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reiderwriter · 7 months ago

Note

hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)

A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚

Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.

Masterlist

Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were.

“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…�� You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized.

“You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight.

“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-”

“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.”

The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot.

He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans.

“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.”

“Turn around.”

You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day.

You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist.

“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”

“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”

“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.”

Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest.

His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him).

With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all.

“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you.

Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life.

The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.

“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention.

“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet.

“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-”

“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.”

“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”

“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”

The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on.

“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter.

“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question.

“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?”

The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?”

xxxxx

A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance.

You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime.

You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character.

“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave.

Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view.

The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair.

A girl could dream.

“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.”

Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw.

“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.

“What? Why?”

“I don't hit women.”

“And I do? Emily, wha-”

But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame.

Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door.

“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?”

“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.”

“You make a good point, shall we begin?”

He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender.

“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?”

You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it.

You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane.

There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.

“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”

He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head.

“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight but not bruising yet.

“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?”

He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs.

“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.”

“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.”

He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention.

“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little.

You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints.

He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again.

“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow.

“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes.

“Y/N, put it down.”

“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab.

“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.”

His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward.

“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged.

“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”

It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat.

You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun.

Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning.

“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?”

You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat.

“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”

You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back.

“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.”

His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties.

“I can tell.”

If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute.

“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.”

He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach.

“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.”

His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better.

Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers.

A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun.

“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.”

He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you.

“Yes, yes, please touch me.”

The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue.

The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table.

You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.

Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy.

“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure.

The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you.

“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.”

You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window.

“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path.

“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…”

Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free.

You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick.

As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple.

“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.”

Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release.

But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him.

“If you need something, use your words, Agent.”

“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged.

The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting.

“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls.

Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster.

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug.

His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair.

“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-”

“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck

“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.”

Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms.

“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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inthelittlewood · 1 month ago

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So, just out of curiosity, are you thinking of making episodes for rats 2 like you did for all the other pow creations smps? If not, that's okay (:

I'm really not sure currently. For full transparency, the previous episodes of both series made on average about £40 individually. The occasional one flicked up to NEARLY £100, but they're real anomalies. Thumbnail costs take up a good portion of that 40, then what's left, divided by the hours it takes to condense masses of content down to episode form would be a wage grossly below minimum wage. It's not smart financially or motivationally to proceed that way.

I've always been proud of the end products of each episode / series but I had revenue coming from other sources that have since dried up. I can't make purely artistic decisions when I have mouths to feed and a home to maintain.

I've been quiet on video content this year because I've not had an SMP play in, so streaming became a primary earner. Even that was propped up significantly by our Logitech/Streamlabs sponsorship - which concluded unexpectedly early at the end of September due to budget adjustments on their end (zero bad feelings regarding that btw, it was all done fairly and by the contract, it was quarterly renewals and I was communicated respectfully with)

I'm lucky that Wild Life has come along when it has, as it gives me a little breathing room to try and secure a new sponsor or at least compile a content plan for late 2024 / early 2025.

Even my Life series barely pass the threshold to where an editor wouldn't gobble up the majority of the revenue. That one is a real 50/50 between coming out net neutral, or coming out with a minimal profit. It's rough. Speaking honestly, I'm a tad nervous about the immediate future, but I promise this isn't a post trying to rouse pity or spur on donations/subs etc, it's just transparency as I've always operated. It feels better laying it out so analytically because it gives people context and answers the FAQ of "why don't you just hire someone", the overhead isn't there.

I'm going to start putting the feelers out to try and secure a new partnership, I have one conversation pending and if we can I'll nab some sponsored streams more often to raise the tides.

That said, we are headed in to the best time of year for ad revenue on YouTube especially, but it's not quite the 5x multiplier I would need to sensibly navigate my situation ha

The only viable solution currently would be to crowd source funds to cover the costs of the work for making the episodes, whether that be paid to me and I edit them myself or more ideally, an editor, so I can focus my efforts in to producing another piece of content. I've no idea what the Patreon/Kofi/Crowdfunding landscape is like currently both mechanically and socially. Are they a thing people subscribe to anymore? They inherently come with more pressures too which I'm nervous to take on.

I'm likely to get inbox messages offering to edit for free or at a reduced fee, but PLEASE DON'T DO THAT. Even if you're framing it as good practice, or a portfolio/client list piece, I wouldn't feel comfortable with that. It's a very sweet gesture and I totally understand showing that initiative / sincerity, I've been there, but those scenarios can too often be miscommunicated or misconstrued and it gets messy. People's time and talents deserve compensation.

So tl;dr answer is I'm not sure, I might try an episode 1 to see how it performs, but it's not looking great. Sorry.

#inthelit #ratssmp #rats smp

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cutielando · 6 months ago

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Heyy can you write some headcanons or a oneshot about Charles dating a girl with small boobs?

small | c.l.

my masterlist

Charles couldn't say he really cared about your boobs. For sure, he loved them oh so much, but he wouldn't say it was something detrimental to your relationship or anything like that.

On the other hand, you had been self-conscious about your small boobs ever since you could remember. Seeing so many other girls with broad chests, looking so sexy and hot and desirable because of their boobs made you feel down every time you would look down at your chest and see... nothing.

That is one of the reasons why you were very hesitant to have sex with Charles after going out for a few weeks.

Both of you had been hinting about finally doing it for a while, but something always came up on your end. You'd have a headache, you'd not had had the time to get waxed, you were out of town. Frankly, you were running out of excuses to delay the inevitable.

Charles had been the perfect gentleman through the whole process. He had been respectful from the very beginning when you had told him you wanted to wait for a little while before taking the next step.

You hadn't done much more than heavy making out and some fondling over your clothes. Mainly because you didn't want to let Charles see how much you were lacking in the boobs department and decide that he didn't want to be with you for that reason exactly.

You had found yourself, yet again, in the same situation you had been running from for weeks now. Making out with Charles on his bed, his hands trailing the shape of your hips and your hands tightly gripping at the back of his shirt.

However, the moment his hands got too near your boobs for your liking, you immediately pulled away and sat up, leaving a confused Charles panting, his lips and cheeks flushed.

"Mon amour? Is everything okay?" he asked once he had caught his breath, running a hand through his messy hair as he settled on the bed next to you.

You didn't respond, clutching your knees to your chest and resting your forehead against your legs. You couldn't tell him what was bothering you, he was for sure going to think you were stupid and then end everything. But you couldn't lie to him anymore either.

Sighing, you lifted your head to look at him, biting your lip once you noticed the gentle smile he was looking at you with.

"You're going to think it's stupid" you mumbled, your gaze suddenly extremely focused in your nails.

Charles shifted closer to you, taking your chin in his hand to make you look at him.

"Nothing you have to say is stupid. I just want to know what's going on" he explained, brushing his thumb against the skin of your cheek.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you reveled in the way his touch was so gentle with you, the way the feeling of his soothing motions made your skin burn, the way he was looking at you with so much love. It all almost made you want to cry.

"I'm scared you're not going to like me anymore once you see me...naked" you explained, opening your eyes to see his reaction.

His eyebrows were furrowed, an adorable little pout forming. You could see he was utterly confused, which made you internally groan because you would have to explain it even more explicitly.

"What do you mean? Why would I stop liking you?" he asked, his hand now falling on your right knee.

You gulped, licking your lips which had dried up from the stress of the situation you were currently in.

"I'm not as... gifted as other girls are in certain parts of my body" you said slowly, hoping he would finally catch on. When you saw the confusion becoming ever more prominent, you groaned. "I have small boobs, Charles!"

His mouth finally widened in understanding, before bursting out laughing. You hid your face in your legs, your cheeks blushing in embarrassment.

Once his laughter finally died down, he lifted your chin once again and held your face in his hands.

"I don't care how big or small your boobs are. I love you for who you are, not for the way you look. You're the most attractive person I've ever seen, every single part of you" his words made your eyes well up with tears.

All the stress that you had experienced every time you and him got more intimate, the way you were always afraid of him touching you there, he really didn't care about any of it.

"Are you sure?" you whispered, making him smile and lean in to kiss your forehead.

"I'm 100% positive" you leaned in and kissed him, pulling away to rest your forehead against his.

"Charles?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we have sex now?"

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7seas-of-ryy · 4 months ago

Text

Another Hangover Cure

Author’s Note: I got this idea from @yearninglustfully on this post! I recommend reading Hangover Cure first!

Summary: You, Rhys, and Cassian aren't allowed to be together alone anymore... but what about when the three of you are paired up for business?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Platonic!Rhys x Reader, Platonic!Cassian x Reader

Warnings: drinking, implied smut, let me know if I need to add any others :)

Your specialty for the Night Court had always been spells and wards. You could easily place a spell or ward anything. Your intelligence is what made Rhys invite you to work for him so long ago. That is how you started at the Night Court and it quickly became your home.

For a while, you had been practicing breaking wards and spells. It was much harder than it seemed and you had yet to master it.

Rhys had brought you a box that had been warded many many years ago and after working on it for a month, you told him you needed help. It was a much older and stronger magic than you were used to and you weren't afraid to admit when you couldn't do something.

After much contemplation, Rhys decided he would go to Helion, the High Lord of the Day Court, to get his help. He wanted you to come with and told Cassian he would also be coming for extra security.

You were currently in a meeting with everyone in the IC discussing this.

"Absolutely not. You three cannot be trusted together." Az immediately stated.

Feyre and Nesta immediately agreed with the male.

"Listen, we need Y/N for this so she can learn and see how its done. This is literally her area of expertise, she is crucial for this. I am the High Lord, it is a curtesy for me to go and the only reason Cass is going as security is because the rest of you are busy." Rhys told the group.

"Don't think I forgot about the tree you three stole!" Az responded.

"You told him?!" Cassian asked you.

You grimaced and gave him with a sorry look.

"This won't be like us going out for a night out, this will be us doing work." You reasoned with Az.

"Yes, strictly business" Cass added with a salute to the shadowsinger

"Fine, but not for too long. You three have to come back by tomorrow." Az compromised.

"Deal." You, Rhys, and Cass all said in unison.

Azriel pulled you aside before you left.

"Please be safe my love. And as much as I am worried about the three of you together, I do want you to enjoy yourself still...just not too much. Helion can get handsy." He ended the sentence with a scowl.

"You're the only one I could ever want. I promise I will be safe and responsible." You told him

He placed a kiss on your forehead and helped you strap on your bag.

"I love you so much, have a safe trip." He spoke and then placed a loving kiss on your lips.

You heard Cass make a gagging sound and Az rolled his eyes at his brother.

You walked over to him and Rhys and the three of you started the journey to the Day Court.

Azriel, Nesta, and Feyre all stood watching you three leave.

"This is not a good idea" Nesta spoke

"Terrible idea" Feyre agreed.

"Lets just hope they learned their lesson last time." Azriel added

The three split up and went to do their work for the day.

Once you made it to the Day Court, Helion was quick to greet you.

"Ahh Y/N, my protege! I am so excited to teach you my ways." He announced and brought you in for a kiss on the cheek.

"Hands off, Helion. I promised my brother I wouldn't let you be all over her." Cassian told him

You all laughed and after the rest of the greetings, he led the three of you inside.

The warded box was laying on the table in front of you all while Helion examined it.

"Hmm this is rare and old magic indeed. I believe the reason you could not crack it was that it requires two to break the spell." He told you.

You let out a sigh in relief, knowing that it wasn't entirely your fault that you couldn't figure it out. The Day Court High Lord explained what you had to do and how these specific wards worked. You actually learned a lot from him and were grateful for this experience.

The two of you worked on the box and eventually broke it open. Rhys stored the contents of it in his bag and began to talk.

"Alright, well thank you for all of your help. This has been very-" he started but Helion cut him off.

"You're leaving already? I had a whole meal and night planned, which included the finest wine we have to offer." He told you three with a smile that showed all his teeth.

You looked over at Cass who was already smiling at you and then Rhys who looked to be contemplating his next words.

"It would be rude to leave when they went through all the effort of putting it together for us." Cass spoke before Rhys could.

"So its settled! You're staying. I have rooms for you all so you can stay the night as well. Our wine is no joke, you probably won't be able to have three glasses before blacking out." Helion stated, leading you to the dining room.

The four of you ate a lovely meal, sharing stories and enjoying the wine. It seemed every time you would drink it, it would fill itself up. Perhaps thats why a few glasses would get someone drunk beyond belief.

Before you knew it, you were already feeling tipsy. You could tell the others were as well, due to their pink cheeks and loud voices.

"Are you guys interested in seeing how the Day Court parties?" Helion asked.

"Absolutely!" Cass responded.

"I'm intrigued." Rhys added.

You just nodded and giggled, knowing the wine was taking over quickly.

That was the last thing you remember from the night. Well, you remember dancing and laughing, a lot of laughing.

---

"I can't believe they did it again!" You heard Feyre speak.

"I can. I told you it was a bad idea." Nesta added.

Azriel just stood in silence watching the mess on the ground with a smile on his face.

He didn't care that he had to come help you after you had a fun night. He trusted you and he trusted his brothers. He secretly enjoyed getting to take care of you for the day. He was just concerned with you getting so drunk that your shields would be down.

Your eyes slowly opened and the feeling of drinking too much wine last night hit you. You were laying on your back sprawled out like a starfish. Everything hurt and you had no idea what you were even laying on.

You slowly began to roll over and continued rolling as if you were going down a hill until you hit the floor. Once you looked over, you realized you were laying on top of Rhys, Cass, and Helion, who were all bunched into a ball, and there was a...door laying between Rhys and Helion. You weren't even sure who's limbs belonged to who, they were so twisted up.

They all started to wake up after you moved off of them and all were groaning and grunting in pain.

"Is this what you call strictly business?" Az asked with a smirk on his face.

"Don't tell me we did it again." Rhys mumbled

"Cass why are you wearing my socks as gloves again?" you asked, holding your head to stop the pounding.

"At least I didn't go through a wall this time." Cass said in defense.

"Actually..." Helion stated as he raised his pointer finger and pointed it at the wall behind them, "we both went through that wall. Y/N sure can make one hell of a ricochet ward."

"Helion, you told me you would watch over them so it wouldn't happen again!" Feyre scolded him

"After you told me about how these three party, I wasn't going to let the night go to waste. I wanted to have some fun!!" He defended himself.

"So that's why my glass kept refilling itself!" You said in an accusatory tone, pointing at him.

"Ok I'm leaving for 20 minutes to let you four figure out what happened and once I get back I want to know everything." Nesta stated and Feyre and Az followed her.

"Well, it could be worse than this, I guess." Cass stated

"Could it?" Rhys retorted.

You grimaced and looked around as a memory hit you.

"Helion, did I ride a pegasus last night?" You asked

"I believe you did and I believe it bonded with you." He replied with a nod of approval.

You looked over at Cassian and only then realized he was entirely orange.

"What happened to you?!" You exclaimed.

"I don't know!" He replied starting to freak out.

"I can help with that one. You said you could pull off any color so Y/N bet that you wouldn't look good if you were orange." Rhys said, his voice rough

You looked at the orange male with a sorry look and said, "oops?"

"Rhys, why are you laying with a door on top of you?" It was Helion's turn to ask.

"I was cold." Your High Lord told him.

The four of you were silent for a few moments, just watching each other.

"You have a black eye." Cass told Rhy.

"You're missing a tooth." Rhys told Cass.

"Y/N warded my hand to make it stick to whatever it touches so when I peed, it got stuck to my..." Helion admitted, his voice getting softer towards the end of his sentence.

"Oh, Y/N, no..." Cass said in horror.

"You have got to stop drunk warding things." Rhys added.

You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

"This is worse than last time!" Cass exclaimed.

"Our 20 minutes are almost up and we still don't have our story straight. I mean, I don't even know how they knew to come for us. Do you guys?" You exclaimed

Cass and Rhys shook their heads no.

"I think I let them know their assistance would be needed in the morning... but I might have also sent them our breakfast order." Helion explained.

"Breakfast sounds so good right now" Cassian groaned and the rest of you made noises of approval.

"Ok, heres the plan. We pull ourselves together and act like we had a normal night with a normal amount of drinking." Rhys told the rest of you.

"They saw you using a door as a blanket!" You whisper-shouted at him.

"It's not the best plan but its the only plan we've got." He replied in the same tone.

"I think they're coming. Act natural." Cass whisper yelled.

Feyre, Nesta, and Azriel all entered the room and looked around.

You were leaning with your elbow against a wall, resting your hand on your head. Rhys was sitting on the couch with his legs crossed, his ankle resting over his knee while he pretended to be deep in thought. Helion was leaning against a table pretending to read a book. And Cassian was standing in the middle of the room with his eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

"You're all idiots." Nesta deadpanned.

"Rhys, how could you let this happen again?" Feyre spoke dissapointed.

Azriel was quiet so the sisters looked over at him, they were expecting him to scold the group as well. When he didn't, Feyre nudged him.

"Do you have anything to add Az?" She asked him

He was still just smiling at your attempt to be normal and shook his head no.

"I just want to get my mate home as quick as possible." He stated

Everyone snapped their attention to him, even you.

"Mate?" You questioned.

"Mate." he stated with a huge smile, "in the middle of the night, I recieved a breakfast order from Helion. I assumed that meant the four of you were incredibly drunk. I was going to let you have your fun and wait til you got home to poke fun at you but this morning I felt it snap into place."

You walked to each other and he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you in for a kiss. The urge to be close to him was stronger than ever now.

"Let's get home." You told your mate, bringing him in for another kiss.

"Quickly please, before the two of you start devouring each other's faces in front of us" Cass spoke with a gross look, but you knew he was happy for you.

Azriel lifted you up and started flying with you, headed back to the Night Court.

"Do you want me to make you some food once we get home?" Your mate asked you.

"No, I just want to get home as fast as possible. I need you." You told him, his eyes darkening at your insinuation.

"You seem to be feeling much better than when you woke up. I think I truly am the best hangover cure." He joked.

After you got home, the frenzy started and lasted a little over a week. Once it calmed a bit, you finally showed up to the River house for a nice family dinner.

Conversation was flowing and that night out got brought up.

"You know, I really don't remember much of that night." Cass said.

"I know everything that happened." Azriel spoke before taking a bite of food.

"WHAT?! How?!" You exclaimed.

"After everything that happened last time, I made sure to send a shadow with you for your safety. It hung back and watched, it would alert me if you were in real danger. Before we showed up to get you guys that morning, it reported back to me what happened the entire night." He spoke so matter of fact.

"Show me." Rhys told the shadowsinger.

You watched as a grimace overtook the High Lord's face, watching your entire night get played in his head.

"Yeah, the three of us aren't allowed to be alone together anymore." Rhys stated with a horrified look on his face.

"We want to know!" Cass complained.

Rhys replayed everything in your and Cass' mind. There was nothing but silence for a few moments.

"I'm deeply sorry." You told Cass with a grimace.

"You pulled my tooth out!" Cass shouted, jumping up.

"In her defense, you did tell her, 'I bet you can't pull my tooth out.'" Rhys added.

Azriel pulled your chair closer to him, wrapping an arm around you. The three of them might be idiots but he loved them and felt grateful for his family.

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that-one-malereader-enthusiast · 16 days ago

Text

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 • 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞

╰┈➤ 𝐈 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐞

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐌𝐚��𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐲

cw : MDNI - S2 Armand, journalist male reader, top male reader, switch Armand, sub Daniel, dirty thoughts, mentions of sexual interactions, nsfw, Louis is definitely third wheeling, sexual tension, fake rashid reveal, mind fucking, teasing, this is my old man yaoi, somnophila, Armand gets the old man pass, they eye fucked eachother so much, i needed a taste of these two sorry, when no one can do the work, you gotta do it yourself, power play, stalking, Armand is a creepy little cat, Daniels the confused German shepherd, my drabbles become so thought out why, consume at your own risk, not proof read.

You knew it.

You fucking knew it the whole damn time.

At first it was just a guess, just a joking remark made as you worked with Molloy with Louis interview. You didn't believe him when he spoke of vampires, but seeing truly is believing, and Rashid was the oddest guy you'd met. That sweet smile, those longing looks towards Louis, the way he almost seemed to be acting—

Oh but you found that out really fucking fast.

Spoiler alert, you can see the plot twist from a mile away.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

"Jesus Christ, it was about damn time! How obvious do you have to be before someone finally outed you as a vampire?"

Daniel turned to you in a somewhat shocked fashion, though he was mostly squinting towards you for some sort of half assed explanation you were going to give him, but Louis put his expression into words. "You...You knew?"

"Yeah, but to be honest, he wasn't exactly doing the best job at hiding it. I mean, even if he was trying to, it was a little too on the nose at the beginning. Also, not saying Rashid is a bad name, but you definitely don't look like a Rashid." You then happened to gesture to Armand who was now standing side by side with Louis. You knew you'd promised Molloy that you would tone it down, that you would stay tamer than normal for the sake of getting out of Dubai in one piece after everything was said and done, but now there were two vampires rather than the one. "Not to mention how obvious you are."

"Pray tell, how obvious was I?" Armand asked. So far he'd spectated and predicted you were just as childish as Daniel when he was younger. With eccentric thoughts and an active imagination. That you were simply in over your head.

Oh how wrong he was.

"Well, for starters...it never seemed like you were similar to the other servants? I don't think I dare even saw you wear a mask before, whether that be to simply hide faces or to prevent anything from spreading, I found that odd." You chimed. "Not only that but we've seen Louis drink from you, and yet someone as...lanky, someone who looked like a stick ready to break — no offense — but you walked away like it was nothing, while a Russian biscuit the size of a bulk barely stood for two seconds before falling out.."

Only then did you gesture to the other room compared to the one you were currently in. "Not to mention, when we caught you praying the other day, you prayed in the darkest side of the room. Even if you did walk past the light, it was briefly or almost unseeable. And God, from the way every time I turned to you and watched you practically eye-fucking Molloy, I wouldn't have been shocked to know that you'd met him before."

Armand's expression was unreadable, almost repressing his feelings. Especially after the last observation you'd made. He stood next to Louis who squinted in a questionable fashion while looking at you, and Daniel? He didn't expect you to suddenly come out like that, and so boldly, though that was simply your personality.

"Now, if you three don't mind, I think I'll go to bed early. After this whole fucking soap opera of a reveal, I have to probably prepare myself to take in whenever you came into Louis life and what the hell happened then." You dismissed yourself, not back towards Daniel as you made your way out. That stare Armand had given you that entire time was unnerving, but there was something behind it.

You then called out as you proceeded to make your way to your room. "And I hope that there's an actual Rashid! Or I will be very disappointed!"

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

God when was the last time you and Daniel had a good fuck.

Before the trip to Dubai, the two of you had different lives, and as much as you loved smothering the older man, you had a job as well. It was unfortunate that you two couldn't have your fun till after the trip was over, but at least Daniel noticed how irritable you'd started to get. After all, you'd been stressed before the trip and didn't expect things to take this long.

You groaned out as your hips slowly rocked into the others, his warm body against your own and lips kissing feverishly against his skin. You knew that he was trying his best to sleep, but you couldn't help yourself.

Not as if he minded, he's the one who agreed the two of you could atleast sleep like this.

"Fuck Danny, baby..." You rutted your hips up accidentally, causing him to groan out and nudge you as red took over his face, cheeks, even spreading to his ears.

"Calm down, I have to sleep for later so we can continue the interview.." He could feel your arms practically caging him, holding against the plushness against part of his stomach. Daniel could barely think with how tired he was, and you? You were full of energy at the moment, sleepy, but still energized.

"But you're so tight Daniel...so fucking...oh—" You slowly grinded yourself against him once again before finally giving in as he wrapped a hand back to run though your hair. "Needed this, bad. Felt like I was having withdrawals."

"From sex?"

"From you," you admitted. "And this tight ass..."

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The next afternoon, you and Daniel went to the small cafe to fill up before the interview, though he'd been chewing you out about your past behavior. How he knew you were always a stickler for believing in superstition, but to understand that these vampires were nothing to fuck around with.

You could have refuted that with the amount of evidence you had that those fanged people were hornier than a dog humping a pillow.

You joked about it, as if it was your second nature, but Molloy seemed more stressed out than normal.

"You're gonna get yourself killed in there, you know what they are, why are you pushing things so far?" He sounded annoyed at that point, watching as you rolled your eyes and tried to dismiss his emotions towards the situation.

"Jesus Molloy, you act like the world is gonna end."

"Maybe not, but you have no idea who these guys are. You don't understand how dangerous they can be. How dangerous they are." He urged on.

You laughed and continued eating the raw fish that was on your plate. "Sure," you drew out.

It was then that he stared at you. Molloy stared at you with that look, the look you knew all too well. He continued staring you down before you sighed and gave in. "Fine! Damn it, I'll be good! I'll tone it down! I'll...I'll play this little game they're trying to get at. But I'm only doing it because you asked."

"Look, I just want us to get out of this in one piece." He urged on, now poking at his food, appetite diminished from the idea alone. "I dragged you into this mess, if you want to leave, you can."

"Damn it Daniel, you know you didn't drag me into this, I wanted to come. Turns out the vampire bullshit was real after all, but you're dumb as a box of rocks if you think I'm just gonna leave you here. I'm going nowhere." You let out a chuff of a chuckle before nudging Molloy, giving him a reassuring smirk. "And I know that Daniel Molloy sure as shit won't let anyone outsmart him like this."

"Alright cocky brat, I hear you. Just be careful. Armand looked like he's two seconds away from ripping your head off last time."

"Oh, Armand would have already if he had the balls to do so. If anything, I think the real threat in the room is you know who..." Finishing the rest of your dish after popping the last piece in your mouth, you now gave Daniel the knowing look.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

"Fuck, Armand—no wonder Louis loves to fuck you in his free time." You panted, watching as the vampire squirmed below you. You held his waist with a bruising strength that would normally feel uncomfortable for any human. But you knew that the vampire was durable. Heating his moan and mewl as your hips slapped against his ass, back arching up into you like a needy cat in heat. You didn't let up either, slamming into his body with brute force behind every thrust.

It was only then that you heard the mix of Armand and Daniels voice, gray haired individual cursing out as he gripped tightly onto the pillow behind his head. His glasses were gone and his face was flushed red as your thrust urged Armand to thrust into him. The vampire turned his head, as if trying to steal a kiss from you, pouting even. But you ignored him, leaning over to press your lips again Daniel's as his eyes fluttered closed, lashes dotted with tears and a muffled cry leaving him as Armand rammed his hips, almost in a jealous fashion.

Your fingers then found themselves threaded in the vampire's hair, only to yank his head back while a cry escaped his drool soaked lips. "You listen to me and you listen to me good. You think..you're all hot shit for a vampire, but I really know what you really are — Armand," you hissed out against the shell of his ear, dipping your head down before biting directly against the side of his neck. Your canines dug down into his tender flesh — not enough force to pierce — but enough to bite down onto the muscle below, knowing the skin would blemish and bloom due to your brutish actions.

The feeling alone made him cry out, hips stuttering between both you and Daniel. It was only then that you heard Molloy let out a gutteral noise in retaliation.

"You're my bitch in heat, understand?"

As Louis continued his interview, retelling whatever he could recall while letting Daniel read Claudia's entries, you kept your mouth shut and kept your comments to a minimum — as promised. But your thoughts, they ran rampant as you keep eye contact with Armand, watching as his eyes pierced into your own soul while peering into your mind. You could see a shift in his face features, his shoulders tending up as your expression stayed unchanging like a statue.

"Sorry to cut you off, I'm gonna step to the bathroom if that's alright. Lunch doesn't feel like it's sitting well," you addressed those in the room as you moved your notebook out of your lap and onto the table. "You good being alone in here for a sec Danny boy?"

"I'll be fine — and don't call me that, Jesus..." He muttered, shaking his head and overall dismissing you as he saw the shit eating grin on your face.

"Just askin' is all. Last time I left, I came back to you slapping Louis. Still never got an explanation for that one..."

"I assure you, nothing will happen to Daniel while you're away," Louis assured, giving you a genuine look to try and persuade you.

"Whatever you say," you stated, not giving the other stoic vampire the time of day after. Not a glance back or a thought for him to breach. Instead you left and got into the bathroom before starting the sink and splashing water on your face.

Even as you tried your best to hide it or ignore it, you could feel you growing erection making into a tent against your jeans, especially at your own thoughts. You almost dazed out back there and didn't even notice, but you knew that you'd finally hit the mark with Armand. With the way he was staring you down, you wouldn't have been surprised if he confronted you about such things.

It wasn't until you looked up in the mirror that you saw those predatory eyes stalking you again. By the time you whipped around, you were almost slammed into the sink, grinning as Armand grabbed against your throat. There was no real strength behind it, just a placement.

"Pervert, snooping through my thoughts even though I'm pretty sure Louis said that doing such a thing was off limits."

"He did not say such a thing," he quickly addressed, sneering at the grin that stayed in your face. "Who are you to have such thoughts about myself."

"You didn't say much about it. But to mention you seemed like you were enjoying it yourself pretty boy..." Your hand felt against his own groin, your grin only widening at the erection he seemed to pull as well. Watching as he stiffened up again made your arousal flare and his eyes seemed to soften. It almost looked as if he was trying to stop a noise from coming out with how fast his lips pressed into a thin line.

"I know one thing, Armand. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want something from me." Peeling his hand from your throat, you grabbed his face and pulled his closer. He did nothing to retaliate, almost melting at the semi rough gesture. "If you wanna be of any help while we still have time...I think you could put that mouth to good use."

To have Armand on his hands and knees? It was as if Christmas came early. But God, he looked absolutely divine as he slid down between your legs. You could only hope that Louis wouldn't mind sharing his immortal partner, Armand.

The vampire Armand?

More like Armand, your personal cockslut.

You could only wonder how fast he could be before one of the others came to look for the both of you.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 10: Brother Dearest

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!) Soldier Boy calls the reader "Petals."

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Only One Bed (This chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 9.7K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Manipulation, Gaslighting, Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Sexual Tension, Shouting, Anger, Talks About Weed, Super Manipulative Trash Man Being Introduced, Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: Back to our regularly scheduled angst...

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

It feels like you've only had thirty minutes of sleep when your body jerks upwards out of your bed to the sound of crashing and the shattering of pottery, followed by someone who doesn't sound like Ben shout "What the fuck?"

It had been a few days since you faced the supe with the ability to liquidize his form and after about five showers that included you scrubbing the skin of your body raw with both a luffa and a sugar scrub and gargling with Listerine until it felt like all your taste buds were burned off, you felt that you had rid yourself of the oppressive smell and taste of the supe.

Ben and you seemed to be falling in to a familiar pattern, he walked with you to work before going off to see what Butcher had planned for him and if he could Ben would always show up at the end of your shift to walk you home. Though each time he was less than friendly to Jake, who was still trying his upmost to get Ben to talk to him rather than Ben's usual half-grunts, shrugging shoulders, and death glares.

It wasn't working and you stopped trying to get Ben to be more friendly towards your boss, but it didn't make it any less unusual that Ben kept walking with you to and from work.

When you asked him why he walked with you he said that "You shouldn't be walking alone" which of course prompted the conversation of "I don't need a babysitter" and "I've been walking to the store for two years by myself" and him not listening to anything you said. That last bit was becoming more and more normal for the two of you.

So you rationalized that Ben was trying to be nicer to you because he wanted to try to be sort-of friends and you tried not to think about how it was making you have more feelings for him.

It was difficult not to like Ben when he was acting more friendly. When he actually made an effort to have conversations with you or sat with you quietly while you read or when he was walking with you to and from work and stopping along the way to get you coffee or your favorite tea. It was confusing to you why he was doing that, why someone who was so focused on sex was doing sweet things for you after you told him that you wouldn't sleep with him and was making you have deeper feelings for him.

So like a normal person you threw your frustration into your crocheting. Over the past week you had finished Annie's sweater, made four cat toys for Bean, and were currently working on a long cardigan sweater to send your grandmother who called last week to check in and had told you she needed a new one.

Ben had come with you to the craft store and hated every second of it. Not to mention each time you added a bundle of yarn to the basket you made him hold, he would ask "What the fuck are you going to do with that?" to which you responded "Learn quantum physics." Though Ben had been impressed with the knitting needles, thought that they could be useful enough to use for self defense and had embarrassed you when you turned around and found him trying to mime stabbing someone with them while the other people in the store watched him in horror.

You rolled out of bed and threw open your bedroom door before barreling down the darkly lit hallway and sliding into the living room on your crocheted leaf socks. "What is it?" You shout prepared for attack.

Unfortunately when you slide into the room, you do so with too much enthusiasm and you slip and fall, landing on your back with a loud groan.

That one hurt.

"You alright Petals?" You hear Ben ask from somewhere above you. It's not said in a teasing way, it's said in a growl.

Is he mad at me?

"Yep just testing if gravity is still working. It is, if you were curious." You cough out a laugh as you get up and realize that Ben isn't on the couch, he's standing in the middle of your kitchen holding someone by the lapels of his black oversized army jacket against your refrigerator.

Oh that's why he's mad.

The man is rail-thin, dressed completely in black, with hair so blond you sometimes thought it was white, buzzed over his head, and although you can't see his face you know that he'll have a set of dark blue eyes that sometimes turn black when he's angry and a pair of dark hoops curving over his right eyebrow. Ben is holding him up so high that the man's feet aren't touching the ground.

You hadn't seen your brother Darren in at least a year, not since he dropped by to crash on your couch to tell you that his buddy Roach, yes that is what he called him, was opening a restaurant and asked Darren to be his business partner. He had walked you through the technical lingo and acted enthusiastic about the prospects, told you that it was his dream to open a restaurant, but he was having a problem coming up with his half of the cash. Darren had asked you for a small loan and you'd scrambled to get it together for him.

But after about three months Darren called to tell you that it fell through and that he was onwards and upwards trying to "make his way in the world" which by now you knew was Darren speak for "could you please send me a little more money to get on my feet." Your grandmother had stopped giving him money ages ago, but you couldn't, he was family, your only brother and you loved him.

"Darren?" You say hesitantly.

"Hey sis!" Darren smiles when you turn on the light in the kitchen, looking too happy for someone being smooshed against a raspberry and blackberry covered refrigerator.

"You know this guy?" Ben glances at you over his shoulder. He's not wearing a shirt again and you're trying very hard not to focus on how good he looks without one. The muscles on his back are flexed from the exertion of holding your brother up against the refrigerator and Ben isn't breaking a sweat.

Lifting a person probably feels like lifting up Bean to him.

"Yeah he's my brother." You take a step forward and hear something crunch beneath your foot. Your gaze drops to the floor and you understand exactly what the loud crashing noise was.

The strawberry plant that usually sits on the small kitchen table that you shoved under the window is on the ground. Shards of painted pottery litter your floor in every direction, the strawberry plant smooshed under a boot print that matches up with Darren's infamous buckled motorcycle boots. The same ones he'd had since high school that he'd tell anyone who listened he won in the same bar fight that he got the thin scar on his chin from, when in reality he got them at a thrift store down the street from your grandmother's house and the scar from when he tripped and hit his chin on the toilet when he was fifteen and trying to learn how to shave.

Must have come in the window from the fire escape.

Most of the window had been blocked by a tangerine and lemon tree that you had encouraged to grow, but now the tree was pushed to the side off kilter and the window was open letting in the warm summer breeze.

You didn't understand why Darren did that when he still had the key that you made him when you moved in.

Ben drops Darren unceremoniously onto the hardwood floor, who lands with a loud "clunk” from his boots, but your brother doesn’t look upset. He rubs his hand over the top of his head as if adjusting his buzzed hair with a sheepish smile while Ben steps back onto one of the pieces of pot on your hardwood floor, but doesn't wince.

Darren notices your gaze on the smooshed strawberry plant and the shattered remains of the pot it was in. "Ooo, sorry sissy." He frowns. "But I'm sure you can fix it can't you? That is what you do." Darren emphasizes it by waving his hand around you apartment at the numerous plants covering your walls.

You crouch down and pick up the remnants of the plant gingerly, cradling it to your chest. "Um, yeah." You force a smile, trying not to think about how important the pot was to you. It was the last thing you had of your grandfather, before he passed. It had been one of your favorite memories, sitting out on the back porch in the middle of a thunderstorm painting flowers and dots and zigzags on the terracotta pot that housed the strawberry plant that you grew on the tray of your high chair the day your powers developed.

Darren knew how much the pot meant to me. He had one too before he used it for air-rifle practice.

You put the plant on your kitchen table, before taking the broom from the hook on the wall. "Why didn't you just use the door?" You tried to say it in an upbeat way, but it fell flat.

"I was excited to see my favorite sister." Darren grins pulling you into a hug.

He smells like he always does, a bit like cigarette smoke, beer, and the stale smell of weed. But when he pulls back and sees that you're still frowning, his own mouth begins to descend into an exaggerated pout. "Did you not want me to come by?"

"Of course I did." You say, but you weren't sure. "I just thought you would call first or use the key that I got you not come through the window."

“Oh stop being so dramatic.” He pats you on the head. “I’m here now so what’s going on? You got a boyfriend-“ He gestures to Ben. “Who is also a supe?”

“Ben is my roommate.” You emphasize the word roommate before Ben can say boyfriend. That was the last thing you wanted him to say in front of Darren. You'd never hear the end of it You begin to sweep up the pieces, trying to fight the urge to cry over the shattered remains. You knew that crying in front of Darren would only make him tease you about being "too sensitive" so you kept it down and figure that you can cry about it later.

"Uh huh." Darren eyes him. "So he's got super strength?"

"Why do you care?" Ben grouches, crossing his arms over his chest, but he doesn't look away from where you're sweeping up the pieces.

Darren shrugs and holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Touchy Touchy. Just making conversation dude. I mean, you're living with my sister." He breezes, but you notice Darren stand up a little straighter when he talks to Ben and you wonder if he was embarrassed by how easily Ben was able to man-handle him.

Ben opens his mouth, but you interrupt whatever he was about to say. "Darren what are you doing here?"

He brightens with the question. "Oh it's so exciting! My friend is starting up a business and-"

"You need money?" You interrupt, trying not to think about how much you could spare from the already measly sum in your bank account to help him. This month hadn't been the best and after rent and utilities you probably could only spare 70 dollars or so, but even that seemed to be pushing it.

"No nothing like that." Darren waves a hand. "I just needed a place to crash because I'm going to go meet him tomorrow."

"Oh-"

"And he wants to meet you."

"Huh?" You look up from the small pile of shards at him. "Why?"

"He said that he wanted to meet the sister who I'm always talking about." Darren shrugs, before pulling a blunt from where it is behind his left ear, and lighting it.

He talks about me to his friends?

"Uh-huh. I think that I've met enough of your friends." You reply continuing to sweep more pieces into the pile.

You were using the word "friends" hesitantly because Darren seemed to go through them so often that you didn't think that it was worth it to learn all their names. And also because one time you had run into one of the "friends" Darren made and he had proceeded to chase you down the block shouting words about your brother that were not worth repeating.

"I think you'll like this one." Darren eyes Ben again. "I showed him your picture and he said that you were classic."

You miss Ben stiffen.

"Please stop trying to set me up. I'm fine." You could feel your cheeks heating because you knew that Ben was watching you.

The last time Darren had tried to set you up you found out half way through the date that your date was his weed dealer, whose idea of a romantic first date was to take you to a gentleman's club and then try to see who would be into having a threesome. Needless to say you were underwhelmed and blocked his number. The only good thing that had come of it was the gummy bear edibles you'd nicked from his pocket when he was flirting with one of the dancers and Annie and you had enjoyed the rest of the evening giggling and eating copious amounts of pizza and snacks.

"I don't know, he's better than the last one. Definitely has more money and he's sophisticated." Darren breathes out a cloud of smoke and you wave your hand to dissipate the smog.

"Charles Manson would be better than the last one, Darren."

"Manson had hundreds of followers and was treated like a god. I think you're being too picky." Darren rolls his eyes at you while he takes a hit from the blunt.

"Only you would see Manson as a role model." You grumble under your breath crouching down to sweep the pieces of the pot into the dust pan. "But if you really want to stay here you can take my bed."

A part of you were expecting Darren to protest, to care that you wouldn't have anywhere to sleep, but he doesn't argue with you.

“Great! Thanks.” He takes a few steps towards the hallway, the cloud of smoke following behind him like a dark omen, before he stops and glances back. “You got anything to drink?”

“No. Fresh out.” You lie without looking up. You didn’t want it to mix with whatever the hell that was in his system, because with Darren it was always something.

“I swear it’s like you don’t even think about me.” Darren flashes a wide grin, but the joke kind of hurts.

As he goes you dump the pieces into a plastic grocery bag, hoping deep down that you could glue it back together, but even you know that it's probably a long shot.

Maybe I can make the bigger pieces into something else? File down the sharp edges?

Ben is still standing in your kitchen, his arms crossed, listening to Darren go down the hallway and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

The door opens again and you hear Darren mutter, “Out stupid cat," sending a fuming Bean hissing down the hallway. He trots into the living room indignantly and you stoop down to calm him down, leaning the broom against the kitchen table as you do.

Ben is quiet, but you can feel the room heat up a few degrees for a second almost as if he's angry. “Does he always talk to you that way?” Ben’s voice is low.

“He’s high.” You continue to pet Bean, not looking up. “He’s not usually so-“ You search for the word.

“Fucking rude?”

You stand up with a sigh. “You sound like Annie.”

“Oh so she doesn’t get along with him either? Shocker.”

“Ben.”

He was bristling slightly, annoyed, teetering on angry. “Fine.” He mutters.

You turn your attention to the trampled strawberry plant, gently dragging your fingers over the petals repairing the damage with a wave of your hand as you do, until it looks better than it had a few moments ago, and place it in a plastic black pot temporarily. You were again, trying not to be too upset about the way that Darren entered your apartment, but it was like him to do something like that, like him to break things that you thought were important without a second thought for how you felt.

Your relationship with your brother was hard and sometimes it felt like you were the only one trying, but you didn't want to give up on him. He was the only family that you had besides your grandmother. When your parents died, Darren pulled away, stayed out late drinking and doing whatever drugs he could get his hand on, and had multiple flings with women in the neighborhood that weren't exactly single. Your grandmother had cut him out completely, but you couldn't.

“Are you okay?” Ben asks.

“Yeah, just kind of tired.” You sigh, closing the window that Darren pried open to get into the apartment. When you turn back you realize just how close Ben is standing to you, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating out from his skin and into the air.

His fingertip lightly presses the scrunch between your eyebrows. "You're lying." Ben says it quietly.

"I wish you wouldn't do that."

"Do what?"

"Tell me when I'm lying. It's infuriating."

"Why?"

"Because it's the 21st century and when someone lies because they don't want to talk about how they really feel, it's common courtesy to just say 'ok' and move on!" You snap, grabbing the bag of smashed pottery. You immediately felt bad. You didn't mean to snap at him, but you were upset about Darren showing up unannounced even though you told him each time he came into town to tell you, but he never did, and about him breaking one of the only things in your apartment that had sentimental value to you.

Ben frowns at you for a minute, and you think that he's going to come up with some kind of retort, but instead he says "Okay."

"Thank you."

You watch Ben's gaze drift back into your living room. "You can take the couch.”

It surprises you. You were just going to camp out in the bathtub and will the moss to make a pillow beneath your head. "But where will you sleep?"

“I can sleep on the floor.” He shrugs. "Don't need a bed. And I've slept enough anyway-"

“Ben you’re not going to sleep on the floor because my brother decided to show up in the middle of the night. It’s unfair.”

It was. You didn’t want Ben to curl into a ball on the floor and try to find a comfortable position, not after he'd spent the last forty years in a Russian Lab without a bed and probably without a pillow.

He shouldn't have to suffer because my brother never remembers how much I hate surprises.

“Well I’m sure as hell not going to let you sleep on the floor.” Ben shouts.

"I can sleep in the bathtub. The moss is actually really comfortable-"

"In the fucking bathtub? You're kidding right?"

"No. I've done it before-"

"When?" Ben suddenly looks murderous.

"The last time Darren was here I didn't have a couch and-"

"That fucker made you sleep in the bathtub?"

"I mean he didn't volunteer any other options and Darren can't fit in there so-" You try to reason with him, getting confused as to why Ben was suddenly looking down the hallway like he was going to haul Darren out by the lip and make him apologize.

"I'll be fucking damned if you sleep in a fucking bathtub!"

“What is it with you being chivalrous at the most inopportune times?” You stamp your foot in frustration.

You didn’t want to sleep in the bathtub, but you were willing to if it meant that Ben had a soft place to sleep. The moss wasn't all that bad, it was squishy, and the bathroom was kind of cozy in your apartment because of all the plants you had in there.

“Forgive me, but when I grew up it was considered common courtesy to give things like beds to women. And what kind of man would I be if I let you sleep in a mother fucking bathtub?” He shouts back, using the words you had used earlier to yell at him for pointing out your lie.

“Well if you sleep on the floor then I’m going to sleep in the bathtub."

“Fine.” Ben seethes.

“Fine.”

You stand there with your arms crossed and eyes narrowed refusing to back down. Ben mirrors your stance, before he loses it.

“I think it’s fucking ridiculous that no one is going to sleep on the couch. So why don’t you just shut up and sleep on the couch?"

“Because it’s your bed!”

“I bought it for both of us to use!” He snaps back.

You glare at him, tapping your foot, before you glance at the large couch.

Honestly, when it was in the pull out position it was about the size of a full bed, maybe a little bigger, more than enough room for Ben and for you. The thought seemed almost too crazy to consider… almost. Your mouth dips into a nervous frown, anxiety electrifying in your veins.

“I mean it’s-“ You clear your throat. “It’s big enough for both of us.” You say quietly.

Ben looks at you like you’re crazy, body going taunt. “I thought you said you didn’t want me to fuck you.”

“I don’t want to fuck me Ben, but I don’t hate the idea of sleeping with you. I mean I don’t think you’re going to do anything while I’m asleep."

Ben looks angry all over again. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again! I’m not a fucking rapist.”

“No. Ben I mean-" You were waving your hands in front of you nervously trying to find the words. "I’m not saying you’re a rapist. I’m trying to tell you that I trust you and-“

Ben’s expression slackens. “You trust me?” He interrupts you in a whisper, sounding almost as if he can’t believe it, his face twisted into an emotion that you can't recognize.

“Well yeah.” Your cheeks flame bright red. “I mean we’re kinda friends and I trust my friends. I mean, do you think that I would let you live here if I didn’t trust you?"

Ben clears his throat, but doesn't say anything. "Um-" His eyes flick to the couch then back at you. "I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with." He says gruffly.

"It doesn't make me that uncomfortable." You reply, but you're already trying to figure out the mechanics of how you can sleep on the couch with him, without touching him.

"Uh-huh." Ben raises an eyebrow.

"It's okay. I'm going to get my pillow."

"I'll get it."

"But-" You begin to say, but Ben ignores you and stomps down the hallway.

Why does he want to get it?

He doesn't even bother to knock when he goes into your room and you can hear a quiet scuffle, followed by your brother shouting "What's your problem man?" and Ben's retort of "Just shut the fuck up and go to sleep."

Ben is still grumbling something under his breath when he comes back into the living room, but he holds out your pillow for you. "Here."

"Thanks. But what did I say about you going into my room?” You hoped that the joke would ease some of the tension that you were holding in your shoulders.

"I think we threw all that out the window the other night. Don't you think Petals?" Ben smirks.

Right, the other night when he broke down my door and let me squeeze his hand.

"Maybe." You hug your pillow against your chest. "Do you-" You cough to clear your throat. "Do you want the inside or the outside?"

His eyes flick to the front door and then to the hallway. "I'll take the outside."

"Okay." You stand there awkwardly for a minute and even though you were the one who suggested this idea in the first place, you suddenly feel anxious.

I can do this. I can lay next to him and avoid touching him. What if I snore? Or drool? Or say embarrassing things? Oh fuck what if I start to have a dream about him with him literally laying right there.

“Petals, if you don’t want to-“

“I want to. I just need to wrap my head around it and I don’t want you to sleep on the floor.” You take in a deep breath and climb onto the couch, pushing yourself as far as you can into the back cushions. You don't look at him when he gets in behind you, leaving about a good three inches of space between your bodies, the two of you back to back.

It's quiet for a few minutes, but then you feel the couch begin to shake lightly and you realize that Ben is laughing.

"What's so funny?" You turn to look over your shoulder at him.

"I was just thinking that it's about time I got you into my bed Petals."

"Shut up." You snort and turn your body enough to hit him on the shoulder, which makes Ben turn over to face you.

His dark hair hangs long over his forehead, his eyes shining, and his signature smirk pulls at the end of his lips. "Make me."

Fuck. You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the flush that threatens to rise against your cheeks, when you think about kissing him to shut him up. All that did was remind you of the kiss you shared in the hallway the night he first slept in your apartment which then lead to how close he was to you and that only brought back memories of his beard against your neck outside the party. The flush that finally breaks through is coupled with the immediate blooming of the apple tree at the end of the couch. The delicate flowers fluttering open as if they were winking at the two of you.

Shit, maybe he won't notice that.

Ben glances up at the tree above the two of you confused. "Why'd you do that?"

"Do what?" You ask innocently.

"You made the tree make the fucking flowers."

"No, I didn't." You hit your pillow to rid yourself of an imaginary lump.

"Yes, you did. You also did it the other day when you were reading your book." Ben's eyes roam your face as if he's searching for the answer.

Oh right, when I was reading my book and it started to get a little bit steamy and everything in the room started flowering like it had been a long winter… Honestly it kinda has been a long winter, but I'm not going to think about it right now when he's this close to me. I can't believe he noticed that.

"Does it mean something?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Nope."

Ben smirks his eyes drawn to the center of your forehead where you know the scrunch is giving away your lie. "It does, doesn't it?"

"Nope. Goodnight." You turn over and stare at the back cushions of the couch. Hoping that he’ll just drop it.

He doesn’t.

"It means that you're turned on, doesn't it Petals?" Ben's breath is warm against the back of your neck, making goosebumps trail over your arms and you fight to keep control of the blooming.

"No, it doesn't."

"Do I turn you on?" You can hear the smile in his voice.

"No, and it’s not what it means."

"Uh-huh. So when I do something like this-" Ben reaches out to touch the small of your back and trails his warm large hand over the curve of your right hip.

You clench your teeth together to try to stop the power that rushes out of your body with the contact, but it's too late, the Jasmine that creeps along the brick wall behind the tv explodes, the smell of Jasmine wafting over to the couch where Ben and you are laying.

Ben laughs, shaking the couch beneath you.

"Shut up. It's so embarrassing." You moan into the pillow curling further in on yourself and pulling the crocheted blanket over your head, blushing so deeply that you were sure you looked like a giant raspberry.

“It’s not embarrassing Petals.” Ben chuckles, pulling the blanket down from your head. “It’s kinda cute.”

You glare at him over your shoulder. “I will kill you.”

Ben contemplates what he’s going to say next. "So when you're fucking someone-"

"If you finish that sentence you're not going to wake up." You warn, knowing exactly where he's going with this.

Ben only laughs at you. "Come on Petals, I'm curious. Plus you're so adamant about not sleeping with me that I guess I'll never see when you c-."

"Fine!" You shout turning around to face him again, cheeks beet red. He's still staring at you with that ridiculous smirk that makes your legs weak and sends warmth pooling into the pit of your stomach. "When I have an orgasm, I do make everything bloom. Happy?"

"I mean I'd be happier if you'd let me witness it and if you'd let me fuck you." Ben's hand is touching your waist, his thumb teasing the edge of where your t-shirt meets the top of your sleep shorts.

"Ben, we've talked about this." You say it mostly to remind yourself.

"I know." His smirk dips into a frown and he withdraws his hand from your body.

You chew the inside of your cheek thinking about how hard this is and how much you wished it could be different.

"It's okay." You whisper, because he might not have apologized, but you could see the frustration on his face. "Really, it's fine."

Ben doesn't say anything, only continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, so instead you say "I'll see you in the morning" and you turn over to look at the cushions on the back of the couch, hoping that you're able to fall asleep before he does.

Mike's screech of "I Will Always Love You" is not as loud in the living room as it is in your bedroom, but it's still enough to wake you up. The room is lighter in the morning, the gentle pulse of sunlight filters through the leaves of the plants, but sends a warm glow over your body.

Actually, you were already warm, really warm, warmer than usual.

That's weird why am I-

You inhale sharply when you realize why you're so warm. Your body is pinned into the couch cushions, because Ben is practically laying on top of you. Your back is flush against his chest, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, and his face is pressed into your hair.

This isn't good.

Ben mutters something in his sleep and tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you even further against his chest, and shifting his hips in a way that makes you realize that this is a lot worse than you thought. Because you can feel exactly what makes Ben so cocky begin to get excited.

Fuck, this really isn't good.

"Um Ben?" You whisper, but he doesn't wake up, instead he moans something into your hair, and shifts his hips again in a way that makes your heartbeat stutter in your chest.

Fuck. Really not good.

You knew that Ben was attracted to you, knew that he had wanted to fuck you since the moment he first saw you, so you weren't surprised that this was happening, and there was a part of you that enjoyed this. Laying in bed with him, feeling his warmth transferring to you, having his body relaxed around you as he pulled you deeper and deeper into his chest. The warmth was lovely, you didn't do well in the cold and being with Ben meant that you'd never have to worry about that again. It was moments like this that you wished you never let Ben move in, not because you hated him, but because you liked him too much.

"Ben." You say it louder.

"Hmm?" Ben groans. "If no one is dying then don't wake me up Petals." He murmurs, obviously not understanding what the problem is. You wait another minute, lying beneath him and trying to think about a way to get out of this, when Ben realizes what he's doing.

He raises his head from your hair blinking at where you're staring at him over your shoulder with wide eyes.

"Morning." You whisper.

"Morning." Ben returns, but it's barely audible, just a marvelous deep rumble that you can feel vibrating up through where he's laying on top of you.

Ben doesn't move, his eyes are a soft pine, like fresh sprigs in spring sprouting from the highest branches to stretch towards the early sun. You can't move, you feel frozen beneath his gaze, watching the gentle way the light kisses his bold features, the smooth dip of his bow-like mouth, the rough edge of his strong jaw, and the proud bend of his nose.

His arms loosen from around your waist, but he turns you towards him, so you're pressed chest to chest, without looking away from your face. Your hands are pinned between the two of you, resting against his bare chest right over where his heart beats beneath your fingertips.

Ben's green eyes trace your features, dropping to your lips before raising once more to look you in the eye as if he's asking for your permission. You know what he wants, can see it in the way he watches you, and see it in the way that his head tilts towards yours. Your lips tingle in anticipation, your heart beat loud like the thunder in a summer storm that rattles the windows of your grandmother's home. You can't draw a breath because you know if you do it'll be full of him, until all you can do is breathe him in and sink into his body until there's nothing left of you and everything left of Ben.

You're not sure if it's because you're still a little bit sleepy or if it's because Ben is so warm or if it's because all the hard edges of Ben that you've grown accustomed to have smoothed over and all you see is the version that Ben was only around you. The version who sat with you when you had a nightmare and refused to leave, the version who walked you to work every morning, the version who sat with you while you read your book, and the version who seemed to care more than he was willing to admit. But the longer you lay there with him the bigger the urge is to pull him closer.

Your hands smoothly travel up Ben's chest feeling the strength beneath the palms of your hands before you lock them behind his head, tangling loosely in the dark strands of his hair at the nape of his neck.

The apple tree at the end of the couch begins to shed flowers down on both of you and Ben’s eyes flick up to it for just a second before he smiles. It’s the first time you’ve seen him have a smile like that, one that looked so easy, so genuinely happy and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t think you wanted to make him smile like that all the time.

Ben leans forward to close the distance between the two of you, his lips warm and inviting, his forehead just barely resting against yours, but before your lips touch, your bedroom door opens and slams into the wall with a loud crashing noise that makes you jolt back away from him, breaking the spell.

"Good morning sis!" Darren crows walking in to the room. "Oh sorry, did I interrupt something between you guys?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

"No." Your voice sounds high and squeaky, because he had. You're not sure what would have happened if he hadn't come in, well, you did. Ben was going to kiss you and you wanted him to.

This is getting too complicated.

Ben only frowns at your brother from his position on the couch. The two of you are sitting up now, side by side as if nothing happened, but you can't shake the memory of the warmth of his body soaking into yours as he curved himself around you, almost as if he wished to protect you even when he was asleep.

Is that why he wanted to sleep on the outside?

"Sure." Darren smirks. "Do you have anything to eat around here? Or do you only have all this shitty fruit?" Darren frowns at the raspberry and blackberry vines, the strawberry plant, the apple tree, and the lemon and tangerine trees.

"Oh." You shake off the insult. "There should be some cereal in the cabinet"

"I hope you got the name brand stuff this time."

Maybe I'd be able to afford the name brand stuff if someone stopped coming around and asking me for money.

"If you don't like anything we have, I'd suggest going to the diner across the street." Ben says tightly emphasizing that he lives here now.

"No thanks bro. I'm kinda short on cash these days." Darren replies finding the Lucky Charms cereal and pouring himself the last bowl without a second thought.

"Oh really?" Ben says standing from the couch to glare at your brother. "And what exactly is it that you do Darren?"

Darren leans back against the counter eating his cereal, but you can see the tight way he's gripping the spoon. "I'm an entrepreneur."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Ben-" You start to say, unsure as to why Ben was giving your brother a hard time.

"It means that I invest in other opportunities." Darren stabs his cereal with the spoon.

"And if you're so short on cash, how do you do that?" Ben presses.

A dark look passes through Darren's eyes. "What exactly are you getting at?"

"Well you've been here for maybe six hours and the only thing that I've seen you do is break in, take your sister's bed, and insult her." Ben takes a step forward into the living room. "So to me, it kinda looks like you just sit on your ass like a fucking pussy and mooch off of your sister, because you're not man enough to get a real job."

"What the fuck is your problem man?" Darren puts down the bowl. "I don't understand where all this hostility is coming from, but I don't have to explain myself to you. My sister and my relationship is none of your business, and I've been here a lot longer and I'm pretty sure that I'll be here longer than you-"

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Ben growls.

"Whoa wait a second-" You stand up from the couch.

"You have no idea who you're talking to." Darren's voice is low, his eyes leveled on Ben. "You shouldn’t start a fight you can't win."

Ben's lips tilt into a smirk. "Trust me, it's not going to be much of a fight."

"Whoa!" This time you plant yourself between the two of them, one hand resting on Darren's chest. You can feel a deep thrumming buzz coming through the material of his band t-shirt and into your hand and for a moment you're surprised, because your brother wasn't a supe.

Then where is it coming from?

You shake it off. "Let's all just take a nice deep breath."

Ben's eyes are still narrowed at Darren, refusing to back down from a fight, which was like him. And as much as you loved your brother you knew that he tended to have a bad temper, and the last thing you wanted was to clean up the mess when Ben pulled out his spine and reenacted Predator in your small kitchen.

"Ben please." You say it quietly, glancing at where he's towering over the two of you.

You can hear the audible click of his teeth when he unclenches his jaw, his eyes no longer the soft pine they were when you were wrapped in his embrace, but now blaze a dark green. You know that he's about to say something, but Ben's phone rings and continues to ring in the silence, until Ben sighs and turns to pick it up, but he doesn't seem happy about it.

You drop your hand from Darren's chest with a sigh, but happy for the interruption. "Why do you have to be like that?" You ask your brother.

"Me? He started it!" Darren fumes. "Boy, you really know how to pick 'em sis."

"What do you mean? We're not together, we're just friends! And wait, this isn't about him and me. He lives here and if you keep dropping by, you're going to have to be okay with seeing Ben."

"Why can't you just move in with Annie? She's better to look at anyway." Darren rolls his eyes and picks up his bowl of soggy cereal.

Maybe to you. You fight the memory of Ben in the towel still wet from his shower that you witnessed the other day and successfully stop the flush that tries to creep into your cheeks. It's followed again by how wonderful it felt to drag your hands up Ben's chest and catch in the dark strands of his hair. The fruitless tomato plant behind Darren's head begins to swell with bright red tomatoes the size of your fist.

I've got to get that under control.

The memory of Ben figuring out exactly why that happened around you flits through your mind bringing an inescapable wave of embarrassment. The day you'd found it out was when Annie and you were watching Vampire Diaries for the first time in your bedroom back home and as soon as Damon Salvatore walked onto the screen the blueberry bush next to your bed suddenly exploded. Not to mention the first time that your high school boyfriend Newton kissed you in his parent's cornfield, the entire crop suddenly came back tenfold in the middle of winter.

"She's moving in with her boyfriend Hughie." You say, trying not to sound disappointed.

When you first moved to the city, you had wanted to move in with her, but she was apart of the Seven, and when she finally decided to move out of Vought Tower, it was because she wanted to move in with Hughie, not because she wanted to move in with you. It stung the day she told you, and you'd be lying if you said that you were not still a little upset about it, because it felt like she had chosen someone else over you.

"Oh right, that's still going on. Don't know what she sees in that wimp."

"He's sweet. You don’t know him. And I don't know why you’re acting jealous, Annie and you have never gotten along-"

"Because she's a bitch! I can't believe you're still friends with her after all this time."

"Hey don't talk about her that way. Annie is my best friend, practically my sister."

"Right." Darren rolls his eyes again and swings the spoon in a wide arch. "She's always been a bitch and now that she's Starlight she's even worse. She's always had that stick up her ass even when we were kids-"

"If you keep talking about her that way, you can leave." You say simply, feeling your temper begin to flare.

You didn't give a fuck if Darren insulted you or made fun of you, you did however, care if he spoke poorly about Annie. Annie was family to you, Annie had been with you a hell of a lot more than Darren had when you parent's died, she hadn't pulled away from you and vanished into thin air when you needed someone to hold you or when you couldn't sleep or when you woke up screaming or when you couldn't stop crying.

That being said, Annie and Darren had never gotten along, not once in all the years that you'd been friends. Whenever Annie came over, Darren left, and vice versa. You weren't sure why they couldn't get along, but you did think it was infinitely better than Annie being secretly in love with your brother. He never had a lasting relationship in his life that was worth remembering. The longest relationship he'd been in was with his buckled combat boots that he never took off.

Darren lets out an annoyed sigh, but you watch remorse and sympathy drip into his gaze. "Fine. But I just want what's best for you. You know that right?" He puts his hand on your shoulder, his eyes softening. "Come on sis, you know that I'm just looking out for you? I love you, you're the only family I have left that actually cares about me."

Your heart breaks with his words, hurt that he feels like your grandmother doesn't care about him and that he felt like you were the only person in the world that he meant something to. Sure he'd messed up more times than you could count and did occasionally disappear whenever you seemed to need him, but he was your brother.

You sigh. "I know Darren. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so mean before."

"It's okay." He glances over to where Ben has just hung up the phone and is glaring at Darren's hand placement on your shoulder. "I guess I should go get dressed."

"Okay."

"But you're coming with me to meet my friend right?" Darren looks at you with a hopeful expression.

"Um... Well I'd have to tell Jake that I'll be a little late." You say slowly not wanting to disappoint Darren. "And I don't really like leaving him high and dry-"

You didn't like calling out from work, in fact you hadn't missed more than a handful of days in the two years that you'd been working there, because you genuinely liked going to work. Being there was like coming home, surrounded by the healing energy of the plants that thrived under your watchful eye.

"Come on the plants will survive without you for an hour or so." Darren smiles. "Do you want me to beg you sissy? I really want you to come with me. It would make me so happy."

"Well, okay." You concede. "Let me just text Jake."

"Yes! I'll be out in a minute and then you can change okay?"

"Sure."

When Darren struts off down the hallway, Ben joins you in the kitchen, glaring at Darren's back as he disappears into your room.

"Who was on the phone?" You ask him while picking up Darren's bowl and scrape the remaining soggy cereal into the trashcan under the sink.

"Butcher." Ben grunts. "Said that he got a lead on the electric supe, but it's all the way in Boston."

"Boston? But that's so far away. Why would he have an operation there and be picking up cars here? He can't be in two places at once."

"No idea, but Butcher said the lead was solid." Ben shrugs. "And he said that he's getting everyone ready to go right now and that I need to get over there so we can get on the road."

"Everyone's going?" You ask disappointed. The thought of the entire team being gone for a few days made you feel lonely. They were kinda like your extended family. You also felt a little left out that Butcher hadn't asked you to go.

"Yeah. Butcher said that he would have asked you to come, but he knows you work most of this week anyway and that he thinks that it'll be alright if you stay here." Ben rubs the back of his neck, but seems hesitant. "Are you going to-" He clears his throat. "Are you going to be okay?"

You didn't miss the way his eyes flick down the hallway to where your brother is.

Is he worried about me?

"Why? You don't want to leave me with Darren or something?" You joke with a snort.

"No."

But Ben looks away when he says it in a way that makes you think that he's lying.

"Believe it or not Darren used to babysit me when I was little and I didn't die or get brain damage-"

"Not to your knowledge."

"Why are you so worried about me?"

"I'm not! I just-" Ben crosses his arms over his chest annoyed. "I don't think you should go meet his friend."

"Why not? I've met plenty of his friends. They're all very dude-bro. At least he has a type."

"I have no idea what that means."

You roll your eyes, before you consider something else. "Wait, are you jealous or something?"

"I am not fucking jealous!" Ben sighs. "I just think that maybe you should use your head Petals."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"You going to meet his creepy friend without knowing exactly where you're going or what his friend is going to 'make you do'."

"Make me do? Ben where the fuck do you think my brother is taking me? Do you think he's selling me into the sex trade or something?" You look at him incredulously.

Does he really think so lowly of my brother? He'd never do anything like that. Darren cares about me, he's just guarded and a little rough around the edges.

"You're too fucking trusting Petals!” He explodes.

“What? I am not too trusting.”

“Yes you are!”

“No I’m not. And why are you yelling at me? Why are you mad?” You reply in confusion. “I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal about this. I've met his friends before."

“I’m not mad I’m just fucking trying to-“ Ben clenches his jaw so tight you can see the muscle pop on the side of his face. “You’re just so damn kind and too damn stupid to see what’s directly in front of your face!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You plant your hands on your hips staring up at him, not expecting Ben to look so angry, but he does. His arms are folded tightly over his bare chest, his muscles tense, and his eyebrows are pulled together. “Are you really telling me that it’s stupid to trust my brother? He’s my brother! Not some random dude I met on the street-“

“He might as well be! In the fucking five minutes he’s been here he’s been nothing, but be a total dick to you!”

“Oh well excuse me Ben, but I’ve known him for more than the five fucking minutes that you have-“

“Exactly! You should know better!” Ben is getting angrier now and you didn't know where all of this was coming from, especially because of how you'd spent the morning and especially because he was acting differently than he had been the past few days. "You care way to much about other people and you shouldn’t! People like him look for people like you. People who are too stupid to know any better. People who as so trusting and innocent that they take everything at face value."

You stare at him with your mouth open, anger and hurt swirling together to form a cold dagger shoved straight into your heart. You didn't understand why he was doing this or why he was getting so angry.

Oh sweetie, you really thought he cared about you? It's all just an act don't you see? The little voice in your head whispered in your ear.

And it made you furious.

"I am not some innocent little girl Ben. I am a grown woman and I don’t have to listen to your toxic Hemingway Code Hero bullshit." You turn back to the sink prepared to wash out the bowl, but Ben grabs on to your wrist and spins you back to look at him.

"You should listen to me! Because caring about people who don't give a shit about you is going to get you fucking killed or worse!" His grip is tight on your wrist, but not enough to bruise. His skin burns against where his hand wraps around your wrist and you worry how much longer you have until Ben goes Nuclear.

You wrench your wrist from his hand.

"At least I have people who care about me! And yeah, maybe I'm a little trusting, but I'd rather be too trusting than push everyone away before I get a chance to know them." You shout back shoving your finger into his bare chest. "You might think that you're some big strong macho man, but if you actually dropped the fucking macho act and acted like you gave a shit maybe there'd be more people willing to be in your life and willing to care about you! Maybe that's why your entire team collectively said "fuck you" and stabbed you in the back! Maybe that's why Vogelbaum wanted to start from scratch with your fucked up son because they knew you were too much of a asshole to admit that you need someone and didn't have the common decency to give anyone a chance!"

"I don't need anyone." Ben's gaze turns murderous at the mention of Homelander and his old team.

"I think you do, but I think that you try to bury the real you underneath all this bullshit and-"

"You don't know anything about me Petals." Ben growls, taking a step forward so that he's leaning down over you, the air warming with the heat of his anger, a slight glow emanating from the middle of his chest.

The counter is pressed into your back as he pins you there, so differently than the other day you were in the same position.

"You think just because we’ve talked a few times and because I sleep on this fucking couch every night that you know me?" He laughs cruelly. "I'd rather have no one than be saddled with someone like you who struts around like a fucking tease with stars in her eyes trying to romanticize every single damn person she runs into. It's no wonder you haven't found a man to fuck you, because you're too busy chasing after a stupid fantasy version of a man who doesn't fucking exist and latching on to assholes like your brother who do nothing but use you!" Ben's eyes have shifted into the darkened pits again, the ones that seem to be ready to drag you beneath the raging waves.

"And I'd rather have no one than someone like you who's too insecure about his own masculinity that he feels the need to project a fucked up toxic "together" version of himself and pretends to care about other people to manipulate them into getting what he wants." You spit back, your eyes shifting bright green.

Every plant in your home begins to tremble, the energy from them flooding through your body, strengthening you, merging together as they prepare to bend to your will.

Ben's expression turns murderous, his lips pulling back in a snarl, prepared to no doubt spit back something that he'd be unable to take back, but Darren walks back into the kitchen wearing a fresh pair of clothes.

He's oblivious to the conversation that Ben and you just had and drops his arm over your shoulder. “What did I miss?”

You feel your eyes shift back to normal, but the anger and frustration still war in your chest, beating against your rib cage, begging to be unleashed. Ben doesn’t respond instead he only glares at you.

“Alrighty then.” Darren snorts when neither of you fill the silence, not sensing the tension in the air. "Don't worry there Benny, I'll take good care of her. I always do." You miss the glare that Darren throws Ben over your head.

But just for a second you think that Darren may have heard more of the conversation between Ben and you than he was willing to admit.

Ben's jaw is tight, eyes still blazing with his own anger and annoyance. "Do whatever the fuck you want. It's not like a give a shit what happens to her." He states before he stomps down the hallway and slams the bathroom door so loud that all the dishes in your kitchen cabinets shudder.

You weren't expecting those words to hurt as much as they did, but it felt like you had taken a two by four to the chest.

"What's his problem?" Darren asks.

"I don't know." You grumble, because you didn't.

The shift of conversation from Ben almost acting concerned about you going with Darren to him insulting you was giving you whiplash. You didn't understand why Ben had said those things to you, why he had yelled at you for being "too trusting." You didn't think that you were too trusting. It wasn't weak to love someone or care for someone else, but you guessed that was how Ben saw it. You wondered if it was because of what Countess did to him or if it came from his trust of his team or if it was ingrained in him from when he was a child.

Does he really think I'm too trusting? I mean he saw how long it took me to trust him? Or how long it took me to warm up to him? Or I guess, sort of warm up to him?

"Are you going to change?" Darren presses, looking down at your soft shirt and sleep shorts with a frown. "You should. Maybe wear something different than those overalls though. Kinda want you to make a good impression you know?"

"Yeah. Um. I guess I'll go now." You murmur walking down the hallway. For a moment you pause outside of the bathroom where you know Ben is, and you're unsure what he's doing because you don't hear the water running, before you go into your bedroom.

You stand there for a minute, taking in a soothing breath, but it does little to calm your racing heart. The anger and frustration you felt began to crash over you and you feel frustrated tears begin to trail down your cheeks.

You weren't sure if it was what Ben had yelled at you or what you had yelled at him, all you knew was that you were hurt and you were happy that Ben was going out of town for a few days, because you didn't think that you could look at him again, not without throwing him out of your apartment on his ass.

A/N: I know, I know, maybe I'm a little addicted to the drama and the angst. And oh my word slow burns are so hard, but I promise that I do have a plan of when the two of them do finally get together and it IS GLORIOUS.

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know :)

Taglist:

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@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

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#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fic #soldier boy fanfiction

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socksracoon10 · 13 days ago

Note

p2 where the argument turns into a makeout sesh yes or yes?

𝐇𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐)

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: (𝘠/𝘕) (𝘓/𝘕) 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘫𝘰𝘣 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯… 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴? Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x F!Reader, Charles Leclerc x F!Reader, Max Verstappen x F!Reader A/N: I AM SO HAPPY SOMEONE ASKED FOR A PART 2 BECAUSE THAT'S ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT SINCE I POSTED THE FIC YESTERDAY... anon thank you I was over here giggling and kicking my feet reading your ask... uh halfway through writing this I realized I got carried away it's MUCH longer than I intended LMFAO Read The First Part: Hit and Run

𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙤𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙯 𝙅𝙧.

"Hey man, next time you race try not to kill the other drivers," (Y/N) (L/N) sunk down into the P3 chair next to Sainz, who had just won the race. He glanced over at her with a scowl, clearly wanting to say some nasty things if it wasn't for the million cameras in the cooldown room. She shifted in her seat, stretching her arms as she watched the race's highlights on the screen besides her. Carlos and her both had a spectacular race, considering they had started from the bottom of the grid more or less. She knew she had the skills to get to the podium, but she was surprised at the fact that Carlos had managed to somehow win the race from nowhere. It didn't seem like his normal self and she wondered what could've motivated him to actually drive good for once.

"Next time you race, try not to be cocky and drag other drivers down," Carlos grumbled, his voice was muffled due to the rag that was currently soaking up all of the sweat on his face. She glared at him, holding an accusatory finger to the air before Max had settled down in the P2 chair. He shook Carlos's hand, before waving at (L/N). The room was silent, spare Max rambling on about what he saw during the race. As Max continued to talk, (L/N)'s eyes flickered occasionally onto Carlos, wondering what was going through his mind. She was definitely in the wrong, but her ego wouldn't handle that and she needed to tear him a new one once they were done with all the celebrations. She always hated this circuit anyway.

"She's not supposed to be here, mate," Charles giggled, jerking his thumb towards the woman that was angrily storming into Ferrari's garage. Carlos looked up from where he sat with a groan escaping his lips.

"She isn't," Carlos stood up, taking the cap off his head to run a hand through his hair, "I suppose you've come to apologize for your behavior this weekend? Or last weekend? Or the many weekends before that?" "Apologize?" (L/N) snorted, rolling her eyes, "I've come to ask about what you said at the press pen!"

Charles, sensing the tension between the two, gently ushered the two into Carlos's driver's room before shutting the door. The last thing Ferrari needed after this lovely weekend was to deal with the drivers having to go through PR training once again, especially with the amount of times Carlos had been talking shit about (Y/N) (L/N). Carlos had stood by the door, arms crossed as he gestured with his hands for her to begin whatever stupid argument she had managed to pull out of her ass this time.

"You remember what you said?" She growled, and when she saw him shake his head, her nostrils flared, "You literally told the press, 'sometimes, I like to put people in the places they belong and that's precisely what I did with (L/N)', are you kidding me?"

"You should be happy," Carlos scoffed, "I could've said way worse. Besides, I was giving you a taste of your own medicine. You said after qualifying yesterday that even with a million practices, I'd still fumble."

"Yeah, because you do! You're inconsistent as hell and that's why-"

"And yet who won the race today starting behind you." Carlos interrupted her. She closed her mouth, chest heaving. Carlos could see the gears turn in her head, she was trying so hard to come up with something. He had a smug smile on his face and somehow this was more victorious than winning the Grand Prix.

"It doesn't matter if you win today or not, you won't be driving for Ferrari soon, anyway," She spat. She smirked at the way his face fell, her arms crossed with her head tilted upwards. That cocky look on her face that always drove him wild.

"You're such an asshole," Carlos seethed, and before she could respond with a snarky remark, his lips crashed onto her. His hands came to hold onto the sides of her face, pulling her as close to him as he could. He pulled away for a brief second to take a quick breath and noticed the way her eyes widened, "Did you just kiss me? Listen here buddy, I'll have you know that-" Her words died down when she noticed Carlos's eyes flicker to her lips. God, her absolute hatred for him made her forget how charming he truly was. She wouldn't admit to it, though. Not now nor ever. Right now, all they needed was to blow off this steam. She grabbed onto his neck, pulling him down to another searing kiss, eyes closed as their teeth crashed into one another. She tugged his hair and he squeezed her waist, both of them realizing that feelings may not exist at the moment, it was all about just shutting each other up.

"I hate you," She murmured before going in for another kiss.

"I hate you more," His lips attached to her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that were sure to bruise her.

"Well, I hate you the most, stop trying to be better than me." She snapped in a strained voice and he groaned out loud, pulling back to stare at her,

"How much money do I have to pay for you to shut up?"

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙘

Charles didn't win the next race, unfortunately. He was a bit happy that he didn't DNF, but the fact that the winner of the race was none other than his sworn enemy did little to comfort him. He glanced over to Max who was at P2, and looked around to the room to make sure that rat wasn't lurking nearby.

"W-What was the gap between you and her?" Charles asked. He knew asking would literally do him 0 help, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting to know.

"I want to say around a good 20 seconds or so? Maybe a bit more, I wasn't too sure," Max responded, watching Charles sink deeper in his seat with a look of despair. He gulped, staring aimlessly onto the wall in front of him. How was she that fast? What had she done with the car overnight?

"I'm sorry for (Y/N) for the next few races," He heard her, loud and clear, as she entered the cooldown room, mocking him for what he said last weekend. Charles instantly glared at her, not even bothering to hide his true intentions. No amount of PR training could hide his disgust for her. She settled into her seat, relishing in the feeling of being the race winner.

"You do anything with your car?" Charles grunted, and she shook her head,

"No, no. I just have more skill," She flashed him a smile, before getting up once again to grab a bottle of water. Max, for once in his life, decided to be quiet in the room and see the argument follow through. He'd heard Charles tell him multiple times about how (L/N) got on his nerves, but seeing it in person would be amazing.

"I doubt that. You used to place below me during the races," Charles took a sip of his water.

"What are you insinuating then?" She snarled, and Max glanced over to the camera crew, signaling for them to leave. While this would do numbers for the ratings and news headlines, they were promised some share of money if they got their asses out.

"Um guys, I don't think we should be fighting, we have to cooldown anyway..." Max began, but his words fell onto deaf ears as Charles stood up from his seat to stalk over to where she stood.

"Maybe you'd be more likeable if you were honest with yourself, sometimes cheaters-" Charles began, standing his ground when she yelled back,

"So you think I cheated in this race? Seriously? That's your argument?"

"Well, we do know that last weekend there was water in your tires," Charles snapped,

"That wasn't my fault? Stop being such a sore loser, Leclerc. Maybe this is why you haven't won a championship yet."

Max's jaw dropped as he watched the words fly out of her mouth. Charles, in the meantime, tossed his water bottle to the ground and stepped closer to her with his finger in her face,

"At least I raced clean without losing grip when I tried to overtake someone. You just got lucky today, that's it."

"Luck, really? Yeah, tell me about your luck when you're fighting more with your teammate than with the other drivers on the grid during the race." She hissed.

Was it the air? Was it the fact that the adrenaline was still high after the race, or was it the fact that despite not being able to stand each other they were only centimeters apart. It didn't take long before Charles's hand dug into her scalp, pulling her head back ever so slightly as he kissed her. Seeing this as another challenge, (L/N) brought Charles down to the ground, both of them fighting to be on top while still furiously kissing each other. His hands gripped her waist and she had her arms around his neck, dragging him towards her as they rolled off of each other on the ground, tongues practically in each other's mouths with the intention of wanting to ruin each other. She scratched him, he yanked her hair, she punched his chest and he twisted her arm and yet their lips never stopped wanting to consume the other. It wasn't until (L/N) pulled away to breathe again did they both realize that Max was still there with a very shocked expression.

"I'm... I'm just going to leave and make sure uh no one else enters this room but uh guys you might want to... put yourself together before we get on the podium," Max had one hand covering his eyes as he walked out of the room.

"Do you think he's gonna tell people we just made out?" She asked, propping herself onto her elbows.

"I doubt it," Charles responded with a roll of his eyes, "I mean, who would go and loudly state that Charles Leclerc was kissing you of all people? I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy."

He winced when her hand smacked the back of his head.

𝙈𝙖𝙭 𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣

Max never forgot. He never forgot anything. He had made a promise to himself that he would wipe that smirk off her face and he intended to keep it. Even with all the setbacks that he was facing this particular weekend. Back to back penalties, a grip drop and on top of all this, a very haughty (Y/N) (L/N) purposely bumping into him on the paddock with a bright smile,

"Have fun! I've always wondered how the view from the back would look like for you," She chirped, speeding past him on a scooter. Max's jaw went taut, and he did little to hide his anger for the rest of the day. He was going to make sure that the race tomorrow would haunt her for the rest of her life. She had chosen the wrong person to mess with and he was determined to prove it to her.

Max was on a different level during the race, he was unbelievably fast and it surprised everyone but mainly (Y/N) (L/N).

Her radio went off, and someone buzzed through, "Max is currently at P6, he's coming up behind you."

"What the hell?" Her voice was a bit quiet, still in disbelief at the fact that Max was now right behind her, "How does he do this?"

And before she can react further, she sees him overtake her as he flashed his middle finger at her before speeding off. That got her going, and despite the radio telling her to calm down and control her motions, she began to chase after Max. Her ego was bruised but surely she could redeem herself. Unfortunately, she lost grip and her car went spiraling out of control towards the barriers.

"A safety car will be deployed soon, Max," GP informed the driver.

"Who crashed?"

"(Y/N) (L/N)."

Max couldn't help the giggle that escaped his lips, and to quote Alonso he merely stated, "Karma..." before turning his radio off for the rest of the race.

By the time all the celebrations were done, Max walked past (L/N)'s garage and he noticed the way she was pouting, legs crossed as she was busy texting somebody. Her fingers flew across the screen, and it almost looked like she was about to cry. Max did feel a bit bad for her, he knew she had worked to get to where she was - she was after all the only female driver on the grid so she was talented. He walked over to her in the best hopes that he could try to make her feel better, I mean he wasn't a monster.

"Oh, look who's here, the ugly ass sloth who can't mind his own business," She sneered, crossing her arms as she looked up at him. Yeah, that was it. Max didn't want to comfort her anymore, he was going to stoop down to her level.

"You know, maybe if you learned to shut your mouth and admit your mistakes, you could've actually done well in the race today." He scoffed, towering over her. She stood up, going back to texting her friend with a scowl on her face.

"Texting your mechanics to help salvage what's left of the car?" Max snorted.

"No, I'm texting my friend about how some douchebag keeps talking to me like I even asked for him. Like why the hell are you even here? Go back to your own garage, asshole." She snapped, pocketing her phone. Max threw his backpack onto the ground besides her and took a step forward,

"You know I was going to be nice to you-"

"You said Karma over the radio, I heard that shit clearly," She hissed, stepping closer as well.

"I said it in the moment, but right now I was going to be nice. I was going to comfort you. You are talented, you're not a shit driver like I said you were, but God... your ego. Your stubbornness. Your... your absolute pathetic move to shift the blame onto someone else for your wrong doings. Get over yourself, you don't know shit about your own car and yet you always blame me for something during the race!"

"My car is completely fine before you wrecked it!"

"Oh, so that DNF last weekend was my fault? You rammed into me! Let's not forget that!" Max yelled, glancing over to the new shiny car that would be in use next weekend.

"Oi, eyes on me," She snapped her fingers in his face, grabbing his jaw to turn it to her, "Don't stare at my winning car."

Max yanked her hand from his jaw, glaring at her. Oh, he hated her. He hated her so much. Even when he wanted to be nice to her, she always found a way to ruin it. How was it possible for a woman as beautiful and genuinely talented as her to somehow always end up as the most annoying, stuck-up little piece of shit that he had ever seen? Within seconds, he had her against her "amazing" car with his lips onto her. She gasped in surprise, eyes darting to the corner of the garage to make sure all the mechanics had left, but considering the way Max was making her melt in his kiss, her worries soon faded away. Max had one hand pressing her down against the car, her back hit the edge of the halo and she groaned in pain, causing her to arch into him as he deepened the kiss. Her hands came to grip onto his shoulders as she bit down on his bottom lip, and she could feel him smiling against her.

"I wish you were like this every weekend," He whispered, delving into another kiss. She wrapped her hand in his hair, tugging him gently away from her,

"I hope you realize this is a one time occurrence. I have standards," She smirked.

"They must be pretty low then like your racing skills," Max snapped, kissing her once more as he felt her smirk fade against his lips. He really did mean it when he said he was going to wipe it off her face, he just never imagined it to be in this way.

"Shut up," She mumbled, "Just shut up."

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the-littlest-goblin · 2 months ago

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Something that's stuck with me from the Arch Heart's appearance, which highlights a major underpinning of my frustration with C3, is the "Big Doors don't work" comment.

In what way exactly is the Big Door not working?

The purpose of the Divine Gate was to mitigate the gods exerting undo influence on mortal affairs, and according to everything we've seen in all 3 campaigns up to this point, this was a demonstrable success: the Calamity ended, and despite multiple potentially world-ending catastrophes cropping up since then, it has been up to mortals to deal with these threats. They've often done so with divine aid, but I fail to see how that's overreaching on the gods' part when accepting said aid is still dependent on mortal choice.*

Part of the Arch Heart's reasoning for wanting to "let go" is, as I understand it, because mortals continue to rebel against and resent the gods even from behind the Divine Gate. Which, yes they do, but like... the customer is not always right. Not every complaint needs to be catered to, especially the ones based on faulty postulates.

I get that this is not how the Arch Heart is thinking about it; my issue is not with the roleplay of individual characters, but with the narrative whole and the sheer amount of time it has spent, both in the text and extra-textual framing, sincerely entertaining the base axioms of an argument that is so poorly constructed Ludinus wouldn't make it past round one of a middle school debate club. None of the anti-god arguments have given any tangible evidence for the claim that the gods are an oppressive force or that Exandria would be better off without them that is not either:

A. Aeor, which was pre-Divine Gate and in fact the catalyst for the gods to pull back on interfering with mortal affairs, and therefore not all that pertinent to the current status quo;

or B. an event or action that, while it may be done in the name of the gods (e.g. Hearthdell) or directly encouraged by a god (e.g. Opal and the Crown) is nonetheless still contingent on mortals making choices, and therefore not a convincing argument that the gods are infringing on free will,** nor that removing them would prevent these types of situations.

An ongoing motif of C3 has been showing perspectives which challenge the prevailing narrative about the gods as established within Exandria's lore to this point. As a story enjoyer, I normally would eat up this sort of reversal—I love a metatextual play with in-universe narratives. But to do so convincingly requires more substance than a handful of characters going 'Trust me bro.' I'm going to need to see some peer-reviewed studies on Exandrian metaphysics before I take Ludinus "17 ulterior motives stacked in a wizard robe" Da'leth's word over what I've seen with my own brain over thousands of hours worth of game play.

If the message of the narrative is telling me to question the diegetic information it presents, then I am going to do just that. So far every argument that the gods do more harm than good for Exandria has been rampant citationless behavior. I find it baffling and borderline infuriating that we're approaching the denouement of this campaign and I still have yet to see evidence that the core conflict of the story, the central debate which has plagued every in-game and fandom discussion for a year now, is based on an actual problem. Like, at all.

*If you think Vax did not exercise his own agency and free will in every step of becoming Champion of the Matron, you are simply wrong.

**For real, we know there are magical means of straight-up mind control in Exandria. Like, you don't have to approve of it, but the gods engaging in standard issue verbal manipulation does not constitute a violation of free will, and it certainly doesn't make the argument that they are so immeasurably more powerful than mortals that they should not be allowed to exist.

#anyway earlier today I reblogged a shitpost that says better in 2 images what I took 3 days and ~8 paragraphs to articulate #so you should reblog that instead of this #critrole #c3 #cr spoilers

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weneeya · 9 months ago

Note

I'm taking full advantage of request box being open 😋

Gojo giving you cold shoulder after you cheated on him in his dream..hes all pouty

a whole betrayal w/ gojo m.list | rules

note. as you should! I'm glad you like my writing enough to ask for requests, thank you sm!!

Since this morning, your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, had been giving you a cold shoulder and you couldn’t understand why. You had asked him a few times already but he was ignoring you like you did the worst thing ever to him. He was currently sitting on the couch, arms crossed and all pouty while you were sitting next to him, trying to get some information from him.

“Satoru, please. Tell me what I’ve done so I can repay myself!” you were almost begging him on your knees. You hated when he was like this, you felt so useless and powerless. It almost scared you that he was going to leave you.

“You’re a cheater.” he finally said, turning his head so he could look at you. His gaze was visible from above his glasses, while he was frowning slightly. You looked at him in disbelief, processing what he just said to you.

“You cheated on me with Kento in my dream last night. I can’t believe you’ve done that to me!” he was being serious right now, and you were sure you couldn’t have heard well. You blinked a few times before your face showed all the incomprehension you were feeling at the moment.

“What the hell Satoru?! You’re like this because of a dream?!” you were so scared for nothing, even if he seemed to take it very personally. He looked away one more time, all pouty once again.

“I’m not talking with a cheater.” you sighed, eyes closed. Of course, with someone as dramatic as him, you weren’t going to pass through this so easily. You took a breath, slowly, before looking back at him. You rested your chin on his shoulder, looking at him with puppy eyes.

“I’m sorry, okay? I swear it, it’s never gonna happen again.” he looked back at you, frowning slightly. He was judging your sincerity and you couldn’t believe it. You were really asking his forgiveness for a dream. You shouldn’t be surprised with him, but his dramatic behavior was always going further. Thank God, you loved him that way.

“Fine, but you need to cuddle with me for the rest of the day then,” he said, waiting for your answer. He slowly raised an eyebrow before you laughed slightly, shaking your head. He was unbelievable.

“Seems good to me.” you answered, opening your arms to welcome him. A smile finally appeared on his lips and he quickly came closer to you to hide his face in your neck. He was glad you were able to get through this, and you were hoping that he wouldn't happen too frequently. You hated when you hurt him, even if it was in a dream.

don't hesitate to request too, with anyone from jujutsu kaisen! or even other stuff :)

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo headcanons #gojo hcs #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs #jjk fluff

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rolanpilled · 1 year ago

Text

Why I Fell In Love With Rolan, A Character Analysis

I will be going through Rolan's lines, along with the devnotes, to try and explain my interpretation of his character.

This is coming from having spent 30+ hours combing through his dialogues, reading all of his books, listening to every voice line for context, and replaying every scene of his that's currently accessible.

TW: Mentions of abuse, family death, implied suicide

Very long post under cut. Get the Arabellan Dry out!

A few notes before getting into this:

In the game files, Rolan is referred to as "Prodigy", while Cal and Lia are referred to as "ProdigyBrother" and "ProdigySister".

Rolan is a character whose outer words and inner thoughts often do not align - for most of the game, he refuses to show vulnerability in front of Tav, reserving his softness for his siblings. This can be interpreted in a number of ways, ranging from a self-confidence issue to an avoidant attachment style. Though people are free to have their own interpretations, I will mainly be focusing on my own readings of his personality.

I am not a psychologist or a licensed health professional, but I have personal experiences with the mental health disorders I will reference in this post, and I have done a lot of research on the topics involved.

Part 1 - Elturel, and Rolan's past

"Rolan. Just... Rolan."

There isn't much you can tell about Rolan's life except that he's from Elturel and that Cal and Lia are his siblings - after all, he doesn't give you much info in the first place. He doesn't know you, he doesn't trust you. Why would he?

The information you get about his family and his life before BG3 come from minor dialogues, and using Speak With Dead on his corpse. The picture they paint isn't a happy one.

[Player: What's your name?]

[Rolan: Rolan. Just... Rolan.]

[Player: Do you have any family?]

[Rolan: No... family... no one.]

[Player: No family? What about Lia and Cal?]

[Rolan: They are... brother and sister. Cal says... I am family, but...]

Rolan doesn't have a family name. We don't know if Lia and Cal do, but it can be assumed they don't, else he might have taken theirs. The first thing that sticks out to me in this dialogue is that he doesn't consider himself to have a family, even though Cal and Lia say he's part of theirs.

The question is, what could have caused this? If his blood family was simply dead, wouldn't he refer to them as "dead" or "gone"? Instead he says he has "no one" and "no family", perhaps implying that his parents just... abandoned him. Either way, it gives the impression that he has issues with being abandoned, and may project a sense of toughness and arrogance to make up for his insecurity.

And there IS insecurity here - he outright says that Cal and Lia tell him that he's no different from family to them, but deep down, he doesn't seem to be able to accept it. That he can only reveal this information to you after death, having been so guarded in life, is heartbreaking.

As for his life in Elturel, not much is said, but a lot can be inferred from his attitude.

[Cal: Elturel was the last time the three of us talked like this. Let's hope it lasts until Baldur's Gate.]

After leaving Elturel, it appears Rolan, Cal, and Lia didn't have much time to talk. This is from the party scene - a scene where they're drinking, laughing, and joking amongst each other. Clearly the journey hasn't been the easiest for all of them, though one thing we can take from this dialogue is that they've had this friendly, sibling-like relationship for a long time.

From what we know of Elturel and the Descent, things were NOT pretty down in Avernus. Many people died, and after the city was returned to the surface, tieflings were driven out of the city, as we all know. Something important to think about is how exactly this might have gone for the three siblings: how exactly they ended up in the Grove, travelling with the refugees. The context seems to imply that the siblings were travelling on their own, not necessarily considered a part of the group, but this is debatable and not entirely clear.

So what brought them to Baldur's Gate? What finally drove them out of the city? Did they leave before things got worse, or were they driven from their homes with stones and violence? It could really be anything, but the one thing that's clear is that their primary reason for heading to Baldur's Gate is for Rolan to start his apprenticeship with Lorroakan.

We know that Rolan wrote Lorroakan a letter: multiple letters, actually. We're not sure if he wrote to other wizards, but from his dialogue, you can tell that Lorroakan's been someone he's respected for a long time, both for his magical skills and his political beliefs. Though he's never met Lorroakan, you can find a copy of Lorroakan's biography on his desk at Sorcerous Sundries - there's an admiration established early on, and the player is led to believe that Lorroakan is a powerful wizard (though if you bring Gale with you, he comments on Lorroakan's shady reputation, hinting at something darker beneath the surface).

What could have driven Rolan to write so far away, seeking apprenticeship? Was it out of a sense of desperation, wanting to leave the city but needing a way to take care of his siblings? Was it curiosity? A sense that Lorroakan might be his last chance to make something of himself after being denied what he felt like was his rightful destiny? As a tiefling, he must have faced some discrimination for his heritage - I can speak to my own experience here, growing up as a person of color in a majority-white community was genuinely traumatizing to myself and my non-white friends. Not only do we receive open bullying and ostracization for our appearance, there's something even more insidious that often happens to minority populations - neglect. A general disinterest in our accomplishments, a lack of encouragement and attention towards kids that don't fit the norm. If this was something Rolan had to experience, it's no wonder he felt angry and eager to prove himself. He's been neglected his all his life, and he finally has a chance to show everyone who doubted him that he really does have the potential to be a great wizard.

Rolan himself appears to be in his mid- to late- twenties, bringing up the question of what he's been doing his entire life if not magic. It's mentioned that he was able to conjure a flaming cat from when Cal was as young as 8, so depending on the age difference between the siblings, Rolan might have known magic from a very early age. So why, then, is he a mere wizard apprentice at the start of the game? He's surely had a lot of time to learn himself.

[Lia: Try not to get too close, Cal.]

[Rolan: Yes. Remember what happened last time?]

[Cal: I was eight and you magicked up a kitten. How was I supposed to know it was made of fire?]

What could have happened along the way? He might have just not found the time or the opportunity to be able to study, especially as a tiefling without a family or the money to pay for an education. In my interpretation, Rolan carries a lot of unvoiced shame for not having been able to "fulfill his destiny" until now. He projects an outward mask of confidence and arrogance to hide his vulnerability, his insecurities - that his family isn't really his family, and that he isn't really destined for greatness. His natural reaction to vulnerability is anger and denial, which we'll explore more in the later sections.

(It is mentioned in the devnotes, though, that Rolan "has truly worked his ass off to get here". Prodigy is not an ironic title - he's likely had to self-study to the point where Lorroakan felt that he had potential. He has a right to be confident, but it doesn't negate any potential feelings of unworthiness.)

Additional info - Rolan, Cal, and Lia, on top of having known each other since Cal was 8, also share a mother figure, who is deceased. There is no mention of a father. It could be that this was Lia and Cal's actual mother, who took Rolan in, or a number of other possibilities - it could be that ROLAN'S mother took the three in, or that she just happened to be an unrelated woman who adopted three orphans.

[Cal: We should have a little party when we reach the city, like we did for mum.]

[Rolan: That 'little party' lasted from sundown to sunrise. Lia would like that.]

This dialogue can only be accessed if Lia dies but Cal and Rolan live.

So we've set up a few key details about Rolan's personality: his arrogance may harbor hints of insecurity or desperation, he has issues with feeling abandoned or neglected, and he's potentially been denied his chance to learn magic in the past. We will explore these in detail in the next few sections, along with another troubling tendency of his - perfectionism, and the self-blame that comes with it.

Part 2 - The Grove

"I'll not gamble our lives, our futures, for people who are as good as dead."

If you recall his dialogue in the grove, Rolan seems to distance himself from the other refugees, focusing only on the safety of his siblings. Let's unpack this in his own words -

[Rolan: This isn't Elturel and I'm not responsible for every damn tiefling in the world!]

[Rolan: I made no such oath, and I will not be held responsible for these people.]

This is in contrast to Lia, who believes that they should help what she considered to be their 'kin'. Remember that Rolan often refers to the refugees in a detached way, refusing to associate himself with them.

At a first glance, it might seem like Rolan is fixated on his apprenticeship - he wants to get to Baldur's Gate straight away, so he can begin studying under Lorroakan. Lia accuses him of the same, causing Rolan to react with anger.

But if you think about what Rolan's underlying motivations might be, you might have realized something that Cal and Lia most likely recognized too - he's worried for his siblings' safety.

The grove is an open, unprotected area, and they're being menaced by druids on one side, goblins on the other. There's only a few fighters, Rolan, Cal and Lia among them, and none of them are strong enough to take on either group. Even if Rolan feels a sort of kinship with the other tieflings - which I'll expand on in a second - he prioritizes the lives of his siblings over them, and doesn't want them to sacrifice themselves for people he doesn't even know.

Now, the other theory - what if Rolan doesn't identify with the other tieflings, because he's been cast out by them before?

I'm going to inject my personal experience as an immigrant here. Life as an immigrant can be profoundly isolating, especially if you have few relatives in the area. Rolan may have been so attached to Cal and Lia because they took him in when his own people rejected him - for some reason, even other tieflings could have seen him as an "outsider", and refused to help him when his parents abandoned him or died. If you tie in the theory that he was a tiefling born to human parents (which would be taboo), it could have been that they rejected him for not "being tiefling enough". I'm aware that in-universe there's no one unified "culture" of tieflings, but even in groups without a unified culture, there are still small pockets of people with certain internal customs. It could be that Rolan failed to fit in due to his heritage, that he was rejected for his personality, or some other reason, but my interpretation for his refusal to help fellow tieflings is that he never quite felt the same kinship for them that Cal and Lia did. It could also be that he holds resentment towards them for abandoning him - abandonment seems to be a central theme in Rolan's story, and likely contributes to his feelings of inferiority and unworthiness.

(He does seem to know Infernal, though I don't know whether that's a cultural thing or an innate trait to tieflings.)

If the fight is held at the grove, Rolan, Cal, and Lia stand near the back of the cave to protect the children. They can be found arguing with each other on potential battle positions. Afterwards, if the tieflings and all three of the siblings survive, they can be found by the entrance of the cave, where Rolan again behaves arrogantly towards you and claims he could have handled the goblins on his own.

All of this is quite standard for his character and projects the image of an arrogant, selfish person who only seeks to protect himself and the people that matter to him, which is likely what he wants. It also lends some credibility to the interpretation where he was rejected by other refugees - if he felt neutral towards other tieflings, it might have made more sense if he was less derisive towards them. Instead, he consistently detaches himself from his people, drawing clear lines between them, with a hint of bitterness that seems to have a painful origin.

The rest of Act 1 is Rolan acting like his standard self - bratty, arrogant, and dismissive of others. That is how most of us met him, though he won't stay that way for long.

Part 3 - Moonrise

"But what good am I if I can't do this... this one thing?"

(Author's note: "This one thing" is travelling alone through a cursed, necrotic land, breaking into a prison staffed with dozens of trained guards, and personally facing an immortal chosen of the literal god of death. Rolan is a Level 4 wizard.)

As you already know, at the start of Act 2 Rolan is drinking himself to death alone. His brother and sister have been dragged away screaming by the cultists, and he's overwhelmed at the thought of never seeing them again. Naturally, he's quite angry with you, but if you read his lines closely, you can see that you're not the only person he's angry at.

[Rolan: Gods damn it all. I can do nothing right - not a damn thing!] [Devnote: Furious - mainly with himself]

[Player: You're supposed to be at Last Light.]

[Rolan: I'm supposed to be saving Cal and Lia!] [Devnote: Frantic, worried for his siblings]

[Rolan: Instead, I found myself cornered by shadow-fiends and in need of rescue. From you, of all bloody people.] [Devnote: Pissed off and taking it out on the player]

[Player: You were trying to help your family - you're too hard on yourself.]

[Rolan: Or not hard enough.]

[Rolan: I've failed Cal and Lia, again. Be on your way - I'll return to Last Light... I know when I'm outmatched.]

Rolan is someone who feels deeply responsible for the safety of his siblings (this lends credence to the idea that he's the eldest of the three). He may argue and bicker with them, but he could never abandon then, nor could he forgive himself if something were to happen to them. He is clearly carrying an unbearable amount of grief and guilt for allowing his siblings to be captured, but he's so emotionally repressed that he chooses to bury his sorrow under a mound of anger. Being drunk doesn't help - it's mentioned by one of the kids, Ide, that he's been through three bottles of wine by the time the player reaches the Shadow-Cursed Lands.

That much is obvious just from reading his lines, but his angry reaction to the player is, as the devnotes say, a way of taking out his pain and frustration on other people. He might feel guilty about it later, but in the moment, it's the only way he knows how to cope with them. This isn't his only instance of externalizing his self-hatred.

If Cal dies and Lia lives, the player has the option to break up an argument between Lia and Rolan. If they fail to neutralize the situation, Rolan will tell Lia (or Cal, depending on who lives) to get out of his sight permanently.

[Rolan: You deserve nothing. You two are cowardly parasites, and I am disgusted it took me this long to see. Get out of my sight.] [Devnote: Furious in his grief, lashing out, being as hurtful as he can to his surviving sibling]

[Lia: Fuck you, Rolan!]

[Lia: Insufferable, arrogant little prick. Argh.]

[Lia: Everything is about him, everything is about his pain. Godsdamnit, Rolan!]

It says a lot to me that if one of his siblings dies, that he has to be convinced out of lashing out at his surviving one. He seems to be like a person who deals with strong emotions by lashing out, likely as a defense mechanism to make himself appear stronger than he feels. This is a common technique used by people with self-esteem issues - to avoid drawing attention to their own vulnerability, they lash out and externalize their feelings with anger to bury the grief. Lia says as much in this ending - to Rolan, everything is about his pain, and he's managing it in the only way he knows how. He knows he's hurting his siblings, he knows it's wrong, but he engages in it anyway, a common trait of people who dislike themselves. If Rolan didn't have his apprenticeship, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that the death of his siblings might have caused him to spiral and give up on life altogether.

Interestingly enough, in the end where both Rolan and one of his siblings die, it's implied that the remaining sibling commits suicide. You can read more about it here - it gives some insight into Rolan's motivations, and serves to emphasize exactly how much this apprenticeship means to him. Rolan lives for two things, though it really just is one thing - his siblings, and his apprenticeship, which means more to him because it represents a hopeful future for his siblings. Every clue in the game points to his siblings being everything to him.

But let's move away from this bad ending for one second, and back to where we are. Rolan's been drinking himself silly, yelling at children, and eventually storms out into the SCL by himself. Being an apprentice wizard, few expect him to survive on his own, and true to form, he has to be rescued by the player again.

Though I think this line is currently bugged and unavailable, he actually has lines reacting to the shadows.

[Rolan: My magic is not to be trifled with - leave or die!] [Devnote: Exhausted and scared, but trying not to sound it]

Rolan, emotionally repressed fool he is, is once again attempting to appear big in order to protect himself from what he fears. Whether it's the shadows, or the loss of his siblings, he reacts to stressful situations with a brave front, attempting to push people away so they won't see him at his worst state.

This is one of the common symptoms of an avoidant attachment disorder - an attachment style that causes people to push others away if they get too close, avoiding emotional closeness and being uncomfortable expressing vulnerability to others. I interpret Rolan as having this kind of attachment style, which is often formed from neglect or abuse as a child, resulting in a self-sufficient but emotionally cold person. It can lead to the breakdowns of close relationships, as evidenced by Rolan pushing away his surviving sibling (potentially in order to save himself the grief of having to go through their death again). People with this disorder often cut off people before they can be cut off, in order to save themselves the pain of being abandoned again.

Some recognize the negative impact of their behaviors more than most, and though Rolan never comments on it, it can be inferred that he feels some measure of guilt for the way he behaves. If convinced to lay off of his surviving sibling, he immediately apologizes, recognizing his mistake.

[Cal: Do you wish it was me who died? Instead of Lia?]

[Rolan: Gods no, that's not what I meant. Never, Cal. Never!] [Devnote: Realizes what he's just said. Backtracking, apologizing, sincere]

[Rolan: Shit. I'm sorry.] [Devnote: Disgusted with himself and what he's just said. Looking away, sincere apology]

[Cal: Me too.]

We can see here that Rolan IS capable of self-reflection and guilt - it just takes more than a nudge to get it out of him. He says as much if you manage to rescue both siblings, thanking you and apologizing for his behavior - not an empty apology, or made out of necessity, but a genuine, heartfelt admission of guilt and gratitude. This kind of mature response from him says a lot about his character, and hints at a capacity for further growth in Act 3.

As Cal says, Rolan can be stubborn, but he's never malicious. I see this as an indicator of the immense guilt he holds inside him - though he externalizes his rage towards anyone and everyone, deep down, the person he blames the most is himself.

Which leads me directly into a talk about perfectionism, one of Rolan's defining character traits.

Rolan, at his core, is a perfectionist. The feelings of failure for not being able to save his siblings, the arrogance that belies a certain type of self-hatred, and a willingness to attack others in order to deflect from his own vulnerability - all of these traits tie heavily into perfectionism, which Rolan consistently displays traits of. At the start of the game, he spends every line with the player bragging about how he and Lorroakan are going to become household names, how they will boast of this meeting to others. To an extent, I'm sure he believes it. He's just been invited to what he considers to be a prestigious apprenticeship, despite everyone having considered him a failure. Naturally, he's excited despite the trauma of Elturel and Avernus, and wants to get to Lorroakan immediately in order to fulfill his destiny (he refers to it as his destiny several times throughout the game).

This makes what happens next all the more tragic.

Part 4 - Baldur's Gate, Lorroakan, and ending the Cycle of Abuse

Picture this - you've been rejected, abandoned, considered a lost cause for most of your life, accepted only by the siblings you just barely avoided losing forever. But the journey was worth it. You're finally here, in the city you've dreamed of, studying under who in your opinion is one of the most powerful and respected wizards in the world.

Then you get there, and you don't learn a thing. Your teacher asks you nonsensical questions and beats you as a punishment when you're wrong. It's unsurprising that when the player enters Sorcerous Sundries, that Rolan seems a bit more dejected than usual.

Much has been said about the depiction of abuse in media, but as a survivor of domestic violence, I found Rolan's reaction and justification of his abuse very accurate for someone suffering from DV. True to his personality, the very first thing he does is deny that anything's wrong, continuing his trend of burying his emotions in the hope that they'll go away.

[Player: I know the marks of subjugation. Your face - what happened?]

[Rolan: Nothing for you to worry about.] [Devnote: Master Lorroakan hurt him, but he doesn't want to say]

[Narrator: *His voice catches. Something's wrong here.*]

Survivors of DV often feel great shame towards their abuse, often blaming themselves and refusing to speak about it out of fear of appearing vulnerable. True to that, Rolan doesn't say anything about what Lorroakan's doing it, resorting to another common tactic for abuse survivors - implying what's happening without directly stating that the abuse is occurring. This is often out of fear, especially if the victim is still close to the abuser - in this case, Rolan not wanting to jeopardize his apprenticeship, or possibly be abused further for disclosing it to someone else.

[Rolan: Be very sure before you make to visit Lorroakan. He's got a beastly temper.] [Devnote: Sounds a bit disappointed in the player]

[Rolan: Master Lorroakan is... a difficult man.] [Devnote: Gently touches bruised face, distant]

Abuse survivors often hold a great deal of guilt for 'allowing' themselves to be abused, more so if the abuser considers them weak or easy to manipulate. There's often a stigma - "why didn't you just leave? You knew it was bad, yet you stayed, so there must be some blame on your part." This is not an uncommon belief amongst survivors, and through his journal entries, it can be inferred that Rolan holds a similar belief. Rolan's journal, and his VA's fantastic reading of it, can be found here. Rolan is clearly aware that what's being done to him is wrong, but he persists - in my opinion, partially because he believes it's worth the benefits involved, and partially because he feels a responsibility towards his siblings to succeed after 'failing' them so tragically before. Again, perfectionism, guilt, internalized self-hatred: easy traits for a horrible man like Lorroakan to take advantage of.

There are a few possible endings for Rolan here, the first being if you side against the Nightsong with Lorroakan.

The thing about abuse, as Larian so excellently portrays it, is that it is often perpetuated in cycles. A person who's been hurt is more likely to hurt others, whether as a response to their pain, or in an attempt to spread their misery in order to feel less alone. Though not all survivors become perpetrators themselves, many perpetrators are survivors themselves. Rolan is no different - if Nightsong is captured, and Lorroakan is killed in the fight, he will immediately attempt to cage the Nightsong himself and harness her immortality. This could easily be seen as an attempt to get strong enough that no one can ever hurt or take advantage of him again.

When the player next long rests, Rolan will be found dead, having been killed by Aylin - perhaps a mercy, to avoid him from becoming just the same as Lorroakan.

But the player who cares for Rolan wouldn't let this happen to him, right?

Rolan's attitude towards the player gradually changes over time, but nothing shows his growth more than his good ending, where you save Cal and Lia and side with the Nightsong. When you bring Nightsong to the tower, Rolan will be shocked, in disbelief that the Nightsong was a person all along. He turns against Lorroakan on the spot despite the other man's threats to ruin his life (a common tactic employed by abusers to control their victims).

[Lorroakan: Boy! At the ready. Once I've taken control of the aasimar, she must go directly into the caging runes.]

[Rolan: No, Master Lorroakan. I would have never assisted you if I knew you planned such horrors.]

[Rolan: You lied to get the Nightsong here. Made us all believe she was nothing but a relic. I have seen what true leadership can accomplish - but never under your tutelage.]

[Lorroakan: Watch your tongue, you child! I could make it so that no wizard in the realm will touch you.]

[Rolan: If they're all like you, I think that sounds like an excellent bargain.]

It takes an immense amount of courage to stand up to one's abuser, so to see Rolan so bravely stand against the man who hurt him was a positive surprise to me. It also shows just how much the player has changed Rolan for the better - your leadership and selflessness has inspired him, given him the bravery to stand against his abuser. It's a powerful scene, and I admit that watching it brought a tear to my eye, brief as it was. Few people get the chance to take revenge on their abusers, so it was cathartic to see Rolan thunderwaving him onto the balcony before letting Aylin snap his spine.

After the fight, Rolan thanks the player, finally feeling safe enough after his abuser's death to reveal what happened to him. Though it's implied that he feels some shame for being victimized, much of it is likely from the shock of the sudden event, and by the next day he's regained much of his enthusiasm - he still has the ego, but with less arrogance and more acceptance of the player's presence. Rolan's growth, from hating and mistrusting the player to eventually trusting them enough to show his true, kind self to them, is what really made me fall in love with him and his character arc.

Ultimately, Rolan's story isn't just about learning to lay down your pride and accept help from others - it's about abandoning perfectionism and elitism, accepting your own faults, and choosing to grow as a person. For Rolan, the player begins as an annoying, meddlesome force, someone who "moralizes" to him about saving others when he wants no part in doing what's considered "right". By the end of the game, he realizes just how lucky he is to have you in his life - without the player's influence, he could have easily gone down the worst path, the path of narcissism, ego, and disregard for others. But because of a string of coincidences, he was saved from that fate, and was allowed to grow and accept that there's enough room in his heart for more than just the few people that care about him. He learns to lay down the perfectionism, accept that making mistakes is a part of change, and feel his feelings for what they are - whether they're gratitude, fear, or even sadness.

For someone who struggles with avoidant attachment disorder, seeing Rolan's character change throughout the game greatly inspired me to change the way I was approaching my own relationships with people. Avoidant attachment disorder is not talked about very often, both in the medical field and in everyday life, and people suffering from it are often misunderstood or considered to be 'lost causes' - to see Rolan so capable of change inspired me to change myself, and I'm sure I wasn't the only one who felt this way.

When he takes over Ramazith's Tower, Rolan decides to distribute Lorroakan's knowledge to the world, and tells you about his plans to open a library. This is the most obvious sign that he's changed - the player's willingness to help him despite getting little or nothing in exchange has inspired him, and he becomes a kinder, more open person. He learns to trust again, to love again. It's unclear what happens afterwards, as he's not present in the epilogue, but the heartwarming conclusion to his arc can be seen in the issue of the Baldur's Mouth Gazette after Lorroakan's death -

Despite everything, Rolan makes it to the end, having vanquished the trials in front of him with the help of the player. He gets his tower, his knowledge, and shares it with the realms, finally able to realize that he's worthy and deserving of a happy life.

Thank you to Larian for bringing Rolan's story to life, to Mr. Taylor for his excellent portrayal of this character, and to all the Rolan fans for showing him so much love every single day.

I have met so many amazing and talented friends from the community around this character, and I'll forever be grateful for everyone who showed him the love I feel towards him.

I can be found on twitter at @gimblebock.

#rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #rolan cal lia #lorroakan #bg3 lore #long post

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