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#and there may even be some permanent side effects
sob-dylan · 10 months
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i quit smoking weed a few weeks ago on account of my being a dumbass, and i have replaced that addiction with a newfound crochet addiction. so yeah. i guess you could say i'm doing "sobriety" better than any other "sober" person in the history of "sobriety."
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amaditalks · 5 months
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Every year all of the big diet companies have to come up with some brand new labeling for their plans in order to encourage people to get on the January weight loss train.
This year, Weight Watchers is going further than they’ve ever gone before, by announcing that they have created a new system to give their members access to prescriptions for drugs like Ozempic and Mounjaro.
Let me remind you that these drugs only work while you’re taking them. As soon as you stop, all of your appetite comes back. Your desire to eat returns, and because it has been artificially suppressed it may feel much stronger and less controllable than it was before you took the drugs. Many people who come off these drugs, usually because of cost (because insurers are balking at coverage for weight loss) or shortages (because so many people are taking them for weight loss, which is leaving the diabetics who need them up shit creek) or side effects report that the first weeks are really difficult, mentally painful and often binging occurs.
Additionally, all of these drugs carry a real risk of creating a terribly painful and potentially deadly condition called Gastroparesis, in which your gastrointestinal system just stops functioning, you cannot digest and process food at all.
You do not need to lose weight to be healthy. You do not need to lose weight to be beautiful or attractive, to have success, or love. You do not need to lose weight in order to pursue fitness. If you have particular health needs or goals that can only be achieved by changing the way you eat, (e.g. lowering cholesterol or blood glucose or addressing gastro issues) that does not mean that you need a weight loss diet plan, just one designed toward your needs.
But more than anything, you do not ever need to put another penny into the coffers of the multibillion dollar weight loss industry, which, if it actually had a way to take a fat person and make them thin permanently (something that cannot even be achieved by surgeries that drastically rearrange digestive systems) would be a multi quadrillion dollar industry instead. 
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huramuna · 3 months
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banshee's lament - chapter 1.
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aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next
a former ward of alicent hightower and aemond's childhood companion, shera stark, returns to king's landing after ten years. ten years after the incident at driftmark that left her and aemond permanently disfigured. after so many years apart, shera and aemond are almost strangers. almost.
a/n: i posted the first two chapters of this story before, but they're being reworked -- so just poof what you know about them out of your mind when reading it now and think of it as a clean slate.
wordcount: 3k
@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.
content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage
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The wind had finally died down that day, the trees somewhat still over the horizon. Their branches still wobbled with some errant breeze, whistling through the wood like a song. 
The window was pushed outward, the crisp air crossing paths with the smell of smoke, whirling and mingling like lost friends. A small fireplace was warming the room as the lady perched on her windowsill, dark copper curls hanging around her like tendrils. Shera took in a deep breath of air— it was crisp and refreshing, pushing away the errant effects of sleepiness. 
Her skin prickled in goosebumps beneath her nightgown as she turned to her bed. A large black mass was snoozing softly still, taking up the majority of the mattress. Slinking over, she snuggled herself close to the giant canine, blowing softly on his muzzle to wake him. Large amber eyes met brown and milky blue, pupils dilating and constricting in tandem, before the wolf let out a sleepy chuff. 
“Wake up, my love,” Shera whispered, fingers digging into his shaggy mane as she scratched just the right spot. “Moongeist, we must start the day.” she hummed. 
The direwolf rolled over onto his back, belly exposed to the chilled air. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, one leg kicking as his companion got the one itch just out of reach of his own claws. 
“Oh, you’re a ham,” Shera mumbled into his fur, peppering him with kisses. “You’re no wolf, you’re a honey glazed ham,” she tickled his belly, causing him to let out an almost laughing whine. “With a side of sweet potatoes and winter chard.” she rolled next to him, snuggling into him like he was a person. Sprawled out from the tip of his outstretched legs, up to his nose, he outmatched Shera’s height by about one and a half feet. Westeros would surely need to watch out if her wolf ever learned to walk on two feet! 
They lazed together for the better part of an hour before Shera called in the maids— but not before donning her veil and choker. The maids would only help dress her from the neck down, and were ushered out after for Shera to do her hair alone. She took in a deep breath as they fastened the corset around her form. 
“May need to lay off the blueberry hand pies , my lady,” one of the maids murmured. “‘Tis getting hard to lace you up.” 
Shera felt a swirling pit in her stomach at the comment— it wasn’t a secret that she was no svelte ermine. She had curves and a bit of extra mass in the softer areas of her body, coupled with scarred stretch marks around her sizable bosom and thighs. “… hm.” she snorted, not wanting to dignify the maid’s comment with a response. This was, unfortunately, the norm. The jabs, the pokes, the insults between sentences— even the serving girls have become brazen, snickering as Shera walked past. She didn’t exactly understand it— mayhaps it was because she could hardly speak to defend herself, mayhaps they think her daft and non-understanding of their less than tactful barbs. 
As normal as it was, it made it no less tiring. “Just… lace it up,” she quipped, a bit too harshly, as she held her thumb and forefinger to her throat at the scratch of pain. “… I have things to attend to…” 
“Yes, my lady.” the maids responded in tandem, squeezing poor Shera into a corset much too tight. 
After they left, Shera picked up a shoe and threw it at the door, startling Moongeist. “Damned ptarmigans… clucking hens… when do they cease?” she groaned, patting the wolf on the head as he, ever dutifully, retrieved her shoe. “I’m… we’re the wolves— they’re supposed to be afraid of me.” she continued, as it usually went. She would whisper and murmur to herself (to Moongeist) while she readied herself. Sitting in front of the open window, her fingers deftly weaved through her auburn locks, working absentmindedly into a braid. She pinned the braid upon her head, glanced at the mirror, then unpinned it. 
It became a back and forth task as she meticulously decided on a hairstyle— she wasn’t usually so vain, but apparently, Prince Jacaerys was arriving for a meeting. She’d spent some time with him the past few moons as they ‘courted’. He was polite, of course, and had grown into himself well since their childhood. But… Shera felt nothing for him, princely charm be damned. And she was increasingly sure he felt the same, more inclined to enjoy the company of Cregan rather than her. 
But that was the way of the world, wasn’t it? To be trapped in a loveless box for titles, for armies and alliances, for oaths— that was fate. And fate… was usually unchanged. Shera oft cursed the Gods, the Old and the New, for weaving her tapestry of life in such a bereft and depressing manner. If she were to look upon it, it’d be dreary and uncouth, not fit to hang upon a wall, destined to rot and mold in a cellar for eternity. 
But what did Shera know of love, anyhow. How could she— for who would love a banshee?
She settled on twin braids that settled upon her back, pinned up into two loops. Adjusting her veil in the mirror and assuring she wasn’t too visible, she made for the door, Moongeist pressed to her. 
The winding halls of Winterfell had become second nature, muscle memory— but her mind wandered, imploring herself to think… Did she remember such paths at the Red Keep? She hoped her memory, if nothing else, would serve her well one day. 
None of the denizens she passed by in the corridors spoke to her, only gave her stiff nods before avoiding her eye line. Was she such an abhorrent sight? Her heels clicked against the stone, fingertips skimming the walls as she stayed close to them, using the familiar winding gait to guide her to the Great Hall. Her stomach grumbled under her tight corset– she hadn’t even had time to break her fast before already being shoved to the dragon’s maw. She heard the whispers of the ‘dashing dragon prince’ arriving early, upon his dragon which was the color of a witch’s brew, green and sprightly. Shera couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she pushed the heavy oaken door to the hall. 
Cregan was there, beard trimmed so as to not be unsightly, and laden in dark aurochs fur. Their ancestral weapon, Ice, was strapped to his back like a second spine, rigid and unyielding. He was faced towards the fire in the hearth, while Jacaerys was to his side, the two already deep in conversation.
The sound of the door opening was as good of an indication of her arrival as she would get, and they both turned to her in tandem. Jacaerys, gallant and princely as ever, rushed to her side, but not before stopping a few paces before, as Moongeist was pressed to her thigh with a wary look in his eye.
“My lady,” Jacaerys exclaimed, flashing his dazzling smile, his brown mop of curls bouncing as he approached, albeit cautiously. “You look radiant as ever.” 
Shera’s brow rose from under her veil– her facial expressions were hardly seen, and she was able to give her unabashed reactions to things quite often. She was woe to master the art of masking, so she simply did not. He called her radiant– an alluring lie if she ever heard one, he couldn’t see her face, how could she possibly be radiant? She presumed his mother had been schooling him in the art of politics. That is what this is, isn’t it? It’s all just… politicking. 
“My prince,” Shera responded softly, giving Moongeist an ever subtle command to sit to the side, allowing Jace to take her arm. She didn’t much like being touched by other people, it made her skin crawl, but she too needed to… continue the charade. “Thank you– you are quite early, I hope I look… presentable.” 
“We were waiting for a bit, Shera,” Cregan commented offhandedly, cracking his knuckles slightly. He was a bit annoyed, she could tell. “But, ladies do take long to get ready, do they not, my prince?” 
“It wasn’t a long wait, no worries,” Jace responded coolly. “But yes, it takes a small army and frequent turning of an hourglass for my mother to finally be ready, I imagine it’s similar for most ladies.”
Ah, yes. As if it doesn’t take Cregan an hour to pick out his furs for the day, pompous ass. And did Jacaerys don himself in that heavy dragonscale plated armor? Doubtful. Shera suppressed the urge to give an indignant huff. “My… deepest apologies,” she murmured. “I do hope my dear brother wasn’t such a terrible conversationalist.”
Cregan snorted as Jace guided Shera to her seat, pushing it in for her. “My mother– she wishes to meet you, of course,” Jacaerys prattled, scooting into the chair next to her (and Cregan). “We are going to go to the Queen for approval for the official betrothal… and subsequent wedding.” 
Shera blinked slowly as she absorbed the information. She expected to have to meet Princess Rhaenyra at some point and for the Queen to become involved in the betrothal– but the wedding? Subsequent? The nail on her pointer finger dug into the nail bed of her thumb idly, picking, picking, picking as she mulled over her next words. “... will the wedding be soon, my prince?” she asked, sneaking a glance at Cregan, who had a glazed over look in his eye.
“... my mother wishes to secure the… union before her ascension, my lady.”
“The King is not yet dead– I don’t understand the rush.” Shera blurted out, her nail sinking deeper into her flesh. She felt like there was some sort of secret she was not a part of, some undisclosed plan that she wasn’t privy to Oh, yes, of course– she was just the pawn, wasn’t she? 
“That is well and true– my grandsire, the King, has been in poorly health for the past few years. It is… only a matter of time.” Jace stammered, trying to regain the upper hand in the conversation. 
“Rhaenyra’s ascension will happen sooner than later, Shera. It is only a wish that you and Jacaerys are well bonded by then, mayhaps even producing an heir.” Cregan interjected. 
She wanted to vomit, she wanted to scream, she wanted to lash out at everyone– she was a vessel, a puppet for a greater vision of Westeros that nobody cared if she was specifically a part of– ‘twas only her luck she was the sister of the Warden of the North, who held an amassing army and ferocity for those he was bidden for. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Warmth spread onto her fingertip and Moongeist shuffled at her feet, a low whine coming from the back of his throat. She felt such a rage come over her for a split second, her vision blurring as she felt the overwhelming need to sink her teeth into someone and make them feel her despair. 
“Okay.” she finally said, her voice sounding far away and small, as if it wasn’t even hers.
Jacaerys and Cregan conversated further while Shera stared off into some small point in the distance until her eyes watered from not blinking, blood pooling and staining against her nails. 
“Thank you. I must break my fast now,” Shera suddenly spoke up, not caring if the two of them were in the middle of a conversation. “We will leave within a fortnight.” 
The journey from the hall back to her room was a blur, she remembers curtsying to Jacaerys and bidding him goodbye and some other innocuous pleasantries. Sitting back at her desk, she tore off her veil in frustration, bracelets and earrings alike jingling. She put her head in her hands, feeling the all too familiar ache of tears building. 
She didn’t want to go— why did she have to be married? Why was it her destiny to be a pawn? To be a wife? Especially to someone who was there. Her throat clenched as she tried to hold back the tears— to no avail. They burned and stung, her already tender demeanor withering. 
Prying her hands away, she looked over her desk. It was strewn with miscellaneous books to which she struggled to read, along with some half-done charcoal sketches of prospective sewing projects. Shera wasn’t known for outbursts, as her quiet and ghostly prefecture was one that stayed in the background of things. But, she felt a roiling in her stomach, wrought over like forged castle steel, molten and aching and hot— it burned in her like a plague, working its way through her and exiting her body in the form of a wail, coupled with her arms sweeping off the contents of her desk to the floor. 
The momentary feeling of anguish subsided as soon as it came and her throat ached from her cry. Her eyes felt heavy as she tried to get up and subsequently failed, sinking to the ground like a discarded rag. Moongeist let out a whine, propping his head under Shera’s arm, having her rest some of her weight upon him.
“I’m pathetic, my love,” she whispered, feeling all the part of a fallen porcelain doll, placated on her bottom upon the floor, legs out in front of her as if she were a child on a playroom floor. “Nothing like the Winter Kings of yore. I’m sorry.” Shera’s thumb rubbed on the wolf’s ear as she wallowed momentarily in self-pity and self-loathing. 
Gathering some strength, she pushed the papers below her desk to the side. The sweeping motion befell something new— no, not new. ‘Twas old, upon inspection. It was a stack of letters, covered in dust now, but neatly tied together with wool twine. Unveiling one, she skimmed it over to the best of her ability.
Dearest Shera, 
It isn’t the same without you here. My head hurts all of the time, I keep bumping into things and I can scarcely write. In fact, I am having Helaena pen this to you right now. She says hello. 
Mother is in shambles, frayed at the ends like your old blue dinner dress. Her and grandsire are constantly whispering and she cries more often. I think she misses you. 
As does Helaena. As do I. Mayhaps even Aegon.
Does your head hurt as well? What do you do to help with the pain? Are you able to walk without bumping into things? 
I hope to hear from you soon. 
Best, 
Aemond Targaryen
That had been the first letter sent to her from King’s Landing— Cregan, to his own dismay, sat down and read it to her after she had spinned herself into a crying fit, sending the maesters into a tizzy as she threatened to reopen the stitches upon her throat. 
In her poppy-addled young mind, she hadn’t recognized that it was not Aemond’s writing or words, but most definitely Helaena’s, as the letter Shera sent back were those of Cregan, and not hers. 
Prince Aemond, 
It is an honor to hear from you. I’m recovering quite well, at the behest of my brother. Winterfell is very different from the South, but I am finally finding my footing here in the cold. 
I have been a wolf at heart this entire time, like my forefathers. 
My ability to walk has been improving, as the maesters here are excellently equipped for such a feat. 
It is my hope that we can both find a sense of normalcy in our lives once more. 
I wish you well. 
Regards,
Shera Stark
She’d hardly remembered when Cregan read it aloud, and she didn’t catch the cold, rigid wording, bereft of any warmth and camaraderie that she would have included. Truth be told, at the time of it being written, Shera couldn’t even hold her own spoon to sip at bone broth, much less walk. 
It was unclear to her still, to this day, why Cregan felt the need to lie about her condition— but it was apparently a well placed one, as the next letter to come was in another tone all together. It was about three moons afterward, and the handwriting was different. It was a bit shaky, but proper and dignified. 
Lady Stark, 
I am most gracious for your reply. It is a balm to the Queen to hear you are doing well. 
Let us both hope we are well on the road to our full recoveries. 
Stay warm.
Signed,
Prince Aemond Targaryen
Shera’s fingers traced over the letter, she could still recognize it as Aemond’s handwriting— but the tone seemed clipped and cold, colder than even Cregan’s letter was. 
There were a few more envelopes in the stack, but if she remembered correctly, there was nothing of substance. Her chest ached occasionally when she thought about it all— did Aemond think of her still? Or was she just a silly footnote in his life? She abhorred to admit to herself, much less anyone else, that she still did. Aemond Targaryen still had a place in her mind, an undeterred host in the recesses of her brain that she couldn’t rid herself of— if she even wanted to. She wondered what he looked like now. Was he finally as tall as Aegon, mayhaps more? Did he finally get his hands upon the book he had been wanting to read? She hoped he spent his days flying upon Vhagar’s back— a gift that he had paid the price for. 
She did as well. But her price wasn’t for Vhagar. It was for Aemond.
Her throat burned and constricted with the threat of tears once more as she pulled herself from the floor, Moongeist’s body pressed to her hip to guide her. Padding to the fireplace, which was nursing a few hot coals and sparse flame, she fed the letters into the fire one by one. The flames grew as they burned, the ink upon the pages fettering into nothing but ash and sickly memory. 
Were they strangers now? 
Does he remember her? 
… why does she still wish to see him? 
A wolf travels south at the behest of one dragon– but her mind upon another.
How sordid.
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eddies-house · 8 months
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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 |
Smoke Signals
Chapter One - Damn Mailbox
W/C: 5K
Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader
Relocating to the small town of Knife’s Edge in hopes of leaving your old life behind and starting brand new solves all of your problems, right? Wrong. It only creates more and one of them may live right next door. Side effects may include blaring music at 3AM, a scowling neighbor, and one too many shots of tequila on several occasions. (That The Bourbon will not be comping.)
A/N: I'm super excited to start this lil series, I've had this idea for a little while and I can never resist writing total opposites, it's just so fun to explore their dynamic when they want to reject each other so bad. Also a lot of this fic is inspired by Smoke Signals by Phoebe Bridgers (hence the name). As always I would love your feedback and any comments y’all have 🙂 OH and finally...the hugest largest biggest thank you to @uglypastels for beta reading and proof reading and all that good stuff, it was SO appreciated and really helped smooth things out ILY Z YOU'RE SO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO 💜
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Morning dew was like an old friend, someone you hadn’t paid attention to since childhood but felt so familiar with, so…safe.  Maybe it was a little too ridiculous to find security in a few dew drops but arriving in a new town with a population of less than five hundred would have that effect.  Twists and turns of windy roads unknown, trees larger than any house, and barely any infrastructure would all frazzle anyone not accustomed to its elements.  Normally you wouldn’t get car sick but these roads were a beast you’d never encountered before in your life, stomach threatening to send back your lunch of tuna on white bread and a bag of Doritos.  You refused to let bile even trace your tongue so with just enough self control, you swallowed any sickness down and pushed forward.  Now you were hunched over in the driver’s seat, the door open as you sucked in the fresh mountain air, perfect lengthy blades of grass grazing the bottom of the door.  Just before you, up the driveway made up of damp dirt, was home.  A home you were a stranger to at the moment but hoped to at least become acquaintances with.  Lower expectations created less disappointment.  If you dive in head first, you can only guarantee yourself vulnerability and pain, slow and steady was the only pace.
It’s not permanent; you are just figuring things out.
It’s what you kept preaching to yourself during the altitude change, where flatter land transformed into large mountains, the tallest peaks coated in white.  Where your ears popped and your brain felt pressure.  And then shortly after, you were submerged deep into the forests, far from home, where you knew there was no going back for quite some time.  It was a trial run although it didn’t feel that way when the moving truck packed with your life pulled up just minutes after you, delivering every piece of your life to some cabin in a secluded town that was nearly invisible on any map.  Temporary was starting to feel foreign when everything felt more set in stone.
You’d think a town called ‘Knife’s Edge’ would steer you away and maybe that was the intent when it was first named; to ward off newcomers who had no business being out in the woods.  But it only intrigued you.  From what you could find out in a few tourism magazines, Knife’s Edge was not somewhere you went for a getaway, not according to the locals who were a tight knit community where everyone knew everyone.  The economy relied on the small businesses down in The Village, on Main Street which according to your calculations was about five miles down the road and around the lake then up.  That was the extent of knowledge you’d had on your new home and yes, maybe you should have gathered more information before daring to even place a down payment on some random cabin in the woods but when a new start calls, you either answer the phone or stare at it until nothing happens.  The cabin was either yours if you paid the down payment or it would’ve been torn down and sold to the neighbor for more land which would’ve sent you on your way again, on a wild goose chase for a new place that you could fit into.  Not that you were too sure that you’d even fit in here.  But it seemed too obvious that this was where you were meant to be when the realtor advised that it was yours at a low down payment, a steal.  So you’d try to make it work.
The moving truck’s door startled you, slamming against the top as two men got to work, unloading all your belongings.  You figured this was your cue to exit your beat-up sedan to unlock the front door–wide-paneled and made of a beautiful dark oak.  The crunch of pebbles and dirt alerted the movers to your presence where you let them know you were going to open up so they could begin their tedious process, one of them grumbling something incoherent in response.  As you approached even closer, there were knicks and dents decorating the surface of the door but it seemed to add to the essence.  The wooden steps creaked underneath your weight and upon glancing around the porch, you found two well built rocking chairs that the previous owner must have left behind.  Other than that, there were pine needles and other debris from the surrounding nature caked in the corners, some scattered along the rest of the floor that would need to be swept up but it wasn’t an urgent task in comparison to actually setting up your bed and other necessities.
The lock was stubborn as you twisted the key but with one more persistent shove and turn, it clicked and you were able to push your way in, the hinges painfully squeaking as you made a mental note to pick up some WD40.  The air inside was stale, smelling of dust and maybe a half hearted spritz of air freshener.  Or maybe it was drenched in air freshener but it did little to nothing to cover up the smell of an old abandoned cabin; you weren’t sure.  It was a modest size, the kitchen off to the right, tucked into the corner with a small island in the center.  The living room was the first room you walked into from the front, the floorplan more open than you’d expected.  A little to the left was a narrow hallway with shutter doors lining both sides, you assumed one side had to be the laundry.  The door at the end had to be the bedroom and the door just before you embark into the hall had to be the bathroom but you had no time to explore right now.
Morning light trickled in through the kitchen window just above the stove, creating a beautiful hue against the wood paneling of the walls which you only noticed as you came back in, setting a box that was labeled ‘kitchen’ on the counter before rushing back out to retrieve more of your belongings.  It was too early to be doing such strenuous work but that's what you get for securing a slot with the moving company first thing in the morning.  In hindsight, you didn’t realize you were signing yourself up to meet said moving truck at 6:00 AM but in your defense, you’d never done this before. 
By 7:00 AM the truck was fully unloaded and on its way out and with it went the grumpy movers, more than likely unsatisfied with the fact that they’d have to trek back down the mountain.  You graciously offered them an extra twenty bucks which they gladly took but still appeared crabby nonetheless.  Now for the part you had been dreading the most: unpacking each box and putting everything in its respective place.  But first, you wanted to take it all in.  You were right; the laundry was on the left side of the hall behind the shutter door and on the other side was a closet.  The bedroom was settled right where you had guessed, at the end of the hall and rather than being empty, it now held your bed and mattress, sheets still yet to be found among the boxes labeled ‘bedroom’ in thick sharpie.  The wallpaper was something you could do without but maybe you’d find time to peel it off later and replace it with something more to your taste.  Currently the bedroom walls were lined with floral designs and pale blue stripes and if you could be honest, the design was a bit too busy for your liking.  But it was a roof over your head for a good price so complaining was out of the equation.
At the opposite end of the hall, just off the living room was the bathroom, sporting a less off putting wallpaper of faded yellow and white vertical stripes.  You first ensured your hygiene essentials were in place, toothbrush and toothpaste in a glass on the sink, towels on the rack, and soaps set up in the shower including shampoo, conditioner, and bar of Dove.  Having these accessible was a priority, cleanliness being one of the most important factors of your daily routine.  
Clothes were next and you’d forgotten a box in your trunk of your most worn items of clothing that you could pick through until you were fully settled.  Lazily carrying yourself back to the driveway where your maroon sedan sat on top of the copper-toned dirt, you do a double take when you realize your mailbox was taken out, wood splintering out of the ground as the poor box lays among the grass at the edge of the street.  From what you could remember, it was fully intact when you first drove up so you’re forced to conclude that the movers you’d tipped generously must have run it over and not given it a second thought.
The half of the mailbox that rested on the ground was a lot heavier than it looked and you would’ve thought it was made of cement just by the weight.  You felt pathetic dragging it up the driveway, creating a prominent line in the dirt along the way.  A brief break in getting the damn thing up to your porch has you about half way up the driveway, glancing around at your surroundings, only to finally take into account that you had a neighbor relatively close by, a cabin similar to yours only a few hundred yards away except it was a darker wood and a red pickup sat idle in front of it.
You braced yourself, catching your breath to continue hauling the mailbox back until you can figure out how to repair it when your eyes catch on figure, a man making his way down the steps of the cabin you’d just been analyzing.  And you’re quick to shy away until you realize he’d already been looking at you, a cocky grin on his face as he slowly, almost tauntingly stepped off his porch.  The way he walked closer reminded you of a lion declaring its territory, especially with the mane of curls he had, shaggy and brunette.  He wasn’t close enough to allow you to examine any further; however, you caught the click of his tongue before he spoke.
“Gonna get splinters draggin’ wood around like that.”
It’s all he says, a toothpick between his teeth before he turns on his heel, combat boot digging into the soil and it’s only then that you realize he wasn’t offering assistance, he was simply picking up the hose connected to his spigot to rinse off his windshield which now that he’d drawn attention to it, was filthy with mud and leaves.  He wore a red and black flannel which reminded you of a lumberjack but this man just didn’t fit that description based on your short interaction with him.  Or rather his interaction with you.  Your first indication was that he had no facial hair; he was clean-shaven.  And his tight jeans that had black rips at the knees didn’t seem very suitable for a job that required a larger range of motion.
Without any further acknowledgement of your existence, he hopped in his truck and sped off around the bend without a care in the world.  He was a resident douchebag and you’d never even spoken a word to him.  You quickly realized you were still stood in the middle of the driveway with half a mailbox, grunting in protest as you lugged it the rest of the way up to the porch, leaning it against the railing for future contemplation on how to repair it or if you’d have to fork up money for a brand new one.  That was a problem for future you and though future you would be pissed at past you for putting the responsibility on her, you had other things to sort out such as unpacking the rest of the kitchen so you’d be able to actually use it to feed yourself.  And then of course you’d have to make your way into town a ways down the road to actually get groceries because not a crumb of anything edible was packed.  Aside from a bag of Chex Mix that sat in the passenger seat of your car that you’d picked up at a gas station.
Going overboard was an understatement when it came to how much you’d actually gotten done.  By 12:00 PM you almost had each room unpacked and put away, moving boxes discarded next to the front door to be thrown out later.  Your plan was to finish off the kitchen and then go into town.  Instead you finished the kitchen and moved from room to room with more motivation than you’d ever experienced in your life.  Maybe it was the adrenaline of living alone, no one else could tell you what to do or where to put things.  It was all up to you and maybe you were a little drunk off that power.  Regardless, you were now worn out and that energy didn’t last very long.  At least you had a freshly made bed for when you came back, that’s what you would reward yourself with. 
If you go grocery shopping then you can come back and nap.
There were still various projects to be done, items to be organized, and objects without a home but for the most part, you could sleep peacefully with the work you’d done today.  The floors were yet to be cleaned and the fridge still needed a good scrub down but that could wait until tonight after you properly refueled.  
Humming to some song you’d heard on the radio earlier, you make your way out the door, patting your pockets for your keys and wallet, both of which you had before locking up and heading for the car.  You rolled your eyes passing the mutilated mailbox, settling into the driver’s seat with an ache in your back from the grueling labor in the early hours of the morning.  Shifting into drive and then rapidly back to park, you remember that these roads are foreign to you and that you could easily get lost and possibly become a bear’s lunch with your luck.  With a tug, the glove box opens and reveals the map you had set in it before embarking on our journey.  The map that was mailed to you of the town didn’t seem very complicated.  But if you happened to make a wrong turn it could land you amongst some rocky cliffs which you thought better to stay away from.  So you carefully examined the route to town, what the people here seemed to call The Village Square.  You took the liberty of drawing your house on the map, a cute little doodle in blue gel pen and then proceeding to draw the rest of the route in the same blue so you’d always have it.
This was it.  A fresh start where no one knew your name.  This would be good for you.  At least that's what you kept trying to convince yourself.  
Goodbye someone else’s daughter and hello new self-made woman.
You weren’t lost.  You were just…exploring.
Okay, you were a little lost but the signs for The Village Square kept passing you by and yet you found yourself also passing the same exact pine trees–and you knew they were the same pine trees because every time you saw them you thought ‘hey that kinda looks like a dog’.  At some point it started to feel as if you were spawning in and out of some dimension until you finally turned into a lot directly behind one of the signs, sick of this game of hide and seek.  There were no signs for parking which is why you’d passed by so many times in the first place, and now it seemed like you were behind a restaurant of some kind.  This couldn’t be where everyone parked, right?  Anxiety was pooling in your stomach and before you could sike yourself out, you ultimately decided to park and walk from here.  You would only be a few minutes and hopefully you’d be able to muster up the courage to ask someone where to park from now on, even if it did make you seem like an idiot.
Leaves crunched under your sneakers, an obvious indication of the Fall season trickling one leaf at a time.  As if you were a wary animal, you cautiously walked around the building, finding that it was someplace called The Bourbon; the letters written out in neon red lights that weren’t yet illuminated, the open sign in the window dull signifying they were closed.  You let your eyes roam up and down the street, small businesses lined up all the way through and a few patrons, clearly with an agenda making their way along the sidewalks.  It was a cute place, nestled in a little valley.  Instead of plain old cement the sidewalks were cobblestone and overall it seemed to be a pedestrian oriented community with several cross walks and barely any traffic.  
From here you had no idea how to get to Marvin’s Grocery, which seemed to be one of the only produce stores around according to your map.  The others were a little more out of the way, your house conveniently only around five miles away from The Village Square.  The shops you passed as you attempted to gain a sense of direction were exquisite.  Mom-and-pop shops that either smelled of delicious baked goods or hunger-inducing aromas that filled your nostrils with savory goodness.  The smell would haunt you in the best way for days to come.  A candle shop piqued your interest, as well as a flower shop that bloomed so beautifully among the muted tones of the brick buildings around it.
Everything was so unlike what you were used to, back home things were more commercialized, built for quantity not quality.  Here it seemed to be the polar opposite which you could appreciate.  Corporations were the root of all evil and you had yet to see one single corporation among the several businesses you passed so far.  People seemed friendly but also confused by your presence, offering you a meaningful wave accompanied by a puzzled expression written on every face you encountered.  You were a stranger and it was becoming more apparent the deeper you found yourself in the square.  Some people whispered and you happened to snag onto a few words, mostly grasping ‘is she new?’.  In return, you graced them with a polite smile.  It wasn’t like you to initiate small talk or approach new friendships.  If they happened, they happened per the other party’s account, not yours, never one to try and stand out in the crowd only making this infinitely more uncomfortable for you, which was no one’s fault other than your own insecurity.
Eventually you were able to come face to face with the giant ‘Marvin’s Grocery’ sign which looked to be handpainted in big white letters outlined in black with a few cartoony carrots, a tomato, and a head of lettuce.  Wandering around for an extra ten minutes and refusing to ask for help certainly wasn’t ideal but it did familiarize you with the shops you would soon be buying from on the regular.  And it did give you a soft introduction to the small population of Knife’s Edge which despite the name, the people seemed lovely enough.
The store wasn’t the slightest bit crowded and it wasn’t very large either.  A mother and her two kids skimmed one of the aisles while an older man pondered over the produce, apples specifically.  Grabbing a cart, you begin gathering the items you had sorted out on a list in your head.  First bananas, grapes, and blueberries, you didn’t want to bother with too much produce as it went bad fast and you were only one person so those would do for now.  Then you moved on to pantry essentials, canned goods that you could stock up on and always have on hand.  Green beans, corn, peas, baked beans, even soups such as tomato, cream of mushroom, and the standard chicken noodle.
You’d built up a cart full in no time, and by then,  no one else was around so you noted that this time would be perfect to get your shopping done in the future so as to avoid as many people as possible.  The cashier was a woman, probably in her early sixties who seemed not all that intimidating which you were grateful for.  She smiles warmly and you appreciate the sentiment, grinning back at her as you place each item at the register. 
“You’re new.  But I bet you’ve already had an earful of that, haven’t you?”  She lightly teases.
You laugh softly, avoiding eye contact while still trying to remain well mannered, taking notice in small glances that the woman’s name tag reads Donnie in bold red letters as well as the ‘help wanted’ sign perched up against the window.  She seems friendly, a little rough around the edges though in the sense that she had several tattoos that disappeared into the rolled up sleeve of her blue crewneck sweater as well as a fire in her icy blue eyes.  You could already guess that she was quite the character.
“Don’t let them scare you off.”  Donnie carefully bags the eggs with a few more light items, her confidence radiating, as if she doesn’t even need to try, as if it just comes to her so naturally.  Something you could only wish for every once in a blue moon.  “We don’t get many newbies.  They’ll get it outta their system.”  Her voice is a tad scratchy but smooth otherwise, bringing a strange sense of comfort.
“Thank you.”  A mouse may as well have been louder than you but you tried and that’s what counts, right?  New people were not your thing but they would have to become your thing, moving to a place where no one knew you existed and all.  Or maybe you could fly under the radar?  It couldn’t hurt to become the mysterious outsider that spoke to no one although it wasn’t a very realistic ambition.
This was fucked.  You thought to yourself in the solitude of your brain.  Of course the second thoughts were coming now and not before you bought the damn property that tied you to this place.  Initially, the idea was a temporary situation far from home but the deeper you delved into this town, the more permanent it started to feel.  Not just anyone up and moved here and that was clear by the reaction you pulled from several onlookers.  And yet you moved here, bought that damn cabin with the money left to you from your father’s estate, and ultimately, left everything you knew in a manic state.  A mid life crisis in your early twenties.  
“Miss, your change.”  The woman broke through your thoughts and you must have shifted into autopilot, not even remembering handing her any money in the first place.
“S-sorry.”  You mutter, collecting the filthy coins in your palm, shoving them into the front pocket of your jeans which you knew would be a pain to dig out later but again, that was an issue for future you.  She hated your guts.
“No prob–”
It was abrupt, your exit but despite your rude departure, she called out “I’m Donnie!” and you never felt like a shittier person.  She was welcoming you to her home and you didn’t even have the decency to introduce yourself.  That’s how it looked at least, on the inside you were panicking and needed to isolate yourself immediately.  
You must have looked like a maniac carrying your groceries in a near sprint toward the direction of your car.  Everyone else seemed to move at such a mellow pace, not a single vein close to popping out of stress whereas you looked like you’d crumble under the slightest inconvenience.  Which you would if you didn’t get to the car fast enough.  A small misstep causing you to trip?  No chance, you wouldn’t show your face again for weeks.  Your groceries spilling all over the pavement because of said possible misstep?  You would consider moving all over again.
Thankfully the majority of the walk back to the little lot behind one of many businesses was blacked out, your heart practically pumping in your ear the whole time.  What you couldn’t black out from was the man-the same man from this morning smoking a cigarette as he stared at your car.  Fear drenched you; you couldn’t gauge his expression with his back to you but you could guess he wasn’t going to be smiling with the way he was lingering, shuffling his boots back and forth in contemplation.
Announcing yourself felt like the most daunting task in the world, humiliation melting into your skin like an uncomfortable burn.  Maybe some higher power heard your pathetic struggle because the crunch of your sneaker on a perfectly placed leaf called his attention to you, his head snapping in your direction instantly.
The urge to just run was strong but you maintained whatever cool was left within you, fingers waving at him weakly.
His expression was blank, unreadable.  He didn’t say a word as you slowly inched your way closer to the vehicle, only eyeing your every movement like a predator protecting his territory, much like he did that same morning.  The closer view of his face showcased his stoic yet soft features, eyes almost puppy dog-like but something glazed over them, a facade of some kind.  Something that overtook the puppy dog nature they were capable of and replaced them with a cruel glare.  The shape of his nose was endearing at least, rounded at the tip and tinted pink from the cold.
“You just park anywhere you want where you’re from?”  He asks, gesturing vaguely with a tip of his cigarette toward the car.  
Your shaky breath has him furrowing his brows at you, seemingly offended.  It’s not in your nature to offend people but you can’t seem to stop doing it, especially today whether you mean to or not.  But you definitely don’t think you mean to.
“N-no, ‘m sorry.”
“Sorry?”  He mocks, scoffing before inhaling a puff of smoke once more.
“I-I uh, I’m leaving.  It won’t happen again.”  You rush out, all the while forcing yourself not to cry.  “I just–I couldn’t find parking–I was driving around and—there was no–I couldn’t–”
“Don’t let it happen again.”  He warns, stern but easing up on his intense demeanor.
“Promise.”  You whisper, a tear betraying you and rolling down your cheek to which you quickly gather your grocery bags in one hand to swat away at your cheek.  It’s too late, he already saw.
No empathy is detected in his stare, not that you feel you deserve any.  It was just an observation.  “Now, get out of my lot.”  It’s a demand, a non-negotiable demand that if you were brave enough to argue, would probably have him towing your shitty little sedan.  
So you nod, blinking back the water works as best you could while tossing your groceries into the passenger seat, him watching the whole time.  With your seatbelt suddenly feeling like the most complicated thing in the world, you expect to look up and meet pure rage but instead your ears perk up at a few knocks on the window.  Rolling it down as fast as possible with the manual handle, the man stands towering over you, cigarette abandoned sometime in between you getting in the car and struggling to remember how a seatbelt works.  Did he have more choice words for you for illegally parking on what he deemed ‘his lot’?  You really didn’t want to stick around to find out but you had no choice.
“Left on Main.  Then right on Cherry.”  His dark eyes hinted at hues of warm honey but they were briskly dismissed by his cold attitude.
“What?”
“Next time.  So you don’t turn into my damn lot again.”  
You still didn’t know what he meant by ‘his lot’ and you didn’t have the backbone to ask.  You did however fully get the message that you were to never park here again and were now aware of which streets to search for to avoid it at all costs.  You’d memorize every detail of it if it meant you could steer clear of the apathetic man before you.  With a nervous nod, you were off, not once looking back just as he did that morning except he had more grit in his actions, you just came off as a scared church mouse.  You never even caught his name and you didn’t mind not knowing it at this rate seeing as he was all bite and bark for no good reason.
This place never felt so far from home.  Nowhere was home.  Your heart was in a sense homeless, lost and longing for the connections that these people had with each other that you couldn’t seem to tap into even if your life depended on it.  In all fairness, it had only been a few hours and you couldn’t gauge your success based on that but it was tugging on your brain like a parasite, eating away at your final optimistic thoughts.  
I don’t belong here.
I don’t fit in.
The drive ‘home’ was flooded with tears and muffled sobs into your now sticky sleeve, coated in snot and if anyone were to pass you along the way you would look psychotic with how your face scrunched up at every exhale, doing your best to keep yourself quiet despite being the only one in the car.  You were always doing your best.  Always to please others.  And it never worked.
~end~
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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645
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slowstorms · 6 months
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the moon had made her journey through the sky with her lover hours before, leaving you to rely on the stars and dim street lamps filtering through your bedroom window to memorize satoru’s sleeping form next to you.
as rare as it is for gojo satoru to sleep much at all, it’s rarer for you to look at him the way you are right now. you’re over half a year into your relationship with him at the present, but he still manages to reduce you to a shy puddle without much effort.
so, your hope this sleepless night is to learn by heart every minuscule yet beautiful detail he’s comprised of.
from his soft, snowy hair to his flawless skin; his pretty eyelashes to the rosy apples of his cheeks. the slight rise and fall of his chest, plush lips slightly parted; the way he falls asleep holding you, but withdraws in his unconscious state.
(you gather that, deep down, satoru does this because he’s still not used to intimate touch – it’s never been something you fault him for, and you’re proud of his progress. still, you can’t help but feel sad that this is something permanently etched into his soul, though it’s nothing you and satoru can’t endure together).
you think of the endearing bedhead he wakes up with, flecks of gold from the early morning sun spattered across his white tufts. you think of how his eyes are the first to greet you when you wake. though the glances he gives you are always matching his outwardly lighthearted personality, there’s an exhaustion that’s hidden deep beneath it all.
seeing how soundly he rests, you send up a prayer hoping that, come morning, at least some of that exhaustion will lift.
the serene look on satoru’s face makes your heart twist in your chest, leaving you almost breathless. you wonder how someone as perfect as him could even exist.
he always looks as if he was created by god’s most talented angels, an aura of elegance and splendor surrounding him even in his not-so-elegant moments, which you believe to be few and far between. even when that look of craze takes over him during a fight; even when he returns home from a gruesome battle, covered in blood and guts; even when he breaks down, letting out feelings and emotions he has to bury in order to carry out his duty effectively – his head pressed to your chest as he cries and cries and cries. even then.
your thoughts wander off now into questions of how it was destined that satoru would end up with you. to touch him, to hold him, to care for him, to worry for him, to give him love, to give him patience, to give him understanding. to simply know him – it’s all nothing short of the most honorable blessing the universe could present you with.
while lost in your reverie, you fail to notice satoru stirring beside you. his sleepy daze and the near complete darkness of the bedroom doesn’t stop his six eyes from honing in on you, a habit of his to do the second he wakes up, to make sure you’re still next to him. to make sure you’re still safe.
and there you are, propped up on your elbow, facing him as your mind floats away, miles and miles up into the atmosphere.
a bleary whisper of your name pulls you back down to earth. “what are you doing up, hm?”
“did i wake you?” concern laces your voice, and you reach out to hold satoru’s cheek. your thumb grazes his skin gently, an unspoken apology.
“you didn’t, don’t worry,” he grabs your hand from where it rests, holding it in his own as he turns on his side to face you. “what’s got you thinking so hard this late at night, sweetheart?”
in a moment of bravery, you answer simply and without thought. “you,” your voice is strained slightly, like you may crumble from all the love you feel if you’re not careful as you speak. “just, everything about you.”
“is that so?” in the darkness, you make out the tired yet amused smile on satoru’s face. “like what?”
your moment of bravery proves to be just that – a very fleeting moment. heat rises in your cheeks as your mind races at a mile a minute trying to find the right words to give him an answer without turning into a mumbling mess.
what am i even supposed to say to you? you think. that i think you’re the most ethereal person i’ve ever seen, inside and out? that you’re my first thought the second i wake up, that you’re my last thought before i fall asleep? that when i can’t fall asleep, i’m helpless as i drown in thoughts of nothing but you?
a beat passes. then another. you hear a soft chuckle in front of you, the sound of it full of adoration. “that’s okay, baby,” satoru says, running his thumb along your knuckles. “you can tell me in the morning, how about that?”
you nod wordlessly as you both settle back into bed. he pulls you close again, and you melt into his arms. with your head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat is the only thing to finally lull you to sleep, to pull you into dreamland – where all you see is satoru, satoru, satoru.
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yandere-daydreams · 7 months
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Broooo if you’re ever going to expand more on the yandere Furina ask IM DOWN FOR IT. I just know she’s affectionate-starved. And possessive, because just how can she let someone who understand her leave? And no, if they interact with others then they’ll realize that they don’t actually want her to be in their life, and that she’s nothing compared to others! So they can’t talk won’t others for more than 5 minutes at a time! Not ever!
tw - isolation, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics.
she's just a floundering girlboss who wasn't ready for that level of girlresponsibility T-T and she's choosing to take comfort in you, one of her precious, short-lived subjects, so show some gratitude and don't try to talk to the small legion of clockwork guards she's assigned to ensure your isolation safety while she can't be there to demand your attention personally. you've got a permanent seat in the opera house next to her, and even if she's not quite domineering enough to demand that you spend every waking second in her lap, the idea of not being able to fall asleep in the same bed as you leaves her anxious to the point of tears. she's not so much insecure as she is terrified that any amount of distance between you and her will leave enough room for doubt to seep in, will give you the perspective you need to realize she's at your mercy, rather than the other way around. the hollow praise she forces from your lips only provides so much comfort, the effect dampened by the fact she scripted every line herself, and the only real assurance she has is your very presence at her side. no matter how hard she pushes, no matter how choking her hold on you may be, you're not so cruel as to deny your own goddess even that simple pleasure, are you?
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builtbybrokenbells · 11 months
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The Green-Eyed Monster
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After a particularly shitty day, refuge in alcohol seems like the best option to help Jake recover from his poor mood. Y/n, his long time girlfriend joins him and his bandmates at the bar with high hopes to salvage the night. Jealousy, which had never been in Jake’s vocabulary, makes its first groundbreaking presence and laughs at its own disastrous effects.
Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader
Word count: 17k (oops 🤭)
Warnings: SMUT 18+ (actual filth), unprotected sex (wrap it), borderline hate-fucking, rough sex, oral (m!receiving), oral (f!receiving), fingering, dom/sub, degradation, name-calling, slapping, spanking, overstimulation, forced orgasm, touch of bratty sub, biting, mutual masturbation, praise, pet-names, swearing, jealousy, possessiveness, drinking, toxic themes, angst (with a happy ending, pinky promise), arguments, probably definitely missed some, sorry!!
Here’s some filthiness with a touch of toxicity and angst because my last few posts were a bit too sweet 🥰 had to switch it up somehow. got a little carried away with this bad boy. had to cut some out cause i got too into it, so if it seems a little fast paced at the end, please keep that in mind! just couldn’t stop myself. it’s long, smutty, intense and does end well, i promise 😃 also very poorly proof-read cause i can’t sleep and decided to post this tonight instead of tomorrow, so please be nice. as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻
also, side note: all of the love I’ve received for Picasso has made my heart incredibly happy. I was very nervous posting it, and you guys really eased my worry. I appreciate you all dearly, your kindness makes me want to keep writing ♥️
~
Jake was in a terrible mood, and there was no doubt about that. Perhaps in the beginning, the idea of a lighthearted night at the bar was intriguing; something to take his mind off his mistakes in the studio earlier that morning, and hopefully to make up for his and Josh’s incessant bickering. It didn’t take long for that idea to turn sour in his mind, too. By the time you both realized it wasn’t going to brighten his spirits, you were already clad in a miniskirt and low cut body suit, hanging over the bar-top to tip the bartender. He thought it best to keep his mood to himself and just try to enjoy the sight of you all dressed up. It worked for a while; the tension remained minimal due to his hand permanently anchored to your hip, reminding him of all he had to be grateful for.
Once he’d gotten a few drinks into him, the familiar smile you loved so much started to grace his lips. The tension in his shoulders melted slightly, leaving him lax against the back of the dirty bar booth. His protective grip around your waist had turned into a loose hang over your shoulders, gently guiding you into his side with a loving undertone. Every so often, he even managed a laugh at his brothers antics, leaving you to believe the night may still be saved. But, only to your trained eye, you could still notice the cloud of irascible energy in his eyes.
You were quite certain that when he’d arrived back to your shared home earlier that day, the bedroom would never recover from the shock of the pornographic scene. You’d been able to pick up on his frustration through limited texts, only to have the speculation solidified when you finally caught sight of the expression on his face as he walked through the front door. When it never came, an uneasiness settled in your stomach. Jake’s favourite method of stress-relief was fucking you, which was always quite fine by you. Knowing that he still had all of the pent up anger left you conscious of the fact the night was teetering on a thin line; if it went well, no harm nor foul. If not, you were going to have to plan ahead for a rest and recovery period.
You were more than shocked when your long-term boyfriend pitched the idea of joining his brothers at the bar. In his ill-temper, he usually turned into a bit of a recluse. But, you thought it best to go along with the idea. If he thought it would cheer him up, you were happy to oblige, and never complained about seeing his band mates. They’d turned into the best of friends over the years, and they were your favourite company to keep aside from Jake. You opted to believe it couldn’t be the worst idea in the world. So that’s where you ended up: sitting in a bar booth with Jake wrapped around you and laughing alongside the other three boys.
They’d picked a small bar that you all frequented. It had low traffic and strong drinks to keep spirits high. There were dart boards, pool tables, complimentary table peanuts and some slot machines if you ever decided to try your luck. They kept a steady stream of dad rock flowing through the sound system when the karaoke wasn’t open to the public, and the bartenders had grown into acquaintances over the months of regular visits. If you were to go to any bar, this was the perfect one to choose. You all had yet to have a bad experience, aside from an occasional wandering hand from a too-drunk regular, or a drunken snide comment that was easily brushed off. The night was destined to be good, assuming Jake was kept in good spirits.
You picked up a shelled peanut, cracking the soft exterior with your thumb. You took one half of the shell and placed it on your napkin, and took the other one and tossed it across the booth. It hit Sam in the side of the head, as he was turned to speak to Danny who was beside him. He whipped his head towards you, the soft thud of the impact catching his attention. He immediately knew the culprit, as you’d been doing it intermittently the entire time you’d been there. You gave him a sweet smile, one filled with innocence, as if to say you would never do such a thing. His accusatory stare made it difficult to hold back laughter. He picked up the shell, which had fallen anticlimactically to the table, and tossed it back in your direction. It bounced off your chin and dropped down into your shirt, causing an eye roll from you. Sam pointed a finger at you, a silent warning not to do it again. You picked it from your cleavage and placed it with the rest of the waste atop the napkin. You vowed to leave him alone, just long enough for him to forget about it, then strike again.
Josh, who was caught in conversation with his twin brother, suddenly smacked his palms against the tabletop, catching you by surprise and making you jump. You turned your attention to him, eager to know what the disturbance was about. “Drinks!” He announced. “One for you, brother dearest?” He asked Jake. He gave him a nod. Josh’s eyes trailed to your glass, noticing the liquid threatening the end and muddled with melted ice. “And for you, pretty lady?” He asked, flashing a smile. Nobody else noticed, but Jake’s eye gave a small twitch, and his jaw clenched at the term of endearment.
“Another Mojito, please.” You grinned, not willing to pass up an offer of a free drink. He had no worries buying them for you. You and Josh had been playing the same game for half a decade; he’d do something nice for you, and you’d hit him back with something even better the next time. The timeless battle had begun after you both had realized arguments of payments and repayments were getting you nowhere. Jake had found it endearing, never a worry in his mind about anything non-platonic. He trusted you with his life, as he did with Josh. He was more than happy that you were so close with his brothers, and would be the first to speak up if he were uncomfortable. But, the war had gone to extremes by times, ranging from signed albums from big music names they’ve met, to rarity collectors editions of his absolute favourite films. If the tally was still running, the amount of money and thought you’d put into each other would be unfathomable.
You looked over to your boyfriend, picking up on the sullen attitude once more. He caught your eye and you gave him an inquisitive look, but he just shook his head. You thought it best not to push him, instead leaning over to place a kiss on his cheek. Before you pulled away, he turned and gave you a real kiss, holding you there for a moment. When he pulled back, he gave you a small smile. You felt your nerves fizzle away, finding comfort in the small gesture. He was really good with always making sure you knew he wasn’t mad at you while he was generally upset. It was a small, constant reassurance that helped guide you through his occasional short temper.
When Josh returned, he placed everyone’s respective drink in front of them. “Thanks, darlin’.” You smiled, stirring the drink with your straw. You took a sip, a hum of gratitude immediately sounding from you. Mindless chatter ensued for a few moments, nothing of importance being spoken into existence. Then, the music over the speakers started to get louder and the lights were dimmed. The trashy coloured lights surrounding the dance floor flicked on, letting everyone know the time had hit double digits. A familiar note sounded, causing you to perk up instantly. Josh caught your eye, raising his eyebrow and nodding to the open dance area.
Without a second thought, you jumped up, reaching your hand out to him. It was a simple action, one that you’d done thousands of times over the years of you and Jake dating, and it had never been an issue. Jake was not a dancer, and you were sure he never would be. You theorized he may even try to skip out on your first dance at your wedding. Josh, on the other hand, was always happy to pick up the slack in that department.
You were a lighthearted spirit, one who loved fun and didn’t care about wandering eyes or judgment, not caring if your dancing or singing was making a fool of you. It was something that drew Jake to you in the first place, and he loved watching the sparkle in your eye as you lived your life to the fullest. He was usually happy that someone was always willing to dance with you; it ensured you were safe and it gave you someone to share a memory with. He was usually quite encouraging of Josh’s antics, especially because it meant the spotlight was off of him and he wouldn’t have to join you on the dance floor. He would never stop you from enjoying yourself, but certain things, as you’d come to understand, were just not Jake-esque.
That night, the sight of you so close with his brother, singing the song back to each other and him twirling you around, set him on fire. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was Josh’s unwavering pet names for you, or the way he always looked at you like he was head over heels for you, or the constant comments of Josh telling him how lucky he was. Or, how it looked like Josh was adding to your light, when in turn, sometimes Jake felt like he dimmed it. Especially on nights like that one, in particular, when he was perpetually angry and wasn’t sure how to shake it off. Or, maybe Jake was still pissed off at Josh’s critique and jabs at the studio when Jake was struggling to play his solos. Whatever it was, for the first time in his life, he was jealous of you and Josh. If looks could kill, his twin brother would have been on the floor.
“You okay?” Sam asked, picking up on Jake’s glare in the direction of the dance floor. His jaw was hard-set, knuckles white from the grip on his glass. Jake turned to face his younger brother, breaking out of the trance he’d found himself stuck in.
“Yeah.” Was all he replied, taking a long drink from his cup.
“It’s just Josh and y/n, they’ve always been like that. You’ve got nothing to worry about, brother.” Sam tried to ease the tension.
“Have they, though?” Jake snipped back, almost immediately. “Like that?” Sam and Danny looked towards you both, studying your actions for a moment. Eventually, they shrugged and gave a nod.
“Yeah.” Sam said, not finding anything out of the ordinary. “Come on, man. Josh would never do that to you, and neither would she. Y/n’s been head over heels for you since the day you met her.” Jake sent a look of warning to his sibling, silently telling him to stop trying to make the situation better. Jake knocked back the last of his drink, letting the bottom of the glass fall back on the table with a thud. Without another word, he stood and went to the bar.
As he waited for the bartender to fix his next drink, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander back over to you. He expected you both to filter back to the booth when the song ended, but the next tune caught your attention, too. Josh had his hand on your hip, and yours was loosely hung around his neck. You were close to him, but not provocatively close. Still, to Jake, it was more than enough to get his blood boiling. You were laughing at him singing the lyrics to you, swaying your hips in time to the beat. Even in his jealousy, he couldn’t help but admire your beauty. The wrinkles forming in the corner of your eyes, the radiant grin, the way your hair cascaded down and framed your face. He thought you were breathtaking, and for once, he was envious he wasn’t up dancing with you, instead.
He hadn’t realized the song had ended until you presented yourself in front of him, breathless and buzzing with joy. He felt himself soften slightly when you wrapped your arm around his midsection and leaned into him. “Hi, handsome.” He could tell you were tipsy; he could hear it in your words. He let his hand fall from his drink, bringing it to your face and running his thumb over your cheek. The anger seemed to melt away as soon as you touched him, and he was fully engrossed in your presence. The thought of you dancing with Josh became a distant memory to him as soon as you stood on your tip-toes and placed a kiss on his lips. “What’s wrong?” You whispered, concern thick in your voice. He looked down at your face, not knowing exactly how to answer.
“I… I’m okay.” He assured you, leaning down for another kiss. He realized he may have been a bit irrational, especially now that you were with him, showing him ten times more affection than you were with his brother.
“You can talk to me, honey.” You pried just a little, hoping he might open up. He snaked his free hand around your waist, letting it rest dangerously low on your back.
“Think I just needed a kiss.” He brushed your concern off, but you could still sense the indifference in his voice.
“Whatever you say.” You hummed, turning towards the bar. He kept his hand on your lower back, but turned with you. He grabbed his drink and sipped at it while you caught the bartenders attention. He rushed over, giving you a smile.
“Mojito?” He asked. You nodded enthusiastically, happy he remembered your order. He grabbed all of the ingredients, making small talk with you while he made your drink. “You’ve got some good dance moves.” He complimented. You let out a small laugh.
“Thanks, the really good ones only come out when I’m drinking.” You joked.
“We’ll have to keep them coming your way, then.” He said, placing the new cup in front of you. “There you go, beautiful.” The fire that had died down in Jake reignited as if the bartender had poured a gallon of gasoline on it. You noticed his grip on you tightened, and when you looked up you saw the tension of the muscles in his jaw. Jake grabbed his wallet and pulled out a bill. He threw it on the counter and guided you away before you could respond. You looked up at him, noticing the vibration of anger in his hands.
“Jake, what is going on with you?” You only let him lead you away so far before planting your feet on the ground, forcing him to stop with you. He turned his head towards you, eyes filled with an emotion you had never really seen from him before.
“Me?” He snapped. You recoiled at the harshness of his voice. You could see him soften a bit, but he was still ablaze with whatever he was feeling. “You’re all over Josh up there, and then you flirt with the bartender in front of me and I’m what? Just supposed to sit there and watch?”
“What?” You were certain you couldn’t have given him a look more bewildered than the one you were giving him, then. “Did me dancing with Josh bother you?” He didn’t respond, but his eyes did dart away from you. “Jake, I just… we always dance together. I didn’t really think… I’m sorry.”
“Fuck, no, y/n. I’m sorry.” He sighed, rubbing his face with his hand and pushing his hair back. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I know it’s not like that. I’m just in a shitty mood, and I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
“We can go home, baby.” You offered, making sure he knew you were okay with that, too.
“No, you’re having a good time. I just need to loosen up a bit, I guess.” He let out a small chuckle, one that was barely noticeable.
“I’d have just as good of a time at home, alone, with you,” you leaned up to his head, lips inches away from his ear “in bed, naked.” His arm around you tightened, pulling you into him slightly.
“Careful,” he warned. You placed a kiss to the sensitive area just below his ear, lingering there for a moment.
“Just so you know, the bartender could only have me in his dreams.” You whispered before you pulled away. “I go home to you, remember?” His lips upturned into a smug smile.
“Get over there and keep drinking,” he ordered “before I have to take you to the bathroom.” The look in his eye led you to believe he wasn’t joking. You felt a blush creep up to your cheeks, taken off guard by the bluntness of the statement. He gave you a wink, subtle enough to go unnoticed, but obvious enough to send a rush of arousal straight to your core. “Don’t get too drunk, though. I’ve got a long night planned for you.” He promised, placing a delicate kiss to the top of your head, as if the words he said weren’t laced with filth.
You joined his brothers back at the booth, both of you sliding in as if nothing happened. Jake resumed his earlier position, slinging an arm around your shoulder. His whole aura was much lighter than it was a few moments before. As the boys divulged into conversation, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to your interaction with Jake. He wasn’t a jealous person; in fact, you couldn’t recall a time off the top of your head where he had been. You’d been dating him for just over five years, knowing him better than anyone else. He could be slightly possessive at times, and even that was rare, but he was never outright jealous. Above all else, he was protective of you. He was always quite comfortable with the fact that you were his, and nobody stood a chance. At the same time, you’d never given him a reason to believe otherwise, because there was none. You were hopelessly in love with Jake, and always had been. To you, no other boy existed in that sense. He was everything you needed, and beyond that. Still, the idea of him radiating with jealousy sparked something inside of you. It was new, intense, and admittedly, very hot.
You shook the thought away, realizing it was not the best time to be thinking about how attractive you thought he was. You were broken from your thoughts when the volume at the table heightened. You looked up to see Sam and Danny locked in an arm-wrestling position. Josh had his hand on his brothers shoulder, encouraging him, while Jake was leaned in to the table slightly, cheering Danny on. You couldn’t help the laughs that you let out, finding the whole scene boyish and amusing. After a few moments of struggle, Danny took the win and pinned Sam’s arm down to the table. Jake let out a triumphant noise, removing his arm from your shoulder to reach across the table and giving Danny a congratulatory high-five.
“Pay up.” he said to Josh, now holding out his hand to his twin. Josh rolled his eyes, but fished his wallet out of his pocket and grabbed a twenty, sliding it across the table. Jake grabbed it, a smug smirk on his lips, and put it in his own. The betting war between the brothers was uncontrollable. They loved to put money on the stupidest of things, and when there was nothing pre-existing to bet on, they made something up. It was never about the dollar amount, more so just bragging rights.
Jake rested against the booth again, the satisfaction of winning giving him some momentary cockiness. Instead of returning his arm around you, he let his hand rest on your thigh under the table. You did your best to keep your expression the same, trying not to focus on the warmth of his palm on your exposed skin. His fingers drifted under your skirt, slowly making their way between your legs. He let his hand rest stop there for a moment, not wanting to push you too much. “So, y/n,” Josh started, catching you off guard. You looked up to meet his eyes. “I think that pool table is calling our name.”
“Rematch from last time?” You joked, raising an eyebrow.
“Redemption is a better word.” He corrected.
“And if I beat you again?”
“You won’t.” He dismissed you, not even considering the possibility. “But, if on some off chance you do, dinner is on me the next time we go out.”
“You said that last time.” You teased. “No originality.” You let out a small tsk. He feigned a look of offence. The conversation was allowing you to take your mind off Jake’s wandering hand.
“Fine, what’s your idea?” He conceded.
“I don’t have a better one, I just like making fun of you.” You shrugged. “Anyone else care to join?” You asked the rest of the table. There was a mutter of agreements and nods. Josh slid out of his seat first, followed by Sam and Danny. Jake was hesitant to move his hand from your leg, holding you there for a moment. You turned your head to look at him, giving him an inquisitive look.
“Better not keep him waiting.” Jake murmured, looking over your face. Your breath caught in your throat as he moved his hand up a little further, fingers inches away from your underwear. “What’s wrong?” He asked, a small smirk playing on his lips.
“Behave yourself, Jacob.” You said, your lips upturned into a smile, too.
“Mhm, careful.” He gave the same warning as earlier. You knew very well that in every sense, he was always going to be in charge when it came to anything bedroom related. Still, it always proved fun to push his buttons. He pulled his hand away, ushering you out of the booth. As you stood, he delivered a quick smack to your ass. You let out a gasp, quickly looking around to see if anyone noticed. When you found you were in the clear, you gave him a glare over your shoulder. “Love you.” He said, smiling in response to your reaction.
Instead of answering, you began to walk away. He made a mental note, ensuring he would get you to say it, later. He followed you as you made your way to the pool table, where you both noticed that your company had picked up some extras. There were three new faces, two girls and a boy. “Ah, thanks for finally deciding to join us!” Sam bellowed as you walked up beside him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, in a very annoying younger brother type of way. You rolled your eyes, attempting to wiggle your way out of his grip.
“Who’s your new friends, Sammy? Had to find some people who don’t know enough about you to make fun of you, yet?” He let you go with a dramatic, but light, push.
“Get out of my face,” he said, a smirk on his lips.
“You love me.” You nudged him with your elbow.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Your eyes turned towards the new faces, taking in the sight. Both girls looked quite similar, and the guy was nothing like the boys you’d come to the bar with. He was tall, had short, blonde hair and bright eyes. “I don’t know their names. Josh started talking to them.” Sam shrugged.
“Figures,” you laughed, knowing all too well how much of a social butterfly he could be. Jake was standing behind you and Sam, opting to stay out of the conversation. Eventually, when Josh caught sight of you, he waved you over. You joined him, allowing him to introduce you to his new friends. The girls were friendly enough, but didn’t particularly stick out as memorable in your mind. The guy was nice, too, but his wandering eyes were very noticeable and very uncomfortable. “Nice to meet you all.” You addressed them all together.
“So, is this your girlfriend?” The guy asked Josh, which produced a booming laugh from both of you. Jake, on the other hand, did not find the question very funny. And he found Josh’s answer even less tasteful.
“A man can dream,” Josh sighed, humour clearly laced in his tone. You smacked his arm, chuckling at the thought. “Unfortunately, just my best friend, my confidante, my partner in crime,” he paused, looking over to you. “Soulmate?”
“Too far,” you warned, but couldn’t help the smile that broke on your face. You knew he was drunk, just by the formulation of his words. The statement itself was nothing out of the ordinary; Josh loved teasing Jake, although he never really managed to bother him with it. That night, though, was an entirely different story. Every word that Josh spoke seemed to piss him off even more.
“So you’re on the market then?” The unfamiliar boy asked. Your eyes widened, shocked at the bluntness of his question. That seemed to be Jake’s breaking point, as he pushed through Danny and Sam to join the conversation. His arm snaked around your waist in an instant, the familiar feeling immediately comforting you.
“Absolutely not.” His tone was firm, but not threatening. When you looked up to see his face, you were certain that if his expression were rewritten in a comic, that would be the scene where smoke was coming from his ears.
“Ah, sister-in-law was probably a good descriptor, too.” Josh said, giggling at his brother. Jake shot him a glare in response.
“Sorry, man. Promise I didn’t mean any harm.” The boy raised his hands in defence, showing Jake he wasn’t trying to start anything. Jake calmed slightly, nodding in understanding.
“I think a game of pool will certainly lighten the mood!” Josh announced, drawing the attention away from the tense moment. He grabbed a cue from the rack on the wall, breaking up the group. The boy who you couldn’t really remember the name of followed Josh, leaving you and Jake to yourselves for a moment. The two girls were chattering amongst themselves, completely uninvolved in the situation.
“Soulmates, eh?” Jake looked down at you, a look of annoyance on his face.
“Jake,” you warned, giving him a pointed look. “If this is because I’m upsetting you in some way, let’s go and talk about it. If it’s just because you’re in a bad mood, quit it.” You told him. You weren’t mad at him, but you weren’t willing to be chastised all night when the root of the issue didn’t even begin with you. He’d never once had an issue with the nature of your’s and Josh’s relationship. The surfacing of his anger on a night where he’d already been upset seemed to be an indication that he wasn’t solely upset at Josh’s words, but more in general. He wasn’t the best at processing his emotions, and tended to direct them at smaller situations to avoid dealing with the main issue.
A note of apology flashed in his eyes at your words. Before he could answer, you broke away from him to grab a cue for yourself. He watched you, feeling a fizzle of regret form in his chest. You weren’t acting any different than any other night, but for some reason he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling from himself. He was too deep into his miserable mood to break out of it, now. He was pulled from his thoughts when Sam called him over to the pool table next to the one you and Josh were playing on.
Josh had started the game, fully keeping your attention on the table rather than Jake’s sour mood. Sam and Jake had started their own game, eventually joined by Danny and one of the girls from Josh’s new posse of friends. The guy had moved on to try his luck with another group of people, clearly only at the bar in attempt to get laid. The second girl was hovering around the other part of your group, watching the game with intensity. You tried not to notice, but every so often her eyes would drift and land on Jake. You shook off the distraction, zoning back in on your own game. You lined up your cue with the cue ball, and shot at a solid ball. It rolled in flawlessly, and you moved on to the next.
“Cheater,” Josh grumbled as he watched your next ball sink, too.
“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You shrugged.
“Could never hate you, mama. Just strongly dislike you.” He gave you a cheeky smile. You gave him a scoff of disbelief, knowing for certain there was no world to exist where Josh would dislike you, or anyone, for that matter.
When your turn finished, you stepped back to observe his. As he lined up his shot, your eyes drifted over to the table next to you, finding Jake and Sam laughing at a joke one of the girls had spewed out. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look away from Jake’s smiling face, trying not to focus on it. But, in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but think about how that was the happiest he looked all night. As much as you wanted to be annoyed at him for questioning your loyalty, you couldn’t find it within yourself. Yet, anyway. The sight produced more sadness than anything else. You swallowed your insecurity, chalking it up to you overthinking the situation.
The night carried on, the empty glasses piling up by the pool tables, and your inhibitions greatly diminished. You and Jake had silently made the agreement to steer clear of each other in avoidance of a blowout at the bar. You stuck with Josh, bouncing from pool, to darts, and even the dance floor a few times. Jake found himself constantly engrossed in the nameless bimbo that had taken an interest in him. Somewhere between drink seven and double digits, you’d both engaged in undiscussed competition to see who could piss the other off, more. When the clock neared twelve, the karaoke section of the bar opened up. After picking up another beverage at the bar, Josh was pulling you in the direction of the stage.
He put the songs in, shutting down your inquiries and telling you it was a surprise. When you both got on stage and grabbed a mic, Jake was seething before the first note of the song played. “Seriously, Josh?” You laughed as the name of the song flashed across the screen.
“Come on! It was a good choice.” He grinned.
“You’re trying to start shit.” Still, even as you scolded him, his drunken delight was incredibly entertaining.
“He’s being an asshole,” he said, making sure his mouth was away from the mic. “I’m sure he’s trying to do the same thing with her.” His eyes floated in the direction of his twin, who now had his arm hung loosely over the other girls shoulders, similar to his hold on you earlier in the night. Red flashed in your eyes, but instead of lingering, you turned to Josh, no longer worried about the choice of music.
“Let’s give a performance of a lifetime.” Was all you replied. He smiled, happy you were on the same page. You both divulged into the song, very dramatically singing the words to ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ by Elton John.
By the end of the song, you had almost completely forgotten about Jake by the pool table. You weren’t sure if it was because of the liquor in your system, or the sheer amount of fun you were having. You were still a bit breathless by the time Josh’s second choice lit up the screen. This one, although not a duet, was probably one of the most venomous choices he could have made. Mixed between Jake’s love for Jimi Hendrix, how often Jake played it and dedicated the song to you, and the connotation of the lyrics, you were surprised Jake didn’t get up on stage and strangle Josh in retaliation. Your eyes widened, looking over at him in concern.
“He’s been mad at me all day, and he’s taking it out on you. Let him be upset, he’s being a dick.” Josh said, his words assuring you that he would take the heat for the song choice. It felt nice to know that Josh also thought Jake was acting out of character; jealousy had never been in his vocabulary, and the toxic game you found yourselves caught in was something you had never done before. You and Jake had barely had more than an argument in your years of dating. The longer it dragged on, the more painful it became. He had a short temper, but you couldn’t recall a time it had ever been pointed at you, let alone caused a spiteful interaction. As much as it was hurting your feelings, it was fuelling an anger within you that you weren’t sure even existed before that night. The liquor and the sour mood didn’t mix, and you should have known that from the beginning, but had no idea it would divulge into anything close to whatever the current situation was.
By that point, all of the boys had caught on to the tense nature. Sam and Danny were baffled that Jake was even willing to put his focus on another girl, let alone his hands. He was nothing if not loyal to you. Usually, his eyes would never even drift to another girl. Everybody was more than aware that he loved you as much as his music, if not more. They were also very aware that you and Josh were acting out of retaliation, fuelling the fire and hoping to get the last dig in and end it for good. The girl remained quite oblivious to the whole affair, just happy to be receiving some of the attention. Sam let out a long exhale as Josh began to sing you the lyrics to ‘Foxey Lady’, him and Danny certain that this was the brutal climax to the entire night. Jake was vibrating with anger, and there was no consolidation when you’d given up your hesitancy and sang it back to him. Sam and Danny shared a look, silently agreeing that they were going to have to put a stop to the situation one way or another before it got too out of hand.
Jake bargained with his temper, deciding on how to respond. Anger would be too easy, and too obvious. So instead, his course of action was the most disastrous one he could think of. Rationality was completely out the window by that point. He grabbed the girls hand, who he still hadn’t learned the name of (and he didn’t really care, quite frankly), and pulled her towards the dance floor. You didn’t notice at first, too caught up in the singing and laughter you were sharing with Josh. Everyone else did, however, and were awaiting the storm that was brewing. At the height of the song, you finally noticed that Josh had become a bit distracted from the performance. You looked to him, realizing he was staring off at the dance floor, and followed his gaze.
You cut off your singing mid-sentence, your heart plummeting to your stomach. Jake was dancing, in midst of twirling around the girl he’d been using as leverage all night. When he pulled her back in, his hand rested on her hip and he gave her a smile. It was a sickening sight for you. You slipped the mic back onto the stand, cautiously stepping off the stage, and headed straight for the door. You threw back the last of the liquid in your cup and set it on an empty table as you passed by. As the door slammed behind you, tears prickled your eyes and a lump began to form in your throat. At the sound of the door, Jake’s head turned to the stage, finally noticing your disappearance. Panic struck him, realizing he’d definitely taken it too far. He caught Josh’s eye, but wasn’t met with any type of reassurance. He’d won the battle, but at too much of a price.
He cut the dance short, not caring about any formalities, and followed hot on your trail. When he got outside, you were already on your way down the street, far clear of the parking lot. He muttered a curse under his breath, and took off in a jog after you. “Y/n!” He called, but you didn’t turn back. You kept your pace steady, hoping that you could make it home before he caught up. Your shared home wasn’t too far away from the bar, only a few minutes by foot. You thought if you could make it there before him, you could regain yourself a bit more. When he realized you weren’t going to slow down, he ran a little faster.
He managed to catch up, grabbing a hold of your hand to stop you from going any further. You tried to shake out of his grip, not willing to make any conversation with him, but he refused to let go. “What?” You finally snapped, turning to look at him. “What do you want, Jake?” He recoiled slightly, never once hearing you speak to him in that tone.
“I…” he trailed off, eyes wide and unsure of what to do.
“You what?” You asked again, tears still falling from your eyes. “Came to tell me all about your new dance partner? I can go get my shit out of the house and you can move her right in, in my place, if she’s so fantastic!”
“I don’t even know her fucking name, y/n.” Jake rolled his eyes, only fuelling your fire even more.
“That’s the point!” You yelled back, finally freeing your hand from his. “You don’t even fucking know her, and you get up and dance with her. It’s been five years and I can’t even get you to do that with me! One hand, Jacob. I can count on one hand how many times you’ve danced with me. I got tired of hearing no, so I stopped asking!”
“Jesus Christ, all of this over a fucking dance? You were practically fucking Josh all night, and I haven’t said a word about it.”
“That’s a lie, but we’ll unpack that later.” You scoffed. “It’s not about a dance, Jake. It’s about effort.”
“Effort? Like I dont give you my entire heart every day?” You opened your mouth to respond, but closed it and proceeded to turn around and walk away. You weren’t willing to have a screaming match in the middle of the street, especially while he was still mad. If there was one thing you knew about Jake, it was that while he was upset, he had very little rationality. “So you’re just going to walk away?” He snapped. You turned on your heels, giving him the dirtiest look you could muster.
“Get in the fucking house. We can talk there.” You pointed in the direction you were walking in. His eyes held the same emotion as yours, but he obliged, anyway. When you saw him start walking towards you, you turned and walked, too. The few minutes it took to get to the house were uncomfortably silent. When you reached the front porch, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. You flicked off the porch light when Jake made his way into the house, too.
You stormed to the kitchen, discarding your purse on the table and throwing your keys beside it. You did your absolute best to make it up the stairs in a stormy fashion while still wearing your heels. You didn’t have much time to gather a thought, because he was hot on your trail. “So what is it, then? If it’s not ‘just about the dancing’?” He mocked you with air quotes, hiking your temper up even more.
“The small things, Jake. Yeah, we wake up to each other every morning, and I get a kiss goodbye, but the small stuff matters. Like dancing. I love to dance, and the only time I’ve ever gotten to dance with you, I had to practically beg you. You’re with some complete stranger, and that’s what you decide to do to get under my skin? That was really low.”
“So you’re mad that I used it against you while Josh was up there singing my fucking song for you?” He took a step closer, face inches from yours. “You got plenty of dancing in with him tonight, I figured you got it all out of your system.”
“You’re missing the. whole. point.” You annunciated your words carefully. “I was up dancing with Josh because you never would! It hurt me because you won’t do that one simple thing with me, ever, even when you know how happy it makes me! And she got to have it with a snap of her god damn fingers, even if it wasn’t for the right reason. I got to watch you do something with another girl when I have to beg you to give it to me.” You sat on the bed, pulling your foot up onto your knee and messing with the strap on your heel.
“Didn’t seem like you missed me too much, tonight.” You closed your eyes, expelling a long breath to calm yourself down.
“I was only dancing with him because I couldn’t dance with you, Jake. I was only hanging out with him because all you wanted to do was argue with me.” You kept your voice steady, trying not to feed into him. “Do you think I prefer dancing with your brother? Getting asked if I’m his girlfriend, when we’ve been dating for half a decade?” You inquired, still messing with the strap of your heel. He let out a sigh, grabbing your ankle and pulling your foot up to rest on his thigh. He carefully undid the strap of your shoe and slipped it off your foot. He held his hand out, motioning for you to lift your other leg. You gave him a look of confusion in response.
“What? I’m mad at you, it doesn’t mean I don’t fucking love you.” He grumbled. “Give me your other foot!” He ordered, anger still present in his tone. You did as he said, allowing him to free you of your other shoe. When it was off and both of them were discarded in the closet, he resumed the conversation. “Certainly looked like you were enjoying yourself.” He finally replied. “With your… hmmm, what was it?” He asked, placing his fingers on his chin and pretending to ponder the answer. “Oh, yeah! Your confidant, your partner in crime, your soulmate!” He bellowed. “Who can only dream of being your boyfriend!” He let out a mocking sigh, laced with fake dreaminess.
“I don’t understand why tonight, after years of being together, Josh and I’s friendship is bothering you. You think if there was really a problem, you would have said something, oh, I don’t know, years ago?” You stood again, feeling more secure without your shoes on.
“Because you were using him to get under my skin!”
“God, you’re insufferable sometimes!” You shouted, pushing past him to go back downstairs. He was on his game, not letting the sudden movement deter him. He followed you as you walked. “You were doing the exact same thing! And in case you forgot, you were being a dick before we even got to the bar! I gave you ample opportunity to speak up, or go home, or just tell me what was bothering you, but you insisted you were fine and that you wanted to stay. Then she comes around, and all of your issues are suddenly resolved! You’re laughing and joking like you would any other day. All it took was for me to step out of your way for ten minutes.” You grumbled the last part, making your way into the kitchen. You opened the fridge, grabbing a water bottle and cracking the lid. You took a long drink before recapping it and setting it on the counter, just in case he pissed you off enough for you to throw it at him.
“If anything, it just gave you an excuse to be alone with him.” Jake hissed. “It’s not just about the dancing, or the karaoke, or the even the ‘funny’ passes. He looks at you like he’s waiting for me to fuck up, just so he can swoop in and finally have you all to himself. He practically undresses you with his eyes every time you walk in a room. Or maybe because it always seems like he makes you happier than I can. He dances with you, and sings with you, and buys you all of those gifts that he always just seems to know that you want.” You spun on your heels, facing him with a little bit softer of an expression than any of the previous.
“That’s what you’re worried about? You think he makes me happier than you do?” His eyes darted away from you for a moment, likely to avoid letting you know how he was really feeling. “Jesus Christ, Jake, are you blind?” He didn’t answer, causing a resurgence of annoyance in you.
“If I’m the only thing standing in the way of you being with him, go ahead. I’m not stopping you.” He snapped. “He shits on me all day at the studio, then I get to come home and watch him put his hands all over you, my girlfriend, and I’m the bad guy for being upset?” Your vision turned red, infuriated at the thought of him even thinking that. You took a step towards him, your nose practically touching his.
“If you’re so mad at him, why the fuck are you taking it out on me?” You questioned. “I told you, I would have been more than happy at home with you. You know why? Because I fucking love you, you idiot. I could say it a million times, and you wouldn’t care. Because obviously it’s all about Josh, and how I’ve been meticulously planning on using you to get to him for half a decade. Just waiting for the right time to strike, yeah?” You spat. “It doesn’t matter what I say, because no matter what, you’re always right, hmm?” You pushed your finger into his chest, really extenuating your point. “Nobody else in the entire world is allowed to have an opinion, because Jake knows it all! He’s got it all figured out!” He grabbed your wrist, forcing it down to your side and stopping you from prodding at his chest again. You were nose to nose, chests heaving with anger. You weren’t sure if he was going to tell you to get out, or if you were going to leave before he got the chance. You didn’t have a clue as to what was to come next, but you certainly weren’t expecting him to spin you around and push you against the island countertop. He let go of your wrist, grabbing a fistful of your hair instead. He pulled your head back gently, just so your ear was touching his lips.
“Did you like him singing that song for you?” He asked, his voice low and his breath tickling your skin. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal at your new found position. When you didn’t answer, his grip on your hair tightened. “Answer me.”
“Yeah.” You hissed, just for arguments sake. In reality, it was nothing compared to when Jake played it for you. Josh singing it had nothing on when Jake sang it, or hummed the lyrics to you. Josh had nothing on Jake, period, but you were too stubborn to stroke his ego.
“Yeah?” Jake questioned, his knuckles white against the hold on your hair. His hips were pressed into your ass, locking you against the counter indefinitely. “You’d rather go home with him?” He seethed. “Have him take your high heels off, wake up to him every morning?” Your heart was drumming against your chest. You weren’t willing to give in to him, but you also weren’t sure where he was going with his point. When you didn’t answer, he used his free hand to yank your skirt over your ass. His hand graced your exposed skin, the touch almost too gentle to fit with the current situation. After a moment of silence, he lifted his hand and brought it down forcefully, causing you to gasp at the contact. The ring that he adorned on his finger left a sharp sting long after the slap was delivered. “Fucking answer me.”
“N-no,” you stuttered, all of your confidence fleeing you. In place of it, there was a growing arousal between your legs and your tendency to submit to him was showing.
“That changed awfully fast.” He taunted. His hand still rested on your ass, but he’d moved it closer to your hip and held you in a firm grip, instead. You could feel his erection growing against you; the position alone was enough to get him going. “Color.” He barked.
“Green.” You said without hesitation. His fingers hooked into the side of your panties, his fist still anchored in your hair. He took a small step away from you, freeing your underwear from your body and letting them fall to your ankles.
“Since you don’t know how to make up your mind, I’ll do it for you.” He explained. You bit the inside of your lip, not daring to make a peep. “By the time I’m done with you, he won’t even be a thought in that pretty little head of yours.” He dipped his hand between your thighs, spreading them apart slightly. “The only word you’ll be able to say is my fucking name. M’gonna remind you why you come home to me.” His fingers ran through your cunt, getting a feel for the wetness that had already begun to pool. “That sound okay, angel?”
“Yes, sir.” You whispered, already knowing the rules to the game.
“Almost don’t want to let you cum. Haven’t been a very good girl for me, have you?” He hummed, spreading your arousal up to your clit. He swirled his finger around it for a moment, producing a whine from your throat. “So needy already. Pathetic.” He noted, applying a bit more pressure to his area of focus. You closed your eyes, losing yourself to the pleasure after hours of torture.
“M’sorry, sir.” You pleaded, knowing it was in your best interest to grovel for a while. “Promise I’ll be good for you from now on.”
“Come on, you expect me to forgive you that easily?” He chuckled. You didn’t respond, only let out a shaky breath when he removed his finger from your clit. “Gonna have to make it up to me, angel. You know that.” You heard him undo his belt buckle, pulling it from the loops on his pants. He set it on the counter cautiously, making you believe its use for the night was not over. He unzipped his zipper and freed himself from his pants in a swift motion. He tugged at your hair, silently telling you he wanted you to turn and face him. You did so, almost breathless at the sight of his face. His hand was still in your hair, pulling your head upwards slightly, making sure you couldn’t look away from him.
You wanted to break character so bad, to kiss him and tell him you were sorry, and that you loved him. You wanted to tell him everything you were too angry to communicate before, but you stayed silent. Instead, you gave an innocent bat of your eyelashes. He leaned down, likely feeling the same way, and pressed his lips to yours. It was sweet at first, but quickly turned needy and sloppy. You reached out for him, pulling him closer by the fabric of his shirt. You thought you would get in trouble for it, but in that moment, he allowed it. The small act satiated his need to feel wanted. You messed with the buttons on his shirt, trying to free him from it. After a few moments of struggle, you managed to slip it off his shoulders. He let go of you only for long enough to rid himself of it, and returned to his previous hold. He broke from the kiss, realizing he’d been far too accommodating for his liking. He raised his eyebrow, as if he expected you to know what he wanted. After a moment, you caught on, luckily just fast enough.
You sunk down to your knees, now eye level with his exposed cock. He still had his hand in your hair, holding it out of the way for you. You reached up, wrapping your hand around him before lowering your mouth to the tip and slowly bringing him into your mouth. You started slow, working yourself up to speed. He didn’t push you; as dominant as he was during sex, he was always hyper-aware of your comfortability. After a few moments, you started to hear a few curses fall from his lips. It gave you the encouragement to take him further, relaxing your jaw and your throat as you pushed your head down on him.
“Fuck, baby.” He sighed, unable to hold back his words anymore. You hummed against him, continuing your pace. Soon after, he tightened his fist in your hair, holding your head in place. He thrusted forward into your mouth, keeping a steady rhythm with his hips. You tried your best to keep yourself relaxed, making it easier for you to continue on. “Doing so good, sweetheart.” He groaned. The praise sent a shiver down your spine, your excitement for what was to come next was debilitating.
He sped his movements a bit more, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat with each re-entry. You felt tears from in the corner of your eyes, unsure how long you could keep up with him. But, you were more determined to please him than anything else, because it always meant you’d receive a fantastic reward. His head was thrown back in ecstasy, feeling too good to even look down at your face. As the tears rolled down your cheeks, you felt yourself gag, throat constricting against him.
His cock twitched in your mouth, bringing him back to reality for a moment. He pulled back, completely removing himself from you. “Should just cum in your mouth and leave you here like this.” He theorized, trying to attain his earlier tone of voice but failing. His chest was heaving with every breath, eyes glazed with lust. He wanted you just as bad as you wanted him, and he didn’t have the willpower to walk away from you, now. “You wouldn’t like that, would you?” He asked, his hand falling from your hair to your face, using his thumb to wipe away a few stray tears.
“No, sir.” You answered, finally regaining yourself a bit.
“I know, baby.” He sighed, realizing he could likely get off just by watching you looking at him that way. “Couldn’t do that to you. You know that.” You nodded, grateful he drew that conclusion. “Stand up for me.” You did as he said, raising slowly and ensuring you had your balance, not wanting to topple over. He brought you into a kiss, hands pulling at your shirt. If he knew you didn’t care, he would have ripped it off of you. He managed to free it from your upper half, pulling out of the kiss to bring it over your head. “No bra?” He inquired, fingers trailing over your now exposed torso. He brought his thumb to your hardened nipple, running the pad over it before pinching it between his fingers. You let out a gasp at the suddenness of his actions. “Such a little whore.” He quickly took his hand and swiped away any items littering the island. Your eyes widened at the action, watching as papers and books tumbled to the floor. He didn’t react, only placed his palms just below your ass, lifting you up onto the counter.
The cold countertop took you as a shock, causing you to tense for a moment. “Only for you.” You finally replied, watching him as he anchored your skirt above your hips.
“Didn’t seem that way tonight.” He muttered, forcefully shoving your legs apart. He took a step back for a minute, admiring the obscene display he’d left you in. You rolled your eyes.
“Jake-“ he cut you off with his eyes, his glare louder than any words he could speak.
“Kind of humiliating, isn’t it? When everybody at the bar thinks Josh gets to take you home, thinks he gets to see you like this?” He asked, not advancing any closer to you. You didn’t answer, just watched him. “How do you think that makes me feel? Watching you run around like a whore with my brother, begging him for attention?” Your face flushed at his words, embarrassed at the degradation.
“M’sorry, Jake.” You mumbled, not daring to move, in hopes of keeping him in good spirits.
“Are you? Or are you just saying it to get what you want?” He pried.
“I mean it.” You finally looked up to meet his eyes. He barely acknowledged your words before speaking again.
“Because you’re mine. You do know that, right?” You gave him a nod. “Nobody else gets to see you like this, ever. Nobody else gets to see how pretty you look when you’re desperate to be fucked.” He gave a small smirk, grabbing one of the chairs and pulling it over to him. He positioned it directly in front of you, taking a seat on it. You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach, having an idea about what he was planning. He leaned against the back of it, never letting his eyes leave you. “You know that, right?” He pressed.
“Yes, sir.” You affirmed.
“Show me, then.”
“W-what?” You stuttered, wanting clarification.
“Touch yourself. M’gonna watch. You’re going to show me all of the parts of you only I get to see.” He ordered. You didn’t move right away, wondering if he was serious. “Do you have a problem with that?” His tone was condescending and his gaze was burning into you.
“N-no, sir.” You shook your head.
“Good.” He raised his palm to his face, spitting on it. He lowered his hand to his cock, stroking himself as he waited for you to start. “I don’t have all day, angel.” He stated, almost sounding bored. You broke out of your shock, bracing one hand behind you to hold yourself up and lowering your other hand to your heat. You gathered your arousal, slowly running your fingers through your cunt, really giving him a show. You saw his jaw clench as he drew in a long breath, silently telling you he approved of your actions. “If you’re gonna act like a whore, you’re gonna get treated like one.” He explained, eyes laser focused on your fingers. “You love the attention so much, so I’ll give it to you. But you’ve gotta work for it, and you better not cum unless I say you can.”
“Yes, sir.” You let your fingers trail up to your clit, rubbing small circles. Your breath hitched in your throat, pleasure stemming from the sensation, but also from the sight of him touching himself. You had no idea how he could ever doubt your love for him, because you were hopelessly and utterly infatuated with him. Every movement, or word, or expression always made your heart flutter. He was perfect, and nobody in the world could ever compare to him. You applied a bit more pressure, letting your head fall back at the feeling. A quiet moan escaped your lips, hitting him with force. He closed his eyes, trying to stop himself from getting up and fucking you right then and there.
You lifted your hand that was supporting you and leaned back on your elbow, instead, giving him a better view. You brought your hand to your breast, the pad of your thumb drifting over your nipple while you touched yourself at the same time. You really wanted to give him a show, part of it being because it was a show of an apology, and the other part being quite selfish. You knew that the faster you gave him what he wanted, the more likely he was to get you off. Your eyes drifted back to him, settling on his face and soaking up every bit of his expression. He had a scowl, and his jaw was hard set. His eyes were almost feral looking, and he was watching you intently. His hand was wrapped around himself, slowly but steadily moving. It was just enough to get a bit of relief. You could tell he wanted to save his stamina for when he finally decided to fuck you.
“Tell me what you’re thinking about.” He ordered.
“You, Jake.” You sighed, another groan escaping your mouth. His breath caught in his throat at the sound of you saying his name like that.
“Mhm,” he made a noise of confirmation “You better be.”
“I am,” you promised, catching his gaze. “Only you.” Your steady pace mixed with you being incredibly turned on was causing a knot to form in the pit of your stomach. He knew you well enough to pick up on it by your expression alone.
“Don’t.” He warned. You gave him a pleading look, hoping he’d have a bit of mercy on you. In response, he only shook his head. You let out a whine, slowing your movements to hold on a little longer. You felt the pressure ease, relief crossing your face. “So you can listen,” he noted. “Good job, baby.” The praise was heavenly, washing over you with a warm embrace. You knew he couldn’t keep up with the current situation for much longer; he was eager to get his hands on you again. He didn’t have to say it aloud for you to know that. You took a break from your clit, slipping your hand down a bit further.
You slipped your middle and ring finger inside you, making sure to keep your eyes on him, wanting to see his reaction. You gave him an innocent smile, setting him on fire. You slowly pumped the digit into yourself, clamping down on your bottom lip with your teeth and letting out a sigh of pleasure. You couldn’t keep your eyes on him for very long, equating it to torture in your mind. You only had to work at yourself for a moment, riling him up faster by the second. “God, I wish it was you touching me, instead, Jake.” You whined, eyelids fluttering closed for a second.
It was almost like you flipped a switch; suddenly, the sultry looks and lust-filled noises drove him over the edge. He stood, almost knocking the chair over as he did so, and advanced towards you. His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you up to meet his lips. There was no gentle nature to be found, just volatile desire that you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. Once he’d fulfilled his need to kiss you, both of his hands grabbed you by the hips and roughly brought you to the edge of the island. He grabbed your wrist, abruptly moving your hand to your side. He replaced it with his own, fingers gathering your arousal and pushing inside you. He let his thumb slide up to your bundle of nerves, brushing it over the sensitive area every time he pumped his fingers into you. You were over the moon at the new found contact, although abrupt. You were trying to wrap your head around the rapid change while welcoming it at the same time.
“F-fuck, Jake.” You moaned, letting the weight of your head fall back into his hand.
“That’s better, isn’t it?” He whispered, trying to cover his own tone of neediness. He didn’t need a verbal answer to his question; your expression was more than enough. As much as he was dominant, he was also a giver. Knowing he was making you feel good was more than enough to satisfy him. Watching you was great, but it was nothing compared to him being the reason behind your pleasure. His fingers curled upwards ever so slightly, hitting that spot inside you he knew all too well. “How fast can you cum for me, angel?”
“I-i don’t..” you trailed off, only focused on the feeling of his hands working magic on you.
“You don’t what?” He asked. You could hear the smirk in his voice without even looking at him. “Make it quick, before I change my mind.” He leaned down, making you lean back, too. He pulled one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing his teeth over it. You hated to admit that he already had you teetering on the edge. After years of practice, he knew you well enough to know exactly what to do. An expert of sorts, if you had to label it. You reached a hand out, grabbing on to his bicep for support while your other one was anchored on the countertop. You had already pushed yourself to the edge once, and it wasn’t hard for him to get you back there.
“Jake, m’gonna cum.” You announced. His pace didn’t change, only encouraging you further. It was embarrassing at how fast he could bring you to an orgasm.
“That’s it, baby. Come on.” His voice was low, only audible due to how close he was to you. He said it like he needed it, too. It only took the small push from him to send you into your first orgasm. Your legs were shaking, your arm barely holding you up. You barely managed his name through the mess of vulgar noises that came from your mouth. Instead of coaxing you through your orgasm, his movements never tapered. By the time you were coming down from the high, the overstimulation had already started to take over.
“Jake!” You gasped, unable to free yourself from his grip.
“You’re fine.” He said, a hint of venom still in his tone. Your eyes were screwed shut, the unpleasant feeling starting to drive you insane. He noticed the look of discomfort on your face, questioning himself for a moment. “Color.” He whispered, the act completely out the window. His thumb was still working over your clit, just with less pressure.
“Green.” You hissed, knowing deep down that you could handle it. You knew the reward after was worth the moment of discomfort. He wasn’t sure if he believed you, so he gave you another chance to speak up. “Green.” You said again, noticing he was holding back a bit. At the assurance, he continued working at you. The feeling was intense, but you coached yourself through it, and eventually, the knot in your belly tightened once more, although not fully covering the uncomfortable sensation the movements were producing. When your next orgasm tore through you, it was powerful enough to make you lose the strength in your arms. If not for Jake holding you up, you would have fallen backwards. When you relaxed against him, he slowly withdrew his hand from you. Your chest was heaving, sweat glistening on you, and your face was flushed. He took in the sight, letting the picture burn a memory in his brain.
He only let you recover for a moment before ridding himself of his pants completely and sinking to his knees. You let out a groan, barely back to earth from his previous actions. His eyes looked up to you, wordlessly checking to see if you were ready to keep going. He didn’t speak again, but placed a few kisses on the inside of your thighs. Just when you relaxed into him, thinking maybe he’d gotten his fill of being an asshole, he let his teeth sink into the sensitive skin. You jumped slightly at the sudden feeling, not expecting it. He continued on, barely aware of your reaction, and sucked a few marks into you. By the time he’d worked himself up to your cunt, you had surpassed your overstimulation, and quickly became eager for him to continue on.
“You want it, don’t you?” He teased, mouth only inches away from your heat.
“Yeah,” you breathed.
“How bad?” His eyes flickered up to your face again. Your lips turned downward, almost into a frown.
“You want me to beg for you?” You questioned, not realizing how challenging your tone sounded. His eyes turned stony, eyebrows furrowing slightly.
“Thought you said you wanted me, angel?” He pulled back slightly. You felt your stomach sink, hoping you hadn’t made too much of a mistake.
“I do, Jake. I’m sorry.” You rushed out.
“Then fucking tell me how bad you want it.” His scowl had returned, his order clearly stating that he wasn’t in the mood for any argument. You realized it was less about dominance, and more about him needing to hear the words, needing to feel needed. You reached down, placing your hand on his cheek and letting your thumb run over the soft skin.
“So bad, Jake. I need you.” You whispered. Involuntarily, he leaned into the touch. You could feel his rigidness soften, almost immediately calmed by the feeling of your hand on him. “Please.” You gave him a look of desire, softening your features. “I want it so bad, I’ll do anything. Only you can make me feel this good.” That seemed to be exactly what he needed to hear. He didn’t make you work any harder for it; before you were even finished your sentence, his mouth was on you. You let your fingers tangle in his hair, holding on to him while his tongue ran through you. You let out a sigh of pleasure when he focused on your clit. His fingers sunk into your skin, holding you as if he was scared you were going to get away, sure to leave marks in the morning. He was working at you as if he starved, cautious as to not miss out on a second of the experience.
You were unable to contain any of your moans, giving him exactly what he wanted to hear from you. You’re tugged at the roots of his hair, another way of letting him know how good he was making you feel. He pulled back from you for a moment, moving his thumb in place of his tongue. “Does that feel good, baby?”
“So good, Jake.” You struggled to get the words out, too caught up in the moment.
“Don’t be shy. I wanna hear all of those pretty noises.” He ordered. He didn’t let you respond, already having his tongue take over again. He slipped his index and middle finger back inside you, adding the extra bit of stimulation for you. He was determined to fulfil his earlier promise; he wanted you so fucked out that he was the only thing you could think of. Little to his knowledge, he didn’t have to do much for that to be true. He was always at the front of your mind, wiggling his way into every thought and action. This part was just a bonus for you.
In retaliation to his statement, you decided to up your game a bit; if he wanted to hear noises, you were more than willing to give it to him. The moans and curses you let out were pornographic, sure to be heard by the neighbours if they listened hard enough.
You could tell he was enjoying himself, too, humming against you and taking in sharp breaths when a sound he particularly liked was heard.
His fingers curled upwards in just the right way, causing you to give an involuntary tug on his his hair. He only used it at motivation, ensuring to repeat the same action with each movement. His skills at guitar had paid off fantastically for you in the bedroom. “Fuck,” you groaned, feeling the familiar pressure build once more. “God, please don’t stop, Jake. Feels so good.” You whined, letting your head fall back in ecstasy. He took the praise to heart, making sure to keep his movements steady. He was focusing on keeping his hand and tongue at the same speed, wanting to allow you to get the most of the pleasure. It didn’t take much longer for you to come undone, gripping at his hair and uttering curses. He only eased up when you started to come down, taking the opportunity to get a good look at you. Your eyeliner was beginning to run, and your lipstick was smudged. Your hair was messy and your eyelids were heavy as you looked down to meet his gaze. He had to admire your beauty even in the disarray. He thought you were the most beautiful thing that ever walked the earth.
He removed his fingers, standing in an instant. He took hold of your hips again, pulling you as close to the edge of the table as he could. Your head was still spinning as he used his hand to line himself up with your entrance. He had no more willpower to wait any longer. You both let out a sigh of relief when he pushed himself inside of you, the feeling intensified by the lingering sensitivity of your last orgasm. The position was a bit awkward, making it hard for him to move, but it didn’t bother either of you very much. The intimacy was what you craved, and it was giving you just that. He brought one of his hands to your face, letting his thumb trail over your bottom lip. You parted your lips, pulling the digit into your mouth and lightly suctioning your cheeks around it. He let out a long exhale through his nose, the tail end of it sounding more like a growl produced from his chest. He slowly moved his hips, rocking into you agonizingly slow. You opted to just enjoy it while it lasted, knowing the gentle nature would be out the window soon.
He pulled his thumb from your mouth, a small pop sounding as he did so. His hand drifted towards your neck, fingers ghosting over your skin. His thrusts didn’t speed, but did get more forceful. You couldn’t help but let out a gasp as the tip of his cock brushed your cervix, sending a jolt of pleasurable pain through you. “Just like that, baby?” He asked, eyes boring into you. His fingers tightened slightly on your neck, leaving you to believe his concerned inquiry was a bit misleading. “Does that feel good?” You hooked your leg around his waist, drawing him even closer. It gave him the answer he was looking for, although nonverbal. “Such a dirty little whore.” He hummed, clearly pleased by your action. “Is this all you wanted? To get fucked?” His eyes scanned your face, the flame still dancing in his pupils. “Didn’t matter whose bed you were in, as long as there was a cock inside you?” His fingers tightened again, finally enough pressure to restrict the blood flow. “Or did want to go home with him?”
He knew you were unable to answer; he was talking to himself, and taunting you in the process. He knew the minute he took his hand away from your neck, you’d be talking back, and he wasn’t particularly fond of that idea. He leaned in, lips hovering over your ear as he fucked into you. He knew he’d have to release his hold on you soon; he may have been willing to degrade you, a few slaps or spankings, but never seriously harm you. He didn’t want you to fear he would, either. “You think he’d fuck you like this? Make you feel this good?” He whispered, breath hot and tone gravelly. He clamped down on your neck tighter once more, completely restricting any blood or airflow. He felt you let out a pointless, choked gasp, not getting anything from it. He bit down on your earlobe, one final move before he loosened his hand. You let in a long, desperate breath, filling your lungs as much as you could. You coughed, sputtering for a moment at the sudden burst of oxygen. He let his fingers gently massage the area he’d just assaulted, wanting you to know without breaking character that he was, in fact, just acting. His head was still down by your ear, scared if he looked up he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from cumming.
You were agitated from his words, feeling the bratty part of you start to surface once more. If he was so willing to talk down on you, you weren’t afraid to give it back. You hadn’t fully thought out the whole thing, only depending on your bruised feelings for clarity. “Don’t be so cocky. You call this fucking?” You challenged, voice was still raspy from his hand around your throat. He stiffened, pulling back from you as if you’d burned him.
“What did you say?” His hips stopped, too. His expression was feral, and his body tense.
“What, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” A smirk was playing on your lips. “If you’re not going to do it right, I can go call-“ your sentence was cut short by his palm retracting from your throat and colliding with your cheek, throwing your head to the side. It caught you completely off guard; your train of thought disappearing and his body language now anything but loving. Admittedly, he’d hit you a bit harder than intended, but he was in no state of mind to cater to you. Without so much as an utter of concern, he pulled out of you roughly grabbed your hips, yanking you off the table and onto your feet.
You didn’t have time to process the change before he spun you around. His hand found your hair and he forced your upper half down onto the countertop. He wasn’t gentle with his touch, shoving your face into the table until your cheek was squished against the wood. He took in the sight, your skirt still pushed up to your bellybutton. In a rash decision reliant on emotion, he grabbed a fistful of the bunched up fabric and gave a hard pull, busting it at the seams and ripping it from your body. He could buy you another to make up for it, he decided. Now less concerned about the sex, and more worried about your favourite skirt, you opened your mouth to protest. “Jake-“
“Shut the fuck up.” Your time for talking was over; you’d pushed him just a bit too far. He let the now torn clothing fall to the floor, grabbing his belt from beside you. He maneuvered it so it was folded in half, all whilst still holding you to the table. “You think he could do a better job?” He seethed, running the cold leather across your bare ass. When you didn’t respond, he lifted the belt and brought it down with force, causing a sharp sound and a lasting sting. “Do you really think anybody could?” His hand in your hair tightened, driving your cheek even harder into the table. He had no care for your comfortability, now. “I should just leave you here, make you get yourself off, instead, since I’m not doing it right. Would you like that?”
“N-no,” you squeaked, mentally preparing for another blow. Just as you expected, another searing sensation spread across your backside, causing you to jump.
“If you want him so bad, then go. But don’t think for a second he can give you half of what I can.” You could hear the sneer in his voice. “Do you understand me?” You weren’t sure if he wanted you to answer, or if it was rhetorical. When the belt flashed across your skin the third time, it was made clear he wanted a verbal confirmation. “I said, do you understand me?”
“Y-yes, sir.” Tears were spilling onto your cheeks, teeth grinding at the pain from the leather. But, you had pushed him, and you were more than aware of the consequences when you misbehaved.
“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again.” His tone dropped, less authority and more finality. You heard the belt fall to the floor, followed immediately by him lining himself up with you. There was no adjustment period before he pushed himself into you again, taking no mercy with the power behind his hips. You let out a yelp when he slammed into your cervix, but he was in no hurry to ask if you were okay. You had no time to recover before he repeated the same action.
His hips were moving at a brutal pace, all of the anger from the night being let out at once and building up to a dramatic climax. He was still holding your hair, never easing up on the weight of his hand holding you down. His other hand was holding your hip, keeping you in place while he fucked you. There was no ability to keep yourself quiet; the sounds falling from your lips were obscene, pleasure bordering pain creating a whole new feeling. He pulled your hips back a bit, giving more space between your legs and the edge of the table. He slipped his hand around to the front of you, fingers finding your clit with expert precision.
“How’s this? Good enough for you?” He growled. You couldn’t find the words to respond, eyes squeezed shut as all of the stimulation acted together to bring you to the brink of insanity. His finger danced over your already sensitive bundle of nerves, coaxing another orgasm out of you almost effortlessly. He was almost smiling at the noises you were making, arrogant enough to know how good he was making you feel.
“F-fuck, Jake,” you managed out, some form of confirmation that you heard his words.
“What’s wrong?” He tormented, voice wavering slightly at his rapid movements. “You asked for it, now you can’t handle it?” He showed no signs of slowing down or easing up; he was determined to prove a point, now, and he wasn’t backing down. He heard a familiar moan fall from your lips, your walls tightening against him slightly as you did so. He knew you were close, and it was only encouraging him further. Within a few seconds, you were caught up in another orgasm, all of your muscles tense and your throat coarse from crying out his name. You couldn’t allow yourself to relax as you came down, his hips nor his fingers letting up.
“Jake, please, I can’t.” You pleaded.
“You can, and you will.” He dismissed you, fully aware of the state you were in. He could see the tears staining your skin, your mascara fully running down your face. Your cheeks were red, burning with heat, and sweat glistening on your forehead. “Color.”
“Green, fuck!” You expelled, frustrated with your own unwillingness to give in. Every nerve in your body was on fire, begging you to stop, or take a break, but you were still enjoying yourself. You knew he was, too, and that was most of your motivation. He continued as if there was no question asked in the first place, never easing up on your clit, either. You were on the brink of screams, desperately trying to contain the moans ripping from your chest.
“You gonna give me another one, angel?” He asked, venom still present in his tone. You knew he wasn’t being so generous with orgasms for your sake, it was solely a personal agenda for him to prove a point. You were completely unwilling to cum for him again, but his fingers were forcing your body to betray you. He knew it, too, only allowing the cockiness to grow. “You ready to admit it, now? You want to tell me the truth?” He hissed, eyes never leaving your face. Before you could reply, the pressure in your belly peaked once more. He’d successfully forced another orgasm from you, letting the pride settle in his bones. Before you fully came down, he was already lifting your upper body off of the table so you were standing. He was aware of your lack of strength, assuring he was holding you tight enough so you wouldn’t fall over.
He pulled out of you, still supporting you with his arm, and turned you around. You were exhausted, completely at his disposal. You weren’t the least but worried, knowing he would take care of you; if you said the word, he’d stop immediately. “Arms around me.” He told you, a little gentler than his earlier orders. You obeyed, snaking your arms around his neck. His hands fell to your ass, lifting you up in one swift motion. You wrapped your legs around him, almost as if it were muscle memory. He carried you over to the wall, pressing your back into it. As much as he enjoyed the accessibility of the last position, the simplicity of doing whatever he pleased to you, he wanted to see your face. He kept one hand firm on your ass, holding you up, and guided himself back inside you with his other. The position change had given you a minute to calm down, just as he was hoping it would. He rested there for a moment, not making any further advances.
“Look at me.” He snapped. You lifted your eyes, barely keeping them open, and met his gaze. His expression was hard, but no longer malicious. He couldn’t find it in himself to stay angry with you; the sight of your face so close to his was enough to immediately soften his heart. “I want to hear you say it, angel.” He whispered, stare burning into you. “Tell me I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.”
“You are, Jake.” You breathed, unable to lie about it and risk any more punishment. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody could replace you.” Your voice was quiet, all of your energy completely drained. But, you were speaking from the heart, and he could tell. He leaned in, resting his forehead on yours. Slowly, he started rocking his hips into you again. The feeling was so much different, now. His movements careful, filled with love. He’d proved his point beyond intention, and he was well aware of it. All of the anger was gone, and he just wanted to be close to you, now.
“You’re mine, baby. You know that.” He hummed. “Nobody else even gets to think about you, like this.”
“M’yours, Jake. All yours.” You promised, hoping he’d lean forward just enough so you could kiss him. “I don’t want anyone else.” Your fight was gone, now, not as if there was a lot there in the first place. Your back talk seemed to hurt him a little more than intended, and all you wanted was to make up for it.
“I know, honey.” He assured you. “Me, too.” His sincerity was staggering, the softness of those two words were the most profound vulnerability he’d ever shown during sex. You felt like you were seeing right through him. “Gonna take care of you, now. Okay?” You managed a nod, filled with relief when he leaned forward to connect his mouth with yours. You tangled your fingers in the hair at the base of his head, holding him to you. You didn’t want him to pull back, savouring the loving gesture as if your life depended on it. The sensation of him fucking into you so carefully while he was kissing you was more euphoric than anything else you’d felt that night. Not often did you get slow sex with Jake, and it was just as phenomenal, if not more. Something about the emotion, the complete transparency, was unmatched.
“I love you,” you mumbled against his lips, causing his fingers to tighten on you. He pulled back slightly, just enough space between your mouths to speak.
“Fuck, y/n, say it again.” He ordered, but it sounded more like a plea.
“I love you, Jake. So much.” You groaned, losing yourself to the feeling of him inside you. You were sure there was nothing that could feel better than that.
“I love you, y/n.” He closed his eyes, jaw clenching as he rode through the blissful proclamation. You could tell he was close, and you were eager for him to get there. “God, you feel so good.” You let your hand come up to his cheek, holding his face while your thumb drifted over the soft skin. “Can you cum for me one more time?” You nodded as best you could with his forehead against yours.
“Just kiss me, please.” He didn’t need to be asked twice, his lips were on yours again in an instant. You kissed him with a hunger that could only be satisfied by him. He picked up his pace a bit, silently begging you to cum, just so he could, too. He had been holding himself back for long enough that it had started to become painful. He pulled you down on him every time he thrusted, just for a little more impact. That was enough for you; with the added pressure, he reached the spot inside you that only he could. Your legs tightened around him and your fingers grasped at him, letting him know you were there again. He pulled back, wanting the full view this time. Your head fell backwards against the wall, eyes closed in pleasure. You breathed his name between moans, finding it impossible to think of anything but him as your final orgasm washed over you.
At the sound of his name spoken so beautifully, and the sight of your blissful expression, he couldn’t help but lose himself to the feeling, too. He pulled you down on him one last time, holding you there as he spilled his release into you. He slumped over, pressing you further into the wall and letting his head rest in the crook of your neck. He was breathless, completely overpowered by euphoria. He didn’t withdraw right away, wanting to savour the moment of intimacy with you. Nothing but heavy breathing sounded through the kitchen, both of you chest to chest and feeling your heartbeats against each other. He turned his head inwards towards your neck, placing a few kisses into it. He left a few light marks, just as a final reminder of the entire night.
“You okay?” He asked, still resting his head on your shoulder.
“Yeah,” you sighed. “Are you?”
“Yeah.” He murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too.” He finally pulled back from you, placing a kiss to your forehead.
“Bath?” He asked. You nodded, giving him a small smile. He carried you to the bathroom carefully, not pulling out of you yet in avoidance of a mess. Once you were in the bathroom, he withdrew and let you get cleaned up. He flicked on the faucet for the bathtub, letting the warm water run before closing the drain stopper. He grabbed your package of makeup wipes pulling a few out and setting it back on the counter. “C’mere.” He whispered. You turned towards him, leaning into his hand reaching for you. He gently wiped at the smudged makeup, cleaning you up as best he could. He discarded the dirty wipes in the trash and placed a kiss on your lips.
By the time he finished, the bathtub was full and more than ready for the both of you. He flipped off the faucet, helping you in first. As you settled in, he couldn’t help but notice the marks littering your thighs and ass. He felt a sinking feeling of regret, checking your face for where he’d slapped you. It was red, slightly irritated, but seemed as though it would fade away soon. There was a small welt on your cheek from where his ring sat on his finger. He got in, too, settling behind you and pulling you into him. The warm water soothed your aching muscles, allowing you to fully relax into his hold. With your back pressed against him, you were fully surrounded in comfort. You rested your head against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you. After a moment, he lifted his hand to your cheek, fingers gently running over the inflamed area.
“I’m sorry, baby.” He said, lips turned down into a frown. “I shouldn’t have been so rough with you.”
“I’m okay.” You promised, turning your head and placing a kiss to his thumb. “Let’s just… never do that again. The sex was great, but I don’t like fighting with you. I also really didn’t like whatever we were doing at the bar… it was gross and childish.”
“I agree. No girl in the world deserve the time of day, especially when I have you to come home to. I started the whole thing. I know you and Josh would never do that to me. You guys really weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary, I was just in a shitty mood.”
“Yeah, but I knew you were upset. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I was being an asshole, and I really shouldn’t have let him sing that song. I knew it was a bad idea when I saw it come up on the screen.”
“You didn’t pick it?” He asked, fingers still caressing the spot on your face where he’d slapped you.
“No, of course not, Jake. I was mad at you, but I’d never go that far.” His stomach sank.
“I’m sorry I danced with her. I knew it would hurt you, and it was wrong. I shouldn’t have assumed you would do that, either.”
“That did hurt me, a lot.” You admitted, feeling no need to lie about it. “You’ve never really been jealous before. Where the hell did that come from?”
“I don’t know.” He was honest. “I was mad at Josh all day, and when I saw you guys being so nice to each other and dancing to those songs, especially while I was so upset…I guess it just felt like he made you shine a little brighter than I did, tonight. I feel like I dim your light, sometimes.” He mumbled the last part, almost afraid to admit it out loud. You felt your heart break at his words.
“Jake, Josh is my best friend. My brother. Of course I have fun with him, but that’s all it is. Yeah, I love him, but I’ve never once felt that kind of love for him. I’m in love with you. You don’t have to make me shine all of the time, because you complete me. You can’t always make me shine brighter, especially when you’re the one who ignited the flame in the first place.” He had one arm snaked under yours, lazily strewn across your torso just under your chest. He used that arm to pull you closer to him, still letting his fingers dance over your cheek.
“I love you.” He sighed. “I never want to do that again, either. It was so stupid. I never want to hurt you like that again.” He placed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll never be able to say I’m sorry enough to make up for it.”
“I’m sorry, too. If me being so close with Josh makes you feel that way, I can take a step back. You’re the most important person to me, no matter what.”
“No, baby. Never bothered me before, I guess I just felt a bit forgotten about. Got in my own head, and instead of talking to you about it, I tried to make you feel the same way. Next time, I promise I’ll talk to you. You’re my most important person, too. Seeing that look on your face when you left the bar made me realize how easy I could lose you, and I never want that to happen.”
“Guess we learned our lesson, then, ‘cause I really don’t want to lose you, either.” You laced your fingers through his, running your thumb over the back of his hand.
“The sex was fantastic, though.” He chuckled after a moment of silence. “I hope I didn’t hurt you too bad. I got a little to caught up in the moment.”
“I’m okay,” you laughed. “Maybe a bit sore, but it was my own fault. Shouldn’t have talked back like that.”
“You were being bratty, weren’t you?” He pondered back to the earlier scene in the kitchen.
“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it. Just wanted to get under your skin.” You giggled, sinking a bit lower into the water.
“I know, beautiful. You did a good job at it, I’ll give you that.”
“Yeah, my ass knows it, too.” You grumbled. He laughed, leaning down and peppering a few kisses over your shoulders. You melted into the touch, happy to have things back to normal.
“Hey, y/n?” He asked, lips still drifting over your skin.
“Hmm?” You hummed, eyes closed in peacefulness.
“I don’t want you to stop dancing with Josh. But I do think that maybe I wouldn’t mind dancing with you, too, if that’s okay.” He whispered. A smile broke onto your lips at his words.
“That’s more than okay, Jake.” He dropped his other arm, wrapping it around you, too. He pulled you into a hug, love completely surrounding you, now. “I love you.”
“I love you, angel. God, I’ll dance with you every day for the rest of my life if it means I get to have you like this.” He sighed. “I was stupid for not wanting to, before. I can sacrifice a little embarrassment to get a smile on that pretty face of yours.” You couldn’t help but laugh again.
“Don’t have to do that to make me smile, baby. You know that. You can have me like this for the rest of your life even if you don’t dance with me.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind it. I’d do anything to make you happy.” You almost rolled your eyes at the statement. He said it as if he didn’t do that already.
“You already give me the world, Jacob. What more could you do to make me happy?”
“I’ll stop when I can give you the universe, instead of just the world.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll buy you a new skirt and take you out tomorrow night, make up for everything. Wear your best shoes, cause you won’t be able to get away from the dance floor.” A smile grew on your lips, too.
“Can’t wait.” And you meant it. Not just for the dancing, or a night out, or the promise of a replacement skirt for the one he’d destroyed. You couldn’t wait simply because you were excited to be with him. You were certain you could live the rest of your life deprived of all modern comfort, but if Jake was by your side, you’d be the happiest person to have ever lived.
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invpulse · 6 months
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I haven't seen a lot of discussion about RSD when it comes to ADHD discussions, so I thought I would do the honors since it's been affecting me for many years and I'd like people to know more about it!
I have had a diagnosis for ADHD but was never told- instead learning I had autism through therapy but still having some behaviors that I could never explain that just Happened.
I learned I had ADHD over the summer, and with that, severe rejection sensitive dysphoria.
before reading, please keep in mind that this is mostly talking from personal experience and some skimmed research! not experiencing RSD doesn't mean you do/don't have ADHD, and it may not appear like how it appeared for me. I don't only have autism + adhd either, so those may also contribute to any differences! ^^
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RSD is the immense emotional pain after being criticized, rejected, or even teased (ignore my misspell in the panel). This rejection can be real or perceived, and we react like this because it hurts.
The pain can manifest as aggression, bringing on symptoms of depression (thoughts of s/h, isolation, demotivation, etc) and anxiety/panic attacks.
it can cause physical aliments like the above. For me, it causes my heartrate to skyrocket, heart palpitations, the feeling of being in a crisis, and extreme shaking to occur along with stomach pain.
(In fact, right now I'm going through it because making a post talking about this, despite having & dealing with it, makes me scared of other's opinions on it.)
RSD can also take the form of avoiding situations, people, or conversations where rejection or criticism is very possible.
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Like other types of dysphoria, it is out of our control and hard to manage. It can last from days to weeks to months, all depending on both the trigger* and the individual.
I had a RSD episode that was on-and-off for a little over a year or two; getting more tame and bearable as it slowly drifted and stopped haunting my mind with the incident.
Compared to the other times my RSD was set off, this moment was a rather big moment in my life and ended up permanently changing me moving forward - which can be the reason why it lasted so long.
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Despite how unbearable it can get, there are some ways to cope with it & lessen the effect it has.
Communicate - If you need time to process something that's told to you, you should say so (as difficult as it is). Tell the person(s) involved about your RSD, how you need time to digest information like this and take some time to relax. Trying to respond to the information while going through the head of the dysphoria will be very rough and might not be what you truly want to say.
Distract - This is really useful for me personally! Do something that grabs your attention or occupies your mind. One of RSD's main symptoms is rumination, thinking of something over and over again. I usually listen to music, draw, or play a game that won't frustrate me - like minecraft! (i'd say rain world but some of you would call me a maniac /lhj)
Perspective - This may require some communication, but it can really help and connect with others. See what the involved people thought / perceived, explain, talk. This doesn't always have the chance to end in rainbows and rekindling but at least you understand. Sometimes simply hearing the person explain their own side is enough to ease my RSD, being able to have someone explain themselves to me so i can understand them better.
I also wanna point out the "don't take it personally" thing that people try to use to deal with it isn't something i agree with since we're going to take it personally at first regardless. Later on, not really, but you're trying to cope with the symptoms... telling someone (or yourself) that they're too sensitive & over-reacting is the worse thing you could do.
With time, you can even begin to build up your 'armor' and be able to sustain yourself in situations you might get hurt in. Of course, some things may be able to sneak past and hurt you more than you expect, but at the end of the day, you're trying your best to go about it the best you can while taking so many blows. you're doing great.
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OK i dont have a lot more to add so if anyone else would like to talk about their experiences, please feel free! Character showcased here was my beloved fursona Shiki! i'm just a little neurodivergent + black artist from new york :]
hope you enjoyed it! sorry for the long post </3
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theminecraftbee · 2 months
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smallishona au mechanics
or, i finally figured out the in-universe mechanics of this persona au! plus some generalized persona mechanics that people may not otherwise know if they don't play persona.
basic premise: the basic premise of this is not based off of any specific persona game, but synthesized from the basic premise of persona 3/4/5. in those games, a group of teenagers discover they have the power of persona, a sort of almost jojo-stand like ability to summon a representation of themselves to fight against shadows, monsters formed from the collective unconsciousness of humanity. they then must travel to another world (broadly, the collective unconscious, although this world has somewhat different mechanics and names in each game), fight shadows, find out why that world is encroaching on our own world, and save humanity from the problems caused by this other world. this normally ends in them fighting god. it is a jrpg and a smt spinoff, after all.
in this SPECIFIC plot, it goes as follows: the 'vanished' is a term referring to people who mysteriously go missing in the middle of their normal routine. this always happens when they are alone, but it can happen at times that are supernatural. these vanishings are being caused when these people, for some reason or another, slip into a realm called 'altered space' and are killed by the shadows there. in order to get to the root of these vanishings, joel and the party must travel through altered space, fight shadows, rescue the trapped people, and determine what's really causing all of this.
joel must do this while also dealing with high school, because, as the protagonist, his powers get stronger the stronger his bonds with other people. these powers--the power to have more than one persona and fuse personas, amongst other things--are the root of many of joel's woes, as the Bit of this au is that joel is the world's most reluctant persona protagonist.
(the more detailed explanations under the cut this gets LONG.)
altered space and the vanished: the manifestation of the collective unconscious that our heroes must travel through in this story. joel (and many others) perceive it as a place you get to by following evil, non-blue butterflies, but interestingly, other people perceive how to reach it differently. the space manifests as a massive, seemingly endless sea of poppies, some of which are wilting and dying. this field is broken up by seemingly collapsed buildings, and while shadows and vanished can be found in the field, more powerful shadows (and more notable people) can only be found inside the buildings.
it is incredibly difficult not to fall asleep inside altered space, and only people with personas are safe from that effect. still, even with a persona, being inside altered space causes a person to grow exhausted much faster than they would in the normal world. the other side of this, however, is that it is nearly impossible to summon a persona in the real world; in altered space, it only takes focusing on your heart and the scar from the first time you summoned it. in the real world you'd probably at LEAST have to stab yourself again.
there is a time limit to save anyone who has become trapped in altered space; if they spend too long there, they will fall permanently asleep and lose themselves forever. this time limit changes depending on who the specific Vanished is, but can be kept track of using the weather (sorry i am stealing persona 4 for this). when the weather gets unusually frigid for the time of year, it is too late to save any vanished in altered space. anyone there must be saved before that.
certain vanished--those with particularly strong feelings of abandonment and loneliness--can warp the buildings they find their way into around themselves. as such, the buildings inside altered space that the vanished are found in can vary wildly, and often reflect the hearts of those inside of them.
indeed, as you may have noted: the vanished, as a rule, are people who feel so alone, they manage to literally lose their grip on reality. a running theme in this au is playing DIRECTLY into the ongoing moral of persona of "you can't do it alone" by saying "in fact, people who are too alone will vanish, since they don't see themselves as 'existing' to other people". as the plot goes on and altered space and the shadows grow more powerful, the amount of loneliness needed to trigger this gets lower and lower, but that's the general theme here. surprise, idiots, the solution was to not be individualists in the first place!
hm. i wonder if this is relevant to our main cast in any way. wink wink.
(persona is not subtle. one of my first impressions of this series was a guy awakening his ultimate persona, satan, and using it to shoot god with a gun. i cannot express enough how unsubtle i can be with the theming here.)
personas and the powers of those who wield them: while personas are the manifestation of someone's heart, they are also a LITTLE bit their own beings. this only comes up occasionally in the persona series, but it will come up sometimes here too, so keep this in mind. another thing that is relevant about personas is that, while in some games this is a subtle element and in some games this is in your face, personas are also the shadow of the wielder. the only difference between a persona and a shadow is that a persona-user has, at least to some level, managed to master their own shadow. however, established in... all three persona games actually but ESPECIALLY in persona 3... is the fact that losing control of yourself can cause you to lose control of your persona to tragic consequences. keep this in mind for later.
personas, since they're also sort of shadows and definitely also manifestations of the collective unconsciousness, take the form of legendary/mythological figures. notably, all of joel's team's personas take the form of "legendary lovers" for their first forms. i say 'first forms', because it is possible for a persona to further evolve, normally at a moment of emotional catharsis for the wielder, when they truly master themselves. this is known as an 'ultimate persona', and its normally stronger than the base form.
in my own au, a persona can initially be awakened only in altered space, and only by someone who is determined not to give in and be forgotten. that person must stab themselves as part of their conviction, although this only happens once; from then on, they can summon their persona through their sense of self, manifesting from the scar from that stab wound, as long as they are in altered space.
a persona's powers work at their maximum level inside of altered space. however, in my au where i can be as self-indulgent as i want, a persona-user CAN technically summon their persona in the real world, it would just take either a moment of supreme will and/or probably stabbing themselves again. additionally, a persona-user's stats start to manifest in the real world as well, ESPECIALLY their HP and SP, since those stats are not inherently tied to the persona itself (thanks, wild cards, for proving this for me). persona-users, as a result, tend to be far more durable than a normal human and have far more energy... although this is a bit of boiling a frog, and it takes a while for them to notice this isn't just a 'fighting shadows' thing. additionally, their abilities also tend to stick with them in small ways in the real world. however, no matter what world they are in, a persona's abilities only work at full power on other persona-users and shadows. maybe this is because a shadow is best at affecting another shadow, and powers inherently born of the unreal/the collective unconscious do not affect the real easily...?
joel is a wild card. unlike a normal persona user, he can switch personas, unlocking new ones both in battle in altered space and by fusing them in the velvet room. these personas also get stronger via his bonds with others. this will all get its own section below.
finally, all persona-users in this world have experienced intense loneliness or isolation of their own at some point; the main difference between them and a vanished is whether or not they managed to grasp themselves despite this isolation. in joel's case, this was because a dam overspilled, collapsed, and destroyed his hometown after the person who was meant to be monitoring it vanished without anyone noticing. each of the other members of the party also have their own relationship with isolation that is explored in the plot and their social links. just awakening to a persona, after all, isn't enough to solve that, and it's important to try to master it in yourself. or else, well... i did say that an out-of-control persona ends tragically.
the velvet room and joel as wild card: as i just said, joel is a wild card/fool. unlike the rest of his team, he will only unlock his ultimate persona at the end of the game, after he has finished traveling through all the tarot and self-actualizing. however, he has a VERY IMPORTANT role: he can switch personas at will, adapting to the situation in order to best use his personas for both combat and bonding with other people. he is the protagonist. he hates this. that is the Bit.
in order to swap between more personas than the number he has room for (normally between eight and sixteen, depending on what level the protagonist is), as well as to fuse personas together to make stronger ones, joel has the assistance of a place called the velvet room. the velvet room is common to every persona game, although it changes form depending on the guest. broadly, it is a mysterious, entirely blue room that exists in a pocket within the collective unconsciousness, between dreams and reality, and can MOSTLY only be accessed by wild cards. (i know that's not how it works exactly in personas 1 and 2, bear with me, we are working off of 3/4/5 logic.) to joel specifically, it takes the form of a yacht traveling across an endless sea of souls.
in every persona game, it is mastered by igor, although igor does not directly describe himself as the master of anything. this mysterious long-nosed man, a servant of another god called philemon that we Will Not Get Into Here He's Mostly Not Relevant, has the power to fuse personas together. he's kind of a creepy-looking and sounding old man, but it's worth noting that igor himself has the protagonist's best interests at heart. igor and his assistant are also the people who tend to know the most about the mechanics of being a persona protagonist, and assist the protagonist in this regard.
assistant? yes! igor has an assistant; in this au it is jimmy. they are always almost white-blonde and have yellow eyes, and wear an entirely blue uniform. they refer to igor as their 'master', all consider each other siblings, are different for each protagonist, and all seem to consider igor someone kind who they appreciate. the assistant has a few roles. the first is to keep track of the compendium, allowing the protagonist to summon any persona they've had in the past for a certain amount of money. the second is to assist the protagonist in their journey and emotional growth. the third is to have a LOT of goofy jokes about not really understanding the human world and i love all of them dearly. these assistants are also definitely not human, but they are often social links themselves, suggesting they might at least have a soul.
in this au, jimmy is joel's hanged man social link. jimmy both tries to help joel understand stuff like "you have to bond with people" and how personas work to some extent, but also is largely discovering himself and the human world through joel. i have Plans for this, it's cute.
only joel can see or access the velvet room, which manifests as a glowing blue door in the entrance to altered space and also in a back alleyway in the real world. to others, he appears to space out or fall asleep standing up when he accesses the velvet room, and attempting to point out that glowing blue door, or even the very real key joel possesses for that door, is futile. rip him.
social links: i've mentioned these a few times; these are the means by which bonds make joel stronger. social links are relationships with people in the real world, represented by tarot cards. joel has a social link for every tarot except for the world, which is reserved for him at the end of his journey. these social links are their own storylines, some tied to the main story, and some separate things that mostly build on themselves that joel has to help with. they 'level up' as joel spends time with these people and grows closer with them.
as one of these special bonds gets stronger, joel gets new abilities. the most baseline of these abilities is the ability to get stronger personas through fusion; growing his bonds directly makes joel stronger in battle as a result. additionally, though, i have decided i like that persona 4/5 also offers mechanical benefits beyond that. as joel levels up his social links with his party members, for example, those party members grow as people and get stronger persona abilities. as joel levels up his social links with non-party members, he may gain things like discounts on gear, new abilities of his own, or general ways to smooth his way in altered space. a maximized social link unlocks the ultimate persona of that tarot, which is incredibly useful.
the bonds you make in the real world help chain you to reality, and in turn, help make you stronger outside of it. hold on to them, wild card. you'll need them.
joel is aware of what tarot each social link is, and diegetically hears the gameplay voice telling him they've leveled up. additionally, he inherently has the knowledge that when he has a persona that matches a person's arcana, he is inherently somewhat more likeable to them and will be able to bond easier. i am sure this will never get to his head at all.
the team/school rescue committee: it existed before joel came around, in a thing i'm stealing from persona 3! grian was the first to summon a persona, and joe hills, a teacher at the school who knows more about this than most people do, managed to find him and start training him. scar joined as well later, but they've been on their own and barely treading water re: saving people from shadows. joel joining enables them to finally start going on the offensive.
as a team, they're... trying. they aren't very cohesive early on, but they're working on it. its awfully lucky that they have a LITTLE guidance and aren't figuring all of this out on their own, although even joe doesn't have a clue why a bunch of the stuff they face works the specific way it does.
their eventual goal is to figure out what the root cause of people starting to fall into altered space is, and stop it.
additional mechanics i didn't have another heading to put under: there's a persona mechanic called "social stats"; they are somewhat different every game, but they represent social skills joel levels up by doing... esoteric things at the best of times, lol. he will have five stats here, which i mostly won't bring up except when it's funny. those stats are charm/courage/academics/kindness/proficiency. in persona games these stats are largely relevant as ways to unlock certain social links and dialogue options, but they're important to max out, so... have fun visiting zedaph's terrifying stir fry stand and taking bizarre odd jobs, joel!
i. do not want to get into skill cards. they exist alright, and beef is the guy who can duplicate/create them. that is all i wish to get into at the moment.
tfc owns an antique shop, because i like persona 3's antique shop mechanics. here, he can make unique weapons/skill cards/items that can be used in battle by using rare materials from altered space. he seems to have vague knowledge of some persona mechanics, although weirdly, they don't exactly line up with how joel's own persona mechanics work. wonder how that happened...?
stuff from altered space can come out to real space. cleo is willing to fence this stuff, although joel has Questions about how she sells some of it for him. well, whatever. it's a good source of money, a thing he is unfortunately always running out of these days, on account of needing to buy everyone weapons and armor. actually, this feels like a scam on cleo's part, given she's ALSO his main source for that. goddammit.
and that's... basically all the base "game mechanics" of this au! i think that's everything that's relevant for now i hope everyone enjoys it!
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dynamicsimp · 3 months
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So if I may ask what gave you the idea to make the shot AUs a love based zombie movie?
And incase that wasn’t your intention, there are a lot of parallels to a zombie infection within the affects of the Cupid gun:
- In all four versions the shot wound is left open and bleeding, especially when the victim is laser focused on their target.
- The victim chases relentlessly after their target never letting anything stand in their way.
- In eyeshot and headshot where the infection is limited to one part of the body (the brain) the effects are easily dealt with and subdued (even if only temporary).
- In backshot and frontshot where the infection enters the bloodstream (via the spine and heart respectively) it causes the effects to spread through the entire body quickly, violently, and much more instantly, causing the additional side effect of the victim’s body “decaying” the longer they’re deprived of their targets love.
- The victim becomes extremely violent when disturbed (especially in backshot and frontshot), but if left to their own devices they become very docile.
- The effects of the infection are permanent until the victim is given a very specific cure.
- Not to mention the Cupid gun’s creation can be paralleled to the viruses that scientists in zombie movies create with the intent of creating something extremely helpful that ultimately backfires very badly.
- The celestials being divided on the Cupid gun being either completely harmless or extremely dangerous could be compared to the scientists in zombie movies debating whether the initial outbreak was a small mishap that can be quickly dealt with or an apocalyptic level disaster.
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CW: The explanation may trigger some people so read at risk.
I grew up watching way too many love based zombie movies or just Horror Romance in general.
Given that Macaque is literally dead but came back to life just represent him as a zombie in a way except he's not rotting and he wouldn't stop at nothing to get revenge on Wukong. He makes a very perfect candidate to test out the Horror Romance genre for Shadowpeach or any other ships that include him.
Kinda like Cupid's arrow, a gun has much more lethal side effects to the victim. For example, causing the wound to burn up as the bullet is hot when fired while also crushing the bones upon impact. Arrows could be just as lethal if you manage to hit a vital organ.
I actually planned to make EyeShot and HeadShot AUs to be much darker than intended but decided to make BackShot and FrontShot AUs the more violent and love deprived one so there's a SFW (although not so SFW but there's no AHEM AHEM-) and a NSFW so people could choose whichever AU they're more comfortable with.
It was actually my intention to make Shot AU's to be love based zombie movie, I'm actually surprised you got it through just looking at the book and the art I drew!
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planet-dusk · 1 year
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🏷️ perversion, upskirt photos (noncon), obsessive behavior, masturbation
it's just a picture, seungmin tells himself. you can't even see much. most of the image is taken up by the fabric of your skirt and your legs (which he imagines would feel so perfect wrapped around his waist). if he squints he can see the barest hint of your cotton panties. they’re pink, he thinks. it's a little dark and hard to see even in the dimly lit bathroom.
of course he already tried adjusting the levels and exposure. he isn't some kind of amateur. seungmin takes his job very seriously; even this small side gig he's grown attached to. 
addicted, some may call it. 
he never questions the wishes of his clients. his job is to take the pictures and deliver them, not judge people's lives. so when your boyfriend had hired him to take some risqué photos of the two of you, seungmin had taken the money without batting an eye. 
you'd been a pleasure to work with. a natural born model despite your initial shyness (which seungmin had found very endearing). and it hadn't been that difficult to picture himself in your boyfriend's position; a thought he'd only allowed himself to indulge in once during the shoot. he was a professional after all. 
he should’ve been content with the pictures he took that day. seungmin has looked at them so much it feels like the negatives are now permanently burned into his retinas. he knows your face and body by heart just from watching you from afar. if he was a painter and not a photographer, he could paint your portrait with his eyes closed.
the problem is they’re not enough. not anymore. that’s always the issue with seungmin. if only he could be happy with what he’s got. but no, he always craves more. 
you broke up with your boyfriend weeks ago. he knows because he has been following you on social media, checking your accounts religiously as part of his morning routine. 
it’d been easy to mingle with your social circle. he’s pretty sure you don’t remember him, and he doesn’t mind; it’s easier this way. he knows you’d never be interested in someone like him. but it’s not like your ex-boyfriend was a catch either; if he’s honest, seungmin doesn’t know what you saw in the guy. you are much better off without him. 
it seems you think so too, if the smile gracing your lips tonight is anything to go by. it’s your birthday; you’re out with friends in your favorite club, dancing and drinking. seeing you happy again makes his heart swell. he wishes he could be the one making you laugh like that. 
a few drinks in and he finds himself on the packed dance floor next to you. you don’t pay him any attention; too busy inventing funny dance moves with your friends. you’re so fucking cute it hurts. if only he could spin you around and kiss you. 
your face is a little sweaty and your eyes are glossy from drinking. seungmin moves slowly, taking his phone out to snap a few pictures up your skirt—quick enough so no one notices, least of all you. 
that’s how he finds himself in the club’s grimy bathroom with his hand wrapped around his weeping cock, the picture of your pink panties lighting up his screen. he hates filthy public places like these but he couldn’t even wait until he got home. he wonders if you’d get a kick out of the effect you have on him. 
seungmin spreads his precum over his cock and bites his lip to stifle a moan. he’s usually quiet, almost methodical while he strokes himself to completion. but there’s something about you that makes him feel as if he’s walking into quicksand. trapped in your hold. it makes it almost impossible not to scream.
his bucking hips are desperate; his grip a little too tight. almost uncomfortable. his eyes are locked onto his screen and seungmin pictures your clothed cunt on his face, suffocating him. how he’d lick and bite at the fabric until it’s drenched in his saliva and your juices. how you’d ride his face with your clit pressed against his nose while he buries his tongue into your greedy hole. 
he cums with a muffled sob, shooting his load into his hand. he hates how sticky and dirty it feels. shame washes over him when he realizes he just jerked off in a public bathroom like a desperate teenager who can’t control his urges. luckily no one seems to be paying any attention to the stalls. outside of his small cubicle there’s the constant thrum of the bass mixing with the muffled voices of other clubgoers. outside, there’s you. 
seungmin wipes his hands clean on a paper towel and adds your photo to the ever growing collection on his phone. he pushes his glasses back in place and takes a deep breath to steady himself.
maybe this time he’ll finally gather the courage to go up and talk to you.
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lilyginnyblackv2 · 1 year
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Rei and Miri in Buddy Daddies Episode 5 - SPOILERS!
Even though there was a lot of focus on Kazuki, rightfully, fretting, I do feel like this episode focused a lot more on Rei’s bond with Miri. 
First we start off with Rei and Miri playing games together. A big change from Ep. 2 when Miri was roll all over his games and when Miri asked if he has Morio Kart, he gave a quick and clear “No.” Though it seems like he has Morio Kart now, because of those sound effects and the way Miri is moving around while she is playing. It’s like she is leaning into the movement of her kart, I used to do that a lot as a kid playing games, and still do that when I’m really into it as well:
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Then we have Kazuki telling them all the stuff they can’t buy or get anymore because the money is tight, and we get this scene below:
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Of both Miri and Rei looking at Kazuki like he is awful, lol. This scene above really does feel like a family moment though, they feel like a family unit here, and they should, since they’ve had Miri for a little more than three months now. We see at the start of this episode that it’s the end of March (it makes me wonder if the series will get to May and “Mother’s Day” and how that will get handled).
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Then later we see Rei focusing on the fact that Miri has homework. He focuses in on the presentation aspect of the assignment ( “tell...everyone?”), while Kazuki focuses in the “parent’s job” aspect. I’d imagine that, outside of the “it being told to everyone” aspect, the presentation aspect would be the worst part for him, personally. Meanwhile, Kazuki is the one that cares a bit more about image and the like, so he focuses in the job aspect specifically.
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I’ll go back to that conversation on her homework in a little bit. But, for now, when he tries to get away, Miri is the one that stops him this time, instead of Kazuki like in the past. 
Later, when Miri gets lost, he lets out a little huff of concern when he tells Kazuki that “Miri’s gone.” Rei is a generally more composed person, he doesn’t really express his feelings, unlike Kazuki who is very open and very freaked out. Jumping to some...WILD...conclusions, not only in regards to Miri, but to stuff involving Kyutaro. Though Miri is a very good girl and tries her best to not say “papas,” lol. And I can’t really capture it here, but Rei was really putting in a lot of speed when he runs off to try and find her along with Kazuki. (Side note: I love how the animation keeps in his hunched over position and lazy gait, even when he is running). 
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Then, towards the end of the episode, they spend time to show Rei gently, carefully, and properly picking up Miri. She isn’t being placed in his arms like Ep. 2 or running into his arms for him to pick up like Ep. 3. In Ep. 4 we do see him holding her in his lap, but I think this is the first time we’ve seen him actually pick her up like this. 
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And he’s the one that says, “Let’s head home, then.” Between last week, when they gave Miri her room, and this week, with him acknowledging his apartment as their home, it seems like he is fully accepting of the idea that Kazuki and Miri are going to be permanent fixtures of his life and will just be living in his apartment.
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And the way Miri worded this, “And it’s toasty warm when we all sleep together!” makes me think that the whole “sleeping in one bed” thing happened more than once. Maybe she is only talking about before she had her bed, but she might be talking about times when she had a nightmare or something and slept together with them (though, we do see Rei still sleeping in the bathtub this episode, unless he only did that because Kazuki was out). Hmm...
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Anyway, after Rei picks her up, she immediately knew it was him and not Kazuki. She’s likely still in a half-awake, half-asleep phase and was probably able to recognize it was him through scent, warmth, the feel of his jacket, etc. All these small things that indicate that she has been held close by him and knows what it’s like to be held by him.
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Kazuki’s expression is obviously his worry over her spilling the beans here on them being her papas, but Rei’s expression...I don’t know. I feel it may be more shock that she knew it was him. Especially given the shot right after she says it and starts breathing easily again (the image above). He seems reassured about the fact that she is safe and unharmed and knows her Papa Rei, even when she is practically asleep. Then he shoots daggers at Kyutaro initially when he states “I know everything” in a very serious voice. He was probably getting ready to fight for Miri (like, physically).
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This all ties back into him adjusting to Miri in the sense of realizing he needs to take more responsibility for her safety, especially after Kyutaro gives him and Kazuki a tough love style speech on the danger and responsibility they are going to have realize and face by bringing Miri into their lives and being her fathers.
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Finally, we have her presentation. Kazuki tells her thanks for the pictures she drew of them, while Rei focuses more on her skills, “Well done” (on the presentation). It makes me wonder if Rei may end up being the one that acknowledges and helps her with her academic skills more than Kazuki, since that is an area more relatable to him (value being placed in skills). His eyes look softer too.
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lilhawkeye3 · 10 months
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some friendly advice as new areas of the country start having long-term wildfire smoke problems:
Don’t do extended exercise outside. If possible, don’t do extended work outside.
Shower once you’re back inside to wash the particles off your skin/hair. This helps to keep you from inhaling it when out of the smoke.
Hot showers and steam help sooth inflammatory airways (nose/throat)
Wear an N95 mask when outside for extended periods to help keep from inhaling smoke. Look at what size particles and how much the mask will protect against (ie 95% vs 99%).
Get an air filter for your office/room/house. They’re in the $50 range online (price May vary in person). If you can’t get one, look into how to make a Corsi-Rosenthal box (box fan, two air filter frames and lots of duct tape).
If you have an A/C (window or central air), turn the fan from “auto” to “on”. This will make sure your air is still being filtered even when the cooling part of the system is not on.
Drink water. (I mean you should try to do this anyways)
Important to note: you may feel side effects slower than others. You may feel them quicker than others. Sore throat, sinus infection, upper respiratory infection, itchy eyes, pink eye, exhaustion, difficulty breathing— these are all common side effects of prolonged smoke exposure.
The dangerous part is that in areas of high concentration, the particles are small enough to be absorbed into your bloodstream. So please, do what you can to help protect yourself and friends/family. Even when you aren’t feeling it, it’s affecting you.
signed, an Oregonian in the Midwest with permanent lung damage from wildfire smoke.
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smol-and-scared · 8 months
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G/T Concept: Venomous Tinies
Just what it says on the tin: Tinies that have some kind of venom. Could come from fangs, claws or even some kind of stinger. And that venom can do all sorts of fantastical things depending on the fic!
Here are some of my favorite ideas:
- Tiny Terror: A venom that causes 'Microphobia'. The afflicted is temporarily terrified of small, living creatures.
(Obviously, tinies evolved this to escape humans.)
- The 'Warm Fuzzies': A venom that temporarily makes one very protective of small, living creatures. When the afflicted helps or protects small creatures, they experience a pleasant tingling all over their body.
(Evolved to temporarily turn humans into allies. This can backfire however, as naturally protective humans may attempt to keep the tiny.)
- Wasted: A venom that causes strong inebriation, similar to alcohol or weed. Symptoms include slurred speech, cognitive impairment and significant impairment of motor functions.
(Tinies evolved this venom because drunk and/or high humans are really bad at chasing things and fall asleep easily.)
In certain AUs, this kinda backfires? With no long-term side effects, Tiny venom has become a popular and legal recreational drug. As expected, it is easily accessible and has it's own (insufferable) sub-culture.
- Shrinkng Venom (AKA 'Karmic Venom') : This supernatural venom shrinks the afflicted body significantly. Unlike the previous Venoms this one is permanent. Luckily, it takes multiple tinies to get anywhere close to their size.
(In practice, this one can be quite horrifying. Attack a family of tinies? You'll wind up their size. Attack a whole tribe/villiage? You'd better pray they're holding back, or you'll become microscopic at best. And they will watch. ...without mercy or remorse)
Bonus Concept: Bio-Diverse Survival
These aren't venoms, but I really wanted to include them:
- Coagulant Saliva: Tinies that produce a sterile, liquid coagulant instead of saliva. They lick their wounds like puppies, and the saliva make them clot almost instantly! Works with kisses too! ...And for humans! So let them kiss your paper cuts and boo-boos!
- Webs and Pseudo-Webs: Tinies that can secrete (or spit) a potent adhesive that works even while dry! Their sweat has a special counter-agent that allows them to handle and work it like clay (or thread). It's used in nearly all of their buildings and tools.
- Bio-Resin: These tinies drink tree sap and eat a variety of specific plants, which is processed in a second stomach. This lets them regurgitate a liquid that hardens very fast! The resuting resin is basically just amber, but each tiny produces their own color (it's like eye color, or hair color for them). If you find a big purple gemstone in the woods, please be considerate. That is their drool house and you're interrupting lunch! 😠
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princessjojo-x · 6 months
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Taurus Mars
💝 he takes life slowly & enjoys living in peace. he exhibits a measured & persistent pace instead of hurried & impulsive actions. he adopts the steady, calculative & enduring pace of mother earth. he finds comfort in taking his time but others may perceive him as lethargic for it. it can be hard for him to impose action bc he starts only when he is ready & not when he is told. the plan is in order & the resources are accumulated before hand. he’s selective in his pursuits & he’s willing to wait but once the wheels start turning, he won’t stop until the end. he has the commitment, stamina & consistency needed for success. despite being slow to get started, once he gains power, he will keep this position. interestingly, some very powerful & violent leaders have this placement. hes like like a rock still standing even when a tsunami comes. his nonchalance actually intimidates some people.
💝 he’s the least aggressive & abrasive mars sign since he’s extremely slow to react or get mad. most things don’t faze or bother him. stillness is so engrained in him that any other reaction during distress feels superficial to him. he’s a tranquil individual with a permanent composed demeanour. others perceive him as comforting & reliable due to his natural ability to be patient, quiet & grounded. however, since he camouflages his emotions, others can perceive him as nonchalant, apathetic & even intimidating. he has a good sense of forethought & thinking before action. he has the ability to tune in to not-so-seen aspects in individuals & situations. if anyone annoys him he tends keep it classy & keep a distance. however, this may not align with how he truly wants to respond to unsettling behaviour from others. he resists in indulging in displays of volatilities due to his preference of peace & his difficulty expressing anger. he fights steadily & stubbornly so even though people normally start fights with them but they always finish them.
💝 taurus mars is slow moving but planet mars doesn’t like being slow. mars is the catharsis of all feelings that demand urgency & protection including anger & fear. when taurus is in mars it becomes unmoving & sometimes more unmoving than it needs to be. it holds onto things & won’t let them go bc that would lead to losing control of protecting itself. despite mars being debilitated in taurus, this does not mean that anger is weakened. he suppresses his anger inside the body & allows it to ferment for years upon years. he has a long fuse & is slow to demonstrate anger. but his built-up anger eventually gets released & the expression of rage is in no means controlled or restrained. this fury can rattle everything in proximity & be quiet frightening to others, especially since they’re used to his composes demeanour. it can take a lot to break him down but when his stability is taken from him, this is when he become insecure, heartless & power-hungry. strength is Patience with yourself. You allow yourself to learn and grow from your mistakes. Soon enough, you end up perfecting life.
💝 the best way to piss him off during conflict is to not engage & simply walk away.
💝 he is very stubborn (just like a bull) so he doesn’t forget or forgive a slight. it takes him awhile to move on & get over things.
💝 since taurus is detriment in mars, issues with self-worth & self-destruction may be a side-effect for him. he may take on todays encounters with repressed & recycled memories which are decades old. despite him seeming calm on the outside, his old wounds are freshly bleeding & his invisible scars can inflame at any moment. sometimes his resentment flows with such volatility & unpredictability that you wonder if it will ever stop or where it came from. it may express itself as harbouring self-contempt for his choices, his life, his body, or everything at once. its a poisonous self-hatred, self-punishment, self-denial, self-malignant or a lack of conviction that he deserves anything worthwhile. he may self-destruct by over-consuming pleasure until it becomes poison & giving into the impulsive urges that promise short-term relief at the cost of long term comfort (spending her rent money, drinking until she is physically ill, etc). however, he may self-destruct by the opposite route of being severely self-restricting to change something inside & punishes herself further after failure (compulsive with measuring every dose, forcing herself through harsh lifestyle regimes). but in all this, he has tremendous stoicism & he prefers to keep his worries to himself (the strong & silent type).
💝 despite his peaceful nature, he’s very protective of his loved ones, meaning he’s not afraid to stand up for them.
💝 he is the most sensual of all the mars signs but in many cases to finally liberate this side of him, it took many inner battles & heroic victories that became stories she has never spoken about.
💝 security & comfort is most important to him. he needs everything to be under control & he will be soothed by the promise of stability. he will be filled with deep fears, rage & anguish if the future seems uncertain & security is on shaky ground. he has tremendous compulsion to build wealth & establish financial stability.
💝 he’s motivated by money & the finer things in life. maybe he eat too much, spend too much time soaking in bubble baths or acts too reckless with catch all for the sake of pleasure.
💝 when he’s attracted to someone he’ll take his time to get to know them. it may take him awhile to come around but once he does he’s easy & simple to read, meaning you will never be left confused abt whether he likes you or not.
💝 he’s very comfortable around women.
💝 he often enforces rules & repercussions so others tend to label him as controlling. when others get close to him, they think they're immune to these expectations & get comfortable breaking his rules. but it’s shaking up his comfort that makes them his enemy. he doesn’t get enough credit for how patient he is. others don't realise how much leniency he gives before saying anything to anyone.
Turn On’s:
💝 pleasing his senses is very important to him: touch, smell, hearing & taste. you could incorporate blindfolds, candles, feathers, silk sheets & sensual sounds. but most importantly, arrives baring gifts & kind words.
💝 physical touch is especially important to him: massages, foot rubs, tender kisses, cuddles, stroking, caressing, warmth & body worship.
💝 his necks is his erogenous zones - talk into his neck, lavish his neck, give neck kisses/hickeys, choke his neck. you could gift him a chain since that belongs on the neck.
💝 he’s attracted to earthy types who are stable & patient. ensure to match his calm energy & steady pace. if you‘re going to be rough or surprising ensure it’s gradual & prepare him first.
💝 he’s physically attracted to older or dominant women with dark features & curvy bodies.
💝 he enjoys lovemaking on a full stomach or involving food in the bedroom (whipped cream).
💝 he maybe into bum play, gigolo roleplay & mutual oral.
Turn Off’s:
💝 physical touch is like oxygen him, denying him affection or sex for too long will offend him.
💝 he tends to put a lot of importance into aftercare & not receiving it can straight up ruin the experience for him.
💝 he dislikes his lover failing to show appreciation, being incompetent & criticising him.
💝 he’s turned off by dirty bedrooms
Performance:
💝 his rxships are highly based on sexual & intimate compatibility. he is very comfortable with his body & his sexual desires. he has a strong need to pleasure himself even in committed rxships (taurus is all abt self-reliance & self-sustainment).
💝 the sex with him will be slow and/or prolonged. his sexual stamina is long-lasting & steady. sexually he is patient & slow to turn on, like an oven instead of a microwave. he also may take a while to cum.
💝 he maybe lazy in bed & expect his partner to do most of the work.
💝 all earth signs mars have a natural tendency to separate love & sex but taurus mars is most prone to this. he has a ravenous sexual appetite & indulges in intimacy as a comfort measure. to him, sex is like breathing air, he can’t live without it. a positive & ongoing sex life is very important to him; if it isn’t fulfilled his overall mindset will be negative, withdrawn & stubborn. he tends to have difficulty abstaining from sex so if there’s no one in his life who matters to him, he is still going to look for sexual partners. sexual involvement with him does not necessarily mean that a rxship with him is underway. in this sense, more gentle types could find him too careless & direct.
💝 if a man with taurus placements is attracted to you he will find a way to touch you or get close to you somehow, he needs to lean really close to you bc he just can’t hear what you’re saying, he has tripped & now has to steady himself by grabbing your arms or waist, “those stairs look really steep, here grab my arm”.
💝 all earth signs mars want to be comfortable with you before they sleep with you.
💝 he probably had to work harder than most in regards to education bc he’s a slow learner. he may have struggled with grades but when he puts in work he becomes unstoppable.
Compatibility:
💝 aries mars - aries is constantly trying to rile taurus up & taurus is trying their hardest to ignore or avoid aries. taurus is known to blow when pushed too hard & aries is certainly capable of this. both will refuse to admit they’re wrong; aries due to their competitive & argumentative nature, taurus due to their stubbornness & possibly a denial of their passions. taurus can controlling, smothering & possessive, putting chains on aries.
💝 taurus mars - arguments/fights will consist of small, built-up pressures (possibly jealous or territorial feelings). these clashes will usually end in a stalemate (draw) since their default nature is not competitive or heated. an advantage one may use to “win” is their ability to foresight their opponents moves & intentions since they’re deeply predictable. however, feuds between the two are unlikely & it’s probable they’ll join forces instead; there’s a strong reliability factor in their dynamic.
💝 gemini mars - two different energies causing a fight or mess. these two can bring out the ugly in each other. gemini by poking the bear, being impish or antagonistic; taurus by brick walling, stone coldness & being closed off.
💝 cancer mars - they can find a lot in common at best, their dynamic can be protective & caring. trust & reassurance are the two elements that keep these two loving or respecting each other. but there can be a lot of jealousy & possessiveness in this pairing. ‘attachment’ plays a big role in most of their issues. there are pains from unmet expectations or broken promises. when they don’t know each other well, both are closed off & hard to read. neither express their anger well or aren’t very in tune with it meaning their conflicts can be filled with passive aggression. cancer is more manipulative or have very cold waters towards taurus. taurus can be controlling, mean & unmovable. their conflicts can be slow developing & both can be major grudge holders.
💝 leo mars - at best these two make a great team by feeding off the warmth of each other’s generosity & affection. but dramatic fight or rivalry is possible. they can make one another feel small or infuriated. taurus may see leo as bossy & pompous. leo may see taurus as inflexible, dispassionate & overly careful. leo may be able to take down taurus in terms of passion & action. taurus may be able to take down leo do to their unshakable grudge & while taurus’s unshakable will & hunger for revenge.
💝 virgo mars - with virgo’s adaptability & taurus’s reliability, they can make a down-to-earth pairing who tends to solve problems with logic & bluntness; they’ll handle conflict in a mature manner or at least attempt to look like they are. both aren’t very heated or instigating people. but being emotional or vulnerable around each other may be a challenge. the root of many conflicts in this paring can be the refusal to show each other’s softer side. allowing each other to be sensitive, giving more comfort & reassurance will help them keep the peace. virgo can run circles around taurus with witty jeers, criticism, & nervous energy. but taurus can be the wall virgo runs into since they’re steady, determined & careful. as enemies they can be intolerable of each other & may even see each other as a threat that needs to go (suing, going after career or reputation, hurting or stealing belongings). sometimes earth mars signs can play dirty surprisingly.
💝 scorpio mars - are these two going to try out-grudge, ignore or one up each other? however, scorpio has an advantage since they can easily tap into their passion (expressing their desire, force, & wrath). but taurus is still able to deal with scorpio through their endurance & patience. taurus is more hesitant (finding conflict, pressure, or intensity as uncomfortable). taurus prefers conventional & routine but scorpio craves emotional depth & vigor. scorpio appreciates the mysterious, dark, taboo, or extreme but taurus embraces the open, precise, warm & cordial feelings that are met with security, appealing or soothing pleasure. scorpio is hot lava or an icy pool, waiting to swallow something but taurus is an unexpected earthquake or a sleeping volcano, that is dangerous & destructive once it blows. taurus can have passion & intensity that matches to scorpio’s vindictive, venomous, obsessive potency. but taurus’s passion is hidden away. scorpio can be good at hiding their passion too but this is usually intentional whereas taurus is subconscious. scorpio can help taurus undercover their inner drive & fire. taurus can help scorpio to become more patient & realistic.
💝 sagittarius mars - these two can face a lot of frustration & misunderstanding, getting tired of each others bs. sagittarius is blunt & feisty but taurus is down-to-earth. taurus can easily perceive sagittarius as irresponsible, tactless & selfish. sagittarius can easily perceive taurus as sheepish, dull, closed-minded or stubborn. sagittarius needs more spontaneity & an emotional or rush from taurus. taurus needs sagittarius to be more tender, predictable & reassuring. sagittarius tendency to jab, mock, tease, joke, compete or play can bring out the intense side of taurus.
💝 capricorn mars - calculated & cold capricorn with willful & calm taurus equals a long-lasting peace, realistic expectations & bumps in the road rather than full out battles. they have a similar energy with patience, caution & pragmatism. they may be very attentive to each other’s physical needs.if they get on each other’s bad side there can be control issues & harsh judgment; they may use one another or try to have an advantage over the other. capricorn is considered to be at an advantage but if they ever find themselves being a victim of taurus, they’ll likely cut them off completely. capricorn takes action whereas taurus can be too unmovable, scared, or stuck. in order for taurus to “beat” capricorn, taurus needs to tap into their hidden intensity & passion, without losing control. if this is possible, they’ll become just as dangerous as scorpio.
💝 pisces mars - both have the ability to connect harmoniously & deeply together. neither want to fight & can avoid conflict well. pisces has has an upper hand with their manipulation, intuition, perception & flexibility. taurus has an upper hand with their determination, stubbornness & realistic clarity. taurus can easily find pisces too unreliable, vague, confusing & irrational. pisces can easily find taurus too difficult, closed-minded & hard to understand. their conflicts can be filled with unspoken feelings, cold shoulders, the blame game, sadness or disappointment. pisces can get over conflicts easier than taurus but taurus mary be harder to trigger or rattle than pisces. pisces can be sensitive & help taurus connect with their feelings. taurus is stable & helps bring calmness/steadiness.
people with this placement: adulf hitler, osama, ben ladin, michael jackson, kanye west, john kennedy, muhammed ali, issac newton, 50 cent
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Text
Come Back to Me pt. 3
Pairing: Astarionxf!Tav
Rating: M
Warnings: Hurt/angst, comfort, trauma, fluff, trauma, soft jealous Astarion
Summary: After an attack in the Shadow Cursed Lands, Tavriel is exposed to the toxins of fear inducing mushroom spores, causing her already weakened mind to relive the traumatic horrors of her past. Astarion and Halsin are forced to work quickly to cure her mind of the spores before the effects remain with her permanently.
Also read on AO3! Check there for more frequent updates because I sometimes forget to also post them here.
I also recommend reading my previous fic for some backstory on my Tav! Not totally necessary, but if you’d like some backstory you can find it here!
Masterlist
Come Back to Me: Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
Astarion was quietly seething as he followed behind the druid, his face knitted into a tight scowl as he stepped across jagged rocks and fallen tree branches. Of all people he could be paired with on this excursion, it just had to be Halsin. He had lingered around Last Light just briefly, too consumed with worry after hearing Tavriel’s horror filled screams, while the rest of the group had already sectioned off into teams of two, leaving Astarion with Halsin as a companion. He already had a grudge against Halsin for being a threat to his relationship with Tavriel, but he also fully blamed Halsin for Tavriel being as sick as she was. If he had been a better companion, he would have kept her safe. This, of course, was simply a deflection of Astarion’s own feelings of being incompetent for Tavriel because he let her go out to begin with.
“Do you see anything, Astarion?” Halsin called back to him as he swept a torch across the landscape, “Have you found any black oleander?”
“If I had don’t you think I would have said something?” The vampire spawn sneered, his lip upturned into a snarl.
“You’ve just been unusually quiet,” Halsin said as they continued, “I was making sure you hadn’t stumbled across something. You’re sure you know what you’re looking for?”
“Of course I do! I may not be rolling around outside all day like you, but I’m not dim witted enough to not know what we’re looking for.” Truthfully, Astarion hadn’t known what black oleander even was until a few days ago, but he wouldn’t dare admit it, “And I’m not in a particularly chatty mood. My mind happens to be on other, more important, things than idle chit chat and niceties.”
“I will not blame you for your anger, Astarion. You’re worried about Tavriel. You’re a bonded pair, are you not?” Halsin asked with a laugh, taking no offense to the snippy remarks coming from the elf. 
“I would be a fool to not be worried about her. She’s the only thing that actually keeps this little band together. If something happens to her, well, we’d all be lost.” Astarion’s voice had softened slightly. The thought of actually losing Tavriel felt like a knife to the chest. He’d finally found something and someone to give a damn about and the idea of her being taken down by a patch of mushrooms felt like a cruel joke sent by the gods as a continued punishment. 
“Is that all you’re worried about? If she can continue to serve a purpose?” Halsin shot a sideways glance to Astarion, surprised at his response. He had seen the way Astarion would look and speak with Tavriel and it was painfully clear he had some inclination of feelings for her, so the abrupt cut to how she was useful was odd.
“No. Don’t be stupid. If you had let me finish I would have answered your question.” He snapped, “We are, if you’re so interested in knowing, but I’d like to keep the spicy little details to myself, thank you.”
“I am, actually, it’s something I wanted to speak to you about.” Halsin said as he stepped to the side of the path they were on, his eyes scanning for the plant they were after, “Look, over there off the trail, there’s a small patch of oleander.” Astarion followed the druid into the small patch of plants, being mindful not to step on the few precious ones they had managed to find.
Astarion’s stomach was suddenly in knots, Halsin’s statement setting him on edge. He was already afraid of losing Tavriel to Halsin. After all, Halsin did seem much more compatible than he did at fulfilling Tavriel’s needs and desires. When compared to the druid, Astarion felt inferior. Halsin had his share of trauma in his past he was sure, but whatever it was, it couldn’t come close to the baggage he was bringing in his relationship to Tavriel. Centuries of using sex and deception to lure unsuspecting victims to the Szarr palace only to surrender them as a quick meal for his master certainly must have weight heavily on Tav, would it not? His trauma was so similar to Tavriel’s that he was always afraid that his past and hesitations would be unwelcome reminders of her own life of misery. 
But of course, Astarion knew that it didn’t end there. He and Tavriel were so fundamentally different that he was surprised she had shared his enthusiasm for wanting a real relationship all those months ago. After all, he was bitter and mean spirited, not often caring about the well being of others. Purely selfish actions for purely selfish reasons had always been his style and he genuinely didn’t see that changing anytime soon. Tavriel, on the other hand, had displayed selfish actions herself when they first met, later admitting she had engaged in a romance with Astarion for the same reasons he had. With that aside, Tavriel was generally a good hearted person who had unselfish actions for unselfish reasons. They were polar opposites and yet had somehow found themselves attracted to each other through a history of trauma bonding and a mind flayer tadpole wiggling about their brains.
But Halsin? Halsin was a good man. He had spent a century of putting his own needs and desires aside to address the issue of the Shadow Curse. He was kind, especially to Tavriel, always greeting her with a warm smile and friendly embrace. He truly cherished her friendship and the help she had so selflessly offered to him, a total stranger. Astarion knew Halsin had an attraction to her, he could see it all over his face whenever Tavriel came bounding over to him with that pretty smile on her lips he oh, so adored. Halsin had the capacity to understand Tavriel in ways that Astarion couldn’t even fathom. They both had an innate connection to nature and if anyone could help her regain the connection she had lost in captivity, it wouldn’t take a scholar to know that Halsin was clearly the better match.
“Grab as much as you can, we’ll need more for the remedy to be fully effective, but we should collect all of this if something goes wrong.” Halsin said as he crouched, using his torch to illuminate the area and chase away any lingering shadows. Astarion also crouched to the ground, quickly cutting and securing the richly purple plants into his travel pouch.
“You’re sure this isn’t enough? How complex is this concoction of yours?” 
“No,” Halsin said as he pulled the last plant from the cursed land, “we’ll need more. She needs a potent dose if we intend to cure her fully.” This made Astarion’s heart drop once again. Halsin had been so calm leading up to this point, making Astarion believe that despite Tavriel’s behavior, curing her would be seemingly simple.
“…She’s worse than you’re letting on, isn’t she?” Astarion asked quietly as they continued their search for black oleander.
“I didn’t want to alarm the others, the last thing we need is for everyone to be in a blind panic, but yes, I am worried. I’ve seen many friends and allies fall victim to the spores, but I’ve never seen them set in so quickly. We will truly need the Oak Father’s blessing if this is to work.” Astarion gripped his torch tightly at Halsin’s confession, his pace quickening as his eyes desperately scanned the ground for more of the plants. They had to hurry and collect what they needed to return to Tav. He could only pray that his companions also found their plants and herbs with haste.
“There, by those rocks, I see much more.” Astarion pointed to a cluster of large rocks, their base littered with the plants he so desperately wanted to find. The two men wasted no time in gathering more of the herbs, pausing only briefly to scan their surroundings as shrieks from the shadows kicked up. Deeming there was no longer a threat, they continued ripping the plants from the ground.
“What did you want to discuss with me? About Tavriel?” Astarion asked after a few moments of silence, his mind unable to let the comment leave his mind.
“I was curious about your feelings towards her, and ultimately your relationship, because I wanted to know if I should ask for your consent.” Astarion froze, hands unmoving as he held a firm grip on the base of an oleander plant.
“My consent?” he asked through gritted teeth and fangs, “Consent for what, exactly?”
“For something more.” Halsin said calmly, “To go beyond the fabric of a simple alliance and friendship and into something more…intimate. If you would be all right with that, of course. I wish not to step on any toes.”
“Are you asking me if she could cast me aside? And replace my spot with you? Is that what you’re saying?” Astarion’s voice almost went up an octave as he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him, his worst fears regarding Tavriel materializing in front of him.
“Of course not, that is not my intention. I mean to join the two of you, if you would be open to it, and carry on a union as nature intended. Without the restrictions of societal norms and expectations for a relationship to only be two people. Tavriel is extraordinary, a true delight and a kind soul, and she has unknowingly shaken me to my core. I would like to share, not take away. But if anything were to happen, I would need your approval. Whether you personally want to join us or not is up to you, depending on what you are comfortable with, and her as well. You have become her mate, so to speak, and I would not wish to intrude if it’s not something you are comfortable with.” Halsin had paused his plant collection, taking the time to look at Astarion carefully as he spoke, wanting to broach the subject without seeming too nonchalant about it.
“Not now, of course, I must finish the matter of the Shadow Curse before I can even begin to entertain such notions, but I wanted to put my offer on the table, figuratively speaking. So my intentions are not misunderstood by either of you. I had begun to run this by Tavriel right before we were attacked.” Astarion’s mind was spinning. This was something he had been fearing for a long time, but was also something he had hoped was only a deep rooted fear that would never come to fruition. And yet, here he was, kneeling in dirt beside the man that could easily take away his entire world.
Astarion didn’t care about a persons sexual preference or how they wanted to be in a relationship, it didn’t matter to him. Halsin wanting a multi-partner relationship wasn’t what was so upsetting to him. What was potentially world shattering, however, is that Halsin wanted to be in a multi-partner relationship with the one person Astarion wanted to be selfish about. He had finally found someone he could be free and open with. He was comfortable around Tavriel, relished in her kindness and warmth, and he wanted to keep that all to himself. He felt a burning rage deep inside at the thought of someone else knowing her intimately. The idea of someone else feeling her kind and gentle lips pressing against various parts of their body made him squirm. Or, which could arguably be his worst fear, if she experiences mind blowing, back arching, shaking, orgasmic pleasure from someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t fully appreciate their moments of passion when they first met, having only done it to secure protection, but he was beginning to once again open up to the idea and he didn’t want anyone else to dip into that fantasy. Astarion wanted to be unapologetically selfish with the first genuinely good thing to come into his life. However, if Tavriel felt otherwise and wanted more than what he alone could offer, he wouldn’t stop her. She had been through as much pure hell as he had and he would feel wrong if he kept her from being truly happy for the simple sake of him wanting to keep her to himself.
“And what did she say? What was her answer to your little question?” Astarion could feel his hands begin to shake, genuinely terrified of what Halsin might say next. 
“She didn’t,” Halsin said plainly as he continued to pull plants, “we were attacked before she could respond. I couldn’t tell you her answer, it’s something that will have to be addressed after she is cured.”
“Well,” Astarion said after some silence, “I have absolutely no intentions of joining in on your little group party. However, if Tavriel wishes to join your side as well as mine, I won’t stop her. She deserves to be happy, the world hasn’t been kind to her if you didn’t know, and I will not be the one thing that stands in her way.”
“If you truly mean it, my heart is happy and appreciative. Again, this will not be something that happens soon, I have more important things that need to be taken care of than desires of the flesh, but the offer will always be open to you. I will talk to Tavriel again once she is better. That should be our first priority, curing her.” Halsin stood as he and Astarion picked the last of the plants that were needed for the remedy, “Let’s return to the inn, we have what we came for. May the Oak Father guide the others back as well with a fruitful harvest.”
The two men set off towards Last Light without another word spoken between them. Halsin was walking with a purpose, eager to return to the inn and get the remedy for the fear spores in the pot. Astarion, who was also rushing to return to Tavriel, was distraught. He was thankful they were able to find the required items without much hassle, but the potential of losing Tavriel in more ways than one was sitting heavily on his mind. He desperately wanted to know what Tavriel’s answer to Halsin’s offer would have been. He wanted to know what she was thinking and where her heart was going. He hurriedly walked to the inn with Halsin, his fingers digging into his palm as he walked.
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“We have everything.” Halsin said as he and the rest of the party filed in the front door of Last Light Inn and handed their collected ingredients to the arch druid, “Give me a few moments to brew these into a tea. I’ll bring it up to her when it’s done. Can someone check on her? I no longer hear her and it’s concerning.” Astarion wasted no time in departing from the group, practically flying up the stairs in the process. If his heart could beat, it would be pounding in his ears. When they had left the inn, Tavriel could be heard from the courtyard. But now? There was silence.
Astarion gently pressed his ear to the door of the bed chambers he shared with Tavriel, listening for any sounds from inside, but was met with an uncomfortable silence. He tried the handle, finding it had been locked from the inside, presumably to slow Tav down if she tried to dart out the door in her altered state. After a soft knock, Lae’zel opened the door, cautiously glancing back to Tavriel to be sure she didn’t charge the door before allowing Astarion in. He quickly slipped inside, making sure to secure the door behind him. The state of the room caught him off guard, making him freeze on the spot as he surveyed the damage.
Jagged fingernail marks along the wooden floor, books that had been thrown across the room, the center carpet was crumpled and shoved to the side, and even broken glass from a wine bottle that had been smashed against a wall. Astarion had cleaned the room before Tavriel and Halsin returned, wanting her to return to a safe space, but the work was undone seemingly by Tavriel herself. Small spots of Tavriel’s blood were scattered across the room, dripping from her destroyed fingertips and other scratches she had inflicted upon herself. Tavriel herself was seated in the center of the room, resting on her knees and shins, her hands pressed to the floor as her arms struggled to support her upper body. She was mostly silent, the only sounds being emitted where slow shallow breaths and the occasional whimper. Her eyes were half lidded, ready to close at any given moment and succumb to a deep sleep. Her mind and body were absolutely exhausted from her actions and Astarion feared that she wouldn’t have the strength to fight the spores much longer.
“How long has she been like this?” Astarion asked as Lae’zel returned to her previous spot on the floor across from Tavriel. 
“Not very long. She’s been scrambling about and destroying anything she could find until a few moments ago. She’s weakening. Did you find the herbs?” Lae’zel asked hopefully.
“Yes, thankfully,” Astarion said as he crouched, trying to get a closer look at Tavriel’s face, “Halsin is preparing a remedy now.” He reached out carefully, almost afraid she may snap at his fingers. He gently placed his hand under her chin, lifting her heavy head until her fully clouded eyes met his gaze. Tavriel’s face was stained with tears and her skin was hot to the touch, even for his perpetually cool fingers. 
She looked as if she was a step from death’s door and Astarion felt his chest ache. He felt so unbelievably helpless, unable to do anything to help his love from slipping away. He was reliant on someone else for her salvation, and the idea made him sick to his stomach. Over the years under Cazador’s control, Astarion only ever needed to rely on himself to stay as safe as a vampire spawn could be. Relying on someone was a weakness and it took the little bit of control he did have away from him. The feeling here was no different. Having to rely on Halsin to get a working antidote into Tavriel before everything was too late made him uneasy and on edge. With a slight delay, Tavriel pulled her head from Astarion’s light grasp, the movement making her lose her balance and falter in her stance. She landed on her forearms with a soft grunt, her legs sliding out from underneath her until she was almost face down on the floor. She weakly tried to back away, the voices in her head still screaming that she was in danger, but her body wouldn’t allow her to move. Instead, she rested on her arms and took more labored breaths. 
“Where in the hells is the damn druid?” Astarion hissed as he sat back, his anger caused by his inability to actually help started to seep out.
“I will check on him. Stay with her, she seems to have calmed down enough.” Lae’zel stood without another word, quickly exiting the room to speak with Halsin, leaving Astarion and Tavriel to themselves. They sat in silence, Tavriel too weak to say anything and Astarion too afraid of driving her further into madness with his touch or voice. He dug his nails into his palm again as he clenched his fist closed, feeling more and more incompetent the more time that passed.
“Tell me what to do, love.” He whispered as Tavriel let out a small groan as she shifted again, “Tell me how to help you. I don’t know what to do. I need you to come back to me, but tell me how. You promised me you would come back, my love, you promised.” Tears began to well in his eyes, threatening to fall down his face as he watched her writhe in pain and mental agony. Tavriel’s body ached from slamming into doors and scratching her fingers raw. The scars that adorned her body were throbbing, feeling as if they were being made for the first time again. Her breathing quickened as fire seemed to be burning through the scars on her shoulder blades, the pain almost unbearable as her mind twisted and warped, forcing her to relive that horrible night. With a sudden burst of energy, she sat up, almost throwing herself backwards as her hands reached over her shoulders to claw at the marks on her back, her armor thankfully keeping her from digging into the flesh. She tried her best to scream at the memory, but her voice was raw and hoarse, causing only more discomfort. 
“Godsdamn it, Cazador was right, you are useless. Pathetic. Weak. You can’t save her.” Astarion thought to himself as the tears forming came dangerously close to falling. His insecure thoughts came flooding back with full force, further twisting the pain settling in his dead heart. He didn’t know what to do or how to save her by himself. She deserved so much better care than what she was getting from him. She deserved someone that wasn’t weak and cowering, afraid to even touch her when she was begging for help. He truly believed he didn’t deserve someone as wonderful and extraordinary as Tavriel and she deserved someone so much better. She deserved someone would keep her safe and satisfied. Halsin was downstairs now, making a concoction that would ease her mind and suffering, something that can heal her. He immediately knew what needed to be done to save her, where to go, what plants were needed, and how to sew those plants into something useful. Halsin could protect her. Halsin could keep her safe. And yet, here was Astarion, sitting as still as a stone as his lover screamed in agony and fear. His vile thoughts continued to bombard his mind as he sat and watched Tavriel suffer.
Astarion was frozen with fear, truly not knowing what to do to help. He was afraid to touch her, fearing that his touch would alight her skin more and cause more suffering. The tears that lined his eyes finally betrayed him, sliding down his cheeks as Tavriel’s own sobs assaulted his ears. She was trembling, her entire body almost convulsing as she continued to rake her sore and bloodied fingers across the armor. She was frenzied in her movements, completely unrecognizable as the Tavriel that Astarion had grown to love. Against his own trepidations, he reached out with a shaking arm, hoping that making contact with her could pull her from the memory. However, the moment was short lived and his extended hand came back to clutch at his own head, which was now swimming with an uncomfortable twinge. The tadpole swimming around in his brain had made contact with the one infecting Tavriel, linking their minds. Astarion’s consciousness was thrust into the absolute chaos that was swimming in Tavriel’s fracturing mind, allowing him to see inside her memories and granting him access to the nightmare she was reliving.
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