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priestessofspiders · 8 months ago

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Ambulatory Flesh

A lot of your quirkier “I fucking love science” types will joke about us human beings as consisting of an intelligent organism, the brain, piloting around the body like some sort of fleshy mech suit. They’ll say that all this clumsy flesh is just a casing for the real life form within, the “man behind the curtain” so to speak. Rykors and kaldanes, y’know? But that’s all bullshit. It’s just a modern retelling of Cartesian dualism, an attempt at devising a secular conception of a soul. There is no meaningful distinction between some abstract, pseudoplatonic “mind” and the sweating, reeking hulks that are our bodies. We’re all just meat in the end, and no amount of philosophizing will ever truly be able to hide this fact.

It all started at a Japanese restaurant. I don’t remember the name of the place, it was a group excursion with friends and I didn’t get to pick where we went. Well, I say friends, but in all truth I don’t think I can even recall the names of the people I went with either, our only real point of connection was through my (former) friend Ted. Most people, I think, don’t actually have the energy to go out and make connections with other human beings, other ambulatory sacks of meat and bone. They get nervous, or overthink things, or are bad at managing time, et cetera, et cetera, an endless parade of excuses to avoid having to deal with the mortifying ordeal of being known. Ted, however, seemed to be able to ingratiate himself with nearly anyone imaginable. I have no idea how he maintained the intricate web of friendships and acquaintances that he possessed, and whenever I spent time with him he seemed to be introducing me to some new person he only met a week ago yet already knows their entire life story. I’d long since come to expect that whenever he asked to hang out, I wouldn’t be the only one attending.

I never really liked Ted much if you couldn’t already tell. He talked too much and too loudly, and never knew when to let a joke die. If there was a contest for beating dead horses, Ted would have won gold medal every time. But, he did possess some sort of natural charisma which caused folks to gravitate towards him, and I never was especially good at making friends, so whenever he sent out an invitation for his little get-togethers I would tag along out of the nagging fear that unless I spent time socializing on a semi-regular basis people might think I was a bit strange. Anything to keep up appearances, after all.

But, that’s not important. I’m rambling, trying to avoid getting to the point of what happened. It feels like maybe if I don’t think about it, if I don’t remember that night at the restaurant, it will have never happened, that maybe if I just go to bed I’ll wake up and everything will be normal again.

Ted was laughing slightly too loud at a joke that one of his new friends had said, and I could feel the prickle of second-hand embarrassment as I watched one of the other guests at the restaurant glance over to our table with a look of slightly detached judgment. My humiliation was cut short, however, when the waiter finally brought around our platter of food.

After a cringe inducing “arigato” escaped from Ted’s beaming, incredibly white mouth, we began divvying up the dishes to their corresponding diners. Usually I was somewhat cowardly when it came to ordering from restaurants, sticking to the beaten path with regards to what foodstuffs I felt comfortable ingesting, but for some Godforsaken reason on that particular day I had decided to be adventurous. I had ordered the sashimi. The plate full of raw fish was placed in front of me, and I gazed upon it with a sort of dull fascination.

I wasn’t disgusted, you must understand, I’m not some squeamish idiot who didn’t know that the raw fish I’d ordered would, indeed, be raw fish, but there was just something so simple about it, so… pure. No other ingredients, no fancy cooking techniques, just clean, uncooked fish, sliced into appealing portions and served with a side of soy sauce. I snapped the binding of the cheap wooden chopsticks before using them to pick up a piece gently, inspecting the sliced tuna for a few seconds as though I were observing some sort of laboratory specimen.

Ted peered up at me from his bowl of ramen with what I assume was meant as a look of encouragement. “Go on Delilah, are you gonna eat it or just look at it?” he asked, playfully.

I was about to respond when the tuna suddenly twitched on the end of my chopsticks. I’m not ashamed to admit that I shrieked as I pulled my hand away in alarm, causing the blob of fish to hit my plate with a meaty smack. Frankly under the circumstances I think it was a perfectly reasonable response.

All eyes turned towards me, and all I could do was point down at my plate, where the dismembered cut of fish was clumsily, blindly undulating towards me, like a slug having an epileptic fit. I was trapped in a booth seat, stuck between two strangers and unable to get out as this limbless blob of disembodied piscine tissue just kept twitching and spasming.

I wasn’t afraid for my life, I think. I don’t believe that I thought I was in any immediate danger, it’s not like the sashimi would be able to do anything. It had no teeth to bite with, no claws with which to cut me. What bothered me was simply that it was moving, and that it should not have been able to move. We don’t expect something which we are going to put into our mouths to still be twitching when we do so. The thought that I had very nearly been about to take a bite made me want to vomit.

Fortunately, my cry of terror had alerted one of the waiters, who, upon noticing the mobile meat, swiftly took the platter away while the rest of Ted’s friends tried their best to calm me down. The man himself, however, was too busy laughing to be of any assistance. He was still guffawing when I managed to extricate myself from the table and make my way back to my car. The moron never did know when to stop turning everything into a goddamn joke.

Now of course after I got home and calmed down a bit with the assistance of some Smirnoff, I took the time to look up what happened on the internet. A quick Google search confirmed that yes, sometimes, very rarely, raw meat can still move around a bit. Something to do with stored energy in the muscles, the cells not being quite yet dead. Fish seem to be particularly susceptible, but it appeared that all sorts of animals did something of a postmortem jig now and again. One particularly nauseating video showed the plucked, headless carcass of a chicken, spasming as though trying to escape as it lay atop a pile of its immobile comrades.

Now, knowing something is natural doesn’t necessarily make it stop being horrific. Understanding how static electricity functions doesn’t make a lightning strike any less shocking, if you’ll pardon the pun. But, at the very least, I was comforted by the knowledge that what I experienced was simply some sort of biological fuckup rather than a sign of the supernatural. At least, that’s what I thought at the time, anyway.

I remember the night after my first experience I had a particularly vivid nightmare. I was standing in the foyer of the Japanese restaurant, and it seemed very busy. A waiter ushered me over to a table, where a number of other people were already seated, including Ted who was guffawing loudly. Laying on the table was a blandly attractive naked woman, her body covered in sushi.

I never really understood the appeal of eating the sushi off of someone’s body, to be entirely honest, even accounting for my own heterosexuality. It’s not as though I’d want to eat off of a handsome man either. There’s something odd, the reduction of a human being into little more than a sexualized table. I mean it’s objectifying, obviously, but I suppose that’s the point, isn’t it? Regardless, I could feel my dream self’s skin crawl as I sat down in my appointed place, knowing that something horrible was about to happen.

As I watched, all of the little slices of fish began to wriggle free from their seaweed binding, squirming and twitching off of the beds of white rice. The woman on the table opened her mouth as the dozens of chunks of ambulatory flesh moved up towards her face. They began to crawl inside, stuffing her open mouth until she couldn’t breath, her face turning blue, but she just kept staying perfectly still, even as her exposed chest heaved up and down, desperately trying to get air into her blocked windpipe. All around me the other guests started to giggle and snicker at the sight, their mirth increasing in intensity as the woman slowly suffocated. When she finally stopped breathing entirely, the whole crowd was engaged in uproarious, hysterical laughter. After a few seconds, the corpse began to twitch and writhe in the same way the dead fish had, its glassy, blank eyes staring out from its lifeless face into nothing. I woke up sobbing.

It was a few weeks before I had my next encounter with unnaturally moving meat. In the intervening time I tried very hard to forget the whole matter, though I did make an effort to avoid Ted, social conformity be damned. Whenever I thought about his stupid laugh it made me feel sick all over again. As a matter of fact I spent a lot of time avoiding everyone, really. I prefer solitude, especially when after I’ve undergone something upsetting. It may seem silly that I’d go to all this fuss over a single piece of twitching sashimi, but I’ve always been fairly sensitive, and something about the whole concept of dead tissue still being able to move bothered me beyond belief. Maybe I just watched too many zombie films when I was a kid or something, who knows?

In any event, the second time happened at a company barbecue. Mandatory attendance, of course, it was that sort of a workplace, all focused on teamwork and working together “not just as a business, but as a family.” I don’t exactly know why I needed to be so focused on forming a bond with my coworkers when my own position as a data entry clerk left me working in blissful isolation for most of the time, but I imagine the overpaid men in suits who arranged these corporate equivalents of elementary school pizza parties instead of just giving out raises probably didn’t understand the concept of introversion. Anything to force employees back to the office after years of working from home, I suppose.

Fortunately I didn’t need to drive to the event, as it was just held in the parking lot during lunch hour, which I ordinarily spend sitting in my car curled up with a book (I could never stand the constant chatter of my coworkers in the break room). Like most corporate teamwork building events, it was simultaneously deeply awkward and a little bit sad. A few grills were set up with some bored looking catering staff cooking up burgers and steaks, while the halting half-laughter and polite tones of corporate enforced camaraderie emanated from the office drones clad in blandly professional outfits as they sat at the various card tables set up under white plastic tents.

I held out a paper plate like a priest soliciting donations from his congregation, and one of the underpaid pitmasters plopped a well-done steak onto it. I slathered it with a generous helping of barbecue sauce and then sat as far away from everyone else as I possibly could. Just because the powers that be could force me into attending this little gathering didn’t mean they could make me talk to anyone.

I sat glumly, stewing in my own petulance (I’m nothing if not self-aware) as I cut a piece off of my steak and popped it into my mouth without really looking at what I was doing. The texture was… off, somehow, and the flavor was unusual. I looked down at the steak to see that beneath the crispy, almost burnt exterior, the meat was quite rare, undercooked even, and was leaking blood onto my paper plate. It was thick too, not the watered down juices from a rare steak, but sticky, opaque, red as a bullfighter’s cape. Then, the hunk of charred flesh lunged towards me.

I don’t mean it twitched, I don’t mean it crawled, the thing leapt like a goddamned jackrabbit right at me. I fell backward in the cheap plastic folding chair, banging the back of my head against the concrete in the process which caused my vision to be filled with stars. I could feel the sticky, greasy piece of meat slithering across my chest, moving towards my open mouth, and I screamed in terror and pain. I could feel it pulsing as though it had a heartbeat, and the warmth from the grill made it feel sickeningly close to body heat.

It was only a few seconds before some of my coworkers rushed over to help, but it felt like an agonizingly long time as I lay there in pain, the quivering hunk of burnt flesh squirming closer to my face. Finally, someone helped me to my feet, and as though shy in the presence of other people, the steak seemingly lost its capacity for movement, falling to the ground with a wet splat.

Everyone wanted to know what happened, they kept asking me over and over again:

“Are you okay?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you hurt?”

The whole time I couldn’t focus on what they were saying for long enough to give a satisfying answer, I’d just see their red, fleshy tongues flapping in their mouths and feel sick all over again, feeling painfully aware of the blood that the steak had leaked all over my dress. They’re all just mounds of walking, talking, meat, covered in a thin layer of greasy, stinking skin and wrapped up in cloth to hide the truth of what they are. What we all are.

I managed to eventually stammer out some sort of excuse that my manager accepted as reason for me to take the rest of the day off, and I drove home after I calmed down enough to feel safe at the wheel. I didn’t tell anyone about the moving steak. I knew they wouldn’t believe me. It’s not like anyone else saw it that time.

When I got home I threw out all the meat in my refrigerator. Starving children in the third world be damned, I wasn’t going to risk having the fucking bologna try and smother me in my sleep. Call me paranoid if you want, but after what I’ve been through, I feel pretty goddamn vindicated. It’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you after all.

See, it didn’t stop with the steak. Even after I cut all meat out of my diet (I pretended it was a health thing), I still wasn’t free from dead flesh moving. It was little things at first. Dead flies on the windowsill twitching tiny legs previously held stiff with rigor mortis. Soggy worms that were still just moments before struggling to escape their watery tombs as I pass them by on the rain-soaked sidewalk. Hell, maybe it had been going on a while even before the sashimi incident and I just never noticed. But once I had an eye for it, it seemed to happen everywhere.

I knew it wasn’t natural. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, dozens and dozens of times afterwards over and over until you feel like clawing your fucking eyes out rather than see another roadkill squirrel try to drag itself across the pavement towards you is a sign that God just hates you. I can’t even walk into grocery stores anymore, I have to get everything by delivery, because if I even get within a hundred yards of the meat department I might see the sausages and chicken breasts and steaks and pork chops and dozens of other plastic wrapped corpses gently flopping and spasming and twitching, trying desperately to break free of their refrigerated prisons to get towards me. I know I’m not just going crazy. Usually, nobody notices, the meat quieting as soon as anyone else is around, but not always. I remember once watching a young girl start crying as she saw a T-bone steak crawling like an inchworm behind the glass case of the meat counter. She asked her mother why it wasn’t dead. Meat asking the meat it budded off from why the meat which should be still is moving.

Who are you supposed to talk to about this sort of thing? Where were you supposed to go? It’s not like a shrink would do me any good as I am in no respect delusional, and I certainly was not going to try and seek out the assistance of a priest. If anything the moving meat has more firmly cemented my disenchantment with the prospect of divinity; any God that allows such violations of nature to exist is not one who is worthy of worship. I wasn’t going to beg on my hands and knees for the help of a deity who presides over a broken world.

So I just dealt with it. I kept away from grocery stores and supermarkets, I turned a blind eye to the twitching bugs and spasming roadkill, and I stuck to my new vegetarian diet. I also had to remove all the mirrors in my house. I couldn’t bear to look at my reflection anymore, to be reminded of the meat that is me. Every twitch of an eye, every deep breath, it all just felt like that same unnatural mobility of dead flesh. Go ahead and call it denial if you want, my disposal of the mirrors, but it gave me at least some peace of mind. Besides, I didn’t like looking at the bags under my eyes that I was getting from all the nightmares.

This continued for a while, my coping with the impossible by simply ignoring it. Maybe a month or two, though it is hard for me to remember exactly how long. Things weren’t perfect, I drank a lot and had a few breakdowns here and there, but who wouldn’t under the circumstances? My point is I was getting on with things, to the best of my ability, and not just crumbling from the pressure. I wasn’t going to be beaten by a bunch of lifeless tissue being puppeted around by some unknowable force. I’m stronger than that.

Then came my father’s sickness. It happens to everyone in the end, doesn’t it? Meat spoils, after all. I don’t remember all the details, the doctors used a lot of fancy sounding medical terminology for it, something about blood clots and brain damage, but what it all boiled down to is that the man who raised me was on his deathbed, unconscious and unresponsive.

I never knew my mother. She ran off at some point shortly after I was born, leaving daddy dearest to take care of me the best he could. And he did do his best, I’m sure of that now. He fucked up along the way, but everyone’s parents do. They’re not perfect. Nobody is perfect. We’re all just meat, after all.

I started spending a lot of time with my father. He spent so much of his life caring for me when I had just entered this world, I felt like it was only fair I was by his side as he left it. I wasn’t deluded into thinking that he’d get better, or even that he would be aware of my presence, but it felt right for me to be next to him. I didn’t want him to die alone.

I’d sit there by his side, reading from one of my books. Sometimes, if the mood struck me, I’d read aloud to him. There was never any recognition in his eyes, he’d just stare blankly at the ceiling, his rattling breathing providing a distant background hum, but I didn’t mind. If anything I kind of appreciated that he didn’t do much. I was so used to things that shouldn’t move moving that it almost felt like a relief to see something which should move remain more or less stationary.

Now, they didn’t have him hooked up to life support machines or anything like that, you must understand. Nothing to monitor his vital signs, no machine to keep his heart beating, he was just laying in bed under scratchy hospital blankets. My father wasn’t afraid of death, and had demanded that he not be resuscitated in the event of something like this happening to him. Better to die with dignity than be forced to live with the help of machines.

It was because of this lack of monitoring that I didn’t initially notice when he finally stopped breathing. I was just sitting there, reading, when all of a sudden I was struck by how quiet the hospital room was. I put down my book and looked over to the bed, and my father’s chest had ceased to rise and fall. He was gone, and I hadn’t even realized when it happened. I knew it was coming, but I wanted to be there for him, I wanted to hold his hand as he crossed that final threshold. That this was taken from me made me start to cry.

I grabbed hold of his hand, hoping to experience at least my father’s warmth for one last time before he went cold. There was still the faintest touch of heat in his calloused, old fingers, and the tears flowed freely down my face.

“I’m sorry”, I said as I squeezed his hand, “I’m so sorry dad.”

He squeezed back.

Gasping in surprise, I looked up, hoping against all hope to see my father’s smiling face as he woke up, as if from a long dream, miraculously alive and okay. But that isn’t what I saw. This isn’t that kind of story. This isn’t that sort of world.

The corpse that was my father began to twitch and spasm, writhing and squirming as if made of a hundred tiny pieces each trying to break free from the whole. What was once my father’s head rolled lazily to face me, doll eyes blankly staring forward as the lifeless thing wriggled towards me.

It was like watching an octopus move, each limb in possession of a mind of its own, its hand in a vice grip against mine. I tried to pull free but I couldn’t, it was grasping too tight. I screamed for help, calling for anybody to get this corpse, this meat, away from me. My cries were cut off as its other hand grasped my throat, bent awkwardly at an impossible angle as I heard its bones snap.

My vision faded to black, and the last thing I saw before I passed out was my father’s face, lifeless and dead, staring into nothing.

I lived, of course. I wouldn’t be sitting here typing this if I didn’t. Whatever unnatural force was animating the corpse, it didn’t stick around long enough to do any lasting damage beyond leaving some bruises on my neck. A nurse found me unconscious on the floor, my father’s body laying on top of me stiffly.

They didn’t even try to come up with a realistic explanation for what happened, they just said my injuries must have been self-inflicted during a “psychotic break brought about by the traumatic event”, because no doctor is going to believe a woman who says her dead father tried to strangle her to death. The most they humored me was admitting that it was possible that I witnessed some postmortem muscle spasms. Meat that didn’t know it was dead yet.

I’m working through it though. I’m facing my fears. That’s what you’re supposed to do as an adult right? You just sit down and deal with things, you don’t make a fuss about it. And so that’s what I’m doing, I’m handling all this with maturity and grace.

I’ve even started eating meat again.

Little pieces.

Nice, bite sized chunks.

I’ve almost gotten used to how it feels as it wriggles down my throat.

#horror fiction #horror story #horror #writeblr #writers on tumblr #creepypasta

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muzzlemouths · 2 years ago

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@doofnoof STORYTIME

SO! My mom and I have moved around a lot for many (mostly depressing) reasons and could hardly find so much as a one bedroom apartment to share most years, so when we were offered a four bedroom, two bathroom, ENORMOUS backyard full house for a measly amount of rent, we jumped at the chance without really wasting time to question it. The house had a weird feeling from the start but we chalked that up to "just moved" anxiety and shrugged it off.

I don't want to call this a "warning sign", but a weird occurrence I noticed upon moving in was the distinct lack of animals. This was way out in the country, so there were animals galore all around, but none of them — not even birds — would come within a few yards of the house. (cw for animal death) I even adopted a little chick to raise out there, but it did in fact pass away within hours of being inside.

There was a master bedroom with three smaller bedrooms. The master bedroom had a Bad Vibe to it which sounds silly when I say it out loud, but I cannot express just how much being in this room sucked. You'd always feel a little uncomfortable in the house as a whole, but the second you walked into this one room it felt like the entire earth's weight was on your chest. It felt like someone was standing directly behind you at all times. It felt like you smoked three packs of cigarettes and then did jumping jacks. On multiple occasions I became physically sick after being in it for too long.

The room smelled HEAVILY of smoke. Despite there not being any visible fire damage, it always had a scent like there was something burning. We had the wiring checked, the vents checked, the outlets checked, everything. Anybody who came over could smell it but no one knew where it was coming from, because if you got up to the walls and carpets the smell didn't increase any, it was just always there.

My mother chose to sleep in this room because it was the biggest. Now, I want to emphasize here that my mother is in no way superstitious, and she waved off any and all of my anxieties concerning this house/that room in particular, but even she only lasted about a month in that room before she moved into a smaller room. She would have nightmares every. single. night, and that's if she could fall asleep at all. She would wake up feeling sick, rush to the bathroom to throw up, but then suddenly feel fine before she even got there once she was past the doorway. I remember her telling me that what finally did it was trying to leave the room one day and the door not opening. It didn't have a lock on it. She finally got it "unstuck" after a while of struggling, but the situation frustrated her so much — along with the smell — that she decided it best to move next to my room instead (to my unending relief).

Everything was normal after that, aside from the weird tension the house always had and the cold issue we could never figure out (wherein the house was always FREEZING, no matter how high we had the heat. We bundled up in sweaters and blankets during the day to stay warm. Again, we had the wiring checked, the heater, everything. There was no logical explanation for this one.)

That normalcy remained for about a week. After that, stuff started to get weirder. The tension and "pressure" when inside the house was so crushing that we would spend a lot of the time outside if we could just to get away from it. Doors began to swing on their own without a draft, and we did have one (1) instance of the classic Door Slams Shut. Sometimes the doors would be "locked" (again, no locks) and we would just have to leave the room alone for a while and come back to it later. My dog hated being inside and more than once I had to physically pick him up and carry him in because he refused to go. I would constantly feel like someone was walking behind me or running after me even if I was just walking around in broad daylight.

At one point, the door issue got so intense that I moved my mattress into the living-room and slept out there. It was a big open space (which didn't exactly make me any more comfortable) with the master bedroom to the left and the kitchen to the right, and in the direction of where my feet would be was the house's looooong hallway, where all three remaining rooms were located.

I slept like this for a few days longer before just not being able to sleep at all because I would feel like I was in fight or flight mode 24/7. I eventually called my partner and asked them to come stay with me for a few days, just so I could get some sleep. My partner came over and set up a spot next to mine and I conked out almost instantly.

The first night was fine. I had a nightmare, my partner witnessed one of the doorknobs shaking, and that was the end of it. The second night, they woke me up at 3:01am on the dot (I remember because we had a clock on the wall and I was wondering what they wanted so late at night) and I remember feeling this AWFUL feeling, just the worst, most sickening, bone chilling feeling I've ever experienced in my life, and I was going to get up and puke, but before I could my partner shook me again and pointed down the dark hallway and said "Look, look!" and I kid you fucking not, there was a man coming down that hallway. Real tall, big hat, no clear expression on his face but the kind of look that makes your stomach clench and tear itself apart.

He stopped at the end of the hallway right where it would have lead to the livingroom. I couldn't get myself to scream or say anything and neither could my partner, we both just huddled together and watched as the thing stood there for literal hours. At one point we must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember is waking up closer to 6am with my mom getting ready for work.

I woke my partner up to double check that I hadn't just dreamed it, and after getting confirmation I just...broke down. Went to my mother as a grown adult just a sobbing wreck, begging her to leave because I couldn't take it anymore.

She knew we couldn't because if we left before a certain date we'd have to pay the deposit, and that was a lot of money when your options were this and being homeless. But I couldn't stay in that house for any longer. I just couldn't. As much as it pained (and worried) me, I left my mom alone in that house to live with my partner and their family instead. I just wasn't strong enough to last even one more night there.

A little under two weeks later, my mom tells me she paid the deposit and will live in her car until we can find another place to go. I'm not sure what changed her mind, and to this day she refuses to tell me what happened in that house after I left, but I can only imagine it was nothing fucking good.

We found out later that the house had many, many deaths inside its walls, and the last tenant before us was a drug house gone wrong where every person involved was killed, multiple of them in traumatic ways. I don't know if that influenced the house or was a result of it, but either way, it's not the prettiest of histories.

The house's owner couldn't find anyone to rent it to after us, and my mom stopped asking after about a year, so I have no idea if it still lies dormant now, but I can tell you I am never going back.

I've never told anyone but a couple friends about this because all of it sounds laughable if you didn't experience it yourself, but I promise you, every word of it is true and still freaks me out to this day.

#man FUCK that house #I wanted to burn it to the ground #hat man. let's not meet #(again)

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silentspaces · 9 months ago

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Ugh. Just woke up from a nightmare. Description under the cut because yes, this site is my diary, but I won't subject my followers to half a page of text that's mostly me putting metaphorical pen to paper in order to process.

I only get nightmares like twice a year, so it's always memorable. In this one I had arrived at an airport early before my flight, so I left all of my belongings on the plane and then exited to stretch my legs before takeoff. This airport was a small one and not like the airports you imagine. This dream airport only had a single gate, and the building was within some brick building that actually looked like a normal building on a street somewhere in the UK. You couldn't see the plane anywhere. It seemed that they were supposed to make an announcement before leaving, but they didn't, and so I was stranded with literally nothing--no money, no cell phone, no ID of any kind, and no way to get back home. And I think the worst thing about it was I was some part of a group of friends and/or other students, and none of them had realized I was gone or had come to get me. (You know, like a Home Alone situation.) The second-worst thing was me half-waking up into another dream where I got out of bed but still within that same nightmare universe, and I inexplicably had a phone (guess I got a new one) and saw that my Tumblr account had been hacked and was posting spam, and I had been locked out of my account. And so that meant my friends on the plane had just let a stranger get a hold of my stuff at my seat and didn't try to stop anything.

It's funny, in the dream I was panicking because of the whole stranded thing, and then with the whole "someone has my phone" thing, and it wasn't until writing this out that I realized the actual worst thing that had only just started to bug Dream Me was the abandonment thing. The airport people hadn't made announcements or checked passengers. Friends and acquaintances hadn't bothered to get me. Feeling absolutely alone and discarded really sucks.

Do I think this dream has any particular meaning? Not really. I think I live a pretty good life, so much so that my brain gives me the rare nightmare to remind itself what Bad feels like. So, if you've read this far, please don't worry. I just think my brain gets bored.

Though this dream was extra rare where I was worried enough that I said something aloud, like a full sentence. Can't remember what I said, though.

#my life #dreams #nightmare #really don't read much into it I just needed a place to write it down right after experiencing it

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fannish-karmiya · 3 years ago

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Wei Wuxian’s Position in the Jiang Household

Fandom tends to mischaracterise Wei Wuxian’s position in the Jiang family greatly. A lot of people project more modern ideas about adoption onto his relationship with the Jiang siblings, and write as if he really is their sibling and only Yu Ziyuan’s abusive nature gets in the way of their bond.

This strikes me as a bit misguided. While adoption was practised in ancient China, it was mainly for the purpose of obtaining a male heir in the absence of one, or obtaining more daughters to marry off for alliances. Jiang Fengmian had no reason to adopt Wei Wuxian into the main family, and he didn’t. Wei Wuxian’s position in the household is far more nebulous than that, and honestly it’s hard to find an exact corollary, in Chinese history or in any culture, precisely because it was so messy and ill-defined.

A Companion to Upper Class Children

Wei Wuxian is the son of a servant of Yunmeng Jiang; it’s notable that Wei Changze is always referred to this way, rather than as a disciple. Wei Changze wound up leaving the sect in order to marry Cangse Sanren, and Jiang Fengmian considered them dear enough friends that when he heard they passed away, he spent years searching for their orphaned son. He wound up finding Wei Wuxian on the streets of Yiling and brought him home as his ward.

Wei WuXian was taken home by Jiang FengMian when he was nine.

Most memories from back then were already blurred. Yet, Jin Ling’s mother, Jiang YanLi, remembered all of them, and even told him quite a few.

She said that, after his father heard of the news that his parents both died in battle, he had always dedicated himself to finding the child that these past friends had left behind. After searching for a while, he finally found the child in Yiling.

(Chapter 24, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s clear from the start that beyond this sense of obligation to his old friends, Jiang Fengmian also had a role set out for Wei Wuxian: he wanted him to be a companion to his children, and Jiang Cheng in particular.

He encourages a friendship between them, insisting on a sleepover between the two a week into Wei Wuxian’s stay.

On the second day, Jiang Cheng’s puppies were given to someone else.

This angered Jiang Cheng so much that he threw a big tantrum. No matter how much Jiang FengMian comforted him gently, telling him that they should ‘be good friends’, he refused to talk to Wei WuXian. Quite a few days later, Jiang Cheng’s attitude softened. Jiang FengMian wanted to strike while the iron was still hot, so he told Wei WuXian to sleep in the same room as him, hoping that they’d grow fonder of each other.

[...]

That night, Jiang Cheng locked Wei WuXian outside his room, refusing to let him in.

[...]

Wei WuXian waited outside for a long time. When the door opened, before the joy could spread onto his face, he was bombarded with a pile of things being thrown out. The door banged shut again.

Jiang Cheng told him from inside, “Go sleep somewhere else! This is my room! You’re even gonna steal my room?!”

[...]

Standing outside, as Wei WuXian heard that dogs would come bite him, fear immediately bubbled within him. Twisting his fingers, he hurried, “I’ll go, I’ll go. Don’t call the dogs!”

Dragging behind him the sheets and blanket that were thrown outside, he ran out the hall. Having only arrived at Lotus Pier for a short period of time, he didn’t dare jump around yet. Every day, he obediently holed up in the places that Jiang FengMian told him to stay at. He didn’t even know where his room was, much less have the courage to knock on other people’s doors, scared that it’d disturb someone’s dreams.

(Chapter 71, Exiled Rebels translation)

After Jiang Cheng is worried about getting in trouble, he goes to Jiang Yanli for help, and she searches for Wei Wuxian.

But this was the first pair of shoes that Jiang FengMian bought him. Wei WuXian was too embarrassed to make him go out of his way to buy another pair, and so he said that they weren’t too big. Jiang YanLi helped him into his shoe and pressed the hollow tip, “It is a bit big. I’ll fix it for you when we get back.”

Hearing this, Wei WuXian felt somewhat uneasy, as if he did something wrong again.

Living in other people’s homes, the worst that could happen was to make trouble for the hosts.

Jiang YanLi put him onto her back and began to walk back, wobbling in her steps as she spoke, “A-Ying, no matter what A-Cheng said to you, don’t bother about him. He doesn’t have a good temper, so he’s always home playing with himself. Those puppies were his favorites. Dad sent them away, and so he’s feeling upset. He’s actually really happy that somebody’s here to be with him.”

(Chapter 71, Exiled Rebels translation)

Later, Wei Wuxian offers to cover for him, saying simply that he ran outside by himself because he was scared. In this one case it feels like a genuine instance of children showing solidarity and covering for each other’s little misbehaviours. But it also follows a pattern of Wei Wuxian doing this and making excuses, time and time again, for Jiang Cheng. I wonder if on some level, he already knew that his role in the household was in part to be a companion-servant to Jiang Cheng.

Wei Wuxian normally never puts up with people treating him poorly or being arrogant; he constantly bites his tongue when Jiang Cheng does so around him. While they study at Cloud Recesses, Jiang Cheng frequently insults Wei Wuxian, who always just smiles and laughs it off.

Jiang Cheng humphed, “Him? He wakes at nine in the morning and sleeps at one during the night. When he wakes up, he doesn’t practice his sword or meditate; he goes boating, swims around, picks lotus seedpods, and hunts for pheasants.”

Wei WuXian replied, “No matter how much pheasants I hunt, I’m still number one.”

(Chapter 13, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jiang Cheng scolded with a darkened expression, “What are you proud of?! What is there to be proud of with this?! Do you think that it’s a glorious thing to be told by someone to get lost? You bring so much shame upon our sect!”

(Chapter 16, Exiled Rebels translation)

We never see Wei Wuxian excusing this sort of behaviour from any other character; he has no problem scolding Jin Ling for his arrogant attitude and telling him that he shouldn’t be imitating his uncle, after all! It’s only where Jiang Cheng is concerned that he does this, and honestly, even then he seems to be quite aware that Jiang Cheng’s behaviour is wrong; he simply accepts on some level that it’s his role in the household to put up with it.

He actually does, very gently, try to guide Jiang Cheng at times. In Lotus Seed Pods, for example, he tries to give Jiang Cheng advice on how to flirt with some of the maidens in Yunmeng and make friends:

Wei WuXian threw the seed pods toward the shore. It was a far distance, but they landed lightly in the women’s hands. He grabbed a few more and stuffed them into Jiang Cheng’s arms, shoving, “What are you doing, just standing there? Hurry up.”

After a few shoves, Jiang Cheng could only accept them, “Hurry up and do what?”

Wei WuXian, “You ate the watermelon too, so you also have to return the gift, don’t you? Here, here, don’t be embarrassed. Start throwing, start throwing.”

Jiang Cheng snorted again, “You must be joking. What’s there to be embarrassed about?” Whatever he said, however, even after all of the shidi began to throw seed pods, he still didn’t start to move. Wei WuXian urged, “Then throw some! If you throw some this time, next time you can ask them if the seed pods tasted good, and you’ll be able to make conversation again!”

[...]

Jiang Cheng was just about to throw one when he realized how shameless it was the moment he heard it. He peeled a seed pod and ate it by himself.

[...]

After a while of laughter, he turned around and looked at Jiang Cheng, who was sitting at the front of the boat eating seed pods with a long face. His smile gradually disappeared as he sighed, “Well, what an unteachable child.”

Jiang Cheng fumed, “So what if I want to eat alone?”

Wei WuXian, “Look at you, Jiang Cheng. Nevermind. You’re hopeless. Just wait to eat alone your whole life!”

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

He even sighs rather disappointedly when Jiang Cheng refuses to take the hint; he knows that Jiang Cheng’s sullen behaviour is going to make him miserable down the line, but all of his gentle efforts to nudge him in a better direction have failed.

He also speaks with great awareness of Jiang Cheng’s flaws after the fight in the ancestral hall:

Wei WuXian reached out with one hand and massaged his chest, as if trying to break up the pent-up feeling inside his heart. A moment later, he blurted, “I knew Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have let us go so easily. That brat… How could this be?!”

[...]

Wei WuXian’s eyelids throbbed, “Every one of them. The brat’s been like this ever since he was young.He’ll say anything when he’s angry, no matter how bad it is. He gives up on all grace and discipline whatsoever. As long as it’d annoy whomever he’s against, he’d say it no matter what terrible insults he uses. After all these years, he hasn’t gotten better at all. Please don’t take it to heart.”

(Chapter 90, Exiled Rebels translation)

This is so interesting to me, because it really makes it clear that Wei Wuxian has always been aware of these flaws of Jiang Cheng’s. He hasn’t been viewing him through rose-coloured lenses or making excuses for him because he’s ‘family’. He puts up with Jiang Cheng’s behaviour because being his companion is one of his duties in the Jiang household. It may never have been directly stated, but there seems to be some unspoken understanding to this effect.

I honestly don’t know if there is any official role in history (in any culture, not just China) which perfectly correlates to this. In China a lady’s maid was expected to also be a close friend and companion to her mistress (in canon, see Bicao to Qin-furen and Yinzhu and Jinzhu to Yu-furen). In Europe an upper class woman would hire a lady’s companion, a woman from the lower fringes of the gentry who would serve as her companion in exchange for financial support.

I don’t know of any version of this role which involves two men. In general, this sort of role existed because upper class women were confined to the household by and large, and had very limited social spheres. Men, meanwhile, had much greater ability to meet with their peers and make friends. I almost feel like Wei Wuxian wound up being shoved into this role simply because even as a child Jiang Cheng was so unsociable that Jiang Fengmian didn’t know what else to do!

Wei Wuxian also at least once steps in and starts a fight in place of Jiang Cheng (essentially taking the fall for him). He does this when Jin Zixuan speaks disparagingly of Jiang Yanli at Cloud Recesses:

Jin ZiXuan asked in reply, “Why don’t you ask me how on Earth can I be satisfied with her?”

Jiang Cheng instantly stood up.

Pushing him to the side, Wei WuXian walked in front of him and sneered, “You sure think that you’re pretty satisfying, don’t you? Where did you get the guts to be all choosy here?”

[...]

Wei WuXian sighed, “… It’d be nice if shijie came. It’s fortunate that you didn’t hit him.”

Jiang Cheng, “I was going to. If you didn’t push me, the other side of Jin ZiXuan’s face would also be ruined.”

(Chapter 18, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s also very notable that Wei Wuxian is never shown having friends outside of Jiang Cheng’s social circle, despite what an outgoing and friendly person he is. Any time he expresses interest in someone for himself, as with Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng tries to nip it in the bud. Being unable to deter Wei Wuxian from Lan Wangji directly, Jiang Cheng instead tries to drive a wedge between them, constantly telling Wei Wuxian that Lan Wangji hates him.

“Yeah,” Nie HuaiSang spoke, “It looks like he really hates you, Wei-xiong. Lan WangJi usually… No, he never does something so impolite.”

Wei WuXian, “He hates me already? I wanted to apologize to him.”

Jiang Cheng sneered, “Apologizing now? Too late! Like his uncle, he surely thinks that you are evil and unruly to the core, and didn’t bother to pay you any attention.”

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jiang Cheng pulled him even closer, “It’s not as if you’re familiar with him! Don’t you see how much he hates you? You’re going to carry him? He probably doesn’t even want you a step closer to him.”

(Chapter 52, Exiled Rebels translation)

He even directly orders Wei Wuxian not to invite Lan Wangji to come visit him at Lotus Pier during the Lotus Seed Pod extra.

Wei WuXian, “Why are you so upset? My watermelon almost flew away! I was just being polite. Of course he wouldn’t come. Have you ever heard of him go anywhere by himself to have fun?”

Jiang Cheng had on a stern expression, “Let’s make this clear. I don’t want him to come, anyhow. Don’t invite him.”

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s not only Lan Wangji he tries to steer Wei Wuxian away from; he also interrupts his conversation with Wen Ning at the archery competition:

Wen QiongLin was probably one of Wen Clan’s disciples furthest in bloodline. His status was neither high nor low, yet his personality was timid. He didn’t dare do anything and even his speech stuttered. Through much practice, he had finally conjured up the courage to enter the competition, but he blew it because he was too nervous. If he didn’t receive the right guidance, perhaps the boy would hide his true self more and more from now on and never dare to perform in front of other people again. Wei WuXian encouraged him a couple of times and touched on a few areas of growth, correcting some miniscule problems that he had when he was shooting in the garden. Wen QiongLin listened so attentively that he didn’t even turn his eyes away, nodding uncontrollably.

Jiang Cheng, “Where did you find so much nonsense? The competition is starting soon. Get into the arena right now!”

Wei WuXian spoke to Wen QiongLin in a serious tone, “I’ll be off to the competition now. Later, you can see how I shoot when I’m in the arena…”

Jiang Cheng dragged him away, short of patience. He spat as he dragged, “See how you shoot? Do you think that you’re a model or something?!”

(Chapter 59, Exiled Rebels translation)

Even when it comes to Wei Wuxian’s friendly flirtation with Mianmian, Jiang Cheng has something to say and tries to deter him from her:

Jiang Cheng, “The one that MianMian gave you? I didn’t.”

Wei WuXian exclaimed his regret, “I’ll find her for another one later.”

Jiang Cheng frowned, “You’re at it again. You don’t really like her, do you? The girl does look fine, but it’s obvious that she doesn’t have much background. Maybe she isn’t even a disciple. She seems like the daughter of a servant.”

Wei WuXian, “What’s wrong with servants? I’m also the son of a servant, aren’t I?”

Jiang Cheng, “How can you compare to her? Whose servant is like you, having your master peel lotus seeds for you and boil you soup. I didn’t even get to have some!”

(Chapter 56, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jiang Cheng really does seem to view Wei Wuxian in a very proprietary light; he’s not allowed to have any friendships which don’t exist under Jiang Cheng’s direct control.

The idea that Wei Wuxian was meant to be Jiang Cheng’s servant-friend is reinforced at its darkest when Lotus Pier falls: both Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian’s last words to Wei Wuxian are an instruction to protect Jiang Cheng.

One hand holding him, Madam Yu grabbed Wei WuXian’s lapels with her other hand as though to strangle him to death. She spoke through clenched teeth, “… You damn little brat! I hate you! I hate you more than anything else! Look at what our sect has gone through for your sake!”

[...]

Madam Yu, “Don’t make such a fuss. It’ll loosen up when you’re somewhere safe. If anyone attacks you on the journey, it’ll protect you as well. Don’t come back. Go to Meishan straight away and find your sister!”

After she finished, she turned to Wei WuXian and pointed at him, “Wei Ying! Listen to me! Protect Jiang Cheng, protect him even if you die, do you understand?!”

[...]

Jiang FengMian stared into his eyes. Suddenly, he reached out. Only after pausing in the air did he finally touch Jiang Cheng’s head, slowly, “A-Cheng, be well.”

Wei WuXian, “Uncle Jiang, if anything happens to you, he won’t be well.”

Jiang FengMian turned his eyes to him, “A-Ying, A-Cheng… you must look after him.”

(Chapter 58, Exiled Rebels translation)

Even Jiang Fengmian, who supposedly favoured Wei Wuxian, only gives him instructions as pertains to his own son; he doesn’t spare a single last word for Wei Wuxian himself.

A Lower Status Family Member

It wasn’t uncommon throughout human history, across many cultures, for wealthy families to take in relatives who were orphaned or had otherwise fallen on hard times. They tended to have a lower status than the main family; they lived with them and were still a part of their social sphere, but were not quite equal, either. The English term for this is ‘poor relation’.

Obviously, Wei Wuxian isn’t actually a blood relative at all. But his position in the Jiang household definitely has some similarities. He lives in the main house, eats meals with the family, attends school with the son... He is even on some conditional levels accepted into the gentry of cultivation society. But he isn’t a full equal member of the family, either.

The fact that he’s Jiang Fengmian’s ward, not a blood relative or adopted into the main family, puts him at even more of a disadvantage. It seems that Jiang Fengmian paid for all of Wei Wuxian’s expenses:

Wei WuXian took a bite, “Back then, I didn’t even have to pay when I ate at the dock. I grabbed whatever I wanted, ate whatever I wanted; ran after I grabbed, walked as I ate. A month later, the vendor would get the reimbursement from Uncle Jiang.”

(Chapter 86, Exiled Rebels translation)

While this is a bit of conjecture, I gather that he was given access to family money as if he was part of the clan, and could just charge Yunmeng Jiang whenever he shopped in Lotus Pier. Which is great so long as Wei Wuxian is accepted in Yunmeng Jiang...but as we see during the Burial Mounds settlement period, the moment that acceptance fades, Wei Wuxian is left out in the cold without a single coin. And because he isn’t a member of the family, it’s a far easier matter for him to be thrown aside, as he was when Jiang Cheng grew angry with him over his decision to protect the Wens.

Of course, Chinese families traditionally did share their wealth, and still do nowadays. Ideally, in a loving family, this is a positive and means they all support each other; but when that isn’t the case, it leaves the victims of abuse vulnerable.

In Wei Wuxian’s case, he has some of the benefits of being a member of the Jiang clan, without ever actually being a member. He can be cast aside at any time, and he is never afforded the same respect by wider cultivation society which an inner clan member would have.

I don’t believe the novel ever directly addresses Wei Wuxian’s acceptance into the guest lectures at Cloud Recesses in this light, but the donghua actually has a very interesting little exchange about it which takes place between Nie Huaisang and a relative of his:

“Wei-xiong is just a disciple from Yunmeng. Why could he come to Gusu to study?”

“Wei-xiong is the son of Jiang-zongzhu’s old friend. He has been treated as their own son.”

“Oh, I see. That explains why they don’t look like master and servant, they seem like brothers.”

(MDZS Donghua, Episode 3, Guodong Subs)

Wei Wuxian was only allowed to attend these lectures, which seem to mainly be for sect heirs and inner clan members, on the grace of being Jiang Fengmian’s ward (and probably to accompany Jiang Cheng). While this exchange is not from the book, we never do see or hear about any of the other students being outer disciples rather than members of the main clan. Here’s what the novel had to say about it:

In that year, aside from the YunmengJiang Sect, there were also the young masters from other clans, sent to study here from parents who heard of the reputation. The young masters were all around fifteen or sixteen. Because the sects all knew the others, although they weren’t close, they had seen others’ faces before. It was widely known that, although Wei WuXian’s surname was not Jiang, he was the leading disciple of the sect leader of the YunmengJiang Sect—Jiang FengMian, and also the son of his friend who had passed away. In fact, the sect leader regarded him as his own child. This, along with how youths were not as concerned with status and ancestry as elders, they were soon friends. Only a few sentences passed, and everyone started to call others older brothers or younger brothers.

(Chapter 13, Exiled Rebels translation)

And Wei Wuxian isn’t treated as an equal at school, either; when he and his friends get up to mischief, he’s frequently the only one punished. Nie Huaisang even notes that Lan Qiren seems to be far harder on him than the other students:

Nie HuaiSang spoke, “Why does it seem like old man Lan is especially strict towards you? He always directs his scoldings at you.”

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

And we see Wei Wuxian being the sole one punished out of a group taken for granted by his friends multiple times:

As a result of cheating notes flying everywhere in the air, Lan WangJi suddenly attacked during the test, and caught a few initiators of the commotion. Lan QiRen exploded with anger, writing letters to the prominent clans to tell on them. He loathed Wei WuXian—in the beginning, although these disciples could hardly sit still, at least nobody started anything, and their buttocks were able to stick to their legs. However, now that Wei Ying came, the originally spineless brats were influenced by his encouragement, venturing out at night and drinking alcohol however they pleased. The unhealthy practices grew greater and greater. As he had expected, Wei Ying was one of the biggest threats to humanity!

Jiang FengMian replied, “Ying has always been like this. Please take care to discipline him, Mr. Lan.”

And so, Wei WuXian was punished again.

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

The boys were all cheating, but Wei Wuxian is the one punished most severely. This happens when he's caught sneaking alcohol, too (though to be fair to Lan Wangji, he probably was only punishing him, and himself alongside him, for being outside after curfew when he threw them off the wall).

Of course, Jiang Cheng didn’t dare to say that Wei WuXian was at fault. Thinking back, it was them who urged Wei WuXian to buy liquor. Each and every one of them should have been punished. He could only speak in a vague way, “It’s fine, it’s fine; it’s not that serious! He can walk. Wei WuXian, why are you still up there?!”

(Chapter 18, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s not entirely unreasonable for the one who gets caught to take the punishment (what’s he going to do, rat his friends out?) but their ready acceptance of this does fit into a pattern.

Jiang Cheng’s top was tied at his waist. Hearing his mother’s chastise, he hastily put it over his head. Madam Yu scolded again, “And you boys! Can’t you see that A-Li’s here? Who taught you brats to dress like this in front of a girl!?”

Of course, it was needless to think who led the group. Thus, Madam Yu’s next sentence, as usual, was “Wei Ying! Do you want to die!?”

[...]

He could still feel some pain in his back, so he tossed the paddles to someone else, sat down, and felt the stinging piece of flesh, “How unfair. Nobody else was wearing anything, but why was I the only one who got scolded and beaten up?”

Jiang Cheng, “Because you hurt the eye the most with no clothes on, for sure.”

[...]

Everyone nodded. Wei WuXian, “Thanks for the praise, you guys. I’m even starting to feel some goose bumps.”

The shidi, “You’re welcome, Da-Shixiong. You protect us every single time. You deserve even more!”

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

While we know that Yu Ziyuan is an abusive person in general, she abuses Wei Wuxian far more harshly than anyone else, even the outer disciples. It’s made clear to us in Lotus Seed Pods that she whips him regularly over minor infractions:

Madam Yu was even angrier, “How dare you run! Come back right now and kneel!” As she spoke, she let loose her whip with a flip of her wrist. Wei WuXian felt a searing pain slash across his back. He loudly exclaimed, “Ow!” And almost tripped on the ground.

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

And that his back is heavily scarred from it:

He felt his back, covered in scars both old and new, and still couldn’t hold back the question he’d be thinking about, “How awfully unfair. Why is it that I’m the only one who gets beaten up, whenever something happens?”

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

Rumours about this even made it outside of Lotus Pier; during their visit to the ancestral hall years later, Lan Wangji even states that he heard about some of it:

Lan WangJi had on an expression of understanding, “Kneeling as punishment?”

Wei WuXian mused, “How did you know? That’s right. Madam Yu punished me almost every day.”

Lan WangJi nodded, “I have heard of a few things.”

Wei WuXian, “It’s so famous that even people outside Yunmeng, even you Gusu people know—how could it be ‘a few things’? But, to be honest, in all these years, I’ve never seen a second woman whose temper was as bad as Madam Yu’s. She told me to go to the ancestral hall and kneel no matter how small the matter was. Hahaha…”

(Chapter 87, Exiled Rebels translation)

Wei Wuxian’s lower social standing is definitely a part of why Yu Ziyuan is able to abuse him so terribly and receive little to no censure for it. Everyone at Lotus Pier simply takes it for granted, with the exception of Jiang Yanli who at least does try to deflect her mother when she is angry with Wei Wuxian:

Yet, all of a sudden, someone’s quiet voice drifted by Madam Yu’s ear, “Mom, do you want to eat some watermelon…”

[...]

Jiang YanLi almost cried from her mother’s pinching, mumbling, “Mom, A-Xian and the others were hiding here to relieve the heat and I came here on my own. Don’t blame them… Do… Do you want some watermelon… I don’t know who gave them to us, but it’s really sweet. Eating watermelon in the summer is great for cooling down and quenching thirst. I’ll cut them for you…”

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

She both tries to deflect her mother from her anger, and also outright states that Wei Wuxian and the other boys weren’t at fault. Jiang Yanli seems to be the only one at Lotus Pier who ever does this.

After the war, Wei Wuxian attends social events at Jiang Cheng’s side but is never quite treated as an equal, either. See how at the Flower Banquet, Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue greet Jiang Cheng but not him:

Suddenly, a voice spoke, “Sect Leader Nie, Sect Leader Lan.”

Hearing the familiar voice, Wei WuXian’s heart jumped. Nie MingJue turned around again. Jiang Cheng came over, dressed in purple, hand on his sword.

And the person standing beside Jiang Cheng was none other than Wei WuXian himself.

He saw himself walk with hands behind his back, wearing all black. A flute in the shade of ink stuck to his waist, hanging down with crimson colored tassels. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Jiang Cheng, he nodded in this direction to show respect. Attitude slightly arrogant, he took on a profound, disdainful appearance. As Wei WuXian saw the stance of his younger self, the root of his teeth even cringed in soreness. He felt that he really was pretentious, and itched to just beat the hell out of himself.

Lan WangJi also saw Wei WuXian, who stood beside Jiang Cheng. The tip of his brows twitched ever so slightly. Soon afterward, his light-colored eyes returned to where they were, still looking forward in that composed way. Jiang Cheng and Nie MingJue nodded at each other with grave faces. Neither had anything unnecessary to say. After a hasty greeting, the two walked their separate ways. Wei WuXian saw his black-clothed self glance around as he finally saw Lan WangJi. He looked as if he was about to speak before Jiang Cheng came over and stood to his side.

(Chapter 49, Exiled Rebels translation)

They then proceed to talk about him and his lack of a sword behind his back, never having said a word to Wei Wuxian himself:

Nie MingJue’s gaze turned over again, “Why does Wei Ying not carry his sword?”

Carrying one’s sword was like wearing formal attire. In such gatherings, it was a non-negligible indication of etiquette. Those from prominent sects saw it as especially important. Lan WangJi responded in a lukewarm tone, “He had probably forgotten.”

Ning MingJue raised a brow, “He can even forget something like this?”

(Chapter 49, Exiled Rebels translation)

At Phoenix Mountain it also seems that Wei Wuxian is conditionally a member of the gentry, but not treated like an equal. Sometimes there are these more cheerful interactions:

Holding the flower, Lan WangJi seemed to be quite cold. His tone seemed cold as well, “Was it you?”

Wei WuXian immediately denied it, “No, it wasn’t.”

The maidens beside him spoke at once, “Don’t believe him. It was him!”

Wei WuXian, “How could you treat a good person like this? I’m getting angry!”

Giggling, the maidens pulled their reins and went to the formations of their own sects. Lan WangJi lowered the hand that he held the flower with and shook his head. Jiang Cheng spoke, “ZeWu-Jun, HanGuang-Jun, apologies. Don’t pay attention to him.”

Lan XiChen smiled, “That is fine. I will thank Young Master Wei’s kindness behind the flower in place of WangJi.”

(Chapter 69, Exiled Rebels translation)

But then he will be publicly disparaged and it is readily accepted by others. Jin Zixun first starts an argument with him by criticising Wei Wuxian for fighting Jin Zixuan, then turns the topic to Wei Wuxian’s having taken a third of the prey in the hunt.

Jin ZiXun, “Wei, just what what do you mean by going against ZiXuan so many times?”

[...]

Jin ZiXun sneered, “How is it presumptuous? How is any part of you not presumptuous? Today, in such an important hunt involving all of the sects, you really showed off your abilities, didn’t you? One third of the prey have been taken by you. You sure feel pleased, don’t you?”

[...]

He mocked, “But it’s only natural that you don’t think you’re in the wrong. It’s not the first time that Young Master Wei has disregarded the rules. You didn’t wear your sword in both last time’s flower banquet and this time’s hunt. It’s such a grand event, and you care nothing for courtesy. In what regard to you hold us, the people who are present with you?”

[...]

No disciple had ever dared say such lofty words in front of so many people. A moment later, as Jin ZiXun finally regained his composure, he yelled, “Wei WuXian! You’re only the son of a servant—how dare you be so bold!!!”

(Chapters 69-70, Exiled Rebels translation)

Naturally, Jin Zixun is able to weasel out of giving an apology, even though Jiang Yanli demands one. And guess who also takes a third of the prey, but this time without any censure?

Jin GuangYao, “In reality, not only did Young Master Wei keep a third of the prey to himself, our eldest brother has eliminated over half of the fays and the monsters as well.”

Hearing this, Lan XiChen laughed, “That is how Brother is like, after all.”

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

Never a Brother

As I’ve already mentioned, Wei Wuxian was never adopted by Jiang Fengmian, or adopted into the clan in general in even a distant way. And this nebulous ‘we’re letting you live with the main family as a charity, but you aren’t really one of us’ attitude also reflects in his relationship with Jiang Yanli.

I’ve already discussed how Wei Wuxian was more like a companion servant to Jiang Cheng than a brother. It’s also worth noting quickly that neither of them ever refers to the other as a brother. Wei Wuxian refers to Jiang Cheng as his shidi a few times, and Jiang Cheng never even refers to him as his shixiong (because Jiang Cheng views him as his servant, not as even a martial brother, I’d argue).

Only one member of the Jiang family ever does use familial terms to refer to Wei Wuxian: his shijie, Jiang Yanli. At Phoenix Mountain, when Wei Wuxian is being insulted by Jin Zixun, Jiang Yanli stands up and defends him, and states clearly that she considers Wei Wuxian a little brother:

The people who gathered around Jin ZiXun had on the same dark faces as he did. Yet, taking into consideration Jiang YanLi’s background, they didn’t dare talk back to her directly.

Jiang YanLi added, “Besides, hunting is hunting, so why bring the matter of discipline to the table? A-Xian is a disciple of the YunmengJiang Sect. He grew up with my brother and I, and so he’s as close as a brother is to me. Calling him the ‘son of a servant’—I’m sorry, but I won’t accept this. And thus…”

She straightened her back and raised her voice, “I hope that Young Master Jin ZiXun would apologize to Wei WuXian of the YunmengJiang Sect!”

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

It doesn’t come through in the Exiled Rebels translation, but she actually refers to Wei Wuxian as her didi in this scene, not her shidi. She’s trying to draw a line and state that Wei Wuxian is a part of the family. However, no one takes her seriously, and shortly afterwards we see Jin-furen insisting that Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian shouldn’t be walking alone together because it would be inappropriate.

Jiang YanLi whispered, “That’s not necessary. I’d like to have a few words with A-Xian. He can walk me back.”

Madam Jin raised her brows, looking Wei WuXian up and down. Her gaze was somewhat cautious, as if she was feeling displeased, “A young man and a young woman—you two can’t stick together all the time if nobody else is present.”

Jiang YanLi, “A-Xian is my younger brother.”

[...]

Wei WuXian lowered his head, “Excuse my absence, Madam Jin.”

He and Jiang YanLi bowed at the same time. As they turned around to leave, Madam Jin grabbed Jiang YanLi’s hand and refused to let her leave.

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jin Zixuan also never treats Wei Wuxian the way one might a brother who is still angered with him over his past dismissive treatment of his sister. For example, see their argument at the Flower Banquet:

Before he could see how Lan WangJi reacted, a series of clamor suddenly came from the other end of the base. Wei WuXian heard his own raging shout, “Jin ZiXuan! Don’t you forget about what things you said and what things you did? What do you mean by this, now?!”

Wei WuXian remembered. So it was this time!

On the other side, Jin ZiXuan also fumed, “I was asking Sect Leader Jiang, not you! The one I was asking about was also Maiden Jiang. How is that related to you?!”

[...]

Jin ZiXuan, “Sect Leader Jiang—this is our sect’s flower banquet, and this is your sect’s person! Are you going to look after him or not?!”

[...]

...Jiang Cheng’s voice came, “Wei WuXian, you can just shut your mouth. Young Master Jin, I’m sorry. My sister is doing quite well. Thank you for your concern. We can talk about this next time.”

Wei WuXian laughed coldly, “Next time? There is no next time! Whether or not she’s doing well isn’t any of his business, either! Who does he think he is?”

He turned around and started to leave. Jiang Cheng shouted, “Get back here! Where are you going?”

Wei WuXian waved his hands, “Anywhere is fine! Just don’t let me see that face of his. I never wanted to come, anyway. You can deal with whatever’s here yourself.”

Having been abandoned by Wei WuXian, Jiang Cheng’s face immediately clouded over.

[...]

Jiang Cheng stowed away the clouds on his face, “Don’t mind him. Look at how impolite he is. He’s used to such rude behavior at home.”

He then began to converse with Jin ZiXuan.

(Chapter 49, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jiang Cheng also quietly dismisses the notion of Wei Wuxian as a brother in relation to Jiang Yanli; when they visit to show him her wedding dress and she asks for a courtesy name, Jiang Cheng specifically says:

Jiang Cheng, “The courtesy name of my unborn nephew.”

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

Not our nephew, mine.

Even the disastrous invitation to Jin Ling’s one month celebration is framed as a favour to an old shidi, not a family member:

Jin ZiXun, “Since you’ve heard it from him already, you should know that I can’t wait. Don’t tell me that you’ll disregard your brother’s life for the sake of Sister-in-Law’s shidi?!”

Jin ZiXuan, “You clearly know that I’m not that kind of person! He might not necessarily be the one who cursed you with Hundred Holes either. Why are you so rash? I was the one who invited Wei WuXian to A-Ling’s full-month celebration anyways. If this is the way you do things, where does that leave me? Where does it leave my wife?”

Jin ZiXun raised his voice, “It’s best if he doesn’t attend! What does Wei WuXian think he is—does he deserve to attend our sect’s banquet? Whoever touches him gets nothing but a splash of black! ZiXuan, when you invited him, weren’t you worried that you, Sister-in-Law and A-Ling would receive an irremovable stain for the rest of your lives?!”

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s clear that not only does wider society not consider Wei Wuxian and the Jiangs siblings...they themselves don’t, either. Wei Wuxian, after all, readily accepts that his relationship with them is over after he leaves the sect:

Before they parted, Jiang Cheng spoke, “We won’t see you off. It wouldn’t be good if someone saw us.”

Wei WuXian nodded. He understood that it wasn’t easy for the Jiang siblings to have come out here. If someone else saw them, all those things they did for the public to believe would be wasted. He spoke, “We’ll go first.”

[...]

He turned around, knowing that it’d be a long time before he’d get to see the people he was familiar with again.

But… right now, wasn’t he on his way to seeing people he was familiar with as well?

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

Cast Aside

The way cultivation society treats Wei Wuxian when he is not with the Jiangs is also very revealing. Any level of respect he is given is contingent on his position in the Jiang household, and when they aren’t around that minimal respect fades away. Look at how disrespectfully he is treated when he approaches Jin Zixun to ask for Wen Ning’s location.

Wei WuXian didn’t make small talk either, getting straight to the point, “No thanks. I don’t.” He nodded slightly at Jin ZiXun, “Young Master Jin, could I please have a word with you?”

Jin ZiXun, “If you have anything to say, come after our banquet is over.”

In reality, he didn’t want to talk to Wei WuXian at all. Wei WuXian could see this as well, “How long do I have to wait?”

Jin ZiXun, “Probably around six to eight hours. Or maybe ten to twelve. Or until tomorrow.”

Wei WuXian, “I’m afraid I can’t wait for that long.”

Jin ZiXun’s voice was arrogant, “You’ll have to wait even if you can’t.”

Jin GuangYao, “Young Master Wei, what do you need ZiXun for? Is it a pressing matter?”

Wei WuXian, “Pressing indeed. It allows for no delay.”

[...]

Jin ZiXun, “Wei WuXian, what do you mean? You came for him? You aren’t standing up for a Wen-dog, are you?”

Wei WuXian wore a broad grin, “Since when is it your business whether I’d like to stand up for him or cut his head off? Just give him to me!”

At the last sentence, the grin on his face vanished. His tone turned cold as well. It was clear that he had lost his patience. Many of the people within Glamor Hal shivered in fear. Jin ZiXun felt his scalp tingle as well. Yet, his anger soon soared. He shouted, “Wei WuXian, you are too bold! Did the LanlingJin Sect invite you today? And you dare run wild here. Do you really think that you’re invincible, that nobody has the courage to confront you? Do you want to overturn the Heavens?”

Wei WuXian smiled, “You’re comparing yourself to the Heavens? Excuse my language, but your face is a little too thick, isn’t it?”

[...]

Just as he was about to rebut, sitting on the foremost seat, Jin GuangShan spoke up.

His voice seemed kind, “It’s not anything too important anyways. You youngsters, why lose your tempers over such a thing? However, Young Master Wei, let me be fair here. Barging in when the LanlingJin Sect is holding a private banquet is indeed inappropriate.”

To say that Jin GuangShan didn’t mind what happened at Phoenix Mountain would be impossible. This was also why he only smiled when Jin ZiXun bickered with Wei WuXian but didn’t stop them, and only spoke up when Jin ZiXun was at the disadvantage.

Wei WuXian nodded, “Sect Leader Jin, it was never my intention to disturb your private banquet. My apologies. However, the whereabouts of the people whom Young Master Jin took are still unclear. Just a moment of delay, and it might be too late. One of the group had once saved me before. I will definitely not sit back and watch. Please do not feel pressured. I will make amends for this at a later date.”

[...]

After a few laughs, he continued, “Sect Leader Jin, let me ask you something else. Do you think that, because the QishanWen Sect is gone, the LanlingJin Sect has all right to replace it?”

All was silent within Glamor Hall.

Wei WuXian added, “Everything has to be given to you? Everyone has to listen to you? Looking at how the LanlingJin Sect does things, I almost thought that it was the QishanWen Sect’s empire all over again.”

[...]

A guest cultivator on his right shouted, “Wei WuXian! Watch your words!”

Wei WuXian, “Did I say something wrong? Forcing living people to be bait and beating them up whenever they refused to obey—is this any different from what the QishanWen Sect does?”

Another guest cultivator stood up, “Of course it’s different. The Wen-dogs did all kinds of evil. To arrive at such an end is only karma for them. We only avenged a tooth for a tooth, letting them taste the fruit that they themselves had sown. What’s wrong with this?”

Wei WuXian, “Take revenge on the ones who bite you. Wen Ning’s branch doesn’t have much blood on their hands. Don’t tell me that you find them guilty by association?”

Another person spoke, “Young Master Wei, is it that they don’t have much blood on their hands just because you say so? These are only your one-sided words. Where’s the evidence?”

[...]

Jin GuangShan stood up as well, his face a mixture of shock, anger, fear, and hatred, “Wei WuXian! Just because… Sect Leader Jiang isn’t here doesn’t mean you can be so reckless!”

Wei WuXian’s voice was harsh, “Do you think that I wouldn’t be reckless if he were here? If I wanted to kill someone, who could stop me, and who would dare stop me?!”

[...]

“Young Master Wei really is too impulsive. How could he speak in such a way in front of so many sects?”

Lan WangJi spoke coldly, “Was he wrong?”

Jin GuangYao paused almost unnoticeably. He immediately laughed, “Haha. Yes, he’s right. But it’s because he’s right that he can’t say it in front of them, correct?”

Lan XiChen seemed as if he was deep in thought, “Young Master Wei’s heart really has changed.”

(Chapter 72, Exiled Rebels translation)

The only person at this banquet who speaks to Wei Wuxian respectfully is Jin Guangyao, a consummate manipulator who is also of a lower social status. Everyone else speaks to him dismissively, refusing to respect his request for Wen Ning’s location even though he states that Wen Ning helped him during the war. Wei Wuxian is extremely polite at the beginning of this conversation, and only slowly begins to lose his temper when Jin Zixun speaks rudely and Jin Guangshan decides to bring up the matter of the Yinhufu (Wei Wuxian is right in suspecting him of wanting to replace Qishan Wen, of course, and that it’s very bold of them to think they have the right to a spiritual tool of his just because...they’re rich?).

When the sects meet at Koi Tower to discuss the breakout at Qiongqi Path, no one considers Wei Wuxian as an independent agent who they might actually want to meet and negotiate with themselves. He is a wayward servant of Yunmeng Jiang who the sect leader has failed to keep in hand.

Jiang Cheng only spoke after a few moments, “What he did was indeed a bit too much. Sect Leader Jin, I apologize to you in place of him. If there’s any way at all to help the situation, please let me know. I’ll definitely compensate for things however I can.”

[...]

Jin GuangShan, “Sect Leader Jiang, Wei Ying is your right-hand man. You value him a lot. All of us know this. However, on the other hand, it’s hard to tell whether or not he actually respects you. In any case, I’ve been a sect leader for so many years and I’ve never seen the servant of any sect dare be so arrogant, so proud. Have you heard what they say outside? Things like how during the Sunshot Campaign the victories of the YunmengJiang Sect were all because of Wei WuXian alone—what nonsense!”

[...]

Lan WangJi sat with his back straight, speaking in a tone of absolute tranquility, “I did not hear Wei Ying say this. I did not hear him express the slightest disrespect towards Sect Leader Jiang either.”

[...]

The good thing was that, not long after he felt awkward, Jin GuangYao came to save the day, exclaiming, “Really? That day, Young Master Wei busted into Koi Tower with such force. He said too many things, one more shocking than the next. Perhaps he said a few things that were along those lines. I can’t remember them either.”

[...]

Jin GuangShan followed the transition, “That’s right. Anyhow, his attitude has always been arrogant.”

One of the sect leaders added, “To be honest, I’ve wanted to say this since a long time ago. Although Wei WuXian did a few things during the Sunshot Campaign, there are many guest cultivators who did more than him. I’ve never seen anyone as full of themselves as him. Excuse my bluntness, but he’s the son of a servant. How could the son of a servant be so arrogant?”

[...]

“In the beginning, Sect Leader Jin asked Wei Ying for the Tiger Seal with nothing but good intentions, worried that he wouldn’t be able to control it and lead to a disaster. He, however, used his own yardstick to measure another’s intents. Did he think that everyone is after his treasure? What a joke. In terms of treasures, is there any sect that doesn’t hold a few treasures?”

“I knew that something would eventually happen if he continued on the ghostly path—look! His killing intents are being revealed already. Killing indiscriminately those from our side just because of a few Wen-dogs…”

[...]

Jin GuangShan continued, “Sect Leader Jiang, you’re not like your father. It’s just been a couple of years since the reestablishment of the YunmengJiang Sect, precisely when you should be displaying your power. And he doesn’t even know to avoid suspicions. What would the Jiang Sect’s new disciples think if they saw him? Don’t tell me you’d let them see him as their role model and look down on you?”

He spoke one sentence after another, striking the iron while it was still hot. Jiang Cheng spoke slowly, “Sect Leader Jin, that’s enough. I’ll go to Burial Mound and deal with this.”

Jin GuangShan felt satisfied, speaking in a sincere tone, “That’s the spirit. Sect Leader Jiang, there are some things, some people that you shouldn’t put up with.”

(Chapter 73, Exiled Rebels translation)

This is very reminiscent of the way that Jin Zixuan would often turn around and say, ‘Why aren’t you controlling your servant?’ to Jiang Cheng whenever he had a dispute with Wei Wuxian over his treatment of Jiang Yanli.

When Jiang Cheng goes to the Burial Mounds and Wei Wuxian defects from Yunmeng Jiang in order to help the sect save face, Jiang Cheng treats this as a personal betrayal. He not only challenges Wei Wuxian to a duel but then announces that Wei Wuxian has betrayed Yunmeng Jiang and declared himself the enemy of cultivation society:

After the fight, Jiang Cheng told the outside that Wei WuXian defected from the sect and was an enemy to the entire cultivation world. The YunmengJiang Sect had already cast him out. From then on, no ties remained between them—a clear line was drawn. Henceforth, no matter what he did, they’d have nothing to do with the YunmengJiang Sect!

(Chapter 73, Exiled Rebels translation)

“Wei Wuxian has betrayed the sect, and publicly regards all cultivation sects as enemy! Yunmeng Jiang Sect hereby expels him, breaking all ties with him and drawing a clear line between us. Henceforth, no matter what this person does, it will have nothing to do with Yunmeng Jiang Sect!”

(Modao Zushi Radio Drama, Season 3 Episode 5, Suibian Subs)

Naturally, no one ever questions this or wants to hear Wei Wuxian’s side of the story. Jiang Cheng is a sect leader and Wei Wuxian his servant, and that is all cultivation society needs to know.

In Conclusion

Wei Wuxian was never really part of the Jiang family. The wider social view was that he was a servant who was lucky to be taken in by the family and allowed to live in the main house alongside the sect leader’s children. He’s accepted into cultivation society conditionally, but only as someone who remains a rank below everyone else.

This attitude isn’t just the wider social view which the family themselves disregard; they all play into it. Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Cheng both actively enforce it, Jiang Fengmian passively enforces it, and Jiang Yanli tries but fails to break through the social barriers between them.

#mdzs #mdzs meta #modao zushi

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #Bruce Banner #bun writes #I haven't written shit in a month and boom #6k words in three hours #i don't like the ending #I'm bad at them #okay #okay .

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

Text

Brothers Accidentally Make the MC Cry

Hello, this is the obligatory italics blurb that I have to put under my titles or else things look weird and it bothers me. Don’t mind the blurb. The blurb is a friend. (Though I could start writing pieces of a little story up here just to see if anyone even reads them… Hm…. Ideas, ideas...)

Warning: Angsty

Lucifer

If he were being honest, he’d say that a part of him had always feared this would happen...

Lucifer likes to tell himself that he’s invincible, but everyday stresses can get to him just like anybody else. And like other people, he may not always act his best when he’s dealing with a full plate…

The MC hadn’t meant to make his day harder when they told him that they accidentally broke a lamp. It was a genuine accident! But Lucifer was still dealing with the fallout from another one of Mammon’s failed schemes, Satan had cursed all of his ties again, and Beel had eaten every scrap of food in the House… for the second time that week...

In comparison to everything else, a broken lamp was quite minor, but for Lucifer it was just the last straw and, for just a moment, he lost control…

His palm slamming against his desk hard enough to snap its legs and send it crashing to the ground. He scarcely knew what kind of look he had on his face, but whatever it was, he had made his human jump back in shock...

Really, it was silly for them to assume that he had gotten that upset over a lamp, but he saw tears starting to gather in their eyes all the same as they stammered out a quiet apology…

It felt like an ice spike to the heart. Damn his temper… He really ought to have been more careful with them after… well, everything he’d done before…

He was quick to go over to them, catching their face with his hand and giving them the most sincere apology he could muster while wiping away their tears… Overreactions aren’t becoming of him and he hated to cause them pain…

He, of course, took care of the lamp himself as penance and on the surface that seemed to be it (but to anyone paying attention, he had softened up on the MC considerably for at least a week. They probably could have sworn in front of Diavolo and he’d let it slide, he felt that bad about it...)

“I’m sorry, MC, I shouldn't have reacted like that… You haven’t done anything wrong, I promise… Please, there’s no need to cry…”

Mammon

Oh? What's that? His heart is now in a million pieces now...? Well, that seems fair…

He and the MC were out on one of his gambling nights and he was actually on a killer winning streak for once! Jackpots around every corner, he was rolling in it!

The MC had tried to convince him to just throw in the towel early, take his winnings while he had them and bail, but he wasn’t hearing any of it.

In hindsight, their insistence must have really shown how much the MC cared about him and wanted him to keep his earnings... but in the heat of the moment all he saw was someone trying to spoil his one night of fun.

To be fair to Mammon, it’s rather rare for him to lose control of his anger like he did. But when they tried to pull him away from the roulette table, he genuinely snarled at them and told them to get lost...!

Fortunately, he regretted his actions immediately after he saw the hurt in their eyes…

If their goal had been to get him to step away from the table, they achieved it. But only because he got up to pull them into a hug while stammering out apologies… Watching them actually shed tears hurt worse than any rope Lucifer had ever tied around him...

He spent the rest of the night away from the casino and trying to cheer up his human like his life depended on it... Seeing them in pain just tore him up that much.

"Ah, come on MC… I'm sorry, honest…! Please don't look at me like that, I'll do whatever ya want okay...? Just no more cryin…"

Leviathan

Now thinks he's the worst, literally the worst. Lower than lesser demon spit. Lower than Cerberus' shit. Lower than… well, you get the idea…

Levi can get very… intense when things involving his passions are brought up. This can be a fairly endearing quality… but it also means he gets disproportionately impassioned about seemingly minor things.

Levi ended up snapping at the MC when they let him over-sleep one day. This wasn’t unusual for them to do as Levi’s sleep schedule was notoriously shitty, but they shouldn't have done it that particular day…

An item he wanted on Akuzon was going to go live that morning and he had to be awake to participate in the bidding. He had mentioned it to the MC the day before, but he blew past it so quickly they didn’t actually remember…

He found out that he missed the bidding after he woke up and he was pissed. Genuinely enraged that they didn’t remember to wake him up to the point that he was shouting and baring his fangs!

… Really it was not a good look and he should have known better.

The look of fear and the tears gathering in the MC’s eyes snapped him out of it like a hard slap to the face, and somehow, it stung even more than that would’ve... It wasn’t long before he was crying along with them, practically begging for forgiveness...

He made it up to them by having a private showing of their favorite movie using a projector in the Planetarium, cuddling with them under a blanket while still, occasionally, muttering apologies under his breath.

“M-MC…? MC don’t cry…!! Please don’t cry, I- I’m sorry!! I… MC… I’m so sorry…”

Satan

Like Lucifer, he always worried this would happen and he hated when it finally came to pass…

He’d spent all his life learning how to restrain his temper, but it’s not a perfect science. There are the occasional times where the heat of the moment gets the better of him and he does something he regrets…

The MC had walked in on him one morning while he was fuming about Beel leaving the fridge empty again. It hadn’t been the first time they’d seen him like this, but this time he was absolutely furious.

He had told Beel again and again and again to get his snacking under control or to, you know, get up early and get more food so the whole family wouldn’t spend the morning starving but noooo! Mr. I’m Hungry never thinks about anything but his own stomach and then leaves whoever’s on kitchen duty to pick up the slack like some dimwitted muscle-bound meathead and THEN-!!

When the MC tried to take his arm to calm him down, he jerked their hand away from him and roared right in their face. He may not be a lion, but the full sound of a pissed off demon could make humans have breakdowns all on its own…

Which was more or less what the MC began to do as he gripped their wrist, panicking while taking shallow, stuttered breaths…

Satan's anger left him swiftly and he let them go, only reaching out to touch them again when he tried to wipe the tears from their cheeks… He had to coo and beg for them to calm down, which was only so successful because he was fighting back tears himself…

On a scale of 1-10 of the worse things his temper has ever done, he'd rank this a firm 200... He refused to touch them for about a week afterwards and it took a long time for him to trust himself again… He just didn't want to hurt them...

"MC?? MC…? M… Oh no… MC, I'm so sorry, I would never hurt you! I… I wouldn't dare… please believe me..."

Asmodeus

Oh baby! Sweetheart! Love of his life!! No, please no… don't subject him to this…

MC and Asmo were out dancing and some witch came by to try and flatter him.

Now, Asmo is a flirt normally, but get a few drinks in him and well… Let's just say his love of attention overrides his better judgment far more often than it should and friends don't let friends go home with creepy witches.

When the MC told the witch to scram, Asmo was confused and, frankly, quite irritated. That lovely lady had been stroking his ego in all the right ways and his human just scared her off so rudely!

Under most situations, Asmo would have kept his cool better but the haze of Demonus made his tongue loose... which let the venom fly…

He couldn’t quite remember what he said. The words left his mouth so quickly that they slurred together on his clumsy tongue, but it must have been enough because the MC flinched away from him.

That hurt all on its own, but as he started to process the pain in their eyes… he had never sobered up so fast...

He had their cheeks cupped in his hands and were kissing away their tears within the instant. Though the loud music at the club should have drowned out his apologies, the MC could see it written all over his equally tearful face…

He pulled them into his arms and then out of the club shortly after, the fog of Demonus that plagued him just moments before had long left him and all he knew was that the MC needed to be brought home and cuddled… stat.

“M-MC…? I’m sorry was it something… did I…? I’m so sorry… Please don’t cry…!”

Beelzebub

He really didn't mean to shout so loud… honest...

Beel becomes a completely different person when he’s hungry. He’s not entirely to blame, as his hunger can get so intense, but he still can snap from time to time when he really doesn’t mean to…

It was right after one of his practices and Beel hadn’t gotten a chance to eat in a few hours by the time the MC came to grab him from RAD. That already had him in a bad mood, but practice hadn’t gone too well for him either…

He honestly didn’t realize how sharply he snapped at the MC when they asked him how he was. The irritation and frustration of the day all hit him at once and he became much harsher towards them than he ever intended…

It must have been the shock of seeing ever-sweet Beel suddenly get so aggressive with them that startled them so. He saw a couple tears gathering in their eyes before they could hide them and his heart just sank…

The MC was picked up in a crushing bear hug before they even let out their first sniffle. Beel didn’t even have to say how sorry he was, they could feel it in every squeeze he gave them. All while he completely ignored the growling of his stomach...

Beel wouldn’t let them go until he was certain they’d forgiven him which, honestly, took a while. Mammon was the one to ask why he had carried them all the way back to the House like a baby but… well, he didn’t need to know, now did he?

“MC, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have shouted… Are you alright...?”

Belphegor

Stubborn boi is stubborn and trying really, really hard not to crack right now...

That's not going to last long.

Belphie can be a bit of a brat and since he's the baby of the family so he's used to getting his way. He and the MC don't argue a ton, but when they do, he always digs his heels in and refuses to budge an inch on anything.

So what started out as a simple disagreement on how often Belphie would flake out on his chores turned into a kick-the-door-down argument over how much his laziness left the MC to pick up the slack...

It ended as all their barn burning arguments do, with demon-form Belphie sitting cross-legged on his bed refusing to look at them and the MC angrily pacing about the room until he cools off…

And then he heard it.

First a sniffle… and then a hiccup. Another sniffle then muffled whine…

Oh no… not this… Why are they crying…? They don't normally cry…

To his credit (or perhaps discredit), he managed to hold out for about two minutes before he finally glanced back at them. Seeing the MC wiping their tears all alone on the floor crumbled his resolve real quick.

The MC found themselves enveloped by Belphie's arms before they even noticed he got up. Naturally, he was pouting and trying to make it seem like "not a big deal or anything" but they could tell by the nervous twitch of his tail that he was hurting too…

Needless to say. Belphie started remembering his chores a lot more after that.

"Humans are so fragile… I didn't mean to make you cry, you know? I'll get things done just… Don't cry… please…"

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines

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onceupon · 3 years ago

Text

London Boy - Part 4: Just friends

summary: You wake up to find Rafe Cameron in your bed. Even though nothing happened, you’re still left trying to make sense of it all.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 5k

a/n: thank you so much to all of you who have been reading along <333 sorry in advance if you want this to progress faster haha, it simply must be this slow, sorry I don't make the rules (even tho I do lol). Not canon Rafe!!

masterlist

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the early morning rays wake you up. You didn’t even remember falling asleep. As you slowly gain consciousness you’re startled by the weight of Rafe’s arm draped across your body. What the hell? When did that happen? He spent the night in your bed?

Your mind races at a million miles an hour as you slowly slip out from under his hold. You were careful not to wake him up, not wanting to face any awkwardness. You throw on fresh clothes and grab your backpack, desperate to make your escape. You had wanted to get to school early today to work on some homework anyways, never before so eager to trade in the comfort of your bed for the library.

After a quick pit stop to pick up a coffee and a croissant, you swing the heavy wooden doors open. You liked campus at this hour, the morning light still soft, the air crisp, and the atmosphere silent. As you scan your eyes for a spot to sit, you notice the unmistakable sight of fluffy brown hair hunched over a table.

“Liam?” your whisper. “What the hell are doing here?”

That classic cheeky grin spreads across his face as he looks up to find you standing in front of him. “I go here, Y/n. Forget already?”

You roll your eyes, “I just didn’t know you were the studious type.”

“Not gonna lie to you babe, I’m not. But Rogers is already all the way up my ass over this class, and I’m not letting that prick hold me back a year.”

You pull out the chair across from him and go to sit down, spreading your books out on the table.

“Who said you could sit with?” he asks, and you shoot him a look. You’re not in the mood. “Geez alright, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed… you good Y/n?” he slows, taking in your disheveled appearance. You hadn’t so much as brushed your hair.

“Can you promise not to tell anyone,” you stare dead into his eyes.

“On my life,” he extends his pinky, and you accept.

“Rafe… slept over last night…”

“Oh shit!” he exclaims, and your eyes widen at his echoing voice.

“Not like that,” you hiss, not wanting to draw anymore attention to the two of you. “Nothing happened… like he just came over to watch a show and then we talked for a while and just accidentally… fell asleep. I panicked when I woke up and realized he was still in my bed so I ran out of there as fast as I could and now…. well now I’m here.” You nervously chug your coffee, heart racing.

“So he hung out with you all night and didn’t make a move?”

You nod, nervously awaiting his analysis as you take a bite of your croissant.

“Damn, boy must really like you,” he muses.

“What? Definitely not,” you scoff.

“Y/n, let me tell you a little something about guys. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what. The fact that he’s coming over your room to watch a show and hanging out with you until he physically can’t stay awake - I mean I can’t make it any more obvious to you.”

“I don’t know I just don’t think so… You don’t know Rafe like that, he’s a total player back home. He can pull any girl he wants, so if he liked me like that he would’ve done something by now. This is probably how he is with all his friends and I’m just reading too much into it. I’m sure Lily Colts will be in his bed soon enough,” you mumble. That last part stings in particular, you had already thought it, but saying it out loud made you feel… icky.

“I may not know Rafe like that, but I know guys like him. I am guys like him. He likes you Y/n. So what if he pulls a lot of chicks, he doesn’t actually care about them. But he cares about you, probably can’t even understand why, and now it’s like bam Uno reverse. He can’t pull the cards he normally does, and now you’ve got him confused and he doesn’t know what to do. Man’s down bad. Give him time though, he’ll come around,” he explains to you calmly, stealing your coffee cup from you and taking a sip.

“Honestly can I just start paying you to figure my life out for me. You make everything seem so simple.”

“Because it is simple. You insist on complicating it. But I know how you could pay me,” he adds with a wink and you shoot him a glare. You know he’s just joking (partially), he loves pushing your buttons.

“Well whatever. I’ll believe it when I see it,” you resign on the Rafe matter. You wanted to believe what Liam was saying but it didn’t quite make sense to you. You were only going to drive yourself crazy trying to read between lines that you weren’t sure existed. Rafe was just used to situations like this with girls. To him last night was probably no big deal. It was to you though. You would never let ‘just a friend’ stay over like that, with his arm around you no less. But Rafe didn’t need to know that, you decide.

—-

You manage to avoid Rafe all day, not having any classes with him on Friday’s. As soon as your last class is over, you sprint home, relieved when you’re the first back at the flat and can quickly slip into your room undetected. You set down your bag and sit on the edge of your bed. Your hand slowly runs over your comforter, still ruffled from where Rafe had been laying the night before. The indent of his head is still on your pillow; you can almost smell the scent of him lingering in your room and hear the sound of his soft whispers. You wonder what his first thoughts were when he woke up in your bed alone - was he confused? Embarrassed? He probably thought nothing of it at all. You can just picture him casually getting up with a stretch, like it’s the start of any typical day.

You slip into the shower and let the water wash over your body. It’s warm and soothing, and it’s reminding you of Rafe laying next to you, of his arm wrapped around you. God if there was only a way to shut your brain off once in a while. As much as you tried to suppress it, there had been a tiny part of you that was happy to have woken up in his embrace, giddy like a school girl with a crush. You’d always wondered how a moment like that would feel, or how a moment like that with him would feel. You had conveniently failed to mention the “arm” detail to Liam, maybe because in the back of your mind you knew it would only help prove his theory right.

When you make your way back to your room, your phone buzzes and the Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 group chat appears.

Olivia: who wants to go out tonight 😈

Topper: me and Rafe have to be up early tmrw for soccer - rain check on this one ladies

Olivia: :(

Olivia: girls night out??

Millie: you know I’m there!

You’re a little bummed that Rafe won’t be there tonight. But a girls night sounds like just what you need to get him off your mind.

Y/n: I’m in :)

Not even a few minutes later Olivia and Millie are barging into your room, causing you to let out a startled yelp.

“My god, heard of knocking,” you exhale with your hand coming to your chest. Your statement falls on death ears.

“Which jeans with this top,” Olivia asks, holding the clothing items against her body.

“Should I curl or straighten my hair with this,” Millie follows, holding her outfit up.

“Uhh,” your mind scrambles, “those jeans Liv. And straight, Mills,” you reply, shocked by your own decidedness. “But now you guys have to help me, I have no clue what to wear.”

“Say less,” Olivia flashes a smile.

Within minutes they tear through your closet, picking out your outfit. Things were always much more clear with a fresh set of eyes. The three of you discuss the night’s logistics before making your way to the kitchen - couldn’t go drinking on an empty stomach. Rafe and Topper are already there, and you try your best to act natural even though your stomach ties itself in a knot the moment you catch a glimpse of his face. You haven’t seen him since you ran out this morning.

“Uh hey I’m gonna run to Sainsbury’s real quick, I wanna get a chaser, anyone need anything,” you ask, avoiding eye contact with Rafe. Your nerves get the best of you and in terms of fight or flight, you were ready to flee.

“Hey wait I’ll come with you. Gotta pick something up for dinner,” Rafe stands grabbing his jacket, and before you can interject, he’s leading the way down the hall and out your shared flat.

“So what are you chasing tonight?”

“What?” you ask startled, his question pulling you back to reality. Your mind had been running in a loop, trying to read him and the thoughts in his head. You wished now more than ever that you knew what Rafe was like behind closed doors back home, so you could somehow make sense of it all.

He chuckles at you, lost in your own world. “You said you needed a chaser?” Those intimidating blue eyes have found their way to yours again and you hastily look away, focusing in front of you instead.

“Oh yeah- uh just for the vodka,” you laugh nervously.

“Basic,” he mocks. You scoff in surprise and lightly hit him on the chest as the laughter leaves your lips. He’s sporting a shit-eating grin, having successfully egged you on.

“You’re funny if you think I’m gonna do shots of whiskey before going to a club.”

“Well you do owe me one…” he says.

“Oh so he remembers?” you reply, amused.

“Of course,” he states so calm and so sure. Your head swirls at that, his cool confidence making you melt. The automatic doors slide open in front of you, fluorescent lights stealing your attention from the boy you were finding dangerously more attractive by the second.

“I thought we’re supposed to take it together? But someone’s being lame and not coming out tonight,” you say sarcastically, playing it as cool as you can manage. Rafe’s confidence seemed to come naturally, but you were more of a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of gal.

“Hey you know I have soccer,” he defends. The Kook Prince was not one to turn down a party without cause.

“Excuses excuses,” you shake your head.

“Actually, speaking of soccer, you uh- you and the girls should come tomorrow. If you’re not doing anything. Or not too hungover I should say. Game’s at 12.”

“Can’t make any promises Cameron, but we’ll see,” you smile, earning a satisfied smile from him in return.

You make your way to the frozen food aisle, Rafe explaining to you how they call a soccer field a football pitch here, as you laugh at him grabbing 5 frozen pizzas (dinner solved for the next week, of course). You ask him which chaser you should pick. He points out a cola, so naturally you decide to get blackberry seltzer water, Rafe twisting his face in disgust (who would voluntarily drink that tv static). You always felt so nervous at first, to be in Rafe’s presence, but all it ever took was a few minutes for you to completely relax around him. He was intimidating, yet inviting. Mysterious, yet open. He was somehow the cause of your anxious nerves and yet the source of your comfort. The fear of facing Rafe after running out this morning had paralyzed your thoughts all day, and now you could hardly remember why. He hadn’t mentioned it at all, as if nothing happened. His normalcy confirmed for you that him sleeping over was in fact no big deal, and you almost want to laugh at yourself for how much you had worked it up in your head. You two were just friends, and perhaps Rafe was used to being… a friendlier friend than what you were used to. But that was okay, you could learn to be friendlier too.

—-

Rafe and Topper had decided to accompany you guys in the kitchen as you pregamed. They slowly sipped beers as you, Millie, and Olivia pounded back shots, laughing at the way you guys got progressively drunker and progressively louder before finally heading out. And much to your surprise, the boys were still seated in the same spot hours later, when the three of you stumble back into the flat, McDonalds in hand.

“Oh look who’s still up,” Olivia slurs, taking a bite of her cheeseburger.

“We can’t go out, we have soccer,” Millie mocks, almost falling to the floor as she trips over her heel, Topper and Rafe not making any effort to hide their clear amusement.

“Fun night huh?” Topper quirks his brow.

“The funnest,” Millie holds her head high, sinking down against the wall until she’s sat on the floor. You had made a beeline for the dining room table, silently admiring your chicken nuggets. In that moment, they were the best thing you had ever tasted.

“I want Jake,” Olivia pouts, and before anyone can say a word she’s turned on her heel, burger in hand, off to crawl into her boyfriend’s bed.

“Alright you drunk, let’s get you to bed,” Topper laughs, scooping an incoherent Millie up to her feet by her elbows.

“M’not drunk,” Millie protests, even though she’s leaning her full body weight against Topper who sarcastically nods at her, escorting her down the hallway. Rafe sits on the couch, silently playing with the cards in his hand again, not the least bit uncomfortable with sharing your company in silence.

“I’m mad at you,” you say matter of factly, taking a bite of a french fry. At this point, the alcohol is doing the talking.

“Mad at me?” Rafe stops shuffling the cards and raises his head to look at you, intrigued.

“Yeah because you didn’t come to the club,” you furrow your brows, chucking a fry at him. He catches it instantly, laughing to himself with a shake of his head.

“Don’t worry I saw all your guys’ snaps, I feel like I was practically there.”

“That’s not the same,” you frown, throwing another fry which he catches yet again.

“I’ll try to be there next time,” he laughs.

“That’s better I guess,” you grumble, eating another chicken nugget. The room grows quiet, Rafe training his attention back to the cards.

“When are we watching the next episode Cameron,” you break the silence, chucking another fry. He barely has to look up to catch your latest throw, shaking his head with a chuckle. He puts the cards down and makes his way over to the dining table, standing right above you now.

“Come on, time for you to go to bed,” he beckons you toward him with his arm, to which you only furrow your brows in indignation.

“I’m not done with my food,” you protest.

“Now you are,” he says, grabbing your last fry and finishing it with one bite. “Now c’mon.” You reluctantly grab onto his extended arm to help you get up. You walk down the hall together and he opens your door for you, letting you in as he leans against the frame. You immediately fall back and collapse on to your bed with a gasp, you didn’t remember it feeling so soft when you were sober.

“Goodnight L/n,” Rafe laughs, staring down at you.

“Goodnight Rafe,” you mumble, seconds away from passing out. He smiles to himself at the sight of you still in the outfit and shoes you had been out in, bent in surely the most uncomfortable position possible, legs half way off the bed, yet somehow already asleep. He’s about to head back to his room, but he hesitates, turning back to you with a sigh. As slowly and quietly as he can, he pulls your shoes off for you, lifts your legs onto the bed, and covers you in your blanket. And just as quick, he slips out of your room and back into his.

—-

You wake up the next morning, letting out a groan when you realize you’re still in the outfit you had worn clubbing. Your head dully aches and your throat is desert dry so you force yourself up and to the kitchen. When you see the aftermath of McDonald’s containers on the table, vague memories start flooding your brain in horror. You couldn’t have… could you? Did you actually throw french fries at him? You close your eyes and slowly run your hand over your face in realization. Great, you think to yourself, Rafe probably thinks you’re an annoying idiot. Good grief.

You hear the door of the flat opening and Olivia appears in the kitchen, holding a plate of breakfast sandwiches, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Thank the lovely lads in apartment 4E,” she laughs, placing them on the table. “Oh god, we went hard last night didn’t we,” she says, taking in the sight of the flat.

“A little too hard…” you remark.

“No such thing, darling! Now eat up and get dressed, we’ve got a match to catch,” she declares before disappearing down the hall where you can hear muffled groans of Millie being reluctantly dragged out of her bed. You sigh and sink down into a chair, grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite. Heaven. You make a mental note to thank Jake for his chef skills. You had completely forgotten that you and the girls were supposed to go watch Rafe and Topper’s match today. Your worries about having to face Rafe yesterday had been quick to melt away, but today they were back with a new vengeance.

—-

“Okay no one wander off when we get there. Y/n, fair warning, these games get… rowdy,” Millie says, as the three of you walk toward the field, arms linked.

“Things get pretty crazy at Kildare too,” you laugh, “so yeah, don’t fucking let me out of your sight.”

The three of you shake off your fits of laughter as you stumble toward the stands, finding a spot amongst the already packed crowd. You’re finally able to take in your surroundings, glancing at the field ahead. The opposing team is warming up on the pitch, clad in red. Westheath’s team is off to the side, the boys stretching and getting ready in their white uniforms. The dirty blonde immediately catches your eye. He’s jumping and jogging in place, headphones in as though he’s tuning out the physical noise around him, and probably the mental noise too. You wonder if he’s listening to one of the songs he showed you the other night.

He pauses his jogging to stretch out his arms, his eyes glazing over the stands, when suddenly they lock with yours. Your cheeks flush pink, embarrassed at having been caught staring, but his face just pulls into a wide grin and he gives you a wave. You wave back, and he does a quick hand motion that everyone does at Kildare games back home. You laugh and do the responding gesture, as he smiles cheekily at you before a teammate comes up to him, pulling his focus away. The exchange was brief, but oddly intimate. There was a whole field and a couple dozen people between you, and yet you two were the only witnesses to the interaction. You smile to yourself, relief in the fact that maybe getting a french fry chucked at him wasn’t enough to make him hate you after all. You wonder briefly if Rafe spends half as much time overanalyzing things the way you do. Liam was right, you do insist on overcomplicating things.

“Hey, earth to Y/n!” Olivia laughs, waving her hand in front of your face. “The game is starting!”

—

The final score flashes on the screen: 4-2, a win for Westheath. The students are going nuts, rushing the field. Olivia and Millie lead the way, pushing through the crowd until you guys reach Rafe and Topper.

“Let’s go boys!!” Olivia yells, jumping up and down with the sea of bodies and beer around you. Rafe and Topper react with equal enthusiasm, pulling each of you in for a hug. You and Rafe are the last to hug, him pulling you in brief but close against his large sweaty body, arms wrapped around you. You don’t even mind the stickiness of the hug, feeling deja vu at the warm feeling of being in his embrace again; a feeling that is foreign yet familiar, one you hadn’t felt before.

“Did you guys see Rafe’s goal in the second half!?” Topper asks, clapping his friend on the back.

“Of course we did, super star!” Millie cheers, giving Rafe a high five as he humbly shakes his head and laughs at his friends. The mental image of his goal was burned in your head, one that your mind would certainly play for you involuntarily over the next coming days.

“Alright we gotta go do some stuff with the team, but everyone’s going to Central Bar later. See you guys there?” Rafe asks.

“You got it,” Olivia replies, and they jog off with quick waves, you meeting those blue eyes in silent acknowledgement once again. It was that gaze that always made the rest of the world seem to disappear while his eyes met yours, making your heart skip a beat. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Just a tall, attractive, soccer-playing friend…

—

“Y/n! Liv! We’re doing a round!” Jake calls you and Olivia over to where him and Liam are already at the bar, four shot glasses ordered and lined up.

“On three! One, two-“ Liam chants, as the four of you down the alcohol. Central Bar had been buzzing with what felt like half of Westheath’s student body all day. After the game, you and the girls had gone back to your flat to nap and eat, before meeting up with Jake, Liam, and the rest of their boys to head to the bar. Rafe and Topper were already pretty buzzed when you guys got there, playing a round of table tennis with you before the rest of the soccer team and their other friends pulled their attention away. You couldn’t help the way your whole body tensed when Rafe greeted Lily with a tight hug, humbling you with the confirmation that Rafe’s actions toward you weren’t anything special. You resolved yourself to a night of drinking and dancing your worries away with Liv and Liam instead.

“Alright, round of table tennis? You two against me and Y/n?” Liam challenges.

“Please, I saw Y/n playing before, you guys have nothing on us,” Olivia flashes an evil smile, her competitive side coming out.

“Oh it’s on Liv,” you laugh, as your foursome stakes your claim at the pong table. While Olivia and Jake gather the balls and paddles, you notice Liam grimacing off into the distance. You follow his line of sight, landing on Topper and Millie drunkenly dancing together across the bar, a bit too close for comfort.

“What is she doing with that geezer,” he mumbles.

“Liam! Jealousy is unbecoming of you,” you gasp in mock disbelief.

“I’m not jealous,” he scoffs, and you quickly realize that he actually is, even though you had just been joking. Your jaw falls slack as you put two and two together. Liam and Millie were always by each other’s side, at school, at the pub, when you were all watching a movie at his apartment a few nights ago. He would tease her relentlessly and his own words rang in your ears If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what.

“Shut up! Shut up!,” you whisper yell, hand coming to your mouth. “I should have realized this whole time… of course you like Millie! Everything you’ve been telling me you think exists between me and Rafe has actually been about her! She’s your Uno reverse card!” You’re shocking even yourself at these revelations.

“No no no, you can’t use my own words of wisdom against me, that’s not how this works Y/n. So what, maybe I slightly give a shit about Millie? Who cares. Her and I both know that’s never gonna happen. I still stand by everything I said about you and Rafe so don’t think your getting off so easy on that.”

“Then tell me why you’re staring at Millie while Rafe hasn’t so much as glanced my way since the minute Lily Colts got here, hmm?”

“Oh Y/n, Y/n Y/n Y/n,” Liam tuts, shaking his head laughing as he turns to the game your group of four is about to begin. You don’t have the energy to argue with Liam over the matter right now, oblivious to the fact that Rafe had indeed been glancing your way, several times. In fact, he was glancing at you right now, as Liam reached his arm over yours to help you actually hold the paddle the right way. You just hadn’t been glancing back to notice, scared of what you may or may not see between him and Lily if you did.

—

The night dies down and it’s time for the pilgrimage back to your building. You’re walking with Millie when Liam quickly falls in step with you two. You give him a knowing smirk, to which he responds with a glare behind Millie’s back, but you let the two banter as you fall behind, now walking alone. You stare ahead, eyes mindlessly settling on Lily walking in between Callum and Henry at the front of the pack. You don’t notice the pair of legs that begin moving in pace next to your own.

“Tonight, by the way,” Rafe’s voice startles you as you jump next to him. He chuckles at the confusion written all over your face. “You asked last night when we’re watching the next episode. And my answer is tonight, L/n,” he states.

“Haven’t you been up since like the crack of dawn? Aren’t you tired?” you ask incredulously.

“Too tired for Game of Thrones? Never,” he scoffs, Liam’s words ringing in your ear. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what.

“Well then tonight it is,” you smile. “Sorry about the french fries last night by the way,” you say meekly, looking down at the sidewalk in front of you, cheeks burning.

“Seriously L/n, talk about a horrible throw. Room for improvement,” he jokes with a comforting smile, saving you from yourself.

“Good game by the way,” you add, grateful for the way he was letting you off.

“Thanks,” he looks at you, shoving his hands in his pocket. You turn to look at him too, and after a few moments laughter is taking you both apart. Nothing funny was said. Neither of you knew why you were laughing. And yet it felt natural, not an ounce of awkwardness in the air.

As your whole group walks into the building, people begin to peel off, splitting towards staircases and off elevator stops.

“I’m fucking beat,” yawns Topper, as you and all your flatmates file into your hall.

“I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight,” Millie yawns in agreement. One by one everyone files off into their rooms. You open your door, backing into yours, Rafe across the hall from you backing into his. Laughter tugs at both your faces once again, as you let your doors close. You manage to change into your sweats and brush your teeth before you hear the light rap on your door. Rafe enters, in a t-shirt and gray sweatpants, your weakness. But you feel comfortable being alone with him now. The Rafe jitters had finally began to subside.

“Alright L/n, episode 4, you ready for this?” he asks, plopping down in his spot next to you.

“Oh I’m very ready,” you reply, sitting up to reach for your laptop which was resting by your feet. As you lean back, you find yourself in Rafe’s arm. He had extended it out before you sat back, effortlessly catching you against him. His hand rests casually on your arm, and you gulp, pressing play. You pray he can’t feel the way your heartbeat quickens and your body flushes. So much for those jitters being gone.

The episode plays, you and Rafe making comments here and there before your chatter eventually dies down, leaving just the sound of the show to fill the room. You can feel Rafe’s body lean further and further down, becoming heavier and breathing slower. You very slowly turn to check, and sure enough he’s fast asleep. You sigh, and shut your laptop, careful not to stir him. You could easily shake him awake, tell him to go to his bed, but for some reason you don’t. You don’t mind him here. In fact, you almost prefer it, his body heat keeping you warm. He had already slept over once before and it clearly hadn’t been a big deal, so what was the harm in letting it happen again? You’re just friends after all, you remind yourself, not sure who you’re trying to convince. And so, the two friends fall asleep in the same bed again.

---

🏷: @hopebaker @pogueslandia @mardema

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine

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the-insomniac-emporium · 4 years ago

Text

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 6

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence, and a line that hints at past physical abuse (depending on how you choose to interpret it) Warnings: Mild TW for implied/referenced abuse Notes: Okay so this was supposed to be somewhat therapeutic? But it ended up taking longer to get to that part than I intended, so... Don't worry though, next chapter will be fluffy and also involve more, like, actual Daniela scenes. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2 Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco

Chapter 6: Elegy

(Elegy: A piece of music in the form of a lament)

When you dream, you do not dream of being locked in a tower, awaiting a kindly knight to come save you. When you dream… you dream of your old home, infested with monsters, nearly unrecognizable. Of being forced to flee, leaving everything you loved behind. Of escaping to a remote, quaint little village, only to end up trapped once again, as friendly faces morph into gaping maws and fangs dripping red. When you dream, it is less a nightmare, more memories retouched, covered in a fresh coat of paint.

Waking up is but a brief source of comfort. One hand goes to your head, rubbing gently, as if you could wipe away all traces of your past. A quick glance around your shared room leaves you confused, but serves as a welcome distraction. Though there are six beds in the room, yours is the only occupied one, the others having all been vacated and made presentable. The only explanation that fit with what you knew was that everyone had gotten up, and gotten to work, without waking you. Panic filled you as you connected the dots, knowing that missing work was a death sentence.

Rushing, you rise to your feet, throwing your dresser open to search for fresh clothes. While the castle’s staff was almost entirely female, the Dimitrescu family didn’t enforce traditional gender presentation, allowing maidens to choose whether to wear a dress or a button-up and trousers. Remembering the wound on your neck, you pause, glancing in the dorm’s singular mirror to inspect your injury. Most of the blood had rubbed off in your sleep (and would likely be a nightmare to clean from the sheets). There were, however, a few spots where dried blood mingled with the protective scab. Considering how late you already were, you didn’t believe you would have time to clean up.

As much as you hated the thought, the best you could do was go for a button-up, hoping the collar would hide the worst of your disastrous appearance. Your hair was another matter entirely, far messier than it normally was, and you struggled to brush/comb it enough to be mildly presentable. Good thing Daniela won’t see me today, you think, remembering her insistence on skipping today’s lesson.

Then you remember the rest of your conversation with her; the yelling, being dragged to your feet, and the pain in her eyes. For a moment you feel woozy, pausing in the middle of buttoning your shirt. Your eyes focus on a spot on the now-closed dresser… and suddenly you wish you had paid more attention when you first woke up. There’s a note stuck to the furniture, clearly addressed to you.

Heard you had some trouble yesterday. We’re just glad you’re alive! A certain someone has been a lot nicer since you started playing the piano, and we’re grateful. To show that, we decided to split your morning duties among ourselves, so you can sleep in. If you’re reading this, then it’s still before 4 AM. Feel free to just relax for a while, or even get some more sleep! We’ll be by to make sure you’re up eventually.

Sincerely,

Daphne, Rosalia, Ygritte, Alexandra, Juniper, and Riley

“I… have… freetime?” You mumbled, still a little drowsy, but now also shocked. This was a complete first for you. Maybe even a first among the servants! Sure, you had been given breaks before, but having a couple hours to do whatever you wanted? No one had ever pulled strings like this for you before. It made your chest feel warm, and you just about forgot the whole mess with Daniela. “I’ll have to find a way to pay them back, even if they think they’re paying me back.” With that said you relaxed a little, no longer rushing getting dressed, though still leaving your neck the way it was. You figured you’d stop by one of the maidens’ restrooms before you officially started your shift.

In the meantime, you knew exactly what you’d be using this time for: finding those damn piano books you had been promised!

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

“Let’s see… dust, more dust, a dead spider, even more dust, and- oh shit, the spider is not dead,” you said, barely holding in a yelp as the arachnid scurries away from you. If you had known the attic would be so unclean, you might not have bothered to come up here. So far your targets had alluded you without giving so much as a hint towards their location. The library had seemed a likely location, but you had heard Daniela’s voice within, and anxiety had sent you dashing away. Up here, in an area clearly used for storage above all else, was the next best guess, as far as you were concerned. Still, you hadn’t seen anything worth your time yet.

Just insects, really. Not even terribly interesting ones. Well, there had been a shiny beetle of some sort, but it had crawled into a crack in the wall mere seconds after you saw it. Other than that, though, nothing but creepy crawlies. Creepy flyers?... Both, for sure. One fly in particular kept buzzing around you, weirdly interested in what you were doing.

Somehow you didn’t understand what that meant until a firm hand had wrapped itself around your neck. The grip was tight, putting more than enough pressure to make your vision blur. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately, the culprit didn’t intend to just choke you out. Instead they lift you and toss you aside- casually, at that. You hit the wall with a terrible crashing sound, certain to leave bruises, and narrowly avoid toppling into a stack of heavy crates. So much for enjoying some free time, you think. Stunned for several seconds, you find yourself left helpless as your attacker approaches.

“You’re not allowed to be up here,” a voice snarled, familiar enough to leave you terrified. Of course you had to run into the most violent of the Dimitrescu sisters. “Looking for a way out, hmm? Or are you stupid enough to think we’d leave a weapon where a wretched thing like you could find it?” Cassandra asked, pausing only to send a swift kick your way. A grunt escapes you, leaves you coughing, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as hitting the wall. Despite wanting to curl up and give in, you tried to drag yourself to your feet. Surprisingly, Cassandra makes no move to stop you, perhaps enjoying the sight of you struggling.

“Lady… Daniela… gave me permission,” you said between painful breaths. By the time you’re back on your feet, the vampire before you is watching you with narrowed, albeit curious, eyes. Normally it would take a lot of courage to face her. But you’re exhausted, in pain, and you’ve taken nearly as much hurt from someone who called themselves your lover. It’s not brave to stare down Cassandra, it’s foolhardy. It’s idiotic, really, and yet you find yourself unable to care. “I’m just looking for a couple piano books I’ve been told about, so I can use them to help teach Lady Daniela.”

“Oh? You’re her instructor?” Cassandra asked, a strange smile overtaking her expression. Something in the atmosphere has shifted, dangerously, but you can’t figure out why. Clueless to your self-betrayal, you nod in response. Instantly Cassandra’s smile turns into an open-lipped snarl, and she reaches out to grab you by the shirt, this time slamming you into the wall with her own hands. “Then you’re the reason she kept me up yesterday, crying non stop! I’m going to rip you apart, you vermin.”

The look in her eyes is, most definitely, the scariest thing you had ever seen. It’s feral, inhuman, and unstoppably determined. But when tears fall from your eyes, it’s not because you know you’re about to die. No, it’s because the last thing you think you’ll ever hear is the news that your partner had been sobbing for hours… and that you were the reason why. Your heart aches, both physically and emotionally, as you brace yourself for the bloody end.

Instead, the grip on your clothes loosens. You don’t dare open your eyes to see why.

“What the fuck do you want, sis?” Cassandra asked, sounding like she had turned her head away from you. Before you know it you’ve been let go, and you slide to the ground, too surprised to hold yourself steady. When you look up, you see an irritated Bela pulling Cassandra away from you, whispering something you can’t quite hear. They argue for a minute, under their breath, keen on keeping you out of the loop. Eventually the younger of the two storms away, but not before making a dent in the wall with her fist.

“What a child,” Bela said, rolling her eyes at the display. Then she’s walking back towards you, extending a hand in an offer of assistance (one you gladly accept). “That girl has the foresight of a magic eight ball, I swear. If she had actually killed you… ugh, I can hardly stand to imagine how inconsolable Daniela would become. Then I’d have two insufferable sisters. Regardless, do tell me why you thought it would be a good idea to come up here unaccompanied? It is normally off limits for servants, after all.”

“I-I, well… I mean, firstly thank you for saving me, I had no idea-” Bela holds a finger up in a ‘shut up’ motion, then puts it away as soon as you pause- “right, you don’t care. Look, I was just trying to find the piano books that Lady Dimitrescu mentioned, but I’ve looked all over and I can’t find them, so I should really just go,” you explain, eager to get out of the attic. To your surprise, Bela gives you an odd look before turning away. Then she takes no more than five steps, shifts to the side, and opens an old cabinet. Inside you can see a dozen books of sheet music, notably from several different decades, all worn but still in decent condition. “How did-?... I thought I checked there.”

“Well, you must have been distracted. Nonetheless, you know where they are now, and you owe me twice over. With that in mind… come with me. We have things to discuss,” Bela commanded, walking away before you could protest. All you can do is grab the sheet music, tuck it under one arm, and follow her to who-knows-where.

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

“I’ll have to have you make my tea more often,” Bela mused, letting the mug keep her hands warm. The two of you were sitting in some sort of study, a room that you had never been inside before. From what you could tell it belonged solely to the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. Inside were several shelves, each filled with well bookmarked collections, a desk next to a massive window, a couple simple chairs, and a few instrument cases. All in all it was an aesthetically pleasing room, organized but not exactly neat. You could certainly imagine Bela spending entire days in this chamber. “Now, why do you think I brought you here?” Her voice brings your focus back into the present moment, as well as sends a spike of anxiety through you.

“Based on what nearly got me killed earlier… Does it have to do with Daniela crying?” You asked, doing your best to indicate just how bad you felt about the subject. No matter how cruel she could be, you did honestly care about Daniela, and even wanted a real, healthy relationship with her. Desire, or willingness, wasn’t the root of the problem by any means. Something told you that Bela understood this, maybe even respected you for it.

“Guess there’s more in that pretty head of yours than air and symphonies, hmm?” Bela replied, laughing a little as she did. It was a far nicer sound than Cassandra’s maniacal giggling, for sure. “Now, I don’t know all the details about what happened- just that there was an argument, clearly a bad one, and Daniela barely made it through dinner before locking herself in her room. Luckily for you, our mother doesn’t seem to know about your little ‘fight’. She’s not sure what upset Dani, and I doubt my sister would tell her, so your secret is safe. Assuming that I blackmailed Cassandra well enough, that is. Anyway, I can’t help you, and by extension my sister, if I don’t know the full story. In case it wasn’t clear, that’s your cue to start talking.”

You’re surprised, admittedly, by a number of things. But Bela seems impatient, so you go over the details of the previous night with her, occasionally pausing to let her ask questions. The whole time her focus is on you, unwavering. There’s also a noticeable lack of judgement in her expression, even when you voice your regret about how you handled the situation, and what is there seems directed more towards Daniela than yourself. Once you finish, Bela releases a deep sigh. One of her hands goes to rub her forehead as if warding off a migraine.

“Well, I can’t say I’m terribly surprised, as much as I wish I could. Daniela’s always had her head in the clouds, and it’s left her tripping over her own feet more than once. Still, this is certainly one of her bigger messes…” Bela said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m going to have to talk to her about this, aren’t I? There’s no way she’s going to process this correctly on her own.” This time she seemed to be talking to herself, gaze locked on her tea as if it might suddenly offer to speak to Daniela in her place. When the tea stayed silent, understandably, she returned her focus to you. “You seemed upset, earlier, about this ridiculous situation. I am going to assume, from that, you are genuinely interested in my dear sister. Normally, this would be the part where I drain you of all blood, and possibly keep your skull as a memento... mori. Yours would look lovely on a window sill, I think.”

She pauses, head tilting a little to the side, clearly evaluating your artistic value.

“However, Daniela appears to care about you, far more than her usual fleeting infatuations. So, for now, I have decided not to eviscerate you, you’re welcome,” Bela cooed, teasingly, enjoying the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Still, you were glad that you would apparently be surviving the day. “So I’m going to give you some advice, which you will take, and you won’t even owe me anything extra for this. Daniela is in love with the mere concept of love- and she has been for as long as I can remember. Romance novels are practically the only books she reads. It’s… embarrassing, truly. More than that, I get the impression that she couldn’t even begin to describe what love actually feels like. She’s digested so much of that written drivel that it warped her senses. Of course, the, ahem, situation we find ourselves in, here at the castle, has undoubtedly added to this effect.

“To get to the point, Daniela’s terribly, hopelessly clueless when it comes to things like what she wants from you. And so I take it upon myself, as her older sibling, to ensure that you understand. Moreso, that you are not dissuaded. If this is an actual chance for her to experience real romance, then it could make her happier than I’ve ever seen her,” Bela explained. The look in her eyes was incredibly soft, to the point where it made you realize just how much this odd little family cared for each other. “Don’t give up, don’t let her occasional infuriating antics push you away. Given enough time… I think the two of you could, I suppose, compliment each other quite nicely. But if you break her heart? I will pull yours from your chest and eat it raw. Understood?” Gulping, you nodded quickly, ignoring the feeling of heat rushing to your cheeks. It was one thing for Bela to want her sister to be happy, but another thing entirely for her to acknowledge your “suitability” for the position. “Good. Now return to whatever it is you maidens normally do. I have a sister to talk sense into.”

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

Hours later, you stand alone in a display room, dusting various relics from bygone times. A trophy here, a bizarre art piece there, strange, unlabeled tools you can’t quite imagine are for wine-making. It’s a fascinating collection, really. But your mind is focused on other, far softer things. All you can think about is what Bela had told you, about how Daniela really is interested in you, and how she thought the two of you could make it work. After the chaos earlier in the day, this was exactly what you needed. Just some time to yourself, working quietly, thoughts all to yourself. Even your bruises bother you less, the pain fading out into the background. Considering where you are, though, it is not at all surprising that your peace cannot last. As soon as you finish your task you move towards the exit.

The door swings open, outwards, at your touch, only to reveal a familiar figure reaching for the doorknob. Both of you gasp, taken by surprise, before your gazes meet. Of course it’s Daniela. Who else would you bump into right now?

“I thought about what you said,” she blurts, suddenly, eyes wide and hands shaking. “We need to talk, yeah?”

#daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #cliff hanger oops #had fun writing this one

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jincherie · 4 years ago

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lunacy | 01

☽ ● | members: seokjin x reader x jungkook ☽ ● | genre: poly, wolf au, mates au, college au, urban fantasy, angst, smut ☽ ● | wc: 10.7k+ ☽ ● | warnings: none in particular in this part! ☽ ● | notes: here is the first part ! I think this one is going to end up being one of the longer series, so pls send me an ask and lmk what kind of tropes/scenarios u love to see in wolf aus! i wanna make this as self indulgent as possible LMFAO

The entirety of your introduction and exposure to wolves has been at the hands of Jimin and Taehyung, who over the course of your study have arguably become your best friends. It isn't until they drag you to a party held at their packhouse that you meet the rest of their pack, though-- and once you do, thing's already aren't the same as they were before;...

Wolves mate for life, and wolves are almost exclusively monogamous. It's rare for a wolf to have a human mate, and even more unheard of for a wolf to have more than one mate. Unfortunately for you, an incident at this party lands you in the middle of every exception there could possibly be.

— posted; 09.09.2020 | prologue ● next▸

The air is crisp and the plants coloured cool around you, but you're not cold.

You recognise this clearing you're in, but not from the waking world. No, you recognise it because just as it is right now, it has been the set of your dreamscape before. So it's familiar, as you gaze upon it, but at the same time something tingles under your skin in anticipation of the unknown that the shadows hold just beyond the treeline.

It must be early morning, you think to yourself, as you allow your gaze to slip to the sky. It's just fading out of the darkened caress of the night as you look upon it, tinting lighter with each breath you take. You love mornings, you recall with familiarity-- you especially love mornings like this.

There's a slight mist in the air. You don't notice it until you direct you gaze back down to the dewy earth, eyes captured by each patch of wildflowers and blotch of colour. It feels almost magical, really, but for some reason... that isn't the tone of this moment.

You don't know what it is, but something curls in your stomach a little like anticipation. What are you waiting for? You know you've seen this place before, but you can't remember when, or why...

At some point you've taken a seat in the meadow, and while a part of you expects dampness to seep into your skin, you remain safe and dry. It's comfortable. This is the nicest dream you've ever dreamt, a distant part of you surmises. You're just running your hands through the silky blades of grass and watching the dewdrops collect on your skin when a soft snap sounds far to your left.

You probably should be alarmed, but when you look up it's only in curiosity. What you see, again, should be cause for alarm-- but for some reason, the sight of the great, hulking wolf lingering at the edge of the treeline doesn't cause you anything but a flutter in your stomach.

It's not alone, you notice a moment later as something emerges from the shadows beyond it. There are two of them, both massive but one of them a little bigger than the other-- it is leaner and its limbs are longer, though, while the shorter one is thicker in its form, each limb corded with muscle.

For a moment they stare at you, and when you catch the golden hue of their eyes that gleams a little too bright to be natural, you realise they're not normal. Of course, within the walls of this dream you take it in stride.

The way they hover all the way over the other side of the meadow is almost... hesitant. You tilt your head, watching as they stay calmly in place. When you speak it's without even thinking, but you're not bothered by what comes out.

"You can come over here, you know?" you say, offering them a smile. How cool will it be if you can manage to make friends with two wolves! Regardless of their unnatural size and stature, and, now that you think about it, their colouring...

The first to move is the bigger one, its coat a gorgeous mix of sand and caramel, with streaks of white marking around its eyes and ears, as well as fitting around its front paws like boots. You'd noticed that he was a little leaner than the other earlier, but you're realising now as you watch him advance slowly that that doesn't mean he's any weaker. Each stride he takes makes dense muscle shift beneath his skin and fur, and you're slightly in awe of the power contained in his limbs as he moves.

The other wolf is no less magnificent to behold-- its fur is a curious blend of charcoal and ink, speckled with streaks and patches of dark chestnut that gleam rosy in the sunlight. Its eyes are the same unnatural amber as the other wolf's, but the way that they bore into you are oddly akin to that of a puppy.

You don't move when they come close enough that they're within reach, allowing them to move at their own pace. You're not left waiting long, though, before the smaller one trots closer, hesitation forgotten.

"Oh!" You're taken aback when it leans forward suddenly, shoving its massive, inky head against your shoulder with such strength you almost fall back, were it not for the other wolf flopping down behind you and supporting you with its massive form. Ordinarily you'd be worried you're about to be torn to pieces, especially when faced with its massive maw and large teeth, but when it rubs its head against you with a soft whine sounding from the back of its throat, you know it doesn't mean you any harm.

"Oh, you're a cute one," you murmur distractedly, allowing your hands to rise and sink into its fur. It brushes like silk against your skin, and the wolf is so pleased that it simply flops down against you, resting it's head in your lap and pushing it against your stomach.

Something lights up in you, something warm like you've settled close to the glow of a campfire and the heat is sinking into your bones. You're content, so content, and you don't even know why? But oddly enough, in this moment you're not really bothered by that.

Right as you begin to settle back into the warmth and the rhythmic lull of their breathing as they rest against you, something niggles in the back of your brain-- a shard of familiarity, do you know these wolves? How would you know these wolves?

"Who are you?" you find yourself mumbling tiredly, the world around you beginning to shrink back until your brain is only aware of you and the warmth pressed against you.

The wolf in your lap turns its head so that its large eyes are boring into your own. It's still, tail thumping once against the ground, but something stirs in the back of your brain at his gaze. Recognition that filters like sunlight onto little pieces of information in your brain until they merge into something coherent.

It dawns on you with a soft gasp-- you know them, you do. They're--

x - x - x

"Rise and shine, buttercup! I'm sick of having to silence your alarms for you! If you don't get up this time I can and will take photos of your sleeping face! You know, with your mouth all open and drool on your pillow--"

A groan escapes you that you don't quite recognise as a sound you can make, your eyes cracking open to the sight of your roommate's bright, grinning face very close to your own. The first conscious thought to cross your brain is that she does, in fact, look very punchable right now, bending over just so she can hover her face in front of your own with that shit-eating grin.

"Jihyo go away," you slur, sleep still having a very firm grasp on your brain and vocal cords. You slam your face into the pillow, yanking the duvet over your head. Your peace lasts all of 0.03 seconds before your demon of a roommate yanks the cover almost entirely off your bed, revealing your curled form to the cool air and making you whine.

"Why?" you whine, clutching the dinosaur pillow in your hold closer to your chest. "L'me sleep..."

"Nope, nuh-uh," Jihyo moves over to give you a firm smack on the ass, making you yelp and jerk out of your sleepy haze so harshly that you almost fall off the bed. Ow! "I snoozed your alarm for you five times this morning, buttercup. No more! Get up."

"Jihyo," you whine, giving her an accusing look over your shoulder as you rub your stinging behind. "You didn't even hit me where my skin was covered, you cow."

The girl simply shrugs, hands on her hips as she decides that her work here is done and begins to make her way to the door. "That's on you for wearing shorts to bed in autumn, bub. Anyway, you really do have to get up because it's like, what, nine-thirty? And you have a class at ten, so..."

At first you simply blink, her words ringing in your ears but not really sinking in, until they suddenly do and you're leaping from your bed with a yelp.

"Jihyo!"

She cackles, the absolute madwoman, and promptly exits your room. "Better hurry, buttercup!"

At her departure you fly into a panicked rush to get ready, darting around your room and grabbing things at the speed of light. You don't have time to dwell on the contents of the dream you'd been having before you were so rudely awoken, and as you fling yourself around your apartment the remaining slivers you remember of it slip from your brain and out of your grasp until the next time.

x - x - x

Regrettably, all your rushing didn't help you earlier; you still arrived late to class. Your only saving grace is that it was a lecture instead of an actual class, and the professor had been playing a video for the cohort when you arrived and so the lights had been conveniently dimmed for you to slip right in to the back unnoticed.

It actually ended only a few minutes ago, and now you find yourself walking distractedly on the way to your next class, mind lost in all the thoughts you didn't have time to entertain this morning. Fleetingly, the dream flicks through your mind-- what's left in your memory of it, anyway. You can barely conjure any of the details, or even what the two wolves looked like in whole, but the feeling it left behind lingers still in the pit of your abdomen.

You don't understand it. You've been having this dream almost every night for the past week, aside from the nights where you got too little sleep to remember your dreams. Ever since that night when Taehyung and Jimin dragged you to their packhouse, each night has greeted you with the same dream of two wolves in some meadow and you don't know why. Were they that impressionable? Were you so wowed by the sight of the wolves racing that you committed it to your memory subconsciously? Maybe… it’s a possible reason, but it doesn't feel like the reason.

It started as something small, but as the week progressed there was something, a feeling, a sensation, that grew inside you until it stirred restlessly beneath your skin, like now. You're not sure what it is. You feel like you need to be on the move, like there's somewhere you need to be, or you're forgetting something. But you've checked, and you haven't forgotten something, there's nowhere else you're meant to be. So this feeling stirring around your navel... you don't know what to do about it.

Then again, you ponder as you approach the building that holds your next class, perhaps it's just the weird feeling the dreams have been leaving you with that has been making you feel so odd and on edge.

When you enter, your attention is surprisingly not immediately captured by two particular loud men as it usually is the second you step foot in the room. Thanks to their annoyingly sharp senses, the two of them can usually smell you coming before you even reach the door. Admittedly, you're not sure if you're ever going to get used to being told that you have a smell, even if it's not in the usual insulting way. Something you're just going to have to get used to, though, considering you attend a university alongside many supernaturals, two of which are some of your closest friends.

Despite the fact that you weren't accosted upon entry this time, unlike how you usually are, the two boys you begrudgingly call friends are here, seated towards the back of the room. You wonder what stopped them from performing their usual ritual of behaviour as you approach them, but the answer comes to you when you see the light frowns on their faces and the slight bags under their eyes.

"Woah," you remark, taking a seat at the rounded table next to Jimin-- they start slightly at your appearance, ringing some alarm bells in the back of your mind. "You two look like shit. Are you okay?"

Taehyung makes a face, and Jimin gives you a smile that comes out more like a wince.

"We're fine," he says, reaching up to scrub his face with a hand. "Just... a little tired."

You tilt you head, wondering if they're going to tell you why of their own accord or if you're going to have to dig and drag it out of them. Taehyung must recognise the look on your face, because he's letting out a little huff of a laugh and enlightening you in the next moment.

"It's just... some of the members of our pack," he says, yawning. Your mouth falls open in realisation; ah, so it's a wolf thing. You're even more curious now, though. You love learning more about the creatures that walk among the population— plus, they're your friends so you feel like you should learn as much as you can about them.

"Are they causing trouble?" you ask, remembering the events of the other night with an odd shiver that isn't quite anything you can name.

Both males let out a laugh, quietening only as the tutor enters the room and lets out a greeting. Today's class isn't too interactive though, and for the majority of it you're left to your own devices to complete work at your own pace. As soon as the tutor is done telling you all the agenda, Jimin is speaking quietly from next to you.

"It's not that they're causing trouble," he says, tone soft and airy. You like his voice a lot, Taehyung's too— actually, from what you can remember, every single member of the pack had a nice voice. Is it a werewolf requirement or something? Jimin's dark eyes flit from the teacher to you, mouth twisting as though he's trying to figure out how to word what he wants to say next. "It's just that..."

"You know a little bit about wolves, and the hierarchy that runs in packs, right?" Taehyung continues in Jimin's place, blinking at you. You nod, holding your hand up to gesture that your knowledge is so-so at best. "Well, within a pack there are the usual ones you've probably heard-- the alpha, the betas, omegas."

"Ah, yeah, I've heard about that," you say, unable to help the way you lean forward in interest. Taehyung smiles wryly.

"Well, there's a little more to it than that. In our pack, Jiminie and I are deltas," he hums gaze flicking upwards as he ponders how to proceed. "So our role, when we fall back into our dynamics, is largely watching territory, but it also includes taking care of ill and wounded members of the pack."

"Two of the members are sick," Jimin says, turning to you a split second later. "The two that bowled you over, actually."

"Oh," you say, recalling the handsome faces of the two wolves that had inadvertently caused your drink to end up on you and you on the ground that night. "So, they're sick and you've been looking after them? So you're tired? They should be okay though, right? I mean, you're wolves. You bounce back quickly."

The two males share a look before turning back to you, voices still hushed so that you don't draw your tutor over to where the three of you are, most definitely not doing the work assigned.

"That's just the thing, though," Jimin says, a troubled expression crossing his features. "We're wolves, we don't really get sick. The only kind of sickness that gets us is a flu that has mutated from another supernatural creature, but even so... they should have been better by now."

"It's like they just keep slowly getting worse," Taehyung says, frowning. "Jiminie and I are running ourselves into the ground trying to keep up and monitor them. We just can't figure out what's wrong to get on top of it."

"Oh," you say, an unknown feeling welling up inside you. It's something like longing, with a certain twist of urgency. You don't know what drives you to say what you did next. "Well, uh... is there anything I can do to help? You guys look exhausted."

"You wouldn't mind?" Jimin asks, sounding surprised. "Even after the other night? I know it must have been scary."

"Well, I mean, a little bit," you admit, scratching the back of your neck. "But it was also cool as hell. Your wolf forms are so awesome, I kind of wish I got to see it sooner."

"You haven't even seen ours!" Taehyung says, a little louder than intended. When the three of you look up to catch the tutor giving you the stink-eye, you bow your heads and remain silent for a while to get him off your backs.

"For real though," Jimin says a while later, hand still scribbling answers to the activity even as he talks softly. "If you're serious about wanting to help, we'd really appreciate it. The others are all caught up with either schoolwork or other obligations so it's been a little exhausting."

"I don't mind," you say, offering the two a brief smile before going back to pretending to work. "I'm happy to help. Plus... I feel a little bad that I didn't get introduced to them properly, you know?"

Taehyung snorts softly, grinning down at the table. "Yeah, that's true. Thanks, y/n."

You offer him another smile, hoping that they can't sense the way your gut flutters and churns with an unnamed feeling. "Of course."

x - x - x

When you offered to give Taehyung and Jimin a hand with looking after their sick packmates, you were expecting to be making soup or something for them to take over. You weren’t, as it happens, expecting for the two of them to rock up at 6PM while you’re in the middle of a belated cardio workout (which was only happening because you have schoolwork that you were procrastinating at the time) to grab you and drag you back over to their pack dorm to actually, physically help out.

“Why is it every time I come here, I’m always being dragged?” you question, hints of a whine to your voice. They hadn’t even let you change! You’re still in your workout gear, which, granted, consists of just a singlet and tight, ankle-length exercise pants, and isn’t that risqué—but still! The weather is getting colder these days and so are you, right now! If it weren’t for the absolute furnace that is their body temperature and the heat of their hands on your arms, you think you’d be shivering.

“You’ve only been here twice, and this is the second time,” Jimin says dismissively, hand gripping your arm as he leads you up the stairs to their front door. You have a funny feeling in your gut that you can’t quite pin, similar to the last time you were here, but now you don’t even have time to dwell on it before you’re thrown into the pack dorm once more.

It’s much tidier than it was last time.

You’re taken aback by how clean and, well…spacious it is, now that there’s not drunk adolescent bodies crammed everywhere. It’s a very modern layout, as you noticed last time, and tastefully decorated. From what Jimin and Taehyung told you, most of the bedrooms are upstairs and the lowest floor contains most amenities like the kitchen, gym room, etcetera…

The door closes with a resounding thud behind you, and there is a call from beyond the hallway, where you recall the kitchen to be. You don’t think you recognise the voice, though.

“Tae, Jiminie, you’re back!” There is a pause, and something that sounds suspiciously like a sniff. Suddenly, you’re mortified to be the only human here again. “…Who do you have with you?”

Before you’re anywhere near composed enough to be meeting another member of their pack, the two devious bastards are pushing you forwards and around the corner, into the kitchen once more. You have a very sudden, terrible flashback to the last time you were in this kitchen and on instinct you’re scanning the room for a familiar raven-haired male.

To your relief, Yoongi isn’t anywhere to be seen—there is someone at the kitchen counter though, someone that you don’t recognise at all. You freeze, offering a sheepish grin as the two wolves you somehow call your friends hold you in place. Like you could even attempt to get away anyway.

The new figure is taller than Jimin, but not taller than Taehyung. His hair is dark, cherry red, but you can spy some regrowth coming through at the roots, and before you even see the rest of his face you can tell from his eyes and the creases at their ends that this man smiles a lot. You’re proven right when he easily returns the smile you’d flashed him earlier, shooting it at you like a sunbeam. It almost, honest to god, disorients you where you stand.

“Hey Hobi,” Taehyung greets, grinning brightly. “This is y/n, we brought her around at the last party but you were, ah… previously occupied.”

The man before you has the decency to flush slightly, a sheepish grin tugging his lips. You’ve never seen a heart-shaped smile before now, but you’re glad this attractive man was the first one to show you the light.

“Ah… right.” He chuckles, before placing the bowl in his arms onto the counter and offering you a hand. “Sorry to have missed introductions, especially when Tae and Jiminie talk so much about you! I’m Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi, or Hope if you’d like.”

Hope. It clicks together in your head and your own face flushes as you recall last time when they said he, Hope, was off practicing the karma sutra with someone. Mortified that you recalled that tidbit now of all times, you push it from your brain and try to focus on the other things he said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say, shaking his hand. You can’t help the way you grumble after though, giving Jimin and Taehyung a glare. “And I hope they haven’t talked too much. Every time I’ve heard them tell one of you about me, it’s always something humiliating.”

“Oh, like being caught watching Ouran Host Club in your lecture?” Hoseok asks, head tilting slightly as he picks the bowl back up. You wince instinctively, and he laughs. It doesn’t get any less humiliating every time you hear it.

“Yup,” you say, feeling very much like you wished you hadn’t agreed to help at all. “Something like that.”

He smiles, but thankfully doesn’t tease you further. Instead, he turns his attention to the two boys beside you.

“What did you bring her for?” he asks, curiosity the only thing you can identify in his tone. Jimin wastes no time in sealing your fate.

“She offered to help when we told her Kookie and Jin were sick!” he says, smacking your shoulder like a proud parent. It was almost a little too hard, and you cough slightly from the impact. Taehyung rubs a soothing hand over the place of impact, giving his brother a look. “So we brought her over, since the others can’t stay and you’re the only one that can run classes at the studio right now.”

Hoseok’s mouth forms an ‘o’, dark eyes flicking to you in surprise. “Oh, that’s very kind of you,” he remarks, flashing you another billion-watt smile. “Thank you, for that. We’re not usually this hopeless at caring for ourselves but one of the ones that’s sick is the one that usually cares for us so… we’ve kind of been running around like headless chickens, heh.”

You shrug, finally feeling a little more settled and a little less like you’d like to flee at the first available opportunity. You’re still very keenly aware of the fact that this is only the second—and first, in Hoseok’s case—time meeting these people, and it’s therefore a little awkward for you. But, to their credit, the way they’re just taking it in stride is really helping you feel less out of place.

Even though technically you hadn’t even planned on coming anywhere near here….

“It’s no problem,” you say, unsure how else to receive his words. He’s still smiling, though, so you’re guessing that he wouldn’t have been too bothered however you answered.

“How are they?” Taehyung asks, soft baritone brushing the air. There’s palpable concern in his voice, and when you glance his way his expression confirms it.

“Well,” Hoseok says, placing the bowl down on the counter again, except with a little more oomph this time. You’re beginning to grow curious as to what exactly is in there. “They’re not any better, but they’re not exactly any worse, either, so… I’m not sure how to answer. Although—”

He smacks his hand onto the counter, a wooden clatter following from the spoon in his grasp, and your eyes widen at the light gashes on the back of his hand. They’re open but not bleeding, as though they’re in the midst of healing, but they look like they were deep at some point. “—Jin has been getting a bit of an attitude, so it’s probably for the best that you brought her. The two of you are going to have to deal with him; she can deal with Kookie, if she needs to. He’s just been sulky.”

“Jin got an attitude?!” Jimin sounds incredulous, and you figure that whichever one is Jin mustn’t normally kick up much of a fuss if he’s reacting like that to the information. “What, why? Did one of you step on his paw again?”

For a moment, you think it’s just a figure of speech, like a wolf thing, but then Hoseok huffs and grumbles, rolling his eyes. “No! That was only once! No one went near his stupid paws this time. He’s been shifted ever since he started feeling sick but he’s only just started getting snappy. He’s a little testy right now… it’s why I was down here, making him stupid treats because he can’t eat human desserts in this form.”

Wait, so both of them… are wolves right now? You’re suddenly a little nervous, but do your best not to show it—somehow, despite the fact their senses are so much more advanced than yours and usually you’d be instantly found out, they’re a little too distracted with the issue currently on their hands to notice.

As though he can hear the slander being thrown around on the floors below him, there is a sudden long, muffled howl that pierces the air—the sound is weaker than you’d expect but still startles you, making you jump. As it ends, it’s followed by a thump and a series of thunks and rattles, like something had been knocked off a shelf. Hoseok rolls his eyes, and you put the pieces together and realise that must have been the wolf in question.

Jimin is wincing, reaching to take the bowl and spoon into his hands. “Uh, okay—we’ll keep an eye on him, and I’ll finish making his, uh… his scooby snacks. You can get going, I know you have a class ready to start in, like, ten minutes.”

Hoseok shoots his packmate a thankful look, more being said with his eyes than you’re privy to as a complete stranger. Now he’s relieved of his duties for the night,

“Thank you,” he says, passing Jimin the whisk that lay discarded at the other end of the bench. You then watch as he moves around the counter to grab what you quickly realise is a gym bag from its perch on the table. You half expect him to wave and then be on his way, but he halts partway towards the door, something on the tip of his tongue.

“If they don’t get better…” he trails off, brows furrowed. It’s in this moment that it really sinks in for you that their packmates must be quite sick for them to be so concerned, and you feel bad that you regretted being dragged here earlier. Jimin and Taehyung are your friends and they need help caring for their pack, their family. You feel crummy for opposing it even a little bit.

Hoseok shakes his head, brows furrowing further. “No, even if they do start to get better—I think we should call the Head Healer. This isn’t normal, and whether its some supernatural flu or something else I think they should know. I’ll tell Yoongi to call his dad, but be prepared to tell him in case he forgets.”

The two males beside you nod, Jimin’s orange locks bouncing from the fervour with which he did so.

“Will do,” Taehyung affirms, nodding towards the redhead. “We’ll take care of them in the meantime.”

Hoseok nods, expression lightening for a fraction of a second. His gaze is soon flitting back to you, a smile that makes your heart skip a beat on his lips. “It was a pleasure to meet you, despite the circumstances,” he declares politely, even if the gleam in his eye is anything but. It takes all of your willpower to keep a straight face. “I’d love to get to know you a little more sometime—”

“YAH get out of here you slimy—” Jimin is huffing suddenly, red-faced and outraged, waving his arms before darting forward to chase his packmate out. “Don’t speak to her like that! She’s off-limits! Do not put your dirty whore hands anywhere near—”

The two of them disappear around the corner, but the sound of Hoseok’s cackling and Jimin’s indignant yells reach you loud and clear anyway. As Jimin sees his packmate off at the door, Taehyung picks up the bowl and resumes where Hoseok left off, and you’re left wondering just how this night is going to go with two massive wolves upstairs needing to be cared for.

x – x

“Okay, so… here’s the plan.”

You listen attentively, fidgeting on the spot and wishing not for the first time that these two idiots had let you change before dragging you here to help out. The sweat has made your head itchy, and you’re trying so hard not to scratch it that you feel your hands trembling. Thankfully, the two wolves beside you remain none the wiser to your inner turmoil and the occasional stink-eye you throw their way.

“Me and Jiminie are gonna go deal with Jin-hyung,” Taehyung says, pausing as a loud thump echoes from the floor above. The three of you are standing at the foot of the stairs, and had been about to go up before the taller man halted you all to make a game-plan. “It… seems like it’s gonna be a two person job. I don’t know what his problem is…?”

He looks to the side to Jimin as he trails off, but his friend merely shrugs, no closer to knowing the source of his packmate’s behaviour than he is. Taehyung huffs, turning to you. “And you can handle Kookie. Just take his food up for him, apparently he’s just been sulky and he’s not aggressive in wolf or human form so you shouldn’t have anything to be worried about.”

You nod as he hands you a bowl of cooked and seasoned meat that makes even your mouth water from the aroma wafting with steam into the air. “Great. That really comforts me, thank you.”

Taehyung grins and Jimin rolls his eyes. “If he allows it, could you check his temperature when you go up there? I know we usually run hot, but we’ve noticed that with whatever sickness this is their temperatures fluctuate a lot. It’ll be really helpful if you can just tell us whether he’s warm or cold.”

You nod again, Jimin appearing satisfied with his instruction. Taehyung throws his hand in the air, almost dislodging the bowl in his hold as he does so. “Alright! Autobots, roll out!”

You simply turn to go up the stairs first, already hearing Jimin deliver his packmate with a firm whack for being an idiot. You reach the top of the stairs and pause, eyes sweeping across the hallway and the abundance of closed doors with little or no distinguishing characteristics. Well, shit.

“Last door on the right, y/n!”

Perfect. Off you go.

As you approach the end of the hallway, another door opposite the one you’re heading towards, the feeling that has been sitting dormant in your abdomen suddenly stirs to life. The tugging around your navel is more persistent than ever, leaving you confused and a little disoriented as you finally reach the last door on the right. To your surprise, there is a shuffling sound from the door opposite, on the left side of the hall, and a low, baleful whine that reaches you through the wood and makes your heart drop and clench. You don’t think you’ve ever reacted so strongly to, well, anything before.

Shaking your head and hearing the other two follow behind you in the hall, you grasp the doorknob of the door you’ve been directed to and ease it open, slipping inside as quietly as possible before closing it behind you. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself and attempt to smother the quickened pace of your heart before it’s beating gets too loud, you slowly look up from the door handle and survey the rest of the room.

It’s chic, a stylish combination of white and various cool greys across the room. The window is open but the dark curtains drawn, the breeze ruffling them ever so slightly and making you shiver as it reaches you from across the room. It’s nice, you admit to yourself, momentarily forgetting why you’re there. You’re quickly reminded once more, however, at the sight of the massive furry lump sprawled across the queen-sized bed. The main overhead light isn’t on, but the bedside lamps are and it’s enough to illuminate the wolf left in your care for the time being. There’s something about him that tickles familiarity in the back of your mind as you survey his form; his coat is a sleek mixture of ink and charcoal, fur illuminated dark chestnut where it falls beneath the light. You can’t quite put your finger on why you feel something stir inside you at the sight of him, this massive wolf sprawled across the bed, and for the time being you decide to give up on attempting to understand it.

Adjusting your hold on the bowl in your hands, you move closer to the bed, unable to help the way you keep admiring this wolf’s majestic form even as he faces away from you. You know this one is the member called Jungkook, but you can’t quite put a human face to the name to recall which wolf it was that bowled you over a week ago.

Initially, you thought that he might have been asleep, but as you grow closer to the bed you hear the softest whimper enter the air, followed by a thin whine. You freeze, looking up just in time to see a large, heavy-lidded, amber eye watching you move. Distantly, you realise that this is the sort of sight that should be making you freeze in fear. Instead, the only thing you feel is something odd and foreign, curling warmly in the pit of your abdomen. You’re not sure what to do with it, and to be honest it gives you pause.

“Uh, hey,” you say softly, feeling a little awkward. The wolf gives a huff, blinking his large eye somewhat owlishly—while he didn’t seem to really see you earlier, he appears to be registering your appearance now. “We’ve met before… I’m Taehyung and Jimin’s friend. They said that you guys were sick so I offered to help out…”

The wolf shuffles in place, looking a little more alert. Thankfully, as Taehyung had promised, he doesn’t seem aggressive or anything like that. Actually, he seems about the opposite—as he rises to a slightly more elevated position on the bed, now facing you, he lets out another long, low whine. It makes your insides clench with something like sympathy. You place the bowl where he can reach it and immediately the wolf starts devouring his meal.

There is a sudden yowl that pierces through the walls and makes you jump, but the wolf before you couldn’t be more unbothered. In the blink of an eye the bowl is emptied and licked clean, the wolf’s massive head lifting to pin you with a look that seems to say ‘what next?’. You move the bowl so it isn’t tipped, placing it on the bedside table next to a black Nintendo Switch console there. Before you can flounder too much, you recall Jimin’s instructions from earlier.

“Oh, I need to check your temperature, as well…” you inform him, still speaking softly. There is a bit of a commotion from beyond the bedroom door and you think you hear Taehyung holler something stupid, but can’t be sure. You decide to ignore it.

Tentatively, you reach your hand up, simply going for the wolf’s forehead or the closest thing to it. To your surprise, despite the minute nod that the wolf had offered you just before, now he seems to be moving his head just out of reach every time you come close. There’s a peculiar gleam in his big puppy eyes that you can’t quite decipher, almost something sly as you continue attempting to place the back of your hand against his head. His relentless shifting ends up with you leaning over the bed to reach him, and you realise a little too late just how unstable you are. Finally, he allows you to place your hand against his head, but it lasts for barely a second before the bed is shifting suddenly and then you’re falling onto the mattress with an ‘oof!’.

The wolf huffs, a massive arm laying over your hips and his head flopped down on your chest just below your breasts. You can feel your face heat in a combination of embarrassment, confusion, and fluster. For a moment, you’re too stunned to even move.

“What are you—” you can’t even finish a full sentence, you’re so flustered. “I only need to take your temperature! Let me up, please—”

You attempt to move, or even prop yourself on your elbows, and the wolf whimpers, pitifully, more of his weight bearing down on you. You pause before trying again and receiving the same reaction, this time with a mournful whine tacked onto the end.

“You’re a big baby,” you find yourself saying, tone much closer to exasperated scolding than you might have expected. “Are you really not gonna let me up?”

In response, you receive a huff and an adjustment of the wolf’s hold on you that makes it even more difficult for you to get up from the bed, his massive paw pressing into the mattress on the other side of you. When you let out a heavy sigh, he whimpers and butts his head against you, the action oddly affectionate.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, staring at the ceiling and wondering what on earth has just happened in the past few minutes. Since you can do nothing else, you take the opportunity to finally touch his forehead and take his temperature. He’s a little cool, but oddly doesn’t stay that way; it’s like you can feel him warming beneath your hand.

Really, you’re pretty much trapped right now. You’re not as scared as one might think you would be, and you don’t really know what you’re feeling in response to the situation. You do know that something flips and flutters inside you every time you move and you hear him whimper, or whine and snuggle closer. This wolf is almost the size of a bear and is snuggling all over you like a teacup puppy.

You’re not sure how long you lay in spot before your two idiot friends finally realise you’ve been gone a little too long for the menial tasks you were given and come knocking. The creak of the door easing open makes you jump slightly in surprise and the hackles on the wolf to raise ever so slightly.

“y/n, what is taking you so l—oh. Oh my gosh.”

Your head whips in the direction of the door, and a pleading look is already on your face before you can even think to muster it. Taehyung and Jimin stand stock still in the doorway, faces portraying an almost comical amount of shock. Jimin squints, rubbing his eyes as though he’s making sure he’s really seeing what he’s seeing. “Uh… what happened here?”

“He won’t let me up,” you grumble, face on fire. This is humiliating. The wolf huffs, like he’s talking back to you, and both Taehyung and Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up. “He’s sneaky. I just tried to take his temperature and….”

“Oh, right,” Jimin says, blinking rapidly. “How is it?”

“A little cold, but each time I check he gets warmer,” you inform him, the distant hilarity of the situation not lost on you as you calmly discuss the health and wellbeing of the wolf that currently has you pinned to his bed as a makeshift teddy bear. Jimin goes to take a step forward and a soft growl halts him mid-movement, the sound something you can feel rumbling from deep within the wolf’s chest.

“Jungkookie,” he scolds, gasping in affront. “Don’t be nasty.”

“Oh my god,” Taehyung mumbles to himself, something cheeky and mischievous that spells absolute trouble glimmering in his eyes. “This is fantastic—just wait until you’re human again, Koo. You’re not gonna live this down.”

Unimpressed, you send them a glare—some of your limbs are starting to fall asleep, maybe they could try and help you get out? Catching the look you send them, the two men share their own, and you can safely say you don’t quite like the tone of it.

They better not leave you here.

x – x – x

The next day finds you sprawled on your bed, feeling dead to the world.

True to their historically goblin nature, your two best friends had indeed left you there.

You’d found out later that it was because they knew they’d only be able to slip you out from under the wolf when he fell asleep (because apparently once he’s out, he sleeps like the dead, no matter the form). But until such a time as they actually came and retrieved you from beneath their sick, clingy packmate, you were incredibly annoyed with them. It had taken about an hour or so for the wolf, Jungkook, to fall asleep—about halfway through that you’d subconsciously keyed into the same plan as them and had begun carding your hands through his fur in an attempt to lull him to sleep faster. It had worked, and you don’t want to think about how dead your limbs would be if the wolf had taken any longer to fall asleep.

In all, the ordeal was incredibly embarrassing and your only saving grace is that Taehyung and Jimin were too busy planning how to tease their youngest packmate to tease you. Which is lucky because, wolf or not, if they’d teased you then you might have killed them.

You didn’t get back until around midnight, since you’d stayed a bit longer to help Taehyung and Jimin cook and prepare some stuff in case the two wolves woke up worse. As soon as your head hat hit the pillow, you’d knocked right out. Shamefully, you slept so deep and long that you missed your alarm for your morning class and woke up closer to lunch, which is where you are now.

Laying in bed with aching eyes and wishing that you didn’t have another class in another two hours.

Jihyo hadn’t even questioned where you went for so long last night, but also hadn’t made a joke about you finally getting some so you figure she’s waiting to pounce on you later. You find she’s already left for the day, when you finally wrangle yourself from bed and attempt to resume life as a functioning human being. So you’re safe until at least this afternoon, when she finishes her shift at the university second-hand bookstore. You can probably remain safe for longer if you study at the library and come home when she goes to her pilates class.

You’re shamefully good at evading her, at this point. You’d feel bad if it wasn’t a skill you’d learnt for survival.

You took your time a little too much while getting ready for your class, and it made you run so late that for the time being even you completely forgot about the events of last night. Well, you did until you enter your classroom and are greeted by two loud hollers of your name. Honestly, do they have no shame? Do attractive people even feel shame?

“Shut up,” you grumble half-heartedly as you take your seat between them, resisting the urge to rub your eyes since you’d put on mascara earlier. One of many things that had almost made you late. “You’re so loud.”

You complain, but secretly you’re glad for the noise—it means they’re feeling better, and things must also be improving at the pack dorm. When you finally raise your eyes to survey their faces, you find them displaying an odd mix of emotions. Like they’re glad, relieved, but at the same time still concerned about something.

“So… how are things at the dorm?” you inquire tentatively, making the most of the time you have before your tutor arrives and begins the class; it seems you aren’t the only one running behind today.

Taehyung lets out a huff, resting his cheek in his hand with a wry smile. “Well, Jungkookie is much better. You must have a magic touch because he was up and back into his human form this morning. He wanted to go to his classes but Namjoon made him stay back because he’s still not completely better.”

“On the other hand,” Jimin continues, without the need of prompting. “Seokjin… well, it’s almost like he’s the same as before, slowly getting worse. We can’t figure out what is wrong with him and why his condition isn’t turning around like Jungkook’s is.”

Ah, now you understand their expressions. They look about as confused as you feel, too. It doesn’t leave you with a very good feeling, if they’re the experts in this area and even they’re stumped for an explanation.

“We got Yoongi to call his dad, though. I heard them on the phone before we left so I suppose we’ll hear what he recommends when we get back.”

You hum to acknowledge what he said, opening your mouth to respond but deciding against it when you see the tutor hurtle into the room, out of breath and frantic.

“Sorry I’m late, everyone! If you could please all open your books to this week’s chapter, I will begin with the slides in just a moment!”

x – x – x

Considering that what you’d heard from your two wolf friends was that one of their packmates was on the mend and the other less so, you hadn’t really expected to hear anything else from them. That proves to be the exact opposite of what happens, though.

At quarter to three in the morning, you’re woken to sharp, persistent banging on your front door—the kind that makes you scared that the door is actually going to break beneath the force of the blows raining down on it. You tear out of your bed and stumble down the hall to answer it, knowing that if Jihyo has to get up to do it she’s going to tear you a new asshole.

“WHAT?!” You snap, not even seeing properly through the bleariness in your eyes but knowing in your heart there’s only two people ballsy enough to come bust your door down at this hour in the morning. “Are you trying to get me killed?! Jihyo still hasn’t forgotten about the last time you came over and ruined her sleep!”

Jimin has the decency to look somewhat sheepish, but Taehyung simply looks distressed. “Look, I’m not gonna say I’m sorry because I’m not, but we really need you to come with us right now.”

You blink, reaching to rub your eyes and feeling a strand of your hair flop into your face in response. You just know it looks like something made at the hands of Jackson Pollock right now. “What? The hell? Do you mean?”

It’s Jimin’s airy tone that reaches you this time, lowering your hackles ever so slightly. “No, he’s lying, we are sorry, it’s just—it’s an emergency. Something happened and we need your help to test a… a theory, if you will.”

You stare at him, willing his words to make sense in your sleepy brain. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s fine,” Taehyung says; and then in the next second he reaches and grabs you around the waist, slinging you over his shoulder. “We just need you to come. Can you lock up so she doesn’t kill us, Jiminie?”

You’re too stunned to even say anything as you hear Jimin lock your front door behind you, Taehyung already beginning to move post-haste down the apartment building hallway with you over his shoulder. When you finally catch-up to the events of the current moment, you instantly curse the blonde man out. “Hey, what the fuck—I can walk! Put me down! Put me down or I’ll go straight back home!”

“No way,” Taehyung argues, already exiting the building with you in tow. “You’re just gonna go back no matter what, if I put you down. I saw that look in your eyes, the one you get when you’re about to slam the door in our faces. We really need you to come, y/n.”

You blink, trying to remember if you planned on closing the door in their faces. It was only a few moments ago, but you’re still half-asleep and can’t remember for the life of you. A part of you wishes to speak up and deny his words, but for however outraged you are right now you’re still attuned to the words he’s saying and the vocal cues that accompany his speech. It gives you pause, because he seems really, genuinely distressed right now.

“What happened? What’s going on?”

Jimin has since caught up to the two of you and is opening the car door, preparing the back seat for your entry—you haven’t seen this one before, so you presume it must belong to one of the older pack members. “It’s Jin-hyung and Kookie.”

“What?” Confusion combines with sleepiness to make you sound like the stupidest person on earth. “I thought they were getting better? Or at least Jungkook was—”

“We thought so too,” Taehyung says, finally putting you down and patting your head in a makeshift apology. You decide that killing him can wait for later.

“And then… tonight happened.”

As the two of them climb hurriedly into the car and buckle up to send you all on your way to the pack dorm, they fill you in on the events of the evening. While Jungkook had shown a marked improvement over the day, it was like a switch had flipped as soon as night fell and the moon emerged from below the horizon. He relapsed to a worse state than he was in last night, and Seokjin’s condition apparently worsened as well. Alarmed and not having a single idea what to do, they’d called in Yoongi’s father who had spent a large majority of the night attempting to diagnose them and prevent their condition from worsening. Only around half an hour ago had he put together a theory as to what was wrong with them, after all the pack members filled him in on everything they could.

“Wait so—Yoongi’s dad? The healer…?” you wait for their nods of confirmation before continuing. “He thinks it has something to do with me? Wait, if that’s the case should you even be bringing me back?! What if I make them worse again! God, I knew I shouldn’t have rocked up to the party last week…”

“No, well—I mean—” Jimin flounders for what to say, cutting himself off when he comes close to saying something and giving you the sense that there is another element to this that they’re not telling you. You have half a mind to demand to know, but you also recognise it could also be a wolf thing that you have no business knowing. “Don’t worry, if the head healer of our pack is calling you back, it’s not because he thinks you’re the thing making them sick.”

That does ease you, admittedly. Just a bit. You yawn, catching movement outside your window and realising with a startle that you’re already at the pack dorm. Instantly, for reasons barely known to you, your stomach erupts into a live bundle of nerves. You’re so baffled by it that you don’t even notice as the car pulls to a stop and your door is being opened in the next second by a perplexed Jimin.

“Are you alright?”

You give him a stinky look to save face as you climb out of the car, pretending your legs aren’t wobbly. “You’re asking that now?”

At the attitude in your voice the expression of concern slips right off his face and he snorts, looping his arm through yours and dragging you up the path to the pack dorm for the third time in a week. “Oh good, you’re alright. Hurry up now, I can hear them howling like pups from here.”

You go to bite back with a response but pause, because the second you tune into your ears you can hear it too. It’s mournful, the way the howls pierce the air. Baleful, especially when paired with the scenery of the almost-full moon hanging above the trees. Again, you’re not scared, just oddly… nervous. As in, full of nerves. It’s as though there are a thousand bees buzzing in your abdomen, and the network of nerves and synapses in your body have turned to live wires beneath your skin, thrumming and prickling with energy.

What does your subconscious seem to know that you don’t?

The howls are amplified the second you enter the house and there is no longer several inches of thick wall muffling their piercing resonance. They seem to be upstairs once more, on the side of the house that you didn’t venture into last time. Now that you’re close enough, you can distinguish that it’s not only pitiful howls breaking the air, but soft whimpers and whines, as well. Something about it, the quality of the sounds brushing your ears, makes your eyes prick with tears. It’s almost like…. Grieving. Like they’re calling out for something or someone that isn’t coming.

“Wow, they’re somehow even louder than when we left,” Jimin remarks, already dragging you towards the stairs and beginning on the climb up. “For wolves that are so sick they sure do still have a pair of lungs on them.”

You’re too busy remembering the fact that you’re currently dressed in the same shorts and singlet combo you’ve been in all week, and that you’re in a house full of men (and wolves, but you digress) to offer a response. Your arrival at the top of the stairs brings you to the sight of a number of men at the end of the hall, gathered together and muttering amongst themselves. You recognise all but one, and figure that the unfamiliar older gentleman must be Yoongi’s father as you’d heard of him.

“We brought her,” Jimin announces, though you doubt it was very necessary since they could probably smell you coming from the driveway. “Are they doing any better?”

Yoongi leans around Namjoon to deliver the younger with a deadpan look. “Listen for yourself.”

Right on cue, there is another round of pitiful howling, the noise tugging at something deep inside you. Why did it make you want to go to them? Are your instincts broken? That seems like a crazy reaction to have. Perhaps you should go get yourself checked out after this ordeal, though you’re unsure which professional you should be seeking out.

Jimin winces. “Alright. So they’re not doing much better at all.”

The new character, Yoongi’s dad, steps forward and reaches out to shake your hand. “Hello, you must be y/n. I’m Yunho, the Head Healer of this pack. I’m so sorry to have brought you out here at such a late hour.”

Now that everyone’s attention is on you, and Yunho looks so genuinely apologetic (you see the relation to Yoongi in the kind set of his features) you find your earlier anger at being awoken and dragged here fizzling out for good. Somewhat meekly, you manage to respond, “It’s fine. If I can help then I don’t mind at all.”

The older man smiles at your words, appreciation in his tone as he thanks you. “We’re really grateful, for that. Now, if you don’t mind, all I want you to do is just… go into the room with them.”

You blink, Taehyung and Jimin already having begun guiding (read: dragging) you to the room in question. “Pardon?”

Yunho seems slightly amused and sheepish. “I… have a theory, as to what is wrong with these two. I will inform you of everything after we test it out, but would you be able to go in, for now? Please?”

You’re not exactly in a position to refuse, not that you really want to anyway. As silly as it is, if going into the room where the wolves are is something that will somehow actually help them, then you’ll do it. Especially because you don’t think you can handle much more of their baleful howling—they seem miserable.

“Yeah, okay. Of course.” You shake your limbs out, shrugging your arms out of your friends’ grips and shooting them a glare for manhandling your again. They have the decency to appear slighty apologetic.

The entire pack in the hallway parts to let you through, like a sea of wolves. The room they direct you to is the one opposite of the one you went into last night, the one where the rowdy wolf that Jimin and Taehyung took care of had been. Taking a deep breath, you push the slightly ajar door open, biting your lip in anticipation of what you will see on the other side.

It’s a room similar in shape to Jungkook’s, but with blues and yellows mixed into the scheme of whites and greys. It is, put simply and as objectively as possible, a mess. You can see where things have been knocked off of shelves and desks, and some items (namely one of the bed posts) have been chewed up and left disfigured. It looks like a house with remnants of a temper tantrum from a puppy left alone too soon. They aren’t on the bed, which is oddly bare, and you see why a moment later when you catch sight of them huddled together on the floor, the size of small bears but shaking and whimpering so pathetically that you don’t feel even a shred of fear as you gaze upon them. A rumpled mixture of fluffy blankets and duvets are beneath them in a makeshift nest, some of them still attached to the bed and tucked underneath the end of the mattress.

You’re not sure what you expected when you stepped into the room, but it wasn’t for the two wolves to fall dead silent upon your arrival. You freeze, unsure how to proceed until there is a nudge at your back, and you turn over your shoulder to see Yunho giving you an encouraging look.

“Just go over to them, it will be okay. They won’t hurt you.”

You didn’t realise that was a fear you had until his words soothed it, and you take another deep breath to steel yourself before following his directions. You can’t tell whether the wolves are awake, or in that feverish place between sleep and waking, but the closer you get the less restless they seem and the less noises tumble from their jaws. Unsure what they want you to do when you reach the wolves, you turn back with a questioning look. Already, at the silence in the room, Yunho has a relieved look on his face. He makes a hand movement, gesturing for you to take a seat, and you see several heads pop around the doorframe to watch as you do so.

Blushing madly and pretending that you’re not as embarrassed as you are, you sink to your knees in front of the two wolves, eyes scanning over the one you hadn’t seen before today.

Seokjin, if you recall correctly; the eldest in the pack (well… this little subgroup of the larger pack, anyway), and the other wolf that bowled you over that day. A sense of familiarity washes over you as you view him, too, despite the fact you don’t think you’ve ever seen him in his wolf form before. His coat is sandy and light, caramel-hued in some places with accents of white around his eyes and front paws. Again, you can’t quite place where you’ve seen him before, but you know deep down that you have. The same goes for Jungkook, who appears extra dark next to his lighter packmate. Each of their heads is larger, broader than one of your thighs, something you become acutely aware of as you shuffle closer on your knees. Two barely-seeing sets of amber eyes watch your every movement.

Just when you go to look back and see what they want you to do next, there is shuffling from in front of you that captures your attention instead; a whimper escapes Jungkook, but Seokjin is the one that is moving, lifting his head and craning it forward until his moist nose skims your knee, sniffing tentatively. Whatever you smell like must confirm something for him, because in the next moment he’s letting out a low whine from the back of his throat and struggling forward, butting his head against you before rubbing the side of it along your thigh. You don’t have words to describe how hot your face is right now. Just when you think it can’t get any more embarrassing, the darker wolf gains a sudden burst of energy and lurches forward, snapping his teeth around the edge of your shorts leg and tugging lightly.

“Wh—” you don’t even have the brain space to finish whatever you were going to say, too busy shuffling forward and trying to make sure this wolf doesn’t pants you in front of the rest of the pack who are—as you confirm with an alarmed look over your shoulder—still watching everything unfold. The wolf, Jungkook, doesn’t stop tugging until you’re nestled deep between their two bodies, their temperatures rising each second you spend there, and as soon as he releases his teeth from the material of your shorts, Seokjin’s body is tilting and his head is coming to press against you and trap you in.

This is ridiculous. Is this actually happening? Are you not still at home, dreaming?

Your alarmed look is directed at the rest of the pack mates and Yunho once more, the older man letting out a sigh and wincing lightly. The rest of the members seem an odd mix of relieved and baffled. It does not soothe you one bit.

“Okay… y/n, there’s something we need to talk to you about.”

a/n: here it is! pls let me know what u think, feel free to come scream in my inbox and leave a like & reblog!! it means the world to me!! i might not always get to respond to all of them, but i do read every single one-- reread, even. thank u for reading this and for always supporting me! love u!! <3

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ria-aaa · 3 years ago

Text

secrets

kaeya has secrets. you do, too.

kaeya x fem!reader

warning! spoilers ahead!

Kaeya could still the day he met you. He remembered every single moment with you, as clear as the water in Starfell Lake.

That particular day, he had gone to Angel's Share for a drink, and maybe gather information from the bar's regular patrons. It was something he did regularly, but when he went there that day, the last thing he expected was to fall in love.

The first thing he saw was your back. You stood in front of the bar with your hands on your waist. Your stance was defiant, challenging even. Diluc, was on the other side of the bar, clearly unamused. The two of you were arguing over something. Normally, Kaeya would've paused just to figure out what the argument was about, but he didn't even hesitate when he made his way forward to interrupt the argument before it caused a rowdy bar fight.

He didn't know it was even possible for him, but when your eyes met, both of you were instantly in love.

The argument was quickly over, and Kaeya whisked you away to the bar's second floor to talk.

You were an adventurer from Liyue, traveling all around Teyvat until you arrived at Mondstadt. Kaeya quickly found out that you usually stayed in one city for quite a while, which explained why he had only seen you now. You two bonded over so many common interests, he was genuinely surprised to find someone so like-minded.

Days passed, with you spending most of your time with him. If he was unavailable, you'd usually be somewhere in the city. If not, you were somewhere in Windrise, just lying on the grass and staring at the sky. Whenever he finds you there, he'd lie down beside you and you'd talk for hours on end.

Kaeya didn't know what it was like to be just a normal person, talking about their favorite things or arguing about their favorite things with the person they liked. He didn't know it was even possible for someone like him until he met you.

You were bright. You spoke your mind out. You laughed at anything and everything. It was almost as if you radiated happiness, and even though he wasn't sure if he deserved to, Kaeya basked in it, letting your laughter and your smile be the light to him.

At his suggestion, you found a place to stay within the city. At first, you didn't even seem to need it as you would go for days without even sleeping there. You would simply laugh about it when Kaeya pointed it out, complaining about how he must have looked like a fool knocking on your door when there was no one in there in the first place.

That all stopped, however, after the first night Kaeya stayed over at your place after you both had too much to drink. He somehow ended up in your bed and the both of you somehow woke up in each other's arms.

In your sleepy state, your forehead bunched up as you squinted at him. Kaeya truly knew he was whipped when at that moment, he still found you stunning.

"...this was not how I imagined what waking up next to you would be like."

He smirked. "You imagined waking up next to me in bed?"

"With someone as sexy as you? How can I not?" you snorted, turning over in bed to face the other way.

That made Kaeya laugh.

"So how is it? Is it better than you imagined?" he teased.

Your answer came in an instant.

"Way much better."

Later on, when Kaeya showed up at the Knights' headquarters, he'd think about those words and instantly smile. He would tell you about that days later, just to tease you.

Days turned into weeks. Kaeya started crashing at your place (you two had agreed to call it as such until you were both ready to call it "moving in together"). Of course, you two kept that up until a good few months had passed and you finally had enough of it, telling him to just finally move in. You were so cute when you made your demand, he couldn't help but tease you just a bit before giving in.

At this point, everyone in the city knew that there was something going on between the two of you. The bar patrons would nudge and tease Kaeya about it, at how he and the adventurer got along really well. He would smile, happy at the fact that you were, indeed, his.

You didn't need words to confirm it; at this point, it was an irrevocable fact that you both belonged to each other.

At some point, it became your habit to share things about you at night while you two lay side by side. You would tell him what's going on in your mind at that moment. In hushed whispers, you'd tell him secrets that you've never told anyone else. You didn't trust anyone enough to share them, not until he came into your life.

Kaeya knew what you were afraid of. He knew of your insecurities, of what you really thought of something. You poured your heart out in those midnight moments with him, when you were unable to sleep and he'd stay up with you, trying to distract your mind.

You shared everything. Kaeya did not.

It wasn't like he didn't want to. He wanted to give you some part of him, some part of his soul or something. He wanted someone else to know of the weight he carried on his shoulders. He wanted you, most especially, to know what he was afraid of, of his doubts, of why he was there in Mondstadt from the start.

But he just couldn't tell you. At least not yet. Not until he was ready.

Weeks turned into months. Then, one day, you told him you needed to go to Liyue to visit a close friend of yours for their birthday. Kaeya, albeit upset at the idea of not seeing you for days, decided to go with you at least as far as Stone Gate. This seemed to make you happy and Kaeya enjoyed traveling with you.

While you were gone, Kaeya took the time to think about his next move. He trusted you enough now; if he told you his secret, you'd be the last person to betray him. When his train of thought moved onto marriage, Kaeya almost slammed his head onto his desk, surprising the knights in the room.

He did consider asking you to marry him. He couldn't imagine life without you by his side nor a life where he would come home to you and listen to you tell him how your day went.

He let out a sigh, watching a knight leave the room. Maybe he'll wait for you to come home first so you both could talk about it. For now, he'll focus on figuring out whether or not he should tell you about his most well-kept secret.

The secret about his past. The one secret he could never reveal to anyone.

He figured out his answer when he got a letter from you, delivered by an adventurer from Mondstadt who happened to be on his way back to the city. Your letter was long. The first part was about how you'd probably be back in a week; the rest of the letter was about how Liyue was lonely without him, how much you missed him, and how he should definitely go with you to Liyue next time.

You always signed your letters to him the same way: "Yours forever. I love you."

He smiled and tucked the letter into his pocket. He should find the time to tell you soon.

Kaeya figured out you were home when he went home one day from a mission and the light was on from the bedroom window. He excitedly rushed inside, and found you lying on the bed, covering your eyes with your arm.

"Hey! You're back!"

You uncovered your eyes and looked at him with a tired smile. "Kaeya~ I missed you."

"You're tired, aren't you?"

You chuckled guiltily. "Yeah. I didn't sleep and focused on coming home to you."

Kaeya tutted as he took the heavy garments off his person. He climbed into bed with you, pulling you close.

"You should've rested."

"I know. But when I think about how lonely you must have been without me, I knew I had to get home faster."

"You wound me."

"Just admit you missed me, idiot."

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Fine. I missed you."

"There you go! I missed you too."

The next morning, you were already awake before him, simply watching him sleep.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

"Good morning." He brushed a lock of hair away from your face. "Do you have any plans today?"

"Hmm... I don't think so. I'll tell you if something does come up, though. Why do you ask?"

"I need to tell you something important."

"Can't you tell me now?"

"Where's the fun in that?" he teased.

You rolled your eyes. "Fine, fine."

He grinned, staring at you. "I know it's only been like weeks, but I really missed you."

"Being clingy isn't really your thing, Kaeya Alberich," you teased. Before he could reply, you continued, "But I like it. It looks like you really did miss me."

"Why does that sound questionable?"

"Anyone who saw you would think that being clingy isn't your style, you know."

"Then I'm glad I'm only clingy to you."

You smiled, and how Kaeya missed seeing it.

"As you should be."

Your day went on as it normally does, with Kaeya heading off to the Knights' headquarters, and you just roaming around Mondstadt.

As the sun started to set, a knight entered the room Kaeya was in, with a message from you.

"Captain, I have a message for you."

He looked up. "What is it?"

Something had come up and you were on your way to the cliff across the lake near the Dawn Winery. According to the knight, you might take a while but you'd try to be home before dinner. To this, Kaeya simply shrugged and decided that he'd go to you instead.

He didn't find you easily, though, not until he trekked closer to the area near Stone Gate. You were making your way back, with a serious expression he didn't quite recognize (which, honestly, shocked him).

"Hey there."

You looked up and that expression shifted to one of surprise.

"Kaeya! What are you doing here?"

"I came looking for you clearly. I was also thinking that maybe we could go stargazing out here tonight."

You moved closer to him and smiled. "That sounds like a good idea."

"What were you doing here anyway?"

"Liyue Katheryne sent me a message through Mondstadt Katheryne for a commission. I was available so I went and did it."

"Huh. Was it hard?"

You rolled your eyes and lightly punched his shoulder. "You underestimate me."

"Oh, I'm sure you can do anything. Just don't want you straining yourself."

"Ah, now you're sucking up to me."

"Is it working?"

You finally smiled. "Only because it's you."

You linked your arm with his and he led you to an area with a clearer view of the night sky. When you both were finally laying on the grass like you were back in Windrise on a sunny day, you finally asked him, "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

"I..." Kaeya swallowed a lump in his throat. This was harder than he expected. But you were you, and Kaeya knew that you'd understand even better than anyone.

He looked into your eyes, finding patience and understanding. That only encouraged him more.

And so, Kaeya spilled. He told you of his past, of how he came to the city of the wind. He told you of the mission his father put him up to before he was abandoned near the Dawn Winery where the master, Diluc's father, took him in and treated him as a son. He told you of how he was meant to start a war within all of Teyvat.

You were quiet for a while after he was done speaking. Kaeya grew nervous; he didn't know what you were thinking of. He never learned how to, considering that you always spoke your mind out.

You sat up and he quickly followed, trying to gauge your reaction. To his surprise (or was it horror?), your expression was the same serious one he didn't recognize earlier.

It was almost as if he didn't know you.

"I know."

Kaeya stopped in his tracks. He stared at you with wide-eyes, speechless as you stood up, patting the dirt of your clothes. You turn to him, the serious expression never leaving your face, and the dead light in your eyes almost made you unrecognizable.

"You have shared your deepest secret, and now I am obliged to do the same."

Horror, anger, betrayal. Kaeya felt all those things as you took out a pair of gloves from your vest and tugged them onto your fingers.

"I traveled over Teyvat, researching on the Kingdom of Khaenri'ah for Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa of Snezhnaya."

At that, Kaeya jumped to his feet, pulling out his sword.

The last thing he expected was for you to be a part of the Fatui.

"You..."

You stared him dead in the eye; he knew the disbelief and hurt was evident on his expression, seeing how your eyes softened just a tiny bit.

"And while I was in Inazuma, I caught wind of a plot, a plot so ancient, and it involved sending the kingdom's last hope to Mondstadt and seeking war with Tevyat."

You stood in place while Kaeya took his stance.

"Under Her Royal Highness's orders, I came to Mondstadt. And you, Kaeya Alberich, have given me the final puzzle piece."

He grit his teeth. He shouldn't have told you.

"You shouldn't have told me, Kaeya," you said, saying his name the same way you did while you two lay in bed.

"You tricked me," he growled. "You lied to me!"

Hurt flashed in your eyes before you closed them.

"With this, I have enough information to give to the Tsaritsa."

Kaeya yelled and lunged at you. You dodged easily and he quickly used his Cryo ability to attack again. You kept dodging, until Kaeya made a move he knew you could never escape.

To his horror, a bright flash of purple emanated from you and he was thrown back. He quickly gathered his bearings, glaring at the purple vision that now glowed as you took it out.

Of course you'd lie about having a Vision.

"Kaeya..."

Without another word, he lunged towards you again, fighting your Vision with his. You blocked every blow, refusing to make an attack of your own.

"Don't say my name," he growled. "Not after you just lied to me!"

Your jaw visibly clenched and before Kaeya knew it, you had disappeared in a flash of purple lightning, appearing a few feet away from him.

"I'm willing to offer you a deal, Kaeya Alberich."

He threw you a glare, ignoring the throb of pain in his chest.

"You could let me go and report all of the information I have to the Tsaritsa."

"As if -"

"Or," you cut him off. Your eyes, no longer bright, were suddenly sad.

"Or you could get rid of me and the information I gathered will be gone forever."

He froze. He didn't think it was possible for him to feel even more betrayed and horrified.

"You're saying -"

"I'm saying you can kill me. I'd let you do it in a heartbeat."

He grit his teeth. "Why are you doing this?"

You answered quietly, like you were afraid that the wind might pick it up and someone would overhear it.

"Because I don't want to do this to you."

Kaeya stared at you before letting out a laugh.

"It's too late for that."

"Kaeya," you pleaded. "You -"

"Do you really think that I could kill you?"

"Yes."

You had said it so confidently, like you knew that when it came down to it, Kaeya would never choose you over the mission his father had left him.

The thought hurt him. He had already betrayed his father by telling you in the first place.

"Go."

You stopped, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Kaeya -"

"Go, and never show yourself again. Don't even dare think of me, or even let me hear of you."

You opened your mouth to speak but you quickly closed your mouth.

Kaeya's last sight of you was of you crying before you disappeared in a blast of purple lightning.

Were everything you said lies? Kaeya wanted to hate you, to forget that you even existed.

But it seemed it was too late for that.

----------

Weeks had gone by since you had left.

Kaeya walked through the streets of Mondstadt, ignoring the townspeople as they talked about how they never saw you again. Lisa brought it up once but Kaeya simply waved it off, telling her that you had simply gone back to Liyue.

Of course, it was a lie.

While he kept up his confident and charming persona, Kaeya couldn't stop thinking of you. He'd pass by the restaurant you both frequented, and he'd be reminded of you when he saw your favorite food. He moved out of the house after he imagined you lying on the bed, waiting for him.

Everything reminded him of you. And he hated it.

Kaeya preoccupied himself with work. And it was at the Knights of Favonius's headquarters where he received the most unlikely guest.

Diluc would never enter the headquarters nor go looking for him if it wasn't something extremely important.

"Well, look who decided to drop by," he teased.

Diluc's expression remained unchanged but when he spoke, his voice sounded somber.

"Kaeya."

The news Diluc had for him was enough to make his knees give way, and Kaeya sank down on his chair, staring at the redhead with utter disbelief.

A group of adventurers had found you extremely injured and on the brink of death in Lingju pass. They said you might have been in that state for days. You somehow managed to ask them to take two letters to the Dawn Winery.

Minutes later, you were gone.

"She asked me to give you this," Diluc continued, handing Kaeya a bloodstained letter. Your handwriting was shaky, very much unlike the pristine way you always wrote.

He stared at it for a long time, not even noticing when Diluc had left. He was alone now, and with trembling fingers, he picked the letter up.

"Kaeya,

I'm sorry.

For betraying you, for hurting you. Gods knew I never wanted to. I'm sorry. I don't deserve your forgiveness, so please don't even think of forgiving me. I deserve your hatred and rage.

But even then, I can't help but think of wanting to see you one last time as I write this.

I don't think I have much longer to live, Kaeya. But I knew I had to tell you somehow.

I never told anyone your secret. I never gave any of the information I had gathered for years, even to the Tsaritsa. I knew I couldn't, not after I found out about you and not after I fell in love with you.

Thank you for loving me, Kaeya. Thank you for loving me, for accepting me and embracing me even when I couldn't be who I truly was with you. Even when everything I told you was a mix of truth and lies.

Thank you for everything.

Yours forever. I love you."

ehe

#kaeya #kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader #angst #some fluff too ig

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starlightrows · 4 years ago

Text

In The Eye Of The Beholder

Chapter 1

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: brief description and mildly graphic medical jargon about losing an eye and having a prosthetic implant placed

Summary: Shortly after the events of the Battle of Khorm, the Kaminoans don’t see the value in moving forward with treatment for Commander Wolffe... you, the GAR doctor on the Coruscant disagree

“I don’t remember asking for your goddamn opinion ambassador!” you shout up at the pale long necked Kaminoan, who’s been passively berating you in an attempt to get your patient taken off life support. Your communicator goes off loudly, and you feel no shame in looking at it instead of listening to the Kaminoan ambassadors retort.

“I’m sorry ambassador, but this discussion is over. The requisition for the cybernetic prosthesis has gone through and whether you like it or not, I am going to give that man a fighting chance. He didn’t lay down his life to be tossed out with the garbage. Now get out of my med bay,” your turn on your heel, and begin speaking into your comlink to arrange for the surgery to get underway immediately.

The procedure took nine grueling hours to fully clear out the wound, put in the prosthetic eye and reconstruct the damage to the soldier's facial structure. He stood a good chance of making a full recovery if the cybernetic innervations healed correctly. Now it was just a matter of letting him rest and wake up in his own time.

Most clone troopers in the GAR hospital didn’t get many visitors, most didn’t stay long enough to need visitors though the ones that lived through their ordeals usually recovered on transports back to the front line. But this trooper had a frequent visitor, a Jedi.

“He must be a very good commander for you to check in on him so often,” you comment one afternoon, standing by the door. The tall Kel Dor turned to face you.

“He is. A dutiful, loyal, hardworking commander. But that is not why I come to see him,” he says

“Why then? Certainly a Jedi Master and a General in the Grand Army of the Republic has many duties and responsibilities to see to,” you approach the bed with your tray of fresh wound dressings for his eye.

“The same reason you advocated for him when the Kaminoans wanted to let him die. He is a person. An individual. He is a good man. And he is a member of my team,” he explains while you work to remove the bandages that keep the stitches and cybernetics clean.

“You care for him,” you say with a smile, applying a layer of bacta gel to the stitches with a cotton bud.

“Indeed. I care for him, and all of his brothers that serve under my command. I am not the only one who worries after his health,” The jedi steps around you, trying not to be in the way.

“Well that makes two of us. I don’t even know him, but I want him to live. And not just to keep serving the republic,” you finish applying the bacta gel and begin rewrapping his head with clean bandages.

“You have a good heart doctor, and better view of the troopers than most. I think he’ll like you when he has the chance to formally meet you,” the jedi says

“I should hope so, he’ll have to come back fairly regularly for check ups and case study updates. He’s the first living being with this particular model of prosthesis. If he doesn’t like me, it’ll be a very unpleasant couple months until the study is complete,” you’ve finished wrapping his head, but find you can’t stop looking at his handsome face. True you’ve seen thousands exactly like his before, but right now it’s as if you’ve never seen anyone like him.

“I’ll be the first to admit, he’s stubborn and a bit gruff. But he’s not so bad once you get to know him, he’s fiercely protective and hates to feel weak. This will be a difficult recovery for him, but I have confidence in him. And in you doctor,” you tear your gaze away from the commander and smile at the jedi.

“Thank you master jedi,” you give him a small bow of your head out of respect.

“Plo,” he says “No need for such formalities,” you wonder briefly if he is smiling beneath his deoxygenator, it certainly sounds like it.

“And him? They don’t include their chosen names in their identification codes, just CC and CT numbers. I doubt he goes by his CC number day to day,” you pack away your equipment, unfortunately other patients are waiting, as much as you would love to stay and chat with the kind jedi master. Plo tracks your movements, he senses your rising anxieties about having to leave and attend to other matters in the hospital. Just as you’re about to leave without getting an answer, Plo speaks up.

“His name is Wolffe”

—

Much to your delight, Commander Wolffe does wake up within a few days. And he’s every bit the stubborn, defensive, and unwilling patient Master Plo promised he would be. He keeps getting up and trying to leave despite obviously being in immense physical pain, he’s already ripped his stitches once, and he’s down right refusing to let you get near him to check the wound and change the dressing.

“Commander Wolffe I am at my wits end here. I’m going to step out to allow you a visitor, and when I come back you will be laying on that bed, I am changing those dressings, you are taking your medication. Is that that clear?” You bark at him. He glares at you with his one amber eye but does not respond.

You push the door open and see Master Plo waiting on the other side.

“He’s all yours General, talk some sense into him if you can,” you toss the comment over your shoulder as you head down to the nurses station for a cup of water.

Master Plo enters the patient room, and finds Wolffe pacing against the far wall. His head snaps up, and he visibly struggles to bring the newcomer into his field of vision.

“General!” Wolffe says in surprise, straightening his posture

“Wolffe, your doctor tells me you’re refusing care,” Plo closes the door behind him.

“I should be out there,” Wolffe growls “Kriff… I shouldn’t even be alive right now. They’re keeping me alive to keep me in a box!”

Plo senses that there is something more, something he’s holding back, beyond wanting to be released from med bay.

“You know better than most that withholding the truth can be the determining factor between life and death,” Master Plo says carefully, approaching Wolffe with slow movements “but this truth is one that needs to be shared,”

Wolffe’s shoulders drop and what little color he’s managed to regain drains from his face. His knees give out and he sinks down onto the floor, tears stain both his good cheek and the bandage. Master Plo moves to join him on the floor.

“Good soldiers don’t lay around in hospital beds and weep over superficial pain,” Wolffe says weakly “Soldiers that don’t recover quickly… get decommissioned and sent back to Kamino in a box,”

“You are already recovering quickly, and your doctor can give you something for the pain so you can heal faster,” Plo says cooly “You are not being sent back to Kamino. Your doctor made sure of that,”

“What?” Wolffe was surprised to hear this, up to this point all of his conscious interactions with you had been rather gruff and none too friendly, he can’t imagine why you weren’t doing everything in your power to get him out of your hospital and out of your way.

“A Kaminoan ambassador came to assess treatment at this hospital and saw your condition, they incorrectly assumed that it would be more beneficial to cease all treatment. Your doctor, shall we say, violently disagreed,”

“Violently sir?”

“They were furious she went ahead with the surgery. Believe me, if someone had recorded it on a holo I would show it to you. It was quite the spectacle,” Master Plo laughs “She was adamant that you deserved a fighting chance,”

—

Later that evening after General Plo had left, you returned to Wolffe’s room with a tray of equipment to change his dressings, and medicine to help with the pain.

“Commander Wolffe if I come into this room and you throw something or scream at me, I will have you physically restrained,” you say sharply before fully entering the room. He’s sitting on the bed facing away from the door.

“I won’t yell,” he replies quietly without turning around, his tone is decidedly gentler than before. Whatever the General said to him must have done the trick. You approach him cautiously, rounding the end of his bed so you could get a good look at him. His face is set in a harsh grimace.

“Are you in pain?” You ask. He nods but doesn’t reply. “I am going to change those dressings and we’re gonna test out that new eye. I think with a good dose of anti inflammatory medication, and some intraocular movement you’ll feel better,”

He nods again, you drag a chair over and sit in front of him, he doesn’t bat your hand away when you move to unwrap his bandages. The silvery white cybernetic eye under the protective padding is downcast to match its whiskey gold twin. The stitches are finally healing up with the help of the bacta gel.

“Good news Commander I think you’re healed enough you won’t need a fresh bandage. Now let’s see how well this prosthesis works. Can you look at my nose?” You remove a penlight from your pocket and shine it in each of his eyes.

You run through a series of tests asking him to stare straight ahead at you, follow the light with his eyes, and tell you when he can or can’t see you moving the end of the pen out of his vision. Pressure and tightness on his left side subsides he continues moving his eye around.

“Your reactions look normal, how does it feel?” you click off your penlight and tuck it away.

“Hurts a bit less,” he quietly admits “I’m sorry about before,”

His change in demeanor is a surprise but a welcome one, far better than him trying to escape or aggressively get away from you. You give him a small cup with the anti inflammatory medicine in it, and second small cup with water. He takes the pills without complaint. You remain seated in front of him, to maintain this comfortable closeness.

“It’s okay. I know this isn’t easy,” you give him a sympathetic look.

“General Plo mentioned that you advocated for me, I would be dead if it wasn’t for you…” he falters “thank you,”

That familiar feeling you had before when he was still on life support crept back up on you. Heartbreak for how much he and his brothers have to sacrifice, longing to show him the appreciation he deserves, and something else, something you can’t place.

“This war won’t last forever. You deserve the chance to live in the freedom and peace you fight so hard to protect,”

He’s a bit stunned. Sure he’s heard a handful of politicians advocating for clone rights, but he’s never heard anyone say something like this. He can tell your words are genuine and heartfelt.

“Is there any way I can repay you, or thank you for sticking your neck out for me?” He asks “It takes guts to stand up to those soulless bastards,”

“Well ah… don’t thank me too fast. I know you didn’t exactly sign up for this but your prosthetic is a brand new top of the line prototype. By default you’re a participant in the longitudinal study of its effectiveness,” you admit sheepishly. He raises an eyebrow and peers at you. “On the positive side, you’ll get a bit more shore leave to come in for appointments,”

“Well that’s certainly nothing to complain about. My offer still stands, can I take you out as a thank you?”

You smile warmly and quirk up a brow to match him. “Take me out? Hm… I get off in a couple hours and you’re being discharged from med bay today, I’m game if you give me a chance to run home and ditch my scrubs,”

“It’s a deal,”

#Star Wars #Clone Wars #Commander Wolffe #Wolffe #cc 3636 #commander wolffe x reader #commander Wolffe x fem reader #my clone husband

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iloveitwhen · 4 years ago

Note

jasonette but like siblings but like angst- like that whole trope where they are blood related and got separated, or they didnt get separated idk thats cool too i just want some sibling jasonette😅

Wow. ok. uhmmmm. this is a lot i think?? I got a little jk a lot carried away and this past week was super busy so i’ll finish the second part later??

Again... a lot...

Jason is walking home after another night at the bar when he sees a small woman, teenager? Slip into a dark alleyway and two men follow in after her a few moments later.

Jason curses and bolts across the street, what was this girl thinking? How stupid do you have to be to go into a dark alley where no one will hear you or care to help?

He jumps into the alley to find one man already slumped on himself on the floor and the other getting kicked in the teeth by army boots then falling limply.

Jason curses again, impressed this time. He scans over the men noting that they probably had pretty good concussions judging from the dent in the garbage can the first man was laying next to and the way the second guy’s head smacked onto the concrete when he fell. He lands his eyes back on the woman, no, definitely a teenager, with a smile on his face that instantly falters. The girl is in a fighting stance and waiting for him to attack so he quickly raises his hands to placate her.

“I’m not here to fight you, I saw you get followed and I was coming to help.”

“Nobody helps in Gotham,” she states, a dangerous edge to her voice that held a carefully hidden accent.

“Not from around here, are you?”

The girl narrows her eyes, “I was born and raised here, take a step further and you won’t be waking up tomorrow.”

Jason pockets his hands and smirks. He likes her, she’s a fighter, she reminds him of himself when he was younger.

“Ok. Just make sure you make it home safe. A girl’s going to get some unwanted attention at a time and place like this.” He turns around and crosses the street but as soon as he’s out of her sight he turns back and hides in the shadows to track her and make sure no one else tries to catch her alone. Just because she could handle herself the first time doesn’t mean she’s necessarily safe from the next attempt.

The girl exits the alley and starts toward the direction of Jason’s apartment calmly as if she didn’t just get attacked. At least that means less walking for him. After a few minutes she slips into another dark alley, of course she does, and Jason crosses the street again going into his own empty alley before pulling his helmet on and scaling the building. As he peers over the side of the building his helmet scans the area giving him feedback he would normally miss due to the horrible lighting and telling him that the alley was empty. He figured she had somehow gotten into one of the buildings and decided to go home by rooftops since he was already up there.

However, as he landed on the opposite rooftop his feet slipped from underneath him. Jason managed to roll out of it but before he could get his footing his hip was kicked into and he stumbled, tripped over a seemingly perfectly placed rock and smashed his head on the side of the stair house. Then, just as quickly as this all transpired, there was a body behind him, they hooked their fingers under his helmet and lifted it to expose his neck and press a knife with jagged points onto his neck. How did he know the knife had jagged points? Good question, it was, as previously mentioned, against his neck and piercing into his skin, drawing blood.

“Why are you following me?” a girl’s voice filters through his mask and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His mask let him know through the constant visuals that the voice belonged to a female in their late teens, not that he didn’t already know that.

“Making sure you got home safe,” he says carefully, weighing his options and trying to decide if he should let her feel like she got him or escape with a slight nick on his neck.

Eh. Jason preferred to not have a bleeding neck no matter how small the cut.

“Lies,” she hisses, digging the knife a bit deeper as a warning, maybe getting out sooner was a better idea. “What do you want?”

“Knife off my throat first,” he manages without pushing his neck further onto the blade.

A second later the girl releases him and jumps back with enough space between them to react if he ended up deciding to attack her.

Jason gives her a quick glance as he stands up, a hand to his throat to check for blood.

“I wasn’t lying-”

“You’re not fooling anyone you Red Hood wannabe,” she snaps. Jason just laughs in surprise, no one has ever accused him of being a Red Hood wannabe. He's the one who made the mantle into something to respect, something to fear. He stops laughing and levels a glare at the girl, his helmet telling him unhelpfully there was no match of facial recognition in any database.

“I am Red Hood-” he started to growl out but she cut him off again. The audacity.

“Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught by the person he was trailing, Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught off guard, Red Hood doesn’t have a stupid streak of white hair on his head. He may have been a theatre nerd but he wouldn’t do that.”

Wait what.

“What are you talking about?” But it was more of a demand than a question.

“You’re not…” she trailed off waving her hand in the air trying to find a word, “slick. Same jacket, same shoes, same build, yeah. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“Ok. Whatever, I’m going home.” He turns and starts jogging across the rooftop towards home. So much for helping out.

“Where is he?” she calls out after him.

“Right here, princess,” he spat before jumping to the other rooftop.

But as soon as his feet leave the building a big dark blue warbly hole appears and swallows him before he can react. Unfortunately for him the other side of that weird black hole was a face full of concrete.

“Prove you’re him.”

Oh this girl was something else. Jason shakes his disorientation away, he didn’t know how she did that, nor did he care but he was pissed. He swings his foot around and connects with her ankle, she falls as expected but easily bounces right back up and hops out of his range.

“Do that again and I’ll have to break my no killing kids rule,” he growls out, staring her down for a moment. Her face was finally lit by the dim yellow street lamps and he could see the entirety of her face and all the raw emotions she was trying to hide. For a split second familiarity passed through him, like when you see someone at the library then at the store a few weeks later or you see an old school friend ten years later and can’t quite place them. Jason dismisses the feeling and turns to go.

“Wait.” She says it so vulnerably that Jason gives her a chance, when he turns she pulls up her sleeve and shows off her forearm.

In the center of her arm is a faded black tattoo that was a writing symbol, but because of its name and one of its uses it was used to brand child soldiers in Gotham from a particular gang that Red Hood obliterated as soon as his first order of business in Gotham.

‡

It was the double dagger, or better known in Gotham as the death dagger. The children were expendable although highly trained and dangerous, they could give Damian a run for his money in the child assassin department. The tattoo was a reminder to the children and to the people they came across that they were soulless, emotionless, their lives and actions were not their own and they would give their lives willingly for the mission

Meaning who they were before was dead. No family, no connections, no one would notice if they went missing and no one would be able to identify their bodies if and when the time came. Sometimes poor families would sell one of their children and promise to forget them and to never contact them.

Jason was led to assume that this was another child soldier looking to thank him, or kill him. It was 50/50 these days, some of those kids just never recovered.

“So what is it that you want? You want my autograph across your head?” Jason asks dryly.

The girl just huffs and pulls her sleeve back down.

“I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.”

I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.

The words struck Jason deep in his chest but it only fueled his anger. He didn’t know why that hit so deep but he was not in the mood for this nor would he be at any time.

“Just because I ended that gang doesn’t mean we’re family. Go find your other assassin siblings to play house with.”

“Annette,” she calls after as he turns his back again. A strike of familiarity pulses through him and when he hesitates she continues, “that was my name before I was initiated. I was one of the first. Daddy’s little girl,” she was still talking louder than necessary since he hadn’t turned back around. “I’m the only one left from The 13.”

Right. The 13. That’s what everyone called the first batch even as they were killed off, they were the most ruthless being the oldest and were also the most aggressive in proving their worth. It was common to find a number from 1-13 placed strategically behind at the crime scene, whoever had the most successful missions would be highly rewarded, or so he was told.

“Do you remember?”

“I remember destroying that gang and their stupid leader and having to kill some of your little friends and I also remember The 13 died within the first year and a half and were easily replaced by their younger friends.”

“Do you remember me?”

“Look, kid,” he finally turns to look at her, “I don’t care, ok? Yay whoopdeedoo I saved you, get in line. It’s what I do, kill bad people and let the rest walk away. You’re not special.”

“Annette Marie Todd,” she says hurriedly, like it’s a last resort. “Jason Peter Todd,” she continues, “just you. Me. And a blitzed out Mom.”

Jason did not like this, he knew the Dagger Children were ruthless and expert manipulators but this was pushing it. He spun around to face her, ripping off his helmet, she already knew what he looked like and it was in the way of his death glare.

“You don’t know who you are messing with. If you really were a Dagger you’d know that I am not one to be fucked with.” He slides his helmet back on and without a backward glance he runs off to the next roof and continues home. Thankfully not another portal thing opens up in front of him.

———————————

Jason didn’t have a sister. He did not have a sister. He would remember having a sister. He would remember having a Dagger for a sister. But Annette was such a familiar name. And she had said her name was Annette Marie Todd. Todd.

No that’s stupid. Impossible. She was just messing with him, for all he knew she could have been subtly showing her face in random places for him to react to the familiarity of her face and she could have said the name sometime in the last few months for him to vaguely recognize the sound of her name but not place it.

But the Lazarus pit did alter his memories from childhood, it was like looking through a fog of red anger, or maybe it was always like that even before the pit, and it also completely wiped out other parts of his memory. But a sister? No. No way.

Hours of this, circling around the possibilities and shifting around on his bed trying to get comfortable until he finally drifted off in a very restless sleep.

Jason found himself in a familiar apartment, the one he lived in before his “mother” died. He looked around and it was more of the feeling of familiarity that convinced him where he was than anything else. He steps aside for a younger version of himself to run by him and turns to the window that led out to the fire escape and watches him climb out of it and close the window. Jason turns back around to see what Young Jason was hiding from. A man hands a thick envelope to his mother, Catherine Todd who had wrapped herself in a thin silk robe, her bony frame visible as well as her happy focus on the money inside that envelope. Jason couldn’t make out the man’s face but he turned around and grabbed the small hand of a little girl in pigtails. She turned her head and faced the window sending a smile but he couldn’t quite make out her face so he instead turned to himself sitting outside.

As he turned his surroundings changed but in his dreamstate he paid no mind to it. This time he was standing in an aisle of a store as a child. He looked around and found his mother dressed embarrassingly in a thin tank top and ragged jeans and flip flops. He feels a squeeze of his hand and looks down, his little sister is looking up at him and pointing to a rack of stuffed animals of Clifford the Big Red Dog that were suddenly there. He sends her a smile and looks up, intent on catching up with his mother and asking her to buy one but as he chases her his intent slips from his mind and instead he wants to taste the cupcakes he just saw. He opens a case and takes a bite but yelling makes him turn around and there is Batman towering over him. Instead of a tasty cupcake he is holding something thick and metal, a crowbar. He throws it at the man and turns to run away and jumps out of the parking garage and jumps into the air flying up. But he’s too slow, he tries kicking and swimming in the air to propel himself further away from Batman but a hand wraps around his foot.

Jason jerks awake, breathing heavy and feeling uncomfortably hot. This was much more mild than his usual nightmares, if it could even be called a nightmare, but it was bad in a different way. It wasn’t unusual for Jason to be getting chased in his dreams by one thing or another and it always ended before whatever or whoever was chasing him got him but it was getting a little old honestly.

His head was pounding so he slipped out of bed and poured himself a glass of water from the kitchen. As he takes a sip he recalls his dream and how he had looked down at his sister. But that couldn’t be right.

A searing pain in his head forces him to tighten his grip on his cup before it goes away again. Stupid head. Stupid dream. Stupid girl trying to get in his head.

As he lays back down a memory of clear grey eyes flashes across his mind’s eye.

---

Throughout the next few days Jason tries to ignore the headaches and his dreams of the young black haired girl with grey eyes and of getting chased which was more frequent and more urgent than he remembered them being. It was just all a big waste of time. At least the Dagger girl wasn’t trying to find him anymore, he didn’t know how he would react if she showed up again.

After another dream of getting chased, this time he was just so tired of it he got a few good punches in on the Bane/Joker demon that was chasing him when his phone buzzes, startling him awake. He ignores it in favor of a cup of coffee and checks the time on the oven that he never uses, it’s almost two o’clock.

His phone buzzes again several more times in quick succession. He finally heads over and clicks his phone on to see five messages from Stephanie.

Replacement’s replacement🤰

so u have a little sister and u never told me???

anyways shes at the big house and getting interrogated by bruce and i think hes ready to adopt her

hello

so rude

i mean it looks to me shes tellin the truth but like seems sus for obvious reasons and ur the only one that'll actually know so… hurry up??

Jason curses and rushes to grab his things before running outside and zooming to the Wayne Manor on his motorcycle.

welp i’ll add with another part soon that i havent finished yet but anywho let me know if jason is too ooc or something😁😁

#sibling jasonette #maribat #this is real late #sorry about it #is it angsty??#im not that great at angst #also tumblr was not letting me use the cool version of that symbol #just rude #btw I edited this feb.23 just so you know but not very big changes #i dont know if you care or not

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thedeviljudges · 3 years ago

Text

the devil judge + the seven deadly sins

so, i made a gifset about who i thought falls under the seven deadly sins. and also shameless plug - please go reblog the gifset i made for this. took me ages to do.

but i figured i might as well make a meta post to correlate. so this is that post. it’s not everything i could discuss. i could be here for hours more, truth be told. but i hope it’s enough to chew on.

while i feel like a lot of these are going to be a no-brainer, i still want to talk it through because idk. i can, and i want to, and i feel like it, lmao.

gluttony

the elite are privileged and have an opportunity to indulge so much more than the general public, but in many different ways. this is shown throughout the show in the fact that they can indulge on luxury food, have political power, they can make a phone call or snap their fingers and everyone must follow their orders.

and the thing about gluttony is that there is always more to be had. you take a little and then realize it’s not enough and so you ask for more. case in point: in episode 11 when sunah suggests that yohan could be the new president, the current one gives her an alternative: dictatorship. because it wasn’t just enough for him to be an actor and the presiding president.

you’ll also know they turn in on themselves - the two other guys in the elite group. one who owns the company and the other dude - i really cannot remember their names and what they do, but y’all know who i’m talking about. it was so easy for them, when threatened, to fabricate documents to give to yohan about each other in order to get ahead. gluttony is only shared in the relationships we have until one realizes they can take a little extra of the pie. it’s the selfishness of having all the leftovers. gluttony cannot necessarily exist without someone else’s sacrifice.

lust

i kind of had an ah-ah moment when i was talking this over with @technitango. i was trying to decide who was going to be lust because lust is portrayed very, very differently in this show than what most of us are used to. we, of course, know sunah who lusts after a life of indulgence and riches because she equates that with respect more than actually wanting it because it’s monetarily worth something.

but then i realized the public is lust because of their need for justice. i won’t say revenge necessarily because they’re doing as they’re told when given the judge show. but we can quickly see how that evaporates into something akin to bloodlust, for criminals and people who normally get away with shit, to have their fair taste at conviction for their misdeeds. we even see it with yohan’s fanboy club - the lust that comes from adoration and dedication.

and even more so, the public is easily swayed and so is the nature of lust. it follows in the vein of needs and wants, and as soon as new information is presented, however may false, so does the wants and desires of what people want sway. how easy was it for them to turn on yohan for a split second on two occasions - on two accounts of bribery.

envy

envy, above all, is about wanting what others have because you do not have it yourself. it may not be exactly what they have, but a form of it. some people don’t necessarily want money - they want what it can by, which is time, health and material goods.

sunah is the perfect example of this. she envies respect and recognition. she talks about bright and shiny objects, and that’s true to her kleptomania tendences, but more than anything, she wants to be seen as an equal because being poor with a vastly different upbringing means she’s looked down upon by those she thinks matters.

which also begs the question why she feels the need to seek validation from people in higher statuses to begin with when she can be the exception and not the rule - form her own understanding and environment to show others that the typical way of the elite is not actually all it’s cracked up to be - to which we see when she has no one to celebrate her victory with. it’s lonely being at the top. you get to your goal you thought you wanted but then what?

more importantly, sunah also envies family, relationships and simply put, human interaction. she wants to be cared for and treasured, and she looks for that in her position of power. because then all eyes are on you. because then that’s what people care about. what she fails to see is that those eyes are just as fruitless and just as wavering. to be a leader means people loving the idea of you but not you as a person.

“people of envious nature are sometimes stimulated to seek to emulate those who have completed some great achievements and in doing so achieve something great for themselves,” according to Understanding Philosophy.

wrath

while i realize that gaon not might entirely fit the wrath trope, he certainly has his moments, and i think he’s lived with a tampered flame since his parent’s death. he just learned to briefly put it out in the form of distractions and a false sense of righteousness and justice. it isn’t until he meets yohan that someone finally gives him the okay to feel the entirety of his emotions, that lets him breath and tells him it’s okay to feel anger and hurt. and while gaon ultimately chooses not to exact revenge, his wrath is what led him to becoming a judge and walking away from his teenage crimality.

gaon transposed his wrath into seeking justice, transformed it into livelihood, and reformed his narrative so that he was no longer angry and a teen with rash emotions. it was simply redirected and never really forgotten. yohan turned that redirection back around onto gaon’s ultimate heartache. fueled with that, it became easier to justify himself and his actions.

the most pivotal moment of turning his back on this mindset is, of course, the minister’s suicide, where he takes a good look at himself and doesn’t like what he sees. at this point, gaon’s upset isn’t necessarily at yohan but at the situation in which they got themselves into. because the thing is, gaon doesn’t absolve himself from what they did. he doesn’t turn a blind eye to that and try to dismiss it. he owns up to what happened and confesses how he feels to yohan and how he has to leave for his own good, and in some indirect way, for yohan’s, too.

with yohan, his ultimately weakness, despite never admitting to it, is family. his wrath comes in the form of anger when the ones he loves are threatened. yohan lives by a moral code of loyalty because that means you won’t be abandoned, and as a child who lived with that verdict since the day he was born, it’s an ever-pressing theme of his.

thing is, wrath comes in two particular forms for yohan. again, one is family and the second is the rose-colored glasses he’s given himself in his revenge story. he’s always had a goal to presumably make right the wrong for taking away isaac, but within that, 10 years is a long time to plot revenge, to the point where it becomes so much easier to lose yourself to that, to become enraged with it and forget the initial goal all along. we see this in his inability to form the bonding moments needed with his niece and his casual throwaway comments over people’s lives - the comment he made to gaon about moving on to the next plan, and the ultimately nail in the coffin of pushing gaon to leaving him.

his fury has also led him to convince himself his own humanity is nothing short of a lie. therefore, it’s easier to justify the means to an end because of his own self-worth and self-deprecation. it’s almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy: he even admitted to gaon’s mentor that he is an abyss. he’s referred to himself as nothing but an animal or a monster - all characteristics of despondency to survive and to justify what he’s doing. sort of like a catch 22, yohan claims he’s an animal/monster and behaves as such, but because he behaves as such, it means he’s an animal/monster.

wrath for gaon and yohan are very different yet the same. they are slow-burning, and that’s a dangerous type. it’s actually interesting when you think about the fire imagery surrounding the two of them because flames are quick to lap at anything in its wake, to destroy within a matter of minutes. and yet for the two of these men, their internal fire eats them from the inside out, painfully, until they’re almost unrecognizable to others and to themselves.

sloth

sloth was a little more difficult to pinpoint because of its characteristics. it was either the minister versus the mentor, both of which i think could work in this role. however, i chose the minister simply because she’s featured more and intertwines heavily with the plot line.

soth is a medieval translation of the Latin term acedia, meaning “without care.”

the ultimate characteristic of sloth is often identified as laziness, and while it’s easy to argue that the minister hasn’t been lazy in her ability to get where she is, she became as much when she started lying to get to her position. isn’t lying known as the easier way out? it absolves you of responsibility, of putting in the hard work, of apologizing and making things right. in the end, she had a goal and found the easiest solution to get there through her lack of responsibility for the roles she more than likely swore an oath to.

but that also translates into the other attributes of sloth: a failure to do the right thing, lack of emotions for people or of the self, and the fact that it “hinders man in his righteous undertakings and thus becomes a terrible source of man’s undoing” according to The Seven Deadly Sins: Society and Evil.

while i think there are a lot of components of sloth that may not necessarily fit the minister, the apathy and carelessness are enough to showcase her aggression, despondency and restlessness when what little efforts she does put in do not go her way. another interesting thing to note is that many of sloth’s traits correspond with symptoms of mental illness, such as depression and anxiety. it’s an interesting thing to note given the way the minister chooses to end her life.

greed

i don’t know that jinjoo would’ve had any provocation to the limelight if it wasn’t for sunah’s direction, but she’s eager to please and wants to be useful. it’s only natural for her to want more because it’s clear she’s a career woman, loves her job and has a heart for serving the people.

but like gluttony, greed is also that little thing that plants itself and can take on a life of its own. you start looking for justifications as to why you can’t have more than what you do, and in jinjoo’s situation, she’s already overlooked through no fault of her own. and it’s not that gaon and yohan are doing it purposefully, which is what makes their neglect heartbreaking, because truthfully, they’re after the same thing jinoo is. sure, it looks different and the foundation of it is different, same with their motives. but they’re all three judges on a residing bench working to exact justice - even if all three of them have their own personal agenda.

i don’t think jinoo fully aligns with greed, but she does want more for herself, and i think that’s only natural. you can tell she has a heart, and she’s keen not to be overlooked. this isn’t her pain point so much as it is she knows her worth and is more than ready to do what it takes to get where she wants. this, in and of itself, isn’t necessarily a bad trait, but we can see how it leads to being deceived, especially for someone who’s been left in the dark for so long.

she is enticed by the glitz and the glamour of being a head judge, but you can tell she feels some remorse and guilt for those thoughts at times. i think her sense of greed is a battle within herself more than it is extremely outwardly.

pride

soohyun’s pride comes in the form of her imbalance with right and wrong. her sense of righteousness and justice is so far leaning, even more than gaon’s. it can be chalked up to her being a cop, but we’ve seen instances of this outside of her role within that agency. her pride doesn’t let her see beyond saving gaon and getting to the bottom of every mystery that comes her way.

it also comes in the form of impulsiveness and her savior complex, putting elijah in danger, for example, instead of waiting for backup. it’s not necessarily from a belief that she can fix things all on her own, but she sees injustice and immediately jumps in. another case in point is her and gaon watching yohan wreck the minister’s son’s car. she’s ready to go stop him, but gaon pulls her back, most likely because at that point, they hadn’t been observing the situation for very long to get a read on it. also the fact that at that point, neither of them truly knew yohan and his capabilities.

but as to where her characteristics come from, we simply don’t know beyond that of gaon. it’s unfortunate because we don’t have much of her backstory, so there is no real understanding why she so firmly believes in entities of regulation beyond keeping her friend out of jail. she prides herself on her work and what she’s able to accomplish, which is why it’s devastating to her to have to protect gaon by cleaning up his bloody handprint.

aristotle is of the belief that, “pride, then, seems to be a sort of crown of the virtues; for it makes them greater, and it is not found without them. Therefore it is hard to be truly proud; for it is impossible without nobility and goodness of character,” from Nicomachean Ethics.

but pride for soohyun isn’t about honors or rewards. it’s for herself and her capabilities, her ability to protect gaon, and the virtues she’s set as the precedent for herself. because sometimes it’s not even about establishing morals and ethics upon yourself. it’s about feelings/intuition, logic and observation. and no, i don’t mean the feelings she has for gaon. there are things that humans do, both actions and words, that we inherently know are bad without someone telling us as much and without the rules of the world seared into our brains. there are some things we know, for a fact, are wrong to us as individuals.

for soohyun, she knows that gaon’s actions, and even her own, have consequences. from what we’ve seen, i think it can be argued that it’s really about not doing those actions to prevent an outcome - not necessarily from a place of being just and right. that doesn’t mean she doesn’t understand good morals/ethics, but again, we have no background of what her internal guidance actually is.

to put this in layman’s terms, we’ll use gaon wanting to stab the conman in his youth. soohyun knows it’s wrong because it will incriminate gaon and therefore she stops it. gaon’s gone to her because he sees her as a moral compass. but is her own internal navigation rooted in justice the way gaon had to find it in the judicial system, or is hers rooted in her pride of keeping gaon safe? she stops him from doing things that will get him in trouble, but is she stopping him because the action itself is wrong or because the outcome will result in undesirable consequences for the two of them?

and of course, there is a flipped argument to be had there - i’m not arguing that gaon stabbing the conman would be right or justified. but what i am saying is that for her, her worldview is the only right one, and when anyone steps out of that, even gaon, it becomes a bit of an issue: the pride she has for that is palpable.

every character indulges

truthfully, every character has at least one form of these sins rooted in their characterization. some are larger than others, but the breadth of it can be explored even further for each. and that’s what makes them more realistic and not just characters written on a page or following a linear progression of their writing deity.

the seven deadly sins are also notoriously rooted in religion. they’re also a defining feature of aristotle’s works that represent the golden mean, in which each vice is parallel to a virtue.

the devil judge is so layered, but i think at the heart of it, it’s about humanity at its core. sprinked in are the philosophies and contradictions and what it means to look in the mirror, what happens when we’re blind to seeing our true selves and most importantly, how much changes when we’re swayed by our own misgivings. it really asks us to understand nature versus nurture, that people must find a belief in something to keep them going, and how futile our hopes and desires can actually be if we’re not carefully regulating ourselves, nevermind the entities established by society to regulate us, too.

the entirety of the show genuinely begs the question as to who is truly right, who is truly wrong, and if it’s even possible to find the correct answer.

#x #the devil judge #the devil judge meta #*#*the devil judge #so i have some Thoughts #probably not very good ones but ya know

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