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thecagedbard · 6 months

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Oh Look, another Tav story! This is currently posted over on AO3 in its entirety but I thought I’d post it to tumblr as well. If you’d like to sneak a peak at some of the chapter names, if you don’t want to read the whole thing yet, have a listen to the title playlist: here. There is also just the ‘Here’s what I was listening to while writing' playlist, and my Faetrala Uncaged playlist which serves as inspiration for Vesper’s siblings. A lot of the songs tend to overlap but who knows, you might find one you enjoy.

Rating: Mature

Pairing(s): Astarion/Tav (Vesper), Astarion/Halsin, Astarion/Halsin/Tav(Vesper); Mentions of Karlach/Shadowheart/Wyll; Mentions of Gale/AFAB OC

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Canon Divergence, Child Death

Word count: 12,626/300,000+

Summary: Vesper needed someone to protect her from an abusive husband should he appear after she was abducted by mind flayers. Astarion needed someone to fall for him so he had protection from Cazador. He's got two hundred years of manipulation and she has the soft heart of a lamb being led to slaughter. While subconsciously healing each other they both realize they also need to heal the druid of all damned people.

Chapter Two

Be Good. Be Obedient. Be Compliant.

The night passed slowly for Vesper. She could hear water dripping from somewhere, and the skittering of creatures all around her, though she did think some of the sounds were just bugs, and her own breathing woke her up twice from just being too loud. But she didn’t hear sounds from Astarion for hours. The bard was unsure of how long she lay on the stone floor, her attempts to fall asleep were proving futile at this point, but when she sat up and looked at the male who shared her backpack as a pillow she realized he wasn’t breathing.

His chest did not rise or fall, there was no sound from him at all.

For a moment she thought he died, and a panic surged through her very soul at the thought of trying to get out of here on her own; she finally remembered, just as her hand hovered over his face trying to feel for a breath. Astarion was undead. He had no need to breathe, no physical compulsion that forced his body to take in air or expel it. He just…was.

There was no way to tell time in the Underdark. It was all just…for a lack of a better term, dark. Turning onto her left side she silently winced at the weight she placed on her shoulder and stared at the candles willing them to guide her to rest.

For a moment she felt transported. Back to the last time she had done this, curled up in front of the fireplace, every candle in that little home lit and resting in the hearth. She hadn’t had anyone to warm her up then either, she had to be the provider of warmth to three cold and hungry babies. It was as though she could feel their little fit kick against her as the memory warped and she heard the buzzing. The infant coughing and crying. In her memory, she looked down and saw the hornet on her arm and as its stinger pierced her skin, Vesper shot up again. She looked at the place on her arm where she’d been stung, but instead of one angry red mark, that later turned into several as the hornets flew out to protect their nest, she saw only two bruised puncture marks.

“No,” a whine came from Astarion. Her head turned to look at him, his head jerked almost violently. A second protest died on his lips as he too sat up suddenly.

Vesper turned away to look at the fire. She didn’t ask anything as the high elf wildly surveyed his surroundings. With her head still bowed she cut her eyes in his direction to watch him run his fingers through his hair as he sighed heavily. Vesper rubbed at the place he’d bitten before clearing her throat, “Bad dream?”

That one question could either be her worst idea or a start to a conversation.

“Something like that,” Astarion replied as he stood and immediately walked away from the room they were in.

Or it could lead to nothing. Vesper lifted her head to watch him walk away, his trajectory seemed to be headed for that protective gate. She preferred this outcome.

She leaned toward the candles and began blowing them out. It was unlikely they’d have to come back down here, she didn’t enjoy being in the underdark, but she’d rather not risk setting the place aflame. As the drow stood and picked up her bag she heard the scuff of Astarion’s shoes, “Let’s start climbing. Who knows how long this will take us,” he muttered from the arched entry. He waited just long enough for her to stuff a torn piece of bread into her mouth before turning and beginning his ascent up the ladder.

Vesper thought her arms were going to break off any moment, she kept having to pause, wrapping herself around the sturdy rungs and shaking out her arms or massaging them to stop the trembling. She could hear Astarion grunting somewhere above her, he stopped less than she did, but even the rogue had to pause at least twice, she heard him call down and lifted her eyes, “What did you say?” He was so far above her that she was concerned if she fell he’d just leave her behind. “I said,” he turned to glance down and she could hear him sigh as he realized how far down she was, “I can see the top of the ladder…I’m almost there. Just a bit further little bard…you can rest at the top.” He turned back around and began climbing again.

A bit further.

She repeated it in her mind like a mantra. Just a bit further up the ladder. Just a bit further to find the others. Just a bit further to finding Master Halsin and getting rid of the tadpoles. After that, Vesper had no plan. She didn’t want to return to Baldur’s Gate, but a part of her longed to know if her only living child was alive. Was Carwyn still breathing? Did he feel guilty? The thoughts consumed her mind as she began climbing again, one hand over another. She didn’t dare to look down, but she didn’t look up either, concern over how far she’d gotten would eat at her if she tried to check.

It wasn’t until she reached up, and a hand grasped hers that she lifted her eyes. She’d made it. She let loose a breathy laugh as she pushed with one hand and Astarion gently tugged on the other. He was careful not to pull her arm all the way up. A feeling swelled in her chest.

He was careful.

“Thank you,” she said as she pulled her hand away and crawled away from the ledge and ladder. Rolling over to lay on her back she closed her eyes, “Any indication of where we’ve climbed up to?”

“Not yet,” she heard him say. The scuff of his shoes indicated he was standing, “Just rest until I can figure something out. We may yet be trapped here…”

Well, that didn’t sound ideal. The worst thing that could happen would be having to climb back down the ladder, and Vesper wasn’t sure she could manage it. Not if it meant traversing through the Underdark.

The paths beneath Toril’s surface had always spooked her, especially after she and Vale ran into some sort of monster when she was just a child. Thoughts of the underdark morphed into memories of her and Valere as they snuck through the cave to earn two gold from the village kids.

Those memories morphed into other memories of Vale and her other siblings.

Songs came to mind, and she hadn’t even realized she was humming until Astarion called out to her, “Whatever you’re doing you’re going to attract attention with how loud you are!” That silenced her real quick, her eyes even popped open as she rolled back to her hands and knees and stood to walk up behind him.

He was squinting at a stone door, it was so dark where they were she was barely able to make him out. Taking a deep breath she pulled on her innate magic and summoned three light globules that began dancing around each other as they rose above the two. Astarion started at the sudden light and turned to look at her before following her eye line to the dancing lights, “That’ll help…” his tone wasn’t teasing or even upset. He turned away from her again before crouching and pulling his tools from a pocket in his armor.

With the help of the light he was able to find a place for his lock picking tools to slip into and with a loud click, the stone in front of them began to slide, “It wasn’t meant to open from this side…I had to do everything backward.” Astarion’s explanation was a matter of fact and he looked back to her before putting a finger over his lips, “Quietly now…don’t scream, don’t run. You may need to be charming,” he grinned in her direction, “perhaps we can even find somewhere to clean your pretty little face.” His sudden compliment made her lose concentration on the dancing lights and the two were plunged into darkness again.

It didn’t take them long to find light, there was a bedroom that led from this strange chapel-like area. Vesper didn’t recognize the symbols on the walls or those on the floor. As quietly as possible they moved together until there was movement just ahead of them, a large ogre was walking past the warm light and a goblin followed behind her talking about something she’d found. “My own little squiddy Polma, I can’t wait to see when he’ll turn. The Absolute must be real proud of what I’ve done here,” the goblin was saying.

Astarion ducked behind a large boulder leaving enough room for Vesper to squeeze beside him. Silently she began thinking of what incantation she was going to need to use, if this goblin had someone like them trapped it would be better to rescue them, maybe they’d be helpful in finding either the rest of the party or Master Halsin.

Near her ear she felt Astarion’s breath and tensed before she heard him whisper, “I think we’ve made it to the goblin camp…this is probably not the path Shadowheart meant but we’ll have to admit she was right.” She nodded and started to lift from her squatted position, thinking maybe she could sneak by the ogre and see who this goblin had in chains.

Astarion pulled her back against his chest, “You will not put us in unneeded danger, Vesper. If that little green monster has someone who’s about to turn the last thing we need to do is get involved. Go back to the chapel.”

“But–”

“Do what I said,” she turned to meet his eyes and flinched at the seriousness she saw in his face. His face softened a fraction before he looked away from her, “I don’t know if we can take out that ogre on our own or that goblin depending on how powerful it is. And a mindflayer is simply out of the question, we’ll wait for them to sleep then we’ll sneak out.” His tone was softer than before his chin tucking down so he was whispering into her ear again, “Go back to the chapel, I’m right behind you.”

Be obedient. Be compliant.

She waited again for the ogre to disappear from view before she made a run for the chapel. Astarion was indeed right behind her, he held a finger to his mouth again and she nodded, he didn’t have to worry about her saying anything. The sound of tumbling rocks seemed to echo off the walls so she was fairly certain that their voices would do the same.

Using her pack to pad the back of her head, Vesper tucked herself neatly into a corner and pulled her legs in close, her arms closing around her knees. If they had to wait for the lights and candles to be blown out then she was going to attempt a nap, she knew she hadn’t rested well the previous night or however long ago it had been, and her arms were still aching from the climb up that damned ladder. Astarion spared her one glance before crouching down at the archway to keep an eye on their goblin and ogre counterparts.

She wasn’t sure when or for how long she’d been sleeping, but a voice called out to her. The pain that rushed from her head to the rest of her body almost made her cry out, thankfully she was used to pain. Her eyes opened for a moment and she turned her head to where Astarion was now resting next to her. Only he wasn’t resting, he too was gripping his head, his fangs bared and his breathing ragged.

When his mouth opened she jumped forward to cover his mouth with her hand, lest he make a noise that carried to those they were still hiding from. Wild, crimson eyes locked on her and she shook her head before falling forward her forehead resting against his shoulder.

“Hear my voice. Obey my command.”

A sharp pain shot through her hand and Vesper tried to lift her head, a warm liquid sliding down her palm and the back of her hand. Her hand spasmed, but the pain kept her from succumbing to the drowning darkness.

But as she looked past Astarion as he bit into the dirty flesh of her hand, she saw something, no, she saw people materializing in the shadows of the temple. Her own mouth opened, and her head was pushed back as Astarion covered her mouth as well, his teeth still digging into her hand at an awkward angle, nearly shredding her flesh between her thumb and forefinger. It didn’t stop a whine from escaping her at the pain.

The shadowy figures disappeared, the voice was saying something but she couldn’t focus on its words. Just as suddenly as the pain began it ended, and a ringing thrummed through her ears.

The elves sat there in silence, both wincing and trying to keep the other from making a sound. Was that what happened to those goblins when she gave in and used the tadpole?

Did they feel this pain?

She wanted to be sick.

She wanted to cry out but was it from her head which now throbbed or from the pain in her hand?

Astarion was taking his free hand and pulling her hand from his mouth, she didn’t miss how his tongue had laved at her torn skin and the blood that rushed down. Even in the gray of their current vision, she could see the lighter gray of his eyes disappearing as his pupils dilated from the smell, the taste, of fresh blood.

Hot tears rolled down her face as she saw how torn her hand was. Was that bone? She pulled her hand back to her and cradled it in her lap, but she couldn’t say the spell to heal herself, what if those monsters heard her?

Astarion leaned close and for a moment she wondered if she’d bled too much and if he was going to just kill her there, but he reached behind her and tugged her bag from behind her back. Slowly, carefully, he rummaged through the bag and pulled her old tunic and two of her smaller healing potions from the contents. He scooted closer again, uncorking one bottle and holding it to her lips, with a shaky breath she opened her mouth and tilted her head back as he poured it in. As she lowered her head she saw him glancing at her hand, his jaw closed tightly.

He took the tunic and turned laying it between them before giving it a quick rip. Taking the torn fabric he tugged at her hurt wrist, she wanted to fight back, to keep him from taking it, but again Tavius’s voice rang through her head.

Be obedient.

She let him have her hand and silently, his mouth now a hard line he wrapped her hand. His cold fingers felt nice against the heat of her injured hand but she still silently cried. It was a skill she perfected over ten years. Letting her emotions, her tears, flow without being heard. When he was finished he scooted away and looked up at her before looking down and holding out the second healing potion.

Vesper took it and drank again. Usually, the effect was instantaneous but she didn’t know what was being healed at this point, her hand or her mind. Without her bag behind her, she was able to tuck further into the corner and again she pulled her knees to her chest, her hand now resting against her abdomen, even if she was still slight the weight was a welcomed pressure on the injury.

The second time they awoke it was when someone shook them and said her name. “Vesper,” the voice was loud, louder than either Astarion or Vesper had allowed themselves to be for hours. As her head jerked up she heard a grunt and a choking sound while she saw Astarion practically on top of the person who had been shaking her, his dagger was poised in the air but frozen, “Gale?” the vampire asked before lowering the blade and backing off the wizard.

Gale sat up and looked at the two of them, his normally quaffed hair askew, “I’m so glad I found you–sorry for the startle, I just hadn’t expected–how did you two get here? You fell through the hole we didn’t–we thought–” he swallowed hard as he looked from one elf to the other.

There was an unnerving glow to his eyes that made Vesper uncomfortable, “How do we know you’re the real Gale?”

The wizard chuckled and pointed to his eyes knowingly, “I understand why you might feel that way. Well then, when I asked for help getting out of the stone, asked for a hand more like…you gave me a high five. Or one of you did, and from the way, Astarion was giggling and you were grinning, I surmise it was one of the two of you. Also, the tadpoles in our heads, we’re on a mission to find the druid leader Halsin, and our companions are me, the two of you, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Wyll…what else…” he licked his lips as he tried to think of something, “ah, and one last one for the–”

Astarion held up a hand.

“That’s quite enough…how did you find us? Did the others kill that ogre?” the vampire asked as he stood up and turned to offer a hand to Vesper. She looked at his hand before looking down to her right hand, the one he’d bitten into, it was going to be difficult for her to play any instruments until this was fully healed and from the throbbing, she could tell that she wasn’t healed yet.

Gale also stood to his full height his chuckle turning nervous as he answered, “Uh, aha, well not exactly. I offered myself up to Priestess Gut as a bit of an offering…she,” he cleared his throat, “she acted as if she could remove the tadpole. Turns out she fully intended on watching me turn and wanted to keep herself a–”

“Squiddy pet,” both elves finished his thought and he nodded, “You knew?” Vesper placed her left wrist into Astarion’s waiting hand and allowed herself to be pulled up to stand, her knees cracking and her back now aching from sitting in that position for so long. “We heard that goblin a few hours ago…we didn’t know it was you she was talking about though,” she tried to explain and Gale shook his head while holding a hand aloft. “I do not blame you for not coming to my rescue, I don’t even think the three of us could have taken them both…that goblin was in direct contact with the absolute,” he tapped his head, “she had a tadpole just like we did. I don’t suppose either of you heard the absolute earlier?”

“Actually…we might have,” Vesper said as she turned to grab her bag, Astarion beat her to it, throwing it over his shoulder. Gale looked at the room he had found them in, “Nasty bit of business, hearing that voice. That little puzzle box of Shadowheart’s protected us,” he explained before looking back to the two of them, “Do either of you feel like turning against me? No?”

The two shook their heads.

It’s possible that Astarion biting into her palm and the taste of her blood protected the two of them. She looked to the high elf and caught his eyes lingering on her still cradled hand, she tucked it behind her back.

“You’re injured,” Gale said suddenly, the movement must have caught his attention. He held out his hand before carefully taking her elbow into his grasp and pulling her arm from behind her, “It’s fine, Gale. I cut it during the fall; Astarion was nice enough to bandage me up. I must have hit it when we heard the voice, it's just throbbing terribly is all.”

Ten years of lying and she was practically a professional now, Gale turned her tunic bandaged hand over and nodded, “Still, better have Shadowheart have a look. I’m not sure how long I’ve been here without them…I left them in the grand reception room before all of this. By the way,” he began to lead them back toward the bedroom they’d been hiding from, “we told the goblins we were here for an audience with the drow. I’m afraid I may have used a spell to look like you for a bit,” he cleared his throat before glancing at Vesper.

“That’s fine, as long as you’re all safe,” she said as they walked.

Astarion was quiet and as Gale began looking through the bedroom area the high elf grabbed the back of her shirt, “I feel as though I should apologize…for,” he cut his eyes to her hand again. She shook her head, “I’m fine,” she gave him a smile and his head tilted for a moment. “Still,” he said, “I am…” her smile grew again as she interrupted him, stopping his apology, “I’m perfectly fine, Astarion. Don’t apologize for helping me.” Vesper turned from his narrowing eyes and began looking around the room, there in the center of the room the ogre lay. Scorch marks covered her back, “What did this, Gale?”

The human looked up and chuckled dryly, “A dwarf did that…much more powerful than any of us. Says that her patron has been keeping an eye on her. If you ask me it was that devil we met before that she worked for…” A slimy smile appeared in Vesper’s mind’s eye, “Raphael sent a warlock to save you?” Gale nodded, “I suppose he did…goes to show he does think we’re important. Where did the two of you end up when you fell? None of us expected Astarion to go jumping after you, by the way, I had to stop Karlach from following behind him lest we lose more of the group.”

“You thought we were dead didn’t you?” asked Astarion as he bent over the body of the goblin. He began picking things off the goblin’s body and placing them into Vesper’s backpack, he found one of the used healing potion bottles and put the scurrying tadpole into it corking it.

Gale stepped beside the bard and looked down, “Admittedly,” he cleared his throat and nodded, “yes, it’s why I was so confused about why you leaped after her, Astarion. I didn’t take you for the ‘leaping into action’ heroic type, honestly, I had expected that kind of behavior from Wyll but he just dramatically yelled Vesper’s name. They’ll all be quite ecstatic to see you both, of course. Now that I’m thinking about it…I should probably��I’ll return in just a moment.”

They watched Gale as he jogged out the door, careful to not slam it closed before looking at one another again. “I won’t tell them,” Vesper said hurriedly, “unless you want the others to know…” Astarion raised a brow and looked the bard over, “No. It’s time I fight with all,” he leaned forward for emphasis, “my weapons. Teeth included I think. Perhaps I’ll even have the opportunity to drain someone entirely.” His red eyes glittered in what she could only assume was anticipation before the door opened again and slammed against the wall.

Karlach came barrelling in and almost ran to wrap her arms around Astarion, the first one she saw. “Oh, elves! You’re okay!” she cried, she turned to look at Vesper, “When you fell…I didn’t know…I tried to jump but–” Vesper smiled to her, a real smile, “Gale told us. We’re alright…just happened to find the Underdark and some minotaurs.”

Wyll’s eyebrows raised, “Minotaurs? Gods it's a miracle you’re both alive…” Vesper was nodding, “Yeah, thankfully Astarion thinks fast on his feet. We were able to find a crevice that a couple of halflings or gnomes could fit through so we used the last of our spells to change and went through.”

Astarion scoffed, “You say that as if you wouldn’t have thought of the same thing.” Vesper met his gaze for a moment, but her attention was pulled by Shadowheart who rushed into the room with Gale following just behind her, “I wouldn’t have. I would have frozen if you didn’t pull me with you, really.”

Shadowheart swore as she looked over the two, her eyes fell to Vesper’s hand and she stepped over to the bard and took the bandaged hand into her own, “Gale said you injured yourself in the fall. Did you not take a potion or anything?” The cleric unwrapped her hand and both women hissed at the sight, Karlach moved forward and winced, “Oof…that’s going to scar something rough. Looks infected too.”

Shadowheart shook her head, “Not if I have anything to say about it. This could burn,” she looked up through her bangs to the bard who nodded before the cleric covered the bard’s hand with her own. Since Astarion had bitten her the night before, Vesper had felt a lightheadedness that just hadn’t faded yet despite the rest. It didn’t help that she’d lost even more blood, but as Shadowheart cast one spell and then another she felt the fog over her brain lift and took a deep breath, her eyes blinking rapidly, “There,” Shadowheart said.

She lifted her hand and turned over the one still in her grasp, “It scarred but you should have most of your movement.” Vesper watched as Shadowheart stretched her thumb first into her palm and then backward away from her palm, she bent it this way and that until she was satisfied. The next words she heard from Shadowheart did cause her to pause though, “With proper stretching could even get your shoulder working properly.”

The bard pulled her hand from Shadowheart’s hands quickly and forced a smile in her direction, “Thank you, Shadowheart. So…uhm…Karlach, did you go to see Dammon?” The tiefling raised both brows before shaking her head, “No…we were pretty roughed up after those spiders so we bedded down for the night before coming this way. Say, I didn’t know you were a drow…”

Vesper laughed and nodded, “I know, I don’t look like a typical one. I don’t know what to tell you except I was raised on the surface.” Karlach tilted her head before shrugging, “Who knows…but when Gale looked like you those Goblins just sort of…scattered. Practically rolled out a red carpet for him.” The bard nodded again but it was Astarion who answered, “Happened in that village as well. The first time we went through they were terrified of the drow in the sunlight…I suppose it helps to be as pale as you are.”

A sense of tension that Vesper didn’t realize she was carrying relaxed, he was behaving normally. Teasing again. She rolled her eyes at his words but looked at the others, “So we’re going to speak to this drow?” Gale cleared his throat, “The, uh, revelers outside assumed we were from somewhere called Moonrise. We could, and should, use that information to learn whatever we can. Shadowheart,” the cleric turned her head to look at the wizard, “you mentioned having the spell Speak with Dead prepared for you today…could you,” he gestured toward the cell he had been freed from, “see if Gut knows anything?”

It turned out the Gut didn’t know much. Just more information about the Absolute. Wyll and Karlach tossed the bedroom area and came up with a key and note about a bear kept in ‘Worg Pens’ wherever that was. “Should we explore a bit? Try and see if anyone knows anything about this Master Halsin. This may be where Aradin and his lousy band of mercenaries abandoned him…” asked Wyll as he pocketed the key. “Really? I would have thought it was the village with all the dead people lying outside its gates,” replied Shadowheart.

Gale was silent as he was considering, “I think we should leave…besides Gut, I’m not certain we can take on the other leaders of this place if that’s what we’ll have to do to get Halsin out of here. If he even is here. We came with the hopes of finding you,” he threw a look at Astarion, “I believed you were dead but the others…they never thought that. It would be more advantageous for us to try and repair Karlach’s engine lest she set fire to the wrong thing and bring this whole place down around us. We have the goblins' trust, if Vesper can lie and say we’re being sent out on Gut’s orders we might keep the others from knowing what happened to her…perhaps they’ll believe Astarion is from this Moonrise and has sent Gut back there.”

His eyes landed on each person as he spoke before they finally fell on Vesper, “When you fell and I thought you dead…” he dropped his eyes, “I don’t want to see another friend fall. There are a lot of goblins and I don’t think I have the spells to protect all of us. We need to get you proper armor and perhaps a secondary weapon. My vote is we leave and come back another day.”

“Another day?” Karlach nearly shouted, “What if they’ve killed this Halsin by then?” Gale solemnly nodded, “I know that is a risk, but can we really risk our own lives right now?” Vesper looked Gale over, he was pallid, sweat across his brow, she shook her head as she spoke, “I think we can take them…or at least look around some. Maybe we can avoid as much fighting as possible…we could try and convince them that Gut has gone for Moonrise. If that works we’ll go from there…”

Gale met her eyes and she could see the concern and worry there. “We don’t know what’s happening with these tadpoles, Gale,” she said again as she stepped forward, “if we can manage to get this done, either get out of here or if we have to fight our way out, it’s possible that Halsin could heal us. You heard Nettie. If anyone can help with the tadpoles he can.”

“Nettie did lie about being able to help…then she poisoned you,” Astarion countered as he settled for leaning on his back foot. “If we’re taking votes then I’m for whatever gets us out of this alive, with or without the druid,” he held up his hands before crossing his arms. “Not like his grove will be there much longer if we believe that Kagha,” he muttered as he harshly sniffed the air, “but could we move out of here? The smell of dead goblin is beginning to waft as well as that of the ogre.”

Karlach and Shadowheart both nodded as their noses wrinkled, Vesper looked around, “Show of hands then. Searching this place for information?” She raised her own hand and looked around as Wyll also raised his. “It’s possible that he can get rid of the tadpoles?” asked Karlach and Shadowheart quickly explained what they had been told at the grove by Rath and Nettie. The tiefling took only a second more before she raised her hand, “We should try. We’re already here, it’s only right.”

Vesper waited a moment and dropped her hand, “In favor of leaving immediately?” Gale’s hand lifted as well as Shadowheart’s. Everyone turned to look at Astarion who was now examining his nails, after a moment of awkward silence he looked up at all of them, “I was waiting for the ‘Those who don’t care’ option….no?” he looked at Vesper, “Then I abstain.”

Gale glowered at him from across the room and nodded, “Then we’re searching. But please, let’s try and keep from a fight…”

They found a man chained to a torture device. The goblin in charge of his torture was all but too willing to hand his bat to Vesper as he bowed to her. She had looked toward the group when he asked if she wanted to try and get answers, she thought for a moment she could almost hear their answers in her mind.

‘Be confident, tell him you get results.’

‘Smash him over the head.’

‘Don’t just stand there he’ll know you don’t have it in you.’

‘We’ve got to free that guy.’

‘I know Gale said not to start fights but we should do the right thing.’

“I don’t have to try,” she listened to the first fleeting thought that had come to her, and she squared her shoulders and rolled her neck the way she had seen Issac do in the past, “I get results.”

The goblin bowed, his floppy ears practically scraping the floor as he and his companion ran out of the room. She turned to look at the others and saw Shadowheart and Astarion smile at her while the others gave her a more dismal look, “I didn’t mean it…” She threw the club to the side and turned to the man. She questioned him as she searched her bag for the lock pick set Astarion had given her a day before. “He turned into…a bear?’ she lifted her head, “You’re certain it was a bear…” The man, Liam, nodded, “Aye…he’d told us he fought as nature intended. We thought him a bit eccentric but he took down three goblins before they overwhelmed him.”

Vesper’s head turned and she looked at Wyll, “The bear in the worg pens…” Wyll nodded and pulled the key from his pocket as he whispered, “Guess it's a good thing I took this then.”

She looked at Astarion, “Help me…we need to get him out of this before they come back.” Astarion clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth but when he finished rolling his eyes and looked at her again he sighed, “Get out of the way. It’ll take you half a day to pick a simple lock.” The bard stepped out of his way and he had Liam down in practically no time. She saw his eyes roll as the human’s bloody body fell toward him so she stepped forward to heal the man, “Go… try to get out of here if you can.”

They watched as he leaped into the darkness nearest them and she looked at Gale, “We know where he is…” the wizard nodded, “I agreed to it…let’s go save the First Druid.” He didn’t look happy about it as he stepped out of the alcove, his hands clasped behind his back. Vesper began to chew on her lip and Wyll stepped up beside her, “He’s just worried…uhm, Shadowheart told us about your shoulder and Karlach told us about what she saw when your tadpoles connected. Gale’s concern is probably attached to that, not wanting to see you hurt any more than the rest of us want to. I won’t pretend to understand, nor will I pry, but if you need to pull back…to stay at camp just let us know. Let me know.”

His smile was warm as he held out a hand and Vesper looked down at the offered hand before she glanced at Shadowheart’s retreating back, “She told you? They told you?” She looked back to Wyll whose smile was faltering. “It was–Gale wanted to move on with the mission. Neither Karlach nor Shadowheart wanted to give up on you, they told us to try and sway him, I swear they had no intention of that information being used to hurt you,” he explained quickly.

“I’ve really stuck my foot in it,” he lifted his offered hand and rubbed his temple, “I don’t think I’ve made a right choice since this tadpole was placed in my head.” Vesper’s brows pulled together and she shook her head, “That’s not true Wyll…you helped those tieflings. You were teaching those children…you didn’t kill Karlach. You’re making plenty of right choices…but you can’t help when the right choice has consequences,” she said with a sigh.

The man beside her wasn’t trying to hurt her with words. He’d not said a single bad thing to her the whole time. Hesitantly she placed a hand on his shoulder, “I just didn’t realize things would be shared with everyone without me being the one to share them…” he lifted a hand and placed it over hers before nodding and letting his hand fall again. “I know it may mean nothing, but if I can ever be of help…” he said as he gave her a tight-lipped smile before stepping away and out of the little torture room.

Vesper looked around the room and cleared her throat. They knew about her bad shoulder. Her child pushing her off a cliff. If Karlach told them what she saw then Wyll and Gale knew about a child being taken from her and being slapped. Inhaling deeply she followed after Wyll, rounding the corner she’d only got a few steps before a hand flew from the next room and wrapped around her arm.

“There is a darkness inside you, child,” said a male voice and a chill ran up Vesper’s spine, she whipped her head to the side and choked for a moment. For a split second, the scarred face of the man speaking to her reminded her of Issac’s. “Are you the one to assist with the prisoner?” he asked, his gravelly voice nearing her as he loosened his grip but stepped closer. “You mean the man they’re torturing?” she asked but she practically recoiled from his answering laugh, “Please. The things they are doing to that man…so crude, so primitive. I was invited to teach them,” he rolled his wrist, stretching his arm as he looked the bard over, “I live for pain. I live for its intricacies, you see…unfortunately, pain without purpose is a terrible thing, would you agree?”

Pain without purpose? Vesper’s eyes narrowed. What purpose would the pain have?

Approaching footsteps had her turning her gaze from the man beside her, the man who was leering closer practically touching her with his large bulbous nose. Karlach and Astarion were coming out of another room just beside the one she was standing in front of. The vampire’s eyes narrowed as he looked the man over and then to Vesper, but he made no move to interrupt them. Karlach too looked over the scene before she stepped back and poked her head back into the other room.

It seemed that the drow didn’t need to answer this torture tutor though, he took a long breath in before speaking again. “Pain is an intimate thing. It should be delivered with a loving,” he lifted a hand in front of her and she eyed it warily, “and measured hand.” He gripped a fist before lifting his fist higher, with the back of his hand he caught Vesper’s chin and turned her head back to him.

“Forgive me my dear, but this look in your eyes – something terrible has happened to you, hasn’t it? Something in your past…something you need penance for?” he was so close now, he’d been inching closer and closer until he was right up to her. Vesper swallowed heard, penance? In her mind she saw visions of Ffion taken, she heard Mariwen’s cries and the buzzing of hornets, and her eyes met the man leering at her.

“How–how did you know?” she asked. Vesper wanted to back away, but ten years of retaliation from Issac had taught her one thing. To back away was to invite ire. Denying a man’s closeness was to invite the back of their hand, their fists, a foot…it invited pain.

“Because, dear one,” his hand caressed her face again, “I see those same eyes when I look in the mirror. All suffer during these dark times, it is little wonder you bear scars of pain and anguish. Both physical and spiritual,” this man’s tone was soft as if he could sympathize with her pain. “Please,” he lowered his hand before taking hers into both of his, “let me alleviate this pain. My work can grant peace and serenity–the likes of which few experience. It will be worth it. I promise.” In her peripheral, she saw a shift in Astarion’s stance but didn’t dare to look away from the man who was gently leading her into this alcove.

The goblins from before were in here, giggling to themselves as she was led further in. She could hear footsteps following behind and then heard Astarion, “Oh I must see this, don’t you dare say no.” The hairs on the back of her neck raised.

Be obedient.

Shadowheart must have joined them, “Go ahead–I’m sure you’re in need of a little penance…”

Be compliant.

Gale, too, spoke up, “Your hide, your choice. Not quite my cup of tea though…” his voice was strained but it didn’t sound as though he was going to step in.

Nothing came from Wyll or Karlach, she risked turning away from the man who led her but both the monster hunter and tiefling were standing outside. Neither looked comfortable with what was happening but they didn’t say anything. When she looked to the other three she gulped hard. Astarion was eyeing the scene with interest and even amusement. Shadowheart had a brow raised but for the most part, seemed uninterested. Gale was the only one of the three behind her who looked uncomfortable, her tadpole wriggled and she could hear him within her mind, ‘Surely she wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t something she wanted.’

This wasn’t something Vesper wanted.

Above all she detested pain. But she wanted Astarion to protect her, with another glance at the high elf she could hear her brother’s voice once more. Be a good girl. The condescension in his voice was always there, but now, as she heard it again from her own mind it raised goosebumps along her skin and she turned back to the man in his black metal attire.

“What do you have in mind?” her voice, was that her voice, was shaky as she looked back at the priest. The man’s smile grew as he looked her over again, he squeezed her hand before releasing one of his and pointing to the wall, “Oh, I have something exquisite in mind.” His voice which had sounded soft and understanding just a moment ago now reminded her of men before.

Men who were interested in pain.

Aroused by it even.

She felt her knees locking together. “Both Loviatar and I are interested in how you handle pain, dear one. Should you delight her,” he began to pull on her arm again leading her up to the wall at the opposite end of the alcove, “you will most assuredly receive her gracious blessing. Trust me.”

He released her hand entirely this time, “Simply face the wall and we can begin. For a more…intimate experience, you could remove your clothing…” There was a sharp inhale from behind her, but Vesper didn’t turn. She didn’t want to know why; she didn’t want to know who.

The bard looked at this priest, at least that’s what she was assuming he was now and swallowed hard, “Do I have to?” He shook his head, “No, dear one, you may stay clothed if you wish…I cannot say that your attire will survive your penance but if you wish to remain covered you most certainly can.”

Vesper’s shoulders nearly sagged in relief, but her eyes did close as she released a shaky breath. “Vesper,” she heard Gale but shook her head and stepped closer. Once in the alcove, she felt the man near again and he removed her weapon from her side, “Lest we break your defenses entirely, dear one,” she turned to see him place it on a bench before picking up a mace. Turning back to the wall she quietly said another prayer to Elistaree and closed her eyes.

With the first hit, she wasn’t ready and was flung forward, hitting the wall in front of her. She cried out, if it was from the pain radiating from her shoulder or from her forehead she wasn’t sure, “That’s it dear one. Don’t hold back,” the man encouraged and she stood up straighter, readying her hands to catch herself if she fell again. He wanted a show. To hear her screams. She’d done this before, she could ‘scream prettily’ if that was what he wanted.

When the second blow hit, across the middle of her back, she wailed, throwing her head back as her hands caught her against the wall this time. “Your voice sounds so sweet, dear one. Keep going!” she could hear the excitement in his voice and prayed he didn’t touch her after this one was done. Let it be the pain and let him go away. His third hit was across her shoulder, this time there was no performance from her, her knees hit the ground as she howled tears breaking through her tightly closed lids.

“That’s it! Let Loviatar hear you!”

If the others were saying anything she couldn’t hear them. The collar had blunted the blow but it still ached on her left side and she struggled to stand again. The priest gave her a reprieve as she pressed her head to the cold stone before stepping backward, preparing herself for another hit. “Please,” she whimpered, she wasn’t sure if she could take another hit, but it still came.

Beyond the heat of bruised flesh, she felt the sting of the cuts from the mace. Something wet was running down her spine, she was bleeding. Again.

“Let the sting of flesh wash away your pain, dear one,” he said before another strike came down across her back. Pain flared from her knees one more time as they connected with the floor one more time.

She pressed her forehead against the wall and cried out again, wholly crying this time. “Sweet child,” his voice sounded distant until she felt his hands on her shoulders. ‘No, no, please,’ she thought to herself as he pushed his hands under her arms and lifted her to stand, “You bore the pain like a true believer. I am proud to have served you this penance.”

Vesper was practically a rag doll as he steered her to sit on the bench. He stepped away from her as she lifted her eyes to follow him. Behind him, she could see the others. Gale was now outside the alcove with Karlach and Wyll, Shadowheart’s face was just as stoic as it had been before and the amusement she had seen on Astarion’s face in the beginning was gone. His mouth was closed tight, as it had been after he’d bitten into her hand. Vesper wasn’t certain, but she almost thought she saw regret in his eyes.

The blonde man stepped into her field of vision once more and kneeled before her, with a wet rag in one hand he cleaned her face of tears, “Loviatar herself has found your performance…inspiring. She has deemed you worthy of her blessing.” He reached for something beside him and lifted a satchel of powder, taking a pinch of it he began to bless her, a divine prayer on his lips as Vesper closed her eyes.

“And,” he sat back on his heels with a smile, “on a personal note, thank you. That was positively divine.” He stood and held his hand out for her to take.

Vesper looked from him to his hand before reaching beside her picking up her hand crossbow and standing on her own. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said softly before walking past him, she avoided touching Astarion and Shadowheart as she walked between them and out into the hallway. Wyll was watching and held out a healing potion as soon as she was near, “Thank you,” she whispered and took it before drinking it as quickly as possible.

Karlach cleared her throat, “Maybe we should find somewhere to rest? Your shirt–” Vesper looked up to the tiefling and smiled as brightly as she could manage, “I’m fine. Let’s try to find Halsin before we leave.”

Gale pointed into the room she had seen them exit before. Inside, in a cage, was the bard from before. They had met Volo in the druid’s grove and she played into his little writing fantasy, oh yes a gold dragon, didn’t he see the illithid ship, oh the goblins sang the name of the Absolute like a hymn. She hadn’t understood his questions then, just thinking he was a madman at the time asking silly questions.

She looked toward Gale who lowered his voice, “He’s been captured like you thought he’d be. I thought perhaps you could convince the goblin in there to release him.” The wizard’s head was bowed his her direction, “She might do it if she recognizes you as a drow…” The brush of fabric against her left arm startled her and her head whipped around to look, wide-eyed, at Astarion who was holding out the larger healing potion bottle. “I told them it was useless, he knew the risks of being here…let him rot.”

The urge to obey was there, to just walk by the room and leave Volo caged. But as her hand closed around the bottle she thought of herself, caged by Issac’s whims. She’d always hoped that someone would rescue her, that anyone would come and remove her villain and release her from the cage that was that house, “No,” she said as she opened the bottle, “we’re saving him.” Astarion scoffed and shook his head before he shifted her bag on his shoulder, “Fine, little hero.”

It took a moment longer for her to drink this potion, but whether it was the potency of Auntie Ethel’s brewing or simply the amount of liquid within she felt the instantaneous relief wash through her. The warmth and comfort eased some of the tension in her shoulders. These goblins knew she was a drow, they expected drow behavior. Vesper summoned memories of Yasmine to the forefront of her mind.

Yasmine walked with a confidence that Vesper didn’t have, her head was always slightly tilted, and never did the bard hear her sister’s voice quiver in fear or stutter in shame. It felt like a lifetime ago when she’d watched her other sisters mock some of Yasmine’s mannerisms but now she was trying to remember them, to emulate them. She felt a hand brush against her shoulder and jerked it away, her chin was lifted as she turned slightly without opening her eyes, “Don’t touch me.”

The words were swift and harsh, very unlike her own way of speaking. It was Yas. As her eyes opened she saw Shadowheart pull back, “If they want a drow…I need to give them a drow,” she explained and the cleric nodded, “dark elves don’t coddle,” she said it was more to herself, “they also don’t negotiate.”

Vesper loosened her jaw as she walked into the room, nonchalantly reattaching her crossbow to her belt before she looked toward the cage. “Oi! What do you think you’re doing lookin’ at my pigeon!” she heard from beside her, her eyes slowly shifted from the man in the cage who recognized her and was silently pleading for help, to the goblin who was trying to be threatening in front of her. “Your pigeon?” she gave a little laugh and shook her head looking back to the cage, her head falling to the side, “no, I think I’ll have him.”

“And who’re you to take wot’s mine?!” the goblin pulled her primitive scimitar and a glow emerged from around her eye. After using the tadpole to save a deep gnome, Vesper had outwardly declared she wouldn’t do it again. But these goblins thought she was a True Soul, why would a true soul hesitate from using their power. The bard stepped forward and leaned over the goblin, letting the power of the tadpole push from her, “Who are you to question me?”

The goblin stumbled backward as the psychic wave washed over her, “I-I-I’m sorry, mistress. Of course! ‘Ere’s the key he’s all yours, ma’am!” The key didn’t make it to Vesper’s hand, the goblin simply threw it at her feet before rushing past and pushing against the other companions to get out of the room, another apology escaping her.

“Well,” she heard Shadowheart, “that was certainly a display we’ve never seen from you before.”

Vesper squatted down to grab the key before holding it up, “Gale…you wanted to rescue him.” She thought of how her mother would behave in this sense, never did Huna Faetrala do anything on her own. She had the men do the meaningless work and unlocking a cage to free the man was something Huna would call meaningless for sure.

The key was plucked from her fingers and she stepped outside the room while the others made certain that Volo was alright. A step next to her had her turning, Astarion had a grin on his face, “What is it, Astarion?” He shook his head, “Oh nothing, I’m just enjoying this version a bit…” Neither Huna nor Yasmine would appreciate his volume, leaning forward Vesper looked up through her lashes, “Say it louder and let them know…that will work out for us in the end won’t it?”

It was the falter in his smirk that made her inwardly cringe, her eyes closed for a moment, “Sorry…caught up. We need to get out of here.” Astarion laughed, his head tilting back before something pushed between them, “What was that…” he said as he looked before they both felt heat behind them. Karlach grinned, “Volo had an invisibility potion. Maybe we should have asked if he had another…for the druid I mean…”

Vesper stepped away from the door as the others filed out. Shadowheart grinned in the bard's direction, “Back in character…we may need whoever that is again,” her voice was lower than Astarion’s had been and Vesper gave a bob of her head.

They followed the wooden bridge to another room, Vesper looked at the three goblins who were idling and raised a brow, “Where are the worg pens?” One of them jumped to attention and bowed, “Through this door ma’am. The bear ain’t been cooked yet s’far as I know.” Bear…Halsin. They were going to cook Master Halsin?!

She steadied herself and looked back, catching Wyll’s eye she jerked her head towards the door and he rushed forward to open it for her. As she passed she mouthed a thank you to him and saw the corner of his mouth uptick. There was a goblin marching ahead of them, not even sparing them a glance, it gave her a moment to cast her speak with animals spell. As the others entered she walked down the steps, she glanced at either side of her.

Karlach on one side, Shadowheart on the other, “Check those animals…” she said to Karlach, the tiefling looked down at her before nodding and walking towards two goblins that were chopping meat on a stone table, Wyll followed after her.

Gale settled himself at the center of the path and raised a brow at her, she nodded in his direction before approaching the cage, glancing to her other side she saw Astarion lean against the wall and his eyes trained more on the area above him. She caught Shadowheart’s eye and the cleric nodded to her with a quirk of her lips.

The two approached the cage where the bear was roaring, Vesper could hear a voice through the roar. “Stop these damned goblins, please!” she heard the man say, and as she looked to the bear she spoke aloud, “Prepare yourself.”

Beside her Shadowheart shifted, pulling her morning star from her side and the bear shifted its eyes meeting hers, “You heard me? I’m ready…”

Vesper turned toward the goblins and tilted her head, “What are you doing?” One of the tiny children looked up to her, “We’re making it squeal!” it turned towards the other one and bounced while begging for the other child to do it again. The larger of the three before her looked up to her, “Wot’s it look like we’re doing? We’re tenderizing it…” The goblin looked her over, “Should be ready soon.”

“Will you be ready for a taste of your own medicine then?” she asked as she stepped to the side and pushed the lever upward. “Wot’re you doing?!” shouted the goblin as she backed away.

The gate swung freely as the bear leaped forward. Gale swore as he turned and cast grease on the hallway as one of the children tried to run, screaming about getting help. The second child didn’t have a chance to even yell for help as one of Astarion’s arrows pierced the back of its head and he ducked around the corner to the stairs.

Karlach’s axe swung through one goblin catching its shoulder and causing it to drop its scimitar, the other in front of her summoned a spider in the center of the room and tried to run by, headed for the worg pens.

Vesper lifted her crossbow as high as she could firing at the goblin that had gone up the steps and she heard a cry of pain. Good, she hit it. The bear attacked the larger goblin, ripping its head from its shoulders in a single bite. It turned and pushed through the small space between the bard and cleric to run after the one headed for the pens.

Fighting and killing was certainly not something the bard was used to, from waking on the nautiloid and having to fight for her life for now she had already lost count of how many lives she had taken. She heard Wyll yell and watched a blast shoot past in the same direction her arrow had gone before Shadowheart turned away from her and a golden beam shot out from her shield and into the back of the other goblin child. Her mace shot outward, towards the spider, and a large two-headed axe appeared next to it.

Working together it was a quick fight, the goblins going down in quick succession but as they each neared the worg’s pens the two beasts were smashing against the bars. “Open it,” she heard from the bear and all the false confidence she’d mustered before was slipping away, “Open it? They’ll rip us apart?”

Karlach shook her head, “Nah…if the bear says open it…we can take’em. You get behind the door,” she said to Vesper and the bard skirted a bit of debris to stand next to the lever.

She was just about to push it up when a secondary body slipped in front of her. Her bag pushed against her and she looked up to see the back of Astarion’s head before pushing the lever with all she had. The gates pushed open and she heard the growling from the creatures as they ran out of their enclosure.

“Hold the bars,” she heard the vampire in front of her say and she reached around to grab the gate door and pulled holding them close to them. From her spot, she could hear the roar of the bear, the growling of the worgs, and the yelling from her companions.

It, too, was a rather short-lived fight, thankfully. The final yelp from a worg was cut short by a crunching sound and she felt a push on the gate. Releasing it she stood up straighter as Astarion stepped away, and a golden light surrounded the bear before the spell broke; a large elf stood in its place.

He was looking over each of them, offering a hand to heal, as he turned to look at the two elves emerging from the corner he was hovered over Wyll’s arm healing a bite. “You speak to bears and release them without knowing if you would turn on you,” his smile was wide as he looked at Vesper, “you are either a great friend to nature or a lunatic.”

Vesper shook her head, “Or I was looking for a druid who happened to turn into a bear…” she said and watched his eyebrow raise as he stood straighter, “Or that. I am Halsin, First Druid of the Emerald Grove…” he said with a laugh as he bowed his head before standing straighter, “you were looking for me?”

“Vesper,” she introduced herself and nodded, “Nettie and Rath asked us to find you…the grove is…well,” she looked to Shadowheart who cleared her throat as the cleric turned to the druid, “That woman you left in charge is trying to seal the grove. She intends to throw the refugees out for the goblins.”

Halsin’s eyes narrowed, “What? Kagha?”

The cleric nodded, “Nettie told us you were a skilled healer…we have other reasons for looking for you as well. We have…a problem,” she had disapproved of Vesper telling Ethel the entire story of their tadpoles and it seemed even now that Shadowheart was guarded against letting people know the entire truth.

Halsin turned to look at each of them before lifting his hand to Shadowheart’s face, the cleric stepped forward and let him do…whatever it was he was doing. When he stepped back he looked at each of them, “You’re infected…but you know you’re infected. How?” Shadowheart didn’t say anything, the others were quiet too, “It’s possible something went wrong on the nautiloid,” when the druid turned his head to look at Vesper she told him everything. From waking up to the mindflayer putting the tadpole in her eye to the escape, even explaining to him about the fall from the crashing ship and how she woke up on the beach just fine.

“Perhaps…” he started, he looked down to the floor lost in thought for a moment before he lifted his head again. “In other circumstances, I would be willing to stand here and discuss the matter, but with what you’ve said about Kagha and the grove…” he looked at them all again, “I know much has been asked of you, but I must ask one thing more. I cannot leave here without knowing the roads will be safe, goblins are not planning creatures, the leaders here…if they were to die it is likely the rest would scatter. If you aren’t willing to help I will do this alone, but if you would–”

Gale was shaking his head, “I am sorry, Halsin, before the tadpoles it would have been likely but we aren’t–”

“Wait…” Vesper practically shouted, the others jumped and looked at her. “That man, the one in the torture device…the goblins are looking for the grove,” she looked at each of them and saw as their heads tilted inches in every direction, she waved her hands, “Master Halsin, the tiefling’s aren’t fighters, Zevlor has already told us that much, but the druids…they seem perfectly capable of protecting the grove.” The druid’s brows knit together and he crossed his arms, “What are you saying, child?”

She stepped forward and licked her lips, “What if we split the leaders? If you go and prepare the grove and the tieflings you could mount a defense…if we convinced whichever leader it is that’s looking for the grove that we could help them…”

“You would lead them straight to innocents,” warned Halsin his brow now raising. He was looking her over, sizing her up. She swallowed hard under his appraisal and nodded, “I know, but you would be there to help Zevlor lead. And we would be there as well…” She looked to the others, Karlach was nodding now, “Yeah-yeah!” the tiefling shouted.

“We tell’em we’re on their side but double cross them once we’re back in the grove!” Karlach grinned and was practically bouncing from foot to foot. “She’s convincing enough, Halsin, if anyone can do it Vesper can,” the praise from the tiefling had Vesper straightening her shoulders just a bit before she looked back to the First Druid. He was considering both of them now, “How can I be certain you wouldn’t turn against us at the last minute.”

Wyll spoke up this time, stepping around Halsin to stand beside the bard, “Master Halsin, Vesper worked hard to save many of those tiefling children…” he threw a look in her direction, “before she, unfortunately, fell into the underdark we were working our way to somewhere Kagha had been meeting someone. We were going to try and stop the ritual Kagha and the others have been working on.”

The druid looked the bard over again and nodded, “That would take care of one of them…but there are two more, a goblin and hobgoblin–” he was cut off again by Gale clearing his throat, “Ahem, actually, we would only have the hobgoblin, Dror Ragzlin I believe that Volo fellow called him, to contend with. The Priestess, Gut, has already been dispatched and the rest of this poor shattered sanctum is still blissfully unaware. However,” he looked at all of them again, “we still don’t have Vesper proper armor or a secondary weapon. During our cursory walk around the area, I noticed a couple of giant spiders…the goblins threw a male drow down to them for their dinner. I doubt that even being a female drow would save you from their…pincers.” His final words were said as he looked directly at the bard.

She looked down at herself, he wasn’t wrong, she was still in her simple trousers and the dusty gray shirt that Astarion had found the day before.

Gods, had it only been a day?

Halsin’s eyes were now wide as he looked at her, “You’re a drow?” She looked up at him and nodded, “I know…my complexion throws most humanoids off…other creatures, the goblins especially recognize it though. It’s how we’ve made it this far unharmed, I was hoping that it would help convince whoever was in charge I was on their side. Well, that and the tadpole…” She ducked her head and rubbed her hands across her thighs nervously.

The druid looked her over again before nodding, he stepped forward with a raised hand and Vesper stumbled back from him, her own eyes widening. Halsin, seeing her reaction, lowered his hand, “I was going to cast barkskin on you, it won’t make you invincible but even from a long distance I can keep concentration to help protect you. I didn’t mean to–” she stepped back up to him and cast her eyes down while softly saying, “Sorry…I didn’t mean to misjudge.”

Using the flat of her axe, Karlach bumped Vesper with her weapon while looking at Halsin, “We’re all a bit jumpy meeting new people. You heard she was a dark elf and started acting a bit funny…that’s all.” The bard smiled at the tiefling before she felt Halsin’s hand cover the top of her head and an earthy smell invaded her senses. Something tough settled over her skin and before it faded she could have sworn she saw what looked like wood grain cover her bare arms.

“Once outside these walls I will run as quickly as possible, it will still take nearly a day for me to get to the grove and a day to prepare everyone,” his voice was softer now as he spoke to Vesper. She lifted her head and nodded, “We’ll tell them it’ll take a couple of days then. We will need a rest after all, depending on who it is we need to fight…” The others nodded and Wyll held a hand out to Halsin. The druid gripped his forearm, “Until we meet again,” he said to them before he stepped back and the glow of his transformation filled the room.

Gale looked around and shook his head, “So much for leaving this place once we found the druid…” he muttered. Vesper bit down into her lip, she felt bad about going against her agreement with the wizard but she couldn’t leave it to chance that the goblins wouldn’t decide to cook him that night. Astarion stepped forward and passed the bag he carried from one shoulder to the other, “If it had been up to me, we would have avoided this place entirely. That druid gave us nothing, not even a yes or no on if he could heal us!”

He turned and looked at the bard, “Time to put on your mean drow act, darling, we’ve got a grove to endanger.”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

As an added offense to deceive whoever she needed to, Vesper had used her disguise spell to physically change herself into her sister, Yasmine. Thankfully the illusion also covered the clothing making it fit better, and at Astarion’s insistence, she adjusted the illusion to change her clothing into something else. Something not as ragged and certainly not torn in the back.

The woman they spoke to had treated the bard fairly friendly. When she offered to show her where the grove was the woman seemed downright kind. They would have to save whatever magic they could to help destroy the stone bridge they told Minthara about, the one outside the blighted village, but they had bought the grove a day’s worth of travel. The goblin leader had clapped a hand on Vesper’s arm, only slightly tilting her head as her hand collided with the collar, but the bard was quick to think on her feet.

She and Yasmine had been the same height and had the same face the last time she saw her sister. The collar was the only difference, “Before accepting her blessing I was led astray…I allowed a lover to place this on me and now am unable to remove it…don’t let them know.” She threw an indifferent look in the men’s direction and Minthara nodded, “If you are in need of aid to remove it…I am willing to help.”

The other drow’s friendly reaction threw Vesper for a loop. But she intended to destroy the grove and the tieflings inside. She was looking for the fugitives from the nautiloid and assumed the grove was hiding them, it was likely that Minthara had plans to destroy them too. Vesper knew the fugitives that the drow was looking for included herself, and as Shadowheart had said after slaying the goblins, it was now kill or be killed. Vesper didn’t want to die.

Minthara left, gathering the goblins as she went, she needed to prepare the raiders, and that included those outside.

That meant the only leader they had to contend with was this Dror Ragzlin. And that night, after Gale ritually cast a teleport spell to get them back to the grove, they stumbled to their bed rolls. Halsin and the other druids healed them but she explained what she had told Minthara, the First Druid ordered the bridge destroyed, “We can shape a new one after all of this.”

Zevlor had been none too happy with the news that his people would have to fight a large raiding party but didn’t flat-out refuse. It was he and another tiefling who laid hands on Karlach healing her and setting her arm to rights. Ragzlin, in a rage, had dislocated the tiefling’s arm during the fight making it that much harder. The entire party was tapped for magic, they were struggling to sit up.

At some point during her healing Vesper had passed out, a fever was overtaking her and as the world went dark all she could hear was Gale’s lecture on ceromo-whatsits. This couldn’t happen. Not when she’d promised to help the grove.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

“I came just in time. You are transforming.”

Vesper’s eyes opened before her mouth did, a scream leaving her throat before she could stop it. Standing over her in golden armor was Issac. His close-cropped brown hair, the scars all over his face, even the broken nose he had had when they first met. In fact…he had the beard he had worn when they first met as well…

Her eyes narrowed.

“Who in the nine hells are you?” she asked as she sat up and backed away from him. He was on one knee, regarding her with her husband’s face a smile that she never looked forward to on his lips, “Your salvation. And not for the first time. I saved you before,” he said as he willed memories into her mind. He was on the nautiloid. He was there as she fell through the sky. Issac’s face smiling at her…fondly. Vesper was shaking her head trying to will the memories away, this man, this image was not the man that she knew.

“I’m here to save you again,” he said, the images cleared and he was standing over her his hand held out toward her. Here to save her but taking on the face of her abuser? “Don’t worry,” the man told her, “you will not become a mindflayer. Not while I’m around. I’ll protect you.” She could see the concern on his face, not an emotion she was familiar with from that visage. It looked…wrong. She recoiled from his hand and heard him laugh, if she didn’t look at him, she could pretend it wasn’t Issac. It wasn’t his voice. Issac never offered help, never offered her a hand if she fell or was pushed down.

Pulling herself up she stood before the armored man and looked everywhere but at him, “Independent…good. Though it seems something of my appearance troubles you…” she scoffed and crossed her arms over her middle, “but we haven’t much time, please listen closely.” Wherever this was, this dreamscape, was beautiful but frightening. She followed behind him and listened as he spoke about some potential within her. Instead, her eyes were taking in the floating rocks, the indigo skies, and the stars, so many stars.

“-for the sake of both of us, you must learn to wield it,” his voice finally cut through her thoughts and she turned her head to look at him before quickly looking away. Just the sight of that face made her feel sick. He must have realized where her eyes were turning, he turned away and lifted a hand, and the rocks just in front of them moved exposing more to her sight. From miles away she could make out something, it was dark and felt ominous even in a dream, she scooted forward and narrowed her eyes, was it…a skull?

Prismatic glass moved within the object and she was just about to ask about it before something that glowed dove past the object. “What’s going on?” she asked her body turning toward the armored visitor, he answered carefully, “A fight for the fate of Faerun. A fight we are losing. For now.”

He turned toward her but she refused to face him, she refused to look at that face, “You can change that, but only if you embrace your potential.”

They stood there as more glowing objects, no, no that one had arms, these were glowing people flew past. They weren’t only flying they were fighting each other, she wanted to ask more, but his voice interjected before she could gather her thoughts, “I have to go. The enemy is closing in. I will be back.”

Purple light reverberated through the skull and the man in the golden armor held one hand up casting some sort of shield while his other lifted in her direction and threw her backward.

#the caged bard #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 #tcb: vesper #astarion/tav #astarion/halsin/tav coming late #r #halsin/tav later #astarion/halsin later #tav's story

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jdgo51 · 1 year

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Practicing Boundaries: Love vs Enabling

Today's inspiration comes from:

Boundaries

by Dr. Henry Cloud & Dr. John Townsend

"We all want to care and help those in need. But how do you know when you are being loving with someone, or are actually enabling them? When you are faced with a request for your time, energy or money, how do you know if the right response is to say “yes” and provide it, or “no” and decline?

The Bible teaches, over and over again, that we are to help others:

And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased. — Hebrews 13:16

We are designed to love others in word and deed. Also, for most of us, it’s much easier to say “yes” than “no”, for a number of reasons:

We feel compassion for the person’s struggle We remember our own difficult situations We don’t want them to feel disappointed and discouraged We wonder if God has placed us in their life for this situation We think we may be the only solution for them

At the same time, however, our provision for someone can actually make the situation worse for them, because we may be preventing them from experiencing some consequence for their behaviors, and not learning to change how they operate in life. This is the process of God’s disciplining us, so that we grow up and mature:

No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. — Hebrews 12:7

The process of experiencing consequences is key:

A child in a 5-minute time out begs to get out in 3 minutes A teen asks not to be grounded for bad grades A friend who has had several failing jobs asks for a loan A spouse with a drinking problem asks their spouse to give them one more chance before requiring counseling In all of these examples, it’s unsure what the right thing to do might be. There is just not enough information here. So back to the question: how to tell if you’re being loving, or if you’re enabling? Here are 5 questions to ask yourself as a sort of filter, and you will find the answer to the issue when you engage with them. You will probably answer some as a “yes” and some as a “no”, and don’t worry that the answers for all agree. You’ll see the balance to help your decision.

#1. Are they unable?

We are called to have compassion and help those who have not, and also can not. They simply do not have the capability or resources to solve their problem. For example, a tribe in a developing country has no water wells. Or a homeless man has nowhere to sleep but under a freeway. Or a young businesswoman needs a mentor to help her grow in her leadership. We all are to be mindful to carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. — Galatians 6:2

However, to be unable is very different than to be unwilling. Something may be difficult or inconvenient, and that’s just life. For example, a young adult who is living at home and doesn’t want to work, go to school, or do house chores, is more unwilling than unable.

How do you know when you are being loving with someone, or are actually enabling them?

#2. Are you resourced:

Do you possess what the person is asking for? That might include the finances, or the time, or energy required. So often, I see people giving what they can’t afford to give, and then not being able to meet the demands of their lives. I have had to work with pastors whose families suffered because while Dad was helping everyone in the church, he wasn’t around to be a parent and husband. Here are some sobering words:

Anyone who does not provide for their relatives, and especially for their own household, has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever. — 1 Timothy 5:8

We need to make sure we are resourcing ourselves for the priorities we have been tasked to do.

There is certainly always a case for sacrificial giving, as in the example of the woman who gave her last two coins (Mark 12:41-44). So pray, and make sure you consider if the sacrifice is one that God has surely called you to do.

#3. Do they have skin in the game?

In other words, are they also putting significant effort into solving the problem? This might involve going to job interviews, starting one’s own microbusiness, putting a small percentage of money into an initiative and doing homework after a coaching session:

The one who is unwilling to work shall not eat. — 2 Thessalonians 3:10

When a person who is struggling simply receives that help passively, it tends to foster increased passivity and what psychologists call “learned helplessness.” Learned helplessness is a sense that we don’t have choices that matter, so we simply give up and don’t take initiative or agency to solve our challenges. But when our efforts are part of the solution, we are strengthened and grow.

#4. Will you feel cheerful or will you feel reluctant or under compulsion?

This question is based on Paul’s words about giving:

Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. — 2 Corinthians 9:7

Our emotions provide information for us. If we feel cheerful, then that’s a sign that you are happy you made a good choice. If we feel reluctant (grudging) or under compulsion (guilt-ridden), that’s a sign that you might need to rethink all of this.

#5. Is the outcome gratitude and autonomy, or entitlement and dependency?

This last question is based on your history with the person. What have been the results of your providing for them? Are they thankful and able to bear their burdens more? That’s a good thing, and a positive sign that you may be doing the right thing. Or do they become entitled and demanding for more of your resource, and is their dependency on you increased? Not a good sign. Pay attention to the outcomes, or the fruit:

A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. — Matthew 7:18

If you have no giving history with the person, ask others who know them for their feedback.

Use these questions to clarify what the loving, but not enabling, path should be for yourself in your situation. Be sure to pray and ask safe friends what they think.

Finally, finally finally: if, after you have used this system, it’s still murky, and you’re unsure, then it might be best, in this particular situation, to default to grace. It’s always the best place to be."'

Written for Devotionals Daily by Dr. John Townsend, author with Henry Cloud of Boundaries.

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muu-kun · 2 years

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❤️ 💔 💖 🖤 ?

munday asks! / Accepting / @yuuwen

❤️ — what are some of your best qualities?

I'm just the chill follower tbh. I really don't care what people write as long as both parties are consenting, everything is properly tagged, and they are understanding that the expectation is to respond with maturity should someone come to them with concerns of the material being explored. I also am pretty flexible at getting along with everyone as I typically have at least one thing in common with everyone I meet and interact with.

💔 — what are some of your worst qualities?

I have a reputation for being an absolute bitch depending on who you ask, and frankly I don't dispute it. I'm not really one for apologizing for words shared in anger as I am so lenient that to get me to anger you have to have done something to instigate the piss out of me. I've been burned and defamed by so many muns, who in the midst of doing that projected their less than satisfactory opinion of me out in the form of treating Muu like he was beneath garbage, so really I can be Kind or Unkind at the indication that his or my livelihood is at stake. I also am mad confrontational as I get up there in years, because I am attempting to avoid blowing up from internalizing. Basically, when people do something I don't like, they'll be made aware of it.

💖 — what was one of the greatest/happiest moments you’ve had in the rpc?

Basically any of Muu's shenanigans in his very early development here on tumblr. His lack of concern what other people thought of him and his untainted mirth were my favorite things of his. Most didn't agree, but I'm a soon to be 27 year old who gets a kick out of remembering itty bitty 16 year old Muu spewing the first things to pop up into his curious mind without even a mild hesitation for how it sounded. One example being telling someone their genitalia resembled a eggplant and then proceeding to tell everyone else he interacted with that day about said eggplant. He gave so little fucks that the tiniest experiences presented themselves with the upmost joy and curiosity.

🖤 — what was one of the worst/most depressing moments you’ve had in the rpc?

Nothing really takes the cake of having to learn muns that you spent the prior couple years as mutuals, interacting with, forming platonic and romantic relationships with were discussing how much negativity they associated with your muse by being unsavory to them. Not to mention the others who even to your face disclosed the fact that they couldn't wait until something bad happened to him before they either initiated such acts to begin Or stood a watchful eye of the whole thing just so they could remind you when it was sufficient to them that they were never going to provide aid to your muse one bit. Knowing your muse is hated and to have strangers and friends alike take space for themselves on a platform meant to be fun and lighthearted just so they could mock, neglect, or abuse him without giving a warning was absolutely the worst thing ever. It actually got to the point I had to leave Tumblr entirely because he was so depressed and I began to really hate being here knowing this thing I love has been marked as unlovable. It also does not help that a lot of the people who were the most prominent voices of negativity back then are still on this platform, so sometimes it offsets Muu into overcompensating his strengths to hopefully avoid further mistreatment from starting up again. I wouldn't go as far as to put them on a do not interact list, but I still associate their identities with being complete bitches. They know who they are and I'm not too apologetic in regards to stating a fitting label for their behaviors.

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theia-eos · 2 years

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On laguz and Branded aging

I think a good question everyone wants to know is: how long do the laguz live? And the follow-up question is: how long do the Branded live?

Because I don’t want to clutter everyone’s feeds with long, nonsensical, barely coherent theories and rambling, I will discuss my answers to these questions after the cut. Also, unapologetic spoilers for FE9 and FE10 incoming.

If you want to know canon facts, there is next to nothing. For laguz, all we know is that Janaff is somewhere around 110 in Path of Radiance, and that the dragons live for a long time, barely aging once they reach a certain level of maturity.

Janaff: I used to be quite the daredevil before I grew into adulthood. Nothing ever seemed to please me. Shinon: How old are you, anyway? Janaff: I'm a bit over 110 years old. Shinon and Janaff: A Support, Path of Radiance

Nasir: It may be difficult for you beorc to believe, but... We of the dragon tribe live for a very, very long time. When we reach a certain maturity, we stop showing almost all signs of further aging. For example, do you remember Prince Kurthnaga whom you met in Goldoa? Ike: Yeah, he was a nice kid. Nasir: The prince is the youngest in all of Goldoa, yet for all his apparent youth, he's at least a hundred years old. Chapter 27, Path of Radiance

Beyond that? Absolutely nothing. As far as the Branded go, we get lots of other facts about them, but not about how they age beyond:

Stefan: You may have already started to notice. We age differently than the beorc. Of course, the specifics of it depend on the type of laguz blood that flows in your veins. Soren and Stefan: A Support, Path of Radiance

Micaiah: That must be it… Oh, Sothe, ever since he was small, he’s tried to act more grown up than the grown-ups… I’ve taken care of him so long, and still I’ve never seen him smile so easily before. Muarim: Hm… Watch what you say. Comments like that… They reveal that your appearance belies your true age. Micaiah: What are you-- Muarim: Among the laguz, there are those who detest and revile half-breeds such as yourself. They call you "parentless," and deny you any laguz heritage, honor, or dignity. Take due care. Chapter 1-7, Radiant Dawn

Micaiah: I’ve avoided people most of my life to conceal my brand...and my powers. But there’s no way to hide how very slowly I age. I just keep moving through Daein. The same holds true now... I won’t be able to stay in this army long. Chapter 1-F, Radiant Dawn

Stefan: One day, the laguz blood shows itself, marking the child’s body with a brand. How old is that girl, hmm? I don’t think she’s as young as she looks. The other curse is that we age differently from beorc. It depends on what laguz blood the child has, but it always slows how fast we age. Base Conversation 4-F-1: Visitor, Radiant Dawn

So, you know, slower than beorc, but nothing set in stone or factual about how old certain Branded are. That would be too convenient.

Fortunately, they released artbooks with profiles and information about the world that's not discussed in-game. Perhaps something in there?

One of the artbooks provides this delightful tidbit of information:

Which, while useful, leaves something to be desired. It contradicts some in-game information, specifically by implying that Branded blood can be diluted to be more like beorc, whereas in the games, Branded seems to be a recessive gene that can skip generations and still have the same impact. I think this chart came from an earlier development idea, but wasn’t something that stuck the landing when Path of Radiance was released.

There was also a Q&A that was posted by Intelligent Systems after the release of Radiant Dawn regarding the lifespans of the laguz that show us what the development team was thinking after making both Tellius games (translated by the lovely amielleon)

Question: About how long are laguz lifespans? Answer: Compared to the beorc, the beast tribes' are about 5~6 times. The hawks and ravens of the bird tribe are nearly 10 times. The herons' are over a thousand years, and the dragons' are over two thousand years.

If you compare to the pre-Path of Radiance early development chart, this obviously shows they’ve extended it out a little bit for all of the tribes. The chart also cuts everyone off at 60 years old, and we know it is possible for humans to live longer than 60 years old, so the laguz must live much longer than that. (Nealuchi is designed to look around 72, so he's beating that average by a lot).

So anyway, where does that leave us? Well, we have a starting base, and we have a few facts we know for certain:

Janaff is a bit over 110 years old in Path of Radiance. Janaff was designed to look about 30 in both Path of Radiance and Radiant Dawn. Janaff is 5 years older than Ulki, but Ulki was designed to look about 30 years old as well.

So, whatever answer I come up with, Hawks should look about 30 when they’re 105-113 (Ulki being 105 in Path of Radiance, and Janaff being 113 in Radiant Dawn).

We also know that Branded begin aging normally like a beorc, but then they start aging a lot slower. Soren and Zelgius both mention that they have recently noticed that they’re aging a lot slower than the beorc around them, and Stefan’s conversation with Soren seems to imply that Stefan knows this is a normal thing for Branded.

Stefan: You've grown quite good at hiding it. But, it's merely a matter of time before your heritage becomes...evident. Soren: ...Evident? Stefan: You may have already started to notice. We age differently than the beorc. Of course, the specifics of it depend on the type of laguz blood that flows in your veins. Soren: I thought I was aging normally... Well, until about three years ago. Soren and Stefan: A Support, Radiant Dawn

Zelgius: Lord Sage, I-- I realized some years ago that I was aging more slowly than others do. ???: And you wish to conceal that fact, don't you? Is that why you rarely remove your armor, even when indoors? Zelgius: Yes...but this ruse will not last indefinitely. In a few years, I will be forced to leave this army's service. Chapter 4-F-2, Radiant Dawn

Nasir says that “we reach a certain maturity, we stop showing almost all signs of further aging.” Combined with how the Branded believe they’re aging normally until they’re suddenly not, this statement leads me to believe that the laguz also probably age the same as beorc for the first few years of their lives and then age slower as they grow older, probably earlier and more extreme in the slow down than a Branded. The only fact I have to support myself is that laguz and beorc share the Zunanma as a common ancestor, and evolved separately from them, so it makes more sense to me that they age about the same when born.

I also hate the idea of a dragon baby being born and not being the equivalent of 1 year old until they’ve been alive for 17 years, so there’s that too.

As far as how long the Branded live, I don’t like this “dilution” mechanic of the early development chart. I much prefer the idea that the Branded age half as slowly as the laguz tribe/clan their blood comes from. I have no facts to support myself with, except that it feels right for Zelgius and Stefan to be much older than they appear to be than the dilution mechanic allows (Stefan is designed to be 29 in both games, and there’s no way he's only 35-38, and Zelgius is definitely older than 36-39, considering he looked like an adult before Greil left Daein and so he couldn’t have only been about 16-19 back then). And the chart was prepared by a Begnion noble, so obviously we have to ask what the bias of the writer was when Branded are considered a crime against the goddess that noble worships. (Not me questioning the integrity of a fictional scholar writing about fictional species.)

Anyway. If you just want to use the original chart despite the flaws I have with it and not think about complexities, the stronger/more physical clans live shorter lives than the weaker/more magical clans within the different tribes, and wolves feel somewhere between tigers and cats, so I would put them between those two, and here’s an updated chart with dilutions for all the different kinds of Branded. I’ve also added a max of 100 year life spans so you get a better feel for it. According to the chart, Janaff should be looking to be about 32 years old, not 30, but it’s not too far off to be considered non compliant with canon. I shouldn’t have to explain to the website that spawned Spiders Georg how averages and outliers work.

But if you want to go deeper, like I did, I will. The Q&A shows that the developers later felt that the different tribes would live a lot longer than even the 100 year old max allows according to the early development chart. The beast tribes don’t live to be about 500-600 years old, the hawks and ravens don’t get to be near 1,000, the herons don’t exceed 1,000, and the dragons don’t exceed 2,000.

So, doubling down on the idea that the laguz are born and age like beorc and then slow down, I think the best time for this to start would be around puberty because that's when all the changes occur in the body, and then the older they get, the slower they age. This also ties into Nasir’s “reach a certain maturity” statement from before, as the beginning and end of puberty mark the greatest maturity shifts in the growth process (Though, as a woman in her 30s, I would just like to throw in that I am firmly of the opinion that no one IRL is mature until they’re in their mid to late 20s).

I think for the Branded to only be able to notice it a few years ago when they’re older in appearance, their laguz blood might not start impacting them until they're post puberty or at the end of puberty. There are almost exactly 0* canon facts to go off of, but it feels the most logical to me to fit in with what all the characters say in game. *Soren is designed to look 16 in Path of Radiance and look at Zelgius when he's saying that quote I had before:

I realize by anime aesthetic, Zelgius is almost definitely meant to look 10 or something like that, but Fire Emblem tends to skew slightly closer to realistic ages...sometimes...maybe...in my dreams...

I bumped up the factors from the original chart for everyone but the dragons because they were all so far from what the Q&A* said they should end up like and then I decided that there were three phases to account for:

Beorc aging: From birth to the onset puberty for full laguz, and from birth to the end of puberty for Branded

Moderately slow aging: For the duration of puberty for full laguz, and from the end of puberty to about “25” for Branded (which is about when the mind is “fully developed” in humans)

Slower aging: Lasts for the rest of their life, aging continues to slow down the older the individual becomes.

*For the hawks and ravens, I couldn’t get them up to living anywhere close to 1,000 years the Q&A implied without drastically not meeting the requirement that Janaff and Ulki look around 30ish in the 105-113 range, so the in-game facts have to take precedence over the Q&A facts.

If you want something a lot more detailed, I will add the charts below that show each laguz type by each “year” of their life. Since afab individuals and amab individuals hit puberty at different ages, the chart shows that too for the averages: from 12-14 for afab individuals, and 13-15 for amab individuals. Obviously individual characters might go through the different phases at different times, but the charts below are averages and guidelines.

I apologize for the clutter and quality of these last charts.

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aphrostarot · 3 years

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Next Significant Relationship Pick a Pile

Who is your next partner and what will the relationship be like?

Please remember that this is a general reading and some things may not apply to you. Don't force it to fit. I offer paid readings on my page if you would like a personal reading. Prices are listed there. Please message me or email me if you are interested!

(All poems are in Perry Poems: A Collection. You can find it here)

Pile One:

Who is this person? What are they like?

Nine of Winter:

This is the nine of pentacles in this deck. Usually, the Nine of Pentacles represents a woman, but not always. A person represented by this card is highly feminine and an extremely independent individual. They are very hardworking, they appreciate the finer things in life, and their hard work has allowed them to enjoy these things. Your next partner will embody this energy.

King of Autumn:

In this deck, this is the King of Swords. Besides being a hard worker and extremely independent, this person is also calm and collected. Before making any decisions, they weigh the pros and cons of every situation. Your next partner will be someone you can turn to when you have trouble making decisions. They are a very mature individual, someone who is extremely logical and can sometimes appear to be judgmental.

How will you meet?

Three of Spring (Reversed) and The Crow:

One or both of you will be in a state of disarray when you meet this person. It will be difficult to make decisions in your life, maybe even in one particular area. Several directions will be pulling at you, and you won't know which one to take. Your progress in your personal development will be affected by this. The energy I'm receiving from this pile indicates that it will be you who is struggling and that when you meet this person, they will be drawn to you because they feel like they can help you, and ultimately they will.

How will you know it’s them?

The Lupin:

The Lupin is a highly intelligent and confident individual. Here your guides are telling you that the way you will be able to know that this is your person is by recognizing that they exude these qualities. As far as the environment goes there may be some flowers around you when you meet which is a sign to you that this is your person. You or they could be wearing purple as well.

What will your first impression of them be?

The Goldfinch:

The first impression you will have of this individual is that they are a very organized free spirit, willing to travel. Initially, you may be intimidated by their confidence and their refusal to get involved in drama or chaos. Initially, their eyes may also catch your attention and seem beautiful to you. If you are highly spiritual, you may even observe that this person's third eye is open whether they are aware of it or not.

How will they affect you?

Ace of Winter and Queen of Autumn:

When you are with this person, you will find that you have so many opportunities. You will become extremely passionate about your career and life choices. You will become more aware and even more in control of your path. Pursuing your dreams will be so much more fun because unlike in the past, you will know exactly what you want. With this person, you can regain control over your path and enjoy life again.

What kind of relationship will it be? What is the main bond between the two of you?

The Empty Cottage and Eight of Autumn:

It seems that this relationship may not be a good one. Although this person will provide you with many opportunities in your career, they are not healthy for your mental health. There is a strong possibility that they are very possessive and jealous in your relationship, which isn't healthy. Your anxieties might get worse or they may not understand the reasons for your mental health. The problem is that the person is extremely rational and does not deal with emotions very often, whereas you are an extremely emotional person. Relationships like these do not mix well and you may end up feeling very alone as a result.

Current obstacles standing in your way?

The Lighthouse:

One or both of you may be lacking in the stability department and also in the confidence department. I believe that it may be you that is struggling in this department and your guides are telling you here that this is blocking you from entering this relationship at the moment. I know that with the way that I just described this relationship you may not want to enter this relationship at all and so you may be saying “what is the point of clearing out these obstacles if it won’t be a good relationship.” to that your guides have to say that you are meant to be in this relationship. It won’t all be bad in the relationship, there will be good, especially when it comes to you getting out of a funk and finding joy and drive for your passions. This is something that is needed in order for you to excel in life. This person is meant to help you in your career and your passions, which is why you are meant to be in this relationship.

How to break through those obstacles?

Ace of Spring:

To overcome these obstacles, you need to become aware that this person is going to push you to pursue your passions and career further. You will learn how to succeed in your passions and career through this relationship, regardless of how short it may last. As your guides are telling you here, this is what you need to hold onto so that you can move forward with this relationship.

What will you learn from this person?

King of Winter:

You will learn how to be a successful and driven person through this relationship. It may not be good for your anxieties and your emotions but it will be good for your career. The two of you may have a lot of 10th house overlays in your synastry chart because the energy of this relationship is not at all emotional, it is way more career-centered.

If you would like to see some channeled messages from this person and spirit regarding this relationship click here.

Pile Two:

Who is this person? What are they like?

The Hermit:

The person may be a Virgo or have significant Virgo placements or energies in their chart, more than likely they are a Virgo Rising. This person is wise beyond their years and prefers their solitude. They are extremely observant, and constantly seek to expand their knowledge. Additionally, they may even have a deep connection to spirituality. All that being said, they are highly sensitive, especially to judgments and criticisms from others.

How will you meet?

King of Swords:

You might meet them at work, and either you or them will have some authority. Based on the energy I am getting from the two of you I believe that it will be them who is in authority. Once you start working for them, they are struck by you and your presence. You are constantly on their minds, and they watch everything you do. The two of you will be following a very common office romance trope.

How will you know it’s them?

Seven of Pentacles:

Your future may not be something you enjoy thinking about or planning. You don't seem to be a type A at all. Your preference is to go with the flow rather than make a solid plan. It might however turn out that, once you meet this person, you have a greater sense of direction and need to plan your future in a more structured manner. It is quite likely that this person is very much a planner and a critical thinker, so when they are around you will be trying your best to impress them. It is for this reason that you will begin to become more like that person. It is also possible that both of you will be wearing red or blue when you meet, which will be a sign that this is your person. Question marks may be involved in your meeting as well. They could be in the environment or you may find that you are very curious about this person which will result in you wanting to ask a lot of questions.

What will your first impression of them be?

King of Wands:

When you meet this person, you will think they are extremely confident. Their ability to lead and their determination to achieve their goals will impress you. As friendly and outgoing as they are, I can tell you that it may seem intimidating at first because you are really hoping that they will like you, and they can be hard to read so you aren't sure what they think of you.

How will they affect you?

The Hanged Man:

Part of you knows that there are aspects of yourself that do not serve you. Despite this, you continue to do nothing about eliminating these toxic behaviors from your life. This person will help you to do this. They do not tolerate toxicity, especially from the person they are pursuing, so when you begin to see them, they will work toward helping you eliminate those behaviors. This enables you to lead a healthy life.

What kind of relationship will it be? What is the main bond between the two of you?

Temperance:

It will be a very satisfying relationship for you both. Together you will build a solid foundation and live very comfortably. In the end, you'll feel at home with each other, seeing each other as family. Perhaps you both have never experienced something like this before, and for you both, it is a breath of fresh air.

Current obstacles standing in your way?

The Heirophant:

You may be stuck in a pretty traditional mindset especially when it comes to love. In that, you may believe that dating your boss is very unprofessional and that other people will think you are sleeping your way to the top. The last thing that you want is other people viewing you negatively and in your eyes, pursuing this is a disaster waiting to happen. According to your guides, this mindset is currently blocking the two of you from coming together.

How to break through those obstacles?

Page of Cups:

Your guides are telling you here that the way for you to release these blocks is by allowing yourself to feel emotions. You can’t help who you fall in love with most of the time and that is the case with this person. Instead of denying yourself this relationship, your guides are encouraging you to allow yourself to express your feelings, especially when it comes to this person.

What will you learn from this person?

Death:

As we have discussed, you have some toxic behaviors that you refuse to let go of, and this person will help you let go of them. In this person, you will learn how to shed the old side of yourself that doesn't serve you anymore and be transformed into the person you were created to be.

If you would like to see some channeled messages from this person and spirit regarding this relationship click here.

Pile Three:

Who is this person? What are they like?

The Moon:

This person may be a Cancer or have significant Cancer placements, more than like they are a Cancer Rising. They are a natural daydreamer and will stop at nothing to make their dreams their reality. Because of this, they have very strong opinions about how and what they want their world to look like. They tend to struggle when it comes to trusting other people because they wear their heart on their sleeve and have gotten screwed over quite a few times because of it.

How will you meet?

Nine of Pentacles:

You may meet this person right after you make a significant purchase in your life, whether that is a house, a new car, home renovations, or even garden improvements. They may be the person who helps you get these things done, or you will simply just meet them around this time in your life.

How will you know it’s them?

Five of Pentacles:

It really does seem like you will have just purchased a new home or you will have some renovations in your current home around the time you meet this person. I say this because in the imagery on this specific card you can see a door with a house key. I believe that when you meet this person you will be in a great place financially but they will not be. You may even need to provide this person with a place to stay. You will know it is them because they are in a very dark place when you meet and you will be in a very bright place. This will lead you to want to help them get back on their feet.

What will your first impression of them be?

Eight of Pentacles (reversed):

You may not have a good impression of them when you first meet them. You will think that they are lazy and have a bad reputation, especially when it comes to money. I get the feeling that you will know who this person is because they may be a family friend or a friend’s friend. However, you will not have officially met this person or really gotten to know them, hence you having quite a bad impression of them. I think that someone will ask you to invite them to stay with you and you will say yes even though you don’t want to. This is because in your eyes this person has gotten to their dark place because of their own actions and you feel like helping them will only encourage their behavior. However, you will be wrong about your impression of them and once they come to stay with you, you will see a different side of them and realize this.

How will they affect you?

Ace of Swords:

You will experience many powerful emotions with this person. They will make you hate them so much one day but then the next day you will be madly in love with them. You may have been in relationships in the past that were filled with simplicity and ease. You will experience an entirely new type of relationship with this person, one that will send your adrenaline soaring.

What kind of relationship will it be? What is the main bond between the two of you?

Eight of Wands:

You two will never grow tired of each other. Even when you are apart, you will always want to stay in touch. Whenever you are with this person, you will feel as if you can tell them anything. With this person, you will feel at ease, and you won't worry about what others think of you because of how comfortable you feel around them. You will be able to fully express yourself around them without fear.

Current obstacles standing in your way?

Three of Pentacles (reversed):

Right now your ego is getting in your way when it comes to this relationship. You may believe that you are better than this person and therefore you do not need them in your life. There is another part of you that may even be struggling when it comes to working in teams, you currently prefer working on your own and do not go out of your way to hang out with other people or work with others. Your guides are saying that this is blocking you from experiencing this relationship.

How to break through those obstacles?

The Tower (reversed):

You have been holding off the inevitable for quite some time now because you fear change and this person will be bringing you to change. Your guides are telling you here that you need to release your fears and allow this person to come forward. They are telling you that they have your best interest at heart and would never bring you something you can’t handle and this person is someone that you are meant to be with.

Two of Cups:

Part of you may think that this relationship will not be true love or you may even believe that you are not worthy of true love and your guides are telling you that you are incorrect. This person will show you a whole new side of what love means and feels like. They say that it is definitely true love, even if it isn’t how you define what true love is.

What will you learn from this person?

Six of Wands:

In your mind, you think you know what success looks like, whether that be in love, or just in life. The only problem is that you are still not expanding your view of what success really looks like, and it will be this person who is able to introduce you to the different facets of success. Through them, you will learn how to truly experience success in all of its glory.

If you would like to see some channeled messages from this person and spirit regarding this relationship click here.

Pile Four:

Who is this person? What are they like?

Ace of Cups and Strength:

This person may be a Leo or have significant Leo placements, more than likely they are a Leo Rising. They may also have significant water placements. They are extremely confident and courageous. They hold a great deal of power and many people come to them for guidance. They are also extremely romantic and sensitive. They love love and are a huge hopeless romantic.

How will you meet?

The Artist:

It is possible that one or both of you are artists. A gallery opening or an art museum may be the place where you meet. On the other hand, based on the energy I sense that one of you will have your art on display, and you will meet them through the event. You will get along almost immediately since you have very similar views on art.

How will you know it’s them?

High Priestess:

One of you may be wearing blue when you meet, maybe a long blue cardigan or dress. A floral pattern may be significant as well, whether it be wallpaper in the room you are in or someone is wearing it. This is a highly spiritual connection so you will almost just know it is them. You will feel how you have never felt before in their presence, it’s like they awaken your spirituality. You will feel your connection with this person almost instantly.

What will your first impression of them be?

Seven of Pentacles:

This person will seem like an extremely hard worker, someone who is very talented but doesn't see their own talent. You might also think that this person overworks themselves. However, you will also see them as kind and patient. You see this person as someone who has a lot of talent and is going to accomplish so much.

How will they affect you?

The Emperor:

They are very much someone who loves to be in control, and they enjoy bossing others around, especially when it comes to love. It seems that they want to dominate you and make sure you are doing exactly everything they want you to do. They will express a lot of their masculine traits in this relationship. However, it could also be you who expresses all of this rather than them.

What kind of relationship will it be? What is the main bond between the two of you?

The Lovers and Ten of Swords:

True love will be the foundation of this relationship. Both of you will experience the kind of love you have always dreamed of. However, this is not to say that the relationship will be easy, as there will be challenges along the way. However, due to your love for one another, you will get through each challenge together. This relationship may last for a long time.

Current obstacles standing in your way?

Six of Pentacles:

You may be an extremely generous person, especially when it comes to your time and energy. Your guides are saying that this aspect of yourself is hindering your progress towards this person. Yes, it is nice to be generous with the people you care about, but that generosity should not come at the price of your health or sanity. Make sure you are maintaining some boundaries in your life.

How to break through those obstacles?

Two of Wands:

It is time for you to set better boundaries especially when it comes to the people you are close to. You may be scared to set better boundaries because you feel like people will be mad at you. You need to release those fears because if people get mad at you for taking care of yourself, they do not truly care about you. Now is the time to make sure the partnerships in your life are healthy and the first step in doing that is by making sure that the partnership you have with yourself is healthy.

What will you learn from this person?

Eight of Swords:

This person will teach you how to get out of your own way. You have a lot of anxieties and insecurities, especially when it comes to relationships and this person will show you how to heal. Through them, you will learn how to let go of your fears and fully express yourself in a healthy way.

If you would like to see some channeled messages from this person and spirit regarding this relationship click here.

#pick a pile #pick a card #tarot readings #oracle readings #love reading #divination #astrology #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

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ailuronymy · 3 years

Note

Do you think a leader that is 40 moons old is too "young" for the rank, especially if there are older warriors in the clan? Being a leader and deputy is some serious business, and a warrior has to be very experienced for it, but I just don't know if anything below 50/60 moons is appropriate...

Hello there! Thank you for writing in with such an interesting question!

To start off, I’m personally dubious about counting adult cats’ ages by moons. Obviously for kittens and apprentices, counting by moons is useful and practical for marking developmental changes, because during the first year of life, cats grow and change a lot. It’s the same reason we typically discuss the age of babies in months rather than years: so much is happening that year measures just wouldn’t be specific enough to articulate stages of development.

However, cats, like humans, typically hit maturity and then don’t change very much at all until they become quite old. For this reason, I think that, within the world of the clans, it wouldn’t be typical for cats to know their exact age by moons--or rather, to describe their age by that kind of measurement.

Exactly how you want to count age within your clans is entirely up to you, of course, but to me, I would sort of expect full-grown warriors to count by year--e.g., “lived through two leaf-bare season”--than counting months.

Anyway, that’s not really the question you’re asking, I just thought I’d mention it since it gives some context to my answer.

I don’t think there’s technically a strict minimum or maximum age for leaders, especially not in such a specific delineation like counting moons. I think it’s also important to remember that these cats don’t necessarily have incredibly long lives, and they can fit a lot into the lives they have in terms of developing life experience and skills.

A cat that’s forty moons is just over three years old. To us, that’s nothing. But within the clans, this cat could have mentored up to four apprentices by this age, provided that the cat went from one directly to the next. Alternatively, this cat could have had and raised about four litters in that same time; or might have done bother and mentored a couple of apprentices and raised a litter of kittens or two.

A three year old cat is solidly becoming an experienced warrior. Not yet a senior warrior, I would argue, unless they’ve done some particularly impressive things with their time that really sets them apart from their peers, but the two years since becoming a warrior are not insignificant. I would describe a cat of that age to be approaching middle-age, at least in terms of the responsibilities they would be expected to step up to.

That’s not to say a three year old cat is always the best choice for leader, of course. There’s a lot of individuality and specific context that decides which cats would make for good leaders, and age is only part of that. As a rule of thumb, older cats have typically more experience to draw on as leaders, but that’s not to say a younger cat can’t be selected as deputy just because there are still older cats in the clan.

tl;dr: I think it would be unusual for a leader to be that young, but not impossible, and not necessarily a bad thing. It would really depend on the specific cat and the circumstances. Sorry to give such an unhelpful answer!

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2jaeh · 3 years

Text

TRUE FRIENDS | MARK LEE

Genre: angst, smut

Warnings: mature themes, dom!Mark, jealous!Mark, slight jaehyunxreader, mentions of alcohol

Word count: 3,6k

Author: SIN

You’re trying to figure out why Mark has been so mad at you since you both agreed on being friends with benefits, Mark on the hand is trying to figure out why the rules between him and Jaehyun were...different.

A/N: it’s angsty but it gets cute I promise! Also I wrote this after listening to Heavenly - cigs after sex! About a thousand times.

—————————————————————————

“When are you guys going to just speak to each other ?” Johnny groaned, following you into the fifth floor dorm kitchen as you placed your mug into the sink.

You turned around and sighed, leaning against the counter as the eager, tall browned haired boy waited for your answer.

“I told you I tried talking to him at Joy’s party last week but he snubbed me...what do you want me to do ?”

Johnny furrowed his eyebrows as if whatever answer you had given him was still not enough. He knew there was more to the story because how can a friends with benefits situation turn so fucking sour in a matter of four weeks ?

“You guys are childish” Johnny huffed, “this is why it should’ve never happened in the first place.”

“You’re the one that pushed us into his dorm that one night knowing we were drunk, what else did you expect to happen ?” You shot back, gripping the sides of the marble countertop.

“Uh...not fuck ?” Johnny shrugged and you shot him a glare before he raised his hands to defend himself,

“All I’m saying is that Mark ain’t the meanest guy around so if he’s mad then maybe it’s serious.”

————————————————————————

Mark was stuck in the booth at the company building, unknowing that it was already past 11pm and most of the staff had gone home. His tired eyes ran over his lyrics for the 20th time, analysing each section, trying to improve what he had, but his mind was elsewhere.

“Knock knock” Mark swivelled his chair to the door and half smiled when he saw Jungwoo’s head pop in with a bottle of soju and chicken.

“What are you doing here man ?” Mark rubbed his eye, placing his lyric book on the soundboard and stretched his arms above his head. Jungwoo took a seat on the couch and unpacked the meal on the wooden coffee table in front of him,

“You’ve been here all day, you didn’t even meet us for dinner” Jungwoo pouted and handed Mark a cup filled with a mixture of soju and sprite.

Mark shot back the drink and sifted through the pieces of chicken, “yeah I was working, kinda lost track of time”

“You’ve been out of it for the past week, is everything okay ? Is this about....y/n ?” Jungwoo’s voice was cautious as he noticed Mark’s eyes narrow at the sound of your name.

“I told you all of that was over” Mark took a measly bite of the chicken and threw it aside, opting for another cup of soju instead.

“You never told me what happened though,” Jungwoo interjected, “all I know you guys were hooking up and next minute every time you two were in a room together it was tense as fuck.”

Mark chewed on his bottom lip and slumped in his chair knowing Jungwoo was going to pester him until he gave him a valid answer.

“Well after that first night we hooked up y/n laid down some ground rules, the usual you know” Mark explained, his thoughts going back to the first night that he spent with you,

“No feelings, freely hooking up with other people, no spending a full night together, no holding hands, like just none of that shit.”

“So just hooking up and leaving ?” Jungwoo raised his brow, his mouth filled with chicken.

Mark nodded, “yeah apparently to preserve our friendship and not make it weird for the friend group or whatever.”

As Mark spoke he felt the pain he felt 13 days ago, when everything had crumbled right before him. When instead of ignoring the matter he pondered on it, made it play in his mind and ruin him.

“What changed ?” Jungwoo poured the both of them another drink and joined Mark in downing their fourth shot for the night.

“What changed was, “ Mark let out a dry chuckle, “what changed was that y/n was also fucking Jaehyun but his rules were obviously very different.”

Mark’s mind flashed to the night he finished work late and when he walked by Jaehyun’s bedroom he heard your voice. You were softly moaning out Jaehyun’s name and not his.

“Y/n stayed the night in Jaehyun’s room and in the morning she barely greeted me and the two of them were being lovey dovey in the kitchen while making breakfast” Mark topped off his glass with a little more soju than the usual ratio and gulped it down.

“I had no right to get mad right ? Well a couple days later y/n came over I had to hear about how much Jaehyun’s date wasn’t good enough for him or why it was the reason y/n never got into relationships”

Mark’s head was spinning at this point and normally he hated over sharing but it just felt so good to finally let everything out. He had liked you for ages and even confessed to you once before the two of you actually hooked up. As usual you had brushed it over and Mark settled for hooking up instead, as you were “emotionally distant” you had told him.

But the way you reacted to Jaehyun seeing someone else told a different story all together. You were just like him, your feelings weren’t considered, you were only there for a quick no strings attached, that was all.

It made Mark so mad that he decided to cut you off completely. He stopped answering your texts and tried his best to avoid you at all costs. When you tried to contact him at Joy’s Party last week he wanted to tell you everything but then he heard you tell Haechan that he was not talking to you because “he was temperamental.”

You were so careless with his feelings that he wanted nothing to do with you, but every single time he caught a glimpse of you, he just wished he could’ve ignored his feelings and just continued the way you wanted to.

“We should get back to the dorm it’s getting late” Jungwoo sighed and cleaned up the takeaway boxes and stuffed the empty soju bottle into his backpack.

Mark mumbled a yes and got to his feet even though the room spun around him. He had no idea when he had gotten so intoxicated but it numbed the pain he felt...for the moment.

Jungwoo swung open the door of 10th floor and dragged Mark in, hoping everybody would’ve been asleep by now.

“Yooooo did we miss a party or something ?” Johnny yelled from the lounge and Jungwoo groaned under his breath.

Mark looked up wondering why the fifth floor boy was here and then he noticed Jaehyun seated next him followed by you sitting up close next to Jaehyun.

“Great” Mark mumbled under his breath as Jungwoo tried his best to hold him up.

Jungwoo propped Mark up on the bar stool as he got the younger boy a glass of water to ease his state.

“What the hell happened ?” You asked, slowly approaching the kitchen yet still keeping a safe distance from Mark who was practically sliding off the bar stool.

“Hey be careful” you scolded him, rushing to his side to prop him back onto the seat.

“Leave me alone y/n” Mark muttered as he shrugged out of your hold and propped his elbows up on the counter, burying his head in his hands.

Y/n is just trying to help man” Mark heard Jaehyun say followed by his footsteps approaching the kitchen alongside Johnny. Mark rolled his eyes and took a sip of the water Jungwoo had provided for him before pushing away from the counter and got to his feet.

“I don’t need help from any of you” Mark slurred his words as he tried to find his balance but to his dismay only had him crashing into Johnny.

“Seems like you do” Johnny pursed his lips and held the black haired boy up.

Mark uttered a few curses under his breath until you had enough and dragged him down the hallway into his bedroom and shut the door behind you.

“What the hell is wrong with you Mark Lee ?” You folded your arms as the boy stumbled back onto his bed and sunk into the soft mattress avoiding your eyes.

“Get out y/n” he said under his breath.

“No” you replied sternly and Mark groaned at your stubbornness.

“Why are you here ? Shouldn’t you be in Jaehyuns bed right now ?” Mark’s words made you frown, oblivious to his distaste toward the idea of you and Jaehyun being together.

“Mark” you cautioned and sat next to him on the bed, “can you please tell me what’s going on ?”

“You, him, us, everything” Mark rubbed his eyes and looked over at you, “y/n I’m trying to get over it and you’re not helping right now.”

“Get over what Mark ??!”

“You! Damn man, get over you” Mark yelled, his voice slightly breaking and his heavy breathing turned to soft sobs. You swallowed hard as you watched the guy you always had known to be the positive energy in the room sob over something you had done to him.

This was all your fault.

“Mark when did you-“

“Since a while ago, come on I even confessed to you” Mark wiped away his tear with his black sweater.

You Ofcourse remembered his confession but at the time you weren’t ready and neither was he, and the two of you agreed to stay friends. Then the hook up happened and in order to honor the deal of staying friends you enforced the rules. It was about two weeks of your escapades did Jaehyun kiss you unexpectedly while you were rummaging through his vinyl collection. One thing led to another and you were in his bed, allowing him to have his way with you and even let him convince you to spend the night.

You didn’t think much of it but Jaehyun was a sweet guy and for a second you entertained the idea of having a tiny crush on him, until the very next day he had mentioned Mark.

‘Mark really likes you y/n, how do you feel about him?’ Jaehyun had said while the two of you prepared breakfast.

Mark was great. He was more than great and someone like you didn’t deserve him you thought.

‘Mark’s cool’ you casually replied to Jaehyun knowing you suppressed a lot of feelings when it came to Mark, especially since you had already scrapped the idea of you two being together when he confessed.

‘I think you guys should give it a try’ Jaehyun had told you, which confirmed you and him were just going to be a one time thing.

When you had met Mark a few days later you kept thinking about what Jaehyun had said and the effect it had on you but you weren’t ready to make the first move. You went on to Mark about Jaehyun thinking he’d speak up about it and let you know that Jaehyun wasn’t good for you and you’d respond by kissing him and fixing everything,

But what happened after was not what you had planned.

You hurt him and played it off knowing Mark was head strong and he’d be back to normal the next week. You expected him to be back to his goofy self, ranting to you about God knows what and ending it with his classic “should we make out now or -“

You bit down on your lip as you looked over at Mark who had now fell asleep, his black locks falling over his swollen eyes as he peacefully fell into his slumber.

Not wanting to wake him or leave his side you opted for the floor, pulling an extra pillow from the closet and a rolled up foam mattress that was hidden at the back. Your heavy eyes finally closed but your heart still raced, not knowing how to overcome the situation you were in.

————————————————————————

A few hours later Mark felt a throbbing in his temple and winced when he noticed the first light of morning shine through his window.

All those soju shots were now a regret as Mark sat up wishing his sleep never broke. As his mind recollected his thoughts of last night he quickly remembered you were the last person he spoke to before he passed out. About to step out of bed his hazy eyes quickly cleared to the sight of you, sound asleep on his bedroom floor.

“Y/n ?” He whispered, carefully stepping over you and crouching down to meet your frame.

“Mmm” you answered, eyes still closed but shifting uncomfortably thanks to the rising sun and the wooden floor.

“Y/n sleep on my bed, I’ll close the blinds” Mark rubbed your head until your eyes slowly opened and you began making your way into the warmth of his bed.

Mark felt uneasy as he watched you tuck yourself into his bed unsure of what to do with himself or where to go.

“Mark...” you mumbled.

“Y-yeah ?”

“You should get more sleep, you have a free schedule come here” Mark watched you shift over in the bed creating a space for him to lay down next to you.

In any other circumstance he’d just do it but now it was different. After last night it was all different.

“Mark...”

“Coming...” he responded to you and slowly slipped under the covers, turning on his side to face you. He didn’t expect your eyes to be staring straight back at him.

“I’m so sorry” you said softly, lifting your hand and placed it on his cheek. Mark stayed still and quiet, still wary if you fully understood his outburst or not.

“I- don’t like Jaehyun like that, and he’s way more into you and I being together than me and him” you chuckled dryly,

“Mark I like you just as much, and I always have I’m just stupid, I was just...afraid.”

“Afraid of what ?” Mark raised his eyebrows cutely which made you smile from ear to ear and roll over onto your back to stare up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know, dating is scary and if anything happened we’ll never be friends again” you whined and you heard Mark giggle next to you,

“How can you think about what would happen if we break up before we’re even together ? That’s so stupid” He scoffed and you nudged him in his side.

“I’m serious, I’m sorry I was such a jerk and I want to continue whatever we have this time on your terms” you turned to him and Mark pressed his lips together and nodded,

“I want us to try it out, it doesn’t have to be serious, but I want you to stay over, I wanna hold your hand whenever I want” Mark pouted and enveloped his hand with yours, “and please no more Jung Jaehyun, dude can sing, cook, and God knows what else I can’t compete with.”

“You don’t have to compete because I only like you stupid, you’re perfect” you playfully pinched his cheek and Mark shifted closer to you.

“Officially dating ?” His large eyes looked up into yours,

“Officially dating” you giggled and Mark wasted no time in shifting his body until he was hovering over you. his thumb brushed over your bottom lip and he pressed his mouth against yours, sighing into the deep kiss. Your lips attacked each other excessively and passionately. Mark brought his body down onto yours as your hand tangled in his hair and the other grabbed onto his waist.

Mark pushed his hips into yours roughly, and you groaned at the friction of his Jean clothed member pushing against your core. Mark used your moan as a means to slip his tongue into your mouth as the two of you desperately tried to remove the constricting clothes between you.

“Fuck” Mark sat back on his heels and watched you reach between his legs to palm him through his jeans.

You quickly undid his button and pushed him back as he quickly shimmied out of his jeans and removed his sweater, leaving him in nothing but his black boxers.

Mark licked his lips as he watched you discard of your own clothes before bringing your face down to where his member was just begging to be touched.

Throwing his head back, Mark uttered a curse word as you pulled down his boxers and stroked his length slowly and skillfully. You watched him squirm beneath you as you teased his tip, bringing your tongue to it and flicking it while you pumped his member.

“Baby....” Mark said huskily, sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at your mouth wrapped around his dick, just waiting for you to suck him off.

You abided quickly and messily took him in your mouth while still using your hand to rub his length. Mark’s curses got even louder until he finally made you stop and pinned your back to the bed, looking down at you with devilish eyes.

“I’m not the one who needs to be punished here” Mark raised his brow as you shrugged innocently,

“But you’re a nice guy, you wouldn’t punish me” you pouted and Mark stuck his tongue in his cheek before giving you a quick smack on your thigh, “yeah that’s not gonna work on me.”

Your heart raced excitedly as Mark rid you of your bra and panties, spreading your legs enough for his frame to sit in between your thighs.

A shudder went through your body when Mark’s index finger traced your inner thigh and abdomen, making sure to dance close enough to your core but not giving it any attention.

“Seriously ?” You groaned, throwing your head back in frustration.

“What?” Mark asked innocently still tracing circles and tried to hide the obvious enjoyment he had from teasing you.

“Do you want me to beg you to touch me ?” You whined, arching your back hoping to somehow get to his touch.

“Hmm” Mark hummed and pulled his hand away, “sounds like a good idea.”

“Mark please touch me, please I -“ you didn’t care how desperate you sounded or if the whole dorm could hear you right now but there was nothing more you wanted than have Mark touch you.

“Okay but that’s only because I’m a nice guy” Mark smirked and slipped two fingers into your dripping core with ease. You let out a loud moan and normally Mark would silence you but right now he couldn’t care less. The more you moaned the faster his fingers moved and when you mentioned you were about to cum he added a third.

“Holy shit” you breathed as you came undone and felt even more light headed when you witnessed Mark lick his fingers clean.

Once he allowed you to catch your breath Mark positioned himself at your entrance and slowly slipped inside, the already wetness made him groan with satisfaction.

Finding his rhythm Mark began thrusting inside of you, grabbing your breast with one hand and your hip with the other to help him keep his pace.

You felt him stretch you out and it was the most exhilarating feeling having him inside you again. Mark was confident in bed and that was one of the most attractive things about him. For someone with a sweet face and an innocent demeanor he was so dominate and tantalizing in bed.

“Mark I’m gonna-“

“Me too” he grunted before flipping you over and grabbed a fist full of your hair and slammed inside of you again. The new position built your orgasm even faster as your ass hit against his abdomen every time he thrusted into you. Mark pulled you up, turning your head to the side as he bit into your shoulder and you screamed out his name continuously.

“Cum for me” Mark growled in your ear and those words were enough for you release your second orgasm. Mark quickly pulled out of you and stuffed his length into your mouth, groaning as you swallowed every bit of him and even cleaned up any remaining mess with your tongue.

“I missed that” Mark collapsed on the bed trying to catch his breath while you did the same.

“Me too” you hummed and rested your head on his chest as the two of you drifted off to a sweet slumber.

———————————————————————

It was mid day and Mark and you snuck into the bathroom to quickly clean up after a quickie in the shower Ofcourse and arrived in the kitchen where the rest of Mark’s bandmates were.

The tenth floor boys and Johnny were all enjoying their lunch but their smug faces when the two of you walked out said it all.

“Well we’re dating now, so that’s out of the way” you grabbed a fry from the table and popped it into your mouth.

“Congrats” Jungwoo clapped, more interested in the food in front of him than the announcement he obviously saw coming.

“Hey maybe they didn’t hear anything after all” Mark whispered into your ear and placed a soft kiss on your cheek before sitting down to join the meal.

You shrugged and slipped into the seat next to Johnny, and watched as Yuta, Jaehyun, and Taeil shared a quick glance and smirk,

“I really didn’t take Mark for a begging kink kind of guy” Johnny said nonchalantly while the entire table erupted in laughter as you hid your reddened face and Mark choked on his glass of water.

#mark lee smut #mark lee scenarios #nct smut #nct127 smut #nct scenarios #mark lee angst #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #superm scenarios #nct dream smut #nct au #2jaeh masterlist

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likealittleheartbeat · 3 years

Text

The significance of Aang’s age, the reason why it’s explicitly stated as being 12 (going on 13, give or take 100 years), is because this is a coming-of-age show that’s actually about truly coming-of-age as it was originally conceptualized. That is, coming-of-age as religious ritual. There’s probably one modern coming-of-age ceremony in this tradition that’s immediately and broadly recognizable (in name if nothing else) to most of the American audience atla was originally marketed toward: Bar Mitzvah (Bat Mitzvah for women).

And, at what age does this ceremony take place? For boys, it’s 13 (12 for girls). This real world connection becomes more compelling when we remember that the voice actor for Aang, Zachary Tyler Eisen, is Jewish, and when we note the references to famous anti-Nazi films in a show about resisting ethnic cleansing. (”Bato and the Water Tribe” connects to The Sound of Music while “The Firebending Masters” alludes to Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark.)

Of course, Judaism isn’t the only religion that maintains coming-of-age ceremonies. Many faiths distinguish the pubescent age with ceremony and a shift of spiritual study and clerical responsibilities within the community of worship. I especially love this short series on a Buddhist coming-of-age initiation ceremony for boys among the Shan in Thailand for the way it displaces Western ideas of manhood.

I think we often see, especially in fandom and/or purity culture, a protective zeal to singularly and strictly distinguish adulthood and childhood, and those definitions revolves around sex and sexual maturation. That is often what the coming-of-age narrative in fiction has pervasively devolved into. In fact, a religious coming-of-age ceremony was just as often as not distinct from a culture’s marrying age (which we can infer would be the age sexual relationships were considered expected and acceptable).

The coming-of-age, the transition between childhood and adulthood, instead, was focused on moral and spiritual development. The explanation of wikipedia is concise: “ Before the child reaches bar mitzvah age, parents hold the responsibility for their child's actions. After this age, the boys and girls bear their own responsibility for Jewish ritual law, tradition, and ethics, and are able to participate in all areas of Jewish community life.” We think of Aang, bereft of his mentors guidance trying to do righteously in the world, having now received the marks and celebrations indicating maturity amongst the monks.

Despite that sense of increased independence, I especially want to point out the aspect of ceremony to invite a child now as a respected peer into a religious community. While the rite may extinguish the nature of a child-parent relationship, it welcomes the young person into a broader network. An excerpt from Britannica’s section on diverse Native American coming-of-age ceremonies explains, “These ceremonies provide structures for instruction in traditional knowledge...They reintegrate an individual into kin, community, and cosmos when new status is attained.” These communal processes shepherd members of a group through difficult changes and do their best to help them arrive on the other side with a clear sense of identity, belonging, and purpose. (Interestingly, this is also the ceremony at which language for new adult names and genders can be given and spread).

In terms of ethnic cleansing, wiping out the coming-of-age rite and its subsequent instruction is instrumental in destroying a people. Even if it doesn’t kill the individuals, it disrupts the network of support and tradition, which dissolves the culture. It’s one reason we witness again and again Fire Nation imperials calling Aang a child. The tattoos mark him as a versed adult among the nomads, but by ignoring Aang’s initiation, the Fire Nation can maintain it’s prideful insistence of total annihilation against its enemy. If Aang is just a kid, he is not a carrier of the monks’ ways.

But as we repeatedly witness throughout the show, Aang has a profound connection to his culture, its traditions, laws, and beliefs, and holds himself responsible for maintaining it, because he did come-of-age among his people. And, the finale is a reaffirmation of this spiritual maturity in the eyes of his community as it exists across time immemorial. ATLA reasserts the importance of ritual and spirituality in the coming-of-age narrative. It’s not about one person becoming mature. It’s about one person maturing to serve the sense of belonging their people in faith have already granted to them.

#atla meta #aanglove #aang #air nomads #buddhism #religion

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gaiuswrites · 4 years

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King of Cups || Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Tower

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | two

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You’re apart of the Refugee Relief Movement, an intergalactic organization providing aid throughout the systems, and you find yourself assisting at a resettlement camp in Lothal when disaster strikes, changing your life forever, intertwining your path with that of a certain Mandalorian bounty hunter.

Word count: 3.7k~

Rated: Mature

Warnings: descriptive violence, blood/injury mentioning, danger, mature language

Notes: Hi y'all, welcome. This fic is going to be set during Season 2 of The Mandalorian, and will be what I like to call ‘canon adjacent’. ALSo, this chapter is very much so Reader focused, setting up the scene and the general pacing of the story, but naturally, Din will be more and more featured as things progress. I’m a sucker for backstory and a slow burn, so ye be warned. Please feel free to reach out to me. :) I’d love to hear from you lovely little beans. Be safe out there, friends.

Lothal was a planet all too familiar with occupation.

You remember seeing a quote somewhere that read ‘Look no further than Lothal if you want to see what happens when the Empire takes control of an entire world’; and although the Imperial chokehold had loosened when the Empire fell, the planet, even all these years later, still found itself gasping for breath.

Off world migration from the Core Worlds had been popularized since the expansion of the Imperial government bureaucracy, which brought booming business opportunities for the fortunate few, but as the rich became richer, the poor grew poorer. The Lothalites were forced out of their homes, off their own lands—refugees on their own planet; forced to resettle and relocate with nothing but the clothes on their back and the possessions they could cram into their pockets. The only heirlooms passed on from generation to generation were that of poverty, tall tales of former splendor, and the greatest of ancestral traumas: disillusionment.

The truly desperate turned to crime, and what couldn’t be solved by back-dealings and blaster fire was managed with fear mongering and the bitter flair of xenophobia. There was always a species to blame, and it was always the one who seemed to be doing better off, no matter how slight the margin.

Greed. Fear. Despair. These are the currencies in which the galaxy trades.

And so it was then, and continued to be, cycle after cycle. History, always finding clever ways to repeat itself.

On bad days, pollution still loomed heavy over the atmosphere—remnants of the fires from the Imperial occupation still clinging on to Lothal’s weary bones. She had been stripped during that time; gutted and strung up by her feet to dangle from the Empire’s meat hook, exsanguinated slowly, drop by drop, until she had nothing left to give. Her resources and minerals and ore and water and seed, robbed. Pillaged.

She’s free from it now, but the scars remain— the planet remembers. Her people do not forget. Like muscle memory, they all ungulate to this synthesized rhythm they can’t seem to shake, day in and day out, wandering. Forever unsettled.

The planet had always had a diverse population and had become something of a safe haven for other abandoned people fleeing their home worlds, determined to find somewhere - anywhere - for them to survive. Lothal provided that for them. It wasn’t rich or bountiful by any stretch, but it was simple and safe—safe in the way hidden things in plain sight are. One could blend into the crowd of many, unique faces, of all races and backgrounds; you could be anonymous, if you wanted. You could be free.

That’s how you’ve found yourself here in Jortho. You had been with the Refugee Relief Movement for the better part of what felt like forever, and they had transferred you to this planet not six weeks ago. You were out on rotation; the RRM sends someone new twice a cycle for the span of a month or two to varying locations to supply rations, aid with the influx of refugees, organize resettlement lodgings, and generally be of assistance when and where you could. However, your tenure on this temperate planet was coming to a close, and soon you’d be flying back to the headquarters on Coruscant before being bounced to another post somewhere out among the stars.

You love your job. You know it’s unpopular to say, but you do. It’s fulfilling and impactful and indescribably special. The individuals you meet, the stories you hear, they’re invaluable— priceless and precious, like handmade trinkets crafted by the fingers of a child; you press them all to your heart, holding them there. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get to you— the weight of it; the plights of all of these people, all of these lives, burdening your conscience. It isn’t always painless— you aren’t immune to it. Even so, on most nights you manage to sleep easy, tucked away aboard the transport freighter you flew in on with the batch of settlers newly assimilated into town knowing Maker, at least you were doing something— anything— everything you could.

And really, to call Jortho a town would be an insult to all towns everywhere—but ‘town’ has a certain charm to it that ‘refugee camp’ simply did not, and it gave the people hope. Pride, even. That they belonged somewhere.

You suppose that’s all anyone wants. To belong.

A feather soft gust of wind tickles the golden blades of prairie grass as the sun, bleary and tired, starts dipping from the sky. The crickbeets begin their song early, trilling, sensing Lothal’s moons still coyly tucked away, hiding somewhere along the horizon. A smile adorns your face, private and serene, as you bring a bowl of broth up to your lips, humming when the warm liquid meets your tongue. You sigh, contented, taking in the sights before you; how the dusk blurs the aromatic air, making it opaque, the shuttles docked across the way from you casting long purple shadows onto the flat plains, the snowcapped mountains in the distance bordering the cant of the planet’s surface, nestling Jortho in a shallow valley.

You feel calm, at peace, and take another sip.

An easy moment passes, and it’s the last one you get before silence stalks up from behind you.

You don’t notice it at first, like any patient predator, it goes undetected: the white noise, the nothingness— until finally, you do and then suddenly it’s everywhere. On top of you. Smothering you. Goosebumps stipple your skin and you bristle. The insects have stopped chirping. The breeze has stilled. The air hangs dead.

And then—

Chaos.

You’re hit with a blast of crushing heat, the sheer power of it picking you up off your feet and onto your side, sending your body careening into a nearby structure. Your shoulder takes most of the blow, but your neck still snaps backwards unnaturally, the back of your head colliding with the stone wall behind you with a dull thwack. You let out a groaned cry at the impact, the wind knocked out of your lungs as you crumple to the ground.

For an instant, your vision goes white, stars popping and fusing out in front of your pupils, and it’s like you can feel everything and nothing all at once, hollow but overwhelmed, and all you want to do is close your eyes and drift asleep— Maker that would feel like a luxury, just right here on the damn dirt. And you almost do, you almost let yourself slip under and sink— until you hear a piercing scream from somewhere close.

Immediately your eyes shoot open, desperately blinking away the blurriness that threatens to over take them, and you try pushing yourself up by the heels of your scraped hands, failing once - twice - before finding your footing. You’re shaky at first, uncoordinated and dizzy and redownloading bipedalism, before that sweet drug of adrenaline starts to course through your veins and finally, finally, you take in your surroundings.

The ships that once stood across the field are gone, obliterated, and in their place only metal ribcages remain—empty carcasses like dead birds splayed on their backsides, imploded from the inside out, their bits strewn all around you.

Your breathing comes hard and heavy, fighting down panic, and cloudy eyes search through the thick black smoke billowing up in stacks, trying to pin point the source of the scream you’d heard just moments ago. You cough a strained wheeze, sputtering against the charred air, and wade your way through the debris— it’s only then that you realize the magnitude of the explosion. It’s not just the landing bay, it’s half the kriffing village. The buildings that neighbored the airfield had been decimated, burning roofs and crumbling fixtures, homes collapsing onto themselves, scorch marks and shrapnel branding the outsides of the shanties left standing.

It looks like a battlefield. You’ve seen holovids of this—what war can look like, how it can ruin a people… But you’ve never had to stand in the middle of it, head on.

Your heart drums against your chest as you break into a hobbled run, desperately scanning the area for any signs of life, up and down, left and right, straining against the waning daylight. It’s then that you hear your name, urgent and frantic, and you whip your head in it’s direction, knees nearly buckling in relief. You immediately recognize your friend Hareem, brandishing her arms at you, waving you over to her.

“Thank the Maker, you’re alright!” the Balosar cries out, trembling hands finding purchase on your shoulders, bracing you. You don’t know if its for your benefit or her own, but either way you’re grateful for the grounding pressure; for the first time since the initial blast, you feel solid, like you won’t just float away, atomized and weightless. Worried, you look her over. A sliver of fresh scarlet blooms from her scalp, a small line trickling down past her temple, but she otherwise looks relatively unharmed. You grasp onto her wrist, squeezing firmly.

“What the hell happened?” You ask, voice low and pitched, wide fearful eyes drilling into her.

“T-There was a man-” And she shakes her head, mouth clamping shut, deep wrinkles framing her face.

“Hareem,” you reassure, giving her another squeeze. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.

She tries again with a steadying inhale, “I-I saw him. A-a man. He had a device with him, and he set charges, and Maker I don’t know— I don’t know— it went off a-and he ran towards the center of town!” The Balosar is in hysterics, tears spilling down her dirty cheeks, and it takes your brain a moment to catch up, to wrap your mind around the words she’s stuttering out.

A man.

Device.

Charges.

A bomb. This wasn’t an accident; this was an attack—and he’s still kriffing here. You cup her cheeks, thumbs rubbing against the pale skin, smearing away the blood that’s nearly dripped to her chin. Your friend’s gaze is flighty, everywhere and nowhere, and you try giving her a smile, but you’re not quite sure you manage it.

“Hareem? Hareem. Hey, shh, you’re okay. You’re alright…” You peel your eyes off her to glance around hurriedly. “We need to find cover.”

///

You’re holed up in one of the few remaining homes on this side of the encampment, crowded into the small space with three other survivors. All four of you, packed in and silent and petrified. Unsure of any further threat, you stay completely still. Helpless. Laying here, idle, for whatever awaits you behind that feeble, wooden door. You feel like prey for the wicked, just passing the time.

Minutes inch along like this—or maybe its hours; time moves eerily different when you’re attempting to become invisible—and eventually, you almost begin to relax.

Almost.

But a new sound breaks the din, hard to recognize at first, indistinct from all the commotion outside their hut, but you hear it. You all do. The youngest of you, a teenaged Devaronian, grips onto the hem of your shirt, knuckles creasing with anticipation. You tense, spine going rigid. Footsteps. They’re slow, guarded, but they’re getting closer. You bring an arm up, for all the good it’ll do, creating a human shield in front of the boy at your side. Closer. Someone behind you muffles a whimper. Closer. A Bardottan you hadn’t even met until today let’s out the faint whisper of a prayer, lips barely ghosting over the phrases. Closer-

and then, nothing.

They’re here. You can sense him, see his shadow sweep across the gaps in the entryway. You all hold your breath, as if the air is being syphoned out of the space… And the door is flung open, nearly breaking off it’s hinges as it slams into the inside of the house, shuttering the rickety walls with a jarring bang.

You don’t know who looks more astonished: you four, or the Mandalorian before you, dripping head to toe in silver plated armor, pointing a blaster directly at your head.

“Where is he?” He asks, hard edged and modulated, and it’s more of a demand than a question—but he lowers his weapon all the same, holstering it at his side. You gape at him, guppying wordlessly. “Volcur X’elo. The bomber. Where?” He hasn’t moved an inch out of the doorframe but he’s still managing to loom over you, completely filling up the archway, shoulders set and impossibly intimidating.

You gulp, finally finding your voice. “In town, i-in the center of town…” Kriff, you had not idea if that intel was good or not, but it’s all you think to say. Seeming satisfied with your answer he turns on his booted heel, cape whipping behind him, leaving just as soon as he arrived. The dust barely has time to settle as the door teeter’s on its hinge, its rusty squeaks filling the void in the Mandalorian’s wake.

“Fuck,” you hiss, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, doubling forward, propping your palms up on your knees.

///

After deliberating it with your group, you all come to the agreement of braving it outside. Better to be out under the open sky than die under a concaving apartment, clambering over each other to get to the exit. After all this, at least your dignity was still partially in tact— normally, you reckon you’d chuckle dryly at that. But you don’t.

Can’t.

You lead the pack through the mazelike streets. The sights that once seemed so familiar after weeks of living here become like strangers to you, and you sleepwalk through Jortho, snaking down paths marred by rubble and fallen wreckage— you haven’t seen any bodies, but maybe that isn’t true. Maybe you’re just too scared to notice them. Maybe they’re there, hovering just outside of your peripherals, haunting the corners of your vision…

You keep your head fixed forward, jaw clenched.

Your feet move on their own like this, only vaguely aware that the red-skinned boy still hadn’t let go of your tunic. You forge on. Have to. You have to. Your only purpose on this kriffing planet was to help these people, to bring them aid, and if that means simply planting one foot in front of the other, then so be it. You take side alleys, double backing here and there, ducking under canopies, looping around yourself, only stopping when you catch a glimpse of beskar, the orange setting sun glinting off the surface of his helmet.

And he’s not alone.

You freeze suddenly, as do the rest, and the Devaronian bumps into you, stumbling under his lanky legs. Some paces in front of you, the bounty hunter has the other man, this Volcur X’elo, by a punishing grip on his shoulders, shoving him forcefully out in front of him; his wrists are bound and he’s fitful without the stabilization of his arms, his feet staccatoed and flailing wildly beneath him as the Mandalorian marches him forward.

The wind shifts, and on it you can hear the bomber rant madly, only catching snippets of the vile nonsense that spews from him.“- like swine, they are a plague to the system! And they must be purged from this planet, and the next, and the next— every last filthy one!” You spare a glance to Hareem, to find her watching the scene in hypnotized horror, but your eyes snap back at the sound of something maniacal, drawing your attention. It’s laughter. The zealot begins to laugh a twisted, mocking cry that makes you want to vomit. “You might have me in binders Mandalorian, but you’re too late. You’re too late. This isn’t over!” He’s practically giggling, gleeful and demented. Disturbed. “You’ve only found one.”

Your blood runs cold.

Only one? Oneoneoneone, one what-

The realization hits you with a punch to your gut. He’s only detonated one of his bombs. Somewhere, nearby, there must be another.

Without another word, the Mandalorian whips the smaller man around, pulling him sharply by his collar to collide with his breastplate, completely dwarfing him with his beskar frame. “Where is it, X’elo?” Nothing. Only laughter. High pitched, terrible roars. He tries again, patience ebbing. “The bomb. Now.” X’elo’s head tilts back and he howls another crowing shriek, keeping private his own sick joke, as if clutching a secret to his chest with slimy hands.

The bounty hunter had heard enough. He clearly wasn’t getting anything more out of him, and with a quick strike, he rears his blaster and pistol whips the terrorist with it. The body drops. Volcur X’elo crumples, unconscious, blood streaming from where he was struck. You hear the Bardottan behind you stifle a cry with her fist.

And with that, Lothal’s sun disappears completely, stealing away the last of it’s light as it furls into itself, shrinking out of sight. The dark ushers a new wave of dread, creeping over Jortho like a miasma, poisoning the very air.

The Mandalorian wheels around, searching for his heading in the labyrinth of the town. Others have gathered now, poking their heads around corners, stealing glimpses through windows. He turns, his head on a swivel. “Where is your power generator?” he demands, addressing the small crowd, but you’re all too stunned to speak. “Anybody. Generator. Now.” There’s something new in his voice, something muddled, and it takes you a moment to interpret it. It’s desperation, you realize, tinny and deep through his vocoder, and with a surge of adrenaline you move forward, furthering yourself from your group. You swallow. “I-Its this way.” Upon hearing your voice, he spins around, his visor latching on to you, and with a nod you both set out.

“Watch him,” the Mandalorian growls past his shoulder, stepping over the bounty’s limp body.

///

You’re still not really sure how he knew where it’d be, you wonder to yourself, gravel crunching under foot as you both trudge on, an eery quiet settling over them. You’d say it was a lucky hunch, but judging by the way the Mandalorian carries himself, you doubt luck had much to do with it.

You had led him to the power generator hub on the other side of the sad excuse for a city, traveling in tense silence, and when you came upon that tall, bulky machine he sprang into action, circling it until he found what he was looking for. The bomb. You stood back, rooted there, and after some grunting and rewiring— or maybe he just hacked at it with a vibroblade, you had no idea; his wide frame engulfed his work and you couldn’t tell what he was up to, all you knew was that his methods proved successful— the man managed to disarm the second device. You had thought you noticed his shoulders release, slumping with relief, after the red flashing lights on the rudimentary interface flickered and then went dark.

And so here you are. The two of you, bathed in the bright light of Lothal’s twin moons, their bellies hanging full in the blue-black night, illuminating the trail of blood staining the dirt beneath your boots as the Mandalorian roughly drags the body by his ankle behind him— through the exploded rubble, through the fragmented lives of the people around you, already displaced and estranged. They’ll all have to move, you think, pack up their lives, or what little is left of them, and relocate. Again. The thought sinks in you like a stone, sobering you.

Even with the weight of a fully grown man to lug, the bounty hunter is still a few long strides in front of you and your eyes are trained on the unconscious form, taking in the way his mouth lolls open like an animal, his hair matted with thick blood, eyes rolled back into his head. You’re talking out loud before you even realize it.

“How sick do you have to be,” you mumble, transfixed. Your voice, it’s not angry; no, shock has effectively robbed you of that— it’s not anger, but bewilderment. Quivering, broken bewilderment.

“H-How hoodwinked and warped you’d have to be, how disturbed... For you to think like that. To do all... all this...”

“Hey,” his gruff voice shakes you from your trance, and you blink up at him, tearing your eyes off the body. “Focus,” he urges, and you can only nod dumbly back at him, suddenly feeling a ripple of nausea slither through you.

The ramp to his ship is lowering as they come upon it and you plant yourself at the base, feet seeming to stop on their own accord, and frankly you’re not really sure why you’ve even followed him this far in the first place— always a step behind him as he hauled his bounty all the way through the vestiges of Jortho, across the arid prairie to where he first touched down. Maybe it’s because you feel untethered, unmoored, and all of his steeled surety is like a lighthouse, a beacon, guiding you away from the rocks.

He heaves X’elo up the ramp and you’re left standing there, staring unseeingly into the durasteel, becoming more and more aware of the ringing in your ears. The longer time passes, the more it’s as if you’re underwater, the background blurring into the foreground, sound gargled and far away. A high pitched buzz pinches your ear drums, and it takes you a moment to realize the Mandalorian is calling out to you, trying to get your attention.

“— Dala.”

Does he sound annoyed? Kriff, you think he might... If you had your wits about you, you might be able to recognize it. But as it stands, you don’t. You’re not here, not all of you. You’re splintered. Suspended.

“Hmm? Sorry, what..?” Your mouth is as dry as Jakku— parched desert tongue darting across your cracked lip, tasting soot and ash and something metallic. Brow furrowed, you touch a shaky finger to the flesh and when you pull it back, crimson red dots your skin.

Oh, you think, numb. Huh.

Your eyes skitter back up to the Mandalorian, towering over you, nearly at the apex of the incline, and his stance is broad and his fists are clenched. You’re almost positive he’s glaring down at you through his visor, and you don’t even know the man, can’t even see his damn face, but you can tell he’s peeved— Maker, just how long had you been ignoring him?

A scratched noise comes through his helmet’s vocoder and his next words are clipped, punctuated. “I said, do you have a way off this skug hole?”

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troquantary · 3 years

Text

Edward Cullen: That Boy Ain’t Right

So I was doing a reread of @therealvinelle 's collection of Twilight metas, as one does, and in "Edward, Denial, and a Human Girlfriend" she mentions that she doesn't believe Edward is sane. I thought, "ha, yeah, he's definitely not," and also, "but wait, what does that mean exactly, please say more about that." But since she's already inundated with asks, I've decided to use my own head-muscle and explore this idea. (TL;DR: I start out more or less organized, synthesize some points Vinelle has made across several posts (and have hopefully linked to them all where relevant but please tell me if not), touch a little on narcissism, then take a hard left into the negative effects of being a telepath.)

Just a couple things to note at the outset, though. Theses have been written already (probably) about Edward as an abuser. Edward being insane doesn't negate that at all; he's definitely an asshole and just...a disaster of a human being. (I find it more funny than anything, but YMMV.) I'm also going to try to avoid talking specifically about mental illness and how it relates (or doesn't relate) to abusive behavior -- that's territory I'm not really equipped to discuss, like at all. My starting point is "Edward has a deeply warped perception of reality," not "Edward has X disorder."

So: deeply warped perception of reality. The evidence? Goes behind a cut, because my one character trait is Verbose.

Vinelle provides a great example of it in the post linked above, which I'll just quote because she does words good: "[Edward] keeps acting like his romance with Bella is a romantic tragedy, and all the cast of Twilight are actors on a stage making it as sublime as possible." Edward's the one to pursue Bella, but he does so with the full belief, from the very beginning, that it will never last; Bella will "outgrow" him, go on her human way, and he can spend the rest of eternity brooding magnificently over his too-short romantic bliss. [Insert premature ejaculation joke.] Turning her is never an option, even though Alice, Noted Psychic, says that romancing Bella will either end with her dead (exsanguinated) or dead (vampire).

This framing, where he's a dark anti-hero in love with -- but never tainting! -- the pure maiden and eventually leaving her in a grand, tragic sacrifice to preserve her soul? It's fucking bonkers. Bella isn't a person to him in this scenario. As Vinelle points out, Bella's never really a person to him at all; he falls in love with his own mental construct, cherry-picking from what he observes of her behavior and her responses to his 20 (thousand) Questions to convince himself that she is the ideal woman.

Bella's not the only one who gets the projection/cardboard-cutout treatment. Edward sees everything and everyone through a highly particular, personalized lens. He filters his entire reality, which we all do to an extent, but the thing with Edward is that he starts with his conclusions and then only pays attention to the evidence that supports those conclusions. Often that evidence consists of what he admits in New Moon are only "surface" thoughts -- but recognizing that limitation doesn't keep him from taking those thoughts as representative of what people are. Edward then becomes absolutely convinced by his own "reasoning" and won't be swayed from what he has decided is Objectively True. It's obvious with Bella; it's also painfully obvious with Rosalie. (Vinelle explains this and brings up Edward's raging Madonna/Whore complex in the same post, so refer to that again -- she's right.)

He also catastrophizes. Everything. Bella's just vibing in her room, rereading Wuthering Heights for the 87th time? She's gonna be hit by a meteor, better sneak into her room while she sleeps. Bella's going to the beach with the filthy mundanes their human classmates? She's gonna fall in the ocean. Jasper's cannibal pals are stopping by for a visit, but know not to hunt in the area? DISASTER, DEFCON 1, ALSO FUCK YOU JASPER FOR EVEN EXISTING IN MY AND BELLA'S SPHERE YOU UNSPEAKABLE BURDEN. Edward must believe that Bella is vulnerable and in near-constant peril, to support the reality he has created in which he is the villain turned protector and maybe?? hero??? (!!!) for his beloved. So when the actual, James-shaped danger arrives, he goes berserk, snarling and flipping his shit and generally not helping the situation. His fantasy demands that Bella remain human, so instead of doing the very thing Alice, Noted Psychic, assures him will neutralize the threat (and not just a threat to Bella, either, but to Bella's family and any other human James might decide to include in the "game"), he vetoes it immediately, no discussion. Bella Must Not Turn, and he sticks to those guns despite James nearly reducing her to ground beef, despite leaving Bella catatonic with depression (but human! success!) in New Moon, despite Aro's order and his family's vote and, let's not forget, Bella's clearly and repeatedly stated desire to be a vampire. It's going to happen. But he doesn't accept it until Renesmee busts out of Bella like the Kool-Aid man and the poor girl's heart finally, unequivocally stops.

Sane people don't behave this way. I don't want to slap labels on Edward, but I can't help but note that he comes across as highly narcissistic. He's the only real person in his universe, the lone player among us NPCs. That probably has a lot to do with him being frozen in the mindset and maturity of a seventeen-year-old boy, but I think it's also just...him, on some fundamental level. His failure to connect with others and recognize them as full, independent beings with their own wants and priorities isn't like Bella's failure -- she's badly depressed. Edward is...something else, and I get the sense that his sanity has been steadily deteriorating over time. And a cursory google of narcissistic traits turns up some familiar-looking stuff. He's self-loathing, yes, but also grandiose; he hates himself for the monster he is (and hates most vampires besides Esme and Carlisle for their monstrosity, too) but still feels superior to humans, to the extent that he felt entitled to human blood and resented Carlisle for depriving him of his "proper" diet. He eventually returns to Carlisle, but he's far from content -- the beginning of Midnight Sun finds him in a state of ennui, bored and dismissive of (if not outright disgusted by) everyone around him, that has apparently persisted for years and years. He doesn't play the piano, he doesn't compose, he doesn't enjoy anything...at least until Bella comes along and then he becomes obsessed to a disturbing degree with her and his new, romantic tragedy spin on reality.

[Next-day edit: I’m not sure where else to fit this in, but the way Edward casually contemplates violence against people who have, at best, mildly annoyed him is...chilling. I have a hard time writing off his strategizing how to murder the entire Biology class as a result of bloodlust -- it’s so calculated, nothing like the blackout state of thirst Emmett describes when he encountered his own “singer,” and that is probably the default for when a vampire is extremely thirsty. But even ignoring the Biology class incident, Edward still does things like consider, with disturbing frequency, how he might grievously injure or kill Mike Newton, all because...Edward considers him his romantic rival (despite Bella barely giving the kid the time of day). He thinks about slapping Mike through a wall, which might be an amusing slapstick image, except as a vampire Edward’s actually capable of turning this boy’s skeleton to a fine powder. So it’s, y’know, kind of sick when you think about it.

But even worse than that, when Bella tells Edward about how she flirted with Jacob to get at that sweet, sweet vampire lore, Edward chuckles and then, after dropping Bella home, flippantly observes that now that the treaty’s broken, why not genocide? I’m not even kidding, it’s right there in Midnight Sun; he seriously thinks about the fact that he’d be technically justified now in wiping out the entire tribe because a teenager tried to impress a girl with a spooky story. That is fucked. Remember, Edward was there with Carlisle when the treaty was first established. He knows how remarkable it is that they even came to a truce in the first place, that it was only ever possible because Carlisle is...well, Carlisle, and that it marks a pretty significant moment in supernatural history. He doesn’t care; he doesn’t respect it, or he’d never think something like “Ha ha, if I went and killed them all, I wouldn’t even be wrong. I mean, I won’t do it, but I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be wrong.”

Again: not the thought process or behavior of a sane person. (Or a person that respects life in general -- sorry Carlisle, big L.)]

Finally, whether he's a narcissist or not, I think the fact that Edward has constant, unavoidable access to everyone's thoughts is a powerful contributing factor to his instability. He can tune out the mental noise to an extent, but he can't stop it -- so he comes to rely on it like another sense. This causes issues with disconnect and lack of empathy, of course, but there's another facet to this shit diamond: he's basically experiencing a ceaseless flow of intrusive thoughts. His narration in Midnight Sun suggests that he "hears" the words people think, can "see" what they visualize in their mind's eye, and can sense the emotional "tone" and intensity of their thoughts. Therefore, perceiving Jasper's thirst through his thoughts makes Edward more aware of his own, "doubling" the discomfort. This would be a lot to deal with even from just his immediate coven members, but Edward gets all of this pouring into his head like a firehose on a day-to-day basis because the Cullens live right alongside humans. I know Meyerpires have galaxy brains or whatever, but that's a ton to process.

Besides the compounding effect on his own thirst when he "feels" the thirst of others, Meyer never suggests that Edward has difficulty separating his own thoughts from other people's; even when he was newly turned, he recognized Carlisle's "voice" in his head as Carlisle's. That would create a whole different host of issues around identity, but it looks like Edward's escaped that particular torment. However, I can easily imagine that what he does experience is just shy of unbearable nonetheless, with an eroding effect on his sanity over decades. He can't sleep to escape it; he's on a dishwater diet and probably (like the rest of his family) experiencing a perpetual, low-grade physical discomfort due to his thirst never being fully satisfied; and he's around far more people than is the norm for vampires -- even discounting all the humans, his own coven is unusually large -- meaning more noise.

Honestly, it would be weirder if he were all there, considering.

And even though I feel like I lost a sense of structure around where I started ranting about telepathy, I've written like 1.5k words about Edward fucking Cullen and I think that's enough for one post.

#twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight meta #edward cullen #i stared too long and the twilight abyss gazed back #long post #major credit due to therealvinelle for having basically all the ideas already #theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin too since they agree and build off each other's metas a lot #idk how people who write meta can just crank these posts out i've been here for two hours #edited to add stuff i forgot to mention about edward's disproportionately violent fantasies

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sslow-dancer · 3 years

Note

hi! can i request a one shot with polnareff x reader but he’s still stuck as the turtle but a twist like the princess and the frog? the reader kisses the turtle and he comes back to being his old (part 3) self because the reader is the one? lots of fluff plzzz? ty ;w;

A/N: Okay but this idea is so unbelievably cute?! I apologize for taking forever to get it done. I went a bit deep and overboard with the storyline on a request that is so simple and I’m pretty sure this is my longest one up to date actually BUT- it’s whatever. There’s plenty of fluff near the end, I promise. I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it too!! 🤍

(If this flops, I will be so sad omg)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re The One, My Love.” (Jean Pierre Polnareff x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse and depression

tags: gender-neutral, gender-inclusive, jean pierre polnareff x reader, turtle pol, magical, kiss, twist, slight angst, sfw, fluff

Description: One day after having to escort Polnareff as orders from your boss, you begin to grow quite fond of him. During your usual hangouts, you jokingly offer to kiss him as a way to recreate one of your favorite fairytales.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You giggle as Jean pulls you into a kiss, you feel him smile as he holds your face gently. You’re happy to see the man you love not be as serious and hurt as he was when you first met him. Your expression reminiscent of the memories shared between you before this moment.

~A Year Before~

Your personal servant had drawn the curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, body awaken by the bright sunlight shining from your windows and murmurs outside your bedroom. You groaned in frustration as you threw a pillow at him, he managed to catch it and place it back by your bed frame. You huffed,

“Didn’t boss say I have the week off? I’m allowed to sleep in.” you stated blankly, remembering how you had the strong urge to strangle him for ruining your slumber. He shook his head as he sat by the edge of your bed and pointed at the clock that stood on top of your nightstand. You distinctly remember the screen marked 7:25AM exactly. You sighed as you thought you could’ve at least slept in by 10. You sat up and criss crossed your legs and played with the lose strings of your blanket as he replied.

“Technically you do, but today is last minute and different. Sr. Giovanna wants you to escort out a close individual he works with today by 8.”

Frustrated, you plopped your hands down onto your lap and rolled your eyes as you said back,

“Not to be bratty but...can’t he just do that himself or get one of you to do it?” you raised your pointers and middle fingers to create air quotations “This individual must be pretty important if not even the boss can take care of it.”

Your servant shut his eyes and sighed. After what you had just told him, deep down you felt bad about how much he had to deal with your bull on a daily basis- not to mention your constant grumbling in the morning whether he woke you or not. Either way, you were pretty grumpy most mornings. He shook his head again.

“It’s not that either. Sr. Giovanna could easily lead him out but he’s currently finishing business with other people in the country. Sr. Mista is with him as well so you’re the only one we have present. They both must attend all meetings, they are not to miss one.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t answer my question. What’s so important about him or her or whatever the hell they go by?”

“I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.” He said finally as he patted your bed as a way to non-verbally tell you to get ready.

You huffed when he exited the room, plopping your back down hard into the foamy mattress. You roughly grabbed at the pillow you had thrown earlier and placed it over your face, you screamed into it for a good 10 seconds.

Looking back, were you being a little too dramatic? Yes, sure- of course. It’d make anyone cringe if they were to had witnessed it though you didn’t really mind. You were still maturing anyway. You were still getting used to the life Giorno Giovanna and Guido Mista had offered and gladly given to you.

Before meeting your boss Giovanna and his right hand man Mista, you had been living life miserably at home. Though before anyone asks, no: your parents were not abusive, no: your siblings weren’t either, no: nor were your friends or teachers. You had just become very distressed with the life you were leading on. You didn’t like the person you were and were expected to become. Anxiety took over rather unexpectedly. So what did you do when you had enough? You moved on to drugs.

You were surprised to find out how easy it was for a person in their late teens to gain access towards those terrible substances. But none the less, you later learned your dealer was from the mafia known as “Passione.”

Was it dangerous for you to have figured out that information? Yes. However, you remained cautious and never told a soul...until one day you bumped into the now late capo, Bruno Bucciarati.

You were walking down your local dealing alleyway, hands in pockets and school bag still in sight. You usually dealt after school as many adults were distracted by the kids that filled up the streets. Thus making them barely notice the illegal activity going on as a large number of students would walk down alleyways as a shortcut to their home. You were swift in paying back and receiving your desired substances anyway.

All of a sudden you heard a distant call, a call out of your name. You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to look at the direction from where the call was coming from, that’s when you saw him. He stood a few feet from you.

“I’m glad I was able to find you...my name is Bruno Bucciarati. Your parents sent me to look for you, they’ve mentioned to me that you’ve been coming home late from school lately.”

You only shrugged and completely ignored his claim. You began walking away but were stopped again when he said,

“Leaky eyed Luca deals with you, doesn’t he?”

You kept your gaze forward and your back turned away from Bruno. Turning your head slightly over your shoulder, you mumbled,

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

Without having to look at him, you knew he had tilted his head when he answered.

“That depends. If you answer honestly, no trouble will occur. I’ll remain calm with you, that is a promise.”

You blinked, sighing as you kicked at the small pebbles near your feet, staring at your shoes as you thought about what he said.

You had been dealing with Luca and you knew that his business was risky. Though you didn’t care. You felt that you needed to get the drugs you wanted pronto and Luca was the only one who would give them to you quickly. You shook your head, deciding to give up as you didn’t want anyone to notice you both speaking. You turned to face him and quietly replied,

“Yes, he deals with me. He’s the provider, I’m the receiver.”

Bruno smiled, satisfied with your answer.

He followed up with informing you that Luca had been killed at a local airport and was told to investigate his death. He didn’t provide too many details as to the cause of his death but you didn’t feel like asking anyway. Bruno admitted he came to speak to you as hours prior one of your parents really did come to speak to him about your behavior. After connecting some dots, he suspected you had something to do with Luca’s death as you were not attending school and were gone for most of the day. Not to mention, your teachers had called your parents that day as well.

Luckily, he was able to clear you out as a suspect as you cooperated with him and weren’t sweaty or completely jittery. He also gave you a little talk about using drugs. He promised he wouldn’t tell your parents that you got yourself involved in that abusive life if you promised to not buy more again.

You truly felt at the time that he was the only one who understood and cared for you in just the short time you met him. Your eyes watered as you complied with Bruno, promising to do what he suggested. A promise you have held onto forever.

After some investigating of your own, you found out that it was your future boss that killed Luca. You were rather impressed than angry that he was able to kill him. You honestly believed Luca would never be caught.

Back to the day you had to escort this individual- after some more complaining and grumpy remarks towards everyone in the household, you were finally ready to meet them. Your personal servant led you to the front door. He made sure to quietly remind you to be polite.

Your attention turned to another servant walking down the stairs towards your direction. A pillow in hand with a piece of cloth covering whatever was on top it. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, laughing as you sarcastically remarked,

“Is this some kind of joke? It’s not April, is it?”

“No, but I guess this household treating me with the upmost respect is.”

Your eyes widen. ‘Did that thing under the cloth just speak?” you asked yourself.

The servant removed the cloth and there revealed a turtle. A turtle with a key-shaped hole embedded on its shell. You almost assumed that the turtle smirked at you when he added,

“I know, don’t be too surprised. I plan to get out of this animal once my soul decides to give up. I haven’t always looked like this, ya know.”

Your mouth gaped open as to say something, but you quickly shut it as you didn’t know how to reply. He chuckled,

“Hand me over to them, we’ll talk more when we get to my destination.”

You hesitantly took the pillow from the servant’s hands and remained in shock as you walked out the door. You were careful not to drop him as you got down to the front gates. Gulping as you asked,

“So...my servant wasn’t that specific on me having to leave you in the car or actually riding with you. It’s kind of my fault as I don’t like to listen and talk in the morning...”

You nervously laughed as he looked up to you. He replied,

“It’s quite alright. I was told you have to ride with me. But don’t worry, you won’t have to stay for long. It’s only around a 10 minute ride.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You sat behind the passenger seat and placed the pillow in the middle, right next to your side.

The ride was relatively quiet, you looked out the window as you kept a fist under your chin. Your expression showed that of concern. You were too nervous to say anything. Even though he had joked back earlier, you were afraid he didn’t like you as his voice stayed stern throughout your small talk. You were afraid you had offended him in some way.

Your mood changed when the driver alerted that you had arrived. You thanked him as he opened the door for you, your hands grasped the pillow tightly so the talking turtle wouldn’t fall. You asked him with a small voice.

“Is there anywhere you’d like for me to set you?”

“Yes... put me on top of that balcony over there. I want to look at the lake.”

“Of course.”

You did as he said and sat him on the balcony. Your eyes gleamed when you caught sight of the glimmering water and greenery of the setting. You’ve always known that Italy is one of the most beautiful places in the world but at that time you had forgotten and were fascinated all over again. Like when a child sees a playground for the first time.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, you nodded.

“Yes, it really is. It’s no wonder you asked me set you on here.”

“Yes... I wanted to look at one more beautiful sight before I go. Like I said earlier, my soul is no longer fit to be here, so I might as well admire my surroundings for now.”

Your mind quickly became curious after he said that. You wanted to know more behind what he meant. You weren’t going back to that car until you got answers. So to make things easy, you started off with asking his name.

“If you don’t mind... would you like to tell me your name?”

“It’s Jean. Jean Pierre Polnareff.”

‘So he’s French.’ you remember thinking, his accent wasn’t too thick but you assumed and your assumption was right. After that, you went on to tell him your name and your experiences before meeting boss Giorno Giovanna. He shared the same with you.

You talked for so long in fact that you paid off the driver of your assigned car to go back and finish his shift early, promising them that you’ll find a ride later yourself.

You ended off the chatty night with placing Jean under a nearby bench and waving at him. You were saddened but Jean said he enjoyed your company so much that he’ll try to stay for longer and that you’re welcome to come him visit him everyday.

And so you did.

For months you came by to talk to him. You were happy to see that his soul wasn’t giving up yet- you knew you would cry if it were to one day. You had come to realize that you love him but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you. You had only seen his face once- that was the day he decided to show you the physical embodiment of his soul.

You thought (and still think) he was so beautiful. The missing of bottom limbs and blindness in one eye did not bother you at all. His white-silver hair, style and personality is what did it for you. What it did to make you fall in love with his vanity and him. Just him. Jean himself.

~A Year Later~

It’s been a year now and as per usual, you spent half your days speaking to Jean by that same lake you were ordered to drive him to.

Boss Giovanna and Mista have noticed how fast you are in missions since then. They appreciate that you get things done but they still remain curious as to why you’re more happy and less grumpy than you were before. Though they don’t bother to ask, as they’re kind and don’t want to ruin your pure joy.

Today isn’t particularly different. All you had done earlier in the day was speak to a few citizens in town and dealt with giving details to your boss about a certain drug epidemic at a school. Nothing too out of the ordinary, a situation like this occurred at your old school too years back. Your duties were basically done once you learned information got to police.

You drive down to the park where the lake is at, smiling when you see a familiar small green circle on the balcony, looking over the glimmering waters. You park in the nearest lot and lock your car after getting out. You excitedly run over to Jean and smile when he turns his little head to greet you.

“I’m glad you’ve come again.” he says with a smile.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” you reply in a genuine tone.

You go on to talk about random topics and subjects as you always do. The conversation moving onto favorite pieces of literature and genres.

You roll your eyes in embarrassment as you tell him your most favorite one- one that is a fairytale and goes by the name of “The Frog Prince.”

“Well... it’s very fem of me but I really enjoy fairytales. Especially the ones from the Grimm brothers. My favorite is actually “The Frog Prince”

You place your elbow on the rail and use a hand to cover your burning cheek. Hoping that the redness rushing to your face won’t be noticed by Jean and that the sunset covers it up. Jean only laughs and hopes to comfort you when he says,

“Oh, that’s fine. Who cares if it’s feminine? They’re very well written stories and people shouldn’t be ashamed for what they like. I admire that your favorite genre is fairytale, you don’t hear people say that as often, you know?”

His words do comfort you and you thank him for that. He welcomes you and you feel like you’re actually looking into his sapphire eyes. The ones you fell in love with so long ago. You speak up before you’re even able to fully think.

“Say, the frog prince and the princess kissing, huh? Why don’t we kiss and see if it turns you back?”

Shit.

‘Did I really just ask that?’ you ask yourself ‘What the actual hell is wrong with you?!”

“I don’t see why not...”

“Huh?”

You’re stunned. You thought he would get offended for spurting out such a stupid thing. Of course your request won’t work- that shit is from a story book. It’s pure fiction. This is real life.

He’s a turtle now and you’re a human. You can’t and you won’t kiss him. You raise your hands up in defense.

“Hey, no! No need to play along after saying something so stupid to make me feel better. I just blurted that out I’m so sorry-“

“No, it’s okay. And I’m not playing along, I’m being serious. Go ahead. I’ve grown to like you a lot, a small kiss wouldn’t hurt.”

This answer is not what you expected. You nervously fiddle with your fingers as you look around. You sigh as you give in.

“Fine. I like you a lot too and I’ll do it. Let me just-“

You lift up the top half of Jean, his front turtle legs up in the air and his little face staring up at you. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, you slowly lean in and- kiss✨

The turtle falls out of your grasp. You stop puckering your lips and open your eyes. In a panicked state, you frantically look over the balcony and both sides of you to find him. You look forward and gasp. You grab at the railings to hold you steady.

There sits a groaning man on his knees. He rubs at his neck as he silently curses to himself, blinking fast and harshly as he tries to understand what’s going on around him. It’s dark now but the moon shines bright enough for you to get a better glimpse of him. You furrow your eyebrows as you slowly recognize who he is- Jean.

He has that same white-silver hair, sapphire eyes, big stature though the only difference is no eye glass in sight and his “legs” aren’t made out of metal.. they’re completely real. Flesh and all and you know that blood flows right through them like the rest of his body.

“J-Jean?” you whisper.

The man doesn’t hear you. All he does is groan and cross his legs in front of him. He stretches his arms and looks over any possible injuries on him.

“Jean.” you say again, louder this time.

He finally looks up at you. And there they are, those sapphire eyes you love so much. That face you’ve grown to be so fond off. His expression more than surprised. Though that expression quickly changes and softens- his eyes crease and a small smile appears. He says your name. And you tear up after he does.

He attempts to get up but his legs give up on him. You sprint to his side before he falls, letting him use your shoulders as support. He blushes.

“I’m sorry... I haven’t had real legs in years. Apparently I forgot how to use them...”

His voice is softer than before, the sternness isn’t there. He sounds younger almost. You giggle, as you use a hand to wipe at the tears of your eyes.

“Okay, I think I can stand now. Let go of me so I can look at you fully.”

You do as he says and as you watch him wobble, you reach out to help again but he shakes his head, waving your hands off as he’s able to maintain balance. You grin proudly when he does.

Jean turns to face you, he clasps your hands together and brings them up to his lips. You blush as he proceeds to hold them over his heart. He looks at you with pure love in his eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. What you suggested was silly but it worked.”

“Yes, you’re welcome...” you say softly, looking down. He makes you look up again.

“You’re the one, my love. You always have been and always will be. My feelings for you started when we first met, I meant what I said. I have grown to like you a lot though it’s more than “like”- it’s love. And I’m so happy to know you feel the same way.”

You tear up at this and hug him. He hugs you back and you can’t believe that he does.

The turtle is no more and you have your true love back to human form.

He raises your chin up with his thumb and pointer, he kisses you and you kiss him back. The kiss long and meaningful.

You’re happy to know that the man you love, loves you too.

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mint-yooxgi · 4 years

Text

Rumours - Yandere!Fuckboi!Lucas X Reader

Yandere AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Smut (Masturbation, this one is pretty sexual)

Pairing: Lucas X Reader

Words: 14,505

Warnings: This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Heyyo! After months of nothing I present... something!!! I know it’s not exactly the ficmas I promised, but here’s one of the fics I had planned for it! I’m pretty happy with the way this one turned out, he’s definitely not as intense as some of my other yanderes on my blog, but I like it. This one definitely turned out longer than I expected, so I really hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

There are always three rules he tells them before they fuck.

Number one: no leaving marks on his skin. He hates having to try and cover them up in front of you, or try and explain that they don’t mean anything to him. You never believe him, and the last thing he wants to do is to push you away any further than you already seem. Besides, the only one that he wants to mark his skin like that is you.

Number two: never say his name. It sounds wrong coming off of anyone else’s lips that aren’t yours in these situations. He usually pictures you the whole time anyways, and their voice just takes the fun out of everything. Besides, it only manages to pull him back to the reality that it’s not you with him. Yet.

Number three: do not fake anything. He doesn’t need them to pretend to be enjoying things in order to stroke his ego. No. He wants to know that he’s actually good at what he’s doing. That way he can do, and be, his best when he’s finally able to be with you. Knowing how to properly please someone and recognize their reactions is the first step, otherwise it would become annoying with how many times people would attempt to exaggerate their noises and reactions. He needs to know that when he finally gets to be with you after all of these others, that it will leave you breathless, desperate, and craving his touch.

Currently, he finds himself in one of these situations. One hand tangled in the hair of some girl who’s name he can’t remember as he fucks her from behind. He can feel her meeting his every thrust, and he can hear the whimpers she lets out into the pillow that her face is pressed into. He can tell she’ll never forget this, as he’s been the best fuck she’s had, she told him so herself.

For a fleeting moment, he allows himself to close his eyes. Picturing the same thing he does every time he finds himself in these situations. He envisions that you’re with him right now, and not some random girl he picked up at a party that night. He almost lets a groan slip passed his lips, but he bites them in order to contain it.

He always makes sure to keep as quiet as he can during these times, as he believes that you’re the only one deserving of hearing his sounds. Occasionally, a few do slip past his lips if he allows himself to fantasize about you for too long, but he’s gotten better at containing them around others for the time being.

With a loud cry of his name, he can feel her coming around him.

Immediately, he’s ripped out of his fantasy with you, stopping any and all of his movements. It’s deadly quiet in the room now, the only sounds coming from their deep breaths.

“What did I tell you?” His is voice low, full of frustration as he gets denied right before his own release.

“Fuck-“ she pants, “I’m sorry, I don’t know wh-“

He cuts her off, “get out.”

“What-“ her eyes widen as she pushes herself up onto her hands, feeling him pull out of her from behind.

“I said, get out!” His brows are furrowed in distaste as his voice echoes around the room.

Hurriedly, she scrambles off of the bed and grabs her clothes. She can tell he’s fuming as he stands there watching her flee after throwing her clothes on, dick still painfully hard and throbbing for release.

Hearing the click of his front door falling shut, he lets out a sigh. Running his fingers through his hair, Lucas tilts his head back and lets out a frustrated ‘fuck’. He was this close to finishing, and she had to go and break one of his rules, and while he was thinking of you, no less.

Stomping through his apartment, he quickly locks the front door, ensuring he has complete privacy, while also making sure that she can’t come storming back in. Not that she would, but he’d rather be safe. He’s had a few others do that even after they’ve broken his rules and he’s kicked them out, and he doesn’t want a repeat of those times.

Making it back to his room, he walks immediately into his adjacent bathroom to have a shower. He wants to wash this girl’s touch off of him, and besides, he does still want to finish.

Turning the water on, he waits for it to heat up slightly, and grabs a small bottle from underneath his sink. Stepping into the shower once the water is a decent temperature, he places the bottle he’s grabbed to the side, letting out another sigh as he allows the water to fall over his back. Running his fingers through his now wet hair, he lets out another sigh.

The first thing he does is grab the bottle he’s brought into the shower with him, opening it and allowing its familiar floral scent to fill his nostrils. It’s the same soap that you use, and he knows it’ll be able to comfort him right now.

He got lucky. One day in class he overheard you talking to your friend, Jordan, about this new soap you got from the store. Ever since, he’s noticed that that’s the scent you use, or at least, that’s what it smells like each time he manages to get close enough to you that he can faintly breath it in. Thus, the next time he went out, he made sure to grab a bottle. This way, he could use the soap for times like these, when he wants to be wrapped in your scent and feel a comfort only you can provide for him. It isn’t much, but it’s something.

How he wishes it could be you instead. You, who managed to captivate him the moment he first laid eyes upon you in first year. He managed to trip over his own two feet, making a fool of himself in front of you. However, instead of laughing like everyone else did, you came over to make sure he was okay. Granted, you did let out a few chuckles when he clumsily introduced himself, but he heard you call him cute, which only caused his ears to turn a vibrant shade of red in embarrassment.

If only Eunji hadn’t chosen that moment to come up to him and ask him about the night they shared over the weekend, and if anything was going to come out of it. He’s pretty sure he looked like a deer in headlights as she stood there looking expectantly at him, you shuffling from foot to foot awkwardly the whole while.

Unfortunately, your friend soon came running up to you to steer you clear of him. Jordan knew all too well about his building reputation around campus, having had another friend who had experienced it themselves. He had to sit through class overhearing Jordan tell you how bad he is, and how he’ll just fuck you and leave you hanging, because that’s what he does. Little did any of you know that he’d come to realize that he’d never do that to you. No, never you.

Since that day, he's tried to get closer to you to ask you out on a proper date, but circumstances never worked out in his favour. You would either be dragged away by Jordan, or whichever friend you’re with, or he would be interrupted again by someone else wanting to be more than just a one night stand to him. The worst few times were when he finally did manage to talk to you without interruption, only for you to point out the hickies that had been left on his neck. That caused him to start the no marking rule shortly after that incident.

Clenching his jaw, he lets the water wash the soap from his skin. This was supposed to be relaxing, but instead, thinking about all of his failed attempts at asking you out is only serving to make him more tense. He needs to distract himself, and fast.

Now, instead of focussing on the negative memories he has with you, he focusses on the positives. Like how just the other day, you met his gaze, only for your eyes to widen with the cutest expression on your face. Or how he overheard your laughter in the food court yesterday, your expression screaming nothing but pure joy. At that, he manages to crack a small smile, his heart warming in his chest at the thought of him being able to make you laugh and smile like that for him someday.

Fuck, how he just wants to kiss you. So badly he wishes you were here with him now, so he could press you up against the wall and make you see stars. He wants to know what your skin feels like beneath his fingertips, what your hands feel like gripping his hair, but especially, he wants to know what his name sounds like as you scream it for all to hear in ecstasy, letting everyone know that you’re his, and that only he can make you feel this good.

His thoughts, along with the smell of you that’s surrounding him during this time is enough to send him over the edge. He comes with a low moan of your name, eyes closed in bliss as he allows himself to indulge in his fantasies. At least he manages to come with a smile on his face, though he would have preferred opening his eyes to see you, instead of the grimy tiles of his shower once more.

Cleaning himself up quickly, he turns off the water. Grabbing a towel, he dries himself off before wrapping it around his waist and heading back out to his room. Checking his phone, he notices that it’s just past three in the morning.

Letting out another sigh as he pulls on some loose sweats, he hops back into bed. He’ll worry about changing the sheets tomorrow. After all, he does have work later, and he’s already been late the past two times in a row.

Later that day, he groggily makes his way into work. He just manages to make it on time so as not to get reamed out by his manager again, greeting his coworkers with a small wave. Although it isn’t much working at the coffee place on campus, he enjoys it, especially when he gets to work with his best friend, Jongin.

“Late night?” Jongin quirks a knowing eyebrow at Lucas as they both tie their aprons around their waists.

“You know it,” Lucas jokes, smirk evident on his face.

“Damn, another one?” Jongin teases.

“Had to kick her out,” Lucas shrugs.

“You really are heartless, man,” Jongin shakes his head, grin still on his lips as he moves over to take orders.

Lucas says nothing as he moves over to start making drinks for the customers. He notices a few regulars sitting in their usual places inside, and soon he’s busy preparing himself for the rush they usually get just after classes get let out in a few minutes. A few people come in just to see him, and everyone at the café knows it. He has this unique charisma with the clientele, especially the ladies, whom he enjoys casually flirting with. He guesses that’s also what adds on to his reputation, but he just thinks of it as practice for when he gets to finally make you shy from his flirtations towards you. To him, they all mean nothing when compared to you.

Occasionally, during rush, Lucas will loose himself in his work, humming along lowly to whatever song is playing as he calls out name after name. There have been a few times where people will purposely graze his hand as he hands them their drink, but he’s gotten used to it by now that he pays no mind. Again, it means nothing to him, though he wishes people would stop, and notice that he’s not interested.

He’s just finished making two iced caramel macchiatos when he finally takes notice of the name on the cups. Sure enough, looking up, he meets gazes with Jordan, though you’re nowhere in immediate sight. He notices their eyes narrow at him as he hands them the two drinks, thanking him curtly. Normally wherever Jordan is, you’re not far behind.

Eyes follow Jordan out of the café, Lucas now distracted as he attempts to find you. Sure enough, you’re standing just outside the door, waiting for Jordan as they approach you with your drinks. The smile he sees you wear after grabbing your drink makes his heart warm, for there’s a part of him that knows that you smiled because of him.

A small cry of pain escapes his lips as he drops the cup he’s holding. He clutches his now scalding hand in his free one, gritting his teeth as he moves to pick up the dropped cup. In his dazed state, he managed to pour steamed milk onto his hand, too distracted by watching you just through the window.

“Woah, Lucas, you okay, man?” His one coworker asks him, helping him clean up the mess.

“I’m good,” he gets out, tossing the now ruined drink into the garbage.

His coworker only shoots him another concerned glance before they get back to work, nothing but the faint sting of the burn on his hand serving as a reminder that you were smiling because of him only minutes ago. If only he could see you again, but you’re gone as soon as he looks back over to the spot which you were standing in before he spilt the drink.

The rest of his shift passes by slowly, the fatigue from the previous night catching up to him the more he has to deal with each rush that comes in. All he wants is to see you again, and spend more time with you, but he can’t.

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that Jordan probably told you to wait outside for them while they got your drinks. Jordan is purposely making you avoid him, so he wouldn’t put it past them to do something like that. If only he would be so lucky as to serve you himself.

His eyes widen slightly as realization crosses his features. He now knows a drink order that you like. In all his months working at the café, you’ve rarely come in while he’s been working, so he’s never been able to flirt with you while making you a drink. Now that he knows you like iced caramel macchiatos, he can bring you some during class. Maybe that will show you how serious he is about you. Either way, he knows that the next time the two of you have class together, he’s bringing you a drink. Maybe he’ll even slip you his number if he gets a chance. Perhaps he’ll even write it on the cup.

A small grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he continues working. This plan is perfect. It most definitely can’t go wrong! He’ll show you, even in the most subtle a way as this, that he can take care of you. He can, and will, always provide for you anything you may ever want or need.

That evening once he gets home, he sets to cleaning his apartment. He’s decided that before anything else, he’s going to make his apartment look and smell nice. Who knows what might happen in the coming weeks, and if by chance you happen upon his home while it’s a mess, he’s be so embarrassed. All he wants to do is impress you, even in the most basic of ways.

He falls asleep that night to fresh sheets on his bad, clutching his pillow tightly to his chest and picturing that it’s you that he’s holding. He indulges in his fantasies as he tends to do with you, and imagines running his fingers through your hair as you fall asleep in his arms. In every sense, he wants you: to love, to cherish, to hold. Nothing could ever change that. He only wishes you were actually here.

Two days later, he prepares himself for what he’s about to do. Taking a deep breath, he clutches the cool drink tighter in his hand, allowing the feeling to ground him as he walks up to where you’re currently sitting before class starts with Jordan beside you.

“Hey, (Y/n),” he greets with a lopsided grin, “how’d you make out with the document analysis that was due yesterday?”

“Not too bad, I think,” you smile politely back at him as Jordan squeezes your thigh lightly underneath the table. “How’d you find it?”

He knows you’re probably just being polite at this point, since a few people have turned to stare, wanting to know if you’re going to fall for his ‘game’ or not. He nearly rolls his eyes at the thought. With you, it’s never a game, and it never would be. Jordan, on the other hand, might beg to differ.

“Glad I just got it done on time,” he shrugs casually.

Truth be told, he’s actually a fairly decent student, and this is his favourite class for two reasons. One, you’re in it, and he can sit close by to you for two hours every week. Two, he actually likes the material of the course. In fact, it’s one of his highest grades right now.

“Is there something we can help you with, Wong?” Jordan’s voice cuts in before he can get in another word.

“Actually, yeah,” Lucas smirks, eyes shining as he notices Jordan’s eyes shift suspiciously to the drink he’s been holding in his hand. Looking directly into your eyes, his expression softens into a smile, “I got this for you.”

Your own eyes widen as he places the coffee on the table beside your notes. Your heart warms at the gesture, but your words seem stuck in your throat for the time being. However, the longer you go just looking at Lucas with those wide eyes, the less confident he becomes.

Did he do the right thing? What if you don’t actually like this drink? Why do you keep staring at him with those eyes? Fuck, if his heart wasn’t racing before, it sure is hammering away in his chest now.

The whole time, questions race through your head as well. Jordan has told you countless times that he doesn’t care for anyone but himself, refusing to do anything for anyone. Jordan has you convinced that Lucas isn’t the kind of guy to just do something out of the goodness of his heart, for they’re sure he doesn’t have one. However, now, you’re not so sure if everything that Jordan has told you about him is true. Maybe he’s not so bad of a guy after all. Maybe he’s just misunderstood.

“I mean, uh-“ he stammers before your voice pulls him back to earth.

“Thanks, Lucas, that’s really sweet of you,” you smile at him, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt.

His heart skips a beat as he sees that genuine look of happiness on your face, finally directed at him. He feels as if his whole world has stopped, and it’s just the two of you now in the classroom. Nothing could pull him out of this feeling right now, and he can feel a small heat rising up his neck.

“It was nothing,” he tries to play it off cooly, and he just manages not to stutter over his words.

You’re about to say something else, until Jordan beats you to it, and he feels his momentary bliss shattering around him.

“Nice try, dickwad, but it’s not going to work,” they spit, and you watch his expression fall briefly before turning into one of annoyance. “She can’t be bought.”

Before Lucas can retaliate, the professor is walking into the classroom, preparing to begin the lecture. Instead, he ops to shoot a glare at Jordan, letting out an annoyed sigh as he moves to take his seat two rows behind the two of you. He can faintly hear the two of you arguing about him now, and he chooses to tune into that instead of whatever the professor is going to be drawling on about today.

“Jordan, I can’t believe you would say that, he’s just trying to be nice,” you scold, reaching for the drink before they smack your hand away.

“He just wants to get in your pants, (Y/n), and he’ll do whatever he can to seduce you in order to succeed,” they retort.

“I don’t know, this seemed pretty genuine to me,” you mumble as Jordan reaches for the drink instead.

“Think about it, hun,” they continue. “It’s a little creepy how not even two days ago I got us this exact drink at the school café, of which he was working at, and now he shows up to our only shared class with the same drink. Is that not suspicious to you?”

“Why can’t you just give him the benefit of the doubt,” you sigh. “Maybe he’s just trying to impress me?”

He smirks at this. You couldn’t have been more accurate if you tried.

“Well, if so, then do you think he remembered to use lactose free milk?” They counter. “If he cares that much, he should have remembered that one of the drinks was made with lactose free milk, considering he made them. It would have been a fifty-fifty chance on who would have needed that, so to be safe, if he was observant, he should have gotten it for you with that in mind.”

His expression falls. He didn’t even think of that. He was so out of it that day that he doesn’t even remember which milk he used for each. Lucas was too caught up in the thought of seeing you, and then actually catching you smiling, that he forgot all about that. Clenching his jaw, he curses himself.

“If he didn’t, it’s an honest mistake,” you say.

“I don’t know why you’re so intent on defending him, he’s not a good guy, (Y/n),” Jordan shakes their head as you frown slightly.

“I still feel bad,” you whisper. “He did get me a drink, and I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Just as you’re about to reach for it again, they smack your hand once more, “oh, no you don’t. You’ll literally die if you drink that.”

“Well, I don’t want it to go to waste,” you reiterate, frown more prominent now.

“Fine,” they sigh. “I’ll drink it then.”

“Okay,” you nod slowly, a small frown on your face as you watch as Jordan slides the cup closer to themselves.

The whole time, Lucas is fuming. Not only is he mad at himself for not remembering something as significant as making your drink properly, but he’s furious that your drink is now being consumed by Jordan. Though, he’s more upset around the circumstances that led to this, than you not actually drinking the coffee. The last thing he wants to do is be the reason for your discomfort in any situation.

He’s also upset about the fact that Jordan only seems to be pushing you away from him. From the sounds of things, you do want to give him a chance, and fuck, if the way you looked at him earlier was any indication how you felt towards him, he’d be right there to sweep you off of your feet in an instance. Maybe him and all his subtleties towards you are actually working. No matter, the next time he’ll just have to make sure to get your drink right, and make sure Jordan isn’t around to ruin things for him.

Except, he’s not expecting the rumour that arises within the next week, and once he hears Jongin telling him about it at work one day, he nearly drops his phone in the break room.

“What?” His voice comes out rushed, eyes wide as his lips part slightly in shock.

“Yeah! Apparently what’s been going around campus is that you’re trying to get in Jordan’s pants,” Jongin reiterates.

“How the fuck?” He trails off.

“I don’t know man, but rumour has it you bought them coffee last week,” Jongin shrugs.

“I didn’t buy them coffee,” he mutters, only causing Jongin to quirk a brow.

“Word on campus is that Jordan came in to the café last week, you stared at them the whole time while they left, longingly, apparently,” Jongin goes on to say, “and then showed up to your class two days later with that same drink they ordered for themselves.”

“Fuck me,” Lucas sighs. “The drink wasn’t meant for them, it was for (Y/n).”

Jongin frowns slightly until realization flashes in his eyes, “you mean that girl you’ve had a thing for since first year?”

A small nod is all the confirmation he gives.

“Welp,” Jongin stands up, clapping Lucas on the shoulder as he passes, “good luck, dude.”

Another sigh escapes Lucas’ lips as Jongin exits the break room. He’s not sure how exactly this rumour could have started, or who started it for this matter. However, it’s only going to serve as another obstacle for him to be with you. Hopefully, it doesn’t put too much of a damper on his plans.

Easier said than done.

The next two weeks is spent being conscious of his every move. He notices the way some people have been watching him around campus, especially when Jordan is around. It’s usually old flings of his, jealous that they mean nothing more to him than a one night stand. They’ll never mean anything more than a one night stand, either. During those times, he makes sure to never look their way. Only when you’re around does he dare a glance in their direction, but even then, he doesn’t hide the fact that it’s you that he’s looking at.

Part of him hopes a new rumour will spread that it’s actually you he’s interested in. At least then there’d be some truth to it, and he would be able to use it to his advantage. He can’t count the number of times he’s pictured you confronting him about his feelings in some secluded space, only for him to confess and the two of you end up kissing in the heat of the moment. His mind always wanders further, imagining pressing you up against the wall and taking you right then and there. He wants you, badly, and he’d be more than happily claim you as his own whenever, or wherever you wanted him to.

Resting his head in his hand, he zones out to the lecture. His gaze remains transfixed on your back as his mind plays one of these scenarios in his head. Oh, how you’d grip his hair and call out his name as he thrusts into you, his fingers digging into the skin of your thighs. How he’d claim your lips, over and over again, amongst other, more intimate parts of your body.

He licks his lips, getting lost in his haze of desire for you, and what could be. So much so, that when he shifts slightly in his seat, he can feel his semi-erect cock pressing against the material of his jeans. Letting out a low breath, he attempts to calm himself down. Thank goodness the break is starting now, so he can focus on fixing his problem, and not sit through the rest of class with a hard-on. The last thing he needs, or wants for that matter, is for someone to notice.

Rubbing at his face with his hands, he lets out a deep sigh. Shifting in his seat, he angles himself in a way that no one would be able to see what’s happening to him. Thank fuck he decided to sit beside the wall today. Not to mention he’s got the perfect angle of you, two rows down, as usual.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he hears you let out a small squeal, successfully drawing the attention of those around you as well.

“Oh my god, Jordan, look,” you grin, smacking their arm lightly repeatedly.

“What is it? Geez,” they rub at the side of their head, “you’re gonna blow my brains out.”

“Sorry,” you reply sheepishly, before the grin is back on your face, “but look! Ten has silver hair this comeback!”

“Yeah, so?” They yawn, clearly disinterested in your rambling.

“So?” You scoff. “You know I have a thing for silver hair, it just looks so sexy. Especially on him.”

Jordan just chuckles in amusement, “I know, boo, I was just teasing you. I know you love light coloured hairstyles.”

“I do indeed,” you nod once, and that’s all the confirmation Lucas needs to start looking at hairdressers in the area to get his hair dyed.

He’s never given much thought to the colour of his hair before, always sticking with his natural hue over anything he might deem too risqué. However, he’d more than willingly make an exception just for you. If this means you seeing him in a more desirable light, he’ll do it in a heart beat. Besides, a change might do him some good.

Now, to look up this ‘Ten’ guy who has you practically drooling at your computer screen.

A quick search of this guy’s name pulls up quite a few pictures that have a frown pulling at Lucas’ features. What does this guy have that he doesn’t? Well, except for the fact that he’s an idol, and apparently has silver hair now.

The rest of class is spent with Lucas pouting slightly while looking up facts about this Ten guy that you apparently like so much. Maybe he can alter himself to be more desirable to you through some of this guy’s behaviours. First things first, he’ll start with his hair and see how it goes from there.

He can hardly believe he’s getting jealous over some idol whom you don’t even know. Lucas knows he has more of a chance with you than this Ten guy, but he can’t help but worry. What if his plan doesn’t work, and the two of you don’t actually end up together.

Immediately, he shakes his head to clear his thought. No. He doesn’t even want to think about the possibility of you not ending up with him. He can’t see himself being happier with anyone else other than you, and he knows he can make you so happy, if you’d just let him. He’d do anything for you. Absolutely anything.

All too soon, class in ending, and he’s watching as you pack up your things before heading out of the classroom with Jordan in tow, the two of you still talking about this upcoming comeback. He makes sure to keep his distance while trailing behind the two of you, making sure he looks inconspicuous as he heads to his next class. He wants to hear as much as he can before leaving you for today, wanting to get a better gage on your interest in this Ten guy.

A sour expression resides on his face for the rest of the day. He doesn’t like the fact that this idol is getting all of you attention, and not him. Why can’t you ever focus on him?

Oh, that’s right. Jordan.

If it weren’t for that friend of yours, the two of you could have already been in a happy relationship. He huffs, now heading to the parking lot to head home after sitting through his last class of the day. Once he makes it to his car, he hops in and starts the engine, looking at his reflection in the rearview mirror. In a few day’s time, he has his hair appointment, and hopefully by then, he’ll have thought of a way to get Jordan out of your life so that he can finally have you all to himself.

The rest of the week passes by fairly normally for him, and he’s happy with the way his hair has turned out. He got it cut, too, and it feels even softer to the touch. At least, that’s what his fling from last night told him.

The stress of the week caught up to him, and he had to relieve it somehow, so he felt it best to take out his frustrations on someone else. Needless to say, he was the best they’ve ever had, and they didn’t break any of his rules. He doesn’t think he’s ever went as hard as he did last night, picturing you the whole time. He couldn’t help himself, letting the events of the week affect him more than he wanted.

Again, he ended up kicking the girl out of his apartment before she could stay the night. Usually, he won’t let them, since he doesn’t want to deal with them when he wakes up. This gives him more time to think about you, and picture you wrapped in his arms instead of someone else who might want to talk about their feelings for him or some other shit like that. That’s a huge no for him. Again, unless it was actually you.

Making it into work the next day, he sighs. Saturdays on campus can usually be pretty slow, so he’s not looking forward to working all that much. In fact, the day ends up being so slow that a few people get sent home early, but unfortunately for him, he’s stuck here until close. Even Jongin heads out early, leaving Lucas to work with two of his other coworkers he doesn’t really talk to. At least he can hang out in the break room if it gets too slow.

About an hour before close, he’s stuck behind the counter by himself for a bit while his one coworker takes out the trash and the other is on their break. He knows he can call them out if he needs them, but he doubts they’ll get a rush this late in the evening.

A small sigh escapes his lips as he hears the door to the café swing open. His back is turned to the register as he finishes grabbing down a bag of coffee beans to refill the pot for the morning. As soon as he’s closed the cupboard and turned back around, he nearly drops the bag of coffee beans in his hands.

There you stand, in one of your oversized hoodies, with a friendly smile on your face. Most importantly, you’re alone.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, him blinking a few times in disbelief and managing to get out a measly little ‘hey’. Of which, he curses himself immediately afterwards. Is that really all he can get out when he’s finally alone in front of you?

“Hey there,” you giggle, and he swears it’s the cutest damn sound he’s ever heard, “you’ve changed your hair.”

“Uh, yeah,” he swallows, nervous all of a sudden about what you think about it.

“I like it,” you smile softly. “Looks nice.”

He freezes for a moment, nearly forgetting how to breathe as he stares at you. Changing his hair was a success after all, and he loves knowing that you like what he did for you.

“Thanks,” he smiles back, before clearing his throat, and putting the bag down on the counter. “What can I get for you?”

You start telling him your order, but he’s already started punching it in. Luckily, it goes unnoticed by you, especially since he undercharges you for the change in milk. Again, no matter how subtle, he wants you to know that he’s always looking out for you, and will provide for you whenever and wherever he can.

After you pay, you move over to the end counter where you wait for your drink to be made. He takes this opportunity to talk to you, considering it’s just you and him right now, and he doesn’t know when he’ll ever get another opportunity like this again.

“So, how’ve you been?” He asks casually as he starts preparing your drink.

“Not too bad, midterms are kicking my ass, though,” you reply, tucking your phone into your pocket. “I’m definitely way too stressed for anything right now.”

“Tell me about it,” he chuckles. “I feel like we’ve just started and we’re already halfway through the semester.”

“Right?” You voice, incredulously. “I feel like I hardly have time to relax anymore, and with our midterm that’s worth forty percent on Tuesday, I’m kinda freaking out.”

“I feel you,” he nods in agreement, now just waiting for the shot to brew to add to your drink. He has to stop himself from biting his lip. He knows a few ways to help you relax, but he doubts you’d let him try anything. Yet. “I’m sure you’ll do fine though, you’re really smart.”

You laugh slightly, “my intelligence is an illusion that hangs by a thin string attached to late night study session, and fuelled by coffee.”

He laughs at this, pouring the freshly brewed shot into the cup, “I take it that’s why you’re here so late on campus on a Saturday night?”

“Guilty,” you joke, reaching out to grab your now finished drink. “What about you? I didn’t take you for one to be working on a Saturday, let alone in the evening.”

Ever so slowly, he watches your fingers gently brush over the skin of his own, and he swears it’s like a jolt of electricity goes through him. Your touch is addictive, and now that he’s had a taste, he’s not sure if he could ever get enough.

He chuckles, “to be honest I enjoy spending most evenings in rather than going out.”

“I see,” you nod slightly with a small hum.

Sure that may have been a little white lie, but you don’t need to know. Besides, if he’s going to counter that image of him you have because of Jordan, he’ll do anything he has to to make you believe he’s actually good for you like he knows he is.

“Well, don’t wear yourself out,” he shoots you a smile, doing his best to contain the bliss filled look that wants to spread itself across his features at this interaction you’ve have together.

“Same goes for you,” you lift your drink in a mock ‘cheers’ motion. “Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I won’t,” he promises, smiling at the way you swirl your drink slightly to mix it before taking a sip. “You like it?”

“This is amazing,” you hum, “just what I needed.”

“Glad to be of service,” he grins, giving you a small salute with two of his fingers, causing you to giggle again. God, he could never grow tired of that sound. “So, do you have any plans for the evening?”

By now, he’s leaning against the counter, for you have yet to move and he wants to be as close as possible to you for as long as he possibly can, without being obvious of course. Besides, he’s enjoying talking with you, and he doesn’t want you to leave just yet.

“Well, that chair over there,” you motion to a chair in the corner of the café, “is calling my name for the next,” you hum, checking your phone for the time, “forty minutes or so until you guys close, so…”

A small smile rests on his lips as he nods in understanding, “if you need anything, just call me over. I’d be happy to make you another one.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you tell him, smile back on your lips as you move over to the aforementioned chair.

Lucas watches as you place your drink onto the small table that rests in front of the chair, taking off your hoodie before sitting down and pulling out a book to read. He smiles to himself as he moves back over to the forgotten bag of coffee beans to continue where he left off.

Knowing you’re mere feet away from him makes him so unbelievably happy. He has to keep glancing up to check if you’re still there, and not some figment of his imagination. Even his coworkers have noticed a slight shift in his attitude when they both get back onto the floor, noting he looks more awake than before. He certainly seems happier, that’s for sure.

All too soon, it’s closing time, and he’s just finishing up wiping down the counters when his one coworker goes to let you know. Lucas bites his lip, noting that you appear to be dozing off in the chair anyways. His heart races in his chest, and holy fuck, could you get any cuter? He only wishes he could have been the one to walk you out of the café.

Some part of his brain wishes and hopes that by some miracle, you decided to wait for him to finish closing so he can walk with you to the bus stop. If he’s lucky, he could even offer to drive you home, one hand resting teasingly on your thigh while the other grips the steering wheel.

“Oh, it looks like she left her sweater here,” the voice of his coworker pulls him out of his thoughts.

He watches as his coworker quickly pops their head out of the door, seeing if they can spot you in the distance, but it looks like you’ve already left.

“Damn, that sucks,” they say, turning to look at Lucas. “You know her, right? Why don’t you give her back her hoodie the next time you see her in class or something?”

Without waiting for a response, his coworker throws him your hoodie, and fuck, does it ever smell like you. Clutching it to his chest, he nods slowly, the words finally registering in his brain.

His eyes widen slightly at what this means. He knows for a fact that he shouldn’t give you back your hoodie while in class, there’s way too many watchful eyes around. People might get the wrong idea. On the other hand, he has seen you wear this hoodie around a lot, meaning it’s probably important to you, so if he shows up with it, you might think of him as your Prince Charming coming to your rescues. On the other other hand, he now has a piece of you with him, no matter how insignificant it may be. One that he can keep all to himself.

No, he shouldn’t be thinking like this. If he wants to make you see him in a good light, the right thing to do would be give you back your hoodie as soon as possible. Setting his mind, he determines that he’ll give it back to you when he sees you on Tuesday for class. The sooner the better, and hey, maybe Jordan might stop insisting he’s a horrible person if he does this.

Soon enough, he finishes closing up shop with his coworkers for the evening and heads back home. Stepping through his door, he lets out a sigh. After clicking the locks into place, he’s kicking off his shoes and heading straight to his bedroom. He tosses your hoodie on his bed, figuring he’ll put it aside once he’s had a quick shower for the evening.

Once again, he finds himself using the same soap you use. Considering the evening he’s had, he thinks it fitting that he smell like you. He wishes nothing more than for you to be waiting for him in his bedroom in nothing but that hoodie when he comes out of the shower, but he knows that’s a fantasy too far away to even hope for at the moment. Still, his mind cannot help but wander to that vivid image as he dries himself off.

Shaking his head, he slips on some sweats, entering back into his room to see your hoodie exactly where he left it on his bed. He licks his lips, imagining your bare legs peaking out from beneath the hem, spread out on his bed and just begging for him to be between them.

This time, he blinks to clear the vision of you from his mind. Grabbing your hoodie, he tosses it to the side of his room where his desk chair sits, hearing it make contact and seeing it hanging off the edge in the next second. Turning off the lights, he hops into bed.

Turning on his phone, he decides to scroll through instagram to see if there’s been anything important he’s missed. His heart nearly skips a beat when he comes across a newly posted photo of yours, showing off your drink from that evening along with the book you were reading. The caption reads, ‘howdy stranger’ with a little heart attached at the end, and he can’t help but read more into this than you probably intended.

To anyone else, that caption might be referring to the book, of which you may not have read in a while, or even the drink. However, to him, it’s reminiscent of your conversation, and how the two of you might still be considered strangers to some. It’s a flirtatious callback to how you two know each other, but rarely talk. Tonight was that exception, where the two of you actually had a somewhat decent conversation without anyone interrupting or pulling you away from him. The fact that you included the drink he made for you in the photo only confirms that this post was about him, and him alone.

He bites his lip, immediately liking the photo to let you know that he’s seen it; he’s gotten your message and he’s more than willing to let you know that if you only say the word, the two of you wouldn’t have to be strangers for much longer. Briefly, his eyes dart to your sweater, of which he can fairly make out the outline of hanging off of his chair where he tossed it.

Lucas decides to scroll through the rest of your instagram, just lurking on your page so he can see you in every and any photo you have of yourself. He makes the executive decision to turn on your post notifications in that moment, not wanting to miss any more of your posts, especially when they’re about him.

He freezes. Maybe he should do this for all of your social media accounts he follows. The last thing he wants to do is miss a post that could be an indicator of your true feelings towards him. What if all this time you’ve been in love with him, too, and your only way of communicating this to him is through your posts?

Grabbing his one pillow, he shifts so that it’s now clutched in his arms, him squeezing it as a rush travels through his body. What if that’s it? Maybe, there’s a small chance that you feel the same, and all of his past things never meant anything to you, and you just act the way you do cause Jordan is always with you, watching your every move around him. Of course, you’d want him, how could you not?

Smiling to himself at this new revelation, his eyes flick over to your hoodie once more. He can practically hear it calling his name, for him to hold as if it were your own body. Without waiting another moment, he gets up, snatching the item of clothing from his chair before laying back down, arms now wrapped securely around the hoodie instead of his pillow.

Burying his nose into the fabric, he takes a deep breath. Fuck, it smells so good. You smell so good, that his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head from this alone. The added scent from the soap he’s used just makes this all the more intense, and he really feels like you could be there with him.

Except, something’s still missing. Even as he continues to cradle your hoodie in his arms, it doesn’t seem quite right. That is, until his cheeks are flaring at the solution he comes up with.

Without thinking too much of it, or before he can change his mind, he’s sitting up quickly, and grabbing his previously discarded pillow. Moving the hoodie slightly, he puts it on the pillow, having it act as your torso for the time being. There, at least now there’s something more substantial to hold onto.

A smile tugs at his features as he clutches the pillow, which is now wearing your hoodie, to his chest. He can feel his naked torso burning wherever his skin makes contact with the fabric, imagining it’s really your touch there. He’s even gone so far as to toss the one sleeve over his side to act as your arm, as if you were really there holding him just as he is holding you.

Burying his face into the side of the shoulder, he takes another deep breath, grip tightening around your ‘torso’ as he lets out a low groan. His fingers fist the back of your hoodie, whole body curling around the pillow as he clings to it for dear life. Why can’t you just be here with him, right here, right now?

Would you run your fingers through his hair just like how he so badly wants to do to you? Would you teasingly litter kisses along his bare chest and neck, only to pull away and giggle at the reactions he gives you? Would you pull him closer as he cups your face and kisses you with all the passion he can muster, letting you know how much he loves and cherishes you? He bets his name would sound even sweeter than he could ever imagine falling from your lips, especially as he trails kisses down your own torso, leaving marks all the way so everyone can know that you’re his.

He bites his lip as he feels his cock throb in his pants, pure desire for you coursing through his veins as he lets his imagination run wild, and now that he has your sweater to hold onto, it’s like you’re really there with him.

Before he knows it, he finds himself grinding into the pillow, imagining it’s you, and that you’re grinding right back, desperate for his touch. Fuck, the way you would mewl with his hands all over your body, head thrown back as he gives you uninterrupted pleasure in every way he knows how.

Thoughts continue running through his head as he brings his one hand down to stroke himself over his sweats. Are you actually more on the quiet side? Are you more shy when you’re in bed? Would he be able to fluster you like he knows you could fluster him? Would you be loud for him if he asked?

A small huff of air escapes him as he turns on his back, finally sticking his hand down his pants to grasp his firm cock, stroking lightly all the while picturing it’s you doing this to him. No matter, he’d make you loud for him. He’d make sure you’ll scream from the pleasure he’s giving you. After all, his job wouldn’t be done until the only thing you remember is his name.

Licking his lips, he gently teases the head of his cock, spreading his precome with his thumb as his hand continues to stroke the rest of him, alternating his grip all the while. Throwing his head back, he lets out a low moan, followed by a curse. Your name sounds like heaven falling from his lips, and he only wishes you were around to hear just how good the mere thought of you is making him feel.

Closing his eyes, he lets images of you sucking him off fill his head. The way your lips would wrap around his cock, taking all of him into your mouth as he encourages you and holds your hair in his hand, ever so subtly guiding your movements. Fuck, the way you would hum around him, wanting to make him feel as good as he makes you feel.

He builds himself up slowly, wanting to take his time tonight and just live in his fantasies. Being able to hold your sweater in his hands is just the icing on top, letting him feel like it’s actually you there with him. After edging himself three times, he decides it’s finally time for him to come, and he knows exactly how he wants to do so.

Kicking off his pants, he shifts his body so that his pillow with your sweater on it is beneath his chest. He licks his lips, inhaling deeply with his eyes closed, allowing your image and your scent to fill his mind. One arm is wrapped around the torso of the sweater while he begins to fuck his opposite hand, starting slowly, just like how he would with you once he’s finally inside you.

For your first time together, he’d take it slow, making love to your gorgeous body all night long. He wants you to know that you’re more than just a fuck, and that he would never even think about doing something as intimate as this with another. Only you get this type of intimacy. Only you get the whispers of ‘I love you’ and the breathless moans of your name from his lips. Only you get all of him: mind, body, and soul.

Holding the pillow tighter, he begins to pick up his pace, rolling his hips into his hand as he pictures your legs wrapped around his waist. Every second that passes brings him closer to the edge, and he can feel his hips stuttering as his orgasm approaches.

Sitting back on his knees, he releases the pillow, stroking himself intensely all the while. With a low moan, he’s coming, your name falling from his lips like a mantra as he releases all over your sweater, claiming it as his own, just as he so badly wants to claim you.

For a whole minute, he just kneels there, eyes closed and head thrown back in ecstasy. He bites his lip, bringing his free hand up to brush his hair out of his face. Opening his eyes, he looks down to see the mess he’s made of your sweater.

Cursing lowly to himself, his eyes go wide. Well, now there’s no way he’s going to give you back your sweater with it looking like this. He’ll have to wash it before giving it back, if he even decides to do that. Now that he knows what he can do with it, it’s like having his very own body pillow of you, and he doesn’t want to give that up so easily.

Moving off his bed, he cleans up quickly before sliding on a fresh pair of sweats. Once he’s finished, he slides back into bed, scrolling through his phone with his arm around the sweater, the pillow tucked to his chest. He has to find a way to be with you soon, and maybe next time, he’ll make this dream of his a reality.

That night, he falls asleep with a smile on his face, head filled with images of you and what he dreams your future relationship to be like once you’re together. He cannot wait for the day he can finally call you his in front of the whole world, and hopefully it’s soon; he just wants you so badly.

Midterms come and go in the blink of an eye, and before anyone knows it, the professor is assigning the final project. Lucas lets out a small sigh as the prof drawls on about the details during class, gaze zoned in on you once more until a certain phrase catches his ear.

“You’ll be working in partners-“ a chatter breaks out around the lecture hall before the prof grabs everyone’s attention once more. “As I was saying, you’ll be working in partners for the final assignment, but no you will not be working with a partner you choose. You will be receiving an email by the end of the day with your partner’s details for the upcoming project. I expect everyone to work diligently and thoroughly. Class dismissed.”

With that there’s an explosion of chatter and movement throughout as people begin to gather their things to leave the room. Lucas’ heart pounds in his chest the whole while, and he knows he won’t be so lucky as to get you, but he can only hope that’s the case. He just hopes that whoever he gets stuck with isn’t one of his past flings. That would be awkward as hell.

Again, he sticks close by you as you exit the hall with Jordan, discussing the possibilities of the project. He busies himself with checking his phone to make himself look occupied and not like he’s eavesdropping on your conversation.

“Who do you hope you get to work with?” Jordan asks you.

“I’m not sure, I know I probably won’t be as lucky as to get to work with you, but I hope there’s still a chance!” You reply, lip tugging upwards. “If not, the only other person I really know in the class is Lucas, so I guess he wouldn’t be so bad.”

His heart nearly stops when he hears you say those words. Maybe there’s a possibility that you really want to work with him, too.

“Ew, why do you want to work with that fuckwad?” Jordan scrunches their face in disgust.

“He doesn’t seem so bad,” you frown slightly. “Besides, I think he does well in this class, whenever I see him he’s always intently looking at his computer, taking notes.”

You’ve looked for him while in class before? His heart skips a beat. How has he never noticed?

“(Y/n), how many times have I told you to stay away from him? He’s bad news,” Jordan sighs.

“I know, Jor, I know,” you echo their sigh. “I just, don’t see what you mean. He’s only ever been nothing but decent to me.”

“Have you ever thought that there was a reason for that?” They quirk a brow.

Yeah, he’s in love with you, and he’d shout it from the rooftops if he ever got the opportunity.

“Well, regardless, he hasn’t given me a reason to be suspicious of him,” you retort.

“(Y/n), he literally has, or well, had, a Hitlist for this school. Almost every girl, and some guys have slept with him,” they tell you.

“Who he sleeps with, or has slept with is none of my business,” you glance at them out of the corner of your eyes. “I don’t care, and neither should you.”

“Listen, I really don’t care for him, or how many people he sleeps with,” they begin, “it’s the way he goes about it and treats them afterwards that has me peeved.”

“Again, that’s his business,” you say, and in the next moment a teasing smirk crosses your features. “Besides, sounds to me that someone is a bit jealous that they’re not one of his ‘hits’ as you’ve so put it.”

At this, they splutter, “what! That’s insane, I do not even like him!”

“Well, rumour has it that he likes you,” you continue with your teasing, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively at them.

“Rumours are just rumours,” they counter with a grumble, and you hum.

“Fair enough-“

That’s all he can hear until the two of you are too far away from him to comprehend what you’re saying. Letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, he leans against the wall. The biggest thing he takes away from this conversation is that you would, in fact, enjoy being his partner for this project, and he’ll make that happen no matter what. It’s a good thing your professor has office hours immediately after class, and it’s a good thing that Lucas just so happens to be his favourite student in that class.

Four hours later and he’s pacing in his room, just waiting for his phone to ping with the email notification. It’s already ten minutes passed when the professor told him that he’d have all the emails sent out by in order to contact the project members. What if the prof went back on his word?

A ping is what pulls Lucas out of his thoughts, him literally jumping onto his bed to grab his phone as he sees the email notification pop up with the subject discussing the partners for the project. His heart pounds as he opens the email, seeing that the prof came through and indeed put the two of you together like he asked. Who knew pleading his case to really support his ‘friend’ would have worked as well as it did.

All he’s gotten is your school email address, and he wants to send you an email to discuss the project right away, but he also doesn’t want to seem too eager. Should he wait for you to respond first? Maybe he should just take the initiative and send you his number so you two can start talking right away. However, before he can even open up a new draft, his inbox pings once more with a new email.

From: (Y/n)

Subject: Project

Hey Lucas!

I’m so glad to be partnered with you, it’s nice to be able to work with someone I know. Anyways, here’s my number, text me anytime and we can discuss the project in detail, I’m more active through text than email. I look forward to working with you!

(Xxx)-xxx-xxxx

(Y/n) :)

His head is reeling, and he has to read over your email several times to make sure that it’s real. You’re glad to be his partner. He can’t help his heart from racing the way it does as he saves your contact information, opening a new message thread and preparing to text you.

Staring at the blinking cursor in the message bar, he freezes. What should he say? Probably something simple, he doesn’t want to make himself sound too eager. Plus, he wants you to think he’s cool, but also smart, but also available, but not desperate. God, what should he say?

After contemplating for a good five minutes, he settles on, “Hey (Y/n), it’s Lucas. I look forward to working with you, too :)”.

Surprisingly, you get back to him pretty quickly, and the two of you start talking about the project and some ideas you’ve had so far. Before you know it, the two of you are having a pretty decent conversation about your likes and dislikes, things along those lines.

Lucas could not be happier than he is in this moment. He’s even brought your sweater back out for this occasion, holding it close to his chest as he reads over your entire conversation. You went to sleep a little while ago since it did end up getting quite late, but he can’t believe this has happened. Everything is falling into place, and soon, he’ll be able to make his move.

The next day, he has the closing shift at work with one of his co-workers that he closed with on Saturday. Again, it’s about an hour before close, and quiet, so he sets to cleaning the machines.

“Did you manage to give your friend back her sweater?” The question catches him off guard, causing him to freeze slightly before continuing to wipe down the machines. Maybe this question is a blessing in disguise, for he can put his plan that he’s been thinking about into motion finally.

“No, actually,” he turns to meet his co-worker’s eyes. “I ran into her friend Jordan and gave it to them to give to her.”

“Ah, I see,” they nod, going over to grab more cups from the backroom. Once they come back out, they turn to Lucas once more, “do you mind taking out the trash?”

“Sure,” he nods. He’s got nothing better to do anyways.

It takes him about ten minutes to run the garbage, and an extra five to dismiss an old fling of his who had spotted him walking back to the café. By the time he gets back, he’s slightly tense from the whole ordeal, and he can’t wait to get home so he can ask you about your day. He’s made it his goal to at least message you one small thing per day that he thinks will make you smile. He wants to show you that he cares, and that he’ll always be there for you, whenever you need him.

“Oh, hey, you just missed your friend,” his co-worker tells him once he gets back behind the counter. “She came by asking about her sweater and also asked about you. I told her you gave it to that other friend of hers.”

“Oh,” his eyes widen ever so slightly, nodding in understanding.

Besides being upset at the fact that he missed you stopping by, the fact that you asked about him sets his heart soaring. This is good! This is indeed very good for him. This means you’re thinking about him, even when he’s not around, something he could have only hoped for.

That night, he sends you a text when he gets home, heart beating nervously as he waits for your response. Once he hears that familiar ping, he’s smiling to himself, happy at how quickly you respond to him. You don’t keep him waiting long, just as he would never intentionally do so to you.

Lucas: Hey, heard I just missed you at the café this evening.

You: Yeah! I just wanted to pop in and say hi, and also ask about my sweater. I seemed to have misplaced it, and when I went to check the lost and found on campus they said they hadn’t had anyone drop it off so I’ve been retracing my steps lol

Lucas: Damn, now I’m really sorry I missed you, I could have told you that I gave it to Jordan for safe keeping

You: Yeah, that’s what your coworker told me, but they haven’t given it back to me yet. Sucks cause it’s my favourite sweater

Lucas: Damn, yeah, that does suck. Hopefully they return it soon

He looks over to the hoodie resting on his bed, still wrapped around his pillow. He really should wash it soon, he got another stain on it recently.

His eyes widen as he thinks up a small safety measure just incase you’re over one day and find your sweater. Good thing it’s oversized.

Lucas: I have one that’s pretty similar, so if you aren’t able to get yours back you can always borrow mine lol

You: Lmaoo thanks, I’ll keep that in mind

Letting out a sigh, he shakes his head. He doesn’t particularly like the fact that he’s technically breaking your trust right now, and he has no clue what you’d do if you ever found out he lied to you, but he’s doing what he has to to ensure Jordan’s out of your life and that they can no longer keep you and him apart.

About two weeks pass by and Lucas notices that there seems to be a wedge driven between Jordan and you. The two of you no longer joke around as much as before when you’re together, and it’s as if there’s a sort of tension in the air whenever you’re around one another. For this, he couldn’t be more glad, his plan is working, though he’s surprised at how well it is. There must have been some other underlying factors causing this rift between the two of you other than the sweater incident, as you’ve now decided to call it.

On the other hand, you and Lucas have been getting even closer to one another. At least, over text messages. You do come to visit him every now and then during his night shifts, but it’s usually around closing time after you’ve finished working in the library. Even so, he’s grateful for every moment he gets to spend with you.

The due date to your assignment is getting closer every day, and the two of you have decided to finish it at his apartment this Saturday, which just so happens to be tomorrow evening. That means there’s less than a day left in the week before he’ll be able to make his final move, and make you his, once and for all.

He’s just at work refilling the coffee beans when he hears the bell chime above the door. Once again, he’s the only one on the floor, and he’s glad for it, for you walk in and manage to take his breath away like you always do. However, instead of wearing your usual calm expression, you seem more tense, and slightly frustrated.

“Hey,” he greets, putting the bag of coffee beans down so he can start your order, “the usual, I presume?”

“Yeah, please,” your reply is short as you go to reach for your wallet.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house,” he says. “You look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

“Thanks,” comes your blunt response, forcing a smile that pains his heart.

“Is everything okay? I don’t mean to pry…” he trails off as he starts making your drink.

Anyone would be able to tell that you’re not your usual self and that something is bothering you. He only wants you to know that he’s here for you, no matter what. He will always listen to whatever you have to say and do his best to support you in whatever way he can.

You let out a sigh, chewing on your bottom lip slightly, nervously. Lucas can tell that you’re contemplating on whether or not you should tell him what’s bothering you. Luckily for him, it looks like you trust him enough now to share your worries with him, a fact that warms his heart.

“It’s just Jordan,” you say, causing him to quirks a brow at you in response, waiting for you to continue. “They keep telling me that they don’t have my sweater and that you never gave it to them. This isn’t the first time they’ve kept something of mine and not given it back after saying they never had it in the first place.”

You pause momentarily, and he has to stop the surprised look that wants to spread across his features from breaking out onto his face. This plan of his is working out even better than he could have ever imagined. So, he decides it’s time to put his high school drama classes to use.

“That’s strange, considering I did give it to them,” he frowns. “Though, now that I think about it, they were acting kind of strange when I gave it to them.”

“What do you mean?” You question, brow furrowed as you watch his hands as they pour the shot into your drink.

“Well, they kind of snatched the hoodie from my hands and flung it over their arm like it was bothering them. It almost seemed like they were annoyed that I asked them to do this. Though I mean, I’ve heard they don’t like me very much,” he chuckles slightly, handing you your now finished drink, fingers brushing ever so slightly. “Though I found it strange that they wanted to talk with me in private.”

“They did?” You ask. “That is strange.”

“Yeah,” he nods subtly.

“What did they want to talk about, if you don’t mind me asking?” There’s curiosity in your eyes, but also, suspicion. Towards him or Jordan, he cannot be too sure, but he hopes he’ll be in the clear after this.

“Uh, well, I was quite shocked but they confronted me about supposedly,” he adds air quotes to his next words for emphasis, “playing with their feelings and leading them on.”

“What?” Your jaw drops.

“I swear, I was just as surprised as you are,” he goes on to say. “They told me that my little ‘game’ I was playing with them wasn’t funny any more and that I should just ‘be honest’ with my feelings for them and stop trying to make them ‘jealous’.”

“That’s ridiculous, oh my god,” you shake your head. “I don’t want to believe they would do something like that, let alone say it. From what I know, and - no offence - Jordan hates your guts.”

“That’s what I thought, too!” He replies, almost incredulously. “But I also know they like spreading rumours about people.”

You scoff, “you could say that again.”

“I mean, I don’t mean to stir anything even more, but wasn’t there also a rumour going around that I was supposedly trying to get with them or something?” Lucas leans one hand on the counter, the other resting at his side.

“Yeah, there was,” you nod. “It was cause of that coffee you brought me that one day in class, people thought it was for them cause-“ you pause, looking slightly embarrassed, “cause they were the one who drank it.”

“Oh,” he feigns a slight pout at learning this. “Did they- did they think I forgot to use lactose free milk or something?”

“Yeah, actually,” you meet his gaze, suspicion lingering in your eyes.

“I did, in case you’re wondering, just to be on the safe side,” he adds. “I knew one of them was and I didn’t want to take a chance if the one who needed it was you. Now I know I made the right call.”

“That’s actually really considerate of you,” you flash him a small smile before shaking your head. “Anyways, that’s not the point.”

“Exactly,” he agrees. “What if they were the one who started this rumour and used that as the catalyst.”

“They were pretty adamant about me not drinking it,” you recall, one hand coming to rest on your chin in thought, eyes widening as you realize something. “Holy fuck, maybe that’s why they’ve been-“ you inhale sharply, effectively cutting yourself off, “sorry to run off like this, but I’ve got to go. Thanks again for the drink, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Without another word, you storm out of the café, a fire now burning behind your eyes. Lucas is left there, stunned, heart racing as he can’t believe that this has actually worked. His plan is almost complete, and depending on how your talk goes with Jordan, of which he’s assuming is going to happen soon based on how you cut yourself off and stormed out of here, his plan might be complete by tomorrow evening.

A large smile breaks out across his face as he finishes wiping down all of the tables for the evening, his coworker finally coming out of the back to help him close the café. His whole body warms at the fact that tomorrow, he’ll finally be able to have you in his apartment, alone. Not to mention the fact that Jordan might finally be out of your life for good, eliminating that obstacle to your relationship before it can continue to sabotage him further than they already have. All he has to do now, is wait.

The whole afternoon the next day is spent cleaning his apartment and making sure it’s spotless for you. He makes sure he has food, drinks, anything you could possibly want for when you come over. Nothing is too much when it comes to you, and he wants to make sure he has everything he may need to make sure you’re happy and comfortable with him. This is his chance to impress you, and destroy any last remnants of him being a fuckboy from your mind. He’ll treat you right, forever and always.

Sure enough, seven o’clock rolls around and he hears a faint knock on his door. His heart nearly skips a beat in his chest, palms sweaty, as he walks over to open the door for you.

Greeting you with a small smile, he notices you seem extremely tense. As soon as you enter his apartment, you’re kicking off your shoes with a sigh as he shuts his door once more.

“Hey, let’s finish this project, yeah?” You turn to him, and he can tell that you’re drained, both physically and emotionally.

“Sure,” he nods, motioning to his living room for you to lead the way. “Uh, can I get you anything?”

“Water, please,” your response is short as you move to sit on the couch, pulling out your laptop to work on the project.

He walks back into the room a minute later with two glasses of water to see you just sitting there on his couch staring blankly at your computer screen. Placing the glass on the table in front of you, he gently takes a seat beside you, ”is everything alright?”

“Honestly?” You sigh once more, shutting your laptop and turning to look at him. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brow furrowed in concern.

“Remember our conversation yesterday?” He nods, waiting for you to continue. “Well, I decided to confront Jordan about everything, cause everything was just a little too convenient for them, if you know what I’m saying.” Again, he nods. “We ended up getting into a huge fight, and now we’re not talking to each other. I just can’t believe they would lie to me like this.”

“What happened?” Escapes him before he can stop himself, wanting to know exactly what they told you incase he needs to cover his own ass. He’s gotten this far, and he can see the light at the end of the tunnel, there’s no way he’s slipping up now.

“Well, I told them everything we talked about, and they basically called me stupid for believing you and not them, and then said that they can’t believe I think that they stole my sweater, or that they started that rumour,” you tell him, and he listens intently to every word you have to say, reacting appropriately each time. “They kept bashing you, and honestly, that made me really upset cause you’ve been nothing but kind to me. They just keep lying, and it only looks bad on their end cause they can’t explain themselves to me properly, which I told them, then they called me stupid again, and said that I’m too gullible for my own good. Basically, they were treating me like a kid, and I couldn’t take it anymore. Like fuck, they always have something to say about everything I do, and they’re so fucking controlling, I just blew up. Then they said some things and it just spiralled out of control. I don’t need that negativity in my life.”

His eyes are wide in shock. His plan worked. It actually worked!

“I’m so sorry that this has happened to you, and that someone whom you thought was your friend would treat you like that,” he places a gentle hand on your knee for comfort and you glance down at it before looking up at him, concern written all over his features. “You don’t deserve that, and I apologize if I was the one who got you into this mess. I feel like if I wasn’t involved things wouldn’t have ended like this. I should have just given the sweater back to you.”

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” you shake your head, rubbing at your eyes lightly to clear your vision. “Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. I’m just sorry you had to get involved like this.” You let out a frustrated grunt. “I feel like there’s just too much going on right now, and now we have to work on that fucking project cause it’s due at midnight.”

“Well, I have some news that may cheer you up,” he squeezes your knee slightly, causing you to look at his face once more in question. “I already finished our project last night. Well, it was like, three in the morning, but I figured you could use a relaxing evening given the conversation we had yesterday”

“You did?” You look at him with eyes shining with gratitude and wonder, and fuck does he ever just want to lean in and kiss you.

“I did,” he confirms with a small smile.

“Lucas, I can’t thank you enough,” he can visibly see you relax, as if a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders just from this one act alone.

“I can order us a pizza or something and we can just relax tonight and watch movies if you want,” he’s hoping you say yes and don’t just decide to leave after learning you don’t need to finish your assignment.

“Sounds good to me,” you agree. “I could use some relaxation time, if you know what I mean.”

The wink you send him has his body tensing slightly, heart skipping a beat in his chest. Are you hinting at something else? Something more? Whatever it is, he’ll be happy to oblige.

“Oh, I hear you,” he smirks.

“Anyways, what movie would you like to watch?” You ask, putting your laptop down and leaning further into the couch, getting comfortable.

You spend the next twenty minutes deciding on what movie to watch, the two of you laughing and cracking jokes the whole time. He’s noticed you’ve relaxed even more now the more time that passed, and for that, he couldn’t be more grateful. If he allows himself to indulge in his fantasies, he envisions this as your first date night of many.

By the time the second movie starts, he’s ordered the both of you a pizza, of which now rests on the table in front of you. About halfway through the movie, he notices you shiver slightly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, “just a bit cold.”

Fuck, the only blanket he has is on his bed and it’s the one thing he didn’t wash today.

“You can borrow one of my sweaters if you’d like,” he offers, eyes flashing with something you don’t quite catch.

“Damn, at least ask me on a date first before letting me borrow your clothes,” you joke, giggling as you move to stand up.

Butterflies erupt in his stomach, a feeling he’s only rarely felt before, but a feeling he wants to feel again, with you.

“Fine then,” he notices you tense slightly at his words as he leans forwards slightly to stare at you intently, “would you like to go out with me sometime?”

You chuckle nervously, your own heart skipping a beat in your chest. You won’t deny, you’ve always thought Lucas was attractive, you just never thought you were his type. As far as you know, he doesn’t ask anyone out, so why you? Why now?

“I was kidding,” you try and brush his question off, not thinking he’s being serious.

“I’m not,” comes his immediate reply, and you notice how intently he’s staring at you, making your breath hitch in your throat.

Fuck it, “sure, why not?”

The smile you send him sends him over the moon. His plan actually worked! He nearly has to pinch himself, for this is like a dream come true, and soon, you’ll be all his, and his alone.

“So, uh, which room is it?” Your question has a million thoughts running through his head, causing him to nearly lose his composure until he realizes you’re just asking where you can find his sweaters.

“Down the hall on the right, in the closet,” he replies, willing his heart rate to calm down. “Take your pick.”

“Sweet, thanks,” you smile, heading off in the direction he’s told you.

Once you’ve arrived at his room, you slowly open the door, noting how clean and tidy his room is. The faint scent of jasmine lingers in the air as you walk towards his closet, opening the door and looking over the array of hoodies he has. As you’re riffling through them, a familiar looking one catches your eye. Immediately, you’re tearing it off the hanger, confusion written all over your face.

In your hands, you hold your missing sweater, or at least, you think it’s your hoodie. Same size, shape, make, everything. You’re about to question it further when you remember Lucas telling you that he had a similar hoodie to the one you lost. This must be the one he’s talking about.

Immediately, your shoulders relax, breathing out a sigh of relief. There’s no way he would have lied to you about everything, now, would he? You trust him enough not to linger on these thoughts for too long, instead, slipping the hoodie over your body and smiling at the familiar warmth it brings you. You only wish you could get your own back soon.

Walking back into the living room, Lucas swears he stops breathing as soon as he sees you. Luckily for him, you miss the brief panic that flashes through his eyes.

“You know, when you said you had a similar hoodie, I didn’t think you meant you had the exact same one,” you joke, sitting back down beside him on the couch. “How come I’ve never seen you wear it.”

He laughs, “I only use it for special occasions.”

“I see,” you nod.

“It looks good on you,” he says, and he’s thanking every star he decided to wash it today.

“Thanks,” you giggle, and just like every time, it’s like music to his ears.

A silence settles back over the two of you as you continue to watch the second movie. He’s already made a promise to himself not to let you leave tonight; he finally has you, and he’s not letting you go so easily. However, with the way that your head lulls onto his shoulder near the end of the movie, he doesn’t think he’ll need to work too hard to make you stay.

He looks down at your sleeping form, hand coming up to carefully stroke the side of your cheek. Shifting slightly so that you’ll be more comfortable, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you even closer into him and hearing you hum in content. This time, it’s your turn to shift, and he freezes, thinking he’s woken you up. Instead, you bury your head deeper into his side, one hand coming to rest on his chest while your one leg tangles with his own, your thigh dangerously close to his hips.

Exhaling shakily, he wills himself to calm down, not wanting to ruin this moment, and revelling in it while it lasts. All he knows, is that he’s in for one long night.

#yandere kpop #yandere au #yandere nct #yandere wayv #yandere lucas #yandere yukhei #yandere #yandere nct u #nct scenario #nct u scenario #wayv scenario #super m scenario #yandere super m #Lucas scenario #kpop #Kpop au #kpop scenario #au

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saturnsummer · 3 years

Text

impatient

When Jiho and Sol B find themselves in a questionable situation.

aka: if jiho and solb had a one night stand.

ao3 link

notes: all credits to @ohcoolnice @sxfik !! i’m taking a spin on a one night stand jisolb edition, which originally came from a solhwi one night stand idea. feeding the jisolb nation with this spicy one shot. it’s my first time writing a more mature piece, so do bear with me! i’ll continue to learn and grow! once again, editing, grammar and incorrect facts will be taken responsible by me! thank you for the love and support, feel free to suggest prompts and more!

rating: mature! implications of sex, definitely steamy and spicy.

(as promised, tagging the fam that went nuts: @ohcoolnice @sxfik @affablewritesfables @cathartichaoss )

words: 3166 words

Ouch.

Jiho hated hangovers. He hated how he would repeat his mistakes over and over again, chugging back the glasses and shots of alcohol. Each time, he would remind himself not too much. But he would throw that advice out the window when he chases his high.

The warm sun rays of his window filter in through the sheer curtains as he squints his eyes closed, grabbing the sheets and pulling them over his head. God, he really hates hangovers. He can’t even remember what happened last night, and he didn’t really want to at the moment.

Realising the sun was not going to go away, he grunts in frustration, before getting up and propping himself upright with his arm. The bed was messy, and he knew something was off. Of the many times he came home drunk, his bed was never this messy. Ever.

And that is also when he realises he’s naked underneath his black sheets. Strange, he’s never really gone to bed naked. He had the habit of putting on a pair of boxer shorts, for sure, but he doesn’t remember getting naked.

A throbbing pain stops his train of thought as he groans from his headache, slowly getting up to find a pair of sweatpants for him to wear before getting his hangover cure of painkillers. He needed to order some spicy jjamppong as well. And he’s definitely not going to work on his reports today.

Just as he runs his fingers through his hair and opens the door, he’s greeted with the sight of someone already in his house. Seated by the dining table and chair, with a mug of hot steaming coffee and in an oversized grey T-shirt, her hair was long, slightly messy and her eyes were clearly still sleepy.

There, in all her glory sits his rival, Kang Sol B.

Sol was up just a good ten minutes before him, in the same state that he was in. A moment of confusion, before realising that across from her, one arm draped loosely around her bare stomach was Seo Jiho. Not wanting to wake him up and send him into a state of panic, she chose to crawl out of bed and grabbed the first thing she sees: his grey shirt.

She brewed herself a cup of coffee and made an additional one for him, knowing how he would need this. She nurses her headache and recollects her memories, before muttering curses to herself as her memories come back bit by bit. When the door opens to see a shirtless, well toned Jiho in his sweatpants and disheveled hair, she locks eyes with him and the puzzle pieces fall into place over last night.

The memories of last night suddenly come hitting back at him like a bullet train, as his eyes meet hers and he can only blink back in shock. He doesn’t even care that she’s in his house, or that he’s shirtless. He’s suddenly thrown back hours before.

The memories of them drinking with their friends to celebrate Joon Hwi’s promotion as well as Seungjae’s having a second child comes back. How he kept knocking shot after shot back. How his rival was one moment next to him, the next moment in his arms. How he was attempting to bring her home, but she was quick to kiss him, and he was already enjoying it too much to say no.

How one moment they were kissing on the couch, and the next in the bedroom, and the next…

Jiho was stumped. Did he really just have a one night stand with his rival? Kang Sol B? Still standing by his door, he grabs his glasses from the edge of the table, fumbling with it out of nervousness and slips it on as naturally as he can. Sol doesn’t look away, but only slides another steaming mug to him when he sits across from her. They both sit in silence for a bit as Jiho takes scalding sips while he processes his hangover and his memories.

“How are you feeling?” Sol asks, her manicured fingers drumming the side of the mug. She notices the way he bites his lip, the same way he does when he’s nervous. The way his hair was messy from his pillow, it was so different from the man she knew since middle school. As best as she could, she tried not to look at his toned abs, as she remembers running her fingers up and down those muscles last night.

“Terrible. You?” Jiho simply replies, too nervous to say anything else.

“Feels worse than the time after the mock trial.” She says, taking another long sip. Another silence ensues. Jiho unconsciously bites his lower lip, and Sol feels her heart skip a beat.

She’s used to his habits, how he clicks his tongue when he’s thinking. The drumming of his fingers. How he adjusts his round glasses every five minutes. Yet, she has never noticed the way that she feels whenever she catches him doing it. She has never noticed how her heart flutters when he leans over to her to grab a paper, or to glance at her report.

“You remember everything?” Jiho finally asks. Sol looks up at him, thoughts suddenly cleared as she takes another sip of coffee to collect her thoughts. She closes her eyes, the way she does when she’s thinking, leaving Jiho in a moment of silence, and observance.

Jiho notices the way her hair is so messy, it’s so unlike the Sol he knows. Her jet black hair not styled and straightened, the morning frizz just taking effect and her hair knotted made her look so different than the judge in the courtroom he was so used to. Her small frame hidden away with his big grey shirt, yet her slim collarbones are showing and the neckline so low and big, one of her shoulders are exposed.

Jiho was sure that the alcohol had worn off. So why do the words ‘cute’ and ‘sexy’ resonate with her now? Why does he find the way that she bites her lip when she’s thinking about her schoolwork cute back in school? Why was he always flustered whenever she looked at him? Why will his heart skip whenever she brushes his hand or arm?

Did he… have feelings for her?

“Most of it, I think.” Sol’s reply brings his thoughts back down. Sol brings her hand back and combs her mid back length hair back. She outgrew her short hair styles when she graduated school, and has stuck to growing it out ever since she moved out of her home. Jiho can’t help but notice the way the shirt exposes her shoulder and collarbones, he wants to throw a jacket on top right away.

“I… I’m sorry, for last night. I probably should have been more sober and brought you home, not to mine.” Jiho blurts out, fumbling with his glasses again, his hand pushing them up and naturally combing his bed hair back. Sol doesn’t say anything, but just scoffs.

“No use apologising now, don’t you think?” Her voice comes out harsh, but Jiho is used to it. That was her, after all. And Jiho could tell the slightest differences between each tone. Jiho only leans back on his chair, and shuts his eyes for a moment, letting his head tilt back. Sol tries her best not to stare at his muscles, and the way he shifts his glasses up. All she’s thinking is how hot her rival looks in front of her, and how everything about this feels wrong.

“Was it…your first?” Jiho asks, his eyes still closed. He dares not face Sol if she says yes, and he dares not face her if she says no either. He rather wishes to disappear. Only, she returns a light scoff.

“What, you scared?” She mocks. Jiho’s eyes open slowly, and Sol is there with a mocking smirk on her face, almost in amusement. Jiho feels almost fluttery and giddy from her smirk.

“I’m just asking. It’s not mine, I can tell you that.” Jiho bluntly says. Well, it was true. He’s never had serious relationships before, but he did have a couple of casual relationships in the years after graduating Hankuk. It was always bland, though. Never enough time to meet, and the sparks died the same month they met.

“It’s not mine either.” Sol admits to Jiho. Sol wasn’t lying, either. She was never one for serious long term relationships, being so driven by her career. But men kept chasing after her, and she attempted a few flings that mostly landed with one night stands. It never went any further, and she knew that they just wanted her for her body. Ever since, she hasn’t been on dates. This time, Jiho scoffs. Sol hears it and her face darkens.

“What?”

“I never thought you would be like this. I always thought you were so pure.” Jiho says, the taunting smile on his lips. Sol knows that smile. It was the smile from last night, the one he gave her that drove her right over the edge. The one smile that she finds herself so utterly helpless against.

“Well, I’m sure last night I provided enough evidence to support that.” Sol says, leaning forward slightly, eyes darkened. Jiho loves her eyes, the way they change and sparkle, but also how mysterious and dark they are. Two could play this game, Sol thinks to herself.

The both of them lock their eyes for a moment, the tension in the air heightened.

Jiho’s certain he wants her. He wants her, like how he wanted her last night. The entire sight of her was enough to bring him down. Her messy hair falling into her face, the way his shirt drapes loosely around her. He wanted to feel her and caress every spot he hasn’t touched. He wanted to ravish her, to taste her, to mark her as his. To show her that she’s his, and no one else’s.

Sol was equally brought back to last night. How she loved the smirk he gave her, how gentle he is. How good he made her feel, till she was out of breath and dizzy. But yet, it felt so wrong to feel this way. They were friends, classmates. She wasn’t even certain if she liked him for being Seo Jiho, or for the sex itself. She just felt so wrong to want a man to please her like how she felt last night.

Sol breaks her eye contact first, a red blush creeping up to her face. Grabbing her phone nearby, she scrolls through to try and book a taxi.

“I’m sorry, I should go.” She says, as she wants to get up. Jiho brings his hand up to her arm and sets her down back on the chair.

“You’re leaving in this?” Jiho says. Sol looks down, embarrassed and admits defeat. Her clothes from last night reeked of alcohol, and there was no way she was going home in those.

“I’ll drive you home later. Let’s get some jjamppong to eat first.” Jiho says, shifting his glasses up and clicking two orders of jjamppong from his phone. Sol instinctively grabs their two mugs of coffee and brings them to the kitchen to wash.

Jiho watches as she washes the mugs from the glass panel of the kitchen. When she returns, Jiho shifts himself closer to her. They sit in silence for a moment, before Sol breaks her silence.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Sol admits. Jiho knows what she means, and of which, he rebuts.

“Why?”

“We’re… we’re not a couple. I don’t want you to get lead on, and sour our friendship.” Sol says, her hand sweeping her hair back again. God, that move, Jiho thinks. She stands up abruptly, pacing from her chair to the wall nearby.

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” Jiho says, stopping Sol in her tracks. He continues on, while taking slow steps towards her.

“I realised way too late just how much I love you. And you’re not going to lead me. Because I’ve already fallen for you, Your Honor.” He says, now closing the distance between both of them. He brings a hand up to Sol’s hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. Sol hitches a breath, as she feels his fingers.

“Kang Sol, I, Seo Jiho, love you.” Jiho slowly leans in, giving her enough time to push him or dodge if she wanted to. But Sol doesn’t move and only lets him kiss her. She feels his soft lips, as they dance together, her hands finally letting it glide over those abs she’s been staring at the whole day. She’s thrown back to the previous night, remembering how she did this too.

Jiho tastes the coffee on her lips and hers. He loves the way she tastes, how perfect his hand rests on her hips, the other hand snaking under his shirt to feel the bare skin. She shudders as his fingers glide over her thighs, but only kisses harder from the feeling.

“You love me?” Sol asks between those kisses as his hand comes into contact with her hip bone, rubbing it lightly. Her hands trail to his waist, pulling him closer to her and taking steps back, such that she’s leaned against the wall.

“I do. Ever since law school.” He growls back and sweeps her hair back from falling into her face. He bites and nibbles on her lip, a sigh of pleasure escaping her lips, before she gently sucks on his.

Pulling away to catch her breath, Sol hates how she’s given in to the man in front of her. She stares deep into his eyes, as she thinks back to the years they spent in school. Had all the meals they shared together, all the one-on-one study sessions and all the reports she’s willingly helped him in just really out of pure friendship? Has she been so blind to her feelings?

“Still think it’s a bad idea?” His voice is so raspy and breathy from all the kissing, she can’t help but feel so lusted. In response, she only dives in for another kiss, thumbs gliding over his muscles, savouring it under her touch.

Jiho smirks under her kiss, as he shifts his attention to her jaw and neck, leaving a trail of light kisses. He thanks the shirt now, leaving a whole side of her collarbone and shoulder exposed along with her neck. Peppering her with kisses, he finds her sensitive spot when she gives an audible gasp as his lips brush through.

“Ji-Jiho...” She hates how whiny she sounds, how her voice is so breathy as she holds him closer to her. But she wants it. She wants him so bad. She wants him like how he was last night.

“You look so good dressed in my shirt… God, you’re such a tease.” He whispers softly, before lightly sucking on her spot. Sol is slowly giving in, as a sound of pleasure escapes her lips, eyes closed.

“Don’t leave a mark there...” Her voice so soft and gentle, unlike the other times he’s heard them. It’s the first time he's heard her so vulnerable and weak. The air between them was so hot, and it didn’t help that Jiho could feel the bulge in his sweatpants slowly forming.

“So you’re letting me mark you, Your Honor?” Jiho teases, the same smirk that he knows Sol is weak to on his face when he looks at her. But Jiho is equally weak to her pleasured face, the way she bites her lip. His fingers rub on a sweet spot on her hips and she rolls her head back, nodding in response. She’s so needy and she can't wait any longer.

Taking it as a go, he attaches his mouth on a spot of her collarbone, sucking lightly and gently, as her whines fall from her mouth. He moves on from spot to spot, nibbling on the skin of some. Sol’s face is red from the heat, and she only palms Jiho’s head, guiding him to the spots she loves. Jiho leaves a trail of bites along her collarbone and her shoulder, but leaves one on her neck for good measure.

Pulling away, he locks his lust filled eyes to find Sol’s eyes equally drunk on lust. He knows he has fallen in love with her with the way she rivals him. It was opposites attract, how he’s always chasing up to her, and sometimes it’s her who’s chasing him. How she was silently there during his low moments. Their physical attention was just another confirmation of how Jiho needs her in his life.

Sol finally accepts the suppressed feelings she’s locked away. She’s been so caught up in her career, from breaking free from her mother’s fingers, she’s forgotten that she had a life, that she was more than just a puppet with her mother pulling the strings. She had feelings for Seo Jiho. More than the way he makes her feel, she fell in love with the persistence he had to clear his father’s name. His entire being comforted her, knowing how it felt to grow up in her mother’s palm.

“I... I love you too.” She whispers back a whisper so soft, she almost feels giddy from all the kissing. Jiho gives a rare smile, almost delighted to know she feels the same, and she manages to give one back.

Diving in for another kiss, Jiho takes the next step further, letting his hand glide on her thigh before going up to her hip and slowly crawling up her toned stomach. Sol was no stranger to such teases, as she sucked on his lips, her leg sliding up and down his inner thigh. Jiho audibly groans in the kiss and Sol loves how she’s taken control.

“Excited, are we?” he growls. Sol only smirks in reply, her hands reaching to the waistband of his pants, feeling the V-shape of his hip bone. Jiho only groans in pleasure, watching as the girl in front of him could be so controlling in a matter of seconds.

“You could speak for yourself, Prosecutor Seo.” And that was all Jiho needed before he fully decided to ravish her in his bedroom. Sol wanted it herself as she continuously teased him by pulling on his drawstrings or letting her fingers slip over the waistband.

But they pull apart, when the doorbell rings, signalling the arrival of their hangover food.

Jiho pulls apart, not wanting to let her go and Sol’s hands still rest on his waistband, a finger fingering the band. Jiho reluctantly pulls her hand away, collecting their food and letting it sit on the table. With one fluid sweep, Jiho picks the younger girl into his arms and shuts the door to his bedroom.

The jjampong could wait. But they couldn't.

#law school #jtbc law school #jtbc drama #netflix #jtbc #seo jiho #kang sol b #jisolb #kang sol b x seo ji ho #law school kdrama #kdrama #lee david #lee sookyung #slightly mature #steamy #spicy #implied sex #one night stand #original by akinosakiya

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wiypt-writes · 4 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 4 Co-Written with @southerngracela

Summary: Ransom shows you a softer side, but when the table flips he leaves you with no doubt that he’s still just as dangerous as he has always been…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is Part 4 to our submission for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. My writing partner @southerngracela is currently on an indefinite hiatus from Tumblr, and I’ve sadly no idea when she will be back. However, this chapter was pretty much finished before she took her break and the rest of the series is also planned out to finish, so as per her blessing before she took time out, I’m intending on finishing what we started.

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 3

True to his word, Ransom had let you spend the day with him after Blanc's visit. It was a day interestingly enough your mind wandered back to, if not for the change in scenery, but for the change in his demeanour. A couple of weeks had since passed from then, but the memory was burned in your brain. And since, you'd spent far more than just a day above the confines of your room. Almost every morning since he’d ‘allowed’ you to make breakfast and most mornings, unless he was heading out to wherever he went, he then let you stay upstairs with him whilst he plugged away at the book he was writing. That in and of itself had come as a shock to you, to learn he was an aspiring author for sure, but you had simply nodded and encouraged him when he had told you. And you had quickly realised that when he was busy writing, you could get busy reading one of the many books or writing in your journal while sat in the large study and he left you pretty much alone.

Which is where you were currently sat now, curled up on the leather sofa as he sat at his desk, tapping away at his laptop, your journal open in your lap and a leather bound copy of ‘Great Expectations’ lay next to you, the page marked waiting for you to pick up from where you had left off the previous evening. As you thumbed the pages of your journal to find the next blank page, you had to smile at the little doodle of a Christmas tree that caught your eye in the top right hand corner of a page you’d written a few days back, the day you’d convinced Ransom that he should at least get one Christmas Tree. He’d obliged, had one; only the one, delivered and permitted you to decorate it how you’d wanted to and even managed a little smile when you stepped back and proudly showed the finished product to him. Then, of course, quid-pro-quo, he had had expected something in return which you’d given, because let’s face it, he’d have taken it anyway.

You’d seen a softer side to him that day, and not for the first time either. Granted, non-asshole Ransom wasn’t an everyday feature by any stretch of the imagination, but you’d seen it twice now. You paused, and then thumbed back a few pages to the day you were now remembering, the day you’d first been confronted with a very different Ransom to the one you were used to dealing with. One that came out of nowhere.

It was a wet day, an early winter storm passing through New England. You were sure it could have snowed but instead, it was just wet and cold. He'd come down with breakfast, instead of inviting you up. He'd brought you warm oatmeal with cream and cinnamon, a small bowl of blueberries on the side and a pinch dish of raisins, having forgotten how you took your oatmeal. A cup of coffee, steaming on the tray. He'd set up your breakfast on the table and sat across from you, not eating. He hadn't even brought coffee for himself.

You'd assessed his mood as morose, distant even. You didn't press, but rather waited for him to out himself and his particular mood. You'd come to recognize when he was thinking and this morning, he was all thought and no presence.

"I'll be gone most of the day," he finally came clean, just as you'd finished your oatmeal.

"Okay," you replied. He hadn't ever really announced his plans to you before. He'd just come and go at all times as he'd liked, never leaving you home alone without the doors locked. This willingness to let you in on his plans for the day fielded a small red flag in your mind and if you were honest with yourself, you felt like this was a test. He said nothing else, just picked up your breakfast dishes and left.

In the time he was gone, you'd managed to shower, nap, write and read. You were growing hungry for dinner, having had to skip lunch in his absence. Then you heard it, the tell-tale signs of his return. The clicks of doors and sounds of boots on the floor above you. The jingle of keys, and a few failed attempts at unlocking your door. A 'fuck' and a 'God damn it' before the door opened and there he stood. Soaked to the bone, dressed in all black from his coat to his toes. Was that ice on the tips of his hair? Was he drunk or just having a moment? Fingers frozen from the cold.

'Jesus Christ, you're soaked.' You said as you took him in. His lips looked a little discolored, his skin more alabaster than ivory. Throwing caution to the wind, you grabbed your throw from the chair as you passed it by. 'Get that coat off,' you pulled at its thick woolen collar. The heavy fabric peeled away from his broad shoulders and you let it fall to the floor. You heaved the throw over him and pulled it closed around his thick chest. 'You're not getting sick and leaving me here to rot.'

You moved to give him some space and guide himself further into the room, but ice cold fingers wrapped around your wrist and you stopped dead in your tracks. Your eyes moved upwards from where his hand swallowed you're wrist, along the wet fabric of his black sweater, water droplet covered neck, to eyes that were lost and distant, just as they were that morning, but much worse.

You were nearly as frozen as his fingers were, not sure what to say or do. Worried about consequence. So you just stared back.

'Thank you', it was barely audible as the words poured from his lips.

'Of course.' You weren't sure what he was thankful for but you replied anyway. Cautiously, you continued, 'Will you come sit down? Do you want something warm to drink?' You wanted to ask where he'd been but that was a slippery slope.

'Not here,' he replied.

'Upstairs then, in the lounge,' you suggested. He nodded and turned on his heel, a glance over his shoulder to see if you were coming. You followed, pulling your cardigan around you tightly as the chill from the basement filtered through you, or was it coming away from him, you weren't sure.

You'd thought the lounge was where you were headed but instead, he'd headed for the kitchen, taking a seat at the table there. When he didn't provide instruction or conversation, you inhaled deeply and thought of something to warm you both from the inside-out. You felt his eyes on you as you gathered the ingredients you needed, cocoa, chocolate chips, milk. The cinnamon sticks from the cupboard. You were careful not to make too much of a clatter as you pulled the sauce pan from under the counter.

In minutes, fresh hot chocolate was in two steaming mugs with whipped cream and freshly grated cinnamon. You handed him a mug and then sat across from him, your mug between your fingers. You watched as he sipped from his mug, blowing a little on the liquid before his lips touched it. His eyes closed as if he was stuck in a memory, his expression softening.

His eyes opened and he sighed, 'I can't remember the last time I had something like this. I was just a kid, my nana was still alive. It amazes me how they turned out from the two of them.'

'Money changes people,' you commented. You assumed 'they' meant his family, or at least more specifically, his mother and her two brothers, one of which had been gone for years.

He scoffed, 'fuck my family.'

Throwing caution to the wind, you asked, 'is that where you were?' You couldn't have guessed, given he was usually extremely angry and frustrated when he'd spent time with anyone in the Thrombey-Drysdale family tree.

He frowned and nodded.

'What happened?' You couldn't resist.

'Harlan's memorial.'

'Oh' . You said unable to think of anything else to respond with, because really what else could you say. He’d attended a memorial for the grandfather that would still be alive had it not been for him.

'Oh, indeed,' he mused, long fingers flexing around the mug. 'Surely, you’ve figured out I wasn’t particularly welcome.'

You couldn't say more, he wasn't wrong. You bit the inside of your lip and swallowed hard. He needed comfort. But would you give it to him? Was he deserving of that? Hell no, but your heart ached for him a little. It couldn't have been easy. But maybe this was his punishment for avoiding the ultimate consequence.

'Go on, say it.'

'Say what?'

'That I deserve it.' He looked at you, 'I know that’s what you’re thinking.' He leaned back, 'maybe you’re right.'

Well, that threw you. 'I don't know what I'm thinking, to be honest.' You leaned forward, intending to slip the mug from his hands and take them in yours, but you caught yourself and stopped. That was a step that you weren’t quite ready for, or willing as might be more accurate, to take. 'But, I can tell you're hurting and despite what happened, how it happened, you deserve to say goodbye without the rage and selfishness that got you here.'

'Well,' he leaned back and took another sip from his mug, 'that’s certainly not what they thought. Meg assured me I'm still the stuck up prick without my trust fund.'

A small smirk played over your lips, barely noticeable, 'fuck your family.'

'Careful, Sweetheart,' he smirked, but there was no threat in his words, not this time. He was genuinely amused.

You managed a slight shrug, 'If there’s one thing I learned from writing about you and your ridiculously entitled family tree, it's that each and every one of you is all about everyone for themselves.' You took a deep breath, waiting for the repercussions to fall. 'What happened, happened. Now, this is what you have, so own it.'

You flinched a little as his hand reached to scrub at his clean shaven chin, finger tracing his bottom lip as he studied you for a second before he took a deep breath and reached back for his mug. 'I think you need to make this for me more often.' He stated simply, and just like that, the deep foray into his emotions and psyche was over, and the barriers were closed once more.

'Sure.' You nodded. 'Whatever you want.'

At that he gave a little scoff. 'Sure, whatever I want.'

Silence filled the room again, your mind not sure what to make of that last comment, and his was clearly working overtime, you could tell by the way his eyes were still glazed as he simply stared down at the mug in his hand. The rest of the time you sat by the table was quiet, and you were surprised to find yourself a little disappointed. This was the first real meaningful conversation you’d had with him since arriving here. Sure you’d talked, but never once had you got any insight into what exactly made him tick. You’d learned more in the last ten minutes or so than you had in the entire six weeks you’d been his captive.

His captive.

The words echoed in your mind and you swallowed as you remembered exactly what it was you were doing here. This wasn’t by choice, this man wasn’t your friend or your lover, he was your captor, keeping you for his own entertainment, which he was no doubt going to be seeking from you again tonight.

'I think I need a shower,' he leaned forward, disturbing your thoughts.

'Okay,' You replied. 'I'll, uh, well you know where to find me when you're ready for me. Anything in particular you'd like me to wear tonight?'

'No, not tonight,' he answered with assurance, his voice carrying a low yet soft tone. 'You can go read or whatever it is you do when I'm gone.' You blinked, temporarily dumfounded and he looked at you, snorting a little. 'What? You want me to come and have my way with you?'

'Is that a trick question?' You blurted out before you could stop yourself, before you swallowed and waited for the admonishing, but it never came. Instead he chuckled and shook his head.

'Didn’t think so.' With that he rose from his chair, reaching for your empty mug as he passed. His fingers lightly brushed yours and you were jolted by the sudden sparks that flew up your arm and you took a little breath as he passed, depositing your mugs in the sink. Without another word he breezed from the kitchen for the first time, leaving you alone in the room.

It left you perplexed. Completely and utterly perplexed. He never left you alone, even the weeks on your cycle he’d found other ways for you to satisfy him, with your mouth or your hand for instance, but tonight…

Taking a deep breath, you headed back to your room. You didn’t even look at the main door to the house, there was no point. It was always locked and you knew what the consequences would be if you left. Besides, you wouldn’t get far. Not to mention you had no idea where you actually where and the thought of being outside alone in the dark, frankly scared you to death. No, you were better here. At least you knew it was warm, and familiar.

You headed down the stairs and got ready for bed. You settled in with your book, and after a while your ears pricked up as you heard footsteps outside your room. You swallowed, clearly he had changed his mind. But, as you set your book aside, it wasn’t the sound of the door opening followed by his feet padding down the stairs that you heard, it was the lock clicking as he shut you in for the night.

The sound of the doorbell jerked you away from your memory. Ransom frowned and looked up from the screen of his laptop before his eyes caught yours and he gave a little smirk.

“Expecting someone?”

You rolled your eyes at his asshole joke and he chuckled to himself, grabbing his phone. As he saw who it was at the door his good humour slipped from his face and without another word he rose from his chair. He paused in the doorway and turned to you. “No funny business, remember…”

“Yes, I know.” You replied quietly. “You know where my family are.”

He hesitated, almost as if he was about to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead he turned and left the room to answer the door.

The study wasn't far from the lounge merely the next room down, and the lounge was closest to the door so you tuned your focus to the voice speaking with Ransom. You recognized it and suddenly found yourself adjusting your tee and duster, making sure the cuffs on your jeans were even. You could hear the distress in his tone, the guest was unwanted and you hadn't realized you were now in the hall beside him. You noticed he took a step back towards you, as if he knew you were there.

Linda Thrombey's eyes raked over you, in shock and disbelief. “What the hell is she doing here?”

As she glared, you shifted uncomfortably, your hands pulling on the sleeves of the duster sweater you wore as you swallowed.

“She’s with me.” Ransom replied, his tone even.

“With you as in 'with you'?” Linda turned her eyes back to him, distaste evident on her face.

“Is that a problem, Mother, because you know where the door is.”

It was a problem, you could see it in her face as she once more looked at you, but instead of sniping back she simply took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

"No, I just wasn't aware you'd have company." Her eyes flicked back to Ransom who simply shrugged.

"Since when did you know anything about what I do on a daily basis, Mother?"

"Don't start, Ransom. I'm not in the mood and I didn't come here for a fight."

"Then pray do tell, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Can you stop being such a sarcastic little shit for once in your life?" she snapped.

You stilled a little, your eyes flicking to Ransom and you were surprised to find that instead of the usual anger you expected, his face remained passive on the whole, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something that, well had it been anyone else you'd have sworn was concern. But Hugh Ransom Drysdale wasn't concerned about anyone but himself...

“What’s happened?” he asked, his voice still gruff but there was a softer note to his voice. Linda took a deep breath and she shook her head.

"I felt a call to tell you wasn't appropriate and this needed to be handled in person." She fixed him with a look. “It’s your Greatnanna Wanetta. She died last night, Ransom.”

You froze, hearing the news leave his mother's mouth and you suddenly felt sorry for him. Ransom, stood there stoic, his eyes fixated on his mother.

“Was it peaceful?” he eventually asked, his voice measured.

“In her sleep.” Linda replied, her tone soft.

Ransom stayed silent for a moment, his chest rising and falling slowly as he took deep breaths. His expression was unreadable as he simply looked at his Mother, before he raised his eyebrows inhaling slowly.

“Was there anything else?” He exhaled, and Linda simply shook her head at him, a huff of annoyed laughter escaping her.

“That’s all you have to say?” She asked, incredulously, as Ransom shrugged with a petulantly nonchalant air, and you saw Linda’s face redden as she exploded "Oh for God's sakes, Ransom, you really are such a selfish little bastard, aren't you?”

“What do you want me to say?” He asked, his tone measured. “You said it was peaceful and she didn’t suffer.”

“No, I said she went in her sleep.” Linda corrected him. “I imagine she did suffer, how could she not after everything that happened, huh? Hell, she probably died of a broken heart”.

At that you saw Ransom’ nostril’s flare as his eyes burned into Linda’s face, a flush of red rising up his neck.

"Get out," he deadpanned. When Linda made no attempt to move, Ransom stepped forward yanked open the front door of the house, gesturing with his arm. “I’m not gonna ask again. Go.”

"Ransom..." Linda tried to strong arm her way to stay.

"Are you deaf or just fucking stupid?" Ransom replied, his voice didn't even raise in volume but something about it made you shiver. He was positively frightening when he was in this frame of mind.

You watched as Linda gave him a final glare and stepped outside without so much as a glance back, the slam of the door behind her making you jump.

Ransom saw his mother out but didn't return to the study, in fact he ignored Y/N's presence in the hall entirely. Instead, he sulkingly moved towards the wet bar in the lounge. He didn't even bother with the glass, he picked up the first bottle he could wrap his fingers around and white knuckled the neck, spinning the cap off, it clinking to the floor. He downed a long pull, the amber liquid burning sinfully as it coated his throat, his eyes stinging but not from the booze.

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s soft voice startled him as he hadn’t heard her enter the lounge. Taking a deep breath, he wiped his hand over his face, and turned to look at her, his jaw clenching.

“Did I say you could leave the study? Did I say you could join the conversation with Linda?” His voice was steely, flat, but he knew full well that she understood that to mean he was pissed and she visibly recoiled in the doorway, her eyes widening. When she didn’t answer immediately he slammed the bottle he was holding down on the bar top, and when he spoke again his voice was louder as he demanded an answer. “Did I?”

“No.” She answered with a quiver, “But I…”

“But I…” he mocked, sneering before he scoffed. “You know considering how smart you’re supposed to be, at times you’re really fucking stupid.”

Y/N blinked a little, and opened her mouth to talk but she fumbled over her words as she frantically began to apologise, which simply served to irritate him even more. With a frustrated growl he reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up to look at his.

"You do as I say, when I say it. That rule has NEVER changed," his voice was filled with venom. “I didn’t ask for your sympathy. And I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“That’s not...” she whimpered slightly, and the grip he had on her face tightened causing her to cry out. “Hugh, please!”

And there it was, that fucking name.

You immediately realised your mistake as his face burned red and his lips curled up into an ugly sneer.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…you were hurting me and…”

“You think I give a shit?” He spat, and the hand suddenly released your face only to wrap painfully in your hair. Without so much as another word he began pulling you from the room, ignoring your shouts of pain and protest as you wrapped both your hands around his wrists, desperately trying to get him to release you. But it was no good, the more you struggled, the tighter his grip became.

Before you knew what had happened he’d dragged you to the door that led to your room and down the stairs, your feet slipping slightly, causing you to stumble, harshly banging your knee on the bottom few steps where he finally released you, shoving you harshly. Your balance already gone, you stumbled and collided harshly with the side of the vanity table, the pain in your cheekbone causing you to yell out once more as the stars exploded in front of your eyes.

It took you a moment to shake off the daze, and when you finally did you looked up to see his retreating back heading up the stairs, slamming the door behind him. With a gasp you slumped down, your back against the wood of the dressing unit, your hand reaching up to your tender face. From somewhere upstairs in the house you heard another door slam, then a moment or so later there was a roar of an engine, which was followed by nothing but eerie silence.

Hugging your knees to your chest you let out a sob as the tears streaming as uncontrollably down your face.

***** All he could see was rage. Red, hot, firey rage. He slammed the basement door and didn't miss the bar cart on his way out, a full bottle of top shelf scotch in his hand, coat and keys in the other. He drove for miles, no destination in his conscious mind but a rather interesting one in his subconscious.

Headstones came into view until his SUV stopped at the end of the grassy knoll where the mausoleum stood surrounded by trees. He climbed out of the car, bottle clutched in his hand and shut the door behind him, simply leaning against the dark metal of his vehicle. For a long while, he didn't move, he simply stared at the entry, gulping large pulls of the scotch as he stared. His thoughts raced and raced, almost making him dizzy. It was that or the fast burn of the booze.

It felt like a flash of his life replaying in his mind. His great-nana, his grandparents, his parents, a life of entitlement growing up, parties, recreational drugs, booze, women, his fight with Harlan, his sudden plot to commit murder and then the crime, his arrest, and then the visions came to a halt with a mind bending pain and at the end of that pain was Y/N.

Her face, her scent, her voice. The way she felt beneath him, around him…those breathy, little moans, sighs. They’d connected recently, Ransom was sure of it, ever since he’d invited her upstairs and let her do something as mundane as cook. They talked more, engaged more, he no longer fucked her and left, instead he’d dress and hang around for a while, and he liked it. But then, today, after his Mother’s visit, those eyes which had mesmerised him from the moment he’d met her had once more reflected fear and confusion.

And Ransom didn’t like it.

Where that fear had, at one point, given him a buzz, now it simply served to remind him exactly how things had been when he had first taken her, and he didn’t like that one bit. He’d grown to crave the other things, like the way she would touch his arm or squeeze his hand. The way she smiled and spoke. The way she made him feel human, not some ghastly, beastly monster capable of killing someone. But he hurt her, more times than he wanted to admit. He hurt her and did things to her, he was vile and despicable. He WAS those things everyone said.

He was a fucking monster.

He felt the upheaval of emotions begin to collapse around him and he fell to his knees. The sting started and he couldn't stop it. An outpouring of emotions, years, decades even of built up anger, resentment, unhappiness, disgust, fear, pain all erupted in a strangled cry as his chest heaved and his heart raced. Salty steaks of tears wet his cheeks.

And all Ransom Drysdale felt in that moment in time was utter defeat.

His Greatnanna, the only other member of his family who truly ever cared about him, that remained on his side or remotely understood him other than Harlan was now gone and the realization of loneliness hit him like a ton of bricks. His body shook, his chest ached, his mind grew numb and all he could do was cry.

What the fuck had he become, WHO had he become? What did he do? Why did he do it? This was all his fault, Harlan didn't deserve to be cold in the ground. He did this, all of this. Again, but why?

He had absolutely no answer other than because he could.

It grew cold, dark, and late. The scotch was gone, his eyes burned and he couldn't breathe through his nose. At this point he didn't care if he made it back in one piece. He was a piece of shit and deserved everything that came to him by way of a tragedy. He climbed into his SUV and tried to collect enough sobriety to drive towards home. Towards her.

******

You had no idea how long you sat on the floor, but by the time you finished crying and had mustered enough about you to move; you were cold, stiff and aching from sitting in the same position for so long. Your face hurt from the blow you’d taken against the dresser, your knee hurt from where you’d banged it but all that paled into insignificance to the pain that was going on inside your chest.

You didn’t understand why Ransom had flipped like he had. For a few weeks now, things had been okay between you, good even. He’d been reasonably amenable to most of your requests and dare you say it, almost happier in himself. But all this served to remind you what lay underneath that façade. A dangerous narcissist with the ability to swap his face and mood at the click of a finger.

Or, in this case, a visit from his mother.

You wiped at your face, hissing as your fingers brushed your tender cheekbone and with a slight whimper of pain you pushed yourself up off the floor and stumbled over to your bed where you lay down and curled up, hugging your pillow to your chest.

You must have dozed off, because the next thing you recall it was dark and you were still cold. Whilst the basement was equipped with heaters, you couldn’t shake the chill from your bones so you decided that your best option to warm up, and ease your aches and pains was a nice, hot bath. Stretching out slightly, you gave yourself a moment before you pushed yourself up, flicking on the lamp on the nightstand before you got up and headed into the bathroom, flicking on the light.

You paused at the basin unit, glancing at your reflection and you swallowed at the sight of the bruise that was already forming around your right eye and cheek socket. Swallowing the emotion you felt at seeing your face marked once more in such a way, you turned your attention to the bath and the suddenly remembered that the other night Ransom had presented you with a bag from a Boutique you liked that sold home-made soaps and bath bombs, clearly having been in one of his good moods that day. You had yet to unpack it all and put it in the bathroom, so, deciding that you were going to use one tonight, you turned to head back and grab the bag, but as you emerged into the main part of your room, you were stopped short as a thick chest, covered in a ribbed white tee, a hint of a cardigan peeking out as broad shoulders kept warm by a camel coloured coat blocked your path.

You gasped and felt your belly drop out. Your body immediately began quaking in fear as he stood so close to you. You cowered away, taking a half step back but it wasn't enough to put space between you as his hand gently grabbed your upper arm and pulled you into his chest, a shriek emitting from your voice.

"Don't," his voice cracked. "Don't scream, I'm not gonna..." his words trailed off and he just shook his head.

He held you against him. You were sure he could feel you trembling as his large hands pressed against your back. You inhaled a deep, shaky breath through your nose and was met with his scent. He smelled so good, like an expensive aftershave with hints of amber and sandalwood, cedar and vanilla but there was an underlying, distinct aroma of alcohol, scotch you suspected, unless you were mistaken.

You felt his face press into your hair as he took a large, shaky deep breath, as if he was inhaling your scent, which he exhaled before he pulled away, his hands cupping your face. He tilted your face slightly so he could examine your left cheek and you saw him swallow as he took in your bruising. Something stirred behind his eyes, a sad melancholy that you’d seen only once before crossed his arrogantly handsome features, and his head dropped slowly to yours. He held your jaw in his big hands, his lips on yours. You didn’t fight, fighting was futile, but as the kiss continued it soon became clear that this wasn’t like any of the times he had kissed you in the past. No, this one was soft, like a need to just feel you pressed against him. His plump lips pulling yours in and holding you there and you realised, from the lingering taste of something sweet yet ever so slightly tinged with sour, that your suspicions were correct.

Despite your earlier fear, you willed yourself to relax into the relative comfort. It was like he was back to how he had been before his mother had visited and whilst he was in that frame of mine, you knew you were safe, so keeping him there was in your best interests. Your fingers moved from your sides to his chest, the ribbed tee rough against your skin. You continued your movements as his mouth pulled you in just a little more until he traced his tongue over your bottom lip. Your fingers moved out to and up the lapels of his coat, the soft texture like a cottony suede under your fingertips, before settling on the back of his neck, his smooth skin and hairline a definitive juxtaposition to feel. He didn't balk or pull away as he had done previously when you’d tried to show him affection, and you continued to respond to his kiss, your touch seeming to be a comfort for him and in the back of your mind you wondered what had changed to make him act this way. He broke away and rubbed his nose along yours, almost as if he were touching a butterfly, soft and unsure.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." He continued to whisper, over and over. A soft, barely there kiss to your bruises and broken skin and more words, "Let me take care of you."

You were scared to admit that this felt good, the way he was being gentle, apologetic even. Pain radiated from his body once again, like it had just a few weeks ago, his eyes telling you everything he was feeling. The outpouring of emotions there were hard to ignore. You weren't sure if forgiveness was in your repertoire, but compartmentalization was. You looked back at him, and with a slow blink, almost hypnotized, you nod in reply to his request.

Long fingers reached out and tucked a tendril of hair behind your ear, the other hand simply cradling your jaw. You swallowed hard as he bent down and placed his lips on your neck. Your body shivered at the feel of his mouth warm against your skin. His breath hot on your ear, “do you trust me?”

"I don't know," your voice was breathy as you replied.

“Let me fix this," his voice wavered. It was a question, not a demand. He nipped at your skin and you shivered again from a combination of desire and disgust at the way this asshole could make you feel, how traitorous your damned body was.

Ransom felt her breath hitch against his touch. She wasn't fighting him, she wasn't combative, she was...receptive. The thought nearly made him crow for, in that moment, he could feel her trust in him coming in, even if she couldn't verbalize it. He was debating on his lips devouring hers but he was... oh God, he was actually afraid of losing her in the moment. Of her closing herself off. No, he thought, it's best to wait. Ignoring the throw blanket on the floor and the mugs of cocoa on the table, Ransom held her face in her hands. "Do you trust me?" He asked again. She swallowed hard and blinked again, slowly. It was as fair if a reply as he'd get. He could see the war in her eyes, her mind battling with her feelings, her heart. "Stay here."

He left her standing there while he started the hot water. He could feel her eyes on him, watching his every move. He felt different, better even, from the moment he sought her attention when he'd come home. He started the tub faucet and as he brushed past her again, he shucked his coat, tossing it on her bed. He took a small bag he'd brought her earlier in the week and carried it with him. He emptied the contents of a small vile like bottle and watched a moment as bubbles began to firm in the hot but tolerable water. With the bath filling, he sighed to himself and turned to face her.

He peeled his own dusty blue cardigan over his shoulders and let it set over the basin unit. He pushed the sleeves of his white thermal up his forearms and held his hand out to her. She hesitated but slowly slipped her hand in his. He pulled her close and his hands gathered the lapels of her cardigan and peeled it away from her. Underneath her cardigan, Y/N sported a firm fitting white tee and jeans that looked well fitted for her hips and ass, toned legs, bare feet curling into the tiled floor. Ransom salivated as her nipples hardened through the material. He realized she had no bra on under her tee and his hand gently slipped under her rib cage, his thumb padding over her pert nipple. He lifted the thin white tee away from her body and tossed it to the floor. He was half hard just at the thought of her naked under her clothes and now he was solid. Discomfort growing by the second.

A hooked knuckle traced down her sternum, between her breasts and along the center of her taught stomach. He watched as goose flesh covered her exposed skin. As his knuckle reached the waistline of her jeans, he took to his knees, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses to her belly, just above her flies. With just his fingers, he undid the button, unzipped the zipper and the peeled the material away from her legs, all the while deep blue eyes peered up at her. He wasn't disappointed to find she'd still worn panties under the rough material, in fact he was delighted. His eyes roved down to her black, lace panties and he reached out, fingers gently tracing long the detailed waistband. Those came down next and as she stepped out of the material, Ransom's hands traced patterns up her leg, faint kisses to her thigh, her hip, her belly. He stood and admired Y/N, completely bare, with less than a foot of space between them.

Ransom hummed, his right hand reaching out, pads of his fingers again trailing a path down the valley of her heaving breasts to her navel. He paused as her breathing hitched and with a smirk his hand dropped lower still, over the faint tuft of hair he insisted she kept groomed, his fingers slipping into her folds. She gave a soft gasp, eyes widening as he continued to tease her, her hands reaching to up to grasp at his biceps as he played with her. She was wet, so wet from just this little bit of play and with a sharp flick of his wrist, he pushed two fingers inside of her.

He leaned forward, mouth brushing the shell of her ear, “Just say the words and I’ll make you feel so damned good, Sweetheart, like you’ve never felt before.” Ransom pulled away, removing his fingers from where they’d been, his hand curling on her hip, sticky with her essence. He backed her toward the tub's edge, his forehead pressed into hers. All motion stopped the second the back of her legs touched the tub. "Get in," he whispered.

You sunk down into the water, the aromatic smell of calming lavender swallowing your senses. Bubbles covered your body, to the point they tickled your collar bone. You eyed him kneeling as he reached over you, grabbing the natural sea sponge loofah and dipping it into the water before he squeezed it over your skin, gently scrubbing. Your face once more met his and you carefully watched him as he exhibited a patience you had never seen from him before. Those blue orbs bore into you, but still he made no move to take you.

And it was unnerving.

But then, as you stared into those deep, icy blue pools something suddenly clicked in your mind. He wanted you to want him. That was what this was about. He’d spent his entire life with people who regarded him as unworthy of love or any kindness and he was seeking validation. Whilst you could see he was genuinely hurting, you also still knew this man was violent, angry, had taken you without your permission, taken what he wanted from you and when. You knew he would take what he wanted tonight too, regardless of what your answer was, the moment for you to back out had been and gone.

But something felt so good about his touch that you were shivering in anticipation of more rather than in fear and the feeling of enjoyment on your mind started to overpower the feeling of disgust in your belly as your core tightened with each breath you felt against your skin. You blinked, your head a whirl, as you were shamefully turned on despite the depraved nature of this entire situation. You broke from your thoughtful trance as a hand cupped your face, a thumb pad tilting you chin upward just a pinch to look at him,

"What?" You whispered.

"Let me in?" He asked, his tone a bit contrite and hopeful.

When she nodded in a slow reply, Ransom felt his stomach drop out from under him. Butterflies grew to take flight like an albatross deep in his gut. He dropped the sponge in the water and stood tall, towering over the tub. He reached behind his neck, between his shoulder blades and pulled the thermal over his head, his hair catching slightly on the fabric. He ran a hand through it to straighten it back up and tossed the garment to the floor. He watched as her eyes grew noticeably wide as they roamed over his taught, well-formed abs, his bare chest. He flexed a little, his muscles twitching as he focused on the buckle and flies of his pants. He'd kicked his boots off as he'd undone his belt, the clank an ignored sound as all he could do was watch her and she him. Ransom allowed the material to fall between them, his pants hitting his ankles and he was quick to slip out of his pants and socks. He palmed his hard cock through his boxer briefs as she watched him touch himself.

He could see the change in her, the look of desire and lust in her eyes. The way she was admiring him now, rather than cowering at him. She was appreciating what was before her. His pale skin, his sculpted body, his naked form. He’s seen her, stripped her bare. But normally he's pulled his dick out and just fucked her. This was uncharted territory, this was new. And he liked it. He liked the way she was looking at him, feeding his ego and willingly participating. This, yes, this was something fun for him. And oh yeah, she wanted this, he could see it all over her.

One foot, then the other, Ransom stepped into the tub and sat opposite of her, careful to avoid the faucet. The water felt inviting, the company even more so. Her one leg nestled between his legs while the other just to the outside of them. She slid her left foot up close to his thigh, bending her leg at the knee. At this new comfortable position, his fingers started drawing intricate circles along her shin and calf. He watched her inhale deeply and tilt her head towards her shoulder, observing him.

As you watched him, carefully, you saw him swallow, the hollow of this throat constricting a little before he took a deep breath, his touch on your leg still feather light. You wanted to lose yourself, give into the desire that you were feeling whether it be wrong or right, at that point in time you were past caring. You were in this position, nothing was going to change that, so was it really wrong to want to feel something more than fear? It was like there was a game of chess being played between your mind and heart, your gut and will.

And then, Checkmate, the idea came to you. You had a chance here to keep Ransom satisfied but on your terms. You had the power. And as long as you kept it that way you could control his temper and his actions, and get what you now shamefully admitted to yourself that you wanted. And the realisation that you had the winning move here was almost liberating.

Ransom shifted a little, the water sloshing around him as he sat up, his chest poking a little further out of the water as he studied your face, and you waited to see what he would do. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, he was clearly going through a mental battle himself and eventually he licked his lips, his gaze dropping to your breasts which were just under the water line and he swallowed once more before his hand on your leg stilled and he squeezed your calf muscle gently before he moved, leaning forward, his large hand once more resting against your cheek as he drew you in for another deep, gentle kiss.

You leaned into him, letting his lips works softly against yours as your hand dropped under the water and grasped his solid cock, giving him a gentle stroke. The kiss stuttered immediately, and he let out a choked groan as his eyes flew open, locking onto yours.

“Sit back.” You encouraged, and he did just that, his back once more resting against the top as you followed him, your hand remaining soft but firm enough to keep drawing those noises of satisfaction from his throat. His head tipped back as he let you take control, his Adams apple bobbing, eyes closing as no words left his lips, no dirty talk, no hissed little demands about what depraved position he wanted you to adopt, nothing. You held the power, and that turned you on in a way it really shouldn’t.

He gave a strangled hiss as you gripped him tighter and then you shifted, letting go to allow yourself to move your right knee to his left side, following with your other, his eyes flying open, a look of surprise on his face as you lined yourself up and his hands reached up, surprisingly gentle as they rest against your hips. There wasn’t much room, but it was doable, and you sank down onto him, his eyes flying to your hips as you both gave a little whimper as he filled you completely.

His fingers flexed against your skin, blunt nails biting ever so slightly, as you remained still, your hands sliding up his chest, curling over his shoulders. He was tense, coiled like a spring, clearly fighting back the urge to slam up into you and you began to work at a little of that tension, fingers rubbing up and down his neck, the index on your right trailing that vein that was bulging along his throat. His eyes never left yours until you softly began to knead at the strained muscles along his shoulders and neck, massaging deeply as you worked at the knots, his hands still resting on your hips, contracting every so often as you found a particularly knotty spot.

Every so often, he would make the slightest of movements, simply because he was relaxed and you could feel your walls fluttering sporadically, just from being full and stretched to your fill. But, still he made no move to take over, until at one point you hit a particularly knotty area at the point his neck met his collar bone and he gave a little jolt which caused you to groan and he opened his eyes, searching almost for permission. When he found no objection, his hands gently started rocking you.

The pressure and friction on your clit was boiling. It was slow and burned in a way that was so delightful it was almost painful. And, before you could stop yourself you were rolling into him as he kept that same delectably slow rhythm, rocking you back and forth slowly, deeply, before one hand left your hips and grasped the back of your neck, pulling you down for a deep kiss.

Ransom pulled away from her, breathless, his forehead against hers. The words were barely heard, but he knew he said, "I want you..."

"You have me," she replied in a soft whisper.

"Not here," he shook his head, their foreheads rubbing. He glided his nose against hers.

He missed the way she felt around him the second she managed to stand and slip out of the tub. Ransom was quickly behind her, following, bubbles and water dripping to the floor from them both be damned. He followed her to the bed where she stood at its edge, her eyes inviting him. He took a seat, bare ass and thighs soaking the comforter, knees bent over the edge. His eyes roamed her body, taking her all in. His own deep appreciation for her firm an awakening in his soul.

Slowly, just like she had in the tub, one knee slipped passed a hip, the other following. His lips were on her breasts, inhaling the scent of the oils and bubbles clinging to her skin as his tongue traced a hardened nipple and then the other. As he did so, she sunk back down his shaft again, a guttural groan escaping them both. She was ready, the thick vein of his cock giving a seductive friction against her wall.

Ransom ran his hands up and down her back, long index finger tracing up and down her spine as hot open mouth, needy kisses covered as much skin as he could. His hands splayed over her shoulder blades as his hips met her grind, catching her as Y/N arched into his movements. Her head tipped back, sheer wanton pleasure radiated from her with a heat he could almost feel. His mouth moved to the spot he knew drove her wild on her neck under her ear and the little whimper she made was nothing short of delectable.

As he began to lean back towards the mattress, he rolled her body against his, bringing her down with him. He planted his heels against the comforter and scooted them both to the center of the bed, still buried deep inside her. With a hand back to her hip, a gentle grip keeping his own pace with her rhythm, the other tangled in her messy hair as his tongue dove deep into her mouth, savoring each pass her own tongue made against his. He could feel her body flutter against him, sweet kisses her walls made against his solid cock. Her hands braced herself against his broad chest as she sat up, riding him with fluid, long rolls of her hips and he shivered, despite the searing fire between them. He was no longer fighting that desire to take control, he was more than happy to let her take the lead and respond accordingly, dare he say he was enjoying it. The slowness and sheer intimacy was something he never knew he’d craved until now and as she gave a particularly desperate roll of her hips he groaned, "Fuck yeah, Baby, just...like...that..."

A gasp and a shudder ran through you, your walls clenching down on him as a rush of power surged through your entire body. You rolled your hips deeper against him, the friction against your clit nearly too much. You brought your eyes down and looked down at his face, strong jaw, piercing eyes, his thick bottom lip sucked between his teeth. You had full control over him, beneath you he was as powerless as you had been made to feel. "Oh, God," you’re ready to sing a song of pure ecstasy as your body coils and tightens under your own volition. The signs of orgasm were just...right...there.

As you felt a deep thrust from his hips, hitting your sensitive and perfect spot within, your head lulled back and you felt his name roll off of your tongue, "Ransom...."

At the sound of his name spilling from her mouth Ransom gave a groan. It wasn’t Hugh, or Drysdale, it was Ransom. The one thing she had refused to say from day one and she had finally let herself go enough to give in to what he knew she wanted. His chest swelled, a warm feeling flooding from his toes right to his head and he surged up, his lips on hers, the kiss sloppy as with an easy movement he flipped them both so she was underneath him, all semblance of self-control now lost as her voice echoed round his mind, the soft, sultry way in which she’d cried his name repeating like a prayer.

"Gimme one more, baby, just one more..." his hips were thrusting hard, but not painfully so."Say it again, please," his voice was laced with fire and emotion, a whimper or sob nearly on his lips.

"Ransom...." she replied coming again and his fingers gripped into her skin, holding her in place as his seed shot deep into her, filling her, his entire body shaking, no nearly convusling as he came.

Breathlessly, they laid there, his body gently caging her in, her fingers curling around his neck and into the nape of his hair.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and you blinked, not quite sure you’d heard him right.

“What for?” You asked, your breath still punctuated by your gasps as you came down from your high.”

“For trusting me.” His nose nudged yours and you looked into his eyes, “for forgiving me.”

“I’m not sure I have.” You replied honestly, and a frown furrowed his brown before he sighed and closed his eyes, his head hanging a little.

“That’s fair, I suppose.” He looked back at you before he moved, pulling out of you and immediately you missed his presence, the heat of his body gone as he rolled to his side. You waited for him to rise and dress as he usually did but he made no effort to move. Instead he lay still, looking up at the ceiling before he turned onto his side, his fingers gently trailing down your bruised cheek as it brushed the soft pillow when you turned to look at him.

“Can I stay?” He asked.

It was a pointless question. Because, let’s face it, you didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t want to go he wasn’t going to, and it wasn’t like you could leave. But, nevertheless, the fact he had bothered to ask you in the first place was another first. And you found yourself suddenly believing that if you did say no, he would leave.

Instead you nodded, and he gave you a small smile, not a sneer or a smirk, a genuine smile that lit up his handsome face as he leaned over and pressed his lips tenderly to yours.

Together you managed to get yourself under the duvet before you reached up for the lamp and clicked it off before settling on your side, facing away from him.

“My err, my cheek hurts.” You said quietly, offering him an explanation as to why you’d turned your back on him. He gave a small sigh and one of his arms snaked under your neck, the other curled round your bare body, resting just underneath your breasts. He gave your shoulder a gentle kiss, another unspoken apology before you felt him tug you back into him, your back pressing against the hard wall of his chest.

He was the first to fall asleep, his body spent as was yours but you laid there still feeling the electricity roll through your muscles, tiredness settling into your bones. You had given him what he wanted but kept your ground and done it on your terms. It's what he'd needed this entire time, to hear his name from your lips, to be wanted to be cared about, to be "loved". You internally scoffed. To be loved... you doubted he had any idea what that actually meant, to be loved unconditionally. But as you’d questioned the other day over hot chocolate, was that really his fault?

This situation was fucked up. What you were doing was fucked up, but, if giving him what he wanted and what he needed kept you in the driving seat, so to speak, you could work with it.

**** Part 5

#murder he wrote #ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #dark ransom x reader #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you

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