#no sense of self preservation between the two of them

[liltalle]

Shardic Opposite-Pairs – Cosmere Theory

It's been said that some of the Shards have opposite Intents (Preservation and Ruin). The obvious question is how inherent is this to the system? Given the symmetry of the original 16, do all of the Shards fit into 8 opposite-pairs?

As of Wind & Truth, we know the names of all 16, so I'm going to try to pair up each and see how they fit. (Cosmere spoilers below)

(Our pool: Devotion, Dominion, Preservation, Ruin, Odium, Cultivation, Honor, Endowment, Autonomy, Ambition, Invention, Mercy, Valor, Whimsy, Virtuosity, Reason)

Preservation/Ruin - This is our canonical example. I don't know that I need to elaborate on their locked conflict on Scadrial and Harmony's difficulty integrating them.

Devotion/Dominion - Khriss describes these two as having "a polarized relationship [...] Forced together as they are, trapped and bursting to escape". Also, the submission/dominance dichotomy seems obvious here.

Cultivation/Endowment - The Nightwatcher is all about fair if esoteric prices for the good she offers, and Cultivation takes that to a deeper level—her deal with Dalinar is about the loss necessary to relief, and the pain necessary to growth. Whereas, Endowment grants godhood freely as she sees fit.

(These first 3 seem pretty clear to me, and they're some of the Shards we know the most about. Those that follow I'm less sure of.)

Odium/Mercy - Odium represents many emotions, but the strongest emotion is hatred, which... I think could be described as a passionate attachment to a wound, lashing out at its perceived source. (That adding Honor's sense of righteousness yields Retribution supports this interpretation.) Mercy is the opposite of that, of Justice classically, letting go of wounds and forgiving. (The two things we know about Mercy canonically are that Harmony was disturbed by discussing Odium with them, and that they were involved in the clash of Odium and Ambition. The former could be Mercy expressing mercy for Rayse himself, but that's not well determined. What happened around Threnody is known to be disturbing, so that's a more obvious interpretation, and this is complicated by knowing that Vessels and Intents don't always align. So, the name is all canon really gives us.)

Autonomy/Honor - (On with my bolder choices.) Harmony says "Autonomy is driven to divide off from the rest of us, go her own way," while Honor's most famous directive is "Unite them." Autonomy's individualism and distinctiveness contrast with Honor's legalism and uniformity. Autonomy avoids constraint while Honor is all about binding people. (This one surprised me, but I think it holds up quite well. Another option was Honor with Whimsy, constraint vs. spontaneity, but I think this split is better, as I'll elaborate later.)

(We know very little about any of the remaining 6 Shards.)

Ambition/Valor - Ruthless self-preservation and accomplishment (Ambition would be mono-black in Magic: the Gathering, Brandon says) vs. selfless defense of others. (Here's a decent place to note my recurring that the saying "Discretion is the better part of Valor" is relevant to Hoid not being able to find her, though she does talk to others, so I don't know if that fully tracks.)

Invention/Virtuosity - My flaw here is that I've not read Yumi & the Nightmare Painter yet, only skimmed Virtuosity's Coppermind article. Still, there seems like a basic opposition here between the creation of new things vs. the mastery of existing arts (Renaissance art's focus on proper perspective, photographic painting, etc. vs. Modern art's focus on surprise and violation of convention).

Whimsy/Reason - Whimsy could well be defined as not doing things for reasons, but following unanalyzed spontaneous impulses. We're told the Shard is not congruous with intense planning or ambitions (per Coppermind, which is an argument for Whimsy/Ambition, but I'm guessing the planning aspect might be more important.) It's also not dignified. Reason, however, seems to be our most dignified and deliberate Shard. It's the Survival Shard, of which Brandon said "The intent is related but only tangentially. Mostly it just knows what's going on and is smart enough to get out of there." This sounds to me like Reason is relevant in that it channels the knowledge of the Vessel to a coherent conclusion that it follows very consistently. Having the discipline to hide from other gods for millennia does seem antithetical to the fun and spontaneity of Whimsy.

So... that fit better than I expected. There's a few other shufflings I could see, and if anyone wants to reblog with their own arrangements I'd be delighted to read your arguments. But it feels just coherent enough that this might actually be Brandon's intention and not only me projecting and forcing patterns to make it more interesting (as my OCD likes to do).

The obvious next question is whether these pairs are part of a more complex structure, analogous to the 16 mundane metals in the Metallic Arts. Each pair would then be like a Push/Pull duality, the 16 should be divisible into 4 quadrants, and so on. I do not know if Brandon planned that far ahead, but... the question of whether each of the four Dawnshards corresponds to a quartet of Shards was RAFO'd, so maybe (Cultivation and Ruin as under Change makes sense, Preservation then under Exist... maybe I should stop here, we only know 2 of the Commands anyway). Again, any thoughts are welcome 😉

[transmutationisms]

saw that you rated sharp objects 2 and half stars on letterboxd - what did you think of it? personally i enjoyed the book but i found the miniseries really annoying and mid for a number of reasons.

yeah i'm not a huge fan of gillian flynn in general -- i thought the relationships between amma, adora, and camille were strong in both the show and the book, and those dynamics are compelling enough that i did at least finish both of them. but i think flynn gets a lot of credit for Saying Something about Womanhood in ways she just isn't. sharp objects is like a southern gothic where 'southern' is almost entirely devoid of social content or context, and instead serves mostly as an aesthetic backdrop for a self-contained family drama. which is not inherently a bad set of parameters for an artistic project, but it does contribute to my sense that flynn is kind of outside her wheelhouse any time she does try to expand her view (eg i do not think the 'cool girl' monologue in gone girl is doing what tumblr fans seem to have decided it is doing. i think it is doing something very different and more limited and more psychologically confined, more a straight woman version of the prototypical fractured male postmodernist psychology than anything else)

specifically, with sharp objects, the thing i most respected in the book was that flynn clearly was interested in what sort of meaning-making camille engages in when she cuts -- ie, she's interested in the internal logic of that act. this is where elements of the gothic and the psychological novel dovetail decently. in the show, camille's relationships with those two men whose names i forgot are foregrounded in a way that scans to me as trite (i hate hate hated the scene with the younger of her love interests literally 'reading' her body lol GAG) and worst of all the showrunners couldn't even be bothered to preserve the detail that camille has an unmarked patch of skin on her back -- the only place adora can stand to look at/touch her, the only place where she sees camille's skin as untainted. this isn't particularly complex psychological analysis but it tracks with the rest of what we know about how camille sees herself, how this follows from adora's view of girls in general and camille in particular, and the social role afforded to the pure, unmarked (virginal) young white girl (a point that would land better if flynn had more to say about what is gothic about the usamerican south -- but alas). i also thought the sequence with sydney sweeney was bad sdjksjdks and i know he was like beloved or whatever but i don't think jean-marc vallée was that good a director and im tired of lying about it

[theseshipsshallsail]

WE DESERVE A SOFT EPILOGUE (MY LOVE)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63061414

Notes:

Happy Valentines Day, Peaches. Let get these two called by the same surname, shall we? ❤️

Virtually cloudless, a vivid, turquoise sky paints a winsome canvas beyond the Hotel Alexandria’s wrought-iron terrace. A dappled haze spills warm and inviting throughout the lavish suite, and basking in the sights and sounds of early-morning Egypt, Elio ignores the persistent protests of his traitorous bladder as he focuses instead on a trio of gulls soaring back and forth above the ancient city’s bustling port.

He’s loose-limbed and achy; two states thus synonymous with blissfully well-fucked. Straddling the Maginot line between lazy, bone-deep contentment, and feeling positively filthy for the peeling remnants of Oliver’s semen still prickling his inner thighs; robbing him of the tranquil suspension in which he’s languished these past twenty minutes. 

Ordinarily, there’s no rest for the wicked - not in a home filled with meddling housekeepers and ten-year-old brothers who’ve yet to master the art of knocking - but Elio smiles nonetheless as he eases his legs to the side of the mattress, pinches his tired eyelids to assuage his grumbling headache, then savours the gratifying pull of overtaxed muscles as he eases himself upright: each twinge and spasm born of a ravenous need the night before.

Next to him, Oliver’s a vision of Praxitelean proportions. Blond hair mussed from the constant carding of Elio’s fingers. Bunched cotton sheets barely clinging to his deliciously-rounded derriere as he sleeps the sleep of the recently debauched. It’s covetous, almost - the play of sunlight and shadow across his striking silhouette - and Elio can’t help the recurrent thrill that zips inside him when it glints off the simple gold band adorning his left hand.

An identical twin to his own: exchanged during a private ceremony in his mother’s beloved orchard. The two of them pledging themselves - body, mind, and soul - beneath an elegant chuppah of trailing orchids and pale-pink hydrangeas.

Across the room, their crisp, linen suits lie heaped atop Oliver’s Tourister: a somewhat respectable fate compared to the matching silk ties currently bound to the slatted headboard. There’s a leather belt draped over the vintage lampshade. A trio of socks dotting the Persian rug. Where the fourth disappeared to, Elio can’t recall, but neither of them were in the mood to unpack after their short-haul flight from Malpensa, and tiptoeing to the discarded suitcases he selects a slightly wrinkled dress shirt from the bottom of a teetering pile. 

Oliver’s, he realises, judging by the size, but the cocktail of fragrances that tickle his senses -

The sweet-orange spiciness of his favourite cologne. 

The earthy hints of beeswax from the Havdalah candle Little Ollie guarded so zealously.

The stale notes of perspiration, even, imbuing the unbuttoned collar.

- has him easing his arms within the baggy sleeves, regardless.

A quick trip to the bathroom alleviates his first problem - a scandalous lack of caffeine presents a second - and Elio’s just done pulling up a fresh pair of boxers when the other man stretches clear down to his toes, yawning his way into reluctant consciousness.

“Buongiorno, marito mio,” he says with a wink, because while the Italian legal system might not recognise their union, Elio’s too-full heart sure as hell does. “How’s the head?”

Oliver grunts. “Cursing my hubris,” he replies, dragging a palm over his face as Elio unearths some sparkling mineral water from the complimentary mini-bar. Micol, it transpires, could drink them both under the table, but self-preservation saw them swapping their Dry Martini’s for Aperol Spritzes in fairly short order. “And you?” Oliver rolls to his back, mimicking his playful tone. “Any regrets?”

Elio takes a restorative sip: carrying his own nascent hangover like a badge of honour. “Besides letting Jesse teach me the Cha-Cha Slide?”

“Besides that.”

“None at all,” he says with carefully crafted nonchalance. 

None that were in their power to fix, anyway, and while his father’s presence was sorely missed, his pride and approval suffused the moving service.

“I beseech thee by Zeus, the watcher of the harbour,” he quotes then, admiring the fifteenth century citadel through the arched, Palladian windows. “It’s hard to believe the old lighthouse once stood here,” Elio adds, breathing in the brackish breeze from the shoreline. “We should take a stroll, don’t you think?”

“Cavafy’s apartment doesn’t open ‘til noon,” Oliver agrees, wincing when an immense cruise ship blasts its horn. “We could have pastries on the esplanade, beforehand? Compare their apricot juice to Mafalda’s?” 

“Le blasphème!”

Along with the Great Library, itself, the Grecian wordsmith’s former home was now a literary tourist trap; an ad hoc museum that featured prominently in Oliver’s Poseidonian vigil of 1992.

“I was on sabbatical,” he’d explained a few weeks prior; several glossy travel brochures strewn about the kitchen table. “The proverbial ribbon cutting was November sixteenth.”

“My birthday.”

“Your birthday.” A beat. “I took it as a sign.”

Only the makeshift gallery felt drab and desultory, Oliver’d revealed later. The unnerving silence borderline suffocating amidst the pastiche furniture most likely salvaged from some abandoned storeroom. It reminded him of the famous poem, The Afternoon Sun. An especially poignant verse in which Cavafy recalled the grievous loss of a lover. But as Elio watches the local street vendorsunload their wares, he understands Oliver’s desire to revisit the melancholy scene. 

To experience it from a brand new perspective: no longer obfuscated by a life unlived. 

“What our esteemed housekeeper doesn’t know, can’t hurt her,” Oliver says then, skimming his knuckles just shy of his burgeoning erection, and all thoughts of decoding the unfamiliar coffee maker are duly ousted as he circles his cock with an idle grip. “Come back to bed?” 

Elio places the plastic bottle on the sill. “And you call me a dissolute…” 

“I call you a lot of things,” Oliver replies, meeting him smirk-for-smirk. “Strong-willed… dedicated… insatiableto a fault -”

“Cazzate…” If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black. “Need I remind you…” Elio begins, propping a knee on the springy mattress. “...which of us kept the other up past three?”

Oliver captures his forearm. Presses a kiss to his fluttering pulse. “Need I remind you whose refractory period is practically non-existent?”

Elio snickers. “I’m forty. Not dead,” he says, so preoccupied by the raspy tongue tracing his life line he doesn’t even notice his waist’s been seized until he’s twisting backwards into the overstuffed pillows.

“I dreamed of you,” Oliver murmurs, clean-shaven chin grazing his heaving sternum. “The taste of your mouth… the blush on your cheeks… the bossy little demands when I’m buried to the hilt…”

Elio lets his legs spread-eagle as he proceeds to journey southwards. “Connard…”

“Precisely,” Oliver counters, paying particular attention to the metal studs adorning his pebbled nipples. “Over and over,” he insists, a cartographer, taking the lay of the land. “Pinning your wrists and grinding my hips. Thrust after thrust after thrust…" 

Elio shivers at the promise of what’s to come. “You're a tease, mon amour.”

“If the size nine fits…” Oliver retorts, tossing his underwear towards the slowly spinning ceiling fan.

The resultant slap of skin on skin is like music to his ears, and the sticky pearls of arousal that daub Elio’s naval have Oliver groaning hoarsely as he reaches his swollen glans. Licking. Sucking. Fondling his heavy balls until they draw up tight, only to hold him on edge by pushing three fingers into where he’s still slick and tender. 

“Look at you,” Oliver praises, tapping a deft ostinato against his thrumming prostate. “You’re exquisite, darling. Bellissimo. I don’t tell you enough.”

“Nonsense,” Elio dismisses, biting the Oxford’s cuff to muffle his moans. “You tell me every day.”

Compared to his brain, his physique, he thinks, is vastly inferior, but that doesn’t keep him from riding those skillful digits like the Palio di Siena. Each blessed touch pooling heat in his belly as the pleasure spikes, breaking over him like choppy waves on the docks outside.

Unsurprisingly, Elio loses himself in the blind rush of completion, yet when he finally blinks back to awareness Oliver’s peering up at him, dark-blond hair sticking to his sweat-damp forehead. Damn-near effervescent, he’s the epitome of smug congratulations, so Elio pulls him closer as he scrapes his teeth along the tendons of his neck, earning a plaintive whimper when he grasps the velvet steel of Oliver’s shaft, guiding him to his waiting entrance.

“Vieni dentro…”

Oliver shudders. “You’re sure?”

“Please,” he begs, thumbing the birthmark on his freckled shoulder.

He fills him so nicely, is the thing, and no matter the years since their unorthodox reunion, Elio wonders if he’ll ever reconcile just how well they fuse together. But then Oliver starts to move - measured as molasses, obstinate in his claiming - and it’s all desperate pleas and whispered encouragements from there on out.

Babbled into benevolent kisses.

Strangled into euphoric whines. 

They’re devastating - the gossamer gasps Oliver makes whilst rocking inside him - yet somehow the epitome of the bigger-than-this, more-than-us-ness that defines their complicatedhistory. 

Encompassing everything they are, were, and ultimately will be until Elio’s chanting his name like a berakhah. 

Vice-like arms wrapped securely around Oliver’s torso. 

His entire perception narrowed to the tremulous points of contact. 

Shamayim, he thinks, finding heaven in the relentless friction, and it’s only when he’s reduced to another come-soaked mess that Oliver chases his own release; cornflower-blue eyes shining brightly as he follows him to the stars.

[mee-op]

Facts about in-game Yuu (Twisted Wonderland):

NOTES:

This is an ongoing list and will be updated with new information. I'm not caught up w/ chap 6 and I'm not very perceptive. This list is so long because of all the people who commented/sent asks, so thank you Last but not least, some of these might be a stretch/be slightly incorrect so bare w/ me plz :] More Yuu facts [ ONE / TWO ] <- not mine

They've been good friends with Heartslabyul ever since Book 1.

They're forgiving/don't hold any bad blood with the people who've overblotted (at least on the outside).

According to the Harveston event, they can play the flute.

They don't like mentioning that they might return to their world (Deuce's Wishing Star vignette).

Many people consider them a "goody-two-shoes" (Leona, Ruggie).

A good listener.

Based on Malleus' interactions with them, Yuu talks to him a lot more off-screen as he states that he values their opinions.

Loves Grim to hell and back.

It's implied that Yuu invites Malleus over frequently enough that he visits unprompted.

They can be snarky and brutally honest when they're pushed into it.

Comes up with stupid plans that nobody believes will work but it somehow does.

They're insecure about not having any magic.

They want to be able to help their friends.

Has a sense of self-preservation.

Does not actively seek out danger (*cough* om mc *cough*).

They've cleaned up Ramshackle since living there, however, it still looks "abandoned & ancient" on the outside.

Crowley doesn't give them more money than "needed".

Silver states that Yuu is good with swords (PE Uniform).

Both Jamil and Silver seem to think that Yuu is somewhat weird/strange.

They don't know much about mushrooms (Floyd's Camp Vargas vignette).

They're very patient.

Used to be afraid of ghosts until they got to Twisted Wonderland.

They adapt to new/difficult situations quickly and calmly.

They don't complain much.

Very much so the silent type.

The audience doesn't really see anyone helping them out with their situation, so I assume they fix most of their problems themselves.

They don't have any memories of the Great Seven before coming to Twisted Wonderland.

Fluctuates between being observant and not noticing really basic stuff.

Doesn't hesitate to say cheesy things.

Keeps calm in harsh situations.

They know how to play a blowing horn (White Rabbit Event).

Good with instruments.

Not a very good singer (NRC Uniform).

It's implied that they have high stamina.

They're interested in horseback riding and wants to play soccer with Sebek (PE Uniform).

They recommend a few books to Sebek, implying that they read in their free time.

They're short in comparison to Floyd (he calls them Shrimpy).

Grim comments that they're shorter than Vil.

Crowley mumbles that Yuu looks effeminate.

They're a bit of a romantic since they seem to often ask about love stories/fairy tales (Epel & Jade chats).

They have a habit of poking, tugging, tickling and just touching people in general. This is proven through the Home Screen character interactions, so their love language seems to be physical touch.

They get scared easily but is bad at scaring others (Halloween voice lines).

Vil notes that their uniform is baggy.

Malleus says that Yuu has gotten better at dancing (Masquerade Event).

It's implied that Yuu is good/decent at cooking since they have to make meals for both themself and Grim every day.

Yuu is decent at basketball (Ace Halloween).

Deuce remarks about a tiny piece of furniture in Ramshackle and asks if it's for Grim, meaning Yuu makes small furniture for him.

They're a good photographer.

Takes part in photography competitions (Rook Port Fest).

It's implied that Yuu carries their ghost camera everywhere because Crowley constantly makes them record events.

It's said that the game cards are actual photos that Yuu took with the ghost camera. [I don't know if this is true but a lot of people have said so]

Most, if not all the characters tell Yuu to hurry up when choosing a class, which suggests that they're indecisive.

Ace, Deuce and Cater tell Yuu to relax during classes or else they'll run out of energy.

Jack says that he got tips from Yuu while he was working in Monstro Lounge, implying that Yuu might've worked in customer service before (Book 3).

According to Grim, they have a hard time saying no to people, but when they absolutely need to-- they're very serious and a bit intimidating. "You're a real sap sometimes, you know that? Then again, when you bare your teeth it's no joke."

While they won't say no to helping others, they prefer to keep to themselves and avoid drama.

Yuu is sometimes a bit distrustful of Ace and thinks he's tricking them if he offers to do anything nice (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

It doesn't take much to make them happy. (Deuce & Idia 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

They became nervous when Riddle invited them to a salon for their birthday. Riddle response saying "I'll be right there with you, and will instruct you in etiquette every step of the way."

They're competitive in class-- at least when it comes to Jack (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

They took chess lessons to try and beat Leona in a match (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

For their birthday, Yuu asks Azul to get something that's supposedly hard for an average collector to acquire.

They're surprised when Kalim gifts them a pop-up card for their birthday.

They own a pair of fingerless gloves (gifted by Epel).

They personally invited Vil over for their birthday party and made sure to have healthy food options for him.

Not very close with Idia.

Owns a glass tumbler that reads 'Happy Birthday!' (gifted by Ortho).

Lilia gives them a CD with his screamo performances.

They were gifted so many presents on their birthday that they had trouble carrying the gifts around. (Malleus 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

[captain-huggy-bear]

In The Firing Line

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lil' bit of hurt/comfort, lil' bit of angst, lil' bit of panic

Summary: You break up a fight at your school getting hurt in the process. There's only one person you want to call in that situation.

Notes: I have in fact been punched in the line of duty as a teacher and while it's not common it is truly a scary experience and I very much wish I had a Quinn to pick up the pieces when those things happen.

Another kinda angsty one? I keep putting the reader through some stuff in this series, I promise teaching is not always this eventful...please don't be scared of it <3

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

There are some dangers to your job, hazards you might say...while generally speaking teaching is a safe profession except for your stress levels, the reality is you're dealing with human beings who aren't yet capable of fully regulating their emotions and thinking through their actions. So things happen...like fights...and fights are...unfortunately something you can't just ignore as a teacher. They are in fact something you have to actively deal with.

There's a deep seated desire not to get involved, a sense of self preservation that says don't stand in between two teenage boys who are going at each other. That unfortunately is overridden by two things: 1) The duty of care you have to keep your students safe and stop them hurting themselves or others and 2) Your genuine desire to not see any of your students hurt.

At this point in your career you work off of instinct. The moment Carl throws a punch at Gabriel, while you're in the middle of teaching mind you, you're ushering every other student out of your classroom with directions to find another teacher. That leaves you with 2 teenage boys flipping tables and intent on pummelling each other. Really, you'll later find out the fight is over something silly, Gabriel had talked to the girl that Carl liked, Carl had been told that Gabriel was flirting with her and talking shit about Carl. He wasn't. Later they'll both apologise to you profusely and their sets of parents will come in and apologise to you too, but in that moment? Your only concern is stopping the fight from progressing any further and stopping blood from being spilled.

Perhaps it's misguided, but in your experience getting in the middle works. Often students stop, pulling their punches out of fear of hitting an adult, like a sort of reset button. The fact that you're there usually does the trick. So that's exactly what you do, you wedge your significantly smaller self between two teenage boys who stand well over 6ft tall, one of whom is on the boxing team and the other on basketball team. You think this is a good idea, spoiler alert, it is most certainly not.

You misjudge this, it's almost like slow motion the way that Carl's fist comes towards you, his eyes seeming to widen as he processes that you're now in the way and in the line of fire. You have just enough time and thought to turn your back to him so that he doesn't hit you anywhere soft and vulnerable.

But, fuck does it hurt to have a junior boxing champ throw a solid punch straight at your shoulder blade. You jolt straight into Gabriel who breaks your potential fall and both boys fall dead silent, fight ended as quickly as it had began. Whatever haze of red had come over them completely diffused. All you can hear is a series of swear words followed by the sounds of some of your colleagues coming in to take both boys away.

You're dimly aware of one of the English teachers wrapping an arm around you and carting you down the corridor towards the staff room, of being sat in a comfortable chair and handed a warm drink that you have little desire to sip at.

"I think she's in shock..."

"She can't teach like this, can you talk to Lisa about covering her lessons for the day?"

"Should we phone someone?"

The conversation happening near you is practically underwater, dull sounding. You register it but you don't really hear it, words that go in one ear and out the other like water off a duck's back.

Your gaze fixes on your principle who crouches in front of you with a soft smile, "Y/N, do you want to phone someone? Get them to take you home, we're going to give you the rest of the day off, okay?"

You nod more out of instinct than anything else, you feel like you're underwater or not in your own body. Adrenaline still pulsing through your system, shock having hit you so hard that you don't feel real. You feel floaty, not really present.

When you're left alone, an empty staff room, you reach for your phone. You unlock it on autopilot, find the contact without really thinking and listen to it ring, once, twice before being picked up on the third ring. Reliable and steadfast as always, he never fails to answer the phone to you.

"Hey, baby, you okay?" Quinn's voice is soft, sweet but curious with an undercurrent of worry because you almost never phone him while you're at school. It's that that seems to break you, seems to dissolve the numb shock and bring forth the waterworks.

"No..." You can't help it, you're sobbing in an instant, breathing rapidly as the shock gives way to panic, like Quinn's voice broke the dam that had been holding your emotions in check. "I-I-I..."

"Breathe, baby! Hey, hey, breathe...you're okay, what happened?" You try to follow his instructions, but your breathing is still sharp, short, stunted. Every breath cutting itself off by the next. Each sob interrupting your words and your attempts to get a full breath in.

"Baby, listen to me, okay?" You try to tune into Quinn's voice, the steady stableness of it, the way he tries to keep it as even as possible, "Breathe with me, okay? Breathe in..." You listen to him as he instructs you on how to breathe, breathing in when says and out when he says until your own breathing is back to a point where you can at least talk, still the tears don't disappear.

It's like your body has finally realised it was in danger, like it's finally realised what happened. You're just thankful that the room is empty, that everyone else is teaching right now because you can't help but feel embarrassed as you cry over the phone to your boyfriend over something that feels silly in your mind. It was just a punch and it wasn't even intended for you, you probably won't even bruise....

"What happened, baby?"

"I...I tried t-to break up a fight..." Your shoulder aches now that some of the panic has worn off, right in the shoulder blade. A reminder of the fact you've been punched by a junior boxing champ.

"Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" You can tell he's worried, the stability of his voice disappearing in favour of concern but you stay silent...you don't want to make him worry... "Sweetheart...?"

"I...I got punched in the shoulder...I'm okay...I...I think." You don't want him to worry more than he already has, you know what Quinn is like...if he could wrap you in bubble wrap and keep you with him all the time he would. You know he supports you having your own life, own career, but he also hates you being unsafe in any way. You don't want him to worry especially when he's not around, the idea that he might worry when he's away on a roadie kills you inside.

"Has anyone had a look at you?"

"No...they want me to go home though..." Not like you have a proper nurse in school anyway, besides, you're certain you're just going to ache. You doubt there's any lasting damage.

"Okay, okay, give me 20 minutes? I'll get Petey to drop me off and I'll drive you home."

"You don't have to, Quinn..." You don't like feeling like a burden and that's how you feel right now. Quinn shouldn't be spending his day off picking you up from work and looking after you. He should be relaxing, enjoying the little free time he gets between games and practices, resting his own injuries like his hand that's still braced.

"Baby, respectfully, shut up. I'm going to get you, you aren't driving home, and we're going to spend the afternoon cuddling, okay?" You can't help but smile, wiping some of the tears that have tracked over your cheeks away, the salty taste on your tongue from where a few drops had hit your mouth.

"Okay...I love you."

"I love you too. Get your stuff ready and stop feeling like a burden. You're not. I love you, so I want to help you." You can't help but huff out a laugh at him calling you out for the thoughts you don't voice, because of course Quinn would know what you were thinking, of course he'd know you were feeling like a burden already.

"You know me too well." You roll your eyes, easing yourself up from the seat you'd been placed in earlier and making your way to the door knowing you need to venture to your room to grab your things. A little bit anxious about it, but knowing the students in question were likely already in isolation or the principle's office or been sent home after everything. Even though you know without a doubt Carl and Gabriel never intended for you to get hurt.

"That's my job, sweetheart."

"We've had this discussion before, your job is to hit a piece of vulcanised rubber around on the ice." Quinn's pretty certain you sassing him is a good sign that you're getting over the shock of being punched on the job, a good enough sign that he can't stop the laugh that comes out because at least you're okay.

"That's my paying job, not my proper job. My proper job is to look after you, baby."

"Mmm, do you want an ID badge for that?" Your classroom is empty when you get to it, students having been taken somewhere else for the period, most likely to the gym. It makes it easier for you to start grabbing your things without a million and one eyes on you.

"Yes please, and a lanyard."

"I'll get that printed for you right away," You're putting your work laptop away, grabbing your water bottle, phone balanced between your ear and your shoulder. Quinn finding away to calm you without even being in the room was something you were thankful for, while that well of anxiety still sat deep in your chest, you felt at least functional in that moment. More functional than when it first happened at least.

There's a beat of silence, where Quinn is unsure if he actually wants to come off the phone. Hearing you reassures him you're okay, not perfect, but okay...but he knows that to get Petey to pick him up he needs to actually say goodbye to you. A dilemma if he ever saw one.

"I'll see you soon?"

"See you soon...thank you, Quinny," You mean it, you always mean it. For a man who is so busy, so stressed all the time, he truly never failed to be there for you. You never thought twice about phoning him because you knew he'd pick up, knew he'd help no matter the situation, even if he wasn't around he'd find someone who could help. It was his reliability that always had you reaching for his number, even when past boyfriends had been last person you might have called. Quinn was always steady, always there, always on hand.

"Anytime, baby."

You're waiting in the car park when Petey's car drives up next to you, the window rolled down for the blonde man to give you a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, Petey..." You give him your best attempt at a smile but you know it's a weak one, his features scrunching in sympathy. You can see Quinn in the passenger seat, hoodie on, beanie over his hair.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?"

"I will be..." You answer as Quinn gets out of Petey's car, your smile starting to turn more genuine when Petey throws a bar of chocolate at you out the window. Not even just any chocolate, but the good stuff, European chocolate.

"Feel better soon, okay?"

"Thank you, Petey." You stand back as Quinn thanks Elias for the ride, tapping on the roof of the car as a sign it's okay for him to leave and you grasp the bar of chocolate tightly, feeling emotional over the thoughtful gesture.

That emotion spills over with one look from Quinn, tears starting to silently stream down your face as he pulls you into his warm arms. You feel so utterly safe the moment he does, your face pressing into his hoodie and just breathing in the scent of his cologne, the sea salt smell of his old spice deodorant. He practically traps you in his arms, trying to give you a sense of security and safety by wrapping you up tight, one hand coming to comb through the ends of your hair, the other stroking down your back in slow motions.

Quinn presses a kiss to your hair as he rocks you side to side, feeling the way your body shakes in his arms, the residual adrenaline left over from the whole affair coursing through your body. He knows better than most how your body responds after taking a hit, he's felt it time and time again on the ice, but the adrenaline usually gets worn off in play for him. For you? This is unfamiliar territory, unexpected and with no way to get all that adrenaline rush out of your system.

"I've got you, sweet girl...let it out, you're okay..." If there's one thing Quinn will always do, has always done, it's make sure you understand you can rely on him. That you don't need to hold back any of the ugly parts, the difficult parts, the raw parts, out of fear of being a burden. He doesn't care that his day is being spent stood in a school parking lot holding you while you cry, in fact he prefers it to the alternative, you pretending nothing happened, not telling him, crying on your own somewhere...

"Wanna go home, baby?" You nod into his chest, arms so tight around his waist that he almost worries he might not be able to breathe if you just squeeze a tad tighter. "Keys in your pocket?" You nod again and he slips his hand into your pocket, then the other one, fishing out your car keys.

The walk to your car is hindered by your refusal to come out from your spot hiding in his chest, you walk backwards while he walks forward. A strange sort of dance that shows just how much you trust him not to let you fall over.

It's obvious when he gets you to your car that you don't want to let go of him, that you feel safe surrounded by him in every sense of the word. Surrounded by his arms, surrounded by his hoodie, by his scent. But, Quinn is good at compromise, at finding solutions to problems, seeing the gaps in the defence and making a solid play.

"You want to wear my hoodie for the ride?" Your nod is all he gets and he's quick to strip himself of the oversized hoodie, pulling it over the top of your head and helping you work your arms into it. It's large on him and large on you, sleeves long enough to cover your hands, fabric billowing in a way that makes him think he could probably slip in there with you if he tried hard enough. He helps you pull the hood up and over your head, watching as you burying your face into the neck, breathing in the familiar smell of his cologne.

It's like hugging him when you can't and it helps you feel that comfort still when he can't hold you because he has to drive. You still feel surrounded by him, his body heat having infused the fabric, his scent in the cotton, the sheer size of the hoodie comforting you. It brings you security that you need right now.

"Better, baby?"

"Mmhm." You hum from within the hood, eyes wide and soft and it makes Quinn's heart ache a little to see you like this, so withdrawn, so needy because of something that shouldn't have happened in the first place. There's part of Quinn that wants you to stop working altogether, wants to just pay for you to put your feet up, relax and enjoy your hobbies but he knows you love your job despite the issues. He knows he could no more ask that of you than you could ask him to stop playing hockey because of the dangers associated with his career.

"Okay, let's get you home, yeah? Then I'm going to check you for a bruise, okay?"

Quinn's gentle with you as he opens the car door and helps you in, doing your seatbelt up for you and making sure you're as comfortable as possible for the ride. Your music plays the moment he starts the engine and you smile just a little when you watch him have to adjust the driver's seat, complaining that your legs are far too short.

That smile eases some of his worry but you can see his concern in the way his fingers alternate between tapping the steering wheel and gripping it tight between his palms, tight enough that his knuckles go white each time. Every now and then he reassures himself that you're okay by reaching a hand out for your thigh, palm squeezing the plush flesh once, twice, before returning back to the steering wheel.

You don't say much on the way into the apartment, just let him reach his hand back for yours, gripping it tightly with your smaller hand and letting him guide you through the apartment building hallways and through your front door. You let him guide you all the way to the bathroom until he has you in front of him under the bright florescent lights. Quinn's large palms run up and down the tops of your arms in gentle strokes as you peer at him from beneath his hood, still buried deep, breathing in his familiar smell.

"Let's take a look at you, baby, okay?" You nod and help him as he lifts the hoodie up and over your head, turning you around until your back is facing him. It's intimate but rather clinical, not the sort of undressing you might usually experience with Quinn and you appreciate that. You appreciate that he can see you undressed for practical reasons, genuine reasons without making it sexual or strange, you appreciate that Quinn's concern right now is making sure you're okay not the fact he can see your bra.

You can feel his hands glide over the skin of your back and shoulders, assessing, the careful way he looks you over as if a single touch might cause you more unnecessary pain.

"Has it bruised?" Your voice is rough from the crying and the period of silence you'd entered into and Quinn takes it as a good sign that you're starting to talk to him again.

"Yeah, baby, practically black and blue...the kid a boxing champ or something?" He means it as a joke, but the irony is that he's not wrong.

"Yeah, he was actually..."

"Shit, baby...stay here, 'm going to get some ice and paracetamol for that bruise, okay?" You let him go but the moment he's gone you're looking in the mirror, twisting your head round as far as possible to see what the damage it.

Quinn's not wrong, you're legitimately black and blue, your shoulder has a nice fist sized bruise that is already turning various shades of blue and purple, blood pooling under the skin. It explains why each roll of your shoulder aches like nothing else.

"Here, baby," Quinn returns to the bathroom with a tea towel filled with ice, pressing it against the bruise and holding it there. It's cold, uncomfortably so, causing you to hiss.

"s cold..." you mumble frowning at him in the mirror and Quinn gives you a sympathetic look and a quick, commiserating kiss to the top of your shoulder.

"I know, but it'll bring the swelling down, just a few minutes for me, baby?"

"Okay...a few minutes" You agree watching him tend to you in the mirror, downing the paracetamol he brought back for you from the first aid drawer he keeps in the kitchen. Quinn's attentive, even as he holds the ice filled towel to your skin he checks every now and then that he's not giving you freezer burn, that it's helping reduce the swelling and not actually hurting you more.

"Atta, girl," Quinn's free hand cups the back of your neck, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly, every now and then digging in to a sore spot to distract you from the uncomfortable cold sensation against your shoulder blade.

"Can we cuddle now?" You're patient for the first few minutes but that starts to wain as the cold becomes almost painful against your skin.

"Yeah, sweet girl, we can cuddle now...think you've earned it," Quinn throws the melting ice into the bathroom sink, hand trailing down to grip yours to tug you back to the bedroom.

He helps you change into comfy clothes before tugging you down into the bedcovers with him. You breathe a sigh of relief as you curl into his side, face pressed into the warm crook of his neck, leg slung over his waist. Quinn rests a hand on your thigh, pulling your leg tighter against him while his other hand finds its way into your hair, scratching gently across your scalp.

"You tired, baby?" You can't help but close your eyes at the way Quinn's fingers curl in your hair and run through each strand, burrowing as deep into his neck as you can as he pulls the covers up and over the top of the two of you to create a cosy little nest of warmth.

"Yeah...really tired..."

"Eventful day, huh?" You nod into his neck in agreement, feeling like your body has been through the mental and emotional wringer. There's the physical discomfort of being punched obviously, but the bigger issue is how emotionally exhausted you feel. Your nervous system having been put through fight or flight, only to have to come crashing down from that adrenaline high.

"You can sleep, baby, it's okay, I'll be here when you wake up..."

"You promise?"

"I promise, 'm not going anywhere." It's his reassurance, the firm but gentle hold on you that helps you fall asleep because you trust him, you believe him. You know that if Quinn says he'll be there when you wake up, then he'll be there.

[yourstardarling]

Libra: Through The Houses

Birth of Venus, by Sandro Botticelli (1480s)

Libra season this year, has made me realize how unbalanced and tethered Libras can be. Particularly focusing on the weather, it feels like Autumn is in this constant battle between whether it wants to be hot or cold. There isn’t a sense of choosing a side and constant inconsistency. This reminded me of the nature of Libra since it begins the fall season. The nature of not wanting to choose and trying to do both things at once. It fits the complex personality this sign embodies. Constantly tethering between decisions and trying to decide upon a single solution, while trying to maintain a sense of equilibrium. In relation to the weather, they are constantly balancing between being hot(confident, warm and loving) and cold(distant, detached and not caring). Essentially, Libras want the best of both worlds that’s all it is. They want to do both have both options, but life unfortunately pushes them to make a single decision.

Libra in our charts symbolize the area in our lives where we are constantly striving for some sort of temporary balance or stability. This often does not last long, remaining a constant balancing act between two extremes. We can either be doing really good and positive in this area of our lives, or feel disconnected and unable to form attachments. With Venusian ruling here, Libra symbolizes the compromises we make in our relationships with other people. This sign let’s go of the focus on the self (Aries) to be willing to focus on others. That is why the Sun is in fall in Libra it cannot focus on the core ego-based needs because it is worried about the needs of others. This could look like Libras worrying about the impact taking action will have on their relationships, instead of just doing it.

So overall, Libra depicts the compromises you have to make in order to maintain equilibrium. The scales symbolize fairness, but it can also lead to a bit of indecision, as they’re always weighing both options. This need for balance isn’t just about fairness. It’s about creating environments that feel beautiful and harmonious. Libra doesn’t thrive in chaotic settings; they crave a sense of peace and unity, even if they have to play the role of mediator to achieve it. If you want to find out how to create harmony within your chart looking at the house Libra sits in is a good place to start. They lowkey represent the caring for others needs (Virgo) and focusing on self preservation( Scorpio).

Libra 1st house: These individuals are the walking scales embodying harmony and the balance nature of their sign. Their identity is strongly influenced by their relationships, often making them empathetic towards the needs of those around them. So lot of compromises are made between their needs and what other people need. Very willing to make sacrifices for the ones they love, sometimes prioritizing others instead of their own. The selfless and caring sides of these individuals often goes unnoticed. While they work hard to maintain harmony, others might misinterpret their efforts as being superficial or insecure. This is largely due to the Libra persons focus on aesthetic and beauty. They can become a magnet for gossip and conflict with the Aries opposite influence. People may have conflicting point of views about who they are. On one hand, their charm and grace makes them approachable and well liked. On the other, their push for balance is misunderstood as them being indecisive and lacking authority. Nevertheless, they still manage to thrive socially, with their natural ability to navigate social situations with poise. People often gravitate towards them for their likeable presence. There is a sense of class and elegance with Libra risings, they just exude a sense of timelessness and grace. Romantically, they find themselves in complex relationships. They may experience numerous talking stages and fleeting romantic connections. These encounters are rather quick and come with their own set of challenges. Libra Risings often try to get past these challenges by trying to find solutions with their partner. The Saturnian influence on Libra often causes their relationships to be karmic lessons that they must learn to move past. Once lessons learned, they move forward to new connections, searching for someone who matches there ideals of love and partnership. The shadow side of this placement lies in over-compromise. They must learn to assert their own needs and recognize that creating harmony doesn’t always mean sacrificing their identity. By embracing both the caring and assertive aspects of their nature, Libra Rising individuals can achieve the balance they so deeply seek.

Libra 2nd house: These individuals often face a balancing act when it comes to their finances. Compromise seems to follow them as they navigate between generosity and self-preservation. These are highly giving individuals who believe that monetary success is best shared, often using their resources to uplift and support others. They want everyone to be able to partake and share in the success. There is great value in their partnerships with other people. For these individuals, the relationships they cultivate often bring opportunities for wealth or financial growth. This makes them incredibly discerning about who they surround themselves with. Their connections are not just about emotional fulfillment. Instead, they see social wealth as a form of currency, one that enriches their lives and opens doors to abundance. These individuals are drawn to the finer things in life. There is an innate craving for beauty and quality. They often choose simplistic luxury that has a timeless essence. They deeply value elegance and refinement, but this can sometimes lead to overindulgence. A lesson for them lies in understanding that true value doesn’t always lie in material possessions, and that their worth isn’t tied to what they own. Financial ups and downs can characterize their journey. With their tendency to give generously or invest in quality over quantity, their financial situation may tether between the scales. They must learn to cultivate discipline in their spending habits, by creating boundaries with their relationships and ensuring they focus on what truly matters rather than fleeting desires. Overall, their financial life reflects their inner sense of balance. When they are aligned and intentional, their resources flow smoothly. By focusing on building a foundation of sustainable wealth they can achieve a sense of harmony.

Libra 3rd house: Mental stimulation is focused on creating peace and harmony. Their headspace remains a world focused on beauty, refinement and enjoying the pleasures of life.Communication is seen as bridge towards peace for them. They enjoy making conversation and letting their voices be heard. This makes them very charming people to be communicate with. Sometimes it might come across as them being flirtatious when they are just being kind. People they get romantically involved with need to be good conversationalist and know how to stimulate their minds. Words of affirmation is the key to these individuals hearts, they live for people telling them how lovely they are. Libra here can indicate having a harmonious relationship with your siblings if Venus is not afflicted. May have sisters or feminine siblings. When they were younger these individuals may have been seen as little diplomats who tried to find compromise between their peers at school, family members and even their parents. A big part of their mental focus is maintaining some sort of order.

Libra 4th house: These individuals are deeply focused on the structure and harmony of their home life. While they might receive princess treatment from family members, it doesn’t mean their experience is without challenges. Beneath the surface, they face complex family challenges that require them to find ways to seek fairness and harmony. Growing up, they may have faced situations where their needs or boundaries weren’t fully respected. Often lead to them to make unfair decisions that devalued their self autonomy. This origin shapes their approach to relationships, instilling in them a deep value for commitment and balance. Romantically, they are serious and traditional. They view relationships through the lens of long-term commitment, often prioritizing marriage and deep emotional bonds. They seek a partner who shares their appreciation for loyalty and stability, someone who values love as much as they do. They find comfort in the simple pleasures of life. These are people who know how to romanticize the little things, turning everyday moments into something meaningful. Their home is often a reflection of this, as they seek to make it a true work of art. You might find their living space adorned with paintings, vintage furniture, and carefully chosen designs that exude creativity. They remind me of Charlotte from SATC. Their presence is both nurturing and aesthetically uplifting. They have a natural talent for creating environments that feel comforting and beautiful, making others feel cared for. These individuals ensure that the people they love not only look good but also experience the finer things in life.

Libra 5th house: Libra here creates for an individual who has a natural flair for charm and connection. Easily, they might become the life of the party, drawing others in with their magnetic and sociable nature. Their ability to form connections feels effortless, as people are quickly captivated by their grace, wit, and charisma. However, their charm often operates on a surface level. While they excel at making people feel seen and appreciated, their interactions can sometimes lack depth, especially when it comes to casual or fleeting relationships. This tendency can lead to misunderstandings, with others mistaking their friendly and flirtatious nature for something more intentional. A flirtatious energy seems to follow them, even when unintended. They have an air of playfulness in their romantic and social interactions, often enjoying the thrill of connection more than the commitment it might require. Early in life, they may not take romantic relationships too seriously, preferring to explore and experience the joys of love and flirtation without diving into deeper emotional waters.They can also be prone to gossip. Their love for socializing and interacting with others may occasionally lead to them engaging in or being the center of rumors. This stems from their desire to stay connected and in the loop, but it’s something they must navigate carefully to maintain harmonious relationships.Ultimately, they thrive on the joy and thrill of creativity, romance, and fun. The 5th house represents self-expression, and with Libra here, these individuals bring beauty, balance, and charm to everything they do. Their artistic nature make them stand out, whether at the club, networking events, or in their creative pursuits.

Libra 6th house: You need to fall in love with your routines. Libra in the sixth house is interesting because it brings Venusian qualities to an area of life that’s typically more about the mundane day to day routines, health, and work. Libra here needs some kind of enjoyment or beauty in their daily life in order to feel motivated. Without that, they’re likely to feel sluggish or uninspired. They crave a little pleasure in everything they do, which, if unchecked, could lead to overindulgence or imbalance in their health habits. For their physical health to be maintained, they need to find equilibrium between pleasure and practicality. They’re not likely to go overboard with extreme diets or rigorous exercise. Healthy food is fine, as long as it has flavor and tastes good. In their work environments, they tend to get along with most of their colleagues with their social charm. They seek for their environments to be a place of peace and beauty. Tend to work best in environments that are visually pleasing or involve collaboration. They may go out of their way to keep harmony in their workplace, even if it means compromising their own needs to avoid conflict. Might spend a lot of time weighing options or avoiding confrontation at work, wanting to keep the peace at all costs. This can also make it hard for them to enforce boundaries or say no, especially if they feel obligated to please and help others. This placement can also lead to perfectionism in how things look or are organized in their daily routine. They might feel uncomfortable with disorder and prefer to create an aesthetic, well-balanced space.

Libra 7th house: Libra in the 7th house shines in the realm of relationships, where partnership and harmony take center stage. These individuals are natural peacemakers who thrive in environments that require balance and diplomacy. Whether in romantic, platonic, or business relationships, they have an innate charm that draws others to them. Romantic connections often come easily to those with this placement, as their warm and approachable demeanor makes them highly attractive. They seek relationships that are not just loving but also balanced, valuing equality and mutual respect above all. They have a deep desire to share their life with someone who complements their strengths and supports their growth. These unions can feel like a mirror, reflecting back their strengths and areas for personal development.However, their focus on partnerships can sometimes lead to challenges in maintaining their individuality. Libra in the 7th house must learn to balance their need for connection with a strong sense of self. They are naturally inclined to prioritize their partner’s needs, but they must also recognize their own worth and avoid becoming overly dependent or self-sacrificing in relationships. When they find this balance, their unions become a space of mutual empowerment. Libra here teaches the importance of collaboration and compromise. These individuals are tasked with mastering the art of giving and receiving in relationships, allowing them to grow through love and connection. Their ability to foster harmony while maintaining their individuality, creates partnerships that are fulfilling. Through these experiences, they discover the beauty of a true union built on balance and reciprocity.

Libra 8th house: In the house of death, the relationships of these individuals are put to the extremes. Often dealing with the shadow sides of love and partnership, they seek to find some senses of balance within that. They’re drawn to deep, transformative connections, and there’s an attraction to the hidden, mysterious, and even taboo aspects of life. It’s like they’re fascinated by what lies beneath the surface of relationships, wanting to uncover truths and explore the deeper bonds that aren’t just surface-level. With Venus here, there’s also a seductive charm in how they approach intimacy and shared resources. They can be very charismatic in drawing people in, but at the same time, they might struggle with boundaries in these intense connections. It can sometimes feel like they’re losing themselves in other people. This placement can also indicate an interest in financial partnerships or inheritances, based on shared resources, Libra here might feel a pull towards situations where resources are merged with others, but they’ll want fairness and balance, potentially feeling uneasy if things seem unequal or too controlling. They might even seek to find beauty in the darker, transformative experiences of life. These people are able to make things that are extreme and destructive into something beautiful. They turn darkness, into art, finding beauty in the chaos. Transformative phases in their lives is marked by seeking ways to bring back harmony in the world around them. Oftentimes, change brings an inevitable end to connections they have formed.

Libra 9th house: Love & Beauty might be something theese individuals look up as a higher power. A deep relationship with the divine may be formed through art, fashion and visual aesthetic. Libra here makes people gravitate toward beauty and balance in their worldview. They seek harmony in beliefs, often embracing diverse perspectives and aiming for a philosophy that unites rather than divides. They might be drawn to learning about cultures and belief systems that celebrate peace, art, and justice. Often taking a more diplomatic stance on global issues. These people could also be super charismatic in educational or travel settings. They have a natural charm that allows them to connect with people from all walks of life, making them great at bridging cultural gaps. They often find beauty in learning and might see philosophy as a lovely thing to learn about. The Venusian influence, can make them seek pleasurable experiences in their travels and studies, gravitating towards places or subjects that feel aesthetically pleasing. However, sometimes they can struggle with indecision when it comes to forming their own beliefs. They may find themselves trying to balance conflicting ideas, which can make them feel a bit lost or unfocused in their philosophical pursuits. Relationships to them are very important, often placed on a higher pedestal for them. It’s like they see love, beauty, and partnership as concepts that transcend the mundane and become something sacred. For them, relationships aren’t just connection, they’re profound experiences that add depth and meaning to their understanding of life. They learn a lot in their partnerships about the bigger world around them.They might find love in foreign lands. .Meeting people from diverse backgrounds and travel can feel especially thrilling and transformative for them. It’s as though they find beauty in the unfamiliar, and their charm really blossoms when they step outside their comfort zone. It’s like they embody the archetype of a cultural ambassador of love and beauty.

Libra 10th house: Libra in the house of legacy, brings a diplomatic charm towards their public career and image. They’re very focused on maintaining a harmonious and fair reputation. Often striving to be seen as balanced, graceful, and composed in their professional life. People with this placement are likely to be natural mediators or peacemakers in the workplace. They may have a talent for smoothing over conflicts or creating a cooperative environment. Instinctively they want things to run smoothly and peacefully. In their career, they might gravitate toward roles where they can bring people together, like in law, diplomacy, design, or any field that involves aesthetics and relationships. Their public image is often that of someone who values justice, beauty, and fairness. It makes them likely to be well-liked and respected in their field. However, they might sometimes struggle with making decisive moves, especially if they fear that their choices might disrupt the balance or alienate people. They really do think about who their decisions may affect, but often boils down to what is the most fare path to take. Libra here can also lead to a strong desire to be admired for their sense of style and grace. They might put a lot of effort into presenting themselves beautifully or maintaining a refined image. Simplicity within their image is their best friend, making sure that they look very simple, but also elegant and classy. A focus on the timelessness of their appearance. Their career success often relies on how well they can navigate relationships with grace and tact.

Libra 11th house: Libra in the eleventh house brings that Venusian charm into friendships, social circles, and their ideals. People with this placement often have a real talent for making connections and harmonizing group dynamics. They can bring people together effortlessly, often acting as the glue in their friend groups because they’re naturally attuned to everyone’s needs and know how to create an inclusive, friendly vibe.In terms of friendships, they tend to seek relationships that feel balanced and fair, often avoiding groups where there’s too much conflict or imbalance. They may also be drawn to friendships that are supportive of their values around beauty, justice, and harmony. There’s often a refined quality to the way they choose friends, like they’re curating a circle that reflects their ideal of elegance & grace. They want their friendships to have a sense of mutual admiration and respect. Libra in the eleventh can also mean that they’re visionaries in terms of their hopes and dreams. They are strong advocates for social justice, making them highly aware of the social issues of the world around them. It can even lead to joining causes that fight for social change. The downside to this placement is that sometimes they might get caught up in wanting everyone to like them, which can make it hard for them to stand firm on their opinions if they feel it might disrupt the group harmony.

Libra 12th house: In the house of the subconscious, romance and beauty become something tied to the individuals soul. Libra in the 12th house creates a deeply private and introspective romantic nature. These individuals view love and relationships as sacred, preferring to keep their connections away from public scrutiny. It’s not unusual for them to reveal their romantic life only when they feel confident it aligns with their inner peace and harmony. Despite their desire for privacy, they possess a natural magnetism that draws people to them effortlessly. This charm stems from their intuitive understanding of people, allowing them to see beyond the exterior and connect to others on soulful level. However, this placement can also bring feelings of loneliness, even in committed relationships. These individuals must learn to harmonize their internal world with their external relationships. The key lies in understanding that their need for seclusion isn’t a flaw but a strength that can deepen their connections. By openly communicating their boundaries and emotional needs, they can create relationships that honor both their private nature and their longing for companionship. Learning to integrate their need for solitude with their relationships is key to finding balance and fulfillment.

- yourStardarling

[marsprincess889]

The differences between women of the three Venus nakshatras:

If you're one of them, I suggest you read them all, not just yours. Most will read Bharani first, then P. Phalguni and lastly P. Ashadha, but a more interesting order would be P. Phalguni-P. Ashadha-Bharani.

Bharani:

The birth of Venus_ the intense and transformative place that determines the journey.

The most passive energetically, perhaps the most visibly defensive. Focused on self-preservation, on deeper causes of their desires, wants, needs, attachments and love, and protective of their energy while relentlessly using it to get "what they want". More compassionate then Purva Phalguni, for example.

The themes of Bharani are physical creation, preservation and decay, along with the overarching rules or "mysteries" behind beauty, desire, attachments and love. Since it's Venus channeled personally, and connected to the sign of Aries/the active manifestation of Mars and the first house, it IS Venus, and so it lays the foundation for the other two. What that means is that one of its main concerns is secrecy and gatekeeping necessary for cultivation of everything that Venus represents, more so than other Venusian nakshatras.

It's also the only one that is Outcaste(Mleccha), which gives it enormous power and energy free of conventions. There is also en extreme sensitivity here that is not present in the other two. There's an awareness of energy and the core essence of everything that leads to the understanding or embodyment of "the ultimate", whatever that is.

Bharani women are embodyments of mother nature. They seek someone who can give them exactly what they want and need and nothing else. There is definitely a broad worldview that is naturally deep in them_ Bharani is an elephant yoni nakshatra, it has deep and profound memory, and some consider it the last nakshatra (most consider its yoni consort_ Revati as the last nakshatra, so that's some great insight into Elephant yonis). Despite this broad and deep view, Bharani women have a determination and a drive that can translate into an intensity with a "one track mind". Intensity and depth is in them almost always.

Definitely have the potential to be spiritual, because of a love for depth and an understanding of purity. Their yoni consort_ Revati is perhaps the most spiritual nakshatra, connected with the theme of "Godhood". Bharani's spirituality can be fused with romantic or sexual love and manifest as fierce devotion. They have an inability to tolerate "impurity"_ the error or fault between worlds and energies between them, for example, between the inner substance and the outward manifestation, or between the masculine and the feminine, between this world and the other. This can translate to a radical love of and demand for honesty and justice.

Balance and harmony are necessary for Venus but its sign rulership of Mars is the energy that drives them and in a sense, grants identity. The fusion of foundational energy of Venus with the active Mars is the theme of sex and death so prominent in this nakshatra. Life is the result of the sexual act but the culmination of that act is called "a little death". Love and desire drive sex so they also drive life and death. So, if Venus is the equilibrium and the balance then Mars is the other side_ the need for release. Together, they grant life and rule over the two components necessary for existence_ identity and the loss of it through love. Bharani is about defining existence itself, their own or of the world, through love.

Bharani women can act in a very enthusiastic and driven way, but also have a side to them that is extremely serious, to an extent that neither Purva Phalguni or even Purva Ashadha really reach.

Archetypically they represent the "damsel in distress" or "the princess in the tower". Bharani is something or someone nearly impossible to get or even find, which could be also associated with its symbolism of the yoni. It's also connected to the Holy Grail, or "The Philosopher's Stone" (that one was said by Claire Nakti recently and I have always gotten that vibe energetically from Bharani but could not articulate why. It makes so much sense though. This can also be another confirmation of why I associate Bharani with Rapunzel's tale so much).

Another archetype that they remind me of is the princess with high standards in fairytales that is so common. A similar one would be a young women who is fearlessly defiant, especially about choosing her own love.

Out of all Venus nakshatras Bharani women need gentleness the most, since's it's the most high tension/triggering placement among them. Bharani women can feel defenseless and abused, especially from harsh or crude(mostly masculine) energies. This ironically increases their defensive nature and a need for protection, despite being naturally gentle and passive. There's a clear difference between when a Bharani women is given her justice and when she is not. Their fierceness and gentleness are, in truth, the same in spirit.

Bharani moons Claire Holt, Gaia Weiss, Isabel Lucas

Purva Phalguni:

Out of the Venus nakshatras, Purva Phalguni is the one that is the least expressive emotionally. At least, not obviously. They too feel a lot, but their Sun rashi rulership grants them an "unbothered" nature.

So Purva Phalguni is the Venus nakshatra of pure unashamed enjoyment. They have clear preferences and after establishing the foundation in Bharani, Purva Phalguni is free to be prideful about their love. It's connected to ease, contrasting Bharani, which is more full of melancholic beauty and the meaning of struggle.

Purva Phalguni women are connected to material things and love it. Their personality is more "Sunny" than other Venus nakshatras. It's the most "neutral" Venus nakshatra. Definitely very sexual along with Bharani. The difference is that Bharani is represented by the yoni and the passive feminine principle, but Purva Phalguni is represented by the phallus and the active, masculine assertion of self through Venusian themes. In this way, they have a connection that is reaffirmed by the "special relationship"(traditional texts say so) between their yoni animals_ the rat and the elephant.

Women of this nakshatra, being the feminine representatives of the nakshatra of masculine assertion, have a friendly and easygoing nature, due to being relaxed. They have an energy of being "provided for", but they're still ruled by the planet of mutual exchange(Venus), so they're very giving in their own way. They like to pamper their beloved with gifts and/or attention, they love to feel special and make them feel "special"(Leo/Sun rulership) in return. Their tendency towards fun (5th house association) makes them a memorable presence. They do love spotlight more than Bharani and Purva Ashadha.

One interesting association of Purva Phalguni is discernment, which leads to their tendency of favoritism. Bharani and Purva Phalguni both love being passive in a sense of having someone take the reigns that helps them relax into a receptive, feminine role but they both also love to give back. Bharani is more receptive though, hungrier and harsher than Purva Phalguni, which is more relaxed and willing to give. Because of this, in a way, Bharani and Purva Phalguni women might become great friends with each other.

Charisma is a big thing here, due to Leo/Sun/5th house associations. Venus here is expressed through soul identity(Sun) and shown in the most adorned light among all three Venus nakshatras.

An important association of Purva Phalguni is procreation. Bharani as also explicitly associated with the sexual act and bringing a life, but Purva Phalguni focuses on the pleasure aspect of it, on the leisure and continuing the bloodline. Its yoni consort_ Magha is associated with family trees and bloodlines and is also fully in Leo(5th house/children association). Bharani on the other hand, focuses on immortality of love, attachments and transition between worlds, and sex for them is the ultimate point of change.

Even though they're the most outwardly stoic and act the most unaffected out of the three, they're also most prone to dramatics. There's a side to them that loves to show off and display, even if they don't show everything to everyone.

The dramaticism is for self-confidence and enjoyment(mainly, their own). It's not a placement that is concerned with gossip or everyone else's lives. Quite the contrary. If they don't like you, they will just pay you no attention. In this way, they're the least personal of Venus nakshatras. They have an aversion to anything unnecessary(kind of similar to how Bharani can't tolerate impurity) and outward harmony and empowerment is essential.

The archetype that Purva Phalguni women represent is the loving wife/girlfriend or "the spoiled lady". Purva Phalguni is Brahmin(highest) caste and is associated privilege and the ease that comes with it. Partnerships are important to them(the second stage of civilization/others. Bharani is the first stage of the individual, and Purva Ashadha is the third stage of universal). They can also be seen as "the nice rich girl", but that one is not necessarily true. They value politeness and manners but they themselves are not nice as much as they're unbothered. They're just not mean. The combination of Venus and Sun ensures that they're too focused on themselves and their wants to care about most others. In short, they live by "I am what I love".

Purva Phalguni moons Taylor Hill, Jane Birkin, Mia Wasikowska

Purva Ashadha:

Venus nakshatras all embody classical traits that are associated with the planet's archetype, but none are directly associated to the Goddesses Venus and Aphrodite like Purva Ashadha. This is the nakshatra of Venus' universalization. Being in the sign of Sagittarius (ruled by Jupiter), it has an inner desire to share its Venusian ideals(Sagittarius/9th house) with others.

Bharani is intense fire, Purva Phalguni is the fertile earth, Purva Ashadha is the relentless waves of water.

One obvious difference between Purva Ashadha and the other two Venus nakshatras is the lack of sexual associations.

When Venus is filtered through active Jupiter(sagittarius/9th house), then the action is sharing or spreading it. After the birth(Bharani) and the hedonistic pleasures(Purva Phalguni), Venus is ready and has an inner desire/neediness to make itself be heard.

The drive to spread its influence on this level is not present in other Venus nakshatras. Purva Ashadha women too know the importance of privacy, secrecy and gatekeeping, but they've come to a place where they've realized that beauty, love and all that is most precious cannot exist in a vacuum, but also cannot be ruined by what is below it in value. So the natural manifestation of that curcumstance is a constant tug of war between secrecy and sharing, between shutting off and spreading outwardly. Eventually, or sometimes immediately, they realize that they need allies to maintain their "Venus"(beauty, love, aesthetic preferences, all of them tied to morals and idealism), and then maybe, after strengthening, they can conquer all that is unworthy(in their eyes) together.

They can be extremely careful with who they choose to associate with, since to these women, people are either allies or enemies. In the end, whether they like to pretend otherwise or not, that's what it comes down to. They try to not show that they're trying to silently influence you, trying to get you to see that what they value is better or superior, that they'd like people to back them up in that way. It's still a Venus nakshatra, so they move in silence, but out of all Venus nakshatras, they're the most likely ones to break that "I'm just minding myself" Venusian attitude. They can become really triggered in general when something touches their ideals.

In friendships and with acquaintances they observe to see if they're worth trying to influence. Overall, these views may be why they like the idea of cliques or elitism that much.

Purva Ashadha women can be melancholic and intense like Bharani, but Bharani has a nature of fiery anger(active Martian/1st house/Aries), while Purva Ashadha is softer and watery. Another commonality they have with Bharani that Purva Phalguni does not is a creative drive to bring something out into the world. While in Bharani that manifests as literal birth/death and karmic changes, Purva Ashadha has a need to birth ideas, ideals, creative projects.

Their tendecy to look for allies and gather strength is further explained by its title as "the former victorious" one. It can be associated with revolutions, how the power of masses(Jupiter) empowered by fierce idealism(Venus-Jupiter) can grant said people victory. Their yoni consort_ Shravana, is associated with extreme receptivity and hearing everyone/everything. In this way, it is clear why they are consorts of Purva Ashadhas, who desire allies, support and victory.

A commonly manifested attitude among them is "others just will not get me"(that rarely is true irl). Jupiter, they rashi ruler, is connected to Godhood and their yoni_ Vanar, is a being from other dimentions. This might inspire a sense of superiority but also generate a feeling of alienation.

The most fitting archetype for them would be "warrior princess" or the "alluring siren". The siren's association with this nakshatra is quite famous. Purva Ashadha is another Brahmin caste nakshatra. Bharani has associations with fighting and aggression too but they do it on a more personal level. Purva Ashadha wants to fight with and for masses, backing what they fight for together.

Purva Ashadha moons Hailee Steinfeld, Astrid Berges-Frisbey and Liv Tyler

[leona-hawthorne]

AHH VAN I REQUEST FOR YOUR 1K? BOOK BROWSING, Soulmates with mattheo riddle?

you got it bb!!! 🤍✨ — also here’s a reminder that my requests are now closed <3

1k celebration navigation

NO MORE RUNNING… book browsing

ミ★ MATTHEO RIDDLE

The words on your wrist were a curse.

At least, that’s how you’d come to think of them after waiting years for someone to say them. They weren’t elegant or poetic like the ones others had. Instead, they were blunt and vaguely infuriating, a question that had hung over you since you were old enough to understand its significance:

"What the hell are you doing here?"

You’d imagined the scene countless times—standing in some shadowy corridor or a bustling hallway, accidentally bumping into someone who’d scowl and spit the words at you. But when they were finally spoken, you weren’t prepared for them to belong to Mattheo Riddle.

It had happened in the Slytherin common room of all places, a quiet moment interrupted by the sound of his voice cutting through the still air like a blade. You’d been searching for a friend, still wearing your red and gold tie, when he appeared out of nowhere, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The words weren’t angry—just exasperated, as if he’d caught you trespassing in some unspoken territory.

The shock hit you instantly, your heart pounding as you froze in place. Your wrist burned with the ghost of his voice, and your breath caught in your throat.

He’d said the words. Your words.

And you’d said his, though you hadn’t known it at the time.

"Why do you care?"

The phrase was etched into his wrist, bold and sharp against his skin, as if fate had known he’d spend years keeping people at arm’s length. The irony wasn’t lost on him—he’d spent his entire life avoiding attachment, only to be bound to someone by a single sentence.

The next week was torture. Mattheo had always been difficult to pin down, but now, he seemed to evaporate whenever you entered the room. You’d catch glimpses of him in the library, his dark curls bent over a parchment, or in the corridors, his back stiff as he walked away faster than usual. Each time you tried to get close, he slipped away, leaving you with an ache in your chest and a thousand unanswered questions swirling in your mind.

Why would he avoid you? Did he not want this? Did he not want you?

It didn’t make sense. The bond between soulmates was supposed to be undeniable. Everyone said so. But Mattheo was resisting it—resisting you��and it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

By the time you cornered him, you were tired of the silence. You found him by the Black Lake, leaning against a tree, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. He didn’t hear you approach, or maybe he just didn’t care.

“Are you going to avoid me forever?” you asked, your voice steady despite the storm in your chest.

He stiffened, the cigarette pausing midair. Slowly, he turned to face you. His dark eyes scanned your face, and for the first time, you saw something other than annoyance or indifference in them. He looked almost... guilty.

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” he lied.

You crossed your arms, arching a brow. “Really? Then what do you call running away every time I’m in the same room?”

Mattheo sighed, flicking ash into the grass. “I call it self-preservation.”

“Self-preservation?” you repeated, incredulous. “From me?”

“From this,” he snapped, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “From whatever this is supposed to be.”

Your heart sank, but you held your ground. “It’s not something we can change, Mattheo. You know that.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

The words stung, but you refused to flinch. “What’s there not to like? Is it me? Or is it the idea of soulmates in general?”

He hesitated, his jaw working as if he were trying to chew through his frustration. Finally, he muttered, “Both.”

“Wow,” you said flatly, the sarcasm barely masking your hurt. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

“I didn’t mean—” He groaned, raking a hand through his curls. “It’s not you, alright? It’s just...this whole soulmate thing. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t ask for someone else to decide my life for me.”

You stared at him, your throat tightening. “You think I asked for this? You think I wanted to be tied to someone who doesn’t even have the decency to talk to me?”

Mattheo winced, but you weren’t done.

“Do you have any idea how terrifying this is? To know that the person you’re meant to spend your life with can’t even stand to be around you?”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, you thought he might actually apologize. But instead, he said, “I never said I couldn’t stand you.”

“Oh, really? Could’ve fooled me.”

He sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “I don’t… hate you. Far from it.”

“Then what is it?” you demanded. “Why are you doing this?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took another drag from his cigarette, his eyes fixed on the horizon. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost raw.

“Because I’m scared, alright?”

Your breath hitched. That wasn’t what you’d expected.

“I don’t like the idea of fate tying me to someone,” he admitted. “But what scares me more is that it’s you.”

You frowned. “Why would that scare you?”

“Because...” He looked at you then, really looked at you, and you could see the fear and vulnerability lurking beneath his usual bravado. “Because if this doesn’t work, if I mess this up...I don’t think I could take it.”

The honesty in his words left you speechless. For all his defiance and bravado, Mattheo Riddle was just as terrified of this bond as you were. But for entirely different reasons.

“You won’t mess this up,” you said softly.

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t,” you admitted. “But I know you, Mattheo. And I know that if you just...stop running, we might actually have a chance.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “No more running.”

It wasn’t a promise. Not yet. But it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

[yeyinde]

ghoapxreader in the baby trapping series IM BEGGING 🧎‍♀️

i think i've exhausted the whole "tampering with contraceptives" thing to death by now so i would probably do something different with them. like a surrogate situation or something, but awful lmao

maybe down on her luck reader is in desperate need of cash, and these two men swoop in to save you from this horrible pit you've fallen into.

you need money. they need a baby.

simple, right?

except the simplicity falls apart when they blatantly tell you they want a natural insemination—as in, a threesome.

multiple, the pretty Scot tells you. after all, it has tae take, hen.

(and this is the part where you should have run. the moment when you'd be screaming at the television at the hapless protagonist as they walk mindlessly into danger despite the warning signs hanging overhead. but like the oblivious hero, you're too blinded by pretty, gleaming white to realise that the thing you're marveling over is a maw. cracked open wide and full of jagged, deadly teeth rearing up to sink inside of you.

but the problem with making shady deals when you're desperate is that no one really bothers to read the fine print, do they? and by the time you see past their crooked charm, you're waving your child off as they skip up the stairs to school, standing like a prisoner between them as they lean down and ask if you're ready for another—)

but that comes later.

what comes first is message on Craiglist.

one that you spend less time considering it than you should have. desperation, you find, clouds your judgement. blots out common sense. makes you susceptible to manipulation. and oh, how susceptible you are. despite priding yourself on your common sense and keen self-awareness, the overarching issues hanging over your head like an idling guillotine seem to erase that instructive need for self-preservation.

so, when the message itself pops up, you're already primed for making bad choices. ones out of malformed desperation. the barrage of texts from your landlord demanding rent, the ones sent to your family in moments of dire need asking for fruitless aid that will never come in time if the read receipts mean anything at all. the package from HR apologising for the inconvenience, but this was, regrettably, the only feasible option for the company at present, and too bad you didn't sign up for that union, huh? student loans. credit cards.

the measureable calamity of your life manifests itself in the shape of a black cloud hanging onto your aching shoulder, wrapping long, inkstained fingers around your jugular as it hisses the insurmountable figure needed to climb out of this pit in your ear.

sleepless, of course, hasn't helped.

and in that bog you can't swim through, their offer sounds far more appealing than it should.

let's meet up somewhere, comes the next message at half past three in the morning as you talk yourself in (and out) of this mess. talk about things more.

what else are you supposed to do?

job hunting sites mock you with their generic emails, thanking you for applying, and saying they'll reach out within a few business days for an interview if you're a good fit. ones sent off weeks ago. hundreds of them to no avail. it's almost like you're being plagued. blacklisted from the city.

even the fast food chain down the street refused your application when you sent it in, and the help wanted sign has been taped on the drive-thru window since you were sixteen.

it all pushes you closer and closer to making stupid choices, like replying with a simple (nervous, shaky, bile-tinged) sure to the message they sent. i'm down—

(—and drowning)

but you're smart enough to know better, so you act like it, too.

ping your location to your friends. tell them where you're going. clutch your keys so tightly in your fist that your knuckles just out through thin skin. layers upon layers of safety measures glimpsed through the various articles about how to stay alive.

but all the tremulous air is siphoned from your lungs when you see them for the first time.

something magnetic thrums through your chest. copper sutures running lines from their skin to yours until touching just seems like the most natural thing in the world. and you suppose it is when the pretty Scot folds you into a tight hug, cinching you close to his chest as if he's known you his whole life instead of just several seconds.

he's a thing of beauty. chiselled from marble, almost; David made human when he runs his tanned hand through the tumble of uneven hair along his crown. eyes the same varicoloured palette of a boscage in autumn framed in the setting sun's golden halo.

there's a distinct ruggedness about his beauty, too. one that reminds of you a lion's mane. the sleek fur of a stallion. pretty in a wild way. and as his eyes list towards you again and again, like he can't quite manage his fill of staring at you, taking you in, you think about that wildness again. the hunger in his eyes so similiar to the desperation of a predator fattening up for the encroaching chill of winter. it makes you shiver, but you can't look away

(because you know what's waiting for you when you do)

and when you finally pluck up the courage to glance at the shape devouring the light with his intimidating bulk, you come to quick realisation that if Johnny is the personification of an autumn evening, then the man standing next to him is the tried and true testament that bad things happen after dark.

he's a strange figure, one who veers almost comically into the uncanny valley with his hood pulled over the plain, black ballcap hanging low over his brow. a balaclava covering every inch of his face with the exception of a small, ovaled hole for his eyes. remnants of something ashy smear into the corners, running up the crooked bend of his nose.

he doesn't look like a real man—not with those liquid, haunting eyes—but at the same time, there's something preternaturally human about him. a stereotypical sense of masculinity—just one warped around the edges.

with his worn jeans pulled tight over thick, bulging thighs, and the silver zipper of his hoodie resting at the base of his throat, you could easily think he was just another man in the crowd, but it's off. a glitch. a skip.

like mistaking a coat rack for a man in the dead of night.

eerie.

dangerous.

if the man beside him is playfully carnivorous, a basking lion rolling onto his belly at the zoo, separated by thick glass, then he (Simon, Johnny supplies readily when the silence lingers; Simon Riley), Simon, is what it feels like to be followed home at night.

but—

there's something about fear and desire that are almost inseparable when broken down into a physiological response.

and when he steps up behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body soaking into the drying sweat on your back, you liken the way your heart climbs up your throat to same as it would seeing a dorsal fin cutting above the waves in open water.

desire, you think, and then catching the white-hot burn of the stare, you add, in a thin whisper: fear.

when they sit you down, and begin to spin a story about how they just want a baby—no strings attached—you stay seated in the chair even as an itch in the back of your head starts, nails scraping at your skull.

their reluctance toward traditional methods makes sense when they explain that with their lifestyle, it's impossible—or the Scottish man does; the other one with a marbled skin of thick, ugly scars on his hands just stares, pinning you down with the weight of his gaze—and this arrangement is the only way they'll get the baby they've been hoping for.

and even though the scratching in your head sounds suspiciously like why you and run, you eat the food they bought for you in the fancy restaurant where appetisers start at $30, and a glass of water is priced at $6. volcanic spring water, the waiter explains as he pours it from a marbled glass pitcher.

you haven't eaten a real meal that wasn't microwavable or cup noodles in weeks.

maybe that's why you find yourself thinking why not instead of no.

they're attractive men. it's not the worst situation you could have found yourself in, even if the idea of parenthood—however brief it's supposed to be—has bile clawing up the back of your throat, and the bones housing your trembling heart feeling laden, heavy like iron, and starts to cinch your chest shut each day, squeezing tighter, and tighter, and—

they drop off the first the installment to you the moment your doctor starts to talk about boerhaave syndrome, as if they know the doubts that plague your head when they leave your apartment and the silence starts to mock you.

and that leads you here.

guilt for their situation. desperation over your own. an overarching need to please. it's all a dangerous cocktail that douses over rationality until you're nodding along, accepting their words as gospel until sleeping with them—multiple times—doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

until it happens. until you have Johnny and Simon actively working to knock you up. a marathon of intense sex with the single-minded goal of putting their baby in you.

Johnny drooling all over you as he ruts between your thighs, mindlessly driving himself into a frenzy as he slurres out his desires in an incomprehensible mess of English and Gaelic and animalistic grunts. barely pulling out in time before Simon is pressing your knee down to the mattress, cooing mockingly at the mess his boy made of you. cruelly taking bets as he slides into your sore, aching cunt about who will take first. his or Johnny's? and who do you want, birdie? who's baby do you want first?

fingers always shoving inside to cap the overflow when they exhaust themselves in a liquid-limbed stupor, barely conscious as you tapped out some three, four rounds ago. unable to keep your eyes open any longer as they both came to the same conclusion that cumming inside of you at the same time was the quickest way to knock you up together. ain't he a romantic, birdie?

and it's probably for the best that you passed out before it happened, drooling on Simon's scarred shoulder as he gripped the cheeks of your ass, pulling you wide open as Johnny shuffled forward between his spread legs, eyes riveted to the spot where Simon's cock split you open. the ache you felt the next morning, coming to on a broad chest with fingers stuffed inside of you—shush, shush, just keeping you nice an' plugged, sweetheart—was almost unbearable.

you expected them to clear out after getting what they want, but they stay. tend to you carefully like you're made of fine china.

or—Johnny does. bundles you up in his arms before setting off towards the bath, finally letting you wash the sticky, flaking grime from your skin, some awful mixture of drying cum, spit, and sweat, groaning in your ear as he pulls you to his damp, hairy chest about how sweet you are for them. how they're going to take care of you.

Simon caters to other things. packs your bags as Johnny scrubs thick fingers over your shoulders, pausing to grasp a sore, tender breast in his palm, hefting the weight up as he feverishly mutters about how hot it'll be to watch you feed their baby. an' maybe you'll let him have a little taste, too—

and when you finally emerge from the bath, sorer between the thighs than you were when you woke up, another mess pooling in the gusset of the panties he pulled up your legs, Simon's waiting, eyes riveted to your belly. staring at it with so much hunger, a cold sweat breaks out along the nape of your neck.

in the grand scheme of things, the threesome is the easy part. the hard part comes when they turn the arrangement into a prison, locking the shackles around your wrists when the pregnancy test comes back positive a few weeks later.

they're only doing what's best for their baby, they say, when they move you out of your apartment and into theirs. the cut lease was the only way to do it, Johnny says, shrugging. why make you pay for something you aren't using anymore?

and maybe if your head was thickened with a fog, you'd have questioned the phrasing, but as it stands, pregnancy, even as early as this one, adles you. leaves you a syrupy mess of emotions that they take turns exploiting. aren't you so lonely all by yourself, hen? don' ye want a family?

aren't they good enough for you?

it's less subliminal messaging and more overt coersion. what are you going to do after this? where will you go with your lease cut? and when the funds run dry? what then?

gonna find another couple to knock you up? Simon hisses, mangled hands mauling your belly, pinching and squeezing the flesh as if he could feel the fragile box their happiness is housed inside. should jus' stay with us if that's the case, birdie.

but it's all so sweet, in its own way—

(—sweet like a parasite nesting inside of it's host.

but at least you'll never be lonely.)

they stand by the fact that they're looking out for you. that they care. that they can't do much else but idle and watch your body evolve into something new (an' magnificent, Johnny breathes, kissing this unfamiliar shape you call home) and it grates at them because they're not used to feeling so useless, so can't you just let them do this for you? take care of you in all the ways they see fit? like cutting your lease and giving you a better place to stay. handing in your resignation from that shitty nine to five that wore you down to the bone. culling out the annoyances in your life—the friends and family—who kick up needless fits over your wellbeing, and just stress you out more than you need to be.

they're not good enough for you, is what Simon says when you ask why he blocked them from your phone, Johnny hovering by the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. barring the exits, you'll realise later. but what comes first is fear, is anger, is—

happiness. maybe. or some broken, fragile facsimile of it. a subpar humuliculus masquerading around as if it was realised flesh and bone.

"oh," you say, and think you should be touched by his care, his concern, and so you are. shape this emotion from the sludge that pools at the bottom of your chest, running fingers through the muck to find pieces of gold. and then: "thank you, Simon."

it's sweet. or it could have been if it didn't spiral out of your control when they systematically dismantle your entire life until all you're left with is loose sediment slipping through your fingers. the foundation itself soften clay they shape into the image they've been after with the whole time: you.

(or more specifically, a momma for their baby.)

and when they ask you, at the end of this thin, fraying tether, if you want to be with them—an equal, a mother—and be a mother again for them, there's nothing else you could say except yes.

nothing because they made it so.

[acotarxreader]

Hounded

Eris x Reader

Synopsis: Eris loves his dogs more than any other living thing and they love him but soon his eldest hound has found a new interest, you and your endless supply of bread rolls. An unlikely friendship begins to form between the Son of Autumn and one of Springs last border guards, Craos is just hoping to create some sort of parent trap situation.

Warning: Fluff, banter, blood, wounds, doggos, Eris shaming the dogs belly, poor editing

A/N: Hi friends! I orginally wrote this for @erisweekofficial for the Hounds theme however I've been really in the trenches recently and only got around to finishing it now, so I'm sad to have missed Eris week but still happy to be publishing my first Eris fic! Let me know what you think!

P.S Craos (cray-us) in Irish means blazing when referring to fire and Tine (tin-ah) means fire so I named two of the dogs after these words for a lil Irish flare

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The hounds were Eris’s greatest pride and occasionally his greatest pain in the ass. He fought with this very thought the day his eldest hound, Craos had managed to dip out of his view one walk. Eris blamed himself for losing sight of his favourite friend, so deep in the thoughts of worry about the Night Courts antics that threatened to expose his double agent status to his father. Actually, he blamed them for her escape, it was easier that way. The Autumn leaves crackled against the weight of his heavy boots, his voice getting lost in the whipping whirling wind of the forest far from his residence. Eris swung harshly around on his heels, just in time to catch Craos bounding up the hill towards him, mischievous as ever. 

“You scared me half to death girl” He laughed down at her, running his thumbs over her ears in soothing circles she loved so much, his other hounds leaping around waiting for their turn. She seemed to wish to pull him in the direction she bolted from, something tethering her to the distant spot in the vast woods. “Come girl, leave that hare to its escape love, you’re getting…fluffy enough without the extra feed” he laughed, leashing her to him and taking her from her pointed stance. Eris made a mental note to closely monitor Craos food as she began to get rounder than the others in the pack, no doubt owing to the budding Autumn wildlife she’d snag unaccompanied.

-

The following weeks lead Eris down a rabbit hole of Night Court intricacy, forever walking the line between ally and babysitter. He took comfort in the daily strolls through the thicket of woodland, his beloved pack in toe. The days he missed the walks he noticed his own demeanour change, his interest in the tangled interpersonal mess the Inner Circle was weaving waning beyond even an ounce of interest. Eris checked his hounds daily and despite their own vast staff, he loved to take care of them and nurture the breed while nurturing something he wasn’t even sure he still had inside himself. Some care for another living thing. Not in a selfish way of course, but more in a self-preservation sense, what he loved had a habit of crumbling in his hands or being crushed in someone else’s. 

Deep in thought, Eris ran a hand down the head of one of his younger hounds, Tine, who laid his head on the lap of his master as Eris tried to gain an understanding of the written correspondence on the desk. Tine grumbled against Eris’s thigh before stretching down to the ground. 

“Its tough work being pampered Tine” he laughed to himself, casting an eye on the other 4 hounds, curled into their own worlds by the fire of the study. Eris smiled softly at the relaxed nature, would any other living thing find such comfort in the company he provided? He forced the ever-present question away from his thoughts, casting a look to the sofa where Craos would often take her rest. Empty. Eris stood abruptly, chair screeching along the slate enough to have Tine stand to attention once again. Craos had been there when the others came in from their dinner? Hadn’t she? Another attempt by the Night Court to swipe away Eris’s attention buried him in paperwork when the dogs were returned to him. 

Quick on his feet, Eris and his pack found the staff of the kennels and after a brief and sharp discussion it was unclear if Craos was with the pack on return from her exercise. Following sharp threats, Eris took to the woodland again, his hounds hunting down their own with precision. His voice reverberated off ancient trees as their crisp golden leaves began to ink with lush green colour. Thoughts of the worst clouded the shrubbed path as Eris felt the border of Spring, his second least favourite place in the realm.

“Craos!” He echoed across a section of the stream border between Spring and Autumn. The mischievous hound leapt with excitement at the presence of her master, bounding through the shallow stream to return to Autumn and its son. He gave thanks for Spring's current instability as during time previous he wouldn’t have gotten this close to the Spring border without a visit from the furry High Lord. Eris couched into the silt of the streams bank, rubbing Craos's goofy face while quietly scolding her, knowing full well she wasn’t listening. 

“Petal” Eris looked up from the rushes towards the call of the sing-song siren-like voice. Not in the mood for confrontation with Spring, Eris crouched further into the brambles, obscuring himself from the female across the watery border. Craos pulled against Eris’s gentle hold, eager to cross the border again and succeed with another call from the voice. Eris watched the most feared hound in all the realm, leap like a bunny rabbit to your shadow, jumping to lick your face as you crouched to allow her. 

“Petal darling easy” You laughed, coating the clearing in an ease unfamiliar to Eris. through the thick river rushes Eris watched his much-revered hound roll to her back for scratches before leaping up to follow your hand as it dug through your bag. 

“Okay, sit now” you laughed, Craos eagerly obeying and happily rewarded with a small bread roll you took from your bag. 

“Easy easy” You beamed as she scoffed the lot, Eris watched the interaction with equal parts confusion and intrigue and at that very moment realised the most feared son in all the realm was acting like a bunny rabbit hiding from a fox in the rushes. That very son shot upright quickly from his burrow, causing you to leap slightly with fright as Eris pulled his shoulders back in a more becoming stance. The both of you looked across the crystal-like stream, Craos jumping at your feet eager to resume your undivided attention. 

“Come” Eris called across the rushing water, only to have Craos not respond to him with obedience. You slowly ran your hand down the hounds head, not taking your eyes from the High Lord’s son. 

“Forgive me sir but you have no business this close to the Spring border” You tried your best to project confidence, it slipping from your grasp in the face of Eris’s heated stare. 

“You’re forgive” You fought hard to not roll your eyes at the obvious display of sarcasm. Eris lightly tapped his side, Craos’ ears snapping forward to attention before bounding across the stream to her master.

“Good”

“Don’t hurt her, she’s only coming home” You walked to the bank's edge, eyes scanning Craos for any sign of distress.

“Home?-” Eris found it hard to muffle his confused chuckle “-she is my hound, property of the Autumn Court-”

“Property!?-” You found the full strength in your voice “-she is a living being and she belongs to Prythian, she is more at home in the forest and with me-”

“-And who exactly are you?” Eris was quickly losing patience as Craos seemingly shrunk in stature at her master's strengthening tone. 

“It matters little, leave the dog and return away from my border-”

“-Orders?” Eris’s laugh filled the clearing, his heavy boots now stalking closer to the perimeter “-I will not take orders from anyone.”

“I hear you take orders from the Night Court” You laughed, it now skirting along Eris’s nerves instead of soothing them. 

“I do no such thing” The river water’s temperature began to rise as the son of the flame began to stalk closer. 

“Really? I heard you even bend over when dear Rhysie asks” You laughed again, Eris now causing the very edge of the river to steam. You raised a hand before his boot fully slid into the refreshing stream, a long wall of water dividing up the middle of the lake, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Ah ah-” you shook your finger towards him “-fire and water don’t mix sir” Craos ears pinned back at your words before she looked between the two of you, unsure of her own next move. 

“Your name, tell me your name” He chewed out, examining the translucent wall in front of him for cracks. 

“YN, the last keeper of my Court’s boarders” You smiled so innocently, it almost lured Eris back into that unfamiliar softness until he heard the soft sizzle of the dying flame at his fingertips, it turning to steam against the new border. 

“The last? Perhaps you should take that as a hint and seek further employment at a market or something?”

“Is that where Rhysand bought you?” You smirked, with more playfulness than power and Eris fought away his own smile. Craos leapt forward, Eris going to catch hold of her before she could slam into the fortified border but to his surprise, she glided through it with ease unavailable to him. 

“She can stay, you may go”

“She’s my hound, however, your supply of bread rolls certainly explains her newfound…plumpness” He heard her seemingly groan back in offesen and you looked from her to him. 

“Now you’re annoying two females, you should potentially quit while you’re ahead” Eris scoffed at your teasing, the sound of the other hounds bounding behind him piquing your interest. The four looked to their eldest sibling across the water, heads cocked to the side in curiosity and some form of canine communication. The four followed suit of their leader and crossed to you and Craos with ease. 

“Look at you lovelies” You beamed, crouching to meet the hounds as they reunited with their sister. Eris watched through the glistening border wall, his feared hounds reduced to cuddly toys under your touch. It was if he wasn’t even there. You interacted with them like they were never a threat and never would be, the way that he felt you might feel about him. A foreign feeling to a male whose reputation often goes before him. 

“We-we must be going” Eris felt unsure of the ounce of guilt he felt towards separating you from his pack, some sense of something wrong flooded him when they all ran back to his feet, leaving you alone on the other side of the clearing once again. You looked down with softer eyes to the dogs at his feet, no ounce of fear from them giving you comfort. 

“Don’t make a habit of feeding them all now” Eris smiled, bringing your eyes back to him.

“I thought she was stray, I didn’t know she was one of yours”

“They’re all mine, you say she belongs to Prythian but that is the very land that tried to eradicate the breed” You nodded lightly at his proud words. Silence returned to the clearing only to have Craos groan, receiving a knowing look from Eris. 

“She can come back when she is not working and when I say it is okay but, the bread rolls end” another groan from his eldest hound “No more bread rolls” he reiterated to her, gaining a laugh from you. 

“It's okay Petal, we’ll see” You smiled at her, the other dogs listening carefully and plotting their own access to baked goods. 

“Her name is Croas, it means blazing, a more fitting name than Petal I think” he laughed heartily, the action surprising even himself a little. 

“I’m going to stick with Petal, keep to your side sir” You returned the grin before dipping you head and evaporating into the very mist you built the wall from. 

-

Eris jogged through the vast Autumn woods, desperate to crush the headaches the Night Court were giving him like the leaves under his boots. The hounds sprang into their own exploration, all staying in close proximity except Craos, who had gone to visit you. Over the past month, she began to spend more and more time with you in Spring, even missing a few nights away from home to keep you company. It didn’t bother Eris as much as he had thought, the bread rolls had stopped and Craos seemed happy, he had no reason to take away another living thing's happiness. He never wanted to do that, to begin with, it just became part of his image, his unfortunate brand he couldn’t wait to shed once he assumed power from his father. 

Wartime plans swirled across his head, scenarios of defeat and success clogging his mind until he was snapped from focus by his suddenly wet shoes. He had once again jogged to the border of Spring and Autumn. This was the third time since first meeting you that his feet had taken him where his heart wanted to go and his head didn’t consent to. Unlike those times, however, he found you sat a little way up the stream by the river's edge. Eris watched Craos sprawled along your side, your hand drawing lazy circles on her stomach as you kept your focus on the book in the other. 

“No wonder Spring is falling, when the border guards take such leisure during their worktime” Eris called across to you, throwing his weight into the trunk of a sinking willow, hands tucked deep in his pockets. You looked up from your deep study with a slight jolt, Croas leaping instantly to defend you and sinking back once seeing the perpetrator. Eris never thought one of his hounds would defend anyone without his instruction and yet here Craos was, delighted to be at your service. You looked at Eris's sinking shoe before tilting your head slightly, the wall of water reappearing with the movement. 

“Threatened sweetheart?” Eris smirked, his hands now crossing against his chest in amusement as you stood. 

“Why would I be threatened by someone who’s going to slip?” Before Eris could question further, the sinking willow slipped free a root from the crumbling soil under Eris’s weight, his full balance being thrown back to land on an equally shaky bank. Your laugh echoed off the Spring trees at the sight of the much feared Son of Autumn helplessly falling into the shallow water, it soaking him to his skin instantly. Eris felt flushed with anger, it mixing violently with embarrassment but the sight of your head tilting back with put amusement took it from him as fast as the bank took his balance and he found himself smiling. 

“I don’t know how but you did that on purpose” He stood, a quick flash of flame drying him off as Craos crossed back to his side. 

“I can’t be blamed for you being clumsy” You chuckled, tucking your book back into your bag, Eris catching a glimpse of the cover. 

“I’ve read that, I didn’t think others would have?” 

“So unique and mysterious sir, not like other High Lords” You teased, your hands finding your hips as the other hounds joined the scene, seemingly groaning to demand their dinner. 

“Well, if you would let me cross this silly little water show, I could show you” You raised an eyebrow to his tone of possible flirtation. You blinked softly, a splash of water ejecting from the wall to soak Eris again as he recoiled. 

“I can be blamed for that, little water show” You laughed loudly, Eris wiping the water from his face until another flash of heat dried it away. He thought briefly about how he’d killed others for less and yet no desire to do that to you.

“Maybe another time then YN, I just came for our girl anyways, come Craos better get you home for your dinner” He smiled at the obedient pup. 

“She had a bread roll” You winked before dissolving away in the mist. 

—-----------------

Eris dragged his hands through his hair, his rings snagging slightly on his locks. The warmth of the study fire took away the chill from the perpetual Autumn but was unable to do the same to his sentiments about the Inner Circle. They kept him away from his home for the past three weeks and so kept him away from his encounters with you which had become more frequent in the three months since your first. Still, he stayed on one side of the watery wall, happy to exchange some stories with you across its shimmering surface. Craos was only too delighted that her newfound parents had seemed to cross the bridge between indifference to let's say tolerance. 

Eris stood from his desk, taking a violet-coloured book from the vast library before stalking around the grounds of his hidden home away from home, his hounds in tow except for the usual conscientious objector. The sinking sun reflected beautifully off the crisp leaves of this secluded cottage away from both Autumn and Night Court headaches. He sank down into a well-rotting deck chair, it creaking under his weight as he cracked the spine of the forgotten book you had reminded him of two months prior. It wasn’t long before the sound of heavy panting snapped Eris from the world on the tea-coloured pages. 

“Craos?” He called to the growing darkness, standing to his feet as the hound came bounding through the trees before barking frantically, stirring the other sleeping hounds. 

“What? What’s wrong?” A flame came to Eris’s hand instantly as Craos took the cuff of his trouser leg between her teeth and pulled to which he went willingly. She released her grip before dashing back in the direction she came from, only stopping to make sure Eris was still following. The group leapt over tree roots and mossy burrows, all quick on their pursuit of Craos and her frantic nature until the familiar flush of Spring air rushed at them. Eris’s eyes shot to your weakening body across the familiar river, your groans of pain reverberating off the trees as you fought to stand. Craos met your side quickly as you procured yourself up on one elbow, the mud and moss obscuring you slightly from Eris. 

“Hi Petal, it’s okay” You tried through tears to reassure her, taking your hand from your mangled leg to rub her reassuringly, your blood tinging her fur on contact. She yelped towards you before looking back to a pale Eris, you only notice him then. You tried your best to push from the ground, the screaming sound of metal on bone attempted to deafen your cries of pain. It became clear to him then, that the giant metal teeth of a trap designed to capture naga had found a new victim to lay claim to, its unforgiving mouth crushing through one of your ankles. Eris sank a foot into the river, your shaking hand instantly raising the wall of mist to block him. 

“YN, let me cross” He pleaded, failing to hide the desperation in his voice.

“I-I can’t, he’ll know-know I failed to keep the-the border and he-he might come for you for-for crossing” Your rattling breath only pushed Eris closer to the wall, it solidly pushing him back despite your growing weakness. 

“Let me deal with that overgrown badger, let me across, I need to help you” he continued to plea, his palms flat against the wall of water as the hounds cried out their own appeals. 

“What-what if he comes for-for Craos” You cried, attempting to sit up, your pain threshold quickly being pushed to the limit. 

“Then we’ll both kill him but you need to live for that, now please” His sterness finally had you giving in, the wall dropping with an uncharacteristically loud whoosh. Eris was quick to your side, his strong hands pried open the deathly grip held on your ankle as you cried out in almost deafening pain. The pressure released on your spraying arteries caused a new flood of blood to cover you both, the loss of blood pressure stealing colour from your face as well as energy. Eris took hold of the mangled joint, his hands gently heating. 

“You’re gonna hate me for this YN”

“N-nothing new there so” You half laughed through gritted teeth, it taking some semblance of worry from Eris before he began to to heat his hands to molten levels. You screeched from the feeling of healing flame, your arms instinctively wrapping around Eris's neck to bury your scream in his shoulder. The cauterising was the easy part, the fractured joints and bones not so much. With your arms gripping around him, he sank his hands beneath your legs to pull you up from the ground, the sudden upshoot and loss of blood causing you to lose consciousness immediately. 

-

The feeling of plush fur beneath your cheek was the first thing you noticed, then the smell of crisp cedar and smoke. Your eyes flittered open to the flickering of a well-established fire, Craos lying protectively up the length of your stomach on the oak-coloured leather couch. You rubbed her gently causing her to immediately react with large licks up your cheeks, the other dogs rushing to do the same. 

“Easy everyone” Eris laughed, a large mug in his hand as you sat up from the overwhelming affection. You looked down to see your mangled ankle no longer resembling a horror scene, a pristine white bandage replacing the crimson blood and torn muscle. 

“You’ll be okay, I had a healer here, you might be a bit sore” Eris spoke softly, watching you inspect the wrap before passing you the mug. 

“Thank-thank you” You looked back to him before taking a deep drink from the ceramic. 

“You didn’t even assume I poisoned that, we’ve made a lot of progress” He laughed, sinking into the chair across from you. 

“If you were going to kill me it would have been at the sight of the first bread roll” You chuckled, Croas’s ears perking up at the mention of her favourite snack. 

“Yes well, there's still time” Craos grumbled at her master's teasing, gaining another laugh from you. You looked around the small living room that had become your infirmary, noticing the vast collection of books, wooden figurines of great creatures and general Eris-ness about the place. The inspection made Eris shuffle slightly in his seat until you caught him watching you. You smiled back, swinging your legs to stand again, Craos moved from your side to the other end of the couch. 

“Careful walking YN, I had to threaten the life of a healer to fix that ankle” He smirked but the worry was still written across his amber eyes. You took one or two shaky steps before stopping, Eris fixating his eyes on every movement as Craos seemingly decided to take things into her own hands…or paws. She suddenly jumped from the couch, knocking into the back of your knees, sending your shaking legs from under you. Eris was quicker to react than you, taking hold of your outstretched arms and saving you from imprinting your face on the coffee table. 

“Saving you for the second time” He smiled down at you, allowing you to shift your weight for him to support you, his hands finding your waist to steady you. 

“Maybe I’ll return the favour sometime and not drown you” You laughed again, your hands taking hold of his shoulders for greater balance.

“I have a weird feeling YN that you could save me in another way” He cut off any questioning you might have, your lips meeting his with a delicatness you didn’t know any male could have let alone one of the most feared.  You were suddenly pulled away from him by the feeling of paws on your good foot. You both looked down to Craos who stood knowingly between you both, looking up with adoration at her two favourites fae, making you both laugh. 

“Good girl Croas, very very good girl” Eris beamed down at her before looking back at you again, his new found salvation.

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

What do you think friends?

[reminiscingtonight]

Takedown

Georgia Stanway x Earps!Reader

Word count: 784

A/N: inspired by that video ofc

[WOSO Masterlist]

You’re hard at work when Alessia slides up next to you.

Usually you do a good job at separating your education and your football career, but a last minute assignment means you’re doing your best to craft a ten page research paper in whatever free time you can scrounge up at camp.

“Did you hear?”

Face buried in your laptop, you don’t even spare her a glance. “Hear about what?”

You’re so focused you almost miss her next words.

“Georgia’s trying to wrestle your sister!”

It’s almost comical how quick your fingers come to a stop.

You look over the screen, noting the half exasperated, half amused face on the striker.

“What do you mean Georgia’s trying to wrestle Mary?”

The last thing you expect is to push through a crowd when Alessia leads you to the gym. The girls are all gathered around, hooting and hollering. And at the center of it all is Mary and Georgia.

The two of them are circling each other, Georgia’s eyes drawn and focused while Mary’s got her signature smirk splattered all over her face.

You don’t even have a minute to register everything or react properly before Georgia’s suddenly charging forward with a short yell. A gasp leaves your lips at the effortless way Mary grabs at Georgia’s hips and flips her over on her back with a light thump.

Though usually stoic and the poster girl for doing everything by the book, Leah’s right there to quickly drop to the ground, exaggeratedly slapping her hand on the ground. “One, two, three! That’s another win for Mearps!”

Mary pops up with a holler, grinning like a maniac as Leah parades her around as the champion.

With a huff you finally push your way through the crowd straight to where your girlfriend is sitting up looking worse to wear.

“Are you crazy?” you hiss, helping her to her feet.

Georgia blushes when she realizes you caught the whole takedown.

“Look, we were just--”

“G, she could’ve killed you!”

Georgia frowns. “I know. But I was being careful. All I was trying to do was pin her down.”

You sigh. You love the whole bro-ship your girlfriend has going on with your sister, but sometimes it’s like you’re mothering two teenage boys with no sense of self-preservation. “Georgia, my sister has a black belt in judo. She’d choke you out before you could ever pin her down.”

“I know.”

She says it with so much conviction you falter for a second, lost for words.

“You... you know?”

Georgia, ever the charmer she is, puffs out her chest at her best attempt to look threatening. “Mary may be a black belt in judo, but I’m a black belt in taking down big headed keepers.”

You can almost sense Mary’s presence behind you before you can even hear her. An ironclad hand clamps down on your shoulder, breath so close to your ear that it tickles.

“I’d like to see you try, shortstack. All you’ve done so far is feed that massive head of mine.”

Georgia gasps in outrage, another sharp retort on her tongue when she catches the glare on your face. She shrinks, meekly scratching at the back of her head instead

Mary snickers, jerking back suddenly when you whip around to focus your glare on her.

“Mary Alexandra, you’re thirty-one. Act like it!”

Though she’s six years your senior, sometimes you feel more like the older one between you two. Especially in times like these when Mary gives you all the reasons to scold her like a misbehaving child.

“And you, Williamson! Don’t think I didn’t see you egging everyone on!”

Leah’s in the middle of trying to slip out with the dispersing crowd when your sharp words stop her in her tracks.

Your captain turns around, giving you a sheepish smile. “Eh, sorry?”

“You’re going to be,” you grumble, thinking of the paper that you’re no doubt losing motivation to write the longer you’re trying to wrangle everyone down.

It’s times like this that you wish you hadn’t accepted Sarina’s call-up to camp. It’s already hard enough to babysit your girlfriend and her friends whenever you meet up for a mini vacation throughout the football season and sometimes after, but having to do it at camp too is a bit exhausting. Usually Keira’s here to help too but--

You narrow your eyes at the three suspiciously angelic faces batting their eyelashes at you.

“Where’s Keira?”

When you slam open your shared hotel room door minutes later, Keira shrieks, nearly knocking over what looks suspiciously like a makeshift wrestling ring in the middle of the room.

Keira blinks, eyes wide. “Uh, this isn’t what it looks like.”

[fushiglow]

Gojo cares a lot, actually

Perspective and empathy in Jujutsu Kaisen

Once again, I see accusations that Gojo only cared about people in relation to their strength. I can't believe that 236 and 261 haven't put this idea to bed already, but let's go over it again for the class. Here are some thoughts on the importance of perspective and empathy in JJK. Spoilers for chapter 266 ahead!

In 236, Gojo tells Geto he loves everyone. This single line, direct from the man's mouth, should be enough. However, moments later, Nanami says, "You never cared about protecting people". So why do some readers only take one of these perspectives at face value?

Perspective matters in JJK. Often, characters and even the narrator state things that are only true from their perspective in a given moment. What you choose to believe says more about you than it does about them — an idea I explored in my analysis of 236.

This is particularly important when it comes to Gojo and Megumi, because the moment they meet is the only (?) scene in the whole of JJK that we get to see from two perspectives.

The second time, the reader understands the emotional weight of it for Gojo — but Megumi doesn't. He's kept in the dark, so of course he thinks about their meeting in different terms.

Once again, whose perspective are we going to take at face value? From Megumi's point of view, he wasn't offered a choice. From Gojo's point of view, he extended to a child the little agency available to him.

Offering a choice is something Gojo does consistently throughout JJK — pick your hell. It's one of the ways he shows care for others that goes unrecognised, so it's ironic that readers and characters alike misinterpret it for a lack of empathy. However, this is no coincidence.

For much of the series, Gege keeps Gojo at a narrative distance from the reader. Most of what we know about Gojo comes from what other characters tell us, and our view of him is therefore coloured by their perspective.

However, while Gojo laments the distance between himself and others, he fails to recognise that he's the one maintaining it — and not because of his strength or his technique. He has admirable goals, but he chooses to work towards them alone.

There are many occasions where characters reach for Gojo, but he refuses to let them past his metaphorical Infinity out of a sense of duty and perhaps misplaced belief that he alone can or should bear this heavy burden.

All of Gojo's actions are about preserving the humanity of others at the expense of his own. That's precisely why he chooses to become the "monster" alone. In this way, Gojo is flawed but he isn't uncaring. Again, it's a matter of perspective.

Gojo sees strength as the solution because it's all he's ever known. However, recognising the strength of others doesn't mean that's all he sees — because Gojo knows that dehumanisation acutely. What's more, 261 also suggests he thinks of "strength" in different terms to others.

When they meet, Gojo tells Megumi not to get left behind. However, he later says he was "left behind" when Geto defected. We know Gojo's physical strength eclipsed Geto's, yet Gojo only refers to himself as "the strongest" alone after Geto dies.

Before that point, there's nothing in the text to suggest that Gojo ever stopped thinking of the pair of them as "the strongest" — as a unit, as a duo. This suggests that strength, for Gojo, is something much more intangible, much more sympathetic, and much more human too.

What do the strongest characters in JJK all have in common? Indomitable will, courage in their convictions, an overwhelming sense of self. Looking at strength through this lens shines a new light on Gojo's goal of raising "strong" allies.

When he forces a third option in Shibuya, Gojo proves that strength doesn't have to come at the expense of compassion. In the later chapters of the Shinjuku Showdown arc, Yuta, Yuji, and the rest of Gojo's allies reinforce that idea ten times over, and I have every belief that Megumi will soon do the same.

To suggest Gojo only saved Megumi for his technique is unfair when he has consistently proven himself committed to protecting the futures of others, even "weak" non-sorcerers who have nothing to offer him. Once again, it's all a matter of perspective.

Gojo's way of caring is still caring, even if it doesn't look familiar to you. His only flaw was closing himself off from others and choosing to care from afar. However, just like Gojo never stopped reaching for Geto after he left, Gojo's allies never stopped reaching for him.

There's a phrase we use to describe looking at things from another perspective: putting yourself in someone else's shoes. I think it's very telling that Gojo's allies have taken that literally — Yuta by stepping into his skin, and Yuji by standing in his place in 266.

TL;DR: Gojo cares a lot, actually. If Gojo talking about his innermost feelings can't make you empathise, and the students he supposedly "doesn't care about" recognising his burdens can't make you empathise?

Well, that says far more about you than it does about him.

Come read my fics about this!

In His Shadow explores the ways Gojo keeps his distance from Megumi, who isn't equipped with the tools he needs to reach him but finds his own ways to show he cares, born from ten years of history together.

Rivers Crossed, Mountains Scaled explores Gojo and Megumi's relationship through the vehicle of SatoSugu — why Gojo took him in, whether Gojo really gave him a choice, how Gojo sees him.

Hope you enjoyed the post! I love you, Gege Akutami ♥️

[luveline]

Hi love thank u for putting out all these fics and amazing writing! U don’t have to write this if it doesn’t speak to u I’m not sure if u write for sunshine reader but I would LOVE to see a sunshine reader with hotch

thank you!! boyfriend!hotch x sunshine fem!reader

cw mature themes mdni

Hotch can't help smiling at the sound you make when you hop into the shower. Your apartment isn't frilly, the shower a showerhead that's been installed inside your bathtub, curtain falling off the rungs. He can see a slice of your naked body if he looks, but he doesn't look. 

"Too hot?" he asks. He knows the sound well. The hot water hits your skin and you, a mixture of apprehensive and pleased, say, "Woah," or "Oh," or sometimes the less comprehensible, "Wohh." 

"It's really nice!" you assure him. "Are you sure you don't want to come in with me?" 

He's a thousand percent certain. You're lovely, but there's no time for standing behind you in the spray, shivering and trying to let you let him wash your hair or kiss your soapy shoulders. He's super late. You're even later. 

"You get paid better than this," he says, squeezing a dollop of toothpaste onto his brush. His, because you insisted and he practically lives here, a bamboo handle with purple bristles. It's strange, but you like them and he likes you. 

"Pass me my toothbrush, please?" you ask. 

Hotch squeezes toothpaste onto your brush and offers it through the gap in the off white curtain. You pop your head out, soaked, water running down your face and your arms. "What do I get paid better than for?" you ask, confused. 

"Your apartment, honey. I've had push bikes with more space." 

You put your toothbrush in your mouth. Conditioner has your hair glossy and darkened. You have the sense to pull the curtain to cover your naked body, though Hotch thinks sense isn't the right word. He'd wanted to say self-preservation, but that's too aggressive. The point is, if Hotch gets a look at you he might make you even later than you already are. 

"That's such a grumpy old man thing to say," you remark, beaming, toothpaste on your lip. You disappear back into the depths of your shower. In tandem, you finish brushing your teeth. 

"Hotch?" you ask. 

"Aaron. Call me Aaron, please. Hotch is work only, and you know that." 

"What about baby?" you ask genuinely. 

"Anything but Hotch." 

"Sugar pea?" 

"What did you want?" 

The water runs and runs, slapping the bottom of the tub and glancing off of your shoulders. "I really love you, you know? It makes me so happy to get to do this with you." 

The water shuts off. Hotch grabs your towel off of the warming towel rack and stands in front of the tub, barely enough room for you to get out and step down. He wraps the warm towel around you tenderly. 

"I really love you, too," Hotch says, wiping a missed glob of conditioner off of the top of your ear. "This is the best part of my day, even if we're like two sardines in here." 

You smile happily.

"I think I love you most like this," he says. "You look really happy." 

"Hotch, I'm always happy around you." 

"More like you're always happy. You're like a ray of sun," he says without drama. It's as true as saying the earth is old and grass is green. "But if you don't start calling me Aaron, we're going to have a problem." 

"What kind?" you ask, like this is a delight you're eager to receive. 

He ushers you out of the bathroom toward the bedroom so you can change before waylaying him anymore. He watches you get dressed, hands at his neck tightening his tie, and he knows how lucky he is to have you, how fortunate he is to get to watch you put your earrings in, tip of your tongue making a guest appearance between your lips in concentration. Eventually, despite all his willpower, and despite it being the really wrong time, he stops you in the middle of the bedroom and attempts to kiss you dizzy. 

"You really should've showered with me," you murmur happily, giving him two punctuating kisses in quick succession. 

"I really wish I had," he says. Even in your tiny, draughty, slip-and-slide tub. "Come on, before I make an unprofessional decision." 

You hold hands all the way to the BAU. 

[paymechildsupport]

ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇʀ!Ryomen Sukuna x M!ʀᴇɪɴᴄᴀʀɴᴀᴛᴇᴅ!Reader //“𝗠𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗲..?”

Request, @zxuii

--- "HI HIII first off, i love your writing style, i actually adore it lol. Second I want to request Teacher!Sukuna x Male!reader that was also a sorcerer from the heian era, a powerful one who gets jealous quite often of the attention Sukuna gets since back in the Heian era the only ones who where close enough to Sukuna was reader and Uraume (Unless Uraume didn't exist in this AU or smth happened) so a lot of fights between them break through since Sukuna isn't good with communication either. You can decide if you want this too be Angst in general or paired with something else i don't mind!! :))"

((I love this <3))

-!! M!Reader (he / him)

-!! Wee bit of angst (he's just a saucy boy) + goofy kinda smut (dunno what kind of style it's called lol)

-!! stuff ain't proofread 🥶

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

･・❥・---------------------------------------------------------------･・❥・

Sukuna remembers you vividly from the past; from that time 1000 years ago. How could he forget? Such a flamboyant character, – power exuded with every step, the earth seeming to shake with every fall of your foot. A wandering swordsman: a rather powerful sorcerer who curiously didn’t belong to any one clan. You’d spend your days traversing the earth, sleeping in the empty shrines near villages, taking commissions and odd jobs from just about everyone– human or not. 

Sukuna found it odd how you didn’t align yourself with the standard belief of sorcerers: you were benevolent to cursed spirits like him, you didn’t have the sudden impulse to exorcize, to destroy. Perhaps it was your lack of loyalty to a clan, or the fact that curses could offer prices just as good– if not better, than humans. Either way, it was quite interesting when you crossed paths for the first time; him, the terrifying, all powerful King of Curses, – four arms and two grotesque faces, towering over you, a humble traveler, – and you just stood there, – smiling, at him, – the rumored monster of Ryomen Sukuna. 

He was absolutely astounded, – had this guy not an ounce of fear? The singlest shred of self-preservation? You should be screaming– running, – begging at his feet for mercy, – not making small talk 

“Nice weather, huh?”

“Excuse me? It’s pouring” 

“Oh, I hadn’t noticed 😋” 

He could sense a staggering amount of cursed energy from you, much more than the average sorcerer– let alone human. 

“Nice jugs btw” 

“???” 

Bud was flabbergasted – he could only watch you walk away with a big grin on your face. Later that evening he had to bring it up to Uruame, who was cooking up the latest harvest of human bones: 

“He said you had a nice chest.” 

“Huh, usually one would think to say that to a woman–” 

“Perhaps the sorcerer thought you were a woman”

“What.” 

Ever since he’s had an affinity for you, a fascination… an obsession. He needed to know everything about you, – your goal, your motives, your desires, your deepest and darkest of fears, – the most depraved of thoughts of this strange sorcerer who had the gaul to compliment his chest like he was some kind of street whore. 

He ran into you the next day at the same village, just as you were about to leave. You acted so nonchalant, like he was just another acquaintance, it was truly fascinating and… dare Sukuna say, endearing. He initially went there to kill you for your audacity from yesterday, yet he ended up only shit-talking the village folk wit you, – the old swordsmith who swore there were devils living in his chimney, - the old woman by the creek who was rumored to drown passerbys in the water next to her tiny abode, - the sleezy thug of a priest who thought it was funny to scam you for cleaning his shrine free of charge (whom Sukuna ended up gutting shortly afterwards). The curse was left to, yet again, return back to Uruame with new rantings of you

(just let them cook in peace 😭)

The next day, a band of those pesky Zenin showed up, – and Sukuna thought the opps were on him again. Turns out, not only were you not apart of any specific clan, but you were also quite unpopular with a majority of sorcerer society. After finding out, Sukuna couldn’t help but rush to your aid, determined to cleave the gang of sorcerers in half for trying to harm such an interesting specimen of his. Imagine his utmost surprise to find them not only beat upon his arrival, but diced up and dead on the forest floor, too. 

He was beyond impressed: a seeming clanless nobody such as yourself had chopped down about a dozen of one of the most powerful sorcerers of the time. You saw him staring from afar, waving and flashing that stupidly charming smile of yours. Sukuna couldn’t help but invite you back with him, the dozen dead bodies in tow 

Uruame cooked up a mighty fine dinner that night, one the three of you enjoyed together (yum, human flesh). From that day on you were part of the gang: you, Sukuna, and Uruame. Most days you would be off for up to months at a time, simply doing your own thing, going town to town. Whenever you’d run into your good pal as he was burning down the latest village you’d make sure to have a nice catch up over a warm meal (cooked by Uruame)

You and Uruame got along, – they liked the fact that you could often cook together, Sukuna– being useless as shit in the kitchen – was barred from helping lest he incinerate everything 

But alas, you were mortal, fickle; temporary, – and no sooner did you come into his existence were you cruelly ripped from him, – finally effectively jumped and killed. 

Sukuna almost couldn’t believe it: you never lost- you weren’t supposed to lose, but you did. You fought valiantly, taking an impressive number down with you. In the skirmish, Uruame disappeared, Sukuna was reduced almost to dust,-- miraculously he survived, albeit incredibly weak. They sealed a majority of his power away in his severed fingers. 

Now, weakened immeasurably and down a pair of arms, – momentarily without his chef and darling sorcerer, Sukuna had a change in heart

No longer did he want to be the bad guy, he wanted to be good, to help others, – to help the future of jujutsu sorcery (nah, that’s some bullshit, he just wanted to continue being fed, and he could only be if he became a teacher in sorcery, lol) 

—----

Flash forward to modern day… 

—---

Seeing you once again, reborn, was a complete whiplash for Sukuna. 

You recognized him immediately, obviously, – he was your man after all <3 (even if he denied it) 

Poor baby had to physically restrain himself when he saw you back to kicking ass as a modern day jujutsu sorcerer, having not changed an ounce since he last remembered you

You miss his four arms, – almost more than Sukuna did. It disappointed Sukuna to see you disappointed with his lack of arm power. Still, he only needed two arms to absolutely destroy you--

After the incident with Yuji Itadori accidentally consuming one of his fingers (which made Sukuna livid– blud has been sweating and grinding to get those fingers back, and to find out some random goofy ahh kid decided to munch on one? And they wanna give him MORE??) – Sukuna has been absorbed more than ever into his work. 

You adore his students, – especially Megumi, Nobara and Yuji – (much to Sukuna’s dismay) and oftentimes will stop by his lessons just to bug him in front of them 

You were still the same insufferable charmer as before, shamelessly batting your eyes and making crude comments to catch him off guard: 

“Hey cutie ;) “ 

“Hell do you want” he sneers, “wish to be my example for today’s lesson?” 

“Nah, just passing by, – those pants make your ass look fat by the way” 

“What.”

“Toodles !!” 

It infuriated him, much to your delight 

It was different now, back then it was just you and him, Uruame bearing the only witness to your shenanigans. But when you say those things in front of those brats, – the same brats who were taught to fear and despise his kind, who were suppose to be intimidated by him, – it makes his job of maintaining the tough, snide “King of Curses” just that much harder 

Yuji, with all the time he spent with Sukuna as his main mentor, would ask about you frequently: what you were like 1,000 years ago. Whether it was the nostalgia or purely the fact it was you, – talking about it always softened Sukuna’s grueling and harsh belittling. Poor Yuji could only catch a break when Sukuna started saying “Back in my day..”

“Sukuna-sensei?”

“What, brat?” Sukuna paused, casting an unimpressed glare over his shoulder 

Yuji propped his head onto a fist, leaning on the desk in front of him. The empty classroom was dimming with the setting sun, the vibrant colors that always made Sukuna wanna barf invaded through the windows from the sunset, painting the empty classroom a colorful ombre, 

“You said that odd man who likes to hang around you was around 1,000 years ago, right?” 

Sukuna’s eyebrows scrunch in annoyance, “Yes, and?” 

“What was he like? Does he act the same as all those years ago? How’d he get reborn? What was your relationship like?” The curse wanted to punt the kid across the room with all his silly questions. Instead, – knowing you’d dislike it if he hurt Yuji, – he opted to take a deep breath, air hissing through his teeth, before answering, 

“Mm, you brats are so invasive, – the world doesn’t revolve around you selfish vermin.” sighing, “but fine, I’ll entertain whatever silly fantasy you have about me in your head; he was a sorcerer, a pretty damn strong one, too”

“But you didn’t kill him-” Yuji interjects, confused 

“No, I didn’t” 

“Why, were you two good friends.?”

He growled at the quantity of the questions, causing Yuji to scoot back in his seat slightly, 

“No– well, sort of. I’d assume you could say that.” 

“No-? Really? Kugisaki thinks you two are dating” 

Sukuna’s jaw almost drops to the floor, 

“What.” 

“Yeah, – Fushiguro says you two were together back then too, with the way you look at each other”

With the way he-? 

“Was he your like… private prostitute or something?” 

Sukuna has never heard such fuckery before:

“No. – I’d suggest you’d stop wherever you think you’re going with this, brat.” 

“Did you bang though?” 

That threw him for a loop, and Sukuna couldn’t help but wince at the term. “Banging” was a poor choice of words, – such a word couldn’t possibly do what you two did justice. 

No, you didn’t “bang”

Sukuna couldn’t help but be drawn in by you, – your attitude, your carefree-ness, your power, he wanted it all for himself, – which he sometimes did 

Those endless nights of pleasure where’d he just lose himself in you, - your affectionate caresses, your sweet nothings whispered into his ear that cast shivers all throughout. Sukuna was used to hearing praise showered upon his name, – his devotees throwing themselves at his feet to worship the ground he walked on. But he didn’t care for their praise, – not like he did yours. Your kind words were treasured, craved. If only you had been a woman: he would’ve made you a concubine, – no, – his wife. 

—---

His ego is fragile, witnessing you tearing apart his terrifying image horrifies him. 

Unfortunately for Sukuna, you couldn’t stop dotting on your pretty princess :3 It all came to a boiling point when you saw one of his colleagues start to cuddle up just the littlest bit too close: and he just let them. Seeing Mei Mei acting so clingy with the King made something in the pit of your stomach drop. Your envy boiled, sour and ripening into an ugly weed. It was obvious she held no actual affections (because one, – Mei Mei only lives for cold, hard cash, – which Sukuna didn’t really have on him, which was odd— and two, he was way too old for her tastes)

You just couldn’t help yourself, – he was wearing such a tight shirt, it hid nothing. 

“Yo, nice tits”

He was done. You were done sullying his name with your filthy words, – you were done humiliating him. And he made sure you knew that too

He had pulled you into his empty classroom, all the students and staff long gone. Sukuna towered over you, cold glare sending a delicious shivering cascading through your body, 

“Enough.” 

“Eh..?” you wince, your voice sounded all wrong, too high pitch and breathy, “enough of what?” 

Your damn smile again. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your humiliation is not appreciated.” 

You scoff, “humiliation?” 

He glares, “silence, brat” he firmly grabs ahold of your chin, forcing it upwards, making you look him directly in those creepy, maroon eyes. 

One moment Sukuna has his emotions underwraps: he’s focused, – locked in, – he’s not going to let something as fickle as human ‘love’ hinder his plans. The more assertive the better, he would not be walked on – but he also didn’t want to accidentally lash out and do something he ends up regretting 

The next thing he knows, Sukuna starts spiraling, 

“You insist on following me, stalking me for over 1,000 years, – it’s pathetic” wait- what? No, he didn’t mean it like that

“--you mortal brats are as measly as ever, it’s no wonder you died to your own kind” pause, no, no, no, no, no….-- what was he doing? He didn’t actually mean that- 

“--killed by fellow sorcerers: pathetic. Dead and reborn, you’re still the desperate mutt crawling back to me..” Stop. Make it stop. Someone stop him. Stop/

“Uruame should be back here instead, seeing you is the biggest disappointment in this millennium” 

Oh.. 

“... fine then.” Your voice is quiet, small. Don’t look at him like that.

Sukuna’s eyes widened, but he couldn't seem to say anything, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. Instant dread pools into his stomach

“I see how it is. If that’s truly how you feel…” 

“Wait no–” Sukuna starts, immediately tensing up as you lower your eyes onto his. He swallows, hard. He hated the dejected, – the defeated look on your face. You looked so sad, and Sukuna couldn’t bear to see you sad , – something that terrified him to no end, — you terrify him to no end. You elicit the most exotic of feelings within him, reviving his ancient, rotten, worm eaten heart to a thunderous boom. Sukuna is reminded of the times back then: you laying in the field, hand twining in his hair, lightly scraping his scalp, – him sighing in content like an old dog. There would be the half eaten corpse of some unfortunate sorcerer off to the side, and you’d occasionally hand feed one or two limbs to the second mouth on his stomach, tongue out and awaiting like a dog’s for a treat  —Such tender moments, the power you have over him makes him feel weak in the knees. Every instinct within him told Sukuna to run, - to protect himself from this threat that was your adoration. The thrill gnawed at him from the inside, – but oh, the ecstasy from it felt so good. 

But he was Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses – he couldn’t face having such an open weakness – taking on a lover would feel like he had gutted himself, taking away a fundamental aspect of his existence as a character. You just have to keep stoking the flames. , 

… “nevermind, just go. I could care less” 

You do, closing the classroom door behind you, and Sukuna can’t help but feel as if half of his soul leaves with you. This happened every time: he’d push you away, only to immediately regret it, craving deeply for your validation. 

Shit, seems like he really did have a lot to learn when it came to such fickle human emotions.

He’d make it up to you, – he always did. 

—-------

You were the only one to bring him to his knees, the only deity the King would bring himself to worship , – and what a divine thing you were. 

Those nights of infinite passion, – you underneath him, (and occasionally him under you–)  he’d take you with the utmost care. Ryomen Sukuna has never been “gentle” with something, – let alone with another living individual, – but with you his touches were always so attentive, so skillful and purposeful. He never wanted to hear you scream in anything but pure pleasure. 

On the most precious of those nights, you’d coax the sweetest of noises from his lips. You could’ve sworn he has whimpered, despite his firm denial. 

You were his God. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

A/N: thank you for the request <3

[ramp-it-up]

Peach, Part III

Part II | Part IV

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky because it's the right thing to do. And now he is in love. With you. A woman he lied to about a myriad of things. Now he just needs to convince you to forgive him. And spend the rest of your life with him.

Pairing: Art Dealer/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: I love these two and there is so much to say. More parts to come.This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and AFTER the events in the Bucky Barnes fic You've Got me Thinking. I'm so done for with Steve and Peach. The next part will be published next week! ☺️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angsty angst! Steve is called ‘Steve’ and ‘Grant’ at the beginning, because lies. Mutual pining, attempted masturbation, wild thoughts, threats with a knife, talk of a gun, dirty talk, voice kink, praise kink, did I say ANGST? Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

As soon as Steve and Bucky stepped into the house in Hilton Head, Frumoasă’s family welcomed them warmly. Steve felt something that he hadn’t felt in a long while as he watched Bucky and his girl reunite. It had only been a few days, but the emotion between them was palpable.

Steve was happy for his friend, that after years of playing around he finally found his one. His mind drifted to a certain someone in Georgia as his eyes scanned the room for the family’s reaction to this reunion.

When his eyes lighted on you, Steve did a double take, thinking that he was hallucinating.

There you were, beautiful as ever, staring at him like a deer in the headlights, your rapid breathing making your chest rise and fall under the form fitting dress you were wearing.

Steve’s heartbeat was out of control as his eyes traced your form, down to those sexy high heeled boots, and then back up again to that face, those lips, those eyes! 

You looked as if you had seen a ghost. After a few seconds, recognition filled them as you looked from Bucky and Frumoasa and then back to Steve.

Steve knew the moment you understood what he had done. He saw your eyes flash at him, almost felt your body tense and could only watch your flight into the kitchen. 

Against his normally strong sense of self preservation, he went after you.

—-

The instant your eyes met Grant Stevens' ocean blue gaze, you lost all focus. You flushed and became physically affected by his proximity. You watched in silence as he stepped into the room behind the attractive dark haired man that your cousin flew to embrace and closed the door behind him.

You were confused as to why he was here with this other man and what was going on.

As your family’s chatter increased, you realized that this must be Bucky Barnes, whom you’d heard so much about from your cousin. You were impressed that he came after her; you knew how bull headed she was. 

Almost as much as you were.

Then it hit you.

The man with him was not Grant Stevens, ordinary bartender, this was Steve Rogers, multi millionaire mobster and Bucky Barnes’ best friend. 

Your eyes took in the scene and then met Grant’s (no Steve’s) again and you shook yourself from your daze. The man you knew in Atlanta was the same, but different. 

His hair was different, cut quite a bit shorter, but still floofy on top, and he still had a beard, but it was tamed. He carried himself a little differently as well, as if he could buy and sell this entire house and everyone in it but didn’t want to, an air of confidence and expectation, directed toward you.

These subtle differences hit you right in the pussy, because damn, he looked good, he smelled good, and that big dick energy was enormous.

But then you realized how he’d lied to you and rage, disbelief, and betrayal flooded your body. You tried to regulate after realizing that your jaw was clenched and your hands were balled into fists.

Rather than deck this man in front of your family and draw attention to this fucked up situation, you retreated into the kitchen, hoping that Steve would have the good sense not to follow you. 

You went to the sink and gazed out of the window to the beach, attempting to be soothed by the vision of the tide retreating and returning until you heard the door open and close behind you.

Without turning around, you shook your head to clear it from the haze his rich, woodsy scent cast over you. 

And also to warn Steve Rogers.

“DO NOT come near me.”

—--

Steve’s heart was beating a mile a minute and he was sweating as he pursued you, but he couldn’t help himself. This thing between you and him was undeniable. 

At least to him.

And so he came around the sizable kitchen island to talk to you despite your warning.

His mouth was dry when he attempted to speak, but he had to try.

“Peach… I—“

You turned around, a Japanese steel carving knife in your hand.

Steve felt his eyes widen and he put his hands up and backed away until the counter behind him stopped his retreat. He knew he could easily take the knife from you and calm you down, but now was not the time for force. 

It was time to grovel.

“Peach, please…”

You advanced upon him, tip of the knife pointed at Steve’s throat. Your pulse quickened as you got nearer to him, only because you were going to kill him, you thought. 

Not because he was so damn fine. No.

Not because your nipples were tight and your pussy was pounding as you remembered his hands on you, inside you, and his hard body against you as his mouth invaded yours. 

You were so caught up that you could only stare at him as you threatened his life. 

You searched Steve’s handsome face for the hint of a smirk, which, to his credit, wasn’t there. Steve looked earnest, like a little boy even, so your eyes moved away from his face and down to the impossible broadness of his shoulders in the fine brown suede jacket over brown cashmere sweater, to his tailored brown slacks, skipping over the bulge there down to his big feet in brown suede boots.

The tone on tone was attractive and the hint of the chain of his St. Stephen’s medal, the same one he wore in Atlanta, was about to make you go feral.

This man affected you in the worst ways. 

How could you want to murder him, fuck him, and also just bury yourself in his chest? 

“Who the fuck are you?”

Steve dropped his head and stared down at the knife at his neck when you spoke

He deserved every cut you wanted to give him. 

“I’m so, so sorry, Peach.”

He looked back up at you and you gasped, the knife dropping a little. At the same time, while holding your gaze, Steve slowly moved his hands toward yours, which was trembling slightly now. You nodded a little as he reached for the knife and he took it gently out of your hand.

He moved toward you and you backed up as he reached beside you to put the knife down, rendering it available if you wanted to hurt him again.

You were impressed. 

But you didn’t trust him one bit.

“Back the fuck up, Grant. Or Steven. Or whatever the fuck you are calling yourself today.”

Steve created space and leaned against the opposite counter, looking more comfortable than your angry heart agreed with.

“I deserve your anger, Peach. But I can explain.”

At that, you straightened up and picked up the knife again.

“I’m not angry, Steven. I have no feelings for you whatsoever.”

Steve’s mouth fell open. He wasn’t expecting that. 

“If I ever felt anything for anyone, it may have been Grant Stevens, but he doesn’t exist.”

You examined the knife, but didn’t point it at him this time.

“Since he doesn’t exist, neither do my feelings or any chance I allow you to get close to me ever again.”

Your multicolored eyes stared into Steve’s and he shivered. 

“Now, this is obviously a big deal for my cousin out there, and for your friend. I’m not going to spoil this for her. But you.”

You indicated Steve with the knife.

“You, stay the fuck away from me. Pretend I don’t exist and I,” You smiled a little.

“Well, I don’t have to do that, do I?  Because not only did you lie to me, you ghosted me.”

Steve felt like the most despicable man on earth. 

“So, you’re dead to me, Grant Stevens.”

You moved around the island to go back to the dining room with the knife in your hand.

“There’s another entrance to the dining room through the hallway by the bathrooms. Use it. I do not want to be associated with lying sacks of shit.”

You straightened your spine and Steve couldn’t help but watch your beautiful body leave him in the dust.

It was then that he knew he was in love.

—--

At dinner Steve watched everything unfold with consternation, but also amusement and curiosity. Bucky and his girl were about to crawl under the table and fuck, even though her parents were grilling him, but his friend had it under control.

Steve wanted to know what you thought of all this and when he looked at you, he thought he caught you checking for him a couple of times, but you always seemed to be looking at something else. 

You were clearly still pissed at him. 

Which gave him hope.

Because regardless of what you said about being dead to you, there was still some strong emotions swirling around in that head of yours.

Which meant you were thinking about him. 

He had to get you alone to talk. But he didn’t know how.

When your aunt suggested he and Bucky stay over, he silently thanked the stars above.

Now he was getting somewhere.

—--

When your Aunt Karen opened her home to criminals and liars, you almost drove back to Atlanta. You sat there and stewed as this handsome asshole smirked across the table at you.

You should have used the knife.

This was going to be the longest four days of your life.

When Bucky and Steve left to retrieve their belongings from the hotel, you looked over to see your cousin staring at you. You thought she was too caught up in Bucky to notice anything.

You were wrong. She continued staring at you as she called out to her mother.

“Ma, Peach and I are going for a walk on the beach to work off dinner, we’ll be back soon.”

As soon as you were out of earshot, the interrogation began.

“What the fuck is up, bitch?”

You told her the entire story.

—-

“You gonna tell me what is going on now?”

Steve looked over at Bucky as they drove to the Surf Song Inn to get their luggage. He would be the only one to understand what he was going through.

“Remember when you said I didn’t really “get it” when you were talking about speeding up the timeline?

Bucky nodded, intrigued.

“Well, I do now. And the story starts in Atlanta….”

By the time Steve was done, Bucky’s mouth was hanging open.

“I noticed that she’s a looker; definitely related to my Frumoasa.”

They chuckled and Steve shook his head at his friend.

“Now that I know what’s going on, with the extension of the Atlanta deal, and the foundation outlay… You’ve got it fucking bad.”

Bucky laughed at his friend.

Steve groaned.

“Stop busting my balls, Buck. I need help.”

Bucky shook his head.

“I don’t know man. My girl and I certainly went through something like this, but she knew my real name, for fuck’s sake. And I never left her hanging to run off into the night forever. I want to fucking punch you for that shit.”

Bucky was serious. 

“I know. I’m such an idiot. But I panicked. I think I knew I was in love but I’d fucked up. In the back of my mind I was always going to go back once we got clean and tell her the truth but…”

“Fate won out?”

“Yeah.”

There was silence in the car as the sounds of the ocean surrounded them.

“She threatened to slit my throat when she saw me today. She had the carving knife in her hand.”

Bucky grinned at his friend who was gazing dreamily out of the window.

“I knew I liked her. My kind of girl. She’s perfect for you.”

“Punk. But how do I get her to realize that?”

“Persistence my friend. Persistence. And cunning.”

—--

By the time Steve and Bucky had returned, there was a plan, but almost as soon as he stepped into the house, your cousin grabbed him up. He followed her into the kitchen, afraid of another knife attack.

“Just what the fuck do you think you are doing, Steven Grant Rogers? You trying to run game on my cousin? We don’t play that, I will fuck you up!”

This time it wasn’t a knife, but your cousin’s finger pointed at him

“I love her.”

She froze, mouth open and finger in mid air.

“Well. Damn.”

She straightened up and leaned on the counter as Bucky came in.

“May I join the party?”

His girl glared at him and he put his hands up as he walked up on her and took her in his arms.

“I promise, I didn’t know a thing about it. I’ve been a little distracted lately.

He kissed her and her ire was gone. Steve wished it were that easy for him.

“So you’re in love but you fucked her over, and she wants nothing to do with you. Cool.”

Your cousin wasn’t scowling at him, but she wasn’t smiling either.

“Yeah, I’m fucked. But i’ve got a plan.”

Steve and Bucky looked at each other and grinned. Your cousin looked from one to the other. Then they told her the plan.

“Oh hell. My poor cousin. But you forgot one important thing…”

—--

The rest of the night was spent playing board games, watching football, and outrageous flirting between Bucky and your cousin. 

Oh, and you avoiding Steve Rogers at all costs. 

If he came into a room, you exited, if you heard his voice in another, you scowled. He was ruining your holiday. You were stressed beyond belief. But you had something for that.

You knew that your cousin was planning on meeting Bucky in the basement and being a freak, so that’s when you and your handy dandy little bullet vibrator would meet up.

You needed to relieve the tension Steve being in the house had placed on your pussy. You were afraid you would fold and fuck him.

All you needed was to cum and you could think straight.

When your cousin snuck out of the room, she thought you were asleep, but you were just hiding and waiting for her to leave. Just when you pulled the bullet from under your pillow, your door opened and your light came on. You sat up in bed when you saw it was Steve, prepared to cuss him out.

He quickly shut the door and leaned against it, a vision with his big, bare feet, plaid pajama pants and size smedium henley.

It was still a crime how good this man looked. 

And how much he affected you.

Steve saw you without makeup, that delectable mouth in a sexy O, and those eyes wide and got hard instantly. 

He was so ruined.

You watched Steve watching you and then watched him reach up and rub the back of his neck and damn, did his bicep look good as he unconsciously flexed. 

“I need to explain, Peach.”

“You don’t need to do a gotdamn thing but get the fuck out of my room.”

“Please…”

“Don’t give me that shit. That fake apology begging shit. You’re nothing but a liar, and a manipulator. Trying to fuck me under an alias. Pretending to be something you’re not.”

Steve grew exasperated and damn you if the sight of him potentially angry didn’t turn you on more. Did you actually want him to fight for you? 

You had a problem. A six foot, two inch problem.

“I didn’t fuck you, did I? I realized what I was doing was wrong and I stopped.”

You huffed and cocked your head.

“Yeah. You ran. Which was the easy way out. Instead of staying and apologizing and telling me the fucking truth. I don’t need your explanation now, asshole. You better be glad I don’t scream my ass off! Coming in here like you’re going to make me beg for you to put your little dick inside me and have your way with me in all the holes that you can.”

Steve raised his eyebrow, heart rate increasing. You wanted him.

“That's very oddly specific, Peach. Been thinking about me? Been fantasizing?”

His fervent whisper made you shiver.  

“And I think you’ve ascertained by now that it’s not little.”

He smirked as you glared at him. 

“You’re right, Peach. Now is not the time for explanations. Maybe we just need to finish what we started in Atlanta. Get the tension out so we can talk. Let me fuck you so hard that we both cum. Hard. So we can have a civil conversation.”

God, I need her to cum around my cock, those thighs wrapped around me, Steve thought. It was his only goal at the moment.

Your pussy sat up and took notice as you were silent, adjusting the pillow with the bullet under it so that he wouldn’t know what you were planning to do. He studied you as you sat up straighter in the bed.

You both knew that one fuck wouldn’t end the beef. In fact, you guessed correctly that you wouldn't be able to get enough.

“You want me to beg, Peach? To get on my knees for you and beg to give me just a few hours of your time to show you that I am completely and utterly yours, Y/N/LN.”

You stared at him as he nodded at you and started rubbing himself through his pajama pants like a heathen.

“But what would you let me come in here and do to you that would make you scream your ass off Peach, if I begged to your satisfaction?”

His eyes roamed your body, stopping at your rigid nipples through the thin material. 

Steve was thirsty now.

“Would you let me touch you?”

His baritone voice was destroying your pussy right now. She was practically humming and vibrating on nothing at the moment, and you wondered if you could come from words alone. 

Steve wondered the same thing.

So he tried it.

“Would you let me?” 

Waves of desire rolled off of him and you could feel it from across the room. He was itching to move close and touch you, but you needed to make the first move. 

So what he said to you was, “Would you let me get my dirty criminal hands all over you, Peach?” 

You tensed, not knowing if you wanted to strangle him or climb on his penis. But then you thought both, at the same time, and crossed your arms against your body instead.

“N-no!”

That damn eyebrow shot up and you looked away, not knowing if you had the strength to endure.

“I want to bite into you, Peach.”

You opened your mouth to breathe.

“Not hard. Just enough to see how soft your skin is. Just so you can feel it throughout your body…you are…fuck… you are so fine… I need to consume you.”

You were in the same room with the big bad wolf, and yet you didn’t want to escape.

“I wonder…”

He trailed off, and you turned your head and gained eye contact, curious and wound up tight. Your pussy was pounding now, and you knew he had to smell your scent. He was actually licking his chops. 

“Would you let me slide my tongue inside you and lick you clean?”

He watched his eyes dilate as your eyes shuttered and a sound came out from your throat. It was a whimper of need that you cut short by clearing your throat, but not before Steve’s eyes flicked down to your sleep shorts and your thighs rubbing against each other. He knew you had to be soaking wet. 

He licked his lips and nodded, agreeing with your lust.

“Yes. Want, no need, to rub my cock all over your beautiful body. Feed it to you inch by inch, until you take it down your throat.”

You closed your eyes to shut off the sight of him, but the images of what he was saying assaulted you. You were so close to giving in. 

“Will you, Peach? Let me rub this big dick all over that body?”

You opened your eyes and stared as Steve grabbed himself, holding it out for you. You were incredulous when you saw how thick and how long it was under his sleep pants. You licked your lips, suddenly very thirsty.

“Will you let me feed you this cock inch by fucking inch, till I’m down your throat?” 

Steve assessed you.

“I told you that you’d struggle to take it. But I bet you’d take it like the naughty little good girl you are. You’d gag on it for me.”

You wanted to crawl over to him on your knees and do as he said. But you were not going to fold. You took a deep breath, stood up slowly and walked over to him, his smile growing the nearer you approached.

You stopped just shy of touching him, his cock, his hands, those lips all there for the taking. You looked him dead in the eye.

“My aunt Karen keeps a shotgun by the bed. Get the fuck out of my room before I go get it and shoot your gotdamn balls off.”

The grin that Steve wore as he walked back to his room was blinding. You were the perfect woman for him. He just had to convince you.

He was still grinning when Bucky snuck back in the room from his rendezvous with his girl.

“I’m in.”

—--

The next morning you woke almost refreshed, having used your bullet successfully after Steve left the room. You got off in no time and renewed your strength. You even managed to tease your cousin who did the tiptoe of shame back to your shared bedroom before you fell asleep.

You came downstairs to the sight of your aunt and uncle on the way to coffee with Bucky and your cousin about to throw up.

It was obvious what was about to happen and you felt bad as she ran out to the beach to get some air. Maybe you were taking things out on her. As you watched her head toward the beach, you felt the hair on the back of your head rise.

You turned around to see Steve’s cerulean eyes appraising you. You suddenly felt self conscious about your sleep short set.

“Morning.”

“Hmmph.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night, and you are correct. I’m sorry for continuing to pursuing you. What I did was wrong and there’s no future for us. We need to just cut ties. But there is one thing. The foundation.”

One of the things you’d realized was that the Rebirth Foundation that had bailed you out of debt and enabled you to quit stripping and start your dance school was the creation of Steve and Bucky. Your cousin told you it was a very real endeavor, but that Steve and Bucky did run it. 

“Yes. That’s unfortunate.”

“So. What do you want to do about that?”

Steve leaned back and damn, the power of grey sweats was not lost on you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well. I am the managing director of the foundation. If you keep the money, you’ll have to have contact with me; remember the stipulations?”

You grimaced as you recalled the terms of the endowment. A summit in New York, site visits. Shit. 

You crossed your arms and cocked your hip. Steve kept his eyes on your face. That threw you for a second. You cleared your throat.

“Are you trying to blackmail me, Rogers.”

Steve shook his head. 

“No. I knew you would think that. You are welcome to keep the money. I can just consider it a gift. I’ll pay the money back to the foundation out of my personal funds. Consider it a fine for my crimes.”

You looked down and chewed your lip. Then you looked back up at him, your head held high. 

“I’m not a coward, Mr. Rogers. I can fulfill my end of the bargain, even if you…” 

You stopped short.

“I can fulfill my end of the bargain.”

Steve looked at you for a long while, his blue eyes sad. Your heart clenched.

“Good. Your students deserve it. You should have a message in your inbox about the summit on December 15th. You don’t have to RSVP until next week because of the holiday."

Steve stood up and walked toward the kitchen door. 

“I’m gonna go see if your cousin is okay.”

You gaped as the man you thought you hated went to go care for your family. And if what you presumed was going to happen did happen, he was going to be like family for the rest of your life.

You were screwed.

——

If you enjoyed it, please Reblog!

Read the Bucky fic Worth The Fall that comes immediately after this. Read Peach IV, the next part.

[eclipseberrycake]

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader Pt. 3

Who didn't tell me the actual ship name was blueberrycake. What the flip guys.

Anyway, I saw this post and was like omg I need it. So I wrote it.

Part 3 if you will.

-> Part one

-> Part Two

☁ There was something be said about your resolve. Or your spite. Or your absolute lack of self-preservation.

☁ Cosmo wasn't sure which one it was yet. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Not yet anyway. For the sake of your newly budding relationship.

☁ It had been a slow process admittedly, between the four of you, talking and discussing the boundaries you all had and laying them out in the open, along with the expectations you all had for the relationship.

☁ You all were still getting used to each other, and honestly Cosmo wasn't sure if you all were 'official' or just...seeing each other? Glisten had told him there was a difference. He didn't think there was but apparently there was a huge difference between seeing each other, going out, dating and being official.

☁ It was startling to suddenly have to have the difference of all of these explained to him in what was supposed to be a five floor run for pops to restock. It turned into a five floor lecture with Poppy, Glisten and Scraps all explaining the differences to him from across the rooms they were in.

☁ A strange day indeed. He was mostly just glad the others weren't there. You were still recovering and Astro had taken to ensuring you were actually bed resting and not doing...whatever it is you do when you're not listening to common sense. Sprout is with Pebble, making sure the little rock dog is back on track with his healing so he can hopefully be part of a future run.

☁ Leaving Cosmo the unfortunate sole victim of the chat. Even Teagan got in on it, prodding his cheek with a finger and knowing grin, going on about he was quite the 'heartbreaker'. He didn't want to be that! He quite liked you all!

☁ Looking onwards, he wondered how that happened. At one point did he look at what was before him and go yeah thats the one. Because he had questions for his past self. Lots of questions.

☁ "How many is that?" He has to ask, leaning over to where Astro is watching silently, amusement written on the celestial's face. He lost count after #15.

☁ "This is thirty two." Astro hummed, using a star shard to catch a tower of empty pudding cups that had begun to fall. They were disposed of properly as you cracked open what was your thirty-third pudding cup, sticking your spoon into it eagerly. How this happened? Cosmo didn't know. He walked in at the seventh, and even then questioned what the hell you were thinking.

☁ Beside you, Gigi and Goob were cheering you on, bringing more pudding cups out of...Well, Cosmo wasn't even sure where. Just that now there were more. You didn't need more.

☁ "Does Sprout know?" Cosmo continued to ask, leaning to lay on Astro. He was warm and the fur of his blanket was soft. Cosmo probably could've fallen asleep there really if he wasn't too busy watching the crazy shitstorm in front of him.

☁ "Nope." Came the very answer Cosmo was expecting. Probably for the best if he thought about it. If Sprout knew he'd stop it. Himself and Astro both were more curious to see the outcome then they were to stop it. Was there a limit?

☁ You would find out.

☁ Hopefully before Sprout showed up, but that was neither here nor there.

☁ The pudding cup was stacked on top of your most recent pile and number thirty-four was opened.

☁ "We're going to have to deal with this later." Astro tacked on, laying his head on Cosmo's. Cosmo hummed in acknowledgement having accepted that at cup seventeen.

☁ He could only imagine what thirty four pudding cups (And counting) could do to your poor tummy. That was part of science though.

☁ "Whatever happens, we will use this against them for the rest of their life." The roll huffed, glancing to the doorway out of instinct. He could faintly hear Sprout talking with Vee, the most recent recovery, most likely about the latest gossip around Gardenview.

☁ Oh little did they know.

☁ Thirty-five was opened and primed as you slapped down number thirty four.

☁ "This has gotta be some kind of world record." Astro pipes up again, eye darting to where Cosmo had looked off too. "Ooh, Wardens here." He teased, making Cosmo grin.

☁ The thirty fifth pudding cup, no empty, was slammed down as your eyes darted to where they sat, wide and scared. "He's not-"

☁ Goob and Gigi seemed to take this as a challenge, pushing more cups into your hands. Gigi claimed she had a bet going she needed to win while Goob was probably just there for the thrill.

☁ The added challenge of speed seemed to turn up the pace, cutting through four more in the blink of an eye.

☁ Number fourty was in hand and on its way to being devoured when the shrill gasp they all had been waiting for cut in.

☁ "What in Dandy's name do you think you're doing?!"

☁ Cosmo had to laugh. He had to. This was too good. It was too much watching Sprout try to charge you as you just as quickly try to eat your fortieth pudding cup. Incredible. Truly.

☁ And better yet, you were never living it down.

☁ Even after the night of constant tummy aches and your whines as they took turns caring for you, it followed you in teasing reminders whenever you so much as looked at another thing of pudding.

☁ It wasn't until you all were focusing on the trying to get the newer toons back that the it dropped the first time.

☁ You were on standby as Pebble took over distracting for a round, sticking close enough that you could use your spare air horn should Pebble stumble at all. But since you also couldn't help yourself, you were leaning on Cosmo's back as he was doing a machine, poking and prodding at his face when he didn't immediately give you what you wanted.

☁ Which was attention. Which his was taken as he tried to not mess up his skill checks and get you both caught and make Pebble's life that much harder.

☁ Still you persisted until the light of his machine blinked green and he was finally able to turn to face you. You stumbled, landing on his chest as he caught you, raising a non-existent eyebrow at your antics. "Listen, pudding cup, you can have all the attention you want, but you gotta be patient."

☁ You opened you're mouth for a rebuttal before pausing, finger raised in the air as the words registered. He snickered at the face you were making, turning and moving on to the next machine.

☁ "What did you call me?" You asked, quickly running to match step with him while also keeping an eye on Pebble.

☁ "C'mon, you don't think eating 40 pudding cups is gonna earn you some kind of nickname?" He threw back, hiding behind a stack of boxes with you as you heard Pebble bark, alerting anyone in the area he was on his way.

☁ "Could've been 41 but, someone hates fun." You grunted, looking in the direction you last saw Sprout headed.

☁ Rolling his eyes, Cosmo shot you a look. "I hope you remember the stomach ache you had to endure."

☁ "Yeah. but I would've had it no matter what. I could've at least found out what the limit was." You pouted.

☁ "Uh huh and even if you had, that wouldn't change anything about the nickname. Would it, pudding?" He teased.

☁ The nickname didn't leave no matter how much you wanted it to.

☁ Every time he had the opportunity, Cosmo was using it. Dropping it as he passed behind you in the kitchen ("Watch behind, pudding cup!"), during runs ("Twisted to the right of ele, Puddin'."), even during your down time! ("Pudding, Astro's looking for you!")

☁ Which was fine, really, you didn't mind the nickname. Sprout still called you Bud more than your actual name. But that was where the affections from him stopped.

☁ He let you all hang all over him and accepted kisses to the cheek with stammered words, flustered in a way that was too adorable to be any actual deterrent.

☁ You were half convinced he didn't think he was allowed that privilege. Which was cute, in an odd sort of way.

☁ You were watching Cosmo as he iced some new cookies, leaning on the counter with the same look in your eye that he's sure started the pudding debacle.

☁ He paused, mid dollop on an icing petal before looking up at you. "Can I help you, pudding?"

☁ "You're hiding something."

☁"Am I?" Cosmo hummed, switching colors to a bright blue that was sure to stain your teeth. The way nature intended.

☁ "You are. I can sense it. It's like I have the force." You nod resolutely. "Or like boyfriend intuition." You paused, holding your hand to your chin. "How long does that take to develop? We haven't been together all that long but what if I developed it like the second we were together? Wouldn't that be cool? I wonder if it works on Astro. Sprout talks to much so I don't even need it for him-"

☁ "Are we...Together, I mean?" Cosmo suddenly cuts in, halting your rambling. Normally he loves listening to your little spiels, but the topic being brought up is enough to have him spilling. "Or are we just like dating- or maybe just seeing each other? I-"

☁ "Have you been talking with Glisten?" You suddenly ask, a soft smile on your features as you slide off your perch to walk around the counter. "Because he's given me the whole 'are you actually exclusive' talk before too."

☁ Cosmo pauses before huffing. "Yeah. Him, Poppy and Scraps. I just...I don't know if we put a label on it."

☁ "Oh you silly cream puff. You know you can just ask us this stuff, right?" You grin, wrapping your arms around his waist with a bright grin. "They think that just because their love lives are messy all of ours have to be messy too. I promise we're together, exclusive, partners. Whatever wording they used. I know the other two would agree too."

☁ Cosmo heaves a sigh of relief, leaning his forehead onto yours. "I was honestly scared of what you'd say."

☁ "Well, don't be." You snorted. "You're lucky it was me who started this conversation. Could you imagine Sprout's reaction?"

☁ "I try not too. "

☁ "You might've spent Astro tumbling with you." You laugh.

☁ "I wouldn't have let him, you know that, pudding." Cosmo chuckled before stilling, swallowing. "Can I-...Can I kiss you?"

☁ "I'd be mad if you didn't."

☁ With a laugh, Cosmo angles his head down, his lips meeting your own in a sweet kiss.

☁ When the other two find you, both of your mouths are stained purple as you share a plate of cookies between you.

☁ "I thought the cookie cutter didn't allow for you guys to put in the purple petal." Astro hums, taking a cookie for himself and scanning it. No purple petals to be seen, but he bites into it anyway, humming happily at the taste.

☁ "It doesn't." Sprout answers, looking at the cookies that were sans said petal. Their flower cutter only had five petals as opposed to Dandy's six, so they just omitted the purple petal when making Dandy cookies. Or they normally did.

☁ "There was some extra red icing." You answer, leaning onto Cosmo's shoulder. "I helped dispose of it."

☁ "You're lips are purple." Sprout deadpans.

☁ "There was also some extra blue." Cosmo flushes as he avoids looking at the other two.

☁ There's a moment of silence before Astro is laughing so hard at Sprout's face he chokes.