#and i thought that was earlier this month

[delirious-donna]

The Surprise [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: it’s 2am and here I am posting this smut-filled fic because I can’t sleep and I can’t stop thinking about this man. p.s. requests are open for Higuruma specifically so drop me an ask if you wanna give me some ideas for everyone’s favourite lawyer!

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: lingerie, pussy drunk Hiromi (it’s canon don’t fight me), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it folks) and other goodies

Masterlist

“Will that be everything for you today?” The cheery assistant asked offering a genuine smile whilst they rang through your purchases and packed them carefully into a neat little box.

Your stomach fluttered with the thought of what might transpire this coming weekend, a long-planned weekend that couldn’t arrive quick enough. The delicate tissue paper wrapped around the items inside the box before the assistant closed it over, tied a ribbon securely and placed it in a paper bag.

“Yes, that’s it. Thank you for your help earlier, I appreciate it!”

With a bounce in your step and a sizeable dent in your bank balance, you exited the boutique store to daydream about your husband’s reaction to your little splurge. Neither of you were accustomed to dropping large sums of money so randomly, both believing that an air of caution and frugality would see you through any potential storms on the horizon, but you had walked past this store so many times and finally been tempted into their den of sinful delights.

Inclusive-sized mannequins displayed a range of differently styled lingerie, from demure bridal wear to raunchy strips of leather and wide mesh that would leave very little to the imagination. At first, you were convinced it would only be window shopping, however, when you spied an elegant-looking black bodysuit that seemed like it would hold all your bits in without compromising the sex appeal element, it was game over.

Once you were interested, the friendly young assistant swooped in and soon you were trying it on in the fancy dressing room. The lighting was complimenting rather than garishly fluorescent, and the lull of soft, sensual music added to the overall experience, one you were rather enjoying. The strapless bodysuit hugged your curves and accentuated your décolletage nicely. Clearly, it was designed by scientists to support your breasts without cumbersome straps, and you silently praised their ingenuity. Paired with crotchless fishnet tights that you could secure beneath the suit—a suggestion from your enthusiastic little helper—you knew that Hiromi would likely lose his mind and you couldn’t wait.

Your poor, overworked and perpetually exhausted husband had been burning the candle at both ends for the past nearly four months, neck deep in a case that if he were to win would be a monumental victory in his career. In support, you packed him off every morning with a full lunch consisting of his favourite foods, mostly to encourage him to actually eat instead of consuming mug after mug of rancid instant coffee. In your evenings, you helped him go over witness testimonies, read over his arguments for clarity, and did everything you could to lighten his load around the house. It wouldn’t be a permanent arrangement, you both knew that, and to say he appreciated your support was an understatement.

That’s why when he told you that it was all drawing to a conclusion and that he was cautiously optimistic it would end in his favour, you revelled in that knowledge. Whether it did come to fruition or not, his weekend would be free, and he promised to spend some real quality time with you without the cloud of looming work. There was nothing more he could do, no more past cases he could study and the thought of basking in his undivided attention warmed your heart and soul.

With two days remaining before your scheduled weekend plans to do absolutely nothing but relax and unwind in each other’s presence, you again peeked at the box you’d tucked into your side of the wardrobe, away from prying eyes. Maybe it was a bout of nerves, a moment of body consciousness, that made you pull your surprise out to examine the contents. Whatever it was, you worried your bottom lip once the intimate outfit was laid out on the bedspread.

“What was I thinking… this is too much,” you quietly scolded yourself.

Flopping beside the expensive scraps of fabric, you brushed a palm down your face and reminded yourself that you looked fucking divine in the changing room of the boutique, so why would it be any different now? More so, you knew deep in your heart that Hiromi adored you and thought you were a goddess, one he claimed he didn’t deserve.

A few moments later, you stood in front of the mirrored wardrobe to scrutinise your reflection. Your eyes narrowed as you tugged the sweetheart cups into place and felt the soft squish of your breast jiggle inside. Turning to the side, a hand ran the length of your torso with a grin unfurling at the tight hug of the sheer-panelled fabric. Damn, your backside looked real good from this angle. But maybe the fishnets were too much, you mused, turning this way and that.

You ran your fingers through your hair, wondering if you should try to style it, maybe give it some more volume and texture. It was at that moment, whilst making kissy faces at your reflection with your hands scrunching handfuls of your hair and up on your tippy toes to extend the length of your legs, that the bedroom door opened, and you froze like a deer in headlights.

~

Higuruma Hiromi was on cloud nine. Not only had he won a career-defining case against all the odds, but the judge had also taken less time to deliberate than anyone expected they would. After a hearty swig of celebratory champagne drank from crappy paper cups with his partner and their secretaries, he was on the first train home to truly celebrate with the only person that mattered—you.

What he didn’t expect to find when he entered the house as stealthily as he could manage was the vision of you standing in the middle of the bedroom looking like one of the pin-up models from the magazines he would hide under his mattress as a young man.

Like a slightly tipsy house cat, he tiptoed his way through the rooms, listening for signs of you and driving straight towards the bedroom to surprise you with his unannounced return. The door bounced open on its hinges and he stood, shell-shocked for a moment before it turned to white-hot appreciation.

You looked beautiful, stunning, breathtaking even. There weren’t enough colourful adjectives for how he felt about you at any given time, but right now, modelling a black bodysuit that hugged both your butt and your breasts, he was entirely dumbstruck. Hiromi didn’t know where to look, or whether you’d rather he look away given your strangled yelp of surprise at his sudden appearance. You made no effort to cover yourself or shove him out the door, no, you both faced one another as if neither of you knew what to do or say.

His eyes continued to betray him, slowly caressing the length of your figure and finding new things to appreciate; the sweetheart cups, the gauzy panels that allowed him glimpses of your skin beneath, and not to mention the fishnet tights. He hadn’t seen you wear anything like those since your dating years, and he had forgotten how much he missed them, or how many he had ruined by ripping through the gusset in his haste.

“What are you doing home?” You glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table and back to your husband, heat filling your face but something else followed on the tails of your embarrassment, something more pleasant.

Hiromi ran this thumb over his mouth, gaze pointedly fixed on your chest, and you cleared your throat with emphasis until he finally met your eye and the arch of your eyebrow. Already his neck looked red, like a rash had spread from below the collar of his shirt and travelled towards his jaw. If you could describe a person as having hearts for eyes, it would be one Higuruma Hiromi and you adored him for his open adoration.

“We… I won,” he managed weakly, smiling as if coming out of a daze and you blinked for a moment while processing the words.

“You won?”

He chuckled. “I won.”

A wealth of emotions passed over your face until you ended with ecstatic pride, tears near pricking your eyes as you launched yourself into his arms and peppered his cheeks and nose with enough kisses to make him blush more furiously. His hands settled on your hips, his touch more hesitant than you would expect given the circumstances and you pulled back to give him a questioning look.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be more excited than this.”

“Darling…” he started, skimming his fingertips up and down your sides before rounding to your full backside and squeezing as he spoke. “What’s this?”

In your joy, you had forgotten that Hiromi had walked in on you wearing the lingerie that was meant to be for this weekend and meant to be a surprise. You guessed it still had been, although not the one you planned. “Oh, just a little something to show my hardworking man that I love and adore him. Nothing much.”

“Nothing much…” he repeated in a disbelieving whisper. A finger ran the length of your spine, from the top of your backside to near the base of your skull, dragging it slowly and watching you shudder beneath his deliberate touch. Your shoulder blades shifted, pushing your chest out further and into his, which earned you a groan of appreciation.

“I wouldn’t call this nothing much. You look like a wet dream come to life.”

He walked you backwards, the scent of champagne hot on his breath and your stomach curled into a mass of twisted anticipation—heavy in the depths of your belly. Your thighs crashed into the edge of the bed and Hiromi used your moment of imbalance to shove you atop, quickly shucking out of his jacket and crawling over you.

“Hiromi,” you squeaked between peals of laughter. The man in question only hummed in response, his hooded eyes heavy with nothing that spoke of fatigue. The whisky colour of his eyes appeared blown almost completely black by the dilation of his pupils, and he licked over his lips in what looked like anticipation of a hearty meal.

That meal was you…

Any protest you might have offered died in your throat when he claimed your mouth like a man possessed. His tongue curled over your teeth, pushing the memory of champagne into the space he dominated and greedily swallowing your answering moan. His forearms bracketed your head, keeping you caged and unable to run from him, not that you had any desire to, not when you could feel the press of his cock thickening against your lower half.

Loosening the knot of his tie with one finger, you took the moment to grab fistfuls of the shirt at his back, tugging the tails out of his trousers and sliding your palms beneath the starched surface to scratch along his spine. Hiromi shuddered, the disconnect of your lips an audible pop that left a web of saliva between you, only breaking with a quick swipe of your pink tongue.

“I don’t even have my make-up or hair done, you beast!” The half-hearted protest fell on deaf ears, or so you thought when his mouth moved to your neck and down to your collarbone, sucking little blooming lovebites on his journey. When he reached the abundant swell of your breasts, he glanced up whilst his tongue pathed across the top of your left breast, dipping into the valley between and then resuming the path over the right.

“You think I need face paint or styled hair to love you more? Fuck, sweetheart… I nearly came in my briefs the minute I opened the door.” The length of his aquiline nose nudged between your breasts, nuzzling the soft mounds like a cat warming by the fire. Carding your fingers through his hair, you wriggled beneath him and let out a breathy sigh, the weight and conviction of his love settling over you in perfect comfort. There would be no more argument from you, and Hiromi won for the second time that day.

With methodical slowness he kissed his way down your body, stopping to lave the sheer panels at either side of your abdomen and forcing you to arch from the warm sensation of his eager tongue. You’d barely managed to get his shirt off his shoulders before he was exploring you like this was his first time with your body. The white button-up hung down his back, sleeves caught by his elbows, and he made no move to strip it off much to your annoyance.

He stopped abruptly when he reached your pelvic mound, chin resting there whilst his fingers trailed the arch of your foot, up the inside of your calf and tickled behind your knee. “Stop that, mister!” You scolded with laughter threatening to bubble out.

“Spread ‘em and I will,” he challenged with a smirk.

The space between your freshly parted thighs became his home, an arm wound around your hip pawing at the fat of your thigh and the line where it met your arse, eliciting shivers that rippled over your skin like a calm lake disturbed by a skimming stone. He fingered the two snaps that kept the bodysuit in place, stroking firmly over your clothed cunt and pushing the barrier deeper until it started to feel sticky from your arousal. Looking all too smug, he freed the snaps with a grunt of satisfaction, sure that his next step would be to rip through the gusset of your raunchy fishnets so he could taste you. That moment never came.

You felt the vibration shudder through your husband, his head falling forward to obscure what you could see of his face, and you rocked your hips back and forth in invitation. The cool air of the room contrasted by the hot fan of his breath on your slit made you clench around a disappointing nothing, frowning at his sudden pause.

For a long moment, there was only silence. When he looked up, his expression nearly stole your breath. Thick black eyebrows pinched together, visible strain around his drooped eyes and a throaty whine made your pussy flutter with need. This was the Hiromi that only came out to play every now and again. The one who would wring you like a wet dish towel for just one more orgasm, one more mouthful of your hot nectar.

“Crotchless, really?” he murmured, dragging a finger across your puffy folds where the thin membrane of the tights should have resided and you nearly jolted upwards to the ceiling, having forgotten that little fact in the heat of the moment.

Cupping his cheek in your palm, you gave a cheeky wink. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about all the pairs of tights you’ve ruined over the years. These were just a… precaution.” Hiromi groaned, thrusting his face into your pussy without warning. The flat of his tongue ran the length of you, making you perfectly slippery in mere seconds, only for the tip of the wet muscle to fuck into your entrance immediately.

“Oh, fuck… Hiro!”

You yanked great tufts of his hair to no avail; he was lost to eating you out like a man starved. The prominent slope of his nose slid back and forth across your bundle of nerves, and it lit up your insides like the continuous explosion of miniature firecrackers.

Whining from his sudden onslaught, you tried to run by easing up the bed, but your attempts were shot down in flames by sharp insistent tugs of your hips. Hiromi was enthusiastic at the best of times when it came to going down on you, but it was nothing compared to right now. The wet squelching sucks of his lips and tongue flooded the bedroom, only being accompanied by your decadent moans and panting breaths as you tried not to lose your sanity entirely.

Hiromi was lost in you; the scent of your favourite body wash, the taste of your arousal when it trickled from your core mixed with the slight salt of your skin, the plush silk of your thighs beneath his prodding fingertips and the unrestrained noises that caressed his ears.

He almost missed your orgasm so clouded was his mind in the quest to turn you into a puddle of liquid goo for only his consumption. The wave of it crested through the length of your body, vibrating every limb and twitching each nerve ending. Your spine arched from the unmade sheets, the hand coiled tight in Hiromi’s hair spasming and tugging without even meaning to and that’s when he noticed. Without missing a beat, he wrapped his lips around your pulsing clit and sucked it deeper into his mouth.

Stars winked into your vision at being thrust from one orgasm directly into another so violently. Your pussy fluttered ceaselessly, a craving deep in your gut to be filled at all costs, yet right now all you could do was hold on for dear life whilst you bucked and rutted against your husband’s face, wetting it thoroughly. He nosed at your quaking thigh, sharp incisors nipping your yielding flesh until you yelped and tried to close your legs without success.

You became aware of movement, the absence of shoulders beneath your thighs and you blinked to find a desperate predator stripping off his clothes whilst prowling back and forth at the foot of the bed. Hiromi grasped his cock, tugging it down to the base to spread the leaked precum that continued to dribble from his cockhead. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he had already cum, but he was always the excitable type who would leak and leak until you did something about it, usually opting to take him down your throat until he convulsed and spilt everything he had to offer.

Your hand trailed lower down your body, fingers playing in the spit-soaked mess he’d left behind in his hurry to stand and strip. Hiromi whined; head cocked to the side as he watched you play idly with your puffy lips flooded with the surge of blood and circling your pert little pearl. He fucked his fist harder, the other hand rolling his heavy balls until his stomach sucked in and your nostrils flared in warning.

“C’mere mister lawyer, I don’t want you wasting your orgasm when it could be filling me nicely.”

How quickly the tables could turn. One minute he was the predator, pawing and demanding, taking what he wanted without question, and the next he was the prey. Trapped on his back with cheeks a ruddy hue and eyes that begged for clemency. Your much small hand encased his dick, twisting your palm on each upward stroke while you straddled him and rocked yourself against the balls he’d just been palming.

His hands shook with restraint as they reached for your breasts, filling his broad palms and massaging them until you dipped low to claim his lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue, in his mouth and the sensation empowered you, fucking his throbbing cock through your folds until he twitched and whimpered some more.

“Please… fuck. Need to be inside. Might not last. God, you’re so fucking sexy. Don’t deserve you.” Hiromi babbled every syllable, sounding drunk when there was little to no alcohol left in his system.

His fingertips dipped inside the cups of your bodysuit, tweaking at your nipples and you indulged his silent request by allowing him to fold the cups down and let the spill of your tits fill his face. With renewed vigour and enthusiasm, he mouthed at you and ran his tongue in circles around your nipples one at a time.

You keened at the familiar sensation, swept away by a current of pure indulgence when he moved to suckle you. It was the perfect moment to strike, with Hiromi distracted in flicking his tongue over and over, round and round your swollen bud, you guided him to notch at your entrance and slowly sank onto his needy dick. He grunted; his grip tightening on your waist, but he refused to come up for air, continuing to nudge his nose into your breast, lips pulling the nipple taut until he finally released with a gasp.

“Fuck, I love you. I love you more than I can express.”

Hiromi worshipped you with his gaze, eyes full of devotion and unbridled passion whilst you rode him steadily. The sticky pap pap pap of your pelvis meeting his was the soundtrack to your lovemaking, because beneath the sexy lingerie and the ideas you had planned for the weekend, that’s what this was and always would be. You knew he didn’t need the extra faff to love you with his whole heart. You knew that he was aroused by you simply walking through the kitchen in a pair of his boxers.

You knew he loved you for you.

His dappled cheeks darkened further, the furrow of his brow telling of how he was trying to stave off his release, but you wanted him as undone as you had been, and you would not be denied. Leaning forward, your palms found purchase on his shoulders, breasts bouncing freely in time with your hips, and you squeezed around his shaft until the vein in his temple popped and he let out a guttural groan.

Hiromi grabbed around your middle, flipping you up and over so that he could thrust himself into overstimulation without hindrance. Pressing your thighs to your chest, you heard the telltale rip and knew that another pair of tights had fallen victim to Higuruma Hiromi despite your best efforts to keep them safe. His swollen cock pumped thick spurts of his milky cum against your cervix, filling you to the brim yet continuing to sloppily thrust in and out.

“-cum again… gotta—fuckkk. You’re so tight,” he bit through the words, fighting the steady burn of overstimulation to see you orgasm for the third time and you were close. A glob of spit landed against your clit, thick fingers shaking from exertion rubbing the frothy mess into you with insistent motions. He was a man possessed, falling apart for him was as easy as drawing breath and he caught you on your free fall.

You chanted his name in some semblance of a prayer, thrashing and clawing at anything you could reach until you milked him again and he lost the ability to hold himself up. Hiromi fell atop you, his face pressed into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, hot shuddering moans stifled by his mouth on your neck while he weakly tried to bear some of his weight onto an arm.

“Stop squirming, you’re not that heavy, Hiro,” you teased with a light slap against his back.

Once you could both speak without sounding winded, you combed your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, moving the strands that stuck to his forehead away until you could trace his eyebrows, his jaw, and the bridge of his nose. “Y’know… you ripped my tights—again.”

Hiromi chuckled, rubbing his cheek against your chest. “I did, and I’d do it again. Maybe give them a miss if we do this again, hm?”

“You liked the surprise then?”

“I already told you that I did, not that I needed it. All I ever need is you.”

It was your turn to chuckle, booping the tip of his nose. “Maybe when I show you the receipt, you’ll change your tune.”

“… sweetheart. How much did it cost? Don’t roll away, missy! Answer my question. Hey. Hey! You have to answer the lawyer when they ask a question.”

#delirious writes #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader #higuruma smut #jjk higuruma #hiromi x reader #hiromi smut #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader

[xzhdjsj]

Iron on my Tongue

Isaac x Reader

Isaac has a bad feeling about your meeting. (Isaac's POV)

Warnings: anxiety, description of blood, death of character

@chilliesillie and @kieran-rhoades created a vivid image in my mind of this scene so here it is written for you my loves<3 I hope I was able to capture this the way you imagined!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It’s a dim afternoon, grey clouds are settled in the sky with a promise of rain later and the wind is chilly. My partner isn't with me right now, maybe if they were I would be enjoying the weather more. I hope they make it back home before the shower.

They're out on their own business, a meeting with a client I introduced them to. As much as I'd like to pride myself in my improvements thus far, I still can't quite let them leave the house to meet someone completely unknown to me. Whatever client I hand over to them are well researched and kept on tab to ensure their meeting environment is a safe one and they’ll be able to get back home to me.

I still have my doubts regardless, but I can't control their every move. They deserve to live.  It’s funny because they tell me the same thing, "Isaac you deserve to live, without the worry and torment."

I don't think I'd ever be who I am today without them. The day I met them all those months ago, I'd never believed it if someone told me we'd not only be partners in my field of work, but also lovers. They're the one thing that means the most to me and I absolutely cannot let them get hurt. I trust them, and I know they'll do their best to stay safe but the underlying worry still bothers me.

There's this unusual feeling in my chest, the kind I haven’t experience in a while and worst of all, I'm not sure why it's there. It's bearable, but it's not. A distant but static feeling that hazes over my body and clouds my senses.

I take a sip of my coffee and its burns my tongue. It's hot, way too hot.

"Fuck" I pinch the space between my eyebrows and sigh.

My luck hasn't been the best today, but maybe a shower would wash away whatever this is and I can finally settle down. I push the cup aside and head for the bathroom, peeling the clothes from my body.

I let the water slide off my skin, the only thing on my mind is them. I could chalk this feeling up to just my anxiety, but this is more. This is an additional weight that presses against my chest and squeezes at my heart. An extra burden to carry on my shoulders, one I'm unfamiliar with yet I distantly relate to. Some sort of gut feeling that’s pointed in some unknown direction. I could easily pick up my phone and call them but their voice rings in my head.

"Here's the deal Isaac, no calls from you this time. We have to work something out little by little until you're comfortable with me leaving the house. Instead of you calling me, I'll call you before and after my meeting. Deal?"

I agreed to it of course. I want to be better. For them I want to be better, so each time I think of calling, I turn my phone screen down. I know their meeting started at 3pm and lasts about two hours, so I'm expecting a call at 5.

I step out the shower, tying my robe at the side. The first thing I do is glace at the clock.

4:55

I should be receiving that call soon, and since a shower did absolutely nothing to sooth my nerves, I'm hoping their voice will.

I'm back in the kitchen again, my phone sitting in front of me and I reach for the coffee I had left earlier. I take a sip and now it's too cold. What a day. I dump it down the sink without a second thought, it’s not important right now anyways.

5 o'clock rolls around and I'm impatiently bouncing my knee. There isn’t a single notification from them. 10 minutes. I'll wait 10 minutes and then I'll call. The feeling in my chests grows heavier and heavier and I'm counting down every second. I can't look away from my phone, waiting and hoping to see my screen light up.

5:07

That's basically 5:10 right? If I call now, it wouldn't make a difference. I frantically find their contact and click the small button near it.  I take a deep breath, then exhale. It's okay. They'll answer and say their meeting ran a little late and scold me for not waiting a full 10 minutes like I promised. Nothing bad is going to happen. I’m able to fool neither my mind nor my heart.

It rings, and rings, and rings... then disconnects.

There’s no answer. My heart rate picks up and I call again.

Same as before, it rings but no answer.

I attempt to call again, but the phone slips from my grasp. I hadn't noticed it before but my palms are clammy and covered in sweat, cold sweat. I drag them against my robe and quickly snatch the phone off the floor, skipping a call entirely to find their location.

The little icon is not at their meeting location, it’s not at the coffee shop they enjoy visiting, its nowhere close to home. Instead it stays stagnant at a foreign location, a maze-like pathway between a block of buildings.

I’m unsure about almost everything at the moment, but one thing I know for certain is that I need to find them. I leave my house right away. I call until their voicemail is engraved into my skull. I send text after text, but there’s still no response. I check their location again but the only icon that moves is my own as I get closer to my destination.

The rest of the way I need to continue on foot. I have a gun tucked into the waist of my pants and I don’t know what awaits me, or if I’ll even be able to fight it but if I don’t find them I might go completely insane. My stomach turns at the scent, and sight before me. It’s a dirty alleyway, much dirtier than the one I found them in. It makes me sick. The unease in my body casts over me like a giant shadow and it’s starting to make sense. It feels like a rat in my stomach trying to claw its way through my mouth. I hate it. I hate it so much.

I find their phone, their bag and random sheets on paper scattered through path. They’re covered in muddy footprints and soaked in murky water. Something bad happened, that much I knew, but there’s 3, 4, 5 maybe 6 pairs of footprints here. They were outnumbered.

“Name!” I yell. “Where are you?”

I run further and further down but there’s no sign of them. My heart is pounding against my chest and I’m so so scared. I’m looking everywhere but there’s no one here. I grip onto my hair in frustration. Where are they? Did those people take them away? Who were they? There’re hundreds of people who’d want to hurt me but specifically WHO?

“I-Isaac…?” a weak voice calls behind me.

I’m overcome with relief when I hear them, but the state I see them in as I turn around fills me with worry and rage.

They’re holding onto the mouldy walls, sliding down to the ground when they couldn’t support themselves anymore. Their body and clothes are covered in mud and dirt, ripped and bruised. I rush over to them, supporting their weight against my own body.

I’m worried, so worried but I’m relieved they’re still here. I’m relieved they’re still alive.

“God, Pickle” I place a hand against their back, its warm and wet, and they wince in pain at the pressure. “Where are you hurt? Who did this to you?”

“Isaac,” they smile up at me, a hand reaching for my face. “You came. I knew you’d come.”

I hold their hand against my cheek. “Of course, my love. I’ll always find you I promised to protect you always.”

“My knight.” Their voice comes out faint and dull.

“Yours, always yours.” I lean down to kiss them, gently on their lips. It was supposed to be a simple kiss, more as reassurance to my self than them but I taste iron against my tongue, metallic and salty. I pull away abruptly and their body bends forwards choking on coughs as the red liquid spills from their lips. Blood.

It's on the concrete, my pants and my hands? The hand I had against their back… It's covered in blood?

Their jacket wasn’t soaked with water? The warmth I felt wasn’t from their body? It was their blood.

“Isaac.” Their hand is on my face again, pulling me from my thoughts. “You’re *cough* spacing out my darling.”

I don’t bother responding, pulling their jacket off their shoulder. Red, it's all red. Their shirt is soaked through and through with blood and ripped in multiple areas. Stabs, fuck they were stabbed.

“No no no!” I panic. “I need to do something, I need to get you out of here!”

“Isaac please, I can barely move. Its’s *cough* gonna be okay, just please stay here with me.”

“How could I let this happen to you? Why not me instead?” I feel tears roll down my cheek and I’m terrified.

“It’s not your ugh fault Isaac. Please, for my sake, don’t blame yourself.” Their voice continues to weaken. I feel stupid for honouring their request of just staying here, but some part of me knows that there’s nothing I can do now.

 “Isaac, I love you”

“Yes, I know my love. I love you too, I love you more than anything.” I feel like a child again, crying my eyes out. I should be the one comforting them, but my voice is filled with fear and my breathing is unsteady.

“Thank you… for all you’ve done for me.” Their voice fades in and out. “Please don’t ever forget me”

Their hand falls from my face but I catch it pressing it back onto my skin. “No, you have to keep your eyes open! Please! Keep your eyes open name! Don’t let go of me!”

“I’m… sorry Isaac. I don’t think I can.” They barely whisper, their eyes struggling to stay open.

“No please, not now! I’ve only just gotten you, you- you can’t leave me yet.” I held them close, sobbing into their hair.

We never made it home before the downpour. I stayed there with them to the very end. I held them in the freezing cold until their breaths slowed. I held them until the warmth drained from their body and they also grew cold. I stayed there until left me for good.

I held my composure, for their sake, wrapping them in my jacket and took them home. I washed their body until they were completely clean before tucking them into bed. One last time, they were by my side. Tomorrow they’d be resting in my garden resting among the flowers, and my mother would finally meet the love of my life. I hope she’d be proud of me, I hope they’d reflect fondly of me.

I hope they’d forgive me for the things I must do in the future.

I hope they’ll shield their eyes and stay blind to the things I will do. Every last breath of mine will be used to avenge them. I will find those who are responsible for this, and I’ll make sure they regret it.

I couldn’t protect as a knight, so I will destroy everything as a shadow.

#oh look its more isaac angst! #zsakuva #sakuverse #asmr #isaac #isaac rhoades

[sirenpearldust]

Pearl

Part 1 part 2

Pair: Eris x Reader

Word count: 2.599

Warnings: mentions of cheating, fertility issues, insecure thoughts

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As months slipped by without conception, your mind wandered to the idea of a baby. You found yourself daydreaming about your future baby, wondering if they would inherit your traits or resemble Eris. 

Maybe your future child would be a perfect blend of both of you, or a mirror image of Eris with his luscious locks, mischievous amber eyes accented by long, dark lashes, and his straight nose.  

You hoped your child would resemble your wonderful husband, with his charming laugh, his thoughtful frown, and all the beauty he possessed.

As you stood before the mirror, you gazed at your belly, imagining it swollen with pregnancy. 

Your mind wandered to your child laughing, giggling, and cooing with joy,  happiness radiating from their bright eyes. 

You felt stressed as numerous people, especially Beron, exerted pressure on you. However, Eris remained your source of comfort, always sweet and wiping your tears, soothing you whenever the healer delivered the disappointing news of another unsuccessful conception.

Eris concealed his relief upon learning of the unsuccessful attempt, careful not to show you his true emotions. Despite this, his desire to fulfill your every wish remained strong, understanding that the timing had to be right for both you and your future heir's safety.

He saw you trying everything—from taking long walks with his mother to eating healthier, experimenting with various fertility teas, and praying.

Despite trying everything, nothing seemed to help. He witnessed your tears and mourning, understanding your sense of shame for not fulfilling what you saw as your only duty. 

Eris, feeling responsible for your anguish, was ashamed, as he was at fault making you feel this way.

To help you relax and ease the strain on your body, Beron ordered that you be sent to your parents' house. The Lady of Autumn spoke with Beron, suggesting that a vacation could alleviate your stress and potentially increase your chances of conceiving.

• •

Being at your parents' house proved to be truly relaxing. The familiar surroundings provided comfort, surrounded by your loved ones. You spent time chatting with your sisters and reconnecting with friends you hadn't seen in a while. 

Enjoying tea and playing cards together, the conversations and laughter helped you forget all of your worries.

In your childhood home, you were surrounded by laughter and joy, you felt whole and content. 

It was a stark contrast to the tension and loneliness you experienced in the forest house, where rivalry, scheming, and jealousy were ever-present. 

There, in the forest house, you always felt on edge, but here, in the comforting embrace of your childhood home, the atmosphere was vibrant and carefree. 

The air was filled with the joyful laughter of children, and the warmth of your friends' companion enveloped you, easing away any lingering worries you had.

You couldn't help but wish for your child to grow up in such an environment. Perhaps not falling pregnant right now wasn't the worst outcome after all, you sadly mused.

Today, the weather was warm, carrying the scent of the black tea your mother brewed and the cherry cake your sister baked earlier. 

Laughter echoed through the garden where you sat, accompanied by the sweet singing of the birds. 

The sun shone just right, casting a gentle glow, and overall, the atmosphere was calm and serene.

The atmosphere was abruptly disturbed by your friend's gasp as she remembered something important.

"Oh my, I almost forgot to tell you what happened to Cassandra, you all remember her, right?" she exclaimed, her shock evident as she jumped in her seat. 

"Her husband had been cheating on her, and despite her attempts to have a second child with him, he remained loyal to his mistress. 

To prevent any illegitimate children with her, he resorted to using a tonic, it hindered any chance of pregnancy. Apparently it is also illegal to use. 

Cassandra's father found out, killed the mistress and punished her husband by law."

"I don't know what happened exactly, but Charles now has a scar across his face," another friend chimed in. 

"And lately, he's been sticking close to Cassandra when they are at gatherings. Apparently the punishment he faced was only halted because she intervened and saved him from her father. Since then, he's been keeping in line."

"That was well deserved," your mother chimed in, sipping on her tea with a hint of satisfaction in her voice.

As you listened, doubts began to creep into your mind.

Maybe someone had tampered with your tea. However, your handmaids assured you that they hadn't seen anyone interfere with your food or beverages. 

Every step of the preparation process, from the ingredients to the serving, had been strictly monitored.

Despite the numerous intimate sessions with Eris each day, it seemed impossible that there could be an issue with fertility. 

However, hearing the conversation about Cassandra's situation sparked a troubling thought: what if the problem lay with Eris? Could he be infertile? 

The notion of him using a tonic seemed absurd, and the thought of him resorting to such measures was too cruel to contemplate. 

He had wiped away your tears and shielded you from harm, from the rumours, the nasty glances directed at you. 

You couldn’t entertain such a devastating possibility—betrayal from him would be unimaginable.

He talked to you about the names he had chosen and the colors he envisioned for the baby's room. Every time you talked about your future child he was happy, excited to help choosing the clothes and how he would play with him or her. He didn’t care if it was a girl or a boy.

You both had laid in bed one night, when he confessed his hope that the child would resemble you. He had held you close, your fingers were intertwined, his head on your chest, he wished that your child would inherit your eyes and your smile.

He wouldn’t cheat on you, no he wouldn’t. Not Eris, never him, right?

You obviously would never openly accuse Eris of such a horrendous act or him using the tonic. 

Accusing the heir could result in dire consequences, you would be risking your life and insulting the  Vanserra family to which you still didn't fully belong to. 

You understood that full acceptance into the family would only come with the birth of his heir.

For now, you felt more like a placeholder, knowing that if nothing worked, you could easily be replaced by a new wife.

• •

The evening neared its end and your friends departed, your family prepared for bed. 

Quietly, you made your way to your father's office, seeking help to calm your nerves before you also joined dreamland.

In the cold hallway leading to his office, you closed the window, the chill dissipating. 

Taking a moment to glance at your reflection, you noticed your hair cascading loosely around your shoulders, and your nightgown, a deep red with golden accents, gave you a regal air. 

Compared to a week ago, you looked healthier, your cheeks now filled out. 

Gazing past your reflection, you turned your attention to the sky, silently praying and hoping that your father held the answers you needed.

Approaching the grand oak door adorned with golden leaves, you knocked twice.

"Come in," your father's voice called from within. 

Upon entering, you found him engrossed in his papers, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The office carried the aroma of black coffee and biscuits. 

Closing the door behind you, you stood before him, clearing your throat to gain his attention.

"Father, have you heard about what happened to Cassandra?" you inquired.

He rubbed his face in frustration before replying angrily, " Good evening to you too. Yes, but I prefer not to indulge in gossip or spread it myself. Why do you ask?"

"It's not about the gossip itself, but about the tonic," you clarified.

His eyes widened in surprise as you quickly added, "Don't worry, I'm not asking to brew it myself. I'm just curious why it's outlawed and what it consists of." 

Reassured, he sighed and admitted, "There is a book in the library somewhere. I forgot the title of it." With a smile, you bid him goodnight and wished him a restful sleep. "Goodnight. Sleep well," he replied before you left.

As you walked towards the library, a peculiar sensation stirred in your belly, akin to butterflies fluttering about. Nervousness and a certain cold crept over you, you had a sudden urge to relieve yourself.

As you walked into the library, you skimmed through the books, spending about two hours in the healing section. 

Along the search for the specific book, you stumbled upon some intriguing ones that you planned to read later.

Eventually, you found a small black book titled "Outlawed." Within its pages, you discovered a chapter detailing the forbidden tonic.

It described how the tonic could hinder any pregnancy without causing infertility, with a minty scent and a taste like honey.

You stopped breathing, the realization hitting you like a tidal wave. 

Eris used to drink a similar concoction in his office every morning—minty and tasting just like honey, just as described in the book. 

You remembered how he once swiftly took the drink out of your hand after you had a sip, warning that it wouldn't be safe for a woman.

At the time, you hadn't thought much of it. But now, everything pointed to your husband being the one who used the forbidden tonic. Tears streamed down your face as you realized his betrayal.

You sobbed, as your mind raced through the events of the past few months. 

You remembered how Eris had taken care of you, reassuring you that you weren't at fault for the failed conceptions. You went through every moment you had with him, his reaction, how he didn't mourn.

Now, you saw the deception clearly, realizing what a fool you had been to fall for his lies. 

He had truly lived up to his name—the cruel prince of autumn.

You never anticipated that you would become a pawn in his schemes.

Questions swirled in your mind. Did he, like Charles, have another woman by his side? 

Was he in love with someone else? 

Jealousy gnawed at you. Why couldn't he confide in you? After all, you were friends before you were married.

Feelings of stupidity washed over you. Why did you even care now? He had lied to you, and he was probably involved with another woman. There wouldn't be any other reason to use the cursed tonic, right. 

Why? Why? Why?

Why would he do it?

• •

You cried the whole night, your eyes swollen and bloodshot red by morning. 

Your back ached from falling asleep in the library, and you felt chilled to the bone. Your heart raced with anxiety as you glamoured yourself to avoid questions from your family.

As you dressed and looked into the mirror, doubt crept in. 

Were you truly beautiful and put together, or were you actually ugly? Worries plagued your mind—perhaps you were too clingy, or maybe you simply weren't his type. 

Did he even find you attractive at all?

You forced a smile as you gazed at your reflection, but your eyes appeared lifeless, devoid of their usual sparkle. No amount of glamouring could mask the emptiness within. Tears welled up, but you quickly wiped them away.

With a frustrated huff, you adjusted your clothing, trying to compose yourself. Taking a deep breath, you headed downstairs.

The tearful goodbyes were exchanged as you hugged everyone farewell. 

Standing outside the manor, you waved goodbye to your family before winnowing away.

• •

You arrived in your room after being attended to by the maids, your personal attendants taking charge of your bag.

Finding yourself alone, Eris was nowhere to be found, but he had left flowers on the vanity along with a letter. 

Opening it, you read his words: 

Hello, Beautiful. 

I hope you enjoyed your time with your family. I have missed you dearly I hope you have missed me too.

It was quite lonely without you. I’m blessed to have you. Without you I am not complete nor at peace.

I promise to give you the life you've always wanted and to provide for you. I'll stand by you through thick and thin 'till death do us part. So don’t ever worry about anything else.

Sadly we will need to join dinner today as my Father has invited us.

Please tell me everything you experienced, what you’ve baked, eaten, played and read.

I also have planned a surprise for you (; 

Yours truly, Eris.

You crumpled the letter in your hand, before burning it with a flicker of magic. It would have been sweet if you hadn’t known him to be a liar.

Erecting a barrier around the room to ensure privacy, you screamed and cried out your frustration until your throat grew hoarse and your eyes were dry. Once you stopped, you undressed yourself, feeling the need to wash away the disgust you felt from letting him touch you. A soothing bath would probably help.

• •

Out of the bath, you called for Erica and Grace. Seated at the vanity, Erica dried your hair while Grace selected jewelry for you, presenting it. Today, you decided on wearing a mauve dress, as you were in no mood for vibrant colors like red or orange. Frankly, orange made you look terrible, and you weren't in the mood to deal with that today.

They both appeared nervous, avoiding your gaze as you smiled at them. Sensing their unease, you asked, "What's wrong, girls?"

 "Nothing, my lady," Erica replied, but before Grace could answer, you noticed her hesitation. 

"We don't want to upset you before dinner," Grace added, her voice faltering.

Your smile faltered as well, a nervous feeling creeping over you. 

Your heart began to beat faster as you sensed that something was amiss.

"I would rather know than be kept in the dark," you insisted, turning towards them.

They exchanged a hesitant glance before Erica spoke up quietly, "We have seen the prince meeting with a woman on the days your ladyship was away." 

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced a tight smile and urged them to continue. "Go on," you said, encouraging them. 

"The woman doesn’t work here, and we tried to find out more about her, but we’ve found nothing," Erica explained.

"Don’t worry, she's not pretty. You are prettier than her," Grace added quickly. 

You couldn't help but chuckle at her remark. 

"She's charming enough to keep my husband occupied," you said wryly, a hint of bitterness in your tone.

"Tell me everything you know," you demanded, your voice steady despite the rage burning within you. 

"She's a blonde and quite tall, with red eyes," Erica began, and Grace nodded in agreement. 

"They also seem to be close. Every time we saw them, they were closely huddled together," Erica continued. 

"They would whisper, but we didn't see them being intimate or kiss. They mostly met in the forest or inside the stables," Grace added, her voice tinged with concern.

Meeting a woman in secret usually hinted at an affair behind one's wife's back. 

"Alright, please keep an eye on them, but don't put yourselves in danger. If Eris finds out, tell him that I, as his wife, had ordered you two to keep an eye on him. If he asks why, tell him he should confront me, as it is our business," you instructed firmly. Both Erica and Grace nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation.

You stood up, inhaling deeply to steady yourself, and forced a smile at them. 

At least now you knew the truth: he had used the tonic, used you for pleasure, lied, cheated, and deceived you. The realization made you feel sick to your stomach. You wanted to take a bath again and scrub your skin.

You knew you had to get out of this situation, whether dead or alive, though preferably alive. Perhaps you could even stage your own death to escape his grasp once and for all.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Main Taglist: @bubybubsters

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #eris x y/n #eris vanserra x reader #eris x you #eris vandaddy #eris acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris angst #acomaf #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar x reader #acowar #acosf #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acofas #a court of wings and ruin

[samandcolby-ownme]

Sam had been focusing too much on working that he had ended up neglecting his relationship. You guys had planned to go out on a movie dinner date weeks in advance and already had dinner reservations set, he is too busy working to realize that the reservation was 30 minutes ago. Should you have reminded him? Yes. But you also feel like you shouldn't have to because if he cared then he would've put his work aside for a few hours to spend time with you. ANGSTTTTT but also fluff or smut at the end, dealers choice 😏

Warnings: Slightly angsty, strong language, reader breaking down, crying, yelling, suggestive language, kinda sad but happy ending

Enjoy!

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Sam has missed reservation times. He’s been late to pick you up sometimes. He’s even had to cancel last minute, but you understood. For the most part, at least. You knew he had deadlines to make, people to update, plans to make, and flights to book.

Once the number of times he’s practically bailed on your reaches double digits, that’s when you really started to get mad. His reasonings, you’re sure were valid at the time, but you would get so mad you thought it was a bullshit excuse, so that just made you pissed.

You said something, you had a long talk one night, got on the same page again and everything was good, almost seemed better.

But only for a short while until things started to gradually trickle back into its cursed routine. You’d say something to him again, then it would just repeat the cycle. Back to square one with it. Finally, maybe after one or two more times, you gave up on what you felt like you just wasting your breath.

One night, while you’re laying in bed getting ready to go to sleep, Sam comes in after edited his one video for hours of the day. You feel the bed dip down and his body slides up against yours.

“I made us reservations at the Mitz, they couldn’t get us in until three weeks from now, so figure out what you want to do before or after and we can do that.”

You stay silent for a second before speaking. Your voice is in a very low whisper, “You promise?” He kisses your shoulder and nuzzles his head into your neck, “I promise. I’m sorry I haven’t been with it lately.”

“You and Colby have been busy. I get it.” You roll over to face him, “I guess.. I just feel like you forget I’m here sometimes.” He shakes his head, “I’m sorry I make you feel that way.” He kisses your forehead and you close your eyes, “I love you.” He rests his forehead against yours and lets out a quiet sigh, “I love you so much.”

Over the last three weeks, Sam and Colby surprisingly didn’t have much going on, so it worked out in everyone’s favor. You and Sam pretty much stayed home, and when he did edit, he made sure to include you.

Which is why, when that certain Thursday evening rolled around, you were absolutely crushed. It felt like, in a weird way, a betrayal. It really wasn’t that deep, but to you it was.

You scoffed as you hear the front door open, rolling your eyes as you look to the small clock on your vanity.

07:30 PM - 30 minutes past your set reservation time.

You drag the makeup wipe down your face, wiping away the hope you had painted on earlier in the evening. You can feel the burn growing in your eyes as you try not to cry.

You may think that two times isn’t bad, but it’s not really about the amount of times it’s happened. It’s more about how Sam doesn’t realize it’s happening. He doesn’t put up a fight, he just gradually buries you under all of his paperwork.

You hear him making his way up the steps and you know in your heart that it’s not going to be good. You take a deep breath, wiping over your face one more time with a clean wipe.

“So guess where Colby and I get to go next month.”

“Hmm?” You hum lowly, but loud enough for him to hear. You keep your stare fixed on yourself in the mirror in front of you. Sam walks closer and you feel every muscle in your body tense up.

You really didn’t want to fight with him - again.

“What’s wrong,” He asks, laying a hand on your shoulder. You were so mad at him, his touch only made the urge to cry even harder to fight back. You shake your head, “N-nothing.” You stand up, “I think I’m just gonna go get a bath and then go to bed.”

You grab a clean change of clothes and before you walk out, it’s hits Sam. He lets out a sigh, “Oh fuck.” You turn around, “Congratulations.” You give him a fake smile, “You figured out what’s wrong.”

“Y/n.” Sam calls out but you walk away. He follows after you, “Waitwaitwait.” He grabs your arm, pulling you towards him, “I am so.. so… sorry.” You tilt your head back resting it against the wall as you let out a slight laugh, “It doesn’t matter Sam.”

You look at him and his face falls, “W-What do you mean by that?” He stands up a little straight as you just simply shrug.

He shakes his head, “No. don’t say it. Please.” You chew on your lip as you feel the tears well, “I’m not..” you quickly swipe away the tears dripping down your flushed cheeks, “I’m not leaving, Sam. I just..”

You let your hands fall to your sides, and you just crack, spilling all of your emotions, “I need more, Sam. I-I know. I know that me getting upset over dates might be silly, but they’re important to me, Sam.” Your voice cracks and you look into Sam’s glossy eyes, “You’re everywhere, Sam. But you’re not here.”

You sniffle, voice cracking quietly, “And it’s hurts.”

He scrunches his nose and nods. You blink and the tears fall, “I shouldn’t h-have to be the one to remind you, fuck Sam. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

“You’re right.” He mumbles quietly as he nods. You look up, sighing, “I do not want to end us, Sam. Please know that.” His hands slide to your waist, but you speak before he can, “We need alone time. We-we need time to just be a normal couple sometimes.”

You bring your hands to your eyes and just sob.

Sam pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you as he whispers how sorry he is, “You are the most important thing to me, okay?” He presses his lips to your temple and you nod, mumbling, “Mhm.” You’re trying to get your crying under control as Sam continues, “I’m so sorry I missed tonight, baby.”

He sniffles and that makes you cry harder, “I’m sorry.” You sob out and Sam cups your cheeks, “Hey.” He raises his voice slightly, catching your attention. He raises his brows and leans in, his voice calm, “You don’t ever need to be sorry about anything, okay?”

You nod and Sam shakes his head, “You did nothing wrong, okay? I deserve to be called out on my bullshit. You did the right thing.” He kisses your cheek, “You’re my number one priority, from here on out I promise I’m going to prove it to you every. Single. Day.”

You smile slightly and you feel yourself gradually calming down, “I just didn’t want do make you mad.” You sniffle out, gasping out for air because of how worked up you had yourself.

You were slightly embarrassed, but Sam really doesn’t seem like he’s judging you at all. He laughs slightly, “Trust me, it would take you doing something a lot more stupid than getting upset over me being a dumbass to be mad at you.” He smiles and rubs your cheek with his thumb, “I love you.”

You smile, looking up at him, “I love you, too.” You lean in, pressing your lips to his and you feel him smirk. His voice is quiet against your lips as he mumbles, “Is this a bad time to tell you that Colby and I want to bring you on to the channel. Take you with us on every investigation?”

You lean back, looking up at him, “What did you just say?” He scratches his forehead, “When I got home, I was going to tell you that Colby and I were talking and we both agreed that when you’re on investigations with us, they turn out so much better than when it is just us, so with that.. we did a little poll thing in XPLR club and it turns out that the fans want you to join us. just as much as Colby and I do.”

You stare at him for a few seconds before you gently push his shoulder, “you couldn’t have just led with that, babe?” You laugh, “I embarrassed myself infront of you for absolutely no reason.”

He shakes his head, “First off, don’t be embarrassed. Second off, you calling me out on stuff that bothers you shows me you care enough to communicate with me, and I honestly cannot tell you how much that means to me.”

You bite down on your lip, “You might not be able to tell me, but I think you just might be able to show me.” You raise your brows as you look up at Sam and he smirks, instantly lifting you up against the wall, “Where to?”

You smile, “Take me to bed.”

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Thank you so much for reading! As always, let me know what you thought! I love you all! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

#samandcolby-ownme #snippet #snippets #sam Golbach #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach fluff #sam Golbach angst #angst #sam golbach x you smut #sam golbach x y/n smut #dirty sam golbach #sam golbach smut #sam golbach x reader smut #sam golbach dirty #sam golbach one shot #sam golbach fanfic #sam golbach x y/n #sam golbach x you #fluff Sam Golbach #sam Golbach angst one shot

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Then & Now (M, cold)

Hiii, hope you like A LOT of hurt followed by 2-3 sentences of comfort lmao. This is Greyson fic - Grey is sick on a day he and Reed are supposed to have a date, and he's sure Reed is going to be angry with him because Trauma(TM). It's told in a flashback sort of format which I really enjoyed because I love writing blurbs of colds at different times in life lol. I hope you guys like it, please let me know what ya think, good, bad, or otherwise :)

CW: Male snz, cold, pneumonia mention, coughing, contagion mention, lots and lots of whump lmao. A little over 4K words under the cut.

Then & Now

Now

“Morning, Chef.”

“Huh-! HhITSZHH-ue!”

Elijah turned towards Greyson, who was doubled over into his hoodie sleeve, and gave him a sympathetic grimace. “Cooks finally pulled you under, hmm?”

“Ugh, like way fuckin’ under,” Greyson muttered, rubbing his eye and sucking in through his nose. “I feel like ass.”

“Sorry, dude,” Elijah said, tossing his counterpart a box of tissues. “Sucks.”

Greyson caught the box and pulled out a few just in time. “HITSZHZH-uhh!” This one, he managed to catch in the handful of tissues. He wiped his nose and shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, tossing the used tissues. “Mbostly because I was supposed to have a date tonight.”

Elijah smirked at his friend, who was pushing past the GM into their shared office. The two of them sat in unison. “Do you guys still call them dates? You’ve been official for, like, six months.”

“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Greyson said, his voice flattened by congestion. “We were going to do EMP.”

“Awww, now I’m depressed,” Elijah said. “Also, why didn’t you tell me earlier you were going to Eleven Madison? I still know people there.”

“So does Reed,” Greyson said, massaging his temple. “That’s why we were goigg. Fuck, mby fuckin’ head is pounding. Do we have any -?”

Elijah placed the ibuprofen in front of the chef before he could ask, along with a bottle of cough syrup and a decongestant. “You know we have it all,” he said, pushing an old cup of water across the desk for Greyson to swallow his arsenal of pills. “And fair enough. Well that fuckin’ sucks, dude, I’m sorry. Hey, at least you can leave early, right? Matt’s closing?”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, unwrapping a cough drop and popping it in his mouth. “I’ll head out once the rush is over. I still have to text Reee – hh...hhNTSHH-ue! HGTSHH-uhh!” Greyson doubled over, sneezed into his arm, and groaned. “I’mb gonna kill the guys when they get in,” he said, mostly to himself.

“Don’t do that,” Elijah said, placing a hand on Greyson’s shoulder on his way out of the office. “Then you’ll have to stay all night.”

Greyson huffed out a laugh and pulled out his phone. He clicked on his conversation with Reed, sighing. He did not want to have this conversation.

Greyson

9:31AM

hey babe. gonna have to cancel tonight, the cooks infected me w their plague :( im rly sorry.

The chef set his phone on the desk, prepared to either be ghosted or gaslit – two of Collin’s favorite pastimes whenever Greyson had had to cancel their plans during their relationship – and was shocked when the phone buzzed with a text almost immediately. He was almost afraid to look at his boyfriend’s response.

Reed

9:32AM

Oh, baby don’t be sorry!! what time are you off? I’ll pick you up and take you home :) we can do a sick day little date night instead!

Greyson stared at the phone, stunned. He couldn’t help it; he read the message again, then out loud said, “What the fuck?”

Then – Ten Years Ago

“Chef?”

The Executive Chef looked up from his paperwork at Greyson and sighed. “What is it, Abbott?”

“I, um – hh! HTSHH-uh! HGXTSH-ue! Snf. Umb, I just wanted to see if it was okay if I… left a little early today?” Greyson asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His chef raised his eyebrows and put his clipboard down. Oh, no, Greyson thought.

“Leave...early? And leave your clean up and prep to whom, exactly? Me?” The Executive Chef huffed out a laugh. “That’s rich, Abbott. Why the fuck would you need to leave early?”

“I…” Greyson started, but his voice gave out on the single syllable. He attempted to clear his throat. “I just… I really feel like shit? I was hoping I could, like… sleep it off, I guess. I mbean, I wouldn’t want to get anyone else sigck.” Greyson felt a cough bubbling to the surface; he tried to quell it, to no avail. The younger man collapsed into a coughing fit that felt like it lasted a lifetime.

The Chef remained unmoved. “My guys,” he said, placing a hand on his chest as Greyson attempted to compose himself, “don’t get sick, Abbott. And if they do, I don’t fucking hear about it. Understand? Because I really don’t give a shit. If you’re here, you’re here. If you decide to leave early,” he shrugged, uncaring, “then you leave for good. And Abbott, if you try to get a job after walking out of my kitchen, I promise you I will make it impossible. I know you’ve only been here a couple months, but here’s what you need to learn: put your head down and do your fucking job, and you can work anywhere in the world after this. Be a whiny piece of shit who tries to walk out on his shift, and you’ll be working at McDonald’s for the rest of you life. Got it?”

Greyson, too shocked to rebut, just bobbed his head up and down.

“Let me hear you say it,” the Chef said. Greyson cleared his throat.

“Yes, Chef,” he said. The Chef nodded.

“Now get the fuck out of my office.”

Now

“Elijah. Look at this text.”

The GM looked up slowly from the iPad where he was going over reservations for the evening. “...Why?” he asked, taking the phone from Greyson’s hand.

“Just look. Tell mbe that’s ndot weird,” Greyson said, crossing his arms over his chest. Elijah looked down, confused, and read the text. He pinched his eyebrows together just a little, and read it again. “See? Isn’t that weird?”

“Greyson…” Elijah said, handing the phone back. “That’s not weird.”

“Seriously?” Greyson asked, reading the text yet again. “It’s bizarre. He’s ndot even a little mad? C’mon. That’s weird.”

“He’s being sweet,” Elijah explained, slowly, as though he were talking to a toddler. “Did you want him to be mad? Because that’s bizarre.”

“Ndo I don’t want him to be mad. I jus – HTSZHH-ue! HRRSHH!” Greyson wrenched to the side to sneeze, which sent him into a fit of hacking coughs. “I just figured he’d want to, like, yell at mbe or something. For canceling,” Greyson finished, his voice strained against another cough. Elijah didn’t respond, not at first, and instead pressed a hand onto the chef’s forehead.

“I think you’re sicker than we thought, because you’re acting fucking delusional,” he said as Greyson slapped his hand away. “Greyson, normal people don’t yell at each other for getting sick, or having to cancel a plan. That’s, like, really twisted.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “It’s ndot twisted, Lij you fuckin’ drama queen,” he said, then held up a finger. “Onesec – hh! Hh...hnn.” Greyson sniffled, a let out a little irritated cough. “Lost it.”

“Go back to the kitchen,” Elijah said, pointing towards the swinging doors. “Sit down. Rest. Let your medicine kick in. I don’t want people seeing this -” he gestured to Greyson, as if to allude to his entire being – “when they walk past the restaurant. Alright? Text your boyfriend something nice. Not something unhinged.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Greyson muttered, turning toward the kitchen, his phone still open to the conversation with Reed. He turned towards Elijah again before pushing through the kitchen doors. “I still say that this is the unhinged thing.”

“Go to therapy, Greyson,” Elijah said, not looking up from the iPad. Greyson rolled his eyes, pushed into the kitchen, and regarded his phone once again.

Greyson

10:07AM

thanks, babe. it’s ok, I can take care of myself. it wont be a long day, ill just grab some nyquil omw home and sleep it off. ill reschedule our rezo too, don’t worry about that. im really sorry again for canceling. if I could taste the food id still go lol.

Figuring that sounded at least relatively normal, Greyson hit send. He sat down at his desk once again and placed his head in his hands. No way he’s not pissed, Greyson thought, and he really believed it. In all his years of dating, he’d never met anyone who would respond that way; they’d at least have a snippy remark about the last-minute nature of the cancellation.

Greyson’s phone pinged once again, and he couldn’t help but grab it right away to assess the damage.

Reed

10:08AM

honey, please don’t apologize, seriously. youre sick, it happens, its no biggie :) I already moved the reservation to next week but if we need to ill move it again. james at emp said to tell you feel better btw.

Greyson blinked, dumbstruck. He started typing without thinking.

Greyson

10:10AM

you REALLY arent mad? seriously?

Reed

10:10AM

im really not mad. who gets mad at someone for being sick…? is someone at work mad at you? am I supposed to be mad..? lol

Greyson

10:11AM

I mean its a last minute cancellation. id understand if u were mad.

Reed

10:11AM

welllll….im not. is that ok? haha

Reed

10:15AM

grey…? you believe me, right?

Reed

10:21AM

greyson..?

Then – Seven Years Ago

He was moving through molasses.

Greyson placed a sluggish hand to his own forehead – you can’t check yourself for a fever, dumbass – and blinked painfully. He’d made it to work, he’d made it through the day, and he’d made it back home, against all odds. Now, he was stuck on his couch, unable to even crawl to the bathroom for a thermometer.

It had all compounded on him, was his guess. The endless fourteen hour days for the better part of two years at his thankless sous chef job. The shitty Chicago-suburbs apartment with no heat, where he froze for the few hours a week he slept. The near-constant drinking. Sure, he was only twenty-five, but what was it they said about this industry? It ages you in dog years. Yeah, that was it.

“Hh-! Hh...ITSZHH-ue! HTSHHH-ue!” Greyson sneezed helplessly into the blanket he’d wrapped around himself, and groaned. This was not what he’d imagined when he moved here from Minnesota. He’d thought it would be glamorous, working as a sous chef at a high-end hotel in a big city. He thought he’d have friends, or a girlfriend, or something. Instead, he was trapped on his couch, benched by a sinus infection and seasonal depression that seemed to last the whole year round. Fuck this, Greyson thought. He couldn’t get off the couch, but he could reach his phone; Greyson pulled up Indeed and changed his search parameters.

Actively searching for work. Location: Any.

Now

“Um… Chef? What’s, uh… what’s going on?”

Greyson paused for a moment, a crate of spoiled food held on his shoulder. He turned towards Matt, keen to answer, but instead held the crate tighter and wrenched to the side. “HRTTSHH-uh!”

“Bless you,” Matt said, an automatic reaction. Greyson nodded, turned towards the dumpster, and dumped the food in before beginning the cycle anew: pick up crate. Turn to sneeze. Dump old food. Matt wasn’t sure if he should help his boss, or go inside for backup.

He chose the former, picking a crate filled to the brim with rotten tomatoes off the ground and hoisting it into the trash. “You gonna tell me what’s up?” he asked as the two of them continued gathering and tossing.

Greyson sighed, pulled a hand down his face, and shook his head. “I thingk Reed and I are over,” he said, voice soft and throaty. Matt’s eyebrows shot up.

“What? Seriously? What did you do?” Matt asked, prompting a stuffy laugh from his boss.

“I just don’t thingk it’s going to work,” Greyson said, shrugging. “I… I don’t want to, like, play gambes. I can’t do that again, ndot after Collin.”

“Chef,” Matt said as he gathered and tossed the last milk crate, “what are you talking about? Reed is, like, the most straight-shooting guy I’ve ever met. How is he playing games?”

Greyson, left without anything to occupy his hands, just shrugged and pulled out his phone. He handed it to Matt without explanation, and the sous quickly read through the text conversation Greyson and Reed had going. Matt furrowed his brow.

“I don’t get it,” he said, handing the phone back. “He wants to take care of you, what’s the problem with that?”

“He doesn’t want to take care of me, he wants to have the upper hand,” Greyson explained, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and sitting on the step just outside the back door. “Want one?”

“Sure,” Matt said, sitting beside his boss. “I mean, you shouldn’t be smoking if you’re -”

“HTSHH! Hh-! ITZSHH-ue!” Greyson turned into his elbow, taking a long moment to gather himself before handing Matt his cigarette.

“-sick,” Matt finished. The older man shrugged, and Matt plucked the lighter out of Greyson’s hand to light both of them up, not daring to push his boss any closer to the edge. For a moment, they smoked in silence, only Greyson’s sniffles and coughs interrupting the quiet.

“Boss,” Matt said, finally, “I think you need to talk to Reed.”

“I did,” Greyson said, stubbing out his cigarette. “You saw.”

“No, I mean actually talk to him,” Matt said. The two of them stood, looking at each other – a face-off without the malice. Matt continued. “Not ignore his texts and clean out the walk-in.”

Greyson scoffed. “Matt, just because you have sombe fairy-tale love story doesn’t mbean everyone else does, too. Okay? If it’s over between me and Reed, it’s fine. I’mb better off alone, anywaa – hh! Hh… Hhhii-!” Greyson stood with his elbow poised at his face, stuck in pre-sneeze agony for what seemed like an eternity. While he was incapacitated, Matt took his phone and typed out a message that his boss couldn’t see. Finally, Greyson lowered his arm and sucked in, fruitlessly, through his nose. “The fugck are you doigg?” he asked, snatching his phone back from his sous.

“If you’re not going to talk to Reed,” Matt shrugged, unapologetic, “I will.”

Greyson looked down at his phone, which buzzed twice in his hand. Reed’s face popped up on the screen. Call from: reed <3

Then – Three Years Ago

“HTSHH! Huh! ETZSHH-ue! HRTTSHH-ue!”

“Bless, bless, bless you. Allergies?” Collin asked, not looking up from his phone. Greyson sniffled in vain, and coughed painfully.

“Ndot exactly,” he croaked from the doorway to Collin’s living room. “Baby, do you thingk you could drive mbe to urdent care, actually?”

Collin looked up and slowly raised an eyebrow. “For what?” he asked, obviously annoyed. Greyson swallowed as best he could and placed a hand on his throat.

“I thingk… I mbight have strep. Or bronchitis, or sombething. I, uh… I’ve had a fever for like. A week.” Greyson had to stop to close his eyes and grab onto the door frame, a sordid attempt to keep from hitting the floor like a rotten sack of potatoes. Collin rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a drama queen. You seemed fine when you came over last night.”

“You were asleep whend I came over,” Greyson said, his eyes still closed. “Did you ndot notice that I haven’t been over in like five days?”

Collin shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but I figured you were busy with work. You’re always busy with work,” he said, the venom in his voice making clear that he wanted to fight.

Greyson, physically incapable of fighting at that moment, just slid slowly to the ground and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right,” he said. “Ndow I’m paying the price. Please, baby. Can you please just take me? I… I really don’t feel well.”

It was pathetic. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself; he was fairly sure he was moments from passing out. Collin turned and made himself comfier on the couch.

“I’ll call you an uber,” he said, pressing some buttons on his phone. “You barely make time for me, and now you’re asking me to be your chauffeur? Please, Greyson.” He showed his ailing boyfriend the phone. “He’ll be out front in five minutes. Better make your way down.”

“Okay,” Greyson said, pulling himself slowly to his feet. “Thangk you.”

Collin didn’t say a word as Greyson let himself out of the apartment. He made it downstairs, and into the uber, and into the waiting room at urgent care. He made it out by himself, too, with a laundry list of prognoses – strep, sinus infection, walking pneumonia – and a handful of prescriptions. When he texted Collin later to fill him in, his boyfriend didn’t text back.

Greyson fell asleep on his shower floor and awoke to freezing water pounding on him, and a courier pounding on his door. When he toweled off and answered it, chicken soup from the local bodega and a note that read feel better -c sat at his feet. Greyson breathed a sigh of relief; at least he had been forgiven.

Now

Reed had dated plenty of men is his thirty-five years of life, and had found that there were two general categories when it came to sick men: there was the Baby, and there was the Don’t Look at Me.

Greyson though, an enigma since the moment they met, seemed to fall into a third category, a category that was, to Reed, yet undiscovered: the You Hate Me.

Reed was good with the first two categories; the Don’t Look at Me, you left medicine outside their room and texted them funny memes. The Baby, you laid in bed with them and spoon-fed them soup. Easy. Understandable. Truthfully, this was one of his favorite things about men: they were easy to crack. He figured Greyson would likely fall into the Baby category, which was fine by him – there was nothing he’d like more than to look after an ailing Greyson, to be honest. This third category he seemed to embody, though, was not something Reed knew what to do with.

“He didn’t answer when I called him,” Reed said into the phone receiver. “I just want to know what’s going on, I mean, did I say something wrong?”

On the other end of the line, Elijah sighed. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is just… it’s just Greyson being Greyson.”

Reed wasn’t about to take this lying down. “Hey, are you guys super busy tonight? I mean, I don’t want to be that boyfriend, but, like, can I come get him? We really need to talk, and if what Matt said is true he probably shouldn’t be, like, working anyway, right?”

While Elijah paused, Reed pulled the phone away from his ear and once again re-read the text Matt had sent from Greyson’s phone: hey reed, it’s matt. grey is sick as hell, so DO NOT take any of the crazy weird shit he says seriously, k? his temperature needs to lower by like 5 degrees before you do this, but u guys need to actually talk. he’s being stupid.

“Please,” Reed heard Elijah’s tinny voice on the other end and put the phone back to his ear. “Please, come and collect him. I’m begging.”

Reed stood from the couch and grabbed his keys. “Give me twenty minutes. I’m on my way.”

Then – Two Years Ago

“Heyyy, baby, cand I buy you a dringk?”

The girl leaned back, her face marked by disgust. “No, thanks. Save your money and get yourself some NyQuil,” she said, disappearing into the crowd. Greyson huffed out a sigh and coughed into his hand – a long, crackling sound that made the other bar patrons inch their chairs away.

“She’s right, you know,” the bartender – Skip, Greyson had learned his name was a few weeks back when he had started coming in every night – said, filling Greyson’s shot glass yet again. “You need to go home.”

“And yet you pour mbe another drink,” Greyson said, knocking back the shot. “The duality of mban. NGTXSH! HTSHH! Huh-! HRRSHH-ue!” Greyson covered his mouth lazily with one hand, wiped it on his pants, hand held the glass up to indicate ‘another’.

“Bless you,” Skip said, not pouring the shot. “Greyson, seriously: go home. You sound fucking awful.”

“Are you cutting mbe off?” Greyson asked, his rheumy eyes meeting Skip’s over the bartop. “Because unless you are, I’mb staying.” He coughed again, into his elbow; the cough was quickly becoming a problem. He’d had a cold two weeks ago; the symptoms had been mild, but the cough had hung around. When he caught whatever-the-fuck this was two days ago, the cough had turned from an annoyance to a pressing issue; he should go home. He should go to the doctor, he should take a day off, he should, he should, he should.

But he wouldn’t. He would stay, and he would drink until he was kicked out, then he’d pass out on the train and not make it home to sleep. He’d go to work at seven AM and stay until midnight and do it all again.

“I’m not kicking you out,” Skip sighed. “I’m just saying… you should take care of yourself.”

Greyson blinked slowly. He could feel his lungs, heavy with fluid, gearing up to cough again; his head, pounding in spite or because of the alcohol; his heart crushed into a million, Collin-sized pieces. Take care of yourself. It felt impossible, when you’d never been shown how.

“This is mbe taking care of myself,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll have another.”

Now

Greyson rested his head on a case of lettuce in the corner of the walk-in. He knew he should be continuing his madness of cleaning, but he’d accidentally sat down on his fifth trip into the refrigerator, and now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again.

Fucking Reed, Greyson thought as he allowed the cold salad box to sate the fever he had burning in his brain. Why can’t he just be up front with me? If you’re mad just say it, don’t fucking torture me.

Perhaps deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous; Matt and Elijah were most likely correct. The simplest answer – that Reed truly was just a good guy – was probably the right one. But he just couldn’t get out of his mind all the times he’d reached out, needed help and asked for it, and been shot down. He certainly couldn’t allow himself to believe that the person he was dating was truly good; he knew he’d never deserve that.

“Greyson?”

Speaking of Reed, that sounded a lot like him – was Greyson hearing things? Had he, in his fever-addled state, conjured a hallucination of his boyfriend to have a fight with? Bizarre, Grey, he thought to himself. That’s really fucking bizarre.

“Grey? Elijah said you were in here but I don’t – oh!”

Either this was a really crazy hallucination, or that really was Reed standing over him, in the walk-in. Greyson blinked hard, then blinked again, and suddenly Reed was on the ground next to him.

“Babe...it’s really cold in here. Do you think we can, um, leave?”

Greyson furrowed his eyebrows together. “Leave… and go where?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I have to… work. What are you doigg heeee...HRTSHH-ue! Huh -! HTSHH! NTSHH! IGXTSH!” Greyson attempted to stifle over and over, until Reed gently took his hand and pulled it away from his face.

“That has to hurt,” Reed said, his voice quiet and calm. “You can just… sneeze, you know. Like, regular.”

“Tryigg ndot to get you,” Greyson croaked, his eyes glazing over once again. “Youbettermov – HRRETSZCHH-ue! ITSZZHH-ue! Fuck – NGTSHHZ-ue!” Greyson sneezed into his lap, then coughed until his lungs felt sore. Reed didn’t move; he came closer and rubbed Greyson’s back.

“Bless you, baby,” Reed said, eventually.

“Thangks. Sorry,” Greyson murmured, pushing his hair out of his face and turning to look at Reed. “Why are you here?” he asked, levity out the window.

Reed let out a little laugh. “Umm, why do you think?” he asked. “You’ve been ignoring me since this morning. I got worried, since Matt said you were super sick – no lie detected, by the way, you sound truly awful –”

“Sorry,” Greyson said again, wiping under his nose. “I kndow, it’s gross.”

“Please, Grey,” Reed said, taking both sides of his boyfriend’s face in his hands and looking him in the eye. “Please. Stop apologizing. It’s okay to be sick. I don’t understand why you think I’m angry at you. I’m not.”

Greyson swallowed, painfully, and gave a little nod. “Okay,” he said, finally.

“Okay,” Reed repeated. “Anyway. I called Elijah. He said to come and collect you.”

At this, Greyson couldn’t help but cough out a laugh. “Collect mbe?” he asked. Reed smiled a little.

“Yeah,” he said. “His words, not mine.”

They both laughed, softly at first, then ramping up to near-hysteria. They only stopped when Greyson started coughing again and couldn’t seem to stop.

“Let’s go get you some water,” Reed said, helping his boyfriend to his shaky feet. Greyson allowed himself to be pulled out of the walk-in, and given a bottle of water that was sitting on his prep station. Greyson drank until the fit subsided, then regarded Reed once again.

“So… you really aren’t mbad?” he asked, rubbing his goosebumped arms up and down. Reed shook his head and shrugged off his windbreaker. He draped it over Greyson’s shoulders.

“I’m really not mad,” he insisted. Greyson nodded, seemingly satiated. Reed sighed through his nose and slipped his arms around the chef.

“Life’s done a number on you, huh?” he asked, quietly enough that it could’ve just been to himself. Greyson huffed out a sad little laugh.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, baby,” he murmured, pressing his hot head into Reed’s hair. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snzblr #snez #male cold #male snz #this was a fun one! #whump #h/c #but mostly hurt lol #i know it's a lot of dialogue. my apologies i just love to write dialogue and HATE to write exposition lol #which is Not Good Writing but whatever #this is my horn snz blog not my doctoral thesis lmao

[thatacotargirl]

Shadows and Surprises (1)

This is Part 1 of an Azriel x Reader fanfic - I hope you enjoy! PS. future chapters will be longer, this is just a short introduction to the story.

This is set after A Court of Mist and Fury.

Summary: Azriel meets y/n at Rita's and spends a single night of passion with you before heading your separate ways. Only, the Mother had different ideas.

Azriel POV

4 months earlier

Azriel woke with a start, and a searing headache. A night well spent at Rita's meant he had found himself scorchingly drunk and waking in the bed of an unknown female's home. He swore to himself as he rose from the bed, holding his head with his palm and pausing to breathe away the nausea. When he finally cracked his eyes open, he found the bed empty and, after laying a hand on the left side, discovered it was cold. Whoever had brought Azriel to their bed had decided to not stay for the morning. He decided not to overstay his welcome and clambered out of the bed, slowly, gathering up his clothes and pausing every so often to take big gulps of air in an attempt to not hurl on himself. After locating everything except his left shoe, he walked through the house to find the front door and make his big exit - but not before his eyes came across a glass of water, a hangover tonic, and a post-it note on the kitchen island. He picked up the post-it, which read "had to dash - thanks for a great night!", swallowed the tonic, and headed out the door before taking to the skies for a slow flight home.

Present day

"Why do I have to go?" gruffed Cassian, pushing a spoon around in his porridge, "I can barely bring myself up to the roof for training after the session I had yesterday".

"Yes, well, whose fault is that for sparring against Azriel when you knew you were still recovering from getting pelted at with arrows last week?" Mor retorted.

Cassian glared across the table, and flicked his spoon in Mor's direction, a dollop of porridge flying across the table and landing neatly on Mor's light blue top. She squealed in frustration, scooping off the porridge and hurling it back at Cassian, before stepping from the table and heading back to her room to change. Cassian laughed and continued eating his breakfast, the dollop of porridge which landed back on his side of the table included.

"I'll go", offered Azriel, making to stand from the table. "I don't mind heading into Velaris today anyway, I could do with one of those blueberry buns they sell in the little bakery on the Rainbow". Azriel thanked the House with a silent nod as his breakfast dishes vanished, and walked to the door of the dining room.

"Don't forget a chocolate marble sponge slice for me!" Cassian called from the table as he watched Azriel leave.

-

Azriel stopped by the bakery, picking up a blueberry bun, a chocolate marble sponge slice, and a small box of cupcakes to share with the rest of the Inner Circle tonight. He then made his way along to the Apothecary where he needed to pick up Rhysand's order of extra medical supplies, in the event that they ever needed them at the House. Given how prone Azriel and Cassian were to getting injured, or injuring themselves, they had gone through almost all the bandages and creams they had in just a few short weeks. Azriel shook his head, smiling to himself as he replayed memories in his mind of sparring with Cassian and taking him to the ground.

Azriel walked into the Apothecary, the bell dinging above the door, and stood to the right to let a young fae male exit - his hands gripping so tightly on his tonic Azriel thought he was likely to break the glass bottle before he got it home. He could hear Madja speaking behind the beaded curtain to someone, so waited near the door, gazing at all the bottles and vials that filled the shelves of the Apothecary from floor to ceiling. How Madja remembered what each tonic did, he would never know.

His gaze turned as he saw a female back out of the beaded curtains, still in deep conversation with Madja. Madja glanced at Azriel over the female's shoulder, a brief smile on her face, before returning the female in front of her.

"Take this tonic up to three times a day as you need it, you'll find it really helps. If you feel you need to take it more often, please pop back in and we will try to adjust the formula for you" Madja advised the female, handing over a bottle of red liquid.

"Thank you, Madja, I really appreciate it".

Azriel froze, recognising the female's voice instantly. It was the female he had met at Rita's 4 months ago whilst out with the Inner Circle, the one he had bedded and not seen again. Part of him wanted to flee, not sure how he could handle facing you again after that night and the 4 months of silence, especially in Madja's presence, but the other part of him wanted to stay rooted to the spot and see your face again, your smile, make you laugh one more time. His shadows coiled around his shoulders, making excited zigzags around his head, and he decided in that moment that he wanted nothing more than to stay, even if just to smile at you, and let you know how much that night had meant to him if only for the few hours.

The female turned to leave, eyes widening in shock when she saw Azriel standing in the Apothecary. Azriel felt your tension, your panic, and took a step forward to try and help, offer something, anything to calm you in that moment. But he stopped. His eyes roamed, following your shaking hands, and landed on your abdomen. Eyes wide, his bag of baked goods fell to the floor as he stared at you; because at your abdomen he saw a small, but unmistakable, baby bump.

#acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #acotar fanfiction

[spookyquill]

The Thorns in My Soul are For You

Description: a Hanahaki Disease AU, Reader is in love with Dazai and has been for a long while. They were in the port mafia but they left with Dazai

Word Count: 2208

Part 3

Previous Part |

TW: Blood, mentions of sickness, coughing up stomach contents, hospital scene

~~

During the course of a few weeks, things turned from bad to worse. You had been keeping track of the news, seeing more and more vampire sightings along with updates of political meetings. You had to disguise yourself every time you stepped out in public, there were a couple close calls with police and other official authorities. You even had a few encounters with vampires. 

Everything had taken a toll on you, much earlier than you’d like to admit. A few nights had been spent crying yourself to sleep or not sleeping at was a more popular outcome. All the running and the emotional breakdowns were not helped at all by the disease growing in your lungs. In fact, it made the disease grow stronger, rendering you weaker by the day. 

Petals exploded on the ground, accompanied by their stems and fully grown flowers, soaked in your blood. Another painful cough hacked it’s way out of your system, ejecting even more fully bloomed flowers onto the floor. You’d have to leave this place within the next few hours if you were to escape authorities. Thankfully, you planned to leave within the next few moments. 

You were too weak to run, too loud to hide anymore. The inevitability of your capture was approaching. You stopped going out a few days ago, your stomach growled in hunger and your body longed for water. Everything in your body ached, your chest aching the worst of all. But despite all the pain, you would rather die than be caught by vampires or police. But you wanted to make one last stop before you were to die. 

You had travelled back to Yokohama, it had taken you a while, but you managed to sneak by everything. 

Throwing the hood over your head to better hide your identity, you ventured out of the rundown building you claimed as your final home. It wasn’t far from your destination, but it still took you 20 minutes to get to the cemetery. 

The leaves rustled in the wind, almost like they were excited to see you after months of no visits. You clambered up the stone steps, quietly approaching the one lone gravestone beneath a large tree. 

“Hi Odasaku. Long time no see.” Your voice was quiet, not by choice as you began to feel the itchiness of another coughing fit brewing. 

“Sorry I’ve been gone so long, I had to keep a low profile for a while. But now I’m here again. I can’t keep running anymore. The vines are digging in, even now as I’m standing here I can feel them growing deeper into my lungs.” You take a moment to breathe. “I don’t have long left, I’ll be seeing you personally soon. Maybe we can play chess again, I’ve gotten better since the last time we played. I’m sure I have a chance against you.”

Your mind begins to wander, flashbacks of the past coming to the forefront of your mind. 

Moments where Odasaku laughed with you as you swapped out Chuuyas wine for blackcurrant juice. Times where you took a stroll along the beach with him, catching up after a long mission away. You remember the training he gave you, where you first beat him after years of it. That was the only chance you had at beating him. Times where Dazai -

Dazai. 

You haven’t seen him in so long. Last you heard of him he had been captured by the hunting dogs and was being held in a highly secured prison. 

You weren’t going to get the chance to say goodbye to him. You’d never be able to tell him how you really felt, and you had no way to write it down either. You were going to die without saying anything to him or leaving him with anything. Or perhaps he thought you already were? Maybe he does think you’re dead. That’s why no one tried finding you and bringing you back. You’d leave no trace of yourself in this world. You’d be a memory for those who cared, which were limited. 

This spiral of thoughts caused your breathing to increase, triggering the violent reaction your lungs had been cooking up. 

You couldn’t breathe in. All you could do was cough and choke, barely a sound left you. Your vision blurred, red spotting the once grey slate in front of you. You collapsed on the ground, convulsing with each cough that forced its way out of you. Vines were spilling out your mouth, a few of them accompanied by thorns which shredded your throat. 

You were dying. Right now. 

Your final resting place would be that of your best friend. At least Dazai wouldn’t have to go to separate places to mourn. 

You laid on your back, giving in to the fact that breathing in was no longer an option. Instead you opted to wait out the seconds as your brain shut down. 

Everything hurt. But it wasn’t painful. It was… numb. Peaceful. 

Your eyes grew heavy, unable to stay open any longer. 

As you closed them, you saw a figure slide into your vision before it finally blacked out.  

~•~

Everything felt heavy. Your eyes, your hands, your chest, your mind. 

Were you alive? You had no idea, you couldn’t open your eyes or even feel anything. It was like you were submerged in water, forcing you into a senseless pit. 

But your ears were still working, sounds filtered through them. It took you a while but you finally managed to decipher them. A conversation was taking place near you, and you recognised their voices almost instantly.

“She nearly died, asshole!” Chuuya sounds furious. “You are one of the smartest people I know yet you were so fucking dumb to not open your fucking eyes! Dazai they could’ve died!” Dazai? He’s here? But what’s Chuuya talking about? “They stopped breathing. Their heart stopped beating! It’s a fucking miracle the doctors managed to bring them back, but they cannot do it a second time.”

“I thought I had more time.” Dazai sounded hurt, his voice soft. But despite that, he was closer to you then Chuuya was. “I thought I could wait until all this was over.”

“That isn’t how the disease works and you know it! It doesn’t wait for the right time, we’re lucky as hell that they managed to survive with it for so long!!” Chuuya was really mad. “They almost died! Is that the moment you were waiting for?!”

Silence subdued the moment before Dazai whispered his response. “No.”

“Did you think you could waltz up to their grave and confess to them? Hoping that would be enough?” 

Dazai didn’t respond to that. 

“You need to grow your fucking balls and answer the god damn question.” There was silence for a few seconds. “Do you love them?”

The air was suffocating now, suspension hanging on tightly within the room. You could hear your heart beating through your ears. The feeling of a heavy weight seemed to press into you, the suspension dragging on.

Until…

“I do. I love them.”

In the span of three seconds, everything happened.

You felt shock ripple through your system, practically vibrating your body. Your lungs ceased and seemed to convulse into itself, forcing you to splutter out thick liquid. But something was in the way. Your eyes remained closed as your body shook with each strangled cough you let out, blood and roses struggling to get past the intubation tube.

Voices shouted over you saying things that you couldn't quite catch, still muffled due to the shock. Hands were on your body, keeping you still as more were felt at your head.

It was so much. The hands, the tube, the coughing, the mixture of pain and relief. You lost consciousness again.

When you regained your awareness, your body felt lighter, at ease. For a moment, you thought you were dead. But you managed to open your eyes, noting how light they now felt.

White tiled walls. Machines accompanied by wires and tubes. Bed railing on one side. Everything seemed plain and simple for a hospital.

You took a few deep breaths-

Wait.

You breathed in again, air flowing freely within you. You could breathe clearly now. No more breathing through what felt like a blocked up vent. The flowers were no more!

Relief washed over you, a smile carving its way onto your face. You could almost cry.

The sound of slight shuffling startled you. Your gaze shifted to your left, only now taking into account the fact that you were sitting up slightly, bed raised to support you. Dazai rested his head on the bed, one arm being used as a pillow while his other hand held onto yours. 

You stared at your hands, his tightly gripped one against your slack one. His hand felt warm. At least warmer than yours. You could tell by the dark circles under his eyes and the sunken features of his face that he hadn’t been taking care of himself. His usual fit was swapped out for a loose fitting jumper, making him appear smaller, along with a pair of track pants. He looked so rugged and tired, different to his typical cheerful demeanour he danced around with. Even his hand looked more skeletal than it should be. 

Taking a slow breath, you tighten your grip, allowing your fingers to smoothly rest between his. It felt like the final pieces of the puzzle were coming together. 

Dazai twitched, startling you. You wanted to pull your hand away from his, but he stopped you.

Brown eyes opened, lazily looking at yours. You could practically see his brain processing everything. He suddenly sat up, eyes wide and mouth agape. 

“(Y/n)?” His voice was hoarse, most likely from having just woken up from his slumber.

“Dazai?” Your own voice was rough, but you chose to ignore it.

Dazai surged forward, swiftly removing his hand from yours, instead wrapping both his arms around you, bringing you into his chest.

You whimpered in his arms, overwhelmed by a rush of emotions. He is here, holding onto you for life. You encircle your arms around his waist, noting how skinny and fragile he felt compared to usual. 

Tears flowed down your cheeks silently, soaking into the beige jumper Dazai is wearing. 

“I’m so sorry (Y/n), I should’ve said something sooner. It’s my fault you ended up like this.”

For a moment you're confused. But then everything catches up to you. Wriggling out of his arms, you look up at him, his features dulled by malnutrition. Your hands come up to rest on his cheeks, thumbs gently stroking away his own tears that had flowed from his eyes. 

“It’s not your fault. I’m okay now. I’m here.” Dazai can only nod, more tears escaping. “Did you really mean what you said? About liking me?”

Dazai stares at you for a moment, his brown eyes flickering between yours. The next moment, his lips are on yours. They meld perfectly together, moving in sync with no rush in movement. 

“Fucking finally. Only took you three years to grow some balls.”

You detach from each other, turning to look at Chuuya. A smile spreads across your face. “Hi Chuuya.”

Chuuya scowls. “Don’t just ‘hi Chuuya’ me. You gave me the biggest fucking panic. Do you know how terrifying it is to watch your friend vomit and cough up their lungs and collapse in the middle of the street?!” You frown, leaning your head against Dazai’s chest. “Whatever. I’m glad you two are finally together after dancing around each other for so long.” He walks up to you and drops a plastic bag full of food at your feet. “Doctor says you need to eat to replenish your energy. Your body is still getting rid of the disease so it will take a couple of days to do so, and that means you need to keep up your food. Mackerel you need to eat as well. You look like a sack of bones.”

“Aww does chibi miss me?” Dazai quips back with a smile. It’s good to see their usual banter return. It feels like the entire dynamic between the three of you has returned after so long. 

Chuuya scoffs, but you don’t miss and quirk in his lips as he turns away. “Whatever. Just eat all the damn food.” He closes the door behind him, leaving you and Dazai alone once again. 

Dazai pulls away from you, grabbing the nearby chair to take his seat, but your hand on his arm stops him. He looks up at you. 

“Sit with me?” You say with a smile before shuffling across the bed, making room for Dazai. 

“Are you sure?” When you reply with a nod, he slowly climbs into the bed next to you, grabbing the bag of food before adjusting the bed angle so you two can comfortably lean back and eat. 

The next couple of days are spent like that. Sleeping together in the one bed, eating bags of food that Chuuya brings alongside the ADA, and talking about mundane topics. 

When you are finally discharged from the hospital, you and Dazai walk out the door, hands intertwined with each other. 

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #dazai osamu x reader

[itsabouttimex2]

Ok, ok, HEAR ME OUT-

How about lmk Monkeifam and Bullfam with a Y/N who isn't afraid to throw hands —

Like i mean in a response to trauma or manipulation, becouse i fell it isn't explore enough in this situation -

Sure, your loved that you belived was a friend trapped /kidnapped/gaslight you is heartbreaking and of course you are gonna be sad and more incline to behave butttt-

There is always the other way of absolute rage that comes in once you realized you have been trapped/kidnapped /gaslight ecc- like i don't care anymore, i wanna throw hands, those people are death to me.(even thought this isn't the smarter choice considering the strenght of some of the people here) like them breaking Y/N down so they can comfort them to manipulate them, but then unsurprisingly the get the biggest smack/punch of their life . Just- wow the audacity.

Throwing Hands

Bullfam & Monkiefam

“…is this some sort of pathetic attempt at ‘rebellion’, Y/N? I am not impressed.”

Your hands straight bounce. Like punching a bag of wet cement, the Demon Bull King’s skin just shifts around under your fists, never breaking or bruising. You only shatter yourself against it, leaving you worn and looking foolish.

He might not even punish you, given that it’s likely that you break a wrist on impact.

“Now, look what you’ve done to yourself, foolish child. Did you truly think your mortal flesh could stand a demon king’s might? Well, now you know better.”

You lost your temper and struck him. Immediately, you learn better than to do that ever again, and he considers it lesson enough.

Surprisingly merciful, all things considered. (Partially because he finds it somewhat funny.)

I once said in my yandere alphabet that: “Red Son doesn’t want to waste his time doing something like caning or whipping you”. And though I think that viewpoint is usually true…

This changes that. It’s maybe the only situation where he would actively engage in any form of normalized torture “corporal punishment”.

Being physically attacked switches Red from ‘mildly reasonable, if a bit hair-trigger’ to ‘vicious and cruel’. Through brute force alone does he wrestle you into submission, binding your arms behind your back with a pair of metal cuffs.

He tosses you onto the nearest bed and couch before burning the lower half of your clothing off. He then takes up a thin metal rod to utilize in “disciplining” you, sharply lashing it down against your now unprotected skin. He’ll leave puffy, bleeding welts from the top of your rear to the bottom of your thighs, ensuring that you won’t even be able to think about walking for at least a week.

Problem is that not only does it not solve the problem of you being scared and angry, it also just… makes him feel bad afterwards. It breaks him, seeing you weep brokenly over his bed. Blood sluggishly trickles from the skin he’s lashed open, and you scream your lungs out into the sheets as you try to adjust to the pain.

And then he “has to” (wants to, in truth) settle in for some awkward form of aftercare, offering lotion and bandages. When you don’t accept, he forces you to drink a cup of honeyed tea loaded with sedatives because you won’t stop shrieking.

Antiseptic while you’re asleep, a few stitches here and there, then the lotion and bandages he tried earlier. And then a few cautious back rubs, trying to calm your fitful slumber.

“Gods, Y/N… what have I done to you? I… I was just… I was… no, I… I’m sorry.”

An outright dodge. Princess Iron Fan has no time for your nonsense. For trying, she’ll lock you into whatever room has been set aside for you, barring the door with powerful magic.

One shallowly-filled bowl of food every two days, adding just a little bit more to it each day. One ceramic cup of room temperature water every four hours. A change of clothes every three days. Instead of brute force, Iron Fan teaches you through deprivation.

After a month of this, she might see fit you allow you back out of your room, letting you mingle with the family you have been forced to adopt.

After writing her a letter of apology, of course. Two pages. Pray you have the mind to keep your pencil steady.

So very many tears to deal with, probably on both ends. MK knows that he’s doing isn’t all that great, sure… but it’s because he loves you!

Can’t you love him back, please? Ok, he’s been manipulating you! Maybe he’s been driving some friends away! Maybe he’s sent a few clones to tail you around the city! But, please, please- you can’t stop loving him! He just can’t risk having you hurt!

“Please, Y/N! You don’t understand! I’m just trying to keep you safe! You can hit me again, hit me as many times as you want! Just- please, Y/N… I need you. Please…”

His last resort is stuffing you in Shuilian Cave, given that you can’t escape with his or Sun Wukong’s help. Maybe a few ropes to keep you in place. He’ll cry with each knot tied, begging you not to hate him.

Sun Wukong tanks your punch and gives your head a little pat, frowning at the display. “Sorry, bud. Trust me, I know I’m not exactly the good guy here. Go ahead and let it out. I… kinda deserve it, huh?”

The Great Sage knows you have every reason to be upset. Really, you do. All there’s only so much waylaying of emotions to be done, unfortunately. You were going to crack eventually.

He stands firmly in place, one hand rubbing your back while you break your fists against his body, watching you scream and cry. The man is just… unsurprised? He’s starting to realize that he messes up a lot of things.. So just letting you whale on him seems fair, gently trying to shush your angry tears while your skin grinds to bloody pulp against his shredded abdomen.

“How about I make us some tea,” he offers afterwards, surveying your destroyed hands. “And I’ll patch you up. Then… I think you’ve earned yourself an early bedtime for the rest of the week, bud.”

“Oh, kiddo. Do you know what “screwing up” is? After this, they’re gonna put your picture in the dictionary as an example.”

Macaque does not tolerate having hands laid on him. Not by friends, not by enemies. And certainly not by his little student, who is supposed to be wide-eyed and placid, in awe of his every move and strike.

You are supposed to be sweet and respectful. You are supposed to be kind and loving.

And he’s sure that with a little bit of “training”, he’ll get you back to that disposition.

He’ll snap his fingers with an angry snarl, shadows springing all around you like cold wires. You are gagged with a cold ebon muzzle, both your hands locked inside a cuff of swirling black and purple. You want to act like an animal? Macaque will chain you to the wall by your new muzzle and treat you like an animal.

Maybe a few days spent so on a chain so short you can’t lay down will teach you better than to raise a hand against “the only person who even loves you, Y/N!” ever again.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Demon Bull King #Yandere Red Son #Yandere Princess Iron Fan #Yandere MK #Yandere Sun Wukong #Yandere Macaque #TW: Abuse #TW: Physical Abuse #Macaque’s final section is a reference to how ‘pet’ and ‘circus’ monkeys are taught to stand up

[peony-writes]

Searching for shadows

Paring - Trafalgar Law x GN reader

Genre - Angst

Word count- 987

“Why me?” The words tumbled from my lips as I sat alone on the cold empty bed in the captain quarters of the Polar Tang. Law had stormed out earlier cursing me for being in the way yet again. I had only wanted to be close to him. The pretext of our relationship was shattering all around me.

I knew Law would never love me, but it still hurt. It sat heavy in my chest, a heavy feeling of loneliness. The gruff man said there was no room in his heart for anything other than his studies of medicine. I wish he’d tell me why he took me off that island in the first place. I thought after our months of sleeping in the same bed he really would love me; but that wasn’t the case. Even his small displays of affection had dissipated into thin air as of a month ago. I had no clue what made him this way. He avoided me like the plague, often sleeping on the common room’s couch at night and locking himself in his office during the day.

He was at least kind to me before, kissing me willingly and he seemed as though he took pride in having me in his bed. But now he’s as cold as the snow of my home island. He just pulled away from me suddenly one day and I couldn’t stop it. There were no warning signs, and I was left to fester in my emotions alone. Bepo was concerned for me as the yelling got louder and more frequent. I sat alone starting to cry when a soft knock sounded at the door. I got up and fixed a crooked grin on my lips as I answered the door only to be smushed into Bepo’s chest.

“Bepo? What are you doing here?” I mussed “I was worried about you! I heard you and the captain yelling again”. I pulled away from Bepo looking behind him into the hallway. “Did he go to his office? I have some things I need to ask him”. This was it; I was done. Done being alone even with the support of the crew, I refused to be treated as less than nothing. I pushed back the white mass of fur and marched down to Law’s office. Bepo tried to stop me once or twice before Shachi pulled him away. Shaking his head at the oversized mink signaling it was futile to try to stop me now.

I gave a sharp knock on Law’s office door and heard a deep groan of annoyance greet me on the other side. Shortly after some shuffling and grumbling, Law opened the door. He seemed surprised to see me, but it was gone just as fast as it had appeared. I shoved past him into his office before he could inevitably tell me to go away. “Why have you been so cold to me Law?” The tears were streaming down my face again. If Law had any reaction, he gave no sign of it. But the truth was Law was drowning from the inside out, his lungs filling with feelings left unspoken. His actions were meant to drive you away. Yet you stubbornly stayed, peacefully taking his actions with a saints patience but now you were questioning him. Why was he doing this?

Why was he pulling away after warming up to you? You’d never know. “Do you not love me anymore Law?” I spoke, my voice rising with weeks of calmly concealed contempt. “Tell me Law, spare me please”. I hit my fists against his chest, his face clouded with a dark look of arrogance as he pushed my hands away. “I never loved you; I was using you for my bodily needs” I froze, his tone was like the polar ice caps, I let out a chocked sob then rubbing my face clean of tears looking at him with all the anger I could muster.

“I can’t believe you’d admit that but there’s one thing I can assure you Law” I walked up to him my mouth beside his ear “I’m leaving your sorry ass and this damn submarine”. Law was shocked to say the least, your voice had flowed into his veins, a deadly incurable poison filled with anger. You left after that, shoving him away as if his presence were now a stain on you. When he came back to his quarters that night hoping to resolve things with you, your belongings were gone and so were you. He wanted to tell you the truth, the real reason he pulled away from you so suddenly… however, he was not offered that choice.

The next morning they made landfall at a small port island with a bustling town of market stalls. Once the polar tang had surfaced you found yourself surrounded by all your crew mates, who were crying and asking if you were sure about leaving. The last to show up was Law. He stayed to the back of the group hoping to grab your attention, call your bluff… But all he got was a glance and a scoff. The realization was startling for Law. You were leaving… this was it… this was the last time he’d see you.

I gave my crewmates their hugs as Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi tried convincing me to stay, but my mind was made up; I was leaving and that was it. I gave Law one last glance before turning and walking down the ramp, not looking back once. Law’s heart was shattering. He loved you but was too scared of his feelings. With one last look at you before you disappeared into the crowds he muttered a single sentence, one that could have made you stay had he uttered it sooner, but it was too late now as a stray tear slid down his face he whispered. “I love you”

#one piece #one piece oneshots #one piece x reader #one piece angst #trafalgar one piece #law one piece #one piece x gn reader #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law one piece #trafalgar law #law op

[a-very-tired-jew]

Fandomization, Fervor, and Fuck Off

A consistent and appalling behavior since October has been the fandomization of the I/P Conflict by anti-Zionists and co. Many of us on this site have documented and talked about such behavior. From my own personal experience it reminded me of certain anime fandoms back in the day when they first emerged. If you weren't talking about it and it wasn't all consuming then you were a problem. I remember conventions being hell as these new fandoms crashed photo shoots and panels that weren't about them. The way in which anti-Zionists crash into other issues to make it about their particular one is reminiscent of these behaviors. As I've stated before, my toes are dipped into a variety of scientific topics as an ecologist. One of them is climate change and for the past few months the conversation within CC spheres has been forcibly turned to I/P and the "wanton destruction of the Palestinian landscape by the evil Jews Zionists. Thereby proving they're not indigenous because no indigenous culture would destroy their landscape." Never mind that the conversation prior to that moment was about pollinator loss due to climate change and habitat loss. This is Fandomization and Fervor. The want to drive your fandom into every single topic and make it everything. But now? We're in the Fuck Off stage, and I don't mean this as us telling anti-Zionists to fuck off, I mean the Fandom is telling people within it to Fuck Off or, at least, shut up. Since the beginning of this conflict there have been moderate voices within the anti-Zionist activist movement. We talk about the outright antisemitic and hate fueled ones here, but don't talk about these persons enough. The Moderates are the ones within these spheres that get pointed to when we bring up antisemitism because they bring nuance to the movement and try to curb the worst of the vitriol. They are the ones that screen capped and held up besides the token "Good Jews". While they didn't necessarily have as much of an impact in the beginning of the conflict due to the lack of numbers and the overwhelming fervor, zealouness, and righteousness of anti-Zionists, they are being noticed now. Many of the spaces I am in that posted incessantly every day and had multitudes of conversations about I/P throughout them have now become relatively silent. There might be a brief conversation over the course of 30 minutes here or there, an article gets posted every few days, and the AJ update is the only daily posting. Now, when larger conversations kick off there is more attention paid to the Moderates and the nuance they bring because it's not rapid fire anymore. People don't have to scroll back through hundreds of messages to find the nuance, it's right there and it's loud and clear. So they're being told to Fuck Off In every space I am in I have seen some variation of "Shut up, every time you talk the conversation ends" told to the Moderates. Why? Because each time they are addressing something that would have radicalized people earlier in the conflict. They are addressing outright hate and/or contradictory messaging. The culmination of which has been talking about the Islamic Republic's recent attack on Israel. I have seen them blatantly call out their activist community for celebrating an attack by a country that stands antithetical to everything its members say they stand for (LGBTQ+ rights, women's rights, political rights, etc...) and jails, tortures, and kills people like them. As such, the Fervor and radicalization of new fandom members can't happen, and I see it angering the people whose entire identity has revolved around the Fandom and the hatred associated with it. The cognitive dissonance that the Moderates invoke in the radicals has resulted in some outright hatred in these communities that I thought was reserved only for us Jews. But now? Now it's clear that the most ardent members of the Fandom are just full of hate. That's it. They don't actually care of Palestinians, they just want to justify their hate and wallow in it.

#jumblr #antisemitism #leftist #fandomization

[charlesdesvoeux]

Just found another Irving letter that made me very sad- not because he's melancholic in it, but because in light of what would happen to the expedition it hits very hard. It's to his sister-in-law, Catherine Irving:

(context: in an earlier letter he mentioned that he talked to his father about wanting to go to the Arctic, and he in turn mentioned it to Sir George Clerk, a relative of theirs with good contacts in the Admiralty)

"I shall be glad to be put off it, as it affects my prospects for the summer very materially, there being some difference between the regions of thick-ribbed ice and perpetual snow, and the green fields I might visit if I did not get appointed, for I had some idea of coming down to see you then; but I imagine going would probably assist me in getting advancement in the service; and in the usual routine there is but a poor prospect." -> he didn't even fucking want to go anymore, apparently. he wanted to go back to Scotland to see his family :-( but he thought it would mean promotion once he got back home (and yeah, it probably would) so he went anyway.

"I do not believe I have much chance of going, so your wicked wishes are likely to be gratified. It is not a service of much danger, and they take provisions for only two years; so they must come back in that time, if at all." -> this gives me the impression that Kate thought it was dangerous, didn't want him to go, expressed these concerns; here he tries to assuage her fears both by saying that maybe he wouldn't be selected but even if he did there probably wasn't any danger and if they only had rations for 2 years then that meant they would only stay away for 2 years tops. jesus fucking christ :-(

"I want something more exciting, and not to be lying in a harbour. It is now nineteen months since I last saw you. It seems a long time." -> you might want to just. lie in a harbor if you knew what was coming, sir. but you couldn't, could you? no one could. granted many expeditions had seen death and great duress- but for all its participants to vanish? that was, as far as i know, unprecedented. 19 months. well. you wouldn't see them ever again.

(Link to the letter here)

#historical #franklin expedition #the terror #john irving

[rubydubydoo122]

Jason and Eddie headcanons?

(I'm talking about Robin!Jason because I don't think Eddie and Jason have interacted Post Mortum)

Eddie is the only friend Jason made on his own. Everyone else was either Dick's friend first or... There's no or. That's it.

They were physical paper pen pals, even though they both had each others phone numbers and emails. They both just liked the vibe of writing letters.

Eddie always knew it was a letter from Jason because he sealed his letters with Green Wax. And the stamps were always a different pattern because Bruce's Great Grandpa had an extensive collection of wax stamps.

They would facetime once a month (every four letters give or take) and meet up every summer, and usually they would gossip like old ladies.

Eddie thought Jason was angry with him when he stopped getting letters from him in May, and wouldn't pick up his phone calls. Then he got a letter with a red spider lily (death in flower language) in clear wax-- but it was the same stamp pattern Jason used in one of his earlier letters, so he knew Jason was death. Alfred sent it. Eddie never had to read it.

A couple years later Eddie gets a letter sealed with green wax and burns it. He doesn't even try to read it. He just burns it. (The letter was Jason telling him he was alive) He doesn't get anymore letters sealed in green wax.

#jason todd #batman #batfam #dc comics #red hood #eddie bloomberg #kid devil #ask me questions #ask me anything #asks #ask

[scekrex]

TW(If you dont want to do it it's completely fine)

Can you do a adam x male reader where the reader is depressed because his life when he was living was shit and he thought it would be better but it still haunts him, and he starts to date adam and a few months into dating Adam saw reader SH and gets all sad but becomes more protective of reader and explains to reader how much he loves him and he bandages reader and they cuddle together(I love your writing BTW, you don't have to do this if you think it's shit)

I absolutely do not think it's shit, I hope I did it justice - as a person who suffers from depression myself this kinda is/was my view on the world. Really hope it's to your liking :3

Burning, I feel it too

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, hurt/angst, suicidal thoughts, self harm

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

With him around, heaven seemed brighter. With him around your past life felt less heavy, the burdens you carried were easier to lift and he seemed to bring a reason to all of existence.

But when Adam wasn’t around for a couple hours, the world turned dark again, like he was purposely taking all the bright colors and the joyful emotions with him when he left. The burdens turned insanely heavy again, unable for you to lift, let alone carry on your shoulders and every reason that caused you to take step after step was gone. Adam knew your life had been a dark pit of hopelessness and tiredness. There had been nothing that held you, what was holding you now? A single person and that person wasn’t even yourself how it should have been. It was Adam.

Heaven, the paradise of afterlife that everybody dreamed of, not you though. You just wanted to rest, not continue to suffer above earth in another world. You wanted peace and quiet, eternal rest. But that had been denied, not only by God, but also by Adam. The first man was worried about you and while others thought of it as cute, you felt like a burden to him by making him worry so much. He cared, that you were aware of, he let you not only hear you about it, no, he also showed you that he cared about you. And that caused the clouds that covered your view to lift temporarily. But once Adam left - even if it was just the room - the clouds came back, painting the worlds in black, white and gray again until he came back.

Extermination days were the worst, not only was your partner gone the entire day, no, he was also at risk of getting injured, maybe even killed. Who was there to promise you that Adam would make it out alive? And what would you do if Adam wouldn’t make it out? If Lute would come back alone, nothing but his halo in her hand that she would hand over to you as proof. Would it hurt? Would it hurt worse than the pain you inflict on yourself?

You flicked the lighter on and for a short moment you watched the flame dance in front of your eyes, then you moved the lighter close to your thigh until the flame licked on your skin, the burn that followed felt save, it felt like coming home after a long trip, it welcomed you with open arms and you were so used to it that you closed your eyes and enjoy the silence the pain brought. That was a thing you had missed so much, the silence in your mind that pain brought with it whenever you invited it to visit you. You had been so lost in the quietness that you hadn’t heard the door to the bedroom slamming open. Your eyes cracked open when the lighter was harshly ripped from your trembling fingers, the usually so calming voice of your boyfriend was now the reason for you to flinch away from his body, “What the fuck are you doing?” He sounded mad and you hated the way anger made his voice sound. Why was Adam back already? Was it already that late, had you lost track of time again? Did it even matter if he was back earlier?

Paralyzed you watched as he pulled you off the bed, you weren’t reacting to his words at all, not because you didn’t want to, but because you found yourself unable to. The brunette pushed you flush against his body, you felt the soft golden feathers that wrapped around your nude body to shield you and just like before, there was silence in your head - not because of any pain, but because of Adam. Adam, who had returned the colors to your world, Adam, who was drowning you with his body warmth. “I don’t want to fucking lose you,” he mumbled against your head as he buried his face in your hair. He spun the both of you around slowly, then he let himself fall backwards onto the soft mattress of your shared bed, pulling you with him. “You can’t fucking leave me too, I- for fucks sake Y/N, you can’t fucking-” he interrupted himself and it was only then that you felt the salty tears that were streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t fucking want you to-” he tried again but failed yet again, a sob fell from his lips and you couldn’t help but hate your self for making him feel that way. Adam deserved better, you had tried to explain that to him ever since the both of you had started dating. Yet the brunette had always disagreed. “Please,” he whispered and his voice sounded so unusually broken it tore you apart from the inside. You hated the way it voice was able to sound so unstable, so broken, so sad. You hated that you had caused Adam to feel that way within seconds. “I fucking love you, Y/N,” he mumbled, clearly out of words. You knew he wanted to scream and yell, that he wanted answers. And he knew screaming and yelling would only push you further away from him and that you’d give him answers once you were ready to. So he bit back all the questions he wanted to ask you, all the things he wanted to get off his chest and placed a soft kiss on your head instead. “I’m sorry for being such a mess,” you whispered quietly and maybe, secretly, you hoped it had been too quiet for him to hear. But it hadn’t been, “You’re not, babes, you’ll never fucking be.” But the both of you knew that wasn’t true, that he was lying. You were not only ruining your own mental health but also his. It was only a matter of time until Adam would either drop you or fall into the same hole you were already sitting in.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

I’m curious on how you think barzy would react to these different situations

•knocking up a hookup

•getting his new girlfriend pregnant (or old gf however long you imagine the relationship to be)

•and finally getting the wifey pregnant (for some reason in my head as I’m typing this I’m thinking like after multiple tries/failed pregnancies cause angst)

You also don’t have to answer any of them if you don’t want just curious 🤍

well, this fic is mat finding out his fiancée is pregnant and i think he handles it pretty well! i can see mat loving being a dad and he’s def thinking about having kids in the future (see his all star weekend comments) in the vague timeline i have for mat and his girl, they are going to have another baby after baby girl’s fairly traumatic birth, so that’s something that i’m looking forward to writing!

so if it’s him getting his girlfriend pregnant, however long they’ve been together, if they’re in a committed relationship, i think he’s a little nervous but excited. maybe he proposes earlier than he thought he would, but if it’s a relationship where he was already planning on being committed, i can see him getting over the surprise pretty quick

if it’s a random hookup? i think that’s more of a reason for him to freak out a little. he gets spooked because this girl shows up again after a few weeks/months and he didn’t expect to see her again. maybe he’s not so cool about it right away, since he wasn’t planning on seeing her again. but he’s going to let her decide what to do and if she decides to keep it, i can see him wanting to be involved in the baby’s life. probably ends up co-parenting with her, with no plans to enter into a relationship (depending on how this story would go, maybe they do end up in a relationship when the kid is one or two, after they’ve spent all those years getting to know each other and parenting together)

honestly, overall, i can see mat being a good dad and an excited one, no matter how it ended up happening ☺️

#asked and answered #mandylove1000 #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal #mat barzal headcanon

[justagalwhowrites]

Cinema: Part of For You - A Collection of Requests Benefitting Palestine

It's your boyfriend Javi Gutierrez's birthday and you know just how to celebrate him.

Event Terms: Commissioners could choose to donate between $15 and $50 via Ko-Fi for one fic of 1-2k words to be written by April 1, 2024. Payment due after completion of the fic. Donation with a match by the author was paid to PCRF on April 2, 2024 in honor of Pedro Pascal's birthday ❤️ Commissioners had the option to choose to keep a fic private and all fics may not be shared here.

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x Plus Sized!Female Reader

Warnings: Smut :D Unprotected P in V sex. No use of Y/N. 18+ Only MINORS DNI

Length: 3.4k

A/N: It's sweet, it's smutty, it's Javi G. being Javi G. (I hope!) Enjoy :)

You would call it a meet cute. 

It might be the one of the best parts about how you met Javi. It would be the best part if it was how you’d met anyone else but this was Javi. Regardless, you’d never had anything quite like this happen to you before. 

It was like something out of a movie. 

There had been a lot on your mind that day half a year earlier. It was the first day your theater was open to the public, months of work finally coming to fruition. The place had a lot of meaning to you. You’d been a lover of film your entire life, the most comforting place you could find a theater seat with a bag of popcorn on your lap. You wanted to be a part of it but you didn’t want to make movies. That, you thought, might ruin the magic of it. No, you wanted to be that source of comfort, a place where people could get lost in stories and adventure and wonder. 

You’d bought the old theater in your small town just outside of LA. It was old, lacking all the fancy upgrades that the movies had now, but it was where you’d first fallen in love with cinema. Your parents had taken you there to see your first movie as a girl - it was a dollar theater then - and you’d never wanted to leave. 

Now, you didn’t have to. 

You’d put a lot of work into your theater when you bought the place. It had been closed for a few years so you scrubbed it, top to bottom. You replaced upholstery and repainted walls and spent more than you really should have to get the best projector on the market. It had to be perfect, a haven for real cinema in the face of all the mass market bullshit that made you roll your eyes when looking at what was playing at the megaplex near your house. 

Everything was perfect the day of your soft open. Your niece and nephew were manning the concession stand, your best friend was working the ticket booth and you were running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to work out all the kinks that came with opening your own business. 

You didn’t exactly have a flood of people your first day. You screened an Indie movie you’d loved that hadn’t quite been a festival darling but had gotten picked up by a distributor. There were only a dozen people across the two screenings you had that day, just enough to get the kinks out and get a feel for what you’d need for the busier days you hoped were right around the corner. It was just after 9 p.m. when you sent your friends and family home and you stayed behind to do the last of the clean up and indulge in watching your favorite movie on the big screen. 

You were making yourself a tub of popcorn and adding the perfect amount of butter - real butter, none of that oil bullshit - when you looked up to see a man peering into the lobby, his face pressed to the glass of the door near the ticket booth. He saw you notice him and he smiled, a wide and bright smile that reminded you of a puppy, something so unabashedly filled with joy and framed by beautiful dark curls and golden tan skin. He gave you a wave and you smiled, too, in spite of yourself before going to unlock the door. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said, still smiling. You couldn’t really help it, the man in front of you seemed just so… happy. “But we’re closed for the day…” 

“Oh,” his face fell a little. “I just saw the movie on your marquee and I just had to stop, I missed it at Sundance and had been hoping to see it somewhere around here. Real cinema doesn’t seem to be very important anymore, though…” 

“Right?” You said, leaning against the doorframe, door propped on your hip. “You’d think LA would be the place for it but I can never find the movies I really want to see playing anywhere. That’s why I opened this place…” 

“This is your cinema?” He asked, his already wide, brown eyes growing wider. 

“It is indeed,” you smiled, running your hand lovingly along the door. “Today was the soft open. That’s why we’re closed now, I’m worn out. I was just about to put on my favorite movie to unwind before heading home. But if you wanted to come back tomorrow…” 

“What movie?” He asked. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“What movie is your favorite?” He asked. “You can tell so much about a person by their favorite movies.” 

“Raising Arizona,” you said. “The Coen Brothers comedy with Nicolas Cage? Tell me a better combination…” 

That wide smile broke across his face again, so broad and bright and all encompassing that it threatened to make you melt.  

“I love Nicolas Cage,” he said. “And Raising Arizona? One of my favorites, so underrated…” 

“Right?” You said. “It needs more of a following… anyway, I was just about to start it up…” 

The man drew his smile in and nodded. You could tell he was trying not to look put out but he was doing a shit job of it and you couldn’t bring yourself to disappoint him, not when he looked so good when he was happy. 

“Would you want to maybe join me?” You asked. “You’ll have to deal with me saying half the lines but I was definitely a little ambitious with the tub of popcorn I just made for myself. No charge, of course.” 

“I would love nothing more!” He thrust his hand toward you. “I am Javi.” 

You introduced yourself in return and you let Javi inside your theater, locking the door behind him. 

Javi was the dream person to have come to your theater on opening day. He took in everything with a look of awe and total admiration on his face. He sat next to you in the theater, his hands all but glued to his knees and his eyes all but locked on the screen in front of you. His hands only strayed to take a handful of popcorn from the bucket on your lap, his fingertips hesitantly brushing against your skin as he did, and you caught him stealing glances your way as the movie played out in front of you. But he was as enthralled with the film as you were and you were surprised to find that watching the movie with him was even more fun than watching it on your own, his presence bringing that sense of magic that you’d treasured into the theater. 

“You said you would be open tomorrow?” He said as the two of you left the theater, Javi staying to do a final check of everything and hold the dustpan while you swept the last stray kernels of popcorn off the floor.

“We will,” you smiled. “And, with any luck, just about every day for the foreseeable future.” 

“Will you be here tomorrow?” He asked, tone hopeful before he caught himself. “Not that I am trying to stalk you or anything like that, of course I am not, I was just…” 

“I’ll be here,” you smiled, cutting him off. “And I’d love if you came by again, Javi. You still have to actually see the movie you came to see after all.” 

“Yes, right!” He said. “I do. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

And he did come see you tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that, too. It took him more than two weeks of coming by the theater almost daily to actually ask you out, though, his usually beamingly happy self serious and almost strangely vulnerable. 

The six months since had been a dream. Javi was far and away the best boyfriend you’d ever had. He was unfailingly kind, caring and more than happy to share your passion for film. You’d become closer to him than you’d ever been to anyone else you had ever dated, sharing everything with him. Including stories about the months in middle school that you insisted on going by Arizona after watching Raising Arizona a few too many times, Javi turning an embarrassing anecdote into a charming pet name. 

Javi meant so much to you that you wanted to do something special for his birthday. You’d been planning for weeks, both to make it exactly what you pictured but also to keep it a secret from your boyfriend - something easier said than done since the man wanted to know everything about how you spent your days. 

“I think we’re all set,” you said, stepping back to look at your handiwork as Javi’s friends from LA and even a few from Majorca filtered in. “Alright, I’ll be back with the guest of honor in just a few minutes! Make sure you find your hiding place!” 

Javi’s house wasn’t far and he was standing at the end of his long drive, waiting for you in an emerald green suit that looked way too damn good. Seriously, how did he always look that good? His curls were slicked back and beautiful, his eyes warm and soft, a crooked smile dimpling his cheek when he saw your car pull up, just like he always did when he saw you.��

“Javi, you didn’t have to wait outside for me!” You said, getting out of your car to wrap your arms around his neck. You couldn’t resist. Even though you’d just seen him that morning it felt like far longer. “I would have come to the door…” 

“I know,” he said, kissing your cheek. “But it did not feel right, having you pick me up and come to my door. I am not sure I like doing things this way, Zona, I am not treating you the way a man should, having you plan things and drive me…” 

You silenced him with a look before putting your hands on his broad shoulders. 

“You are always treating me the way a man should,” you said. “Let me do something for you for a change, OK?” 

“Whatever you say, my love,” he said. “But you are not opening your door, you have to at least let me do that.” 

You laughed but allowed it, Javi carefully helping you into your car, his eyes ranging over you with a hungry look before he took his place beside you. 

The confusion on his face as you pulled up outside your theater was enough to tell you that you’d done a pretty decent job of keeping the surprise a surprise, something you were proud about. 

“What are we doing here?” Javi frowned as you parked out front. 

“I forgot something in my office,” you said. “I’ll just run in and grab it, you can wait here…” 

You went to open your door, hoping that he’d do exactly what you expected. 

“I have not seen you all day,” he said, all but throwing his door open. “I will come, too.” 

You managed to hide your smile. 

“Whatever you say, Javi.” 

He helped you out of the driver’s seat and held the door to the theater open for you, too, you barely catching a glimpse as someone ducked behind a pillar in the lobby as you came in. 

“Zona, why is it dark…” 

“SURPRISE!” 

The lights flipped on and everyone jumped out from their hiding spots, a cluster of people behind the snack bar, others off to the side with a sheet cake with a picture of Javi and Nicolas Cage in the icing. 

Javi looked around, wide-eyed for a moment, before smiling that big, beautiful smile of his you’d come to love so much. 

“What is all this?” He asked, giving you warm, enveloping hug. “My birthday is not for two days and you said…” 

“I had to throw you off the scent,” you laughed, giving him a squeeze. “But I couldn’t just take you to dinner for your birthday, I had to do something…. Well, a little more you.” 

You pulled back from him as another key person came to greet the guest of honor.

“Hey, Javi. Some woman you’ve got there.” 

***

Javi wasn’t sure he’d ever been happier. 

He’d thrown himself some great parties over the years - there had to be some benefit to the position he’d been stuck in in Majorca, right? - but this was something else. 

To feel so seen and known and celebrated by the woman he loved was entirely new and he was almost in awe of it.

Of course, he spent a lot of time in awe of you. From the moment he’d first set eyes on you he’d been in awe of you. You were the most beautiful thing Javi had ever seen. The way you leaned against the frame of the door of the theater, the confident - but not quite cocky - smile on your lips, the passion in your voice when you spoke about movies. 

He’d gone home that night a man obsessed. He couldn’t get you out of his head, the full and lush shape of you, the sparkle in your eye, the sound of your voice as you whispered your favorite lines of the movie in the dark beside him. 

It would have taken a miracle to keep him away from your theater after that. 

And now, you’d thrown him the perfect birthday party. A Nicolas Cage retrospective at your theater - one of his favorite places in the world - with Nicolas Cage himself in attendance? It was better than he could have ever dreamed. 

You’d started with Leaving Las Vegas - a good choice, Javi thought, a true showcase for Nic’s talents. Of course, he would shine in any film, that’s part of what made him so great. 

Then you went with Face/Off, one of his all time favorites and one he was happy to get to watch on the big screen again. 

Then, you finished with Gone in 60 Seconds. Javi held your hand the whole time, the feeling of you close and knowing that you’d done so much for him intoxicating. 

“She really is something,” Nic said as they sipped champagne between movies. Javi watched as you mingled with guests, making sure things were settled and that people had what they needed before the next movie started. 

“Oh, I am aware,” Javi said, trying to think of something besides untying your wrap dress and running his hands over every soft curve. “She inspires me. I will have to send you the screenplay I am working on, I haven’t felt this drive to create since we worked together. You know, I think I have the perfect part for you…” 

“We can talk about it when the time comes,” Nic said, clapping him on the shoulder. “In the mean time, take it from someone who has a few ones who got away… hold on to that one.” 

Javi laughed a little. 

“I intend to.”

Javi stood by your side and thanked everyone for coming, shaking hands and hugging friends he hadn’t seen all gathered together in so long. He felt almost guilty for wanting to rush out the door to get you home.  

“I have one more thing for you,” you said as you locked the door after the last guest left. 

“But…” he began but you didn’t give him a chance to properly protest. You took his hand and pulled him along behind you toward the theater. 

You stopped him at the door, a mischievous smile on your face. 

“I need you to give me just one minute,” you said. “No peeking.” 

He did his best to be patient until you called out to him, a seductive tone in your voice. 

Javi found you waiting inside the theater, a giant bean bag easily big enough for two sitting at the front of the room below the screen, the title card for Raising Arizona the only light in the room. 

“Thought this would be better just the two of us,” you smiled. 

“Oh Zona,” he smiled back, going to pull you into his arms, holding you close and tight as he kissed you deeply. “This is perfect. You are perfect.” 

The two of you settled into the bean bag and he did try to watch the movie, he really did. But you felt so good pressed against his side, so warm, your whole body so soft and all he could do was think about sinking into your tight heat. 

When he kissed you, you kissed him back, your lips eager on his. He tried to not smile against your mouth. You expected this. You wanted this. 

Your hands deftly removed his suit coat and ran over the buttons of his shirt. He untied your dress and slipped it off you, unwrapping you like the gift you were. He moaned as he let his hands range over you, your body so exquisitely beautiful. You reminded him of ancient statues that were meant to embody love and beauty with the softness of your stomach and the roundness of your hips. You looked so good in the glow of the theater screen, felt so good below his hands. It took all he had to not come from just how you ground yourself against his thigh. 

“Javi,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. 

“I want you, Zona,” he pressed his lips to your throat, kissing down to the swell of your breasts. “Please, please, I need…” 

You squirmed out of your panties at his begging and he freed his cock from the confines of his pants, stroking his length. 

“I need you, too,” you whispered and he adjusted you so you were below him. He trailed his fingers over your wet seam and moaned, his already firm cock growing even harder as he thought about being inside of you. 

He lined himself up at your entrance, catching just how your tight hole was going to swallow him in the flickering light of the movie, and pressed inside, slow and aching. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he was almost panting as he stretched and filled you, marveling at how perfectly your body held his. “So, so good.” 

You just moaned below him, arching up into him and he pressed himself closer, loving how you felt against him. 

He fucked into you, slow and forceful, your body jerking with his movements as he thrust into you and he watched you take him, enthralled by the light and shadows from the screen on your skin. 

Javi reached down and teased your clit with this thumb, pressing against it and rubbing up and down, slow and firm like how he was fucking you. Your pussy started to tighten around him, your breaths coming in quick and needy little pants. 

“Thought of one thing you can give me, my love,” he said, trying his hardest to not come before you did. You moaned. “You can give me your pleasure. Want you to come for me, want to feel how good you feel, please…” 

He kept working your clit and felt you get tighter and tighter around his cock until you gasped, your pussy fluttering over him. 

“Javi!” You moaned as you came and he followed you over the edge, letting himself fall into his own orgasm as yours peaked, filling you with pulse after pulse of his come. 

He collapsed on you for a moment when he finished, catching his breath, before he adjusted you so that you were on top of him and the two of you were all but enveloped in the bean bag. He ran his hands over your bared skin, enjoying the feeling of you on him as you settled into his chest, the warmth of your breath on his skin. 

“So,” you said, your chin resting on his chest. “Good birthday?” 

“Oh, Zona,” he said, thinking about everything you’d done for him not just that day but for the whole of your relationship. “It has been the best one yet.” 

A/N: I hope you enjoyed my first journey into writing Javi G! He was so fun to explore and pairing him with a sexy and confident film lover was a blast.

Thank you for reading!

#fanfic #smut fic #for you #javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez x reader

[jogetsobsessed]

Not Strong Enough - Paul Lahote

This is so rushed and you can tell lol. I started this months ago, last summer. Also I hate writing dialogue and this is basically all that so yay for Jo!

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

“ I know you're awake Y/n”. His voice cut through the silence of the night. 

You didn't stir. You were trying to keep your breath even, praying that he would roll over and go back to sleep. He didn't need to be bothered with the late-night demons you were fighting. He had so much that he was dealing with when it came to the pack, Sam has given him more responsibility in the past few months. You knew it was weighing on him but he never complained not wanting to burden you, even when you begged him to vent to you. Seeing him bottle his emotions only caused you to feel more emotional at the thought of him being sad and feeling like he couldn't talk to you. 

“Y/n you're not fooling me love”. He reached out and turned his lamp on before rolling over to face you. Still, you didn't move. 

Embarrassment flushed your cheeks and tears threatened to spill as you attempted to blink them away. Rubbing at your eyes to cover up the evidence of your dejected attitude. Even though Paul was quite literally watching your every move. 

“What's wrong?”. 

“I don't know what you're talking about Paul, you woke me up with your booming voice”. 

He opened his mouth to retort what you said but stopped. Pausing to tilt his head to the side, much like a dog does when watching in anticipation. His eyes scanned your body, up and down as he tried to figure out if something was physically wrong with you. When he couldn't find anything wrong his eyes traveled to yours, locking in place. You just blinked, not wanting to budge. 

“Y/n I love you, and I have loved you since I first met you. I know you. I know everything about you. Like how you always take a gasping gulp of air right before you fall asleep or how after you have been asleep for a little while you start to snore a little bit, not too loud but enough for me to hear. It's something I love, it soothes me. So yes, I know that you weren't sleeping”. 

That was enough to break the dam. 

Tears came out in droves as you bawled, burying your head in your hands. Paul acted in no time, immediately shifting to sit up, pulling you into his chest cradling your head as you sobbed. Fear was pulsing through his veins as he watched your chest heave up and down, gasping to catch your breath. His hand that wasn't holding your head rubbing small circles on your arm, attempting to provide comfort. 

Slowly your tears came to a sputtering stop as you were able to fill your lungs up with enough air to begin to calm down. His hand didn't stop, because he was right with what he said earlier, he knew you. His grounding touch in your moment of panic was one of, if not the only thing that could bring you back to reality. 

You turn your head up. Lifting it from his chest to gaze up at him. 

His face shone with pure love and admiration as he gazed down at you. The hand that had clutched your head moved to your face, his thumb wiping away the stray tears that had yet to cascade down your cheeks slightly puffy from your outburst. His lips softly pressed against your forehead, lingering as he felt you relax under his touch. You shifted again, this time turning so you could lean your head on his shoulder, your legs dangling off his lap. 

“So how are you going to tell me what's going on?”. 

“I'm scared”. 

You felt his body tense under your words. The sudden onset of anxiety filled the dimly lit room. 

“What do you have to be scared of?”. His voice was calm but the way his grip tightened around you was another indicator of his sudden mood change. 

“Becoming a mom, not being strong enough”. 

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

You knew it was silly. 

To let this fear consume you. It's not like the idea of becoming a mom was new. You have spent the past eight months preparing for your upcoming life change. Outwardly you put on a confident front. Accepting the advice your friends and random strangers alike gave you unsolicited advice. Spending hours upon hours shopping with Emily and Kim, letting some of the tribe elders teach you how to crochet different styles of blankets for your new upcoming arrival. Learning about the teas made up of all different herbs that were supposed to aid in various pregnancy symptoms like nausea and sciatic nerve pain. You took in all of it. 

But inside you weren't handling everything as well. 

No one wanted to talk about the fears that you were harboring. No one wanted to talk about what had happened to Emily during the birth of her and Sam’s first. About how she almost lost her life because of the blood loss, because children born from the wives of the shifters were larger than ones born to human fathers. About how Sam’s screams could be heard miles away as the healers tried to push him out of the room, away from his dying wife. About how that could happen to you. 

No one wanted to talk about how you could die. 

So every night for the past few weeks as your due date was nearing closer you let yourself think of the possibility, the possibility of your mortality. 

Normally you were able to suppress it enough to fall asleep shortly after Paul. But tonight was different. 

After a day spent in Forks going to get an ultrasound and then to the healers on the reservation, you had heard someone address the possibility of complications. The talk you got from them was different, seeing as the doctors in Forks didn't know about the lineage of your husband, and his genetic abnormalities that could and probably would affect your child's birth. 

Paul had remained stoic throughout trying his best to comfort you without showing any weakness. No matter how much you tried to drill it through his thick skull showing emotion didn't make him weak he didn't budge, that was going to be a lifelong battle. 

But their words had hit you hard, the fears you had been struggling with by yourself in silence were finally being brought to light, and someone wanted to talk about them. And you had gone through all the different possibilities, all the complications, and their varying outcomes. 

And that was why you had remained awake tonight. 

Your fears were fighting off the exhaustion you felt, as your mind was on fire. Paul hadn't brought anything up, other than commenting on how big your baby was getting and about running up north to Port Angeles this weekend to pick up the last piece of furniture for the nursery. It was typical of him not wanting to bring up the things hard to talk about. And you didn't want to fight, not after such an exhausting day so you said nothing, opting for silence. 

Paul didn't know what to say, no amount of circles against your arm could provide comfort in this moment. He couldn't simply solve this problem with his touch. 

“What are you talking about, my love?”. 

“Oh come on Paul, you're telling me you aren't scared. After everything we talked about today. The possibility of me die…”. 

“Please don't Y/n”. His voice broke as he closed his eyes pulling you impossibly tight. Normally you would stop, but not tonight. No, you couldn't bottle your emotions anymore. 

“Paul, we have to talk about it. Please, I can't do this anymore. I am so scared. Paul I'm terrified about what could happen, what if I can't do this. What if I'm not strong enough to go through labor”. Part of you was proud of yourself for fighting back your tears. 

His silence was concerning. But it didn't last long. 

“My sweet girl I want to tell you that there's nothing for you to be afraid of but I think we both know that unfortunately, that's not true. However, you're stressing yourself out over something that has a very small chance of happening -”. 

“But it happened to Emily!”, you cried out cutting him off. 

That hit him hard. 

The pack had to experience the pain that Sam had felt years ago. Feeling what was causing their Alpha to crumble to pieces, to be reduced to tears as he begged someone, anyone, to help his imprint.  

And Paul had never forgotten that feeling, the look on Sam’s face. So when you had broken the news to him, told him that he was going to be a dad he panicked. He had felt the same feelings that you were feeling now but as the months went on he pushed them down. Choosing to focus on the happier things in your pregnancy, accidentally ignoring everything that was bothering you. 

Though hearing you now he had realized he messed up. 

“Y/n what happened to Emily…it was horrible. But look at her now, she is a wonderful mother to three beautiful children. Her second and third deliveries went off without a hitch, you know this”. 

“But I'm not like Emily, she's survived so much. She's invincible”, your lip was wobbling now. 

“You are the strongest woman I have ever met, Y/N. I have complete and total faith in you. I know that you can do it”. His hands were resting on your bump, your child seeming to sense their dad's presence kicking against his palm. 

“Really?”, you sniffled, a small weight lifting off your shoulders. It felt good to have this hard conversation. You knew there was so much you needed to talk about, but the bulk of it could be had in the morning, once daylight was streaming through the sheer curtains.  “You are strong enough”

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