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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Prompt: WWX is one of JGS's bastard sons, raised by his mother and her husband - until they die when he's young. Then he gets taken into the Jin sect instead of the Jiang.

Right Hand Man - ao3

It was a bad day.

All the days were a little bad, but this one was especially bad.

“He’s Cangse Sanren’s child,” Jin Zixuan’s father said, tapping his fan against his palm so that he would look more like a scholar. Secretly, shamefully, Jin Zixuan thought that it didn’t really work – he just looked like one of those scoundrels that tried to pay for their meals with calligraphy instead of pennies. “Taking him in will show our strength.”

“You dare bring one of your bastard children here,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, “and I will drown A-Xuan myself rather than let him suffer through the shame of it.”

Jin Zixuan shivered. No matter how many times he heard his mother say that in her cold and vicious voice, he never got used to it. She’d explained to him that it was the only thing that might work on his father – the fear of losing face like that, of shaming his ancestors, of cutting off his legitimate line – and she was his mother so of course Jin Zixuan believed her, but sometimes when she said it like that he thought she might really go ahead and do it.

“It’s the immortal mountain,” his father argued, ignoring the threat. “The perceived connection is only to our benefit…and anyway, he wouldn’t be legitimized or anything. Legally, his father is that Wei Changze – I could even bring the boy in as a servant if that pleased you more!”

“Nothing you say or do will ever please me,” she said, and that’s when she started throwing things and he started shouting and Jin Zixuan waited until they weren’t paying any attention to him before slipping out.

They’d make a decision one way or another.

It didn’t have anything to do with him.

Wei Wuxian was nominally brought in as a guest disciple, but everyone knew he was really a servant.

Jin Zixuan’s mother made sure everyone knew.

Despite this, Wei Wuxian smiled at everyone, seeming as carefree as a butterfly. It didn’t seem to bother him when he wasn’t allowed to wear sparks amidst snow, or even the usual gold of the guest disciples – Jin Zixuan’s mother said that it was better that he wear plain colors, like white or black, to represent his father and mother and show the world that he hadn’t forgotten his filial piety. It didn’t seem to bother him that he had to room with the other servants, or that he wasn’t invited to dinner at the same time as the rest of them, or that he got less training time –

Whatever it was, it didn’t bother him.

It bothered Jin Zixuan, though.

He started having the old nightmares again – the ones where his mother belatedly found out that he’d been swapped in the cradle for another bastard child of Jin Guangshan, and started treating him just the way she treated all the rest of them while praising some other boy up to the heavens – and his temperament, never considered especially good, got worse due to lack of sleep.

“Go talk to him,” Mianmian suggested. “Maybe if you see he’s reallynot bothered by it…”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s not bothered,” Jin Zixuan muttered. “It’s that I would be bothered if I were him.”

She didn’t understand, of course. Most people didn’t.

They couldn’t understand why Jin Zixuan was so bothered by the knowledge that his parents’ love was conditional on his bloodline and legitimacy – after all, he was the beneficiary of that bias, wasn’t he? What did it matter to him if they were cold to others?

Jin Zixuan didn’t know how to explain that the problem was in knowing that their love was conditional.

It didn’t help that Wei Wuxian was excelling despite all his disadvantages – all their teachers praised him in private, or else when they thought that no one surnamed Jin was listening. All of his mother’s dark speculations about what his father would do if ever there was a bastard child brought back that turned out to be even more talented than he was rang in Jin Zixuan’s ears, and he couldn’t help but look at Wei Wuxian, and wonder if this was it, this was the moment, if he was finally going to be replaced…but no, that would never happen. He was the one with the right blood.

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t actually the best.

Nothing he did in life mattered, really. Nothing had ever mattered since the day he’d been born from the right womb.

“He’s actually really nice,” Mianmian said, and Jin Zixuan looked up, wondering what she was talking about, only to blanch when he realized that she was talking to Wei Wuxian. “Just shy, that’s all –”

“Mianmian!” Jin Zixuan hissed, rushing over, horrified. “He can’t be here! If my mother finds out ��”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Wei Wuxian asked, his face brightening. “I thought you just didn’t like me!”

“I don’t know you,” Jin Zixuan said. “How could I dislike you? But really, my mother –”

“We can be friends!” Wei Wuxian declared, and Jin Zixuan was rendered immediately mute. What exactly could he say to that?

He wanted to be friends, too.

His mother found out, because she always found out, and when she did, she threatened to feed Wei Wuxian to the dogs.

It turned out that Wei Wuxian was scared of dogs, something Jin Zixuan’s mother had figured out pretty quickly. That wasn’t a surprise – she knew best how to find people’s weaknesses, and also how to use them. Looking at Wei Wuxian’s sickly pale face, it was clear to Jin Zixuan that this wasn’t the first time dogs had appeared in one of his mother’s punishment, although this was clearly more severe than in the past.

“It was my idea,” he lied, acting on impulse. “Mother, I want him to be my personal servant.”

“Ridiculous,” she scoffed.

“Why is it ridiculous?” he asked. “Wouldn’t the contrast between us only be magnified that way?”

She pursed her lips, but that wasn’t a ‘no’.

Seeing a possible waver, Jin Zixuan decided to trade away one of the very few point on which he and his mother had long disagree.

“He’s charming,” he said. “He can help me woo the Jiang sect girl.”

His mother knew him well enough to know that he was trying to manipulate her, but he also knew that she liked it when he did that. Men were supposed to be upright, straightforward, and virtuous, and yet she liked to see him being subtle and sly – it reminded her of herself. It made her feel like he was more her blood than his father’s, even though in actuality those traits could very well be his father’s, too.

Unfortunately, sneakiness wasn’t really in Jin Zixuan’s nature. Comparing his straightforward and even a little stupid self to his clever and cunning parents, he didn’t know who he took after – it was part of the reason he had so many nightmares about being some cuckoo’s child left in the Jin sect’s nest.

“Fine,” his mother said at last. “He gets one shot.”

Later, when she’d swept off, an empress with her retinue, Mianmian looked at Jin Zixuan with wide eyes. “But Jin-gongzi,” she said. “You don’t wantto marry the Jiang sect girl.”

“I’ve never met her,” Jin Zixuan hedged, which was also true but a little vaguer. He didn’t want to marry a girl he’d never met, one who was several years his elder and who had been described to him only as ‘nice’ and ‘average at best’, just because her mother was his mother’s old friend. He didn’t want his marriage to be yet another thing he had to do because he was someone’s child, rather than his own man.

He wasn’t going to get a choice, though, no matter what he did, just as always. Might as well use it for something good.

Wei Wuxian crashed into him a moment later, clutching him so tightly that it hurt.

“I’ll pay you back,” he promised, his voice tight. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be your best friend ever!”

“That’s good enough,” Jin Zixuan said, his face suddenly hot. “There doesn’t need to be anything more.”

Wei Wuxian really was very charming when they went to visit the Lotus Pier, far more charming than Jin Zixuan ever was or would be, and his future bride seemed positively enchanted by him, which was probably a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan felt he should probably do something about it, but he didn’t know what, so he just snuck off and went to go dip his feet into the river, something he almost never got the chance to go while at home.

“I’m sorry,” the Jiang sect heir, Jiang Cheng, said, sitting gingerly next to him.

Jin Zixuan looked at him sidelong, a little surprised. He’d thought that Jiang Cheng hated him. “What for?”

“My sister. Your half-brother.” Jiang Cheng looked uncomfortable. “I can’t even imagine growing up with someone who’d flirt with the person I was engaged to.”

Jin Zixuan thought it over, then shook his head. “I don’t think he likes her like that. Or her him, either,” he said, since it seemed like Jiang Cheng had misunderstood both Wei Wuxian and his own sister. “Wei Wuxian’s just – like that,” he added. “Always. Everyone loves him unless they’re specifically told not to.”

“That’s worse.” Jiang Cheng wrinkled his nose. “He’s the ‘other person’s child’ here, you know. My father really liked his parents – he’s always talking about him. My mother says he wishes he were his son, instead of your father’s.”

“Now that sounds awful.” Probably better for Wei Wuxian, though. Jiang Fengmian would probably treat him like a real son, not the way Jin Guangshan did, like a pawn or a liability or a bastard brought in just for his possible connections – but it would probably be much worse for Jiang Cheng, who’d have to live with that happening right in front of him. It seemed mean to wish for such a thing. “He’s actually pretty nice? We’re friends. I asked him to help me make friends with your sister…I’m not really good at making friends, when it’s just me.”

He hadn’t expected them to hit it off that well, though. At least to Jin Zixuan’s eyes, they’d clearly all but adopted each other as brother and sister the moment they laid eyes on each other…which in his opinion was actually a little bit worse, since he felt like he himself was still painfully trying to figure out what being a sibling was like, and maybe failing at it.

And in all honesty, he felt a little resentful at Wei Wuxian for being picked, too – or was it a little bereft? No one ever picked him just because they wanted to; it was all because of who he was.

Who his parents were.

“I can be your friend, too, if you like,” Jiang Cheng said. He was scowling into the distance. “A better one.”

“Uh,” Jin Zixuan said, startled. “Don’t you – not like me?”

“We’re friends now,” Jiang Cheng scowled at him. “Deal with it!”

Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a lot, and he liked Jiang Cheng, too, and Nie Huaisang, who he’d just met, fit in with the two of them as if they were three peas in a pod, so he guessed he must like him, too – but if those three endlessly chattering idiots didn’t shut up and let him study he was going to throw himself off some cliff in Gusu and be done with it.

“You really don’t mind me sitting here?” he asked Lan Wangji, who nodded.

Nodded and did not respond verbally – blissful silence!

Still, Jin Zixuan lingered a bit by the door to the peaceful little pavilion he’d found and thought to claim for himself as a secret study place – necessary on account of the fact that Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang spent all their free time together making trouble instead of studying, because Wei Wuxian just did that to people, winning them over despite themselves and then leading them into mischief – only to learn that it belonged to Lan Wangji. It was filled with gentians, which were more Jiang Cheng’s color than Jin Zixuan’s, but Jin Zixuan had seen enough peonies for a lifetime and needed the concealment besides.

It was very kind of Lan Wangji to let him stay, but he still felt he ought to apologize.

And not just for the intrusion.

Wei Wuxian’s ignominious departure from Lan Qiren’s classroom had made it much more peaceful, but that had come at a cost to Lan Wangji’s own education and opportunity to make friends with others – and while Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a great deal, he wasn’t sure how Lan Wangji felt about being stuck having to monitor him all day.

And now Lan Wangji was being nice to Jin Zixuan, letting him disturb his privacy like this without complaint, and even agreeing to let him stay so that he’d have somewhere quiet to study…he really ought to say something. Maybe apologize for Wei Wuxian, if that was appropriate. It probably was: he was responsible for him, in his own way. The only problem was that he wasn’t sure how to start the conversation –

“Do you like Wei Wuxian?” he blurted out, then felt his face go bright red. He hadn’t meant to ask it that way! After all, who didn’t know how much Lan Wangji disliked Wei Wuxian? He was always glaring at him and saying he was speaking nonsense and telling him to get lost and –

Lan Wangji nodded.

Jin Zixuan blinked. He did? But then why –

“Oh,” he said, suddenly realizing. “You’re socially awkward, too!”

Lan Wangji frowned at him, and Jin Zixuan waved his hands.

“No, no, I don’t mean that as an insult,” he said hastily, trying to cover for his blunder. “It’s like me! I always say the wrong thing, so most of the time I try not to say anything – of course people always get the wrong idea anyway, thinking I’m being quiet because I’m looking down at them…Wei Wuxian’s getting better at understanding people, but he’s still not very good at it, either. I bet he has no idea! If you like him, you should say as much.”

Lan Wangji shook his head.

“…I could say it for you, if you want?”

Even more urgent head-shaking.

Honestly, if Lan Wangji were a woman, Jin Zixuan would’ve thought that he had a crush.

As it was, he was probably just like Jin Zixuan: naturally awkward, and shy about it, too.

“It’s all right,” he said encouragingly. “Next time they throw a party, you can come and sit with me; we can have tea and pretend not to know them. It’s what I always do.”

Lan Wangji stared at him for a long moment, and then finally nodded very slowly.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, voice neutral. “Thank you.”

When the time came and the Wen sect pushed things too far, naturally Jin Zixuan stood up for Mianmian.

Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji all did, too.

Naturally, this made Jin Zixuan feel like complete crap on their account – Mianmian was his friend, his sect, and naturally he had a responsibility towards her; the rest of them were just helping because they were good people, and good friends. But at this point they’d done it, and Wen Chao was angry at them all over it, and there was nothing to be done about it.

And then there was the Xuanwu of Slaughter, and they were all trapped inside with it.

Sometimes, he really hated the Wen sect. Often, even.

“Jiang Cheng, you and Jin Zixuan lead the way out,” Wei Wuxian instructed. “No, don’t protest! You’re heirs of Great Sects; everyone will follow you and listen to you, and that’s critical – you’ll need to evade the Wen sect’s efforts to recapture you. That means cohesion, and cohesion means hierarchy. I’ll stay behind to distract the Xuanwu…”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Jiang Cheng exclaimed.

Jin Zixuan nudged him. “Wei Wuxian’s usually right about this sort of thing,” he reminded him. It was a good thing they’d gotten over that period in their lives when Jiang Cheng thought Wei Wuxian was an evil thief who wanted to take away his older sister and Jin Zixuan’s rightful spouse, when they’d fought all the time while Jin Zixuan desperately tried to get between them. He still had no idea what magic alchemy had happened that had suddenly made them best friends – he suspected Mianmian, or maybe Jiang Yanli – but he was deeply grateful for it. “And we can’t risk the majority. Preserve human life above all else, remember? Teacher Lan’s lessons were very clear.”

“I will remain with Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, to no one’s surprise. They’d been more or less inseparable after Jin Zixuan had recruited Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang to help them get along better after Wei Wuxian’s temporary exile to the Library Pavilion had ended. It helped that Lan Qiren had pulled Wei Wuxian aside for personal lessons to help him catch up with the rest of them, and that those had somehow metamorphosed into afternoon sessions about inventing new types of musical cultivation techniques in which Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were the most enthusiastic, and only, students.

Best of all, it had given the rest of them a chance to finally actually do their work.

Well, not Nie Huaisang, but that was only to be expected.

“But your leg –” Wei Wuxian started, and Jin Zixuan nudged him.

“He’ll only be more worried if you don’t let him stay back and join you,” he said reasonably. “Anyway, it’s good for you to have an incentive not to detour into some big flashy heroic bullshit.”

“Awww, but Jin Zixuan, I like big flashy heroic bullshit!”

Jin Zixuan was, by this point, almost entirely convinced that Wei Wuxian actually was the biological child of Wei Changze, and that his father had lied, both about the man’s supposed infertility and possibly about having slept with Cangse Sanren at all. From Jiang Cheng’s stories, inherited from his father, it seemed that Wei Changze was also the sort of person who went in for big flashy heroic bullshit and reckless humor, the sort that would win him a disciple of an immortal mountain as a bride; it certainly seemed more likely than him sharing blood with Jin Zixuan or his father or even Jin Zixun, all of whom tended towards arrogance, but whose flash was all in their clothing.

Not that it mattered at this late date, of course. They were brothers now – as Nie Huaisang would put it, there were no takebacks allowed.

“No bullshit, you hear me?” Jin Zixuan repeated, looking pointedly at Wei Wuxian. “Not allowed. Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t make me have to tell Mistress Jiang that I lost her favorite idiot friend.”

“You tell her?” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “I’ll have to tell her. All right, let’s go.”

Jiang Yanli was not impressed with the fact that they’d left Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji alone in a cave with a giant murderous turtle.

She still made them soup and gave them bandages to wrap up their bloody feet, though.

(Jin Zixuan was never going to make a good impression on her, no matter what Jiang Cheng said.)

“Wen Chao has demanded recompense for the mess at the Nightless City,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, reading a letter. Her lips curled up in a strange little smile. “He said Wei Wuxian’s right hand would do.”

“Mother,” Jin Zixuan exclaimed, leaping to his feet with his eyes wide. He’d only been home a week from the indoctrination camp, and Wei Wuxian was still lying in bed most of the time, pretending he wasn’t exhausted; Wen Chao must have sent the letter almost immediately after he’d realized they’d escaped. “You can’t be serious!”

“Why not?” she asked. “It’s just what the little bastard deserves, always trying to outshine you.”

Jin Zixuan shook his head, frantically trying to think of a way out of this, because he knew his mother wouldn’t so much as hesitate to order such an atrocity. She’d never forgiven Wei Wuxian for the possibility of being a threat to Jin Zixuan’s position, however remote the chance, and she’d tried very hard to convince Jin Zixuan of it, too – it was the only thing they didn’t agree on, the only thing Jin Zixuan didn’t yield to her on, and he hated every moment of it.

But not as much as his mother hated it.

It was the only thing she couldn’t control in his life, and she hatedit, and hated Wei Wuxian for it, too.

(She couldn’t hate Jin Zixuan. She couldn’t, because he had the right blood, because he was her son, because he was the heir of Lanling Jin and the source of all her power. But sometimes, when the light was dim and she glanced over too quickly and thought she saw his father when she looked at him, he thought that she wanted to.)

“You can’t be serious,” Jin Zixuan said a second time, keeping calm by sheer willpower. No one but him would dare to object if his mother made a move, especially in his father’s absence…and even if his father was there, Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure his father cared enough about Wei Wuxian to endure another fight with his fearsome wife. “Mother, he’s my servant – my responsibility. Whatever he does is my responsibility, whether to my credit or to my deficit. That’s how that works. They may be asking for Wei Wuxian’s hand, but who’s to say, when they come to claim it, that they won’t seek mine instead?”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“It’s the Wen sect,” Jin Zixuan reminded her. “What don’t they dare?”

She pursed her lips, thinking it over, and for a moment he thought he’d won. “Perhaps,” she allowed, and before he could even breath a sight of relief continued, “But no matter. They’ve set the price, and we can pay it, so why not? We can cut off his hand and send it to them as a peace offering in advance. After all, they’re important allies of ours, and he’s just a bastard.”

“But –”

“No, A-Xuan. No more arguing; I’ve decided.” Her smile broadened. “We’ll do it now.”

Jin Zixuan couldn’t fight with his mother. He’d never had the courage – he was as spineless as his father.

Almost as spineless.

“Yes, Mother,” he said, and drew his sword.

“A-Xuan..?”

“My servant, my responsibility,” he reminded her, and he knew that she’d misunderstood, that she thought that he was going to go take care of the grim task himself. He knew, because for a brief moment in time she looked happy – not true joy, but the only way she ever looked happy for as long as he could remember, like she’d won one over on someone and gotten her way despite everyone’s efforts. He hated to disappoint her. “I have my honor to think of, too.”

Jin Zixuan sent Wei Wuxian to the Lotus Pier, bearing words of warning. His father’s spies had reported that the Wen sect would probably target them first, using Jiang Cheng’s interference in the Xuanwu cave as an excuse – there wasn’t any point going after the Lan sect a second time, and the Jin sect were longstanding allies of Wen Ruohan, with Jin Guangshan being a coward at heart; if Wen Ruohan could keep him out of the inevitable war for a little longer by playing nice, he would.

Word came back not long after that they’d been right: the Lotus Pier had been destroyed.

It also said that Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli were missing – missing, but not dead. It didn’t say anything about their parents, and that was suspicious, too.

Maybe sending Wei Wuxian had helped after all.

“We should reach out to the Nie sect,” Jin Zixuan told his father. “With our money and their strength, we can resist the Wen sect long enough for the smaller sects to catch up.”

“The Wen sect is all-powerful,” his father objected. “What’s even the point of resisting? We’d be better off reaching out to them to see if we can reach a peaceful agreement.”

“We’ve already seen what agreement they want to reach,” Jin Zixuan said, and his father’s gaze dropped guiltily to his waist. Jin Zixuan didn’t bother looking down himself. He didn’t do that much, these days. “Am I your heir or am I not? You promised me that I’d inherit a sect, not slavery. Reach out to the Nie sect.”

Jin Zixuan should not talk that way to his father. He had always been a filial son, and a spineless one; his father’s son, and nothing else. The only thing he had going for him was the right blood – and even that wasn't that sure a bet, these days. He knew his father was already thinking about Jin Zixun in a way that suggested that all those rumors about his ‘cousin’ having a different father than the one everyone said he had might have some merit.

It seemed, though, that when pushed to it, he was also his mother’s son.

He hoped she choked on the knowledge.

“Reach out to the Nie sect,” he said again. “With all the cultivation world uniting, the Wen sect’s fall is inevitable. If we don’t act now, we’ll be seen as cowards, hanging back and waiting to see how things fall out to eke out the best advantage – if we act, we’ll be seen as heroes.”

“But what if you’re wrong, and the Wen sect does win?”

“Then we’ll tell Sect Leader Wen that we’re perfectly positioned to negotiate the other sects’ terms of surrender, and use that to win anyway,” Jin Zixuan said, less because he thought that was an acceptable course of action and more because he knew it would be what his father would do anyway. “Call the Nie sect.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Jiang Cheng hissed, wild-eyed, and Jin Zixuan blinked at him, taken aback.

“Is it because I wasn’t able to do more to help with the Lotus Pier?” he asked, feeling helpless. “I really did try to convince my father to send more people, but I barely even got him not to block my sending Wei Wuxian –”

“Not because of that!”

Jin Zixuan took a step back. “Uh, then –”

“You cut off your own hand you maniac!”

“The situation –” Jin Zixuan started backing up. “It was necessary – Wei Wuxian, help!”

“No, he’s right,” Wei Wuxian said, arms crossed. His eyes were teary, but they’d been that way since he’d left Jinlin Tower – ever since the Wen sect’s letter. “You’re a maniac, and Jiang Cheng’s going to kill you, and you’re going to deserve it.”

Lan Wangji, standing beside him, nodded.

“It’s not that bad, really.” Jin Zixuan tried to explain. “My mother and father would never have accepted anything else – threats to me are the only thing that work on them, and even that’s stopped working after all these years. Only a real injury would have an impact. If they hadn’t been so shocked, they would’ve just continued to ignore what the Wen sect was doing, or offered them an olive branch, and then then the Wen sect would’ve used that as an opportunity to come and divide up everyone else. We’d lose precious time to regroup, and the Wen sect would only get stronger and stronger –”

“You. Cut. Off. Your. Hand!”

“The Wen sect demanded the hand of the person who started the rebellion in the Xuanwu cave,” Jin Zixuan said quietly. “That was me, not Wei Wuxian. Why should he pay my debts?”

Everyone still seemed very upset, but maybe a little less murderous. Definitely a lot more teary-eyed.

“Couldn’t you have at least picked your other hand?” Wei Wuxian mumbled. “Your right hand – that’s your sword arm.”

Jin Zixuan shrugged. “They demanded the right hand,” he said. “Anyway, it’s fine, I’ve been using my left, and it’s been going smoothly enough…you know, I think I might actually be left-handed? I never knew; everyone always made me use my right.”

“Does it hurt?” Lan Wangji asked suddenly, and Jin Zixuan hesitated, not sure how to respond to that.

Unfortunately, everyone else took that in the worst way possible, and insisted on taking care of him, no matter how much he tried to explain that it didn’t hurt, not really, not anymore; it was just the strangest feeling of absence. Like something that had always been there wasn’t there anymore.

A bit like his mother. She wasn’t talking to him anymore.

He was a terrible son, and would probably end up spending eternity in some afterlife hell being tortured for failing to properly honor his parents.

He’d already resigned himself.

“How are your parts of the war going?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “Chifeng-zun says it’s going well, but you know how he is; it’s all business with him, you never hear any stories. Did Wei Wuxian really knock out old Sect Leader Jiang when he refused to leave the Lotus Pier? Tell me he didn’t.”

“He did,” Jiang Cheng said, and he looked amused about it – maybe he’d be in the next boiling pot over in the afterlife of unfilial descendants. “He was a little frantic, you see, on account of not wanting to fail you by letting them die. After all, you had just cut off your own hand for him…”

“Are you ever going to let that drop?”

“Sure. As soon as you have two hands again.”

“…so, never.”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said patiently. “Never. Never ever, if that makes it clearer for you.”

Jin Zixuan’s new hand was made of steel and wire, under the gilding, and functioned using some of the innovative new talismans that Wei Wuxian had invented. He couldn’t help but hope that they weren’t part of the subset that constituted demonic cultivation because people were being really weird about that.

“It’s like people wanted for me to just die in the Burial Mounds,” Wei Wuxian complained. He was dressed in black and grey and red, which he’d apparently adopted as his new sect colors – Jin Zixuan had only managed to send him out of Lanling the first time by officially ejecting him from the Jin sect, a decision his father had initially endorsed but now, he suspected, was regretting.

It was a lot easier to throw out a servant than it was to invite back the founder of demonic cultivation, especially now that he was a war hero and a sect leader.

“You didn’t have to be in the Burial Mounds to begin with,” Jin Zixuan reminded him, to no avail. “I know I said I needed an army because my father wasn’t supplying us properly, but I didn’t mean ‘invent an entirely new cultivation technique and raise an army of the dead’. You know that, right?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged it off, because of course he did.

“You know, they’re calling me the Yiling Patriarch?” he said, and grinned. “It’s because the Burial Mounds are in Yiling, and because I’m founding my own sect. Or whatever. Like I wouldn’t be supporting you, anyway.”

“It has to be your own sect because otherwise you might be forced to share your secret techniques,” Jin Zixuan explained, not for the first time. “Rogue cultivators don’t have the same protections that sects do, even small sects. It doesn’t matter if you’re the only person in it. Or, well, you and Lan Wangji, I guess.”

“I still can’t believe he’s willing to leave the Lan sect to join me,” Wei Wuxian sighed happily. “He’s such a good friend.”

Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure about the strength of his new hand, which was the only reason he didn’t try to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You’re a bad influence, you know,” he said instead of trying to explain to Wei Wuxian that people didn’t generally leave their natal sects for the sake of a ‘good friend’. “I nearly hit a girl the other day.”

“You did? You? What’d she do?”

“She gave me soup and implied that she’d made it,” Jin Zixuan said. “Except it tasted exactly the same as the soup Mistress Jiang is always making for you – I’ve had it recently enough to know. Sure enough, I push the issue a bit and it turns out it was Mistress Jiang’s. The girl was just trying to claim credit as an excuse to get close to me.”

He sighed. He’d been so angry about it. They were at war! People were dying, losing their homes, losing everything, and this stupid girl could only think about how to plot and scheme to try to get to a prized position as the future Madame Jin. Had his mother done the same, when it’d been his father…?

“You’ve had shijie’s soup recently?” Wei Wuxian asked. His expression looked slightly odd. “Shijie made you soup?”

“Yeah, I think she’s been dropping off whatever’s left over at my tent when she’s done,” Jin Zixuan said, shaking his head. Jiang Yanli was so nice, really truly genuinely nice. He’d never met anyone like her. “Could you thank her for me? I appreciate the thoughtfulness – it’s filling enough that I don’t need to go to the mess, which means there’s more left over for everyone else.”

“…sure,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’ll tell her. Or, and here’s a thought – why don’t you tell her yourself?”

“Why would I? You’re the one she likes,” Jin Zixuan said, puzzled. “I mean, you’re her adopted little brother, aren’t you? She’s practically your second soulmate, after Lan Wangji.”

“I’m really busy,” Wei Wuxian announced, despite having been lazing around complaining that they didn’t have any encounters with the Wen sect lined up for a whole week only a few moments before. “I couldn’t possibly take the time out of my schedule to go talk to her – you see, I’ve had an idea, which is going to keep me very busy…in fact, I’m not even going to be here at all! I need to go to the Lan sect encampment to consult with Teacher Lan.”

Discovering that Lan Qiren had a mad scientist streak when it came to musical cultivation had been extremely disquieting, Jin Zixuan reflected. The world might’ve been better off if Lan Qiren had never had a chance to actually get friendly with Wei Wuxian – Wei Wuxian provided the terrible ideas, Lan Qiren scolded him about them and then helped him smooth the kinks out of them anyway.

Teacher for a day, father for a lifetime…

“All right,” Jin Zixuan said, though he still didn’t exactly understand what had just happened. “I’ll go talk to her, I guess.”

“I just wanted to make sure you know you’re not obligated to make me soup or anything,” Jin Zixuan said, not sure where this conversation had gone off the rails.

Probably around the time that Jiang Yanli had started smiling at him, because he always turned into an idiot whenever that happened. She was so very nice, not just average at all no matter what anyone said, and blissfully down-to-earth – she wouldn’t be wasting her time and everyone else’s thinking about how to politically advance herself despite there being a war on. She spent all her time learning field medicine and helping cook meals for the mess and –

And he’d better stop thinking because he was turning red again.

“I enjoy making soup for you,” Jiang Yanli said peaceably. “Especially since I know you enjoy it, too.”

“I do! It’s just, I don’t know, you already do so much, with the medics and organizing and everything…It’s – uh – I – listen, I know our parents – you don’t have to pay attention to that. I only have one hand, I’m not – don’t feel obligated, not because of that. And don’t let Wei Wuxian make you think making soup is the only thing you’re good for, no matter how much he likes it, okay? You do so much more than just that!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, covering her smile with her hand. “You’re very sweet, you know.”

Jin Zixuan made an incoherent sound.

He would need to do something in return, he thought, a little frantic; he really didn’t know how to deal with a sincere compliment from someone he actually liked. Maybe poetry? Girls were said to like poetry. He couldn’t write poetry worth a damn, but he could pay someone –

She kissed him on the cheek.

All thought abruptly departed.

“Don’t worry, it’s not inappropriate – after all, we’re already engaged,” Jiang Yanli said cheerfully. “Which I’m very good with, so don’t worry about that. Good luck in your next battle, Jin-gongzi.”

At some point she must have left, because she wasn’t there anymore, and Jin Zixuan was still opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

Mianmian peeked in, then snickered. “Oh no,” she said. “She broke him. Everyone! Come look! She totally broke him!”

“Did you actually cut off your hand to save a servant?” Jin Guangyao asked.

“It was a bit more complicated than that,” Jin Zixuan said, uncomfortable, then added, “Welcome to the family.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

For some reason, Jin Zixuan felt a shiver run up his spine. He didn’t think he liked this new brother of his, and he felt bad about it – he’d welcomed Wei Wuxian whole-heartedly, hadn’t he? Was it really that different when it actually was someone of his own blood?

He didn’t like that thought.

“I hope we can be friends,” he said, willing it to be true, and Jin Guangyao murmured something agreeable in return.

Jin Zixuan wished he liked him.

“My mother is going to hate you,” he said, because he knew that she would. “If she does, let me know, and I’ll try to stop her…not just her. If anyone treats you wrong, just tell me. I’ll stand up for you.”

Jin Guangyao smiled again.

“You’re so kind,” he said, and for some reason Jin Zixuan had the feeling that he didn’t mean it at all.

Jin Zixuan had been engaged since before he was born, and it still somehow came as a surprise to find himself married. Not just the event, either – these days he woke up with his wife in his arms and was forced to just stare at her lying there in the soft morning light and wonder how he got so lucky.

He was married.

To a very nice girl, who actually seemed to like him a great deal – she’d made that clear enough when she’d had a chance. Very clear, in fact, which was why there was also a very slight curve in her belly that meant that soon enough he wouldn’t just be married, but a father.

“You’d tell me if I was dreaming, right?” he asked Wei Wuxian, who was visiting again. He did that a lot, but in fairness he didn’t really have a settled place to live – everyone knew the supposed ‘sect’ he’d founded was little more than a sham. He’d been technically kicked out of the Jin sect and refused all offers to rejoin, and it seemed he wasn’t quite ready to scandalize the entire cultivation world by marrying into the Lan sect no matter what Lan Xichen had been hinting. Sometimes he and Lan Wangji spent time at the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, or the Unclean Realm with Nie Huaisang under Nie Mingjue’s long-suffering gaze…everyone called Wei Wuxian the Yiling Patriarch, on account of him ‘founding’ his sect there – or rather, summoning up extra resentful energy from the Burial Mounds for the purposes of obtaining an army while minimizing the number of disturbed graves – but he wasn’t, not really. He didn’t live there or anything.

Who would want to live there?

“I would,” Wei Wuxian agreed, but he didn’t follow it up with teasing or anything the way he usually did.

He just looked very uncharacteristically perturbed.

“What is it?” Jin Zixuan asked. “Can I help?”

“No heroic bullshit,” Wei Wuxian said at once, which meant that there was a possibility of heroic bullshit. Given Wei Wuxian’s personality, that also meant that it was heroic bullshit that would be bad for the Jin sect, which he still felt bad about on account of them raising him and all…in all honesty, it might be a good thing in the long run that Jin Zixuan’s father and mother had been so awful to Wei Wuxian as a kid, and that he’d known it. If they’d been good to him, he never would have been willing to leave. “But, uh, remember Wen Ning?”

Jin Zixuan blinked. Wei Wuxian had told him some stories: a junior disciple of the Wen sect, from a branch family – Dafan Wen – who’d helped Wei Wuxian out a few times when he’d been smuggling the Jiang clan to freedom.

More than a few times: he’d been Wei Wuxian’s first disciple in matters of resentful energy, which Wei Wuxian had apparently been thinking of since forever and started playing around with more or less the moment he was no longer officially tied to a sect, and had been a valuable contact during the early period of the war before events had changed and he’d been lost.

“Yes,” he said. “What about him?”

He hadn’t thought of Wen Ning in ages, beyond abstractly hoping he was doing well. It might be hard, with a surname as he had, but surely there was somewhere in the cultivation world for those surnamed Wen – Wei Wuxian had argued fiercely in favor of leniency for the remaining Wen cultivators, and the Lan sect had backed him, thanks to Lan Wangji. The rest of them had been exhausted, Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng and his parents, even Jin Zixuan…his father had ended up volunteering their sect to help with resettlement of the refugees, which had been a pleasant surprise.

Sure, Jin Zixuan knew his father well enough to know that he was only doing it for the clout and possible advantage it would give him, but he was pretty sure the Wen civilians didn’t especially care why they were going to get a reprieve from death and a new place to live, only that they did.

“I’ll get there,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s a bit complicated…you know how Jin Zixun’s in charge of resettlement?”

Jin Zixuan nodded, puzzled. “What about it?”

“You can’t do that!” one of the guards shouted at Wei Wuxian. “We’re disciples of the Jin sect –”

“Is that so,” Jin Zixuan said, and they all turned to look at him, each one of them blanching in utter horror. “And why didn’t I know that my Jin sect had such people as you?”

“Where’s Wen Ning?” Wen Qing asked Wei Wuxian, looking desperate. “I don’t see him…Where is he?!”

“That monster?” one of the guards blurted out.

“My brother is not a monster!”

“He’s been hiding in the woods,” one of the Wen civilians volunteered. “He’s been raiding the camp, rescuing people who are being abused –”

“Our response was reasonable in light of his aggression,” the guard argued. “He used demonic cultivation – he’s a monster! We had no choice –”

“We’re going to need to question them,” Jin Zixuan said to Lan Wangji, who was looking faintly murderous in his usual righteous sort of way. “To find out who’s their backing – Jin Zixun wouldn’t have dared something like this, not on his own. Can you bind them for me?”

It was his father.

Of course.

“A-Yao, what do you want?” Jin Zixuan asked, and Jin Guangyao stopped in his tracks, staring at him in confusion – as well he should, since he’d only come into Jin Zixuan’s study in order to say good morning on his way to breakfast. “No, sorry, that’s not what I meant. I meant, you know, in life.”

Jin Guangayo blinked at him.

Probably not the best question to spring on someone before breakfast, Jin Zixuan reflected.

“It’s about the trouble that my – that our father got into,” Jin Zixuan explained. “The other cultivation sects are furious to no end that he took advantage of their trust in order to do such a disgraceful thing…I’ve ordered Zixun to be confined for now, and I suspect he’ll have to be banished to some country house for a few years. And as you know, my father will be retiring soon and handing over the position of sect leader to me…”

Neither of them especially wanted that to happen, his father as loathe to give up power as Jin Zixuan was to take it. But what other solution was there after such a scandal?

The Lan sect, ever concerned with morality, had been horrified when they’d found out what had happened; the Jiang sect, despite their close relationship to the Jin sect, had immediately denounced it, and Jiang Yanli, who was Wei Wuxian’s friend, was the very first to speak. The Nie sect, never a firm ally for the Jin sect, was growling about righteousness, and if Nie Mingjue was sincere about that being his only concern – and having worked with the man, Jin Zixuan believed he was – then there were plenty of others in the Nie sect that had their eyes on the greater influence and power that would accrue to their sect if Jin Zixuan’s father were allowed to bring his sect down with him.

Handing over power was the only way to make sure their Jin sect remained strong.

“He won’t be alone, at least,” Jin Zixuan sighed. “I won him that much.”

Jiang Fengmian had agreed to step down from his position as sect leader as well, making it seem as though Jin Guangshan’s retirement were voluntary, part of a joint agreement of the older generation handing over power to the newer. Everyone would know in their hearts that that wasn’t the case, but it would be far less shameful than the alternative – saving a little bit of his father’s face.

“You did well,” Jin Guangyao said, listening with a neutral expression. “In uncovering everything, and revealing it.”

“I would’ve brought you in to help, but I couldn’t,” Jin Zixuan explained. “I know he asked you to help in finding demonic cultivators to join the Jin sect, and…”

He hesitated.

“He implicated me?” Jin Guangyao asked.

He had. Their father was shameless: he’d even sought to move all blame to Jin Guangyao’s back, whether as the actual mastermind or, when that was rejected, as the inciter of the scheme. Nonsense, of course.

Anyway, it didn’t matter. Even if Jin Guangyao had suggested it, it would have been his father’s responsibility to refuse.

“No one believes it,” Jin Zixuan said, which was only partially a lie. “Even Chifeng-zun laughed in his face and said you wouldn’t be nearly that stupid.”

Jin Guangyao looked – oddly pleased by that, if Jin Zixuan had to guess.

“Still, it’s awkward,” he said, rubbing his head. “People talk, and our subsidiary sects have never been as quiet as some others…you don’t have to tell me right now what you’re planning, or what you want in the long term. But maybe – uh – you have two sworn brothers. Is there any chance…”

“I could go visit them for a while?”

Jin Zixuan smiled helplessly. “I wish it weren’t necessary. And if you did know what you wanted, I could take it into account when planning the future…”

“No, no,” Jin Guangyao said. “Visiting my sworn brothers will be – fine.” He looked thoughtful. “You said Chifeng-zun didn’t think I was involved?”

“Zewu-jun was also vociferous in your defense,” Jin Zixuan said, trying to elide the fact that it wasn’t so much that Nie Mingjue didn’t think Jin Guangyao was capable of such atrocities, but rather that he declared, and loudly, that if Jin Guangyao had intended to do something horrific like that, he’d have handled it better. Judging by Jin Guangyao’s amused expression, he might have guessed anyway. “I appreciate your understanding.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

Jin Zixuan thought he might even mean it, this time.

“I’m an uncle!” Wei Wuxian crowed, holding Jin Ling in his arms. “I’m an uncle, I’m an uncle!”

“Big deal,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, which would be more convincing if he wasn’t beaming foolishly. “So am I. Hand him over...hey, A-Ling! It's me, your jiujiu!”

“Can I be an honorary uncle?” Nie Huaisang asked – Jin Zixuan had no idea when he’d even arrived, or why he was here, or anything, really, but that was probably because he hadn’t really slept on account of over-excitement. “I mean, my brother’s sworn brothers with Jin-xiong’s brother, so it works, right?”

“That’s ridiculous –” Jiang Cheng started.

“No, I love it!” Wei Wuxian immediately declared. “That means Lan Zhan’s his uncle, too!”

“Wei Wuxian…!”

“Don’t worry,” Jin Zixuan said, hugging Jiang Cheng out of sheer excitement. “You’re his only jiujiu, right? Everyone else is related through me, so they have to share.”

Jiang Cheng seemed pleased by that, and Wei Wuxian laughed.

Nie Huaisang was calculating on his fingers. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “This might be the most well-connected baby in the entire cultivation world? The only thing we’re missing is the Wen sect…Jiang-xiong, how about you marry Wen Qing? Then we’d have them all!”

“That is not how I’m determining my marriage!” Jiang Cheng yelped, but notably didn’t reject the idea.

Jin Zixuan looked at Jiang Yanli, who looked back at him, and they both started laughing.

There was more noise after that, and eventually Jin Ling woke up and started crying, making everyone start fussing like a bunch of old hens surrounding a long-suffering Jiang Yanli who’d already grown accustomed to it in a way the rest of them hadn’t.

It suddenly occurred to Jin Zixuan that everyone who was here was here because they wanted to be. Not because of his name or his wealth, not because he was Sect Leader Jin, not because of the circumstances of his birth, but just because they liked him – because they wanted to celebrate with him, and to cherish his child, to share his joy.

It was a good day.

All the days were a little good, but this one was especially good.

#mdzs #jin zixuan #wei wuxian #mianmian #jiang cheng #lan wangji #jin guangyao #jiang yanli #my fic #my fics #right hand man

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cheekygreenty · 3 years

Text

Little Witch - Part 8

The Darkling x Reader

'Are you busy?' You had taken to looking for Aleksander to entertain yourself. You had already done the usual routine for the day and were bored. You had been intending to speak with him for a while but he always seemed to be busy when you asked for him. You had an inkling he knew what you wanted but was scared to approach the topic. Your wandering around the Palace and acting like a leader surely hadn't gone unnoticed by him.

You finally found him in the courtyard hopping off of his horse, looking as regal and handsome as always. The way he stood while talking to his stable boy gave you a clear view of the embroidery on the back of his kefta. The weaves of black shadows seemed to have grown since the last time you had such a close look. Magnificent

'I think I can find a moment out of my day for you' He briefly took your hand in his and lightly traced your knuckles with his thumb in a soothing manner. He always does this.

'Fantastic, I've been meaning to thank you for welcoming me back into the Palace, I feel I owe you big time.' Butter him up first.

'Nonsense, this is as much your home as it is mine' He said and started to walk towards the entrance.

'Well, in that case, is it possible for me to take up my old position?'

You studied his face while a knowing smile replaced his emotionless expression. He didn't look in the least surprised.

'How long have you been waiting to ask me that?' You couldn't help but laugh. I knew he knew.

'I have nothing else to do. I can't just sit and pamper myself for the rest of my life as lovely as that sounds.'

'Do you think you're up for it? It has been a while since you commanded an army.'

You'd be surprised. You were about to give him all the reasons you were even more suited now but he abruptly stopped and looked deep into your eyes, catching you off guard. He looked at you with longing and love. It suddenly rendered you speechless.

'So?' he quirked his head and wore that boyish smile that you loved so much.

'As a matter of fact, yes. If you wish, I'll even take over those boring council meetings with the King to prove myself.' He raised his eyebrows and let out a short hum.

'That does sound like a very advantageous proposition.'

'So I'm assuming that's a yes?'

'I shall think about it.' He looked away, away from your addicting stare and those beautiful eyes.

'Thank- what?'

Did I hear that right?

'You're going to think about giving me my own position back? I made it in the first place! It was made for me!' If anybody walked past the two of your right now, they would surely think you were about to rip his head off.

'A lot has changed since then Y/N' He attempted to walk away but you had other plans.

'Where do you think you're going? We're not done here!' You ran in front of him.

'Y/N I have business to attend to'

'So do I, and it's this' He let out an exasperated sigh.

'I said I'll think about it, I never said no'

'But you never said yes'

'I'll have to run it by the King and the rest of the council. How do you think they'll respond to me appointing a brand new Grisha as Deputy-General? A Grisha like you nonetheless, they’ve never heard of your kind'

There it was. A Grisha like me. He was scared.

'I'll talk to them myself then, maybe even tell him a story or two.' You were so enraged you considered going to the King right then and there. With a little pressure on his old heart, you would be sure to get his approval.

His demeanor suddenly changed. You were talking to the General now. Great, you thought he's talking to the Deputy-General.

'Don't you even dare.'

'You're not leaving me with much of a choice. I'll reduce this place to ash if you're not careful with your words, Aleksander' You went to turn and leave but he gripped your arm and he pulled you closer to him.

'You are so sure of yourself. Did all those years alone make you so arrogant, or were you always like this?' His words were like venom to your heart but fuel for your rage. You shook his hand off.

'That is very rich of you to say don't you think?' Your hands suddenly felt very fidgety and hot.

'Y/N I suggest you calm down before making threats to your General. You should be glad I haven't chained you thus far.' His own hands balled into fists as he restrained himself.

This was your last straw, with a loud whoosh, you sent a stream of fire his way to distract him while a nice gust of wind knocked him to his knees in front of you. You grasped his hands in yours and slowed his heartbeat, relaxing him. His eyes swirled with fear.

'Go on, send the shadows, I'll gladly take them' you said through your teeth.

Suddenly you saw movement out of the corner of your eye, oprichniki. Aleksander looked at them and shook his head. Ivan looked livid. Good for him.

You roughly let go and took a step back, disappointed that he didn't make a move.

'You better think quickly' You warned and walked off.

Suits him right.

******

Your chambers were trashed, the mirrors smashed and the bed overturned. Screams and shouts still echoed over the walls yet nobody came to check on you. The whole reason for your return was to take back your title, to be yourself again, and leave your nasty past behind you.

You swore you were better now, that you could control your impulses, that power wasn't a temptation anymore, but you were wrong. You undermined Aleksander today, embarrassed the General in front of his soldiers. But he didn't punish you. You always knew that wherever Aleksander was involved, your loss of control followed. You never understood why.

He got one thing right though, you needed to calm down. Your mind couldn't get over the feeling right before the guards came, the feeling of almost having his glorious shadows. Of almost having that part of him again. There it is again, the temptation of power. You shook your head to rid of the thought.

You had momentarily thought about taking Alina and some of her power, but quite frankly you didn't feel the need anymore. Shadows were your thing, you always had an air of darkness. So does he. You didn't fit the light, but she did.

Sleep wouldn't come to you, not even briefly. You stared at the damage of the room in the moonlight and thought back to the image of him on his knees in front of you, fearing evident in his eyes. He looked so good on his knees.

You shot up from the bed and yanked the door open, walking with a purpose, your rage having a strange effect on you. You needed him.

******

Aleksander sat at his desk, halfway through a bottle of whiskey. He couldn't stop thinking of what you did. How such a small thing had affected you and made you snap. Your eyes held darkness he had never seen before, not even in himself.

He hoped your intentions were pure, it was better than the reality he imagined in his head as you held an iron grip on his hands and slowed his heart. You looked hungry; ravenous for more.

There was a time when your power made him more attracted to you, you were his equal in his eyes. Together the two of you were unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with. But all of it changed when he seen how little you understood the power you had. Your powers were always ruled by your emotions and not by you. Today just proved to him that even after 98 years of practice, you were still a loose cannon.

He couldn't bring himself to use the shadows on you, not because you would've taken them, but because he didn't want to hurt you. For a split second, he was scared you would do something to him, but it was overpowered by the fear of what you could do to his life; turn it upside down and inside out. And he would let you.

He couldn't decide if he hated you for undermining him or whether he wanted you even more than he ever did. The tension between you two was always thick, but when he was on his knees in front of you, he couldn't help but think back to all the times he'd done it willingly, worshipping you at your feet. Rightfully so. You were a goddess in his eyes.

A door opening and shutting tore him away from his thoughts. He looked up and there you were, in nothing but a nightgown, flushed and breathing hard.

Part 9

ITS COMING sorry I’m making u wait but there’s nothing better than post-fight (literally) sex 😊😊😊

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl

#imagine #shadow and bone #the darkling #the darkling x reader #alexander #alexander morozova #alina starkov #ben barnes #grisha #fanfic #kefta #series #one shot #general kirigan x reader #black general #general kirigan #little palace #imagine.

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Cold Hearted ( But I still want it)

Taehyung x Oc

Organized Crime AU !

Violence, Sexually Explicit Content, abusive undertones.

Unhealthy relationships.

“I’m meeting Jimin at that club in Itaewon for lunch. The new one. Keep the Aston Martin ready. I’ll drive myself.” Taehyung’s deep voice echoed through the room and his deputy hastened to acknowledge the order, a curt nod and quick phone call soon after.

I glanced at my husband, expectant.

“Take me with you.” I whispered, soft because he hated it when I raised my voice.

He didn’t reply.

At least not to me.

“Just me. My lovely wife will be dining by herself in her room . Maybe then, she’ll remember what happens when she blatantly disobeys me. ” He barely spared me a glance and i clenched my fists.

I hadn’t gotten out of this god forsaken place in a month. I felt stir-crazy and trapped. It was a punishment, a way he controlled me and i hated it but I also hated myself for giving him a reason to punish me.

It had been a reckless act of rebellion, done in a moment of frustrated anger and i had regretted it almost at once.

I’d been upset because Taehyung had been ignoring me for work. i had missed him. Missed being in his arms, missed lounging around his office. Sitting on his lap while he held meetings in the large conference rooms.

A quick kiss with some stranger in a pub was all it was supposed to be. Just to remind my husband what he was missing out on.

But the idiot hadn’t taken no for an answer, had tried to push me into a bathroom stall and Taehyung had found me like that, screaming my head off with some drunk off his ass idiot trying to yank my dress up.

It hadn’t ended prettily.

The man had begged for forgiveness and so had I.

But Taehyung wasn’t one to forgive and now, thanks to my impulsive act, a man lay dead at the bottom of the Han and i was locked in this house for a month.

The bruises from that night, when he’d tied me up to the bed and fucked me so hard I cried, still decorated my thighs and hips.

But apparently, it wasn’t enough.

He wasn’t done punishing me yet.

The resentment was all consuming.

The simmering hurt, that feeling of being considered worthless, of being seen as a fucking toy... of being looked at like I didn’t deserve his attention..it always swelled and swelled till I snapped.

And then he would punish me for doing exactly what he had wanted me to do.....right until I snapped again . it was a vicious cycle.

how dare he. How fucking dare he.

I stared down at the man kneeling in front of me, his gaze dripping with lust as he carefully rubbed liniment on my feet, fingers soft and gentle as he massaged the balls of my feet. His touches were reverent and worshipful almost, like he’s touching something valuable.

He also looked like he wanted to stick my toes inside his mouth.

The pig.

I’d wanted to go out to get my hair done , a manicure and a pedicure. But Taehyung had shut that down. Apparently the lecherous fool on his knees before me owned some expensive salon in the city.

Taehyung was still angry, and apparently he had meant it when he said he wasn’t letting me out of the house till i learned a lesson.

I hated him. But I had only acted out because I loved him and missed him and it was confusing. Infuriating.

I grabbed the soft fur throw on the back of the couch and wrapped it around me.

I exhaled sharply, looking away to the side, where my husband sat behind his desk, long legs propped up and stretched out like a jaguar on one of the lavishly crafted tables, dressed in a white shirt and a black jacket.

The shirt was snow-white unlike the blood that stained his fingers. The same fingers that were wrapped around a gun, the bullets out, the safety on as he carefully ran the muzzle up and down his torso. The gun was pretty much a prop with him.

Kim Taehyung did not use guns.

He used his knife.

I was broken out of my thoughts when a finger traced up my ankle and up my shin, right to the inside of my knee. And then further up to my thigh .

The touch foreign and unwelcome made me jump.

“Leave. Get the fuck away from me.” I snarled as I pulled my leg away, no longer stomaching the man’s touch. He was being blatantly lewd in his touches and i didn’t want it.

Taehyung gave me a lazy look, clearly startled by my voice, breaking the stillness of early morning.

“That better not be directed at me, princess.”

I swallowed.

“No..I...he...” I pointed at the man on the floor who seemed to have suddenly realized what he had just done. He held his hands up, eyes blown wide with fear.

My husband looked to us, eyes landing on the man giving me a pedicure.

Taehyung smelled fear like a shark sensed blood in the water and I saw him straighten, eyes narrowed, body thrumming.

“Is something wrong?” His gaze shifted to mine and I didn’t miss the way his fingers fluttered to his waist, where his trusty dagger stayed holstered to his hip.

I swallowed.

It was seven in the fucking morning.

Way too early to see some poor bastard lose his entire hand for groping the wife of the biggest mob boss in South Korea.

“Nothing. I’m just tired of your sick little games! ” I snapped , syllables coated with anger and that’s bold even for me. Bold and reckless and possibly a little suicidal.

Lashing out at Taehyung in front of his sub-ordinates, acting out in front of his men. Its a big no no and I hate myself because surely, surely I’ve made things worse for myself.

Taehyung’s brow rose.

“Leave us. “ He said harshly.

The men in the room didn’t need to be told twice. I watched as they scurried out with a speed that was impressive. Icy dread washed over me as I drew my knees up to my chest, wrapped both arms around my legs and crawled back into the couch as he stood up so fast , the chair he was in went crashing to the wall.

Tongue sandpaper dry and eyes wide, I leaned back fully, staring at him as he slowly walked over, face still and serene and perfectly beautiful and altogether terrifying.

“I think... I’ve been going too easy on you, little one..” He said gently, tone softly lilting and I closed my eyes when he reached out, fingers closing around my jaw, squeezing hard.

“I’m sorry....” I blurted out , because futile though it was , apologizing, I couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be if I didn’t.

He hummed.

“Your father’s dead. “ He said casually.

My heart leapt up into my throat and I scrambled to get up but he held me down , pressing me into the couch with his weight as he began yanking on the buttons of my blouse.

“Taehyung!! Why?! “ I whimpered. “ You promised...you promised you wouldn’t kill him!” I sobbed when yanked the silk fabric off my body, leaving me naked from the waist up. He grabbed my arms, turning me over till I was face down over the armrest , breasts pressed into the rough fabric of the couch as he made quick work of the rest of my clothes.

Taehyung loved fucking me naked when he was fully clothed. It was his way of reminding just how different the two of us were.

“And i didn’t! “ He grunted, yanking my skirt and panties down with ease.” Jimin did, when your father tried to plant a mole in his drug team.”

I flinch when he gripped my thighs hard, spreading my legs.

And then it all happened too fast : the clink of his belt buckle , the pull of his zipper and then the hard length of him, pushing in, splitting me open as he bottomed out inside me.

Taehyung draped himself over me, every inch of him covering every inch of mine, the fabric of his silk shirt soft against my bare back and I flinched when he took the end of his tie, still knotted around his neck and stuffed it into my mouth, gagging me.

The harsh pull of his fingers in my hair left me reeling and I screamed, sound muffled by the thick wad of the fabric in my mouth .

He kept his grip on my hair taut, yanking my head back just enough to sink his teeth into the curve of my neck, knees braced on the couch as he fucked into me in controlled thrusts, each push of his hips rubbing my body raw.

“Know who’s taking over after your father?” He hissed, hand leaving my hair to wrap around my neck and squeeze.

I whimpered when he pressed in just a little harder, hips jerking forward with a vengeance, enough force to move the hardwood oak couch we were on. The same couch that had taken four people to carry in.

“Jeon Jungkook.” He snarled and I whimpered when his hands fumbled with his waist, my eyes going wide as I tilted my head, watched him grab the dagger out of its leather sheath.

Oh god...oh god no...

Was he going to kill me? Slit my throat?

Fear rendered me witless and I buked wildly, trying to throw him off but it was impossible . He was too damn heavy and too damn strong.

“Remember him? Your precious boyfriend? “ He sneered , licking the skin behind my ear, lewd and disgusting as he sucked a hickey on the sensitive skin. “ The wonderful young man you were supposed to marry? Kind, generous Jungkookie who was going to become a surgeon and rescue you from this cruel world of crime you were born into?? ”

I sobbed out at the sharp pang of hurt that lanced my heart. Long buried memories surfaced and I had to bite my lips to keep them down , to stop my mind from splintering into tiny broken pieces.

“Guess the lure of the darkness was too much for your little bunny after all.... He’s going to be a gangster. He’s going to be a murderer and a monster and the best thing...he’s going to be just ....like...me...” He hissed, and I shrieked, when brought the dagger down, slowly carefully, till the sharp edge of it rested right over the skin , just behind my ear.

I felt the touch of the knife edge on my skin and closed my eyes. The sting was sharp and excruciating and i closed my eyes in agony and although I couldn’t see it, I knew exactly what he was carving into my skin. The slanting lines, one and then another.

I felt the sharp pain of the cut on my neck, just as he pulled the dagger away, my head throbbing as I felt wetness bead over my neck and spill, staining scarlet the couch beneath my head.

“There. Now you wear my mark.” He whispered, kissing the back of my neck. “ And now you’ll wear me.”

He lifted himself up off me and before I could process what was happening he flipped me over, grabbing my leg and throwing it over his shoulder before fucking into me, hard and fast.

“He’s going to start a war, i hear. A war over you. He wants you back , my love and I find myself hating the thought of losing you...” He hissed, fingers playing with my nipples, tugging and pinching till my eyes watered.

I felt my eyes rolling into the back of my head, pleasure blooming against my will and I whimpered when he pulled the tie out of my mouth, replacing it with his tongue.

Taehyung kissed me gently, a contrast to how he fucked into me and I felt myself unravel in his arms, body spasming as he pressed his thumb against the bundle of nerves at my entrance,.

“You’re mine little one ...” He whispered against my lips as I came , clenching down around his hardness, my breath loud and raspy and ruined. “ You’re mine and he can’t have you!!!”

I found myself breathless and choking as he chased his own pleasure, hips ruthless as he rammed into me and I dug my fingers into the couch, as he gripped my waist, hard enough to bruise .

He shuddered as he came, spilling into me in a sticky wet mess that made my thighs damp and I could only tremble like a leaf caught in a storm.

It took me a second to realize that he was fully clothed and I was naked.

I shook as he pulled up and away from me. Grabbing my clothes, I made to move but his fingers caught my wrists.

“No.” He said sharply, glaring at me .

I swallowed.

“Tae...”

“Drop that and come sit on me cock.”

I felt my eyes tear up in protest.

“Please, don’t...”

“Didn’t you fucking hear me.” He sat back on the couch and I watched as he casually stroked his dick again, still half hard.

Shaking, I moved to stand in front of him, letting him maneuver me till I was sitting on his lap, straddling his hips, the warm thickness of his cock slipping into my wetness with ease.

“Stay that way, “ He whispered, pulling me closer till I lay on his chest, cheeks pressed against the fabric of his shirt.

I gripped his shirt on the sides, fingers and legs trembling. He threw the fur throw on the both of us, covering my body from just below my shoulder blades.

“Is he here?” He called out suddenly and I stiffened.

Who?

“He’s here sir.”

“Send him up.”

I felt my entire body go stiff.

No. No.

“If you fucking move, the love of your life will leave this room in a body bag.” Taehyung whispered softly.

I sobbed.

After a three whole years , this wasn’t how i wanted to see him.

Footsteps behind me and then the sharp , sharp intake of breath.

“Taehyung.”

Jungkook’s voice rang through the room and I closed my eyes.

“Jungkook-ah..... Such a pleasure. Please excuse my wife, she’s still a little exhausted from.... stuff.” He chuckled. “ Sit down . What can I do for you?”

“She’s bleeding.” Jungkook’s voice was shaking.

I startled.

Taehyung hummed, thoughtful.

He ran his fingers over the cut behind my ear, gently and i winced .

“This? Just a way to remind her ....and everyone else...that she’s mine.” Taehyung smiled.

Jungkook’s chuckle was so familiar and so soft and I fought the urge to turn around and look at him. I couldn’t If I did. If I saw his face I would break down entirely.

“Nothing is permanent hyung. Not in our world. What’s yours today can be mine tomorrow. Isn’t that how it works? .”

Taehyung stiffened, gripping me harder around the waist.

“You’re being rude, jagiya . Greet our guests.” Taehyung hissed, grabbing my jaw and forcing me to turn around and I sobbed out in shock, scrambling for the fur throw as it fell off my body, clutching it to my breasts as I stared at Jungkook.

He looked devastated , eyes pained and brimming with hurt for one second before going obsidian with rage.

“I’m going to fucking destroy you for this, Taehyung. " Jungkook swore. “ I’m going to tear you limb from limb, bury you six feet under and piss on your fucking grave, you son of a whoring bitch,.”

Taehyung merely chuckled.

“I look forward to it , Jungkookie.” He said carelessly, hugging me closer. “ Now leave. I intend to enjoy the company of my wife. You should get one for yourself, doctor. They make perfect playthings. “

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

Author’s note : Well... its a one shot but I hope you guys liked it !!

#taehyung smut #taehyung fics #taehyung fanfic #taehyung gang au #bts gang au #taehyung fic #bts smut #bts au #bts smut fic #bts fanfic #bts fics

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damselofblueroses · 3 years

Text

The Name of the Rose, Chapter 3

Summary: Your study-buddy Doh Kyungsoo comes with you for a long-awaited trip to Tokyo, Japan. There is a tension between you, however both of you decided to build a friendship instead of a relationship.

Chapter Summary: Kyungsoo made a mistake on his delicate relationship with the reader, then he could not find a way of apologizing. Reader made his life harder than he could imagine. They accepted that they mutually have some feelings however they could not name them. Catastrophy begins with Kyungsoo’s acceptance of reader’s interesting and unexpected offer.

Content: Unestablished relationship, AU, Hurt/Comfort, Anger, Slight Violence, Emotional Complications and Healing.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story was inspired by D.O.’s album, Empathy, the album of 2021 in my opinion. It is an ongoing mini project, I planned to write it as a one-shot when I started, however I realized there are a lot to say about Empathy Era and I cannot stop shut my mouth, or prevent myself from writing… So, here we go.

Chapter Word Count: 5.7k

Series Masterlist

Prettier than Roses

Perhaps Kyungsoo was still punishing himself even after all this time, whether he was aware of his regrets or not. But he was punishing himself, for not being vocal about his feelings for you. He burned for you, he followed you just as a bloody puppy dog tail, but he always kept his heart’s desires in his chest.

He was resisting the urge of confessing, the dire need of being more than a friend for you as he was performing all roles of a friend, but God, he hated his role in your life. Even though he strongly believed that he did not have a chance with you, not even in the slightest, not after he played his role very well, more than he wanted and resulted in being your very dear and close friend. A friend, but nothing more nothing less. He hated so much, if he could, he would change everything in the blink of an eye.

He knew that he had to take you back to the safety of your room immediately. Before he was going to lose his shit. Before he was going to make a mistake. Before he was going to fuck the things up so bad. He was determined to take the cab and keeping you away from himself.

He did not want any distraction, shit he fucking dreamed of ripping that bloody dress off you during the dinner, he did not wish anything but managing to lock himself inside of his room before doing something stupid.

His clenched his fists in order to focus on a different thing. When he saw the cab coming to your direction, he was on the verge of praying.

However, when he turned to you, he just lost his shit.

You were looking at him with you big-doe eyes, a pout on your lips. The city lights were painting you with a dim yellow shine, multiplying your summer rose vibe. To Kyungsoo’s dismay, the wind carried your floral fragrance to him.

He remembered what you asked him.

He remembered what you requested.

Kyungsoo would do it right, he would touch you rightly and correctly, goddamn, he was fucking dreamed of how he could touch you since years. He was not better than the men you went out with, he was fantasizing a lot about you, he felt bad since he did not have your permission, fucking hell if he would ask your permission, but at the same time he knew that he was just helpless when those thoughts about you popped up in his imagination.

Unfortunately, all those dreams were so vivid.

You were like an island to him. A place for self-isolation, a place of happy utopias, a place of loneliness, a place of joy and fruitful ways of living, a place of exile and a place of connection. You were his island, his harbour and he needed to make you his, only his.

Since the day you were asleep on his shoulder in the bloody library, Kyungsoo wanted nothing but you.

Since the day you jumped in front of Kyungsoo out of nowhere with your fucking Cheshire cat grin, Kyungsoo only wished for being able to stick to you till the end. He did not care if he was torturing himself by dreaming of you when he knew he could not have you.

Your scent was too good.

Kyungsoo did not think what the heck he was doing, his mind could not catch his actions. His breath caught in the center of his throat like he was thirsty since ages, he could feel all dryness. He watched himself out of his body, he reached to you and dragged you into the cage of his arms.

Your smell was something else and Kyungsoo was immediately drunk in your scent.

“It is okey, Kyungsoo.” he heard your sweetest voice.

Kyungsoo did not need anything more to hear. The cab just disappeared into the darkness he caressed your face.

“You are so beautiful.” the words he was desperate to say finally fell from his tongue, mingled with the air. Your eyes slightly widened, and he heard your little gasp, that was the nail of Kyungsoo’s coffin. “Goddamn, you are fucking beautiful.”

“Kyungsoo” you literally moaned his goddamn name, and if there was still a kind of sanity left in Kyungsoo’s mind, your moan unconditionally destroyed it.

He kissed you and it took your breath away, both of you.

He kissed you enough to empty your lungs, and made your mind go to mush.

You were the one who broke the kiss in order to catch your thoughts. Your mind was scattered all around. You leaned over to your shaking knees and held them tightly.

“This… This…” you were panting, trying to find an excuse in the book in order to justify the kiss he gave to you.

“This means nothing.” Kyungsoo muttered but he could also reject to his claim with two reasons. First, It definitely did not fell like fucking nothing, and he never want something more than kiss you.

“Well, it means a lot to me.” you could not help but spill the beans. “Where in the hell you learned how to kiss like this?”

“I told you that you never have a proper taste of me.” Kyungsoo tensely chuckled, hell, he was aware of he was doing everything in his not-to-do list, but the spell you put on him made him impervious to anything except you.

“If you kiss every girl like this,” you hesitated to tell what you wanted to say, then you just gave up. JesusfuckingChrist, if he did not want to hear, he would better not to kiss you. Since he turned your brain into mush, he had to listen. “There is no surprise they are chasing you every day.”

“I do not kiss every girl first and foremost.” Kyungsoo’s eyebrows were furrowed. “If they want to chase me, what can I do?”

“And now you are bragging about yourself.” Your mood quickly changed into a less pleasurable and preferrable situation. “Can we go back?”

“Yes, of course.” he nod but you knew that you just destroyed everything was building between you in the blink of eye. You bite your upper lip so hard, preventing you from crying. Not now. Not before you were going to be under your blanket.

That kiss, that fucking kiss, it was all Kyungsoo’s fault.

He gave you a proper taste of himself, and you just wanted to cry, you were deeply sad because of you were not able to have him, you could not have him. He would not come to you as he boldly stated that the kiss meant nothing.

You were angry.

You were sad.

You were disappointed of yourself.

You just wanted to go back to the safety of your room and being able to talk with Chanyeol. He would understand. You knew that Baekhyun would give you a lot of advice in order to seduce Kyungsoo, but you did not want even to hear them.

He told you the kiss meant nothing.

Hell, if you could agree with this shitty statement, you would be lying your ass off.

Fuck off, you bastard you thought. You were fighting with your tears, trying to send them back. You were a big, strong girl and you could control your feelings.

You always were extremely strong, and you were famous for your self-control. You were not going to let Kyungsoo to destroy your inner peace or seeing you in tears because of his fucking rejection. You thought Kyungsoo would do it better, kissing you better, making you feel good, but the only thing he did was dismantling your foolish dreams.

He put you in your place, he gave you a lesson about your place in his eyes.

Nothing.

Kyungsoo could not look at you while you two were in the cab, going back to the hotel.

He knew that he fucked the things up so bad and he could not think a way to claim back from the pit he fell down by himself.

He kissed you, goddamn, it was the best kiss of his whole life, then he just said it meant nothing.

He cursed himself, he wished for the earth cracked like an egg and swallow his worthless presence. He made you upset, that’s why he could not look at your face. He knew what he was going to see, your eyes were going to mirror his mistake.

He lost in the moment, and while he was trying to give you a justification of that kiss, he just irrevocably ruined everything.

When you arrived at the hotel, you paid for the cab without saying a single word to Kyungsoo and directly walked to the inside of the hotel.

Kyungsoo was dying to grab you and apologizing on his knees, but your face telling him not to dare touching you.

He did not enter the hotel, he just sat on a chair in the garden. He was lost in his self-hatred, dreadful overthinking that had his skull feeling stuffed and a lifeless gaze washed all his feature.

He expected nothing but long days where the minutes bled into hours, hours into days and the inability to differentiate one day from the other. He mentally prepared himself for more than self-hatred, he knew that depression, isolation, and numbness were on their way to finish him, to eat him alive. Your face expression when he told you it was nothing was carved behind his eyelids, whenever he closed his eyes.

Kyungsoo was ready for flashbacks and nightmares, disturbing recollections that would render him for the following days.

Comatose, Kyungsoo thought. It was going to be a comatose for him.

How could he think he was better than those guys you went out? They did not destroy your expectations; they did not blend your self-confidence as Kyungsoo did in the seconds.

You did not know but there was a reason why Kyungsoo hopelessly tried to spare you from his kiss. You did not know but Kyungsoo heard a conversation between you and Chanyeol for once, when Chanyeol was telling that Kyungsoo was different for you, Kyungsoo was caring you more than anyone else, Kyungsoo was always there for you before anyone else just like he forgot how to shut his mouth as he continued. Chanyeol was the one who told you about Kyungsoo’s feelings.

And you just giggled of disbelief as Chanyeol went on about everything Kyungsoo wanted to tell you. Open your eyes to the facts.

You just laughed at his feelings coming from Chanyeol’s mouth and you told him it was impossible, you declared that there was nothing could be happened between Kyungsoo and you. You told Chanyeol, Kyungsoo was a good guy, but you did not think he was for you.

He wanted to save you from an unwanted situation which Kyungsoo could put you in by kissing you. It was sake, telling him to teach you, and Kyungsoo stupidly fell for it.

Till now he preferred to hide in the shadows, dancing around the subject than jumping onto it.

But this logic that his mind was following did not change how much he hated himself right now.

He had no regrets on kissing you, god knew that. He still could taste your velvety lips under his lips, he knew that moment was going to live with him till the end of his life. That kiss was grounding but inebriating, he was feeling sane while bringing both of you to the edge of insanity, your lips burned him like a fire.

When you touched him, you marked his skin, your touch stayed on him.

But he hated himself so much, enough to made him feel suffocating.

He found himself standing up and heading to your room before he could understand what the heck he was aiming for. The deep rumble of his chest that he could almost feel vibrate through the air as he walked through the way coming to you, helped him to prepare himself to face with you.

What could it be? he asked to himself. You could tell him get the fuck off, but he was not going to obey to your wish this time.

It was going to be a rumbling, he knew your possible reactions when you were sad, Goddamnit, you were extraordinarily upset with him, but he did not let this fact to disheartened him. He was not a coward; he was going to fix his mistake.

Kyungsoo raised his hand to knock your door, but before doing it, he heard your voice. As he thought, you were talking with Chanyeol or Baekhyun, he was not sure. He came closer to the door as much as he could, and did not give a shit to the rightful concern what if someone saw him while he was leaning on a single woman’s room like a stalker pervert?

He did not care.

He only cared for hearing your words after the incident.

Your voice was cracked, and he could not hear you properly, your voice was coming and going like a goddamn ancient radio. He could hear some words but there was no consistency or no chance of building a logical sentence of your words. He could perceive his name, with couple of words which Kyungsoo hoped not to be used with his name again, some broken lines on how disappointed you were, and he caught your oh-god-fucking-damn-it type of annoyance against Kyungsoo.

He gave up and knocked your door.

Twice.

There was no sign from you, and Kyungsoo was tired of patiently waiting.

He did his waiting. Seven years. In a fucking friendzone he put himself in.

He aggressively knocked on your door, and he did not stop until you gave up and opened the door.

“Shit.” he cursed when he saw your face. “You look horrible.”

Oh really? you thought.

After leaving Kyungsoo, you did not spend a single second to lock yourself in your secure and lonely room, then you just pressed the right numbers to make a call. Chanyeol was there for you, he listened your rambling and gibberish without a sign of inconvenience. He let you to curse Kyungsoo as much as you wanted, he joined you for the little party of swearing at Kyungsoo and he was generous on his vocabulary.

But you cried even when Chanyeol managed to put a broken smile on your face by telling you maybe Kyungsoo was not interested in girls, otherwise he had to be on his knees for you.

You cried for Kyungsoo more than anything made you cry till now.

Your sadness caught you off guard, even you did not expect to be upset with him like this, your feelings were like a blunt blade, it was turning in your heart over and over, using your own blood to be sharp again, then continuing its spinning in your heart. Pain made you numb; you could do only cry.

Your eyes were puffed and literally red. Your cheeks were red. Your lips were red.

Of course, you looked goddamn horrible as Kyungsoo, this asshole, proudly observed. Applause time for him for his greatest deduction.

“Nothing can escape from your eyes, Sherlock.” you murmured. “Couldn't you pay your attention on the fact that we already passed the midnight? Why are you here?”

“May I come in?” Kyungsoo kindly asked but something in his eyes were telling you to be on your toes and careful.

“No.” You congratulated yourself because of your refined answer. You were an idiot for sure, instead of playing with him and showing that he had no impacts on you, you chose to manifest how much you were broken by him. Good for you.

Transformation started in his eyes. Those chocolate brown and very warm eyes, reminding the deer’ beauty, perfectly shaped as almonds turned into crescents, and it was a bloody indicator of his mood was shifted into something dangerous. He was always quick to switch the moods, but he had never looked intimating at this level. You really could not believe what the heck he did, he just grabbed your fucking wrists, dragged you inside of your fucking room without your permission and pressed you on your fucking wall.

“Kyungsoo, fuck off!” you hissed at him, trying to save yourself from his iron grasp, swallowing hard.

“Tell me just one thing and save both of us from misery.” he whispered; his low-pitched voice gave you goosebumps which you really tried to take no notice of, but your traitor body willingly has been taking everything if the giver was Kyungsoo. “Why did you cry?”

“What if I do not want to tell you?” you lifted your chin, you needed to distance yourself from him, he already ruined the progress just a couple of hours ago. His statement clearly taught you whatever your friendship was not the best way to build a new kind of relationship, and you strongly opposed to be friends with benefits or those kinds of agreements. You would not go for them, you wanted Kyungsoo as your lover, not as your fuckbuddy.

“Do me a favor,” he enunciated each syllable and moved his right hand to your shoulder, pressing you into wall just like he wished to ground you right there. “Tell me.”

He leaned on you, his palm made contact with your shoulder, sliding up to your neck and staying there. His touch was heavy again, hotter than before.

He was goddamn close.

When you tried to save your body from him again, Kyungsoo’s hips rutted against yours.

Well, now you could feel more than before.

“Stop fucking moving!” he grunted, surprising you with the sudden and macho voice tone. He looked like very uncomfortable. “You and your idiotic behaviour!”

“If you do not like it, let me go!” you hissed, but you felt a knot was forming in the pit of your stomach. You were afraid of his impacts on you, especially after that fucking kiss. He had you over there as melted like a chocolate under heat.

Even while you were fighting to free yourself, your eyes unconsciously gravitated along his features, all you could do was thinking of him all the time you had spent with him. Those piercing brown eyes and those plump, smooth and heart-shaped lips that are always set in a witty line, the smallest moles and a couple of freckles all around his tiny nose and rosy cheeks, his long eyelashes, and that bloody soft hair of him, caused you to desire running your fingers through.

He was driving you fucking crazy, and you hated his power on you.

“Oh, believe me if I do not like even your idiotic side,” he leaned forward, closed the little proximity between your bodies and you felt the air left your lungs with your sanity. “I would not kiss you, damn woman.”

You were lost for words, you were run down, the only thing you could voice was an exasperated huff. Kyungsoo stared at you, refusing to loosen his grip around your body, instead he held you for his dear life and his gaze was nothing but absolutely penetrating.

You turned your head, trying to find something else to fix your eyes upon while you had been seeking the meaning of his words about liking your idiotic side.

Did he convey his feelings? Did he really stand for liking you, if he liked even your idiotic side, did it indicate that he liked all of you?

If he kissed you because he liked you, did that kiss imply more than nothing for him?

If yes, why he told you it meant nothing?

“Look at me.” his left hand cupped your face gently, on the contrary of his eyes, burning with fires, you could see the red was invading chocolate brown circles. “Do not avert your eyes.”

You blinked and shut your eyelids tightly. Suddenly, the silence in the room was more palpable than it was before, drowning both of you in a foggy swamp of riddles.

You were pissed off, broken and now, thanks to his complicated words, you were more than confused.

Kyungsoo was pissed off, broken and now, thanks to your complicated reactions, he was more than confused.

“If you were so keen on trying to convince yourself that I meant that kiss was nothing,” his jaw flexed, and his eyes were clouded. “I was trying to make amend for my fault. I should have not kiss you.”

You shivered, despite it was a very hot summer night, and Kyungsoo’s warm body made your temperature skyrocketed.

“Why?” you asked. “You do not make any sense, Kyungsoo.”

“Look, who is talking?” he rolled his eyes back. “You never make any sense about our fucking relationship since the beginning. I told you many times, pay your attention.”

You should be warned to follow the signs. Collect them and find the hidden meaning. Kyungsoo was sure on his patience, he could wait for you as much as you wished, he could give you time as much as you needed, but he had no patience to hide in the shadows anymore.

He knew that his constant shifting between one side to the other surprised you, hell it surprised even himself, he did not think about any of this, but since that kiss happened between you, since Kyungsoo got a taste of you, since he could touch you… Everything was changed.

He did not want to let you go.

He could not let you go.

He was aware of you did not belong to him, maybe you did not perceive Kyungsoo as a man, but he could not be your friend anymore. He wanted to tell you how much he adored you more than before. He wanted to kiss you more than before. He wanted to see your face when he woke up, he wanted to cuddle you when he was sad, he wanted to lean on your shoulder when he was broken, he wanted to cook for you, he wanted to sing for you, he wanted to make you happy, he wanted to make you feel good, he wanted to be your harbour to shelter from the stormy seas, your rock to build your home.

He wanted to live his life with you. He wanted to share even the smallest detail of his fucking life with you.

“I told you that I even like your idiotic side,” he clarified. “And you still avert your eyes from me.”

That ignited the fire of your soul.

“Hell, excuse me for my idiotic side but if I remember correctly and my memory never fails me, I told you that it was fucking okey just before you kissed me, after I shared my catastrophic first kiss experience with you,” your voice was not trembling anymore. It was firm, fuelled by your anger. “Then, all you could say was that kiss stands for nothing. What do you expect me to say?”

“Even if you are upset with me, talk to me!” he frowned. “I ask nothing but your words, truly and fully. Is this too much to expect? Hell, you were the one who said that I am a good guy but not made for you, why you are so upset with me because I made an excuse for that kiss?!”

It was your turn to froze. Kyungsoo finally let you go, he stepped back, and his arms crossed over his chest, but you froze to death. You could not move but looking at his unchanging expression like an idiot he just named it correctly.

“Yes,” you took a deep breath. If Kyungsoo said this to your face, it meant that he wanted you to face a revelation. He wanted you to know that he heard your words about him, the words which you vividly remember as you said them to Chanyeol without knowing that Kyungsoo was able to hear them. If he heard them, you owed an explanation to him. Maybe you were just searching an excuse in the book, but you gave up. You were going to tell him what you think of him. “It was me. I still have the same observation. You are damn good for me, if I would say the opposite, I would be lying my ass off.”

Kyungsoo’s face went blank.

What did you say to him? He wanted you to talk truly, however right now he was nothing but almost regretful what he had said to you. Kyungsoo hoped for you did not mean that for real, he wished it was just a gibberish.

Were you a goddamn fool?

He knew the low level of your self-confidence, but your statement was nothing but the shittiest one he has ever heard.

“What?” he murmured. “You think I am good for you?”

“Yes.” you nod. “Look at yourself, Kyungsoo! You are damn good at everything you do, you are clever, hard-working, funny, firm and always trustable, I even do not go for your physical quality, it is fucking obvious, you are handsome as fuck. Of course, I could not say anything different, you were not made for me.”

Suddenly, your hands became the focus of your attention, you fixed your eyes onto them instead of looking at Kyungsoo, who took his time before registering and recording your words in his brain. Then, his hands started were smashed together unintentionally.

“And during all this time,” he heard his own voice trembling, as if being blown by the brute force that he was trying to contain inside of his chest. “I thought you are the cleverer one.”

“Ha?”

“I really do not understand why I think you can follow the signs I have been giving to you like a bloody idiot.” he could not help but growled at you. “In my opinion, you are the only girl who deserves to feel fucking good, and if I can be that one to bring you to such a high, I would willingly do it.”

“I do not un-

“Because you do not want to see!” Kyungsoo could not control himself but go ballistic because of your blockheadedness. How could a woman be clueless at this level? What should he do, continue to scream at you about his feelings or should he bring a testimony that was approved by lawyers?

Didn’t you understand how much he cared for you?

Didn’t you see his almost tangible desires for you?

Everyone could sense his love for you, but you could fucking not, and Kyungsoo was burned out because of your total ignorance.

“Are you,” your whisper reached to his ears. “Are you interested in me?”

Kyungsoo decided that, on the contrary of your academic success, you were literally a retard.

“Why do you think I follow you everywhere like I am your dog tail?” he clenched his fists. Quickly, he walked towards you, but stopped just in front of your trembling body. “What do you think of me, do I look like a lost puppy?”

“No.” you were offended by his words. Dog tail? Puppy? He was not that much cute at first place with his level of being witty and shitty! However, after one look at him, you were not sure anymore, even he was clearly pissed off, he was fucking gorgeous and cute. “Shit, Kyungsoo, you are annoying.”

“You are the damn annoying one.” Kyungsoo started to question himself, he wanted nothing more than to fuck this attitude out of you right there, in your double sized bed. “All I did was finding an excuse which can make you relaxed with me, and I accepted my failure. I should have neither kiss you nor lie about it. But I did, and I apologize for my misbehaviour. Let’s look at you, you are just asking goddamn questions and ignoring my answers. Who is the annoying one?”

You whipped your head around; your eyes were glistering with a layer of tears, forming in the edges.

“Are you interested in me, or not?” you cried. Kyungsoo glanced up, he registered the sudden stiffness in you, and how you consciously averting your eyes away from him. He remembered that same stiffness invaded your posture when you wanted to learn what happened to your dad while he was in emergency, or you were hopelessly driving into Busan when you received after the news of Chanyeol’s motorcycle crash.

He finally understood what you needed to hear.

You wanted his words.

You wanted him to say those words.

“I have always been interested in you.” he gave up. Your heart jumped into your throat at his blunt answer, you did not know how you feel about this information, having a place in Kyungsoo’s head was something you always hoped for, but never believe it could be real. Half of you thrilled with a delicious excitement, while the other half wanted to run away because of fear.

What if he was going to fuck around with you then ditch you?

What if he was going to try being with you then decide to leave you?

What if he was going to pour happiness into your life, you even could not dream of, then disappear?

Your dilemma was in your head. Carved into your mind, body, and soul.

Your biggest fear was losing Kyungsoo.

“I hate this eerily silence between us.” Kyungsoo cut you off before you could dig yourself into a deeper hole. How could you tell him he was everything and more you wanted from this life? How could you make him to understand how much you devoted yourself to him unconditionally? You watched him with darkening eyes, darkening with your fears, with your concerns, with your worries. Your eyes were dark as the pitch-black. “I am sorry to disturb you. See you tomorrow morning if you want to have a breakfast with me.”

Every layer of privacy and secrecy that you desperately tried to build till now in order to keep your weakest point from him were dissolved when he directly headed to the door. You did not even realize but threw yourself in order to stop him.

“Do not go.” you let the tears fall then and held his toned arm for your dear life. You could not let him to leave you behind, otherwise you would be damned. “Do not leave me, before you really have to do.”

“Why should I have to leave you?” Kyungsoo turned back to you. You saw the hesitation of his moves, he wanted to caress your face, but he was holding himself. “I cannot do it, even if I want to. You are too precious for me, bookworm.”

Your face was softened by his rich baritone voice and the nickname he gave you. Calling you as a bookworm was reserved to Kyungsoo, he beaten the shit out of even Baekhyun when he also called you like Kyungsoo.

“One day you will, Soo.” you were lost in your nightmares, mulling over horrendous scenarios your subconscious had been giving you in a fucking row. “One day someone will steal you from me, one day you will fall in love with a girl and leave me behind.”

Something told you that you should have been keeping this logic to yourself, but you were extremely emotional at the very moment. Your expectations, dreams, fears, hopes, everything was mixed up and conjoined with the amount of sake you just consumed.

You were talkative tonight, something very rare for you and Kyungsoo was happy for that. Even though you had been going through a hell of a night. He was also oversensitive, his mind was clouded by his own dreads and doubts, however when you sharply deducted on his not-existed-because-of-you love affairs, he could not help but chuckled.

“First, I have to see the girls.” his throat was like a sandpaper as he swallowed. The rosy tint on your cheeks was obviously growing, invading your skin, and heading to the south. He hardly took his eyes off your neck and the rest of the direction. “Excuse me, but I have eyes only for you.”

“You cannot say that!” you winced, by fanning your face with your hands.

“Then enlighten me.” he defended himself. “How should I say it? Sorry, but I believe in monogamy.”

Your knuckles paled as your grip around his arm tightened.

How could you name the hunger that driving you into crazy? How could you tell him even looking at him, even if you have not a single clue what was going to be happen, riling you up? You supposedly liberated yourself from Kyungsoo, but tearing his gaze away was impossible for you.

You wanted him. So, fucking bad.

You wanted his hands. His lips. His body.

You wanted his soul. His heart.

You were starting to pull him to yourself without noticing, Kyungsoo’s eyes were widened when you took the initiative to your hands.

Literally.

“Do you remember what I asked to you?” you whispered.

“About?” Kyungsoo exhaled with your unexpected shifting between moods. He did not trust his voice, not now, not when you were so close to him, enough to feel your breath on his lips.

His throat was like the deserts of Egypt right now.

“About teaching me.” you murmured into his fucking ear. “When it comes to touch someone?”

“Yeah.” he swallowed very hard, biting a tsunami of cursing back.

“Will you teach me?” your hands wandered around his arms to his chest and stopped there. “For the future references?”

“If I were you,” he groaned. “I would not think about future references.”

You rolled your eyes, taking your hands back off his body. Kyungsoo caught your hands and put them back on his chest, while he was aggressively dragged you into his arms.

“I am going to teach you.” his eyebrows were furrowed. “How you should be touched.”

Kyungsoo was never going to forget how your eyes glowed after his words with excitement.

He was not sure but it seemed like you wanted him almost like how he wanted you.

Desperately and fucking needy.

He carried you to the bed.

64 notes · View notes

jisungscaramel · 4 years

Text

voices | changbin

❀ genre; smut, college au, fwb ❀ pairing; changbin x reader (fem) ❀ word count; 1.6k

[warning] explicit sexual content, dirty talk, masturabation, (slight) ownership kink, (mild) dom changbin, phone sex, (which includes imagery of) oral (fem receiving), bondage, spanking, unprotected sex (stay safe y’all), overstimulation, creampie

Your eyes open to darkness, and you groan in utter annoyance - you just hate when this happens. You don’t even wanna know what time it is... but you check anyway, 2:20... am - not the worst. At least you have the opportunity to get some sleep, the slightest chance of closing your eyes to immerse in some obscure dream and certainly not the type of wet fantasy that dared to disturb your beauty rest in the first place.

The universe just loves fucking with the sleep schedule you work hard to keep regulated. But the not-so-random interruption to your slumber in it of itself is the least of your problems; the not-so-subtle throb of your clit is beyond irritating, especially since a certain someone isn’t physically there to help you with it.

Your adjusted vision wraps around the silhouette of the ceiling fan, sharpening in detail as you attempt to scrutinize it, five curved blades, metal brackets reflecting the moonlight, a simple ligh- not that a mundane distraction such as this would do anything to help, valiant effort though.

And then you turn your head to the side, fixing on the space where your phone should be laying on the bed side table.

“Should I call him...?” you ask yourself. You grab the device and go straight to the phone app, aggressively scrolling through your contacts ‘til you see his name: Changbin Seo.

Nothing fancy, nothing personal, it’s a deliberate choice to keep it that way, to stay firmly behind his boundaries, well, the boundaries you’ve assumed of him. In reality, he probably wouldn’t have an issue with you contacting him on a whim - even at this ungodly hour, but the idea still makes you nervous. That’s the prevailing predicament of a friend with benefits - sometimes there are too many boundaries and sometimes there are too few.

‘What if he gets annoyed with me? What if he stops talking to me? What if he thinks I’m crazy?’ The more time you spend in your own head, the more the shadow of your past experiences so rudely loom over you.

‘No, Changbin’s not like that. He’s not like that. He’s not like that. He’s not fucking like that.

‘At the worst, he won’t pick up ‘cause he’s asleep. That’s it. That’s all. Relax.’

Regardless, things would be much easier if he didn’t have to go across the state to be home for winter break.

And instead of making that single tap on the glass of your phone, you put it back down, placing it face down, reaching to open the drawer that lays beneath it. You pull out a little drawstring bag. In the darkness, you open it, unsheathing a silicone vibrator, light pink in the light, but rendered colorless in front of your eyes.

‘I should at least try by myself.’

Committing to your decision, you drown your ears in some dvsn - you gotta do what you can to self engage your senses. But you’d much rather hear his voice, much rather feel it vibrate against your skin, reverberate through your nerves. There’s just something about the way he growls when he goes deep, overwhelming the auricles of your ears in a crescendoing frenzy you can’t even fathom outside the moment, even if you try.

Your eyes close when you turn it on, trying your hardest to picture him in your mind’s eye.

The way he tilts his head back to stare at you, eyes half-lidded in the kind of carnal hunger, it makes you wonder what he’ll do next, body sizzling in desire, like it’s on fire.

And then, there’s the way he lightly tugs at the corner of his bottom lip, tongue brushing over the reddened skin in a teasing lick, you just want them to dip into your slick, to indulge your clit with quick flicks. He loves to look up at you with a tinge of innocence that so eerily contrasts with the vulgarity of his actions, lips smirking against your heat ‘cause he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows exactly how to drive you crazy in the best possible way-

“Fuck!”

Even if your imagination is enough to get you there, it’s not enough to satisfy you; it feels like trying to fulfill a day’s worth of hunger with a measly cup of instant ramen when you know damn well you deserve a three course meal.

You haphazardly throw the toy to the side - you’ll clean it in the morning; it’s just too much effort now.

And here you are again, staring at the dark silhouette of your phone. At this point, the amount of fucks you have to give are rapidly dwindling.

And here you are again, phone shining bright in over your face, Changbin’s name and number apparent on the screen. But before you can actually contemplate the idea that you’ve begun to dub a “last resort,” your phone slips out of your hand, knocking you right on the nose, hitting - you guessed it - his number.

And… now you’re calling him. Of course the universe thinks it’s hilarious to mess with you - when does it not?

“Hello?” There’s a clear groggy sleepiness to his voice - clearly, you’ve woken him up.

Fuck. “Oh sorry, Binnie, did I wake you up?”

“Hmm yeah,” he pauses, probably to rub his eyes, “what’s up?” As sexy as his gruff voice is, it’s the last thing you can think about, subtle embarrassment delicately wrapping your nerves.

“My bad… you know what? It’s nothing. I’ll let you sleep.”

“No, it’s okay, tell me what’s up,” he requests again.

“It’s nothing, I just…”

“Just what?”

“I miss you…”

“...Miss me where?”

“In…” you tighten your thighs together, “places where I shouldn’t.”

“Oh yeah?” You can hear rustling sheets, as if he’s sitting up, as if his attention’s focusing on you. “What would you want me to do if I was there?”

You bite your lip. “You already know.”

“Tell me.” His voice takes a commanding tone, attempting to bend you into submission even through the phone.

Your fingers trace the skin above your underwear. “God, Changbin, I want you to fucking cripple me.”

It’s simply astonishing as to how clearly his sinister chuckle comes through your line, and it’s all it takes for your hand to slip under the thin cotton covering you. “Damn, chula, I didn’t know you wanted me that bad…” a moan slips from your lips both in response to your actions and his words. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Yeah,” your flustered response sounds in the same pitch.

“Naughty girl. I’m gonna have to punish you next time I see you.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“First, I’m gonna tear your clothes off,” you peel the flimsy sleep shirt off your body, not being able to take the increasing heat radiating from your skin, “and then I’m gonna tie your arms up and bend you over my desk to spank you - one slap for every time you’ve touched yourself while I’ve been gone.”

“Where are you gonna spank me?” A sultry tone edges your words.

“On your ass… your thighs… your pussy, depends on how bad you’ve been.”

“What are you gonna do if I earn my reward?” By now, you’re reaching for the vibrator you so carelessly tossed aside not too long ago.

“I’m gonna throw you on my bed, then I’m gonna force your thighs apart and stretch out your soaking little cunt. I’ll fuck you so deep, you’ll feel me rearranging your insides,” he grunts, “Fuck, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“Would you let me cum?”

That evil laugh is back, prolonged in the most tantalizing of ways. “Yeah, but not just once. It’s gonna attack you back to back, until your legs go numb.”

You shudder, eyes rolling back. “What if your roommate tries to interrupt us?”

“I’m gonna fuck you harder to mark my territory.”

“Am I your territory?”

He snickers. “You know that pussy’s mine. All. Mine.”

All you can offer as a response is an array of mewls, your walls desperately tightening against the inanimate object inside you.

“God, you sound so sexy when you moan, you know that?” He grunts, and for a few seconds, no words are exchanged. The only thing you can hear is the rapid rustling of fabric, presumably around his hand movements, and the subtle hisses seeping from his lips.

“Are you naked?” he asks.

“Yeah…”

“Show me.”

You lower your phone to capture the sin you’re committing between your legs with a clear view of your bare body neck down, promptly sending the image to him.

And it’s obvious when he receives it because you hear that low, guttural growl you’re oh so familiar with. “You’re so hot.” His voice is strained. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum… are you close?”

“Yeah… I wish you could cum inside me.”

“I do too. Fuck, you look so gorgeous when your pussy’s swollen, dripping with my cum.”

His voice drops an octave, catalyzing the long overdue release that has been coiling inside you. His name rolls off your tongue in an unexpected increase in volume. The hypothetical fantasy momentarily becomes reality in your mind, simulations inducing tangible pleasure inundating you in waves that you didn’t know were possible in a setting like this; why on earth did you let the frustration marinate for this long?

“Fuck,” he curses.

“What?”

“...I made a mess.”

Your phone vibrates with a message from him - it’s a video... and you have the slightest inkling of what it is.

331 notes · View notes

mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

You Can STAY - Part 11

F/M Main Pairing: Y/N x Lee Felix (Side Pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids)

Genre: Fantasy AU; Scarlet Heart AU; OT8 SKZ

Warnings: Language; SMUT; very angsty feelings

Summary: King Felix takes the throne and Y/N makes a difficult choice.

Tag List: @angelphantomlove @moonlightracha @jjabbur @pinkchcn @straykidbaby @moonnstars90 @dru-shadow @skzooyeet @poutypoutybin

It’s impossible to escape Felix.

The weight of his actions and words hold me hostage in a Castle where I no longer felt like I belonged.

In the days following his ascension to the throne, I’ve watched his brothers leave their home, standing outside on the balcony behind Felix while Chan, Jisung, and Jeongin retreat into the distance. On the inside, I’m furious, observing the scene of unexpected cruelty; although, the fate of his brothers is certainly incomparable to the nightmarish decision he made regarding the former Queens of the Castle, including his own mother.

This was a Felix who I could barely comprehend, one who had been unraveled from the inside, leaving only the harsher parts of himself to remain.

But the heart beating inside my chest did not seem to understand that Felix had changed in those subtle ways, and despite my protest in delaying our marriage yet again, I couldn’t stay away from him long. In fact, after only a few nights of excusing myself to the Queens’ former chambers, I returned to Felix’s bed one evening after another frightening vision in which I saw a Felix painted with blood, streaking across the mural of his freckles, and standing in stark contrast to the murderous look in his eyes.

This was a Felix who I had abandoned, and I couldn’t stand the thought of causing Felix to unravel any further.

So, I gave in to my heart’s demands, and I listened to the warnings from that vision, and I approached Felix in the middle of the night wearing only a loose gown that swept the floor with every tentative step.

“Felix,” I whispered into the darkness of the room.

“Y/N,” his voice grumbled in return, husky with sleep.

I took his acknowledgment as an invitation, crawling next to him in bed. “I missed you,” I said, and then Felix was on top of me, kissing his way past all the heavy tension that had laid between us for so long.

“You came back,” was all he said before slim fingers danced their way across the bare skin of my thighs, twisting themselves into the hem of my panties before rolling the fabric down my legs and onto the floor. “Mine,” he soothed, tongue forcing its way into my mouth as he shuffled his sleep pants down to his knees, freeing his cock.

“Please,” I gasped, arching my back in premature celebration when he teased the slit of his erection between my puffy folds.

“You’ll beg me, Y/N,” Felix growled, and I didn’t have the position to deny him, especially now that he had all the power.

“I’ll do anything, Felix,” I cried, grinding myself down the best that I could to feel the friction of his hard cock teasing my sex, even if it was still not enough. “I want you more than anything!”

“Then you’ll marry me,” Felix insisted, and I could hardly fathom his persistence.

“Yes,” I agreed, almost on instinct despite my promise to stay strong until he brought back his brothers from their undeserved exile.

But I gave in to my heart and desire instead.

“Such a good girl,” he said, and he slid his cock inside, groaning low under his breath at the tight squeeze of my cunt, holding him as close as possible.

“Felix,” I said. “Faster.”

“Of course, my queen,” he said, and my heart did a strange somersault at the idea of being his queen, a softer sentiment that was lost in the next moment when he started pounding his hips against mine, drawing back out to the tip before pressing forward with powerful thrusts that moved me up and down the bed with the rapid pace of our fucking.

His fingers toyed with my clit, squeezing and rubbing harshly at the engorged bud, throbbing under his persistent touch and the heat building between my legs as the fiery friction of our connection grew to a boiling point, an explosion of his name across my lips as I fell apart under the one man who was meant to keep me together.

The priest wore a smug smile, looking between the two of us with a nonchalant shrug. “You cannot marry,” he said. “According to our laws, the new queen must be untouched by marks, and there are plenty of scars on Y/N.”

I froze, recalling with stunning clarity what seemed like years ago when I was beaten and punished for my supposed crime of trying to poison Minho. Of course, I was innocent on the matter, but my pleas for help went unanswered, and the guards who were put in charge of extracting a guilty word from me had been particularly brutal.

“That wasn’t her fault,” Felix growled.

“The scars are still there,” the priest said, and I sat back in my chair, defeated once again.

The next morning, I went on a walk by myself, upset by the previous day’s reckoning, and the knowledge that Felix was still unraveling, further still, now that the possibility of our union was completely rendered obsolete.

It was a lot to think about, and I was lost in my mind for a long time, wandering the perimeter of the gardens. For a while, I lingered on Felix’s expression of pure rage from our conversation with the priest because, for a split second, I was certain that he would demand the man’s death.

But Felix refrained. For now, at least.

“What can I do?” I wondered aloud, to stop him from sinking even lower?

“You can’t do anything,” a voice whispered from beyond my subconscious, and I paused at the edge of the forest, not realizing that I had traveled so far, to look at Jisung straight in his eyes.

“Jisung!” I gasped, immediately launching myself into his arms. “Are you well?”

“I’m okay,” he reassured me, and I pulled back with a start.

“If Felix sees you here...”

“Relax,” Jisung smiled. “I don’t intend to stay long. I only wish to talk with you.”

“Me?” I repeated.

“You,” Jisung agreed with a teasing lilt. “Come on.”

I hesitated only a for a moment, glancing back over my shoulder at the Castle, before following Jisung further into the woods. “Where are we going?”

“Not far,” Jisung said, and I knew that I could trust him, listening to the sounds of the leaves crunching beneath our steps when Jisung made an abrupt turn that brought us to the side of the worn path that led between the village and Kingdom beyond our own. It was quiet and well-hidden, and I leaned in closer to Jisung as he observed our surroundings before releasing a sigh. “You need to leave the Castle.”

I blinked in response, at first, looking at Jisung like he might suddenly start laughing at any moment and proclaim his order as a joke.

But he didn’t.

“I can’t leave him,” I said. “He’s volatile.”

“He relies on his emotions too much,” Jisung agreed. “And you bring out his most powerful ones.”

I frowned, hating the truth behind his words. “I love him.”

“I know,” Jisung said, and he gave me a meaningful look. “You need to leave him because of those feelings.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I said, and I resented Jisung in that moment, acting like such a decision could be made so easily.

“Felix needs to be King,” Jisung said. “He’s the only one who makes sense.”

“Why?” I huffed. “You’re suddenly fond of him?”

Jisung flinched at the comment. “He has allies in the North, and Chan and I received a visit from Hyunjin this morning. The South favors Felix because of his military background.”

“You saw Hyunjin?” I exhaled.

Jisung nodded. “He had to leave again. Something urgent came up, but he wants to return and see you...” Jisung trailed off, studying me like he was waiting for an opportunity. “He’ll only be able to see you outside of the Castle.”

I rolled my eyes at his insistence. “This is Chan’s idea, isn’t it?”

“Chan knows nothing about this.”

I took a step back, surprised by the admission. “What?”

“Y/N, Felix will leave the throne for you,” Jisung said, and it dawned on me then, the reason why he wanted me to leave.

“You know that we can’t be married.”

“I had my suspicions,” Jisung admitted. “The Castle is steeped in tradition, and future queens...well...they can’t be-”

“Flawed,” I finished for him. “Like me with my scars.”

Jisung lowered his head. “I’m sorry.”

I shook from the very inside of my soul, realizing the gravity of what I needed to do for the Kingdom. “I can’t ever be married.”

“If you leave here with me, then we can marry each other,” Jisung said. “The tradition only applies to our Kings, and Minho gave me permission when he was still in power, just in case anything were to happen to Felix. He wanted to make sure that you could still be happy.”

I swallowed hard, and my heart ached for a man who was gone. “Why would we marry?”

Jisung gave me a sheepish smile. “We can live together, in a village outside of the kingdom without suspicion.”

“With Chan and Jeongin?��

“No, they’ll remain here and watch over Felix.”

I stiffened. “Are they okay with that?”

Jisung sighed. “Everything is already planned, Y/N. All we need now...”

“Is me,” I concluded, rubbing my hands together even though it wasn’t cold. “I need to leave the Castle.”

Jisung nodded again, and I was grateful when he remained quiet once the tears started to fall freely of their own accord.

It was dark when I returned to the Castle, discovering Felix pacing in our shared room when I arrived.

“There you are!” he exclaimed, eliminating the space between us to accept me into his arms with a gentle kiss. “I almost sent the guards out!”

“I just needed a walk to clear my head,” I said, carefully extracted myself from his arms to wander over to the balcony.

Felix followed me outside. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“Just some thoughts,” I said, gazing out over the Castle grounds.

“Thoughts?” Felix questioned, and I was relieved by his warm presence from behind.

“You need to lead the Kingdom,” I said. “I think you’ll be a great King.”

Felix chuckled, brushing a soft kiss across my cheek. “With you by my side.”

My heart clenched at the sentiment. “Felix, if we can’t marry, would you stay on the throne?”

There was silence for a moment following my question before Felix turned me around to face him. “I’ll figure out a way, Y/N.”

“But not at the risk of vacating the throne?”

Felix looked away, but there was a brief flicker in his eyes that told me everything I needed to know. Enough to validate Jisung’s arguments and my worst doubts. “There’s no need to worry.”

“Felix,” I finally said. “I need to leave.”

“Leave?” Felix laughed as if I had just told him the funniest joke. “Where do you get these ideas from?”

“When I leave,” I said, continuing on as if he had never interrupted. “You must promise me that you’ll stay and be a good king.”

Felix’s laughter died in an instant. “Y/N, are you serious?”

“Does it look like I’m not?” I returned, and Felix’s entire expression shifted into something frenzied and uncontrolled, using both hands to squeeze at my arms.

“I’ll abandon the throne!” Felix roared, but I only met his gaze calmly.

“No you won’t,” I replied. “You know that you can’t.”

Felix growled, releasing me and resuming his incessant pacing. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“To ensure that you’ll do the right thing.”

“The right thing,” Felix enunciated. “Is being with you.”

I sighed, watching as he fell apart. “I see.”

Because it was obvious to me that I would have to leave without saying goodbye, and that hurt worse than anything else ever could.

“You’re talking nonsense,” Felix said, and he reached out for my hand to pull me back inside our room. “We’ll finish this in the morning after we’ve both had time to clear our heads.”

I simply nodded, allowing my silence to put him back together again as best as I could. Meanwhile, Felix brought me next to him in our shared bed, pressing kisses into my hair and whispering nonsensical words, and I allowed him to do that too because this was our final night together, and I wanted him to remember me as the one person who had always been on his side.

It was approaching midnight and Felix’s breathing had leveled off into soft snores. It was the perfect opportunity to leave the comfortable embrace of his arms, packing only what I thought was essential before wandering out onto the balcony once again.

Below me, waiting in the coverage of the bushes, was Jisung. I waved my hand at him and waited for his acknowledgement before tossing down my belongings. He caught them easily, and I used my magic to help levitate me down to where Jisung was waiting.

From there, he brought me to the woods where two stallions had been tied to the large trunks of the trees. “You planned well,” I remarked, and then we both ensured that my things were secure.

“Did you tell him anything?” Jisung asked at one point, but I shook my head because it was easier than the truth.

“He’ll do the right thing,” I promised, and Jisung seemed satisfied, helping me onto my horse with a grunt.

“Let’s go,” Jisung said, and I waited until he was also properly situated before following him once again into the deeper coverage of the foliage, rushing further and further away from the Castle.

There were still some doubts lingering at the back of my head because I had always thought the answer was to stay with Felix, but I had been wrong. I was the problem, and when I left the Castle with Jisung that night, I looked back only once and wished all the best for the man I loved.

Dear Felix,

By the time you read this, I will have already gone.

It pains me to part from you at such a crucial hour, but I have no other choice.

We have no other choice.

Do not look for me. Worry about being a good king. Rule the kingdom as I would wish for you to rule. Fair and true.

Leave the rest to fate, and keep your distance from your brothers. No more of your bloodline should be sacrificed.

Yours always,

Y/N

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #felix fanfic #felix smut #lee felix fanfic #lee felix smut #felix imagines #felix scenarios #felix series #stray kids x y/n #felix x y/n #scarlet heart au #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids felix fanfic #mostlycompetent

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hela-avenger · 4 years

Text

To the Stars Who Listen- Prologue

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1016

Summary: When Loki desires to never fall in love, he casts a spell to prevent such a thing from happening. Except, well, in the matters of love and magic, you never know the result it may have in the end. Loki x Reader

A/N: So here it is! I’ll be updating every Thursday. I’m really hoping to cap this at 15 parts but we shall see! Tags are open!

hela-avenger masterlist

As Loki walked through the tower, one of the few things he was allowed to do on his own, he noticed the heart-shaped balloons and the flower bouquets that littered many offices. Deliveries of them were still coming in by the looks of it. Arrays of cupid decorations, red roses, and heart insignias being placed in designated locations.

Loki scowled at it all.

How more pathetic could mortals be when they dedicate a day to love?

If he had his way, such a holiday would never exist, such a feeling would never be sought for.

Why did mortals insist on declaring their love so broadly? What purpose did it serve?

If only he managed to succeed in his attack on this piece of rock many years ago. Things would surely run differently in Midgard had he been given a chance to rule over them.

As it always does, reminiscing of his grand failure always soured his ever pessimistic mood leading Loki to steer himself away from the floor he found himself on. He decides he would be better off staying in his room to avoid watching this mindless love spectacle continue.

It doesn’t take long for Loki to reach his safe haven and he lets out a sigh of relief to notice his brother is gone. Thor was most likely participating in this foolish holiday with his mortal lover which then left Loki on his own.

A rarity itself.

Thor had made it a habit of sticking by Loki’s side ever since they’ve come to stay in Midgard. Odin had thought it a fair punishment to place Loki on Earth to repent for his crimes and Thor promised his father to keep an eye on him.

Loki hated it. Loki hated him. Loki hated a lot of things.

Including love itself.

He chuckles as the thought of the silly little emotion unable to stop the memory that came along with it.

One of his mother’s maids had gone crying to the queen. She begged Frigga to cast a love spell to gain the attention of a guard. His mother refused to do it, warning the girl that such magic should not be trifled with which of course led Loki to attempt a spell on the matter.

After witnessing the effect of love, the young prince did not wish to ever fall in love. It was a weakness he couldn’t afford especially as Thor seemed to gain their father’s favor more and more each day.

Loki would clear his heart and mind for the throne. Something Thor would ever be able to do for the golden prince enjoyed his admirers.

So Loki cast a spell. One of the first few that displayed his growing strength in his mastery of magic.

“A yellow rose petal for friendship, a white one for youth, a red rose petal for love and a blue one for truth. My lover can hear my call from a mile away. She laughs when she cries. She knows how to bring a smile on my face and when I tell her a lie. Her power is as great as mine, even greater if she tries and she… she carries the sun and the moon in the palm of her hands in a way I don’t understand.”

The petals floated through the air and disappeared into the night sky. His mother had watched it all without saying a word but as Loki began to retreat did she finally speak up.

“I was under suspicion you never wanted to fall in love.”

To which Loki responded with the truth.

“I don’t. I cast the spell to prevent myself from doing so.”

Frigga scowled as she recalled the spell chanted. All the attributes he wished for were nearly impossible to meet.

“Oh, my dear son, what have you done?”

Loki simply shrugged his young little shoulders.

“The girl I’ve dreamed of doesn’t exist and if she doesn’t exist, then I will never, ever fall in love.”

He almost forgot about that little spell. It’s been so long since he cast it. He was but a child and yet the spell actually took. It worked so well seeing as in his thousand years of life he had yet to find such a girl to capture his heart.

Even if such a girl existed, she would most likely want no part of him per his history and if luck was against him and she did attempt to pursue him, well… he wouldn’t make it easy on her.

Loki throws himself on the couch grimacing when the gold metal anklet pinches his skin. He kept forgetting the magical-disabling monitor that his brother had latched on to him the moment they arrived in Midgard.

“For your protection, Loki,” Thor had insisted.

Loki could only roll his eyes in response.

He knew a lie when he heard it and his brother has always been such a terrible liar.

The anklet was meant to keep his powers restrained and to put Thor’s little mortal friends at ease. Without his powers, Loki was basically rendered harmless. If only they knew that he could easily kill them with his bare hands. It would be easy but it would definitely be frowned upon.

The anklet was not only for the protection of the Avengers but for the world itself. It also served as a security device that restrained Loki to Stark’s tower alone. Loki was not allowed to step a foot outside. If he tried to, the little band of heroes would rain upon him instantly.

So in a sense, Loki had simply traded one prison for another.

The fallen prince laid on the couch and tried to forget that little detail.

There were no words or promises that could get him out of this ordeal, but Loki knew better than to believe fate was really done with him. He was a man of great power and because of this, he knew his journey was far from being over.

An opportunity always tended to rise amid nothing.

All Loki had to do was lay there and wait.

TTSWL Tag: @catsladen @is-it-madness @manyfandoms-marvel

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-njorddottir @aoirohi @defunctcherrybomb @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @moonlightprime @badhollandfluff

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 18

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: We stan ✨women in science✨. Bruce uwu. Twitter social media AU nobody asked for. Stephen and Tony are dicks and I'm not talking about their anatomy. Setting up mood for Bruce smut, ngl. PTSD makes things spicy. I'm depressed so please be kind ✌🏻💀🙃

"I really do wonder how can you two fit those egos of yours in your pants," I kept my tone forcefully casual, cheerful even. "Why don't you just fuck already?"

I was met with stunned silence. Suddenly, the room seemed far too large and the people in much too quiet, staring at me with various expressions of horror obvious in their faces. As the strange friendship began developing between me and the team, my "outbursts" - how Steve liked to call them - lessened considerably. I had no need to provoke them into giving me attention, just striking up a casual chat was enough. The Avengers were great conversationalists, to my surprise.

Tony and Stephen, when paired, were the exception. I could count on one hand the amount of times they successfully came to a conclusion without fighting like cats and dogs. It was like each man had made it a personal mission to verbally top the other, more often than not resulting in a thirty-minute shitshow ending with one storming off in a dramatic flourish. It was mind-boggling how two supremely intelligent men could not find a way to communicate efficiently without infuriating the rest of the team.

Plus me. One way or another, I was almost always around. In the beginning, it was hilarious to see the free circus but it got old really quickly when they couldn't decide on dinner or a movie, leaving the rest of us starving and bored. Or the great Cloak debate - that one lasted days and the fussy thing was so upset, it point blank refused to part from Peter for a substantial amount of time. It's pretty fucking creepy that a semi-sentient, ancient piece of outerwear watches you when you sleep - just sayin'. I personally interjected with my own snark and sass whenever Tony and Stephen got too heated, successfully drawing the attention to myself. The fight broke up and I had amazing sex with Tony later, it was a win-win scenario.

Yet, Tony and Stephen didn't stop. To me, their way of "talking" (and I use that term loosely) looked a lot like unresolved sexual tension. Stephen frequently used his greater height to tower over Tony in a childish attempt to establish dominance; the engineer was no rookie and responded with extravagant peacocking such as "subtly" tapping the bracelet that hosted his nanotech suit or parading at dinner in a $30,000 custom made designer outfit. Because Tony could.

I was pleasantly surprised when Natasha started laughing at my remark. Full-blown, belly laugh. Those were rare, coming from the Widow, her usual mirth was quiet, sophisticated, just like her. Deadly (adorable). Bucky followed suit, snorting together with Clint and Loki.

Steve looked none too pleased with me. But then again, was he ever? "Doll, don't be rude."

"Brat," Bruce said at the same time, palming his face.

"People always call me a brat. And guess what, Steve?" I popped my hip, twirling a cotton candy pink coloured Dum-Dum between my fingers. "What can you do about it? Nothing," I shrugged, leaning my head against Bruce's shoulder affectionately.

Steve just shook his head in disappointment. "Can we get back on topic? Please?"

"Captain, I think that Stark..." Strange began talking with Tony dramatically groaning in the background and I instantly tuned out the useless babble. Steve should've been smarter and revoked speaking rights from Tony and Stephen. Or asked Loki to magically render them both mute for ten minutes.

"You're not wrong," Bruce quietly whispered next to my ear. "Ten bucks says Wanda meddles and those two finally work out their frustrations," The scientist hid a grin against my head. I felt the amused, giddy energy radiating off him like a plasma beam.

"I don't even have to bet," I rolled my eyes. "If she doesn't do it, I will."

Both Tony and Stephen were throwing me equally infuriated glances. One promised me a good, hard fucking and the other saw me a short, poisonous lecture on appropriate behaviour in the nearest future - you can guess which is which. If I had it my way, I'd skip the lecture and go straight to a hot, filthy threesome with two men twice my age. I wasn't blind, Strange was hot as hell and could be decent and even nice once in a blue moon.

He could, but he wouldn't be. I wanted that raw, unadulterated lust, tension so concentrated it walked the razor's edge between violent craving and repulsion. Ever since the incident with Clint, I had this ugly mess inside of me, like a live wire about to snap. My brain was constantly racing, darting between how utterly useless I am in a group of supers and embracing my normal-ness, amplifying it by hosting game nights and spending time trying to convince people to start a dungeons and dragons campaign. Or something.

My sleep was like Swiss cheese, riddled with holes where I stayed awake for one or two hours at a time in the middle of the night after waking up sweaty, with my heart hammering out of my chest. Sometimes I dreamt of Clint's lifeless, sickly white body, sometimes the whole room flooded with blood and I couldn't stop it no matter what, there was so much of it, I drowned in it, I startled up with the taste of it in my mouth. Rarely, the worst of it came - the one where Clint was alive as millions of millions of little fluorescent, poisonous jellyfish burst out of him and he screamed and screamed and screamed...

I had PTSD. Yay, me. As if my uselessness wasn't enough of a burden, my brain decided for me that it wasn't good enough that I saved Clint and now it was punishing me for being close to a group of people who routinely saved the WORLD.

I contemplated my usual habits - going to a party, getting trashed and dancing until my legs were numb. I just wanted to shut my brain off for a moment, give it a hard reset so-to-say, but with Tony on my back like a jet-pack, I didn't doubt he'd show up to the place and drag me out of there even if I was kicking and screaming. And he was a Stark, a billionaire, so visiting my dad in Cali wouldn't be possible on my own. Tony would gas up the jet and the rest of the team would find and excuse to tag along, too. As much as I loved being the baby menace who could get away with anything, I hated the way they all herded me, like I was an actual child. I couldn't get away from myself, not even for a moment.

I had the backup-backup plan and I was going to have to execute it. Desperate times, desperate measures. "I don't doubt y'all enjoy listening to Tony and Steph flirt," The nickname escaped unmoderated from my lips before I could catch myself. "But what are we doing for Halloween? I need to know if I gotta get a costume," Bruce chuckled next to me and wrapped an arm around me, happy for the distraction. Unlike me, the scientist was obligated to listen and participate in the avengers-themed discussion. Which was difficult because the engineer and the sorcerer constantly bickered, inadvertently taking over the talk.

"Halloween?" Steve groaned.

"We should do something," Bucky side-eyed his boyfriend. "For the children." Something told me he wasn't thinking of the children, at all. The man was positively leering, probably thinking about what kind of a tight suit he could convince Steve to squeeze into.

"A party!" Tony immediately exclaimed, interrupting Stephen mid-setence.

"Tony, no," Steve stated firmly.

"Tony, YES!" Clint perked up. "A snack bar. A bar-bar."

"I will not be helping you all if you get alcohol poisoning," Stephen crossed his arms.

"So it's a party," I stated firmly, throwing a contemplating look at Wanda and Pietro. The twins looked unsure but excited. I knew I could count on fellow young people to support my decision to have fun, dance a little, drink a little. Let loose. To nail my point, I turned to Bruce with a mischievous smirk. "Fifty bucks says Stephen is too stuck up to show up in costume."

"Beg pardon?!" The sorcerer exclaimed. His eyebrows threatened to meet his hairline.

"I think you give him too little credit, Princess," Bruce winked at me and we solemnly shook hands. It was great having a fellow partner in mischief. Loki's approving smirk just sealed the deal for me.

"It's not my fault you sometimes act like you have a stick up your butt," I gave in the way of explanation, shrugging my shoulders innocently in Stephen's direction. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"I don't dare to imagine what's been up yours," The sorcerer retorted dryly, in an uncharacteristically childish fashion, arms still crossed. It almost looked like he was pouting.

"Tony," I simply said, leering salaciously at the man.

"Ooh, kinky," Clint reached over and we promptly high-fived each other in the wake of multiple embarrassed groans emanating around the room. "Strange, you're a boring old man, get over it."

"And you regularly end up in dumpsters, Barton," Strange retorted quickly. "Not my idea of fun."

"You wouldn't know fun if it hit you in the face!" Tony grinned triumphantly, confident in his superiority over Strange. Look at that, the team was doing the work for me and I didn't even have to try.

"I'll show you fun," Stephen retorted darkly. It was obvious the man was planning something.

"Ok, boomer," I raised my eyebrows in muted satisfaction before turning around and grabbing Bruce to drag along with me. "I'm confiscating your best scientist to amuse myself. I am bored. We will go and do actual science whilst y'all argue. Bye."

My patience had run out. We were examining the parasites we found in the murder-anthropods-from-space, codename MAFS, courtesy of yours truly, and their amazing properties to penetrate cell membranes and feed on metals in organic life forms. Without Bruce's help I understood maybe half of it but he had the patience of a saint and dutifully and understandably explained to me the finer points of studying aliens. Signing half a dozen NDAs was never more worth it.

Steve's sigh consisted of 99% suffering and 2% disappointment. Natasha face-palmed silently in the corner, clutching a mug of coffee, a poster child for existential dread.

"Wait for me," Tony whined, going for the door and promptly being stopped by Steve pointing out the team needing his input on one mission or another. The engineer sighed. "Baby girl, don't let the green mean to start any experiments without me." Tony instructed, pointing an accusatory finger in our direction.

I clutched at Bruce dramatically, feigning hurt feelings and was rewarded with a swift motion of his arms. I shrieked delightfully at being thrown over the scientist's shoulder as he hastened his pace towards the elevator, hightailing it out of there. "I'd never snitch on science daddy," I wiggled my eyebrows in Tony's direction, sticking a hand down the back pocket of Bruce's pants, dangling over his shoulder like a happy sack of potatoes.

The lab smelled strongly of alcohol and bitter chemicals, the solution that Bruce developed to ensure the optimal state of the alien pathogens. The man's genius never ceased to amaze me: Bruce came up with the needed formula in the span of a few hours while running low on sleep, post a Hulk-out session.

We put on our protective gear - "science onesies" I called them - along with a respirator and goggles and set to the segregated part of the lab where the specimens were kept under a blue light. The glass wall between Bruce's and Tony's lab was dimmed; I reflected in it, looking positively futuristic in my double-stacked white platformed boots and white hazmat suit.

"Wait," I motioned to Bruce to come over.

"Oh, right, our music," He was already half-way to being in total Science Mode. "Friday, please put on the "Get Schwifty" playlist, 60% volume."

The playlist that me and Bruce came up with for our lab sessions. The man was such an adorable dork. Thirty percent my music, thirty percent of his indie rock shit and forty percent 00's bops. In other words, utter perfection.

I finally managed to fish out my phone from my pants. "No, let's take a selfie," I struck an impressive pose and pointed the camera as Avril Lavigne sung the first verse to Sk8r Boi.

Bruce laughed but abided by the request, giving me bunny ears in the photo, tapping the fingers of his other hand on my waist to the rhythm of the song.

"He was a skater boy, she said see ya later boy!" I sang along, switching my Instagram to stories and posting the short clip of us just vibing with the caption #sciencetime, Bruce laughing openly behind his respirator. I looked cute and silly in my outfit.

"Send the video to me, I'll post it on my Twitter," Bruce requested. I indulged him then put my phone away, ready to conquer the world of microbiology. Or die trying. Science was calling...

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

#stephen strange x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #tony stark x y/n #stephen strange x you #bruce banner x you #tony stark x you #stephen strange x reader #bruce banner x reader #tony stark x reader #party favours #bun writes #avengers social media au

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vlerian-root · 3 years

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I say "my comfort character is Draco Malfoy, I love him" But I have gone so far into my own fanon idea of him that it is not the Draco you know (and maybe also love). Nope. Not at all. Fucking hate that rich preposterous bully.

What I mean by him being my comfort character is: "After meticulous analysis of the films (and a little bit of the books, where it was conveninet) I have developed a huce resonance and atrtatchment to the character as the boy who had no chance. Because do you really have a choice when you are born and bred to be a carbon copy of your parents and their ideals, their prejudice? When it is sort of obvious, if you read into it (thank you Jason Isaacs, your plan to give people something to be sorry for Draco worked wonders) his parents expect the world and more from him. And if he doesn't deliver? Lucius is way to happy waving that cane around and it's making me very uneasy. I'm not saying Lucius is an abusive father, but I would not put it past him, under the guise of "discipline". Cold punishment to cut out unwanted behaviours, showers in riches and luxury and anything he wants when he gets what mommy and daddy want.

Do you really think, as a child, you could see past this ruse? No. You could not. It was good for you and it made you happy, so why would you see past it? But then the child grows up and following Mom and Dad means following wizard h*tler too. He is not even 15 when the Dark Lord returns, and his whole world outside of school bends over backwards to please his every whim, so as to not fall on his bad side. That bad side means death. So now the stakes have risen. It's no longer do what father said or I will get punished, this is do what father said because it's the Dark Lord's will, and going against that will means death.

Do you think a 15 year old that has to sit at extremist murderous fascists meetings in his own dining room every night can even think of escaping this fate? Do you think he is confident in his own abilities to escape the wolf's den? While his family is trapped, willingly or not, under his foot? No, he can't.

He is not selfish or stupid. He knows that there are consequences to his actions, and any sort of failure will mean demise for the only people who have shown him love in this world (even if very conditional). So Draco stays, and Draco does as he is told, even when it breaks him with impossible tasks and renders him a traitor to the entirery of the rest of the wrold he knows. Because the other option is death, multiple deaths. Perhaps he was ok with his own at one point, but he cannot bear sacrifice others just for his own benefit.

People call him selfish, a bully, closeminded. But was he ever really any of those things? When he stuck with his childhood friends since before Hogwarts, and stuck with them even when they were proven to be trash at everything, and not even useful for his own shenanigans? Was he closeminded when he was spoonfed bigotry since he was born, and punished for not replicating it to a T? He was a bully, because he was taught to be a bully, and there was no other option ever presented. You cannot have a child go through all that, and then welcome them at the other end with accusations of the very things you made them become.

Some other people call him a coward, because he didn't try to flee, not even once. Are you blind? He was the bravest person in the entire school, when he was singlehandedly taking on an impossible task, just to give his family some time, some sliver of hope, of surviving the Unforgivable Mistake his own father made (fucking up retrieving the Prophecy) If he failed, they would all die. If he succeeded, a lot of other people would die. In the end, he failed, but again, he had no real choice here. Dumbledore's death was orchestrated outside of his knowledge, but nobody thought of letting him know even after the fact, to ease his guilt. He spent an entire year pretending to try to kill and unkillable man, just so he could maybe get some credit but not need to complete the dreaded task. Futile, really, but he did try until the very end. Snape, who was supposed to help him, was just controlling when that cabinet was supposed to open, according to Dumbledore's whims. Draco had zero control. I'm not even so sure he was the one to fix the damn thing.

A person so devoid of control about their own life, who still tried so damn hard, just to be cast aside as a bully and a traitor, just breaks my fucking heart!!

And I can relate. I do relate.

To the conditional love of his parents, to the conditional support of his peers, to the constant act he had to keep up in order to benefit from any of his privileges - that he did not ask for. To the mountains of lies, upon lies, flung to everyone who might pry, who might hear. In the end, even to himself, to the point where reality and delusion overlap and lose all meaning. To holding onto one last hope, even when you know it's futile, because if you don't... you don't want to think about what will happen if you stop.

I relate to this, on a personal level, twice over. Draco is me, but Draco is also the best friend I had growing up.

I'm the Draco that fought tooth and nail and lost the battle, but never surrendered. The one that eventually fled, and changed his self to be a better person, all on his own.

My friend is the Draco that was a coward. The Draco that never changed, that always settled, because death and being alone was way too overpowering of a threat.

I suffer with myself every day. It is very hard to learn to love the parts of myself that I was taught to shame and blame and hate.

My friend never changed. We broke up almost a decade ago. She was manipulated into being a hateful, closeminded, horrible bully, and my heart breaks for her every single day. Her name is the same as mine. There is not a moment I am not reminded of her. I loved my friend.

So when I say that Draco Malfoy is my comfort character, I mean that his journey offers me a chance to explore my own trauma, in a way that I can offer comfort and feel love towards a person, that I know is a projection of me.

Loving Malfoy means loving myself."

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. I will not be answering any questions.

#val rants #draco malfoy #character analysis #i think?#long post #this is very much my own fanon take and I don't want criticism thank you #this is how I cope #idk why im posting but im severely sleeep deprived and had a Thought

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boxboysandotherwhump · 3 years

Text

Monsters and mushrooms

Tags: @salamancialilypad @whumpfigure @albino-whumpee @comfy-whumpee @ashintheairlikesnow @haro-whumps @moose-teeth @vickytokio @yet-another-heathen @orchidscript

A Nature fun fact: Bioluminescent mushrooms do exist actually and snails have the habit to foam when distressed in order to deter predators and protect their soft body from tiny satans like ants.

Chapter 4

CW: emotional overload, negative stimming, fear of abandonment, hints at past abusive parent

Sahar hasted up to the farm, stumbling on the crooked steps.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to cry but he’d forgotten how to stop and the world around him dissolved into a melted aquarelle painting of leaves and grass and roots as he stormed past the house.

He wedged himself between the root and the old stump they chop firewood on, eyes fixed on the axe still rammed inside, his back hitting the root over and over and over again, while he purged all the unwanted feelings from his body through movement.

There would be bruises tomorrow, Sahar thought when his violent rocking finally slowed into a gentle rhythm.

His lips trembled around one long shaky exhale and his tears finally subsided. Their tracks were only crusty streaks of salt water now, not overwhelming aches.

Sometimes, Sahar hated his body, hated it for being overwhelmed by the stupidest things, hated to have a brain full of misfiring neurons at war with themselves. A brain that made it unbelievably more difficult to exist, as what he was, in this world.

Maybe this was some kind of divine punishment.

But for what?

“Sahar?” Moira’s head peeked over the root and her worried face peered down at his cowering form. “There you are, sweetheart.”

He didn’t meet her eyes, only tugged his knees tight to his chest, ready to hide his face from whatever scolding was to come.

There had always been reprehension when he hadn’t been able to behave himself. Until all of his mother’s angry words hadn’t been enough and she’d abandoned him. At long last.

Ugly icky fear gnawed away at his insides, a sharp toothed beast he desperately wanted to banish but couldn’t. He rocked up against the root once more. Let his shoulder blades collide with it until he felt the scratch of rough bark through his grey linen shirt.

Sometimes his thoughts paused, stayed on safe routes and away from the maelstroms of his ever racing mind when he rocked or tapped or hummed enough. But now was no such time. .

Sahar’s thoughts spun and spiraled. Crashed violently into one another on their collision curses.

Please don’t throw me out. Away. I can behave. I can be disciplined. I promise. I promise. I promise. Please!

The curtain closed and left the window dark.

“Sahar?”

Wait.

There were no curtains here. And no city streets. No concrete roads or bleeding knees.

Only warm earth under his fingertips.

A long grass blade brushed his calf and Sahar closed his eyes to focus on the barely there tickle against his skin. The expansion of his ribcage, how it filled with the lavender scented air, inherent to his home, on every inhale and his eyes fluttered open.

“Yeah. I’m here.”

Here. Here. Here. And I can stay.

Moira began to heave Asmodea over the root with a loud huff that had Sahar instantly uncurl and twist around to take the snail with a firm, gentle grip from her arms. The snail immediately clung onto him as best as her soft slimy body allowed, wiggling in exasperated little waves until Sahar finally sat back down and put her over his lap.

“There, there baby. There you you you, there you go.”

He couldn’t help but smile as Asmodea draped herself flat over his legs, making no move to retreat into her shining shell. It’s brown and black stripes still shimmered from the shower Sahar had given her yesterday.

“Sahar? Can you listen to me?”

Hunching protectively over Asmodea, he gave a hesitant nod. “Yes.”

Moira didn’t like it when she had to repeat herself. It made her livid when he or Ansgar ended up absorbed in one-

Ansgar.

Something hot and heavy lodged itself in Sahar’s throat at the memory of his furious gaze. Ansgar had never looked at him like this, ever before, but Sahar realized why, now, after he had a moment to collect his racing thoughts, to calm his hammering heart. He really had been bad. Immature, thoughtless, utterly ludicrous.

But even so he knew. God how he knew.

Even after everything-

“Ansgar and Eric persuaded the… headhunter, to try his luck up in Berlin.” Moira began, lips pursed in displeasure. “Your house arrest remains nevertheless. Don’t give me that look. You’ve been irresponsible and ill-mannered, young man. No matter how good a reason you may think you had, you have to control yourself.”

A protest burned on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed the sizzle of anger down, buried it deep inside himself where all his other unsafe emotions were banished.

“I know. I I- I’m sorry.”

Moira shook her head with a sigh, grey curls swishing softly from side to side. “Just be better from now on and stay put for the next few days. No strolling through the farm woods either.”

His fingers began to tap an anxious rhythm onto Asmodea’s shell, while her body pulsed in soothing waves over his thighs. One of her eyes gently nudged his forearm.

“What, uhm what, but if if if one of the snails, if one gets lost and-“

Moira’s strict tone nipped his tender try at backtalk at the bud, rendering him silent for good.

“Ansgar and I will take care of that then. I have to go now. The others already left to check the InD-Unit’s for a possible breakthrough. I don’t trust one word out of this guy’s mouth, and I expect you to stay close to the house. Did I make myself clear?”

The scar on his arm stretched uncomfortably as he curled tighter around Asmodea, desperate for his friend’s silent support. Their soft body wiggled gently in response.

“Yes, ma’am.”

------------------------------------------------

“We gonna go pick glowy shrooms! Glowy shrooms! Glowy shrooms!”

Mara shrieked, running in circles around Charlotte, a woven basket clutched tightly in her small brown hands. Her yellow hairband fluttered and the ‘thud thud thud’ of her prosthetic leg got drowned out by the other children’s laughter, hot on her heels in a tumultuous chase for the basket.

A small pale boy broke out into a bright grin as he caught himself from stumbling over the hem of his pants, way too long for his small, stubby legs.

“Did Julian steal Hanne’s clothes again?” Kaja emerged from one of the orphanage’s many crooked entrances with a box of flashlights under one arm. A bag full of pocket knives dangled from the other as she dodged a low hanging wooden beam with practiced ease.

Charlotte took the box from her with an irritated sigh. “I’m glad he’s wearing clothes at all, this time.”

“Are you sure you can handle them on your own?”

Kajas cocky grin vanished under Charlotte icy glare. Blue eyes frosted over as she yanked the bag from Kajas hands and shouted: “Everyone who does not want to stay home lines up here now! You don’t lose your flashlight and when I see one pocket knife flicked open for anything other than picking mushrooms you celebrate the festival in your room. Am I clear?”

The children’s excited shrieks died in an instant as they hurried to get in line, waiting obediently for Charlotte to hand every one of them their items and making a show off storing them dutifully away in their pants pockets and backpacks.

The perfect picture of orderly compliance.

Everyone knew it would last for as long as it would take them to leave the orphanages grounds.

___

The academy yard’s gravel crunched under Gideon’s boots as he snuck away from yet another disciplinary task. He had scrubbed all the bathrooms to shine in the past, had assisted in the kitchen more than once, and had sorted the trainings gear enough times to know it by heart.

Sometimes he even understood why it always ended up like this.

What he couldn’t understand, however, was having to clean up the entire two story training hall because that stupid farm boy provoked him. For once, he hadn’t even done anything. At least nothing that wouldn’t have been deserved.

Not that the little shit had been helpless.

“Where do you think you’re going?!”

Gideon nearly choked at his upperclassman’s call. His hands clutched the spear’s strap dangling from his shoulder tighter and he turned to face the young man who had hurried over from their living quarters. His dark thick brows were harsh, frowning lines in a permanently stern face.

“Berkan.” The corners of Gideon’s mouth twitched. He was really in no mood to deal with this stuck-up right now. “Just out for some late night practice.”

It wasn’t even a lie. He did want to get some extra training in, only someplace where he had some damn peace for once. Who could have thought the countryside would be even more suffocating than a life under his father’s roof.

Turning around before Berkan opened his mouth in protest Gideon hurriedly added,“Just finished the cleaning ‘n shit. Go look for yourself if you want.” before he skidded down the large staircase leading down from the academy campus.

Even if Berkan decided to check up on his task Gideon would be already gone by the time the other boy realized he hadn’t done shit.

____

Sahar rubbed slow circles over Asmodea’s head, right between her antennas. It was one of her favorite spots, right after the underside of her foot, when Sahar would gently wipe it clean with a fluffy towel whenever she’d managed to get something unpleasantly stuck to her body. Like the godforsaken acidic tree sap she had blindly glid through on their first forest excursion.

Asmodea carefully extended one eye, gently poking Sahar’s other hand while she began to softly nibble his leg. The raspy sandpaper-like sensation made him chuckle and his fingers began to tap over the warm earth.

“Hey, hey hey. I’m fine. Don’t, don’t worry.”

Another enthusiastic nibble made him smile, bright and toothy for the first time on a day unpredictable like a summer monsoon.

Sahar was just about to coax Asmodea from his lap and get some strawberry, when a gut wrenching shriek pierced the evening air.

Something rustled through the bushes.

He shouldered Asmodea and sprung to his feet in one fluid motion, eyes fixed on the timberline and heart stuck in his throat.

Don’t tell me?! Did something break through the border after all?

His pulse hammered in his ears as Sahar listened to the sound of snapping twigs, to the rapid ‘thud thud thud’ coming closer with every second ticking by. His thoughts raced. Would he be fast enough to hurl Asmodea over the root? To jump after? His eyes snapped to the axe. Could he run at all?

The bushes parted.

Sahar was about to throw his friend over the root, risking an injury to her precious shell, when he saw who had screamed. His body froze dead in its tracks and Asmodea fummed in paniked protest.

Mara had burst out of the thick bushes, covered in scratches, her little face blotchy and tear crusted. The yellow hairband that had been seemingly fused to her head was nowhere to be found and the glittering drawings on her prosthetic leg were smeared over with dirt. Sahar was kneeling by her side in an instant.

“Hey hey hey hey what- what happened? Mara?”

Wiping at tears rolling in endless rivers down flushed chubby cheeks, Sahar scanned her shivering disheveled form for injuries that, to his immense relief, didn’t seem to exist.

“Hey hey hey, It’s fine. It’s fine now. I- I’m here. Every- everything’s fine, fine now.”

“Nonononono.” Her tiny hands fisted in his shirt as she pressed her forehead against his collarbone, shaking and rubbing her head into Sahars skin.

Her fluffy curls brushed his chin.

“Monster. A monster. Monster at the glowy clea- clealing!”

“Glowy- what what what do, what do you mean?”

His hands tapped a rapid-fire rhythm over her shaking shoulder blades as Sahar tried to make some sense of her choked-off babbling.

Sobbing, Mara dug the remnants of a squashed luminescent mushroom out of her pocket. The glowing blue pulp dripped down her fingers and painted sparkling droplets of night sky onto the muddy earth.

“Oh. Oh! The the The clearing! I know, I know, know now. That that that’s close. Were, were were you, were you- were- fuck.” Balling his hands into fist tight enough to leave crescent indentations in the soft flesh of his palm, Sahar forced a long breath in through his nose and out of his uncooperative mouth.

Slow now, sweetheart. Don’t get too worked up again.

“Were you and the others pick- pick picking- for the fest?”

Burying herself back against Sahar’s chest with a frantic nod Mara howled: “The others- the monster, the monster trapped them!”

A breakthrough. Fuck, fuck. Fuck! There must have been one.

She trembled as he held her at arm’s length, meeting dark panic hazy eyes with a determination he thought had died that fateful autumn night eight years ago.

“Listen Mara. I, I I go to the clearing and and and you run to to to the, run to the tea house. Every- everyone’s gonna be, be there warming up for for for for tomorrow.”

He hastily wiped her cheeks before hoisting her over the root. Sahar flashed her a wry smile, trying to look braver than he felt.

“Everything’s gon- gon- gonna be fine.”

Sahar willed his hands not to shake as he tore the Axe from the cutting stump and vanished into the woods.

#whump #whump writing #emotional whump #mutant whumpee #mutant whump #negative stimming #emotional overload #autistic mc close to meltdown #but his pet helps him calm down :3 #nothing better than snail snuggles #some flowers have teeth #sahar #gideon #charlotte #post apocalypse whump #post apocalypse story #post apocalypse

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