#She'd rather ask herself why it had to happen and perhaps would be mad at both of them

[little-tyrant-gortash]

Oathbreaker

Pairing: fem!Tav x Enver Gortash, fem!Tav/Astarion

Tags: Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Paladin Tav (Baldur's Gate), Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Drunk Sex, Unrequited Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Scars, Blood and Injury, Injury, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Torture, Psychological Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture

Word count: 1,504

Ao3 here.

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

Chapter 6.

Chapter 7. ⬇

Chapter 8.

Notes: The flu kicked my ass bad. I wanted to post this days ago. Sorry for the delay! I'm feeling better, so, hopefully, I'll have more energy to write. :3

Chapter 7: Three Conditions

The expression he donned was indescribable. Tav could detect so many things in the very same moment: regret, rage, boastfulness and then… sadness. Settling on a scowl one mere second later though, Enver shook his head.

"She'd rather gut me than letting me even consider fixing it."

"I'll talk to her."

Gortash stared at her for a long moment.

"On three conditions."

"Three?!"

"You've heard me."

Tav fought hard not to roll her eyes. She crossed her arms in front of herself with an expectant look on her face. Three conditions - they weren't much to give in exchange for her friend's life, but if it came to Gortash, who knew what he might ask for… Tav probably wouldn't sell her soul to a devil to save her, but she was willing to give this a try. After all, he couldn't claim her soul, at least, and that was a relief…

What was the worst to happen?

"I'm listening."

"One", Gortash raised his right index finger, then pointed at the Reaper's Embrace, "you're wearing the armour from now on."

Something stirred within her. What did he do to the armour, really? Why was it so important for him? She wondered… what was that dark purple gemstone he put in it's claws right over where one's heart would be?

Given the nature of their meetings Tav was trying to believe he wouldn't pull anything malicious when it came to her. But she couldn't be entirely certain. He'd tricked an innocent bard, after all, offering her gold in exchange for her "voice" – only for her to end up as a brain in a box. Surely, Tav shouldn't let her guards down, because she might find herself without a body, too.

That was the worst to happen.

She shuddered.

Still, she'd need Karlach with her, and perhaps she'd… tolerate Gortash more if he did them all such a favour. He'd ultimately save Karlach's life – of course, after he'd majorly fucked it up for her. In any case, if Tav wanted to really bring the fight to Orin, she needed Karlach. That was non-negotiable.

In short… she had no choice. Try and trust Gortash, or die.

"Fine. I'll wear it."

"Two: you'll visit me every day for dinner." Tav nearly smiled, as it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She could have the others stay at an inn and she'd sneak out every night without anyone knowing… that should do the trick. Free meals? So far, every meal she'd eaten with him was glorious. She'd be mad to turn that down. "And", he added when he sensed she was looking at it as good news, "we will work on your traumas to toughen you up."

The absurdity of it all!

"You have absolutely no idea what I had to face", she couldn't help it, she snapped. "The things I've seen and done-"

"Exactly", he nodded, "and we need to get those out of the way. You can't feel vulnerable in Bhaal's temple. We can't allow that to happen."

"I can take care of myself. Always did, always will."

"I know that, but will you allow me to do the same for you? You don't have to do this all alone."

She stared at him for a few long seconds, trying to determine how serious he was about this.

"Dinner sounds nice, the other – not."

Gortash knew he'd need to be cruel. This was, really, a small price to pay in the long run. If she could get rid of Orin for him, and brought him the Netherstones… he was willing to sacrifice his free time to work on her, so she could withstand anything she might face.

"You either do this for me, or I'm not fixing Karlach's engine. It's up to you."

She wanted to snarl at him for being so stubborn. He reminded her of Raphael, bringing back an old memory; that how Mol had freedom… to choose 'freely' the only one choice she had. Tav growled lowly.

"Okay. What else do you want to extort from me?"

Gortash smirked at her question.

"A kiss. Not now", he held his right hand up, then motioned between them, "on my own terms. Where I want, when I want."

Tav furrowed her brows, sensing some sort of trick. And, at the same time, she hated everything about him, even the motions he made with his hand when he was talking. Not for long enough, though.

"One single kiss?"

"Yes."

"That's it?"

"Yes", he nodded, and chuckled quietly at her confused expression.

"Fine", she ran a hand in her hair. "Anything else? Or are you finished taking everything from me?"

"My dear, the payments I require are nothing in comparison to what I'm ready to do... for you." He reached out to touch her towel clad waist, and pulled her close to himself before he kissed her deeply. Tav nearly melted at his confidence, in his embrace. She reached up to touch his face, and gently ran her thumb over his scar on his chin. Enver hummed before he pulled away. "It's late, and it's dangerous outside. Stay for the night."

"Do I have a choice?" She asked playfully.

"No", he smirked as his hand slid down on her body and grabbed her ass.

"I'd like to remind you that I do not belong to you", Tav murmured, trying hard to look just as confident as he did, but his closeness and his hands on her body were distracting.

"You needn't remind me. You're not cattle." Cocking a brow, his eyes darkened with something different, something she knew from their previous 'meetings'.

"Glad to hear that", she purred softly.

As a reply, Gortash grabbed the towel at her back and yanked it away from her form before he reached down and picked her up. She gasped as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck.

"…again?" Enver huffed in her neck, making her giggle when his breath tickled her skin.

"Oh, yes~"

It did not take long for him to relocate them in yet another lavish bedroom, but she didn't even really care where they were. He could've taken her in a bedroll in the middle of nowhere with nothing but their dinner to their names; the way he could make her feel was otherworldly and utterly dangerous.

Later on, she was thinking about that if anyone told her a month ago that she'd be laying comfortably in the arms of the Chosen of Bane, she would've laughed hysterically.

And yet, there she was. Nestled warmly against him. Tucked in, his arms and his blanket around her form. In his bed. In his bedroom. In his bloody palace.

And she'd never felt safer in her entire life.

Tav listened to the way he was breathing; rhythmically, calmly, his last words still hanging in the air when he was dancing between being awake and asleep.

"Together... we will be great."

He'd given her no reason to believe he was lying. So far, everything about him was surprisingly good; from their shared meals to the sheets, Gortash paid a lot of attention to what she liked. She didn't even need to say it out loud, and he knew. As if it was second nature for him. As if it was in his best interests to keep her satisfied and happy.

And it was, in fact, done in his best interests. He was doing this all to make her obey him. To make her submit to his will. To guide her. To prevent her from ever betraying him.

A part of her wanted to give in. She wouldn't need to do much, just follow his lead; let his hand guide her wherever he wanted her to be. Perhaps it'd be best, really; she was growing tired of being the leader, trying to hold her little band of vagabonds together, trying to figure out their next steps, trying to keep peace within the camp. Especially after how Astarion had left them. It'd be so much easier if she could just... lay back and let someone else do the brain work for once.

But she also was aware that Gortash was a Banite; the very Chosen of the God of Darkness, a god who valued people who crushed the weak under their boot.

Did Gortash see her weak? Was she?

Tav's brows twitched as she was questioning herself. From a point of view, she was. Gortash never needed to do much to get under her skin, but that wasn't entirely his fault. She simply couldn't help herself when she saw those dark eyes, messy hair and thick lips of his. And his voice. Gods, his voice. His brilliant, wonderful mind and well put-together plans - the fact he was ready to share everything he earned for himself with her of all people.

She closed her eyes.

I'll worry about my emotions later, she decided, I shouldn't let them distract me now. I'll enjoy this while it lasts.

[iviarellereads]

Harrow the Ninth, Chapter 37

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Ninth House icon) In which the Emperor opens up to Harrow about some of the big questions.

The wait until the fight is agony, but at least there are finally organized lessons for Ianthe and Harrow, particularly in the River creating wards without the body's resources. Strangely, there are no ghosts in the epirhoic. Augustine says they're scared.(1)

When the Emperor offers again to have Harrow locked in with him when the RB arrives, Harrow asks him why he locks himself in an airless room when the RBs strike. In response, he asks Harrow what happens when a Lyctor enters the River. She says the secondary soul activates, to defend the body with the sword.

He explains that when he did the Resurrection and reignited the central star of the Nine Houses system, he became linked to Dominicus. If he dies, the light goes out, the Houses die again, for real. Harrow says, so the star would become a black hole?(2) He confirms, and says Harrow might be the one Lyctor who can truly understand the meaning of apocalypse(3) as this would be. Not a flashy, fiery death, but a sunset without hope of morning.

Both of you fell into silence. "If I fought the Resurrection Beast I'd leave my Houses to die," he said. "If I fought the Heralds, I might well go mad, which would be the same thing. So I'm shut in here--walled in, really--to prevent the Nine Houses becoming none House, with left grief."(4)

Harrow asks one more question: who was A.L.?

God looks astonished and asks Harrow if she'd rather go through the easier questions, like where babies come from. He's even got a book that can help with that one, and are she and Ianthe being safe?(5) Harrow carefully enunciates that she and Ianthe are not being intimate, they're not romantic, they're not even really platonic...(6) Teacher apologizes profusely, and Harrow asks forgiveness and retracts her initial question.

No, says God, he can talk about her. Perhaps it's time for Harrow to know about A.L.

He pronounced her name, as both his wayward saints had, as two clearly separate letters: you could hear the A and the L. He said, "It stood for a couple of things. a joke, mostly. I often called her Annabel Lee. Annie Laurie.(7) When I first met her I just called her First, One.(8) She had a real name, but I buried it with her, and nobody says it anymore."(9)

She was his bodyguard, before the cavaliers. His guide, his friend, at least he hoped it was so. A.L. was the first Resurrection, his "Adam" in a way.

Harrow interrupts to ask what destroyed the First House. "Rising sea levels and a massive nuclear fission chain reaction ... it all went downhill from there."(10) Harrow isn't quite sure what to make of the first details about the pre-Resurrection she's ever heard.

A.L. helped John learn to live again, and be God. But she was no normal human,(11) and there was a price for the sin of the anger she and John shared, in some ways. She died after the first RB hit them.

"I understand why cavaliers primary carry their House titles," said God. "It makes sense. But it is a corruption of the original. D'you know why you're really the First? Because in a very real way, you and the others are all A.L.'s children ... There would be none of you, if not for her."

He goes on to say he thinks A.L. would have liked Harrow, and that Harrow would make a hell of a daughter. Sometimes he wishes she were his.

Harrow shatters the glass table, kneels in the shards, prostrates herself before him. This moment of approval by one in authority over her is the undoing of her restraint. She admits that she opened the Locked Tomb. He says she did not. She admits every step of it, and what she saw, what her parents did when they found out, and she asks if she killed both her fathers that day.

God says no, she didn't, very gently. He insists she can't have done what she claims to have done. He made the blood ward, him alone, and it would never have opened for anyone else.(12) Harrow clams up, the uncertainty of insanity making her doubt herself again.

God tucks a tendril of hair behind Harrow's ear, and then his eyes widen, and he asks who's been tampering with her temporal lobe. Harrow has a seizure in response, if by seizure you mean she stands up, turns around, and walks away without another word.

As the door closed you might have heard, "Damn it, John--damn it." But the last thing you were going to do was trust your own ears.

=====

(1) The RBs sure terrify the pants off me, who can blame the ghosts? (2) Interesting. So far all indications are that the Dominicus system is very like our own, and our Sun wouldn't be able to form a black hole. It wouldn't even really be able to make a supernova, it's much too small. It's possible that Dominicus differs from our Sun in some meaningful way, or that the necromancy of it all could affect things. Also, black holes don't just mindlessly suck in everything in a certain range. I mean, consider that there's a giant black hole at the center of our galaxy, and the galaxy is still spinning billions of years later. A black hole still only has the gravitational pull of the mass that went into its singularity. (3) Technically, despite our modern use of it to mean catastrophe and destruction, "apocalypse" derives from words about revealing or uncovering. The Book of Revelation (no S here) was translated from the Koine Greek apokalypsis. It can be any disclosure of divine mysteries to a human, in dreams or visions or visitations. This is definitely the sort of thing Muir knows and might use intentionally to open up interpretations. (4) For all the puns and references in this book, this, this is the first one that made me put my ereader down calmly and walk away so that I didn't throw it through a window. None pizza with left beef is a classic and ancient meme. If you don't know about it, it's even on Wikipedia. (5) The question of whether Harrow and Ianthe are having sex or not is eternally fascinating to the fandom at large and eternally amusing to me as someone who doesn't particularly care about the answer. Is this John operating with knowledge of what goes on on his ship, or is he projecting his affairs with his Lyctors this last myriad of years? I suppose we can say with some confidence that he knows about reproductive safety since Dios Apate, Minor was obviously not the first time and so far he has no children in evidence. (6) Methinks the lady doth protest too much. [suggestive eyebrow waggle] (7) We already covered Annabel Lee, but Annie Laurie is a very old poem by William Douglas, also about the woman he loved. (8) That's a weird name even if you've been in Star Trek fandom in the last 20 years with Seven of Nine such a popular character. (9) That's awfully sad, but it makes sense. Grief is an odd old friend. (10) Rising sea levels and nuclear war… that feels a little too familiar. (11) Just what might that mean? (12) That's odd, because we know very well that it DID open.

[guiltfilledsheath]

A Quest’s End and a Journey’s Beginning

   Yasuo’s passage of time has been very estranged for a long time now, though from the time he arrived at this place to this very point in time, he’s gathered it’s been a few weeks. There have been multiple attempts to ‘rid himself of his guilt’ and none of them were successful, and from that time, he fell into a deep state of sorrow. Insults towards himself were being generated so often and so swiftly that every waking moment was one of grief until he just became jaded to his own thoughts. There was no booze left in his gourd to numb any of his pain either, in fact, he’d been sober for the entirety of his time spent in this place.

   Thoughts of those he cared for, both the living and the dead, were the things that replayed often within his mind. From conversations to confessions, their battles both grand and small, and even the quiet moments, all of it flashed within his mind. It confused him why it would be such a constant reminder when he had already given up on having this place be his tomb. Was it just his mind being cruel to him yet again? Was it just a sick joke that his guilt demanded be replayed over and over since he was being a coward and running from his own commitment yet again? He didn’t know the answer, even as he spent another day staring off into the distance and watching as the sun was beginning to set.

   “This... this was suppose to be my grave... I was supposed to... but I can’t. Maybe it’s just that I am a just a frighten child who runs away from his problems, right down to my very core, and even a coward’s death evades me. Maybe it’s the ghosts of those who were slain by my blade that refuse to let me atone with my life. Maybe... I don’t know what the truth is... and maybe I have no right to know.” Yasuo would pause his musing before letting out a small sigh. “...Since there is no one here... maybe now is a good time to just let out this frustration in my chest and perhaps... I’ll finally find the answer I seek.”

   The ronin would slowly begin to shift and stand, using his sheathed weapon to assist in this effort. Once on his feet, he would plant the blade into the ground and take a few steps back to stare at it, treating it like it was another human being. “...I’m... I’m angry... I’m angry at myself for making the mistake of leaving for a battlefield, and discovering that not only was there no glory to be gained... but that I couldn’t save anyone... and worse yet... I let my master be slain. I’m angry at myself for not attempting to explain my side of the story... for not just admitting that I left him alone and that the real killer was still out there. I’m angry that I... that I...” His fists were balled up and shaking while he could feel a few tears beginning to form. “That I didn’t try harder to convince Yone... Out of everyone else... he was the only one who could’ve helped me... but I was scared of the pain, scared of being hurt so badly that I reacted out of panic and worry rather than kept a cool head and tried to figure out a way to make it work. I should’ve said something... anything... I shouldn’t have called out to him by name but rather by what he was to me... my brother... my big brother... blood be damned! He cared for me and I... and I... oh Gods why did I do it?!” He’d shout, dropping to his knees before his weapon, his forehead resting against the sheath while tears streamed down his cheeks.

   “Yone... Big Brother Yone... you always wanted the best for me... you never treated me any different even when my father turned out to be no better than your own. You never once let me feel like an outsider in our home... Why... Why didn’t I try harder to convince you? Was I truly so weak that what anger I held for you guided my actions during a moment where I sought a way out? Was I truly so blind that I didn’t even consider recruiting you to my side, even after everything we’ve been through and all you’ve done for me?! Why was I so STUPID?!” He’d hit his forehead against his weapon as he’d continue his sobbing. “All I ever wanted was for you to recognize me for my talent... was for us to go back to how we used to be... just two brothers trying to make life easier for our mother.” There was a long silence after he finished his moment and slowly he’d lift his head up to the sky, take a deep breath, and wipe the tears from his face before returning back to his feet. “*Sniff*... No... No this I not where I’m suppose to perish... And... And I... I’m scared... I’m scared but I... I know what I must do. Yun... Yun was right in the first place. I... I need to go back and see her while I still can. From there... from there I have to tell her everything and admit to my sins. If I truly seek forgiveness and to redeem myself... I need to start there. Mother... I... I pray you’re still around...” With that, he’d pull his weapon out of the ground and rush away from the location.

  It would take even longer for Yasuo to go from his current location all the way back home to Ionia, where he didn’t receive any welcome, which was far better than he’d expected. Of course, he didn’t care about how others saw him right now, even with how disheveled he’d appeared, he had but one goal in his mind, find his mom. This task was... actually easier than he expected since she hadn’t moved from her spot in all the time he and his brother had been gone. However, as he walked up to the door to his own home, he’d pause and look at his hand which was shaking. Thoughts of running away or leaving a note entered his mind and there were a few moments when he turned his back to the door before turning again to face it. His breathing was shaky, he could feel his body screaming at him to flee, but he’d take a moment to try and calm himself down. Then... he knocked on the door. ‘Just a moment!’ was a familiar voice that called out from another room before the sound of someone rising up and moving towards the door came from behind the wooden frame. ‘Yes how can I-’ There was a pause as a middle-aged woman opened the door and nearly fell backwards when she saw who it was that came to her door. 

“...Hi mom.” The woman’s eyes widened for a moment before her expression grew stern and she folded her arms over her chest. ‘I only had one son... and you killed him.’ Yasuo froze as those words left his mother’s lips and he could feel agony unlike what he felt before, though... he had managed to muster up a smile, trying to mask his hurt before scratching the back of his head. “Ha... ha ha ha... that... that’s true! Ha... ha ha! S... Sorry there ma’am I-” Yasuo was cut off when his mother sent her fist right into the top of his head and forced the swordsman to his knees while he clutched the area that was struck. ‘DO YOU THINK SO LITTLE OF ME THAT I’D ABANDON MY ONLY CHILD LEFT?!’ She shouted, catching the attention of a few onlookers. The ronin looked up at her as tears began to form. ‘...I’ve had a lot of time to think Yasuo, I’ve had a lot of hurt to work through. My sons... my boys had to fight each other and... I had no idea if I should be angry or ashamed that it came to that.... My only family left since your grandparents passed... and I was forced to outlive one of my children and guess if I’d outlive the other.’ Tears began to form in her eyes now while she struggled to keep her stern expression, however, she’d wipe them away before they fell. ‘Yasuo... you abandoned me and you killed your brother. I was ready to disown you as my son... I was ready to greet you as a stranger... but as days turned to weeks, weeks months, and months years... I thought about everything that has happened to me. How both men who entered my life left the moment I was giving birth to their children... how my children, who I swore would resent each other, ignored the issue of blood and treated each other like true family. How cruel life was to force brother against brother with no way for their fight to end with both of them standing... Yasuo... I’ve had time to think... and I’ve had time to figure out what I want to say to you.’ She’d slowly begin to crouch down and bring her hands to his face to make him look her in the eyes. ‘You’re still my son. I understand... I understand the corner you felt you were backed into. I understand the grief you must’ve felt over killing Yone. But Yasuo... my child... I forgive you.’ Yasuo’s face slowly began to twist into a sorrowful mess as the tears flowed free and rapidly from eyes, his mother’s expression softening now as she gently stroked his cheek with one thumb. “M...Mom!” He’d shout before scrambling to close the gap between them and embrace her smaller form while she let out a little gasp in surprise before pausing for a moment. She’d then reach as best she could to hold her child.

   “I’m sorry!” He’d weep, shaking while he held her. “I’m so sorry! I-I should’ve listened! I-I should’ve come home! I should’ve tried to convince him!” He just started to weep now while his mother did her best to provide him with comfort. ‘Yasuo... There’s no changing the past... but you can change what happens now. Come... wipe those tears and let’s talk more inside. I’m sure you have much to tell me...’

  With that the two of them went inside, and Yasuo would talk for a long time, confessing everything. His mother would frown throughout it all, occasionally gasping and covering her mouth for certain parts, namely what the point of his quest was. There was a lot of scolding from his mother in regards to a number of things he’d done, however, she did soften her expression and managed to smile as he walks over to him. ‘Yasuo. For the first time, without your brother behind you, you’ve finally decided to stand and confront the consequences of your actions. So for you... as your mother... allow me to tell you what you must do in order to make it up to, not only myself, but, everyone else you’ve wronged.’ The swordsman flinched, though he’d grip his seat and let out a small breath. “Alright...” His mother looked at him for a brief moment. ‘Just so you know... this may not redeem you or ease any of your guilt. You may have to carry that with you till you reach the end of your life. Do you think you can handle that?’ Yasuo could feel himself wanting to leave, but he opted to bounce his leg and tighten his grip while he takes a deep breath. “I-I... I don’t know... but... I’ll try.” ‘...Alright. First... you must go visit the graves of those you’ve slain, make an offering to their spirits, and ask for forgiveness, especially the one of Yone. Second, you must visit the families of the fallen and beg for their forgiveness as well... and you must be fine with them rejecting your apology. After that... it’s up to you what you should do to atone. As your mother, I can only offer you this as advice. In truth... you need to find a way to forgive yourself for what you’ve done before the true answers you seek for redemption make themselves known. While you’re in the area, you’re free to use this place as one where you can rest between your acts, You’re also free to stay here as long as you need, provided you’re willing to work for your supper and lodging, but I will be reminding you of what needs to be done. ...Should you choose to leave again, I just ask that you promise me to either come back someday and write to me until you do. It doesn’t have to be often... but just enough to let this old woman know that she doesn’t have to prepare another grave... alright?’ She’d smile at him. Yasuo had yet to look at her, doing his best to take in everything, and once he had, he’d take a deep breath and then look at her and smile a bit. “Old women don’t punch nearly as hard as you do mom,” He’d jest while slowly standing up. “I promise... Tomorrow... I’ll... get right to... work...” He’d managed to get out before collapsing, much to his mother’s surprise as she did her best to catch him. 

  Upon holding him, she discovered just how exhausted her son was, and she’d let out a small sigh before shaking her head. ‘...You can rest for now dear... Tomorrow is the second best time to start making good on your promise... for now just rest.’

//This is now the cannon of this blog. My Yasuo will now be wandering, searching for a way to redeem himself for his past. He’ll also be seeking to better himself. Any interactions will be post-grave visits (unless you want to interact with him during those visits). 

This does not affect any AUs. 

[saprophetic]

hi besties i'm finally making a post abt my feelings on forsaken! namely the fact that it absolutely could have — and should have — been avoided. (ft. Cayde's Death Was His Fault And He Knew It.)

both petra and cayde, when they brought uldren to the prison of elders, knew that there was something wrong. petra, one of the people who knew uldren the best, could tell that he wasn't himself — she didn't know about the taken bullshit + that the hallucinations were from riven, but...

(from Free | Part II in the Forsaken Prince lorebook)

They take him to a discreet landing dock on one of the lower levels of the Prison of Elders. When his containment unit hisses open, the glow and the mist silhouette an Exo with glowing blue eyes and a woman with her weapon drawn. Petra herself.

She stands there in silence. He knows she wants to kill him. He knows she wishes him to say, "You've done well."

"She speaks to you?" Her words are curt and direct. "What does she say?"

As he looked into the prince's eyes, he saw a fleeting shadow of darkness dance across their normal ethereal golden glow. Variks looked back to Petra.

"Petra Venj… I—I do not understand."

"I know. It's… Something's wrong with him, Variks. He's… mad. Lock him down—lock down the entire cellblock. No one in but you or me. Speak of this to no one. As far as the system is concerned, Uldren Sov died over Saturn."

(both from Reacquaintance from the Most Loyal lorebook)

"Of course. Of course." Variks noticed Petra's gaze lingered a little too long on the prince's cell. He could see she was troubled, even ashamed. Petra saw him watching and composed herself, back straight, all Wrath. She met his eyes. He could see her trouble, her shame.

"Variks. My friend." Was that tenderness Variks heard in Petra's voice? "He is changed. His eyes…" She stopped herself. Reset. "If he speaks, don't listen. He speaks lies. Terrible lies." And with that, she walked away, Cayde close behind. The doors to the cellblock slammed shut behind them.

petra absolutely knew that uldren was having a mental breakdown — and she threw him in prison and then tried to cover it up. because she knew that what she was doing (once again: throwing her friend who was having a psychotic break into maximum security prison) was morally unjust. she knew, and she felt guilty about it.

rather than even ATTEMPTING to get uldren any sort of help for what she surely assumed was grief and trauma... she just threw him in prison. and cayde helped her do it.

AND, as a matter of fact — when variks tried to tell her that uldrens problem was a sickness and asked her to let him attempt curing it... she told him no. so variks let the prison break happen.

(from Chain of Souls in the Most Loyal lorebook)

But if it worked—perhaps Fikrul could be cured. Perhaps—if what Variks suspected was true, and Fikrul's corruption was related to the Prince's affliction—Uldren could be cured, too.

Variks had said as much to Petra, but she'd refused to listen.

"You will not experiment on the Prince."

"Our Prince is ill. To keep him here… hide him from Awoken eyes… not right. Not right."

"I've made my decision, Variks."

(from Where Loyalty Lies in the Most Loyal lorebook)

By the end of that day, the Prison of Elders descended into chaos.

"Your time WILL come, Variks."

Uldren sits in his favorite spot, gazing in his favorite direction. "She told me so. She has but one last wish of you."

"No, your grace." Variks' voice was gravelly with emotion. "It is I who has one last service for you."

Variks left before he could change his mind.

the entire reason that the prison break happened is because:

petra and cayde put a man they assumed was only having a grief-induced psychotic break into prison, knowing that what uldren needed was help. (actually that's unkind of me — cayde just wanted to kill him and fikrul both.)

petra then tried to hide it from the awoken people.

when petra was informed that uldren had a Magical Illness going on, she told variks that he wasn't allowed to try to cure it.

variks, despite everything, still held loyalty to the reef, to mara and uldren.

speaking of the prison break, that leads me to part two, or "Why Cayde's Death Was His Own Fault, And He Knew It"

quickly summing up the important beats in the beginning cutscene in forsaken:

the prison break starts

petra calls cayde and the young wolf for help stopping a prison riot

petra realizes that it isn't a riot, it's a break

cayde goes down to maxsec by himself to stop uldren & the barons, taking out a large part of the prison infrastructure in the process

cayde tries to solo an entire room of barons and gets the shit beat out of him

he gets out his ghost in a room full of enemies to heal him... and proceeds to get his ghost killed

he then gets bitchy to uldren (like... about The One Thing that he knows will fuck w uldren)

guardian_i_dont_feel_so_good.mp4

he flat out tells you "that's what i get for playing nice" like. he ABSOLUTELY knew his death was his own fault. he was reckless and conceited and got himself killed.

and at no point did he want to be avenged. this isn't a post about cayde but frankly he would have hated that the guardian went on a revenge rampage. like, he didn't want that.

anyway. quick aside to say that i'm a prison abolitionist so the whole "prison of elders" thing puts a bad taste in my mouth ANYWAY, but the fact that they put an obviously ill man in prison instead of trying to help him is just... hmmmmmm. i Really don't like that.

the events of forsaken Could Have Been Avoided, if only someone had gotten uldren help instead of allowing him to be further isolated.

quick edit to add that also forsaken could also have been avoided if mara had told uldren that she was still around, but... she didn't care enough to. forsaken is a tragedy on all fronts.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The Arrangement

John Wick x Reader (A/n- a pretty tame chapter by comparison.)

Masterlist    The Arrangement Masterlist 

Warnings-  SMUT/NSFW, light bondage, d/s, vaginal fingering

Selfish Prayers 

~11 months ago~

The powder blue wrap dress with the generous neckline, capped sleeves and lace at the hem, ending mid thigh was one of her nicest ones. Of course, she owned a couple evening gowns for functions held at the bank, but they were hardly the type of dresses that she'd wear on a date, or whatever she was meant to be having with John Wick. He hadn't specified what exactly the reasoning for inviting her to dinner was, his exact words had been, "I'd like to take you to dinner, I'll call you with the details." 

He hadn't been the one to call though, instead, it had been his assistant, quickly telling her that she could meet John or rather, Mr. Wick, at the lounge of a popular five star hotel in Manhattan. The days leading up to that Friday had been nerve racking, though exciting. They'd been flirting before then, or at least, she thought they had. John was a man of very few words, and Y/n herself had never been too forward, but when he called for her boss, they'd usually spend well over fifteen minutes on the phone before she put him through. He'd ask about her day, make passing comments about how lucky her boss was to have her as his secretary and even fished around to see if she was single. John had more so made his interest increasingly clear on the night he'd prepped Y/n to testify on the matter of her boss's alibi. They'd been at his office well past midnight, he'd ordered them dinner and between the way John had coaxed her to relax through affectionate touches on her shoulder and his insistence to drive her home after they were finished, it was clear that he had taken a liking to Y/n.

Y/n couldn't deny it, she'd been intrigued by John from the moment she'd met him. He was the strong, silent type and exuded power, though, she supposed that it shouldn't have been surprising; he was one of the most powerful attorneys in the state, being one of two name partners at a well respected firm. And despite his seniority in comparison to her, he was alluringly attractive too; the textbook definition of tall, dark and handsome. It was one of the many things that had prompted her to accept his invitation and one would have to be blind to say that they didn't see his appeal. But Y/n? She was anything but. 

Though, that Friday evening, when she got to the private lounge, she hadn't realized that she'd  be walking into far more than she expected.

"I like to think of myself as a straightforward man," was what he'd said right in the middle of their meal, "And the last thing I want to do is mislead you, Y/n."

With a deep, shaky breath and a brief sip of her red wine, Y/n's eyes widened and she nodded slowly, wondering where he could possibly be taking things, "Okay."

"I think you're a remarkable woman," he noted, "In fact, I can't recall ever meeting anyone quite like you," at that, heat rushed to her cheeks and John smiled faintly before continuing, "Which is why I'd like to make you an offer."

His phrasing threw her and Y/n perked her brows, "An offer?"

"Yes," he determined, clearing this throat, "I have  no interest in…..what you'd consider a conventional relationship, I usually prefer to engage in an…...arrangement." He stopped to gauge her reaction, though Y/n didn't think he could gather anything more than confusion from it. 

"I don't understand," she finally admitted with a nervous chuckle. Was he implying that he wanted to hire her as an escort of some sort? 

"I have very specific tastes, needs," with a punctuating sip of his drink, he explained, "In plain terms; I'm looking for a submissive. Usually there are private clubs for this sort of thing, but you…..I like you."

She'd never been in a relationship like that and Y/n wasn't sure how she should respond. Her lips quivered in indecision and thoughts swirled around in her mind confusingly. Finally, she managed to choke out one simple sentence, "I don't think I follow."

With a sigh, not one of annoyance, more like one of relief, that said he was grateful that she hadn't rejected him just yet, John clarified, "I prefer an arrangement, a contractual one, where you would be my submissive, not my girlfriend. I'd be happy to outline what that means, if you're interested."

Without hesitation, though, merely out of intrigue, she blurted out, "I'm interested."

Regarding her curiously, John nodded, "Alright. It would be exclusive, of course. And it's very simple really; I would be your dom, and you'd come when I ask you to-"

"For sex?"

"Among other things, but yes. You're entitled to your limits, and I'd respect them. We’ll discuss it more if you agree."

"You said among other things, what are the other things?"

"Occasionally, for client dinners or functions, you'd come with me, to keep up appearances and things like that. But otherwise, there would be very little…….emotional obligation. I wouldn't be your boyfriend, is what I mean." The entire thing felt so impersonal that Y/n might have forgotten that they were meant to be on something reminiscent of a date. 

"You're overwhelmed," John determined after a couple minutes spent with her in silence. Surprisingly, he reached across the table for her hand, and when he looked at her then, she felt, in the most cliché sense, special. Not like she was the only girl in the room special, because she was, but in a way that had her convinced that even if the room was filled, she’d be the only person he wanted to look at. Perhaps that was the one thing that had sold her, she'd made her decision already. "I understand if this isn't something that you want."

"Would you be mad if I said no?" She glanced at his hand over hers, reluctant to reach the moment where he'd pull away. 

Tilting his head, John furrowed his brows, "No, but I would be disappointed," quickly realizing himself, he shook his head, "But my feelings shouldn't force you to make a decision. This will only work if you want it too."

Gnawing on her lip, Y/n offered him the answer they both wanted, the decision she'd made from the minute he touched her, "I want it. But I've never been a….."

"A sub," he finished for her, "That's okay, I can teach you," lifting his hand off hers, he leaned over smoothly, caressing her cheek tenderly, and then shifting a loose curl away from near her eye. The mood had changed significantly, suddenly becoming more intimate and Y/n quickly came to the realization that they were having dinner at a hotel for that very reason. He'd already decided what would happen if she said yes. "That's what doms are for sweetheart."

Y/n's breath hitched, the sound leaving her lips agape and contained in her throat. "Is this what it'll be like?"

Quirking a smirk, "Sort of. I'll take care of you, you'll want for nothing and you'd be the only woman I treat this way. There's still a lot to work out, I'll have the contract sent to you by tomorrow afternoon, but right now, I'd like to see if we're compatible."

Temporarily disposing of her demure disposition, Y/n's eyes sparkled wickedly, "You mean you want to fuck me?"

Taken aback by the change, John chuckled, "Yes," he stood from his chair abruptly, coming to help Y/n out of hers, "Come on." Leading her with a hand low on her back towards the elevator through the lobby. 

He'd withheld his words until the were secured safely inside the reflective box, his large palm slipping suggestively to the curve of her ass and his breath hot on her ear, "Tonight is just a trial run, but the next time you speak like that in public, you won't be able to sit on this," he smacked her harshly, causing Y/n to yelp and jump, "For the rest of the evening. Understood?"

Eager to please him, she nodded vigorously, "Yes Mr. Wick."

"Good girl," he praised, pecking her cheek, "And you can call me Sir," he hummed.

Shifting her head to meet his dark, consuming gaze, Y/n dragged her lower lip through her teeth, "Yes, Sir."

Even if she shouldn’t have expected anything less, Y/n was stunned upon entering the presidential suite. It took a man with tastes as refined as John's for a room like that to be rented for merely a handful of hours. Sucking in a breath, she looked around, letting the sight of reflective marble floors and exquisite French furniture under bright white light sink in. She’d never been in a room that nice, and being there in John’s attractively imposing presence was intoxicating. It felt as if she’d been thrust into a movie, it couldn’t have been real anyway, men like John simply didn’t handpick girls like her.

“What’s wrong?” He seemed hyper aware of every shift in her mood, not letting anything slip by him.

“Nothing,” she swallowed thickly, advertising her stare to the floor, “It's just…..why me?”

Knitting his brows, he urged her closer, “Why not you? It’s like I said, I think you’re a remarkable young woman; beautiful, intelligent and perfectly charming.”

“There are lots of women like that,” she scoffed, “And you could probably have anyone of them.”

“You’re right; I could. But I don’t want them, I don’t give a fuck about them,” he delivered firmly, “I want you," his voice dropped to a low, husky whisper, "There’s just something about you,” John leaned down, capturing her lips, “I don’t know what it is yet, but I’d like to find out. Come,” he urged, leading her to the sizable bedroom, where a series of large windows allowed city lights to illuminate the room. The chandelier over head was also on, though dim enough to not corrupt the mood. 

“Are you on birth control?” Was the first question that he asked as they entered and John left her side, headed towards the nearest end of the room as  heat rushed to Y/n’s cheeks. He was brazen and unafraid to say what he had to, and do whatever he wanted. “I’ll know if you’re lying, so be honest.”

Blinking quickly, Y/n clumsily debated whether or not she should answer, eventually offering, in the softest peep, “Yes, I’m on the pill.”

“Do you take it every day?” John caught how wide her eyes went, easily brushing off her embarrassment, “We need to be open and honest with each other if we want this to work. And I’m only asking because I wouldn’t want any……” children, “Accidents.”

Stiffly, she nodded, confirming, “I take it everyday.” Of course he’d want to know, the man didn’t even want a girlfriend, why would he want to risk getting someone pregnant?

“You need a safe word, something simple, that you can remember when you’re uncomfortable or if I take things too far. Nothing that’s easy to miss and you have to remember it; something like a color or an object. Do you have anything in mind?” John was in the process of removing his watch and shrugging off his suit coat near the dresser as he spoke, leaving Y/n standing near the bed.

“A color…..” she mused absently, gazing down at her dress, “Will blue work?”

He’d already moved on to taking off his belt, following up with his shoes afterwards, “That’s perfect. You’ll speak when I ask you to, and you’ll cum only when I permit it, understand?”

“Yes Sir,” she offered meekly, not really sure on where her eyes should fall, opting to let them follow him around the room, observing in awe as John moved with fluidity, from the arm chair to a table laid out with drinks. 

John was finally sat on the bed, clad only in his pristine white dress shirt, stripped tie and black slacks, drink in hand as he carried on with the basics, “Like I said, it’s your first night, so we’re just working things out. But after you sign the contract, every time I invite you to my bedroom, you’ll wait on your knees, palms on your thighs and your head down. In your underwear. You don’t touch me unless I tell you to, and if I touch you in a way you don’t like for whatever reason, you use your safe word. Tell me your safe word again.”

“Blue.”

“Good,” John hummed, taking a sip of his bourbon, “Now, take your clothes off.”

The command startled her and Y/n inhaled sharply, “What?”

“Strip,” he ordered nonchalantly, “Do you need help with the zipper?”

“Uh….” Fumbling for words, Y/n shook her head, “It’s at the side,” she breathed. She couldn’t recall a man ever being that forward with her, and she’d certainly never been ordered to get naked right in the midst of what she thought to be a conversation. Downstairs, her quick witted boldness had come easy, but upstairs, when the moment had actually arrived, Y/n couldn’t resist the urge  to retreat into herself. 

Simply nodding, John kept his gaze on her, watching intently as she floundered around his simple order, sighing heavily when Y/n hesitated. He was patient though, his tone still even when he pressed the issue, “When I give you an order; you listen. And there’s no reason to be shy. You’re a beautiful woman Y/n, let me see you.”

Sucking in another unsteady breath, Y/n reached for the hidden zipper on the side of her dress, blinking quickly as she gave it a gentle tug. “More confidence,” he suggested, nodding for her to continue. 

Straightening her back, she carried on with the zipper, letting her delicate fingers graze her exposed skin as she did. With the side undone, the garment seemed to hang on her shoulders awkwardly, though it wasn’t for long as Y/n was soon reaching for the lacy hem, pulling it over her head as gracefully as she could to reveal her simple, white, lace and silk lingerie. The set wasn’t too racy; seamless lace panties with a matching bra that boasted bands of silk at the top. She could easily tell that the sight was having an effect on John though, it was evident by the growing tent straining against his zipper. “See?” He mumbled, laying a heavy palm over his crotch, “Beautiful. Bra next.”

Reaching behind herself, Y/n searched for the fastenings of her bra, the thin fabric rough against her fingers. When she finally found it, she fumbled with it for less than a handful of seconds before she was slipping arms of the smooth straps. At the sight of her breasts, full, perky, and nipples peaked with arousal, John took a long sip of his drink, giving his member a squeeze.

Her panties were the next to go; thin fingers hooking in the waist, shimmying them down her legs, leaving her completely disrobed as she stepped out of them. “Keep your shoes on,” John leaned over to discard his empty glass on the nightstand. Spreading his legs; he invited Y/n to stand between them, the four inches of her heels allowing for him to be in the eye line of her stomach. “Undo my tie, slowly.”

Gulping, thrilled by the idea of finally getting to touch him, Y/n let her nimble fingers edge the knot near his neck loose, savoring every second of it as she undid it. “Now give it to me,” she laid it in his open palm, “Turn around. Does this make you uncomfortable,” he held her wrists firmly, tightening his single handed grip when Y/n wriggled her hands. 

“No Sir,” Y/n peeped, suppressing a shiver when John replaced his calloused touch with the rich fabric of his tie binding her wrists behind her back before guiding her at the hips.

His lips were hot over her navel, feverish kisses making their way lower at a leisurely pace as one of his hands slipped between her thighs. His thumb pressed on her nub, rubbing in circles as his pointer spread her slick moistness around. “You’re so wet already,” John muttered.

His digits worked her slowly and in the interim he nibbled on her satiny skin of her stomach, leaving dark bruises. John kept her against him with his spare palm splayed on her lower back, the only thing that kept her up. Y/n’s short breaths were ragged and whiny, and she fought against the fabric restraining her hands, eager to thread her hands through his perfectly maintained raven mane. The knot he’d made held though, only serving to bruise and burn her skin with every fretful twist.

A lewd whine seeped from her lips as his fingers moved inside her, the way he’d curled them slightly accentuating their every move. They were so pleasurably rough and so stocky that they offered to stretch her in the slightest bit, “You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted, “You think your tight pussy can take my cock Kitten?”

Y/n’s response was a half hearted moan, her coherence wavering and her stance growing shaky. His thumb, still working her clit, pressed down firmly and when John felt her start contracting around his fingers, he slowed his pace, “Not yet,” he growled lowly, biting down on her skin, surely leaving marks. 

Removing his soaked fingers completely, John drew her attention, locking his eyes with hers as he sucked them clean. “Do you want to taste yourself?” He stood without warning, their proximity so limited that his member pressed urgently against her thigh. 

The kiss was far more intense than the one they’d shared upon entering the suite, John’s tongue boldly moving past the barrier of her teeth, the slightly salty taste of her arousal still evident on his tongue as it swirled erotically around hers. Palming her cunt, John swallowed up her sounds eagerly, “One day I’m gonna eat this pussy out so fucking good, that you’ll cum all over my face.”

“Sir,” Y/n groaned, the plea muffled by John’s lips still on hers.

“Shh,” he urged, turning them before guiding Y/n to the bed. She fell back against the sheets, hair skewing her lust-blurred vision. He’d started undressing; starting with the plastic buttons of his shirt, and Y/n struggled to shake some hair out of her face as she watched; propped up on her elbows. 

John was undoubtedly a sight to behold; broad shoulders and obviously firm biceps with a sturdy physique. On his shoulder, she spotted a tattoo; a large cross, and some more ink peeked out from his back. Y/n hadn’t taken him for the type to have a back covered in ink, though she was quickly learning that he was a man of many layers. Briefly, she wondered what his tattoos meant, though, the thoughts were fleeting as his pants and pale blue boxers fell to the floor.

Her jaw hung slack and words escaped her. If Y/n hadn’t realized it before, she was certainly well aware of the sheer magnificence that was John Wick by then. His manhood stood proudly out of a groomed, dark bush, a clear bead gathered on his swollen, rosy head. Her sex throbbed excitedly and a fresh wave of moisture gathered between her thighs, and Y/n would be lying if she said she wasn’t eagerly awaiting a time where she could put her mouth on him. 

The hunger in his rich stare was evident as he crawled on top of her, his firm shaft teasing her as it brushed Y/n's arousal. Sinking his arms into the mattress, John started at Y/n's lips, journeying towards her jaw and consequently down the column of her neck. The evidence of John's presence would surely be littered across her skin by the end of the night, though Y/n supposed that his lingering nibbles weren't without intention.

Yearning to feel him, she arched her back, huffing despondently when he hastily grabbed her hips, shoving her back onto the bed. "Patience," John barked, burying his face in the valley of her swollen breasts. His shortened beard burnt her skin, weaning a hiss from her lips and Y/n craved more. She wanted to feel that pleasurable roughness all over her body, have John mark her 

Not releasing his firm hold, John's tongue flicked over her pebbled nipple, eliciting an audible shudder from Y/n. Then, when he closed his mouth over the top of her boob, only to gently drag his teeth along the sensitive skin, goosebumps raised along her arms and legs and Y/n’s eyes slipped closed. Her body resisted his grip, hips fighting to buck forward fruitlessly, the desire for John intense and burning. “We’re gonna have to train you to hold still,” he lifted his mouth to her ear, his hot breath fanning her skin, “Or just keep you tied up,” he bit her lobe before sucking the spot behind her ear. 

Depraved moans filled the room, and John finally reached between them, lining himself up with her entrance before pushing into her, all at once. Y/n’s eyes flew wide open and a hollowed groan parted her lips as John stretched her so wide it burned and she swore she could feel him nestled deep inside her. As patient as he was, so Intune with maximizing the slow build to pleasure, John was proving to be almost selfish once sheathed between her sensitive walls. He rolled his hips aggressively, burying Y/n into the disarrayed sheets. Each thrust evoked a profane yelp to accompany his low, rumbling grunts. The searing heat gathered in their skin and above her, though blurred vision, she could make out his clenched jaw and bared, gritted teeth framed by sweaty hair sticking to his face. 

As he moved, Y/n’s toes clenched in her shoes, the heels pressed into the plush sheets and every time his bulging veins dragged against her and the slight curve of his cock. At some point, he grabbed one of her legs, harshly draping it over his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper as her other leg lay crooked on the sea of fine silk. “Sir…” she hitched, incoherent and squeezing her eyes shut as he drilled into her, his balls consistently assaulting her cunt. 

A rumbling growl escaped through his gritted teeth and it wasn't long before John was bending his head, ravaging her neck mercilessly. “So fucking tight,” he gnarred as her body upwards. His sloppy, open mouth kisses and suckles on her were searing and his rough touch, occasionally dragging along her sides, only to once again settle on her hips, were like holy fire lapping at her silken skin. 

Y/n’s wrists protested against John’s tie, the fabric surely leaving bruises to match the rest he was giving her. Every sensation was intensified; the way bulging veins on his girth rubbed her walls, the heat from the pads of his fingers sunken into her damp skin, and the coarseness of his groomed beard brushing and burning the column of her neck. John was a skillfully selfish lover, if one could even call him that; a lover, and it was hard to ward off the crest of gratification that was creeping up on her with each roll of his expert hips. “I wanna feel you cum,” he mumbled between little bites and nibbles, “Let me feel you cum babygirl.”

Her short, hitched breaths grew quicker in succession and the knot in the coil in the pit of her stomach was wound so tight that it was close to snapping. “Please,” she whimpered, her sinful prayer was hoarse and she closed her hands in on themselves, feeling her nails dig into her palms. John bucked his hips violently and Y/n’s heel dug into the mattress just as a  perverted cry left her mouth agape and jaw slack. Writing beneath him, she tossed her head to the side, feeling messy strands fall over her face, sticking to her skin. 

“Look at me,” John demanded, riding through her high, getting close to her face. She could almost taste the bourbon on his breath and his chest was pressed to her swollen breasts, pinning her to the bed. “I want to see you,” he continued, “I wanna see how sexy you look when you squeeze my cock with this pretty little cunt.”

Shifting her head, Y/n regarded him through dilated pupils, his image hazy and white spots dancing on her vision as raw pleasure coursed through her veins like fire. Even as she came down, from her high, John proved relentless, pounding into her with unwavering vigor. Sloppy noises joined their vulgar moans and grunts and between her thighs felt sticky with her juices  and soon after her first, Y/n could feel her second orgasm mounting. If it weren’t for the restraint holding her hands back, the knot done so tightly, her hands would have flown to his back, nails sinking into John’s skin.

Her second wave of pleasure crashed over her unexpectedly, leaving Y/n gasping loudly for breath as she arched into John. Simultaneously, his movements went stiff and rigid and John’s heavy grip on her hip went tighter. “Fuck,” he huffed, the word contained low in his throat, features, contorted in ecstasy shrouded by dark hair matted to parts of his face. Bursts of his hot product sprayed against her drenched, pulsating walls in silky ribbons. John bucked his hips in an unmanned rhythm, struggling to keep pace as they fell over the edge. 

Her legs trembled with pleasure and the thick air around them was stifling, befuddling sense and intensifying innate sensations. Ragged, broken words threatened to break her stretch of audible inhales, but they never quite made it and as damp skin almost melted into one. It was hard to hold his gaze with his forehead pressed to hers, his hair ticking her face and their breaths shared as John’s ajar lips hovered over hers. 

Mere minutes after it was over, John detached himself, pecking Y/n near the side of her forehead when she winced as he rolled off her. Swallowing thickly, she eyed him as he seemed to gather himself faster than she could, eventually scooting off the bed, confident enough to approach the drink tray near the wall without slipping into an inch of clothing. As Y/n shuffled around, guarding her modesty with the soft sheets, the fabric feeling weightless on her smooth skin, she winced again as she turned to catch a good look at John. It was all definitely gonna hurt the next day, but for a man like him, the pain was worth it. 

With a glass of water in hand, he approached the bed, easing in next to her before offering Y//n the glass. Mumbling a shy thanks, she brought the thin, tall glass to her lips, where the color had faded. “So?” She sighed hopefully, between brief, quenching sips, “Are we compatible?”

Gazing down at her, John got closer, propping his weight on an elbow before reaching over to tuck a stray lock behind her ear, his large palm lingering on her cheek. “I don’t know,” he squinted, though, just barely, as he regarded her with an indecipherable expression that was hypnotically irresistible. There was something about him, a darkness that resided past those whiskey eyes that thrilled her, it was magical, alluring and she ached to learn it. Discover the man behind the tailored suit; serve him, please him. “You tell me,” John offered.

Leaning into his touch, Y/n resisted the urge to close her eyes. Could it really be as easy as that? In the end, he’d let her choose? And if that was the case, who could ever refuse John? It was completely new to her; unchartered territory and certainly a decision that would warrant far more thought, still she made it impulsively, knowing that even with a weekend’s worth of contemplation, she’d always come up with the same thing. Because even with everything in between; contracts, rules, specifics, it all came back to the simplicity that had led them to a hotel room in Manhattan, he wanted her and she wanted him. “Yeah,” moistening her lips, Y/n restrained her smile, until it seemed that John would let one of his own slip as he came down to kiss her slowly, “I think we’re compatible,” she returned quietly us as his hand tangled in her tresses and his lips found hers.  

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

[blackcherrykiss]

BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.7)

[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4] [CH.5] [CH.6] previous chapters

[CH.8.] next chapter (unavailable, check back or follow for updates!)

You fell into a distrustful panic that night now that knew the screams of the woods were also where Jungwon and his friends lived. You weren't sure if you should be scared for those group of boys or be scared of them. You'd be lying to yourself if you tried to believe it was only a coincidence the boys had a place in the forest of violent cries.

You questioned your sanity, were they murderers? Was that their dirty secret?

Your conclusions were endlessly dark, repeating themselves countlessly. You had never wanted to sleep away your thoughts more than ever. Eventually, you got exhausted from your thoughts. It was mentally draining to try and tear apart the possibilities of the situation, you didn't have enough evidence to be so sure. You lay in a cold sweat as you drifted off into a deep but horrible sleep.

You dreamt in full awareness. The boys with blood spilling down their hands and onto their swan white clothes. A red mess everywhere on the cream walls of an orphanage that overflowed with rays of a full moon. Although you were scared of what you were witnessing, you could not wake up even if your life depended on it. It seemed as if the dream had sped up your sleep as you woke in what felt like a few seconds. Calmly, you awoke in the misty autumn morning in a crushed up pile of blankets. You sit up to peel your wispy curtains away from the window to get a good look at the dark forest that steamed with a muddy blue fog. All of the memories of Jungwon yelling at you for just being near the woods flooded your brain as you stared. This time you were determined to search deep into that forest and get to the bottom of its mysteries as it called out to you.

"Y/N I think you're going to be late for your first class." Nana knocked before bursting into your room in full uniform, not a wrinkle on her shirt.

"Y-you're already ready? What time is it?!" You glanced back and forth between your pyjamas and uniform that draped over a random stool as you were too lazy to fold nicely the night before.

"We didn't want to wake you... So we went ahead thinking you'd come down eventually." She yanked you out of bed, gripping your forearms tightly before backing out the door, "Don't be late! We promised we'd keep out of detention this year!"

Within a blink of an eye, you slip into your uniform, slinking your arms through the holes of your blouse and adjusting your legs to be cover by your ashy plaid skirt. With your bag and binder in hand, you sprinted across your campus to the gymnasium where you found yourself arriving, everyone already in the proper athletic attire.

"You're late."  Your health teacher grit her teeth in visible disappointment. Your teacher knew how unlike you it was to be late as your classmate's eyes followed your every movement.

"P-pardon me." You clawed your fingers through your bedhead, speeding to the change room, nervous she'd assign you detention.

You let out the deep breath you were holding in as you got into the empty locker room, frustrated at yourself for waking up so late. You can't help but feel upset that you let your thoughts get the best of you and ruin your perfect attendance. Truly you were ashamed but began to see no point in continuing to rush the pace at which your day was running.

The locker room door opens and you see Kyungeun peep herself inside, "Y/N? You alright?"

You pull your boxy shirt flat down, zipping and tying every spot on your tracksuit jacket, "Yeah, sorry rough morning..."

"No worries, I just said that I had to go to the bathroom but I really just wanted to check on you." She had a motherly sound to her voice which comforted your bad start to the day. Perhaps she was in a good enough mood for you to ask her briefly about her relationship with Sunghoon.

"Kyungeun, I think I need to just clear the air... I saw you with Sunghoon in the library." You tilted your head in regret as to whether or not you were starting off the conversation in the right direction.

"Y-you saw us???" Her face drained to an unrealistic hue, "Lord... Sunghoon will kill me if he finds out you know."

"Stop! What do you mean? He'll kill you? Is it because I know that you two are dating?"

"NO! Nevermind then!" She cut you off right after the question mark in your voice. She looked rather relieved at your response which could only mean their relationship was much different than you had presumed. "I just can't tell you about our relationship I'm s-sorry it's between just us two."

"So then it's okay for him to flirt with my roommate?"

"No? Are you serious right now ?!" Kyungeun panicked.

"So you are dating?" You gave a smug smile.

"It's not that..." She was visibly frustrated not being able to describe herself in words, "I'll tell you this, I'm bound to him..." She ran her index finger along the reddened gash on her neck  He's blackmailing me."

"So you're like his pet?" You held in your laughter, you knew you should be more serious but you had no other way of trying to help Kyungeun express the gist of her relationship.

"I'll tell you another day...  Let's just go before the teacher gets mad at you for taking so long to change."

...

After your class full of advanced leg exercises and mediocrely fun games, you got halted by your gym teacher, "Y/N can we speak about how tardy you were today?"

You got fearful of her sentencing you detention, freezing up from your heel upwards, "I'm so sorry, I just had a lot going on last night..."

"Sweetie, I know this is your first late in my class but unfortunately the school does not tolerate tardiness in the way I believe it should be." She tapped her chin a few times, "I have no other choice but to send you to detention but it'll just be a half-hour at lunch." You felt better that it wasn't for a full hour or two after school but you were still dreading the idea.

"Can't you just let me off the hook? I promise it'll never happen again" You pleaded desperately.

"I'm afraid I cannot... If the other teachers or students knew you didn't get sent to detention I could get into trouble for giving you 'special treatment'. I know you didn't mean to love but I cannot afford to lose my job so I'll see you then." She patted one of your shoulders, giving it a little squeeze to cheer you up.

"I understand..." You nod with your head that already hung low.

"It's in the English room down the hall, there is usually only a few students there. Some familiar faces."

...

That rest of your morning would only pull through faster as you got some weird anxiety over walking into the detention room. You could not concentrate at all in the class you had before lunch. You felt as if you were too good for the detention group of kids, but here you were about to join those you criticized. Karma.

"Make sure to answer the questions 8-16 on page 300, you have the rest of the class to do so. Any questions?" Your physics teacher stood with his hands balled up behind his back.

Realizing you had no physics book in your bag after triple checking, you shot your arm up in distress, "ME! I forgot my textbook today... I was in a rush this morning." You faked a polite laugh with the expectation your teacher would have a spare.

"I'm afraid I don't have an extra, anyone willing to share?" The teacher lifted his head to scan the class.

"I could share." Jaeyun winked making your face recoil

"Perfect! You'll probably have to move your stuff to his seat then." Your teacher suggested.

With a thick coat of disappointment, you pulled a chair up to Jaeyun's desk to which he kneed you annoyingly.

Within just a few seconds of settling down, you complained "How the hell am I supposed to write? There is no space... Desks are made for ONE person."

"Okay then don't use my textbook and fall behind" He sneered.

"Wait wait, I just had the greatest idea Jaeyun." He gave you puppy eyes when you said his name, "What if you look for half the answers I do the other half then exchange?" You whispered so the teacher could hear.

"I can't trust you make good answers though..." He jokingly sighed.

"HEY! Okay or work together for every question to get it done twice as fast? Oh wait but then I'll be the one carrying the team... Bummer..." You stretched the corners of your mouth until your lips disappeared.

"I honestly don't feel like doing work so lose-lose." He pouted and rolled his eyes.

"Same... I can't even focus, I'm having a rough morning..." You openly admitted, "I got sent to detention for being late in my first class."

"Detention? Didn't think you were the type." Jaeyun had an unexpectedly sweet giggle which contrasted with his lower tone voice, "Heeseung and Sunghoon get sent often, surprised they aren't kicked out of the school."

"They get sent often?!" Your voice rose to which you quickly quieted down to avoid trouble, "Will I see them there?"

"Why? Looking forward to going now?" Jaeyun whispered with a grin, causing you to scoff.

"As if..." A sudden idea coming to mind, "Say Jaeyun... About the party... Heard you guys have a place in the woods...?" You became aware that you could pry some information out of him that would help you when searching the woods that night.

"Yeah, we do... We don't normally tell people about it." He said casually yet still with some sort of caution.

"So why tell us then?"

"Haven't had any visitors in a while..." Jaeyun toyed with his mechanical pencil, using the plastic part to trace around his lips, "Awfully interested aren't you?" He seemed to have caught on to your intentions, shifting the mood of the conversation around in a full 180.

Suddenly the dream you had earlier slipped into mind, causing you to sit in growing discomfort, "What do you want from my friends and I?"

"Nothing sweetheart... We're more interested in you than your dormmates. You look like someone we know." He laughed like a psycho and it creeped you out how the two of you were just poking lighthearted jokes to something much darker and mysterious, "I know you're afraid of us, you know far more than most girls." His voice dropped to a whisper as he watched the teacher behind you to make sure he didn't see the both of you slacking.

"Kyungeun knows your secrets too she said she'll tell me."

"She's acting like we don't know her secrets." Jaeyun closed his textbook, "Y/N just remember this, Kyungeun is half as bad as we are and half as pure as you are."

"Alright class, that's it for today's class. This textbook assignment won't be due until Friday have a good lunch." The teacher interrupted, causing your conversation with Jaeyun to end on a hanging note.

"Good luck with detention."Jaeyun hushed in your ear.

_______________

p.s, i changed the cover lol don’t make fun of my photoshop skills!

[lawrising-a]

( continued from here! // @pseudoneiric )

there's a sore sensation nestling against the sensitive skin of his wrist -- not rubbed raw, exactly, considering his tie is too silky to achieve such a feat ( and he, desperately, tried to move as little as possible ) but it still stings. a chiding reminder of what he allowed to happen not even minutes ago. yellow wrapped around him, completely bound and helpless ... it was something he can't say he's done before, not like that. he thinks the correct term would be bondage, but was it? gloved hands sinking beneath layers of flesh to expose the fluttering organs beneath, and expose her own in turn. call him crazy, but that's not what he thought bondage was about. but when was anything with lilian it's textbook definition? he can't blame anyone for his display of vulnerability except himself, completely ensnared with the girl the moment they crossed paths. there were times he watered down his attraction, for both their sakes, blaming her allure for his enchantment. yet lies come clean eventually and here he now perches. the edge of his mused bed, chest rising and falling more then it should as he burns with the black markings drifted upon his ivory skin. lipstick marks painting him in a light he's not used to. he's been stripped of all his warm tones and fake boy scout personas ; left in cool colors. green pants and black marks.

‘and what are you ... the sun?’ whispered a voice earlier, like every hushed word was a secret reserved between the two of them. mat rolls his shoulders, because he doesn't feel that way anymore. never has, honestly. he wants to be beaming lights with a killer gravitational pull, but he ... isn't. the colors on him now is a striking reminder of that : yet he replays lilian's maddening words and fools himself briefly. it's okay to believe lies when she's the one feeding them! as long as she believes it, why can't he humor it? everything she said had been a warped view, a funhouse mirror at those shifty carnivals -- but it was raw honesty from lilian, and he can't turn away the swell of attention. even if he should, even if mat should waltz into the bathroom where she's currently shrouding herself away and spill out the truth. let her know he isn't some angelic force but rather a mockery of one. how matthew naively hopes he can be hers regardless of his lack of good ... it's dizzying, causing his vision to blur, because it's been a while since he's confronted this about himself. the student doesn't like it. but oh, he loves her -- a burning sensation that lights his veins aflame and races his heart.

distractingly, he presses the pad of his rough thumb against the mark on the corner of his lips. a replica of a kiss she once bestowed upon him like salvation itself ( hm, what's with the spur of religious imagery today? hah ). trying to prod away the disappointment that rises every time he feels the wishful want of her actual lips there instead. she has to -- she has to feel something for him at this point, right? that can't be an assumption anymore, can it? questions whirl around as his fingers ghost down his ruined skin, tracing over the words left with his own hands like confirmation. like he's silently saying 'yes, property of lilian eyler.' like he's finally allowing himself a love he thought he wouldn't ever have when he traces, ‘mine. mine. mine-’ that ends with him working his way back up, away from the bulge of his stomach and trembling arms -- away from 'poetry, life, religion' and back to his lips. where he's reminded, with a fuzzy feeling balling up in his chest, 'mine.' almost pushing hard enough to slip a finger through his pink lips, plush and ready for ... mat isn't sure. he just wants her to kiss him there. though he knows she won't, least not today. and even if there's this sickening greed that controls him with a talent, he lets her have that. lets her take all her time in the bathroom and tries not to beg for more. how did she elegantly put in, in all her poetic prose that he's seen briefly in the club? a loyal dog? just for you now, only ever for you, lili--

a shiver rocks his form, startling his hands to the edge of the bed to tear into as he digs his heels into the carpet ( like he once had in the bed, to ground himself, to not buck ). was his pulse racing with the life she declared to adore so much? the man sinks canines into his cheek to hold back from beckoning her out to check. no, no ; he said he'd leave her be. it's a good thing for them both right now. if she had stayed and let the fabric obscuring his view fall from his eyes, he would've reached for her. try to pull them close and he'd ramble like a mad man ... wouldn't he have scared her? some part of him thinks he still has. which wobbles his posture in order to keep his head bowed, like awaiting punishment. almost waiting for pain building in his scalp, because surely she'd card her delicate laced fingers through his hair with a bit more force if she came back out. or was that his gentle throb of arousal wanting that? she got him worked up so easily ; ah, well, at least it's a good exercise for his thinning self control ...

a sigh, shaky and human, whistles out of parted lips. dry due to the fact he can't lick them thanks to the lipstick, though he can't help but wonder if he did -- would he be licking lilian's lips that way? the material touched them ... realizing how wild he is, a thoroughly teased animal, matthew laughs nervously. jesus christ, there's parts of him strewn all around his bedroom, because there's no way mat is fully put together. his brain feels like soupy liquid dripping from his ears and hissing into his scarlet skin. a puzzle of a man that lilian expertly took apart and left half completed. no matter how hard he tries to reel himself in, chase away all the sweetened morbidness delivered, he can't find all the pieces. surely, the clever girl took some with her to the bathroom. she was ... possessive. mat learned that just now. possessive over him, envious of basic things that matthew almost couldn't believe. she'll never know how comforting it was to see. a feeling now nestled happily within because nobody's been possessive of him before! she mustn't of gotten the memo from former friends, didn't hear how expendable he was to everyone who's known him. people don't get jealous for matthew, they don't care how much he sleeps, they don't care if he isolates away -- and they certainly don't care if his eyes linger on a girl with purple hair.

because who would find him special? he's an emotional wreck everyone stays weary of, a boy to eye with skepticism. his jealousy, his rawness, his obsessive love and need is wrong and ugly. you're shunned for those things by society. to the world, mat is anything but special, he's wrong ; so wrong and he's relentlessly tried to change that. but lilian ... she thinks otherwise. feels like he feels. sensitive and lovesick. and while he's always tried to hide before, if the girl with inky hair thinks it's beautiful and radiant ... everyone else must be wrong, because lilian eyler never is! as clever as the devil and twice as pretty, so the saying goes. with a rueful smile, too boyish and gentle for his own sharp face, he thinks it's an accurate fit for his favorite person ever. his throbbing molten core of earth, the darkened reflective surface of his beloved moon.

“im excited about lunch tomorrow, you know?” calls mat, voice as rough as ever ; like he uses it too much. but during this whole date, he fears he hasn't used it enough. “i haven't eaten with another person in a while. i usually just grab an apple and loiter around the library.” did you think i ate with yuri? though the fawn haired male doesn't ask, he quickly kills that assumption if it festered in lilian's mind. “if it goes well, we could ... ah, why don't we eat together from then on? maybe everyday? maybe forever! i think it'd be ... nice.”

the last part is so quiet he's not sure she hears it, but maybe she hears it die off. senses his shyness that bares him like it's her own. matthew doesn't want to dwell in it, so he tries to push forward. telling himself to keep tearing down the walls until there's nothing left ( the bathroom walls or his own? ). she deserves to hear more then his sputters from their little session, brought on by gutting arousal and his own jittery sparks : she deserves the world on an obsidian platter. to know he does want to be owned by her, to understand he'd be so comfortable displaying that label for all to see. and for lilian to be told, sternly, that he'd choose her out of a line up with certainty most would be scared of. love isn't half way for him, ever, and lilian needs to know that. even if his heart thunders and he wants to hear more of her disarming voice instead.

“and i want to be yours ; your idea with the whole 'blindly leading me around' wasn't half bad!” heartfelt chuckling makes him feel like he's vibrating out of his skin, her skin now, isn't it? “i'd let you blind me, i'd let you led me even if i was deaf and mute. you could be all my senses, because maybe then i'd trust them more. you don't know how much i wish these words on me were permanent, lilian --” mat twists his mouth, ruins his hair more. “darling, you just ... i've tried so hard to be normal this year, more then any other, yet you make me so helpless! it's ... how do you do that? do you know how special you are, how beautiful? perfect ... well, perhaps not that ; because you're stupid for worrying about not owning me. isn't it obvious you already do? were these reminders for me, or wishes for you?"

( eyes flutter to words he can barely read on his bared parts, words overlapping due to frenzy. all true. all true )

with a tightening throat, emotions rising like waves and god he could just drown, matthew lays back on the mattress. meekly pulling the tie out from under him, only to drag it over his used wrists. picturing only her. wondering if this sight would entice her to keep going when she comes out. and he wants to say lilian, you've won! congratulations on having a lover for life! or, something like : yuri couldn't pry me from your cold dead fingers! but what stumbles out is something foolish that he immediately grimaces over. hopefully she's too shaken to judge him too much.

“i think you're my soulmate, lilian. i .. really do.” so why would i ever let you go? or deem you unworthy? it's me, im unworthy. not you, never never -- his lashes tickle his skin when he shuts his eyes. breath hitching before evening out. reminding himself to calm down because matthew thinks he'll actually explode otherwise. a bundle of nerves, of her love, is all he really is.

[d-noona]

MAKE OVER

Chapter 3: Date Night 

Jung Hoseok x Reader

Reader as Kang Hyeonji

 SUMMARY: When Kang Hyeonji transformed herself into a striking redhead, the entire male population of Seoul stood up and took notice. But her make over was for Jung Hoseok’s benefit alone. He began to show interest in the new look but not in the way she wanted. Suddenly he was over-protective, perhaps a little jealous. It seemed that the idea of having a relationship with her couldn’t be further from his mind. The girl however wants more. So it was time for an ultimatum. If Hoseok didn’t want Hyeonji to lose her virginity to another admirer, he had no option but to make love to her himself.

"Is that you dear?" her mother called out as she pushed the door. "Yes Ma," the smell of roast dinner teased Hyeonji's nostrils as she made her way along the hall and into the kitchen. Not a pork smell. Chicken. Naturally, came the rueful thought. Chicken carried the least fat and calorie count, provided the skin was removed. Which it would certainly be. She almost sighed when she also spied her mother wrapping the hope-for crispy potatoes in foil. Zil glanced up and smiled at her daughter "Have a good day dear?"

"Pretty good, Choon hee, Han Byeol, Namjoon and the others bought me some cake, and you'll never guess who dropped in to see me this morning," she said brightly. Her mother answered her "I can't think. Who?"

"Hoseok"

"Hoseok? You mean Jung Hoseok?" asks her mother peculiarly. "The one and only." Hyeonji declined telling her mother about the fiasco of his new car. "He was up this way today and asked me out tonight for my birthday."

"But I'm cooking a special dinner for you tonight," she announced with a hint of displeasure in her tone. "I'll be here tonight for dinner Mum, Hobi isn't picking me up till around eight." Her mother gave Hyeonji a sharp look "You do realize he has a girl friend? A very beautiful one too, if I recall rightly" Hyeonji controlled her growing irritation with difficulty. "I'm well aware of that Mum, but were only going somewhere for coffee. Don't forget Hobi and I were friends before Tinashe came along." Her mother began to frown "I still don't know about this. I have an awful feeling this is not a good idea." Hyeonji came forward to give her mother a hug. "Ma, stop worrying. I'm a big girl now and quite capable of looking after myself.

At five to eight, Hyeonji was standing in her bedroom window, watching for Hobi's car. She doubted he would be late. Surprisingly, punctuality was now one of his virtues. He hadn't always been like that. When Hyeonji had first met Hoseok, and he'd been a computer-mad adolescent seventeen, she could not count the number of times he'd been late for things. Time had a little meaning for him once his concentration was focused on his latest games or graphic design.

Hyeonji was about to turn away from the window when Hoseok's bright red car came up the hill and turned into their driveway. Right on time. She shook her head in acceptance that Hoseok had changed in many ways. He was no longer the forgetful boy next door. He was an exceptionally sharp businessman. Ambitious. Brilliant. Successful.

Way out of Hyeonji's league. Sighing, she bent to switch her bedside lamp, and was about to leave the room when she hesitated, walking back to where she could watch Hoseok, unobserved from now the darkened window. He sat there for several seconds, combing his hair, though not with undue vanity. He didn't even glance into the rear-vision or side-mirror, just swept the comb quickly through both sides and down the back before slipping it back into his jacket pocket.

At least in that Hoseok hadn't changed. He'd never been vain about his looks, and still wasn't. There was nothing of the peacock in him. Yet after all that he looked good. A quiver rippled down Hyeonji's spine as she watched the object of her secret obsession unfold his elegant frame from behind the wheel. He was dressed in the same blue jeans, navy top and a cream linen jacket. He stretched as he stood up, and another deeper quiver reverberated all through her.

For the first time it struck Hyeonji just how intensely sexual her love for Hoseok had become with the passing of the years. Her more innocent school girl crush had long since graduated to a full-on physical passion filled with needs and yearnings which would not be denied. More and more she dreamt of making love with Hoseok, rather than just loving him. She would lie in bed at night and think about what it would like to kiss him and touch him; how he would look, naked and erect; how he would feel, deep inside her. She blushed in the darkness, her blood pounding through her body, her head whirling with a wild mixture of shame and excitement. Was she wicked to think about such things?

She didn't feel wicked. She felt driven and compelled, oblivious to everything but wanting Hoseok with a want that had no conscience, only the most merciless and agonizing frustration. How she wished she were dazzlingly beautiful, with the sort of body no man could resist. A bitter longing flooded Hyeonji as she watched Hoseok confidently stride towards her front door, his dark hair shining like the stars in the dark night. Her grip on the curtains tightened and inevitably her thoughts turned to the dreaded Tinashe.

How often did he sleep with her?

She wondered enviously. Hyeonji knew he didn't live with her, but that didn't mean they didn't share most of their nights either at his or her place.

Was she great in bed? What was it she did to him that kept Hobi interested in her for six whole months?

Another awful possibility snuck into Hyeonji's mind. Twisting her heart and stomach. The front door rang, the sound jarring Hyeonji's suddenly stretched nerves she resisted rushing down stairs and her thoughts still simmering with resentment at the situation. She should have not agreed to go out with Hoseok tonight, not even for coffee. She was only torturing herself.

She heard her mother slide the door back from the family room then walk with small steps along the plastic strip which protected the hallway carpet. The front door creaked slightly on opening. "Hello Hobi"." Zil said with stiff politeness. "Hello, Mrs. Kang, You're looking well."

Hyeonji listened to their small chat for a minute or two before gathering herself and coming down stairs glad now that she hadn't made a super human effort with her appearance. Even so, her mother looked up and down at her as though searching for some hit of secret decadence. Hyeonji doubted if even the most devious mind could find anything to criticize her in her knee-length black skirt and simple white knitted top, even if the latter did have a lacey design and pretty pearl buttons down the front. Her choice of jewelry could hardly give rise to speculation. The rest of her was equally sedate. Skin colored pantyhose, medium length black pumps, hair up in its usual knot and no make-up on except coral lipstick. Even her underwear was sedate. But only Superman with his X-ray vision could see that. Not that the sight of her modest white crossover bra and cotton briefs could would send any man's heart aflutter.

Hyeonji was at a loss to understand then why Hoseok himself frowned up at her as she came down the stairs. She had no illusions that he was struck by some previously untapped appreciation of her beauty. So why was he giving her the once-over with slightly surprised look in his eyes? Her curiosity was not satisfied till they were alone and walking along the curving front path towards the parked car.

"You know, Hyeonji," he said, "You've lost quite a bit of weight lately have you?"

Hyeonji clenched her teeth down hard in her jaw. She'd been losing weight steadily for two years and had been this size for more than three months. Hadn't he noticed before this moment? No of course not. For the last six months his eyes had all been for Tinashe.

"Not lately I haven't," she replied coolly. "I've been this weight for quite a while."

"Oh? I didn't notice" says Hoseok whilst scratching his nape.

Tell me something new....

Hyeonji thought tartly. She felt piqued that there wasn't the smallest change in him that she didn't notice. She knew whenever he had his hair cut; when he bought a new jacket; when he changed women. "Are you sure Tinashe won't mind you're taking me out tonight?" she was driven to ask, barely controlling the lemony flavor in her voice. "Tinashe and I are having a trial separation," he bit out. "Oh?" Hyeonji battled to look perfectly normal. Difficult when your stomach had just done a back-flip. "You guys fought or something?"

"Or something" he muttered.

"You don't want to tell me about it?" she asked. His smile was wry as he wrenched open the passenger door. "Not tonight Hyeonji. I don't want to spoil my mood by thinking about women."

"But I'm a woman, Hoseok!" she pointed archly. "Yeah, but you're different. I don't really think of you like that. You're my friend. Come on. Get in. I'm going to drive us out, it's a lovely night for a walk along the beach."

Which it was. Clear and warm, with stars sparkling in the night sky. A night for lovers. Hyeonji tried not to think about that. Masochism was not one of her vices. Or maybe it was?

"But I'm not dressed for the beach," she protested when Hoseok climbed in the wheel. "I have heels and stockings on for one thing."

Hoseok in turn laughed "You can take them off in the car," he said without turning a hair. Is indifference to her undressing in front of him was depressing in the extreme. She could just imagine what would happen if Tinashe stated stripping in the passenger seat, wriggling her pouty bottom while she unpeeled her stockings down those long, tanned legs of hers. Hoseok wouldn't concentrate on his driving for long. Hyeonji had an awful feeling that she could sit stark naked in front of Hoseok and all he would do was ask her if she was cold.

"I hope you don't think you're going to worm your way out of buying me coffee!" she told him while he reversed out of the driveway. "I was going to order a big rich slice of cake with it. You've no idea, Hobi, what food Mom has been feeding me ever since Dad died. She's become a "fat-free forever" nutcase!" as Hyeonji evades thoughts of Tinashe.

"No worse than having a mother who wants to feed you up," he countered dryly. "Every time I come home, Mother says I'm getting too thin, then come out the pastries and chips and God knows what else."

"You're not too thin," Hyeonji said, "You're just right."

He smiled over at her and her heart lurched. He was heart-stoppingly handsome when he smiled. Just as bright as the sun. "You know you're good for me Hyeonji. You always say the right thing. And you always do the right thing" he added meaningfully "You put me to shame today. I never remember your birthday and you always remember mine. So if you open the glove box in front of you there's a little something there which I hope will make up for all those other forgotten occasions."

Before Hyeonji could even start to protest she was cut off by Hoseok "And don't tell me I shouldn't have, "He went on "And don't tell me it's too expensive. I can afford it. Fact is, I can afford pretty well whatever I want these days. That computer game I told you about some time back has just gone on the worldwide market and it's going to make me a multimillionaire."

"Oh Hoseok! That's wonderful." Hyeonji exclaimed in excitement for her friend. "Maybe," he said dryly. "I'm beginning to find out being rich and successful isn't all it's cracked up to be. Except when it comes to buying my best friend something really nice," he added with a warm smile "Now, come on, go on, rip the paper off and open it up. I'm dying to see what you think."

Hyeonji then just did that, and gasped "Hoseok! You shouldn't have!"

"I thought I told you not to say that," he said ruefully. "I was in the jewelry store for hours this afternoon trying to decide. In the end I settled for something simple, but solid. Like you"

Hyeonji tried to take his words as a compliment, but somehow some of the pleasure of his gift dissolved at that point. She lifted the heavy gold chain necklace from its green velvet bed, laying across one palm while she slowly traced the heavy oval links with the index finger of her right hand.

Simple and solid. Like me...

"You don't like it?" Hoseok asked alarmed. Hyeonji heard the disappointment in his voice and forced herself to throw him a bright smile. "Don't be silly, I love it."

Chapter 04

Masterlist

[stormtodoroki]

Happy Pi (Pie) day

Warnings: lots of fluff, teasing, some implied smut so read at your own risks and I'mma just say 18+ to be safe.

Pairing: Crowley x Oc, Sam x sister, Dean x Sister

Words: 2,871

Summary: Beth, decided to surprise the brothers with some pies on Pi day,and make them be okay with her dating Crowley.

Beth had just woken up and ran to the kitchen to start on the pies, today was national pie day and she wanted to surprise her brothers by making them each something special. She had just started chopping the apples when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket, she set down the knife before pulling out her phone and she read the text with a small smile. She thought for a moment before she texted him back telling him she was making pies and if he wanted to help he could. Within seconds Crowley was right beside her and took some flour and placed it on her cheek he let out a small snicker with a smug like grin plastered amongst his face.

"I must say kitten you look amazing in white."

Beth's cheeks turned a light shade of pink before her face turned serious and she continued making the pie.

"You'd better not waste any more of my flour Crow. I need to make three pies with this bag."

Crowley tsked and shrugged his shoulders before he gave a light kiss to her flour stained cheek. When he pulled back he took off his overcoat and suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt with a smile.

"Guess I'll help you bake some pies then my love."

With Crowley helping Beth make the pies it actually took longer than expected as Crowley would keep stopping every other minute or so to try the mixture, put more flour on Beth, or distract her by kissing her. She fought all the urges in her to take the pie and throw it at him, but she decided to wait till later, after all, she did fancy the king, why not make the revenge fit for a king?

"Beth doll, the silence is killing me, can we please strike up a conversation? Perhaps about how come Moose and Squirrel are still in bed?"

Beth smirked while remaining silent, Crowley was getting antsy, she knew how badly he loved the sound of her voice, he's told her countless times that if given the chance he would play it over and over in his head all day and not grow tired. Well, she wasn't gonna let him have the pleasure of hearing it until they got the pies finished.

"Come on Love, I know just as well as you do that you can't keep quiet all day, you love running that mouth of yours."

Beth smiled and she put two of the pies in and set the timer, she then pointed to the unfinished one in front of Crowley and then pointed to the timer on the oven. Once Crowley got the hint he let out an exasperated sigh and became serious as he began to make the pie he was tasked with making.

"You know Beth, you seem extra enticing when you're all serious and in command. Gotta say it's driving me mad."

Beth gave a triumphant smirk and sat on a chair and watched Crowley intently as he began to finish the pie. After about 15 minutes Crowley clapped his flour soaked hands together and put his pie near the oven, being careful to not put it too close.

"Well, I do believe I'm done, Love. Now I just got to wait for your pies to finish before I can put mine in the oven. So let's say we relax a bit and you can answer my question from earlier."

He turned around and saw Beth with her eyes closed, her head slowly making its way to her right shoulder, fearing she'd fall he poofed the two of them onto the couch and rested her on his chest. He had a soft smile and listened to the rhythmic beating of her heart. When the oven beeped he snapped his fingers and the pies were on the counter, and with another snap, the last pie was put in and the timer set. Surely she can't be mad at him for using his powers to make sure they didn't burn right? At least he didn't cheat and make them automatically cooked to perfection, which was definitely easy enough to do.

After the final pie was done Crowley thought it was best to wake Beth up. He gave her a small kiss on the forehead before he began to tickle her sides, within seconds she was a laughing mess and smiled up at Crowley before she bolted up and ran to the kitchen.

"Holy Crap! The pies they're gonna-"

Crowley walked into the kitchen behind Beth and snaked his arms around her waist with a smile and he leaned to her ear and whispered.

"Gonna what? Burn? I'd never let that happen love."

Crowley smiled and nibbled her ear lightly before he spun her into his chest and kissed her passionately. He only stopped when he heard someone clearing their throat, turning around with Beth still against his chest he faked a smile.

"Moose, Squirrel it's a pleasure you two finally decided to join us. Where's your little angel Squirrel?"

Dean rolled his eyes with a groan and he looked over to Beth.

"What is he doing here Beth?"

Beth smiled and told the brothers to wait where they were, she ran over the pies and carried them over.

"Well Dean, Crowley was so sweet and decided on making pies for you two for national pie day that I decided to help him."

The three men stood shocked in front of her, Sam and Dean were shocked Crowley would actually come up with such an idea and Crowley was shocked that she told the brothers it was his idea when it really wasn't. The brothers thanked the both of them and went to the kitchen, nearly dropping the pies as Beth yelled for them to not touch the last one.

"Love, why'd you tell them it was my idea? We both know it was you, and I think your brothers know it too."

Crowley was looking at her, the confusion still plastered upon his face as he held her cheek in his hand, he kissed her gently and gave a wink. Beth's cheeks immediately turned pink and she smiled softly as she looked into his eyes.

"Cause you are sweet, and even if you are the King of Hell you still helped me make the pies. That said I'm grateful you had helped and my brothers are gonna enjoy the pies and they'll hopefully dislike you less."

Crowley pulled her into a tight embrace, his face in the crook of Beth's neck with her hair hiding his small hint of blush.

"This is one of the many reasons I love you Beth."

He looked into her light blue eyes as he took in her every detail.

"I love you too Crowley, and to prove it I have a special date night planned for us soon."

She stood on her tippy toes and gave him a quick peck and she went to the kitchen, she saved the final pie for her and Crowley, and she honestly wanted to eat it.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Crowley watched her walk away and soon followed close behind Beth, never wanting her to go out of his sights.

“And what surprise would that be?” He asked a little smile on his face as he followed her back into the kitchen.

"Wouldn't be much of a surprise if I told you now would it?" She smiled as she turned around and shot him a playful wink. "I'm really excited to taste the pie you've made though.”

“ I do like surprises. Wonder what delights you have in that head of yours.”Crowley said as he sliced the pie, smirking as he caught her wink, “I only helped, luv. Now let’s taste that pie.”

Beth smirked. "Yeah, sure you helped." She hopped up onto the counter and fixed her tank top making sure to send Crowley a mischievous wink this time around. "You made this pie on your own cause I made the other two. You took your time and kept throwing flour at me." She giggled lightly hoping he was getting antsy.

“Well I love keeping you distracted luv,” Crowley’s eyes darted to the flash of exposed skin of her waist as she oh so teasingly adjusted her shirt, throwing him a wink for good measure. Oh, such a tease indeed, making him oh so subtly lick his lips in anticipation. If she kept this up, who knows how long he’d last before giving in to temptation.

Almost forgetting about the pie in general, he unwillingly dragged his eyes away from her beautiful frame to stick the fork down into the top of the sliced piece of pie and offered her a piece,

“Taste see if it up to your standards.”

He asked innocently enough, although his eyes were focused on her lush, full lips.

Beth bit her top lip as she smiled, the blush creeping onto her cheeks, she looked down and giggled softly. "I wouldn't pass up tasting anything you cook or bake for me Crowbear." She ate the piece offered to her from the fork and she moaned pleasingly.

"Crowley my dear you've made one Hell of a pie. It is so delicious, if I could I'd probably eat it all." She leaned towards him with a seductive look in her eyes. "Of course then I'd need you to help me make room for desert." She kissed his cheek and smiled.

He watched as her lips pulled the sweet desert from the fork, all the while such sinful thoughts entered into his mind.

He smirked from her praise, and the rather cute nickname she called him when they were alone. But her moan of delight only added to his rather fiery thoughts and made a silent promise to himself that he’d make her pretty voice utter it again...and again. He felt her lips on his bearded cheek and looked at her, his eyes holding something akin to adoration although there was something as always, lurking behind that gaze of his.

He tore his attention away from those little thoughts in his head, bringing the fork back down for another piece,

“I’ll make note of that kitten, every word.” This time he brought the fork to his lips and tasted the pie,

“It’s good, sweet, but it pales in comparison to the taste of you.”

Beth blushed and hid behind her hands as she looked down, her dirty blonde locks covering her face. She crossed her legs over each other and she mentally cursed at herself for not holding out and took a deep breath determined in trying to keep this little game of hers going.

"Oh, is that so Crow-Crow? Please do tell me just how much better I am than this magnificent pie."

She looked up to him and raked her hand through her hair, pushing it away from her blueish-grey orbs.

"Maybe if I like your answer I could help you with your," She leaned forward towards his ear whispering seductively. "problem in your pants.”

He kept his gaze on her, the scent of her, sweet like the pie but the hint of her perfume, delicate like rose petals penetrating through wafting into his nose, so perfect, combining with the imagination, fueling the warmth in his stomach.

“You skin as soft as velvet cake, that voice of yours is as sweet and soft like honeysuckle.”

“Oh words can never do it justice, the sweetest thing. Pie may be dessert for you, but you’re mine. And I can’t wait to taste ever inch of you.” He said, his rough husk whispering into her ear, his hand resting on her mid thigh.

Beth's hair rose up and she quivered slightly when Crowley rested his hand on her thigh, to her it was like sparks of electricity had made her notice how much of an effect he was having on her and just like she was having on him. She reached her hand to his scruff and smiled.

"My voice is like honeysuckle? I must say I'm quite impressed with your answer Crowbear."

She traced her fingers gently along his jaw, enjoying the feeling it gave her. She then traced them down his neck to his chest where she grabbed his tie and pulled him flush to her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and smirked as she traced a few circles on his chest. She then wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"So why don't we go somewhere else and you can show me just how much I mean to you Crow?”

Crowley pressed closer to her, indulging in the kiss as his hands was wandering huger to her waist, his finger spread out across her thick thighs before pulling her hips flushed against his.

He lifted from the counter to his hips, “Darling, I could show you how much you mean to me, anywhere...” He said walking away from the counter with her. It seemed like Crowley was going to lay her down right on the kitchen table but he teleported with her instantly laying her down on red expensive sheets on a California King sized lavish bed, his bed. They were in Hell, “But I’d rather have you in my bed.” Crowley said deep and husky abandon her lips as he kissed her again.

Beth smiled into Crowley's chest, when he had a better hold on her, hiding the evident blush on her face. She loved how much Crowley was affected by her and her teasing. As soon as he teleported her to his bed she kissed him back and ran her hands in his sheets.

"Well you have quite a lovely bed, and it's quite obvious why you brought me here out of all other places you could take me, I mean your bed quite soft and to be honest your room feels quite homey. I couldn't dream of anywhere better, more personal."

With blush still sprawled on her face she grabbed Crowley's tie and undid it, she then put it on her shoulders with a smirk before she played with his scruff.

Crowley smiles softly, one of those very rare, rarely expressed genuine smiles. It was small but the his emotion he felt for Beth was so powerful behind it.

“You ought to be lavished and spoiled in silk sheets and sleep in the finest beds. You don’t know how much I hate seeing you sleep in decrepit shady motels and sub par twins at the bunker. I want only the best things, the softest sheets and the finest clothes to grace your skin.” He brushed a lock of her hair back from her face.

“You are welcome to sleep here anytime you please... although I can guarantee tonight there won’t be much sleeping...” He as he lifted up her shirt, sliding it gently off her beautiful chest.

“Well, I've gotten quite used to those beds cause I've been hunting for quite some time now, but just being here for this short amount of time I already don't want to ever leave this bed.”

When Crowley removed her shirt Beth’s face became beet red as she realised she was wearing her red and black laced bra today, thinking quick she struck a pose, one hand was on her hip and the other was on the back of her head.

“How do I look?”

She then smirked as she started to unbutton Crowley's buttons, she purposely stayed close to him and every other button she would accidentally graze his bulge.

“From now on luv, you can sleep here.” He chuckled as she did a quirky pose underneath him, hands on her hips and head.

Crowley loved her quirks, her little spontaneousness. Beth certainly wasn’t like other women, and he believed it was her kind heart and uniqueness that drew his attention to the Winchester.

“You look stunning luv, more beautiful than Aphrodite.” Crowley of course had not missed the sexy black and crimson red lace that adorned her bra, the lace intricately designed framing the bra and accentuated Beth’s rather beautiful features, “Did you wear this just for me?” Crowley smirked slightly, his fingers brushing ever so slightly down her side, brushing across the lace of the bra, down the soft supple skin down her, until his hand rested on the dip of her waist.

Crowley lost his composure just slightly, his brown eyes dark with lust as Beth teasingly started to undo his buttons, every so often, rubbing against him and his constrained hard member, giving him the tiniest bit of friction.

Crowley kissed her lips soft and sweet like the cherry pie filling. He stroked her cheek lovingly, swiping the pad of his thumb over her cheek as he continued his soft kiss, showing her how much he loved her even though he struggled with the words.

He wanted to take his time with her, show her his unyielding and strong feelings for her. He wanted to show her bliss, passionate and slow and sweet, just as they slipped beneath the silk sheets and spent the night tangled in sheets and each other bodies.