#ugh god their relationship was terrible

[llycaons]

it's very sweet when wwx is like 'aw jin ling is just like his uncle' in postcanon fics but I have to laugh because in canon he's literally like 'ugh, jin ling is JUST like his uncle 🙄'

[wintergrofyuri]

i think part of the reason i love mithrun so muchis that like. his obsession with the demon is so explicitly self destructive.

i mean he literally states that the one desire it left him with after it ate him was for it to finish the job. he felt worthless. less than nothing. leftover crumbs to be thrown away.

just this deeply human story of trauma and how people's reactions and emotions to it vary. i love how human everyone in dungeon meshi is in general. no one is perfect. its just so. ughhh. i love this series.

healing mithrun attack

[delicatetaysversion]

you ever hangout with someone and their company is actually much worse than being alone?

[starryylies]

Omg 141 with touch-starved gf that just gets turned on from every little thing they do cause she's not used to it. Been heavy on my mind

TF-141 with touch starved reader

Hiiii sososo sorry for replying late, everything is getting postponed cuz of work :((((

I hope you enjoy this anon! Thank you so much for the awesome request, I love it!!

PRICE-

ꨄ︎ loves it loves it lovesssss itttttt

ꨄ︎ thinks you’re like a cat who actually loves cuddles but acts like she doesn’t

ꨄ︎ calls you his kitty

ꨄ︎ loves patting your head and calling you his “good kitty”

ꨄ︎ loves how he’s the only one who’s seen how touch starved you are

ꨄ︎ lives for the reaction you have for when he even touches you slightly making body stiffen and your thighs clench from arousal.

ꨄ︎ will keep his hand on your thigh in public all to make sure you behave when others are around

ꨄ︎ loves teasing And welll taming you

ꨄ︎ thinks it’s adorable how you get all whiny when you’re turned on by his teasing.

ꨄ︎ but how can he stop when you look so pretty trying to hide your arousal

ꨄ︎ would make sure nobody finds out though, not because it’s embarrassing but because he doesn’t want anyone else to get the wrong idea and mess with you

ꨄ︎ will make you hump his legs when he’s busy

ꨄ︎ Loves how desperate you are when turned on :(

ꨄ︎ “use your words princess, you want me? my what exactly? Say it”

ꨄ︎ “bad fuckin’ kitty making me fuck you in the neighbors bathroom all cus youre a wet fuckin’ mess”

SIMON-

ꨄ︎ it takes time for him to get adjusted in the beginning

ꨄ︎ ar first he found it a bit overwhelming since he’s had terrible experiences in the past but as you guys go on with the relationship he slowly finds it comforting.

ꨄ︎ has a low sex drive in the beginning but will try his best to please you,

ꨄ︎ so in the beginning he started off by kisses here and there till he gets used to it more.

ꨄ︎ likes how you cling onto him as a koala :)

ꨄ︎ is very touch starved in the beginning but feels awkward about it

ꨄ︎ sometimes felt inadequate but those feelings are lost when he’s fucking you till you’re a babbling mess moaning into the pillow case. :)

ꨄ︎ slowly as your relationship deepens I believe his sex drive will increase greatly and now he’d be more comfortable being clingy and touch starved

ꨄ︎ would make sure you’re well satisfied especially during the days you ovulate

ꨄ︎ you both are like each others cuddly cats ₍˄·͈ ‧̫ ·͈˄₎

ꨄ︎ loves the way you whine under his touch

ꨄ︎ loves giving you kisses whenever he can in the house.

ꨄ︎ very protective and will make sure nobody takes advantage of you

ꨄ︎ loves the way your pussy clenches on him when you’re under him.

ꨄ︎ swears he will cum fast if you continue squeezing his cock so hard,

ꨄ︎”ugh fuckin’ hell princess not so right, gonna’ Milk me dry righ’ here love fuckk”

SOAP-

ꨄ︎ oh this man is a menace, will purposely tease you

ꨄ︎ he loves how you squirm when he tries kissing you

ꨄ︎ loves how you visibly gasp when his hand brushes against you

ꨄ︎ loves keeping his hands on your waist

ꨄ︎ will make sure you’re always satisfied, you’re still horny after one round? Let’s go again

ꨄ︎ will purposely make you sit closer to him when you guys are out teasing you by slowly moving his hand from your knees to your inner thighs~

ꨄ︎ kisses you so much, loves how audible whimpers escape your mouth when you’re on his lap and are making out

ꨄ︎ thinks you’re so cute when you tug onto him :))

ꨄ︎ loves the way you melt underneath his touch

ꨄ︎ is quick to notice when you’re frustrated and needy for him

ꨄ︎ he will pretty much fuck you like he hasn’t fucked in a year because god he lives for the little sounds and reactions you make.

ꨄ︎ pats your head too!

ꨄ︎ likes giving you massages :)

ꨄ︎ the massages lead to you pinned underneath him while his hands are gripping the bed while he pounds you till his balls are drained

ꨄ︎ “fuck Bonnie lookin’ so messy under me. you’re fuckin’ droolin, takin me in so good.”

GAZ-

ꨄ︎ biggest menace here, makes sure you’re always hot and bothered with him

ꨄ︎ oh god this man cannot keep his hands off of you

ꨄ︎ he will never ever get his hands off (until you say so ofc) but his hands will always be somewhere on your body caressing you

ꨄ︎ makes sure you get turned on when you guys are out

ꨄ︎ loves the quickies that happen when you both are out cuz you goy turned on cuz of him

ꨄ︎ thinks you’re an adorable mess when you’re horny

ꨄ︎ will buy a small panty vibrator for when he’s deployed

ꨄ︎ will turn it on any time he pleases so you don’t feel lonely when he’s gone :((

ꨄ︎ asks you to tell him in detail about what you did with yourself when he’s deployed

ꨄ︎ loves coming home from deployment finding you so needy and hot, climbing on top him the second he comes back

ꨄ︎ will probably try out many ways to tease you more

ꨄ︎ holds your hand or keeps his hand on your waist wherever you guys go.

ꨄ︎ If you’re ticklish he will definitely tickle you there whenever you feel low or anything.

ꨄ︎ loves taking care of you and loves when you cling onto him.

ꨄ︎ loves how sensitive you get when you guys are fucking but will ask you over and over again to see if he’s not crossing any limits.

ꨄ︎ “ya likin’ it babe? You like it when I come home only to catch ya playin’ with yourself? Couldn’t even wait for me could ya?”

ꨄ︎ “Yeahh fuck takin me so good, don’t squirm baby m right here, If it gets too much tell me okay?”

[tgcg]

part 2 of something specific

CG: I’M GOING TO NEED TO WATCH THROUGH IT AGAIN TO REALLY HONE DOWN WHAT I THINK OF IT, BUT FUCK IT, I MIGHT AS WELL SHARE MY THOUGHTS NOW SINCE WE’RE FRESH OFF OF WATCHING IT.

CG: SO, THEY’RE ACTUALLY A REALLY FASCINATING EXAMPLE OF RED ROMANCE. I’D GO SO FAR AS TO SAY VERY SUBVERSIVE OF ALTERNIAN UNDERSTANDINGS OF THE SORT, COMPARED TO WHAT YOU’D USUALLY SEE IN FICTIONAL MEDIA. IT’S LEVELS ABOVE THE TYPE OF DYNAMICS I WOULD TYPICALLY SEE IN MY NOVELS, DISREGARDING THE QUALITY OF VACILLATIONS AND YOUR QUOTE-ENQUOTE “POLYAMORY” PRESENT. BECAUSE SAKURA’S POSITION IN THIS IS PRACTICALLY POINTLESS, BUT I DIGRESS.

CG: ACTUALLY — THAT WAS KIND OF FUCKED UP, BY THE WAY. WHY IS SHE WRITTEN SO POORLY?

TG: remember when i told you about misogyny

CG: I WILL NEVER FUCKING GET THAT. OUR MOST POWERFUL FIGURES WERE GENERALLY GIRLS. HOW THAT TRANSLATED SO FUCKING TERRIBLY IS BEYOND ME!

CG: AND HOW THE SHIT DID THE UNIVERSE *I* HAD A DIRECT HAND IN CREATING END UP BEING SO MIND-BOGGLINGLY BACKWARDS ABOUT ROMANCE?

CG: DID NOT EVEN AN ERRANT TRICKLE OF MY INFLUENTIAL THINKPAN OOZE MAKE IT THROUGH THERE? AT ALL?

TG: not even a droplet my man we decided to be equally anal about other stupid shit i guess

CG: NO KIDDING!

CG: ANYWAYS.

TG: if yall managed to get through that door and reign supreme over the human race for lip smackin eternity you know mens and womens would be macking on each other in various gender arrangements with gleeful wild abandon 

TG: itd be a goddamn utopia

CG: FUCKING EXACTLY! BUT INSTEAD I’M HERE. DOING THIS. WITH A GOD, UNIVERSE PENDING. INSTEAD OF BEING A GOD REIGNING OVER A UNIVERSE MYSELF.

CG: *ANYWAYS*!

CG: THEY START OUT WITH A RIVALRY, SURE, BUT THERE’S ACTUALLY NOTHING BLACK ABOUT IT. THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER ARE STRICTLY POSITIVE, IF HIDDEN BEHIND A MORE AGGRESSIVE FACADE. THE VIOLENCE OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP BOTH COMES FROM THE SOCIETY THEY WERE RAISED INTO, AND SOME OF THEIR MAJOR CHARACTER FLAWS AND INSECURITIES. NARUTO IS FIERCELY DEFENSIVE OF ANYONE WHO JOINS HIS CIRCLE BECAUSE HE’S DESPERATE FOR CONNECTIONS, AND REFUSES TO LOSE THEM AT ANY COST EVEN IF THEY LEAVE SUPPOSEDLY OF THEIR OWN ACCORD. SASUKE SEPARATES HIMSELF FROM THE PEOPLE HE LOVES OUT OF FEAR – AND DESIRE FOR REVENGE AGAINST HIS BROTHER CONVINCING HIM THIS IS NECESSARY.

CG: LIKE, EVEN WITHIN THE FIRST MAJOR ARC IN THE LAND OF WAVES YOU CAN SEE THAT THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER SO DEEPLY THAT SASUKE WOULD DIRECTLY SACRIFICE HIMSELF AND HIS POTENTIAL FOR NARUTO’S. AND BELIEVING SASUKE TO BE DEAD IS THE FIRST CATALYST TO NARUTO’S POWERS BEING RELEASED. THAT IS *REALLY* EXTREME. ESPECIALLY BY TROLL STANDARDS, BUT I UNDERSTAND KILLING PEOPLE IS A MUCH FUCKING LARGER DEAL PSYCHOLOGICALLY FOR HUMANS. THAT KIND OF REACTION TO DEATH WOULD ONLY BE RESERVED FOR A CURRENT OR POTENTIAL QUADRANTMATE… AND IS OTHERWISE ONLY EXPRESSED BY TROLLS WITH DISEASES.

TG: oh yeah like the friendship disease right

CG: UGH.

[sim0nril3y]

Night Out

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: After a night out with your friends Simon is happy to care for you even if you make his life hell sometimes. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, tiny mention of smut pre-going out, drunk chaos, hurting knee, canon-typical swearing.

It was late, much later than Simon would usually have stayed up. Being a solider his body was used to a strict routine; his years of services made it so he would go to bed early and then would be up early as not to waste any of the day. There would be often when he would be woken in the night by dreams of thinking he heard noises but since sleeping beside you would generally get some good hours of sleep in, way more than when Simon slept alone or away on deployment.

However, now he was sat on the sofa, eyes fight to stay open as he stared blankly at whatever re-run was playing on the TV. Unlike usual you weren’t curled up into his side, drooling on his shoulder. No, you were out with one of your friends that Simon hadn’t bothered to learn the name of. Whoever it was, it was her birthday and she had wanted to spend it celebrating in a club.

By now Simon knew that you’d been a few drinks into the night, maybe even a couple of shots too, drunk dancing with your girlfriends. Honestly, he couldn’t think of anything worse than being in a sweltering, crowded room that was filled with terrible deafening music and that was exactly what he had told you before sending you on your merry way with a kiss and a promise of collecting you once you were ready, no matter the time, he’d added.

Sat back, bouncing his knee softly and biting on his thumb nail Simon’s mind wandered to the outfit you’d worn. You had looked fucking ethereal, almost causing you to be late for the taxi by eating your sweet pussy from behind as he bent you over the bathroom sink. Simon knew you looked good and he knew any bloke in that club would be practically throwing themselves at you, grinding up behind you, maybe even placing their hands on you before you’d brush them away. It frustrated him. No, it made him seethe.

Simon wasn’t able to dwell on it for too much longer as his phone began to jingle beside him. God, he’d never had the sound on his phone before, was that his ringtone? Ugh. He didn’t linger, answering it and saying. “Love, you there?” He winced at the overwhelming noise that spilled through his speaker, deep booming music and muffled voices. “Babe?” He asked again, sitting forward and speaking a little louder as if to get your attention.

“… not going already…” “… it’s late… Simon is waiting…” “Babe.” He asked again, but the conversation continued. “We’re getting a taxi…” “Noooo~” “Love.” Simon growled, standing up then and rubbing his hand slowly down his face. “… I wanna get home to my man~” A flutter of ‘ooohs’ and ‘ahhhs’ followed before you giggled and said. “Oh, wait…” Then your voice was closer, talking to him finally. “Simon, baby. You there?”

Instantly he answered. “I’m here.” Trying not to smirk too much about having heard your sappy little comments. “You ready to come home, love?” He quizzed, moving to grab his keys from the bowl closer to the front door, shutting off the TV and waiting for a moment. “I’m ready…” You answered, your voice was slurred and light, it made him smile to himself. You told him the club that you were currently standing outside the front of and then said. “But don’t rush. I’m fine.”

“I’ll be there in 10. Don’t move. Don’t talk to anyone but your friends.” It was commands that made you giggle and then response. “Yes, sir~” “Oi, behave.” Simon quipped back as he quickly exited his home. “I’ll see you soon.”

Pulling the car over a few spaces down in a taxi spot, Simon shrugged, clambering from his truck and heading down the road, past a group of rowdy young men, much younger than him and chatting about all the birds they were gonna pull, talking a big game but Simon knew that more than half of them would be going home alone.

As he approached the doorway, Simon smirked as he saw you speaking to one of your friends, looking over animated and hearing the sound of your slurred giggle from there. “Look~” You friend pointed in his direction and in a moment, you turned, gasping in elated surprise and then rushing at him full force. “Simon~” You whimpered, wrapping your flailing drunken body around his strong form. “Hi baby.” He whispered, rubbing your back soothingly before setting you down onto your bare feet. “Where are your shoes?” Simon asked and you looked puzzled and then shrugged. “Must’ve lost them.”

“Both of them?” Simon frowned down at you, then shaking his head. “Do any of your friends need a lift home?” Drunkenly you shook your head, eyes struggling to focus as you did so.

At your answer he was relieved, he just wanted to get you safely home now. “Alright. Hold on.” A shriek pulled from your throat, swinging you up over his shoulder and beginning to walk you back to his waiting truck. “Simon! Simon!” It was like you couldn’t even control your laughter and he thought a smile. “You lose your shoes then you get carried.”

Getting you into the car wasn’t that much of a struggle, he placed you in the seat, strapped you in and then began driving home. It was everything around that which came almost like a game to you. Pointing to each passing by food place you’d point to it and ask if you could stop there and get some chips, Simon refused, promising to make you something once you’re home knowing that by then you’d have forgotten all about it.

“O-oh, babe… there was this song… in the club… it was s'good.” You told him then, reaching over to begin fiddling with the radio, turning it up so loud it made Simon jolt and then reaching to turn it back down and give you a hard look. “Just sit still.” He said firmly. “Stop fiddling with things-” As if on cue the window began to wind down beside you, air busting into the car and Simon growled as he used the controls his side to slide it back firmly up. “Oi, what did I just say?”

“I heard you…” You replied with a knowing grin on your face. “Just wanted some fresh air.” You pouted towards him and Simon huffed, shaking his head and gripping the steering wheel. “Did you have a nice time with your friends?” Simon questioned then, trying to distract you from messing around with anything else in his car. “Oh, it was so much fun. I was dancing so much my feet were hurting, but I kept going.” Then you giggled then, it was so pure and full of drunk joy that Simon couldn’t help but smirk too.

Nodding his head Simon asked. “Didn’t have any boys trying to make moves on you then?” He quirked a brow in your direction and you giggled. “Oh, no~” You giggled, then it began harder before gazing at him. “I told them all I had a big strong man waiting at home for me and they all kept a goooood distance~” Reaching over she placed a distracting hand on his thigh. He knew he couldn’t take advantage of your lowered inhibitions, so he took your hand and linked your fingers, removing it from exploring any further. “I’m happy to hear that, baby.”

Once he arrived home, Simon carried you inside and carefully sat you at the edge of the bed and frowned when he saw a bloody gash on your knee. “Did you fall over?” He asked, observing it carefully. “Mmhmm… it doesn’t hurt, don’t worry~” Then flopping back onto the bed, arms spread wide beside you. “Bloody hell, with the amount of alcohol in your system you could get hit by a bus and you wouldn’t feel it…” Tiredly you began to giggle, Simon rose up and said. “Let me clean that up…”

He took his time cleaning and dressing the wound, making sure that it didn’t seem to concerning before looking up to see you gradually falling asleep. “Babe, don’t sleep. You need to drink some water and change. Okay?” “… Wan' sleep…” You already slurred voice was now destroyed by sleepiness. “Babe. Up. C’mon…” Carefully pulling you to be upright. “Get changed. I’ll get you some water.”

Leaving the room, Simon took a little time turning off lights and locking doors before returning with a glass of water, stepping into the room to find you face down on the bed with dress caught around your hips and snoring softly. “Fuckin’ hell…” He muttered, stepping over to place down the water and then tugging your dress down and throwing it aside. “Up for a minute, baby.” He coaxed you upright, tugging one of his oversized shirts over your head and then bringing the glass of water to your lips. “Just a couple big gulps. You’ll thank me tomorrow.” Simon promised lowly, kissing your hairline as you followed his orders. “Good girl. Good girl. One more for me.” Again, smiling as you tired body did as he requested. “That’s a good girl. Let’s lay you down for a little bit.” Your body flopped exhausted as Simon rolled you safely onto your side.

It was mere seconds before you were snoring lowly into the pillow, Simon moved to lay down beside you, observing you for as long as he could muster to keep his eyes open and then sinking into the abyss beside you, knowing that you were safe at home beside him in bed was enough, he could deal with whatever chaos came with that.

Masterlist | Ask | 21-11-2023

[strrynigghts]

unexpected news

— könig x fem!preg!reader

— cw/tw: pregnant reader, accidental baby, potential typos, 3am writing, babies, established early relationship, reader and könig don’t live together, illusion to house!wife reader though she has a job, fluff(?), english to german google translate, so I’m sorry if it’s not perfect! lmk if I’ve missed any!

— summary: y/n is pregnant with königs baby, and he finds out

— an: I apologise for my long absence! I’ve been on and off tumblr for a few weeks now. just have been busy and had major writing block unfortunately. I am officially moved into my new home, and my pets are a lot sometimes, especially with two jobs. I’ve been focusing more on life, rather than tumblr, hence another reason why I’ve been gone. this idea came to me when my bf and I talked about how many kids we’d prefer XD enjoy lovies :3

it was honestly an accident. you and könig got a little too into it one night, and the way you wrapped around him oh so tight, ugh. he couldn’t help it, ripping off his condom to stuff his seed deep in you, mumbling, “ich möchte, dass du die mutter meiner kinder bist, maus. bitte lass mich in dir kommen,” in german as he came inside, your eyes rolled back so far into your skull you couldn’t even comprehend what happened until you felt sick a few days later.

you’ve called out of work for the past week, telling your boss you have a bad case of the flu. but the pregnancy test in your hand had said otherwise. you were in fact pregnant, and you couldn’t help but slouch against the door to your bathroom, tears streaming down your face as you started wallowing in what only you could describe as self pity.

könig, ever the gentleman, bright you soups everyday up until he had a mission. but you wouldn’t answer the door, or his calls. you couldn’t face him. he was in the military for gods sake! he couldn’t care for a baby, and honestly, neither could you. your apartment was falling apart at the seams more or less, and you honestly felt terrible.

but it was on the second week, you decided to face könig and his coworkers. after a mission that went horribly wrong, you wanted to invite him and his team over. you made them their favourite foods, and even set up the table while they were on their way over. as königs girl, you honestly didn’t mind cooking for him, or his team. they were like his family, and you made sure your apartment provided them comfort when they couldn’t feel comfortable in their own homes.

when they arrived, könig was the first to greet you. “hello my maus,” he said softly, kissing you on the cheek before stepping further into your home, everyone else following behind him. they all sat and ate, while you messed with the food on your plate, your appetite not so much in the moment. you felt sick, so you excused yourself and dashed for the bathroom, bending over the toilet. “oh my love, are you okay? did the soup not help you? you’re still sick from before I left for the mission?” könig spoke softly, grabbing your hair so it was out of the way.

you kept lurching over the toilet, unaware that königs eyes locked onto the pregnancy test that sat semi hidden under a wad of toilet paper, his breath hitching as he glanced between you and the test.

“you’re pregnant?”

you whined, looking at him with teary eyes and a red face, nodding subtly. “I was going to tell you I swear! just wasn’t sure how you’d react. wanted to tell you when the time was right, könig.” sighing, you stood up, flushing the toilet as you looked at him as he eyed you.

in a flash, he pulled you into his chest, hugging you tightly. “I’m going to be a dad!” he laughed softly, grabbing your hand and pulling you back towards the team, shouting, “she’s pregnant! I’m going to be a dad!” they all smiled and clapped for him and you, saying their congratulations and whatnots.

you weren’t sure how’d this play out, but you were ready to go down this lane and see where it takes you, so long as könig remained by your side, and his team on the other, lending a supporting hand to you both when needed.

© 2024 strrynigghts | please don't copy, translate, or repost any of my works. reblogs and likes are encouraged however.

image credit here

[nectardaddy]

mirage | suna rintarou

four | scandalous ★

masterlist

ignore timestamps

cw/notes: some sexual humor, terrible description of getting a tattoo, messy messy messy, my iwa simps are eating good today

There was a hum in the air, a sharp twang ringing as it muddled with music. The low drone coming from a speaker beside her; subconsciously mouthing the words to it as her eyes tracked the man's arm. Gaze narrowing before taking a paper towel and wiping down, earning a small groan in return. Tattooing the "sweet spot" of his inner arm, just above the elbow - the only blank area left on his right arm. It hurt like a bitch.

"You weren't kidding last night about being heavy handed." Commenting with a groan as she pressed the tattoo needle to his arm once more, flexing his hand into a fist with a sharp inhale. "I think you're trying to kill me."

"Oh, grow up," she laughed. As she turned to dip the needle in the ink container, she cast her gaze over to him, locking eyes with him for a brief moment before turning away. Don't look at me like that, good god. He was handsome, that she couldn't deny even if she wanted to. Black ink winding down both arms and stopping just before his hands, a cut off that was stark but blended well. "You're the one who came in regardless, I did warn you."

Iwaizumi wasn't a stranger to the ramblings of the woman, often finding himself enjoying them the many times he came in. But this one was different, an aura of dejection around her today, that juxtaposed her usual irritability as he listened to her speak. Asking him rhetorical questions to gauge his attentiveness; ones he was always ready to answer. Maybe it was merely a distraction from the discomfort he felt on his arm, that slowly merged to a numbing feeling as time passed, maybe it was something else.

"I listened to the song you suggested last time by the way. Best interest." Telling him in an effort to shift the conversation to a lighter subject, tired of speaking about her relationship woes. Though the tone shift of the conversation was palpable, a bit hesitant, and heavy.

"Yeah? Did you like it?"

"I did." She paused a moment from her actions, formally shading part of his arm, now glancing to look up at him with a small smile. "Pretty scandalous though. There something you're trying to tell me, Iwa?" She asked half joking, laughing off her own question before flicking her eyes back down to continue shading.

"And if there is?"

Another pause as his question caught her off guard, a small 'huh' leaving her lips as her eyes snapped up to him again. Oh fuck he's dead serious. His earnestness made her hesitate and she pulled away the tattoo gun completely, instinctively knowing she didn't want to mess up. Locking eyes with him once more as she opened her mouth to say something, then promptly shutting it as no words came.

"I'm sorry, that was really forward," the man found himself quickly backtracking the conversation but the question was already out in the ether. He saw it. Swirling in her eyes - contemplating it.

"No, don't apologize." Giving him a nervous smile in response. "I actually wouldn't be opposed."

I kind of hate this but we ball. first time doing something so messy so bear with me ugh

once again thank you @eggyrocks for your very correct thoughts on iwa's music taste, your playlist was the reason I attached this song to this moment

iwa knows every possible detail about the situation and still asked her. it's more of he thinks she's pretty and she needs a distraction than he wants to ruin this for suna

they are only getting a drink guys I swear, I know this is a suna fic

yachi pulled yn in the back room as soon as he left and whisper yelled that she heard everything and was fully freaking out

yn downplayed it hard

taglist under cut

@mollyrolls @causenessus @froyaoya @seroh @eggyrocks

@nbcvs @rory-cakes @localgaytrainwreck @kodzu-ken @hermaeusmorax

@sunafc @lvtilzs @kr1nqu @hyenagoated @gsyche

@le000xxgrd @iheartpinky @strxwberri-s @wolffmaiden @yogurtkags 

@superboywife @cherrypieyourface @soulfullystarry @bedeater @a-little-pebbl

@miliondollagirl @toges-cough-syrup

[cinnamonest]

Yan childe x teacher reader BUT the reader has a lover OMG I CAN'T-

//cucking + filming noncon, age gap, Ajax is an awful little bastard as usual

(also here's the original Delinquent!Childe x Teacher!Reader post, and the second sequel post)

Oh anon. Anon. I love this, but consider: take it a step further.

The poor boy finding out that his precious teacher he’s been fantasizing about fucking silly is MARRIED.

Typing away on her keyboard when his eyes drift and he stiffens up when he sees the ring he never noticed before. The pain. The horror. Devastated.

He’s never even met the guy, and yet he hates him so much. It’s not fair that he got to you first, just because he was born earlier than he was!

He’s probably not good enough for you. Some old guy who can’t rail you with the vigor and intensity that a young guy like himself can, probably can’t keep up with your drive either. You must be so frustrated and unsatisfied.

Now it feels so awful on his tongue to call you what he normally does. Miss _____, he says, and it feels like he’s spewing poison from his mouth, knowing it’s some other man’s name practically forced on you by dumb traditions and social standards (not that he wouldn’t do the same, but that’s different). It makes his chest hurt to hear it, the name feels like a constant reminder that some other man basically has laid claim to you, that the name marks you as belonging to someone who isn’t him.

He does some digging, finds everything he can on the guy, any online profiles or social accounts. Ugh. You deserve better. If it were him, he would just support you himself, you wouldn’t have to slave away doing paperwork all the time.

Even worse is the fact that the guy has a nice job — you know, the kind you need some higher degrees for, which he definitely won’t get seeing as his behavioral record is pretty much guaranteed to keep him out of any credible institution… still, you don’t need that much money to get by. Sure, he’ll never make that much (without getting into crime, at least, which isn’t an impossibility…), but still, he’s better for you.

It’s so much worse, though, when he stalks your accounts, sees pictures of the two of you together. Makes him feel sick to his stomach, you look happy and he doesn’t like that. He ends up having to close the window, unable to handle any further emotional damage.

He starts to pry, little by little. Can’t be too blatant, but he slips in a question every now and then — how you met, what you two do for fun, so on and so on. It makes his stomach churn to hear you talk about him, but he can’t refrain from continuing to ask, practically a compulsive urge.

God forbid you express any sort of discontentment. Even the slightest frustrated sigh, passive-aggressive comment in regards to the man, and so on, he perks up and zeros in. Oh, so you are unhappy. Typical unsatisfied wife that’s getting pent up from unmet needs and all that.

He’s very attentive to those complaints, the things you mutter under your breath and the implications of it all. He works too long and is never home (terrible, he would never leave you so lonely), he’s never helpful around the home (which wouldn’t be so much of an issue if you were home all the time and didn’t have work responsibilities), he suspiciously disappears sometimes for “work trips” or unexplained entirely (unforgiveable, your suspicions are well-founded, he’s definitely cheating and you shouldn’t forgive it).

Sometimes you sigh and shake your head — ah, sorry, I shouldn’t trouble someone your age with all this… but he assures you it’s fine… also he’s searched a list of local divorce attorneys, you know, if you consider that, which you should.

He’s not the best at being subtle or exercising restraint, so he can’t help but actually mention it out loud — life is short, better to divorce than stay in a miserable relationship! But you sigh and say it’s not that serious. He holds out on the hope that there’s an unspoken “yet” at the end of that, that eventually you’ll get fed up.

But you don’t. You keep tolerating it. It’s somewhat understandable, since divorces are difficult and messy, and you would need somewhere to stay and all that.

But getting one’s own place isn’t that hard. He would know, now — he’s actually been picking up odd jobs recently, all to get his own place. Hard to balance that with schoolwork, but he manages (and he’s in the absolute bottom-tier difficulty for courses anyway, with very little actual homework, and it’s not like he’s prepping for college like a lot of his peers). You’re very pleased with it, say you’re proud of him for being so dedicated and responsible, completely unaware that he only really has one intention for doing it all anyway.

He was planning to take that part slowly, ease his way there, but you push the limits of how much he can tolerate when he’s forced to meet the guy face-to-face. He’s just sitting there as per usual in your after-school sessions, talking a mile a minute as per usual, having a good day, completely unprepared for the psychological gut-punch he’s forced to experience when that same face he saw online comes walking right into your classroom. The sacred space that’s supposed to be just for you and him.

His soul is crushed when you get up to greet the guy all happily, practically ignoring him for several extended seconds before you gesture over to where he’s sitting and introduce each other — with himself as the student I’ve been tutoring, you know the one. The man nods, casts a single uncaring glance his direction.

Right. She mentioned you before.

The hell does that mean. He keeps the smile plastered to his face, but it’s twitchy. What did you say? Was it bad? No, you wouldn’t say anything bad about him… except maybe certain factual statements like the whole behavioral record thing, but he can accept that that’s his own fault.

Still, he doesn’t like the way the guy looks at him. A vague condescending, disdainful glance. Makes him curl his hands into fists and clench his jaw. If it weren’t for the whole “impulse management” thing you’ve been hammering into his head for months now, he might have outright attacked the guy.

It’s practically torture to sit there. You say something about how you’re going out for your anniversary, so he came to pick you up. Awful. Like you might as well have stabbed him. Not to mention it’s cutting into what’s supposed to be his time with you, and now he has to leave early.

So he’s forced to walk to the front doors with you both, listening to you talk all happily about where you’re going, while he’s forced to continue to pretend to be perfectly fine with it. Ugh.

You bid him goodbye, and he smiles and waves and walks the opposite way… and the moment you’re out of sight, he’s scowling and grinding his teeth and kicking rocks on the road all the way home, sulking like a petulant kid, imagining all the horrible ways he hopes your date goes terribly wrong.

It makes him seethe all night long, laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, nausea ruining any chance he had of sleeping. He can’t even go sulk around his parents with the hope of getting attention like he used to do when he was mad, now that he lives in this little apartment by himself.

How is he supposed to live under these conditions, no attention available on demand. You don’t even text him to see if he got home safe like you do sometimes. Probably too busy doing whatever with your husband who’s more important than he is. Hmph. His mind briefly flickers to wondering what you’re doing now that it’s later in the night, but the obvious realization only makes him feel ten times more sick. He doesn’t get any rest.

And the longer the night goes on, the more irritated he starts to feel, the misery and hurt begins to turn to bitterness and anger. He starts to feel like you probably know — no, you definitely do. And yet, you willingly tortured him like that. You've been so nice to him, giving him all that attention and affection, knowing you won't ever give him what he really wants and being totally fine with causing him so much pain. He's hurt, and more importantly, mad.

But he can't hate you… your husband, however, is a different story.

That guy kept his arm around your waist walking outside, rubbing it in his face like that. He’s certain that your husband must realize that he loves you (way more than said husband does, for the record), but that look of disdain — he doesn’t even see him as a threat, does he. Thinks that he’s not even proper competition. That much is painful. Bothersome. Annoying. Rage-inducing.

Well, he’s wrong.

That’s the thought that pushes him over the edge. He’s already had the idea in his head for a long time, he just kept bailing out every time he gathered the gall to go through with it, much to his own shame.

But clearly, continuing to be passive is not going to get him anywhere. Come to think of it, a few months ago, he would never have hesitated to go through with whatever impulse struck him, no matter how violent. It’s not like he hasn’t been expelled or arrested before.

He appreciates the time he’s spent with you, but he’s starting to think that all those little speeches about “self-control” and “thinking before you act” and all that have only really just made him docile and tame. How embarrassing.

A man should just take what he wants, right? Anything less is practically a blow to his pride.

He’s still not the brightest when it comes to formulating plans, but his rather straightforward plan ends up working. You actually agree to swing by when he says he has something to give you, something too big to carry to school himself, so he needs you to come pick it up with your car and all that. You must really trust him. Or you’re just naive, maybe, but he likes to think you trust him, however unwise that may be.

He worries that you might back out, but you show right up to his door. The motions from there are mechanical, putting his brain on a sort of autopilot mode in which he just goes through with it, without thinking too much, lest he hesitate, until you’re secured.

Grabbing you by the shoulder and jerking you inside, hand over your mouth, other arm around your waist and picking you up. It's a short distance to the bed (well, mattress on the floor), since it's just a studio apartment and all.

You being so weak makes it so much easier. He can technically tell you're struggling, but it barely feels like resistance, just weak squirming and thrashing that doesn't even loosen his grip in the slightest. You make cute little noises of surprise and confusion and fear, muffled by his hand over your mouth.

Sadly, he can't afford to have you attracting attention from the neighbors, so he's forced to keep you gagged, pulling your shirt over your head (to which your whimpers turn to full-fledged sounds of panic), and — after the brief moment where he has to detach his hand from your mouth, hearing you stammer out a wait, wait— balls it up and stuffs it into your mouth, quickly grabbing the duct tape (he, feeling very proud of himself for such clever forethought, thought to go ahead and tear some long strips off and stick the ends to the wall ahead of time), and placing it over your mouth, flipping you over onto your stomach.

You're so cute. You make the cutest little noises, your eyes get all teary, you squirm and whimper and try to pull yourself away, but he's got your wrists pinned behind your back with one hand, the other pulling your hips back. The cutest part by far has to be when you feel him jerk your skirt up, his cock pressing against your flesh and pushing inside of you, your squeals get louder and higher pitched and you struggle so hard, to no avail.

So mean, though, to pretend like you didn't see it coming. You know what you did. You led him on on purpose. Knowing full well the sort of things he's done to other people — beating his peers black and blue on impulsive whims, getting into fights because he felt like it, stealing stuff and vandalizing stuff and all those other things he knows you know he did, since it's all on his records… you willingly came all by yourself, in private, with someone like that, who you know full well is so much stronger than you are—

What did you fucking expect?

Up until then, the stream of words from his mouth are all amused and teasing and sadistic, but in those words, and the sharp jerking thrust accompanying them, you hear that underlying anger breaking through. You really hurt him, you know, by being married. He loves you so much, and you had to go and do that to me, he says, as if it was a retroactive choice, as if you should have predicted his presence in your life years in advance, as if you willfully did it to spite him years before you knew he existed.

Is it irrational? Sure… but it isn't going to change that he feels that way, and he’s mad and you can't do anything about it anyway, so he's going to keep blaming you for what you did wrong.

He keeps muttering about how stupid you are — for coming here so naively, for choosing your dumb fucking husband over him when he's so much better and loves you so much more, for all the little things you did to lure him in and make him want you so badly, for being so nice to him and having a body you should have known would make him want this so badly.

It's all your fault.

The words get more and more muffled and slurred as the movements get faster, harsher, you squeal with each thrust that makes the springs creak and the whole mattress itself move back and forth against the floor. He points out that you're leaking all over him, fluid drooling out of your hole and spilling onto his hips and thighs, satisfied by the shameful little whimper you make and the way you hang your head. You must not get fucked good enough at home, huh.

And then, he starts to slow down. There's a pause. You see him reach over, to where he tossed a few things that were on you when you came in onto the floor. Fishes something out of your purse.

You made a confused, panicked little sound when you notice he's holding your phone. Easily unlocked, whatever method you use — he holds it up to your face or forces your thumb to press against it, or, most alarmingly, even if it's protected by password or pattern, he enters it with a single try. Shouldn't have opened your phone around him so much, of course he would pay attention to that.

You're flipped onto your back, reeling from the sudden harsh movement, grunting and squirming when your bra is pulled up to your collarbones and your skirt pulled up even further, exposing your body completely before shoving back inside of you, and oh, what a euphoric sound you make — and this time, you visibly clench down on him when he does. Perfectly timed, too.

Your stomach clenches in dread and panic as you see your phone’s front side facing you.

Smile.

You cry out louder than ever before, struggle so hard, so good. His hand latches onto your throat and squeezes hard, and your hands, now no longer in his grasp, reach up to claw at them, all entirely futile. The sound of skin slapping skin reverberates around the room, and you see him tilt the camera downward, ensuring he captures the sight of his cock pounding into you, stretching you apart, all the slick fluid now coating everything from your thighs to his hips, and the sweet, precious sounds you make for him.

He wonders if anyone has ever made you react like this before. If your husband is going to be torn apart by the realization that he's made you feel better than he ever has, that he's better and bigger than him. The sheer fear on your face would suggest that. The thought feels euphoric.

He re-angles himself, leaning forward a bit, ensuring his body presses against your clit — you start to tense up, push back, your heels dig into the mattress and your body writhes with greater force than ever before. Your eyes squeeze shut and you shake your head but he doesn't stop, and you hate yourself so much in the moment for the sensations your body feels, the guilt and despair overwhelm you, you feel a cold chill in your gut — but you finally spasm and shudder on his cock all the same, clearly trying so hard to minimize it and hold back the sounds and movements, but the involuntary shudders and soft little cries are unmistakable all the same.

Normally, he would want to stay inside you longer — but there will be plenty of chance for that later. This time, the prospect of pulling out and capturing it is too tempting, and God, is it satisfying when he does. The squelching sound, the way his cum starts to drool out of you onto the mattress, the way your hole twitches from the sudden absence, slightly agape from the intrusion. It's so, so perfect, better than he could have even imagined.

You rip the tape off your mouth, gagging and coughing from the strain on your throat, and the overwhelming sensation leaves you in a dazed stupor for a few moments… your head slowly drags over to him, and an ice-cold spike of fear strikes through your heart when you see that he's still on your phone.

Slight movement from you as you try to push yourself upright takes his attention away from it, eyes flickering over to you.

Ah, right.

You make a scared little sound and pull your hands close to your chest (very cute!) as he looms over you again, but you're helpless to do anything as he puts the phone down to flip you over again, this time taping your wrists behind your back, adding a new layer over your mouth, and finally one on your ankles. Your struggles barely faze him.

You see him zip his pants back up and pull his shirt back on, standing and making his way over to the door, shuffling his shoes back on before grabbing your car keys.

I'll bring these back. Your place is only five minutes away if I drive, you know. I won’t get into any wrecks this time.

It occurs to you that you've never told him where you live, but it's the least of your concerns then and there. Your heart sinks to your stomach as he takes your phone again, grinning as he types and, after a pause, makes one distinct, final tap that you know can only be hitting 'send.'

His head turns over to you, that same dopey, carefree smile on his face as always, that now seems so much more sinister than before.

Don't worry. He won't have enough time to call the cops.

Your muffled words don't stop him. You writhe pathetically on the ground as the door opens and closes before you, listening in dread and despair as his footsteps slowly fade away.

[gretavangroupie]

The Ripe and The Ruin (Chapter 7)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader

Word Count: 10.2k

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Anxiety, Allusions to Cheating, Lying, Jealousy, Sexual Themes, Crying.

Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify

A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

A/N: Thanks so much for waiting for us while we took our little break. We had the absolute best time at our shows. We plotted and schemed most of the week and there really is quite a bit of exciting new things on the horizon, so keep your eyes peeled.

"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."

DUBLIN, IRELAND

HER POV

“There,” you whispered, putting the final touches on the food display. You gathered up the empty boxes and trash and made your way out the back door of the venue to dispose of them. You hoped you wouldn’t see anyone along the way, keeping your AirPods in as a public declaration to leave you alone.

You’d thrown yourself into work the last week, doing things that didn’t even fall under your scope of work just to fill the time. Your phone was on mute, but that didn't stop the calls. The texts. The songs. They all still came, but you paid them no mind. You couldn’t. You couldn’t be that girl. You couldn’t be the one to ruin a relationship. 

You hadn’t spoken to Jake since the friend request came through. You still hadn’t even accepted it. You didn’t know if you even should. She obviously knew who you were, and that alone scared you more than anything. How did she know?

You hadn’t spoken to Josh either. He had done his best to avoid you since that night in the bar, his look more than disappointed as he walked away. You felt a twinge of regret that you’d let him down, but you and Jake were nothing, and he has a girlfriend. He should be more mad at Jake than you. 

A call rings through your AirPods, the robotic voice alerting you to Ruth’s Facetime call. You make the split second decision to accept it, pulling your phone from your pocket and tapping the green button. 

“Hello,” you answer, shielding your face from the sun. 

“God, it’s so weird that it’s sunset there and I’m just now eating breakfast,” she says, taking a bite of a bagel. 

“Babes it’s literally what, noon there? Why are you just now eating breakfast?”

“Ugh, this isn’t about me, quit changing the subject,” she gripes.

“What?! I just–”

“Did you accept it yet?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“No! Are you insane! Why would I do that! Then she would know that I know who she is, and then she would know that I know she knows who I am!” you shout. 

“Yeah, I…am not even gonna try to decipher what you just said,” she says, shaking the ice in her coffee. 

“Ruth! Ugh!”

“What!? I’d accept it, you have nothing to hide. It’s not like you’re posting about him.”

“But–”

“But what? Show her you’re a hot bitch and she should be scared!” she laughs, tilting her head side to side. 

“You are actually a terrible influence,” you scoff. 

“Fine, what about McSexy,” she says, slurping up the last bits of coffee through her straw.

“Are you done with that yet? GOD.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughs, tossing it into the trash. “Spill about Beefy McGuns before I throw myself off a cliff.”

“Yeah I am the dramatic one,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “Murph is…well, he’s good I guess. We have been hanging out a little bit since… ya know. We snuck into the hotel pool a few days ago, got Gelato night before last and last night we went to Temple Bar because the guys had an outing thing.”

“Okay, so you and McDouble are like kinda hot and heavy courting,” she asks. 

“Please don’t call him McDouble, that is gross. I mean, courting sounds kinda…more serious than it is. We are just hanging out.”

“A lot.”

“Yeah, kind of a lot,” you admit. 

“Do you like him more than Mr. Pene-Traitor?”

“RUTH ANNE!” you shout, trying to stifle back laughter. 

“Answer the question,” she snaps. 

“No! I don’t know! I mean, I like them equally for different reasons,” you answer.

“Well who is better in the sack?”

“Um…”

“Oh my god, you haven't slept with McSexy yet?” she asks, mouth gaping open.

“No! It hasn’t…gone there yet,” you reply. 

“Yet…So you intend for it to…” she smirks. 

“Well, I wouldn’t hate it,” you laugh. “I’m kinda like not planning to sleep with Jake again after all this shit. Murph seems less…complicated. He’s fun, and respectful, and we just mesh so well when we hangout. We have a lot in common and it’s just so easy. It’s not serious or anything but I’m trying to see where this thing goes.”

“So guitar daddy is out, officially…”

“Jesus Christ, Ruth.” you sigh, “I mean I haven't spoken to him in almost a week now. I’ve been ignoring every attempt and conveniently finding myself in the opposite room as him. I don't know what to even say to him without exploding so I have just been saying nothing.”

“Has he added any songs or anything?” she asks, quirking a brow. 

“A few but I haven’t replied,” you answer. 

“Oh I bet it’s eating him up, too.”

You shrug your shoulders as you see the back door open, Sam stepping out to light up a cigarette. 

“Hey, I gotta go, the family unit is present,” you say quietly nodding your head to the side. 

“Okay, well, personally I think you should accept her request. I’d think it's more suspicious that you haven’t if I were her. Maybe she just wants to talk.”

“I will think about it,” you say, pursing your lips. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Alright alright, and don’t forget my souvenir. I want one with sandy brown hair, blue eyes and an Irish accent.”

“You are actually so annoying.”

Your phone dings in your ear as a text flashes across the screen. 

“Oh shit,” you gasp. “It’s Murph.”

“What's up McBeefy?!” Ruth shouts. 

You open the text, reading it over quickly as a smile crosses your face. 

“Oh okay, why are you blushing Y/N? Huh, huh? Why you smiling like that?”

“So, he just said that The Black Keys are going to be in Glasgow on our day off next week,” you say, a little shocked. 

“As in The Black Keys that you’ve loved your whole life Black Keys?”

“Those would be the ones…”

You

6:02PM: How did you know I love them?

Murph

6:03PM: Just had a feeling 😉

Murph

6:04PM: I’m gonna tell the guys, I’m sure they will want to go. 

You

6:05PM: I definitely want to go.

Murph

6:06PM: Well good thing I just bought us tickets

“Hello?! Earth to Y/N!” Ruth shouts, and truthfully you forgot she was on the line. 

“Fuck, sorry,” you say, reopening Facetime.

“What did you say?!”

“I told him I want to go and he said he already bought us tickets,” you smile. 

“Mmhm, yeah it’s not serious at all though,” she mocks. 

“Gotta go! Love you bye!” you smile, ending the call and shoving your phone into your pocket.

You nod to Sam as you walk back into the building, making your way back into the greenroom to finish up. Your music begins to play through your AirPods again, and you feel a sense of calmness now that you’ve gotten a little reassurance from Ruth. You tidy up the room a bit, grabbing a few empty cans and chip bags and banishing them to the trash can that is seemingly invisible to these four men.

Just as you turn around you see Jake stepping into the room with his eyes on you. 

Fuck. 

You jump back a bit in shock, watching as he throws his hands up in innocence.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, a guilty look on his face. 

You pull your earbuds from your ears and place them in their case as you lean against the wall behind you. “It’s fine. What’s up?” you ask, trying to seem casual. 

“You think we can talk for a second?” he asks, rubbing his fingers over his chin. 

“Um, right now? I’m just finishing this up?” you counter, not really feeling like this is the best time for, well, this. 

He walks over to the small couch, tapping the spot next to him, “Please, just for a second.”

His brown eyes lock with yours and you know there is no way you can deny him. He had that effect on you. You nod and walk over to him, sitting next to him. Maybe this is it. 

You watch as he pulls in a deep breath as if trying to organize the thoughts in his head. He swallows nervously and turns his gaze to you. 

“You know, this last week has been…well, to be honest, it’s been complete shit,” he starts, locking his fingers together. “We went from seeing each other nearly every day and texting and everything to…whatever this is. Not speaking…”

You nod your head, wanting to hear his piece before giving your own. 

“I miss you. I’ve missed you a lot. I have hated every second of this silence and I would very much like to get things back to how they were before… all of this.”

Did Josh not tell him about Murph? Surely he had…

His hand reaches for yours, grabbing it in his own as he continues and you are praying he is ready to come clean. 

JAKE POV

“I know I’ve been a total and complete asshole, Y/N, and you don’t deserve that. That’s not me,” you go on, squeezing her hands in yours. Your voice continues to crack, and the emotion you feel while telling her all this actually surprises you. It’s hard to talk to her, hard to get things out. But you only know that it is because you’re positive that it all means something bigger. Your internal alarm clock is ticking, you can feel the time to get on stage is drawing closer and closer. “I just want you to know how sorry I am.”

“Jake, listen. I appreciate your apology, but I'm still not even sure what you’re sorry for? I mean, I know shit went sideways but, you never even told me why…” she goes on, pure confusion painting her expression. “I know that I was and am being left in the dark about something, and I don’t want to end up looking like the idiot.”

“Fuck, I know,” you say, rubbing a hand over your face. You can feel the bile swirling in your stomach as you prepare to speak again. “If you… I want to talk to you some more, and explain myself, but…”

“...You go on in like fifteen minutes and you aren’t even dressed yet,” she answers.

You nod, sucking in your bottom lip. Her eyes are glazed over, not with tears, but with some other overwhelming sentiment. Your voice shakes as you go on. “If you’re willing to hear me out, I have a long story I want to tell you.”

She takes a second to consider, and you know that she could just as easily tell you to fuck off, get away from her, and to never speak to her again. But instead she nods, meeting your eyes with pity. “It’s hard saying yes to this Jake, I’m not gonna lie…”

“I know it is. I know it, I’m so sorry, I’m just. You deserve to hear it all. From me,” you beg. The anxiety of it all is making you dizzy, and you hadn’t even told her anything yet. But you’re positive that when the time comes, it will all be worth it. She’s worth it. 

“Please trust me.”

She nods again. “Just…come to my room after the show?”

“I’ll be there,” you agree with a smile, and you feel the faintest hint of positivity, a tiny flame burning at the end of the tunnel. 

—

After an electric show, you dab the towel across your forehead and neck, wiping away the heavy sweat beads that continue to pour down. 

“Just keeps getting better and better, guys!” Paul compliments you as you pass by, making your way down the hall to the green room. 

“Thanks, man. Appreciate you,” you reply with a pat to his shoulder.

“Daniel, you hitting the shower?” you ask as you watch him take a seat on a red leather chair.

“Mm, here in a few, gonna have a drink first.” He pulls Mia over by the hand to sit on his lap, playfully wiping his sweat-covered arm across her face. “Where are Josh and Sam?”

You quietly walk over to the craft table, giving Y/N a sweet glance as you grab a mini bag of chips from the box, watching as she and Ty fiddle around with whatever random food is displayed across the table. “I dunno, they seemed like they were bickering all night, did you notice that?”

“Mmmhm,” Danny says through a long drink of a seltzer. “I could literally see the fuckin’ blurry tension between them, who the hell knows. He say anything to you, Ly?”

“Mmm, nope. Didn’t say anything to me…” Lyla avoids his gaze. You glance to Ty, and he offers you the same answer.

Just then, Josh and Sam burst through the door in a huffed mess of antics, yelling obscenities at one another as Josh’s hands fly up in the air around him. These two rarely fight, but every once in a while, one of them will get under the other’s skin. And sometimes it’s even worse, when they both manage to piss the other off so profusely, things can sometimes get physical. 

Josh’s voice is raised, and Sam’s face and neck are blotched red. You know that whatever it is, it isn’t good. 

“How about you stay the hell out of my face and sit the fuck down somewhere, huh?” Sam yells, grabbing a White Claw from the mini fridge and chugging it all almost in one drink. Your eyes dart directly to Danny who is just as stunned as you are, and equally as confused. 

“I’ll sit the fuck down when you stop running your fucking mouth, Sam,” Josh barks.

“Whoa, whoa, what the hell is going on?” you ask, moving toward them.

“Oh nothing, nothing, brother. Nothing at all,” Sam huffs, fury raging from him. You watch his eyeliner-covered eyes skitter across the room and finally land on Y/N, glaring at her from his peripheral. What the fuck?

For some reason, just his look pisses you off. 

“Not nothing, the fuck is your problem?” you ask him again, shooting your eyes between him and Josh. You see Mia rise up from Danny’s lap, joining Lyla on the couch. They sit closely together, and you swear they’re both biting back laughs. 

You finally move your eyes to Josh, giving him a stern look only the two of you can understand. ‘You got something to say?’ you ask him in your mind. 

He replies with an eye roll, shrugging his shoulders as he slips his stage jacket off. Josh is biting his tongue, you can tell, and the look in his eye is one you’ve seen often. With whatever rage he’s harboring mixed with the however many fireball shots he’s taken tonight, this could get bad. 

You look at Danny, as he knows the heavy feeling in the room all too well, too. You mentally ask him for backup.

Danny stands and clears his throat. “Uh, so… we going out tonight? We’re wasting moonlight if so…”

You jump in and agree. “Yeah, yeah let’s go grab a Guinness or something.” The room stays quiet as you and Danny make moves to get going, but the heaviness is still there. You decide to turn the attention elsewhere. “Y/N, Ty, you coming out with us?”

You can tell that Y/N feels like she’s invading the awkward encounter that’s currently happening in the room, just from her body language. 

“Yeah, um, sure… I suppose…” she says meekly. You offer her a little grin of reassurance.

“Oh, you mean you’re not hanging out with Murph tonight? Shocking!” Josh interjects, the tone of his voice menacing. Your head shoots to him. 

Y/N shakes her head, her entire demeanor falling. “Uh, no? No, why would I…” she stammers. 

“Just figured,” Josh continues, “You guys seemed pretty cozy the other night when I caught you making out at the bar in Paris, just thought you’d be continuing the festivities!”

“Josh!” Ty yells.

Hold…the fuck…on…

Your ears go deaf as you process Josh’s words, all the blood draining from your body, your extremities numb, your throat instantly dry. What the fuck. What the fuck??? He’s lying… That’s not true… she wouldn’t…

You hear a collective snicker from Mia and Lyla, both of them obviously loving whatever fucking show is happening right now. 

You somehow find the courage to look at Y/N, her face bloodshot and dripping with embarrassment as she turns away.

You feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. Making out? With Murph? Paris… a week ago? And Josh didn’t bother to…

You can’t find the will to move, or speak, or breathe or anything. Your mind is wracked with confusion and stress, wondering what in the hell is going to happen next.

—

HER POV

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you turn to look at Josh. 

Why? Why did he say that?

Your eyes scan the room as everyone stares at you, but all you can focus on is the look on Jake's face. It was a look similar to the one you received from Josh that night, but Jake’s hurt worse. Hit you deeper. You feel the knife twisting in your chest. 

You can see his neck growing red, the color creeping up into his cheeks as his anger starts to bubble up. Your eyes flash over to Mia and Lyla who are snickering in the corner like two highschool bullies. 

You shake your head and press your tongue to your cheek as you try to figure out an appropriate response. You decide at that moment that you owe none of them a single word. You silently grab your things and head to the door, brushing Jake’s shoulder as you pass. 

“Guess you’re not the only one with secrets, are you?”

You cut your eyes to Josh, completely shocked at his audacity to speak about something that didn’t involve him so publicly. It seemed out of character for him and you can tell by the way everyone is reacting to his outburst. 

You barely make it through the back door as the tears start to fall against your will. You feel so embarrassed. Everything has gotten so out of hand and now Josh hates you and you know Jake isn’t too far behind him. 

You just need to go back to your hotel room. Go back and be alone and cry in peace. You pull your phone from your purse and find the address for the hotel, and much to your displeasure, you see that it is a brisk three mile walk. Not to mention it is 42 degrees. You lock your phone in frustration knowing you have to go back inside and wait for the van to take you all back. 

You sneak back inside and head straight for the bathroom, locking yourself in one of the stalls and sitting down on the toilet bowl. You know the van isn’t going to leave for at least another thirty minutes, if not more. You let the tears flow freely in the confines of the bathroom stall, until you physically can’t anymore. You dry up your cheeks with the sleeve of your shirt as a notification from Ruth pushes through. 

Ruth

11:43PM: You do it yet?

You decide to bite the bullet. Who even cares anymore at this point?

You open Instagram and tap on her request, hitting the little blue ‘accept’ button and watching as her page populates with photos. Right off the bat you see how pretty she is, every picture perfectly effortless and aesthetically pleasing. Then, you see Jake. Happy, smiling, and holding her. Recently.

You're surprised by the feelings swirling through you, as you’d convinced yourself that your feelings for him were much smaller than they apparently were. You look at every single photo, and with each swipe you feel your own guilt start to grow larger and larger. 

Had you ruined this?

You hear noise in the hallway and know that they are leaving, heading to the bar or wherever they decided. You wait until you hear them leave, letting yourself out of the stall and into the empty hallway. As you approach the green room you know you want to get in, finish cleaning up, and leave, avoiding as many people as humanly possible. You press your ear to the door to listen for voices, but you hear nothing and know that the coast is clear. 

Though, when you open the door, you are met with someone, and thankfully it’s a friendly face. You see Ty grabbing the canned drinks from the fridge and throwing them into a cooler. He spots you, looking relieved and stops what he’s doing. 

“There you are,” he sighs in relief. 

“Wha– What are you doing here, I thought everyone left?”

He walks towards you, taking you into a hug before you can even process what he’s doing. It’s as if he already knows how you’re feeling and you fall into it, letting him wrap you up in his arms. 

“I’ve been around long enough to know how shit tends to go down in this family. I knew that Josh was in one of his moods tonight and Sam pushed him over the edge. Unfortunately, you were on the receiving end of things. I don’t blame you for walking out, but I am glad you came back.”

“Why are you always looking out for me?” you ask, feeling like you might cry all over again. 

“Real recognizes real, baby,” he winks, releasing you from the hug and returning back to the cooler. 

“Ty,” you whine, knowing you don't deserve his kindness. 

“Look, I know I shouldn’t, because he needs to do this himself, but I am really sorry about Josh. I’m gonna make him apologize to you as soon as I see him, I swear.”

“No, no, no. It’s okay. He is right. This whole thing is a mess and he and Jake and shit, even Sam, have the right to be mad at me. I fucked up.”

He shrugs his shoulders, “It’s a little bit of a mess but, it will get cleaned up. And as for Sam, I don’t think Sam is mad at you, per say, but more of just the situation and how he learned of it. There’s been some other shit going on with him lately, but don’t you worry I’m on your team, here.”

“You don’t need to be on my team, Ty. You have dealt with enough of my shit,” you laugh, hoping he doesn’t actually take your advice. 

He closes the cooler up and takes one last look around the room, both of you finding it spotless. “Oh, just let me. This is my shit and I am used to corralling these rowdy motherfuckers, I do it in my sleep.”

You laugh and shake your head, “Alright, alright, fine.”

He nods in victory before turning to you again, “You’re coming to the bar, right?”

“No, I’m probably gonna go back to the hotel and cry some more.”

“Actually, you’re not. You’re gonna go back to the hotel, pretty yourself up and come meet me.” He flits his hand to his chest as he points to himself. “I’ll text you the address when I get there.”

“Ty I can’t! I can’t even face Jake right now! And Mia and Lyla… I don’t know…” you stammer. 

“No, hang out with me all night. You don’t even have to talk to those bitches, I don’t half the time.”

You laugh at his honesty, and realize maybe you could go tonight.

“I don’t know…”

“Listen, it will look a lot worse if you don’t go darling,” he says, tilting his head to the side. You know he’s right. 

“Alright, fuck it.”

—

TY POV

Involving yourself in other people’s business wasn’t always your forte. In fact, it was something you tried to stray far, far away from. The thought of adding unnecessary stress into your life seemed daunting and pointless, especially when the outcome ended up being opposite of the one you desired, but, nonetheless… You find yourself here, completely involved in whatever drama is transpiring between Jake and Y/N. 

It’s none of your business in the least. It never was. But you could tell from the get-go that if no one else was going to step in and try to help each of them realize what was happening in front of them, you would have to be the one to do it. Who better, honestly?

You told Jake from the beginning that Isla seemed shady… though at first the two of them seemed like the happiest of two human beings, just like all new relationships do. She was good for him, and he treated her well. The day he told you and Josh that he told her he loved her, you were happy for him. Happy for them both. Things were good and they were taking Jake’s career changes in stride together. That was until you started to see straight through that bitch. 

That’s right, you’re not uncomfortable saying it anymore. She turned into a true-blue, cold hearted bitch. 

What started off as snide little remarks to Jake, in public, grew into full-blown insults that had you left with your mouth hanging open in disbelief. He let it slide off his back, though, and you swore it was like no one else even noticed it. How her behavior had changed almost overnight. You could see the respect she once held for Jake morphing into resentment right before your eyes, but everyone else seemed to think it was normal. 

It didn’t take long, though, for Josh’s twin-sense to be set off when he felt Jake’s normally low-key temper burning into fury; he was quite literally like a pot that was going to boil over anytime. Josh realized, but you don’t think he ever really realized, though to you, it was plain as fucking day. 

You and Josh welcomed him into your home, let him crash on the couch or in the guest room after he’d run away from her. It almost started to drive you insane that everyone else was just watching on as he let her walk all over him, all in the name of what everyone thought was love.

No. Fuck that. She may have loved him, but your senses absolutely buzzed with the feeling that all she was there for anymore was his status and fame. It made you sick how she took advantage of his popularity and his talent, only wanting to go out with him if it meant she’d be seen attached to his arm, only wanting to support him when it meant she’d reap the benefits. Made you fucking sick. 

But, like a good brother in law, you kept your mouth shut for the most part, until one day things got so bad you realized that Jake had seen the light, fully disconnecting himself from her right before you all left for this tour. 

And the minute you realized he was taking interest in Y/N, you felt like your heart could explode with relief for him. Finally, a distraction. The day you let him know how you felt about Isla in the bar was the first time you really said anything at all to him, hoping that your words of honesty would help to further the situation. 

But now… Now. Fuck, it seems like things have gotten messier than you anticipated. Y/N is the first person you’ve met in a while who matches your energy, who connects with you without any effort to do so. You like her a lot, and you are fighting to be on her team. But damn, if it doesn’t seem like she just dug herself into a hole…

So after what the fuck ever just happened in the green room, you know it’s time to strap your boots on and fix things, or at least try to. You’re no stranger to mediating arguments within this family, so you feel no shame in waltzing into this bar with a new flame lit under you. You’ve gotta fix this. For Y/N, and for Jake. 

You blow warm air into your hands as you walk into the bar, finding everyone gathered around a large table together. Good, they haven’t ripped each others’ heads off yet.

You take an empty seat next to Josh, greeting him with a quipped ‘Hey’ as you’re still a little bit pissed at his behavior earlier. His hand lands on your thigh, but you quickly pull it away, knowing that if you’re going to be the middleman here, everyone has to be on a level playing field. 

“The hell is wrong with you?” Josh slurs into your ear. 

You shoot a look his way, letting him know that now is not the fucking time. A quick glance around at everyone tells you that they’re all already fairly intoxicated, still sneering at one another overtop of their half-empty glasses. Great. Perfect. 

You take notice that Murph isn’t here, which is a good thing right now. He might need to stay behind and let the others have it tonight. You cross your arms over your chest as you make yourself comfortable in your seat. You clear your throat dramatically, effectively getting the attention of the table.

“Alright motherfuckers, who wants to tell me exactly what just happened in the green room?” you demand, taking a second to look Sam and Josh in the eyes first. The entire table groans and waves you off, except Sam, who gives you a look that says ‘Can’t tell you right now, but I will explain later…” He then does a quick glance to Lyla. You take mental note of that. 

Of course, Josh speaks first. “There’s not much to say, Ty… I caught our runner making out with our head of security last week, I don’t know what else you want me to say…”

“I want you to tell the table why you are so pissed off about that, Josh. Why are you so concerned with something that isn’t your business?” you quip back.

Josh mirrors your stance, crossing his own arms as he motions to Jake. “Hm, I don’t know, why don’t you ask my fucking twin, huh?” Everyone then turns all their attention to Jake, putting him directly in the spotlight. Your stomach turns over with nerves as you feel the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. You don’t want to do things this way. But, you’ve learned from experience, getting it all out on the table is the best way for them to do things like this. 

Jake is standing, running his tongue across his teeth, his face already glimmering with a nervous sweat. “Okay, fuck it,” he sets his beer down on the table, yanking a free chair out from underneath it and harshly taking a seat. “Y/N and I have been hooking up since tour started. Pretty regularly. Thought things were good. But I guess it doesn’t fucking matter anymore since apparently I was dumb to the fact that she’s more into our beloved Murphy.” You can tell he is seething. 

You hear Mia and Lyla gasp like the news was brand new to them. “So it’s fucking true, then, huh Jacob?!” Lyla practically yells, leaning over the table at him. “Ohhh, we fucking knew it, you sorry ass bitch.”

“It’s actually none of your fucking business, Lyla, so why don’t you lay the fuck off,” he retaliates.

You watch Mia put her hand on Lyla’s chest as she leans across her toward Jake, her words spitting with venom to him. “Actually it is my fucking business, Jake, Isla is my best friend you absolute dick! And she’s your fucking girlfriend!”

Jake almost stands from his chair completely, leaning over to her now. “She’s not my girlfriend anymore, Lyla! She hasn’t been for a long time! She just won’t admit it to anyone or even herself! Don’t speak on things you have absolutely no fucking idea about, Lyla. It’s not a good fucking look.” Jake is visibly vibrating with rage. You feel Josh doing the same.

Next thing you know you hear Sam bellowing toward Jake. “Hey, don’t fucking speak to her like that, man, or I swear to god–”

“Oh, I’d be fucking careful, Sam, given I know all the dirty details about our little conversation in my room the other night…” Jake defends himself with a finger pointed directly to Sam. His jaw is clenched so tightly you think he might break his teeth. 

Sam gives Jake a death glare that you know all too well, as Lyla turns in her seat to face him. “What the fuck is he talking about, Samuel? Is that why you disappeared drunk off your ass the other night? To go to Jake’s room? What did you talk about?”

Sam closes his eyes as he tries to diffuse his rage. “What the fuck ever, I’m just pissed everyone knew about Y/N and Jake besides me,” he slurs. “Always failing to let me in on the fuckin’ secrets.” You roll your eyes at Sam, suddenly confused and intrigued about what kind of conversation he had with Jake, anyway. 

“This is why, Sam! Right here! Shit blows up!” Jake yells. 

Josh groans, leaning his elbows on the table to Jake. “Yeah, just like I fucking told you it would.”

Jake scoffs hard. “Don’t talk to me about shit blowing up when you didn’t tell me for a god damn week that she was fucking around with Murph behind my back, Josh!”

“Ohhhhhoho, don’t try and pull that, I told you this shit wasn’t going to work anyway,” Josh responds with a sneer. 

“Wasn’t going to work?!” Mia yells. “What do you mean, wasn’t going to fucking work?! You have a girlfriend Jacob, are you a fucking idiot?!”

You watch as Danny physically lets his face fall into his hands, shaking his curls side to side.

“Alright, alright, everybody calm the fuck down,” Josh says loudly, actually qualming a situation for once in his life. “Let’s take a break, let’s talk this out.”

You dart your head to the side to give him a sharp look. “No, Josh, you’re the one who opened your big mouth in the green room and set everybody off, let’s hash this shit out right now. Everyone’s doing an excellent job of letting it all fly. Let’s not stop now,” you argue, putting your foot down. You motion with your hand to everyone at the table. “Keep going, let’s go…”

You hear a wholehearted laugh come from Jake at Josh’s expense.

Sam looks at Lyla, raising his voice a little. “Is this why you’ve been so fucking irritable lately?”

Oop, shouldn’t have gone there, kid.

She shoots back in her chair, looking as if she’s ready to pounce on him. “Whoa, whoa, irritable? Excuse me? Actually ya know what, yeah, I guess it fucking is!” She yells. “You’d be fucking pissed too, wouldn’t you?!”

“I guess I don’t know, since nobody ever fucking tells me anything!” Sam retaliates with his hands in the air.

“Sam you have got to be fucking kidding me… Do you not remember me sleeping on your couch for days at a time? Do you think I just did that because I missed you? Be serious…” Jake says with a little sincerity in his tone. 

“I don’t know! Shit, I guess I just thought you were…”

“Thought I was what?! Bored? Lonely? Hated my own home? Well, I guess that last one kinda makes fucking sense, now, huh?” Jake goes on, running a hand over his mouth.

Lyla speaks up. “All those nights you spent at our house Jake… you know Isla cried herself to sleep each and every one. Talked to me on the phone until 3AM until she couldn’t cry anymore because you fucking left her, over and over again–”

Jake leans his elbows on the table, hiding his face behind his folded hands. You can tell by the redness in his face that he is holding himself back from absolutely laying into Lyla. 

“Oh, you don’t even want to start with me, Lyla…” he grits his teeth, the vein in his head pulsing with rage again. 

“Chill out, Jake…” you hear Josh warn under his breath. 

“Do you know why I left, Lyla? Over and over again?!” His tone calms. “Yeah, I bet you don’t because all you care about is her fucking side of the story… did it not occur to you that I have one, too? What about my fucking feelings, huh? How do you know she’s not purposefully making me out to look like the bad guy? I bet nothing was her fault, was it? Hm?” He asks, looking around the table. Everyone stays silent, avoiding his glare. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. No one bothered to come and ask me what was wrong, hear my side of the story. Fucking figures, she always gets what she fucking wants, anyway,” he goes on, suddenly able to breathe through his words. “None of you cared to realize I’ve been fucking miserable for months? Tried ending things for months? I bet not, huh. You only got lies and a sob story from Isla.” He takes a deep breath. Keep going Jake…

“So yeah, I tried to end things with Isla. Multiple times. Now I know I have royally fucked up with making my life messier than it needs to be–”

“She still fucking lives with you, Jake–” Lyla cuts. 

“Yeah, I fucking know that, genius,” he eyes her sideways. “You think this has been easy for either of us? I asked her to move out way before we started packing for this fucking tour… So yes. I did start hooking up with someone else. And you know what? I don’t regret a goddamn second of it. I finally found something that makes me fucking happy, and not miserable every single second of my life. And if you want to know why I think my actions are justified, you can speak to me directly about it. I’m a grown fucking adult, and I don’t owe you a goddamn thing if you don’t even have the decency to speak to me about my own fucking business…” Jake cuts his eyes directly to Mia and Lyla, making them sink back in their seats a little. 

Fuck yes, Jacob. Fuck. Yes. 

Just then, like a sitcom hitting its dramatic peak, Murph enters the bar, leaving everyone gathered around the table even more speechless than they were before. You feel a collective breath be taken by everyone before Jake shoots up from his seat. “Another round?”

Hell yes. Success. 

Well, kind of. Progress. 

You look at your phone, seeing that Y/N had texted you a ‘?’ about fifteen minutes ago. 

“Perfect timing, Y/N is on her way here, too!” you announce, your voice full of pep. 

“You’re shitting me, right,” Josh murmurs under his breath to you. 

“Good, great. Grand. A big family reunion, huh?” Jake says sarcastically in his faux-accent. “I’m over the fucking moon.” Jake darts his eyes to Murph for a split second before making his way back to the bar. 

You take a second to hide your phone under the table, texting Y/N back.

You

12:32AM: Come. Sit with me. I’ll have a drink waiting for you. 

—

HER POV

Your palms are sweating with nervous energy, despite the freezing cold weather. You almost didn’t go. You talked yourself out of it three times before you ever left the room, but knowing that Ty was waiting for you was enough of a reason to go. He liked you, looked out for you and treated you like a friend even though he didn’t have to. You could suck it up for one night. 

As you push the door open you’re immediately met with warm air and the smell of stale beer. It’s loud in the small bar and terribly lit, making it hard to find the group. You see a hand wave you in its direction, and at the end of it, Ty. The table he is sitting at is fairly empty, most of the group dispersed throughout the bar, playing pool or darts. He pulls out the barstool next to him, sliding a drink in your direction. 

“You made it!” he smiles, watching you sit down next to him. 

“I did. What’s going on, I feel kinda weird about being here,” you admit. 

“Ahhh, don’t worry about it, everything is fine. Promise.” he says, taking a sip of his beer. “Everyone is pretty drunk now, and has already forgotten about earlier.”

You glance around the smoky bar and as you look behind you, your eyes meet with Josh’s, who is giving you the most apologetic eyes you’ve ever seen. You give him a curt smile, and turn back around, knowing that a conversation with him is low on your list of priorities at the moment. 

You spend most of the next hour with Ty, laughing and discussing anything and everything that does not have to do with Greta Van Fleet. He’s a sweet guy and you can tell why Josh fell for him, with his ability to make everyone feel heard and wanted, so easily. 

You’re two drinks in when you feel a warm hand on your shoulder, pulling you from your conversation with Ty. You turn to look at the person, but you can smell that it’s Jake, his cologne at the forefront of your mind. You feel him lean down to your ear, his breath on your neck. 

“I’d still like to talk tonight,” he whispers, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. 

You take a deep breath and try to center yourself. You turn fully to look at him, seeing that he is not nearly as mad as he seemed earlier, and you know you want to hear what he has to say. You want to hear his side of the story you’ve pieced together over the last week. You nod at him as your eyes meet his, and he nods back, stepping away to return to the bar already going over what he will likely say later.

— 

An hour later you find yourself in your hotel room, pacing as you anxiously wait to hear from Jake. He left the bar before you did, deciding to ride back with Ty and Josh after the others left. You took a shower and tidied up your room and still, you haven't heard from him, that is, until your phone buzzed on the dresser. 

Jake

1:47AM: What is your room number?

Shit! Okay. 

You

1:48AM: 407

You know it won't be long until he is knocking on the door, and your heart is beating hard in your chest. You try to slow your breathing and calm your heart rate before he gets here, but you know it's no use because it will spike again as soon as you see him. 

The knock echoes through the room and you make your way to the door, swallowing back your nerves. As you open the door you find him standing there with one hand in his sweats pocket, and the other gripping a CD. 

You look at it as he presents it to you, a smug smile on his face as you realize what it is. 

‘An Awesome Wave’.

“This is–”

“The album we listened to on the plane, yeah,” he finishes, smiling as he steps into your room. “Found it in a record shop the other day in London. Thought of you and that first time we talked on the plane.”

You both step further into the room, your heart already twisting at his sweet gesture. He thought of you. You sit on the edge of the bed as you stare at the CD in your hands. 

“Listen, I’m sorry you had to find out about Murph like that, I never meant for that to come out like that,” you offer, letting your eyes flick up to meet his as he stands in front of you. 

“Look, I came here to apologize to you, Y/N. Not the other way around. You said I’m not the only one with secrets, and I guess that’s true, but I am more interested in setting the story straight and finding out what secrets you seem to be privy to.”

JAKE POV

She holds your gaze for just a second as she leans forward, grabbing her phone from the dresser behind you. She takes a shaky breath as her thumb dances across the screen, obviously looking for something. Your heart starts to beat faster and faster as she searches for what she’s looking for, a million different suspicions of what it could be flying through your mind. 

Finally she turns her phone, showing you a screenshot of when Isla requested to follow her on Instagram. You feel your eyes grow as you breathe out a surprised “Oh.” 

Fuckkkkkkk. She found her. 

“Yeah. This was a while ago. I accepted her request tonight after the show. I know everything, Jake. I know about you and her. I know you’ve been lying to me this entire time,” she says bravely, gritting her jaw as she speaks. 

“Let me stop you there, Y/N. Please…” you beg, preparing yourself to finally lay everything out on the line. The time had come. You take a deep breath as you readjust your seat. “Where do I even fucking begin?” you ask rhetorically. 

“If I were you, I’d start at the beginning,” she suggests firmly. 

“Alright, okay, yeah…” you agree, doing your best to find the courage. “Her name is Isla Whitman. And… Yes, she still lives in my home. Isla and I had been together for a long, long time. She was there when everything skyrocketed with the band, right when everything started to take off. She moved in with me, life was going good. She uh… things were great, obviously, as I’m sure you’ve seen from the photos…” you say, motioning to her phone. “We were really good for a long time, I was really happy…”

“But then uh, but then things started to go south. Like really, really badly.” You wipe a heavy hand across your face as you relive those terrible days again. “I started to realize that she wasn’t here for me anymore, that she was here for whatever status I held. Only here because of the success of the band and shit. Only wanted to be seen and be a part of things if it meant she would be photographed and noticed by our fans. It was weird shit, like the fame got to her, and she wasn’t the one even… anyways. She turned into a completely different person, almost overnight. Apparently, uh… it was a lot worse than I even realized, now that I’m kinda putting things into perspective, and Josh and Ty are agreeing with me. She used me. She used the hell out of me. Talked down to me all the time. Gaslit me. Made everything my fault. We got into terrible, horrible fights. All the time. I’m talking fights so bad that we both would throw things at the walls. There at the end, I started spending nights on Josh or Sam’s couch, I’d completely leave for days on end until she’d swindle me into coming back home, all for it to happen again. Over and over. It was…really fucking horrible, Y/N,” you recount, feeling a lump growing in your throat. 

“I uh, I tried to get her to move out multiple times, told her I was finished, I couldn’t do it anymore. Mentally, I was done months ago. Over it. Then the night before we left for Europe, we fought and cried until 4:00 in the morning, and our flight left at six. The only way I could get out the door was if I agreed to go on a “break”. Which I know now was a stupid fucking idea,” you go on. 

“My idea of a break was no contact, cut off completely, do our own things while she found another place to live, then when I got home, we could discuss things like rational adults and get things figured out maturely, but. Ever since we’ve been here, she’s done nothing but try to involve herself in my life even more so than she did when I was home,” you bite your cheeks in as your eyes glaze over, feeling that same gut sensation that keeps haunting you at the worst times. That guilt creeping back up again and again. 

“My intention was never to hurt you, or harm you in any way at all, Y/N. Please know that. I left Nashville thinking I was practically a free man, finally. Ready to relax and disconnect while we worked. And I never intended to find you. And I never intended to… fall for you…like I did,” you explain, looking up to her with cautious eyes. “You completely blindsided me. Made me feel emotions that I hadn’t felt in years, Y/N. I should have told you from the beginning. I know I should have. That is the one thing that I regret completely and totally. I should have been upfront with you about it all. But, I was scared of fucking it up, you know? Scared you knowing about her would push you away. And now… I guess it blew up in my face even more than I thought it would…backfired completely.” You shake your head as you exhale a deep breath, letting a silence fall between the two of you. 

“I understand, Jake,” she finally whispers. “I really do…”

“Really? You do?”

“Mhmm. I get how hard that must have been. Especially since you had no idea it was even happening for so long,” she explains. You nod your head in agreement. “Feels fucking stupid now, I should have picked up on it.” 

“But she still lives with you. Still thinks you’re hers…” she reiterates. 

“Yes. Well, I guess? She still calls constantly, still texts me incessantly–”

“Was that who was calling the night we… ya know…”

You face reddens at the memory of that first night you hooked up, when you couldn’t even fucking perform for her. You nod. “Yeah. Well, her and my techs. It was a whole thing.”

“God…” she says, standing from the bed and shaking her hands out by her sides. She starts pacing the room and running her hands through her hair. “I feel so stupid…”

“You feel stupid?! Y/N, I am the idiot, here, not you…” you argue, standing from the bed as well. “I’m the one that fucked everything up and probably lost you completely.”

She stops and rolls her eyes at you, tears poking from the corners of them. “I should have… I should have asked you if you had someone, Jake. I should have gotten to know you better…” she starts to cry. “That’s like, girl rule #1.”

“Noooo no no, please don’t cry, Y/N…” you rush to her, gently placing your hands on the undersides of her elbows as she crosses them protectively across her chest. 

She runs a hand under her eye as she wipes a falling tear away. She scoffs at herself.

“No, Y/N. That was my fault. We kinda just…happened, you know? Our lust got the best of us,” you laugh a little at the memory of sneaking her into the bathroom that night at the bar.

“My suspicions kinda drove me away, ya know? I knew something was up the night Sam came to your room, talking all that…” she says. “You hiding me in the fucking bathroom.”

“Yeah, yeah I figured as much. I should have told you right then and there, I’m so sorry,” you plead. 

“I’m not gonna lie, Jake, my trust is…”

“Probably fucking shattered, isn’t it?” you ask, feeling a bottomless feeling in your chest. Like the whole situation has no happy ending, because how could it? Everything is fucked. 

She shrugs, looking past you at nothing. “I don’t know.” She walks slowly and sits back on the bed. “And Mia and Lyla? They–”

“Lyla is Isla’s best friend, yes. So of course Mia is pulled into that, as well. And, of course they are praying on my downfall. They don’t know my side of the story,” you explain, suddenly realizing that at the same time, Y/N doesn’t know Isla’s side of this story. You hope that she takes your’s in stride. 

“Great, great. Cool,” she complains. “Now they hate me, too.”

“No, I’m not gonna let that happen. I told Lyla to come and speak with me directly if she wanted the full, true story. We’ll get that sorted out, don’t worry,” you explain. “No one hates you.”

“You aren’t mad at me for… with Murph?” she asks. 

Ah, fuck. 

“Shit, I mean… I’m not mad, I don’t guess. I’m… I guess I’m blindsided with that, too,” you know you can’t explain how you feel, because you truly haven’t had time to even process it yet. “I pushed you away, I get that. Fuck, we hardly spoke for a week. Of course you wanted nothing to do with me. Then Isla goes and adds you on social media…? I mean. Fuck, I get it. Murph is… a cool guy…” you have trouble admitting it. 

“It’s not that serious, Jake,” she says, almost a whimper. “He and I, we just… clicked.”

Her words almost cut you in half. You thought she clicked with you. 

“I get that,” you choke, as much as you hate to say it, you have hardly any dog left in this fight. “Listen, the bottom line is, I know I fucked up. Royally. I wouldn’t blame you if you never want to speak to me again. I don’t blame you for running away from me. But… I swear to god, Y/N, I would fight for you to the end of my days… You gave me something that I haven’t had in so long, I hardly remembered how it felt to be happy. You gave me excitement, and energy, and… you showed me that even though my life was absolute shit, it didn’t have to be that way. You showed me happiness, Y/N. I can’t ask for more than that. And if you ever give me another chance, I know I’d spend all my time repaying you for just that little bit of happiness you gave me, because it was one of the best times of my entire life.” You let out another shaky, huffed breath, fighting back tears, yourself.

Her eyes begin to well again, and you even work the tiniest smile from her. She licks her lips, rubbing them together. “Might take me some time, Jake. I don’t–”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight. I just don’t want you to hate me.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t hate you…”

She relaxes back against the fluffy pillows on her bed, her eyes obviously becoming heavy. 

“Can we agree to start fresh? As friends? Forget about all the stupid shit?” you extend your hand out for her to shake, praying that if she could just give you this….

She takes it gently, clicking her tongue. “My intuition is telling me not to, but. I don’t see anything wrong with starting fresh… Honesty. From here on out.” She shakes it with a little firmness at the conclusion of her sentence. 

“Good. Yes. Perfect, even. I promise,” you say with a little added sugar in your words. “Please just understand that my… relationship at home is anything but. She’s… so far gone from my mind I can’t even explain it to you. My number one priority is finding her somewhere else to live when we get home.”

She nods again. “That’s really none of my business, Jake.”

“Yes it is, Y/N. We’re friends now, remember?” you give her a sexy side smile, knowing that just having her in your life again would be enough, for now. “Thank you… for hearing me out.”

“Thank you for explaining. If only you’d have done that weeks ago…” she rolls her eyes playfully. 

“I know, I know, shit,” you taunt, rising from the bed again. As she walks you to the door, you find yourself fighting off the urge to pull her in, still sobbing a little from earlier. You want to feel her touch again, feel her body against yours and kiss away the saltiness of her tears. But you can’t do that anymore. 

When she opens the door and you approach the threshold, you turn back to her, letting your hand push a strand of fallen hair from her eye. “I still want you in my life, Y/N. You’re too good to let go, I don’t wanna let you go…You’ve still got me…” you say through a whisper, feeling boldness rising in your chest.

She smiles and leans her head into the touch of your hand, but she brushes it away quickly. “Go to bed, Jake.” 

You give her one last knowing look, holding her stare for just a second too long, hoping that one last ditch effort to keep you on her mind would be enough to truly start things fresh. 

Lord knows you’d do anything to get her back again.

—

HER POV

When morning comes it feels different. A weight has been lifted from your shoulders and the day doesn’t seem so daunting. You are glad that you and Jake finally talked things through, though you wish it would have happened weeks ago when you could have stopped all this from happening in the first place. 

You quickly dress and pack your suitcase, knowing that van call is approaching quickly and that everyone will be assembling down in the lobby before you know it. You feel happy with your appearance as you make your way to the elevator, pushing the button and waiting as it climbs to your floor. As the doors spring open, you see none other than Murph waiting inside with his suitcase. 

“Well good morning,” he smiles, motioning for you to join him inside. 

“Good morning,” you answer, rolling your suitcase in behind you.

“Did you have a good evening?” he asks, adjusting his hat. 

“It was alright,” you answer truthfully. “You excited to head to Manchester?” 

“Think I’m more excited for Glasgow if I’m honest with you,” he smirks, pressing the button to close the doors. 

“Can’t imagine why,” you wink, feeling the elevator start to move toward the lobby, singing the ‘Da da da da da’s’ of ‘Howlin’ For You’.

The doors spring open and you step out onto the cobblestone lobby floor, your suitcase bumping along behind you. As you turn the corner you see your group huddled up together talking quietly. They’re standing awkwardly, seeming more out of sorts than normal. It’s then you lay eyes on the auburn haired girl you studied in great detail just last night, as she stands hand in hand with Jake.

Isla. 

In a tizzy of nerves, you turn to talk to Murph, only to find that he has walked away to meet with Dean and his own group. You’re alone and you have to face this. You swallow back your nerve and decide that you will walk over to the group with your head held high, ready to meet the girl Jake swore up and down he was done with. 

As she stands beside him. 

Holding his fucking hand. 

“Y/N!” Paul shouts, grabbing your attention as he stands next to Ty. Everyone's heads turn to look at you, including Jake’s and you feel frozen in place. His face is solemn, with a hint of guilt hiding in his brown eyes. 

You step up to the small circle of people, pretending that nothing is wrong, smiling and greeting everyone with a bright and bubbly smile. If you’re going to do anything, you’re going to make your first impression on Isla one that she won’t soon forget. Your eyes flick over to Ty who is silently telling you that you will definitely be talking later. Josh’s eyes meet yours next, sad and defeated as he stands next to her, showing his obvious feelings towards the situation you've found yourselves in. 

Jake looks clearly burdened, like a lifeless shell standing there as his face is vacant of any loving emotion whatsoever. His movements are aimless, his posture slouched. And for a split second, you actually feel sorry for him. 

Until you regain your clarity, opting to stay on the clueless side of this very obviously two-sided party. 

The lying fucking son of a bitch. 

“Oh hey, Y/N!” Lyla says cheerfully, “So glad we caught you, I just wanted to introduce you to someone. This is Isla, Jake’s girlfriend!”

Isla extends her hand to you, dropping Jake’s at his side. You can feel her laser sharp eyes digging through your skull, her glare almost enough to knock you over. Your eyes meet Jake’s, looking sad and withdrawn before you look back at Isla, and grasp her hand. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

She shakes your hand weakly before dropping hers to her side, falling into Jake’s shoulder to stake her claim. His face goes stark white. 

“I’m so glad to finally meet you,” she coos. “I have heard all about you.”

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[raccoonface]

“New Bodyguard… huh”

Part 2 finally (a little short like Jenna)

Jenna's POV

"Hey Sophie" (her agent)

"Jenna."

"That's me..."

"What is about this photo, and isn't that the new bodyguard I sent out...?!"

"Yeah"

"JENNA."

"The photo only showed us sitting on the couch plus you can barely tell that's me"

"Exactly the press with come to a conclusion that it is you in the photo and rumors will spread"

"We didn't even do anything"

"That doesn't matter, people with make shit up and you can't do anything about it."

"I don't know Soph"

"Well you kind of have to do something about it you can't have Americas 'it girl' have something with somebody and not come out about it"

"Why can't I have a relationship with somebody, why can't I keep it a secret?!?"

"Because people will find out, and will expose you anyway so you might as well come out now."

"What if I don't have a relationship with anyone"

"Then you tell everyone that, just figure it out then come to me."

"Ugh.... Fine I got to go bye"

"By-"

I hung up on my agent because I was pissed, but I had to tell Y/n about this.

“Hey everything all right Jen?”

“Yeah, Y/n everything’s good… other than this photo being out to the public.”

“What photo?”

“This one”

She looked like she just saw a ghost after she saw the photo, but I couldn’t blame her I did too. I couldn’t believe someone would just randomly take a photo of me and her,

Yet again it’s not that suprising because I am Americas ‘it girl’ right now.

“Who did this?!?”

“Idk.. but I think we should talk Y/n, about us”

“About what? About me sleeping over, we didn’t even hold hands or anything..!”

“I-.. I know but I want us to be something”

“Jenna-.. I don’t think that would be professional of us. I mean think about it, I’m your bodyguard”

“I know but you could protect me more efficiently now, you know like day and night type of job”

“I-I…. Let me think about it”

I smiled and ran to give her a hug, before she had to leave. I loved the way she smelt, but it didn’t last long.

“I gotta go Jen”

“Okay…”

———————————————————————

I wanted to stay in bed and forget what happened yesterday but I needed to face Y/n for the answer

So I got up and got dressed just to change again when we get to the studio.

I walked out my door to Y/n standing there by her car waiting for me

“Hey Jenna,”

“Hey Y/n,”

We both greeted each other then she opened the door for me, such a gentleman Gentlewomen

We were both in the car, and she was driving normally but then another car came out of no where and hit us

I was knocked unconscious and the last thing I heard were sirens

———————————————————————

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I woke up in a hospital with my mom beside me

“Oh my god, honey, are you okay”

“Yeah, I’m fine… where’s Y/n? Is she okay?”

“Oh honey I don’t know but I’m sure she’s fine.”

I got up with my mom protesting me to lay back down

“Jenna you need to sit back down you’re gonna hurt yourself more”

“I’ll be fine mom I just have to find Y/n”

I left the room to go to the front desk to ask where Y/n was

“Hello ma’am do you know where a girl named Y/n L/n is?”

“Sorry give me one moment.. are you family?”

“Uhh… yes I’m her wife”

“Okay room 128”

“Thank you”

“You’re welcome honey”

I ran off to where Y/n’s room was hoping she was okay

When I found her room I ran into it and she was asleep laying down

So I went to her bedside glad she was okay and I fell asleep knowing that she was

———————————————————————

Sorry for taking three years on this I was having terrible writers block plus I’ve been dealing with a lot of school stuff. I hope you like this

Btw sorry for lying in the spicy part. It’s the next one that will anyways have a nice rest of your day raccoon faces..!

[desperate-daydream]

can I request Seth Clearwater x male reader

where male reader is Bella younger brother Seth age but he phases and becomes a shifter and nobody knows how or why Seth and male reader imprint on each other and just being cute and wholesome with each other but Jacob is giving male reader a hard time saying thing like Bella should have been to phase and if did she imprint on me and ECT but Seth put stop to that put Jacob in his place after he make male reader cry

🍎 Twilight

❀ Seth Clearwater x male (shifter) reader ⚣︎

A/N: thanks for the request and sorry for the long wait, I had a terrible writers block until today and then I just wrote the whole thing in one go XD, and I know ugh, self promo but I have a twilight story on Ao3 with the main being Bella’s twin and Jake imprinting on him (maybe some of you will like that too even if it’s not that similar to this story) (that’s also why it felt so weird to write Jake so mean XD I basically just finished a chapter from that story before writing this one, but I hope you like it)

tags/warnings: set in eclipse (aka the movie where Jake is kinda toxic), Jake is mean and has some issues, reader is Bella’s younger brother, also I wanted Bella to be a good sister, reader is a shifter and imprints on Seth

here‘s the link to the story on my Ao3:

so that’s what imprinting feels like

“What happened?!”, Bella came jumping out of her car. Jacob had called her as soon as possible when Paul and Embry had found you in the middle of the forest. You had been scared - not just because there had been two giant wolves in front of you but also because you had just shifted into one too. They had managed to calm you down enough until Sam arrived. He had brought spare clothes from one of their “emergency supplies” that you put on after shifting back. Then they guided you to Jacob’s place. They had thought it would be the best idea since you had technically also grown up together with Bella although now you didn’t really have anything to do with each other anymore. And he was able to call Bella who had rushed over as fast as possible when she had processed what Jake told her. While waiting the other four wolves had already told you the essentialities of being a shifter and basically destroyed your whole world-perception. 

As nice and caring as he had always been, Billy stayed by your side. You had gained a better relationship to Jacob’s dad than to Jacob himself. Especially since you still spent a little bit more time with your dad and therefore also Billy - even if it was just watching a game in your living room. 

Bella came straight to you, only sparring Jake a sideways glance as she was too focused on you. 

“Hey”, her voice was quiet and soft, “oh god, you’re shivering.” She placed her arms around you and pulled you closer. You hadn’t even noticed it until she said it. 

“Just a bit much right now.”

“I know. Let’s go home so you can rest a little, mh?” You nodded. 

“Wait, we still have so much to do now”, Jake said persistently, “You have to tell Charlie too. And what if he shifts again and hurts you?”

Bella now turned completely to him. “You can still do all of this tomorrow. He needs to sleep right now.” 

Jake wanted to start again: “But what if-”

“Jake, let it be for now.” 

That’s all she said before getting up with you and walking to her truck together. 

“How did this happen?”, she asked on the drive home.

“I don’t know.” You put up your legs and put your arms around them even though you felt way too warm. 

“I wasn’t feeling good and wanted to take a walk because it usually helps but then.. I don’t know.”

You big sister sighed and looked at you shortly before focusing back on the road. “Let’s worry about it tomorrow. It’s getting late and you seem tired.”

You only nodded while your eyelids already dropped. 

When you arrived you walked straight to your room and the moment your head touched your pillow you were gone. 

— 

“We’ll do it step for step”, you stood next to Sam who would teach you today how to control your shifting so you would hopefully not hurt anybody around you or yourself - not to mention keeping the secret of the pack. 

What he didn’t tell you then was that they’ve had a discussion just yesterday after Bella had picked you up whether or not they should officially include you in the pack since you were a new and special case. In the end they came to the conclusion that you would need and deserve the help and guide the others could give you. He also didn’t tell you that Jacob seemed a bit too disapproving of this new situation and that he guessed it had something to do with the thoughts he had heard from him that were once again centered on none other than your own sister. 

“Okay”, you nodded; also to convince yourself that everything would be okay. 

“Also, you’re not the only young member, don’t worry. Seth Clearwater, he is your age and has also shifted. You will meet him later at the fire.” 

You had already agreed to come when he and Billy had invited you and Bella to come. Bella had added another dimension to this whole situation when she had told you about the Cullens and the vampire that was going after her. She had calmed you a bit when she reassured that she was as good as always protected by either the vampire family of her boyfriend or the wolves. 

For the rest of the day you tried to shift on command and Sam and his fiancée Emily gave you a few tips on how to control your anger. 

Then you went to the fire where you saw your sister again who immediately asked you how it worked. You still stood a bit away from the others as you told her about your training when you heard a voice. It was directed at Jake so didn’t turn around until the person came to a halt at Jacob’s side.

“Hey man, I saved you some burgers but if you don’t hurry Paul will-” 

The boy stopped in the middle of his sentence when you turned around and your eyes met. Your first thought was: “Holy shit, he’s cute”. Your second one was: “So that’s what imprinting feels like”. And your third was once again: “Holy shit.”

Butterflies started fluttering in your stomach and the heat rose to your cheeks as you looked at the boy in front of you with wide eyes who still hadn’t closed his mouth. 

To your luck Sam and Emily were still next to you and immediately understood what was happening. Sam suppressed a chuckle and introduced you to each other.

“(Y/N), this is Seth, the boy I told you about today. Seth, this is our newest pack-member, (Y/N).”  

You saw his mouth form your name before he stuttered out a “hi”. 

You willed your body to move again and said “hi” back just as stuttery. 

“Uh-uhm..”, Seth started and was once again saved by Emily. “Why don’t we go to the others already.” 

You nodded and then followed the other boy your age closely. What you didn’t notice was the pissed expression that had appeared on Jacob’s face. All of you was focused on Seth.

You sat next to each other and soon the gossip made it’s round so soon after Billy was finished with telling the first legend everyone knew what just happened. 

Leah, who Seth had introduced as his older sister, looked at you with narrowed eyes but didn’t do anything else. 

Throughout the evening your hands had brushed together a few times which had sparked the fluttering in your stomach everytime. And you had probably inched even closer together after some time too. 

It was a bit awkward at first but it didn’t change the fact that you felt comfortable sitting next to him while listening and laughing with the others. 

You were sad when saying goodbye but then Seth gave you his number and asked you to meet up tomorrow which you had agreed to almost too enthusiastically to not be embarrassed. It didn’t help that Bella giggled the entire ride home about her baby-brother having a crush. 

“Naw, you grow up so fast.”

“Ughhhhhh, please stop.”

Bella laughed while pulling into their driveway: “Never, that’s my job as your sister.”

“You’re horrible”, you said drily while she just continued giggling. 

But then she changed the mood quickly. “You decided to tell dad tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.. Billy and Sam are gonna be there too to answer questions. I’m still not the best at wolf-knowledge.”

“Mhm, it’ll be okay, don’t worry too much. If you want I can be there too.”

You nodded and earned yourself a short side-hug from Bella before you went to your rooms. 

—

You were close to emotional exhaustion after the conversation with your dad but it had a good outcome. Afterwards Edward picked up Bella and you went to meet up with Seth. Sam and Billy were so nice to take you with them to the Black’s home from where you would go to Seth. 

Billy went inside while you waved at him and went to go. 

But shortly before you arrived someone came to stand in your way. It was Jacob. And he didn’t seem to want to talk to you in a friendly way. 

You still tried to be nice; he was like Bella’s best friend so you really didn’t want to make him dislike you more than he apparently already did. 

“Why?!” 

You were perplexed when he almost spat it at you. You also didn’t have a chance to respond; he just continued talking.

“Why was it YOU?! Why did YOU shift?! It should’ve been Bella if anyone else were to shift at all! But no! It was YOU! If it had been Bella then she could imprint on me! But it was you! It doesn’t even make sense! Why would nature want YOU to be one of us?! You’re unable to do anything! You’re weak! And now you’re just supposed to protect others?! To protect Bella?! Hah!”

His accusations that in the end didn’t even really make sense but still hurt carried on. You didn’t actually hear anymore what he said. You were about to cry and just wanted to coil into yourself but at the same time you had to suppress the anger rising in you. Your whole body shook from the exhausting try to hold yourself together. A few tears escaped your eyes and Jacob was still not done, probably just repeating himself by now but that didn’t change the fact that he was more than angry. 

“Jacob! Stop!”, before you could register anything else a person appeared between you and the other. You felt relief wash over you immediately when you saw that it was Seth. 

“How dare you scream at him like that! Accusing him of being the source of your stupid self-centered problems! How dare you make him cry! Don’t you ever even come too close to him again!” 

Jake seemed to want to say something more but Seth turned to you, took your hand into his and gently pulled you with him. You only noticed that you were still shaking when Seth stopped after arriving at a clearing and pulled you into his arms. You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing and Seth pulled you closer while you clutched his shirt in your hands. 

After you calmed down you whispered a “thank you” against his neck where you had hid your face. 

“Of course”, he whispered back, “nobody is allowed to talk to or about you like that. Nobody." His arms tightened around you again and you felt his face hide in your neck this time. You smiled when you noticed him taking a deep whiff of your scent and then place a kiss there.

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 14: Devil's Ploy

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

You snort and blink rapidly to clear your nose of the fetid sulphuric odour burning the membranes of your nostrils, throat and eyes. In the cramped, dimly lit sewers, where the air doesn’t stir, the stench of it lingers and never seems to dissipate.

When your vision finally becomes unimpaired by burning tears, the cambion and her fire-red hair, horns bedazzled with chains of gold, is leering at you with a conniving expression that makes your stomach sink. You’ve seen this expression on her plenty of times when she was scheming and plotting.

“Gods above,” you hiss with a rasp to your voice. “What do you want, Mizora? I thought I was good and done with your kind.”

“And here I thought we had all become such good friends,” she titters, feigning cordiality terribly. “You always did have so much… spunk. I’m happy death still hasn’t taken your lovely little spark.”

“You can ask Raphael all about my spark,” you smirk. Vivid blue lightning crackles and buzzes over your fingertips. “Oh, wait. You can’t because I killed him for seeing me as no more than a little mouse, a pawn, and I will do the same with you if you think you can play games with me.”

“Oh-yes,” Mizora giggles, not one iota ruffled by your threats. “All nine Hells were positively astir with the news of his demise. He always was such a pompous and over-confident twat, not unlike your master, I suppose."

Master. Ugh.

“I would be lying if I said it was nice to see you again, Mizora. If you will excuse me, I have my prey to hunt, and you’ve made me lose its trail.”

You can’t hear or smell Elowyn anymore. She will be deep into the ruin by now, or worse yet, in the Crimson Palace itself, but you still don’t understand what use she would have of that place. There is nothing left there but closed cells full of rotting gore that can never be opened again since you made Astarion break Cazador’s quarterstaff - Woe. Insofar as you’re aware, that was the only key to controlling everything.

“A great pity you’re in such a rush, pet,” Mizora snickers. Gods, you hate being called “pet.” You almost growl, but you’re too preoccupied with the rising feeling of foreboding swishing around in your stomach. You know that laugh and dread what’s about to come out of her mouth next. “I was going to offer to assist your Vampire Ascendant with his little… problem, but I suppose if you don’t want help… well, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. Ta-ta!”

“Wait!” You snap, whirling around. You’re going to regret this. “Wait… What do you know of Astarion’s ailment?”

“I thought that might get your attention,” she smirks smugly. “Let’s make ourselves more comfortable, shall we? You may be accustomed to living in such filth, but I am decidedly not.”

Mizora snaps her fingers, fire bursts to life all around you, and then you’re in a grand sitting room with glitzy settees, lounges and chairs. Rugs made of creatures you’ve never seen before litter the floor. Some appear reptile-like with scaly hides, others plush furs, others with feathers and more with something you can only begin to describe as some form of cartilaginous exoskeleton. They look at you with glassy, dead eyes ashine in their long-dead sockets.

It’s stiflingly hot, and you peer out of double doors leading to the terrace and take in the landscape. In the distance, black, jagged mountains pierce the horizon with peaks wreathed in an eerie crimson mist. Brimstone and fire dance in a perpetual inferno bordering a river made entirely of lava or possibly blood. It’s hard to tell from this height. The air is acrid and clouded with volcanic ash, and the sky flickers reds and oranges as fireballs race through clouds of darkest black.

“Avernus,” Mizora gushes. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“I think I preferred the sewers,” you croak, wiping the sweat from your brow and going back inside. It does little to provide any comfort or liberation from the sweltering climate.

“Of course, sewer spawn,” she scoffs indignantly and drops unceremoniously onto a lounge. “It was your home for a little while. Wasn’t it? Until the Cleric and Wizard found you down there.”

“Have you been watching me this entire time?” You cross your arms and quirk a brow at her. “Do you have nothing better to do than derive pleasure from pain and suffering?”

“Oh, darling.” Her head falls back, and she laughs, “Of course! Who wouldn’t want to watch this little tragedy play out? It has been quite amusing thus far.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the show,” you bow sarcastically with a frown. “If you’re getting such a kick out of it, why are you meddling in my nightmare?”

“Sit. Won’t you?” She gestures toward the chaise. Mizora won’t tell you anything until you do as she asks. This is all part of her little game, after all. So, you sit with a roll of your eyes. “I would have been happy to watch until the vampire killed you, but alas, all good things must come to an end. Zariel and the other archdevils have other plans.”

Fuck. If another archdevil, or several, from the sounds of it, are getting involved, this is unlikely to be good. What got you here was another deal with an archdevil, but if there’s even a chance that something Mizora might tell you can give you somewhere to start, well, you can humour her.

“Which are?”

“Oh,” Mizora shrugs. “I don’t know, little lamb. I am merely a messenger.”

“Okay,” you comb your fingers through your sweat-dampened hair. She’s lying. You can see the hinting glint in her eyes. She knows more than she’s letting on. “Well, what is it you can tell me?”

The toothy, menacing smile that sidles across Mizora’s face should send you running. She sneers, “Tell me. What do you know of Mephistopheles?”

You shrug, “I know he is an archdevil, a rather powerful one. His domain is Cania. The Rite of Profane Ascension was a contract with him. Beyond that, I do not spend much time researching devils.”

“So, nothing then,” she pouts. “Well, allow me to enlighten you.”

Fire leaps to life in a circle, and Mizora’s eyes gleam with the keenness of a wild cat as you jump and get ready to defend yourself. Everything goes black except for the inferno burning around you.

As you watch the writhing blaze, depictions form in the leaping flames, moving against them. A towering devil with bright red skin, curling ram horns and massive bat-like wings jutting out from his back. He has an unnervingly charming smile, but it’s offset by cold, milk-white eyes that stare through you, making you shudder.

The figure paces around, muttering to himself and the empty grand halls around him. His eyes bounce around with feral neuroticism. He twitches, growls, hisses and waves his hand as if shooing away an annoying insect while snarling.

Abruptly, the fiery figure lets out a blood-curdling shriek and starts clawing at his skin, tearing gashes into himself until his skin is hanging in gruesome, dripping flaps from his arms and chest. Fire explodes in his palms, and he flings around bolts of Hellfire, instantly turning everything around him to ash. He pivots quickly and appears to be looking straight at you. He roars so loud you’re sure your eardrums have burst. He charges toward you with the ferocity of a rabid animal and a fireball barrels toward you.

Everything goes black, and you fall onto the floor by Mizora, who is snickering.

“What in the Hells was that?” You snap, getting up and getting in her face. You grab that fur collar in your hands and shake her, “What the fuck did I just witness?”

“Mephistopheles, for all his cunning and brilliance, is a deeply troubled individual. As you saw, he is neurotic and suspicious and often flies into fits of explosive and violent rage. Does that remind you of anyone?”

“… Astarion,” you breathe and stumble back. “Oh Gods…”

“Yes, pet.” Mizora nods with a fiendish cackle. “I can see you putting it all together. The Vampire Ascendant was an experiment of sorts. As you can imagine, these tendencies are not becoming of an archdevil. In an effort to rid himself of his neurotic temper, he needed a willing vessel to imbue with a portion of his nature. What better way to lure a willing participant than to offer unfathomable power?”

You collapse onto the chaise, wracking your fingers through your hair, “The Vampire Ascendant was nothing more than a way for Mephistopheles to offload his psychosis?”

Gods above. It makes so much sense. Astarion’s blind fits of rage. The voices in his head. The alternate version of him that sometimes takes control. You never got to see the whole contract. Did Raphael know about this and neglect to say it?

“But.” You add, looking at Mizora, “Astarion is himself some of the time.”

“Ah-yes,” Mizora snickers, glancing at her nails. “The vessel was never supposed to have an intact soul. It’s much easier to work with an empty cask than one that is already full, so to speak. A spawn was never supposed to usurp the ritual. I would say an oversight on Mephistopheles’ part, but truly, who could have imagined a spawn would get infected with a mind flayer tadpole that broke his master’s chains? Then, he just so happened to come upon a fine hero to help him. It’s all rather ludicrous sounding. Astarion’s soul is fractured but not completely eradicated. Well, not yet at least.”

“What do you mean not yet?”

“Think of it like this,” Mizora speaks to you slowly, as if you might not be smart enough to understand the metaphor slipping past her lips. “The entity is like an infection. It contaminates him, tainting everything from his thoughts, the platelets in his blood, to the marrow in his very bones, faster than his body can heal itself.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You’re starting to get suspicious. Where is the catch? The line she will hook you with?

“Can’t I just want to help out an old friend?” She pouts.

You glower at her and cross your arms, “No.”

“You were always so clever.” Mizora suddenly becomes serious, “Mephistopheles is a threat. Now that he is no longer burdened by his demons, he’s set his aspirations quite high. Too high for the liking of many of the archdevils. We would like to see him reunited with himself. It’s a very fine little deal. You get what you want to rid Astarion of the entity that’s eating him from the inside out, and we get to cage Mephistopheles back in the prison of his mind. A warning, pet. It will not be an easy road.”

“My life has never been easy. Why would it start now?” You sigh, “Tell me what needs to be done, and I will do it.”

“Such a good little spawn. Aren’t you? He’s killed you, tortured you, starved you, beat you, emotionally ruined you, and stolen your name, and you’re still willing to risk yourself to save him?” Mizora giggles, “I would say it was a true love story in the making were it not so fucking tragic.”

“What do you mean stolen my name?” You growl, cocking your head at her, “I have a name!”

“Oh,” she snickers, “Then tell me, pet. What’s your name?”

“My name…” You trail off, wracking your brain for the word. It’s right there, sitting precariously on the tip of your tongue. “My name… It’s… It’s…”

Mizora’s laughter is a haunting melody, a sinister cackle in a chilling symphony. That sound could freeze the blood of the bravest soul and make the earth tremble, “You can’t remember it. Can you?”

You replay old conversations in your head. You can see Shadowheart’s lips moving, but then there’s a sudden silence where all you hear is white noise even though she’s still talking. It’s the same with conversations with Gale, just white noise in the place where your name should have been.

Astarion stole your name from you… When did that happen, and why can’t you remember? What else has he stolen from you?

“What’s my name,” you swallow the thick odium that’s erected itself into your throat. You shriek, rage sweeping through you in a gust of hatred, “What my name, Mizora! Say it!”

Mizora smiles haughtily and speaks. You focus with every iota of your capacity, watching her lips move, but it is as you feared. Your ears hear nothing but the breathy whisper of silence, and your eyes seem unable to read the phonetics on her lips.

You’re his darling. His sweet girl. His precious treasure. His consort. His nameless spawn.

And yet, you’re still prepared to sacrifice your life.

Yes, a very good little spawn, indeed.

“It doesn’t matter,” you mutter, clenching your chest as a tendril of sadness wraps around your heart and chokes it. “What do I have to do?”

“Before we can do anything about Astarion. We must first unbind him from his contract.” Mizora says, eyes narrowing, fixed on you. “I don’t care how you do it, but you must get Astarion’s contract from Mephistopheles. Steal it. Bargain for it. The choice is yours, but you must do it fast. There’s no way to know how much time before Astarion is lost forever.”

Mizora deposits you back into the sewers, and her voice bounces off the stony passageways, “Tick-tock, tick-tock, pet.”

You consider continuing to try to track Elowyn, but you’re reeling with information and cannot fathom how you would even begin to concentrate on her. She must be dealt with. That is certain, but it must wait until your mind isn’t fraught and unsettled.

How are you supposed to get Astarion’s contract from Mephistopheles? Bargaining for it should be your last resort, but how do you get to Cania, the eighth layer of the Nine Hells, survive it long enough to sneak into Mephistar and somehow sneak through an archdevil citadel? It seems like an impossible task.

Should you tell Astarion? He would usually be the first person you ran to for help with a heist, but he’s unlikely to let you go, even if it is the only means to save him from inevitably losing himself entirely. You can’t risk Astarion forcing you to stay, but you might not be able to risk going to the Hells without him. The Vampire Ascendant will likely be an invaluable asset if you meet resistance. But if he loses himself, you might not survive Astarion’s wrath long enough to get where you’re going. Whether that thing inside him is a separate entity or a version of himself that’s been infected and corrupted, you doubt it will take kindly to you trying to remove it.

Do you approach Shadowheart? You would be putting her in great peril, but she might be able to help with research. This is your mistake to fix, and you don’t relish putting your friend’s lives on the line. Karlach and Wyll are in the Hells. They may be able to help ascertain a way to get to Cania, but you’ll need to figure out how to contact them.

And Good Gods, your name…

The silent corridors echo with the foreboding sound of your heavy footsteps like the ominous rumble of an approaching storm as you work through the maze of gangways and channels. Tears stroll in rivulets down your snowy cheeks, liquid poetry to express all the emotions you can’t.

Dejection. Grief. Fear. Defeat. Loss.

Lost in the spiralling thoughts, you forget to look to the sky as you drag your weary body home. The only thing you want right now is to curl up in the strong arms of Astarion and let him hold your broken pieces and fears together because you’re not sure if you can do it by yourself.

The sun cracks the skyline, the first rays of the soft light of an autumn day embracing the streets, but the sun no longer embraces you. It blinds and broils you. Your skin glows, flakes, and melts. Deep, molten silver-blue channels crack in your arms, legs and face. The pain is so intense you can’t even remember to scream as you stand, waiting for your skin to slough off your bones and cover the street with ash.

You don’t remember reaching out to the bond with Astarion, but his voice fills your head, “Gods above. What in the nine Hells are you doing!? ” Astarion bellows. Panic infects his usual halcyon timbre, “Find shelter! I’m coming!”

The pain is all-consuming. You can’t move, can’t think, can’t speak as your nerves are melted away. Your skin dissolves like water evaporating under the sun’s heat. Every inch of your skin is being flayed in a single moment that lasts forever.

You will die nameless and alone.

“Fuck! Find shelter. Now!”

Astarion’s compulsion overrides everything else, and your body moves stiffly to obey the command even as it smokes and your skin is loosened from your frame, liquifying and dripping off your arms and legs, turning to ash in midair and being carried away by the morning breeze.

Find shelter. Find shelter. Find shelter.

Your instructions resound in your head even louder than the pain that falls to a buzz in the background. You can’t even blink as your fingers curl around the boards of a long-abandoned shack. Gods. Are those your fingers? Is that bone you see? You wrench the board off the window. The pads of your fingers squelch and ooze. When you throw the boards down, your skin sticks to them, peeling away in rangy, fibril bands like gum. Thank the Gods, you lack the capacity to mull it over much as your body throws itself inside without your consent.

With the order completed, there is a brief moment of pure, blissful euphoria - a reward for being so very obedient. The compulsion pales, the vines recede, and you’re pitched back into the residual agony that has yet to abate.

Now that the sun is no longer skinning you alive, the pain has lessened, and you remember how to scream. An inhumane noise rends your throat somewhere between a shriek and a wail. Your head lolls to the side, and your eyes fall to your arms.

You immediately wish they hadn’t.

Your skin is not the smooth pearlescent you’re used to seeing now that the colour it once held has faded to death’s grip. It’s powdery and matte. You’re sure you’re looking at the bones of your forearms in the chasmal rifts.

You hear white noise in your head, murmuring over the bond. It feels like Astarion is trying to contact you, but you hear no words. To get your thoughts off the pain still being recited by your nerves, you shift your focus to the emotions in your head, trying to sift through them. Astarion’s heartbeat in your chest is excruciating. It hammers with the intensity of a blacksmith striking an anvil. He’s petrified, bordering on hysterical.

You reach out in your head, “Astarion?”

“Little love!” He howls. You must remember to request he not attempt to dissolve your brain matter. “Why haven’t you been answering me?”

“Where are you?” 

“Close, my treasure.” 

You don’t know how much time elapses as you bounce between consciousness and dissociation while focusing on not moving. The less you move, the better for you, but your limbs and muscles seem to jerk and twitch without your consent, and every time, it sends another agonizing swell of suffering to break over you. Teardrops flutter on your lashes, but you can’t move to wipe them away.

Your ears pick up the thudding tempo of Astarion’s beating heart before he bursts through the door, scattering the planks and showering splinters in his haste. Astarion drops to his knees beside you. He visibly shudders as his eyes land on you, slumped against a wall.

“Hells,” he breathes, chest heaving from exertion. You can feel his horror in your head, but you need not. It’s evident in his shaky and rapid speech, “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here. You’re safe. Look at me, darling.”

Why, after everything he has done to you, is his proximity so remarkably comforting? You let your eyes roam over him and truly appreciate the beauty before you. His scarlet eyes, dazzling like vivid, perfectly polished jewels ashine behind… tears? No. That doesn’t seem right. Your vision is blurred from your eyes being boiled in their sockets. You must be imagining the tears, but his eyes are beautiful nonetheless. His sculpted, full lips, which once held the promise of an eternity of silk kisses, are downturned at the corners. You would give anything to run your fingers along them right now, feel them on your skin, taste them on your tongue. He is breathtaking, quite literally.

“Sweetheart.” Astarion reaches to you. His fingers tremble as they hover below your jaw. He knows it will hurt if he touches you, “Can you hear me?”

You answer in his head because moving the muscles in your face to make you capable of speech will hurt, “Yes. I hear you.”

“I can compel you to not feel the pain, to sleep, but I need your permission.” His eyes bore into you. His voice is a favourite dream you long to slip into, “Please.”

It’s dangerous permission to give. You’ve told him you will leave if he compels you again, but he just did, didn’t he? He compelled you to find shelter when you could not do it yourself. He compelled you from afar. He does not need to be near you to force commands upon you. He can wrap your brain and body around his finger like twine from anywhere, anytime, on a whim. But Gods, you will do anything to make this pain end, to drift away from this fucking nightmare.

“Do it.”

Immediately, you feel your control funnelling away, like sand through an hourglass.

“You feel no pain,” he purrs, and the pain vanishes as your nerve endings deactivate. It’s a blissful respite, and you sigh. “Thank you for trusting me. Sleep now.”

Your brain shuts off. Darkness claims you, and Hells below, you welcome it.

“Wake.”

The directive floats through your comatose mind like a beam of light cuts through the pitch-blackness of nullity. Your faculties burst to life, waking one by one, unfurling like a blooming flower. The first thing you feel is hunger so painful that your body jerks to collapse in on itself as your limbs jolt and tremor insuppressibly. Excruciating cramps make your toes curl and your hands ball into fists. Your mind is raving, mad with hunger. You consider biting your tongue if only for the sweet succour of that crimson elixir.

You cannot think of anything other than the sensation of your insides gnawing on themselves, the paralyzing contracting of every ligament and tendon in your body, the desiccation that’s withered your tongue, and the grave need to feed - on anything and anyone.

Another spasm causes you to lurch and claw at your skin like you could dig yourself out of this ailing body. Warm hands clasp your wrists, and all your mind can think is warm means alive, and alive means blood. Your eyes snap open, but your addled brain simply cannot process the visual input, and you don’t think twice before fire erupts from your palms.

“Shit!”

You hear it, but you do not process it. As soon as the grip on you rescinds, you lunge at this figure before you whose beating heart is thrumming the provocative siren song of life and food. Colliding with it is like being throttled into a brick wall, but you waste no time fumbling and climbing with bared fangs. You’re so close to that beautifully pulsing vein, and it’s the only thing your eyes can focus on.

Stomach bubbling with hunger, you go to bite, jaws snapping and slobbering like a feral beast. As soon as your fangs hover within striking distance, your body arrests, and you’re instantaneously immobilized.

Strong arms wrap around you, lift, and sink you to the floor. A hand cradles your cheek, and the branching blue-purple veins make you swoon. You think about biting them only to have your body freeze up on you further. It guides your eyes to vivid crimson irises that spark recognition and reason back into your dazed lucidity.

“Astarion…”

“Stop thinking about biting me,” he chuckles and shifts you to the side. “You’ll be able to move again.”

“What?” You would quirk a brow at him, but you’re too focused on trying to push your intentions of biting him away. They do not concede to your urges, and you find your eyes wander without your permission to any vein that might be in striking distance. Astarion always gently walks your errant gaze back to his. “You haven’t compelled me?”

“Ah. Apologies. I do forget how new you are to this.” Astarion reaches for something on the dresser to his right, “No. This is not a compulsion. As my…” he trails off.

“Spawn.” You state with a palpable despondency threaded between the fog of hunger that looms over you.

“I do hate that word,” he shakes his head with discontentment as if he does not want to face the reality of what he has turned you into. “You are physically unable to bite me without my permission. Your body simply will not allow you to do it. Which is why you currently cannot move.”

Astarion holds a goblet out to you, and your stomach is set on fire by the iron sharpness that wafts from the syrupy, bright red nectar. It breaks you away from your absorption of sinking your fangs into Astarion’s flesh, and you snatch it out of his hands and drink with mindless gluttony.

The blood is fresh, hot and rich as the liquid rushes into your mouth. It waterfalls through your body, unknotting the snarls in your muscles, dissolving away the relentless twist of your stomach, and replacing the bloodlust hysteria in your mind with a sultry buzzing.

Astarion’s already holding another goblet, and you throw the empty one to the side and close your eyes as you guzzle. The blood is buttery and decadent. It’s hundreds, nay, thousands of exquisite dishes in a single swallow. It’s like a summertime dawn on your tongue. The wet warmth of it sinks between your thighs, settling with a molten throbbing in your core, and you moan at the pure bliss.

Astarion slips the goblet from your fingers once you’ve finished, and you look at him with half-lidded eyes. You rack your brain for memories of the few times you’ve tasted the blood of thinking creatures. You bit a few in the battles between when he turned you and the Netherbrain, but you cannot remember any of them ever tasting that deliciously arousing.

“That wasn’t animal blood,” you state, almost slurring. You feel drunk, or maybe Astarion is just intoxicating to look at while he mesmerizes you with those red eyes and perfect lips that foretoken pleasure. “Who did you just feed me?”

“No, it was decidedly not animal blood,” he grins as you adjust on his lap and straddle him. You’re not entirely sure what you’re doing in your desirous daze, and you trace the perfect bow of his lips as he speaks. “It was my blood.”

“You are delectable,” you giggle as your fingers help themselves and start fiddling with the buttons on his chemise. As your muddled mind starts to make sense of what he just said, you’re tripped up. You stare at him with a slack jaw and round eyes.

“The look on your face is priceless, darling,” he giggles and glances down at your roving hands as they push open his shirt and trace the defined muscles. Astarion’s fingers trace down your neck, sending shivers down your spine and making you squirm on his lap in wanton desperation for even the most minuscule friction to sate the ache, “I told you that you would taste me, and I you. It will not make you a True Vampire, though, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Right now, you could not care less about being a True Vampire. There is very little on your mind except how his skin feels on your fingers and how extraordinary he would feel stretching you.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply, placing slow kisses up the column. His fingers curl into the silk nightdress he must have changed you into at some point as he groans.

“Whatever are you doing?” He mutters near your ear, pressing his cheek to yours.

“I want you,” you sigh as you curl your fingers into his hair.

“You just attacked me,” he swallows.

“Then, let me apologize,” you grind against his hardening length in a way that makes you both gasp.

“You’ve been asleep for a week,” he mumbles, even as his arms wrap around you, tugging you close. “You have no idea how close you were to dying. Truly dying.”

You should probably be concerned with how long he kept you asleep since your time is limited, but you don’t care. You can’t care. You’ve never been quite so high on blood, on him. He is the light, darkness and blood that runs through your veins, and good Gods, you will give him everything.

“So, wake me up,” you purr as you push his shirt over his shoulders and run the flat of your tongue up his neck, relishing the salt of his skin. “Touch me like only you can. Love me like only you do. Help me feel alive, Astarion.”

Astarion pulls you back, cradling your face with this thumb pressed gently under your chin, drawing your eyes to his, and you stare at him through narrow, seductively hooded eyes like a love-sick pup. He traces your lips with his thumb, and you catch it in your mouth and suck.

“Hells,” he rasps darkly with a sharp inhalation.

You feel the offering call of the bond, and you don’t hesitate to throw it open. That beautifully overwhelming frisson shatters through you as Astarion’s lips catch yours in an eager, bordering on frantic kiss. He snakes his hand into your hair, holding you firmly against his vehement embrace. His tongue darts into your mouth, and a guttural groan thunders in his chest. His kiss is unusually clumsy, lacking the artistry and mastery he typically possesses, and your teeth click together with your greed for each other. You roll your hips, sinking your clit against his length, and your head falls back as white-hot sparks of want rupture behind your eyelids.

As far as you’re concerned, he is the definition of desire. His lips, his hands, and his taste are the only things that can bring you back to life from this deathless death, and you’re sure that you could never get close enough to him. Even with every curve of your body pressed into every contour of his, it still wouldn’t be enough. Nothing is sweeter than the serene sin of the kisses his lips press against your throat.

You peel off your nightdress, and your fingers tug at the opening of his breeches, graceless in your wild hunger to be filled, to be taken, to be his. Astarion quirks his hips up and pulls them down his hips, freeing his cock. The head glistens with evidence of his arousal. With no warning or hesitation, you sink his full length into you. The heavenly stretch makes you cry out and dig your fingers into his chest.

“Fuck,” he breathes, heavy, ragged and uneven. The pads of his fingers find your swollen flesh, sweeping and circling, and you get lost in the divine stimulation.

You set a slow, teasing pace, rising and sinking back down onto him as you delight in feeling the ridges of his head with every languid pump. Astarion pants as he lets out breathy moans. He brings a hand to your hip, trying to urge you to move quicker.

“Good Gods,” he whimpers, his gaze glossed with desire. “Have mercy.”

You are starving for pleasure, famished, and you will take it how you want it. With a warning growl, you grasp his wrist and pin it above his head to the wall. Astarion grins at your dominance and doesn’t fight it. He murmurs something unintelligible as you plunge onto his cock, and stares reverentially through thick lashes, drinking you in as you forfeit all rational thought.

Time runs away with you. You could have been riding him for hours or seconds, but eventually, your savouring pace turns reckless and erratic. Astarion bucks his hips in time to meet yours as the sound of smacking flesh, wanton cries and panting is all that fills your ears and head.

Astarion’s fingers tremble and quake against your sensitive bud, his skin sheens with sweat and his breath hitches. When you finally unpin his wrist, he clutches your hips and guides you to continue the tempo that is driving you perilously close to the edge.

His breath starts to come faster, panting hot and crude, fanning across your sweat-veiled skin. Scarlet eyes devour you as you chase your release in his lap. He penetrates you - Harder. Deeper. Animalistic.

“Oh shit—” His eyes snap open wide, almost in a look of blissful confusion. In your rapture, you barely notice the way his lips move, but you hear nothing but white noise. “I’m going to— Gods. I think I’m going to—“

A shuddering gasp escapes his lips, his body suddenly tensing beneath you. The look of ecstasy that washes over his face is enough to hurl you over the precipice, and you cry out with him. Between your walls clutching and spasming, you feel his cock twitching and pulsing, flooding you with his seed. His arms wrap around you, and you cling to him with a grip that would surely bruise. He crushes you against him as you’re both overwhelmed with pleasure so pure you think maybe it would have killed you were you not already dead.

As the intoxication of your climax fades, you sag into him, pressing your forehead against his neck. You close your eyes, breathing in the fragrance of his sweat, and focus on the rise and fall of his chest. It would be nice to stay in this darkness, snug and safe and home in his embrace, with the bond open so you can remain one pale star against the dusk of reality.

And then you remember the white noise from the moving lips of Shadowheart, Gale, Mizora, and him … You pull back abruptly, breaking out of Astarion’s arms and staring at him, tears teeming in your eyes. Astarion’s confusion is evident on his face and through the connection.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. You can feel him trying to figure it out in his head. It’s such an odd sensation, almost like your emotions are being poked and prodded. “What did I do?”

“Say my name,” you whimper, focusing on his lips.

“What?” His eyes bounce around as his brows pull down.

“My name,” you repeat with a quivering lip. “Say it.”

Astarion’s lips move, and… nothing. All you can hear is the buzzing, fizzing hiss of white noise coming from his mouth.

“Again.”

“I don’t understand —“ He yet again opens and closes his mouth with only a droning hum. Your fingers clamber against his lips, pushing his mouth open as if you might be able to grasp the word as it leaves his tongue. “Whatever is the matter?”

He doesn’t even know, you realize. He has no idea that he’s stolen your name just as he stole your life. You find some comfort in knowing that it wasn’t this version of him that did it, at least. You stare off dejected as everything rushes back to you like a slap across the cheek.

Mizora. The Hells. Mephistopheles. The Contract. The ticking clock. Your name.

“My love,” Astarion’s fingers curl into your hair, and he ushers your eyes to his. “Did I harm you? Please. Tell me what’s troubling you."

“I don’t remember my name,” the tears spill out of your eyes. “You stole it from me.” 

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, I hope you enjoy this, darlings!

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

So... does she tell him what Mizora revealed?

[universallychaoticpan]

Can u do the stages of Dazai and Reader's relationship through Kunikida's POV like from enemy/strangers to friendship to lovers♥️

This had been on my had for days and maybe you might like this idea. Imma write this down before I go to sleep bc I'm tired af😭.

You have no idea how much I loved writing this, it was so fun. Ugh I absolutely love it!! Sorry it's taken so long so get it out, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. Come back anytime. <33

I suggest listening to lovers rock by tv girl to set a nice little mood <3

(reader is gn)

Fukuzawa hadn't lied at all; you were a perfect addition to the agency. Even after just meeting you, Kunikida could tell: smart, accomplished, adept at combat, extensive knowledge in both weapons and hand to hand combat, plus a near deadly control over your ability- you were a dream. You were hardworking and on top of it all, shockingly, amazingly, seemingly immune to Osamu Dazai.

Now, you didn't dislike the man. You just weren't one to fawn over him or giggle like a schoolgirl any time he winked at you. You never really understood the girls who would fall all over themselves when he flirted with them, plus, since he flirted with anyone what was the point in giving in? To him, there were a million people like you; you were just another pretty face to him. So you made it your mission to never fall for his charms.

Unfortunately for Kunikida, neither of you quite understood how stubborn you both could be.

After three months, you found you liked him more than you thought. He made you laugh, with his stupid jokes and his antics. You found you liked being his friend. You would go out drinking with him, he would embarrass you in public until you shrieked with laughter, face burning red with your blush. He would make up nonsense songs to make you laugh and you would foil his attempts at flirting with yet another waitress each time you ate together. Quickly, you found yourself calling him your best friend- something that horrified Kunikida in quite a funny manner.

And after six months, Dazai realized something terrible- something awful, sweet, lovely and terrifying all at once. Osamu Dazai realized he was falling for you. He was falling faster than he could save himself, faster than he could stop it; he was falling for his best friend with the stunning smile, the sharp wit that would bite him playfully if he got to close, the pretty laugh and those eyes that melted him from the inside out.

Worst of all, he knew you would never believe him if he told you.

But Kunikida saw it all. He saw how Dazai's eyes would soften ever so slightly when you would walk in, how he would try to be close to you, how he would volunteer to do the most mundane tasks as long as it meant doing them with you. He saw the new way his lip would curl gently at the edges when he smiles at you, a smile different than his usual rakish grin. And god was it painful to watch. He nearly felt bad for the man, and he would if it wasn't so funny to watch. Kunikida wouldn't deny it was just the slightest bit entertaining to observe you.

Nearly a year had gone by since you had first met; nearly a year since you had promised yourself to never fall for him. Nearly a year since he had met you, clueless to the fact that you would change his life without even trying. And everyone could tell it was driving him mad; everyone, or so it seemed, except for you. A fact that Kunikida doubted to the extremes.

"They probably have figured it out by now," he muttered, sipping his drink as a moan sounded from Dazai. "They're quite intelligent, you know. Perceptive, too."

"Shut up," Dazai muttered, lifting his head from off the bar. "Don't tell me that like I don't already know it."

Kunikida shrugged. "Just checking. But in any case, what are you going to do about it?"

"That's just it," Dazai groaned. "Whatever I do, they won't believe it's real; they'll think I just want a fling or a one night stand and it would kill me to loose them over something so stupid."

"Well you'd best figure it out soon," Kunikida observed. "Time waits for no man."

And it hurt knowing he was right. It hurt Dazai, a dull throb forming in his chest because it was true; no one waited forever. No opportunity stayed open for long. So he shook Kunikida's hand, walked out of the bar, and turned for the direction of your apartment.

"Good luck, you lovestruck bastard."

//

You were alone when the knock at the door came; alone, your pajama pants sitting deliciously on your skin, a glass on wine barely held between your fingers. You felt the buzz of the stuff, warm and sweet, spreading through your body as you walked over the door, and opened it.

Revealing your best friend, panting with cheeks brushed pink from the night air. He ran a hand through his messy dark hair and you cocked your head slightly, your lips quirking up into a curious smile.

Oh that smile-

"What's the occasion for this lovely visit?"

He swallows hard, hands fiddling nervously as he tries to decide whether to move closer or not. But you choose for him, resting a hand on his shoulder, stepping so close your have to look up slightly for your concerned eyes to meet his.

"are you alright? Dazai, what's happened, is everything ok?-"

"Do you trust me?"

"What kind of question is that, of course I-"

"No. Do you trust me."

You looked into those eyes, and-

oh.

oh.

"Of course I do," you whispered.

And those were the last words you uttered before his hand lifted your face to his and his lips shaped themselves perfectly against yours. That was all you had to say before he stole the breath from your lungs with that kiss, a sigh leaving you so sweetly it made him fall for you again, more and more- he would devote himself to memorizing every sound that fell from your lips, give you every second if his life if that's what it took, as long as you promised to never take your touch away from him.

You smiled when you pulled away, lips still parted, laughing ever so slightly as you pulled him inside by the hand.

And when you walked into the office together the next morning, chatting and smiling like always, most people wouldn't have batted an eye.

But Doppo Kunikida wasn't most people. And even he had to indulge himself in smirking in the way Dazai followed at your heels like a puppy. Because even though you were not the first to fall for his charms...

you were the first to get him to fall for yours.

[gunthermunch]

[Transcript under the cut]

Pierce: …what are you gonna do now? Max: stay here Pierce: Max, I’m serious Max: … Max: you can leave if that’s what you want Pierce: I’m good. Pierce: … will you…? Max: no… i dont know. Lucas: um, guys? all good? Pierce: Max needed to puke, i was just giving him a hand Lucas: oh. weird Pierce: yeah. well, gotta go Lucas: o-okay Lucas: you're still a little pale, did you eat something rotten again? Max: … Lucas: do you… want me to phone your sister? or maybe Ulrike? Lucas: …max? Lucas: hey! Lucas: why did you push me? Max: can you just- not follow me for once? Max: i'm sorry. i didnt mean to- Lucas: you don’t scare me Max. you know that, right? Max: ah… haha. God that’s funny because- I am pretty much terrified. Lucas: ahah! I know! Everything is so- Max: it all sucks so much Lucas: right- Max: I’m… probably getting accepted at britechester. Lucas: oh..I’m so… happy for you Max Max: ugh- Lucas. don’t lie, don’t you lie to me Lucas: oh so now i cant lie to you, isnt it exactly what you did, max? im not that dumb… Max: it’s sigh I knew that was a terrible lie. Sorry… it’s not Pierce’s fault Lucas: What was your actual reaction? Max: it doesn’t matter, not anymore, anyways. Lucas: Max. I thought we promised honesty! Max: and i told you- i can't be in any kind of relationship without constantly pushing everyone involved at the edge Max: i told you im not capable of this! Lucas: I still think you are! Max: no- Max: there’s… so much stuff you have no idea about Lucas: tell me. Max: im not telling you Lucas: W-why why does everyone think i need to be protected? kept away from truths? im tired of this. Max: no. Lucas: Max, tell me Max: I wont- Lucas: FUCK MAX! JUST TELL ME ALREADY I CAN HANDLE IT! Max: I KISSED SOMEONE OKAY?? And… it was a guy. Max: i’m gay, Lucas. And i- Max: i… cant do this. Lucas: Max, im not mad Max: i need to go

[thrashkink-coven]

There’s a reason why the angel of beauty and wisdom dawns a flaming sword. There’s a reason why my Lord Lucifer, who is brilliant and transcendent and beautiful is also terrible and horrifying and intimidating. I remember very vividly when the God of Love told me plainly that “love doesn’t save the day”.

Love is purity. Beauty is born from this same purity. What is precious is fragile, and what is fragile is vulnerable. What we need then, is not love, but courage, strength, passion, and will. We protect what is precious because it is pure. Love is not the fighting force, but the force that is fought for. Love will not save the day, you will save the day in the name of Love.”

I remember speaking with Jophiel, an angel who is precious to so many, and he spoke of love as if it were a child, so easily influenced and corrupted. For Jophiel is made of this same light, and so he keeps his sword close to him. I do wonder how Jophiel navigates the topic of corruption.

Relationships aren’t built only off of love, you can love someone to pieces and still not trust them, depend on them, or feel safe with them. You can love your abuser.

Ugh

I had something to say here about Lilith and war, why so many entities associated with love are also influenced by rage and violence. Why a loving God like Lucifer with destroy all those who threaten his kin. Why Innana my Lady of Heaven is a fearsome and fiery Goddess.

I think about the Abrahamic God and how he has been asserted to be “all good” and yet unacting, distant, stagnant in a way. How every beautiful thing is compared, and how even angels know their vulnerabilities. Why beautiful things cannot only be beautiful if they hope to do anything, for beauty is too occupied in being beautiful. How a creature can be so beautiful that they must also be terrible. Why is it the angel of beauty who protects the garden of eden? Is it because he knows how vulnerable that pure beauty is? Is he the only one capable of truly protecting it, because he is it?

something something boundaries

I don’t know how to properly string these thoughts together. Oh well.