decided you and I were mates for a reason,” Iris said and gently lifted his chin with her hand. “This thing between us… this is the first thing that has ever been mine and whether you like it or not, I will go down swinging for it. For you.” Iris licked her lips before adding so quietly, “Don’t deny me of you because of him. He doesn’t get to take anything more from us.”  

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” he whispered and hated that his voice cracked. 

Iris’s expression softened, her thumb caressing his cheek. “If something is meant to happen, then it will. All we can do is accept it and be as ready for it as we can.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw and Eris had to glance down at his clenched hands. “I have waited so fucken long for this,” he said and met her gaze. “For you.” He stood once more, his hands latching on to hers. “I have wished and pleaded and fucken –” Eris stopped himself but knew the desperation on his face must’ve shown exactly how he felt. The sheer yearning he’d had over the years. Since she married him, Iris had been by his side and yet he still craved her more and more deeply each day. He wanted to inject her very essence into his veins. He wanted a life with her. To make her laugh. To give her every single thing she ever desired. But how did he describe this to her? How did he verbalize exactly how much she meant to him? Was telling her he lo – how he felt as she did enough? 

He hadn’t used that word in years – decades. Eris hadn’t even let himself think of the word all these years because of how his father would tarnish it. He had spent his life half in agony with his hope buried so deeply beneath it that he wasn’t sure he could feel that emotion. 

But his mate was a gift. An honor. One he still didn’t believe he deserved but would hold on to for as long as he had time. She was his hope. 

Eris Vanserra had always been a broken dreamer but with Iris? His sky finally had stars. 

And Iris watched him struggle with his mind, holding onto all the things she knew he wanted to say and squeezed his hands tightly. “I may have promised you that I’d leave on the night of the ball so that you don’t have to worry about me but I am not leaving you. I am not going where I cannot return.” 

Eris swallowed hard and forced himself to take a breath. “I have wanted for so long,” he whispered. “I am terrified this will be taken from me. I am terrified of what will happen to you should something happen to me and I want you far away from here in case it does.”

“That means you have to make sure nothing happens to you.” Iris whispered to him and cupped his face. “So that nothing happens to me and then you and I can actually get to live.” 

Whatever was left of that wretched heart of his broke into a thousand pieces and Eris felt his hands start to shake, his chest caving in. Why was she so patient with him? Why was she tied to someone as inadequate as him when she could’ve had someone – anyone better? Cleaner. Less troublesome. 

But her hands were on his face and no hands – none – had ever felt so right. 

It was as if any place Iris touched, she wiped clean and Eris was stained with misery all over. The more she touched him, the more of it she seemed to clear.  

He wanted to live with her. He wanted to look forward to tomorrow. He wanted to give her a life where she had everything she wanted and more. 

Eris wasn’t embarrassed as he stumbled over his words, “You – don’t want a life without me then.”

Roses bloomed on her cheeks as she blushed so beautifully, her hands dropping to her side and nodded. “No, I don’t.” 

And it was like a puzzle piece sliding into place inside his body and mind. 

Eris stared at her as she stood before him, her heart sitting there for the taking – his taking. She let him see all her vulnerabilities and Eris’s shoulders slumped. He felt the same way, didn’t he? He had never felt this way with anyone. He – he was in love, right? This was that feeling – the one everyone whispered about.

He was in love with his wife. A slight terror coursed its way through his chest as he forced himself to swallow hard and run a hand over his mouth again, the words on the tip of his tongue. The longer he looked at her, the harder it was to choke them down. He had always promised her words and yet, he wanted to savor these specific words for a better time. When it didn’t feel like an ominous declaration. Instead, Eris found himself confessing so quietly, it was barely above a whisper, “I think…I think that I lived half a life before you and am far more attached to you than I care to admit. My world was black and white…” He swallowed and took a breath before adding, “Now it’s screaming in colors I couldn’t see with anyone else. I find that your shade of life is my favorite.” 

He felt her joy at his words through their bond, that small, shy smile she reserved for him and him alone graced her lovely face. That joy found its way to his chest and Eris could’ve sworn everything in him settled. His very spirit seemed to wrap around hers, settling deep into his weary bones, where the Prince of Autumn knew, nothing would compare to this feeling again.

Like his whole being had taken a breath of fresh air.    

Iris’s heart was thumping wildly, his confession only confirming what she already knew, knowing the way his words meant something deeper, something he was still terrified to share. But it didn’t matter.

Eris was hers and Iris was his, in every way that it mattered. 

She shifted on her feet, a hand tightening in the folds of her robe as she said, “It’s a really good thing we’re married –” 

“And mates.”

“ –Otherwise this obsession with each other would've been really awkward.” she finished, giving him a pointed look that had them sharing a chuckle. 

He stared at her for a moment too long and Iris had just opened her mouth when he finally said, “How is it you can do that?”

“Do what?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.

“Make me laugh when I – I feel like I can’t breathe.” 

“Because I see you, Eris.” she said simply and shrugged almost helplessly. “And…and I’m giving you my heart to take care of. The least I can do is take care of yours too.” 

Eris felt himself about to crumble. He would shatter into pieces all over this floor and Iris would be left with a pile of rubble for a husband. He wanted to be embarrassed. He felt his cheeks heat as she watched him process her words, a hint of amusement in her gaze. But gods, he didn’t even care. He just wanted her. 

“So it wasn’t just the puppies you were sticking around for, hm?” he finally said.  

Iris’s eyes lit up, her smile playful as she teased, “You called them puppies.”

Eris couldn’t help his own shrug, giving her a half smile. “You’re wearing me down, wife.” 

She chuckled even as she shifted on her feet and glanced at him beneath her lashes. “I haven’t even started wearing you down yet, husband.”

Immediately, the energy in the room shifted, the bond between them going taut the way it always did when they shared a heated glance.

“Is that so?” he asked carefully and Iris nodded. She placed a hand on his chest, slowly pushing him backward until the back of his knees met the bed and Eris sat, their eyes never leaving each other. “How else do you plan to wear me down?”

Iris bit her lip, a hand toying with the sash of her robe. With everything to come and all that had been shared the last few days, she knew without a single doubt, she wanted him. “That depends,” she said and straightened, her expression turning serious. “Are we going to let him ruin this for us?”

Eris’s eyes hardened. “He doesn’t get to win.” he said and his tone left no room for argument. “He doesn’t get to take anything else from me.” 

“Then I want you to forget about everyone and everything else. Stop thinking. Stop worrying.” she said softly. “Let’s just focus on you and me. Do you think we can do that?”

“Iris…”

“Because I don’t want an out, Eris. I only want you.” she said. “ Do you want me?”

“That is a ridiculous question.”

“You’ve been ridiculous all day.” Iris said with a shrug. “I’m trying to stay on theme.” 

And he realized how truly stupid he was being when he almost chuckled at her words. For someone as calculated as he was, trying to be ten steps ahead of the curve, it dawned on Eris this was something he never had control over since the beginning. She wrecked all his plans, even when he was being pig-headed trying to protect her. 

If the end was coming, the least he could do was let himself enjoy it. Enjoy her. 

He licked his lips, his heart nearly bursting out of his chest as he confessed quietly, “I have never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

A flush crept across her cheeks and Eris loved watching the way his words impacted her. He sure as fuck was not good with words but he had promised himself he’d try for her and by the gods, he would say anything to watch the way she bloomed with encouragement. 

And he watched her, like a lovelorn fool, wondering exactly how he had managed to think he knew what happiness meant before her. 

“I’ve…thought a lot about what our first time together would be like.” Iris said, gently pulling to untie her robe. “I thought about what I’d wear and have been experimenting with different gowns to get a feel for what you’d like.” 

“I like everything you wear. You looked beautiful in them all.” he said and Iris preened at his compliment but gave him a coy smile.

“But I know you’d prefer me wearing nothing.” 

Eris couldn’t help but shrug, a smirk forming on his lips. “Nothing would look fantastic on you.” 

And Iris felt her body heat. He had said those words to her before and she had recoiled, not even imagining she’d ever want him to touch her. Now, she wanted to show him exactly how fantastic she looked in nothing. 

She bit her lip, her fingers holding the robe loosely. “We didn’t quite get a normal wedding day, much less a typical wedding night.” she started, her voice low and she watched as Eris’s gaze narrowed in on the way her fingers slid against the white silk. “But it’s better late than never so…I decided to keep it traditional and go with white today.” 

Eris made a sound deep in his throat and Iris felt it vibrate through her body, heat pooling low in her stomach. The gleam in his eyes was predatory and Iris was a very willing prey as she slid the robe just so down her shoulders.

“White for my pretty, pretty bride.” he murmured.

“Oh yes.” she said and bit her lip before continuing in a teasing tone that wasn’t at all a little breathless, “Do you think you can handle it?” 

“No.” he answered much too honestly. “But if this is the way I must go, who am I to fight destiny?”

Iris’s cheeks were crimson, a quiet giggle slipping from her lips. “Ah, spoken like a valiant soldier.” she added and slid the robe a little more, the white straps of her lingerie making an appearance.

Eris straightened where he sat, the scent of their arousal surrounding them. In the distant past, he’d played with lovers. He’d teased and taunted and had them begging for mercy. His wife’s skin wasn’t even on full display and she was toying with him in a way he was enjoying a little too much.  

“Let the robe fall, Iris.” he ordered, his voice a soft caress and Iris couldn’t help but shudder as his command slid over and skated down her spine. 

She was powerless to refuse and the silk slid off her, pooling at her feet. 

The Prince of Autumn couldn’t stop the choked noise that escaped him. He had gone wholly still, his eyes raking over her very beautiful and very exposed body. 

She stood before him in a white set, the lace stretching tightly against her waist, cupping her breasts in a way that threatened to ruin his sanity. She had worn gowns before, offering him some sort of reprieve from losing his mind completely but today…today, her set displayed so much of her lovely skin and the beautiful curves of her body. Her white lace left little to the imagination and Eris…Eris was going to die. 

“You are so fucken beautiful,” was his helpless response, uttered so softly and Iris’s flush deepened. 

She glanced down with a small smile before meeting his gaze again, a finger sliding across the waistband of her lingerie. “You’re a very lucky male.”

Eris couldn’t help the tight laugh that escaped him. “Indeed, I am.” he said, his eyes sliding down her body and then back up, cataloging every inch of her. Just this morning he was telling her exactly how often he pictured feeling her body on his. How often he thought of how he’d make her shudder beneath him. How he’d savor her taste on his tongue.

He was not ashamed to admit his thoughts had gotten aggressively dirtier the longer she stood there. 

“Come here.” he commanded and the words seemed to skate across her skin again, sending a pleasant jolt right down her spine at the way his voice dropped an octave. They shared a heated glance and Iris saw the way his eyes darkened the longer he watched her, her pulse thumping wildly beneath her skin.

Iris walked over to him and slowly, without her eyes leaving his, she carefully straddled him and brought his hands that had slacked beside him on the bed, guiding them to her waist. She let her eyes roam across his face and shoulders, scattered with freckles and it reinforced her mission to kiss every single freckle she found on his skin. 

Eris couldn’t bring himself to say a word and the room was silent as she shuddered slightly, gooseflesh erupting on her skin as so much of her body touched so much of his. Her chest brushed against his and he let himself lean forward just a little, inhaling her scent and marveling at how right she felt pressed against him. 

His hands had slid down to her bare thighs and his gaze dropped to his thumb caressing her lovely skin there. He glanced back up to meet her eyes, dilated in desire that matched his own. 

They drank in the sight of each other, so close, touching so softly. 

“Look at you and your excellent listening skills.” he finally said hoarsely and the corner of Iris’s mouth curled up.

“I’m masquerading as a good wife that listens to her husband.” she replied and let her hands slide to the nape of his neck, her fingers curling into the strands of his hair. “Is it working?”

It was his turn to shudder and Eris felt his cock stir, already hard beneath her touch, especially with the way her body was perfectly lined against his. She was seated in his lap, only scrapes of fabric separating their skin and Eris had to breathe quietly through his nose to control himself. 

“You’ll be the death of me.” he whispered. “I feel like a starving man seated in front of a feast. How do I begin? Where do I even start?”

Iris couldn’t help her smile and she leaned to press a delicate kiss to the corner of his mouth. “How about you kiss me?” she asked softly, her grip tightening in his hair. “Then we can go from there.”

Eris’s mouth curled into a soft smirk, his eyes blazing as his hands slid from her thighs to her waist then up her spine. “Oh, I’m going to kiss you,” he began and Iris shifted, arching into his touch as his voice dropped. “I’m going to kiss you everywhere. I’m going to taste what’s mine. And every inch of you is mine, isn’t that right, mate?”

Iris licked her lips, the very breath between them tense in the most pleasant of ways at his claiming, different from any other time he said it. This time, heart and mind were on the same page. This time, neither of them had any intentions of stopping. 

“Every part of me is yours. Just like every part of you is mine.” 

And no other words needed to be said as they fell into each other with urgency, like a dam flooding, and everything in Iris wanted to be wrapped in Eris. His kiss was a hot branding against her lips and she moaned into his mouth as his hands slid down her body and up, touching all the skin she’d kept hidden from him before, her grip tightening in his hair. A breath stuttered out of her when Eris’s fingers weaved into her hair and gently pulled back, exposing her neck. 

“Do you understand what I mean when I say mine, little gazelle?” he said against her skin and Iris couldn’t help the shudder that went through her body when his other hand kneaded then squeezed her ass. “I have been on my best behavior with you and even if I’ve explained, I don’t think you understand what I’ve been craving to do to you.”

“Do you?” she asked, attempting a cheeky smile that immediately dropped and was replaced by another shaky exhale when his hands squeezed her ass again. “Y-you seem to be all talk.”

Eris forced himself to pull back and meet her gaze, his nostrils flaring at her taunting but he could hear how wildly her heart was beating — could feel the thump of her pulse. She was aroused and excited but he sensed the nerves beneath the lust. 

And Eris couldn’t have that. 

“Don’t underestimate how obscene my mind becomes when it thinks about you.” he warned with a pointed look and Iris felt slickness begin to build between her legs. His thumb brushed against her lower lip as he watched her swallow, the scent of their arousal almost overwhelming. “I may have given you some idea,” he murmured. “But it’s impossible for you to know just how desperately I’ve wanted to touch you and feel your wetness coating my fingers. How desperately I want to taste you on my tongue.”

A small noise slipped from her lips and Iris closed her eyes against his words, arching into him again as his mouth returned to kiss and suck on the column of her neck.

“And how do you think I’ll taste?” she whispered, pressing her chest against his, earning an appreciative rumble from him. She wanted to push him down and feel exactly how he would be beneath her. She wanted to feel every inch of him against every inch of hers, all skin with nothing else between them. She wanted — 

“Exquisite.” he purred and Iris flushed. “Like the first taste of water after being parched for ages. Like honey melting on my tongue.” He grasped her hips, guiding her body to grind against his, earning him another shuddered breath from his wife. “You’ll taste exactly what I know my favorite dessert will taste like.” 

She couldn’t help the sound that slipped from her lips, her fingers tightening in his hair. Iris wanted to tell him that she too, had thought about the taste of him in her mouth. She craved to feel exactly what it would be like to have him inside her and cursed that she had somehow waited this long. “What else have you thought about?” she asked and gingerly rolled her hips against him again.

“This morning wasn’t enough of a description?” he continued, his voice low against her burning skin and Iris’s legs tightened around him. “I know you’ll fit perfectly. I know you coming on my cock will be heaven.” 

“I’ve thought about all the things I’ve never done and how I want you to teach me.” she admitted breathlessly and rolled her hips into his once more, her core aching against his cock. 

“I already told you I’d teach you anything you want, little gazelle.” he whispered against her skin, meeting the roll of her hips with his own. “I’ll make all your dirty fantasies come true.”

“Will you?” she asked with a coy smile and pulled back on his hair gently to nip at his lips. “Or will you keep running that pretty mouth of yours?”

Eris barked a tight laugh and stood swiftly, lifting her in his arms with him and Iris could feel how his hardened length settled against her center deliciously. “You think my mouth is pretty, do you?” he teased and she sucked in a breath as he pressed her firmly against him.

“This is not the time to fish for compliments.”

“Ah, but I am nothing without my inflated ego, wife.” he said, his voice a sensual whisper and he nipped at her ear. “Indulge your husband who immensely enjoys compliments and tell me what I want to hear.”

“Your mouth is not pretty, it’s wicked. You have a wicked mouth.” she said tightly and he quirked a brow. “It’s not doing what I really want it to.”

“And what do you want my wicked mouth to do, wife?” he asked.

“Kiss me.” she demanded. “Taste me.”

The Prince of Autumn’s grin was roguish. “I’d be delighted.” 

Eris crashed his lips against hers and the feeling of urgency between them returned in full force. The need to claim had their hands roaming and Eris finally turned and laid Iris down, immediately covering her body with his and grinding.

He couldn’t touch her quickly enough. She couldn’t kiss him hard enough. 

His lips released hers and made their way to her neck once more, leaving quick kisses as he pressed himself into her more firmly, his cock so hard it was almost painful — he knew he’d be leaking as soon as he slipped out of his pants. 

She moaned and Eris had to force himself to move away from her lovely neck to meet her gaze as he rocked into her once more. Her eyes were clouded with desire and the sight of her mouth falling open as he rocked into her again had him almost combust.

“Just a little preview.” he said tightly and kissed her again roughly, his tongue clashing with hers for another taste before pulling himself off her completely to drink in the sight of her disheveled on their bed. Her hair was fanned around her head in a way that made him long to have it wrapped in his fist, the strap of her lingerie falling off one shoulder, and her legs spread to accommodate him —  she was a sight to behold and if Eris could spend the evening just memorizing her in this view, he would. But her pretty mouth was begging for more kisses and he needed to hear more of those lovely noises she kept making. 

He dropped to his knees immediately, pulling her to the edge of the bed and her head shot up. 

“Eris —” Iris started but his lips had found their way to her thighs and the feeling of his mouth on skin he hadn’t kissed before silenced her for a moment.

“I need to taste you, wife.” he whispered against her skin, as his lips kissed the inside of her knee and kept moving up, spreading her legs further until he reached the wetness coating the lacy scrap she wore. He brushed his nose against the fabric, inhaling, and Eris nearly came at the scent alone. “If I don’t, I might, quite literally, die.”

She choked back a laugh, her legs shifting as he moved between them. “So dramatic even between my legs.” she said and though he was right where she wanted him, Iris needed just another moment — just one, and reached for him. “Eris, come here please.”

Instantly, Eris moved up to meet her hands as she cupped his face and kissed him hungrily once more. He groaned into her and his fingers slid against her legs, squeezing her thighs until she pulled back. 

“Yes, wife?” 

“I want you to touch me everywhere.”

“Absolutely.”

“And I want you to taste me wherever you want.” 

“That was indeed my plan.”

“But I do need you to remember,” she said and her voice lowered as color bloomed on her cheeks once more. “That I have never done this with anyone before and I need you to be a little gentle with me.” 

Eris froze as she held his face in her hands. “Gentle.” he repeated and Iris nodded slowly.

“I may have done some…self-discovery before you,” she said with a flush. “But this is different.”

The roaring fire he had felt in his veins calmed momentarily as he looked at her. So that was what she seemed nervous about. 

He didn’t know gentle — he was not used to that approach.

Eris scanned his wife’s face beneath him. He took in the sight of her gazing up at him and saw the desire mixed in with the trust in her eyes. She wanted him but more importantly, she trusted him to take care of her. Eris Vanserra didn’t do gentle but he sure as fuck would try. 

He would be damned if he didn’t make this the most pleasurable first time a person could dream of.

Eris released a hand from her thigh and brought it to her hand on his left cheek, pulling it down to kiss her palm.

“You’re telling me this lovely hand here knows how to play with what’s mine already? It’s played with what I already know will be the prettiest cunt I’ll ever lay eyes on?” he said, his voice full of sinful promise as he smirked at her, and Iris’s body felt aflame. 

“M-Maybe.” she stuttered as he kissed each fingertip of her hand.

“Do you want to play a little for me? Do some…self-discovery to help you relax?” he asked, kissing her palm once more.

“I’d rather you played with me instead.” she breathed and his eyes darkened.

“I am physically restraining myself from devouring you,” he said. “And you say things like this.”

Iris fought a smile. “Why?” she said quietly. “You won’t hurt me.”

Eris squeezed his eyes shut, the wind momentarily knocked out of him again at the amount of trust she now placed in him. It still hit him with the force of a boulder and he opened his eyes to find her watching him with that same small smile. “You are going to kill me.” he mumbled and let a hand gently run through her loose hair. “You deserve something soft. Something sweet. Not the kind of rabid animal you make me.”

Iris laughed softly and pulled him closer, their lips only a breath away. “Then show me soft. Show me something sweet.” she said. “I know you have it in you.”

Eris faltered, a hand stilling in her hair. She really was going to be the death of him if she kept speaking to him like this. “You truly believe that?” his question barely above a whisper. 

Iris softened. “Yes.” she whispered and leaned in to brush her lips against his, causing him to shudder. “Especially because I think...I think you need that softness as much as I do.” 

Eris swallowed. “Even if my softness is wrapped in barbed wire?”

Iris bit her lip and rocked her hips against his, both of them groaning at the contact. “It’s a good thing that I love carrying a sharp knife then, isn’t it?” she whispered with a chuckle and Eris felt himself unravel. “So you can show me a little soft or a little rabid, husband, but whatever it is, it’s time you properly made me your wife.” 

Any resemblance of self-restraint that Eris had possessed until this moment, snapped and he was an inferno unleashed. He kissed her like the starved man he knew he was and Iris matched his eagerness with her own, her body pressing into his until once more, he pulled away and Iris let out a whine of disapproval.

Eris’s hands moved to the straps of her bra and he gave her a smirk. “This is lovely but I need it gone. Sit up.” he demanded and he leaned in to kiss her again as she followed his request, his hands skimming the back of her bra, undoing it quicker than she could blink. 

He tossed it to the side and Iris flushed at the way he watched her, forcing her to lay back down slowly, his eyes scanning her exposed skin. 

“Oh. I’ve dreamed about these.” he said reverently and allowed himself a moment to admire the sight of her exposed breasts and the gooseflesh scattered across her skin. 

Iris’s hands twitched by her sides as he watched her and Eris narrowed his eyes at the movement. “If you even think about covering any part of yourself, I will tie your hands up very quickly,” he said. “I want to look at what is mine.” 

“I think we should ease into bondage.” she said, her flush deepening, and the corner of his mouth curled up.

But he forced himself to relax. He had waited like a saint for this moment. To appreciate her and become well acquainted with every inch of her body. Eris couldn’t rush it or it would end quicker than he wanted it to. 

“We wouldn’t even need rope or silk.” he said, slowly settling himself between her legs once more. He kept his eyes on her face as he finally allowed himself to touch her, letting a finger circle around one breast while his free hand engulfed the other with a squeeze. “I’ll let my fire wrap around you. It’ll keep you warm and hold you in place as I feasted on you.” He leaned closer and pressed a kiss between the valley of her breasts. “What do you think of that idea?”

“Eris, if you don’t do something in the next second I’m going to — oh.”

His mouth had descended on a breast while his hand squeezed the other and Iris couldn’t help the arch of her body and the broken whine that slipped from her lips. 

The way his mouth felt on her skin was sinful. The movement of his tongue obscene as he teased her nipple and bit gently, his hand kneading and twisting the other in the same motion as his tongue, and Iris’s hand latched onto his forearm as another soft moan slipped from her lips.

“I like that.” she breathed and Eris lifted his head, his mouth making an indecent pop of noise.

“Good. I want to know all the things you like.” he said against her skin and switched, his mouth resuming its tasting and only stopped when Iris’s panting increased and was mixed with another little whine that delighted Eris to no end. 

Without taking his eyes off her, Eris kissed his way down to where he desperately wanted to be and kissed right over the slickness coating her panties. Iris couldn’t help but shiver at his predatory gaze, his hands skimming over her lacy cover and he raised a brow, hooking his fingers into the waistline. 

She wanted his tongue on her too much to form words and with a breath, nodded once.

He wasted no time. Eris kissed her inner thighs once more then shifted, finally and agonizingly slowly, he slid the lacy scrap down her legs and tossed it. 

Instinctively, Iris’s legs attempted to close but with a tsk of disapproval, Eris forced them open, his hands holding them apart with gentle firmness. 

A heartbeat of silence and Eris had to count to ten in his head to avoid coming.

“As pretty as I thought.” he mused and it was by sheer will alone that Eris hadn’t ruined his pants yet.

“Eris — I —” she began with a flush, quickly shooting up on her elbows and her husband finally ripped his gaze from the sight of her spread beneath him to look at her.

“Who is this wetness all for, little gazelle?” he asked, his voice as soft as silk, his thumbs caressing the skin of her inner thighs, his breath hot against her core, and Iris’s toes curled. “Is it all for me? You want me to know how ready you are for me, wife?”

“Y-yes.” she whispered and though a part of her felt embarrassed at how blatantly aroused she was and how Eris was staring at her bare before him, it didn’t stop her from feeding into the way she felt and how he was making her feel. Iris didn’t want to think. She wanted to feel and let herself be worshiped. She couldn’t stop the roll of her hips if she wanted to. “It’s all for you.”

Eris’s grin was a wicked promise. “I’m going to devour you.”

The first lick of his tongue set her on fire.

Iris’s head fell back with a breathy groan as Eris feasted on her. He gave an appreciative noise as his tongue delved into her, traveling in and out then sliding to her clit and back. Iris couldn’t help the way she rolled her hips into his mouth — couldn’t stop the whimper and the breathless moan that followed his actions. His mouth closed around her clit and Eris had to pin her waist down with an arm to stop her hips from lifting as he lapped at her arousal. He sucked and licked on her bundle of nerves with deadly focus, switching between fast harsh flicks to long, flat strokes before releasing it noisily. 

“Fucken divine.” he rasped and brought a thumb back down on her clit, rubbing as his tongue slid in for another taste. “You taste exactly as I imagined. Everything I wanted.”

“D-don’t stop yet.” she whispered, circling her hips with his hand movement. “I like that.”

Eris chuckled, his hot breath making her shudder, and without another word, his tongue dived deep into her once more. He groaned into her, the taste of her sweetness undoing him bit by bit as Iris’s hands fisted into the sheets and she rolled her hips to meet his licks. 

He was indeed a man starved and the only thing that would satisfy him was for his wife to come on his tongue. 

Eris lifted his head as his thumb worked her clit to watch his wife’s chest rise and fall at his movements and he wished he had more hands to keep touching every fucken inch of her. “Ready for a little something else?”

“Yes.” she nearly begged and Eris grinned. His eyes didn’t leave her beautiful face that was etched in ecstasy as he slowly slid a finger inside her. 

Iris’s head immediately lifted and Eris swore as she tightened around his finger, her pussy pulsing. He planted a kiss on her inner thigh, watching her as he pumped his finger and let his thumb continue its movement.

“Keep rolling your hips for me, wife.” he said against her skin. “I’m going to add more. And you’re going to love it.”

Iris bit her lip, her skin flushed as she watched the movement of his finger and rolled her hips to match his pumping. Just as she started to relax into the movement, he added a second finger and Iris couldn’t help the shameless noise that slipped from her lips as her head fell back on the mattress.

Never in all her self-discovery had it felt even remotely close to this. 

“You like that, don’t you, little gazelle?” he said lowly and placed a kiss a breath away from her clit, his breath hot on her skin. “Because I like seeing you like this, spread for me. I’ve dreamed about this.”

“Y-you have such perverted dreams.” she stuttered and then moaned softly as his fingers picked up the pace. 

“I do.” he confirmed and curled his two fingers at an angle that had her back arching. “I am a very big pervert when it comes to you.”

“Oh gods.” she groaned and the pace of Eris’s pumping increased, his eyes watching her like a hawk, for he would memorize every inch of her, every movement, every reaction. He would know exactly how her body would react before she came and Eris would be there to lick up every inch.

“You’re so pretty when you’re coming undone.” he continued and couldn’t stop his mouth from replacing his thumb, sucking at her clit once more before releasing it with a groan. “You’re soaking my fingers and I can’t wait until you’re dripping all over my cock.” 

Iris’s mouth fell open as a breathless noise slipped out. The things he kept saying would be what sent her over the edge. She knew her orgasm was building with the way he kept curling his fingers and working his wicked mouth. She wanted to know what that mouth would feel like everywhere. She wanted his tongue inside her again. 

“Please.” she begged. “Your mouth.” 

Eris’s face erupted in feral delight and he let his fingers work in a frantic rhythm for another moment just to listen to the quickening of her breath and to watch as Iris rolled her hips with the movement of his hand, trying to match his pace. He knew she was getting close, her walls clamping on his fingers as she neared her release. 

But he would be damned if the first orgasm he gave her was anywhere but on his tongue.

He pulled his hand away suddenly and before Iris could protest, Eris had buried his face into her pussy and his tongue moved in ways that had her brain short-circuiting. Her breathing became heavier and Iris let her hands find their way back to his hair, firmly pressing his face into her, chasing the sweet release she knew was coming.

His fingers still coated with her slickness were now pressing and rubbing into her clit as his mouth worked on her and soon, Iris’s grip tightened as she finally reached the moment of bliss.

With a small gasp followed by a soft, “Oh.” Iris’s orgasm crashed over her. Her fingers tightened on Eris’s head and she kept rolling her hips as he carried her through her release. 

Grasping her hips firmly, he lifted her slightly, burying himself further into her, drinking in her release and his tongue didn’t stop moving as he lapped every drop of her sweetness, nearly coming himself. With one final lick, Eris slowly settled her back into the bed and watched her chest rise and fall, basking in the bliss of her climax. 

He knew without a doubt that she would be his favorite feast. He would have her come all over his face for eternity. 

His thumb continued to caress her clit as Iris shuddered through the last waves of her orgasm and Eris couldn’t help the satisfaction coursing through him as he watched her. His hand spread to cover her cunt and he rubbed into her wetness, watching as she squirmed beneath the possessive touch until she met his gaze. 

Eris kept his eyes locked on hers as he slowly licked each finger clean and then licked his lips. He glanced down at her cunt still glistening with her slickness then back at her again. 

“This. Every day. Do you understand?” he said and delighted in watching the flush spread across her skin even as she nodded.

“First thing in the morning.” she demanded and Eris couldn’t help his smirk, bringing his hand down once more to play with her wetness.

“Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Then right before bed again. Don’t bother with your lace scraps anymore.” he said and tested what he’d been craving to do since he had gotten her naked; he slapped her cunt suddenly and Iris’s sharp inhale filled the room. He grinned. “Do you like that, little gazelle?”

Iris rolled her hips into his touch as the light sting of the smack faded. “Do it again.” she breathed and Eris was delighted as he slapped her cunt once more with a firm hand and Iris’s skin seemed to tighten at the sensation. “I — I like that.” 

“Good. I’ll be doing it every chance I get.”  he promised then finally pulled away to stand, even as her nipples tightened at his words. “I’ve always thought you needed some spanking.”

Iris tried not to groan at the image of him spanking her and forced herself to take a deep breath before sitting up gingerly to watch as Eris finally peeled off his trousers and though she could hear how fast his heart was beating, his movements were unhurried. 

He had just sent her over a blissful edge and his movements were unhurried. She watched his face almost hungrily then her eyes dropped down to his hands and — 

“Oh.” 

The world slipped out of her before she could stop it at the sight of him in his naked glory, his cock erect and glistening with pre-cum. He was sculpted beautifully, with muscles in places she hadn’t expected – a lean, athletic build. Iris bit her lip. She was used to staring at him dressed in well-fitted attire and shirtless but she realized very quickly that looking at him naked was a much better view. 

And he looked like he needed to be licked everywhere. 

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m not going to get to come inside you the way I want to.” he said and his grin was of pure male satisfaction as he fisted his cock. 

“Well, that’s not fair.” she said, watching his hand movement then met his gaze with a raised brow. “You stared your fill. What if I want to look…and lick too?”

Iris bit back her own grin as she watched Eris close his eyes and take a deep breath, his hardened cock twitching as he squeezed it. “Can I touch you?” she asked quietly and her husband let out a pained growl.

“You never have to ask.” he said, meeting her gaze again, the fire in it spreading gooseflesh across her skin. “I’d crumble if you didn’t.”

He was standing before her, his jaw clenched, trying indeed, not to crumble and Iris bit back a smile. She moved closer to him and bit her lip as she carefully replaced his hand, wrapping her own around his erected cock and Eris swore, twitching beneath her touch. She had no idea what she was doing but she’d read enough books, and heard enough whispered scandals that she had a general idea. She could be an apt student. She would be the best student.

“Will you show me how you like it?” she whispered as she glanced at him from beneath her lashes and squeezed his shaft then stroked it firmly. “I want to make you feel good.”

His nostrils flared and his eyes darkened at the sight of her before him. “I will show you everything,” he said tightly and Iris preened in delight as he rocked into her hand. “Everything we’ve ever done in my perverted dreams of you, I will show you.”

She couldn’t help her arousal spiking at the feeling of him in her hand, at his dirty promises. Her breasts felt heavy and she could sense wetness gathering between her legs once more as she squeezed him harder. “Do you want my mouth on you?” she asked and feeling brave from his low groan, she leaned in to kiss the tip of his cock. “Or do you want me to keep going with my hand?”

Eris swore again then grabbed her jaw in his hand firmly, pulling her up to kiss her fiercely. Iris returned his kiss with fervor, her hand still gripping his cock, pumping him slowly and she let her thumb brush his pre-cum over the tip.

“I’m going to come by your hand and then come in that pretty, pretty mouth of yours soon enough.” he said hungrily against her lips. “I’m going to cover you in come, little gazelle, but first, I need to be buried inside you. I want that cunt of yours clamped around my cock milking me for all I’m worth, yes?”

“Yes.” she breathed and gave his cock another firm squeeze. “I want you to give me everything. Come undone inside me.”

He growled as he kissed her fiercely again, thrusting into her hand once more. “How do you want me?” he asked. 

Iris licked her lips, his question unleashing image after image of all the ways she could have him. All the ways she wanted him to have her. “We have three weeks to make the most of everything until we know what comes after.” she began and Eris swore as she stroked his cock more firmly. “And in these three weeks, I will want you in every way you can think of.” she continued and his low groan had more wetness gathering between Iris’s legs until she finally released him, slowly backing onto the bed. “But for tonight… I want you as you promised me. All over me, as my husband. As my mate. As what’s mine.” Without breaking eye contact, she leaned back on her elbows and slowly spread her knees for him. “So come here and make me yours.”

Eris didn’t need to be told twice. He had his body covering hers in an instant, kissing every inch of exposed skin on his way until he reached her mouth and again, kissed her hungrily, claiming so thoroughly as always. Iris arched into his touch and moaned softly against his mouth, a small needy sound that had her husband smiling against her lips. 

He broke their kiss as he carefully laid her back and settled himself between her legs. 

“I like hearing these kinds of noises from you.” he said and brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“I like that you get these noises out of me.” she replied and Eris nipped at her lips again with a small smile, a hand sliding to her core once again and he began stroking his fingers into her arousal. Another breathy moan slipped from her lips and Iris let her own hand slide between them to his cock, gripping it tightly.

The two locked eyes and matched the pace of each other’s strokes, the scent of their desire had taken over the room. It was a moment suspended in time. 

“Have I told you lately,” he began quietly, bucking into her hand as Iris rolled her hips against his fingers. “That you’ve become very tolerable, wife?”

Iris choked out a laugh and squeezed him tightly in her hand, earning her a deep groan. “And have I told you lately,” she began softly. “That you’ve become very tolerable too, husband?”

He chuckled and finally moved his hand from her arousal, wrapping a hand over the one fisting him, and didn’t remove his eyes from hers as he slowly stroked the tip of his cock up and down her slit, teasing her clit as they went.

Eris raised a brow, asking his question without saying a word, his gaze filled with emotions Iris couldn’t help but flush deeply at. 

But she nodded all the same, shifting her free hand to lay her palm open for him. His eyes flickered to her hand then back to her eyes and for someone who had considered sex a transaction, a mindless release — a clash of bodies and nothing more, the small act of her open palm was enough to unravel him completely. 

Eris slid his hand into hers and Iris intertwined their fingers. 

And without waiting another moment, Eris removed his hand to let Iris stroke him once more before guiding him to her entrance. 

A mutual groan of pleasure echoed through the room as Eris carefully eased into her and the world stilled once more around them. Their every breath and their every thought seemed to sync up to this moment. 

Inch by inch, Eris moved slowly, watching her every expression and pausing whenever she tensed, leaning in to kiss the corner of her mouth and her jaw, especially as her breaths began to turn shallow. 

Iris only gripped his hand tightly as he eased out to the tip then gave one final thrust, sliding into her to the hilt and Iris gasped, her body tensing beneath his. “Oh.”

Eris sucked in a breath, holding himself as still as possible as overwhelming pleasure washed over him. This was it — this moment where everything else no longer mattered except taking care of her, where they were finally one. 

He leaned in to kiss his wife and pressed his body further into hers, letting her adjust to him. “Are you alright?”

It took Iris a moment before she could answer, letting out a breath at the sensation of being filled by him. It overpowered every other thought as Eris stretched her, his cock twitching inside her. She hadn’t felt any pain, only slight discomfort, pressure that was slowly easing, and as it eased, she felt the pleasure start to build. 

“Yes.” she finally whispered against his lips, carefully rolling her hips. “I — I feel good.”

Gingerly, he rocked into her, and the sensation of his cock deep inside her and how tightly her walls clamped around him threatened to kill him. He couldn’t help but thrust a little harder and Iris’s whimper of pleasure spurred his movements.

“And you feel so fucken good, wife.” he murmured and slowly pulled out again to the tip before thrusting hard once more and Iris’s eyes rolled back with a stuttered breath. “I told you — you would be a perfect fit.” 

Iris couldn’t do much more but whimper softly as Eris did it again, rolling his hips with each careful thrust, and soon, she had started to roll her hips up more confidently to match his movement. 

“That’s right.” he praised, and the pace of his thrusts slowly began to quicken. “You know exactly what you want, baby. Keep moving those beautiful hips for me.” “Oh, fuck.” She breathed and leaned up to kiss him deeply, her tongue teasing his before pulling back. “I want you. Make me feel good.”

Eris chased her lips once more, growling as he kissed her. “I need to keep moving, Iris.” he said tightly and slipped his hand from hers to spread her thighs further for him as her body started to relax, adjusting to his size. He rolled his hips into her, the movement slow and deep as he added. “I need to go harder. Tell me if it’s too much.” 

Iris didn’t take her eyes off his face, watching and feeling how he took his time with her. She squeezed her walls around his cock and grinned when his head fell forward with a groan. 

Iris kissed his shoulder gently then his cheek. “Go a little harder, mate. I can handle it.” she whispered and Eris’s eyes snapped to hers, his heart leaping at the words before he kissed her fiercely, diving into bliss.

No more words were said as Eris’s pace quickened, his thrusts in line with the sounds of Iris’s breathy moans. His eyes stayed glued to her beautiful face as it lit up in ecstasy and he would allow his pace to quicken, his thrusts to indeed go harder until her brows furrowed and he’d ease up, rolling his hips at a more leisurely pace until the sigh of pleasure would slip from her lips again before quickening once more.

An avalanche was building inside him as Eris Vanserra made love to his wife, claiming her as his. Iris fell into the bliss of the motions, her body taking the pleasure he gave her, trying to match his pace and giving him pleasure of her own. She felt her orgasm building and she couldn’t help tightening around his cock again, loving the way he filled her up, his grunts of satisfaction only making it more erotic for her. The way his hands possessively held her, tracing her body before sinking into her thighs again had her on fire; his touch igniting her body, an incandescent glow to their joining. They were a perfect fit, their bodies made for each other. 

“Eris —” she whined, her grip tightening on his arm as his hips quickened. “I need —”

“I know what you need, wife.” he murmured, his fingers digging into her inner thighs as he was rutting into her, his thrusts quickening then slowing down before quickening again, his hips rolling with the movement. His eyes were on her beautiful breasts bouncing before him and he couldn’t help leaning in to take one in his mouth for a soft bite as he thrust hard, grinning at the way Iris cried out. “I know exactly what you need. I’ve got you, little gazelle.” 

His mouth switched to the other breast for a quick taste before he adjusted himself to rest over her, lifting her thighs to give himself a better angle, and Iris’s breathless whimper only encouraged the movement. 

“Almost — I’m almost —” she begged, melting into his movements. “Oh, fuck.”

“Touch yourself, wife.” he demanded knowing he would not last much longer. He needed her to come. He needed them to come close together. “Play with that pretty cunt while I fuck you and come for me.”

Iris immediately obeyed, her fingers sliding to her swollen clit, her hand moving in pace with his quick thrusts, to the roll of his hips snapping against hers. 

“Good girl. You’re doing so well for me.” he praised again and Iris flushed deeply at the words, her breaths quickening. “You’re going to come for me and then I’m going to spill myself inside you because you’re mine.” His voice was guttural and his mouth descended on her exposed neck, biting. Iris bit her lip through the pleasure mixed with a hint of pain at his harshened thrusts, his pace turning frantic. “Mine.”

“And you’re mine.” she breathed and with the next thrust timed to the exact movement of her hand rubbing her clit, Iris’s body arched as she fell over the edge.

At the sound of her breathless moan of pleasure, Eris finally came with a deep groan, burying his head into the crook of her neck. He came so hard and with such force, that his vision momentarily blurred. He’d been holding on for this moment for so long that Eris couldn’t stop the rolling of his hips as he panted heavily, his come still spilling out of him as his thrusts began to slow, emptying himself inside her. Iris lay beneath him, breathing heavily, her fingers tangling in his hair and she couldn’t stop the rolling of her hips either, her silken walls still clenching around him.

It took him a moment to finally come to a stop and Eris pulled out of her slowly, the wet sound obscene as it filled the room. He nearly came again at the sight of her sex covered in him, at the way she pulsed beneath his gaze. His heart raced as he took in her flushed face, the marking of his hands on her body — his bite mark on her throat. 

This would be a sight he could never see himself getting tired of. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, letting their breathing fall into its natural rhythm and just watching each other. For all their worries and feelings, and for all their words said, everything about this moment was exactly how it was supposed to be.

Eris and Iris, as one; the mating bond seemed to pulse between them, the gold thread taut.

He watched his wife for a moment, a finger brushing her cheek as she closed her eyes against his touch and Eris had to use every ounce of will he had to force himself move. 

He had to take care of her. She trusted him and he would always take care of her. 

He returned with a damp washcloth kept warm from his magic and as gently as Eris Vanserra could be, began cleaning her up. Iris shifted at his touch and the slight wince on her face had his expression fall. “Did I hurt you?” he asked quietly.

Iris could already feel the sense of panic bubbling inside him, so she shook her head with a small smile and requested, “Come here.”

Without hesitation, Eris gingerly lay his body over hers, the washcloth slipping from his hand and she cupped his face, kissing him softly. Eris buried his hands in her hair, groaning against her lips and that sense of delight flared in him again as she wrapped her legs around him.

He didn’t think about his release still mostly all over her even as he unintentionally bucked his hips into hers; his cock already half erect just by pressing against her.

“You did not hurt me.” she said calmly. “I liked it.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” he said and nearly purred when she ran her fingers through his hair. “My husbandly duties have been performed well.”

Iris snorted and rolled her eyes. “Cauldron forbid you to go a few minutes without complimenting yourself.” 

“You have to give credit where it’s due, wife.” he asked with a smirk. “I will gladly show you again if necessary.”

Iris let out a soft laugh that had Eris’s heart skip a beat and he couldn’t help leaning in and placing a hot kiss on her mouth. 

“You have always been so eager.” she teased against his lips and Eris made a noise of agreement as he pulled back to watch her, his fingers sliding into the loose strands of her hair. 

It fell silent between them once more, both basking in the closeness and soft touching, happy to just be.

To be at peace. To be present at this moment. Where that invisible string wrapped itself around them. 

“You know…” Iris began after a moment, and color bloomed on her cheeks as she trailed a hand down his arm and then met his gaze. “This means we’ve finally consummated our marriage.”

“About time, I daresay.”

“I am now truly your wife.” 

Eris’s brow quirked. “You were truly my wife the moment we said those vows in front of everyone at our wedding.” He said dryly. “There was never a single moment where I thought otherwise.”

Iris hummed, her lips twitching at his expression. “Well, can’t say the same now, can I?” she teased then laughed as his expression flattened. 

“If you don’t take that back right this instance —”

“What are you going to do?” she challenged and Eris’s mouth slowly curled into a smirk. 

“I’m going to fuck you and that pretty mouth of yours until you’re so incoherent, the only words you can say are husband,” He said and leaned in to kiss one corner of her mouth. “Mate.” He continued, kissing the other corner of her lips. “And my name.” he finally whispered against her lips.

Iris’s pulse quickened and she squeezed her legs around him, his promise igniting her arousal once more. “Oh, then I’m most certainly not taking it back.” she said. “How else will I find out if the rumors are true?”

Eris lifted a brow and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “And what rumors might that be?”

Iris’s lips twitched as she answered, “That Autumn Court males have fire in their blood—,” she said then added in a low voice. “And they fuck like it too.”

Her husband blinked then a wicked grin slowly spread across his face. “Oh?”

“And now that we’ve consummated our marriage once…” she continued, carefully rolling her hips against his and smiling when he sucked in a breath. She whispered, “I think you should show me.”

[and-her-saints]

Hey sorry idk if you'd know this but I quite literally don't know where to turn about this so I'm sending this ask to every queer+catholic blog I can find

Are there *any* resources out there for queer/trans Catholics that go beyond affirmation and show how to pursue a religious life that goes beyond the laity (e.g. priesthood, joining a convent/monastery, something similar) without having to brush your queerness aside. I feel like if I don't find something soon I might go insane

years ago, i attended a Zoom event with Fr. James Alison as a keynote speaker, and something he said has been glued to my brain ever since. he said it in Spanish, so i'll try to remember, paraphrase and translate: "while they try to get us to stop being queer, what we must try to do is to be better queers."

i love what you said about "beyond affirmation" and that is precisely why i got reminded of the quote and WHY this quote resonated with me to begin with.

imho, there is a fundamental issue with a lot of queer theology and it's that it doesn't go beyond apologetics. it's not pragmatic nor does it seem to engage critically with the material conditions that work with or against queerness. and it's truly such a shame, because living "religiously" to me, as a queer catholic, it's infinitely more a matter of coherence, love, devotion and solidarity, than learning how to "reconcile" gayness/transness with the Bible.

it's a journey, of course. the apologetics were and are necessary for many of us to unlearn the hatred that might've been instilled in us through religious education and upbringing. however, here are some resources that, in my opinion, show how to pursue queer-religious-life.

💌 catholic/christian resources:

[book] The Reckless Way of Love: Notes on Following Jesus by Dorothy Day. Unlike larger collections and biographies, which cover her radical views, exceptional deeds, and amazing life story, this book focuses on a more personal dimension of her life: Where did she receive strength to stay true to her God-given calling despite her own doubts and inadequacies and the demands of an activist life? What was the unquenchable wellspring of her deep faith and her love for humanity?

[book & account] Black Liturgies: Prayers, Poems, and Meditations for Staying Human by Cole Arthur Riley. Black Liturgies is a digital project that connects spiritual practice with Black emotion, Black memory, and the Black body. In this book, she brings together hundreds of new prayers, along with letters, poems, meditation questions, breath practices, scriptures, and the writings of Black literary ancestors to offer forty-three liturgies that can be practiced individually or as a community.

[book] Cry of the Earth, Cry of the Poor by Leonardo Boff. Focusing on the threated Amazon of his native Brazil, Boff traces the economic and metaphysical ties that bind the fate of the rain forests with the fate of the indigenous peoples and the poor of the land. He shows how liberation theology must join with ecology in reclaiming the dignity of the earth and our sense of a common community, part of God's creation. To illustrate the possibilities, Boff turns to resources in Christian spirituality both ancient and modern, from the vision of St. Francis of Assisi to cosmic christology.

[book] Undoing Theology: Life Stories from Non-normative Christians by Chris Greenough. The fundamental issue with ‘queer’ research is it cannot exist in any definable form, as the purpose of queer is to disrupt and disturb. Undoing Doing generates a process of ‘undoing’ as central to queer research enquiries. Aiming to engage in a process which breaks free from traditional academic norms, the text explores three life stories

[podcast] The Magnificast. "A weekly podcast about Christianity and leftist politics. The Magnificast is hosted by Dean Dettloff and Matt Bernico. Each week's episode focuses on a unique or under-realized aspect of territory between Christianity and politics that no one taught you about in sunday school."

💌 non-christian but still excellent resources:

[book] Hijab Butch Blues by Lamya H. A memoir by a butch hijabi that follows the experiences of the author through stories and figures from the Qur'an.

[book] Lean on Me: A Politics of Radical Care by Lynne Segal. Questions of care, intimacy, education, meaningful work, and social engagement lie at the core of our ability to understand the world and its possibilities for human flourishing. In Lean On Me feminist thinker Lynne Segal goes in search of hope in her own life and in the world around her. She finds it entwined in our intimate commitments to each other and our shared collective endeavours.

i don't think these are precisely what you were looking for. but i hope these resources bring you as much peace and hope as they have brought me.