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aphrodite-made-me-write-it · 2 years

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12 Days of Holiday Fics

Day Seven: Tip the Sitter

(A/N) well. this is the one i was like,, wow,, about as;lkdfj it’s uhhh,, it’s a little much. More than i’ve posted on here at least. so. read the warnings lmfao i physically cannot prepare u for this. this one is for u, my sweet perverts. happy nut bustin’

Rating: E (EXPLICIT AS ALL HELL. 18+ ONLY FOR THE LOVE OF ME)

Warnings: MILF!Wanda; age gap (R is over 21, wanda is,, older); HELLA mommy k!nk; Slight food play; Degradation; light spanking; Dirty talk bc that’s just who i am as a person;; oral (r receiving); r is a horny lil shit and wanda wants to tip the babysitter; i am truly ashamed of what i have written here today

Pairing: MILF!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader (legal age gap)

Word Count: 1.6k

Synopsis: Wanda asks you to help her bake cookies while the boys are at their dad’s house. You refuse to accept monetary payment, so she finds a better way to tip you.

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |

When you first began babysitting for Wanda, you’ll admit, you made several MILF jokes with your friends. It was no secret amongst them that you found the older woman attractive, because the moment you landed the gig they looked her up on social media and took immediate notice of your flustered behavior about her.

In all honesty, your meeting had been completely accidental. She’d been at the laundromat and one of her boys had ‘accidentally’ dropped her dryer sheets in one of the numerous puddles gathering outside thanks to the vicious thunderstorm. You offered her yours, and since you were the only two in the place for a few hours, you got to talking. You’re already going to college to become a teacher, so the topic of her needing a sitter for her elusive ‘business trips’ was brought up. Just like that, you made simultaneously the best and worst decision of your life.

It’s not like she’s that much older than you. You’re able to drink, so really, the age difference shouldn’t matter. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. To be honest, in the months following your first encounter, your attraction only grew to the point where just looking at her made your cheeks warm.

The boys were at their father’s for the weekend. Wanda was determined in preparing enough cookies to last the rest of the holiday season, apparently, and had asked if you’d wanted to help. (“I can pay you!” She’d insisted. Of course you refused payment. Baking cookies means free samples, and that’s enough payment.) (You had to ignore Darcy’s jeering and Yelena’s relentless teasing about being ‘pussy whipped’.)

That’s how you find yourself completely alone in an empty house with the redhead. In your lifetime, you’ve made quite a handful of bad choices but this one has to take the cake. Your mind is so far in the gutter you’re barely hanging onto the threads of sanity. It doesn’t help that, ever since you got this job, you haven’t been seeking out any hookups whatsoever. It’s hard to get off when you can’t stop thinking about the woman you babysit for.

What’s worse is that Wanda is wearing nothing but a silk robe, the fabric loose around her legs but scandalously tight everywhere else. Your eyes have drifted down to her chest more than once, causing you to spill or drop something every goddamn time.

Wanda seems oblivious to the state she’s left you in. At least, that’s what you thought.

She’d been mixing the homemade icing for your little gingerbread folk, scooping the sugary goop onto two fingers. “Come try this frosting, it’s delicious.”

You’re not stupid. You know for a fact that she could have offered this using the spoon in her other hand. The fact that she’s offering this to you with her fingers means something, but you aren’t exactly sure what it is yet.

Wanda’s laughter startles you from your paranoia. “It’s alright. I won’t bite.”

Cautiously, you set down the bowl of wet dry ingredients you’d been working on for snickerdoodles. The distance between you isn’t large, but the step it takes to cross it feels like both a gaping canyon and a crack in the sidewalk. Your t-shirt is stained with flour and chocolate, hair pulled into a haphazard bun. You’re positive you look like an absolute mess compared to Wanda’s ever-composed perfect-housewife.

Fingers are brought up to your lips. Your already flustered brain is beginning to go haywire, several actions popping into the forefront of your thoughts before your body goes for the one that’s the least helpful to your pathetic state. You wrap your lips around Wanda’s fingertips, the fog of your own lust abruptly giving way to the horror of realizing that you’re literally sucking on the fingers of the woman you babysit for.

Wanda’s eyes widen, her pupils dilating significantly. A soft noise leaves her pouting lips as she twists her fingers so that she can slide the icing over your tongue. Horny Autopilot takes over. You run your tongue along her fingertips, making sure to clean off every drop of icing as the redhead watches you, transfixed. Your heart is hammering so loudly in your ears you wonder if she can hear it, too.

“You know,” she says slowly, her accent stronger and her voice breathy, “I still want to pay you for helping me with this.” With her fingers still in her mouth and your body too stiff with confusion to do anything else, you keep your eyes locked with Wanda’s. “I see the way you look at me. I’m not blind.” Your cheeks go hot. Wanda smiles, withdrawing her fingers and smoothing her thumb down your cheek. “What do you think, detka? Will you let me show you how grateful I am?”

This cannot be happening.

Except it is. Holy fucking shit, it’s happening.

You’re nodding profusely, already weak with arousal. Wanda chuckles, pulling you into a gentle kiss that contradicts the rough way her hands suddenly grab your waist and pin you to the counter.

“You need to use your words,” Wanda purrs, her lips moving to your neck. “What do you want, detka?”

“Fuck- I want- I want you to touch me. Use me. Anything, please just- just fuck me, mommy-” you freeze at the slip of tongue, your hands going rigid on Wanda’s hips.

Wanda pauses for only a moment before biting down harshly on your neck, one of her thighs slotting between your legs as you gasp. “You want mommy to use you? Want me to fuck that pussy of yours until you can’t walk?”

You whimper when she rolls her hips into yours, the friction causing enough pleasure to make your teeth clank together. “Yes, please, Mommy. Need you so bad- always needed you…”

Wanda’s hand works at the button of your jeans, her lips branding a deep bruise into your neck. Without the support of the older woman’s other arm, you’re positive you’d have lost the ability to stand. Your hands find themselves in her hair and at the small of her back, pulling her as close to you as you can possibly manage.

You faintly hear a zipper before cold, thin fingers are slipping through your wet folds. You moan, hips bucking helplessly.

“Fucking drenched,” Wanda practically moans, pulling away from the mark she’d left on you with a smile. “How long have you wanted Mommy like this?”

“So long,” you admit with a blush. “Since we met.”

“My poor baby,” her fingers find your clit, toying with the sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re trembling. “You’ve wanted me for that long?” You nod, another moan spilling from your lips when she begins making small circles against your clit. “Let me make it up to you, then.”

With this, she pushes two fingers inside of you. You groan, head falling forward against her shoulder. Wanda lets out a breath of laughter, elated in the feeling of how easily she slips inside of you. Your hips buck helplessly against her.

You let out a pathetic cry when her fingers pull out of you suddenly. Wanda nips at your bottom lip, tugging it before grinning devilishly at you.

“No complaining. Take off your pants and bend over the island counter so Mommy can fuck you properly.” She orders. You don’t even recall obeying her, until your front is pressed against the marble counter and Wanda is yanking your panties down your legs. She bunches your shirt up until the bottoms of your breasts are touching freezing marble.

Wanda grabs your ass roughly, squeezing until your hips are bucking stupidly against the counter. “So eager to please,” she muses. “Such a good girl for Mommy, aren’t you?” You whine an incoherent plea in response, earning a hard smack to your ass. “No speaking until I tell you. Understand?” You nod, biting your tongue. “Good girl.”

Wanda lowers herself until she’s eye-level with your core, her breath hot against your already heated center. You try not to make any noise, but with her lips so achingly close you can’t resist a quiet whimper.

“You can moan for me, detka,” Wanda murmurs, lips just a breath away from where you need her. “I want to hear how good I make you feel.”

When her mouth connects with your pussy you nearly buckle with the moan that rips through you. Thankfully, her grip on your waist is steadying enough to keep you from toppling over. When her fingers enter you, she doesn’t stop until they’re down to the first knuckle and she’s prodding at the spongy surface of your g-spot deep inside you.

Your moans fall freely from your lips, your words half-coherent in a slur of curses and pleads for more. Her pace is unrelenting and unforgiving, like she really is making up for all those times you’d thought about her doing exactly this.

At a particularly hard thrust, you grip the edge of the counter. “Fuck-! M- fuck- so close. Mommy, please-”

“You want to cum for me?” Wanda pulls away from you long enough to give you a teasing smirk. “You’ll have to beg nicely, malyshka. Mommy wants to hear that pretty, fuckable mouth of yours beg her to let you cum.”

You obey without question. You would do anything she’d asked of you, as long as it meant that enormous warmth building in your gut could be released. “Please Mommy, I need to cum so badly. I wanna cum for you, please, Mommy, I- I can’t stand it- I have to-”

“Okay, baby,” Wanda’s lips return to your clit, earning a throaty groan of her name. “Be a good girl and cum for Mommy.”

You’re certain you blackout. Or maybe this whole situation feels unreal enough that you’ve convinced yourself you blackout. With Wanda’s fingers still deep inside of you, she presses heated kisses to your neck.

“You didn’t think I was done yet, did you?” She teases. “I still have to give you your tip.”

You’re in for a long night. (Side note: does it smell like burning cookies?)

~ General Tags! ~

@nobody13 @fireflyglass @swords-are-cool @artapdarkstr @pasta-bandit @multi-images @women-am-i-right @fanboy7794 @simplysimping999 @ohmygooddamnbisexual-mood @jayreadingforfun314 @alotofpockets

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destinyc1020 · 3 years

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Ya its always poor tom oh tom was so sad, do ya'll always just gloss over the fact the tom was seen with a white bitch a month after him and z did the press tour and were "supposedly" still hooking up?? Like do ya'll always just baby tom or??? Bc seeing ur ex with someone else a month after yall was still hooking up is fucked up too.. Think abt how z must've felt!

Hey hey hey now!!! 🤚🏾🛑 First off all, there's no need for name-calling in here. 🤨

And honestly, calling another woman who you don't even know personally (and hasn't even done anything to you) a "b****" is just uncalled for. 😒

Olivia doesn't deserve that type of hate. Nobody even barely knows a thing about her. There's no need for that. I'm sick and tired of the name-calling lately. 😤

Second.... You have your facts wrong.

We HAVE discussed that very topic here on my blog. I've discussed how Z may have been feeling several times.

🔹️

🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

Chiiiiiile... let me tell you.... There is probably no Tomdaya topic that hasn't already been discussed here on my blog (sometimes MULTIPLE times) already lol... 😏 😂

So a lot of you all come in here saying we haven't talked about blah blah blah.... and the reality is, we HAVE talked about it, you just weren't following this blog at the time we discussed it! 🤣

It's very rare I get a brand new, never-before-asked question about Tomdaya in my inbox. It's quite rare indeed. 😅

And if fans have focused more on Tom and how he was acting, it's only because he tends to wear his heart more on his sleeve and he's more transparent. Whereas with Z.... she already says she's not really an overly emotional person just in general, so you kinda have to read btwn the lines with her because she seems to be more private with her feelings, and likes to pretend (to the public at least) that everything is okay, even if it's not. 🤷🏾‍♀️

But we HAVE discussed her reactions as well after the breakup.

I have even made an entire lengthy post about what took place after their breakup, with a bunch of receipts. 🥴

Trust and believe... if Zendaya had gone on an unfollowing spree of Tom's friends and family after Tom was spotted out with Olivia, or if Zendaya had made some shady IG stories taking a dig at Tom after their breakup or whatever, you better believe we would have been discussing her reactions! 😂

I think many have already talked about how she wasn't seeming herself with JE. Like, how many times have we discussed this lol? 😂 We've talked about how she was hurt after the breakup, and was losing weight at one point, was looking high 👀 out of it on some occasions, etc. We've discussed this so many times. She's just way more private with her feelings, and she wasn't really promoting any movies as much as Tom was after their breakup. She had a long break in btwn the FFH press tour and Euphoria S2 filming where she wasn't filming or promoting anything movie-wise. 🤷🏾‍♀️

But anyone who looks at pictures (which, again.... I've analyzed ad nauseam on here) can see a definite difference in her after the Tomdaya breakup as well.

So, maybe you've just been missing those posts.

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peggysousfan · 3 years

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Fic Writer Review

Thanks for the tag @happygtyhvf!!

1. How many do you have on Ao3?

59 but not all of them are written works, a handful are simple manips or aesthetics posted individually

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

564,111.... And that’s only published works😅

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Four technically. There’s The 100, Agent Carter, Captain America the First Avenger, and Marvel’s Avengers.

4. What are your top 5 five by kudos?

Alternate World (23843 words and 386 kudos)

What If (Season 5 AU) (33272 words and 310 kudos)

The Head and the Heart (23448 words and 304 kudos)

I Choose You (27364 words and 278 kudos)

Lone Wolf (56405 words and 224 kudos)

All of these are from The 100 and only 3 of them are completed! Whoops

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! I try to respond to each and every comment asap. but on certain stories I try to respond when I plan on updating the next chapter either soon or the following day, just to give the readers and commenters a head’s up. Other times I have no idea what to say in response to not sound like a robot so it takes a while to think of something lol

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Ooohh That would definitely be Project New Generation. I am suppose to make a series to rectify the angst and horror and heartbreak of this story but I don’t know if I will anytime soon😭 If any of my followers have not read this it is not for the faint of heart and there are many TW’s in this.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I have written a few crossovers but in moderately similar fandoms. The its between either Agent Carter/SHIELD Crossover or Agent Carter/ Avengers crossover.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes, and it hurts every time. But lately I have been standing up for myself and being politely rude and telling the haters off. There’s no reason for the BS

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Sometimes, but most often only if requested or challenged to do so. Its just basic smut, nothing too kinky (I think I wrote breeding kink once? But it was mild and requested). I honestly hate writing explicit smut, it makes me uncomfortable. As someone who (TMI btw) Has no sexual feelings for people in general and has no experience whatsoever in the department, I don’t like writing smut. I can gloss over the topic but getting into details is not something I like to do at all.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

There was a app that copped fics and mimicked everything on the website and took many writers stores for profit. A mutual had informed me several of my stories were on that app. I have no idea if it is still happening or not

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don’t believe so

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes and it was rather fun actually!

13. What is your all time favourite ship?

Tough question since I’m in between fandoms. But rn I have to say bellarke, but peggysous is a very close second!!

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Ouch. I am doing all that I can to finish all POSTED WIP’s, however those in drafts? That is another story...😐 I’ll do one for each fandom. so for Agent Carter I don’t think I will ever finish a story of Daniel's past before the show with him meeting Peggy during the war and having a romance being torn by war. like they meet and fall in love and she gets selected for the Super Soldier program and is pulled away. Not canon related at all I know, but it was a idea in the back of my head I started and now has been in drafts for a year🤷‍♀️

As for The 100 I started a fic of Spacekru being able to listen to Clarke’s radio calls each and every day but never being able to talk to her. Each chapter switches POV from space and Earth and I haven’t touched it in months🤦‍♀️

15. What are your writing strengths?

I have no idea... does having a million ideas count? If so than that lol But in all seriousness I have no clue. If I had to guess I would say character portrayal and maybe descriptions?

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Same as strength... too many ideas. Once I start a story I get supper excited and then have another idea and abandon the last one for a while. Its even worse if Its published bc then I absolutely have to finish that story😬 Also I am horrible at tenses. I mix them up a lot and its a horrible habit!!

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I love the idea and when I see another language being used in stories. My only concern as for reading and/or writing this is accuracy. I am fluent in one language and know very little of two others I’m studying(Well trying to study) So When writers do use other languages and integrate them into their works, I think it is best to be as accurate as possible and ask for help form a native speaker if possible.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

House of Anubis! Though I will never be able to publish them (And I honestly never would if I could) They’re all written in a notebook back when I was 11 and I let my friend have it to read and I have never seen her since I transferred schools, so.... yeah.

19. What’s your favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Uh.... That’s tough one. I would have to say for Agent Carter my favorite would be Agent Carter an AU Series. This story is on Hiatus for now until I can find time to write it again but its just a soft story and a slow burn Peggysous with baby Stephanie. Its heart melting and I love it. Granted it need to do a lot of revision and editing but it is my favorite for this fandom. For The 100 I’d have to say The Head and the Heart!

tagging @bellamyblakru, @cuppatealove, @truth-renowned, @xxawalkinwonderlandxx, @fandomsandxfiles, and any one else if you want to! no pressure :) I just chose some mutuals that I know write fic lol

#tag games #fir writer review #some of this was shocking even to me #oop #about me #ao3 statistics #the 100 #agent carter #peggysous #bellarke

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realcube · 3 years

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BNHA shopping headcanons pt.2

part 1 here! (momo x reader, todoroki x reader, iida x reader)

Uraraka x Reader

Bakugo x Reader

Kaminari x Reader

tw// cussing, irresponsible moeny-spending 😳

Ochako Uraraka

if you have ever watched mha you should know that Uraraka is canonically dirt poor

well maybe not dirt poor as from what i know, she isn’t homeless but..

it’d be a fair assumption that she is an extreme cheapskate

she really is that bitch at the cinema who deadass walks in lookin built like manatee from the neck down but her skinny face really doesn’t sell the act

and she smells like off-brand skittles and soda from a mile away but box office clerk pretends not to see shit because they are too underpaid to deal with an determined, skint bubble girl first thing in the morning

oh and did i mention she exclusively takes you to early bird specials for the huge discount

so, needless to say, when you want Uraraka to come see a movie with you in the afternoon, you have to pay for her ticket

now, with that in mind, why would she ever want to go shopping as a date? shopping!

the whole premise of ‘shopping’ is spending money - something she is very much against

so, obviously you thought it was a prank when she texted you to ask you on a date to the local mall

none the less, on the day you showed up - with a pocket knife in your purse, just in case - and to your pleasant surprise, Ochako was standing there outside your favourite jewellery shop with a cheesy grin on her face

“(Y/N)!” She called out, skipping up to you and throwing herself into your arms. “Guess what?!”

You giggled, delighted to see her so happy but confused as to why - as usually she gets upset when she is surrounded by so many expensive things. “What, bubbles?”

She pulled out from the hug to reach into her pocket, grab her hand-me-down wallet from her dad and unzip it to show you the many notes she had cramped inside there. “Look! Remember when I told you I couldn’t come on dates on weekends with you anymore because workloads at the UA were increasing? Well, truth is, I couldn’t see you because I’ve been holding down a secret job at a dessert place for the last few months - and look! I’m rich!”

You felt your cheeks heat up and your eyes become glossy for some reason, it just made you emotional seeing Uraraka so happy and excited, despite the fact you noticed that the money in the purse was definitely no more than ¥5500/£40/$53 - so either she had already started spending or she had been severely underpaid for 4 months of work.

“Ochako..” You croaked, sticking out your bottom lip and doing nothing to resist the tears that came rushing down your cheeks. “I’m so proud of you.”

Uraraka shook her head rapidly, “No!” She whined, shielding her eyes with her wallet, “Please don’t cry, (Y/N)! Then I’ll start crying too!”

You nodded, wiping away your tears with your thumb, “Okay, bubbles.” You mumbled, feeling the spark of emotion inside you die down, “So, where shall we go first?”

“Um..” Uraraka hummed in thought before pointing to your favourite jewellery shop which stood behind her, “There! I’m gonna buy you a necklace; to make up for last year when you got a me a really pretty bracelet for valentines’ day and all I could afford to get you was a candy necklace.” She mumbled the last part before taking your hand and dragging you into the shop.

She didn’t even spare a second so you weren’t able to explain to her how you actually really liked the candy necklace - it was delicious!

Also, while she shifted through all the pretty necklaces looking for one that would ‘compliment your gorgeous eyes’, you realised something - she definitely wasn’t built to be poor.

I mean, yeah, she is very stingy when it comes to shopping for herself

but when it came to buying you a necklace, she was ready to take a mortgage if it meant you’d be satisfied with your gift

or maybe you could call that reckless spending-]

Katsuki Bakugo

when y’all go on dates it’s usually to one of your houses or maybe an abandoned park or something

but because you said you had a way better aim than him - he challenged you to a game of laser tag! and since it was just you and him, he said you could consider it a date

however, when you both arrived at the laser tag arena, it was closed

neither of y’all checked the opening times on the website so how were you supposed to know that it was closed on Mondays?

after a long while of bickering between the two of you, y’all just decided to spend the rest of the day at the mall next door

and when i tell you bakugo should be on bargain fkn hunters

he is also very clueless when it comes to giving gifts so he takes this as an opportunity to figure out what you want for your birthday/valentine’s time

you show him a crop top you think is cute and he is like ‘i literally do not give a fuck’

he says he is just following you around the shop bc he doesn’t want you to get kidnapped

but in reality, you see him out of the corner of your eye typing in his notes app ‘black crop top’ as soon as you turn away to hang it back up on the rack

he refuses to shop for himself because ‘all the shit in these shops are ugly and overpriced’

as if that is a good enough excuse to hide the real reason why he won’t look for clothes in these shops; which is that he exclusively shops in Hot Topic and ASOS

he gets butterflies whenever you show him any article of clothing and say it’d look good on him, despite the fact his response it usually something along the lines of

‘fuck off, that shirt is so ugly! why would i want to wear that?!’ or

‘of course i’d look hot in that - its a fucking tank top! don’t be stupid, (Y/N).’

and mentally he does the same for you whenever he sees a cute shirt or a cool pair of shoes but he stays silent, wanting to keep up his ‘i don’t give a fuck’ façade.

in fact, the whole time y’all were shopping the only thing he recommended to you was a revealing piece of lingerie that a mannequin was displaying in the window of a Victoria’s Secret

“hey, that’d look good on you, (Y/N)!” he chuckled, pointing at the set from across the hall

you rolled your eyes, punching his shoulder without missing a beat, “Of course i’d look good in that - it’s fucking lingerie! don’t be stupid, bakugo.”

“HEY YOU CAN’T USE MY OWN LINE AGAINST ME!”

Denki Kaminari

y’all hang out at the mall quite a lot but mostly for the food court

by now y’all have probably eaten at every single chain in that bitch at least twice so obviously you go there quite a lot

after you eat, y’all stroll through the mall window-shopping since you probably spend all your money on food

however, after Kaminari’s birthday he was pretty loaded so he was finally able to walk around the mall and actually buy something other than food! crazy, i know.

you both were so hyped to buy shit - you forgot how to act

anyway, kaminari hadn’t decided what he was going to spend his ¥7000/£50/$66 on

‘clothes?’ you suggested

‘what’s wrong with my clothes?’ he replied defensively.

‘body spray?’

‘are you saying i stink?’

‘hair product?’

‘i have more than enough, heh.’

‘phone case?’

‘i have one..’

‘toiletries?’

‘that’s a funny word-WAIT!’ he yelled, shock running through his body as the ‘best idea of all ideas’ dawned on him. ‘wait here, (Y/N). I’ll be right back.’

with that Denki ran off, leaving you outside Sephora with no money

It took him a while to come back but once he did, a foolishly wide grin painted his features, “(Y/N)! Look!” He yelled, motioning to his huge white bag.

He opened it to show you what was inside, “A yellow blanket?” You asked, cocking your head to the side.

“Yes! It’s 5x5 feet because you said the blanket home that we cuddle in is too small.”

You blushed, rubbing the back of your neck, feeling kind of bad that Denki spent him birthday money to make you happy. “Oh, well, I didn’t mean that-”

“And feel it! It’s so fluffy and soft!”

You nodded, reaching down and stroking the blanket, “Oh my-”

“It feels like heaven!” he finished your sentence

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a-hundred-jewels · 3 years

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cruel summer ch 12: i have these lucid dreams

Ao3 Wattpad

Summary: sabrina starr, pegasuses, and oh no! the fourth wall broke! do we have a carpenter in the audience?

Word Count: 9000 ish

Tags: Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Jane Penderwick, Rosalind Penderwick/Tommy Geiger, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Jane Penderwick, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Rosalind Penderwick, Skye Penderwick, Chiron (Percy Jackson), Martin Penderwick, Elizabeth "Batty" Penderwick, Elizabeth Penderwick (senior), Iantha Aaronson-Penderwick, Ben Aaronson-Penderwick, Nico di Angelo, Will Solace, Annabeth Chase, Jeffrey Tifton-McGrath, Percy Jackson, Demeter (Percy Jackson), Apollo (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood AU, Demigods, demeter!elizabeth penderwick, demeter!rosalind (second generation), demeter!batty (second generation), apollo!alec mcgrath, apollo!jeffrey (second generation), demeter!jane (second generation), demeter!skye (second generation), all of that's in no particular order, main focus is on jane because i love her and she's so so fun to write, tomsalind is there (and stuff will happen - i can't really say what, it will really be eventful though), yes of course there's solangelo, takes place right before Penderwicks In Spring, After Trials of Apollo, more tags to come??, Minor Swearing

Notes and Full Chapter below cut:

Hello everyone and welcome back! I'll admit, this is a little later today than I'd been planning to post (was hoping to get an early start), but hey! If the Puppet History season 4 finale can be late, then so can I!

First off, a massive massive thank you to waterbottle_stickers for being the best beta reader ever. This chapter would be a mess without you. Also, if you haven't already, please check out their enola holmes fic wherever you stray, i follow it's truly wonderful.

If you've been following me on tumblr, then you'll know that, in addition to reblogging an alarming quantity of good omens fanart, I've been making some plans for fics this month. The original plan from back in august was to post every day of the month, but... ahhh.... I just don't work that fast lmao. I'll have to be content with just posting a fair amount this month. Happy october! Anyway, stay tuned.

On this fine day, we've got two lovely QUEER fanfic recommendations that I'm very excited to share. Up first is one from the tumblr blog izzielizzie (which you should all absolutely check out! especially if you're into the one of us is lying fandom!). it centers around the skye/melissa pairing and their senior prom, which Skye is said to have only gone to last minute, and also wearing a lab coat, in a passage of the penderwicks at last. featuring some oblivious lesbians and also jane. once again a massive thanks to izzielizzie, as this fic is one of my favourites!. click here to take a look! (also keep an eye on her blog in general bc her penderwicks fics are awesome!)

The second fanfic is also one I'm very fond of, as it focuses on the siblinghood of skye and jane, which is one of my favourite topics on earth. check out rolling down the ancient high street by hanchewie/ramblemadlyon (tumblr and ao3 respectively) for the sibling antics of aroace skye and bisexual jane when the latter visits the former at her college in california! and, if you like it, ramblemadlyon has two other penderwicks fics from the past couple days that look fantastic as well, and that I look forward to reading.

This chapter is dedicated to my therapist, since I've decided this will be the month of oddly specific dedications. thank you for telling me to stop referring to cruel summer as my "trash baby" and help me recognize the true worth that it holds in my life.

Disclaimer: not my characters, you know the drill. Jeanne Birdsall and Rick Riordan are lucky ducks indeed. chapter title is (obviously) from "lucid dreams" by Juice WRLD.

FROM THE POV OF JANE PENDERWICK

The woods loomed around me, seeming as tall as buildings as they invited me in further. I took another step, the sharp pain of a pinecone digging into my foot barely registered in my mind. I kept walking. A crack sounded throughout the air, and, behind me, a tree splintered round its base and fell down, only inches away from crushing me dead, and completely blocking the path out.

Frightened, I began to run, looking for a way out of the forest. But no matter which way I went, there were only trees in front of me. Where was the path? Where was the grassy hill I had walked down to get in here in the first place. Had I even walked down that hill to begin with? Now that I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I remembered coming here. I wasn’t sure I remembered waking up this morning, or going to bed last night, or anything besides existing in the forest. Who was I? What was I doing here? How could I get out?

Panicking, I stood in the middle of a clearing, looking frantically at the trees around me, trying to find something familiar. Nothing. I was exhausted. How long had I been here? An hour? A day? A lifetime? I collapsed at the base of a tree, sobbing as I tried to remember. Something. Anything.

Then, a voice echoed around me. “Welcome,” it said, and my mind went black.

I bolt upright in bed, a scream halfway out of my throat. I clamp it back, not wanting to wake my cabinmates. Thin light whimpers through the window--enough for me to see my white-knuckle grip on the sheets, but not enough to pass as daylight.

What time is it?

Our cell phones don’t really work here--that was one of the first things Miranda told us when we arrived, and Batty’s been gleefully lording it over us that her Mp3 player will still play music and, like, function, while our smart phones recline sadly in our duffel bags. That being said, I don’t feel quite brave enough to get out of my bed just yet and tiptoe over to the big analog clock that Rio bought at a pawn shop in Colorado. Maybe my phone will at least show the time.

I reach under my bed and fumble for my duffel, hooking my pinky through the zipper loop and yanking it out onto my floor. My phone’s in the front pocket, buried under two pairs of headphones, several gum wrappers, and some strawberry leaves (?????). A piece of gum peels off the screen as I disentangle my phone, and I mentally chide my past self for being so messy.

My phone does not turn on. Big clock it is.

I tiptoe across the cold tile and peer around the tree.

5:45 .

Jesus Pagan Christ.

It’s too early to wake anyone up (as I think this, Batty lets out a snore to rival any crabby Tyrannosaurus Rex), so I wrap a blanket around myself like a criminally attractive burrito, and creep out onto the porch, with my notebook and pen tucked into my shirt.

As long as I live, I will never get tired of summer mornings. There’s something deeply lovely about the soft light of the still-sleepy, pink lemonade sun, the quiet anticipation of the cool air, damp from dew and preparing for the upcoming heat. At home in Cameron, Skye’s woken me up many an early morning to go for a run or do soccer drills or for a grueling “Seven Minute Workout Except You Don’t Follow The Rules And Torture Your Sister by Making It Actually A Forty-Nine Minute Workout.” (But it’s okay, I’m not bitter). But, as delightful as those experiences have all been, I don’t think Skye really gets it. The beauty of the summer morning is not what it can do for your workout schedule, but rather in its gentle softening of an otherwise boiling day. It is to be appreciated in the way that I am now, sitting curled up on this frighteningly creaky porch (I mean, seriously, who built this?) and calling up the Sabrina Starr section of my brain to try and write away the residual panic from my nightmare.

Sabrina sighed as the plane took off. She wasn’t sure if she should have followed the voice in her head telling her to come here. Saying it out loud--even just thinking it--made it sound ridiculous. A dream, a voice in her mind. Barely more than a whim.

Worse than that, Sabrina wasn’t even sure where this whim was taking her. On a napkin in her pocket, she’d scrawled everything she remembered about the dream from the night before. The dark sky, lit only with spiderwebs of lightning, the shadowy figure huddled on a beach and soaked through with rain. The voice crying for help.

And a name. Aeaea.

After she’d woken up, Sabrina had looked up Aeaea, too tired to fully connect why the name felt familiar. Her heart had sunk further after reading the Wikipedia entry, and a breath of hopelessness had left her lips. According to the internet, Aeaea was not a real place. It had been the island prison of Circe. Fiction wasn’t new to Sabrina, and neither was mythology (she recalled an adventure spent with a ghost called Rainbow from a few years back).

Fictional places, though, were another matter. How could she get somewhere if she didn’t know where she was going? Was she trusting her gut with too much this time?

Sabrina folded up the napkin and put it back in her pocket. There was no point in worrying about that now. She’d looked at enough maps to make a guess at where Aeaea might be if it was real. When she got there, she could get more information. Sabrina Starr had survived this long in her career of rescues and whims. She could survive one more adventure. Worst case scenario, she said to herself, I spend a few days running around for nothing and have to brush up on my Greek.

She repeated it to herself like a promise. Worst case scenario, worst case scenario… Eventually, tired out from all her anxieties, and from trying desperately not to worry about what would come next, Sabrina fell asleep.

FROM THE POV OF RACHEL ELIZABETH DARE

“Okay, I give up. Tell me what’s wrong.” Annabeth’s voice startles me away from my plate of eggs, which I had been pushing around with a fork. Anxiety bubbles in my throat, just as it had been since I woke up, and food just doesn’t sound like a good idea.

“I--what?”

Annabeth waves her hand impatiently. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and I don’t think you’ve looked up once. Also you’re always hungry in the mornings, so unless you, like, ate an entire cow before I got here, this ,” she gestures to my uneaten eggs, “is unusual behaviour.”

I give her a look. Sometimes, I get the feeling that Annabeth exists as a part of multiple different dimensions at once, like she’s having four other conversations that I can’t hear, and is still ten steps ahead of me in the one I’m actually a part of.

Or maybe I’m just easy to read.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I don’t want to talk about it. “I’m fine.” I’m terrified.

Annabeth sighs. “Is this about the prophecy?”

“No,” I spear another piece of egg, and don’t eat it. “Maybe. Yes.” I feel like going back to my cave and staying there for the rest of my life. Waiting with a book and some paints for the prophecy to get bored and go away. Maybe I’d take Jane with me, or Nico, for some company. That sounds nice.

My plate is pulled away from me as I aim my fork again. “I can’t pay attention when you do that,” Annabeth huffs. I think I wouldn’t invite her to stay in my cave. She’s too on the nose when I want to mope. Then again, she says the same about me.

“Fine,” I turn and face her. “Let’s talk feelings.” Connor Stoll, who had been making his way towards our table, abruptly turns around and walks the other way. I should get Chiron to hire a therapist. Gods know we need it.

Further proving my point, Annabeth’s eyes widen a little, before she remembers it is I who will be spilling. (I make a point to corner her later. It’s a routine we have). “Wow. You broke fast.”

I nod. “I’m tired and you’re annoying.” (False. We both know it. Another routine). “Like you said, I’m nervous about the prophecy.”

Annabeth nods. “And?”

I frown. “What do you mean, and ? There’s no and.”

Annabeth frowns back at me. A mirror, a mime, an annoyance. The nerve to look disappointed in me. “I thought you were spilling, Red.”

I roll my head back and study the roof of the pavilion, which Annabeth designed, and slowly lean my head down to stare at the table. I really don’t want to have this conversation. I go along anyways. “I’m worried about Jane.”

Annabeth leans back, triumphant. “Ah, yes. Your girlfriend.”

Maybe if I try reeeeeeeally hard, I can activate the Oracle of Delphi and freak Annabeth out enough to make her go away. “ Not my girlfriend. You know that.”

“You called Percy my boyfriend for weeks before we actually officially decided.”

I wave my hand dissmissively. “That’s different, you guys were dancing around each other for like three years. You needed a bit of a push. Jane and I kissed once! Over a week ago! And nothing came of it.” We actually haven’t really talked about it. We’re in this sort of in-between zone where we spend a ton of time together, but don’t have a label for it. Honestly, it’s been nice.

Annabeth grins, apparently reading my thoughts. “You’ve been eating lunch with the Demeter cabin, like, every other day. I saw you doing archery together yesterday. Both of you were awful at it, but you stayed there for hours. I’ve never seen you focus on something that long outside of your paintings.”

I stare at the ceiling again. Maybe Annabeth designed it so that a single square foot of rock might fall down onto my head and relieve me from this conversation. “Yes, fine, we spend a lot of time together. But that doesn’t make us a couple, and has nothing to do with what I’m actually worried about!” I can see in her face that Annabeth is more serious now, and is about to fully listen to me, when Percy and Malcolm show up, sliding into the seats across from us, and clanging several plates of pancakes down onto the table in front of them.

“Made them ourselves! Wanna share?” Percy gives Annabeth heart eyes and a kiss on the cheek when she folds a large blue pancake into thirds and bites it like a burrito. I roll my eyes at them because they are a horrifying and disgusting couple and also I kind of want to be them when I grow up. Malcolm ignores them, instead turning to me. “Were you talking about Jane?” he asks, pushing wire rimmed glasses up his nose.

I frown. “Sort of. Why?”

He shrugs, sheepish. “You know. Just, uh, just wondering.”

I narrow my eyes at him, then Percy, who tears himself away from looking at Annabeth to sigh dramatically. “Malcolm wants to ask out Jane’s sister. You know, the blond one.”

I snort. “ Skye? Seriously?”

Malcolm looks vaguely offended. “What’s so weird about that?”

“Sorry, it’s not weird.” I reach over the table to pat him on the shoulder with my fork. “Perfectly normal teenage hormones.” He glares at me and I smile sweetly back. “I just can’t imagine Skye going out with anyone, that’s all.”

Malcolm stares down at his pancake, disappointed. “Oh. You sure?”

I nod, feeling a little more normal with my friends and less doom-related breakfast conversation. My eggs are past the threshold of “warm and appetizing” but I take a bite anyway. “Pretty sure. Jane told me that she’s aroace and, based on past occurrences, there’s a seventy percent chance she’ll punch anyone who asks her out. Anyway, why the interest? I didn’t know you guys talked.”

Malcolm shrugs. “We don’t, really. She just seems cool.”

Percy pipes in, “He’s been practically obsessed with her since she won that soccer game against the Nike kids and made them cry.”

I nod approvingly. “Well, Malcolm, at least we know you have good taste.”

Annabeth pats him on the head, ignoring his complaints that her hand is covered in blue maple syrup. “Better luck next time, brother of mine.”

Piper and Leo join us next, contributing an alarming volume of grapes and a single hardboiled egg to the breakfast display. Leo grabs a pancake and wraps it around some grapes, before taking a big bite. “I hear you’re discussing Malcolm’s romantic failures,” he says around the world’s worst breakfast burrito. Piper gasps in mock offense, then swallows the unpeeled hardboiled egg whole, like a snake. (This is a regular morning routine. She’s trying to work up to being a sword swallower, since her dad did it in a movie once and she thought it looked like fun). “ Malcolm, why didn’t you come to me? I could have given you a verdict within five minutes!”

“I wanted advice on whether I should ask out that Heaphestus boy two weeks ago and you told me to fuck off.”

Piper pouts at him. “That’s on you, you caught me at a bad time.”

Annabeth holds up a pancake with the air of a respected royal and we turn to her. “As delightful as this is, Rachel and I were initially talking about her romantic prospects and also her worries and fears, and I feel that we should get back to that before she slinks off and avoids the rest of the conversation.”

I glare at her. “Why would you bring this away from the very nice conversation we were having about everyone else’s problems? Do you hate me?” Annabeth rolls her eyes. “No, dumbass, I’m just not letting you walk away from a potential breakthrough. Now, where were we? You were saying that you’re worried about Jane but it has nothing whatsoever to do with your relationship, or lack thereof.”

I give a long suffering sigh, and try to communicate telepathically with Piper that she needs to Save Me Now, but she’s looking at me in interest with her chin resting in her hands, her long fingers adorned with rings sent to her from her Mortal girlfriend, Shel, who bought them at a vintage punk store. The traitor. Defeated, I turn back to Annabeth.

“It’s just that, whatever ends up happening with this prophecy, I don’t want it to fuck her up, in the way the quests have sometimes done to us. Like, we’re used to this by now, but it hasn’t been a smooth road. I don’t exactly like going on quests, and at first I was really worried at the prospect of being included in a prophecy, since that’s fairly abnormal, but Jane was only made aware of her heritage a couple months ago! What if this turns out like Silena or Beckendorf or-or Jason, and the prophecy destroys her, and it’s all my fault because I’m the one who pulled her into all this?”

Everyone tenses up at the mention of Jason, but they continue to look at me with a mixture of concern and love that makes something soften inside of me. For the hundredth time, I think of how lucky I am to have these people who love me unconditionally. Even if they really, really need therapy.

“I know that I didn’t plan any of this, but we’re both tied in now, especially since both Chiron and I had the prophetic dream and I actually gave the prophecy that day in the woods, and, well, this isn’t her world yet. She’s only got a little bit of ichor in her, and she grew up knowing nothing of any of this. In a way, I did too, and I have no ichor, but I had clear sight. For me, it was ineffable, but she could technically leave any time, if it weren’t for the prophecy. She can leave, and I feel like it’s up to me to make sure that doesn’t change.”

“Oh, Rachel.” Annabeth reaches her arms out to me and I let myself be pulled into an embrace. “Jane’s going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”

Sabrina stood in line at the boat rental hut, her arms crossed and a frown plastered on her face. It had not been a successful afternoon. For hours, she’d been searching the coastal towns near where her plane landed, looking for some trace of Aeaea, or anything else she’d seen in her dream. She was used to working with dregs. It was normal for her to have to squint a little at the evidence, have to shuffle things together around big holes of “Maybe,” like she was working a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing.

But this was something else.

Sabrina had read about places where mythology shaped the culture. Places where the tourist draws were events that had supposedly happened thousands of years ago, or creatures that only existed in grainy photographs and people’s imaginations. Hell, she’d met the Loch Ness monster. Was it insane for her to have assumed she’d be able to find the same kind of thing here? All her training and years of experience had told her that, if you sniff around long enough, you’ll find a conspiracy theorist or a slightly off-the-rails guidebook.

So far, though, Sabrina had found nothing. Absolutely nothing. She hunted around, searching up library catalogs, checking every store on the street. “Aeaea,” “Circe,” even “the Odyssey.”

Nothing.

The line edged along slowly, and Sabrina ran her hands up and down her arms. The air was chilly from its proximity to the cold sea water. There were three people in front of her now. She just had to wait a little longer, then she would have a boat and be able to explore these waters herself.

Something was wrong with this place. Something was wrong with all of these places. And Sabrina was going to figure out what.

Later, Jane and I are taking our time walking to the pegasus stables to watch the riding lesson that Rosalind has reluctantly agreed to let Batty take (provided that Percy, who’s teaching today, doesn’t let her fly high enough that she’ll die if she falls off, and that Batty wears all of the necessary protective gear). Jane looks lovely, wearing a sunshine-y yellow bandana that sets off her dark curls and warm sepia skin. She has on her Camp Half-Blood shirt again, and a short green skirt, and all of it should clash horribly, but it doesn’t.

We’ve decided to cut through the strawberry fields, and I swallow a sun-warmed strawberry while Jane tells me about the dream she had last night. I think back to my conversation with Annabeth this morning when she tells me of the dark woods and the feeling of drowning, the memory warping and the echoing voice. At some point we sit down in a patch of grass, a simple circle amidst strawberry plants with a couple logs where the campers and satyrs take their breaks when they work here. Jane finishes her story and we sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, only broken by the grunts of annoyance Jane makes while trying to get her plant powers to activate again. She’s been doing that a lot.

“Well that sucks,” I say finally. “Have you been having other dreams like it?”

Jane shrugs, the neon orange fabric of her shirt wrinkling on her shoulders. “One or two, I think. Last night’s was the first one I really remembered. ” She smiles out of the corner of her mouth. “I hardly ever remember my dreams. It used to upset me. I thought I was losing potential writing material.”

I laugh. It’s such a Jane thing to think, that I can’t help it. She goes quiet, like she’s reminiscing, and I picture a tiny version of Jane, sitting crossed-legged on her summer quilt, writing. I look at her now, scrunched up nose and big brown eyes. Oh gods, she must have been an adorable child.

“My mother used to say that my imagination was the eighth wonder of the world,” Jane says. She’s looking down the hill at the cabins, plant powers temporarily forgotten, and I remember her telling me about her mother, the first Elizabeth Penderwick, who came here and was a daughter of Demeter and loved opera. The Penderwick siblings’ beloved mother who died so young.

I move closer to Jane on the log. “I can understand why she’d say that.”

Jane smiles again, a little sad this time, a little absent, but full to the brim with love.

“Bet you she’s in Elysium,” I say softly. I explained the Underworld to Jane a couple weeks ago, and she’d gotten this same absent look on her face, that I now know means she’s thinking about her mother. Jane nods, now, then turns to me. “Could we talk about something else?” Her voice is quiet, her eyes a little shiny.

“Course,” I say. “Shall I regale you with tales of dimwittery at this camp in the years past?” I told her last week about the time some Hermes kids tried to order pizza to the camp, accidently causing Chiron to think we were under attack. Jane had nearly fallen off the bench laughing.

She grins now, but shakes her head. “Tell me what it’s like being an Oracle.” I give her a look. She’s asked me before and I never really know what to say. When I give prophecies, it’s like I black out. I’m taken over by another entity who shares my body. (“Like that lady in Suicide Squad ,” Leo had said when I tried to explain it to him once, but I’d refused to be compared to such a gods-fucking-awful movie). So, in a way, I don’t know what it’s like to be the Oracle.

As if reading my thoughts, Jane shakes her head. “Not that part. I’ve seen you all green and smokey, and I know you can’t feel it. I mean the other stuff. How did you know it was you? What did you have to do to become the Oracle? That kind of thing.” I relax a little. Jane’s asked me all sorts of weird questions about Greek mythology and the gods recently. She calls it “research for her book,” but sometimes I think she’s just nosy. It’s cute.

Jane shrugs and looks off into the distance. If you tilt your head a little you can kind of see the stables from here. We have fifteen more minutes to get there, according to my watch. I decide to take it easy. “Delphi is this weird ethereal spirit,” Jane continues, “but there’s also just everyday, Oracle you, who likes paint and denim and bagels.” At that, I laugh. “I actually don’t like bagels that much. I’m just late to breakfast so often that they’re usually the only things available.”

Jane pouts at me and plays with the bracelet tied around my wrist--the one she gave me. “You know what I mean! You know all this weird shit about me because my siblings don’t shut up at lunch, and I know stuff about you, like the denim thing, which I still think is funny by the way. But you’re also the freaking Oracle! Your dormant self lies waiting!” I laugh at her, and she rolls her eyes, but I see the corner of her mouth tilting up. “Rachel, that’s very cool!”

I give in. “Honestly, there’s not much to say, that’s why I don’t talk about it.” I pause. “Well no, it’s that a lot of the stuff beyond the obvious is actually sort of creepy and weird, and not in a good way. There’s stuff I try not to think about, is what I mean.”

The edge of her yellow bandana sticks up as Jane tilts her head at me. “That makes sense. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I shake my head. “No, it feels okay right now.” I mean it. Now that I’ve gotten into the swing of it, I do want to talk about it. Still, a small sigh escapes me. “I like being the Oracle, because that’s what brought me to a place where I feel like I belong and I have people who love me. It’s nice to know that I’m fulfilling my purpose in life.”

Jane pulls her knees up to her chest. “But?”

“But I also get lonely.” It comes out in a rush. “There are other oracles, but I didn’t know about any of them until the Apollo thing happened, and even then, they’re all supernatural beings--I know, I know, but not in the way I am. It’s not the same. Also, there are all these weird rules. Like I have to stay an unmarried virgin my whole life.”

“That’s fucked,” Jane says softly.

“I know! Chiron won’t even tell me why, just that it’s ‘the rules’” I let out an annoyed huff. “And, like, it’s not even that the idea itself bothers me. That’s pretty much what I was planning to do with my life anyway.”

“Same.”

“But it’s the principle of the thing!” I flick a strand of hair out of my face, offhandedly noticing that the tip of my pinky finger is slightly green. I ignore it. It’s not important. “Just because I don’t want to have sex or get married doesn’t mean it’s a fair rule to impose on me! Besides, why is it always the women in these things whose identities are tied up in who they do or don’t fuck? Last I checked, Grover didn’t have to sign an ‘I shalt not fornicate’ contract when he became Lord of the Wild!”

“Exactly!” Jane raises her hands and shouts up to the sky. “Don’t you fuckers realize we’re more than that?”

“The Hunters of Artemis, too!” I’m a jack-in-the-box, and something’s winding me up. “Thalia and Reyna send me letters all the time, and they seem really happy! Which is great!” I pause to emphasize the greatness of their happiness. My pinky is completely green, now. “But, they also had to make a stupid ‘ode of chastity,’ like I did!”

“Are you kidding me?” Jane’s hair flips as she turns to me. “I thought Artemis was one of the good ones!”

My voice lowers to a husky rumble, and I stare into the distance towards you, the reader. “In a broken system, there are no good ones. Abolish the police.” I clear my throat and my voice turns back to normal. “Sorry, zoned out for a second.” My green pinky has begun to vibrate.

“Happens to the best of us,” Jane’s voice is light and nonchalant. “And yeah, I know. Pretty much all of the gods have skeletons sitting on their shoulders, but it just seems out of character for her. I thought all of Artemis’s groups were supposed to be safe havens, not oppressive structures in their own right.”

I frown. “Yeah you’re right, that is weird. I’d never thought of it much beyond the gods having weird rules, but I wonder if something bigger is at play. The gods might be fucked up in the way that regular people are, and are undoubtedly responsible for all sorts of crap. But then there's more personal things, like the ‘chastity vows’ the Hunters and I had to take, and the fact that Nico was initially outed by Eros, and the weird unexplained eye condition that Piper had during some of her quests that made her eyes a bunch of bright, Eurocentric colors, rather than their natural brown. All sorts of other stuff, too.”

“Wow!” Jane says, sitting up straight on the grass. Her hand moves from where it was resting in her lap to cover her heart. “It’s almost like a bunch of genuinely good and inspiring material, such as including prominent queer people and characters of color in fun children’s fantasy, as well as having an immortal group of warrior women who support each other and are free from the gaze of men, was taken into the hands of a cis white man armed with unchecked misogyny and a fair amount of white Twitter feminism, both of which really showed when he tried to create an inclusive and empowering book series for children! Like yeah, it had its moments, and definitely some good characters, but overall, a lack of meaningful research in certain areas really made it fall flat!” Once again, I stare through the bindings of URLs and internet coding, now joined by Jane as we lock eyes with you, the reader. This time, we hold eye contact for nearly a minute, giving you time to read and process the long tangent spat out by this fanfic’s author, who, if we’re being honest, has gone just a tad off the rails right now. Finally, Jane and I look away from you, and resume our roles as fictional characters, still shaking off that strange cloud that comes with staring into the soul of those who give you life.

“Ugh, what’s going on with me today?” Jane groans at the same time I mutter, “What’s Twitter?” We turn to each other, blinking in the sunlight, then grin. This is normal. We’re fine. Jane looks up at the sky again. “I wonder if the gods are watching us. Maybe we should make them think we suck so they’ll leave you alone.”

I laugh as she sticks her tongue out, grinning wickedly at a nearby cloud. “Better yet, make them think we’re too powerful to be messed with,” I say. Jane sees me watching her and opens her mouth, sucking the cloud in between her teeth. The sky seems bluer in the space where it had been, and Jane’s eyes glitter with mirth as she swallows. “Mmm, tastes like sugar.” I giggle, feeling a small shiver on the top of my head. When I peer up, I see another cloud has floated over to me. I open my own mouth, and take it in, just as Jane did hers. “Sugar, yes. But there’s a touch of blood, too,” I say. Jane nods sagely. “What were we talking about?”

“The inherent misogyny in much of Greek mythology and the world of Camp Half-Blood in general.”

Jane nods again. “Right. A very important topic. It makes it weird when I’m writing sometimes. You know, cause I want to bring in Circe and Zeus and Apollo and all these fascinating characters, but there’s just so much bad stuff tied up with them that comes up when I research.” She looks down at our feet, which are standing in the midst of a strawberry patch. We seem to have been walking, crushing sweet summer strawberries as we go, which is odd because I don’t remember getting up. “You know Rachel, I’m feeling a bit strange.”

I look at her, and see an odd blankness in her warm brown eyes. “Now that you mention it, Jane, so am I.”

“My thoughts and words are my own,” Jane says, “But there’s something up with my body. I can’t really feel it.”

“I agree, I’ve honestly gone a bit numb.” I try to glance down at my fingers, wondering idly if they’ve gotten any more green, but find that my neck won’t bend.

Jane’s eyebrows furrow. “Yet, at the same time, I feel as though I could do anything. Grow another grass blade. Grow a flower. Grow a tree. Bend the world to my will if I wanted to.”

“Or is it the world bending me to its will.” I grin at my own philosophical point, but find that the smile won’t go away. Pretty fucking inconvenient, since the next thing I was going to bring up was part of the whole serious misogyny conversation. I decide to go for it anyway. “And I’m not the only one with weird rules!” Jane nods, as if this is a perfectly normal segway, and the only extraneous thought that floats through my mind as we find ourselves walking down a hill is how unfair it is that she still has control over her neck and I don’t. “Remember when I told you about the Hunters of Artemis?”

“Oh yeah! Your friends Reyna and Thalia, right?”

“Yeah, them! They send me letters sometimes, and seem really happy, which is great.” I pause, meaning to add emphasis, when I’m hit with a great sensation of deja-vu. “Wait a second, we already talked about this, didn’t we?” I try to remember, but something in my mind is rapidly melting. I cannot find it. I cannot find anything.

“Jane?” My voice quivers, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Oh gods, please let this be a dream. For a moment, I try to convince myself that it’s the Oracle of Delphi taking over, just like she did the other day and generally does a couple times a year. But I know that I’m lying. This is not what that feels like. “Jane, where are you?” I can barely move my mouth to say the words. I can feel nothing but the frozen fear of paralysis, of lost control. When I open my eyes, this other thing in my body has brought me to the edge of the forest. “Jane? Jane?” She could be right beside me, unable to speak, and I wouldn’t know because I can’t turn my head, can’t move my eyes, can barely even hear right now.

It’s okay, something says.

“Jane?” It’s not her voice. It’s no one’s voice.

It’s okay. You’re home.

With every cut the wooden oars made through the choppy ocean water, Sabrina knew she was getting closer. She could feel it in her bones, in her brain, a little voice that whispered in her ear. It had been three hours. Her body was worn down, energy levels dipping dangerously low, when she felt something scrape the bottom of her boat.

A rock.

Frantically, she peered through the fog that had begun to surround her boat a mile ago. The island. Had she finally made it?

As if answering her call, a peel of thunder rang out, and Sabrina’s boat began to fill with rain that pounded down from the sky. The storm from her dream. She rowed even faster, then, fear sparking a renewed strength in her tired muscles.

Just as Sabrina was about to reach the shore, a massive wave crashed over her, and her boat capsized. She came back up, sputtering, holding her sopping wet bag above her head. Another wave swept against Sabrina’s face, and she found herself spitting out a mouthful of saltwater. Finally, she washed up on the shore, heaving breaths raking through her lungs.

Sabrina blinked, pushing herself up onto her elbows. It was real. She was here.

She had made it.

FROM THE POV OF ROSALIND PENDERWICK

It’s been a pleasant day so far. Breakfast with my siblings and some of the Demeter cabin (though Jane did seem a bit absent-minded). Miranda, Florien, and Rio convinced me to practice some plant magic with them for a couple hours and I built up to growing a small sunflower. Lunch (again with Jane seeming distracted, though Rachel ate with us this time, which appeared to help). Then, Skye and Jeffrey disappeared with some of the older campers (supposedly for a regular game of soccer, but the unsettling gleam in their eyes had me doubting that was all there was too it), Jane and Rachel went to take a walk in the strawberry fields, and Batty and I were left to prepare for a pegasus riding lesson. If it had been up to Batty, the latter could have easily taken up the entire afternoon, but changing into durable pants and finding a bandana can only take so long.

After a somewhat restless hour, during which I grew three peonies and Batty rhapsodized about the stable of unicorns that another demigod camp apparently has, Batty and I arrive at the stable. We’re ten minutes early, and she’s been talking a mile a minute the whole time, not stopping from before. I swear I now know as much about pegasuses as she does. According to Rachel, the teacher today is Percy, her friend, who’s very responsible “when he puts his mind to it.” I wasn’t sure how to tell her that’s actually not very comforting, but Batty looked so excited and I figured there will be plenty of other people there, so. Why not. She’s been spending so much time there anyway.

Needless to say, I very much regret my decision now.

The stables are modest, made of wood and painted green, and I’ve been there several times by now. There’s a long line of stalls visible when we first walk in, but Batty skips straight to the far end, where a massive pegasus the color of a carrot pokes its head over the door and nuzzles Batty’s hair. She looks up at me with a smile that could melt anyone’s heart, and pats the horse on the nose. “Rosy, this is Queen Lotus Flower. Percy said we have a impenetrable bond.”

I look at the two of them with a questioning gaze. How can they both have the exact same puppy-dog eyes? I swear to god. The gods. All of them. “Batty, sweetheart. That horse is like ten feet tall.”

She nods enthusiastically. “I know, she’s so much taller than any other horse I’ve seen. Percy says she has the biggest wingspan of any horse at camp.”

I nod, slowly, wondering why my sister picked the biggest pegasus to fall in love with. At that moment, Percy pushes the door open. “Hey Batty! Ready for your lesson?” Batty leaves her post by Queen Lotus Flower to wrap her arms around my waist and nod. I look Percy over. He’s a few inches taller than me, with brown skin and curly hair. A beaded camp necklace, orange tshirt, and jeans. Weird arm tattoo aside, he’s one of the most normal-looking people at camp. I’ve only met him a couple times before, but, my nerves over Batty flying around on massive horses aside, I do trust him. Rachel seems to have a good taste in friends. Also, Batty likes him, and she’s still shy around a good number of Skye and Jane’s friends back in Cameron.

For the next few minutes, I watch as Percy instructs Batty on buckling Queen Lotus Flower’s giant saddle and looping the bridle over her nose. Not wavering a bit from the “lesson” aspect of all this, he steps back to let her show what she’s already learned from hanging around the stables so often, only stooping in to guide her when she gets confused. As the minutes tick by, more people show up for the lesson: three other students, and a good sized crowd of people who just like watching the pegasuses. By then, I’m seated on the grass outside the stables, soaking in the blistering sun and watching as Percy (seated atop a wiry black pegasus who Batty pointed out as Blackjack) darts around the large dusty enclosure, making final preparations for the lesson.

Skye and Jeffrey show up then, and sit on either side of me. I want to ask them where Jane and Rachel are, but they’re talking non-stop about a game they just played in the woods with some of the other campers, only switching the subject when Percy and Blackjack return and they begin discussing whether or not it should be scientifically possible for a horse to fly.

Just as Batty and Queen Lotus Flower begin a gentle trot around the enclosure, I feel a tap on my shoulder, and hear the familiar sound of Tommy’s chuckle. “She’s got a weird knack for that,” he says. I nod, grinning.

It’s been good with us. We’ve had breakfast together a few times, even played a game of basketball one afternoon. Our conversations aren’t the same as they used to be, and there’s a sense of newness that feels cold and strange every so often. But it’s good. It feels right. At least for now, this feels like where we’re supposed to be.

As Percy starts demonstrating how to take flight, I look around again. Jane and Rachel still aren’t here. They promised to come. (“For moral support!” Jane had said. “Wouldn’t miss it,” Rachel had added with a smile). I try to push it out of my head. This lesson is a big deal. Batty’s going to be flying.

She leans forward on Queen Lotus Flower’s neck.

They begin to run, moving together like a single being.

Just as they burst into the air, Batty’s euphoric smile lighting up the sky, Katie grabs my shoulders from behind. I shush her so I can lean forward and watch Batty silhouetted against the pegasus’s wide orange wings.

“Rosalind. Rosalind, guys. ” Something about the panic in Katie’s voice makes me turn around. Her usually tied back hair is loose and her clothes rumpled, giving the impression that she was dragged out of bed for this. (Some part of my brain distantly remembers her saying she was going to take a nap). Skye and Jeffrey turn around, too.

“What, what’s happening?” I reach out my hands, trying to calm her as she collapses into a squat, breathing heavily.

“Billie… found me in the cabin… had been looking for you guys… been running all over the camp… lucky I remembered about the riding lesson…”

Jeffrey leans over and puts his hands on her shoulders. She stares down at the dirt while her breathing levels.

“Katie, what are you saying? Why were you and Billie looking for us?”

She looks up, and I see that her forehead is drawn into well-worn creases of worry. “Jane and Rachel have gone into the woods.”

Something was wrong. Sabrina crouched on the wet sand, straining to see through the heavy rain. In her dream there had definitely been someone else on the island. She remembered the hunched figure, the sound of sobs leaking through the rain.

But she’d circled the shore at least twice by now, and there was nobody to be found. “Am I late or something?” she wondered aloud. Somehow, she’d gotten that dream It felt like it had been sent to her. Why did it show a person when there was no one?

Sabrina sighed and began to traipse inland, tucking a knife in her pocket. It wasn’t a big island, and she might as well find some shelter aside from her boat, which was now overturned somewhere on the beach. Circe lived here, didn’t she? There must be some sort of roof, especially if this kind of weather was standard.

Or maybe this was just a random island and there was no Aeaea and Sabrina’s dream had just been the unhinged work of her unconscious mind.

There was a small grassy hill set aside from the sand, which Sabrina crawled up with the determination of a dying warrior. Something was pushing her back. An invisible force, a last crumb of survival instinct, plain old fatigue, she wasn’t sure. But something wanted her out of here, and it pushed back harder and harder as she climbed.

She let out a cry of frustration, clawing at the ground, at the air, at whatever this goddamn thing was, and found a renewed burst of strength that pulled her to the top of the hill. Once there, the force that pushed back ebbed a little, like it was giving up. Sabrina let herself relax, and simply took in the view for a moment.

The hill she lay on top of gave way to a deep valley, sprawling and green. In one corner, there was a cluster of trees that looked healthy and comfortable, despite being on a random Greek island in the middle of the ocean. A modest garden lay next to it, somehow appearing unaffected by the rain, and a narrow river wound around the whole scene.

There was also a house.

Sabrina wasn’t sure what she might have expected from the lair of an infamous Greek enchantress, but it wasn’t this.

She hauled herself up on the hill and started down, rushing through the rain onto a wide wooden porch. There was a large stone vat of something dark and crumbly, with a heavy looking staff of sorts leaning against it. The door to the house was short, and Sabrina heard it scrape on the floor when she pushed it open.

The scene awaiting her was surprisingly cozy when she stepped inside. There was a fire in the hearth and rows upon rows of little viles arranged on a set of shelves beside it. A broom leaned against the wall. Sabrina looked around, noting the way that the rain didn’t make any sound as it thrashed against the roof and window, and the almost drug-like stupor that threatened to take over her brain, whispering that everything was fine, she was safe, nothing bad could happen to her.

Sabrina had encountered hypnosis before, and it only ever made her more jittery.

There was an open hatch in the floor with stairs that lead into darkness. She followed them down, feeling the air grow cooler with every step. Sabrina was quiet, taking tiny steps on her toes, and wincing when one of the stairs creaked. She didn’t know what was down there, and she didn’t want to find out the hard way. But there were no arrows flying up from the space below, no sounds of footsteps or slashes of swords.

Sabrina stepped onto a dirt floor and let herself exhale, shuffling along until her toe hit something hard. Only seasoned reflexes made her reach for the knife in her pocket instead of crying out in fear. She knelt down and squinted in the darkness, trying to see what she’d hit.

A leg.

She frowned, shaking it until she heard a low growl. “Stop that.” She stopped.

“Who are you?” Sabrina leaned closer. If they hadn’t killed her yet she was probably safe.

Instead of answering, they reached out a hand. Sabrina could see a gold ring on the thumb that glinted in a little sliver of light that had crept down from the room above. “Pull me up,” the figure said. “I’ve been paralyzed by the witch.”

Helping the stranger sit turned out to be no simple feat. They were tall and muscular, wearing a cape and a heavy metal chest plate. “The witch?” she questioned, propping them up against one of the cellar’s dirt walls. Her eyes were beginning to adust to the dark, and she could just make out their sharp chin sticking out as their head lolled back.

The figure made a noise. “The witch, the sorceress, the woman. Whatever you want to call her. I figure she sent you down too?” They snorted. “Good luck. I told Zeus not to sent mortals, but does he ever listen? You’re gonna die.”

Sabrina tried to piece together what she could from all this. The witch must be Circe, unless she’d wound up on an entirely different island. And if Circe was going around paralyzing people, then something must be going on. She must be hiding something. As for the person in front of her, Sabrina wasn’t sure who they were. By the way they talked about Zeus, and casually said “mortals,” she’d guess some sort of god? As if that narrowed it down. She’d have to be careful.

“Why did she paralyze you?”

Another weird gutteral noise. “She didn’t like my offer. It’s not the first time this has happened.”

She was growing impatient. Why’d he have to be so vague? “What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why he always sends me. I don’t think he trusts me. He’d rather me stay her paralysed in the basement of a witch than come back home.”

Sabrina let out an exasperated sigh. This wasn’t working and she needed answers. A whole coast of people with mythology-shaped holes in their memories awaited her. “You’re going to need to be a little more specific. I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

The figure sounded confused. “What do you mean? Don’t you know who I am?”

She leaned forward and inspected them in the darkness. “No. No I don’t.”

They slid their eyes down to her face. “I am the god Apollo. I came here for Circe and she did this to me.”

“What? Why?”

The stairs creaked behind Sabrina and she felt a long nail drag up her back. “I just want to be left alone,” said a voice as deep and powerful as the smell of red wine. “You don’t mind, do you?” Before Sabrina could grab her knife and turn around, before she could even scream, strong arms had surrounded her shoulders and a hand was clamping a damp cloth over her nose and mouth. Shock made her breath in, sharply, and she smelled the sweetness of sleeping drugs.

A heartbeat, a brief struggle, and Sabrina Starr was gone.

#cruel summer fic #cameron writes #the penderwicks #penderwicks #camp half blood #camp half-blood #rachel elizabeth dare #jane penderwick #rosalind penderwick

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chrisevansgoodgirl · 4 years

Text

you’re screwed up and brilliant and look like a million dollar man

summary: murder gloves.

warnings: S M U T. sex everywhere. it’s violent sometimes. what’s a safe word? lol ransom wouldn’t know. (seriously, reader tells him to stop a few times and he doesn’t, so pls do not read if that is upsetting to you) and they’re annoying, legit can’t talk without fighting. and that daddy kink because y’all know me. a lot of choking. very vanilla bondage. spanking. fluffy feelings about sweaters.

word count: a bit over 8,000

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

a/n: lol and nearly THREE FUCKING MONTHS LATER 🙄🙄🙄🙄 truly, i am sorry. i hope that you picture a raccoon with creepy evil little hands when you think of me bc i am trash. and i have creepy evil little hands. you guys know how excited i got when i thought of this title, right?

It was your anniversary even though it hardly felt like one at all.

Six years today. Somehow, you had put up with all the shit. His horrid behavior at times. The family drama. The extravagant events Harlan planned that your high maintenance boyfriend never let you miss. Whenever you tried it, he either pouted or just fucked you until you wouldn’t dream of ever saying the word ‘no’ to him. At least not for a few days.

Six years.

Yet, you were sure he was still nowhere near proposing. That was a battle for the next anniversary, you had decided. This anniversary required much more pressing topics to be discussed.

You heard Ransom pull up in the driveway and come inside, but you kept your place at the counter. When he found you in the kitchen, you were in a thin robe, making him an Old Fashioned while your coffee brewed.

You glanced at him over your shoulder as he sat at the dining table. His eyes lingered on you for a moment but then he turned down to his phone, so you took your chance to stare. After all these years, you would think that the sight of him in a sweater wouldn’t matter to you, but it still did.

You’d met him in a sweater, several December’s ago at a ski lodge where you had bonded over unfathomable resentment toward your respective families and an inability to ski—something he still wouldn’t admit. I can ski, I just wanted to fuck you. You were practically begging me. Was I supposed to say no? That wasn’t exactly how it happened but when Ransom pouted, that often meant no sex, so you let him lie. Regardless, he was beautiful then and you swore he got more beautiful by the day.

He lifted both hands onto the tabletop in front of him, phone set against his palm, showing off those stupid leather gloves that were starting to make you question your sanity. You thought about those gloves too much and in the most depraved ways.

“Did you get the house?” you asked, a distraction for yourself. No sex, not until he gave you an answer. Hell, he was gone most of the day with Marta, so he damn well better have some success to report.

He narrowed his eyes, lifting his gaze from his phone screen. “Why are you so dressed?”

Normally, he liked you walking around the house in nothing. A bodysuit, maybe. A bra, panties, and thigh-high socks. He liked you as naked as you could get. You liked it as well, it reminded him that even though, most of the time, he was in control, there were times when it was you. You who had final say, you who would withhold sex as some deranged power play. Sure, you needed Ransom like you needed oxygen or money, but he needed you just as much.

The robes were for occasional visitors. He knew that, he was just trying to prolong this conversation. He was trying to bait you, actually. If you were feeling…playful, you would have lied or refused to tell him. Then, long story short, you wouldn’t have been able to walk or sit right for a week. It wasn’t that he even needed such an elaborate reason to start this game, this time he was just trying to distract you.

“Joni stopped by.”

He gave you a flat look. Nothing confused him more than you sincerely getting along with Joni.

“She brought some crystals for us.”

“Rocks,” he corrected. “And they’re damn ugly and they’re not staying in my house.”

“Tiger’s eye for mental clarity,” you explained, voice level. It was your house too, and if he wanted to play this game, well, you had no problem throwing a chair through the window. Again. “Amethyst, for protection and stress—and intuition! It’s great for the third eye chakra—”

“Don’t start all that bullshit with me—”

“You’re just mad that I’m psychic—”

“No, you are not,” he snapped.

“Scared I’m going to find out about whoever else you’re fucking?” Okay, he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else. If you truly thought that, you would have been so far out the door the second you had a suspicion. Ransom was good. Even though he liked to pretend he wasn’t.

He glared. “It’s a god damn scam—”

“Your family specializes in those.”

“She’s not family.”

“Meg is,” you pointed out. It was left unstated but blatantly clear that that did, in fact, mean that Joni was family also.

“Joni thinks you have money, she’s trying to play you.”

“They don’t need to play me, Ransom. I like Meg, she’s nice…and she’s finishing her degree. I’ll make sure of that, with or without your help. And I like Joni, you know, she was the first one who was nice to me. Other than Walt, I guess—”

“Yeah, he was nice because he wants to fuck you.”

“You think everyone wants to fuck me.”

“Joni does, too.”

“Oh yeah, your whole family?”

“My grandfather included.”

You rolled your eyes. “Can you not be so…you, right now? Please, he’s fucking dead, Ransom.”

“He was a fucking perverted bastard. He always stared at you, tried to get you alone as much as possible. And don’t even get me started on that time he had you on his lap—”

“It wasn’t like that,” you argued.

He arched an eyebrow.

So, you were sitting on Harlan’s “lap”. It was Christmas, Harlan had dressed up as Santa. Ransom liked to pretend that Meg and Marta weren’t in the picture with you. Okay, maybe it was that you were trying to make him mad. You remembered that to be around the time you discovered that angry sex with Ransom was something else, something you truly weren’t sure how you had lived without.

You walked his drink to him and you watched as he downed the entire glass.

“Make me another. Please.”

You returned to the counter to oblige. You weren’t much of a cook, neither was Ransom, but he had the strongest desire to see you acting domestic for him. Sometimes, that just meant you making him drinks or bringing him a beer. You didn’t mind, so long as he watched you the entire time.

You once again set the glass in front of him. “So, your mother wants to fuck me?”

He eyed you, lifted the glass to his lips, took a small drink, set it down, then he nodded once. Instead of speaking, he went back to texting on his phone.

“Donna?”

“Not family, but yes.”

“Jacob?”

He scoffed. “Yes, he would fuck you. Also, possibly tie you up and dismember you after that—”

“Nana?”

Again, his eyes narrowed at you. He knew you were up to something now. He lifted one of his hands, smirking when he saw how intently your eyes were following it. He pulled at the tie of your robe; it was such slinky material that it slipped off your shoulders just after it was loose enough.

Your bodysuit was lace because Ransom loved you in lace. It was a tiny white scrap with thin straps and cups that your breasts spilled out of when you bent over. You were never one for modesty, but there was always something that made you want to cover up whenever Ransom was looking at you—even though his eyes were always full of lust and appreciation.

He let his hand return to the table and he looked at his phone.

Seriously? That was it? You shoved his phone away, it clattered to the table a few inches over, and you sat down on top of him. Your arms around his neck, your knees pressed to his hips, hovering over his soon-to-be hard cock. “And what about your dad?”

“Excuse me?” he demanded.

“Does he wanna fuck me? Because maybe I should ask him to get me that house and maybe fucking him would be all the motivation he needs, motivation you clearly are not feeling—”

You heard his arm brush across the table and then his glasses were shattering to the floor. Before you could scold him, his hand tangled tightly in your hair and he jerked you down flat to the table. He abruptly stood, leaning over you, his face mere inches away from yours.

You should have been scared; you knew that. He was so strong and he rarely ever stopped to think, he was fast actions and apologies later. But this was Ransom and you couldn’t be scared of Ransom.

“Wanna try that again?” he challenged. “I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”

“I would love to sit on his face,” you stated. “And I would love to feel his m—”

He gripped your jaw with his free hand and you utterly melted. You couldn’t explain coherently how much you needed that cold leather against your skin. Despite what you knew he had done with those gloves. Hell, maybe that was why you liked them so much. All of his scheming and malice, the killing. But then he would come home to you and he was so soft and so sweet, until he wasn’t, until he was fucking you, spanking you, choking you.

“You. Little. Brat. I got the fucking house for you—”

“You did?” you blurted out.

You suddenly realized, of course. That was why he hadn’t answered you. He knew you were getting impatient and he knew you would act out. Now, he would get to punish you. You would have been mad but the Thrombey house was the most beautiful house you had ever laid eyes on. The idea of building an actual life with Ransom there, in a house that he loved even though he wouldn’t admit it to his parents, only made you happy.

“I did,” he promised. “And now, you have to earn it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Brats don’t get houses.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” you accused. “I’m not earning anything. Every day I fucking put up with you, I earn that fucking house.”

“You just made a comment about wanting to fuck my dad—”

“No, I said I wanted your dad to eat me out. There’s a difference.”

He pressed his fingers into your jaw harder and yanked a little on your hair. “Say you’re sorry, baby doll.”

“Fuck. You.”

He narrowed his eyes, hand snapping from your face down to the clasp of your bodysuit that lay between your legs. He yanked it open, settling his hips against your knees to hold you open for him.

He never moved his eyes from yours and you, if only to meet his challenge, did the same. “I swear, you better not be wet.”

He was in a fucking sweater, what did he expect? You figured voicing that question would do nothing for you, probably only make him even more conceited. No, silence could damn you if that meant Ransom was knocked down a little.

“Or you’ll have to be my father’s latest mistress because I will fucking throw you out.”

“Well, maybe he’s better than you,” you pointed out.

Instead of a verbal response, his leather-clad fingers smacked your cunt.

Pleasure was right on the tail of pain, so close that you weren’t sure what you were feeling. Yes, it hurt, but wow—it fucking hurt. Half of you wanted to retract from the pain but as it settled, you immediately wanted more. If you weren’t wet before… Your body was vibrating with your undeniable need for him, but still, fuck him. He’d been an ass since he walked in and you didn’t feel like just giving in.

“Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?” you demanded, only because he was smirking at you and staring with knowing eyes. “Get the fuck off of me.”

He snorted at what you both knew was a sad attempt on your part.

You began to struggle against him, attempting to push him back with your knees. “Ransom, let me go.”

He forced you into a sitting position with the hand still in your hair and let go just to grab your wrists. His other hand grabbed quickly at the scarf around his neck.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you warned.

He shoved you back down, forcing your arms above your head.

“Ransom, I swear—”

He cut you off with a rough kiss as he wound his scarf around you in some complex way that he probably wouldn’t even be able to get you out of when this was all over.

You turned your head away, and he moved his mouth to your neck. “If you do not untie me, I am going to leave and never come back!”

He bit you hard enough to leave a mark before pulling back to set himself onto his forearms. “And live where? The street? Or you wanna go crawling back to your fucked-up parents?”

“Tell them I finally came to my senses; they’d take me back.” Long story short, your parents fucking hated Ransom. They thought he would never do anything for you or give you anything.

It didn’t help that you sort of cut back on work once you’d met Ransom. He was possessive, he just didn’t want you flying all over the world if you couldn’t take him with you. And you couldn’t because his family was beyond demanding and Ransom still had to show up now and then at whatever theatric event Harlan could think up. And as a model…taking pictures with men sometimes, or other women, wearing very little? Well, Ransom would never ask you to quit but he was always so insecure afterward. You still had your campaigns, a few projects you did with friends, but you were hardly a model anymore.

But well, your parents were obviously fucking wrong. He got you the house. The first time he had taken you there was to meet his grandfather—which was huge because it was the first time Ransom was letting you get that close to him. He hadn’t anticipated Joni and Meg being there but you hadn’t complained. He had, non-stop. Still, it was something…special. He’d shown you his old room and fucked you. Took you out to the woods and fucked you against every awful statue out there. Then took you to his parents’ room and, of course, fucked you there.

They were meant to show the next week, you’d left before that. Much to his pleasure, his mother left him a screaming voicemail or two or seven once she’d realized what had been done on those silk sheets.

You’d fallen in love with the house and you couldn’t bear the thought of losing it to an outsider. At the will reading, when it was announced that it belonged to Marta, you nearly fainted. Ransom had been so damn calm though, up until he was laughing like the god damn psychopath that you’d always suspected he was.

That was five days ago and things between the two of you had been…unconventional. When he had shown up that night—after ditching you, no less, to do whatever he was doing with Marta—you immediately started fighting. You had to get a fucking Uber! And he refused to apologize because, according to him, you were “having an attitude”. Things were thrown, insults were traded, and it was the longest night of your whole relationship.

It was only two days ago that you admitted to the root of your hostility. The house. He couldn’t lose the house. It wasn’t like you thought you were going to be living in it any time soon, but when he did finally propose, maybe things would work out that way. The following morning, he apologized with a diamond necklace and the promise that he would get the house back from Marta.

“Or you could just apologize,” he pointed out.

See, he never did, and in all your time with him, you decided you never would either. It was a good relationship. The sex was amazing, you guys never lied, never cheated, but there were a few communication barriers that neither one of you wanted to mend. Who really needed the word ‘sorry’?

“Seriously, Ransom, fuck you.”

He sighed, but that did little to hide how thrilled he was that you wanted to fight today. “I try to be nice to you, you know. But you don’t want nice, do you?” He jerked you up higher on the table by your arms and crawled his way over you. His forearms were on either side of your head and his leg was coming up to settle between yours.

The table had been freezing, but with him over you, and his heavy coat caging you in, you were just hot. Too hot. The snow-covered back yard seemed the better option at that moment. Anything to get away from him.

“Ransom,” you sighed. “Enough, stop—”

He pressed his knee against you and you shuddered. It hadn’t been long at all, so why you were so desperate was beyond you. Since Harlan, Ransom truly had a new outlook on life. He was impulsive and selfish before, but after the death of his beloved grandfather, there was nothing that could stand in the way of what he wanted. And what he often wanted was you, not that you were complaining.

“Get yourself off, baby.”

You glared up at him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Yes, you heard, but what the fuck?! You didn’t get yourself off. He was controlling enough to need to dictate every single one of your god damn orgasms and if it wasn’t because of his mouth, his fingers, or his cock, it wasn’t happening. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m not sure if I’m going to let you finish at all,” he explained. “I suggest you do it yourself.”

You theorized that if you complied now, then maybe he would forget he was so angry and just fuck you. That had happened a few times before, he did always tend to pout when he remembered, though.

Despite your pride and the burning you felt on the tip of your tongue because you sincerely wanted to yell at him, you rolled your hips. It was tentative almost, which made him scoff. The material of his pants was too soft and with no assistance from him and your awkward angle… You figured he was enjoying making you work for this so much.

After what you said about Richard? There was no way you were going to be able to convince him to help you. You supposed he didn’t need to. Hell, you didn’t even need to finish. He just had to think you did. You turned down to watch, moved your hips faster, started making just a little more noise—

“You’re faking.”

You stopped altogether with a huff. “I am not!”

“You are. You wanna know how I know? Because for the past few years, every orgasm in your life has been because of me. You don’t know how to get off without me.”

“You are such an ass.”

“You don’t just want to ask for some help?” He looked down, one hand lowering slowly. “You know I can be very helpful when I need to be.”

You watched, gasping just when he pulled his hand away. “Ransom.”

“Let me just take the gloves off—”

You whined an incoherent protest. You knew that he knew.

He pretended to be confused, eyebrows pulled together. “You want me to keep them on?”

You frowned at him.

“Why?”

“Fuck off, Ransom.” You didn’t know why! Your only theory was that you were just as messed up as him and that you needed to make an appointment with a mental healthcare professional!

He smiled widely, and you hated how that made your heart skip a little. He always smirked, rarely ever smiled, so when he did, you were screwed. “You want to hear about it again? About how I murdered my grandfather?”

You snorted. “Oh, is that what happened? I thought Marta murdered Harlan—”

“She didn’t.”

“She’s the one who gave him the medicine,” you pointed out. “You didn’t have to do anything except switch a vial.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“Are you going to kill me, too? Oh, correction, are you going to get the help to kill me, too?”

“I might.”

“God, you are disgusting.”

He finally released your wrists to grab your jaw again. “Keep your arms up, I won’t tell you a second time.”

You were already moving them down, stopping right when you heard his threat. With a soft sight, you settled back against the table.

“Good girl.”

You wanted to hit him.

His thumb and forefinger pressed hard against your cheeks until you opened your mouth. He took that as his chance to slide two fingers inside your mouth until you gagged. You closed your mouth anyway, refusing not to meet one of his challenges.

They tasted even worse than you had imagined but you weren’t going to stop. You started to grind against his thigh again. It was better now, like maybe this was going to be enough to get you off.

He set his forehead to your temple, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “You don’t want to hear what happened after we left the party, after I fucked you in the car so good you couldn’t stand?”

Oh, that night. Where to begin with that night. It was Harlan’s birthday party, you’d been to all the ones before that and they’d gone off without…okay, well, there were definitely hitches, but nothing you hadn’t come to expect. Nothing that lasted too long. Yes, this family was all kinds of fucked up, but they never stayed away from one another for too long.

You had assumed Ransom’s argument with Harlan was going to be just another one of those cases. You’d been talking to Walt and Linda, the latter trying to ignore her husband’s attempts at pulling her into an argument he was having with Joni. Walt was talking about the company again; it didn’t bore you or Linda like it did everyone else.

Ransom’s voice carrying out from Harlan’s office startled everyone silent. He stormed out just to grab you and drag you outside, all while his family watched from windows at the front of the house. You told him to stop, which he didn’t. You told him your heels were a hazard, which he ignored.

When he started driving, you were honestly scared. Ransom was hardly a cautious driver generally, so when he was angry? And god, he was angry. You were sure you had never seen someone else get to him the way that Harlan had.

And he was ignoring you. He wouldn’t tell you what they fought about, but he always told you. It was, very simply, too much, and you were not going to put up with it. It was dark, cold, and Ransom had been drinking. You directed him to stop the car, and as firm as you hoped you were being, you were stunned when he listened.

The way he looked at you was so unlike any way he had ever done it before. You were more than just confused and you were a little worried, there was realization in his eyes. You could see that his mind was moving and you had known him long enough to know that that never meant anything good.

He demanded that you get out of the car and you did, even though part of you was worried he was going to leave you there. He followed, coming around to lead you into the of the car. He wrapped one hand around your throat and pinned you against the car door with his body, his chest to your back. His free hand was working his clothing out of the way, then fumbling to open the door.

He wordlessly shoved you against the seat, shoving your dress out of the way. Before you could say a word, he was inside you, his body covering yours. His hold around your throat was tight, and you knew that meant that he didn’t want to talk. That didn’t shut him up, however.

He just kept saying he was going to take care of you, and he didn’t loosen his hand until he asked you if you wanted him to take care of you. You said you did. He asked if he had taken care of you up to that point. You said that he had. He asked you if you trusted him. You said you did.

He left you in the backseat, covered in his cum and reddening marks on your neck, hips, and breasts, wrapped in his coat. He turned the car off and you echoed with just about 100 questions, none of which he directly answered. He said you couldn’t come with him because well, you honestly couldn’t walk.

The following morning, you woke up in bed while Ransom was making breakfast. Well, okay, you hadn’t actually seen him make anything, but since you didn’t find any restaurant containers, you couldn’t throw that accusation at him. He brought you pancakes to eat in bed and you guys had an amazing morning together.

By noon, the family was calling both of you with news of Harlan’s death.

He pressed his free hand over your face, covering your nose, and shoved his fingers deeper down your throat. You were choking and that didn’t frighten you like it should have. Some of the best orgasms you’d gotten from Ransom were when you were choking on his fingers or his cock.

You didn’t stop rocking your hips until you were finishing and you never once looked away from him. He stared into your eyes the entire time because it was undeniable at this point, Ransom had a kink for murder, and this was as close as he was going to get to it with you—some minor breath play.

He pulled away from you completely, stepping back onto the floor. He glanced down with a self-satisfied smirk, admiring the mess you had made on his pant leg. His amusement only grew as he watched you try to catch your breath.

You were still coming down when you felt Ransom leave the space between your legs. Glancing around the room, you found him at the counter. His back to you, you heard him pour some bourbon in a glass. You weren’t much of a bourbon person but whenever you tasted it on Ransom’s tongue, you never minded it too much.

When he returned to you, it was with a knife from the block on the counter. A large knife, you wondered what he would do if you made a comment about him compensating for something. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He smirked. “You scared?”

You snorted. “No.”

Arching an eyebrow, he pressed the blade down just barely against your thigh, dragging it upward toward your soaking center.

You had to bite your lip as he touched you there, just a tease because he didn’t truly want to cut you. The cool surface made goosebumps rise on your legs and your heart began to pound with excitement. You often wondered if you would be this fucked up if you had never found Ransom.

He lifted it to your chest, eyes bright as they followed the knife. He pressed down just slightly harder and led the knife to your shoulder. Your heart dropped the second you realized what he was doing.

“Ransom—”

“Shut up.”

“This is a piece from Megan Fox’s collaboration with Fredrick’s—” You felt the snap of your bodysuit’s strap and your jaw dropped.

He smirked down at you, proceeding to the next side to do the same.

“You fucking psycho!” you reprimanded. You thought dating a man with too much money and a narcissistic concern for his appearance would have given him at least some respect for clothing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Wrong with me? You’re the one so wet over a god damn knife.”

“You can’t just destroy my clothes!”

“Well,” he shrugged, “just did. The fuck are you going to do about it? And consider your answer carefully, you know, if you want that house so badly.”

“It’s already my house,” you declared. “You got it for me. Stop pretending—”

“Pretending what? That I couldn’t find someone to replace you in a second? I bet Marta would be up for it.”

You shut up immediately, just staring at him. You knew Ransom liked it when your anger was quick. And truly, the last thing you wanted was to give him anything he wanted. You weren’t trying to be jealous in any way, but you’d always wondered how he felt about Marta.

He seemed to like talking to her—albeit, he also liked talking to Meg…just to get a rise. But he also liked getting a rise out of you, clearly. You just wanted to know. And he wouldn’t answer you, any time you asked him how he felt about someone else, he just fucked you.

“Now, don’t pout—”

“Fuck you—”

“Don’t be such a baby—it was a joke.”

“I don’t care,” you proclaimed. “You know, you can fuck her if you want.”

“Oh?”

You nodded, humming. “Please do. Then I’ll follow up with your dad.”

He snorted. “That’s getting weak.”

“You think he wants me to call him daddy?”

He took your neck in his hand. “If you say that again, I’ll fucking…”

“What?” you demanded. “What the fuck are you going to do, Ransom?”

Suddenly, he was kissing you. You’d blinked, then he was over you, hand tearing down your bodysuit as he held you by the throat. He stood to toss the bodysuit out of his way, eyes tracing your body.

He didn’t seem to care that you were completely out of breath by the time he’d pulled away, you didn’t either. This was something you both had in common. In moments like these, nothing mattered. You both did and said whatever you wanted, but by the time he was inside you, it was all forgotten.

“I’m moving out,” you announced.

He snorted. “You’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I’m going back home; I can’t stand another day with you.”

“You ever try to leave me and I will drag you back. Every fucking time, Y/N.”

You scoffed weakly. “Learn to hear the word no. You’ll need to. Now that you’re poor, especially.”

“You think that’s what this is?” He still wasn’t looking at your face, just your naked body as if he’d never seen it before. “You think it’s because I’ve never been told no?”

“What else would it be?”

He snorted. “Try to be less transparent. Is this your way of asking what we are?”

You knew what you were. To an extent. It was just that sometimes, Ransom wasn’t the most traditional, and you were okay with that. But well, it had been 6 years. You were waiting on the future to start, the engagement, the ring, changing your last name, possibly starting a family. But well, Ransom hadn’t even told you he loved you. You knew he did, love wasn’t just words, and he definitely showed you, but it would be nice to hear. Still, that was not what you had been asking… okay, maybe it kind of was what you were asking.

“No, I couldn’t care less. I won’t have to stay with you much longer anyway… I would never date anyone poor.”

“Baby, call me poor one more time and your ass is going to be so sore.”

He was in such an odd mood. You didn’t know exactly what he wanted. It had sounded like he’d wanted to fight, then he started getting…well, sappy for him. Now, he was threatening to spank you for stating fact?

“Look at that,” he taunted, smirking at your silence. “You can be such a good girl when you try.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I should give you incentive to shut your mouth more.”

“Excuse—”

He shushed you as his free hand pressed to your pussy.

You quieted only because you forced your mouth shut. You hadn’t been sure how the leather gloves were going to feel, if you should like them… But well, you did. And maybe you didn’t want him to know that.

But he did, that much you could tell from the arrogant look in his eye. You closed your eyes, letting your head roll back against the table. Whatever, you might as well get an orgasm for all this trouble he’d given you.

He traced small, gentle circles around your clit and you couldn’t even remember what you’d been arguing about. You knew he was watching you; you knew you shouldn’t be giving in so easy. That was why he was a dick; he knew you would let him be because he knew how to fuck you well. Two fingers easily slipped inside you—at least you thought it was two, you couldn’t tell.

You were caught off guard. It had been years since you’d felt something inside you other than Ransom*.

Was it supposed to feel good? What you liked was that these gloves were not supposed to be inside you, yet there they were. Ransom didn’t seem to care that they were close to a thousand dollars. You remembered glaring at him when he showed them to you, sent to him by one of his few friends, a designer (🙄) You had lectured him. They were real leather! You did not believe in killing animals for fashion. It was your one rule. You’d never participated in a campaign or contract if there was an animal harmed in the making.

But now, here you were, rolling your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers as he wore those sickening gloves. It was a strange sensation, maybe not good, but not bad. He started to crook his fingers against that spot that he could now locate in record time, and so it didn’t matter what it felt like anyway.

He leaned over you, grabbing one of your arms to pull you into a sitting position. “Watch, baby girl. Watch your pussy take my fingers.”

You turned down and at an agonizing speed, his fingers disappeared inside you. He crooked them twice before pulling them out almost completely. The gloves were embarrassingly wet and you could feel your cheeks heating because of it.

“Can you take another?” he inquired.

You weren’t capable of forming thoughts. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to want an answer. He pulled his fingers back, pushing three back in.

Your head dropped back and you closed your eyes. “Fuck, Ransom, please—”

“Keep watching, baby—I’m only going to tell you once.”

You hurriedly turned back; struggling to keep your eyes open and your hips still. Watching made you anxious because you knew exactly when you were going to feel what and you were simply not patient enough for your tease of a boyfriend.

“You hear how wet you are? Your pussy is so desperate…I bet it could take all four of my fingers. What do you think?” He took your jaw, turning your gaze up to him. “Hmm?”

You began to eagerly nod. “Yes.”

He pulled his arm back and let his pinky join as he moved it forward—once more, you felt yourself blushing at how easily they all slipped inside. It was a delicious stretch that was already driving you crazy. He rarely ever got to four fingers, by the time he was three in, that usually meant he was ready to fuck you. He always tried though, mindful of his size and how difficult it was to take him sometimes.

You sighed his name and whimpered a plea, you did not know what for, but he did. His free hand wrapped around your neck and he leaned in to kiss you, the fingers inside you still curling skillfully. His lips were soft against yours, a notable contrast to everything else he was doing.

“What is it about these gloves that get you so wet? he pressed. “Huh? Let me tell you, my love, about all the bad things I’ve done in them.” He seemed completely detached as he recounted all those events that you had missed because he’d wanted you to miss them, you wondered if he’d decided to that just so he could bring it up while he was fucking you.

Everything was calm and slow. Then he said Fran’s name and his hold on your neck tightened, and he started fucking you with his fingers, relentless in pressure and pace. His stare was locked on yours and you noticed how he brightened when tears finally filled your eyes. You would start turning a terrible red soon, you knew because he’d choked you enough times in the mirror. He always liked it so much so you never complained.

You had run out of air several long seconds ago and that was why your finish was coming so harshly. You just hoped he couldn’t tell because he would undoubtedly make you wait.

“I liked killing her,” he told you. “I would do it again. She was standing in the way—our way of the future I want to give to you. I’d fucking kill anyone for you, baby, you know that?”

“Yes,” you coughed. You didn’t think he killed Fran for you. Maybe, maybe on some low level, but it was ultimately for him. You didn’t mind that, though.

He smirked. “Say my name.”

He loved it when you were choking but still so desperate for him that you wasted what little oxygen you did have on saying his name, letting him know that he was pleasing you. You obliged and his hand instantly fell away from your neck. You took a deep breath in, coughing as you tried to blink away your tears.

He grabbed your hands and put them over his pants. “You feel how hard you’re making me, baby?”

Your pussy clenched around his fingers in anticipation, you couldn’t wait for him to be inside you. You hurriedly searched for the button on his pants until he shoved your hands away.

“No, not yet.” He grabbed your neck again and then crouched down, immediately burying his lips in your pussy.

A strangled yell came from your parted mouth, pure nonsense. You grabbed his forearm, a pathetic attempt to keep yourself sitting up, not that he would have let you fall if he didn’t want you to.

He tilted his head back to look up at you as his fingers kept working you. “Keep saying my name, baby.”

You did so three times before he finally placed his mouth back on you. You were shaking as he flicked his tongue over your clit repeatedly. Your end had built up to this impossibly high place, you were sure it was because your last orgasm was so unsatisfying.

Regardless, he’d barely been on his knees long at all when you knew you would come soon. And fuck, you needed to come. “Ransom—I—I’m—”

“You’re close?” he spoke against your hot, wet flesh, humming as he started sucking your clit gently. “Hm, baby?”

“Yes!” you sobbed.

And you couldn’t so much as blink before he was standing, pulling you off the table by your hips. You came crashing down hard, collapsing onto the table as you realized what was happening. You had been confused for only a second, but then, this was Ransom—why would you expect anything else?

That fucking piece of shit.

You were leaned over the edge of the table, legs shaking so much that he had to hold you up. Your bound arms were in front of you, unable to offer you any assistance. You wanted to push him away or kick him but you worried about your physical safety if you tried. The only thing that could make this situation worse was falling on your ass in front of Ransom.

The dick probably wouldn’t help you up.

You rested your forehead against the table, that was when you realized you were crying. Your cheeks were hot and lined with trails of tears. “I fucking hate you.”

His hand came down on your exposed ass with no warning at all.

You yelped, attempting to pull away from him.

He held you right where he wanted you with one hand closed around your hip bone.

“You’ve been acting like a brat this whole time, what the fuck did you expect?”

“Absolutely nothing from you!” you hissed. “You can’t fucking do anything right!”

And that rewarded you another slap on the opposite side of your ass.

You grit your teeth until your skin stopped stinging. “If you hit me again, I’m going to kill you!”

But hell, even you knew that was only going to get you another one. “You’re going to apologize.”

“For what?!”

“Everything—your attitude, talking about my father, and hanging out with Joni—”

“Oh, fuck you, Ransom! You’re a fucking psychopath with serious possession issues. I’m not a god damn object—”

His hand cracked across your ass, maybe a little more forceful than he intended but he hadn’t expected you to put up so much fight today.

Your mouth was clamped shut and more tears had gathered in your eyes. You weren’t sure what you were crying about anymore, sheer frustration or because he was hitting you so hard.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“No!” Was he out of his mind? He had never made you apologize like this. He let you suck him off or he just tied you up and you were “sweet” enough that he just forgave you. He had never tried to force you to say those words.

“Do it, now—”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” you decided.

“I will give you one more chance,” he informed. “Then I’m done talking.”

“That sounds like the best idea you’ve had all day.”

He smacked you again. And again, you were finally starting to realize that the leather hurt more than his bare hand. Again, and your legs buckled. He quickly scooped you up, setting you atop the table.

“Ransom,” you pleaded.

Instead of responding verbally, he spanked you again. You only took three more before you blurted out those dreaded words. He paused but you knew he wasn’t going to give you more opportunities to make it right, you would have to do that on your own.

“I’m sorry for my attitude.”

He hummed and you were stupid enough to think he was going to let the rest go. Not a blink of an eye later, he smacked you again.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about your dad!”

Yet again, he struck you without a word.

“Ransom, please, I’m sorry! I’m really sorry—”

“Sorry…what?”

“What?” you breathed back. He didn’t say ‘for what’ because that much he knew; you’d said that much. Then what the fuck did he mean?

He tsked and you knew what was coming.

You flinched before he even touched you. “S-sir? I’m sorry, sir!” He’d tried to start that but it was awkward at best. Sir did nothing for either one of you. You were running out of logic though and seemed the best bet.

He snorted. “No, baby. Not ‘sir’.”

“Daddy!” you realized, nearly crying tears of joy. Of course, after that joke you made about Richard, Ransom just needed to assert his dominance. Then his temper tantrum would be over. “Daddy, I’m sorry—”

“Now I don’t think you’re being sincere; you’re just telling me what I want to hear—”

“No, daddy, I’m so sorry—”

But he hit you again.

And okay, fuck him—you had just been telling him what he wanted to hear. You were done. “Stop!”

“Or what?”

“Ransom, I swear—”

He wrapped his arm around you, grasping your neck so he could yank you up. His forearm was pressed hard between your breasts, his elbow digging into your side where he held you tight against his chest. “You made a mess of my gloves, clean them.”

Before you could argue, he shoved his hand into your mouth. You were refusing to obey, however, which he realized when your mouth was completely still. His solution was to force his fingers down your throat until you were gagging violently.

When you realized he wasn’t going to give, you started sucking. You could feel his sweater against your back. It shouldn’t have been able to calm you down, but fuck…this was Ransom. This sweater-wearing asshole was apparently the man you loved—how fucking stupid could you be?

He began dragging you to the sliding door. Ransom’s house was pretty secluded and the only other people that regularly showed up was the help. Three weeks prior, you had pointed out that there was no point in having a sliding glass door if you didn’t have a dog. That was your subtle hint that that was what you wanted.

He flat out refused and you guys had ended up screaming at each other until he held you against the glass and fucked you silent. He had enjoyed it, but you couldn’t relate.

Once more, he pressed you into the glass, lifting your arms over your head. You tried to recoil the second you felt the cold surface against your breasts but he just pushed you back harder. You began turning your head pointedly, his fingers were still in your mouth but you knew he would take the hint.

Finally, he pulled them free and began brushing your hair away from your face. “What do you need, baby?”

“You are such a fucking asshole, Ransom!”

“And you are disrespectful.”

“Why the hell should I respect you?”

“Keep it up, baby, we already have a long night ahead of us. You really wanna let this go on tomorrow, too?”

You couldn’t, you knew that with total certainty. Your body was worn out, the only thing that was keeping you going was the anger you felt. You dreaded imagining how sore your muscles would be when you woke up the next morning.

“Now,” he sighed, feigning patience, “Try not to make a mess of my gloves again, or I’ll make you clean them again.” He reached between your legs and began rubbing his fingers quickly over your clit.

“Ransom!” you cried, attempting to push your body back against his. You could not keep doing this. “Stop, please!”

“No.”

That was all he said, the last thing, in fact, even though you didn’t stop talking the whole time. The whole nine almost-finishes he gave you, that he would stop in the middle of because you kept “making a mess”.

He had to know when you were truly almost spent because that was when he tore his pants out of his way and without even a teasing remark, thrust into you. It took a mere two thrusts before you fell apart.

The glass was stained with streaks from your skin, sweat, tears, and probably other bodily fluids, and you hated that the housekeeper would know why. God, he was the fucking worst person on the planet.

He never gave you a moment, he just kept fucking you through your orgasm and then after because now he needed to finish. “Tell me you’re not going to leave me,” he ordered.

You were more than just confused, wondering briefly if you’d even heard him correctly. “What?”

He let both hands grasp your hips and he pushed into you harder. “Tell me that you’re never going to leave me.”

You turned your head back, attempting to be coherent through the whining and mewling. “What—the fuck—are you talking about?”

“Even if this shit all goes wrong,” he explained. “Even if I get caught. Right now, tell me that you’re not gonna fucking leave. Say you won’t leave me.”

“Of course, I’m never—going to leave, you fucking idiot.” You turned forward, eyes shutting because you didn’t want to be looking at him when you said this. “I love you.”

His hips stuttered and he froze buried inside you, but you weren’t going to acknowledge what you’d just said. He pulled out just to turn you to him, lifting you so he could properly fuck you against the door.

Your legs hung loose around him but your tied arms could successfully hold around his neck. And just like that, the fight was over. Neither of you would probably ever bring up a single thing said during this disastrous night. He just kissed the side of your face as he told you how good your pussy felt.

#ransom drysdale x reader #l o l but those murder gloves #for real #my writing

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svtxsoju · 4 years

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02. morning glory fizz | dear miss soju

ღ Synopsis: College is hard. Love is even harder. Good thing the students of Mansae University can write in to Miss Soju, the campus’ very own romance advice columnist! The only problem is she’s never been in a relationship. Ever. There’s no telling what kind of chaos she may cause in the love lives of several of MU’s most eligible bachelors. Too bad no one knows who she really is! ღ Characters/Pairings: college AU! Seventeen & OC’s, Joshua x baking major!OC, and more TBA! ღ Genre: Romantic Comedy, Slice of Life ღ Warning(s): Mentions of alcohol, suggestions of sex, language ღ Word Count: 4.9k words ღ Binu’s Note: a week late but better late than never i guess 😌 i’ve been avoiding tumblr to finish writing this, but i just kept getting distracted by choi seungcheol. hit that mf like button if you relate. i’m so excited for the special album y’all the teasers and concepts are so sadkfklsj i love seventeen

anyway, i apologize not only for the late update, BUT ALSO bc this chapter is also a lot of exposition again 😔🥺 i promise i’m done setting it all up and that some real shit will go down in the next chapter!! hopefully people will still be able to enjoy this chapter huhuhu 😭💗 if you’re reading this, i love u and i hope u have a good weekend!!

《 ⊛ Author’s Note & Credits ⊛ Disclaimer ⊛ Masterlist ⊛ 》

《 Previous ⊛ Next 》

Having already completed the first half of her college career, Joohyun was well aware of the value of sleep. And yet, like most college students, she could never seem to manage a decent sleeping schedule. She had only slept 2 hours when her alarm went off at 5:30AM. She groggily rolled out of bed, mentally cursing her past self for thinking that this was a good idea when clearly, the best idea at the moment was to snuggle back up under her covers and sleep in until afternoon. Only one of her eyes seemed capable of staying open as she pulled on her clothes and got ready for the day. When she suddenly heard the front door close behind her roommate, she cursed out loud, throwing her laptop into her bag before she rushed out the door. She half-wobbled, half-hopped along the second-story walkway while she tried to get her shoes all the way on.

“Bok Bongseon! Wait for me!” Joohyun called out in an aggressive whisper.

“HOLY SHIT! You scared me, Joo!” her roommate, a shorter girl with full cheeks and pouty lips, screamed at full volume. She clutched at her racing heart and leaned against the wall while she caught her breath.

“Shut up, people are still sleeping!” Joohyun linked arms with Bongseon and dragged her down the steps leading to the street. It was still dark outside, but she could already hear the faint bustling of the mart located below their apartment. It was nice to know that they weren’t the only two people in Seoul insane enough to be awake at this hour.

“I thought you were the ghost of my grandma, you bitch! You know she visits me in my dreams to tell me how disappointed she that I’m a baker,” Bongseon said indignantly, though she still cuddled closer to Joohyun when they were hit by the morning chill. Once they reached the street, they both headed towards the train station without having to say a word. “What are you even doing up?”

“I am simply accompanying my favorite roommate to work to make sure that she gets there safely,” Joohyun crooned sweetly, and made kissy faces at the girl, who in turn pinched Joohyun’s lips between her calloused fingers. She tried to protest but could only let out pained whines until she was mercifully released. “Ow!”

“Sorry but I cannot fulfill your roommates to lovers, 12k slowburn fantasy,” Bongseon continued on nonchalantly as they climbed down the steps to the platform. “You had your chance, but I am a taken girl!”

“Oh, so you and Josh are together today?” Joohyun teased. Although it probably wasn’t the best idea, considering her lips were slightly throbbing from the girl’s attack. “I’ll just wait until tomorrow then.”

“Wow, bold words coming from Miss Fish Lips.” Bongseon raised an eyebrow and smiled tauntingly. “Understandable, considering that that was probably the most action your lips have gotten in your entire life. I could probably set it up on a blind date with my fist, if you’d like.”

Joohyun’s laughter echoed off the walls of the mostly empty station, startling the only other person waiting for the morning train (an old woman, who was still half-asleep prior to being rudely awakened by two very loud girls). Bongseon often made some colorful threats, morning or not, but Joohyun was one of the very few people who could be assured that her words were empty. “Don’t you know that it’s rude to stare, lady?” she barked at the old woman, who was openly glaring at them. Everyone else, on the other hand, was subject to Bongseon’s sharp temper.

This even included her boyfriend of approximately 4 years. ‘Approximately’ being the key word, because the two often took breaks-- a natural phenomenon when one partner was easily provoked and the other loved to do the provoking. Jihoon had told Joohyun that the two had met at the cafe in their freshman year, when Bongseon came in as a part-time baker and Joshua was merely a barista trainee. They started dating within a month and moved into an apartment together in two. That went just as well as anyone would expect. By the grace of whatever entity that was chaotic enough to keep their relationship intact, they made it 7 months before nearly breaking things off for good. As luck would have it though, a new hire and his roommate were in the same exact predicament as them. Kind of.

Joohyun shuddered to recall her freshman year when she and Jihoon somehow convinced themselves that it was a good idea to share an apartment. In principle it made sense; they had lived across the street from each other since they were in diapers. Two exhausting months into trying to irritate the other into breaking the lease first, they met Bongseon and Joshua when Jihoon started working at Smile Flower. It didn’t take long for Joohyun to suggest the switch— she would move in with Bongseon and Joshua with Woozi. Just like that, she saved both Bongseon and Joshua’s turbulent romance (temporarily) and her and Woozi’s fractured friendship (now thriving).

She and Bongseon have been roommates ever since, and Joohyun knew her life was a little easier for it.

“Joohyun, you better stop looking at me with those heart eyes before I really act up,” Bongseon warned. They had boarded the train, but hadn’t bothered to sit down since Mansae University station was only two stops away.

“But I just love you so much,” Joohyun pouted, affectionately resting her head on her friend’s shoulder. “What does Joshua have that I don’t?”

“A dick. And that’s about it.”

“Damn you, heterosexuality!”

Bongseon snorted out a laugh. “Seriously Joo, how are you awake right now? You’re only ever this lovey-dovey when you’re severely sleep deprived. I know you don’t have classes until 3PM today. You also don’t have your internship today,” Bongseon narrowed her eyes when Joohyun visibly tensed up at the mention of her current occupation. “Also, since when do you watch Youtube videos until 2am? And don’t think I didn’t notice that all of them were titled ‘Relationship Q&A’s’ and ‘I confessed to my crush and he said this!!!’. Got something to tell me, missy?”

It was so quiet on the train that Joohyun worried that Bongseon could hear all the wires in her brain short-circuit. With Bongseon’s cross-examination skills, it was a wonder why she pursued baking instead of joining her family’s firm. Come on, Joohyun, just tell a white lie. Easy, simple. Don’t need to overcomplicate things. “Oh, uh I— um— well, I j-just thought they were entertaining?” She was done for.

“Right. You thought random couples self-indulgently talking about their love lifes for 40 minutes with default iMovies effects were entertaining.”

“Y-yes?” Joohyun threw in her most convincing smile for good measure, but it did nothing to soften Bongseon’s hard gaze. “It’s my new guilty pleasure, haha!”

“Hm, interesting,” Bongseon was momentarily interrupted by the sound of the arrival bell. Joohyun eagerly pulled her friend towards the exit, hoping that the distance from the train could also get her further away from the topic. Unfortunately for her, Bongseon did not plan on dropping it so soon. “You sure you don’t want to tell me anything, Joo? About your internship?”

Joohyun began to sweat. Was she really that transparent? “Okay, don’t get mad--”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m super jazzed that you’re getting into relationships and everything, but really Joo? Youtube? You could just talk to me if you need help talking to your new crush at your job!”

“Oh.” Joohyun would have let out a sigh of relief if she wasn’t out of breath from climbing the mountain of stairs up to the sidewalk. “Right. Confessing. To my crush. That I definitely have.”

“It’s okay to admit you have one, Joo. I’m no stranger to workplace romance,” Bongseon said, her breathing completely even. A measly flight of stairs was nothing compared to eight hours of kneading dough. “Who’s the lucky bastard, Joo?”

“Well, I’m not sure I would call it a workplace romance, per se…” Joohyun laughed nervously. There was no way she could stick another clean landing if she kept talking.

“Shut up, I bet that guy is in love with you already. Who wouldn’t fall for the only editing intern at The Front?”

“Haha, I don’t know…” Probably no one, because the only editing intern at The Front doesn’t exist?

Joohyun could not be more relieved to see the small store front of Smile Flower Cafe. It was one amongst the many cafes located near campus, but Joohyun felt like nothing really matched its comforting home-like ambience. But that probably had less to do with the soft wooden floors and pastel ceramic mugs, and more owed to the three years Joohyun had spent hanging around there, usually bothering Jihoon and joking around with Josh.

The two boys already stood waiting at the cafe’s entrance, too bleary-eyed to notice Joohyun and Bongseon quickly approaching. “Hey, ugly!” Joohyun called out, snickering when both of them turned to look at her.

“What the hell, why are you awake?”

“Good morning to you too, Jihoon,” she answered, blowing him a kiss. “I’m actually here to see you, believe it or not. Don’t you feel special?”

“Oh? That’s interesting, because you told me that you came here for me,” Bongseon broke away from exchanging actual kisses with Joshua to look between Joohyun and Jihoon in a way that Joohyun did not like too much. “I guess it wasn’t a workplace romance after all.”

Joshua mirrored his girlfriend’s implicating expression as he unlocked the front door, simply because he knew it made his friends squirm. “Wow Joohyun, you woke up this early just to talk to Jihoon? You really couldn’t wait to see him, huh?”

“Uh, yes because I need his help—”

“Ah, his help, gotcha! Come on, Bongseon, I’ll go help you in the kitchen while these two help each other out here,” Joshua snickered. Before Joohyun or Jihoon could roast the couple in retaliation, they had already disappeared behind the counter.

After years of similar taunts, all Jihoon could do was shake his head. “Okay Joo, what is so important that you need my help at 6 in the morning?”

“I wrote my first response last night!” Joohyun whispered excitedly, taking out her laptop from her bag. “Well, a few hours ago. I wanted to show you before continuing on with the rest! Here, look.”

① Dear Miss Soju,

I just started my first year at MU and she’s an exchange student from New York. We met at a party and talked for two hours about comics, aliens, anything we could think of. It was perfect. She even asked me to walk her home. When the time came for me to make a move though, I kind of dropped the ball. Since we had just met that night, I didn’t want to come off too strong. Now I really regret it - I don’t even have her phone number. I feel like such an idiot! I can’t stop thinking about her, but I don’t even know if I’ll ever talk to her again. Did I make myself seem disinterested? Will we meet again? Will she even remember me?

Sincerely,

Big Cringy Idiot

She let Jihoon read the asker’s message first, then scrolled down to show her answer.

Dear Big Cringy Idiot,

You and your crush seem to have a lot in common. There is nothing wrong with being nervous around someone you like. In fact, it is fairly normal and is a good sign that you like this girl very much. She also seems open to any future possiblities, since she did ask you to take her home. You need not worry about coming off too strong in this situation, although I do admire your dedication to respecting women’s boundaries. I hope you are able to find this girl again so that you can truly tell her how you feel. Best of luck to you!

Sincerely,

Miss Soju

“Joo, that was…”

“Poetic, beautiful, life-changing?” Joohyun grinned, and nudged her best friend with each suggestion.

“Boring. It was boring.” Joohyun’s face fell, and Jihoon could only offer the girl an apologetic smile. “Dude, you’re gonna put people to sleep if you keep it up like this. I almost took out a pillow to take a nap on the floor.”

“But this is how I write my articles— Informative and concise! How else am I supposed to write it?”

“I mean, that’s great for reporting articles, but this is an advice column. It’s supposed to be fun, sarcastic maybe. Like your promo piece! That was good.”

“I wrote that as a joke, hoping they would fire me for it,” Joohyun admitted, eyes wide in panic as she looked at her best friend.

“Huh. Well, I think it would sound better than this Wikipedia article you got going on,” Jihoon shrugged. “Try to be fun!”

“I am fun!” Joohyun cried out defensively, her nostrils flaring with passion. When Jihoon responded with a doubtful look, she let out a dramatic gasp and snatched up her laptop, stomping over to her favorite corner in the cafe. “I can be fun! I’ll show you fun!”

“Atta girl,” Jihoon’s signature cackle filled the cafe, further fueling the girl’s aggressive typing.

Just another morning in the life of So Joohyun.

To the surprise of the cafe’s current occupants, a student already tapped at the glass entrance, clearly in desperate need of his morning americano. He had walked all the way from the freshman dorms after a restless night of tossing and turning. When his phone screen told him it was already 6:05AM, he decided to just give up on sleep altogether. So there he was, trying to start off his day right, at Smile Flower Cafe, only to be stopped at the door by the grumpy barista with the red hair. He always felt like the other one was way nicer, especially since he would go out of his way to sneak him free cookie samples and made pleasant small talk while ringing him up (what was his name? Jonathan?).

All the red-haired barista ever did was scowl at him when he asked for a student discount. Now, he scowled at him as he gestured at the sign that indicated that the cafe would not be open until 7AM. The fatigued freshman had half a mind to make some choice gestures of his own, but he refrained and just whipped out his phone instead. He gave the mean barista one last pout before turning around and walking towards the 24-hour convenience store on campus.

➠ [ to: vernonie 😌😎 ] Good morning king. Are you still on your shift ?

➠ [ from: vernonie 😌😎 ] gm seungkwan pls k*ll me

Seungkwan took that as a yes. It didn’t take long for him to arrive, the entrance bell ringing lightly when he stepped into the small store. At the register sat his roommate, who was clearly fighting to keep his eyes open. “Wol-cuh ‘n—” he tried to greet through a wide-mouthed yawn. “Excuse me, welcome in! Oh, hey Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan answered with a grunt and headed straight for the refrigerated coffee section, choosing the largest can.

“Uh dude, you good? You look like—”

“Like I haven’t slept all night? I am aware,” He immediately opened his coffee and took a long gulp of the beverage in hopes of feeling even a little better. When it did nothing after 30 seconds, he frowned at the concerned cashier. “Vernon, I will not be paying for this drink, because it is clearly defective. Coffee is supposed to fix everything.”

“Is this about your audition today?” Vernon asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Your monologue sounded really solid last night though. Your audition songs were great too. You totally got this in the bag!”

“It’s not just about the audition, sweet Vernon,” Seungkwan sighed. “It’s about who I’m going to see at the audition. I still don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“Oh yeah, you are probably going to see them later.” For the past week, all Seungkwan could talk about was the theater tech sophomore that he had met at the theater department’s welcome party. They had sat beside Seungkwan and had helped him through all the fast-paced drinking games, and even took some of his shots when he kept losing. Surely, this was what love felt like.

That was what Seungkwan hoped anyway, because whatever it was made him feel all warm and tingly inside (or it could have just been the alcohol). Nevertheless, he had made big plans to confess to his crush as soon as possible. His dilemma for the past several days was merely a matter of how it would be done. “Not probably! I know for a fact that they will be there, because they told me that they couldn’t wait to see me,” Seungkwan let out a wail and slumped over the counter. “They’re the sweetest, most beautiful person to ever walk the earth and I just want to tell them that I would actually jump off a bridge for them. Why is that so difficult?”

Vernon nodded sympathetically as he always did. “I mean, if you’re not ready today, maybe you could wait?”

“Wait?! No offense babe, but last time I checked, waiting didn’t get you anywhere,” Seungkwan said, patting his roommate’s arm. Vernon cringed as he was forced to remember his own romantic blunder from the past week. “Clearly, we are both in major need of help. That Woozi guy’s show didn’t do anything for us! Also, we still haven’t heard from that Miss Soju character and it’s been what? Two days? If she’s such an expert, she would know that love is time sensitive!”

“Ugh, I know. I keep refreshing The Front’s website just to see if she’s posted it yet.” Vernon sighed forlornly, which was a common punctuation to his sentences lately. “It’s getting me really antsy. What if she doesn’t even choose to answer our emails this time?”

Seungkwan quickly covered the other freshman’s mouth. “Don’t say that! The universe manifests what we say will happen. We should ask for divine intervention instead.” He cleared his throat in preparation and threw his hands up to the sky. “O Eros, god of love, please shine your blessings down upon my and Vernonie’s love lives for we are but two humble, clueless freshmen in need of romantic guidance. Send down two of your swiftest, sharpest arrows, so that those that we desire may hear your soft whispers—”

Ding. The sound of the entrance bell rang once more, stopping Seungkwan’s prayer short, much to his irritation. “Is this a bad time?” the new customer, an ethereally handsome blonde, asked amusedly. He strode into the store and grabbed two spicy tuna triangle kimbab’s before approaching the counter.

“Jeonghan hyung!”

“Ah, Vernon!” Jeonghan smiled. “I didn’t know you worked here. You should come by my and Cheol’s apartment again soon, that was fun!”

“Hyung, this is my roommate that I told you about-- Seungkwan. And Seungkwan, this is Seungcheol hyung’s roommate,” Vernon said all while ringing up Jeonghan’s food. On the side, Seungkwan bowed sheepishly after unfreezing from his previous pose. “How’s your morning going? You wake up pretty early!”

Jeonghan laughed heartily, shaking his head. “Oh no, I just finished an all-night stream. I just came by to get a snack before heading to bed. Seems like you two have been having a fun morning, though. Do you two always start your day off by praying to the ancient Greek god of desire?”

Seungkwan flushed a deep pink. “Uh no, it was more like a cry of desperation. Vernon and I are having a pretty tough time confessing to our crushes, so I figured we should just try out anything that might help us. Nothing else seems to be working…”

“Wait, that’s so cute,” Jeonghan cooed.

“Would you be able to give us some advice, hyung?” Vernon asked. He didn’t know anything about the senior’s love life, but he did give off the vibe of someone who would know… a lot.

Jeonghan’s eyes twinkled dangerously, a lazy smirk on his lips. “I mean, I could go talk to your little crushes for you, if you’d like. I’m sure I could get some sort of response out of them.”

One look at Jeonghan had Vernon and Seungkwan shaking their heads vehemently.

“No, we’re good.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

“Mm, good call.” Jeonghan took his food from the counter, and winked at the two boys. “I really wish I could help you both more, but I’m sure you’ll get what you’re waiting for soon! Today, if you want it enough.”

There was something in the way that the senior stated those words that made Seungkwan believe him without a question. It wasn’t a naive suggestion or an optimistic prediction; Jeonghan spoke like it was the truth plainly written on the walls. He finally felt a long-awaited wave exhaustion wash over his anxieties, softening them until they fizzled away alongside the ebbing foam. All that was left behind were grains of sand. Suddenly, Seungkwan yawned, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his twin bed at the dorms.

“Well, I should be heading off to bed! Looks like you should be too, Seungkwan,” Jeonghan said, suppressing his own yawn. The freshman nodded in agreement. He definitely needed to rest up— this was going to be a big day, after all.

“Say hi to Cheol hyung for me when you get home!” Vernon said.

Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully as he made his way back to the entrance of the store. “I will if he’s there! He didn’t come home last night.” He turned to leave the boys with one last sleepy smile, seeming to laugh at something only he knew.

“At least one of us is doing something right.”

“Jihoon, why can’t I get this right?”

“I’m sorry! This just sounds nothing like you,” Jihoon shrugged. It had been a rather busy morning, but things slowed down as it approached noon, giving him the chance to look at Joohyun’s fourth draft of responses. “I’ve never heard you say stuff like ‘rad’ or ‘hella’... Like are you aware that you sound like a skater from the late 90’s?”

“That’s because the reference I’ve been using is from 1997!” Joohyun huffed in frustration. She was already backspacing albeit with a little more force than necessary. “I wasn’t even born in ‘97!”

“Exactly, so stop trying to write like that. What if you tried to—”

“Eat my ass, Hong!” The sound of the kitchen door slamming open interrupted Jihoon’s (probably unhelpful) suggestion, and the two best friends watched as Bongseon stormed out of the cafe in a familiar rage. Luckily, there were no customers to witness it this time.

Instinctively, they looked to the kitchen door, where Joshua stood with a resigned smile on his full lips. “Oops,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck apologetically. “Guess it was too soon to joke about our last break. Sorry about that, Jihoon. I’ll try to call in the head baker early to finish up the rest of the pastries for today.”

He walked over to where they sat and plopped himself across from Joohyun. She offered Joshua a look of sympathy, but he responded by twisting his face up in a dumb expression, reassuring her that he was just fine. Still, she couldn’t help feeling worried for both of her friends. No matter how many times Bongseon and Joshua broke it off and no matter how much Joohyun joked about it, she knew that their strong feelings for each other meant that it hurt a little every time they got into a fight. At least, that’s what she gathered from the various nights she spent soothing Bongseon while the girl cried into a toilet bowl, soju bottle still in hand.

“It’s okay, Josh, you probably don’t have to worry too much. Knowing her, she’ll probably be back in 30 minutes to make up with you and then Jihoon will have to find someone to take over your shift,” Joohyun piped up. “But please take it back to your apartment this time, because I don’t make enough money to have every surface of my apartment sanitized again.”

Joshua let out an easy laugh, as though he were not a man in deep shit. “Thank you, Joo. You always know what to say to make me feel better,” he sighed. “I should probably go after her. I’ll be back soon, Jihoon!”

She waited for him to disappear out the door before turning to her best friend. “Wow, that’s gotta be a new record for them, right? I didn’t even know they got back together until this morning.” Joohyun was surprised to find that Jihoon had been silently staring at her for a good minute now. “...Why are you looking at me?”

“What you said to Joshua,” Jihoon simply replied.

“Oh, I was only joking about the sanitation thing. I just walked in on them once in the kitchen—“

“No I mean, how you said it. Maybe that’s how you should be writing your responses.” Jihoon grinned, watching as Joohyun gave him that look again, the one where she looks at him like he’s speaking from a third head. But he knew that this was going to be another Jihoon Genius moment, which seemed to be happening more frequently lately, much to his satisfaction. “Like you’re talking to one of your friends. I mean, it made Josh feel better, right?”

Joohyun’s eyebrows scrunched together and she mulled the idea over. Without another word to Jihoon, she began to slowly type on her laptop, gradually tapping faster and faster as she gained momentum. Her best friend giddily returned to his place behind the counter to tend to the customers that just walked in. He knew that once she got into a groove, there was no hope of stopping her.

An hour later, Joohyun finally pushed away her laptop and waited for Jihoon to finish wiping down a table before calling him over. For some reason, she was anxious to show him the final product and even when he already sat besie her, she hesitated for a beat. Usually, her writing was professional and objective, always ending with a declarative period. She had spent years perfecting her reporting style so that when she presented the facts, that’s all they were. This, however, felt personal, like it was a part of her. And even though Jihoon probably knew her even better than herself sometimes, there was something so vulnerable about showing someone a side of her that she had only just discovered.

And yet, she was curious to know— desperate to know: was it any good?

“Well?” Joohyun watched for Jihoon’s reaction closely, both impatient and terrified to hear his thoughts.

“Joohyun, this...” Jihoon started slowly. She braced for impact. “This is it. I think you’ve found Miss Soju’s voice.”

She exhaled. “R-really?”

“Yes, really. You answered the questions so thoughtfully, so you know it’s not just some generic bullshit you found on the internet. Plus, it was fun to read, like I think I’d read this even if I didn’t send a letter in,” Jihoon gushed, all while skimming over the words again. He turned to smile brightly at her, reminding Joohyun of a much younger Jihoon back in their elementary school days. “Most importantly though, it’s so you.”

Joohyun returned the smile, just as brightly. Warmth bloomed in her chest and across her cheeks. “Thanks, Jihoon, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Honestly, me neither,” Jihoon laughed.

“Um, can I ask you one more thing though?” Joohyun scrolled down to the last two entries, both of which asked for advice on how to make things official with a guy they’ve been talking to. The two letters were extremely similar in detail, but had been sent from two different emails and two different signatures. At first, she thought that maybe her judgement was muddled by her lack of sleep, and as the day went on, she figured her inability to recognize any nuance between the two letters was thanks her lack of experience.

There was just something about the way they had described the boy. She knew that intelligent, funny, kind-hearted, and unbelievably handsome were pretty generic adjectives. But what were the odds for both letters to also mention his infectious laugh and deep, dark eyes? “Do you think these two are from the same person? I’m trying to go for a confession theme for this article, so I included them both, but I’m afraid they’re too similar.”

Jihoon read them over a couple of times, then shrugged. “They do sound pretty similar, but a lot of people go through that sort of thing. Also, so many people describe their crushes like that, but let’s be real, most of them end up being fuckboys. So trust me, both those people probably need your help. I mean, what’s the harm in publishing both, right?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Joohyun bit her lip, needing every ounce of reassurance she could get from her best friend. She read over her writing once, twice, thrice more. This was it. No more edits and no more excuses. Her finger hovered over the mousepad. “Okay, I”m going to send it in for approval now. Jihoon, you are about to witness me publish my first article for The Front.”

Joohyun took a deep breath and clicked. Finally.

28 notes · View notes

kornyo · 4 years

Text

Hello, my name is korny and some of you know me as a former beta, then sweet elite’s former clothing artist, that also (singlehandedly) drew the animated mini-game with momo and the little coffee and coin icons. I never had a proper introduction which is why probably most of you see me for the first time now.

I didn’t plan on publicly making a statement, but it has been brought to my attention that the se management said rude and nasty things that – most importantly – are just plain bullshit and I cannot let this be said without a proper response.

If you click this link you will find a google doc with various screenshots, showing what exactly has been going on that made me (& cecile) finally leave the team. I made the doc and the screens a few days prior to leaving (April 2019) and already shared it with all the betas and some staff back then, but also some people on tumblr who have come into my dms asking me to clarify what happened. I feel the right time has come to share this link with the public, although it might be a little confusing to understand for some.

Now, what bothers me the most about serenas ugly behaviour from the past few days is the topic of “’lazy’ cecile”. I’d like to clarify that this entire post is MY opinion, and was written because *I* am angry about this, I was not forced to write this whatsoever by Cecile or anyone else. I’ve kept my mouth shut so far bc I could not be bothered, but this is where I draw the line.

“Lazy Cecile” has been something even BEFORE my beta days (which started in January 2018). Serena used (and still does, as you can see in her latest posts) to call Cecile “lazy” a lot jokingly, but saying it that often didn’t make it funny anymore, and it certainly isn’t a nice thing to say to a good friend. She continued to say it even after Cecile approached her not to.

To add, Cecile is - if not THE - most hardworking person that ever participated in the production of the game. While juggling a full-time job, she also drew AND redrew ALL the sprites, for a short time also drew ALL the illustrations WITH customization (2 genders x 3 three different hairstyles), AND new backgrounds because An already left the team. And that’s just the art she did! She also took part in writing large chunks in almost every chapter, even writing an entire big ass chapter 7 ON HER OWN, which she now has posted on her blog @retconomics (which Serena in response tried to make us afraid by telling us how merciful she is by not suing us for copyright. Your case wouldn’t be that strong honey LMAO not without a contract anyway 😉 ). ALL WHILE WORKING A FULL DAY JOB AND GETTING A DOG, WHICH ALSO REQUIRES A LOT OF ATTENTION. Meanwhile, it took Serena several months to almost a YEAR now, guessing from the release date, to write chapter 6 and it wasn’t a rare case for her to magically loose the file or it getting corrupted. So please tell me how the fuck cecile is lazy? In any fucking way?

Her time schedule was very demanding, so of course we had to cheat a little bit, which brings me to my next point: professionalism. Serena claims that Cecile was very unprofessional, “cutting corners” and her art “unpolished” and “not up to par”. In her example of ‘proper’ professionalism, serena used this image:

Illustrating how the new artist does things better and more polished.

This is where I call huge, MAJOR bullshit.

I have worked on the sprites with cecile. Due to the tight deadline Serena has given us, Cecile would give me the rough sprites and I would finish them & look for any spots that were smudges/did not have clear edges or full transparency. Wanna know how these files looked like?

Hm! Absolutely no fucking different! The expressions were all on one layer, unlike in the example above, but as Serena said: she didn’t say anything against that. That was because Serena wanted to pump content out, which, fair enough, and she needed everyone in the team to “set priorities”, as she said. And adding so much customization was NOT a priority at that time and she knows it.

However, if it DID bug her that much, it’s her own fault if she won’t say “hey Cecile, could you put all the brows on one single layer, all the mouths etc”. And if her excuse is that Cecile lacked the time, I could’ve done it just as easily, as I worked on the sprites anyway and did not have the huge workload cecile had at that time. If the manager is unhappy with their product, they should say something, otherwise nothing will happen. So, if Serena was unhappy with the ‘lack’ of expressions (lets be real tho, 5 expressions isn’t lacking at all)? Her fault.

“Not to mention, all of the sprites will be polished and the artstyle will finally be consistent throughout the entire game (something that our old artist really struggled with at times). Also, both Alita and Ariel are awesome at what they do, take growth and sustainability seriously, and constantly look for ways to improve and build onto the world of Sweet Elite.” Taken from here (x).

Ah, yes. You want consistency and yet hired two artists with two very different styles, and even *advertised* it as something good. Also, if somebody improves art wise, they rarely stay the same way. Art is FLUID. Art CHANGES, especially while improving. And if ceciles art was so unprofessional looking and unpolished for you serena, why didn’t you just tell her to stop drawing? Why not “get rid of the garbage” sooner? Would have saved both you and cecile the clownery that has happened and is going on right now.

(taken from here)

Also calling Cecile a weakness while she literally held the weight of the entire game on her shoulders while having to provide so much art and writing while you failed to write even one chapter during all that? You’re pettier than you care to admit.

I literally could go on and on about this, but this is already 1k words, so im gonna wrap this up. But I am so mad about this “boo hoo there is a narrative spun against me ☹” “I was creatively constricted by my cowriters” (also bullshit lmao, but another topic). You’re just a big liar and an awful person overall, and don’t get me started on your boyfriend.

While you’re getting “rid of the garbage”, please also remove MY minigame which I was forced to make while I was collecting money for my dog, and pay me 100€. You can have the clothes as I actually *agreed* on doing that for no money. 25€ for all the coffee and coin icons would be appropriate as well.

Now, as a former fan thats been on this journey since 2015, I am very dissapointed in how this game is developing. You’re taking this game into a direction you promised not to - not diverse, full of clichés, mainstream. As a fan, this broke my heart. A lot.

I hope you learn that your actions have consequences and that I will NOT be quiet if you decide to spit some lies again.

#sweet elite #se-serena #long post

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jae-canikeepyou · 5 years

Text

| untold | j.jh

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader genre: angst + fluff a/n: idk but i just feel like breaking your hearts. badly written bc ur girl doesn’t proof read at all hahaha :p fluffy ending since angst endings hits the heart hard. anyway enjoy reading~

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a sigh from your boyfriend made the atmosphere more tense than before. you both had arrived to his apartment. even at the car earlier, he did not say a word. however the silence was enough for you know what was on his mind.

your friends and acquaintances did say lucky you, for you to hung out with the campus’ star and he didn’t seem to dislike your presence. it hasn’t been a year since you’ve said yes and gotten together with him. he was on every girl’s head and the man of their dreams. it wasn’t all luck and good times though. there’ve been fights with jaehyun, so often that you both had on each other’s nerves. it was normal to fight.

but to jaehyun? not so much.

especially when your relationship was a secret to everyone.

jaehyun sat tiredly on the sofa, no energy to even change his clothes. he looked at you where your heavy eyebags became more visible each day. you wanted to speak but you did know what you were getting yourself into when you did.

you huddled yourself beside him, in hopes he would talk to you. he had his arms wrapped around your waist. “y/n, why are we still doing this in secret?”

“do i have to explain myself again, jae?” you asked. “my parents.. they’re kind but they’re also strict and it’s hard to get my words to them.”

“i know but it’s hard on me too. as a man it kinda hurts my pride when my girlfriend’s.. afraid of what people might think and-”

“it’s not that i’m afraid..” you sighed as you rubbed circles on his palms.

“look, i’m fine if you wanted to keep us a secret at school, but i’m not gonna spend time pretending when i’m off-school too.”

ouch. you didn’t know how much the wound had hurt him, his honey voice turned bad. it was hard for him to endure months of hiding your relationship from everyone, his and your parents included.

you didn’t utter a word after he said that, even if you had a lot of things to say. he might view them as excuses. on the other hand, jaehyun understood the results of dating the daughter of the dean. yes, which explained why you were hard to get, closed off from dating and to focus on academics. your parents had eyes on you 24/7, but you knew they were doing it for your own good.

but he saw it differently and probably took it as a challenge. you were shackled from your parents’ discipline and orders. he knew you were kindhearted and loved them a lot so in one time during lecture, he befriended you and thought you were fun to be with despite not having friends who were ladies. and in the process of getting to know you, he fell in love.

“just a little longer i promise i’ll tell them.” you said softly.

“really? they’ll probably be cross if you tell them now. we should’ve told them when we were still new.” he slid his body to sit on the carpeted floor. his voice colder than usual. “might’ve changed their minds.”

“do you think i got a choice? i’m at a hard place right now.” you furrowed your brows.

he scoffed a laugh, a bitter one. “you got a choice to either break their rules or break my heart.” he spat in a higher tone. “choice, right?”

your quarrels with him were always about this certain topic. nothing else. your eyes stung with thin air, forming tears that you didn’t want them to fall. they did and there was no helping to it. a sniff from you made jaehyun turn around.

he never saw you cry, and it broke his heart seeing your weak self coping with the situation. his mind thought of a lot things that maybe he was too harsh on you. maybe he had put more pressure than it did before you both dated. but who knew? for now he just wanted to stop the innocent tears that were damping his clothes.

you felt constant rubs on your knees, probably his way of comfort as this was a first for him. he was facing you but you chose not to look at him in the eyes. “why does it sound like you think you’re not worth for me?”

jaehyun shot up at your words. “y/n i didn’t mean-”

“or am i not worth it to be yours? you got my heart but it seemed like you didn’t take it fully.” you said between hiccups. “ever since i told you about my parents.”

“nonono babe.” he pulled you to his embrace where you were wrapped by his frame. “you are worth it. i’m just frustrated at the fact that i’m not seeing things in a bigger picture. please don’t think that i don’t love you enough.”

you just sobbed and to him this was new. jaehyun nuzzled himself onto your neck. “oh y/n, i just think saying out loud means it’s real.”

“and hiding us does not make us real?” you sniffed, only to be stopped when your phone buzzed. “i gotta take this.”

jaehyun hit himself internally. stupid. he heard tiny voices telling him he has a handsome face but a fire tongue— qualities of a turn-off.

“hi mom.” your hoarse voice echoed the living area. “no no i’m not crying. i’m not feeling well that’s all. mhm..”

your soft voice and the growing anxiety made jaehyun shuffle in the sofa several times. he only saw your parents from afar and truly they seemed to be people of hard approach, let alone to last a good conversation with them.

“what?”

jaehyun’s heart couldn’t stop from feeling anxious. any word from your parents have always caused him to flinch or to cross his arms.

“you saw me earlier?”

busted..

“y-you want to meet him?”

oh man..

jaehyun practically nudged you, panicking like he did something wrong. however your mother’s tone seemed eager, open and kindhearted than most days. you pressed the call on mute as your eyes shot daggers to your boyfriend, well at least to him that was how it looked like.

“what did she say?” jaehyun bit his lips.

you sighed heavily, but a smile from you was not noticeable for jaehyun to see. “my parents wants have dinner with us tomorrow.”

his expression was as if his soul had left him. “ah r-really?”

you decided to unmute the call. “mom, i think- oh.. i see..” you covered your mouth.

jaehyun had a lot of things in his mind. whatever the outcome, he thought he would be ready for it. his body couldn’t take the silence as he saw you listening to your mother, staring into space.

“okay. we’ll be there. love you too. bye.” you ended the call.

jaehyun has his arms all over the place, plopped down onto the sofa while hitting his head onto a pillow. a bit dramatic but that was because he doesn’t know, yet. “babe! i didn’t agree on this!” he complained, later scoffed at the thought of meeting your parents sooner than expected.

“you didn’t. but your parents agreed.” you said.

“of course i did not- wait what?” his brows knotted. “what did you say?”

“it’s your parents who agreed for the dinner tomorrow.” you shrugged as you tapped his shoulders for him to sit with you on the sofa.

he was still dumbfounded. you waved your hands in front of him. “babe, my mom just told me she’s best friends with your mom.”

“ha?” he asked, looking more dumbfounded. “if that’s the case what’s the point of us doing this in secret?” he groaned, his body slowly laying down.

“i’m sorry..?” you singsonged. “jae, we didn’t know they’re best friends.” you wiggled his sloppy body, a laugh escaping from your lips as he pulled you to his chest.

you got up to where your hands rested on his, admiring him when his smile shocked you. “you’re not angry anymore?”

he pecked your lips, his hands instinctively cupping your neck. “i’m not.”

“isn’t this good for the both of us? i mean we could-”

“i’m very angry at you for making me think the call was gonna be the end of us!” he lifted you in a bridal style, spinning you around. “the short silence was too scary!”

“like the heck i know it’s gonna be a dinner!” you laughed. you felt your body being put down.

jaehyun caressed your cheeks again, kissing you like he did earlier. “did your mother say anything else?”

“if i tell you, will you not freak out? or melt?” you asked with your hands gesturing in the air.

“if that’s what my girl wants, i’ll try not to.” his chuckled.

“you know my parents didn’t want me to date, right?” you bit your lips. jaehyun stared into your eyes, waiting for an answer. “well, my mom met your mom to discuss about me because she had a hunch i was dating. so when she saw us earlier, she took a picture and showed it your mom.”

“and?” he trailed his word.

“your mom was like ‘that’s my son!’ and basically my mom felt giddy because she wanted her best friend’s son for.. me.” you said in one breath, deciding not to repeat it again.

you looked to jaehyun, who was now holding in a smile. he wanted to be a man of his word, but couldn’t anyway because it was about you. “isn’t this kind of an arranged marriage?” he asked.

“i wouldn’t say it’s arranged..” you trailed off. “more like.. destined?”

jaehyun had reached his limit, his body collapsing onto the carpeted floor. you laughed as his ears reddened than before. “i don’t like this! i’m too happy to even look at you right now!” he grabbed and hugged onto a nearby stuffed animal he got from ikea.

“i guess everything’s okay now.” you stood there as you looked down at jaehyun.

“help me up babe.” he acted cute but you weren’t buying it. “please?”

“fine.” you brought forth your hands, only to be pulled down to the floor with jaehyun.

“i love you so much.”

#jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun nct #nct 127 #nct #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun oneshot

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bucketofchum · 4 years

Text

1.5 years after I moved out, I wrote a review

so idk how many of y’all are still around for 1.5 years ago, when I was in a shitty ass housing situation. I had been putting off writing a review bc I was afraid if I ran into the landlady again (since I still live in the same small town), it would lead to.. bad times. But since then, I have met 2 other tenants who have had her and also had a terrible experience. So I felt guilty that I had not written about my experiences which might have been able to warn them. Anyhow, for those who care to read, I put my review under the cut:

While this room might be a good option for someone staying only for a few days, I do not recommend this for anyone staying for 1 month or longer. I came as a foreign student, looking for longterm housing. Ultimate, I stayed there for 2-3 months but honestly even one month was too much. But I had nowhere else to go and because she required a minimum of 2 months’ provisional time before she allowed me to leave as a tenant. If you want to stay as a long term resident, you should be aware of certain things.

First, R has a young daughter. While the daughter is friendly and fun, it was not written anywhere that there would be children in the house. There were some mornings when I woke up to the girl screaming, shrieking, and crying loudly for 30+ minutes because she did not want to shower, brush her teeth, get dressed. The same thing happens at night when she does not want to go to bed or brush teeth. I have recordings of the yelling and crying from the room – it has woken me up or kept me up multiple times. Additionally, there were days when R expected me to babysit her daughter. She asked me to tutor her daughter in schoolwork, making sure she finished all of her schoolwork. I would be fine with this as a request but not as a demand or expectation, especially without pay. I work full time and I did not anticipate spending hours on Sunday tutoring a child.

Second, R has a cat. Fortunately, I like cats, but I am also allergic. This was not mentioned anywhere in the bio, and since leaving, I have been informed by later residents that she now actually has two cats. Again, despite my allergies, I enjoy animals, so this was not the main issue so much as the fact that R has a habit of not being completely forthcoming.

Thirdly, on that topic, R’s personal relationships impacted my stay. Her ex-husband would come to the house every other week or so, and R did not want him to know that she was renting out the room. So she had me clean up the room and put all my things away to make the room seem as though it were empty and she was not renting it out. I hide all of my things in the closet and under the bed. Then, I had to leave the house for some time while her ex-husband was in the house. She would text me when it was okay to come back. This happened several times – as I said, every other weekend or so.

Fourthly, R would occasionally come into the room when I was not in the house. I don’t know if this was an everyday thing or perhaps every few days? At first I noticed that the window would be either opened or closed or the blinds up or down, in a way I did not leave them. I asked her if she came into the room (it was apparent) and she said no. There is no lock for the room, so no way to stop her from entering. I know she is very particular about the way she wants the windows and the blinds, so she will always correct you, regardless of how you put it. One day, I found a comb set neatly on my table. I asked her, again, if she went into the room. She said no. I asked where the comb came from then? She said “Oh, I thought it was yours.” It was not. She never acknowledged to going into the room, only saying she thought the comb was mine. It was neither of ours, so I can only assume it was her daughter’s. Which would suggest that not only does R enter the room when I am not home, so does her daughter.

I will say one thing, though – R likes her house cleaned in a very particular way. She expects you to maintain it this way as well, which is very reasonable. It felt less like I was paying a landlord for a room and more like I was paying to have a mother hover over me and tell me to do my chores. You have access to the kitchen, but she is extremely particular about the way you use it. She’ll hover over your shoulder and remind you to do certain things while you are cooking. Reminding you also how to clean the kitchen counter even while you are in the middle of cooking. The door must be open when you are cooking – to not make the house smell like food. The back wall of the stove area must be cleaned. Certain pots and pans are better than others. In the end, I did not use the kitchen more than 3 times in two months because I couldn’t handle her hovering over my shoulder reminding me every 15 seconds what I should be doing. Sweeping and mopping the floors was another matter entirely.

There are plenty of other matters as well, but essentially, during the first month (May), I felt so uncomfortable in the house that I preferred to just stay outside, from sunrise until sunset. Leaving before they woke up and coming back after they had gone to bed. Fortunately, since it was May, sunset was very late and the weather was pleasant, so I could walk outside in the park until 11pm.

At this point, I was wondering if perhaps I was too sensitive and just reading R incorrectly. After one month, a second tenant came – also a foreigner coming here from Cambodia to work/study. He was very quick to tell me that things were unpleasant with her and he was uncomfortable about a lot of things about her. But he decided to bite his tongue and just survive the month since he had already paid. Several months later, I also met another girl from Vietnam who had just arrived to France. I asked her how it was and she was in tears, saying it was not good at all. She told me that she had this crazy landlady and she was so miserable. As she told me more and more stories, realising she lives in the same town as me, I asked her the name of her landlady because I suspected it was the same as mine. It was indeed R.

When I finally was able to move out (I found a studio apartment, living by myself), R was understandably very upset. She told me I was obligated to pay an additional full month’s rent because I did not give her enough warning time (I gave her a month). We eventually settled it down to half a month, but she wanted me gone immediately after. As it turned out, having an entire apartment rented all for myself cost less than having this room in R’s house.

For me, this was one of the worst “long term” housing situations I have ever had. It was only two months, but those two months seemed like an eternity. I am certain that R is wonderfully hospitable for people with shorter stays. Several days or a week or so is fine, with limited interaction with R. But I do not recommend this room for anyone staying one month or longer, or even perhaps 2-3 weeks.

It took me 1.5 years to come back to write this comment because I did not want to relive the experience and I was afraid of the repercussions of maybe running into her again.

#personal #housing situation

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queerhargreeves · 5 years

Note

Really feverish Luther? Very delirious and vulnerable, and ends up blurting all his insecurities and self hate and secret training that Reginald made him do (i have a headcanon that Luther has messed pain sensors bc Reginald would train him to have an unbelievably high pain tolerance bc of his strength and usefulness). The whole family ends up taking care of him as he sobs. Pls and ty!!

sorry this took so long!!! i hope this is alright

The second Luther opens his eyes he wishes he hadn’t. His now awake body was greeted with an intense pounding behind his skull. His entire body ached. He gulped and was met with the feeling of swallowing glass and gravel. He can’t remember the last time he was sick - it had to have been at least 20 years when he was a child.

Reginald never let him rest long enough to get sick. Or he just wasn’t able to tell anymore. Most training days for dearest Number One were spent in the gym or local junkyards. 5 hours a day on the treadmill, unable to get off until he ran at least 35 miles, was his warm up. By the time he was 4, simple dumbbells were too easy for the boy. He could deadlift 400 lbs easy, so the next step up was cars. Mobile homes, vans, semi trucks, weren’t even enough to please his father. He could swing an entire house across the yard, the home crashing in a loud boom and wood exploding everywhere. He’d look back at his father, grin on his face, looking for any sort of praise. Any sort of acknowledgment. But he was met with a scowl and complaint every single time.

Eventually, Luther’s body couldn’t feel pain like his siblings could. He had gotten shot, stabbed, sliced, even burned on missions and he would always finish the task at hand without fail. It didn’t matter how deep a bullet went or how severe the burn was, it would always feel like a simple graze.

Which is why this is concerning. But he had no time rest though; the Hargreeves had plans today. The entire fam was going to the beach, per Ben’s request. Now that he’s been fairly corporeal for a few months now and able to actually feel again, he hasn’t been able to shut up about the beach. And of course, they all happily obliged in their request. If they could make their brother, who they had all been without for so long, happy they would absolutely do it. Luther couldn’t take that moment away from him.

Luther took deep breath before swinging the sheets off his body and sitting up, wincing as he did so. The pounding in his head was damn persistent, he’ll give it that. He swiftly got up from the bed and made his way to his closet, avoiding the mirror along the way. He picked out a large sweater with, of course, an overcoat. Even if he was feeling uncomfortably hot he needed to appear as if nothing was wrong. He changed within a few moments and finished with his morning routine.

He could hear the light banter of his family as he made his way down the staircase and into the kitchen. The current topic of conversation was of course about their trip today.

“Hey Van, maybe you’ll finally get a tan, huh? Lord knows you could use some Vitamin D!” Klaus teased, his tone light and playful.

“As if you’re one to talk.” Diego snorted, flicking a blueberry at his brother.

“Brother dearest, not all of us are blessed with glorious melanin like you.” He retorted, catching the blueberry and plopping it into his mouth.

“Morning Luther.” Five greeted from the table, raising his coffee cup at the man.

“M-morning.” Luther replied, his voice raspy both from not using his voice yet and the gravel. He winced slightly, clearing his throat and beelining into the kitchen to whip himself a plate of pancakes to avoid any questioning.

Once he made made his plate he joined the rest of the Hargreeves at the table, next to Vanya on the edge. He eyes the plate of pancakes in front of him, the thought of eating them making his stomach churn. But he can’t let them know something’s up - he can’t ruin Ben’s special day. So he bring a bite to his mouth, attempting to keep his face as straight as possible as the pancake scrapes along his pained throat. He does it again, adamant on finishing his breakfast.

He may not be their leader anymore, but dammit he’s still the big brother. He’s not going to let this silly little bug get to him, he can’t. That’s weakness. He can’t show that to his siblings. So he trecks on.

The family is talking about something, but he can’t quite make it out. He can’t really make anything out. His vision starts to blur and he drops his fork, blinking furiously.

“…Luther?” He hears from somewhere around him but he can’t quite make out from who.

“Mmmm fine.” He slurs, taking his shaking hand and picking up the fork.

“Jesus, Lu, you’re burning up!” He feels a cool hand on his flushed forehead.

“I said I’m fffine…” He slurred once more, but that was all Allison needed to hear before going into mom mode.

“Vanya, Ben, go to the infirmary and get some antibiotics. Klaus and Five, go upstairs and get the Queen size bed on wheels. Bring blankets and pillows. Diego, help me get Luther to the couch.” Allison stood up, pointing at each of her siblings as she explained.

They siblings all scurried off to complete their assigned tasks. Allison and Diego immediately went to Luther’s side. He was flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face. He was shaking lightly, fork still in his hand.

“Lu, Klaus and Five are gonna get you a bed okay?” Allison explained softly, resting the back of her hand against her brother’s forehead.

“Shit.” She breathed, glancing over at Diego who had a matching look of concern.

“No, I’m fine…we have to go to beach today, remember?” Luther said in a strained voice, pushing his chair back stumbling as he attempted to stand.

“Woah there big guy, easy. You’re not going anywhere.” Diego put a gentle hand on his shoulder, shoving him back in his seat.

Luther let out a pathetic whine but complied nonetheless.

“I ruined the trip…” He whispered, voice cracking.

Before Allison or Diego could get a chance to respond, they heard Klaus’ cheery voice from the other room.

“One queen size bed fit for a queen sized brother!~”

“Okay bro, we’re going to stand now. Think you can do it?” Diego asked, tone soft.

Luther nodded, letting Diego wrap an arm around his waist as he wrapped his around his shoulders. He didn’t know when Klaus came in, but the wiry brother was on his other side. The three of them made their way into the living room where the bed was set up.

“Down we go…” Klaus and Diego gently helped Luther get seated on the bed. Vanya and Ben come down the stairs a few moments later, making their way into the living room with medicine and Grace’s infamous chicken noodle soup in tow.

“Hey bro,” Klaus started, his hand clutching the collar of Luther’s coat.

“ We should probably take that coat off, no? You’re practically a furnace!” He started to push the thick grey coat off his shoulder but was met with a strong hand on his wrist. He jumped a bit in surprise, looking up and meeting Luther’s eyes.

“Nooo.” He whined softly. “It needs to stay on, please.”

“Luther, I promise you’ll feel better once it’s off, okay?” Klaus insisted, breaking his grip and shoving the rest of the coat off his body.

“Jesus, you’re wearing a sweater too? Al, think you could go get Luther a t-shirt?”

Allison nodded and promptly made her way upstairs to do so. Klaus threw the coat on the couch next to them, plopping himself down on it himself. Ben did the same, both of them watching their brother with concern.

“No no no…you’re gonna see…I’m…” Luther started to panic, his voice trembling.

“See what, Luther?” Vanya asked, her voice calm. She was always the best at handling all of her siblings emotions. She had watched them destroy each other and themselves from the sidelines for so long. She could read them like a book (hah).

“Here, this’ll help.” She placed a glass of water and meds in his hand, nodding at him to take them.

Luther silently followed orders, grimacing as he felt the pills go down. Vanya smiled, satisfied with Luther’s obedience and took the glass from him, placing it on the coffee table a few feet away. Allison came back a few moments later with a green thin t-shirt in her hand.

“Here Luther, put this on yeah?” Allison tossed the shirt on the bed and Luther furiously shook his head. She frowned, confused at his unusual display of stubbornness.

“Luther, why are you so adamant on wearing that sweater?” She asked, trying her best to not sound accusatory.

“Don’t want you guys to see.” He repeated, shaking his head once more.

“See what?” Vanya asked again.

“Jesus guys, he’s talking about his body.” Five finally spoke up, sighing loudly. He picked up the shirt and placed it in Luther’s hand.

“Luther, we don’t care what you look like, alright? We already know what’s under that thick sweater of yours, there’s no need to feel ashamed.”

“No, no, no. It’s bad! I’m…I’m a monster. I-I ruined Ben’s trip…I did it again. I ruin things.” His voice continued to tremble and each of the Hargreeves felt their hearts breaking.

“Oh Luther.” Ben got up from Klaus’ side and made his way to Luther’s. “You didn’t ruin anything, alright? It’s not your fault you’re sick, I’m not mad. We can go another time. I wouldn’t have fun knowing you weren’t feeling well anyway.” He rubbed his arm, offering a small smile.

“Think you can put the shirt on? We can leave the room when you do if you want.”

Luther clutched the shirt in his hands tighter, still refusing to believe his brother. He knows rationally he’d never lie of course, Ben was always the most gentle of the seven, but he doesn’t understand how he couldn’t be mad at him.

“No I did. I ruined your trip. I just break things. That’s the only thing I’m good at.. I’m no leader! I just hurt people. I-I deserved to be mutilated. Dad sent me away for a reason!” He was rambling incoherently at this point, tears streaming freely down his face. His voice was getting louder as he ignored his throat screaming at him to stop. “ I-I should’ve stayed on the moon. I can’t stand to look at what I’ve become…I’m hideous. I used to be so good for Dad. I would run 35 miles in a day for him! I-I’d throw semi-trucks and houses acres wide, no matter if I dislocated my shoulder everytime. I’d jump off six story buildings again and again, breaking my knees and ankles over and over. I was good I always did what he wanted…but I wasn’t good enough. I was never enough! I shouldn’t have come back I-I should’ve fucking stayed! I-I…” A sob escaped the man’s body, his body jerking forward.

Ben immediately wrapped his arms around his sobbing brother the best he could manage, his chest tightening at the way he broke in front of him. Luther’s shoulders shook violently with each sob that wracked his body. He glanced up to look around the room, all the siblings with matching looks of horror and shock.

Reginald was hard on all of them of course, but they never knew the extent of Luther’s training. Constant broken limbs? Strained muscles? God, they couldn’t imagine. They never knew how deeply what he did to him and his body affected him. They didn’t know how deep that pain ran.

“Jesus, Lu.” Klaus breathed as he got up from his seat and plopped down on the other side of Luther and wrapped his arms around him. Vanya silently followed from behind, Allison and Five doing the same. Diego crouched down in front of his brother and joined in on the group hug, all of them giving their brother the time he needed to break. To let it out, after all these years. Lord knows they’ve all had these moments of realization where their pain just hits them. But Luther hadn’t, not until now.

After a few minutes, Luther’s breathing eventually evened out. They heard a few sniffles, causing the hug to break. They all stumbled back, giving Luther some space. Vanya was the first to speak up.

“Luther I’m so sorry. But we love you, okay? You’re not a monster, you didn’t deserve anything that happened to you. You’re a good leader and even better brother.” She spoke softly, her eyes kind and brimmed with tears.

Luther cleared his throat, giving a weak nod and a small smile. He didn’t believe her, not yet at least.

“You think you can put the shirt on now, bud? We’ll stop pestering once you do.” Five asked cautiously, voice devoid of its usual snark and angst.

“Yeah.” He croaked out, “Thank you, guys. I’m sorry you had to see that. I-”

“Nope.” Five quickly interjected, pointing at Luther, “No apologizing. We’re here for you.”

Luther opened his mouth to object but closed it, knowing it was a lost cause. He just gave a shy smile and an appreciative nod.

“Do you want us to leave?” Allison asked, nodding towards the shirt in his hands.

“Uh…” Luther trailed before shaking his head. “No. I-It’s alright, you can stay.”

She smiled, “We’ll stay here as long as you need, okay?”

Luther let himself believe that, even just for now. And they did, they stayed. They stayed as he changed, none of their eyes lingering on his new body. They stayed as he got comfortable in the bed, as he ate Grace’s soup. They chatted about everything and nothing at all. Klaus even brought the TV over and they all cuddled around one another on the bed and couches. They made have not gone to the beach that day, but sick movie marathon was just as fun. Even if Five got sick after, it was worth it to see their brother truly comfortable and content for the first time in ages.

#luther hargreeves #sick fic #luther defense squad #luther positivity #tua #tua fanfic #the umbrella academy #Ben hargreeves #diego hargreeves #Allison hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves

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roominthecastle · 5 years

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"Rassvet” delves into the time period between Katarina’s first suicide attempt in February, 1991 (following her run-in w/ the Osterman death squad) & the strategic “resurrection of Raymond Reddington”. Timeline-wise we are good here, imo, otherwise things get... interesting. More behind the cut:

Red told Liz that her mother walked into the ocean 2 months after the Christmas fire (1990). This date checks out. At the shelter, we can hear the news announcing the results of the Lithuanian Independence Referendum. This happened (for real) on February 10, 1991. We also know that Ilya/Red had his first surgical procedure on October 3, 1991. So it’s an 8-month period and not 6 as Liz says, but it’s not that big of a difference (you’re bad at simple math, Liz, and I can relate). Dom says that the various reconstructive surgeries took place over a one-year period, so Ilya/Red likely walked into the first bank towards the end of 1992. Katarina was still alive here and that matches Dom’s claims that 1) he came to the US after the collapse of the Soviet Union (so anytime after December 31, 1991) and 2) that he met Katarina a few months after he arrived, then he never saw or heard from her again. And this is where Dom’s story ends.

Katarina’s “death”, however, is trickier. The show’s been playing fast and loose w/ Red’s “I’ve never lied to you” for a while now, and what he’s told Liz about her mother’s death is def on the very loose end here. Ilya/Red claimed Katarina committed suicide. Well, she did (“I went into the ocean to end my life.”), it was just an unsuccessful one and Ilya/Red did believe her to be dead for a while. He also claimed she was never the same after the fire, and her death is treated as a symbolic one throughout this episode, too (“The woman who walked into the ocean is dead.”). But I still think she is likely dead for real now, she just died later as a consequence of their Reddington Charade, likely as a result of a betrayal that contributed to why Red is the way he is today, why he accepts nothing less than utmost/undivided loyalty, and why he feels so much guilt around Liz, believing that he can never give back what he took from her.

So the dates are fine and, at the end of the day, “Lizzie, your mother is dead” is a statement that holds true, imo (at the very least as a “clever turn of phrase” if Kat is “gone” like Samar is, i.e. never coming back, never able to reach out). For now, I am at peace w/ this.

We also have confirmation that Ilya/Red was indeed there when Liz shot her father. They pulled the dying Reddington from the flames before the firefighters arrived, but he soon died in Katarina’s arms. Then -- after burying him -- Ilya/Red and Kat probably went their separate ways bc he only read about her suicide and had no idea that she survived. In fact, we find him back at work at the Embassy all perky and business as usual, which feels emotionally disjointed from the importance Katarina seems to suddenly take on in his life when he decides to sacrifice everything to protect her. Interestingly, he makes no mention of Liz in this initial vow of protection. In fact, he seems to have no particular investment/interest in Liz whatsoever, and, as we know, his promise of taking care of her “as his own” is never followed through, either.

So if Katarina is as important to him as that monumental sacrifice implies, how come he wasn’t out of his mind with grief before when he thought she’d drowned? With Liz, he is emotionally consistent: his devotion is 100% and so is his devastation when he believes her to be dead. I don’t see this w/ Katarina. There is an inconsistency here that makes me think that there was more behind his willingness to take over Reddington’s identity than a childhood pledge but the answer to this is in the missing parts of the story.

I am def not disputing that Katarina was important to him. They clearly had a bond. I think that childhood pledge was real, too, bc it’s something Dom would know about and it got repeated. I also buy the unrequited & unconditional love scenario bc it fits Red’s personality and he already dropped a comment about this to Liz. But I don’t see them as lovers.

Katarina was decidedly not interested, she was devastated by Reddington’s death, even had a second suicide attempt. She was in love w/ Reddington and also married to/lived with Kirk in Soviet Russia at the time Ilya/Red was stationed in Washington, so I really don’t see how tacking on a 3rd (long-distance) relationship would have fit her life or why. In this ep, they also stayed in separate hotel rooms, Ilya/Red knocked before trying to enter hers -- this behavior doesn’t match two people being in an established intimate relationship (even if it’s on-again, off-again) and I got the same vibe from Red’s POV in “Cape May”, too. Liz is his life and heart, the woman he loves, and after this latest episode, the parallel btw how Katarina and Red react to the death of the person they were in love with is clearer and stronger than ever. For Katarina it was real Reddington. For Red, it is Liz. And I am not even gonna get into the “my child is being raised by someone else” angle but it parallels, too: Katarina put a pin in her original “plan” and came back to make sure Liz was safe. Red did the same for Agnes.

Anyway, what we have in “Rassvet” is, imo, a blend of standard limited 3rd person narration + a curious (infuriating? depends on your perspective) case of an unreliable narrator, which resulted in 2/3 of the messages I got that range from “WTF did I just watch?” to “it doesn’t really add up” and “what about his family??” I don’t believe it’s supposed to add up (yet) and stuff is missing (for now) for a reason.

This ep taps into the signature style of previous flashbacks:

“Cape May” is Red’s distorted recollection filtered through a cocktail of opium, guilt, grief, and suicidal ideation

“Requiem” is Mr. Kaplan’s trip down memory lane that’s skewed by her severe physical/mental/emotional traumas

“Rassvet” is a classic story-inspired-by-true-events Dom tells his granddaughter

There is no objective record of past events presented to us in TBL. We never had that and we might never will. We have memories from sources that are compromised -- biased, altered, censored, redacted -- in various ways, and “narrators” who are unreliable for various reasons. In other words, we have stories and storytellers with agendas.

The lack of reliable omniscient narration becomes evident in “Rassvet” that fittingly revolves around the creation of an identity from a mix of hard facts and anecdotes -- “some true, grounded in reality, some invented” -- for a purpose that (imo) remains partially obscured. It is perfectly captured in both Red’s scene w/ Liz and his subsequent confrontation with our most recent storyteller, Dom: “I know the broad strokes, I know who I am. I need to know the details of exactly what you’ve thrown out there into the ether.”

Red used to be Ilya but the Ilya we see in this episode is Dom’s version -- idealized and incomplete, mostly to fit the story and Dom’s reasons for telling it. This is why Red needs to know what exactly has been said, imo. Liz has already told him the broad strokes and he is Ilya, but the details Dom used to color over things ended up painting a distorted picture that made Red twitch as he listened to Liz in that restaurant. “I know who I am”, he tells Dom but it sure seemed that he only recognized parts of himself in what Liz repeated back to him. The technicalities of him becoming Reddington were told. The whys and hows of his mental/emotional de-evolution are still unclear, imo. This is what Liz touches upon, as well, when she asks him why he stayed Reddington after his alleged original motivation (accessing the $40-million “frame fund” to use it to stay ahead of those hunting Katarina and him) was satisfied. And he naturally dodges her question.

Red detests monsters who masquerade as saviors. This was established at the very beginning when he demolished one of Liz’s idols, as was his view of himself as a violent, ruthless man and self-proclaimed monster who’s sick with guilt and grief and can only atone by protecting Liz. But now, thanks to Dom’s story, she has a skewed view of him as some selfless hero with the purest of original motivations. He was visibly uncomfortable when she believed him to be her father bc he is not that. He is uncomfortable to be perceived as her hero, too, bc he is not that, either, and he def does not see himself that way, either.

Red knows what we know and is angry about it: Dom omitted parts from his narrative and embellished or maybe even invented others. Dom blamed Red for Katarina’s death. He forgave her betrayal but not Red’s (which reminded me of Aram’s situation w/ Levi and Red’s reaction to it), and we have seen Red blaming himself, too, but that tragedy, the event necessitating a “Hobson’s choice” (either letting both Liz and Katarina die or saving one) is missing from the story. Dembe once told Red that Liz may never be ready to hear what he did to Katarina, but there is no trace of that in Dom’s story; it is all unconditional love and pure sacrifice. There is no trace of Red’s own family tragedy, either, but I still don’t believe any of this is forgotten or rewritten.

The former is likely omitted bc Dom’s “storytelling agenda” was to reconnect with Liz, smooth things over, and help everyone move forward. This motivation was floated in the previous episode via his carside chat w/ Red that’s all about the topic of forgiveness: “Why did she turn you in? What did you do that made her want to do that?” | “I haven't ever been totally forthright about myself. She thought she'd have a better chance of finding out more if I was in prison and couldn't interfere.” And it is brought to a conclusion -- on Dom’s part -- at the end of “Rassvet” when he tells Red: “What you need to do is to thank me for putting all of this behind you.” I think the story was Dom’s way of offering forgiveness to Red (a response to his “You forgave Katarina but not me” in the previous ep) and helping him move on. He believes he told Liz enough to give her closure, too. Red seems to disagree, claiming that this likely made things worse. He’s probably right and I cannot wait to see how it unfolds.

I think the other major omission -- that of Red’s family tragedy that’s been alluded to in earlier seasons -- is not in Dom’s story bc he doesn’t know about it. At least I had this feeling when Red showed up on Dom’s doorstep after Liz’s “death”. Dom acted like Red had never experienced the devastating loss of a family, saying sth along the lines of “You think now you know how I feel?!” If he knew about Red’s/Ilya’s wife and daughter, he never would have said that, imo. Also, Red was an operative and worked in the Ambassador’s Residence in D.C. that still housed the Soviet embassy in 1991. When he met younger Dom in Moscow, he greeted him by saying “Sir, it’s been too long.” So they were likely not in touch for a long time and Ilya/Red was stationed in the US for who knows how long and for what mission (it seems he was translating a report on a USA/USSR Maritime Boundary Agreement when Katarina’s crossword code popped up on the screen). This “blank period” gives us room for that missing story piece (which likely happened around/after 1987) and a plausible reason for Dom to not be aware of it.

Dom was not aware of the existence of the Cabal, either, until Katarina got caught up in their web, so I think it’s v likely that they were also responsible for killing Ilya/Red’s family, which -- coupled w/ wanting to protect Katarina -- would be a proper, plausible motivation for him to take on Reddington’s identity given that it provided him w/ something even better than $40 million: tangible access to the Cabal and the Fulcrum. The new identity brought the seed money and a stepping stone to launch his Odyssean mission.

#tbl spoilers #tbl spec #long post #lizzington #hope you guys accept this as a sort of 'blanket response'#the stuff i didn't touch upon but was asked about will come separately soon

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viktcrr-archive · 5 years

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MAXENCE DANET FAUVEL / NONBINARY. — viktor samuels is really making a name for themselves as a tier 3 shepherd. i think that he/they are studying english + visual arts in their senior year at lockwood, living in peregrinis. originally from rochester, new york, viktor is known to be observant & ingenious, but can also be reticent & dependent. — james / 20 / est / she/they.

3/5 !!! once again ... little edits

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

a e s t h e t i c s

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts.

general info !!

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′0″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: uuuhhh god … probably pan tbh

stats

biography !!

okay so … born and raised in rochester, new york to the well known samuels family. preacher father, a mother, a twin sister born 15 minutes before him - aka tatiana samuels, who died back in january.

kinda … grew up as a really awkward, quiet kid? like … just didn’t really interact with other kids super well, preferred being alone and like … digging up bugs in the dirt. only friend was like … his own sister.

grew out of this as they got older, instead sort of … becoming a bit of a dick? to compensate for years of awkwardness? will bite the hand that feeds him. was a full on nuisance by middle school. tatiana was not, at least, noticeably.

has always been a fan of darker materials, y’know - grim and creepy, morbid shit. big fan of tim burton ever since he was a kid, which isn’t … a good look for a preacher’s son, but he’s never really felt ~in~ with the rest of his family, anyway.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid probably tbh that prompted one or two or five phone calls home 2 assure everything was fine.

has always been really … good at art, in general - from drawing to painting to playing with clay, that’s always been viktor’s Thing.

aNyWaYs. being tatiana’s twin brother was kinda hard sometimes. tatiana and him were near opposites besides their same mean-spirited trait. she was better in the public than he was, but viktor was arguably more talented than tatiana. they both loved each other deeply and found each other as competition for their parents’ attention - a rivalry, of sorts.

high school is when viktor really started to act out - started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service. almost had an exorcism performed on him, probably.

the only redeemable trait was like … his sheer talent with art. was in a 3d art AP course, specialized in sculpting - could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because his parents would be focused on disciplining him for his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with stuff easier. so like, y’know, that’s on the bright-side of things.

never been particularly motivated to do much - wasn’t planning on attending lockwood but his parents kinda … did and sent in his application for him b/c they were Not on board with him Wasting Away (wanted him out of the house asap)

actually pretty smart !! just doesn’t like … want to apply himself ever. double majoring in english and visual arts because they’re like … two of his only interests :/ plus he wants to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s

he’d been experimenting since high school but college is where he really started to like … crack down on himself and figure himself out. was out as pan & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college, just … not to his family, necessarily. thinks tatiana always knew, but didn’t … really use it against him, blessedly enough

always felt like the whole twin - connection thing was … both wack and also not-wack? sometimes it felt believable but sometimes he had no idea what was going on in tatiana’s head. but he felt oddly transparent to her, always - like he was predictable to no one but her.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

but when tatiana disappeared - it was like, like viktor knew. the moment she had been kidnapped - felt something deeply wrong in his gut. and when tatiana died - viktor felt something cut so severely in him. he knew, he always knew exactly when. he couldn’t put his finger on how - but he knew. even when everybody else held out hope for her to be found - he knew.

went on a bender around the same time, had always struggled w/ drug addiction but it got worse the longer tatiana went without being found.

( also struggled heavily with his mental health, too ?? has manic and depressive episodes. will fixate on a sculpting project for six months and then purposely knock it off the table and destroy it in the matter of seconds once it’s finished for. no fucking reason. impulse spends A Lot. )

when her body was found, viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing and being hospitalized where he spent the next like … however long months … until they deemed him better.

stayed out of school until very recently b/c he just … didn’t want to go back. didn’t want to deal with it. didn’t want to be known as the dead girl’s twin. but then his mom kinda just was like ‘u go back 2 school or god so help me’ n he was like FINE.

so ya !! viktor’s back after being gone since tatiana’s body was found. that’s it, that’s him, a lil glimpse of his life.

trying to finish his senior year b/c he … obviously left before he could.

finding out that it was george who killed tatiana has ultimately ... caused viktor to spiral. his lows are some of his lowest, his highs are ... very high, but very bad. unstable & unpredictable in his actions it’s ... a whole thing :/

personality !!

the human embodiment of a gremlin, fed after midnight. a goblin, if u will. one of those cats with a narrow head and big ass ears. that’s him.

b i g horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies. probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than he should. love those vertically striped pants!

fashion alternates between e-boy (would b tik tok famous if he were like … 17), millennial beetlejuice, and like … goth in a crop top and sweatpants. big fan of crop tops. big fan of sweatpants.

he can be fucking mean. petty, aggressive, instigator. will literally spit in ur face or no reason. kind of person who’ll stick his gum into other ppl’s hair. other than that he’s like … pretty okay. he’s not always mean, he’s just a dick like … 70% of the time lmao

i mean yeah okay he’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except He Feels Like It And Believes It. it’s fine he’s fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact tht he’s probably getting into fights whenever - considers himself 2 be a lover n not a fighter but that’s just because he Fucks a lot. kind of uses it like a coping mechanism, like he’s this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ may have a problem w/ hypersexuality but it’s nothing he’s fully. aware of.

the preacher’s whore son, basically

like i said he’s pan & nb, switches between he and they pronouns but like … he has such a fragile grip on his identity that u could call him ‘dog-faced bitch’ and he’d turn like hey wassup :)

vastly impulsive, like i’ve mentioned … destroys his own creations 4 the fun of it, spends all his money on useless shit, will cheat on someone bc he feels like it. screams into the night sky frequently, like a cat in heat.

i mean he also creates useless shit for no reason too. spent six months sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of him and then took a sledgehammer to it.

dramatic fuck. used to play the organ at the church like … when no one was looking after him and service was about to start. just these creepy as melodies. would do the same thing at home on his keyboard w/ the organ setting whenever he got grounded until his parents took away his keyboard sadjfkg

won’t talk about his time away b/c it’s not rly anybody’s business but ofc nothing is sacred to the watershed app, y’know, nothing’s private.

still like - he absolutely refuses to talk about tatiana’s death and like, his mental health or his addiction (he’s fallen back into it tbh but it hasn’t gotten bad again … yet) or like … anything involving his own emotions

will literally just change the topic! abruptly, no warning, asks about the jonas brothers instead.

that being said he’s obsessed with tatiana’s death. tatiana was very much a rock for him, kinda dependent on her in a way? just … being there, y’know, kept him grounded.

so he obv became a shepherd bc he wants to know Everything there is abt the app, wants to be deep inside it, wanted to know Who Exactly Killed Tatiana and like … not saying he wants 2 commit murder but :/ yknow. he’s very upset.

emotionally unavailable while also like crying twice a day.

will tell you straight up what he wants from you, no bullshit, no beating around the bush - just blunt. if he wants to just fuck, nothing else, then that’s that. if he feels deviation he’ll ghost in like. less than a second. kinda awful like that! feels no shame.

but like … also is emotional ?? as shit ?? it’s confusing. he’ll cry on a whim and then flip u off if u try to console him or like. ask him anything. will bite you.

he goes to therapy but he generally fucks around and wastes most of the time until the therapist threatens to like … idk what therapists r allowed to threaten. to send him off to another therapist? idk.

likes being intimidating but like … not with his body or nothing ‘cos he’s a TWIG, but like … uses his love for horror n creepy shit to his advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before.

( also a big fan of sfx makeup, has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids with a chainsaw (w/o the like … chain … or w/e … so it’s not actually Dangerous) around halloween

he’s generally never doing good, both mental health wise and morally.

would probably steal candy from a baby for the fun of it.

i don’t know if there’s a good to him, deep down, and i don’t know if he sees any issues with himself either !! nothing really breaks through to him anymore, the only person who ever really made him stop and Think about his actions was tatiana.

kinda introverted, recluse type who doesn’t rly like most people or going out, but he’ll go to parties if it means he’ll be high as shit.

pretty observant. likes to analyze people even though he’s probably not … fully right.

connections to the victims !!

tatiana samuels / his twin sister, other half - the only one able to control viktor.

george craig iii / close family friends ... they could appreciate each other, when viktor wasn’t being an outright asshole.

hana williams / ‘friends’ with benefits, their relationship was rocky at best but she was a good lay. have often fought due to their clash in personalities and viktor’s history with christoph.

christoph wainwright / an ex-hook up, an infrequent occasion whenever christoph wanted to tick off hana. viktor was often on board, never the one to consider others’ feelings.

wanted connections !!

he lives alone currently but like … ex - roommates where viktor was just. a nightmare to live with.

feel like a lot of enemies is also a possibility !! viktor’s messy.

people that like … knew tatiana. dated tatiana, even, and viktor would pretty much try to intimidate / scare them at any given chance :/

close friends of tatiana too

people who hated tatiana but liked viktor. people who hated viktor but liked tatiana

people who take pity on him and he Hates it viciously and vocally.

a band of hooligan gremlin kids who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers even though they’re all early to mid 20s.

the girl he lost his virginity 2 in high school lmao … a distant memory

fellow rochester locals, from church or school or whatever

exes from the past !! good terms and bad terms, but i love bad terms a whole lot mainly b/c viktor’s a jackass.

don’t know if he’s soft towards anybody but we can try. we can Try.

friends, old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. etc. all of it

hookups !! so many hookups. fwbs, one night stands, whatever.

uuhhhh god. i don’t know. im so sleepy rn. people in the same major or similar majors.

maybe a ride or die.

people he’s a bad influence on / an enabler towards / all around toxic for them / each other.

people he’s fought !! people who’ve seen him get into random fights and were like ‘uh wtf’

fellow shepherds !!

literally anything im not picky.

#wshintro #grief tw #death tw #overdose tw #addiction tw #hospitalization tw #hypersexuality tw #religion mention #mental illness tw

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