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zorciarkrildrush · 6 months

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I think the essence of what drives me crazy about current Enlightened Online Leftist Discourse Regarding My Life Personally And Whether This Time Killing Me Is Morally Correct (as in, commentary about the latest episode in i/p violence) is this:

I want a free Palestine.

I don't personally know a lot of people that don't! They might bristle at the tagline, because it's co-opted by people who do in fact want them dead, but as soon as I lay out why it's in literally everyone's best interest, how a non-free Palestine is horrific both to the people of Israel and to the people of Palestine, how pragmatically ridiculous the occupation of the west bank and the siege upon Gaza are (and I am a very pragmatic person), they get it. And I don't mean I debate people online about it - this, too, is a ridiculous concept - I mean having, time and time again, the deradicalization conversation with my friends, and colleagues, and my family. Obviously not only now - I've always been a very principled and argumentative Jew, ever since I became an adult - and I've been alive for, I don't know, a dozen flashpoints and operations and wars at this point, and I don't stop being argumentative and loud in peacetime either, but especially now.

But that's not what "from the river to the sea" means.

When you, gentle soul from across the sea, echo this slogan, you are either:

By apathy or will, ignoring that the sentiment cheers for the mass expulsion and killing of Jews. Indeed, any non-Muslim present from the river to the sea. This doesn't even begin to cover how even Muslim arabs still will not be safe under Hamas rule - and trust me, I don't care if a Hamas apologist told you different. A victory for Hamas (And we're ignoring the fact they do not have the military capacity for it - I hope you are aware of the privilege inherent to not understanding military conflicts) means exactly that. No "rule by the people". No socialistic, Palestinian utopia to be had, which is a fantasy I'm seeing alluded to a lot recently. Just an extension of the horrific power structure in Lebanon and Syria, where Hezbollah - friends and allies to Hamas - have been playing a tango for decades of both refusing to participate in actual government and betterment of civilian lives, while still draining their resources and controlling them with no real contest. "From the river to the sea" is not a sentiment for freedom fighting - it's a sentiment for a final solution to the people living here who are either Jewish, or for some Very Strange And Weird Reason would rather not submit to Hamas rule. You know - Israeli Arabs, secular and Muslim and Christian, Druze, Circassians, Bahai, take your pick. Their suffering, and my suffering - you know, a person who made the strategic error of being born in Israel while Jewish, which is inherently problematic and not okay of me - don't matter to you. Just the fantasy of an easy, morally correct cleanse of the land.

Are well aware of all of the above! You just don't care. You either smugly chuckle that I, and anybody else who will die, deserve it - or that it's an acceptable loss for the aforementioned fantasy. "Decolonization is an inherently violent process", you'll say to me, chillingly, before implying I have a summer home in Brooklyn I can just retreat to when things get tough. Israel is basically Rhodesia, a very popular blog here mentioned flippantly, so what's the issue with all of those lily-white Jews fucking off back home before the righteous freedom fighters strike them down? Well. This might be the part I urge you to open a book, or even Wikipedia or any god damn thing that will explain to you these upsetting, dense things you clearly struggle with.

So finally:

It's easy for me to discount islamophobes. Like, very easy. It's very easy for me to discount insane evangelistics who "advocate for me" simply because I'm a pawn in their religious rapture. It's easy for me to fight against Israeli and Jewish fascists - I have been long before this news item came across your feed, as did the insinuations that some civilian deaths are okay, actually.

It's easy for me for me to see promotions for donations to non-political aid in Gaza. It's easy for me to see the sentiment that hey! Palestinians deserve safe, healthy lives. That they have deserved an independent state, and were unfairly denied one, for decades. It's easy for me to see people saying "You know, the Israeli government is shit, actually, and their actions endanger and promote to the misery of innocents". Because that's right! I wouldn't be voting and protesting and donating for all of these sentiments otherwise!

It's not easy for me to see people, who I honestly held in high regard and saw having well thought out opinions on important matters, inadvertently echo the sentiment that my death is acceptable. That a terrorist organization, who rule over their own territory with fear and violence, are righteous freedom fighters, vox populi, only out to establish a free state. Like hey, their manifesto said otherwise, so it must be all there is - right? That Jews are just hysterical, they can easily live elsewhere - ever since that nasty holocaust business everything's fine abroad. Besides, it was just so long ago who even cares stop talking about it. Hamas, Hezbollah, ISIS, the Ayatollahs in Iran, the fucking Islamic Jihad - are not interested in freedom. They aren't, and echoing their slogan tells me you are either ignoring that, or support them anyway. If antisemitic rhetoric, half truths and lies by omission work on you today, they would have in any period of time. I'm sorry this makes you uncomfortable. I'm not, not really.

Know what your fucking words mean. Have a cursory glance at the history of the MENA and why it's so fucked, one that doesn't boil down to "The Jews, with American help, rolled into where they don't belong". This isn't even a joke. I've seen this braindead, history-revising sentiment repeated so many times, both online and in actual textbooks, that I feel I'm going insane. So many well-meaning people handwringing and assuring each other that repeating genocidal slogans is fine, that calling the i/p conflict "a simple problem" (which means it has a simple solution, right? Just kill the Jews.) is a well-adjusted and intellectual take. That "only the Zionists should die! The rest will be fine :)" I dare you to say that and also give me a correct definition of what Zionism is. Why I, a Jew that advocates for Palestinian statehood and rights and safety and always have, won't also face the wall in your little fantasy.

Freedom to Palestine. Peace in the middle east, fucking yesterday.

A curse and a plague on those who don't want either of those, and just want to cheer on the death of "the other side".

A curse and a plague upon you, when you tell me, smugly, from somewhere safe and far away, "from the river to the sea".

#selfpost #long post #i/p #israel #palestine #antisemitism #antizionism #I pondered linking every word of every claim I make to sources like Reuters and Wikipedia and what have you #but honestly? Please just read them #don't get your news off fucking Twitter #my respect for “critical thinking” online leftists is already at an all time low

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vivmaek · 2 months

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SOLAR RETURN OBSERVATIONS: PT.III

SOLAR RETURN OBSERVATIONS PT. I

SOLAR RETURN OBSERVATIONS PT. II

✰ my masterlist

✺ Sun in the 12th House ✺ You might feel especially drained during this year. It's going to be hard to wake up everyday, your body and soul need rest. Maintaining a positive attitude is going to be difficult, life may feel overwhelming and you’ll feel as though you don’t have the strength to take it all on. But, trust that you do. This SR placement makes me think of a specific quote, “In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” (Albert Camus)

✺ Venus Opposite Saturn ✺ All of your insecurities are going to be heightened. This might be a lonely year for you, there won’t be many social events. Do everything you can to avoid financial debt, and if you have any, put all of your best effort into paying it off.

✺ Jupiter in 7th House ✺ The partners in your life will serve as a great source of joy, and you’ll have luck in companionship. These relationships will make you feel safe, and it would be a good year to get married. If single, you might begin a relationship with a foreigner or could meet a future spouse while traveling! The dating scene won’t be difficult to navigate, you’ll have many options to choose from. Business negotiations and legal matters will run smoothly. Have fun with this time and don’t be afraid to chase after opportunities.

✺ Moon in 1st House ✺ Your personal needs are going to become a priority. You’ll feel sensitive and your self-esteem might take a hit. Whatever emotional experience you’re going through will be apparent to other people, and this will make you feel vulnerable. These uncomfortable experiences will help you work on your insecurities and you’ll grow to become more comfortable with yourself. The SR Moon sign will highlight specific emotional encounters you’ll face this year. If it’s an earth sign, you’ll be focused on practical needs. If it's a fire sign, you’ll deal with feelings of anger and might have a chaotic emotional landscape. An air sign might make you feel disconnected from your emotions, and you might spend the entire year crying with a water sign.

✺ Saturn Trine Ascendant ✺ You will mature greatly over the course of this year. Heavy responsibilities will be placed upon you, but you will rise to the occasion. Your commitments and goals take priority and become central to your personality.

✺ Mars in 8th House ✺ If you’ve encountered violent trauma within the past, you’ll begin to heal and transform these wounds. You might encounter people or situations that remind you of these past events, and it can be jarring. However, you’ll feel stronger than ever and will take back your personal power. You will put a lot of energy into transforming your own psyche and are ready to go to war. This type of healing is not a quiet, peaceful process. A lot of rage and anger will become unleashed, but these emotions must be embraced and fully felt. You’ll find emotional release through physical movement, such as sex or high intensity exercise.

✺ Jupiter Square Saturn ✺ If you’ve been battling addictions, they may come to an end during this year. This will be a difficult transition and a very painful process. Long held beliefs and ideas are being restructured for your benefit. You might not have enough money to buy all the luxuries that you desire, facing financial hardship is another possibility.

✺ Taurus 7th House ✺ Down-to-earth people will be attracted to you this year and they will offer you a sense of stability. You will experience many romantic moments with your partner, these situations will feel effortless. Your natural beauty will be heightened.

✺ Mercury in the 1st House ✺ The downside to this SR placement is a heightened sense of anxiety and restlessness. Your thoughts will be moving faster than ever. However, you might find yourself more comfortable with communicating your thoughts and social exchanges will run smoothly. You might find yourself posting a lot more on social media and interacting with people you normally wouldn’t. You’ll learn a lot throughout this year, but these lessons will be humorous and light-hearted.

✺ Saturn Square MC ✺ You will have to take on extra responsibilities and burdens. All of your focus will be directed towards career progress. You might be under a lot of pressure and obstacles will stand in the way of success. Your sense of dedication is being tested.

✺ Pluto in 3rd House ✺ Watch out for gossip during this year! You’ll learn about the true power of words. Confidential information may come forward, or you might have to deal with information that's been manipulated. Power struggles will showcase themselves through conversation and psychological games will be played. You could find yourself obsessively thinking over a particular issue and it might begin to rule over your life. Your relationships with your siblings will undergo a transformation. There might be a lot of construction within your surrounding neighborhood, it will be loud and disruptive and might force you to change your route to work/school.

✺ Venus Square Jupiter ✺ Having different values and beliefs can serve as a source of conflict within relationships. You might have a generous partner, but they don't quite understand what you want or need.

✺ Venus in the 12th House ✺ You may be faced with financial insecurity. If you're looking for a job, it will be a struggle to find one, especially one that will pay the wages you deserve. However, the emotional strain that occurs due to this will not be all-consuming. This uncertainty will force you to focus on the spiritual aspects of life, and you’ll feel somewhat detached. Protecting your sense of peace will be a priority. This year will be somewhat isolating and you won’t be attending too many social gatherings. You might find it difficult to show other people affection.

✺ Neptune in 4th House ✺ You may want to move residences, but confusion and delays will follow suit. A friend or family member in need might crash at your house for an unknown amount of time. An elderly family member might move in, and you’ll have to take care of them or figure out other living arrangements.

✺ Venus in 10th House ✺ You’ll find a lot of success within your career this year. You’ll be a favorite amongst authority figures and will build up a good social network within the professional world. You might start dating a colleague, or you could befriend one. You might fall in love with your job.

✺ Saturn in the 6th House ✺ Responsibilities are going to be hitting you hard this year, they’ll be unavoidable. You may feel incredibly limited within your day to day life and this will leave you feeling frustrated. Superiors at work might become a domineering presence within your life. All work, no play. Your rewards for these efforts will be delayed, and you might not receive proper compensation. Bad health habits will catch up with you, make sure to take care of yourself.

✺ Neptune in the 7th House ✺ You’ll feel very unsure about where a particular partnership is headed. The boundaries are unclear, and you’ll find yourself giving into wishful thinking. Oftentimes if something is too good to be true, it usually is. You might be willing to sacrifice certain aspects of your life so you can be with this person. Try to let go and let things play out naturally. Don’t get too emotionally invested if you’re dealing with a casual relationship. These connections feel spiritual and a certain amount of glamor will be present. Even if negative experiences occur, you can use these lessons to heal.

✺ Gemini 10th House ✺ If you're looking for a job, going into sales might be your best bet. You’ll find yourself socializing a lot at work, and might even have fun. Answering phone calls and responding to emails becomes important within your career. You could be the youngest person in your field, or you might gain a reputation for being immature. Internships or taking part in some sort of mentorship is a big possibility here.

✺ Pluto in the 5th House ✺ If you’ve been wanting to undergo a creative project, now would be the best time. You’ll feel an intense drive to master your craft and will feel dedicated and focused. There is also the possibility of encountering someone who you’re deeply attracted to. These love feelings will be all-consuming and you might feel obsessed. Your sex life will be fun, intense, and emotionally fulfilling. Take precaution, and watch out for pregnancy if that's something you’re trying to avoid. Romantic encounters could also serve as a major source of creative inspiration.

✺ Vesta in the 10th House ✺ You’ll have to nurture and tend to your career if you want to see success in this area. And this includes taking care of yourself. You’ll learn how to strike a balance between work and rest. Thinking about long term success will be a major theme for the year. Instead of chasing after risks and big moves, you’ll focus on small actions that have the ability to take you far. It's time to dedicate yourself fully to your professional life, but you don’t want to lose sight of who you are in the process.

✺ Scorpio Ascendant ✺ You’ll undergo an emotional + psychological transformation and this will become especially apparent in your personality and appearance. People who have known you your entire life might not recognize you by the end of the year. This can be disruptive, and you might find that certain relationships that were once deep, don’t serve you anymore.

✺ Aries 6th House ✺ Your day to day life will be filled with energy. You might have to pick up a busier schedule at work, but you’ll take it on with an aggressive attitude. Accepting defeat is not an option this year, your habits and routines will reflect this. This will be a healthy year for you, but if you get sick you might run the risk of running a high fever.

✺ Aquarius 6th House ✺ Your daily routines are going to look very different in comparison to last year. Your intellect will serve as a source of strength, and you might have to deal with new computer programs at work. Buying a new phone or computer is another possibility, some form of technology that is used within daily life. You could feel different or might even become outcasted at work due to a rebellious attitude.

✺ Libra 2nd House ✺ This will be a good year for money and income. Your sense of self-worth will increase. However, the risk of tying up your self worth within another person is another possibility. If you’re in a relationship, or begin one, this person will have many material gifts to give you.

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riizewrld · 2 months

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꒰ঌ ◜⁺⋆⋎⋆⁺◝ ໒꒱

arguments with bf!RIIZE / how they would be in an argument ! pt.2 (shotaro,wonbin&sohee)

໒꒱ warnings: mentions of drinking. more crying lol

part one here!

shotaro:

arguments with taro are extremely emotionally draining. you two care about each other so much. taro is such a bright and affectionate person, seeing him upset really pulls at your heartstrings, especially when he’s upset with you. the two of you are on a break bc he wants to focus on his career. he proposed the idea to you since your relationship was going through a slight rough patch. you had gone back and forth for weeks before he came to a conclusion. he was so busy with group promotions that he hardly had time for you. you’re having a hard time coping with the fact that the love of your life can’t decide whether his priority is you or his career. that’s what drove you to call up your girls and hit to club to drink away your sorrows. you’re in the middle of downing your 4th shot in the last half an hour when your bestie, karina turns to you, yelling over the music to tell you that you need to slow down. she’s right. you’re past the point of being tipsy. your speech is slurred and your gait is unstable. karina steps away for a moment and returns less than a minute later. “i called your boyfriend, he’s on his way,” she tells you, steadying you with a hand on your hip as she checks your clutch to make sure you aren’t leaving anything behind. your eyes widen comically in surprise because the last thing you want is for shotaro to see you like this. plus, you hadn’t told your friends yet that the two of you were on a break. you wonder how he reacted when he was informed about your current state. as if on que, shotaro enters the building. he’s scanning the club and pushing his way through the crowd when he spots you. you’re not sure how to act so you say nothing to him and say your goodbyes to your girls. he whispers a soft “let’s go.” as he takes you by the wrist and leads you to his car. once inside he fastens your seatbelt, since you’re too gone to do it yourself. he’s upset you’re so drunk but he can’t bring himself to get mad at your for it. knowing he’s probably the reason why. you’re analyzing his expression as he situates himself in the driver’s seat. it’s completely stoic. your drunken mind convinces you it’s because he doesn’t care about you like he used to and before you know it, tears are streaming down your face and you’re crying into your hands. “you can’t keep doing this to me taro…” say through sobs. you want him to make up his mind. you want him to choose you. shotaro’s gripping the steering wheel, fighting back tears of his own when he says “let’s get you home ..” he’s avoidant of the issue and the emotional turmoil makes him somewhat withdrawn. he’d be the complete opposite of his usual self. it definitely takes some time to work past this setback.

wonbin:

you and wonbin would probably have disagreements over little stuff. never too serious and they usually get resolved within the same day. but when the subject matter is serious, commence the war. probably the type to grumble about stuff under his breath and everytime you ask him what he’s talking about he replies “i’m talking to myself.” he thinks by doing this, he’s preventing an actual argument but it actually does the opposite. but you’re reaching the point of just wanting to talk it out. he’s probably not the type to raise his voice he’s unless extremely upset. the two of you are in your kitchen when you tell him about a work related trip you that you’re required to go on next week. and of course you had to go along with the one coworker that wonbin couldn’t stand. he’s almost positive that the guy has a crush on you. you’re not sure how to tell wonbin that you’re going to have to share a hotel room with this man since your company accidentally booked the room too late which left you guys with the no choice but to settle for the only room they had available. you decide it’s just best to get it over with, so you tell him straight up. once the words slips past your lips wonbin stops in his track, turning off the running sink water where he’d previously been washing some vegetables. his eyes are wide and mouth agape “what?” he asks. he heard you the first time but can’t believe what it. he tries to look composed, but his anger is bubbling beneath the surface. “you’re not going.” he says firmly. you sigh, knowing fully that he’d react like that, and you can’t really blame him. the whole situation is weird to begin with. you try to explain that you don’t that you don’t have a choice but he shoots a look that leave absolutely no room for discussion. it’s not a threatening look but more of a ‘this is final’ kind of look. it would be hard to get your way in a situation like this.

sohee:

so i can’t reallly imagine sohee arguing with anybody in a serious manner, let alone his partner. however, if he were to get upset with you, i’d imagine him getting quieter than usual. he’d probably pout and whine quite a bit. if you’re also that type of person, literally nothing would get resolved in a timely manner. you two would probably just have to agree to disagree and let it go for the sake of the relationship. he seems like he’d be non-confrontational. i don’t think he’s been in a serious relationship before so he probably has a avoidant approach to conflicts. he doesn’t want to say or do anything that might hurt you. because of this i could see most of your disagreements stemming from miscommunication, since sohee often won’t communicate how he’s feeling in fear of damaging the relationship. you notice he’s uspet when the two of you are talking and it suddenly feels like you’re talking to yourself. he’s quiet and when he looks at you his gaze looks uneasy. he’d avoid eye contact as to not give away how he’s actually feeling. when you ask him what’s up he’d try to brush it off like it’s nothing. when you finally press him enough to discover the cause of his discomfort, you’d find out sohee was upset maybe something you said or did earlier and then he’d been keeping it in. you’d probably have to encourage him to be more honest with his feelings because, as much as he cares about your comfort and happiness you care about his.

this was hard for me to write since i was out of ideas. i hope it’s decent. not my best work. i just needed to finish the headcannon. i had to wring my brain out to finish this. feedback appreciated! also happy belated valentine’s day

mini taglist: @snuglyjwi @troublemaker02

#riize #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize smut #shotaro x reader #riize shotaro #wonbin x reader #riize wonbin #sohee x reader #riize sohee #sungchan x reader #anton x reader #eunseok x reader #seunghan x reader #riize sungchan #riize anton #riize eunseok #riize seunghan

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zanarkandskylines · 3 months

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bf!Bakugo comforts you (fem!reader) while you're in a vulnerable state. 『 ♡ - k.bakugo x fem!reader 』 tw/cw: 18+ themes | depression/intrusive thoughts, sex (but not smutty) ⋆ ˚ʚɞ — This thought just soared into my head and I needed the comfort because damn, it sucks when this happens. -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

There it was.

That familiar numbing feeling.

It followed you wherever you went, waiting idly in the shadows of your mind for the moment to strike. You could control it from time to time, sure, but that didn't mean it wasn't able to act against your will in the blink of an eye.

You shouldn't be spacing out right now, lost in the bottomless abyss of empty thoughts. You need to be present and not watching yourself from the outside - the intrusive droning voice in your head repeating negative commentary on an endless loop as a distraction.

It's as if you can feel the light drain from your eyes like water running down a drain. The chemical reaction in your body fights to keep you engaged in life, fighting an endless war with your inner demons. It was exhausting, especially when you didn’t have a reason to pin the blame on.

A gentle touch to your cheek drags you back into your body, a faint gleam returning to your dulled irises.

"Y'okay, peach?" Katsuki asks, eyes aflame with affection and sweat glistening through the blonde strands on his forehead.

The embarrassment that floods your body is fierce and settles in your nerves. You bite your lip, desperately holding back the tears that threaten to stain your cheeks.

His body was sweltering hot against you, chest heaving in tandem with your own. Katsuki slows his pace to a pause, gazing down upon the flush spreading over your body.

“Hey, ‘s okay, baby,” he whispers, leaning into the crook of your neck to plant multiple soft kisses to your skin.

“Do you want to stop? We can stop.”

“N-no, sorry,” you say meekly. “I’m okay.”

You weren’t, and Katsuki knew that. He can tell by your mannerisms and the touch of your fingers aimlessly roaming his back. You’d been a space case since coming home from work earlier in the evening. He was shocked when you asked for sex in the first place, but obliged after your insistence that you were okay.

“Really, it’s not a problem if you wanna stop.”

“Please don’t. I need you,” is all you can manage to say before choking back a sob. You needed him to fill you with a warmth only he could offer, stoke the fire inside of you to bring light to the darkness fogging your brain.

Katsuki cradles your cheek in his palm for a second time, thumbing away a stray tear as it falls from the corner of your eye. It pains him to see you struggle with these things because he didn’t quite understand it, but he did his damndest to give you what he could to help. Whatever you needed, he was more than willing to give if it meant getting to see your radiant smile.

“Okay, just keep your eyes on me, baby. I’ve got ya.”

Katsuki’s voice makes the butterflies in your stomach return, violently fluttering at his words of encouragement. You follow his praise, focusing on all of the tender devotion he’s serving to you - the sensual tempo of his thrusts, how he lowers his body to meld the two of you together as one, the delicate ways he touches your skin. All of it, and all of him, release the demons you clung to moments prior.

Your soft sobs evolving into hushed gasps fuel his desire, assuring him that you are no longer occupied by the looming clouds swirling in your head.

“I love you,” Katsuki sighs into your ear, breathless as his rhythm quickens. “So goddamn much.”

Your hands are clamoring to his hair, grasping at the roots as you squirm beneath his hold. He swoops down to steal your lips, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip to beg you to invite him into your mouth. And you do, letting him consume you in a passionate kiss as you feel your body tense, the fire in your core ready to explode. Your moans entangle in each other's mouths as you simultaneously reach your limit together, orgasms wracking your bodies collectively.

Katsuki breaks your kiss, panting with swollen lips as he pushes his hand through your bangs, separating the wisps of hair to place a kiss to your forehead. He kisses your lips again briefly before nuzzling into your neck.

"I love you, too. Thank you," you say, monotonously dragging your nails on his scalp in your blissful state. He shivers at the sensation, growing sleepier by the minute.

"Sweets, I gotta clean up before we sleep," he protests, struggling to gather enough energy to do so.

You smile into his hair. "Aw Kats, just one more minute, please."

Katsuki doesn't budge, accepting his fate as his eyes flutter closed.

"Fine, just because y'asked nicely."

#bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #mha #bnha #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo drabble #bakugo headcanons #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia headcanons #bakugo smut #bakugo comfort #☆.rei writes

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scientia-rex · 6 months

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Wound Care

Ok so, take this with a BIG grain of salt, because I may be a medical doctor BUT you need to know how much wound care training we get in medical school: none. Zip. Zilch. There may be medical schools where you do, but mine wasn't a bozo factory and there was NO wound care training. Everything I know I learned from one of several sources: an intensive 2-day wound care course I did in residency (highly recommend), the local Home Health wound care nurse (highly recommend), a completely batshit insane old white male doctor who started our learning sessions by yelling Vietnam War stories at me (do not recommend), a hospital wound care nurse (highly recommend), and experience (oh god do not recommend).

The first thing you need to know is that wound healing varies dramatically across the course of a lifespan. Kids? Kids will heal. If they don't, get their ass to a pediatrician because there's something genetic going on. Young adults will heal. Middle-aged adults will heal. You know who doesn't heal for shit? The elderly, and people with severe illnesses, and people with uncontrolled type II diabetes.

Your body needs several things in order to heal. It needs macronutrients, so you need to be able to EAT protein, fat, and carbs. If you are on total parenteral nutrition, aka TPN, aka IV nutrition, you are going to be worse at healing. If you are starving yourself, you are going to be worse at healing. If your body is desperately funneling all the calories you take in to surviving your COPD or cancer, you are going to be worse at healing.

It also needs micronutrients. If your diet sucks, you won't heal. Take a multivitamin once in a while.

There are two CRITICAL skin components to healing: collagen and elastin. Guess what we stop making as we age. Promoting collagen isn't just good for "anti-aging," it's good for NOT ripping your skin apart. Taking oral collagen is probably bullshit because your body is going to have to disassemble it to get it across the intestinal membranes to absorb, but it's also harmless, and if your diet REALLY sucks, who knows. Give it a try. Collagen is made of amino acids; think protein.

Another absolutely crucial component is blood flow. As people age, they start to develop cholesterol plaques lining arteries that eventually pick up calcium deposits. This makes blood vessels less elastic, which is a problem, but eventually also blocks them off, which is a much bigger problem. If someone has the major blood flow to their feet decreased by 90% by arterial stenosis, they are not going to heal for shit AND their foot's gonna hurt.

One component of blood flow I hadn't thought about before going into medicine is fluid retention. The way your body works, blood exits the heart at a very high velocity, but slows to a crawl by the time it gets into capillaries, the smallest blood vessels in the body. Water is a very small molecule and can leave the blood vessel, especially if there aren't big, negatively-charged molecules like proteins like albumin in the blood vessels to hold the water there. And we're built for this--some water is supposed to leak out of our blood vessels when it gets to real little vessels. It gets taken back up by the lymphatic system and eventually dumped back into the bloodstream at the inferior vena cava. But if you aren't making albumin--for instance, in liver failure--you may leak a LOT of fluid into the tissue, so much that your legs get swollen, tight, the skin feeling woody and strange. This isn't fixable by drainage because the fluid is everywhere, not in a single pocket we can drain. And because it puts so much pressure on the tissues of the skin, it often results in ulcers. Congestive heart failure, liver failure, kidney failure--these are all common causes of severe edema, aka swelling due to fluid in the tissues. And they're a real bitch when it comes to wound care, because we have such limited resources for getting the fluid back out, which is a necessary first step to healing.

Pressure is another common cause of wounds. Pressure forces blood out of those little capillaries, so you starve the cells normally fed by those capillaries, and they die. It's called pressure necrosis. Very sick people who can't turn themselves over--people in the ICU, people in nursing homes--are especially prone to these wounds, as are people with limited sensation; pressure wounds are common in wheelchair users who have lost some feeling in the parts of their bodies that rub against those surfaces, or diabetics who don't notice a rock in their shoe.

So, if you're trying to treat wounds, the questions to ask are these:

Why did this wound happen?

-Was it pressure? If it's pressure, you have to offload the source of the pressure or else that wound will not heal. End of story. You can put the tears of a unicorn on that thing, if you don't offload the pressure it won't heal.

-Was it fluid? If it's fluid, you have get the fluid out of the issues or else it won't heal. You can sometimes do that with diuretics, medications that cause the body to dump water through the kidneys, but that's always threading a needle because you have to get someone to a state where they still have juuuuust enough fluid inside their blood vessels to keep their organs happy, while maintaining a very slight state of dehydration so the blood vessels suck water back in from the tissues. You can use compression stockings to squeeze fluid back into the vessels, but if they have arterial insufficiency and not just venous insufficiency, you can accidentally then cause pressure injury. The safest option is using gravity: prop the feet up above the level of the heart, wherever the heart is at, at that moment, and gravity will pull fluid back down out of the legs. Super boring though. Patients hate it. Not as much as they hate compression stockings.

-Was it a skin tear because the skin is very fragile? This is extremely common in the elderly, because they're not making collagen and elastin, necessary to repairing skin. If this is the case, make sure they're actually getting enough nutrition--as people get into their 80s and 90s, their appetites often change and diminish, especially if they're struggling with dementia. And think about just wrapping them in bubble wrap. Remove things with sharp edges from their environments. I have seen the WORST skin tears from solid wood or metal furniture with sharp edges. Get rid of throw rugs and other tripping hazards. I had somebody last week who tried to a clear a baby gate and damn near destroyed their artificial hip.

The next critical question: why isn't it healing?

-Are you getting enough nutrients? Both macro and micro?

-Are you elderly?

-Are you ill?

-Do you have a genetic disorder of collagen formation?

Fix why it's not healing and almost anything will heal. If you're diabetic, find a medication regimen that improves your sugars and stick to it. If you're anorexic, get treatment for your eating disorder. If you have congestive heart failure, work with your doctor on your fluid balance. Wear the damn pressure stockings. Prop up your feet.

If, after those two unskippable questions are done, you want to do something to the wound--apply a dressing, do a treatment--that's a whole other kettle of fish. I'll write that later. The dryer just sang me its little song and I need to put away the laundry.

#the attending dr. kristophine #wound care

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luciddownloading · 4 months

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Moon-Ascendant Aspects and Moon-Midheaven Aspects 🥺

MOON conjunct, square, opposite, sextile or trine ASCENDANT

🌙 Their feelings and reactions are written all over their face, to a degree that may be embarrassing, at times. Like "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to feel that out loud"

🌙 Either acts exactly like their mother OR their behavior (and life path, as a whole) is a direct contrast to her and her life choices

🌙 Soft features, soft skin, soft lips. Stays moisturized and hydrated (most of them actually do drink tons of water)

🌙 When their guard is down, people ADORE them. They are so warm and inviting and real. Their energy can really be disarming and make people feel safe. They also have the potential to come across as rather cold but this is only when they aren't feeling safe or are being shy

🌙 Maintain the eating habits of a child well into adulthood. They may be addicted to candy or sweets, be ridiculously picky eaters or be able to eat whatever they want and not gain weight

🌙 Those with these aspects are HIGHLY intuitive. They always trust their intuition and its accuracy, even if it makes them look crazy or irrational to others. And they're usually proven right

🌙 They have an aura of femininity, whether male or female. They are very motherly, kind, supportive and vulnerable. But, they also can be very fierce when protecting others or themselves

🌙 Those with the square can be super-defensive and overly self-protective, most likely due to childhood trauma. But, when they work through those insecurities, they radiate a very healing energy

🌙 Their look or aesthetic can definitely go through "phases", like the Moon. It depends a lot on their mood or what they're going through

🌙 Having the opposition can attract a mate (or close friend) who is either emotionally draining and demanding or who is also a caregiver and allows you to be nurtured for once

🌙 Trying to be "perfect" really does not suit them. They're too complicated for that. These people come off best when they let themselves be authentic and natural and a little messy, behavior-wise

🌙 Children and animals gravitate to them and their nurturing ways like magnets. Most of them really, really yearn to be a parent from an early age. Those with the conjunction probably experience the biggest "before and after" effect once they have children

MOON conjunct, square, opposite, sextile or trine MIDHEAVEN

🍭 Could be most successful in: the culinary industry, restaurant or fast food, nursing, counseling, the arts/entertainment, childcare, social work, real estate or anything involving working from home

🍭 Very susceptible to burnout. People with these aspects need to make sure they are checking in with themselves and not sacrificing self-care for their job. "Hustle culture" becomes their enemy if they get too caught up in it

🍭It is also crucial that their line of work fulfills them emotionally. They CANNOT just work simply for a paycheck. It will make them miserable and not take them very far anyway

🍭 Having the conjunction can make your public image go either way. People will either think you're SO adorable and cuddly and nice or they'll think you're really crazy or wild or unhinged. You also could be seen as both, at different points

🍭A lot of artists or performers have this influence because it makes it easy for them to emotionally move people through their work. They will have people in their feelings!

🍭 Might end up working alongside family members, especially their mother. They could also follow in her footsteps or achieve the goals she always wanted to achieve but never got to

Speaking of the mom, the quality of your relationship will become public knowledge. If it's good, she'll be seen as really lovely and your biggest supporter. If it's bad, well, then a lot of drama could play out publicly

🍭 You could get picked on a lot by detractors but you will also have highly protective fans/followers who are ready to go to war for you. (Famous people with these aspects are often known for having "crazy" fans who others don't want to piss off or get entangled with)

🍭Those with the square or opposition tend to struggle to strike a balance between being accessible to the public and keeping aspects of their personal life to themselves

🍭Their intuition will be their greatest asset in terms of business deals and decisions

🍭 Women or feminine individuals with these aspects typically don't get as much respect until they're in their 30's or 40's. They kind of need to enter that "mother" phase, in the slang use of the word, where they are seen as this strong, mature feminine force that others want to emulate or look to for guidance

🍭 Straight men with this influence often brand themselves as The Wife Guy, becoming adored because how much they seem to love or respect their wife or girlfriend

🍭If and when these individuals have kids, the public can look at them in a newly positive light. Their children can also become equally renowned, in their own right, alongside them

#astrology #astro notes #astrology observations #moon ascendant aspects #moon midheaven aspects #moon conjunct ascendant #moon conjunct midheaven #moon square ascendant #moon square midheaven #moon opposite ascendant #moon opposite midheaven #moon sextile ascendant #moon trine ascendant #moon sextile midheaven #moon trine midheaven #moon aspects

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gremlingottoosilly · 7 months

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Cabin in the woods (yan!slasher!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!slasher!Horangi) part 4

You wake up in the murderer's den. Things can only go downhill from here - especially when one of the killers expresses an unusual interest in you. WARNINGS: Blood, dub-con, threats of intimacy, general slasher-y, a bit of knife play

All things considered, Horangi has won at life.

He has a boyfriend – an amazing boyfriend, a bit older, a soon-to-be-husband, and his best friend in one tight package. They share hobbies, they share views on the world – practically everything that they can talk about, they share with each other. It’s a perfect relationship, especially considering where they met and how they were at first.

He has an amazing job in doing private contracts with his boyfriend – some people may call them killers for hire, war criminals, and monsters draped in a uniform, but Horangi likes to call himself a promising immigrant entrepreneur who works for no one but himself and enjoys having most days off.

He has an amazing, big house in the middle of picture-perfect Austrian wilderness, with every room dedicated to his or his partner’s tastes and hobbies, and that is literally four times as big as any of the apartments he rented previously.

He has an amazing hobby that allows him to combine hiking, shooting, and socializing – and König shares this hobby with him, actively supporting and engaging with it.

So, when he drains the blood from his knife – too bad the perfect lil’ victim isn’t here to clean it with her tongue – and starts to look for the remaining group of dumb tourists, deciding to head home just for a minute or two, to see if some of the prey would accidentally found it, he…

Fuck.

*** You woke up with a throbbing headache. Not surprising, considering you were hit in the back of your head with a force that would be enough to turn your brain into a scramble. You slowly opened your eyes, surprised that you weren’t blindfolded, and gently, slowly tried to move your head around to see the room better. Bright light coming from the doorway immediately made you ill, nauseous. You close your eyes and groan, feeling the pain only intensifying.

You’re very surprised to feel a cold cloth being slowly put on your burning forehead – you’d expect to be hanging from a meathook and have your buttocks eaten by a pack of wild creatures beyond your comprehension.

— Tssh, Scatzi, don’t move. Hit you in the head too hard, ja? Good thing you won’t need it anyway.

You hear the voice – not masked, not changed from multiple layers of different material – clean, unfiltered voice. That familiar boyish tone and deep gruff of a man from the corner shop – the tall one, the most mysterious one, the one that made you paranoid for the whole journey with his remarks.

God, you feel stupid.

It’s just like in slashers – the killers are always the weird guys who you meet at the start of the movie or some force from the legends you hear about this place. You feel dumb, you feel weak, you feel like you’re going to throw up because the big man – the one that shot Marty with a fucking crossbow – is gently caressing your forehead with his hands, smearing blood and grime all over your skin. You want to puke.

— Wh…whatever you’re doing, m…make it quick.

You can on ly master this, your lips are too dry for something else. You wanted to ask him different questions – where are you, who the fuck are he, what are his goals and mommy issues that made him prey on innocent young adults just having a shitty getaway in the forest, but you remember the other guy’s reaction to dumb questions – you want to die quickly, not slowly and painfully.

— Ach, Hase. Eager, are you?

This…isn’t the answer you were hoping for. His hands slowly creep down your face, pinching your cheeks – he touches the softer parts of your mouth, and your nose, tugs on your ears, and does whatever he can to just feel your features in his fingers, which makes everything only creepier. He pushes a finger past your lips – you want to bite it, but he only laughs at your pathetic attempts.

He tells you something through a laugh that makes your head hurt more. Something about how Horangi was right about you being a kitten – that you bite just like one. You feel embarrassment spreading across the heat of your cheeks, knowing that your best attacks are only an amusement for your captor.

His hands then move down, slowly. He pushes it under your shirt – and here is where you really start to panic. You’re mostly fine with getting killed, even in a weird and somehow funny, theatrical way, but you don’t…you don’t want to handle this before he eventually strangles you to death. You sob, your face twitches in pain-stricken expressions – tears only make your head hurt more, but you just can’t stop yourself.

The guy – he still wears a hood, just not the weird thing that makes his voice change – only laughs and plays with your chest, squeezing and touching it with his huge, bear-like hands. He is relentless in not caring about your well-being, and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of breaking you, but tears just won’t stop flowing, and the heat in your belly, provoked by that unwanted affection, grows more with every second.

His touches aren’t painful – but you wish they were. He is observing your body, studies it with his hands and you don’t like it one bit. Too rough, too strong for you, he has manners of a forest troll and, to be honest, in that stupid hood of his, he looks just like one. You’d jump from the bed and run to the nearest exit, but your head is still throbbing, and you still tied up to the bedpost. God, this is embarrassing.

— You’re trembling like a virgin, Schatz. Are you sure that your friend was a whore and not you?

König laughs, looking at the perfect display under him. Yes, yes, he knows that Horangi will be pissed with how he sped up the story and decided to keep you in their house, but he is sure he can't convince his pretty boyfriend that it’s all for the best. They need a toy – precious darling, something weak and helpless, something innocent to bite into. You are a good runner, to his surprise, but your fight is as miserable as your expression – you can’t put up a good fight and he fucking lives for each second of that.

— Stop touching me! — Are you going to stop me? — I…

— I love trembling prey. You look so perfect under me, Hase, I don’t think you’d stand a chance.

Of course, he is a hunk of a man – a wall of muscles, brutal strength, and nothing but raw power, so even if you were an Olympic champion in fistfights, you probably wouldn’t stand a chance against him anyway. He is trained to kill, he is training everyone else to kill – and he needs some snacks for how good the hunt was. Two dumb tourists, killed on the first night in the woods – and with others still having no fucking idea. God, it makes his dick hard.

König pushes his hand under your shirt and finds where your tits are concealed with a bra – sports one, really nice, he thinks, but you’d look much better in blood-stained lace. He yanks that stupid thing off your chest – your nipples are hardening almost immediately, even under your shirt. Ah, looks like he forgot to turn on the heater.

Well, you have to get the heat from his body then.

— S…stop, please.

— You like it. Why should I stop?

— I don’t like it!

His other hand goes to run a finger across your soaked, heated panties. The rough texture of the glove fabric is grazing your labia, and touching your gentle, wet folds makes you squirm and cry even more under him – he knows you hate it, embarrassed to be this aroused for the hands of a killer, but he just can’t fucking resist. He knows your hands are tied firmly to the bedpost, he knows you won’t be able to escape even if he’d leave the room right now – so he slowly removes his hand from your panties, showing you the glistening, wet material of his gloves.

He licks your wetness from his fingers – and you let go of a half-moan, half-cry, disgust mixed with fear and pouring into delicious feelings of complete devastation. Poor thing, so scared under him – so embarrassed of your arousal, he just fucking knows you aren’t like your friends. You’re still dumb, of course, with how you agreed to go to this forest even after all of his attempts to say that this is dangerous, but you’re also pretty, adorable, and don’t try to either attack or seduce him or Horangi – and he had a fair share of people who were trying to do both, until they’d found out he is a masked killer for real, and not just for the slasher season atmosphere.

You’re a little rabbit on his slicing board – and the knife appears in his hand too quickly for you to even start panicking. The blade lingers on your skin, slowly removing such silly, useless things like shirts and modesty, closing your skin just enough to burn a little, but not enough to do real damage. He killed more than 100 men with his knife, and skinned alive more than at least a dozen – König knows how to operate, especially when you’re bound and scared into submission.

— Ko, what the fuck are you doing?

Ach, Horangi is here. Finally, he just started to worry that those dumb tourists have learned how to fight back and now are trying to fuck with his partner. It would be funny to look at, of course, but he still doesn’t want anything to happen to him – so he sighs with relief when he sees a familiar masked figure in the doorframe. Then he remembers that he wasn’t supposed to take in pets so soon.

Fuck.

— I thought we agreed to not take her so quickly.

Horangi takes a step further, watching as your eyes are pleading with him for help. You’re adorable – praying for help from your tormentor, so sweetly broken already that he can barely contain himself. You’re adorable, but he isn’t in the mood of playing with victims nicely, and he is still a bit pissed off at König for ruining the promise he gave him. Not the best attitude in an honest relationship, especially when you are trying to introduce a new member of those relationships. Honestly, sometimes Hong-jin was thinking about hiring a couple of therapists. And then killing him after extracting every answer. Totally normal behavior.

— I know, but…she fell into my hands. Couldn’t say no to an opportunity.

He knows that König is grinning under his hood – his eyes are gleaming with happiness as he just got his new favorite toy on a silver platter. Horangi melts a little bit at seeing him this happy – the latest couple of missions weren’t the best, so this hunt got to be good. And so far, it is.

— You killed the stoner?

— Ja, was easy. Surprised he died from a bolt in the head, he didn’t seem like a guy who has much up there.

God, his sense of humor is fucked up – Horangi laughs for a good few seconds, not even trying to contain his emotions. You are still on the bed, your hands are tied to the post, rough ropes sit too tightly on your wrists, already angry red from all of your struggling. God, you’re looking delicious, covered in the blood of your friends, crying and looking like their own little death goddess. He knows he shouldn’t give up on temptation – and he also knows that he wants to fuck you.

Laying here, without a top, with a wet stain on your jeans from your own arousal, you don’t even know how delicious you look. How hard it is for both of them, to stop looking at you like a horny dog and just do their thing. Killing thing, that is. Yes, they suppose to kill their victims, not tie them up to the bed and think about burying their cocks deep in your welcoming, wet pussy.

Fuck, he has to be stronger than this. Killing is okay, torturing is okay, maybe kissing his boyfriend on top of the rotting, dead bodies is okay, but he just knows that he can’t start touching you because he would lose control and they might spend the whole night taking you from one dick to another, instead of doing what they have to.

Maybe, just a little touch would be okay. Like a gamble, russian roulette in trying to see if he would be able to contain himself. Like Horangi had such great luck at anything that is connected to gambling.

— We can’t keep her here.

— Why? I would feed her and walk her once in a while.

You whine, and König immediately goes to cover your mouth with his hand. You cry even more, feeling the filthy taste of your juices, blood, and dirt enveloping your tongue and making you want to gag. This is digesting, he is disgusting, you hate nature, wilderness, and this fucking country. If you were to get out of this place, you’d beg every oil company in the world to make the biggest fucking gasoline refining factory out of this forest.

— What about the police? She can call them.

— No signal.

— She could scream for help.

— We can cut off her tongue.

— She wouldn’t be able to suck our dicks then.

— Oh. Scheisse.

— Exactly. We can’t keep her here.

— But you said that we can…

— Not now, I mean. Having a kitten like ‘er at home makes me want to stay inside and fuck her whole day, not running around after her stupid friends.

König finally gets it – and Horangi is right, much to his dismay. You are a distracting little thing, getting into the killer’s layer too early. Adorable and weak, keeping you inside would be the best option – but they still need a bit of space to guy your friends in the basement, so keeping you inside would make you…nervous. Scared. Not a pleasurable type of scared, you can go crazy from horror and then turn into a useless, empty sex doll. König would still brush your hair and love you nonetheless, but it would be a waste to keep you like this.

Then, again, it would make it easier for you three to have sex…

— That’s also true. But I already cut her clothes.

— We can let her run for a bit. Make her friends panic, fuckin’ civvies aren’t even aware that two of their friends kicked the bucket.

— Doubt they care about each other that much.

— Good thing we got involved, right?

Horangi’s hand gently pats on your head – you wince from pain and he slightly moves the cold cloth on your forehead. The movement is similar to how people are petting cats – you hate it, you feel your legs preparing to kick him in the direction of his dick – but König presses on your ankles before you could do anything. Asshole.

— Need to do something with her shirt tho.

— She’d look adorable in mine.

— Yeah. Would cover her too much tho…I miss looking at boobs like this.

— You have them, no?

— It’s pecs. if anything, yours are bigger than mine.

They both laugh – you are munching on König’s hand more actively, trying to get this out of your mouth. They talk like you aren’t even here and your eyes are filled with tears again – from humiliation, from fear, from desire to run away because they don’t even consider you an enemy and you just want to get out, as soon as possible. They look almost normal together – like two loving partners discussing the latest news and hobbies, not a pair of psycho killers who almost made you hot and bothered for their stupid, definitely not attractive, masks.

You’re topless, barely wearing your jeans and panties – not exactly the best outfit for running through the forest. Would attract attention, of course, but you could also catch a cold, and they can’t exactly fuck a sniffing, coughing darling who is too sick to understand which hole are they using and what type of knife is plunging in her tender, open skin.

König throws a shirt on you – it’s musky, covered in mysterious stains, smells exactly like him, and a bit of pine tree. It’s such a typical red flannel that it makes you gag from the stereotype – but it covers your boobs and he is even polite enough to slowly untie one of your hands, firmly keeping it in place to get you into the sleeves and…

Once he had two of your hands in his grasp, you bit on his glove especially hard, kicking him in the groin again – this time, not even bothering to hear his moans. You jump to the floor, barely seeing anything as your view is darkening with a throbbing headache. You have to master everything you have to not throw up on their boots – and you ignore their disappointed yelps as you duck under the shorter guy’s hands and run to…you don’t even know where to run, you just know that you are not staying with the people who are treating you like a fucking lure to get the rest of your friends.

You can’t go to your friends – you already saw just how much they don’t want to listen to you. You can’t call the police and you can’t return to the camp because then the killers would know where all of your stuff and your friends are. The only chance you have is to fight them off – which is already proved itself as a Bad Fucking Idea(™. All right reserves to Amazon, you got your critical thinking skills during an online sale), so you need to find a distraction – or a weapon.

You’re literally in the house of murderers. If horror movies taught you anything, it’s that those kinds of houses are usually filled with the weapons of crime – or extensively sharp deer antlers.

You run to the second floor, dropping something behind your back – trying to get as much distance between you and them as possible, you crawl on the stairs, holding your head in poor attempts of soothing the pain. Their house is…normal.

Posters, paintings, some weird fucking shit like anime girls with cat ears staring at you with their bigass eyes and even bigger boobs – one of them had a knife plunging right into her chest, kinda making you feel it was more like target practice than fap material. You drop a big Lego set behind you, and the guy – bigger one, you still don’t have their names and you don’t want to know them – is yelling something about 12 hours put into that thing. Good. You can at least do psychological damage.

The house is as normal as a killer’s den can be – no weapons lying around, no knives just kinda lying there, much to your disappointment. Inflation is real, even serial killers can’t afford to just have their guns lying around like they used to. Fuck, this used to be a proper country. Fuck, you used to spend your days at home, not running away from masked killers who are keeping their houses cozy and tidy and honestly kinda clean even if this has sort of man cave vibe, which is totally understandable and adorable if…

Shit, you got distracted. Dead people, dead people, dead people, you can’t allow your natural drive to strong partners and masks to make you forget about the…death of very annoying and honestly plain mean people who were making your life worse actively every day and who had it coming anyway, but they still didn’t deserve such horrible death without even letting their parents know where their remains lie and…

Before your brain could master more annoying thoughts, you pushed to an open door. There has to be something you can use – pills, knives, guns, remains of the previous victims that can be sharpened and used against them so you can let them how it is to be violently penetrated for once! Come to think of it, judging by how cozy they were with each other, they probably already get penetrated a lot…ah, diversity wins, your murderers are bisexual and fine with polyamory.

You open the door, pushing it with all of your body weight – and you fall, only barely able to protect your face with your trembling, shaky hands. God, you’re miserable.

— Shatzen found a way into our bedroom. You sure we can’t keep her, Tigeren?

— It would be boring, no?

— We can use her for a bit and then let go. Make her show us where her friends are.

König sits right next to you, patting your head.

— Braves Mädchen, so smart. Didn’t know such smart girls were going on such dumb field trips.

— Can she be the smart one in the group then?

— Well, she did go to the woods alone. So smart.

They both laugh again – you grit your teeth, saving every bit of strength you still have in your body, to just push from the ground and get on your legs again. You can do this, you can still run away, you just need to try and push further, a little bit, just a few steps more, just…

König slaps your ass, hard enough to send you on the floor again. You groan, both from pain and humiliation.

— Dumb girl. Do you really think you can be this adorable and expect us to just contain ourselves?

— I…I…

— What is that, kitten? You want to apologize for running away? Want to beg us to save your friends?

— I…f-fuck you. Both of you.

Another harsh slap – the other guy gets his hand in your hair, tugging it just enough to make you groan from the headache again.

— Oh, this is exactly what you are going to do.

A noise from outside of the house startled you both. You hear Max’s voice – annoying as always, that know-it-all tone that usually makes your blood boil, but what sends happy shivers down your spine. You were found! Finally, at least one of the group is smart enough to find you and distract the killers so you can both run away and…

Oh god, Max is outside and yelling, he is definitely alone and they both are muscular, big gues with a bunch of weapons and you as a hostage and…shit.

— Go on, Katzen. Scream for him, ja? Lure the mouse in.

You grit your teeth, yelling out the best “Get the fuck out of here, it’s not safe” as you can.

They laugh.

The world finally turns to black with another season of silly girl falling conscious in the best plot moments.

#konig x reader #yandere konig #cod x reader #cod #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #yandere x reader #horangi x you #horangi #horangi x könig #horangi x reader #konig

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nvirskies · 3 months

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sand - c. la rue

idea taken from one of @star-girl69 's asks about married clarisse and immediately went to think about how the vast majority of greek demigods didn't get to live past their 20's or even teen years... and the survivor's guilt that would come with being one of the few lucky enough to live longer.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, traumatic nightmare flashbacks, descriptions of violence, descriptions of blood + war, spoilers for TLO, set after both reader and clarisse leave CHB about 6-8 years into the future, google translated Greek term of endearment, crying, survivor's guilt, platonic RueGard, ooc Clarisse, she's matured more over time and more articulate with her feelings and words

summary: clarisse wakes up from a particularly bad nightmare in the middle of the night, reader comforts her through a breakdown

wife!fem!demigod!reader x wife!clarisse la rue

word count: 2.2k

καρδιά μου (kardiá mou) - my heart

Η καρδιά μου είναι η καρδιά σου (I kardiá mou eínai i kardiá sou) - my heart is your heart

"but you have more pieces of me than than desert has sand, and I have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand" sand, alchemical: vol. 1, dove cameron

taglist: @lvrue @star-girl69 @azrielsdiary @petitegavotte @b0ok-lover

men, nsfw, non-sapphic, 16-/19+ dni

Greek demigods fell in love hard and fast with an unmatched intensity. They normally didn’t live long enough to even envision themselves in their adult lives, and why would they? Every day was a struggle to stay alive with monsters coming in from all angles and quests most didn’t come back from.

And that was why, as soon as the two of you graduated high school, Clarisse got down on a knee and proposed with the knowledge that you were the one she would want to spend the rest of her life, however long or short, with.

When you two had graduated college, the next thing in the books was to make it official in the courthouse, and that was what you had done. No extravagant party or ceremony, just a quiet day in the courthouse and a night in to celebrate.

But no matter how far the two of you ran from Camp Half-Blood, the nightmares never went away, never got better. As the years passed, more of the people you had considered friends died. One after the other, falling like cursed dominos, helplessly standing by as they all tumbled down.

Soon, the nightmares became more about the people that were lost than the monsters themselves. Nightly plagues of searingly painful memories from watching the life drain from so many demigods’ eyes burned themselves in both of your psyches.

All you could do was hope Charon would be kind enough to ferry them across the Styx without his payment of a silver coin.

And tonight certainly hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary with the two of you and your limbs interlaced in a protective embrace while sleep claimed your minds, as if the both of you could protect each other from the monsters both in and outside.

Your head, nestled into her chest. Her deep, rhythmic breathing made your hair flutter ever so slightly as she exhaled. Her arms, wrapped loosely around your waist, hands not-so-sneakily under the baggy shirt of hers you had stolen to wear as pajamas for the night. It was all perfect. Too perfect.

You would be damned fools to think that peace would last for so long. Demigods didn’t get peace, they didn’t get tranquility, and they especially didn’t get uninterrupted domestic bliss.

Unbeknownst to you, Clarisse’s face contorted into one of distress. Her arms pulled you in closer subconsciously as the all too familiar face of Morpheus greeted her with a sly smirk on his face in her dreams.

In moments, she was transported back to the Battle of Manhattan.

She was seventeen again.

Blood was everywhere. Abandoned weapons lay on the floor, the hands that once gripped them tightly, now loose and limp. Shrill screams echoed throughout the air, all cut short by gut-wrenching sounds of fatal injury. Metal cut through flesh. Acid burnt through metal. Flames licked and greedily consumed anything and everything as fuel.

Her feet felt heavy, her hands numb. She could do nothing but stand and watch it all unfold before her own eyes, forced to relive the carnage and devastation that had ripped through Manhattan on that fateful day.

Morpheus’ voice whispered in her right ear, the sound of it sending an uneasy chill down her spine. “Daughter of Ares. A fitting dream, no? Your father must have been proud of you for the way you fought after… well, I’ll let you relive that, too.” Before she could blink, she was transported to the moment right after Silena had been sprayed by the Lydian Drakon.

Clarisse was too late. She had always been too late.

She was back on her knees, choking and weeping bitterly as Silena lay in her arms, watching as life slowly left her once-lively eyes.

What kind of a warrior even was she? So weak that she couldn’t even protect her friend? Too weak to protect the girl who had adorned her armor and led her siblings into battle?

Just as Clarisse reached out to touch Silena’s face to wipe away the one mark of smudged eyeliner that the Aphrodite girl normally would never have even allowed to happen in the past, she was jerked back to consciousness, eyes flying open and arms almost crushing your sleeping form momentarily as she came to.

No longer was she in Manhattan, instead sheltered in the familiarly adorned walls of your shared bedroom. Upon the walls hung framed pictures of joyous times past and her sword collection, among other things.

Familiar faces stared back at her, some faces that would never age again. Immortalized memories of times that would never happen again. Everyone was dead or scattered across the globe.

A particular picture caught Clarisse’s eye. It was a portrait of Silena that she had commissioned one of the Apollo kids to draw for the daughter of Aphrodite’s seventeenth birthday.

She never lived to see that day.

Her eyes locked with Silena’s in the drawing for a moment, and that moment was one too much as hot tears began to prick in the corners of her eyes.

She had inadvertently woken you up with the way her arms tightened around your waist in a near vice grip, slowly coming to your senses. No longer were her breaths slow and rhythmic, their steadfast pattern replaced by one that was erratic and shallow. The once-steady thumping cadence of her heart as it beat in her chest was now quickened, all of which you could hear with your head having been nestled into her chest.

Craning your head to look up at her, you were greeted with the sight of Clarisse desperately trying to silently blink back tears and control her own breathing.

Hurriedly, you pushed yourself up off her chest and tugged the blankets off the two of you before sitting down on her lap. You took note of the way her hands had never left your waist, holding onto you as if she were drowning and you were the last life ring thrown out.

It wasn’t anything you and Clarisse hadn’t dealt with before. The nightmares had been a part of your lives as far back as you could remember, it just came with the territory of being a demigod. But they never got any easier as time went on.

She watched silently with eyes brimming with unshed tears, pleading wordlessly with you to do something, anything to make it all go away.

“Let’s switch, yeah? You can lay on me and completely cover me if you want, love,” you offered up, a melancholy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Wordlessly, she nodded and you slipped off her lap, laying back where she had just been moments ago.

Gently patting your chest, you motioned for her to rest her head on it, knowing that the rest of her body would soon follow, completely engulfing your form with hers. After she had positioned herself, her arms snaked around your waist again as she simply held you for a few moments, her face pressed into your chest as tears slowly soaked into your shirt.

One hand reached out to gently run along the length of her back, the motion meant to soothe. A few beats passed in silence before you spoke in a hushed whisper, the bedroom devoid of sound beyond the two of you breathing in tandem with each other.

“You hear that, love? That’s my heart,” you murmured softly, craning your neck to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “It’s beating, beating for you. Η καρδιά μου είναι η καρδιά σου.”

She didn’t respond beyond releasing another shaky sob into your chest and tightening her grip around your body, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t need her to talk just yet.

“You’re also η καρδιά μου, you know that, right? My heart, my wife, my love, my everything. And I’m yours. Entirely yours, and I”m not going anywhere.” You craned your neck again to press another kiss against the crown of her head, hand never stopping its path of running gently along the length of her back.

“I would go down to the depths of Tartarus for you. I would challenge Hades himself to a fight if it meant I had even a glimmer of a chance in getting you back.”

Never once did you try to rush her into talking or shushing her tears. You knew her better than you knew yourself, and giving her time to let everything out was the best thing you could do for her at the moment.

You were her safe space, the one woman that she could let her walls down around. She wasn’t Ares’ star daughter in your arms, she was just Clarisse. No expectations dangling over her head, just open arms and understanding.

After another few quiet moments, she finally spoke up in between half-choked sobs, whispering so quietly that her voice was nearly inaudible, “Silena… Manhattan… should have been able to save her,” before letting her face fall back down onto your chest, releasing another pained cry.

“She’s gone- a-and everyone else too- why me?”

Her question left you speechless, mouth partly opened in an attempt to come up with a reassuring response, but nothing seemed to come to mind immediately. It was rare for this to happen, as you normally had just the right words at the top of your tongue, weaving them as Arachne once wove tapestries on her loom.

“They’re all gone and- and- ”

“Shh, love…” you cut her off, gently pulling her head up to look her in the eyes, your other hand leaving her back to wipe the tears that were still streaming down her cheeks with the pad of your thumb. “Please, don’t go back into that self-sacrificial spiral. Talk to me, tell me what the dream was about?”

She only shook her head in response, unwilling to divulge details of the memory that had shattered your night of otherwise perfect proportions.

Deflating back on top of you, she whispered, “They’re all gone, and we’re one of the only ones remaining. It was like every time another one of them died, that small part of myself that I gave to them died as well.”

Her arms that were wrapped around your waist tightened for a moment before going limp along with the rest of her body as she lay atop you, her head pressed against your chest.

“Love…” you began softly as one of your hands found its way to her head and carded gently through her curls. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened. None of it was your fault. We didn’t ask to be born, to be thrown into this mess of a world and tossed around like pawns in the gods’ game of chess with our lives.”

“We didn’t ask for this life, and we were so young at the time. For fuck’s sake, we were only seventeen- we hadn’t even made out yet. We hadn’t graduated high school yet, there were so many things we couldn’t control.

“None of it was your fault, I promise you. You were so brave, and you did everything you could.” She stayed silent as you spoke, the only sounds coming from her were the soft, shaky breaths as she sniffled and burrowed her face further into your shirt.

“I can’t explain to you why so many things had to happen, that’s up to the Fates. I can’t give you the pieces of yourself back that you lost when we kept losing everyone,” you murmured whilst your hands kept on with their idle motions.

It shattered your heart to give her such an incomplete answer when you knew it was tearing her apart inside to live with it all, but there was nothing you could do beyond offer solace and comfort. “And for that, I am so, so sorry. But the one thing I can do is keep the piece you’ve granted me to keep, safe and sound.”

She only nodded in response, not trusting herself to speak in fear of her own vulnerability. Her tears soaked into your shirt, but you didn’t care. All that was important was that Clarisse was here, in your arms, and slowly calming down.

Clarisse knew just as well as you did that everyone had done the best they could with the circumstances given, and that the loss affected you just as deeply. But she didn’t dig into that, it would be a can of worms to open for another time, another sleepless night where your own troubles caught up with you after running from them for so long.

And so, the rest of the night stretched on into early morning, the two of you half-awake, seeking silent solace in each other until sunlight crept into the bedroom through the cracks of the curtains the next day.

The two of you might have been running from your trauma like runners to a marathon, but at least you were running hand-in-hand with matching strides.

#🖋️ nvir writes #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x fem reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue pjo #clarisse larue #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue x y/n #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo tv #im not sorry #maybe i am #no im not

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grison-in-space · 8 months

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Currently rereading Eric Flint's 1632 and reflecting on just how influential Flint was to me and my approach to both praxis and politics as a teenager. I found Flint when I was about thirteen or fourteen, around the time I found Pratchett I think, and he's left an equally wide thumbprint on my soul. Isn't that the most wonderful thing about stories, that people you've never met can help shape our adult selves? Mother of Demons I often recommend for its SFF worldbuilding--Flint built a species with at least four genders, only some of which are reproductive, and associated "normal" sexual orientations, and then proceeded to write in a textually intersex character and queer the hell out of it.

1632, though, is the one where a little West Virginia town in 2000 gets picked up and dropped in the middle of Thuringia, Germany in the eponymous year--right in the middle of the Thirty Years War. The local United Mine Workers of America chapter plays a major role, particularly its head.

As I write this I'm listening to the scene where the little town of Grantville, having admitted after a few days that they are probably not ever going home, is crowded into the high school gymnasium listening to the mayor lay that reality out and suggesting an interim council to help the town set out a sort of constitutional convention so they can work out what on earth they're going to do moving forward--especially since there's a bunch of displaced refugees collecting in the forests nearby. Sensible of them, really; the Americans murdered the shit out of the local soldiers that displaced them, on account of how the shaken mine workers that went out to figure out WTF happened not being super down with suddenly running into a bunch of fuckheads raping the locals and torturing people to find out where their valuables might be. After that, said Americans proceeded to retreat into the town boundaries and gibber quietly to themselves. I would go lurk in their woods, too.

Anyway, the mayor sets up this proposal, everyone agrees, and a CEO who was visiting for his son's wedding at the time steps forward and says: look. I know how to lead, and I'm probably the most qualified person here. I lead a major industry corporation effectively and I did that after my time as a Navy officer. I put myself forward because I'm qualified. Now, we're going to need to circle the wagons to get through the winter, tighten our belts, but we can get through this. We can't support all these refugees, though; we'll have to seal the border so they can't bring disease--they're a drain on our resources we can't afford--

and the UMWA guy, he gets really mad listening to this. There's this Sephardic refugee woman he's real taken with who got swept up in the town first thing, and she's sitting in and listening; he's thinking about throwing her out, thinking about how much she knows about the place they're found in, and he's furious. But he gets a good grip on his anger and he marches up and he says, look. This dude has been here two days and he's already talking about downsizing?! You're going to listen to this CEO talking about cuts, cuts, cuts? Nah. Trying to circle the wagons is probably impossible, it's stupid, and if you think my men and I are going to enforce that, you can fuck off. That proposal is inside out and bass ackwards. We've got about a six mile diameter of Grantville here; how much food do YOU think we're going to grow? How about the soldiers wandering around, do you think we're going to be able to fight armies off on our lonesome? Look at the few refugees we already have in the room, they'll tell you how those armies will treat you! We could do it for a while, the amount of gun nuts here, but so what? We don't have enough people to shoot them! Not if we're going to do anything else to keep us going! We have about six months of stockpiled coal to keep going, and without another source or getting the coal mines working, we're screwed. We have technical strength but we don't have the supplies or resources we would need to maintain it. Those refugees? They're resources. We need people to do the work we will need to keep ourselves. The hell with downsizing; let's grow outwards! Bring people in, give them safety, see what they can bring to the table once they've had a moment! He invokes: send us your tired, your poor!, and the CEO yells in frustration: this isn't America! so he yells back "it will be!"

And of course everyone cheers. I love Flint for many reasons but he is unapologetic about affection for the America of ideals--ideals, he freely admits, that are often honored in the breach rather than the observance, ideals that are messy and flawed, but nevertheless ideals that can work to inspire us to become the best version of ourselves. For Flint, history is as valuable as a source of stories to inspire ourselves as it is a repository of knowledge, and on this I tend to agree with him. We must learn from our moments of shame but equally we must learn from moments that show us how to be our best selves.

It's been twenty three years and the text is now an interesting historical document in its own right, hitting points and rhythms in beats that are sometimes out of place today. It's not perfect. But the novel contains a commitment to joy and to emphasizing the leaps of faith and understanding that regular, everyday people make every day to try and support each other that I routinely try to match in my writing.

Anyway, one of the strengths of the novel, I think, is its gender politics: it's a very ensemble kind of novel, lots of characters, and it's preoccupied with positive masculinity in a lot of ways. There's a lot of these hyper masculine characters--Mike Stearns perhaps more than anyone else--and--and...

... And Flint's characterization of Stearns, as he sketches out who the man is--his pivotal American leader, ex boxer, working class organizer, big man.... well, it lands equally on "he is delighted and astonished to find a local woman who quickly assesses how the cushion of air in tires works," and "he considers who to set up a Jewish refugee in the middle of Germany up with and he thinks to ask the Jewish family he grew up with to host her and her ill father because he thinks she'll be most comfortable there", and "he views people as potential assets rather than potential drains." A younger man asks him for advice on whether to pursue a professional sports career because of the boxing and he says no, you're in the worst place of not being quite good enough and you'll blow out your knees without accomplishing safety. He frames that interaction such that he allows his own experiences to make him vulnerable and invite the younger man to understand when a struggle have worth it.

It's actually a really deft portrayal of intense masculinity that also makes a virtue of a bunch of traits more usually associated with women: empathy, relational sensitivity, the ability to listen. As a blueprint for what a positive masculinity can look like, vs the toxic kind, it's very well done. I think sometimes when we look at gender roles in terms of virtues, and when masculinity is defined in terms of opposition to femininity, people get lost by arguing that virtues assigned to one gender are somehow antithetical to another gender. In fact that's never been the case: virtues are wholly neutral and can appear in any gender. What the gender does is inflect the ways we expect that virtue to appear in terms of individuals' actions within their society.

Gender isn't purely an individual trait, basically; it's a product of our collective associations. Two characters with different genders can display the same virtues and strengths, but we imagine them expressed in different ways according to our cultural expectations around gender. And I just think that's neat.

#Eric Flint #1632

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blueparadis · 9 months

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꒰ STUCK ON YOU ꒱ ⋮ JING YUAN [ CONTENT & TAGS ] — » f!reader x jing yuan, fluff, angst, undertones of smut, established relationship//word count — 1.2k// blog navigation.

Jing Yuan saunters across the chambers in his loose trousers, a serape wrapped from his back to his chest just to safeguard himself from catching a cold. The enormous windows connecting the chambers to the sundeck are still open letting the cold gusts of wind enter. The world is slowly sinking into darkness while he grows restless with each passing second. How could have this happened? This is the first time it went down this way, after his marriage with you. The general is earnest about what he does, and what he has been doing. He is one of the seven Arbiter-Generals of the Xianzhou Alliance's Cloud Knights and one of the Six Charioteers of the Xianzhou Luofu. How could he let it happen? Wait, was he really at fault for this?

The approaching footsteps reach his ears and he stares at the door of this sleeping chamber. Is it really you?

“What’re you doing here?” he grabs you by the shoulders as you walk into the room. His grip is firm enough to bruise you but you are used to it. It has been a few months since the marriage, and most of it went away in learning various rituals and traditions of post-marriage. However, when he had you all to himself he drained every bit of love from him into you that his fingertips could ever offer on the shores of your skin. But this has never happened before; you, away from home, away from him when he is about to come back from a warzone.

“I could ask you the same—-” You steadied yourself from the sudden disbalance caused by his hold on you. “What’re you doing here?” you deadpanned without flinching. Your husband cocks his face, seeing the ache in your eyes and deliberately mistaking it as a challenge or a mere tantrum. After all, you are the wife of the greatest general of all time. Not only him but everyone except the fire underneath your soul and a spark in your eyes yet here you are: caged by the man you took vows to be bound to him by life, death, and afterlife. You do not resist it. You never do. He knows that.

Jing Yuan knows how keen you are for him, how hungry your soul is for him because of all those stealing glances in between meetings, all those sneaky moments with you, taking tours in the town in the guise of common people, him buying you the prettiest flowers and the brightest gems, you kissing him under the oak tree where there was no soul to be seen; just you and him against the world—- were all those just a fever dream? Was he just your plaything and not the other way around ? Could it really be possible? What went wrong?

“What am I doing here?” He leans towards you enough to let his breath fan against your mouth but not to touch your lips with his. “I’m here for you. Can’t you tell?” He murmurs against your ears, deeply inhales your scent. He has missed you direly in times of war but he had never imagined that he would not see his wife when he comes home after winning the war. Whenever he came home, especially after wars you were there to greet him, to tend to his wounds and needs. He would search for you like a wounded predator seeking refuge but this time when he came home and you were nowhere to be found in his palace, he felt like he did not win at war. All those lives that he protects, all those lives that he just saved seemed useless. It is a wasted victory.

His grip loosens eventually. He still has not discarded the armor and changed into normal clothes. The sword is still tucked in its sheath, he could kill you if he wanted. After all, you defied so many things by coming here to your father’s home. You defied not only his dignity but also your morals, and went against all the rules and rituals that make you the wife of the general. But it was just too hard to keep up, too suffocating to breathe. You could not just take it—- the time apart that you have to spend every time he prepares for war.

No letters. No news. You can not even accompany him to the battle site. All you can do is wait and pray to the Gods while he fights. Jing Yaun will never understand how hard it is to hold on to hope when the grim reaper is banging at the door. He will never know how many sleepless nights you have spent thinking about him. He will never since he is always bestowed with your presence whenever he comes home; be it war or a mere chore. He would never fathom the agony of longing for you. But you can not possibly tell him that. He might be furious, he might get hurt, he might think it is childish and he might not take you home with him. There are so many things that could happen but you still had to risk it to see it for yourself, to let him feel what you have felt during the times of war.

“There are certain matters that need my attention. So, I had to come here. It was urgent.” You finally stated. The maids who were standing outside for your order entered the room for preparing a bath for him. It is dark outside. You can not let him go with a wounded heart and body. It is not right. Jing Yuan is standing at an arm's length from you, his glacial eyes boring at you while the maids fade into the adjacent room.

“Tell me. Tell me why. . . why are you doing this?” his voice is firm and loud. It is not of someone who is not a fertile thinker enough to put two and two together to get four.

“You know why. . .” that was barely a whisper but Jing Yuan’s heart never ached like this before. He has been through countless deaths, and he has witnessed his beloved turn into a ghost but being at arm's length from you and being unable to take away your pain is a salt to his wounds. He knows he had pained you enough. He can see it. He can see it now; when you look down with eyes so full of tears all he wishes is to make everything disappear, the maids, the rules, the customs that keep you apart from him; have you in his arms and the world aside enough not to disturb his time with you.

“Then, I shall stay here until you settle things here.” He exclaims as if he did not just break eons of traditions. After marriage, the husband never stays at his wife’s house, they never can especially someone with such a high rank as Jing Yuan but he has been earnest about what he does. He has been stubborn like a child obsessed with a particular toy since he met you and he shall not leave this place without his plaything. “I could assist you in work” he remarks as he swiftly closes the gulf between you two having you in arms crashing his lips on to yours.

The maids are still here. They could come out at any minute now but Jing Yuan does not budge. His hand slips under your robes, pulling them up and grabbing your thigh. His kiss grows hungry while you arch. Oh! How he has missed this scent. The sound of water ceases declaring that their work is done.

“more like distracting me . . .” you rasp pulling away from his fervent kiss. He rests his mouth against the column of your neck, breathing hard before draging his nose down your throat and finally freeing you from his hold. The maids inform and leave after doing the nesessities. You undress yourself while staring at your husband. He watches you as the dresses hit the floor one by one.

Jing Yuan's lips form a crescent, so full of thrill and joy. That's the spirit. That's the lioness Jing Yuan remembers falling for.

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seresinhangmanjake · 5 months

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The One I Want: Part 4

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.

Words: 1874

The One I Want Masterlist

---

“Are you excited?” Jake asks as he hands you a cup of coffee.

You take a sip and let the liquid run down your throat, then pull the cup away from your face to examine it. Your eyes dart from the caramel-colored drink to your roommate and back. He keeps getting it right, and you don’t know how. It’s as if you wrote the exact measurements of the contents of your usual coffee order on a sticky note and slapped it on the fridge so he had no choice but to memorize it.

“Thank you,” you say. “And, yea…I guess so. It’ll be nice to have a reason to get out every day, but I have a feeling I'll be bored sitting around.” Which you’re perfectly fine with. A job is a job in your mind, and stumbling upon the gift shop across from the beach was convenient for both hirer and hiree. But Jake doesn’t need to know just how unfeeling you are toward your new job. You wouldn’t put it past him to try to unnecessarily cheer you up.

He’s done it a lot. At any hint of distress, you find him beside you. And as someone who finds themself lost in thoughts that allow anxiety or stress or pain to seep onto their face, it means Jake Seresin is often close. Which also means you are constantly at war with what your mind is willing to accept.

There’s the suspicious part consuming most of your mind, telling you that people—men like Jake, especially—don’t go out of their way. Not for someone like you. But another itty bitty piece of your mind wants to believe Jake truly is this nice and caring. You wouldn’t hate to have that kindness in your life be a permanent fixture.

Since you moved in you can’t deny that you rise each morning a little less worried about what the day will hit you with. And you know it’s Jake who has fueled that—indirectly, even. He has yet to comment on you or your body or your clothes or what you eat. Neither positively nor negatively. Though you do catch him staring from time to time, whatever he is thinking doesn’t leave his mouth, which is far more restraint than others have shown in the past.

Jake shoves his hands into his sweatpants pockets and shrugs. “We usually take an hour for lunch. I could always stop by.”

“And do what?” You can’t hold back your snort, nor can you conceal the upturned tick of your lips. Your first smile of the day, light as it is, and Jake’s eyes fix on your mouth until you say, “Are you overdue for a new keychain or cheap beach snow globe?”

“I might be. Those snow globes are great,” he says with a grin, endearingly crooked. “You know, you shake ‘em around; snow goes all over the place.”

“Yes, I’m aware of how they work.”

“Well then you understand why I might want a new one,” he sasses, all but sticking his tongue out like a child.

You hum to hold back your laugh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing you’ve started to find him funny in the last few weeks. Something tells you his ego doesn’t need it. Then, with your hand extended you pass him the mug and make your way toward the door to grab your purse off the nearby hook. “I’ll try to remember that. Thanks for the coffee.”

You are almost out the door, out of his sight and so close to gaining the distance you’ve decided you need from him, when he calls out to you. “Hey, do you want me to pick you up at the end of your shift?”

The smile you’d finally let free from his earlier joke falls, and you swallow hard, suddenly wishing you’d had the money to keep the rental car you used to get yourself from one state to the next. Though you’ll have hours away from him for the day, and the days to come, Jake coming to get you when you’re likely drained from boredom will instantly ruin the mental fortitude you’re trying to regain.

You’d never speak it into existence, but your new job benefits you in more ways than one. After coming up short on last month's rent, you’ll finally be able to put a dent in the money you owe him—because you are paying him even though he doesn’t ask for it—but you were also banking on the separation giving you the chance to get your thoughts and pulse under control.

Anticipation has wormed its way into your daily routine lately. You wake. Wash face. Brush teeth. Dress. Think of Jake. Scold yourself for thinking of Jake. Itch to see him, for reasons you’d rather not focus on. Get pissed for the rapid beating of your heart.

You don’t need it. Not the unexpected thoughts, not the chaos of your pulse, not the disappointment in yourself for failing to learn from previous experiences. Thinking of him too often will fuck things up and leave you worrying about much more than just Jake or his friends or the odd stranger paralyzing you from a sudden comment or snide remark on how you look. Before you know it, you’ll be digging into the front pocket of your suitcase for the final two notecards and tossing a coin.

“It’s only a mile-long walk,” you say, praying the unsteadiness of your voice isn’t detectable through the wall segmenting hallway from kitchen.

“So?”

You sigh. Definitely not the answer you wanted. You don’t know how to respond. There’s no excuse on the tip of your tongue, so you settle on, “Have a good day, Jake. Go save the country or something.”

—

You were spot on with that boredom prediction. Hours have passed and you’ve been forced to fill the time with menial tasks that might just be shrinking a few brain cells. Examining every item in the shop, counting every item in the shop, recounting the little squishy sea critter toys after a group of preteen girls lingered too long in that aisle. As someone so used to being on the move, each minute is slowly eating away you.

With limited options, there are opportunities to let your mind wander and, eventually, you drift into your memories. When the urge to stop them arises, you’re shocked that you kick it back. And before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re grabbing a pocket-sized navy-colored notebook and a pen with a plastic seashell for a cap.

A self-help book you’d skimmed a year prior suggested writing things down to process trauma and grief. The author-slash-therapist didn’t ask for well-detailed memories and feelings, but instead, a quick scribbling of the first things that come to mind. Despite how simple the task seemed, you hadn’t considered it. It seemed silly to relive the pain, to rip open wounds. Even poorly stitched wounds, you won’t deny, that left ragged and raised scars. You’d just been content with no longer bleeding.

But recently, you’ve neglected a pulling; a string threaded and knotted into your heart with a force trying to tug it free from the confines of your chest. Though you know that would only serve one unenticing purpose, to demand you examine the organ and assess the damage time has worn into it, you don’t reconsider flipping open the cover of the notebook.

With a free mind, you write down names, places, and towns. You write down words that were thrown at you. You write down the first time someone attacked your most vulnerable parts. And the things said and done that drove you out of one location and onto the next. You write until pages of white are filled with what could only be compared to an insane person's pastime. You write until another customer comes in just as the sun begins to fade.

You feel her presence before you look up from the notebook in your lap, and when you finally do, you internally flinch at the sight.

The pin-straight yellow strands of her hair reach a few inches below her shoulders, her lips are coated in bright red, and her eyes are enhanced with heavy dark shadow tones. She is tits shoved together, pushing cleavage out the low V of her camisole, and tight ass filling out tighter, dangerously short, shorts, and tiny waist a man could wrap his hands around and touch fingertips. She’s everything you avoid, and she pays you no mind as she makes her way to the mugs at the back corner of the store before heading for the t-shirts.

It’s obvious she entered with a mission when you find her not one minute later standing in front of you and setting the items on the counter. As you scan and wrap the mug and place it in the bag with the shirt, you don’t miss the similar words written across both cheap gifts. My Boyfriend is a Naval Aviator flows in cursive script over the chest of the shirt. My Girlfriend F*cks a Naval Aviator curves with the rounded shape of the mug.

You wonder if that boyfriend is one of Jake’s friends. Rooster does have a girlfriend and you have no way of knowing if this woman is his type. You kind of hope she isn’t.

“It’s sixteen dollars even,” you mutter.

She reaches into her cami and pulls out a twenty, slamming it down on the glass countertop that doubles as a display case for the slightly more expensive, yet still cheap, merchandise. The leftover four dollars are then shoved back between her push-up bra and breast. The bag is ripped from your hand and she promptly exits.

That’s one way to end a first day, you think. At least it was one more thing to do with your time. Annoying kids, a notebook you’re not going to dare touch for a few days, and a woman with underlying anger issues who reminds you too much of your past. You deflate as you realize tomorrow is not likely to end up nearly as eventful.

Closing the shop is, thankfully, a quick process, because you’d like to make it back to the apartment before the moon and stars become your main light source. Walking home in the dark doesn’t suit you but you weren’t about to accept Jake’s offer knowing it likely wouldn’t stop there. First he’ll be picking you up, then it’ll develop into him dropping you off, then you’ll be hanging out with him and his friends every weekend. And then what? What good will any of that do you?

As it turns out, though, you don’t have a choice.

Once the building door is shut and locked, you turn to find a black truck pulling up beside you. Your heart misses its next beat as fear grips you, but then you recognize the vehicle. The passenger window rolls down to reveal sandy blond hair, then green eyes, then sharp nose, then wide grin.

“You didn’t actually say no,” Jake says.

Fuck.

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you step closer, wrap your fingers around the car door handle, and pull.

---

A/N: ended up having to do something tonight, so this part came a little early. I hope you liked it :)

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake seresin x plus size!reader #tgm #tgm fic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 6 months

Note

Hi lovely Kat, congrats to 2K followers! 🥳❤️

I would like to request a post-war drabble taking place during Levi's first birthday after the Rumbling. The reader knows about her pregnancy for a couple of weeks but decides to keep it a secret until his birthday. They could have a nice celebratory dinner with the 104th kids, Gabi, Falco and Onyankopon, and the reader decides to break the big news to Levi just after they leave.

thank you rose!! i also accidentally turned this into a oneshot bc i couldn't get myself to decide how i wanted levi to react and ended up word vomiting as a result ksdjfksdjf

World's Grumpiest Dad | 2K Follower Event | Post-War Dadvi Oneshot

✧ word count ➼ ~1.1k ✧ notes ➼ post-war, fluff

The lights were pretty at this time of night.

You began wheeling Levi back from the diner after waving goodbye to some of the 104th, Gabi, Falco, and Onyankopon. They had visited to grab dinner at a nice restaurant in celebration of Levi's birthday, much to his own disdain. Of course he was grumpy the entire night, just from the fact that he wasn't expecting to get all of this attention throughout the day. It was draining—but it was nice to see everyone in a setting that wasn't hauling ass trying to remedy all the damage from the Rumbling.

"Please tell me we're going home," he grumbled.

"Almost," you reassured. "Just going to stop at the dock first. Sunset's pretty."

Levi didn't protest against this change of plans. His evening strolls with you always played an important part in keeping him sane, especially throughout the height of the war.

You reached into your bag as you continued walking Levi forward, eventually pulling out a small box and setting it on Levi's lap.

You could physically see him hesitate, not having expected the sudden object to be handed to him out of nowhere.

"It's your birthday," you reminded, knowing that he was going to have this reluctant reaction. Levi was never a fan of gifts, but this one was important.

"It's going to clutter the house."

"You don't even know what it is yet."

He let out an exasperated sigh, slowly opening the top of the cardboard box. There wasn't any wrapping around the box and there wasn't any filling inside. It was just a plain box with a singular object resting within it: a handmade mug with one of those uneven handles that indicated that you were likely the one that made this at some shoddy pottery studio, which added to its charm.

"What's wrong with the ones we have at home?"

It's not that he didn't like it, he just didn't see the need for an extra mug in your kitchen cabinet.

You groaned as you rolled your eyes.

"Just read it, you asshole."

He pulled the mug out of the box and turned it so that he could see the text that was carefully painted onto it in your handwriting:

"World's Grumpiest Dad"

You couldn't see his face, but you were able to essentially imagine the furrowing of his eyebrows from the confusion that was no doubt running through his mind.

His body posture visibly changed once he realized—he sat a bit further back into his chair, his clenched jaw relaxed, and you even heard a small gasp escape his lips.

"...you're pregnant."

You turned his wheelchair so that he was facing the horizon and took a seat next to him on the nearby bench that you had wheeled him next to. Giving him a small smile, you nodded, eyeing him intensely for how he was going to react to the big news.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Just got confirmation a little while ago, but wanted to save it as a surprise."

You could tell that he was struggling to process. The two of you weren't particularly trying for a kid, but mutually agreed that if it happened, then it happened.

He switched his gaze from your eyes and back down to the mug to reread the text.

"...'m gonna be a dad," he mumbled, although it wasn't clear what emotion was behind it. You couldn't tell if he was happy or not, which was only adding to your nerves.

Levi looked back up at you, his eyes softening once he saw the concern in yours.

Having a kid was never really something he imagined for himself, although this was primarily because he couldn't afford the luxury of imagining the concept of the Titan-free world that you were in. It always provided him and the rest of your comrades the drive to keep fighting, but the idea of settling down in a world that was safe from man-eating Titans—a world in which you could birth and raise a child in peace—never crossed his mind for him.

"You're going to be the world's grumpiest dad," you corrected, trying to lighten the mood in an attempt to dispel your own anxiety in addition to the hesitant look he was wearing.

It worked to some extent, with his eyebrows coming together again into a frown.

"I'm not grumpy."

"Then why are you frowning?" you challenged.

"That's just my face, you brat."

He barely got to finish his sentence before you planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"It's okay," you whispered with a small smile. "I like you grumpy. I'm sure our kid will like it too. It's part of your charm."

You were too close to be able to see the slight hint of color rising to his cheeks at your comment, but you could tell that it affected him as soon as he averted his gaze.

"What is it?" you asked as you tilted your head at him.

Levi immediately cleared his throat and shook his head in an attempt to suppress how flustered he had just gotten over your comment.

"Nothing."

He handed you the mug and began to push himself up from the wheelchair, which immediately got your attention.

"Need to stretch," he grumbled. "Been sitting in that damn thing for hours."

You watched as he walked over to the dock railings, noting that his limp wasn't as noticeable, likely because he hadn't been putting strain on his knee for the past few hours since he's been more or less just sitting throughout dinner and your stroll here. Sighing, you placed the mug back into the box and placed it securely on the bench before walking up next to him.

The wind was blowing through his dark locks, causing it to fall perfectly back onto his head due to his undercut, tempting you to run your fingers through it if you didn't already know that Levi was just going to shoo your hand away.

There was a hint of concern in his one good eye. The frown lines were present despite his expression being soft, and his lips were slightly turned downwards—not enough to be a frown, but noticeable enough that you knew what was on his mind.

"You're going to be a great dad."

Levi's eyes widened as his lips parted in surprise, not expecting you to come in with the reassurance. You were right in that his unease over his own ability to be a good parent was what was bugging him, even though he knew that the anxiety was ultimately unfounded, given his interactions with the kids he had basically helped to raise to some extent—the 104th, Isabel, and even Gabi and Falco.

He placed his hand over your lower belly before looking back up into your eyes, his lip turning up subtly before whispering to you.

"I know."

#: @chaotic-on-main @levisbrat25 @leviismybby @moonmalice @averysmolbear @cathybarn @tclbts @emiwhore @bejewelledd @sad-darksoul @ackermendick @aomi04 @apolloshaiku @laraackerman @pulpolicia @raenacreates @nube55 @saenora @noctemys @sixpennydame @sleepyfairyxo @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @catskze @nixie-writes-aot @la-undercover-latina @v4mp-wife @darkstarlight82 @professorweezy @braunsbabe @levis-squishy-cheeks @dumbfound-princess @evas-leslas @deepzombieyouth @lovedbylevi join my taglist! and please lmk if you wanna be taken off

#follower event #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi fluff #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

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azsazz · 11 months

Text

What's Mine

Rhysand x Eris x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Hear me out: alphas are super possessive anyway, but imagine high lord/future high lord - way more protective right? Especially in a scenario where there’s other ‘big bad alphas’ around e.g. other high lords at a ball, or at the court of nightmares

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, smut, Rhys using his daemati powers, fireplay maybe.

Word Count: 6,337

Notes: IS ERRHYS MY NEW FAVORITE THING? This is prob the best smut I've written tbh i'm obsessed with these two.

_________________________________________

The ballroom is spinning as you make your way towards the nearest wall. You’re sweating, body hot as you retreat, and it’s not the faewine or the dancing that has you feeling this way, you know it.

You stumble on the sweeping tail of your dress, tugging at the high collar of it as you go because it’s suffocating you and you don’t know why.

People are giving you weird looks.

You slump against the wall, knees locking as you try to stay upright. You don’t know what’s happening, your mind swirling as the intoxicating scents of alphas, betas, and bonded omegas throughout the ballroom sharpen, and your cunt throbs when you pick up the hint of the Night Court patrons within the mass of fae.

An unbonded omega will always be invited to a High Lord’s ball like this, especially one of Beron Vanserra’s parties, a feeding ground for worthy alphas to lay claim to their submissive species.

You’d begged Rhysand to come. As another set of eyes, you’d offered to protect the omegas who were being forced into bonds they didn’t want. It was the only reason Rhysand attended these things, though you weren’t entirely sure why the unbonded alpha High Lord of your court never took one of the preening omegas home.

Probably because some of them were spies.

As a beta, you didn’t have to worry about ruts or heats, letting lust and the urge to be bred make your choices for you. You were free to fuck who you pleased and lived how you wanted, the unlucky female of Rhysand’s Inner Circle who never presented as either of the desirable genus’.

So you don’t have an inkling of understanding of what’s going on. Someone would have had to poison your drink if you’re feeling this way, which isn’t entirely off of the table of possibilities. Being a member of Rhysand’s Inner Circle meant that you were an asset to him and a threat to everyone else.

“Shit,” you groan, clenching your legs together. But why would it be a poison that’s making lust burn your senses into a fiery oblivion. Why do you feel the need to follow the strong scents within the room and jump onto the cock of the nearest delicious smelling one?

You’re trying to clear your mind, focus on one thought at a time but it’s draining. It takes more effort that you’d like, you’d always prided yourself for your quick mind and battle solutions. But the only battle happening right now is the war within your body, fighting for something to exude the swelling pressure between your thighs.

You blink harshly, once, twice, as someone approaches. Their height covers the bright faelights that have been stinging your eyes and making your swirling head pound, and their scent nearly brings you to your knees and have you whimpering like a pup.

Eris Vanserra, eldest alpha of his siblings, stands before you, curiosity gleaming in those caramelized eyes of his.

He leans forward, and you feel the sharp tips of his teeth as he drags them over your covered throat. The sound of him lapping up your scent makes the hair at the nape of your neck stand. You hunch lower, sweat beading at your brow as you desperately try to make eye contact with anyone else in the crowded ballroom, but Eris’ shoulders are too wide, blocking your view.

“Ah, little omega,” he drawls, the silken taunt of his voice is a low rumble, all alpha. Your thighs clench together as instinct tries to take over and your heart pounds in your chest. You shouldn’t be this much of a mess beneath his caramel gaze, pupils so wide you can nearly see into the depths of his soul. “You shouldn’t have come here all alone–”

His words catch up to you through the haze of your mind, cutting through the clouds like a lightning strike. Your brows pull tight into a furrow as your hands slap against his chest, trying to shove him off to take a gasp of air. The room is much too hot and your dress sticks to your skin in the most uncomfortable way.

“I’m not! I’m just a beta,” you plead to the lordling. He’s all but touching you right now, caging you in with his hands pressed firmly to the wall on either side of your head. Eris falters for a moment, but then his eyes narrow and he’s scenting your neck again to be sure.

You’re overwhelmed by his proximity and the palms you’ve laid flat against his chest curl into fists, his finely pressed emerald shirt crumpling in your fingers as the heady scent of firewood and bourbon rushes your senses. It takes all of your self control not to pull his body into yours, not to let the cocky alpha heir slide his knee up against your dress-covered cunt so you can grind down on him like your body wants. Your arms shake with the effort to keep him at bay, both his and your own self control quickly dwindling. No. You need to find Rhys or Azriel or Cassian, someone from your own court who will know how to help you because this…this is not how betas are supposed to act.

“Don’t lie to me,” Eris hisses, pulling away slightly, just enough for you to catch the swirling black mass of darkness forming over his back. Your shoulders relax slightly, but Eris doesn’t take notice, too enthralled by the scent of your hormones spilling off of your body. “I know you want my knot, little omega, that you need it like the bitch in heat you are…”

Rhysand’s hand clamps down on the Autumn heir’s shoulder, sharp talons of onyx piercing the expensive shirt. The sharp twinge of blood has you drooling. If only it were up a few more inches, right on his throat and made by your teeth. The High Lord of darkness all but roars at the rivaling alpha. “Don’t fucking touch her.”

Eris doesn’t like being told what to do. He is an immovable force as Rhys squeezes with warning, pristine, red blood staining the dark fabric. Eris snarls and shoves off Rhys’ grip, lips curled in disgust from the way the Night Court swill has mottled his fine silks.

“I’ll touch whomever I please,” Eris spits, turning that heated gaze on you once more. His eyes are lit with not only the throes of lust, but anger as well. “Especially an unbound omega who wants my knot.”

Rhys falters at the lordling's words, smoldering violet gaze flicking to your pleading one. You see his lips part in response and the moment he catches a whiff of your new scent, pupils tightening to pins before blowing wide with darkness, shadows crawling up his skin.

“She’s mine,” Rhysand growls so low it makes the floor beneath you rumble. The sensation crawls up your legs and straight to your cunt. You clench your thighs together and keen softly, unable to control yourself.

You even almost bare your neck to him.

“She’s not,” Eris answers, flicking a dismissive hand in Rhys’ direction, attention fully on you.

“She will be,” Rhys fights, sidling up to your side. His arm brushes yours and you almost crumple in your spot, body screaming in response to the two hot-headed, unbonded alphas fighting to be the one to see you through your heat.

Eris seems more than pleased to taunt your High Lord. “And what if I were to claim her right now?” he drawls, stroking a flaming finger down your neck. You have to bite back the whimper threatening to slip from your mouth at his delicate touch. Damn your omega senses right now, you can’t be trusted with yourself because of how badly you need his knot. “I could just lean over and mark her right here…”

“Then I’ll kill you and fill this fucking court with so much darkness that you suffocate,” Rhys snarls, his tone predatory. It makes the alpha caging you in go stiff, muscles rippling in response to the threat. Let him go, and I will get you out of here, Rhys tacks on, slipping easily through your weakened mental shields.

I can’t, you cry in response. Your knuckles are white with the effort you’re using to hold onto Eris. If you let go, surely your knees will give out and you like the way that his body is up against yours, how his threatening words make your skin dance with pleasure. He’s protecting you.

You chance a peek up at the towering alpha and it's the biggest mistake you can make right now. His amber eyes are bright with fire, the ring around his pupil gleaming hot white. It makes you shrink lower in response, your body submitting to the male before you. Eris grins sharply.

“Are you threatening the future High Lord of Autumn?” he taunts. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even flick a glance to the brewing King of Night at your side. It infuriates Rhysand even more.

“No,” Rhysand responds easily, his fingers twitching to unwind yours from Eris’ shirt to take into his own. He wants you clinging to him like that, and by the Mother will he do absolutely anything necessary to take you home. “I’m threatening the fucking prick who’s trying to take what’s mine.”

Rhysand hadn’t ever told you, but you’d always caught his eye, since Cassian had introduced you to him centuries ago. But as a High Lord and an alpha, he hadn’t ever made a move, needing to find an omega to bear an heir. Old rules created before his own time. But now that you’re clearly an omega, and one in desperate need of an alpha's knot…the beast raging inside of him is moments from breaking free and claiming you for his own.

He will spill Eris’ blood in your honor. To prove to you that he is a male worthy of your time, deserving of the spot to knot you and see you through your first heat.

“And what does the little omega want?” Eris asks, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. Rhysand watches with dark eyes. You’re sure that you look a mess right now, damp with sweat, your legs shaking as they try to keep you on your feet. Your fists are still twisted in Eris’ shirt and you can’t seem to force yourself to let go. All you want to do is lie down and take his knot, let him fill you up and breed you until there’s a whole pack of firelings running around these halls.

But Rhys’ arm brushes against yours, his scent drifting your direction. It makes your eyes roll back into your head, the crisp scent of night and fresh cedar sharpening your senses. You want him too, want him wrapped around your body like the tattoos twisting up his arms, want to carry his darklings and see how he frets.

They are not safe thoughts but your body demands it of you. You hadn’t known that being an omega was so difficult, that you’d go into heat and would want all of the things you didn’t ever think you’d have some day.

You need to get out of here.

Eris tips your chin up and you don’t know when you’d buried your nose deep into the crook of his neck. The glistening skin of his throat shines and you know you’ve been licking over his scent glands but you’re too far gone to be embarrassed.

Through the haze, you make eye contact with Rhys, nervous that he’ll be furious with you for how you’re acting. His face is set in stone but you can read the rage in his eyes all too well, having seen it many times before. It isn’t directed at you. All he wants to do is rip the alpha away from you and take you home, back to the Night Court where the cool air will sate your senses and his cock will ease your pain.

“Both,” you gasp, choking on it as the thought floods your mind. “I want you both.”

“Fuck, darling,” Rhys curses. His hand finds your back, knuckles stroking down your spine in a motion you want to keep moving further south. “We can’t. We don’t have clearance to stay in Autumn longer than the night.”

You whimper loudly and their hands tighten on you, Eris’ falling from the wall to your hips to pull you closer. You nuzzle into him, the warmth delicious as the fabrics between the both of you brush the sensitive skin of your body as you writhe. His scent reminds you of cozy autumn nights spent before the fire with ciders in your hands and spices wafting through the air. He smells like comfort and protection.

“Take me back, then,” you pant, rutting against the autumnal heir as he slides a thigh between the slit of your dress to relieve some of the pain. You groan at the feeling. The friction is good but not nearly enough. Your hand finally melts away from Eris’ chest only to tug Rhysand closer behind you. The sharpness of night and forest reminds you of home. “Need you both.”

Caramel meets violet in a thunderstorm of anger, splintering apart when your panting turns uneven. You’re going to pass out if they can’t calm you down, and people are starting to whisper and stare at the sight of you pressed flush between both High Lords, making both of the alphas hackles rise.

“Like hell I’m letting her go,” Eris snarls, fingers brushing across your tight nipples as he slides them down your body. He wants to settle them on your hips but Rhysand is already there, trying to tug your hips to meet his straining cock in his trousers.

Eris bypasses Rhys’ grip on you in favor of slipping it between his leg and your sex, brushing against your clothed clit. He loves the way that your nails claw in response, nearly shredding the rest of his shirt, and he wants you to leave burning red marks across the planes of his pale back, wants to revel in the needy omega from Night.

He smirks at Rhysand as your head falls backwards onto his shoulder.

“Then give us permission to stay,” Rhys says darkly, hands sliding down your sides in wanton. His breath puffs against the sensitive skin of your neck and he takes the moment for a teasing lick that you want to turn into more, a claim on you, teeth deep in your flesh and drawing blood until you’re his, and then you want Eris to do so on the other side until you’re theirs and no one else can tell you any different.

The Autumn Court male would rather burn, but the tears in your eyes has him cussing and agreeing, “Fuck. Fine. You can stay until her heat is over. No longer.”

Rhysand’s eyes blaze at the terms, how the copper haired alpha hadn’t mentioned anything about you returning with him. His jaw clenches so hard you think you hear his teeth crack. “Agreed.”

The Night Court High Lord grunts as the pact is made, a deep purple burn branding his skin with an autumn rope of vine like cattle. Eris shudders with you in his hold as whispers of menacing nightmares slither across his skin like ice, wrapping around his wrist like a vice, locking the agreement into place.

As soon as the deal settles in his bones Eris winnows you away. Rhys growls in warning, his fingers are barely brushing against the Autumn Court heir at all, but the copper haired alpha smirks, not at all minding if Rhys gets lost along the way.

Asshole.

Dickhead.

Rhys tenses as the room whispers into view, prepared for any trap the eldest Vanserra may have taken you to. He knows it’s no longer the Woodland House, the massive estate built for Beron in the clearing of orange and crimson leaved trees. This place…is quaint, warm sunset filtering through the soft curtained windows. It smells like fresh cotton but he can scent the underlying staleness in the air.

Eris has never brought anyone here.

His gaze follows Rhysand like one of his shadowhounds, his grip on you tight like a vice. This is his home, and he will not be made to feel vulnerable nor ashamed of it when he’s the one who’s allowed the Night Court miscreant to stay.

“This is Briarhome,” he murmurs softly, the only reprieve he’s going to give the other alpha, who's still drinking in the room, “My home.”

Not the Woodland House. He never knots in the Woodland House. Not with his brothers and father so close, where everything can be – and is – used as a weapon. He hasn’t even brought an omega to this home, no, this is his sacred spot for him and his bonded omega…or future bonded omega.

And apparently Rhysand, for the night.

Maybe the High Lord has been wrong about him.

His bed looks like the perfect spot for nesting, filled with soft quilts and a mass of pillows that makes you want to climb into and never leave. Warmth fills your stomach and drips down your thighs at the thought of knotting the both of them in such a safe place. Your heart swells and Eris lifts you into his arms, the alpha all soft and gentle now that he’s in the privacy of his own home.

You whimper when he settles you and draws away, only to his knees to start undressing. The pain is overwhelming, and you’d feel bad for being the sweaty, needy mess that you are but it’s your new nature, and neither of them will let you feel bad about it.

Eris unbuttons his shirt, fingers moving deftly across the buttons as Rhysand circles the bed, searching for the best vantage point to grab at you. Your gaze moves to his violent purple ones, your breath catching in your throat at the predatory way he’s looking at you and Eris on the bed, nostrils flaring as your body reacts with a wave of arousal at his face.

You zero in on Eris as the silk shirt slips in rivulets down his pale skin, showing off an impressive set of muscles, adorned with freckles. Your hips buck and his smirk goes soft at the snivel you release, hands snaking down to relieve the ache between your thighs.

Rhys tuts from the side of the bed, slipping into your mind. It’s like walking through fog, with the amount of desire clouding your mind. He opens himself up, just for a moment, and is flooded with your intoxicating thoughts. The feeling floods straight to his cock and he groans, shutting himself out of your mind before his knot expands in his trousers.

He climbs onto the bed, fingertips dipped in night reaching for the high collar of your dress as Eris glides his hands up your exposed thighs, grabbing a fistful of the black fabric making up the bottom of your dress. You arch under their touch, moaning wildly and they haven’t even begun to touch you where you need.

Together, both alphas growling in response to your call, they tear the front of your dress open, collar to hemline, exposing your flushed, creamy skin. The air of the room laps at your overheating skin and you gasp as your nipples tighten.

Hands instantly find your body as yours fist into the sheets, Rhysand caressing your cheek as he turns your face to capture you in a blistering kiss while Eris tugs your panties down your legs in haste.

You jolt against Rhysand’s mouth as something flicks against your throbbing clit. The primal groan you hear in answer to your taste sends shivers up your spine, and Eris is diving in without warning, trying to bury himself in your cunt, sloppy tongue lapping at your slick, wetting his cheeks and marking himself with your flavor.

Rhysand’s teeth are sharp as they nip your lip, drawing your attention back to the Night Court alpha who’s demanding your time. He coaxes your fingers from the sheets and they immediately latch onto him, just as he wanted. His fingers trail across the tight skin of your breasts, dancing over your sensitive nipples as he licks into your mouth.

You don’t like the amount of clothes he has on. How the alpha is supposed to mount you with his body covered is impossible, and you tug at the collar of his shirt, showing your utter frustration through your actions because your mouth can’t form words.

Careful, omega, his voice reverberates in your skull and then he’s everywhere all at once. I’m the one in charge.

Are you sure? You pant against his open mouth, like he’s your will to breathe. And with the way that the alpha hands move, how he’s playing nice with the other High Lord right now, he might just be. Because Eris is the one–

I can be anywhere, be anything you want me to be, he purrs, power licking up your spine as you arch off of the bed. I can have you thinking that he is me, he continues darkly, and you know Eris is the one licking through your folds like a starved alpha, but when your head is forced up on Rhysand’s whim, it’s his face you see buried between your legs.

Off, you beg, pulling at his collar again. But perhaps your mind is so muddled with lust that he’s the one slurping at your cunt. Maybe it’s Eris who looms above you fully clothed…

A strangled cry spills from your mouth as the tongue licking at your clit burns. Your head clears and your gut coils at the sensation and it’s definitely Eris that’s down there, branding his mouth to your cunt.

Rhys slips out of his shirt but you hardly notice because you’re careening over the edge into a deliciously warm orgasm, gushing on Eris face as he holds your thighs open so he can continue flicking his tongue fervently. You drag his abandoned shirt to your nose, inhaling the roguish scent of him as you cum and Mother above if it doesn’t want to make the alpha fucking bond you right then.

But the orgasm hasn’t sated the heat that's burning through your body, the reprieve only lasts a moment before it hits you twice as hard.

You need one of their knots, and you don’t care which one gives it to you.

Rhysand steps around to the end of the bed, eyes pinned on the way Eris’ head is still buried deep in your snatch. He growls, getting a fistful of his copper locks and he rips the lordling away from your throbbing cunt. You let out a whimper so loud that it nearly makes him submit to you, but he cranes Eris’ neck backwards to admire the red of his swollen lips and your slick glistening across his cheeks.

You scramble to your elbows to see what’s happening and are entranced at the two alphas glaring at each other. Your heart and pussy throb in time with each other.

They must be having some sort of mental chat because Eris has a wicked gleam in his eye as he licks the remnants of your slick from his lips, making a show of it. Rhysand’s lip curls into a snarl and he jerks the Autumn alpha back, his neck straining at the unnatural angle as his unoccupied hand reaches for his belt, flicking the buckle open with ease.

Your hand snakes to your clit and you desperately need one of them but you’ll force your body to wait to be able to watch them like this.

“Finish it,” Rhys growls down at the alpha on his knees so that you can hear. Eris doesn’t like it, wants to send his flames licking up the Night Court King’s arm, but the look in those violet eyes makes it known that his darkness will only smother him to smoke. He reluctantly starts moving when you whine and Rhys cranes his neck further when he tries to look at you, undoing his leathers and pulling them down the strong columns of his thighs.

The High Lords prick bobs, head pink and shining with precum, and Eris’ throat works to swallow.

You think the male might take it into his mouth, and you know Rhysand would enjoy it too, because the fireling sure knows how to use that wicked mouth of his, but the alpha towering over him leans down, pompous and arrogant as ever, and kisses him.

It’s hot and heavy, the tension in the room thickening as the two alphas grapple for dominance. They’re all wide shoulders and primal growls, licking into each other's mouths like warriors meeting on the battlefield. Eris shoves his way to his feet without breaking the bruising kiss, and their bodies mold together in a striking image of chalk and bronze.

Your gasping breaths tear them apart, fingers fisting and manhandling each other in brutal lust. You’re working yourself through a second orgasm, just the sight of them aiding your heat, the need for them almost unbearable. You’re a shaking, sweating mess, but beautiful nonetheless as they stare down at you writhing on the bed.

Eris is the first to slip away and Rhys curses, following the heir but he’s too late because Eris is consoling you with a gentle kiss as he presses his cock into your needy cunt with a groan. He presses all of the air from your lungs, stifling you in the best way. His body is warm, cock hot as he pistons his hips in and out and in again.

His name is a prayer on your lips as he works, his hands everywhere, sending flickers of flames up your body every time he pulls out. He loves it, wants to hear you saying his name for the rest of forever, and he holds back a bark of ownership, body shaking with the effort it takes to keep himself from biting into the exposed skin of your neck.

Rhys climbs onto the bed again, watching with keen eyes how the lithe body of Eris Vanserra drags you to your edge. He’s muscled in all of the right places, ass flexing as he pumps into you, giving you everything your body so desperately craves.

The High Lord can tell that the other alphas knot is forming, from the sounds that he makes and the look in his eyes, the barring of his teeth and the offering of his own throat as your nails leave pink scratches down his back as you cum on his cock, so close to having what you want.

But the heir freezes and you scream, tears leaking from your eyes as you’re overcome with blistering heat – no longer Eris’ doing – and the fact that his knot is no longer growing inside of you, trying to lock the both of you together.

Rhysand is a greedy bastard and even though he’s in the home of the Autumn heir, he will never be second.

Eris’ chest heaves against yours but he can’t move, couldn’t if he wanted to, and damn the Cauldron does he want to. Fear slithers through his veins like the darkness in his mind before his fiery anger tries to flush the High Lord of the Night Court from his mind. He can only blame himself, letting the brick walls in his head crumble for you, an offering to let you into his mind as part of the bonding.

Get the fuck out of my head, he spits at the other alpha, who’s smirking down at him with lethal intent.

Are you sure you’re an alpha? Rhys teases, using his powers to tug the coiled male from your body. His limbs are locked, clutching to you like a vice as you squirm beneath him, chasing the knot that’s not expanding. You should be able to push me out.

Your words make no sense, coming out in high pitched noises and cries. Your body is burning, your bones hurt with the aching need for a knot, for their seed to spill into your womb like it's the only thing you need to live.

I’ll fucking kill you, Eris threatens as Rhys forces him away from you. He’s like a puppet, and he hates every second of his betraying limbs as he slides away. He’s frozen, on the edge of his knot growing and it will be painful the longer he holds it but Rhys is cradling you to his chest and playing every part of the hero he wishes he could be, soothing you and letting you clutch to him as he settles between your thighs.

He’s forced to watch the smirk Rhys tosses his way, paired with a wink that lets him know he won’t be moving unless he forces that alpha out, before the High Lord softens, turning to you and silencing your whimpers with a stroke of his tongue.

Rhys wastes no time, bucking into your slick cunt with ease. He shudders as you tighten around him, a whispered moan of his name crosses your lips like it’s your last breath and he can hardly take it, pistoning his hips faster for every sound that you make.

Your legs clamp around his waist and your hand falls away from the deep planes of his back, seeking out the other alpha who you can feel roiling on the other side of the bed. Your fingers find his hair, giving a light tug, showing him that you want him nearer, and it’s all Eris needs to break the chains of his mind with a growl so domineering it makes your cunt clamp and Rhysand’s knot form as he lies claim to your thrashing body.

“Yes, yes, please,” you gasp desperately, the feeling of his hot seed spurting into you, filling you up is everything. He’s so big, his cock expanding inside of you and trapping his cum there. Your mind spins with it and you let yourself go pliant when you’re sure that the alphas won’t kill each other over you.

Eris finds you, laying claim to your mouth as you slip into the blissful sensations of your omegaspace, feeling full and protected by the two alphas you’ve brought to bed. Later, you’ll need to knot again, and your heat will last for days on end, but with the both of them here you know you’ll be more than satiated.

The copper haired alpha murmurs into your ear but you’re too relaxed to make out his soft words but your hand tightens around his at the mention of him knotting you later.

“I’m going to give you everything you need, fawn,” he brushes the damp hair from your forehead as Rhysand strokes your cheek. He may not have daemati powers like the alpha Night Lord, and he loathes that the smug male can hear his vulnerable admissions, but he needs you to hear them. “Just give it a little time.”

“You know,” Rhysand croons when you doze off. He gently rolls the both of you so you’re more comfortable, lying on his chest. You nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck while you sleep, reveling in the scent of the alpha that’s giving you everything you need. His fingers stroke down the length of your spine and he nearly preens when you melt against him. His gaze shifts to the Autumn royal. “I could make you stop again.”

Eris' eyes blaze and his teeth flash in warning but Rhysand stops his speech before he can argue.

In your head, asshole, the Night Court native warns and the other alpha glares.

Not all of us have fancy mind-speaking skills, his voice is rough with flames.

Another reason that she belongs in the Night Court with me.

Copper eyes slash to his and Rhys can see the fury rippling from the alpha beside him. Eris knows that he can’t react how he wants to, to rip Rhysand off of you and steal you away. He makes a show of taking a calming breath, but when he lets his eyes trail down your sleeping form does he truly relax.

I want her, he says.

Me too, Rhysand counters, his grip on your tightening as another wave of his cum releases into you. Only a single thought of you had triggered his ruts before, sealing himself away in the hidden cabin in the mountains because he wouldn’t be able to stop the beast inside of him if you had been nearby.

And you don’t know Eris, not truly anyway. You’d met him in passing, at meetings where he’d done nothing but snark by his father’s side, but you’d always known that there was more to them in that burnt caramel gaze.

She wants the both of us, Rhysand continues, but Eris’ temper is still hot.

Me too, he blurts, and the entire room plunges into stillness.

Rhysand’s body goes stiff at the admission but you let out a pleased sigh like you’re agreeing with Eris. You want the both of them, and his accidental admission says he’s willing to share you, to share himself with the both of you, if Rhysand should want it.

Violet eyes rake across heated cheeks and red lips that part in nervousness, Eris’ tongue flicking out to wet them. He’s devastatingly handsome like most High Fae, but there’s an aura to him that makes something in the Night Court alphas gut churn.

But when he tries to catch the other alphas' gaze Eris won’t look his way. He’s busying himself by playing with your hair, fluffing the mass amounts of pillows on his bed, and gathering drinks and snacks from a nearby closet stocked specifically for this. You’ll need to keep your energy up and both alphas will have to coax you to eat, even though all you’ll want for the next few days is to fuck.

Eris, Rhysand calls and the lordling stops. He takes the moment to stare, eyes dragging down his pale skin from where his copper hair curls at the nape of his neck to his tapered waist and down. He knows that he’s hung, even if he couldn’t see the head of his cock between his legs from the way he’s standing stock still across the room, he’s seen it as it plunged into your body at a pace that made his cock bob.

Slowly, the Autumn alpha looks over his shoulder, heart pounding like a drum in his chest. Rhysand waves him closer, he’s already too far away from the both of you, if the whimper that Rhysand wants to mimic slips from your slips.

She’ll need you soon, Rhys says. He can feel the way that your body is already heating up, how his knot has started to deflate. We’ll need you soon.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

You wake to soft voices and even softer kisses. You’re sweating, body hot as you’re pinned between two muscular bodies, the alphas you’d begged to knot you.

Craning your head upwards you catch the sight of Rhysand and Eris, lips locked in a much sweeter kiss than the one they’d shared earlier.

They look glorious, tongues lapping lazily as limbs brush across each other and yours in between. You don’t know what’s happened while you were asleep but it’s nice that they’re finally getting along.

You watch for as long as your body will allow. You know that they both know that you’re awake, but you’re not sure if their kissing is a reaction to your pheromones driving their alpha senses while they waited for you to wake or their own doing, but Mother is it a sight to see.

Eris’ hand strokes up Rhys’ cock softly, twisting firmer as he reaches the head and runs a thumb over his slit. The High Lord’s breath shatters, body vibrating beneath the fiery grip of the Autumn male.

You moan softly, hands slipping down your body to relieve yourself but Rhys’ hand is catching yours and dragging it to his cock with Eris’.

“Both of you,” he pants, voice raspy with need. Your cunt gushes at the vulnerability in his voice, the soft way he’s commanding your motions. “Eris will take care of you, darling.”

“Yes, fawn,” the lordling breathes, rolling so he’s flush to your back. You’re manhandled onto your side and receive no warning as Eris shoves into you with a keen of his own, filling you to the brim with his throbbing cock.

Neither of you has to worry about being stopped by the High Lord of Night.

He aides your sex, slipping into the both of your minds and sharing images of the both of you together, feelings of each other and how your hands feel around his weeping cock, how tight and hot you are clenching around Eris’ cock, sharing how full you feel with him so far deep inside of you.

None of you last very long.

You cry out at an image created of Rhysands imagination; you pressed between the two of them as they both drive into you, sharing you like you never knew you needed. You bare your throat to both of them, begging the alphas to bite into the flesh of your neck, to mate and bond and love you forever.

And they do, sharing a look with each other that says they’ll figure out all of the details later, but for now, and the next few days, they have you, and they have each other. They solidify the bond in the soft bed of Briarhome, and let you mark their necks the same way in the throes of your heat, the Mother allowing your souls to forge together like the deadliest weapon.

And with both High Lords by your side, you know you will be.

#rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #acotar #acomaf #azsazz #acowar #rhysand #a/b/o #acotar a/b/o #eris x reader #rhysand x eris x reader #eris

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peachdues · 19 days

Text

THE GREAT WAR — PART II TEASER

Giyuu’s Flashback • Secret Pregnancy AU

A/N: don’t think I’ve forgotten about these two!

Enjoy a small teaser featuring a key flashback for Giyuu from Part II of TGW. As I said in the notes for Part I, this is a non-linear story, and this flashback in particular is something referenced in Part I, while Reader is patching Giyuu’s wound up (a hint: Giyuu’s particular questioning about Reader’s choice of perfume oils).

Enjoy a little humor and a very, very flustered Water Pillar.

CW: accidental spying while Reader is bathing • Giyuu gets horny but doesn’t realize why • Giyuu is an idiot

READ PART I HERE

The shop vendor continued to gape after the woman long after she disappeared into the bustling crowd. Mildly, Giyuu noted that he’d polished the same dish two times over, unable to break free from his trance.

“Was that not the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen?”

“I did not notice.” He replied, chewing thickly on his mouthful of udon. The vendor raised a single, skeptical eyebrow at his dismissiveness but said nothing more, and for that Giyuu was grateful.

He hated small talk, especially when he was trying to enjoy his meal. If anything, it only took away from the experience, ensuring that half his food ended up everywhere — his lap, the counter — but his mouth.

Besides, the Merchant’s attempt to engage him on this particular subject was rather pointless. In truth, Giyuu never really found anyone beautiful — not really. Though, he supposed as he shoved down another mouthful of his soup, perhaps that was because he’d never truly bothered to pay attention to anyone to definitively say one way or another. Paying attention to something as trivial as one’s physical appearance meant he wasn’t focusing on that which truly mattered — like signs of demons, of things going bump in the night.

And Giyuu Tomioka did not tolerate distractions.

With a grimace, he drained the last of the broth from his bowl and tossed a handful of change on the counter for payment. He only nodded curtly at the cook in farewell before he set off, ready to do one final patrol through the forest leading to his home before he would return and await his next orders.

The sleepy forest absorbed the sound of his footsteps as Giyuu made his way through the unmarked path he’d established as the final length of his patrol through the small, mountainous region in which he was assigned. Judging by the faint chirps of the earliest birds beginning to sound from the canopy of trees above, he knew dawn was close, and thus, his vigil was coming to an end.

The night had been relatively quiet, and so Giyuu allowed his thoughts to roam to the Shrine at the other end of the forest. He wondered whether its grounds were already abuzz with trainee priestesses and groundskeepers, as they flurried around to take care of their morning duties before breakfast was served.

Truthfully, his mind was only interested in the activities of one particular trainee, but the Water Pillar had no reason to drop by the once-reverent shrine, and so, he decided to stick to his current route, and then he’d make his way back for a few hours’ rest. If anything were amiss at the shrine, one of the crows he’d stationed there would alert him.

As Giyuu began to make the loop that would lead him back to his barren estate, a shift in the wind brought a change in scent from that of the usual dirt-pine-molded earth odor he’d always associated with the woods, to something softer; sweeter.

The Water Pillar frowned as the early morning breeze wafted more of the peculiar scent towards him. The herbal-floral fragrance was out of place amidst the familiar, damp rot of the forest, and it made him uneasy. Giyuu had long since learned that things that were out place usually spelled trouble, and where there was trouble, there was usually demon activity afoot.

That was all it took for him to change his course of action. With a fluid deftness that came only from years of having to tread lightly to avoid being ripped apart, Giyuu moved through the forest towards the source of the scent, it’s pull growing thicker as he drew nearer.

A cursory glance toward the canopy of the forest above him revealed a lightening sky; the stars had long since winked out, and the Water Pillar knew that the sun was well on its way to breaking over the horizon. But until that time arrived, the threat of demon activity persisted, and this unknown scent was far too close to not investigate.

Besides, if there was a demon in this forest, that meant it could stumble upon the Shrine at any moment, and that was a risk Giyuu would not take.

He took off in a silent run, eyes peeled to track any movement in the dark, his ears pricked for the slightest signal of something misplaced — an odd crack of a branch, or the sudden silence of the rising, tittering birds.

As the trail of strange floral perfume grew stronger, so too, did the distinct aquatic scent of nearby water. His eyes narrowed; only a few feet ahead, the trees thinned into a line before giving way to a large gap.

A clearing. One that housed a sizeable waterfall, judging by the telltale sound of roaring water as it smashed into a cluster of rocks below. He eased into a stealthy prowl toward the opening, his body alert and poised to respond to any threat that awaited him beyond the darker of the forest.

But all was quiet; yet, years spent within the Corps had ingrained within him a deep mistrust of silence. And so, Giyuu lingered in the shadows of the trees surrounding the small waterfall as he watched, waiting.

The raven-haired slayer’s attention snapped to a small disturbance over by the bank of the waterfall. The sky had lightened enough that he could make out a figure, clad in white, knelt down in the shallow of the river basin.

Giyuu’s hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, but as his eyes further adjusted, he felt his mouth go dry.

Silhouetted against the faint glow emitting from the waterfall and the rapidly lightening sky, Y/N sharpened into focus as she waded deeper into the pool, a small bucket cradled in her arms.

She was not dressed in her usual, traditional Miko attire; rather, she was clad only in a thin white kimono that clung wetly to her hips as she moved towards the waterfall. She paused at the base of the gentle flow of river from the cliff above, and she pulled a small vial from her bucket that she uncorked with one hand.

The shrine maiden poured the contents of the glass over her head, the liquid too viscous to be water. Giyuu closed his eyes and sniffed the air, and he noted that the scent of herbs and flowers now hung in the air like a thick perfume.

The Water Pillar’s gaze snapped back down to the vexatious Miko just as she filled her bucket with water from the fall. With a grace that he hadn’t realized the young woman possessed, Y/N lifted the pail over her head and tipped its contents over, allowing the water to pour down her frame, drenching her.

A cleansing ritual, Giyuu realized as he watched her repeat the process once more. And a very old one at that; he wasn’t sure many shrine maidens still partook in the rite.

Though, Giyuu supposed, it would make sense that Y/N would not only know of the outdated ceremony, but that she would practice it, given that she’d been raised by a grandmother who insisted on abiding by tradition at all cost.

He hadn’t realized that the mere observation of a cleansing rite meant that its participant would look the way Y/N did, standing in the cool spring, clad in nothing but a thin white gown that the water had nearly turned transparent. The Water Pillar’s worked to swallow around the lump that had formed in his throat as Y/N’s water-soaked kimono clung to her skin, revealing the soft, rounded curve of her backside and the delicate length of her legs that Giyuu hadn’t realized she possessed under the loose layers of her shrine outfit.

Giyuu shifted his weight in the tree, inexplicably enraptured by the Miko’s morning ritual to realize he’d startled a small bird into flight.

Y/N whipped around at the disturbance and the ravenette shrank further back into the shadows, his cheeks feeling bizarrely warm at the sight of the young woman now facing his direction.

Giyuu chanced a glance back at the Miko just as the sun broke over the horizon, its pale golden light reflecting off the calm surface of the spring, casting Y/N in the hoary glow of the cascading waterfall.

She looked…like she did not belong in this world. Her hair hung around her shoulders and down to her waist, and the spray of the waterfall clung to the strands like thousands of glittering stars. Her eyes were sharp and bright as they scanned the tree line for the source, her soft, reddened lips twisted down into an uncharacteristic frown.

Giyuu kept his assessment of her form, so stripped back and vulnerable, confined strictly to her face. It was bad enough that the sight of Y/N, standing in the luminescent water, had sent his pulse skyrocketing; he did not trust what would happen if he allowed his gaze to drop lower, to where that diaphanous kimono covered her chest.

Perhaps there was a perfectly logical explanation for his strange reaction to the image of Y/N, standing in the pool, that had nothing to do with her at all. He wondered whether some of the herbs she’d used in her cleansing oil could impart a physical effect on those exposed to their concentrated fragrance; Giyuu made a mental note to find a casual way to ask her, the next time he saw her.

Y/N turned away from him once more as she began to wade back over to the bank of the spring. Now that the sun had risen, Giyuu could spy the familiar white and red cloth of her kosode and hakama pants, folded in a neat bundle atop a small boulder.

Before the sun could chase away the shadows of the forest and reveal his presence, Giyuu turned away and retreated, willing himself not to ponder on the fact that she’d changed clothes, in the middle of a dark forest, just prior to his arrival.

Though, his commitment to not thinking about how the shrine maiden may have looked as she discarded her usual attire in favor of the flimsy bathing kimono she’d been wearing meant that Giyuu’s traitorous thoughts wandered instead to the memory of her standing hip-deep in the spring. His mind struggled to categorize the mental image of her — she was the same Y/N he’d come to know, and yet, something about her was different, though he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what it was.

The word he’d been searching for came to him not long after the sun had fully risen in the early summer sky, just as the sloped roof of his manor came into view.

Beautiful, Giyuu decided. Y/N was beautiful.

dividers from @/saradika • reblogs/comments/likes always appreciated!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #giyuu tomioka #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny tomioka #tomioka giyū #kny giyuu #giyuu #kny giyu #kny smut #demon slayer smut #demon slayer fanfic #giyuu x reader #giyuu x y/n #giyuu x you

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