#and i SHOULD HAVE gotten the hint of ‘i’m not trying to insult you for having fun but idk what to say’

[hardyshoe]

Sonnenblumen, chapter nine - Poppies, for consolation.

Masterlist

Also posted on AO3 - here.

⚘⚘⚘

 My sunflower, 

 I am writing to you on the train back to London and I shall post this before I get into the car on the other side. I hope it arrives quickly, I want you to know how much I miss you already and that I am thinking of you. I always am. 

 Mother is trying to read what I am writing through the paper, she looks vexed, though that is sort of just how she looks. She keeps making snippy comments when the silence has stretched on too long. She called you ‘headstrong’ which she meant as an insult but I am inclined to agree with her. You were wonderful, truly. No one has ever gotten under her skin like that. I will write more on this when I am alone, until then I will think about the look in your eyes when you spoke to her and smile to myself with almost hysterical glee.

 It will no doubt amuse you to know that Daeron has been singing your praises since we left school, much to mother’s chagrin. He has also been reading this (or trying to, he is struggling with my chicken scratch), over my shoulder and would like to add something. 

 ‘Dear Miss sunflower, thank you for letting me stay in your house and letting me look after Rosy bear. My hands feel much better already! Sorry that I stole your mummy’s handkerchief, it was an accident but Aegon says you wont mind. See you soon!’

 You will see that he made me try and write neater because he can’t hold the pen himself right now and his handwriting is apparently much better than mine. He really is very fond of you. Wise boy if you ask me. 

 Anyway, I will finish here, I have more I want to say but Daeron is being nosy. I should only be gone a week, and though it feels insurmountable now, it could be worse. I am going to search Aemond’s rooms for your letters when I get to the house, he is not as subtle as he likes to think. Until I hear from you, or go crazy enough to send you another letter straight away,

 Your Aegon. 

P.S. Daeron insisted on drawing

 a picture for you. It is his Tessarion

 and Rosy bear. I think. 

⚘⚘⚘

 He is right about his handwriting, it's messy as all hell and written on a complete wonk. Images of too-large jumpers and a cluttered dorm swim into your mind affectionately. Daeron’s little drawing is similarly abstract, you think you can make out Rosy bear’s ears although they are bisected harshly by a line of ink, clearly the product of the train jolting on the tracks. 

 You read it six times, cheeks stinging with the intensity of your smile.

 “Letter?” your mother pries over her morning porridge. You’re entirely too giddy to feign annoyance over her intrusion. 

 “From Aegon,” you say, flipping the page in her favour to show her briefly. Her eyes widen a touch at the length and the state of the script, when she reaches the end she raises a brow at the drawing, “and Daeron.”

 She chuckles and returns to her breakfast. There is a hint of relief in her shoulders and when you are halfway through another reading of the letter, she speaks again. “I’m glad it worked out.”

 “Me too, mum.”

 Her smile pinches a little at her eyes when you look at her, “just know that, if those are the lengths they will go to just to interfere, be wary of what else they might do.”

 You open your mouth to speak but she holds up a hand, “I am not trying to warn you off, my girl. God knows I couldn’t even if I tried. I am merely saying that some people are best held at arm's length.”

 “I am not trying to befriend Mrs Targaryen, nor Aemond,” You say sourly. The very idea of playing nice with them has you feeling that familiar burning irritation. 

 She laughs, “I think you would struggle.”

 It takes a second for you to simmer through your rage but her laughter soo has you cracking into fits of giggles too. She reaches for you and clasps your hands over the letter on the table, recovering before she speaks. “I hope you know how proud I am of you, how proud your father is too.”

 “For what?” You ask, confused. 

 She shakes her head, muttering something you cannot catch under her breath. “For sticking by him, even when you thought he had done you wrong.”

 “He needed help-” you begin.

 “And most people would not have been able to look past their pain enough to give it.” She is tracing the veins on the back of your hand like she used to do when you were a child. “Nor would they have seen how desperately he needed it in the first place.”

 You feel so very little then, like you couldn't be trusted to leave the house without wellies on if it were raining or would still instinctively reach for hand to hold when crossing the road. You are struck with a memory, one of your earliest, you pushing a tine pram around the pub with Rosy bear sitting inside. You had shown her to every person in the pub and nodded at them with an exaggerated politeness when you had bid them farewell, one of your mother’s hats falling low over your eyes. 

 Now, you can almost feel the bakelite handle in your grasp, feel the sole loose screw clicking and spinning under the side of your thumb as you lose balance on uneasy legs not yet well practiced enough for grace. 

 “I just hope he knows what a special thing you are.”

 Your finger sits on his nearly memorised letter, the lines that are worming their way into your very being. 

   “He does,” you assure her. 

 “Then I am satisfied,” she says, holding your hand the whole time it takes her to finish her porridge. 

⚘⚘⚘

 Barbara comes in on Wednesday morning, bringing pastries from the café and news that Joan is still in employment, she has a slightly stunned look on her face with that revelation. When she sits though, it morphs into a stern assessment that tells you to explain what the hell you are still doing sitting across from her on the bench that has blackened at the seam with remnant coal dust. 

 You explain what had happened, voice rising shrilly with each sardonic rise of her brow and tightening of her crossed arms. “I am going! I promise I am, that has not changed,” the dubious glint in her eyes does not diminish, “I just couldn’t, not after that. Surely you understand I couldn’t leave him or Daeron in that state.”

 “I will not watch you get stuck here because of him,” she warns. 

 “You say that like you’re trying to get rid of me,” you joke, the jibe is light but Barbara shakes her head seriously. In her bag you can see her mother’s prescription tucked in between her shopping. The brown glass bottle with its shiny white plastic lid stands out harshly against the tomatoes and beans. Your attempt at levity goes down like a lead balloon. 

 “I can’t go without him,” you tell her, voice low but serious. It is a sentiment you have not spoken aloud before yet it is a truth you have known for some time. The sound of the words hanging in the mixed air of the pub, heavy with the particles of dust and old comfort, feels so achingly solid. “Anywhere I went I would spend every moment trying to fill the space beside me that he should be taking up.”

 For a minute or so, she just stares at you, a little absent behind the eyes as her fingers dig around the thin silver christening band on her fine wrist. You squint your eyes a little and you think you can make out the delicate inscription between the tiny scrapes and dents of a lifetime of wear. The sloping italicised writing is familiar when you finally understand it, Mary Elizabeth Crillen. 

 “You love him,” she says, no question in it, just a statement of truth.

 You don’t feel the need to answer in such simple terms as yes or no. Barbara can see your reply in the very way you are. “Would you think me naïve if I told you I knew this is it for me? When he is here I think I could stay a little longer, I am not saying I will!” You add on quickly when she opens her mouth to start up again. “But sometimes, when he is here, I know that he is half of what I have been missing all this time.”

 You think she will be skeptical, think you are blindsided and foolish. Barbara has always been so logical and pragmatic, working in sureties, things that were probable and definitive. 

 And yet, “I don't think you are naïve.”

 She is as light in tone as you have ever known her, voice scraping every so lightly on her vocal chords and giving her a gentle, reverent rasp. You know she understands and it nearly kills you how much you wish it was not the pain of longing she knew but the ecstasy of hope. 

 “Barbara-”

 “Don’t, please,” she cuts you off quickly, eyes flicking to yours and head jerking in dissent. “My situation is what it is, I cannot do a thing to change it and neither can you. Yours is not the same and if you squander your chance to be buried in ground that isn’t laced with the same miseries you have spent your entire life dreaming of shaking off I will never forgive you.”

 In the time between your eyes meeting and the seriousness dropping into your stomach, it takes all you have not to sob. For her and for yourself and the impossibility still of leaving your parents behind. 

 “Do not let yourself down,” she says finally. 

 “I-,” you start, choking a little, “I won’t, Barbara.”

 “Promise me,” she demands. Behind your blinking eyes, a visage of a gangly girl with legs too long and eyes too dark flickers in your mind, how she used to sit on the ground of the little school courtyard with the backs of her legs going red and speckled with imprints of concrete just because Mary liked to spend hours plaiting and unplaiting her thick dark hair. You can still remember the severity beyond age in her voice when she had shaken your hand on a promise to send her a postcard from Paris one day. 

 “I promise.”

 She nods and finally tears the corner off of her flaky croissant, the little scraps of pastry tumbling across the willow print plate you fetched her from the kitchen. 

 “You could hire someone to-” 

 She says your name quietly, with all the gravity of a fallen tombstone. “I know how you are, it is what makes you so brilliant, but you can’t fix this. One day it will be okay, but if I wish for that day to come any sooner than it is supposed to I would be a horrible person.”

 The horrible vision of someone living their life for someone else sends a cold fissure of dread down your spine and you feel selfish for being upset on her behalf. 

 “Okay,” you say simply. 

 The ale pumps shine in the yellow overhead lights and one of them is being hit at such an angle that it tweaks in the corner of your vision. 

 “Mary wants to be a chemist in Manchester, it’s not so far from here and she will be done with at St. Andrews in a few years.” She slips in her delicacy when she stirs her tea, spoon clanging against the side. “The leading professor of mathematics at the university says I show a lot of promise.”

 There lies her hope, bare and obvious in the tiny smile at the side of her red painted lips. Living for an eventuality. 

 “Of course you do, you have a mind beyond what I can even comprehend.” You really mean it, she is wickedly intelligent. She used to run laps around the sweet old teacher who did maths in the upper half of the village school. 

 Barbara goes a little pink in the cheeks and you smile, it isn’t that she is insecure about her mind rather that it is the only compliment you could pay her that would really mean anything.

 “Yes, well, it is not for certain but…”

 “It’s something,” you finish for her and she nods down at her plate. 

 Across the room, the swinging door to the back of the bar flaps in a great swish of air. The clock is nearing eleven and the old group will be in soon, days unfilled with the mentalities of work and labour they surrender themselves to the familiarities of each other's old stories and mournful jokes. There is a thinly worn patch of the carpet at the corner of the bar where they congregate, a bit of the faded red and green floral repetition that had given way to a threadbare glimpse of the beige threads and glue holding it to the floorboards. A testament to monotony.

 When Barbara goes, she tells you she will be back later with Joan and Marlene, if her husband will look after Elsie for the evening, you agree and let her go with a weight still stretching between the two of you. The little pills in her back rattle as she walks to the door and the sound seems to clamour louder when the door has shut behind her.

⚘⚘⚘

 My dear sunflower,

 Bad news. I hate to start my letter like this but it is all I can think of. I am not hurt, do not worry about that, but I will not be coming back up before the hols. Daeron will, he was only given a week's suspension but they gave me two and it was decided that it would be ‘for the best’ if I did not return for the week and a half before school breaks up. I fought like hell, I want you to know that. I didn’t know what else to do, I do not want to be there but I want to be here even less. 

 Otto smacked me and I left it for a while but I am going to keep trying. I am also going to send your Christmas present with this, since I am not sure I will be able to give it to you myself anytime soon. I hope you like it. 

 I have been spending time with Helaena now that I am here, she asks for stories about you when we are sitting under the tree in the garden. She likes that I call you what I do, she likes the sound of you very much. She and I planted some sunflower seeds down the end of the garden, she says they will only take a few weeks to bloom then I can watch them from my window and think of you when they dance in the sunlight. 

 I miss you, I have been keeping your last letter in my pocket since it arrived and I take it out to read every time the distance starts to itch at my joints. I am still looking for your others, I will find them, it is about all I am thinking of in the quiet moments alone. 

 I look forward to hearing from you, you cannot know how nice it is to be sure you will write again. nor how miraculous it is that I am sure at all.

 Your Aegon

P.S. I wrote the notes many moons ago

 but I have not changed them, I still mean

Every word.

⚘⚘⚘

 His second letter arrived a week and a half after he left you. You know, by now, that Daeron is back at the school. A fact that haunts you as you try to sleep every night, but Aegon is still down in London, still further than you can reach him. Even after so little time, the worry is creeping on you at the tone of his letter. 

You stare at the door still, on Wednesdays and Fridays when he should be there but isn’t. It is not that you think he is going to be just that you cannot stop searching for him when he is not around. The Easter holidays are a week away when it comes and you feel a bit of dread at the thought of not seeing him for another month still. 

 It arrives mid-morning, the postie lugging it with a thick parcel wrapped in brown paper, the two bound together with a looping white string tied in a haphazard bow. You read the letter first, though that creeping excitement of a present itches at you and reminds you of your birthdays as a little girl. How you would open your cards first, saving the biggest present for last always. 

 The paper is waxy under your fingers and you prise the shiny sellotape from it in a line of scraping paper that leaves behind an imprint of a perforated edge. It is not wrapped neatly, too much paper wrapped around the object itself that it takes you a few minutes to get into it as you fiddle around on the creased yellow sheets of your unmade bed. 

 It gives way to an unassuming grey cover with a white cotton binding on the spine. You find the lettering of the title is depressed when your fingers skirt on the dull roughness of the paper finish, ‘The story of art in photographs’. The words themselves spike excitement in you but when you open the cover your heart leaps.

 ‘Merry Christmas sunflower, one day I will take you to see every work in this book but, for now, this will have to do.’ 

 Over the page you turn to a photograph of a crouching Hellenistic statue of Aphrodite. She is beautiful and feminine in a raw way, her pose highlighting the folds of the curve of her abdomen and the deep setting of her absentminded eyes. It is the margin of the page that catches your eye though.

 His messy handwriting coats the glossy page in a dull matte of blue ink, your fingernails change pitch when it crosses the border between the two. ‘I see you in the look in her eyes, the way you looked at me when I first told you about my family.”

 It stuns you nearly to death, you feel your heart stop and stutter back into rhythm. You read and re-read the message. When you slide your finger between the pages to flip to the next it slides with uncomfortable speed against your cuticle in a close warning of a papercut. 

 The next is a photograph of the Caryatids of the Acropolis, the draped women forever holding up a roof that crumbled thousands of years ago. They catch your mind as they always have, a timeless companionship stretching between you and them. Then you see it, lining the grey border of the photograph, ‘You would fit among them, with your blazing strength. I would hold Athens up for you, when I see them I think you would for me too.’

 And so it continues, an almost hysterical searching of the shiny blank edges of the photographs for his words. Each page reveals a different version of yourself that he has played witness to and somehow, every version is the person you had seen in yourself when you had first seen each painting. 

 The way Constanza Trenta reaches for her husband, even in death, in ‘the Arnolfini portrait’, ‘how his hand looks for hers in the air, it is how I always feel when you are further than I can reach.’

 "Something in the pearl makes me think of your face, I do not know exactly what but I think it is how you shine against the darkness,” is written on the page of Vermeer’s ‘Girl with the pearl earring’.

 Every little note sends you into a deeper spiral and you have to run the harsh knit of your cardigan under your eyes to stop the fat tears from splashing onto the beautiful pages. You follow a path of his perception of you like it was a painting of your face done in his hand. You have never been so touched in your life, so bowled over by feeling. 

 You love him and you haven’t told him yet. You love him and he sees you in the water of Monet’s painting of the Thames. You love him and he is reminded of the bones of your spine when he looks at Egon Schiele’s sketches of the human form. You love him and he is not here. You love him and he is miles away and you are worried sick that he is hardly okay. 

 ⚘⚘⚘

 My dear sunflower, 

 I am so glad you liked the book, it has brought me joy to think of you happy. I am glad of that at least. I miss you terribly and the flowers at the end of the garden are still only stems. I have been spending a lot of time in my mother’s little gallery room, no one ever goes in there unless she is hosting and the privacy is nice. I know it would make you sad to think of the paintings not being looked at all so I have been going in there to think of you. 

 I do not want to be here anymore, it's been three weeks and I cannot do another four. I know I cannot. I hope you do not think I am weak for that. Last night I snuck out after supper and walked until I got lost. It was an embarrassingly short amount of time and it took me nearly an hour to find my way home. Knowing you and seeing how big the world is through your eyes has made me glaringly aware of how little mine is, just how much there is that I have not seen because I haven’t pushed against the walls I have been put in here enough. It is not your fault, do not think it is a bad thing, but I feel so claustrophobic here now. More so than before, I used to want to leave because I didn’t like it and I wanted to get away from Otto and my mother, not have to watch my father decaying at the dinner table. Now I struggle to sleep because I have this irrational notion that the walls are going to cave in on me and trap me in the rubble forever. 

 Am I going mad, do you think? Sorry if I am and you are being subjected to my nutty ramblings. I think if I did lose it I know I would hallucinate you here with me, and sometimes I long for that in a way that frightens me. 

 I made Aemond give me your letters, I could not find them for the life of me. I am so sorry he did what he did, your words were so beautiful and it hurts to read your pain at his hands. I miss you sunflower, I miss feeling like a real person instead of a shade of failure. 

 Sorry that this is such a miserable letter, I will be okay, I do not want you worrying. Daeron is back now and he and I have been playing knights in the garden where Mother won’t shout at us for the racket. It takes my mind off things a bit, seeing him so happy. 

 I hope to see you in my dreams so that I may touch you again and hear your voice. I do not know what else to say other than I miss you, so I will leave here before you think I really have gone barmy. 

Your Aegon

⚘⚘⚘

 It is that letter that is your final straw. You are standing behind the bar with your father when it arrives and he seems to sense the worry coursing through your blood, he looks at you with concern. The pub is fairly quiet given the hour, the dull thunk of darts hitting the board and the low and easy conversation of the older men. 

 “I need to go to him,” you say to him. He has a rag over his shoulder and it sags with his shoulders when your words hit him, like he knew this was coming. He looks worried too.

 “When?” Is all he asks and you appreciate that. He knows you will go, he would not try to stop you but you know he knows this is the beginning of your absence. 

 “There will be a train tomorrow morning,” you say simply and he nods. 

 “Go and tell your mum, she will want to help you pack.” He jerks his head to the door to the flat and you fold Aegon’s letter carefully into your pocket. You do not say it but there is not much packing to be done, you have been existing in a state of transience for the last few weeks with your suitcases only relieved of the clothes you have been wearing and your daily things. Your summer dresses are still neatly folded, probably deeply creased into their tightly packed shapes. 

 You just hadn’t been able to unpack them. When Aegon and Daeron had been taken back with their mother you had sat on the floor before them, the metal clasps digging into your fingers, but you had not been able to open the largest of them. The thought of putting all your clothes back into your dresser and pinning your pictures to the wall again felt like such a betrayal. So, you have lived like a visitor in your own bedroom and you have slept with your eyes on the half packed bags since that night. 

Your mother does indeed want to help though, and she sits patiently as you iron your travelling suit and hang it on the back of the wardrobe door, pulling tiny bits of inconsequential lint from it with your nails. 

 “Does he know you are going?”

  You shake your head and she gives you a look, not of concern but something closer to intrigue. You pass her the letter from him and watch her eyes narrow and her face pinch in a grimace as she reads. “I am not waiting a week for permission I know will be granted, not when I do not know exactly how he is.”

 She seems to understand and helps you tuck your ‘Sonnenblume’ into your scrapbook. The space that is left on the wall feels unshakably permanent and you trace the dark square of unbleached wallpaper in bed that night. 

 When you put on your travelling suit the next morning, the tailored jacket top with its light flare at the bottom holds you like an embrace and you delight in the way the navy skirt swishes against your legs. You feel terribly grown up in it, your back straighter and your hands moving more deliberately like when you had first been allowed to paint your nails. 

 Of course, you have thought of how it would feel before, many times since you realised that the feeling that festered in your bones had only one cure. However, the practice is different than you realised it would. 

 April’s early sun is soft as down on your face and a frenetic anticipation tickles in unstoppable movement between your joints. Your father has your two big cases and your mother has the littlest one in one hand and is holding yours in her other. The powder blue of the cases shines happily in the light of day, bright plastic handles gleaming. You are sandwiched between the two of them on the thin field path that cuts through to the station. 

 A spike of raw, beautiful excitement leaps in your chest at the sight of the station’s black and white sign and you lag behind in bold faced disbelief as everything hits you properly. You have not been this far before, standing so close always felt like too much of a temptation and a teasing for you to venture so far. What you did not expect having to reckon with is the strange sadness that washes over you like a chill on the breeze, a preemptive longing for your parents and familiarity. It does not sting even nearly enough to make you think about staying but it is there, just a dull little ache between your organs. 

 Your mum's hand pulls tight in yours as she keeps on walking, they both turn back to you and you give a little embarrassed laugh at the way your eyes spark with close tears. The hairs on your arms are standing on end with excitement.

 They pull you into a hug between them, suitcases sitting prettily among the green grass. 

 “Once it is all sorted, you have the most fun. Okay, my girl?” Your father says, arms tightening around you. His voice is a bit choked and you fight a swelling wave of emotion, nodding into him. 

 Your mum is crying outright, sobbing into your arm. “I will be back mum,” you insist with a watery voice. 

 She shakes her head and pulls back to pat you on the cheek, “this time.”

 It could very easily be seen as her pressuring you not to go but you know her better than that. You do not have a response, just a slightly sad and knowing smile which she smothers by pulling you back in again.

 They walk you onto the platform and help you put your bags onto the train. The platform is nondescript with its brown wooden shelter and little old seller who looks surprised to see anyone there when you go to buy your ticket. The sun beats off the shiny red train like glowing stained glass.

 “You’re sure you know where you’re going when you get there?” Your father asks as you poke your hand through the carriage’s window to squeeze his one more time. 

 “As well as I possibly could,” you assure him, thumbing the slip of paper with his address that he had given you all those months ago in your pocket. If you kept a cigarette case of sentimentalities it would be on the top of the stack always, close enough that you could take it out to trace his handwriting from time to time. 

  “And you will send us a letter when you are all sorted?” Asks your mum, reaching for you too as the train starts to clatter into motion. You hold onto them for as long as you can before they are pulled from your reach. 

 “As soon as I can.” They both nod and start to wave you away. You call after them, “I love you!”

 “We love you too!” Their voices are half swallowed by the receding steam and screeching wheels but you hang out the window until the borders of the station are stolen from your vision all the same. 

 In the green velvet carriage, you sit down, a bizarre buzz of silence tingling at you. You are still sure of yourself and your decision but it is one thing to plan and another entirely to be sitting on a train bound for a place you have dreamed of for years. 

 As the view out the window blurs with the speeding engine, you open the window and breathe in deeply. There is a stream of chimney smoke bleeding past the window and this time, as it fills your lungs, it smells like excitement. 

⚘⚘⚘

 London feels like a different country entirely when you step off the train. You thought you might be wearied by the journey when you finally arrived, nearly six hours on the trains and three changes from station to station, the distance stretching between you here and home is another weight on your shoulders. However, you can’t seem to find the burden in it now, just fervent anticipation at being so very close. 

 The station is busier than you have ever known any place to be, paths of every direction forged by men in suits with dripping umbrellas and women with herds of little children. You get swept up in watching it all for a minute, standing near the ticket gate with your bags tugging your shoulders half out of their sockets. It feels oddly calming, being so still among such movements. You feel like the viewer in Boccioni’s ‘the city rises’, observant to a cloud of sound and colour and unstoppable life. 

 Through the station, you carry yourself like a lighthouse, head circling to every angle in an attempt to capture a permanence of some kind, something in this that you can revisit when life gets too quiet when you inevitably return home. 

 Outside, a porter in a navy cap and uniform kindly puts you into a black taxi, rain sluicing off its sides and down the windows and doors in an interminable cascade. It is bizarre, watching the droplets chase each other down your watery reflection when it had been so hopefully warm back home. 

 The city blurs outside in a mirage like haze of colourful shop fronts, people in beautiful clothes and quick paced life. What a dreadful hurry everyone seems to be in. 

 “I apologise for the hold up, Miss. You know how it is when it’s tipping it down, everyone thinks they are made of sugar.” The diver’s accent is thick, you think it must be cockney though you are not quite sure. The thing is, you don’t know how it is. You’ve seen miners trudging home in rain so thick it pulls the coal from their skin and washes into the grass at the roadside. You laugh anyway, because the dichotomy is blinding and it tickles you to be included. 

 “It’s quite alright, I’m in no rush. Besides, I am enjoying the view.” You catch his eyes in the rearview mirror, he is an older gentleman with hair greying in his brows. His eyes twinkle with amusement and smile at him. 

 “You don’t sound like you're from around these parts. First time in jolly London?” He asks and you find his innocent question funny in the way that he acts as though he is not curious. 

 “Yes, it is. I am visiting a friend,” you say, though it feels wrong to describe Aegon in such a way. He is so very much more than just your friend, no word seems right to capture what he is to you though. 

 “Must be a very fancy friend living in Kensington, if you don’t mind my saying so,” he tacks on the last part in a bit of a rush, as if worried he might offend you. 

 “I think you might be right,” he raises his eyebrows and you explain, “I have never been to see him before, you see. In all honesty, I do not know what I should be preparing myself for.”

 That makes him chuckle, “A shiny white townhouse by the address, quite a large one I should think.”

 You alight the picture negative of your bague conjuring of the Targaryen house with his description, they align like different angles of the same shot. “That sounds about right, though I am sure it will still surprise me.”

 He nods and turns back to the traffic, the roads have quieted a little with distance put between you and the station, the passers by growing more sharply dressed. You watch a woman in a tight white dress clipping through the rain in heels of impressive height, a man beside her carries an umbrella aloft above her quaffed hair. 

 “This fella a good friend of yours?” the cabbie asks. 

 “Something like that,” you offer and his lips quirk at your evasiveness that absolutely gives the game up. 

 “Well, I hope you have a good stay, Miss,” he bids as he slows right down in front of a gleaming terrace of white stone, bejeweled with neat black metal fences and front doors in glossy reds and blues. You are glad then for your travelling suit, a mast of tightly tailored manners to wear into batter. Everyone needs an armour of sorts, you wear yours in the sharp darts at your hips and hide away your sorts and bombs between the shoes in your suitcases. 

 The driver takes your bags to the door and parts with a nod, you return with a smile and a wave. His car starts up behind you and your knocking is underscored by the lowering hum of his motor. 

The doors swing open after the whir has faded, revealing a portly old man with ruddy cheeks and a suspicious glare.

 “Good afternoon,” you greet brightly. Your smile is not returned. 

 “Can I help you?” he asks, eyes on your bags stacked next to you on the step.

 “Yes, thank you. Is Aegon home?”

 If possible, his eyes narrow further, “Master Targaryen is at home.”

 You can tell he is being intentionally evasive. No matter. “Could you fetch him for me?”

 “And whom might I say is calling?”

 You smile at him again, playing your own turn at evasiveness. “Just tell him it’s his sunflower, he will understand.”

The man nods curtly, shutting the door in your face once again. Left alone, you step back from the house to look up. There is something a little frightening about the long stretching façade of the street, for a building clearly some hundred years old or more, the stone sparkles like new. The black paint on the wrought iron stair rails and balconettes has nary a chip in it. 

 This lack of weathering is strangely off putting. There should be a grime of living and age in everything. 

 Compared to the surroundings you have left behind, the houses on this road are downright clinical, polished white teeth giving you a mocking, condescending smile. Greying straw in old thatched roofs and wooden benches green with lichen play in your mind. 

The door bangs open suddenly, framing a dishevelled Aegon. “Sunflower!” He is wide eyed with disbelief, sweeping you into an all consuming hug which lifts you clean off the floor. “How are you here?”

 He pulls back to cup for face between his hands, as if checking you are real.

 “You told me I ought to come and visit, I thought I would take you up on it. Though, if I am an imposition I can get a hotel-”

 “Don’t be silly, this is the loveliest surprise. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” There is a jubilant relief in his tone and you feel a pang of concern at the pain peeking out from behind his joy. 

 “I think I might have some idea,” you say, lightness burning through you in increasing waves of magnitude. 

 The moment of harmonious happiness is broken with the clearing of a throat. The butler has your bags in his hands and a disapproving look on his face. “Where might I be taking these, sir?”

 “The yellow room, please Miller, nearest my mother’s gallery.” The older gentleman nods, leaving with a final narrowing of his eyes. 

When his form has disappeared up the stairs, you whisper to Aegon, “He seems a right miserable sod.”

Aegon cackles, kissing you squarely on the lips. It feels like exuberance and tastes like relief. “Come in, I’ll give you a tour if you want? Though, you’re probably too tired…”

 You shoot him a glare, “of course I’m not too bloody tired.”

 He grins and pulls you in by the hand. 

 The moment you get past the door, you are covered in a hush like entering a cathedral, a clocheing like someone has their hands over your ears. A feeling of being alone and watched at the same time. Every step you take bounces off your patent leather shoes and up the walls, licking across the ceiling and back into your ears. Aegon is barefoot and you think it might be for that very reason.

 A great staircase curls into the impossibly high ceiling, its polished bannister adorned with geometric decorations in painted wood. Your eyes twist after it as Aegon starts to speak again.

 “You’ve come at a good time, Mother is in town with Otto and they won’t be back till supper,” he says as he drags you into a cavernous living room, though, you’re not sure how much living actually goes on in here. There is not a speck of dust anywhere, and each chair, however beautiful in their cohesive, art-deco glory, seems placed at a certain and precise angle. 

 Every piece in the room is beautiful, sun beam like decorations in rich wood on the backs of the sofas and corresponding greens and blues linking each fabric in the room. Yet something is off. For all the art-deco beauty, the room feels like a subsidisation of the movement. Like a veneer on ply board posing as solid oak, it lacks the weight.

 You have a book at home on modernism and art deco, it has always been one of your favourites. Something about the period has fascinated you since you first read about it, about the wild art scene in Berlin and the conveyance of pain and misery through the art. You should be excited by everything you see here but it leaves you feeling empty and angry in a way. 

 For a period defined by such deep feeling, perhaps the sharpest in human history, modernism has always been fascinatingly melancholic to you. The décor in the Targaryen house is so obscured from that message it looks like a caricature. Aegon had said his grandfather came here after the war, that his family had, if anything, benefitted from the conflict because of the deal made to produce uniforms for the army. 

 The room reeks of that lack of understanding and a burning desire to assimilate. None of the usual sorrows play this room in their eternal shows on the raised piano stage. There is no vestige of the desperate grasp for vivacious pleasure in the face of incomprehensible loss, no guttural guilt at being alive to see another day only to drink it away in a frenzied dance. No, this room is nothing more than a farce, and it is ugly and rotten for the gall it has to pretend to understand. 

 Room after room follows the same pattern, too neat, too cold and far, far too big. Aegon flits around the mausoleum, pointing things out like they were headstones of long forgotten relatives.

 What strikes you most is the complete lack of human presence, no one has left so much as an indent on a dining chair and you begin to understand that night with the handkerchief more. How the evidence of anyone is something to be cleared away quickly by an unseen maid once they have left the room. You poke your fingertip onto the shining top of a side table as you leave the dining room in spite, relishing the visage of the spiralling print left behind.

 He takes you up the stairs, waxing poetic about the times he had ridden them down on his mattress because he knew it would wind his mother up  something awful. 

 The upper hall is wide and lit coldly by the late afternoon sun that pours in from a blue and white stained window at the end. Every door is shut tight and you follow him down the shut off maze until he turns you down a shut off corridor. He looks at you cheekily and knocks on the first door on the left, the sound echoes and fills the silence as Aegon holds a finger over his lips. 

 The door opens and you look down to see Daeron kneeling on the floor in front of an open book, he looks up and yelps when he sees you, jumping at you with his whole weight. “Miss sunflower!”

 With arms full of the little boy and the hand of the man you love steadying you between your shoulder blades, you feel the cold of the house chased back a little. You kiss Daeron’s soft hair as he babbles on about the first week of his holiday, the highlight of which being his first loose tooth which he pulls back to wiggle proudly.

 “Oh! How exciting!” you exclaim and he nods happily.

 Aegon snickers behind you, “I told him how Davey took my first tooth out and he thinks I am going to do it to him now.”

 Daeron yelps, “I won’t let you! I won’t”

 You turn to him, his maniacally smiling face calming some of the worry in your heart. “Don’t tell me-”

 “Tied it to the door handle and kicked it shut,” he nods proudly and Daeron hides behind you fully, hands over his ears and a low sound of fear coming from his mouth. 

“Good god,” you say, hand over your mouth. 

 “It was wicked, I got blood on Mrs Thompson's cream carpet and we spent the night in the cold shed but we couldn’t stop laughing.” His eyes pinch, fond somehow despite the darkness, “I did not tell him about that bit.”

 “What is going on?” Comes a fine voice from down the hall, it would startle you if it weren’t so soft. You look down the row of doors to see a girl just younger than you standing with a hand around her wrist. Daeron stops his panicky sound and runs to her. 

 “Helaena, come and meet Miss sunflower!” He demands, taking her wrist and dragging her towards you. She is beautiful in a fragile way, a stiff breeze would bowl her clean over and she seems to almost float across the floor instead of walking. Funnily enough, she is exactly how you expected her to be and you smile in greeting. 

 She has a shining gemstone in her hand and she looks you over before she does anything. Perceptive lilac eyes swimming in the space around you before meeting yours. 

“I have heard a lot about you.” Her voice lilts gently, intonation a little different that normal parlance. “You look like a sunflower.”

 It is a funny thing to say and you don’t quite know what she means but it makes you smile nonetheless. “Thank you,”

 She just nods, putting the rock into your hand and closing your fist over it. The clear purple is the same as her eyes, as Aegon’s and Daeron’s and it is warmed by her touch. 

 “Come and read me your tenses,” she says to her little brother, he protests but when Aegon mimes tying a string around his tooth he bolts in front of her. You laugh brightly. It is a kind act of tact from Helaena, as much as you have been looking forward to meeting her and seeing Daeron again, you cannot let more time go without making sure Aegon is okay. 

 “We will see them later for supper,” he assures you and his smile turns cheeky “I believe there is a gallery you might be interested in.”

 He pulls you back into the main upper hand and down to a room in the middle, when he opens the door, shooting you a broad grin, you nearly yell with excitement and slip through the door in front of him. This room is unlike the others, the walls are plain blue and there is no furniture, just rows of neatly hung paintings on the walls which hum with importance. 

 You can hardly believe what you are seeing, Picasso’s sketches just like Aegon had said the first time you met him, a richly moody Turner that stops your heart, a river scene in sharp coloured oils by Constable. Other names jump in your mind with familiarity that startles you and you are breathing shallowly as you take in the twenty or so works. 

 You stop in front of a small canvas, a pensive young woman in a field under a dark sky, her skin translucent in a way that could only have been the hand of Millais. You are in front of it for some time before you feel Aegon’s presence behind you, the warmth of him hanging in the scant space between you. His voice is low when he speaks, laced with trepidation, “I am scared you are going to disappear if I look away from you.”

 It breaks your heart to hear how sure he sounds that you might not be real, and you turn to meet his unblinking gaze. “I am here Aegon, I’m not going anywhere. I promise I am real.”

 “Well, you would say that…”

 You kiss him, tenderly and slowly. Hands in his hair and twisted in his loose shirt. He melts into you and the way he holds you is as much a hug as it is a sigh of relief. He kisses your cheeks and your eyebrows and your temples in frenzied succession and you laugh. 

“Mother is going to be furious,” he says, a little bit gleeful. 

“I find I do not care much,” you say and Aegon dances around you with untameable giddiness. 

 Later, when you have snuck down the corridor to his room and tucked yourself between his sheets, you will ask him if he is alright and you will hold him while he cries because he is not. You will chase away the cold and the emptiness of the house as best you can and you will find a phone book and make good on the promise you made yourself when the thought first popped into your head. When he knows you are not a dream you will tell him how much you love him. Right now though, you laugh with him and kiss him freely and openly, holding onto the untouched happiness before anyone can try and scrape it out of your hands. 

⚘⚘⚘

Happy Friday dearest readers! I apologise for this going up a little later than six but I had some final edits to make. I really hope you enjoy it, I love writing letters and I was waiting to reveal the belated Christmas gift to you all week. Thoughts and comments are always appreciated. All my love, SlaginSecret xxx

@neithriddle

[ozzgin]

I've been rewatching One Punch Man and the thought about a painfully average looking reader being so strong is stuck in my head

Like maybe the reader works at like a small restaurant that she's been working at for basically all her life and she just get so strong from doing basic chores and having the mental capacity to deal with bad customers

Maybe like one of the baki characters went to try the restaurant out and maybe gotten a big crush on the waiter, whose being harassed by some rando

But before the can tell the guy to scurry on out of here or get a swing at him, she just completely knocks him out with like a punch to the face or something, and maybe the guy was really big like nearly the size of a bear

Or we can take the Garou route and say that Yujiro decided to try the restaurant out just cause' and is like really demanding, enough to get the reader pissed and correct their behavior

And their way of correcting behavior is basically "stop that" and then BAM, they suddenly he's transported in an alleyway somewhere, conveniently forgetting what happened before

Ooo, just imagine the reaction of the baki characters like your crush basically is the strongest person in the world, Yujiro doesn't even compare

Knocked him away with a simple punch even when he's fully prepared for her

This silly idea basically was brewing in my mind, and since this has lots of Yuji bullying, I thought you might like it

Funnily enough I have an older request that was in queue to be answered with basically the same concept! By the way, turns out I've already written a reader knocking out Yuujirou in one blow! I hope I haven’t built myself a reputation as a Yuujirou bully, although this post won’t help my cause.

Also, the whole idea of reader being insanely strong from menial labor reminds me a lot of Hajime no Ippo. Main character turns out to have top tier boxing potential from working at his mom’s fishing business and carrying heavy crates for the clients. Safe to say I like the reasoning a lot!

Baki Headcanons: One Punch! Reader

I’m leaving Yuujirou as a final opponent so to say, because otherwise the whole thing would be finished in 5 minutes. Imagine the anime intro with slideshows of nature scenery, and the narrator dramatically elaborating the plot and explaining why Yuujirou is the strongest creature on Earth. And literally the next panel he’s unconscious and reader awkwardly stares at the camera. Narrator coughs and has to mumble “Well I guess that’s it” and the curtains fall. That was it. That was the whole story.

So I’m going to go for a random buff stranger to showcase Reader’s strength. You have just finished taking Baki’s order. Maybe he took some of the men out to discuss certain matters. Maybe he wants to ask Retsu, Katsumi, Jack and Hanayama about their encounter with Pickle before his fight, to get some insight. He’s heard Katsumi has a big crush on the waitress here, so he picked the spot more as a joke to tease the Karate master. While attending the table there’s giggles, side glances and elbow nudges and you can only wonder why Katsumi refuses to speak (usually he’s very chatty with you) and the others have a grin on their face.

As you walk away, you notice your newer coworker struggling to handle a customer. He’s bowing repeatedly and apologizing for his mistake to a man wearing an indifferent yet sour expression. The large man begins to raise his voice and throws in a few inappropriate insults, so you gently push your coworker away, hinting that he should leave it to you, and you promptly take his place.

The customer seems to think you’re some higher up, next in line to beg for his forgiveness or perhaps suggest a discount as a peace offering. Nonetheless, he wants to make sure you understand your situation, so he stands up. Before he can open his mouth, you loudly and curtly exclaim “We unfortunately do not accept this kind of behavior. Leave, now.”

Several people have now turned their heads as the tension increases. Katsumi is uneasy and the rest of the men are also quiet, observing the unfolding event. Baki discreetly exits his booth, ready to interfere in case the situation escalates.

The man is visibly angered by your lack of fear. Once several of his threats go unanswered, he lifts his hand. By this point Baki is walking towards you. You sigh, not wanting to cause a scene. The whole thing happens rather fast, no one is entirely sure what they just witnessed, but the window is shattered, the stranger is crumpled on the sidewalk and covered in glass shards and you’re standing next to his table, fist clenched and bloodied up.

Calling the men ‘baffled’ would be an understatement. You have to explain several times that no, you’re not a professional fighter and you’ve never trained a day in your life. In fact, you’ve been working at this restaurant from the moment you could walk. It’s your family’s treasured business and you can’t see yourself doing anything else. Retsu is bewildered and demands to have your skills tested, because you could turn out to be a fearful martial arts user. A whole argument ensues and you compromise on joining them to the Underground Arena to demonstrate how far your strength goes. This evening only, and then you’re back serving customers.

Once you defeat Yuujirou, however, you’ve sealed your fate. You can’t just demolish the Ogre with one blow and walk away as if nothing happened…

*Now this is just a random thought that immediately came to mind when reading the request. Since Reader can easily beat Yuujirou, imagine the amount of people feeling like they’ve finally been avenged. It could even be a whole arranged spectacle. You know those fairs from cartoons, where one person sits above a small pool and you pay to throw a ball towards a target in order to drop them into the water? Same concept, really. There’d be a never ending line of people that have been wronged by Yuujirou somehow, so they throw some coins and Reader goes in for another punch. Yuujirou destroyed your gym? Threatened you on the street? Scared you so much you wet yourself? Gather around and enjoy the show for a small price.

[thunderwavesolveseverything]

The Night We Met

[Astarion x Named Tav]

Astarion gave her a beguiling smirk, his body moving fluidly as he waved his hand about, “Darling, I’m bored out here in the wilderness. I’m only trying to gossip.” “Then read a book. We found plenty.” She narrowed her eyes, hinting about the giant stack Gale had built near his tent with his finds from the crypt. Astarion's curiosity was genuinely peeked now. Was this little bard hiding a deep, dark, dirty secret? He kept his mouth closed as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

or...

Astarion tries to flirt, to keep setting his nice, simple plan in motion but fails, only succeeding in touching a nerve.

_

Can we all say a thank you to Larian for blessing us with patch 5? Cause omg

Also the song Phayelynn sang in the last chapter and the song I named this chapter after is "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron. I really love that song, and I think it's perfect for any Tav/Astarion relentionship, or even any Tav/companions. It's just a really cute song ❤️

(word count: 3,604)

Read on AO3 or below :)

Masterlist for Phayelynn's adventures here

The Night We Met

Phayelynn had found a little secluded spot for herself down by the river that ran by their camp. The moon reflected against the easy current, giving the air a soft glow, and for a moment, she felt at peace. The only sounds were cricket chirping and the crackling of the campfire a little ways away. 

She let out a deep sigh, willing away the tension that had been building up within. The peace only lasted a moment. She found herself growing restless again, her mind already spiraling on thoughts of back home. Her uncle- she didn’t want to think about what he must be going through right now after her disappearance. He was smart, and it wouldn’t take long for him to realize what had happened to her. They had arrived just outside of Baldur’s Gate a few days before the Nautiloid showed, and he knew Phayelynn’s curiosity for the city would’ve lured her in while he was getting word on their next job. 

She could only hope that’s what he assumed was her reasoning for venturing into the city alone. No god would save her from his wrath if he found out her true reasoning. If she survived this, she’d never speak of her attempted foolish endeavor and rush back to him and pretend non of this ever happened. 

Phayelynn let out another sigh, leaning back so her palms rested flat against the dirt floor and she could get a clear view of the starry night sky. Her hand came into contact with a scrap of paper, and a smile flashed across her face. She picked up the piece of parchment, eyes glancing over it once more. 

It was the story Mirkon had written for her, his way of thanking her for saving him from the harpies. The way his face lit up as she thanked him, encouraging his creativity was worth the scolding she had gotten later on from Shadowheart. 

The cleric had been furious, to put it lightly, when she had learned of their detours. She berated Phayelynn like a child. It was embarrassing- more embarrassing than her and Gale’s first meeting only a day ago. 

Why had she slapped his hand? That’s clearly not what he had meant. She shook her head and cringed at the memory. 

At least Lae’zel had her back. To an extent, of course. She’d been vocal since entering the grove that the druids were a waste of time. While in the marketplace, Lae’zel and Shadowheart had come across the tiefling Zorru, the gith had mentioned. He marked their map with the location of where there’d been Githyanki sightings. Phayelynn saved time by insulting Kagha and refusing help from their healer. Finding her people and a creche should be their only focus. 

Gale had intervened, telling them they should all rest and turn in for the night, having finished putting away their food supplies. He’d offer to cook, to which their stomachs had been grateful. He could sense Shadowheart’s desire not to drop the subject, and Astarion only encouraged her, egging her on at Phayelynn’s expense. As her companions started trickling off to their respective tents, Phayelynn made sure to shoot Gale a thankful look before heading off to her little spot. 

“It’s quite a sight.” 

Phayelynn jumped, shuffling where she sat at the sudden voice. She turned her head, eyes wide, her heart slowly settling when she saw that it was just Astarion. Her relief didn’t last long as she gave him a questioning look. 

What did he want now? 

Astarion wasn’t looking at her, standing a few feet away, staring out into the night sky. He finally craned his neck down, looking over her face with a grin. He waved his hands out towards the scenery before them, “The stars, I mean. I could take or leave your chin.” 

Phayelynn gave him a sour look, letting out a huff. She turned her back to him, not in the mood. She narrowed her eyes at the parchment in her hands when she heard his chuckle, followed by his footsteps against the gravel of the riverside shore. 

“Am I disturbing you?” He asked once he stood next to where she sat, looking down at what she was reading. He leaned down slightly to get a better look. 

“Actually, you kind of are,” Phayelynn said without looking up. She tried to focus on Mirkon’s words, on anything besides him. 

“Hmm….” Astarion began reading over her shoulder. “Very strong…killed the harpies in one blow-Ha! Want to be just like the greatest bard ever. Well, I guess embellishing the details comes with the profession, so he has potential.” 

Phayelynn folded the paper so he could no longer read it. She still didn’t want to meet his eye, knowing that he was being purposely nasty to her now at this point. She had thought they might be friends, but now she wasn’t so sure. 

However, something about him made her want to know more. To not completely toss out the idea of friendship. She could read this performance from a mile away. Why he felt the inclination to put on an act for her, she didn’t know but it was indiscreet,  She’d been doing the same for years- pretending to be someone she wasn’t. 

She gave him a pensive look, studying his face as his eyes met her at her folding of the parchment. They were all still practically strangers. They didn’t owe each other the truths of their backstories. She definitely wasn’t willing to share hers yet, so she couldn’t expect him to be ready to share his.

She could indulge him for now. 

With a playful shrug, she settled back comfortably. “I don’t know, I think it’s very cute. And sweet,” she gave him a teasing smile, and he tilted his head, amused and intrigued, “You’re just jealous there’s no mention of a grumpy pale fellow.” 

“A grumpy pale fellow?” his own smile straightened out with a huff, “Really?” 

“Well, I’m just saying,” she shrugged, turning away from him to look out into the water. “maybe if you’re a little nicer to people, you’ll get a story written about you someday.” 

“And will you be the one to write it?” he smirked, looking her up and down before moving to sit on a nearby stone not too far from her. He looked back out into the sky. 

“Like I said, maybe if you start being a little nicer. And if I don’t have anything better to do,” she kept the airiness in her tone. She didn’t sound too seriously invested in the conversation, but she also made sure to make herself not sound bored either. 

He let out a loud chuckle, his head falling back. She quirked an eyebrow. It had seemed rehearsed. Scripted. She bit back a frown, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. 

She rested her head on her knees as she looked over his features. His strong jaw, deep, ruby red eyes- the way his hair curled around his face. He looked too flawless. Too perfect, she settled on. It was drawing her in. 

What was he trying to gain from her with this? He wasn’t this way with the others. She got a flash of dread and panic but hid it just as well. 

“Did you want something?” she asked before he could speak. He opened his mouth, caught off guard by her question. She could tell this was already derailing from how he wanted this conversation to go. She continued, “It’s just, I thought you’d still be brooding after today.” 

Astarion laughed, this time seeming a little more genuine. He gave her another once over before looking away. “No, no, I just wanted a quiet place to think. Gale’s snoring- terrible.” he shuddered at the thought before looking back at the girl. “I wanted to reflect on the events of the day; how you have the irresistible urge to trifle in other’s business despite my best advice.” 

Phayelynn couldn’t stop the dramatic roll of her eyes. 

“You didn’t have to help.” She sighed, feeling a smidge bit guilty. He had gotten pretty diced up in their fight against the harpies. Shadowheart, thankfully, was able to heal the claw marks sliced across his face without leaving scars. The bitterness from earlier returned though, his and Shadowheart’s ganging up on her at dinner still not blown over. “I think you’ve all gotten your point across for the day.” 

Astarion loosened his shoulders. 

“I supposed,” he raised a hand, motioning about before clenching it into a fist, dropping his down to his lap, “It’s not an awful trait to have- rather too noble for my tastes, but I guess what you did for that boy and the little thief could be deemed admirable to most.” 

“I-I-” she stammered at first, “I couldn’t just stand by and not help. I’m sorry. I have a soft spot for kids.” 

“Noted,” Astarion nodded. “So our little trip to the old woman’s house should have no hitches.” 

Phayelynn couldn’t help but laugh, remembering Shadowheart mentioning that tomorrow she wanted them to meet with a woman she’d met in the market, who promised something that could help them. They only had to travel to her home at the edge of the woods. 

“Shadowheart says I’m the bad one.” she giggled. “Ten gold this woman she’s talking about is a witch or a hag- some fairytale creature. I mean, seriously? A little old lady who lives alone in the woods? I know she’s suffering from memory loss, but Shadowheart seems to have read at least one children’s tale as a child?” 

Astarion laughed heartily in agreement.

“Well, darling, I supposed you’ll be the one tomorrow to make Shadowheart eat her own words then?” 

She smiled. 

They fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the fire, crickets, and occasional owl hooting returning them to a calm. 

Astarion shifted, not wanting to sit in silence for long. 

“That song, the one you sang to break us out of the harpy’s spell?” he asked, “Did you write it?” 

“Oh, that? No,” she blushed, her hands suddenly needing to play with something. She started to fiddle with the parchment, bending it back and forth, forcing herself to stop so she wouldn’t wear it out and rip it. She started picking at the itchy fabric of her tunic. “My father wrote it. I- er, I have his journal. He was a bard, too, he traveled a lot. He’d write about his adventures, and then some of the songs he wrote are also there. He had written that about my mother.” 

Astarion felt her hesitation on the subject, hinting at an all too evidently unoriginal backstory for her. Boring, he hummed to himself, but he concealed it well. His hand trailed up to play with a curl behind his ear, having seen her eyes trace over them earlier. He gave her a specious smile, “Tell me, you’ve mentioned living with an uncle? Let me guess, you were orphaned at a young age, and all you have left is your father’s journal. You aspire to be just like him. Hmm?” 

Phayelynn looked uncomfortable, and Astarion had to keep himself from showing his panic. Maybe he dug deep a little too fast. He saw her shift, grasping at the paper and shoving it in her pocket. She was about to stand. 

He could easily still save this.

“Wait-” he stood as she did, reaching out a hand to keep her in place. Her jaw clenched, an ugly twist to her pink lips. He laid a hand against his breastbone, his shoulders pulled down low. “I’m not good at this. What I was trying to say, in a long, looped-around way, was that it was beautiful. Your voice was…” he paused, his voice growing deeper as he spoke. “beautiful.” 

“Oh,” she said dumbly. She bit her lip, nervously and stupidly falling for his charm. Part of her told her it was an act, but another voice told her this part wasn’t. She felt a slight itch. It was her tadpole reaching into his. 

Beautiful. 

Sincere. 

“You’re not far off.” She admitted, swallowing the lump in her throat hard. Maybe he would do the same if she opened herself up to him only a little. “I wasn’t that young. I was about 16 when I lost them.”

“Darling, I’m over 200 years old. That is young.” He laughed. He tried to gauge her age. “You’re a half-elf, but you are—-young? If 16 isn’t young to you, you can’t be more than a few decades old.” 

“I’m 28,” she confirmed sheepishly. 

“That does explain a lot.” he snickered as she rolled her eyes again at him. 

“My lack of self-preservation?” she cocked an eyebrow. 

“So you do listen to me when I talk?” He took a step forward, leaving less space between them. 

He recounted her back with the tiefling children when they had returned to Mirkon and went into their little cave hideout. She had said she knew what it was like to have to steal to survive. Her self-proclaimed soft spot for children- he was starting to paint a clear picture of her to work with. 

“What did you mean, back when we dropped the boy off? I take it you and your uncle didn’t live comfortably?” 

Her eyebrows pinched together, giving him a too-quick smile. She was unable to hide her caution. He was asking too many questions. Too many specific questions. She doubted he cared to learn about her. She felt a flare of nervousness. 

Did he know? 

Her eyes squinted at him. She tried to pull through to him through their connection, but she felt him close himself off to her. She tilted her head, and he did the same at her, knowing she had caught him. 

No, hells, there’d be no way he would know. 

He stood up straight, lightly scolding himself for not expecting her sudden shift in tone. He was only a few days out of Baldur’s Gate and already out of practice. He pulled a beguiling face, his body moving fluidly as he waved his hand about, “Darling, I’m bored out here in the wilderness. I’m only trying to gossip.” 

She narrowed her eyes a second time.

“Then read a book. We found plenty.” She hinted about the giant stack Gale had built near his tent with his finds from the crypt. 

His curiosity was genuinely peeked now. Was this little bard hiding a deep, dark, dirty secret? He kept his mouth closed as he ran his tongue over his teeth. 

“I touched a nerve,” he said flatly, leaving the statement up to her interpretation.

“Fine,” Phayelynn said abruptly, crossing her arms against her chest. “My mother got sick.” her voice was tight, never staggering as she gave him the gossip he wanted, “She died a year into her sickness, and my father was murdered by some asshole a few days later. My uncle took me in. We were constantly traveling, trying to make money to survive. We stole a lot. We had the whole act down. I would distract the audience with my playing, and then my uncle would go around pit-pocketing the crowd. Not very noble, but it kept us fed. That boy, Mattis, and his sister were using a charmed coin. It changes to whatever side the person who cast the charm says. It was one of the first tricks my uncle taught me. That’s how I knew the girl would steal from me. Every time I said heads or tail, and Mattis repeated after me, it was pretty clear what they were up to. Now, anything else?” 

She raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to ask her one more question. 

“You can’t just end it there!” His eyes lit up, a little too delighted. “Murder? Your little thieving days? I want the details, darling! The most important parts are clearly being left out!” He pouted. 

She scoffed at him. She shouldn’t have put it past him to be this insensitive. 

“I told you everything you need to know. Maybe if you tell me more about yourself, I’ll be more inclined to further expand.” 

“What’s more to tell? I’m a magistrate back in the city- rather boring in comparison.” He sighed, looking at his nails. He quickly changed the subject. He gave her a nod, “I guess I should be giving you more credit than I have. When this little adventure of ours is over, will you return to your days of thieving and conning the innocent?” 

Phayelynn let out a heavy sigh. That was a question she hadn’t wanted to think about. It was almost more terrifying than the tadpole wiggling in her head. 

“I don’t know.” she looked to the side, back to the water hitting softly against the shore. “I left for Baldur’s Gate on my own. I had business there I wanted to do on my own.” 

“So the mystery behind the great bard continues,” he smirked slyly. 

She huffed; she didn’t owe him an explanation. She turned to face him, looking him over teasingly and with a mischievous grin. She could work this conversation just as well as he was trying to. “Why? Are you going to be sad when our little adventure together is over?” 

Astarion allowed her to change the subject, “Ha! You are quite the ally- even with the little hiccups we’ve had thus far on our journey. I guess the tiefling child did have some proper idea about you. Traversing Avernus? Surviving the crash? The Goblin pack? Standing up to the druid and then facing off against a flock of harpies?” he listed off on his fingers, titling his head side to side in a sing-song way to each. When he was done, he put his hand down, looking her square in the eye, making her breath hitch. “Jokes aside, I’m not easily impressed by people, and when I am, I don’t know how to really show it- and we do have our rather different views on things, but all that being, I have to say, out of all our companions, you’re the one I’ve grown to trust and want to stand by the most.” 

He blinked a few times at her, his face softening. 

Sincere. 

Phayelynn took a breath as their tadpoles connected again. 

“I don’t know if I want you to run off from me just yet.” 

Phayelynn let his words sink into her like the harpy’s song. Her face flushed. “Oh, I thought you didn’t like me.” 

Why was she suddenly so shy? 

“You have your quirks, but I rather not beat a dead horse,” he admitted, seeing her fall but he only allowed it for a moment. “You have your charms as well.” He looked at her with a dangerously pretty smile on his lips. He lowered his voice, “More than you think.” 

Phayelynn felt her heart start to beat fast. Uncontrollably so, for that matter. She tried to tell herself not to take too much stock in his words, but how could she not? Not when he said them while looking at her the way he was looking at her. Like she was some precious thing, and under the moonlight and stars to add to it.

“We could still travel together.” She pipped up before she could think about her words.

“A delicious thought,” Astarion said, making her heart flutter. He pulled her eagerness back, “But,” he trailed off, giving her a moment to jump in, seeing her flustered face at his choice of words. 

“I’m just joking. ” she tried to back peddle. “I have to return to my uncle once this is all said and done. And I’m sure you have some big life back in the city. Being a magistrate and all.”

Her comment threw him off as if he had forgotten he’d told her that. He quickly gathered himself, “Yes, of course. I can’t spend the rest of my life gallivanting in the wilderness. I miss civilization. A firm bed, plush pillows, good wine-” He tried to pick himself back up, but thoughts of what was actually waiting for him back in the city started to plague him. He let out a tired sigh. “Darling, I enjoyed this chat, truly, but I’m getting tired. I’m going to go rest my head.” 

“Oh,” Phayelynn looked a little surprised by his sudden shift. “Okay.” 

He flashed her one last smile for the night. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep tight.” 

“You too,” she frowned as he rushed off. 

She took a few minutes to replay the conversation, a sour feeling bubbling in her stomach. She felt entranced by their private moment alone, but also something felt wrong about the entire thing. She shook her head, not wanting to think about it anymore. She was getting tired. 

She stood and started heading back towards her bedroll near the fire, not realizing the chill that ran up her arms now. It was dark, the light of the fire not too far off, she couldn’t wait for her head to hit her pillow, she was so tired-

“We meet again, as I predicted.” 

“Hells!” Phayelynn nearly jumped out of her skin for a second time that night at the sound. She let out a shrill scream, surely alerting the others in the camp as she turned her head towards the direction of the voice, seeing the being from the dank crypt that had come out of the sarcophagus. 

Maybe Astarion was right; she missed civilization. 

___

[vclvetfleur]

Obedient Chapter 17

Roman Roy x fem!reader

Summary: During the Yacht trip, Kendall was announced as taking the blame for the scandal. And with that, Roman is now named COO. But Kendall had other things in mind, causing another rift in the family and causing more and more tension. You see through Kendall's PR stunt of being the good guy, but Jess disagrees with you.

Based off of S3 E2 Sucession

Tw: Child abuse, verbal, physical and emotional, hints about cSA, mentions of sexual abuse , mention of ED

If it is triggering, PLEASE SKIP THE TIME JUMP

WC: 6.5K

Notes: Pls take the tw into consideration. It is a dark story and I do not want to be responsible for any hard issues that people might deal with after reading. Take care of yourselves. I love you.

Chapter 17: Julius Ceasar

Kendall sent you a text, wondering if you were willing to join or not. You left him on read.

You agreed with everything he said, but a part of you didn’t think he was genuine. Some part of you believed it was just to get back at his father. It had to be. You also couldn’t leave your job. You could not afford to. You were finally comfortable. And Roman would be crushed. Also, where did you and Roman stand now? You had no clue. You didn’t want to continue this, but you couldn’t help yourself. If he held you and kissed you, you’d kiss him back. But you told yourself you wouldn’t. You didn’t think you would, but Roman had you wrapped around his fingers. He had complete control of your autonomy.

You always thought you needed to be there for Roman. It wasn’t a good time to leave him. At least not now. But it was never a good time to leave or let Roman be just… still. Something was constantly happening that you needed to come to rescue to comfort.

You laid back in your seat, reading a new book you had picked up. Shiv got a call from Tom, suspiciously going away. You looked at Roman, confused. He shrugged, watching Shiv as she fidgeted trying to listen to the news. He leaned over to Gerri for confirmation of what Shiv was talking about. It was exactly what Roman feared. Now that Kendall fucked this up, they had to reconsider COO.

He just pestered Shiv trying to get the information out. But Gerri had gotten the news already. “They’re live picking the new CEO” Roman exposed. You put your book down, looking over. “Woah-woah-what? That’s such bullshit. You already got-“ You tried to interject. Gerri gave you a look, hoping you’d drop it. You weren’t well-versed in this world. Of course, Logan would pull on his decision. She didn’t need you breaking Roman’s hopes even more. She wanted Roman to be CEO just as badly as you. She basically prepped him for it. She knew how much you cared about him, which warmed her heart, but she didn’t see this arguing and fighting for Roman doing anything for Roman. At least not with Logan.

Roman and Shiv went back and forth. They sent snarky remarks to one another. You sighed and went onto your phone, trying to stay out of this argument. “I mean 3 out of the 4 of us agree I should be CEO, so if we make a bet, I could win a lot of money right now.” Roman tried to continue to press onto Shiv’s nerves.

“Yeah- one is your pretend mommy and the other one jerks you off from time to time.” Shiv insulted not only Roman but you. You didn’t make eye contact, embarrassed that now people knew you and Roman were intimate and somewhat involved. It was just a small secret that now everyone seemed to be in the know about. “Oh wait- I’m sorry was that private? Were we not supposed to know you shoved your cock in your assistant's mouth?” Shiv continued to get at Roman.

“Don’t you have an actor to blow so your husband could watch?” Roman fired back at Shiv.

“I don’t know why you both know so much about each other's sex life.” You tried to chime in.

“It’s not like Roman even has one. Most of the people he’s been with has told every-“ Shiv tried to continue to insult Roman before Roman interrupted and loudly mocked her,  making her voice sound obnoxious. “Welcome to my fucking world now.” Gerri whispered to you, sensing your discomfort. She had known about you and Roman for a bit now. But she saw how much you took care of Roman. She appreciated it. He needed someone like you.

Roman decided to go call Logan about the position and try to save his own ass. You watched the door intensely, worried about what it could end to. You knew he could be ready, but he didn’t think he was. He was also a nervous wreck and when he was nervous, he talked too much. And he was in the bathroom for too long. At least that’s what you thought. Maybe it was your anxiety making it seem even longer than it was. Roman left the bathroom, trying to remain bland in front of Shiv to make her think he did something worthy. The plane finally landed after a while of Roman and Shiv insulting and making fun of one of the other and trying to sabotage the other one. Your head was killing you with all the bantering. You couldn’t stand it. You needed an aspirin after this flight. But it only got worse when Shiv picked up a call from Logan. But Shiv, of course, took it to fuck with Roman.

“Roman shut up…” You mumbled to him as he tried to childishly mock her for the fifth time on this flight. You just dragged him into the car, trying to get you both somewhere calm enough, somewhere away from all this anxiety. Before you got in the car, Gerri pulled you to the side. “Hey- so if this ends up going public…” Gerri started. You shook your head no, trying to deny your relationship with Roman. “Uh- no-no. That’s not-“ You tried to deny. “Roman told me a while ago…” She dropped. Your lips turned into a straight line, looking around. You rubbed your forehead, looking back at her. “Uh- we broke up a bit ago. And uh- it’s probably not gonna… y’know…” You tried to explain to her.

“Oh well if that little night you spent in his room wasn’t much, if it was, just keep this under until the scandal is over.” She directed you. You nodded, feeling her hand pat down your shoulder. You felt embarrassed, knowing everyone saw. It was completely out. Even Logan had seen you sneak out. How humiliating. You and Roman drove to a hotel, waiting for the council to soon come. It seemed redundant, to have updates being sent your way on what the next move would be for Roman. You frantically answered emails and texts for Roman. Roman seemed oddly calm. He walked around, eating bits of the meal that was sent up to the room. Gerri made sure to check to see if his reputation was truly clean though. She had been searching everywhere to see if announcing Roman would be a bad idea.

You just kept Roman updated, but he dodged everything. “Roman, take this shit seriously. For once.” You begged. “Oh, come on… it’s just me and you in a room, alone…” He tried to ease you in. “Yeah, we’re always in a room. Alone.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s different.” He tried to set a certain mood. He kept dropping obvious innuendos, but you were too focused on what the next big thing would happen. You weren’t ready to comfort a grown man for not being able to fuck you.

“Yeah- different 'cause you actually wanna fuck.” You bullied him. You got a text from Gerri. She had just been told who the next CEO would be. Gerri was. “Oh fuck…” You whispered. You looked at Roman, his face finally serious as he anticipated your response. “Uh- Rome- I’m really fucking sorry, but it’s- it’s uh- it’s Gerri. Gerri’s CEO.” You broke the news to him. “You’re lying.” He denied. You shook your head and showed him the texts. He read them, hoping he was also misreading something. But it was right there.

‘Shiv blew it with Lisa. Logan told me it’s me’

Your heart broke for Roman. You sighed, wrapping your arms around him to only be shoved off of him lightly. He didn’t want to be touched. He just sat at the arm of the couch, looking away as he indulged in his own negative thoughts.

“Fucking-Fuck- I basically gave her that. I told dad it should be her.” He revealed to you. Your eyes grew. He shook his head, trying to save himself. “No- I said it should be me, but if It wasn’t it should be her, but uh- I guess it was never me… Uh- fuck hold up. Let me call Shiv. I wanna break the news to her.” He grinned, grabbing his phone before running off to the bedroom that was attached to the rest of the hotel room. He lay on the bed, calling up Shiv.

You watched Roman, trying to bully Shiv to hide his own hurt and his own insecurities. He rather make fun of Shiv than deal with the fact he also had been passed up for the position. He laid the phone down, staring at the ceiling.

You got up from the couch and walked over to the bedroom. You laid your shoulder and head on the door frame, watching him. He had his hands over his chest as he stared at the ceiling fan. “You alright, Rome?” You wondered.

“Why the fuck do you care?” He laughed, thinking you’d take it as a joke if he laughed off the insecurity at you. It felt less threatening to him.

“Cause I give a fuck about you. That’s why.” You defended. He looked over at you, raising his eyebrows as if to tell you he didn’t think you actually gave a fuck before looking up again at the ceiling. “Rome- come on. Don’t be a fucking baby now.” You whined, coming over to the bed. You sat down next to him, your legs curled up on his side. You leaned forward, looking down at him. You were invading his peripheral. “I, surprisingly, still give a fuck. Even if you’re the most annoying person I have ever encountered. But I do think, you’re also one of the smartest, funniest, most creative, and unique individuals I have ever met.” You tried to boost his ego.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make a great CEO, does it?” He tried to find a way to hurt his own feelings. To justify, even though some of his qualities were good, he had others that made him bad, along with his good traits making him even worse since they weren’t CEO traits.

“Those are all traits that make a great CEO. Steve Jobs was a fucking weirdo freak, but he was amazing. CEOs don’t become CEOs by not being creative and being fucking normal.” You tried to encourage him. You reached down to hold his hand as he kept his hands clamped across his chest. He loosened his grip on his hands, holding yours. “Why do you believe in me so much?” He genuinely wondered. He finally removed his gaze from the ceiling to you. He wanted to see if you’d lie to him.

“Cause- I don’t know. I just do. I think you’re ready Roman… I think you’re just as qualified as Kendall. You’re just- you’re all the good qualities of both your siblings.” You admit to him. “You’re charming like Shiv, but you have experience like Kendall. And then you have your weirdo freak qualities that make other younger sleaze ball CEO’s comfortable around.” You admit. His eyes softened his lip pouting. He genuinely felt so much love being with you.

“Can you just- can we- can we go back? But more normal?” He asked you one more question, but you did not comprehend anything he was actually saying to you.  “What do you mean?” You asked. He scoffed, not believing that you had no idea what he had meant.

“Oh, fuck off- you know… just… I want to be fucking normal. Like a normal fucking-“ He tried to explain. You finally understood. This was Roman’s way of asking you to take him back and actually put a label on whatever this was that you both had. You sighed, unsure of what you wanted. You looked off, making Roman feel insecure about even asking you. “Yeah- no. It was fucking stupid.” He tried to insult his attempt and throw it out. “No this is perfect. You, hating me and occasionally sucking my dick is great.”

You rubbed your face, not wanting to deal with this confrontation. “Rome- I care- I do, but this is just… it’s not normal. I mean nothing about us screams consensual. You’re my boss who’s in his mid-30s and I’m a fresh out of college assistant. What do you think people are gonna say? Especially now. Plus- Rome, you need to learn boundaries and understand that-“ You tried to explain but Roman mocked your voice and didn’t bother to even listen.

“You’re more obsessed about how people view you than me.” He laughed. “It’s pathetic. It’s like you think people actually give a fuck about celebrity assistants. Wait- name me one celebrity assistant. Come on.” He pressured you. He was just insulting you because you brought out the actual truth of what this was, and he wasn’t going to let his ego be bruised any further than it already had been.

“This is another reason, Roman. This is exactly why I hate you sometimes. You’re a spoiled fucking pervert who gets away with shit because you play the damaged victim.” You began to insult him. “You could fix all your issues if you actually went to fucking therapy rather than cum in your own hand. Oh wait- sorry I forgot you can’t even look at your own cock.” You continued. “Oh, and you’re so perfect. Miss. Orphan.” He fired. He hadn’t known much about your family other than you never spoke about them. You never brought up memories of them. You did speak about a lot of other things though. Roman just put two and two together. “What’s the story there, huh? Did they just put you up or did they just not love you?” He continued, despite seeing your eyes wield up with tears. Your bottom lip quivered as you tried to hold back everything from sobbing. “Oh- I found it. They just didn’t love you. That’s it. Well, stop pushing that fucking narrative on me.” He insisted.

You grabbed a pillow before repeatedly hitting him. You didn’t want to genuinely hurt him, and you couldn’t just punch him, so this was the next best thing. Roman shouted as the fast and hard blows actually hurt him a bit. He grabbed your wrists to stop you as you finally cried and let out all the anger you had built up. “YOU. FUCKING. ASSHOLE!!” You shouted as he took the pillow away. He pinned you against the bed, holding your wrists to the bed. You kicked and tried to break free from him before spitting in his face. You let anger-induced tears stream down your face as you kept screaming at him. “You have no fucking right! You have no fucking right!” You screamed like a child. You continued before you got too tired to fight him. You laid there, completely exhausted, too tired to even run off. You curled up on the edge of the bed. “You’re a fucking asshole…” You whispered.

“So, I was right…” Roman tried to guess. You looked at him, shaking your head at how he had the audacity to continue to argue with you over this. You sat up, giving him what could only be compared to a death stare.

“Yea- there. You got it Rome. Yup. Mommy and Daddy didn’t love me, so I started dating my sexually inept boss.” You tried to hurt his feelings. He genuinely wanted to know what had happened between you and your parents though. He just stared, his eyes soft and his head low. He wanted to listen. You relented before giving in. “My parents weren’t there. And when they were they picked on me. A lot. Just like Logan does to you. If I got a bad grade, I was a fucking loser, dumbass, but if I got a good grade, I was a showoff, I wanted credit for nothing, I was an attention seeker. And then- something happened, and they called me a liar. So, it kept happening. Then I was a whore. And I asked for it. A 9-year-old. So, yea- I don’t have parents. And don’t even get me started at puberty. Even before. I ate too much. I spent too much money on food. I was a burden. I drained everything from them. And when I developed, I was a pig. I was ugly. I was a whore. I was a bitch. Everything was, even more, my fault.” You let yourself cry. “You know- I didn’t become vegan for animal reasons. I did it so my parents wouldn’t have to cook or buy me food anymore. So, they’d stop bullying me about food or eating.” You laughed as a reaction to how stupid it was. You wiped your face. “It made me lose enough weight that instead of being called fat, I’d be too skinny. But once they thought it boosted my ego, I was fat again.” You continued to laugh at how ridiculous the abuse was. Roman’s face dropped, and he felt guilty about attacking you based on your parents. If he knew, he would’ve maybe held back. Maybe. “Can I hug you?” He asked, watching as you held yourself. You needed comforting. You nodded, feeling Roman bring you in close to him. You just hid in his shoulder, not wanting to cry too much.

“Uh-I’m really fucking sorry- I just- I assumed-…” he tried to reason with you. You nodded, sniffling. “I know Roman… I know…” You whispered. You knew he wasn’t trying to hurt you. He just didn’t know how deeply your parents were abusive. Maybe they just weren’t as present or maybe they weren’t the best. But you had never given him any hints to show him it was this bad. “Logan blamed me too… for what… just, one of his friends.” Roman revealed to you. You pulled away, looking at him nearly about to sob even harder. You never cared about your own abuse, but knowing someone you knew had felt the same thing you did always killed you. “Oh, fuck off, don’t look at me like a run-over fucking puppy.” He tried to redirect your emotions. You tried to but couldn’t help it. Roman didn’t want to feel more shame on his abuse, putting your head back. He didn’t want to see the pity on your face. As if he was that fucked up and damaged.

“I’m sorry.” You whined as you tried to hide your emotions. You would’ve hated this too. “I just- I don’t like people knowing- just- you and Jess are the only ones who know.” You tried to confide in him. “Yeah- well- my whole family knows… And Gerri… And well one or two of Dad’s friends…” He admits. His dad’s friends only knew because well, they were also sick perverts who had probably thought it was okay to brag.

“I’m sorry for making fun of your sexual- fucking- you know…” You tried to acknowledge. “Yeah- I wish I knew before saying your mom and dad don’t love you.” Roman did his best to return an apology to you. You laughed at his attempt. “I- I just… I-“ You wanted to gather your thoughts, but they were so scattered.

Gerri called Roman, interrupting your sentence. You looked down before answering the call for him. He grabbed the phone and talked to her. He had to be down at the office. Now.

He grabbed his coat, looking at you, wondering if you were gonna tag along. You eventually left the bed and followed him. But you stayed in the car while Roman went running his errands and did what Logan asked of him. You were in a trance. You had confessed everything to Roman. Not many details, but enough. You didn’t ever tell people. You found it too embarrassing. All you could remember is the only things you had of your parents.

(TW: INTENSE CHILD ABUSE, VERBAL, MENTAL AND PHYSICAL)

-15 years ago-

Your mom lay on the couch, cigarette in hand, and watching the television. Your dad had been gone for what seemed like months. Mom always got sad when Dad left this long. You never understood why he was always gone. It seemed off. But it was probably work. You saw someone's dad come in for career day and say he had business trips.

But you weren’t sure what your dad did. Just that he had something. Mom ignored you more when he wasn’t home. She looked at you very rarely when Dad was gone. But when she did, it felt like she was mad at you.

You hadn’t had lunch since Friday at school. It was 4 p.m. now. On a Sunday. You probably had some snacks in the pantry. But there weren’t any left anymore. You ate everything that you could possibly make yourself.

“Mommy…” You whispered, scared you’d wake her up. She hadn’t responded. You quietly walked over to see if she had been awake. Her eyes were shut with a lit cigarette in her hand. You walked closer, grabbing the cigarette from her. You didn’t want another accident. You pulled the cigarette off her fingers gently before turning around to put it out before hearing a loud snarl coming from behind you. Fear immediately came over you.

“Are you fucking shitting me? Who the fuck do you think you are?” She yelled, grabbing your little arm, and roughly pulling you to her. “What the fuck are you doing with this? Are you trying to steal this from me? Huh?” She interrogated you before you could even answer. She only saw one way of teaching you by taking her cigarettes.

You didn’t know why she was so upset. What did you do? She never explained. She just got mad.

Before you knew it, you felt an intense burning on your arm. You cried and tried to pull away.

All you wanted was to ask for a sandwich.

But the more you cried, the worse the punishment got and the madder she got. You learned that early on.

-6 months later-

Dad finally came home after doing god knows what. The first night he came home, Mom and Dad fought all day and screamed. You barely got any sleep. You had done everything to block the noise, but it wouldn’t stop. But then after days of fighting, turned into days of them being silent and laughing. Dad bought some stuff to make Mom happy. They didn’t pay attention to you when they were like that, depending on what Dad bought Mom. But whatever it was this time, they barely acknowledged your existence. It was better this way. You weren’t their main target.

It was Christmas time, and the school had a fair. There were vendors to buy gifts for yourself or your family. The thing is your family didn’t celebrate Christmas. But to keep a front, sent you off with $10. How could they be so bad if they gave their kids money? Right? Well, you wandered the fair, excited and cheerful. You spent what seemed like hours trying to pick the perfect gift. You settled on a stuffed animal of your favorite toy. The man asked who it was for before wrapping it. “Myself.” You smiled. You were so excited to go home and play with it.

You got home, and your mom immediately stopped and asked what you got her and your dad. You went silent. “I got myself…” You mumbled. “Yourself? God- you’re so fucking selfish. We taught you better than this. We give you fucking everything. We had nothing when we were your age. I had to share a room with my sisters when I was a kid. And you have your own room, toys, clothes, ps2. And you’re too greedy to buy something small for us? Your father slaves all day. Fucking Christ- wait for dad to come home. Get the fuck to your room.” Your mom berated. You ran to your room, hiding your new toy. You couldn’t afford to get it taken. But once Dad came over, it was pretty much done. You shut your brain off and tried to not cry. Crying made everything worse.

And worst of all, he found the toy. And he ripped it up in front of you. If he couldn’t have something nice, you shouldn’t either.

-2 weeks later-

You had spent the night in your room, playing with your baby doll. You rocked it back and forth and fed it. You were more attached to baby dolls than barbies. You liked to take care of things rather than live through dolls. Suddenly the lights shut off. Fear hit you. You ran out of the room, crying and screaming. You looked for your parents and saw your dad over the fuse box. He had purposely shut the lights. All he did was laugh at you as you wept. You wanted a hug but only got laughter in return. Laughter that was not directed with you, but towards you.

You couldn’t trust them to protect you.

(start here if you wanna skip the TW)

-Present-

You sat there, wiping a tear that ran down your face. Roman had gotten back into the car after being gone for a while to see you curled up, holding yourself. He could sense how upset you were. “Fuck- did I accidentally fucking- I don’t know did I fucking send out an offensive tweet? What’s wrong?” He asked you.

You shook your head, wiping your face quickly. You painfully smile over at him.

“You look like a fucking serial killer. What the fuck is wrong?” He asked. You just shook your head and grabbed a water bottle that was in the car. You took a sip before taking a breath to answer him. “Uhhh- I’ve never told anyone other than Jess about my parents… Just… it’s a lot of old memories…” Your voice croaked. His lips curled into a partial frown, unsure how to fix this. “Uhm- well if it’s- it’s going to make any difference… You did watch Logan knock a tooth out of my mouth. So, call it even.” He shrugged. It was true. He hadn’t witnessed it. But he definitely knew too much about you that you weren’t willing to be seen.  “Also cheer up, we’re seeing your fucking best friend and my coked-out brother.” He thought it would cheer you up in the slightest. It did. You could find comfort in Jess.

“Thank you…” You whispered, laying your head onto his shoulder. You slipped your hand onto his, intertwining your fingers together. Roman hid a smile, acting nonchalant.

“For what? I’m not doing it for you.” He wasn’t sure about what you were thanking him for.

“Shut the fuck up. You- Thank you for not making my parent thing… like a big deal…” You tried to explain, but he ignored it. It was exactly what you wanted. The car stopped at Kendall’s ex-wife’s apartment, and you had already texted Jess you were both on your way. He helped you out of the car, making sure you didn’t trip on the corner of the street or something. You walked in the lobby and waited for an okay to go up the elevator.

Jess got the okay to let you both up. You went up the elevator with him before being met by Jess. She hugged you immediately. “Hey, fucking crazy night…” She whispered, hoping Roman didn’t hear. “I know… what fucking crazies…” You mumbled before being led to the living room with Roman and Jess. Roman walked through, anticipating to bully Kendall before finding Shiv curled up on the couch.

“Okay, well, looky looky here.” He already began his bullying. Shiv just asked how Logan was, but you had left the room to be with Jess.

“Uh- Jess- I- Uh- I fucked up… I told Rome… about Angela and Mick…” You confronted her. You rarely called your parents by ‘mom’ or ‘dad’. They were just people you knew as long as you were concerned. Her eyes widened and she was completely speechless. “Jesus…you’re fucking in love with him or something…” She couldn’t believe it. “Why?” She asked.

“Uh- he made a comment. So, I cried and told him. Not details. But just- y’know. The basic knowledge…” You tried not to delve too deep into it. You were worried it would end in you crying in Rava’s kitchen. “I genuinely don’t know… I think he gets it…” You rationalized it.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, putting her hand over yours. Your bottom lip pouted, but Jess warned you not to cry. “Shush. Come on. Don’t do all that. You have me. And my mom. And my dad. And brothers. Come on. Don’t do that.” She giggled, pressing a kiss on the top of your head. “Now let’s eavesdrop.” She dragged you, pretending to be working as she sat at the corner table and watched the sibling’s banter.

Roman treated Shiv like a war criminal, under investigation as if he was trying to uncover the biggest secret in history. He couldn’t stop pushing and bringing out stupid metaphors. “This is what you’re seriously into?” Jess teased you. You giggled, rolling your eyes. “Tell me more about that guy with the rat tail from a year ago again.” You reminded her of a god-awful man she had hooked up with one too many times.

“Oh, fuck off. Richie wasn’t… fuck yea, okay that was disgusting…” She tried to keep her laughter low enough.

Once Kendall came in, you and Jess watched intensely. This was going to be so much more interesting.

“Oh, here he comes, the attention whore.” Roman insulted him to the room. Kendall treated it like a normal conversation, but Roman held such a giant grudge. You didn’t blame him. Because of Kendall, Roman was completely humiliated. Given a position to be given away simply because his brother wanted to fuck with their dad. “I did bring you those Danish pastries though. They’re on the table.” Roman ended his rant by trying to prove to Kendall his shit talking about his little brother having no business being public. Kendall thanked him. “It was y/n’s idea.” He pushed the credit to you. It wasn’t. You told him not to bother. But he did anyway. But the space wasn’t private. The siblings moved off, leaving you and Jess. Jess and you just stood by the door, letting people go in if they were permitted to by Kendall. You both sat on the stairs, looking over the view of the apartment.

“This is like… dude… just- what the fuck…” You sighed, laying your head on the metal railing. “I know… But Kendall has a point…” Jess revealed. You pulled away, looking at her with a scrunched-up eyebrow, and your lips moved into disgust.

“Oh please. He doesn’t mean any of that shit. He just hates Logan. And is mad he’s not CEO. He doesn’t care about rape victims.” You scoffed. Jess looked off, not wanting to argue with you. But she didn’t think you were right about Kendall’s intentions. I mean Kendall had a daughter. He had a little sister. He was very liberal compared to his dad and Roman. Maybe not as much as Shiv, but Kendall made a point to stay up to date. “If you think Kendall actually cares about rape victims it’s like saying Bill Cosby doesn’t have pills in his drawer.” You compared. “Oh, and Roman is such a poster child for stopping oppression.” She insulted. She looked up at you, waiting for your rebuttal. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to argue either.

“Don’t do that shit…” You mumbled, playing with the necklaces that dangled down your neck. “Do what? You started it with Ken.” She stated.

“Yeah- but me insulting Ken and you insulting Roman are different.” You tried to pointed out.

“Not really… I mean, you’re saying Ken is faking because of Logan. And not cause he’s surrounded by women. I mean, he’s standing up for those women. For victims. You, especially, should be glad someone is speaking out.” She began to rant, letting one thought she didn’t mean to let split, go through.

You stayed quiet, staring at her, hurt. “Yeah- someone like me… my bad…” You whispered. “You know Roman is like me too… so yeah, where was Kendall then?” you questioned her. You probably should’ve kept that to yourself, but it was too late. “You know that’s not- Look- just- I don’t think Ken is doing this for no reason. I think just- he’s trying to right his wrongs maybe.” She tried to suggest, but you weren’t going to budge. This was a lot to just say the victims need to be taken seriously. He was just smearing his family online honestly rather than talking about victims.

Roman left the room, annoyed slamming the door after a comment was made against him by Shiv about his ability to actually have sex rather than expose himself. “Fucking bitch.” He mumbled. You turned your head hearing Kendall calling out and Shiv laughing at him. You got up, quickly and ran to his side. “Hey- hey, you okay?” You asked.

“Yeah- fucking grant. My sister’s a cunt and your boss is a fucking deadbeat who’s trying to make daddy love him.” He said to Jess. He wanted to leave as soon as possible. Connor soon followed Roman as well trying to see if he was okay.

“Rome- hey, relax. She’s just- she’s dealing with her own shit and thinks it funny to make fun of you…” Connor tried to resolve this without being on Shiv’s side. “Yeah- no. She hates her husband and takes it out on us. Perfectly fine. The wicked fucking bitch of the east thinks she’s funny.” He continued to insult Shiv, despite not being here. “What’d she say?” You asked. Roman stopped any talk about it being leaked. He was too embarrassed. He especially didn’t need Jess hearing.

“Alright. Come on, it’s been a long night. She’s just…” Connor tried to convince Roman to go back in. “No- no. Fuck her.” He refused, but after you and Connor settled him down, he felt ready enough to confront Shiv again. All it took was you to boost his ego a bit.

“Don’t let her get to you… Just… uh- go ahead…” You pushed him before making him go back in.

“So, you are in love with him…” Jess whispered. You blew out air, looking up. You looked over at her, shrugging.

“Probably…” You admit to yourself. “I guess I d-“ You said before watching Kendall rush out of the room. What the fuck was going on in that room? They all left the room and waited for Kendall to come back up. You talked to Roman about your plans with him after you left Rava’s. You both needed a break. “Rome- you alright?” You checked in once more. He nodded, just avoiding Shiv. But Shiv tried to find everyone’s viewpoint before making her own. You watched carefully, hoping she doesn’t upset Roman too harshly. Shiv proposed they go against Logan and take down Logan. Roman didn’t want to, but sooner became interested in the idea. Connor sat back with you and Jess, eating the Danish pastries Roman had bought Kendall. “So how long have you and Roman been a thing?” He asked you. You and Jess looked at each other, before you answered.

“Uhh- it’s hard to say… uhhh- maybe like- 3…3 or 4 months. No, yeah. Maybe 4 months. 3.” You weren’t sure. You both were always on and off so it was hard to understand when you were ever on or off. You weren’t sure if you both were on or off right now. Thank god Roman saved you from the conversation, bringing Connor into their debate. But Kendall finally arrived. All the talk about ‘killing’ dad hurt Roman. It was evident. He didn’t want to admit Logan was as bad as everyone was saying. He wanted to think Logan was better than he was. Kendall made a great point, separating everyone into divisions of leadership, but you were right. This whole thing had a motive. Kendall wanted to be in charge.

“Oh- what was that about Ken caring about victims?” You whispered to Jess. She remained quiet. No one came to an agreement and went to consult whoever they could consult to before regrouping.

Jess got up, answered another house call, and saw a box of donuts being delivered. She looked confused, setting them down. “This has to be some kind of trauma thing. Right?” You asked her as the siblings stared at the box, scared and hypothesized.

“This is dark…” She whispered. Connor inspected and sniffed the donuts, but the kids were debating if it was tampered with.

Kendall thankfully cut the conversation short and tried to keep the others in line. But in result, treating Connor as if he were a child, sent Connor away and forced Connor to decline. Kendall’s ego was too big to let his siblings shine. Or anyone else for that matter.

“Fine. You’re irrelevant.” He insulted Connor, repeating hurtful words as Connor pleaded. “Ken, shut the fuck up. Grow up.” You couldn’t watch Kendall emotionally abuse Connor.

“Roman, control your little yap dog.” He wouldn’t even acknowledge you. “Are you fucking kidding me? Just cause I’m telling yo-“ You tried to reason, but Kendall insulted you once more. “Just because my baby brother wiggles his dick in your face doesn’t mean you have any room to speak.” Kendall struck you with an insensitive comment.

“Woah- Ken…” Jess tried to intervene.

“Okay- fuck you. Don’t do that shit.” Roman defended. “Who’s house are we in? Oh yea- the one who doesn’t love you anymore.” He tried to hurt Kendall back. “Pass. Fuck you dude.”

“Oh what? Because I insulted your personal stripper?” He tried to reason with him. “Okay Ken, fuck you. Shove it up your fucking dick hole. Come on.” You snapped. But Kendall just went on and on. It just made you uncomfortable. “Roman... Come on. Fuck this. I’m not dealing with a fucking dude who knows his dealer’s number rather than his kids' birthdays. Fucking dead-beat.” You insulted once more before leaving with Roman following behind.

You, Shiv, and Roman sat in a car, Roman reporting to Logan about everything that had gone down. You laid your head on the window, trying to find a moment of peace.  

Notes: Please do self-care if you need it. These are some personal experiences, yet dramatized, it is a part of me. Not necessarily the mother portion, but the daddy issues are strong :)

Chapter 18

[angstyandromanticwriting]

Harley Quinn X FemWerewolf!Reader Angsty and Cute prompt with comfort moments as well as a hopeful ending

• Occurs after the events of the third film (The Suicide Squad - 2021) + Linked to last few prompts I posted

!TW: Weapon (Spear), implied having experience of poor/traumatic past experiences, implied suffering from depression, grieving, feeling guilty, violence, bullying/harassment, murderous intentions/urges, swearing, supernatural element, insults, hint of separation anxiety/anxiety in general, putting oneself down, self doubt, murder attempt, getting injured, sacrificing oneself for another person, near-death experience!

Harley had been surprised to find, one night, that you were gone from her side, not too long after Waller had decided to let you out of your cell, and she worried about you, immediately getting out of bed to try and find you; she didn’t want you to get caught by Waller or any of the others, knowing you’d probably be in trouble if you were. Luckily, she didn’t have a hard time trying to find you, relying on the pack bond and tether she had with you, as well as, once she’d started getting closer, the sound of you crying nearby. “Y/n-?” She spoke, feeling slightly uneasy as she drew closer to the sound, but she soon relaxed when she noticed that it was you, sheathing her spear back up, whilst she stared back at you for a moment, a pained expression on her face; you were curled up, shaking whilst you sobbed, and she wondered what had happened, wishing she could do more to make you happy, and forget about everything that had happened to you, before. “Alpha,” she continued gently, and you tensed up for a moment, not daring to look over at her; you hated crying in front of her, knowing it upset her whenever you did, “it - it’s me.” She then slowly approached you, just in case you were in a disorientated state, like you sometimes were whenever she’d found you in a similar situation, before. Once she’d gotten close enough to, she crouched down beside you, and you whimpered quietly whilst she cradled you close to her, trying to comfort you as much as she possibly could, before lifting her right hand up to the right side of your head so she could play with your hair, knowing you liked it whenever she did. “It’s okay,” she cooed, after hearing a strained, barely audible sob escaping your lips, whilst trying to ignore the ache she was feeling in her chest; she hated seeing you like this, “I’m here, Alpha; I’ve got you, e-everything’s gonna be fine, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry,” you mustered shakily, your voice close to a whisper, and she shook her head, not wanting you to feel as if you had to apologise, “I didn’t mean to wake you, I just - I - I thought I h-heard my mother out here, calling me, a-and..” You faltered, noticing the pained expression on Harley’s face. “Oh god, she - she’s gone,” you mused, “I forgot, she..” Your face then contorted; you’d begun to cry again, and she frowned, feeling bad, and not knowing what to say to make things better for you. “It’s all my fault,” you uttered, “I’m never gonna see her again, and it’s all my fault; she died because of me; if she’d not given birth to me she would-”

“It’s not your fault, Alpha,” she contradicted, a hurt look on her face, “d-don’t ever think that what happened was your fault; you had no control over it, there was nothing you could do, Y/n - please tell me you know that.”

You hesitated, a pained expression on your face, but you knew she’d be upset if you didn’t. “I.. I know,” you claimed, and she managed a weak smile down at you, and you found you couldn’t help, but smile back up at her, feeling your heart beginning to race whilst you did, and you could hear that her’s was, too, alongside your’s.

“Good,” she replied, “we should get back to the base, before Waller or anyone else finds us out here.”

“We - Aren’t allowed to be out here-?” You assumed, and she shook her head gravely, shocking you, as well as disheartening you slightly, but you were glad, at least, to be able to be out of your cell, and be with her again.

“I’m sorry, Alpha,” she expressed, “they just don’t trust us, and I don’t want you to get into trouble; Waller might separate us again if she or Flag find us out here.” You nodded, understanding. “You don’t - mind, do you?” She inquired, and you shook your head.

“I’m happy, as long as I’m with you,” you reassured, “l-let’s go.”

She nodded, smiling lovingly down at you, before she carefully lifted you off of the ground, briefly connecting her lips to your’s whilst she did, and you melted into the kiss, smiling subconsciously against her lips whilst blood rushed to your cheeks; you were blushing, you were almost certain that you were, particularly when you noticed Harley smirking; she’d seen that you were, and thought it was cute. “You’re adorable,” she remarked, flustering you as you whimpered quietly, and buried your face into her right arm, “hey, don’t hide that you’re blushing from me; I love it.”

“I’ll get you back,” you assured, and she giggled in reply, after making an attempt to look as if she were scared, prompting you to pout, “I can make you blush, Quinzels, you’ll see, I’ve done it before-”

“Try, I dare you,” she challenged, “but I assure you you can’t make me blush as much as I make you blush.”

“We’ll see about that,” you replied, grinning up at her, and she would lift her right eyebrow slightly, intrigued, and looking forward to seeing what you would do to try and make her blush.

“You gonna try now, or-?” She inquired, and you smirked, shaking your head whilst a mischievous glint began to form in your eyes.

“I’m not telling you,” you stated, surprising her, but she liked it, “it’s gonna be a surprise; you still like surprises, right?”

“Of course I do,” she reassured, “and even if I didn’t, I’m sure as hell looking forward to this one.” You smiled warmly up at her, glad, before burying your face back into her arm, and letting your eyes close; you didn’t realise, until now, just how tired you were in this moment, and Harley smiled when she noticed that you were half-asleep, and slowed down a little to avoid waking you, or disturbing you in any way, though you didn’t mind, at all, if she did, nor would you mind it if Cane did for whatever reason, since she and Harley were the closest to you out of the whole group, and the only two you really considered to be family to you. Of course, you still considered Renee, Huntress and Canary to be family to you, too, after all they’d done for you, Cane, and Harley, they just weren’t as close as they were to you.

~-~

Whilst Flag and Milton were running a training session, using you and the remaining members of the pack you’d been leading before running away from them, and had found again fighting with the group, you would be distracted whenever you heard Falcon being rude about Harley, but she was just trying to ignore him, though she occasionally got the urge to throw her spear over at him. Eventually, she did end up lugging it at him, after she’d had enough, and you would be glad that she did, even though it didn’t do anything to him; just startled him. Falcon then scowled, and stormed up to Harley, prompting you to snarl and lope to her side protectively, baring your teeth over at him. He grimaced down at you, before returning his attention to Harley, who looked unperturbed by him trying to threaten her. “You piss me off,” he spat, and she scoffed, looking perplexed, whilst she fondled your left ear with her right hand to try and provide comfort to you; you were seething beside her, wishing you could tear into him, but you knew you’d get into trouble, and probably be separated from her again if you did, so you just about managed to hold yourself back, with the help of Harley beside you, of course; you’d always lose control of yourself, if it weren’t for her.

“How? I didn’t even do anything to you,” she hissed back at him, and he guffawed, before gesticulating to her spear which was laying on the ground waiting for her to retrieve it. “Yeah, well - Before that I wasn’t even doing anything, and you decided to say all that shit about me,” she clarified, and he rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed, as well as trying to hide the embarrassment he was currently feeling from you both.

“Yes, you were,” he contradicted, his voice slightly quieter than before, and you dug your claws into the dirt, knowing you had to dig them into something to try and keep yourself even more calm and collected.

“Oh, really? What was I doing, then?” She questioned, and he would quickly think of a response, stammering a little whilst he did.

“U-Uh, well - You’re breathing, are you not? And that’s just fuckin’ annoying to me; that’s why I was complaining earlier,” he explained, and she scowled, whilst you tensed up beside her, beginning to heat up even more; you hated that you weren’t tearing him to shreds, right now, clearly.

“Is that really all you can think of as a reason? C’mon, that’s lame,” she remarked, and he grunted, frustrated; he evidently couldn’t think of anything else, for a moment, to use as an insult, and that amused both you, and her.

“Alright,” he continued, determined, “you want another one?” You winced when you noticed both Flag and Milton were watching; they’d only just noticed there was something going on, after everyone around you three had stopped fighting, and were now watching. “Hey, I heard you won an award,” he continued, and you both guessed that his coming remark would be terrible, but Harley played along, feigning intrigue.

“Oh, did I? What for?” She inquired, encouraging him to continue, and you frowned, not wanting her to have to listen to the crap he was about to come out with, as well as what he already had come out with.

“For literally being the most annoying person on this fuckin’ planet,” he answered, and that was it for you as you lunged forward, and knocked him down to the ground, whilst you snarled above him, but before you could sink your teeth into him, Harley held you back, a pained expression on her face; she didn’t like to have to do that to you, especially when you were defending her, but she was terrified of you being taken away from her again, and couldn’t let it happen.

“Enough!” Milton shouted, before Flag could, and you gradually began to calm down, letting Harley ease you away from Falcon, and hold you close to her protectively, whilst anxiously watching Flag and Milton approaching, hurriedly talking, but their voices were too quiet for any of you to hear what they were saying.

You then began to realise that you’d messed up, and your blood ran cold; you thought they were gonna lock you up again, away from Harley, and a quiet whine escaped you whilst you thought about the possibility of that happening. ‘I’m so sorry,’ you expressed, your voice briefly trembling, whilst you buried your face into her left shoulder, and she shook her head, not wanting you to apologise after Falcon had started the fight in the first place, ‘what - what if they lock me up again? I - I can’t be without you, I’m such an idiot-’

“You’re not an idiot, Y/n,” she interjected gently, a hurt look on her face, “don’t - don’t say that, and they won’t lock you up again, I promise; nothing bad is gonna happen, alright? I won’t - won’t let them ever separate us again; I can’t. I needed you before, even after I said I didn’t, l-last year, and you weren’t there, but you’re here, now, and it has to stay that way; I love you, Alpha; I always have, and I always will; I wanna be your’s, forever, please remember that.”

“I knew Waller letting you out was a bad idea,” Milton uttered, but Flag shook his head, siding with you and Harley; he knew you wouldn’t have done anything if Falcon hadn’t provoked Harley.

“Relax, Milton,” he replied, whilst you both anxiously watched them, still intermingled with one another, like you usually were, “let’s all just be in agreement that nothing happened-”

“Ridiculous,” Milton interrupted, “don’t you see? She’s dangerous, and barely has any control over herself; she could easily turn on us, don’t you get what’s going on here?”

Flag simply shrugged, playing dumb, somewhat. “Truthfully,” he began, after sighing, “I have no idea what’s going on, ever, since that first damn mission I had to oversee. Now, are we in agreement, or not, chief? The only person here who should, ideally, be punished - is Falcon, over here; he provoked the fight, and you know our Alpha here is - very protective, and he wasn’t doing any favours for himself, really.”

“Fine,” Milton mumbled, “if it’ll get you to shut up, but if she slips up again, I’m going to Waller-”

“She - She won’t,” Harley assured, and you nodded quickly in agreement, your eyes glinting whilst you did; you vowed you would try harder to control yourself, if it meant you wouldn’t be separated from Harley again, like you were, before, “see?”

“She better not,” he replied, “keep her in line; she listens to you, the most - some Alpha.”

You fought back a growl, watching as Milton walked away, and she grimaced with you; she didn’t like your authority being challenged, like he’d just done. “Don’t listen to him, little wolfy,” she cooed, “he - he knows nothing; you’re the best Alpha there is.”

You forced a smile up at her, before lowering your gaze back down to the ground, and letting the shiny smile fade; you often doubted that you were, knowing you couldn’t ever be the Alpha your mother had been; she had been amazing, you perceived, after hearing everything your aunt had told you about her, when she was still alive. ‘T-Thanks, Quinzels,’ you returned, ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

Flag then turned to Falcon, who was struggling to get to his feet, leaning heavily against the nearest fence; he was still shocked after you’d suddenly knocked him down like you had, and almost attempted to kill him. “Out of everyone here to cause trouble,” he mused, whilst slowly walking up to Falcon, who was trembling a little, “of course it’s you. Watch yourself, or I’ll make sure it’s you who’s getting the shit from Waller, got that?” Falcon nodded, and Flag smiled back at the both of you, before walking up to the others to inform them that the training session was over, for today.

“Let’s get out of here, Alpha,” Harley suggested, and you nodded, following behind her whilst she retrieved her spear, “I wanna give you something for sticking up for me back there.”

You would be surprised, but found you couldn’t refuse, smirking. ‘Intriguing,’ you responded, ‘I look forward to it.’

She grinned back at you, a mischievous glint in her stunning icy blue eyes, never failing to amaze and make you forget how to breathe for a few moments; you found everything about her magical, and perfect, and whenever you did, you wondered why she’d decided she wanted you, too, when she could find someone so much better than you. “Finally,” Winter remarked, surprising the both of you as you looked over at her at the same time, an almost identical perplexed look on both of your faces, “I brought popcorn; I assume you meant - a movie night, right?”

You both couldn’t help it as you shared a look, before bursting out laughing, and shaking your heads at the same time. “We could have a movie night later-?” Harley suggested, whilst recovering from her laughing fit, and Winter would appear elated, looking forward to it, clearly. “What do you say, Alpha?” She inquired, and you nodded, prompting both Harley and Winter to cheer, making you smile brightly.

“Sure,” you answered, “see you then, Winter, choose whatever films you want to watch later.” You and Harley then rushed into the base, before anyone else could stop you both.

~-~

“Who let you be in charge?” Harley spat; Falcon had decided to step up after Milton had been wounded by one of the hunters sent by the Government, and Omega Prime Minister, who you were all now up against.

“Uh, myself, duh,” he answered, and she grimaced over at him, “what? You think you’d do better? Please-”

You snarled, cutting him off, and Harley quickly blocked you from getting any closer to him by holding out her spear in front of you, and you faltered, wincing when you remembered yourself, and glanced up at her, to find her smiling sadly as well as reassuringly over at you. You managed a faint smile back, before walking up to her, and brushing against her side, soothing her even more. “Easy, guys,” Flag warned, “and you’re not the leader, Falcon, I am, so get back into your place, won’t you? I don’t want anymore crap from you, remember what I said about telling Waller about your behaviour recently?” Falcon grunted, before nodding gravely. “Good, now I suggest you listen, and keep your mouth shut from here on out,” he concluded, before gesticulating for Falcon to join the others at the back, which he begrudging did, after muttering something inaudible. Flag then turned to face you both, appearing disappointed; he’d heard Harley speaking first, this time. “Behave, won’t you? I don’t need anymore shit from Waller on my back right now,” he complained, and you both nodded gravely, before Harley rolled her eyes after he’d turned around, and continued walking at the front of the group, beside the makeshift stretcher Milton was being carried on.

You then both walked side-by-side behind them, Harley making sure the fingers of her right hand were tangled a little in the white fur of your left side; you were still in your wolf form. You smiled when you felt them, and shyly glanced over at her, finding her looking over at you, too, and you would immediately be flustered, quickly looking away, blood rushing to your cheeks whilst you did, but the fact that you were blushing was luckily hidden by your fur, but she still knew you had to be blushing, due to the way you were acting. She fought back a giggle, amused, but didn’t want to make you feel embarrassed. ‘You can laugh,’ you mustered, surprising her as she looked over at you, but she would be relieved, allowing herself to snort, before laughing quietly, and you grinned, before smiling lovingly up at her, and wishing you could be alone with her for longer than you both usually were able to be. ‘I love you so much,’ you expressed, and she looked back at you, her eyes glinting whilst she did, and heart racing alongside your’s, ‘to - to the point you make me - self-destructive, in some ways, but I love it, because I serve to make you happy, and to protect you; there will never be a day, Quinzels, where I won’t jump in front of a bullet, or fight billions and trillions of Omegas all alone just to save you-’

She shook her head, tears beginning to invade her eyes; she didn’t want you to think that you had to do that for her. “N-No, Alpha,” she whined, her voice briefly trembling, and Flag looked over his shoulder at the both of you, wondering what you both were talking about; he still couldn’t understand you, yet, like Harley, Cane, Renee, Huntress and Canary could, when you were communicating with them in your wolf form, “you don’t ever have to do that for me; if I lost you-”

You frowned, a pained expression on your face. ‘You - You’d be free of me,’ you stated, and she faltered, stopping in place, and you followed her, not daring to look up at her, whilst your vision began to grow blurry due to the now invading tears threatening to escape your eyes.

When Flag had noticed you’d both stopped, he hesitantly stopped, too, but decided he should give you both some form of privacy. Milton could see that this was what Flag had in mind, and he forced himself to sit up, wincing as he did, ignoring Flag’s protesting, and demands to lay back down due to him needing to rest after being recently wounded. “I can manage them,” he stated, quietly, to avoid disturbing you both, and Flag grunted, shaking his head again, “you have to be the one to manage the others, go on - You aren’t scared, are you?”

“Of course not,” he answered, “you just need to rest-”

“There’s no rest for the wicked, Sergeant,” he interjected, and Flag hesitantly nodded gravely in agreement, “take ‘em down a little further, and we’ll be with you once we’re done, here.”

“Crazy,” Flag uttered, “the one time Waller decides she wants the Birds of Prey staying in the base, and this happens.”

Milton snorted, before shaking his head. “It’s one of those days,” he replied, “now take ‘em along, and give the lovebirds some privacy.”

“Chief,” Flag concluded, before respectfully nodding his head, and gesticulating for the others to follow him away from you three.

“What if I don’t want to be free of you, Alpha?” She questioned, a hurt look on her face, and you doubted that, but tried to hide that you did, not wanting to upset her any more than you had, already. “I love you, little wolfy; you’re everything to me, a-and - It was painful enough l-losing you all those times before. L-Like - Like last time - Where were you? You could have - could have come find me; I heard your howl, after you fell, a-and you’re here now, so - Where were you?”

You bowed your head, allowing a couple of stray tears to run down your cheeks, and drop down to the ground. ‘I.. I was trying, Harley, to - to find you, and when I did, I.. I don’t know, by the time I had, I thought you’d forgotten about me; I thought you’d found someone b-better than me, and I just.. Thought it would be better if-.. If I let you go; set you free.’

She would realise, and begin to feel guilty, wishing she’d never gotten involved with the man she considered to be a walking red flag, last year. Once she felt able, she rushed over to you, and crouched down so she could throw her arms around you, burying her face into your neck whilst she began to cry, feeling awful. “I - I’m so sorry, Y/n,” she expressed shakily, and you shook your head, not wanting her to feel as if she had to apologise; you believed it to be all your fault, especially for being so reckless the day you went over the cliff whilst fighting with the Omega in another attempt to save her life, “I-.. I love you so much, and I never forgot about you; I never could, even - even when I was with that guy.. Please tell me you know that, Alpha.”

You nodded, and she expressed relief, glad to hear that you did. ‘I - I know,’ you assured, forcing a smile, and she smiled back at you, before connecting her forehead to your’s, so your eyes could lock with her’s in the best way possible.

“Hey, you haven’t said it back yet,” she pointed out, after you’d found yourself getting lost in her icy blue eyes, and you winced, realising, “do you love me?”

‘More than anything,’ you expressed, and her smile grew, prompting you to forget how to breathe for a moment, and your heart seemed to manage to start racing even faster, somehow. ‘You’re everything to me, Quinzels, you - you always have been, and always will be,’ you added, ‘I guess I was just - getting a little lost in your eyes again, in all honesty.’

“Guess what?” She chimed after affectionately booping your nose with the tip of her’s, and you would be intrigued, tilting your head partially. “I was getting a little lost in your’s, too,” she admitted, “you must have the most beautiful werewolf eyes I’ve ever seen.”

You would be surprised, not expecting that. ‘You - Really think so?’ You inquired, and she nodded quickly, certain of herself.

“I know so,” she assured, and winced when she noticed Milton was watching you both, “we can never get any privacy around here, it’s crazy.” You nodded gravely, wishing things could be different for you both, and Cane, who was still currently being kept at the base by Waller and the Birds of Prey, still insistent that it was too dangerous for her to join you both. She then sighed heavily, just wishing she could have more time alone with you, whilst you wished you could, too, with her. “I guess we should keep going,” she murmured, and you nodded again, though it was the last thing you both wanted to do, right now, “c’mon, Alpha; we should be getting some alone time later, anyway.” You dragged yourself alongside her, toward Milton, who whistled for Flag to bring the group back over, and he shortly appeared with the rest of the group around the corner, so he could, with another of the group, Winter, whom he felt he could trust a little more than the others, except for you and Harley, continue to carry the stretcher Milton was on down the path, back toward the base after they’d already been attacked not too long ago. Whilst you both were walking back with the group, you made sure to be brushing up against her side again, whilst Harley also ensured that the fingers of her right hand were tangled in the white fur of your left side; you both just liked to be somehow touching one another, and to know that you both really were there beside one another again, after you’d both been separated for yet another year. Like you’d both been hoping you would, you did get more time alone with one another, before lights out, and used it to ‘celebrate’, play games with one another and Cane, before sending her off to bed, as well as just cuddle up together, occasionally in silence, whilst you both stared into each other’s eyes, wondering what you’d both done to deserve each other, as well as thinking about how perfect things would be, once you both were given the okay to get married, i.e once the Omegas were gone, and the Omega Prime Minister defeated.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed! ❤️

[raineandsky]

#60

tw fire / arson

Debris falls from the sky like flaming rain. The villain’s laugh practically rings through the carnage.

The henchman rips the front door clean off of its hinges, coughing through the ash accumulating in the flat hallway. The smoke from the fires downstairs are already wafting through in here, throwing the entire flat into a blinding fog.

“Ma!” they call into the dense greyness, their reward being more dry hacking. They stumble further into the flat. There’s a voice further down, weak and feeble, and the henchman blindly follows it like a lighthouse at sea.

“Ma,” they try again on the threshold of the living room, careful to keep the taste of smoke out of their mouth this time. They can see her outline, just beyond the immediate haze.

“Come on, let’s get out.” They carefully pull her up from her spot on the sofa, haggard coughs wracking her frame just like they had the henchman a minute before.

“Oh, no, I’m waiting for someone,” she says with more optimism than a building on fire should allow. “One of the heroes will come and save us.”

The villain has driven out every hero within a ten mile radius, and any that didn’t take the hint were put six feet under. “No, Ma,” the henchman says a little desperately, “the heroes aren’t coming. We need to go before the building collapses.”

The henchman’s mother glances longingly out of the window. “They will. Just you wait.”

“We don’t have time to wait,” the henchman says a little desperately. 

“Heroes always appear in a nick of time. They have all the time in the world.”

The henchman manages to drag her to the front door. She frowns at the door laying on the tile like a red carpet to their escape. “What happened to my door?” she asks distantly.

They more or less drag their mother down three flights of stairs, eyes blurred with the burning smoke leading the way. Hurling the two of them out onto the dirty pavement outside is a relief for their lungs, but the blazing fire still licks at them from all angles. Something in the reception of the building collapses loudly behind them.

Most sane people have left by now—the streets are deserted save for the destruction slowly forcing its way through the city.

The henchman wraps hands around their mother’s arm in an attempt to get her moving. “Come on, Ma, we’re not out—”

“Ah, [Henchman], I was just wondering where you’d gotten to!”

The henchman’s heart stops momentarily. They turn to meet the expectant gaze of the villain, their eyes lit up at the sight of their mother in tow.

“You found a rogue civilian,” they comment smoothly, earning a sour scowl from the henchman’s mother. “Great work. She can give us some leeway with the agency.”

The villain doesn’t know who she is. Their mother doesn’t know they work with the villain. There’s no way to stop the two worlds colliding in a brilliant explosion that is the henchman’s life.

“Us?” the henchman’s mother spits, ice cold. “Who is us?”

“No, Ma, listen, it’s not—”

“Ma?” the villain interjects quickly, a smile pulling unnaturally at their lips. “Oh, [Henchman], you know the rules.”

“No, [Villain], please, listen—”

“You work with criminals,” their mother growls. “What did I do wrong for you to insult your upbringing like this?”

“That’s a great question,” the villain adds brightly, though their gaze is set, hard, on their henchman. “I wonder what you did wrong.”

Their contract: clause five, section eight—abandon all familiar relationships, in the event of their being caught in crossfire. Prevent grief to ensure your highest performance.

This situation couldn’t be more wrong.

The villain steps forward as the henchman is caught in their own thoughts. Their mother yelps as they wrangle her out of the henchman’s grip. “Now,” the villain says coolly. “I am going to get some information with our little hostage here, and you are going to learn what happens when you break the rules.”

A pair of handcuffs click shut around their mother’s wrists, much to her disgust. “You lock me up like I’m the degenerate here.”

The villain hums a laugh, giving her a hard shove to get her walking. They pause when they don’t hear the usual loyal footsteps trailing behind them, throwing a glance over their shoulder to the henchman.

“Do I need to retrain you like a dog?”

The henchman follows. They barely have a choice anymore.

[moviemunchies]

…the Plot of this movie is about criminals stealing VCRs.

That’s not a complaint, okay? It’s just that right now, The Fast & the Furious is a well-known, high-octane, globe-trotting action film series, and yet the original is about a cop going undercover with street racers to find out who is stealing VCRs.

It’s nuts.

Brian is an undercover officer on the street racing scene. He’s getting close to the Toretto family (especially Mia, who he has quite clearly fallen for), led by Dom, who himself heads a street-racing crew. Someone is stealing electronics from trucks on the highway using street-racing techniques. While Brian thinks that Dom and his crew is too smart and careful to try something like that (his superiors pointedly disagree), he thinks that someone Dom on the racing circuit is responsible and this connection could help him out. But as he gets to know these people, especially Dom, Brian’s loyalties become divided as he becomes an actual part of Dom’s crew. What will he do when it becomes obvious that Dom really is behind the recent thefts?

The first time I think I saw this movie was in a hotel or something? It was a family trip, my parents went out for dinner, and my brother and I had pizza, along with movies we’d gotten from Blockbuster to watch. I think I got a low-budget TV movie about dragons? My brother brought along this film. 

Or maybe I’m misremembering and it was the sequel.

[I also think I read Sword & the Circle on this trip? I might be wrong.]

Even before that, I recall that I had a friend in school to whom this was his favorite movie. WEIRD for a fourth grader, but I think he really liked cars and racing, so I sort of get it. I also think I wouldn’t let a kid that age watch it if *I* were his parents, but whatevs.

Watching it now, in 2023, I’m kind of just confused? I want someone to write a paper on this. This is a fairly ordinary late 90’s/early 2000’s action film, with the only thing to make it stand out that it’s about street-racing. And yet! This movie survived! It spawned a series that’s still going over twenty years later. How? HOW? I suspect the series reinventing itself has something to do with it, but it boggles the mind. Boggles my mind, anyhow.

Anyhow this movie’s fine, I guess. It is pretty much exactly what it says on the title? It’s a crime thriller about street racing, and that’s what you get when you put the film on. The Race Wars segment is much shorter than I remembered it being, I guess, but there’s still a racing element throughout the film. It sets up one of the characters’ fates, but I don’t know if we needed that to go out into the desert for it to happen.

Hey, wait a minute, it takes over thirty minutes in this movie (less than an hour and fifty minutes) for the movie to actually reveal that Brian is an undercover cop? That’s a bit weird. I guess if it was being made now, the film might try to save this as a reveal in the last twenty minutes after wasting two hours. I’m not really upset, but it seems as if something that should have been more strongly hinted at earlier.

The movie’s fine. There are bits that haven’t aged so well; Vince’s homophobic insults, for one, though he’s supposed to be a massive jerk so today’s audience can easily let it slide.Overall though, while I don’t think it stands up to some of today’s greatest action movies, The Fast & the Furious is still a decent action movie to enjoy today. 

[sapphiresaphics]

“they don’t work out their issues. they don’t discuss any of their issues. they are forced to work together because vander’s situation provides urgency. and then they insult each other and slap fight without explaining why they did what they did, what’s been going through their minds, why they’re angry at each other. they don’t communicate at all.”

You’ve never had siblings have you? Or if you have.. you’ve never gotten into actual fights with them have you?

Vi isn’t “forced” to do anything. She CHOOSES to go with Jinx. And the Vander situation is a problem, yes, but it’s not URGENT. If it was they wouldn’t be casually strolling through the caves. And this is where they TRULY come to blows. The big epic fight earlier was just spectacle. THIS is the fight between sisters. And it’s raw and silly and childish. That’s the point of it.

And again. You don’t need to SAY why you did anything. Vi learns Mir about Jinx as a person by how she interacts with Isha than she does taking to her. It’s also no secret that during their little brawl in the caves on a mission to save Vander, Vi accidentally hurts Isha (Jinx’s personification) just as she did when she punched Powder back in season 1. This is very deliberate storytelling parallels.

Also, screenwriting 101: characters never just say what they mean. Cuz that’s just boring and uninteresting. Scenes are more interesting when characters can’t say what they want to say, so they talk about other issues to make up for it. All dialogue should HINT at what they really want. The tussle in the mines is far more authentic and realistic than the over the top brawl they had in the pipe works.

Take the note they find from Vander to Silco. Jinx reads it out loud and then comments about how if Silco had found it maybe things would’ve been different. And in that moment Vi raises her hand and wants to touch Jinx’s shoulder but can’t quite bring herself to do it yet. Because that moment isn’t REALLY about Vander and Silco. It’s about Jinx and Vi. Say one thing, but mean another. That’s GOOD scriptwriting.

“She’s not exactly a dictator in the traditional sense”

Okay stop right there. If she’s not a dictator in the traditional sense then she’s not a god damn dictator. End of story. Stop trying to justify her being one when you freely admit she is not one.

The show repeatedly shows that despite her being hardened and angry and doing these things out of fear and hate… she ultimately doesn’t want to. Has she been impressing Zaun even more than before? Absolutely. But is she also chastising Ambessa’s guard for instigating violence and calling out Ambessa’s justification for more violence? Absolutely as well.

Caitlyn is an oppressive authority figure clouded in privileged and doing what she’s doing because of hate and fear and anger. Yes. 100% no getting around that. But she’s not a dictator. And she doesn’t WANT to be a dictator. She was thrust into this position through peer pressure and manipulation just like Jayce was when he became a counselor. And she’s been looking for an excuse to get out of it for a while too. Maddie says as much in bed.

And remember Vi? When Caitlyn is sad after her mother died, she refers to Vi as the person who calms her down and guides her through things. Vi is who she breaks down and cries with. Vi is who she listens to when things get more dangerous in the pipe works. There’s a reason why when Vi shows up again, Caitlyn is all too willing to help her out. Especially if it means she can get rid of Ambessa and save VI’s father in the process.

This show is filled with nuance and morally grey characters. So when you reduce them to binary black and white roles and call them dictators, yeah that’s not gonna jive well when they do stuff contrary to that binary. That’s what I’m calling you out for and why I insist you don’t refer to Caitlyn as a dictator. Because calling her a dictator erases her moral complexity and ignores everything that happened in season 1. You are flattening out her character so you can whine.

“Hextech didn’t break them apart, systemic oppression did”

No… hextech broke them apart. The bomb Powder used in season 1 was hextech. It happened at the exact same time Jayce and Viktor were experimenting and their experiments resulted in teleportation magic. And if you watch closely when the explosion goes off, there are pieces of debris and rubble that get teleported through the door and end up killing the two boys. As we’ve learned this season, all Hextech devices are linked. It was Jayce and Viktor tampering with Hextech that resulted in the bomb going off being so devastating to Vi and Powder’s family.

Additionally, the explosion at the beginning of the show that sets everything in motion is Hextech. Yes they were infiltrating Jayce’s workshop because of systemic inequality, but that’s a background detail to explain why. It’s not the inciting incident that started it all. That’s the hextech gem explosion. The show begins with Hextech being volatile and dangerous and that’s the reoccurring conundrum throughout the entire show. Everybody wants this power and they use their positions of inequality and oppression to get it. Again… that’s the inequality being a background excuse, but not the driving force.

“How does Vander being alive fix everything?”

Because that’s the rift that broke Powder and Vi apart. It’s because of Powder’s bomb that Vander died. It’s because Vander died that Vi hurt Powder and started her on this path to becoming Jinx. It was the inciding incident that broke them apart.

Vander being alive means they can heal their rift. Vander being alive means Powder didn’t kill him. Finding Vander and bringing him back allows Vi to forgive Powder for what she did. Like Jinx says “maybe this is a do-over.”

Vander is their father. Having him back means they don’t have to fight anymore. They don’t have to try to kill each other anymore. It means Jinx can heal and become herself again. Vi can forgive Jinx. Etc etc.

This is like one of the biggest moments in the show. That you seem to put so little emphasis on its importance and can’t understand why Vander being alive could heal their rift is sad.

You seem like the type of person who needs characters to just say what they mean literally or else you don’t understand what’s happening. Body language, voice acting, dialogue, shot composition and framing… you seem to IGNORE all of that and complain that characters just don’t sit down and talk one on one with each other. You don’t seem to understand or respect the craft of the show.

When a character says something but means something else, you seem like you only take things at face value and can’t comprehend that they might be lying, or saying meaning something else.

Take the moment when Sallow is rolled in on a wheelchair demanding they go to war with the undercity. Mel clocks that this is not how Sallow talks. And since he was rolled out by Ambessa, it’s made very clear that it’s Ambessa who’s ACTUALLY talking in the scene. Even though she never says a word. I wonder.. how did you read that scene? Did you pick up on Mel playing chess with her mother? Or did you think she was actually addressing Sallow the whole time?

I don’t know what else to tell you dude. You’re not wrong that systemic oppression and power dynamics play a significant role in the show’s message. I would just argue that it’s not the MAIN FOCUS of the show and has never been. It’s window dressing at best. The main focus has always been how attempts to do good for love and for family can result in doing terrible awful things.

As Victor puts it “we lost ourselves. Lost our dreams. In our attempt to save the world we failed to do good.”

I find it hilarious when the show called ARCANE starts talking about the ARCANE and the ARCANE starts having a more prominent role in the trajectory of the show named ARCANE that people are only now complaining about “lore” being added to the show.

Like, my dudes… the show was about the ARCANE. Now that it’s reacting and developing and becoming the big thing the whole show is heading towards… NOW you’re worried about the “lore” messing things up??!

Hahah

Sorry guys. I know we started with class inequality, and that’s definitely a theme of the show… but the TRUE star has ALWAYS been the ARCANE and how it reacts to the events around it.

They wouldn’t have named the show ARCANE if they weren’t going to address the ARCANE.

[number-1-crush]

so. we win some we lose some

[jaycypressus]

𝐥𝗼𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝗼𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫 | 𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝗺 𝐬𝗺𝐚𝐮

𝐕𝐈𝐈- 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐏𝐒

you kind of assumed, and feared, that alhaitham was just going to lecture at you and call it help. even though it would probably help more than getting tear-stains all over the problem. you just didn’t want to seem stupid in front of him, not like how you felt your first year.

but it wasn’t like that, at all. he had even brought you rose custard because he recalled that you’d liked it at lambad’s cafe. when you offered to pay him back, he’d waved off your attempts and brought out his own notes from when he took the class.

it was slow going at first. there was a lot of material to go over, after all. but it didn’t take long until you two found an easy rhythm. alhaitham briefly explained his notes before giving you time to finish practice problems then he’d look over them. If they were wrong, he’d explain more thoroughly, if they were correct, you’d move on.

you’d gotten a decent amount done when you leaned back with a heavy sigh. alhaitham looked up from his own homework, eyebrow cocked. “need help?”

you shook your head, stifling a yawn. “no, just need a brain break. i can feel my brain cells fizzling away,” you groaned. alhaitham snorted, but closed his books. “did you finish your rose custard?” he questioned.

you nodded, offering a sad glance to the empty cup. “thanks again for it,” you smiled gratefully. alhaitham hummed in acknowledgment. “it’s no problem. do you want to take a break?” he offered.

“what should we do?” alhaitham held out his phone with his instagram pulled up. “well, for starters, you can follow me back on instagram, you’re not Beyoncé,” he stated dryly, but there was an obvious hint of humor in his voice.

you couldn’t stifle your laugh as you pulled out your phone. “okay, but this notification says 3am? I was sleep,” you teased. alhaitham rolled his eyes but you caught the light pink coloring his cheeks.

“i would’ve been sleep, but my friends were over,” he admitted. you nodded once as your eyes scanned over his posts. you landed on the first one, identifying one of the people in the post.

“your friends with cyno?” you inquired. alhaitham nodded curiously. “you know him?” you shrugged. “we had criminal investigation together last year. probably my favorite class.”

“you mean it wasn’t intro to literature?” he smirked. you scowled and put your phone away. “don’t think i’ve forgiven you for that,” you muttered. alhaitham’s smile disappeared. “it was just a debate…? like the one on the podcast?”

“no, it was you trying to embarrass me because you didn’t like my opinion. you flat out insulted me and my intelligence. multiple times,” you hissed. his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “no, i was challenging you because i was intrigued...”

you just eyed him, not knowing whether to believe him or not. “you have a weird way of showing it,” you mumbled, arms crossed. alhaitham sighed but nodded.

“i… i apologize for being so combative and rude that day. i should’ve gone about it differently, so, i’m sorry,” he confessed sincerely. you pursed your lips, but nodded in response.

“thank you, alhaitham. i guess i shouldn’t have held a grudge this long,” you admitted. he smiled, holding his hand out for you to shake.

“truce for now?” you shook his hand with a smile. “truce.” his smile was something you had to see and it affected you more than you cared to admit.

clearing his throat, he glanced back at your textbook, pushing it back towards you. “okay, break over. there’s only a few chapter left.” you just stared at him.

he sighed, the ghost of a smile on his face. “finish this next section and we can take a break to grab a snack. how about that?” he suggested, leaning back, his arms crossed.

it was more of a struggle than it should’ve been to not let your eyes wander down to his toned arms, so you forced your eyes down to your watch. “hmm, i can do that!” you grinned excitedly.

alhaitham nodded once, his slight smile widening. “good girl. now what do you need help with?” he encouraged casually. meanwhile, you felt as though you were on fire.

how the hell were you supposed to get anything done when he looked and spoke like that? better yet, how had you never noticed? because now, it was blindsiding you and there was hardly anything you could do to keep your composure.

you inhaled sharply and pointed to a particularly difficult problem in the book. “um, i’m a little confused on the stereochemistry?”

when you heard the chair being moved back rather than his voice, you looked up, beyond surprised as his hands landed on the table on either side of you. what shocked you more, however, was that fact that you could feel his breath on your neck.

“don’t worry, stereochemistry isn’t so bad once you get the hang of it, see here? this means…” you were sure he was explaining it wonderfully, but with the way that his lips were so close to your ear, the way that you could feel his chest at your back… it was all in one ear and out the other.

“does that make any sense?” he murmured, learning down some to face you. you swallowed weakly, searching for the right words. “kind of… i think i can try it now,” you replied, looking anywhere but at his eyes.

and just like that, he was out of your personal space and taking his seat once again. “good, just tell me when you’re finished and we’ll take the break,” he announced, already back into his book.

you groaned, but looked at the problem that you still had no idea how to do. “if you need help again, you could just ask,” he spoke up. you just stuck your tongue out. “i’m fine, just give me a moment,” you muttered.

you heard his snicker, and once again, you were caught off guard by the sound. two days ago, you would’ve never believed alhaitham was capable of laughter, and now here he was. laughing, with you.

at this point, this assignment was not going to get done.

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝗼𝐮𝐬❧ 𝗺𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭❧ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭❧

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓❧

@ruisann @imma-too-many-fandoms @fyodorsv @coffeecasket @kokxm1 @lunastarjay @dksfl920 @chiisananingen @itonashi @pidgey-ontheloose @ceylestia @jinxnotpowder @natsum-s @xirthia @adorablezhui @sunsethw4 @deartoru @baelloraa @nambii @simplyxsinned @aixaingela @whipped-for-fictionals @keithsaccount @blayxe @nekogakuro @richxelle @rifran @flutterawayx @nolvngerhvman @celestair @klementime @apinu @http-mewchuu @phoenix-eclipses @court-jester-stuff

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

A Few Very Compelling Arguments - Frank Iero x Reader

Summary: You are new in the band and Frank can’t seem to stand you. After getting hurt by him on stage you decide to quit the band, something Frank is not at all happy about. Reader: fem!Reader Warnings: mentions of mental illness, hints at suicide(?), blood, jealousy, Frank is an asshole in the first half Word Count: 7 702 (don’t ask me what happened there, I don’t know either) A/N: I’ve wanted to write some enemies to lovers with Frank since I read this story by @ghoulgirlwrites​ a few weeks back. I hope it’s not too similar. Anyways this story sent me on a total enemies to lovers thing, and now you guys have to live with that. Also I take no criticism for writing Frank this vulnerably. We all know he’s sensible, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be afraid to be vulnerable in the presence of the people he loves and trusts.

You weren‘t sure when things had started to change, but you knew you didn’t like it. You had not been in My Chemical Romance for long, a little less than a year. You were a friend of Ray’s, all the way back from his time in college, even though you were several years younger than him. After he had asked you to join the band on tour as their drummer one thing had led to another, and suddenly you had become the fifth member of the band. Then things had been fine, as fine as things could be when you were stuck in a van a majority of the day with a bunch of guys who had yet to discover the concept of taking showers. It was only at the start of this tour, right after the release of Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge that Frank had started to change. He had always been very sweet to you before then, polite, friendly. Sure he was somewhat energetic on stage, but off stage he had been nothing but a sweetheart, something that definitely had gotten more to you than it should have.

It started off slow, the poking, the pranks, the nicknames. You knew he loved sneaking bites of other people’s food, or just put on whatever shirt he found on top of the clean laundry basket, no matter who it belonged to. You would not have minded this at all, if it had not always been your plate he stole fries from, or your favourite band shirt he picked to wear on stage.

That had been the beginning of it all. He had stopped after you had gotten pissed at him for staining your only white shirt with coffee one morning, and almost you had allowed yourself to believed things would calm down again. Sure you were angry that he had ruined your shirt, which he had had no reason for wearing other than being too lazy to search for his own. And that he had bought you a new package of your favourite cookies after having finished the last one without telling you had almost soothed the waves of your grudge against his impulsiveness.

But then he began throwing shit at your drums. At first just empty water bottles, which were really harmless. You even laughed at that, feeling like he was trying to include you more on stage. The roll of gaffer tape he had thrown was not quite as funny, nor was the full water bottle, Mikey’s shoe, and his mic stand; especially because the last one had ruined one of your drums, leaving you to improvise for the rest of the show.

You had been righteously furious after that.

That had been the evening you had realised something between Frank and you had truly changed. When you had talked to him about stealing your food and clothes, he had nodded and apologized for overstepping. That night, he had shrugged you off, saying he’d pay for it and there was no reason to react as upset as you did. This comment got him not only protest from you, but also from Ray, who had had the misfortune of overhearing that conversation.

Since then things had completely gotten out of control.

Frank snapped at you every opportunity he had, watched you like a hawk as if he was waiting for you to make a mistake he could get you for. He did not necessarily insult you. He just made it abundantly clear that he considered you unfit for the job of MCR’s drummer.

You knew they had not meant for you to overhead that snippet of conversation, but one time you had even heard Frank complain to Gerard about you, how you distracted everyone, how you would make it impossible to enjoy this tour for everyone.

You had quickly plucked in your headphones in order to not overhear more than that, but these few words had been enough to drive you towards the brink of a crisis. Wasn’t it bad enough that you had to share the very limited tour bus space with someone who actively seemed to hate you? He also tried to involve others in this strange feud he had started and was scheming against you!

After that incident you did not try to hide your annoyance at him anymore. If he already had to tell Gerard, Gerard might as well see for himself. Maybe that would speed up the inevitable process of them kicking you out of the band. Nobody had brought it up to your face yet, but you were sure Frank had suggested it to the others already. You didn’t want to leave the band, but with the way Frank was treating you, it was not hard to guess that this was his goal, to get you kicked out of the band.

Whatever you had done to make him hate you this much, it was something nobody was willing to talk to you about. Had you said or done something wrong? Was it your behaviour towards your band members? You were sure you had treated them just like any other friends, and of course you were closest to Ray, since you knew him the longest. But even though you were not aware of anything that could have upset Frank this much, especially since the others seemed to have no problem with you whatsoever, you would still have been willing to make up for it. If you only knew what the problem was!

You had tried talking to Frank, who had always brushed you off with a mean comment about you not caring anyway. And if you tried talking to the others, they always said it was not their place to tell you, and you needed to talk to Frank. At your response that you had tried, but he wouldn't tell you anything, they had just shrugged, and told you they couldn’t help you.

And this was how tour had started. For two months Frank and you had done nothing but glaring at each other. He shot hurtful comments your way, and whenever you were too tired or annoyed to hold back, you returned them. The tension this created was undeniable, but to your surprise the others just laughed it off, even having fun watching Frank and you bicker.

The worst thing of all though was probably how much ever single comment from Frank hurt. Not because of the comment itself, but because of him. You had not known him for very long, but you spent enough time together to have gotten to know him quite well. You saw the way he treated his friends, caring, loving, mischievous of course, yes, but never leaving a sliver of doubt that all his actions towards them were laced with nothing but deep, honest love for them.

A part of you hated yourself for loving watching him play music, no matter whether he was writing it, rehearsing or playing shows. At shows he was as energetic as you had never seen anyone in their life before, writhing around on stage, singing, screaming, and still flawlessly playing his guitar. He threw stuff at you occasionally, but this tour it did not seem quite as bad as the previous one.

During rehearsals he was absolutely focused, only rarely loosing himself in the music as much as he did on stage. But your favourite times to watch him were when he was writing music. Most often it was during long bus rides, when Gerard and Mikey would read comics, and you one of the novels off your ‘to be read’-pile. Ray and Frank would grab their guitars, and sit down, playing the same melodies in variations for hours upon hours until they had found something they both were content with. Then you would take glances over the rim of your book, just watching Frank, as he was sitting on one of the sofas, his fingers skipping over the fret board, his eyes closed. He was so focused then, and still half lost in the melody, in the music he and Ray were creating. Those moments were so soft, so intimate. It felt forbidden to watch him then, and still you could not tear your eyes away. You just hoped he would never find out about it.

He, on the other hand, was unashamed whenever he stared at you. It was during meals, when you sat on opposite ends of the table, as many of your friends between you as possible to stop you from getting into another heated argument. He would watch you closely then, his eyes following your every movement, never caring if you were staring back at him challengingly.

It was worse on stage. Moments in which he should have payed attention to Ray or Gerard, he glanced at you, even when there was no need to. Of course there were the few parts of the show where the two of you needed to work together, coordinate with each other, and those were never a problem, because as much as you hated him, you were still professional enough to not let it show. But the moments where he made sure you were looking at him right before doing something stupid-

It drove you up the walls, the constant feeling of his eyes on you, until you would eventually give in and meet his across the stage.

This night was no different. Or well, maybe it was. It was more of Frank’s snarky, hurtful comments before the show, more than usual. More of relentlessly watching you during it.

You knew Frank was not in the best space of mind recently. Just like the Way brothers he struggled with mental health, and just because you could not stand seeing his pretty face around you, and felt like getting sick the moment you thought about him because of your contrasting feelings for him, you still were observant. Maybe it was about keeping the team together, you wondered, as you felt sweat running down your face, your arms, your back. In order to keep doing the shows everyone needed to be in top shape, and whenever someone wasn’t, the others did their best to take care of them.

It was difficult with Frank though. He would insist to be left alone, and wouldn't come out of his bunk for anything other than a small breakfast in the morning, a toilet break or playing shows. It had been like this for the past three days, and slowly but surely you began worrying about him.

He looked pale underneath his make-up, dark circles under his eyes which he covered up with red eyeshadow. If he hadn’t screamed at you that one time you had tried to ask if there was something you could do for him, you might have tried to get him to open up a little. You hated to see him suffer just as much as you hated him. But then again, maybe you didn’t hate him quite as much as you always made yourself believe.

The thought was unsettling, and at the realisation you almost would have lost the rhythm you were still playing. You definitely had crushed on Frank before things had gotten weird. And you knew you cared about him, even if you did not want to admit it to yourself. So was the idea that you did not hate him at all so far off?

Just in that moment you felt his eyes on you. Not to coordinate the music, but staring at you. For a moment you tried to resist looking back at him, but it was impossible.

He was close to your drums, black crosses over his eyes, the red eyeshadow masking how sunken in his face was. As if he hadn’t eaten and slept for days. You had a feeling he really hadn’t.

For a moment he was holding your gaze, and then, with three big steps, he strode over to Gerard, who was prancing around on stage as always. It happened so fast you were not even sure what you had seen, when Frank let go of his guitar, and grabbed Gerard’s face while he was still in the middle of singing, only to kiss his passionately.

You could tell Gerard was surprised, suddenly having been cut off by a kiss from one of his guitarists, but he reacted smoothly, wrapping his arm around Frank’s neck and kissing back for a short moment, before he pushed Frank off, and continuing to sing as if nothing had happened.

Quickly you averted your gaze, feeling like you had witnessed something you were not supposed to. Of course you knew of the rumours that Frank and Gerard were dating. It was nothing more than that, a rumour, as far as you knew, but maybe you did not know everything.

It was clear Frank had wanted you to see that kiss. Was this maybe the reason he hated you so much? Because you and Gerard had become close friends, and he thought you were trying to steal Gerard away from him? Nothing could have been further from the truth. You liked Gerard, but only as a friend. You were far too confused about your feelings for Frank to even think about liking anyone else.

Still, you felt like that kiss had meant to show you who Gerard belonged with. But what did you care? Frank could have Gerard all for himself, if this was what his weird behaviour was about. It just stung a little too much, the idea that Frank had never seen you as anything but a rival for Gerard’s affection. Secretly you had wanted his glances and stares to mean more than pure hatred.

That’s how the rest of the show went by. You tried focusing on your drumming, but were continuously distracted by thoughts about Frank, about how maybe you had liked him the whole time, more than liked even. About how he seemed to hate you because you were close to Gerard. About how unreasonably disappointed you were that he had probably never had any positive feelings for you at all.

You were glad when the encore finally was over. Your head hurt from all the intrusive thoughts, the picture of Frank kissing Gerard had burnt itself deeper into your mind than you wanted to admit, you were bathed in sweat and your whole body was aching. You had been so tense during the set that you would probably have a whole body muscle ache tomorrow.

You slammed your sticks down on the drums for the last few times that night, letting the applause of the audience wash over you as the last chords of the nights echoed back from the venue’s walls. Gerard was waving at crowd, Mikey already on his way off stage, and Ray threw the left over picks into the audience. You were about to do the same with your drum sticks, when your eyes involuntarily found Frank. He was standing not too far off from your drums, but instead of having turned to the crowd, he had turned to you.

Too late did you notice the motion he had executed with his right hand, too late did you see the blinking thing he had thrown through the air right at you. If you had not been mid motion of throwing your sticks into the audience, you could have evaded whatever he had launched at you, but now you were to slow, the metallic object hitting the side of your forehead hard, and you could not suppress the pained gasp.

Surprised you clasped your hand over the part where you had been hit, immediately searching for what had hit you. It was Frank’s capo. It had clattered to the ground after having it you. Annoyed you picked it up, and threw it back at Frank, not noticing the guilty and apologetic expression he was wearing. The capo hit him mid-chest, and surprised he caught it, as you stared daggers at him from behind your drums. Quickly, as quickly as you could, you climbed out from behind them, and headed off stage.

“Oh, (y/n), you’re bleeding,” Mikey noticed as you tried storming past him to get to the backstage room as quickly as possible.

You were done with tonight. Not only because of all these thoughts that had plagued you, or Frank kissing Gerard. No, this was the first time Frank had actually injured you, and that was the last drop. You couldn’t do this anymore. Frank had made it so very clear he didn’t want you in the band, he could finally have what he wanted. Tomorrow morning you would tell Gerard you quit. Tomorrow, not today, so nobody could say you were being too emotional about it. If they asked you really, really nicely, and promised to keep Frank in check, you would finish this tour with them until they had a new drummer to replace you. But you wanted out. Now.

A warm hand around your wrist dragged you out of your thoughts, and Mikey was looking down on you worriedly.

“What happened there,” he asked, gesturing to your head.

“What,” you asked, bringing your hand up to where Frank had hit you with the capo. When you pulled your hand away, your fingers were coated in blood. “Oh shit.”

Quickly you looked around, trying to find a mirror, but the closest one was probably down the hallway in the bathrooms.

“Is it bad,” you asked.

Mikey leant in closer, taking a good look.

“Nope, don’t think so. Small cut, about this long.” He held his hand out, showing you with his index finger and thumb how long the cut was. Not more than three milimeters.

It seemed there had been a sharp edge on the capo.

“Shit, (y/n), I’m so sorry-”

The voice belonged to no other than Frank, who had followed you off stage. When you spun around to face him, and he saw the thin line of blood running down the side of your face, his eyes grew wide.

“Oh fuck-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, asshole,” you hissed at him, feeling your blood boil at the sight of him. Had you really thought you liked him? What the hell had been wrong with you? “This was the last time, the last time you threw anything at me, you understand?”

“I didn’t mean to hit you, I was aiming for the- it’s not gonna happen again, I promise,” Frank rushed out. Something about him now was so very different than you remembered him from the past months. He looked genuinely sorry and concerned. But you couldn’t be bothered, not anymore.

“No it’s not, because I won’t be on stage with you anymore for you to throw shit at me!”

You had not meant to say that, but it felt good, to see the shock on Frank’s face, to feel Mikey’s surprise.

“(y/n), you’re not-”

“Yes, I am Mikey! I am quitting! So you-” you pocked your finger into Frank’s direction, “are finally getting what you’ve wanted all this time. Happy now?”

And with that you stormed off.

You did not bother to go to the backstage room, as you had planned, and you did not wait as you heard both Frank and Mikey calling for you to wait. You headed straight out of the backdoor, past the tour bus that was supposed to drop everyone off at the hotel. You could not wait long enough for everyone to make it there, and you could not face Frank.

By now him and Mikey had probably found Gerard and Ray, and told them what had happened; that you had quit.

Shit. That was exactly what you had wanted to avoid, coming across as impulsive and emotional. Frank was supposed to be the impulsive and emotional one, not you. But fuck, you were emotional! There was still blood running down the side of your face, and the headache you had already felt before increased its intensity with every minute. You needed to get away from here, as fast as possible.

Not caring about security or fans being able to see you, you hasted towards the street, already seeing multiple cabs lined up, waiting to find concert goers who were ready to pay for a ride home. Climbing into the first cab in the line, you named the address of the hotel the band had booked rooms at. In the hotel the staff gave you concerned looks, considering how you looked, and even offered to call a doctor, but you insisted you would be fine with a plaster and the keys to one of the booked rooms.

Just as always during hotel nights, it was a double room. A queen sized bed took up the majority of the room, leaving little space for anything but a narrow wardrobe and two bedside tables. You wondered who they would pair up with you tonight. Probably not Gerard, Frank would insist they share a room. Maybe Mikey then, or Ray. You hoped it was Ray. He still knew you the best, and would understand why you could not stay in the band any longer.

Only once you entered the bathroom, you realised you had basically left everything but your wallet at the tour bus, your whole overnight bag with shampoo, towels and pyjama. Luckily the hotel had a shampoo dispenser, towels and some bathrobes prepared for their guests, so you quickly grabbed one, and locked the bathroom door behind you.

The first thing you did was inspect the cut on your forehead. It really was tiny, but the amount of blood had made it look way worse than it was. Now the bleeding had stopped, and the blood dried. Carefully you washed it off, and in the end there was hardly anything to see but a small scratch.

While you were in the shower, rinsing off the sweat of the show, you heard someone entering the hotel room. Over the rushing of water it was impossible to tell who it was, but you definitely heard the door to the room open and then close.

After that you tried to hurry. It wouldn't have been fair to Ray to make him wait too long for his shower. He probably hadn’t taken one at the venue yet. Drying yourself off, you threw on the bathrobe, hoping Ray had either brought your night bag.

“Hey Ray,” you called, as you unlocked the door, your dirty clothes thrown over your arm, and stepped into the room, “you didn’t happen to bring my-”

You froze as you saw that it was not Ray who was sitting on the bed, waiting for you to finish in the bathroom.

It was Frank. He seemed to have washed off the make-up at the venue, because only faint traces of colour stuck to his face now.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he got up. “The others said we should pair up.”

For a long moment you stared at him. You wanted to say something along the lines of never sharing a bed with him, but you knew that he would then insist of sleeping on the floor, and another part of you, the one that had come up with the stupid idea of you maybe liking him, would never have allowed that.

“I packed your bag,” Frank added, nodding to the bag he had placed on the window side of the bed. How had he known you preferred the window side? Or was it just a coincidence?

You nodded, not bothering with an answer.

“Can I- is the bathroom free,” Frank asked carefully. You knew he was watching you, but you refused to look at him, just nodded.

As you were going through your night bag, trying to find a shirt and a pair of shorts, you heard as Frank grabbed his own bag, and headed for the bathroom.

“What you said about leaving the band-”

You guessed he had stopped in the door, but you didn’t turn around.

“I don’t want you to leave. Never wanted that. Can you- I don’t know, can you think about it again? I know we all would-”

“Luckily I don’t care about what you – or the others – want. Not anymore anyway,” you hissed at him, and for the first time that night you felt your throat close up as tears burnt in your eyes.

There was shuffling behind you, and almost you would have expected Frank to say more on the matter but then the bathroom door closed.

Wiping away the tears with the back of your hand, you began looking through your bag again. The idea that Frank had been the one to have packed it, that he had gone through your stuff, made you feel uncomfortable, but at the same time tucked at your heart.

There was a pair of shorts, but the only t-shirt you found was not your own. In fact you were pretty certain it was one of Frank’s. Maybe he had packed it by accident. What other explanation could be there for it? In the end it did not matter though. Shirt was shirt, whether it was his or yours, so you threw it on, and tied the bathrobe closed over it, so Frank wouldn't give you shit for wearing one of his shirts.

In the bathroom the water was still running when you went to bed, cuddled underneath one  of the thick blankets. You were grateful there were separate blankets. The idea to share one with Frank was sickening. Speaking of sickening, you still had that headache. While you had been in the shower, it had gotten better, but now it came back worse than before.

After a while you decided you were not going to be the hero who suffered through it, and got up again. Somewhere in your bag you still had some painkillers…

Once more going through your bag, you subconsciously registered that in the bathroom the water had stopped running, and instead suspicious silence spread out from behind the door. No ruffling of towels, no clicking of shampoo bottle lids, not padding of naked feet on tiled floor.

Holding your movement, you listened. Only silence.

With a shrug you grabbed one of the painkillers from the small bottle, and downed it together with the contents of a small water bottle you had kept in your bag. Definitely needed to replace that one tomorrow with a full one, you mentally noted.

That was when you heard it.

Again you halted, not sure if you had imagined the sound, but a second later it was clearer than before. That was definitely someone crying, sobbing even. Quietly, trying to muffle the sound, but the nightly environment was too quiet to hide it. And it came from the bathroom.

Before you even had thought about it, you were banging against the door. You had heard about how badly Gerard had been, you’d be damned if My Chem lost one of their guitarists just because you couldn’t be bothered to try to talk to him. The idea of Frank doing something really stupid to himself wasn’t farfetched, considering the state he had been over the past days.

“Frank? Frank! What’s going on in there? Open the door!”

Again you banged at it, before listening for a response, but all you got was another sob.

“Frank! Are you okay? Let me in!”

Nothing but more sobs.

Your heart was racing in your throat, and your knees weak. You were probably the last person Frank would really talk to, but you didn’t dare leave the room to get help from the others. So instead you pressed down the door handle experimentally, and like a miracle it swung open.

“I don’t care if you’re naked, I’m coming in,” you warned before you pushed the door fully open and stepped inside.

The air of the bathroom was wet and smelled of Frank’s shower gel. The man himself was sitting in front of the sink, back leant against the wall, and luckily dressed in some shorts and an oversized t-shirt. He had his knees pulled up to his chest, his face buried between them, hands and arms pulled over his head as if to protect himself from the outside world.

As quickly as you could you ran over to him, and fell to your knees besides him.

“Frank,” you asked worriedly, carefully trying to pry away one of his arms. “Frank, are you hurt?”

Another sob, muffled between his knees, escaped him, before he unwrapped himself, and instead leant his head against your shoulder, burying his face in the fabric of the bathrobe. Instinctively you brought your arms around him, and wrapped him in an awkward hug.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he cried. The air he exhaled was hot, traveling through the layers of fabric until it brushed over your skin. “I know it’s my fault, and it’s all on me, but I don’t know how to fix this. I tried to fix it. But I’ve just made it so much worse. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to lose you.”

Confused you blinked, trying to understand what he was talking about.

“Well, you’re not gonna stop me from leaving,” you told him, fully aware that this was probably exactly the wrong thing to say. But lying to him wouldn’t help him either.

You felt a shiver go through him, and he sobbed again, probably smearing snot all over your bathrobe. Well, not really yours, the hotels. So this should be the least of your worries right now.

“I know. I’m not trying to stop you. I know I fucked up. I tried to fix it, tried to make it work so hard, and all I did was fuck it up. I’m so sorry for ruining this for you,” he whimpered between heavy breaths.

“At which point did you try to fix shit, Frank, hm? When you told Gerard I was a distraction, or when you kept calling me weird names even though you knew I didn’t like it? Or when you kept staring at me as if I’d grow a second head any second? When have you ever tried fixing things? Do you think throwing shit at me would make anything any better? Fuck, Frank, you couldn’t even be bothered to pretend you didn’t hate me as much as you do, just to make it less weird for the others! You didn’t try fixing shit!”

Frank nodded, his hands gripping into the bathrobe, still hiding his face. You could feel how warm his body was, from showering, from crying- he was like a furnace. His shower-wet hair stuck to his head.

“And you can’t expect me to take it any longer, you know? All I’ve been getting from you for months were off handed comments that made me feel like shit, and stuff thrown at me on stage! Fuck, you threw a capo at my head, Frank!”

“I didn’t mean to hit you,” he cried.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you did!”

You couldn’t help but wonder what a strange position you found yourselves in. You were shouting at him while he had buried his face in your shoulder, and was crying his eyes out, all while you soothingly rubbed circles into his back.

After a moment of silence, Frank took a shuddering breath.

“I never hated you,” he mumbled, his voice shaky but clear, as if he was putting lots of thought and effort into every word. “I know it seemed that way, but I never did. The opposite really. When you leave that’s the only thing I need you to know: That I’ve always admired you, and that I wish I could’ve done things right, so we could’ve played with this band ‘till the day we die.”

“Some things just aren’t meant to be,” you answered softly, patting his head, making him sob again.

“I just wish I could go back in time and do it right, you know. Do it right from the very first moment on. Just be honest with you, and hope things work out from there.”

“You could still be honest now,” you offered.

Curiosity was eating away at you. Could you finally find out why Frank had treated you the way he had? Why he had never let you get close, why he had not left his bunk in the past days?

“It wouldn’t make a difference anymore,” Frank mumbled, but he seemed calmer now, as if the idea of telling the truth might offer some relief.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” you suggested, running your hand through his wet locks. They were soft like silk. When he did not speak for a moment, you added: “What’s going on these past days? You barely got out of bed.”

“Wasn’t feeling good,” Frank mumbled. You could feel him slightly lean into your touch as you ran your nails over his scalp, so you continued the simple action.

“I thought so much. What wasn’t feeling good exactly?”

“Think I knew this was coming to an end,” he admitted. “That I’ve gone too far, and you’d want to leave, and that nothing I could do would stop you, and that everything I had tried to keep you to stay up until that point had only driven you away.”

You hummed, signalling him you had heard, waiting if he wanted to say more, but when he didn’t, you asked another question.

“What was that thing about kissing Gerard earlier at the show? You know… if you like him you don’t gotta worry about me, okay? Gee ‘n I are friends, nothing more.”

“I know.”

“Then why that kiss? It felt like… you wanted to demonstrate that Gerard belonged with you…”

“Didn’t,” Frank answered quietly. “Wanted to make you jealous.”

“Why would you want to make me jealous of you?”

“Not me. Gee.”

You blinked. “Gerard? Why would I be jealous of Gerard?”

Frank tensed underneath your hands, but did not answer. If he wanted you to be jealous of Gerard, could it be that- no. No possible way.

You filed that piece of information away with all the other puzzle pieces that did not fit the picture, and continued asking your questions. It seemed, for the first time since you had met Frank that he was willing to open up to you, at least to a certain degree. You had to make use of that opportunity.

“In the beginning – the first few weeks – we were fine, remember? What changed?”

Frank shook his head against your shoulder, making you raise your eyebrows.

“You don’t know?”

“Don’t wanna say,” Frank corrected.

“I thought you wanted to be honest,” you answered, knowing you were poking around in affairs that probably were none of your business, but he had made you suffer for months. You felt like you finally deserved some answers.

“Emotions are complicated,” Frank replied cryptically.

“What emotions?”

For a moment he thought about his answer, then he spoke slowly. “I wanted you to notice me, wanted you to know that I felt comfortable around you, like when I stole your food and your clothes. And when it got obvious you didn’t feel the same… I got frustrated. And jealous. Because you always hang out with Gee ‘nd Ray ‘nd Mikey- and I started doing dumb shit, and – it was easier to drive you away than to admit that I wanted actually the complete opposite of that. Because when I’m honest, I’m vulnerable, and I don’t wanna be hurt.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Frank,” you whispered, not entirely sure what to make of the things he had just told you. He had wanted you to notice him? He sure had managed that. Why would he have been jealous though?

“What hurts me and what doesn’t isn’t in your power to decide,” Frank mumbled, his words muffled against the bathrobe you wore.

“Frank-” trying to pull him slightly away from you to look at his face, you placed your hands on his shoulders, but he only stiffened under your touch, his hands clawing tighter into your clothes. “Frank, I feel like I still don’t really understand what is going on, what has been going on the whole time. You say you’re jealous, and you don’t really hate me- but it’s pretty obvious you don’t like me either. What is it, you feel? Can you try putting it into words?”

Frank shook his head against your shoulder again.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“’m scared.”

“Of what?”

For a moment he was quiet, before he suddenly sat up with a jolt. His eyes were bloodshot, his lips red-rimmed, and his whole face swollen and flaky from crying. He looked truly pitiful. You wanted to wrap him in your arms again and promise him everything would be alright. It would have been a lie. He had said he didn’t want you to leave the band but your mind was made up. But maybe a white lie, just to make him feel better…

You were still thinking about how much you wanted to help him, when Frank suddenly leant forward, and without warning pressed his lips to yours. They were hot and tasted of his salty tears. Slightly startled you almost lost your balance from the force with which Frank had come at you. Searching for something to hold onto, and desperate not to let go of him, you quickly wrapped your arms around him, holding him close.

At first it was just the surprise of the sudden kiss that made you dizzy, but when Frank opened his mouth, and licked against your lips, you felt like you could faint any moment. Everything around you was spinning; the only solid thing was Frank, as he took over the kiss, and kissed you harder than anyone had ever done before.

You could feel his pulse hammer underneath your hands, could feel his breath fan over your skin, could taste the desperation with which he kissed you. It was both sweet and hungry, the way he pressed closer to you needy and hopeful, as he twisted you so your back was pressed to the cold, tiled wall of the bathroom, with him pinning you against it, as good as your sitting positions allowed him too.

It was only when you seemed to have worked through the first rush of surprise that Frank suddenly pulled away. Confused at the loss of contact you blinked your eyes open, finding his lips were cherry red, and his eyes glowing. It made you want to lurch forward and kiss him again. But before you could, it seemed like dark clouded his face, and the glimmer in his eyes disappeared, the glow he had seemed to emit darkened.

“This is what I’ve wanted the whole time,” he sat back, bringing more distance between you. Agonizing, cold, painful distance. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you without-”

You cut him off then and there. You didn’t care. Yes, consent was important, but now that you knew he wanted to kiss you, you saw no reason as to why you should stop yourself from doing so.

He gasped when your lips met his again, just as desperate as he had been moments ago, but he kissed back hungrily, and placed his warm hands on your waist as you climbed into his lap. He held you close and steady, as you got lost in his touch. An hour ago you could never have imagined thinking this, but he radiated safety. The way he held you, the way he kissed you, the way his breath brushed over your skin in little gasps, the hammering of your heart at the quiet moans that escaped him. It made you feel like you were on top of the world, everything else around you forgotten, only you and Frank. Who cared about hotel bathrooms and touring and bands and music? Not you, not while you were kissing Frank like you had dreamt of since the first proper conversation you had had with him. The voice, that had tried to remind you of this little fantasy while the rest of you had convinced you that you hated Frank, seemed to dance a little dance of joy in your heart, as you wrapped your hands into Frank’s hair, and pulled him closer and closer.

Only when you were completely out of breath, you eventually pulled away, leaning your forehead to Frank’s shoulder. He used the opportunity to push the collar of the bathrobe away a bit, and placed butterfly kisses on your neck until you were giggling.

“I know I can’t make you stay,” Frank suddenly said, lifting his head. You did too, looking down on him from where you sat in his lap. “I know that if you truly want to leave the band, nothing and nobody can stop you. But when you do… do you think you could stay at least with me? I don’t want to lose you.”

Confused you furrowed your brows at him, tilting your head to ask what he meant.

“Do you think you could give me – us – a second chance. I love you, (y/n), I love your passion and how you never take shit from anyone, how patient you are, how caring, and you’re the most beautiful person I could ever imagine. I love you so fucking much, and I know I probably ruined any chance, but if I haven’t-”

“You haven’t,” you interrupted him.

Frank eyes widened hopefully, and he watched you very closely as he continued. “So if I asked you to be mine- will you be mine?”

“As much as you’ll be mine,” you answered, your heart beating a thousand miles an hour, as Frank laughed in disbelief.

“My heart’s been yours from the first moment on,” he breathed, before pressing his lips to yours again.

But instead of losing yourself in his kiss, you pulled away again.

“Ask me the other thing,” you demanded, making him look at you confused.

“The other-” he stopped, realisation hitting him like a freight train, and he barely managed to get the words out quickly enough. “Please stay in the band, please I beg you. Will you stay in the band?”

You smiled softly, and brushed his hair out of his eyes, before slowly getting up from his lap. Offering him a hand you helped him up. Immediately he placed his hands back at your waist, his eyes searching for an answer to his question in yours.

“Let’s go to bed,” you whispered, “We have a long tour ahead of us, and I don’t wanna miss out on a proper bed.”

“Is that a-”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll stay in the band. If you stop throwing shit at me on stage.”

Gently you pushed Frank down on the bed, and quickly he scrambled to get under the blanket before he opened his arms for you to crawl into. You followed his invitation without hesitation.

“I promise I’ll only throw myself at you from now on,” he whispered, and you could hear the sly grin in his voice, but when you placed your head on his chest, his heart was racing. He was not at all feeling as cool about the situation as he pretended. It made you grin, and you found yourself liking him even more than before.

“Approved, but only under the condition that you take the guitar off before.”

“That can be arranged,” Frank nodded, playing around with the hem of the bathrobe you were still wearing. “Hey, is that one of my shirts?”

Quickly you sat up again, and brushed the bathrobe off, revealing the shirt you had found in your bag, and put on.

“You packed that one for me,” you accused, but when you glanced at Frank, you found he looked at you as if you had hung the stars in the sky.

“You look so good in my clothes,” he whispered, pulling you back down to his chest, and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

His arms were tightly wrapped around you, and while he told you more about how he had felt in the months in which you had been fighting, how heartbroken he had been, how helpless, and how much he had loved you the whole time, you listened to his steady heartbeat until you had fallen asleep.

-

“Of course she was serious, when she said she wanted to leave,” Ray shook his head, pouring milk into his cereal. “Frank’s been harassing her for months. I’m surprised she didn’t quit sooner.”

“I always thought it was all in good fun between them,” Gerard sighed, sipping from his coffee. “I thought they were goofing around, not actually fighting. I mean, he’s so fucking hard in love with her...”

“Well, yesterday evening they were actually fighting,” Mikey mumbled. “Kept me up ‘till two before they finally shut up.”

“Do you think they killed each other?”

“If yes, we’re in real trouble finding not one, but two new band members,” Mikey sighed.

“I’m not offering my friends again,” Ray quickly defended. “She’s probably already mad that I didn’t shut Frank down more often. I don’t wanna loose more friends.”

“Do we even know anyone who plays drums and would join us?”

“You won’t need a new drummer, if you’ll still have me.”

Your voice made the three look up from their breakfast table, their eyes widening as they saw Frank and you standing next to them. It looked weird seeing the two of you standing so close next to each other without fuming from the mouths. Like an alternative reality, or real life Photoshop.

“Does that mean you’ll stay,” Ray asked, hopeful, his eyes quickly flickering to where Frank’s and your pinkies were linked between you.

“Frank and I talked tonight,” you answered and pulled out a chair, sitting down next to Ray. Frank took the chair on your other side, throwing his arm around your shoulder, and leant over, gently nudging his nose against your jaw before he placed a kiss there. “He had a few very compelling arguments for me to stay.”

Taglist:

@alexstyx @jayloverthe3rd @robinruns @lookalivefrosty @butterflycore  @omgsuperstarg @fivelegance @deadlovers @casmustdiee​ @cmtryghoul​

[fannish-karmiya]

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.

[beels-burger-babe]

Of Jealousy and Friendship - Epilogue

*** Back due to popular demand, here is a little epilogue for what happened at school the next day after pt. 2 Enjoy! - B***

Summary: MC makes a lower demon friend who may secretly be hoping for something more than friendship. The Demon Bros are not about to let this happen.

TW: Discussions about scenting and non-consensual physical contact. PART ONE, PART TWO

The next day of school was...interesting to say the least. For starters, the brothers refused to leave your side. There was one of them lingering near you at all times. Some of them had the decency to try and be subtle. Satan would just happen to be studying in the same room as you, or Belphie was napping and was wondering if you could keep an eye on his things while he did. But then there were the others who were more than obvious. Mammon and Asmodeus both had to pried off of your arms by Lucifer to get them to actually go to their own classes. Leviathan, despite usually doing his classes at home in his room, actually attended school that day and insisted that he needed your help finding a few rooms here and there. The normally sweet and friendly Beel was glaring at any lower demon that so much as looked in your direction. And boy did they look. The moment you took a step into a classroom, you could see a number of lower demons flinch back at the combined strong sent of seven of the most powerful demons in the Devildom. Everywhere you went, whispers seemed to follow you. There were undoubtedly rumours about what you might have done in order to trick the brothers into favouring you; though you never heard any of them since no one dared to come within a ten-foot radius of you.

This bothered you a little at first. Being the center of attention, especially this kind of attention, was never fun to anybody. But by the end of the day, rather than being disheartened by it, you were just exhausted. Finally, the last class of the day had arrived; the one you had been dreading since the moment your alarm went off that morning - Magical Potions.

Beel shifted from foot to foot as the two of you lingered in the entrance. "Do you really have to go to this class? You could just skip and come get some snacks with me instead." You smiled sympathetically at Beel and patted his shoulder. "Sorry, Beel. Diavolo expects good things from his exchange students. I need to keep my grades high, or who knows what Lucifer will do as punishment." The redhead pouted. "Lucifer would understand, I think. All things considered." You snorted and began to walk into the classroom. "Go to your own class, Beel. You can come to get me afterwards, and walk me home with Mammon if you really want."

Beelzebub mumbled to himself, before turning and finally walking off. You entered the class, ignoring the few gasps and gaping stares that you got as you walked through the room, and took your seat. You had been setting up for another class of note-taking when the door opened once more. Standing in the doorway, staring at you with wide eyes, was Cane. The moment your eyes met, the shocked expression on his face instantly dissipated and he flashed you a charming smile. You could feel a bubble of annoyance and anger begin to rise within you. The cocky demon swaggered over and plopped down into his seat beside you. "Hey, there Dare Devil. You didn't get in too much trouble last night with the big bad Avatars did you?" as he spoke he draped an arm on the back of your chair.

You eyed his exposed wrist and pushed his arm off of your chair. It seemed not even the obvious scenting that was supposed to tell him to back off would get him to take a hint. "No, I didn't. Though they did tell me a few interesting things last night." Cane chuckled and leaned into his palm as he smirked at you. "I'm assuming it has something to do with the reason why you smell like hell-incarnate?"

You scoffed and narrowed your eyes at him. "I'm sure you'd rather I smell like you. Considering you apparently did your best to make that happen yesterday." Cane tensed for a moment, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. Eventually, his expression fell into one of confusion as he frowned at you. "Are you talking about how I scented you? MC, do you really think I would do something like that without a good reason?" The frustration in you began to grow and grow inside you; somewhere across the school grounds, Satan sneezed. You weren't in the mood to have this talk now, and very much wished that your professor would hurry up and start the god damn class already. "I don't know you Cane. How am I supposed to know whether or not that's something you would do?" That stupid smug look on his face returned once more and you had to resist the urge to slap it off of him. "You seemed to know me well enough to go out with me yesterday. You didn't seem worried about whether or not I was too much of a stranger when we were dancing at the club and walking downtown late at night, where anything could've happened to a small little human like you," he chuckled as your face scrunched up in annoyance and leaned back into his chair. "I didn't scent you for any perverted reasons. I did it to keep you safe while we were out. I knew if you had my scent on you, you'd be less likely to get attacked, and I was right," he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "Admittedly, I should've asked first, and that's on me. But I really just wanted to make sure that my new friend didn't get hurt." He was lying. He had to be. If that asshole seriously thought you were stupid enough to buy that lame excuse, he was extremely wrong. You opened your mouth to tell him as much but were interrupted by a familiar deep voice clearing their throat behind you. "That is the worse excuse I've ever heard, and I live with Mammon." Cane stiffened in front of you before he looked up to meet the glaring eyes of Lucifer, and smiled. "Lord Lucifer, I'm afraid I don't know what you mean. I would never lie, especially not to a friend like MC." The classroom seemed to be on the edge of their seats as everyone quickly picked up on the showdown that was happening right in front of them. One lower demon of gluttony even pulled out a bag of popcorn. Lucifer tsked and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do not insult mine and MC's intelligence like that. Sure scenting can be helpful to ward off other demons, but only if the scent is associated with a more powerful demon. Nobody would blink an eye at anything coated in your weak, disgusting scent." Cane scoffed and tilted his head. "Evidently you did last night. Don't think I didn't notice you and your brother's reactions." This gained a few gasps from your classmates. No one could believe that someone, that wasn't his brothers, was actually trying to stand up against Lucifer. The idea itself was insane. Even seeing it in front of their own eyes, most could hardly believe it, yourself included. Lucifer maintained his indifferent expression and raised an eyebrow at Cane. "You mistook our irritation and disbelief that someone would be so stupid as to even attempt scenting our charge for being even the slightest bit phased by you," he took a step closer to Cane, bending down to be eye level with him. "You should consider yourself lucky it was Asmodeus and myself that got to the two of you first. Should it have been one of my more reckless brothers, you would've been nothing but a pile of ribbons in our driveway," Lucifer's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as Cane gulped and took a step back. The Morningstar grinned dangerously. "MC is our charge. They are our family and our responsibility. Unlike you, we actually got their permission to be scented and bonded to them last night; meaning my brothers are more protective than ever. I would never stoop so low as to waste my energy on a pitiful excuse for a demon-like yourself. But I know for a fact, that Beelzebub eats demons like you as a snack on

days when he is particularly famished. Satan occasionally brings one home for his latest experiments. Belphegor has torn through an entire percentage of them when he hasn't gotten enough sleep. Asmodeus is surprisingly prone to temper tantrums and fits of jealousy. Leviathan drowns anyone that disrespects the things that he loves. And Mammon doesn't take too kindly to people touching things that he considers his." Cane's hands balled into fists, but even then, the tremble in them was still glaringly obvious. Lucifer remained unphased and unmoved by the reactions he was pulling from his victim; though anyone could sense the air of utter glee that was exuding off of him. "If I were you, Cane, I would sleep with one eye open." The teacher finally walked in and raised an eyebrow at the scene in front of them. "Lord Lucifer, is there a reason you are harassing my student?" Cane whimpered as Lucifer smirked at him before standing straight and turning to the teacher. "Not at all, professor. I am actually here to inform you that MC will no longer be enrolled in this class." You whipped your head up to look at him as he placed a hand on your shoulder. "The student council has realized it would be a much better decision to have the exchange students more knowledgable to the ways and customs of demons during their visit here, so MC will be enrolled in Devildom Culture Studies instead. We wouldn't want someone to take advantage of them just because they were taught our ways, now would we?" The last line was spoken coldly and pointedly as though to drive in his threats to Cane. The teacher sighed but seemed to know that there was no point arguing and instructed you to gather your things. You did so happily and quickly. As you left the classroom and walked through your halls with Lucifer, you bumped him gently with your hip. "Thanks, Lucifer. You really are the best." His chest puffed up the slightest bit in pride as he continued walking forward with his hand still on your shoulder. "There is nothing to thank me for MC. I was just doing my duty as Vice-President of the student council to ensure that the exchange students are happy and safe." But even as he said the words, you knew that wasn't the case. You were MC. The human that wormed their way into the hearts of the seven strongest demons in the Devildom. For that reason alone, you were untouchable to all others, and Lucifer and his brothers would ensure that for as long as they breathed. And whoever disagreed would have to be ready to face the consequences.

TAGLIST: @henry-and-the-seven-lords

@hopefulann

@vampwiire

@bunna-does-stuff

@obey-mes-treasure

@obeythebutler

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐞𝐱/𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 (𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝)

Warnings: NSFW content. Read at your own discretion.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong was already frustrated. He was on a deadline to finish up a song and he was nowhere near even getting halfway. Eden had just recently scolded him and he felt extremely agitated and irritated at this point.

"Hey Joong? I brought you lunch so-"

"Just leave it on the table, I'll eat it later." He cut you off rather sharply, barely even sparing you a glance.

"I was actually thinking we could eat together." You were off put by his short temper.

"I don't have time Y/N." He huffed out, a hand running through his hair.

You were pissed at this point and were not about to take his crap anymore.

"Exactly! You don't have time for me anymore! I get your job demands a lot of your time, but to not even take a break and enjoy just 10 minutes without....these." You gestured to all the mess scattered around his desk.

Hurt about being reminded about his neglect of you yet angry at being scolded once more, Hongjoong slammed his hands on the table, swiftly pushing off the chair before going over to where you were standing and stared you down.

"All right. Fine. 10 minutes you say? I can work with that."

Without a warning, he pushed you onto the couch, making a quick work of your pants and stripping them off you. You let out a sharp cry when he began devouring your pussy, animalistic growls spilling out his lips as he slurped you up as if he'd been starved. When you tried pulling away, he landed a harsh slap on your clit, making your hips jolt up and a shriek come out.

"Shut up and take what I give you you needy desperate whore. You wanted 10 minutes? Let's see how many times I can make you cum in that time."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Hearing the front door slam, Seonghwa brace himself for yet another one of your moods after a long day at work. Wanting to help your day be less stressful, he had prepared you some of your favorites food.

"Y/N." He called out to you in a sing song tone.

Stomping over, you just looked at him with an eyebrow raised, total resting bitch face plastered on.

"I made your favorite." He happily told you, but you still didn't seem to bat an eyelash at him, you simply turned around and began walking out.

"Wait Y/N come on. Here at least try some. It'll help you with your stress-"

"Can't you take a damn hint Seonghwa?! I don't fucking want it!"

When he tried to approach you with a spoonful of food, you actually snapped and slapped it out of his hand, making it stain his perfectly polished floor. Seonghwa looked at it then looked back at you.

"You know Y/N I think I put up with your bratty attitude and bitchy behavior for too long."

You gasped sharply when he suddenly turned you around and slammed you up against the table, grabbing your arms so he could hold them behind your back.

"Maybe I've been a little too nice to you....making you baths, preparing you food, all in hopes of helping you release stress....but its clear a little bitch like you doesn't need that."

You squirmed under his grasp, trying to get free but with no use as his grip was tight on you. The sound of him unbuckling his belt made you stop moving entirely, and you shivered when pulled your skirt up before ripping your tights and pushing your underwear to the side.

"Clearly a bitch like you needs a good pounding, fuck that attitude right out of you."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

You knew you were screwed the instant Yunho roughly pulled you off Mingi's lap and took you into his room, shutting the door right behind him before staring at you with fire burning through his eyes. You had never seen him so mad before.

No soon afterwards, you were currently on top of him, his hips bucking up at you at a relentless pace that had you screaming his name over and over again. His hands were practically digging into your skin, holding tightly onto you with such ferocity.

"Look at you, being so desperate for a good fuck that you'd actually try and whore yourself out to my best friend like a cheap bitch."

When one of his hands came up to grasp at your throat, you were shivering on top of him.

"Weren't you?! What! Is my cock not enough for you? My cock and these hands you love so much not satisfying you anymore? Hmm? Is that why you were all cuddled up to Mingi? Hoped he'd actually take pity and fuck you?"

You knew it wasn't your intention to make him jealous, but god if this is what jealousy did to him, you would totally do it again.

"Stupid slut. Mingi's not going to fuck you. You're just a dirty, filthy hole, he doesn't want you...."

Even after you came, you were still a crying mess as Yunho kept fucking up into you, not caring that you were beyond your limit, your inner thighs getting sore.

"But you're my little hole for me to fuck. Got it? And if I need to fuck you dumb to get it through that stupid useless brain of yours to understand that only I can make you feel this good, then so be it. I'll fuck you til you break, my little sex toy."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang was not very pleased by your behavior lately. You had been giving him the silent treatment and avoiding him for no good reason. Trying to coax what was wrong out of you, he came up behind you as you were washing dishes.

"How's my little princess? Did you have a good day?"

He was only met with you elbowing him in the rib and shoved him off you.

"Ok seriously Y/N? What did I even do? Stop being so childish and talk to me like a mature adult."

Hearing you scoff and seeing you roll your eyes at him made him furious and irritated with you. As you tried to walk past him, he grabbed your elbow and picked you up, setting you down on the kitchen counter as his eyes burned a hole through you.

"If you're going to keep acting like a brat, maybe I should just treat you like one then."

You don't know if you truly regret breaking Yeosang's patience. On the one hand, you were definitely not going to be walking straight for a week. On the other, you utterly enjoyed having your face pressed against the pillow, ass up as Yeosang was shoving his dick in and out of you, red handprints scattered across your butt cheeks and hands tied behind your back with one of his ties. Everytime you tried to hide your face in the pillow to muffle your screams, he'd yank your hair up.

"I said I wasn't having you ignore me anymore princess. Now come on, scream my name. I want this entire floor to hear your pathetic whimpers."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San looked at you with an unamused gaze.

"Repeat what you just said.....I dare you to."

He was pissed off, it was more than clear. But maybe that's what you wanted, wanted him to be as pissed as you were, even just a bit of what you were feeling. It's not that you meant to take out your jealousy on him, but seeing his co-host be extremely clingy towards him backstage and he never did anything about it made your blood boil.

"I said you're nothing more than a fucking horn dog. Probably let that skank suck your dick." You exclaimed in disgust.

The sudden slam of his hand against the wall behind you both scared and thrilled you. Looking at you with a hungry smirk, he opened the door behind you, trapping you inside a closet. In minutes, he was pressing you against the wall, his frantic grunts mixing with your whimpered cries. San would occasionally let out a sadistic laugh at how wrecked you look.

"You're right baby, I am indeed a horn dog. Absolutely love getting my dick wet and fuck a pussy all the time."

Hand reaching between your legs, he began to harshly pinch and rub at your clit, his other hand that was holding onto your hip keeping you from collapsing on the floor as your orgasm took over you.

"But get this straight: I only fuck this pussy right here. Ok? I fucking claimed this a long ass time ago and I'll fuck it whenever I want to."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Ending the call with your friend, you were coming out of the bedroom when you were suddenly shoved back inside by none other than your usually caring and sweet boyfriend, who looked angry as he closed the door behind him.

"Mingi? What-"

You couldn't finish your sentence as his large hands cupped your cheeks, his long body pushing you back until you landed on the bed. He was kissing you harshly, nothing like the usual tender and loving kisses he'd be known to give you. His hands clutched at your covered breasts, groping at them before he unexpectedly tore your shirt in the middle.

"Mingi! What has gotten into you?!" You exclaimed in shock at his sudden change in behavior.

"I heard you talking to your friend. Saying shit like I'm too soft and vanilla for you."

You moaned out when he began to suck along your neck, his hands cupping your bra and pulling it down enough to have your breasts spill out.

"Oh princess if only you knew I've just been holding back all this time."

With a taunting chuckle, he pulled of you. Undoing his zipper, he began to strip out of his jeans and briefs, letting his long cock spring free, precum leaking at the tip.

"I didn't want to be selfish and break you like I wanted too....... but if that's what you want well then, I'd be happy to oblige my little princess."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Neither of you knew how it started nor exactly how it escalated. One minute Wooyoung was being the annoying shit he was, with you playfully shoving him away and calling him names, and then the next you were both pushing each other rather abruptly. When you called him a particularly degrading insult, he retaliated likewise and now it seemed like a screaming match between you two.

"You know what? This is fucking stupid!" You hollered and turned away, making a bee line towards your room.

"I'm not done yet!" Wooyoung trailed after you.

"Well I am! Now excuse me, I'm going to go take a shower and hopefully cool off this rage." You stated firmly before slamming the bathroom door right in his face.

The refreshing water seemed to calm you down a little, so you just stood there under the shower head, just letting your body soak in the cold. You were so unaware of your surroundings that you failed to notice Wooyoung had entered the bathroom and didn't realize it until you felt his arms turn you around to face him. No explanation, he just began kissing you, his tongue taking control over your mouth while one hand hiked one of your legs over his waist.

"Still think I'm an annoying bastard?" He grunted fiercely as he thrusted up into you, not giving you time to react as he began pounding into you.

"Yes you are!" You hissed at him, hands swooping his wet hair and tugging at it rather hardly.

He just looked at you with a shit eating grin.

"Yet you still let me fuck you. "

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

You were frustrated and stressed out, so was Jongho. Even as you two did your own little things inside the apartment, even the smallest things either of you did made the other let out an annoyed huff. It all culminated when Jongho accidentally spilled his cup of juice on the floor, that little action had you both looking at each other with near contempt.

"I feel like punching something." Jongho confessed.

"Me too." You admitted.

"Wanna punch me?" He offered.

Smirking at him, you thought about something better.

"No.... I think I'd rather fuck you."

So now here you were, underneath your inhumanely strong boyfriend, his cock balls deep inside you, your legs thrown over his shoulders while his hands were already leaving bruises around your inner thighs from how hard he was squeezing at them. You two had already cum several times but you still kept going, pushing past your sensitivity as you both still had a lot of rage and energy to release.

In a particularly sharp angle of his hips, you were quivering under Jongho, for the first time you were actually squirting under him.

"Oh fuck!" Seeing you break down and make a mess all over him and yourself had him cumming soon after, his body collapsing on top of yours.

Both of you were beyond exhausted after all that. Your bodies were so sticky with sweat and your breathing had not yet returned to normal. Looking over at you, Jongho smiled sincerely for the first time in days.

"So.... now that we got that out of the way.... can we cuddle?"

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[bakubros-boo-thang]

Disrespected Devil

Wordcount: -4K

Lucifer x F!Reader

Summary: When you disrespect the demon king, Lucifer is forced to say goodbye to you.

Genre: Angst, smutt, slight fluff, but tbh just angst

A/N: So another first. Not only my first time writing for the Obey me fandom (I have a major Obey me brain rot), but also my first time writing angst and I felt depressed after finishing this (which I did a second ago). I love Diavolo, but I needed a reason for the goodbye to happen so even if his dad is the villain, he is the one to execute it... Hope you enjoy this story.

Warning: NSFW, mentioning of being paralyzed I guess.

‘’What’s with Luci today?’’ ‘’He looks more pissed of than usual…’’ ‘’He probably listened to classical music too long and forgot his homework.’’ ‘’Lucifer forgetting his homework will never happen, but if it did he would look like this.’’ Hearing all those whispers during dinner time is nothing new for you. Tonight is different though. You know why he’s mad and you know who’s the blame. But it’s not as if you don’t have a reason to be just as upset. As dinner slowly ends you know there is only a small gap to avoid a situation. ‘’Beel, how about we go bake something for later this evening?’’ You say, as you cling onto the huge redhead. You know that food is a trigger and you know that this is the way to hide from HIM. ‘’Alright, sounds delicious!’’ He doesn’t seem to notice the way you hold onto him for dear life and the same goes for the others. Clearly, they’ve gotten so used to you that it’s not even necessary to be by your side 24/7. It’s not as if they know tonight will be the last time they see you. It’s a small moment of weakness and you feel your heart clench by the thought of leaving those boys. It’s enough to make you lose your grip on Beel's arm. Enough to bend over, because it physically hurts to leave them behind and enough for Lucifer to finally notice you and come to your aid. ‘’Beel, I think she ate something wrong. No cake tonight, I will see her to her room.’’

And with that, he scoops you up and takes you upstairs. Of course, your room is not an option. It’s way too close to the other rooms. No place to yell. No, Lucifer’s room is soundproof. Made for his nights spent with loud classical music and also made for the occasional screaming match with one of his brothers. As he enters the room, he carefully puts you down on his bed. ‘’Are you feeling alright, Y/n?’’ He says as he lays his palm against your forehead. The feeling of sadness is gone, already replaced by nerves. You know what’s coming. You know you won’t hold back. Will this be your last fight with Lucifer? The question never makes it to the surface, because the moment you nod your head in ensurement, Lucifer opens his mouth. ‘’Good, because you have no idea how foolish you acted today.’’  As mentioned before this room reminds you of the occasional screaming matches he must’ve had with his brothers, but never with you. Pissing Lucifer off is easy. You’ve done that plenty of times. Even made him show his true form, but making him scream, that is something you never achieved. Still, it is worth the try. Tonight is your last chance. As you get up you take a look at his face. What faces you is the cold expression he usually shows when he’s done with someone’s bullshit. The expression you have already mirrored back to him. ‘’So you are going to ignore me?’’ I’m not going to answer him. ‘’Are you serious?’’ I am not going to say a word. ‘’Should I spell out what you did?’’ Don’t say a thing. ‘’You just signed your death certificate.’’ His voice cracks and even though it’s far from the scream you aimed for. It’s still the first sign of emotion from the man you care about so much. ‘’Diavolo didn’t seem upset by what I said?!’’ You can’t help but talk louder. especially after being silent for the past few minutes. ‘’ As if he is going to kill me? ME?! And ruin the bonds that are being formed with the humans?’’

You can feel the tears in your eyes, this fight might’ve been about you being disrespectful in some way, but for you it was different. All this time getting closer with all the brothers. All this time loving them. All this time being there for them. It made you realize that the only one who made it difficult was him. With every step getting closer to each other; there were always a few steps back. An obsession with keeping up appearance, an obsession over a promise he would keep no matter what, an obsession with being a stuck-up asshole; That was Lucifer in a nutshell for you. And still, you couldn’t help being drawn to him. As a moth drawn to a flame. Even when the flame could easily kill the moth. Just as easily Lucifer could kill you. And it’s not as if he hadn’t tried that before. ‘’Y/n, You disrespected his father. I had to bargain for you to even leave the castle. The first time I trusted you enough to take you with me alone. And this is how you behave? You know what he wanted to do to Belphegor…’’ You know this story is his weakness. The reason he ended up becoming the lapdog of his so-called best friend. Still, it only makes you more upset to hear him say it. Even when you can hear the slightest hint of emotion in his voice; his eyes stay just as cold as usual. ‘’He is your best friend, isn’t he? He is my friend too, right? You always do this Lucifer! You always get mad over things and it never solves anything. You get mad at me for having fun. You get mad at me for trying to help. You get mad at me for trying to get closer to you. You don’t share things with me! Maybe Diavolo should’ve locked me up. Might as well get myself killed; it’s not as if you never tried to kill me…’’ Your voice is loud as you speak, but his silence is louder. He just stares at you and then it happens.

It’s not that you’re scared you’ve seen his true form before. It’s just as beautiful as him, but it’s also something that happens when he’s full of rage, just as that one time he tried to kill you. You can feel yourself freeze under his gaze. You can feel yourself moving away from him until you reach the headboard of his bed. Still, he moves closer. Until his lips are inches away from your ears. No screams, only whispers; what a way to say goodbye. ‘’DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT IS EVEN GOING ON?!’’ You are so shocked by the volume of his voice, the bass it carries, that it takes some time to realize he has more to say. Your ear is beeping as he moves his lips away and locks his gaze onto you. ‘’DIAVOLO IS NOT THE FUCKING PROBLEM, Y/N, HIS DAD IS. YOU INSULTED THE KING OF DEVILDOM IN FRONT OF HIS SON AND MULTIPLE WITNESSES. DIAVOLO CAN’T DO SHIT ABOUT THAT.’’ Only now do you notice the way his hands are gripping your arms; The way his expression has changed from cold to almost desperate. ‘’That guy has only been able to do what his dad wanted. Our friendship is real, but if his father told him to kill me, he would do it without hesitation. Do you really think he would think twice about killing you? IF HE WOULD KILL ME -HIS BEST FRIEND- IN AN INSTANT?” You notice the tears in his eyes. Lucifer is screaming and crying, but this isn’t a win. Before your heart breaks again, his arms are around you and his face is hidden in your neck, but that doesn’t stop the words. ‘’I had to send you away. I had to be cold. They know I care about you, but not to this extent. I had to pretend it was for the sake of the bonds. After you left I had to beg on my knees for your survival. I had to beg. The avatar of pride begged someone on his knees. It was all Lillith over again…’’

There is nothing you can say to fix this. It might’ve slipped your mind while you were there. But you were surrounded by royalty. What might’ve seemed innocent for you, was clearly a lot for them and now you had to leave everyone you loved behind. You can feel the tears fall from your eyes. “I’m sorry Luci, I truly am.” It won’t help, but it’s the least you can say as you look up into his eyes. He is still in his true form, but even with his wings all spread out, he has never looked more vulnerable. There is a sad smile on his lips as he caresses your cheek. “I know you are, you fool.” He says with no trace of the rage he had before. “ I don't want to leave you all…I don't want to leave you!” You know that you sound like a small child that already knows he lost and that’s exactly what you feel like. “It’s too late for that now, Y/n. Diavolo gave me tonight to say my goodbyes.”  You try to distract yourself by focusing on his raven colored wings. “So that means I can’t say goodbye to the rest…”  The pain is back. Never being a fool with Mammon, never dressing up with Levi, doing make-up with Asmo, reading books with Satan, eating with Beel or sleeping with Belphie.  You can’t help but grab your chest again. “Are you okay?” Lucifer is supporting you within seconds as he asks the question. “No I’m not, but atleast I get to say goodbye to you.”  And as you look up he leans in and gives you a tiny peck on the lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for quite some time.” He lets out. You can’t help but smile as you pull him back towards you. “Let's make it a proper goodbye then.” You whisper as you pull him back to your lips.

It’s not like it’s your first kiss with Lucifer, but it’s the last and that’s what makes it so much more special. It’s the combination of mutual sadness and desperation, the hint of rage still brewing somewhere deep inside the both of you. He knows your body, the way it will arch when he pushes you all the way down onto the bed. The tiny gasps when he starts kissing your neck. The way you look away when he starts kissing all the way down your body. ‘’Please keep looking at me, dear. I want you to see how much I am going to miss you.’’ It’s enough to make your heart flutter, the way he starts to attack your core with his tongue right away. It’s obvious he is in a hurry, but even with all the sadness, it’s the best way there is. You can’t help your moans; You’re lucky his room is soundproof. He’s fast, maybe too fast, but with everything that’s going on, it’s the best you can get. And that’s what it is. The best, because within a few minutes you can feel yourself starting to reach that point. The knot in your stomach tightens. your hands end up in his hair and with one loud moan, you erupt around him.

‘’I know that Mammon claims he was your first… in multiple ways… and not to discredit my brother, but I intend to be your last in all of them.’’  He says as he looks at you while he licks his lips. Him saying those words, the way he just made you lose your mind. It feels good, after all the fighting, teasing, kisses and losses , you’re with the man you love. You don’t want to ruin the mood. You’re really trying, but the moment you hear yourself thinking about loving him, about leaving him, about leaving his brothers, you just break. The tears start to form in your eyes and as you try to wipe them away you feel something on your arms. Lucifer. His eyes are cold again as he moves up to face you. ‘’Don’t hide your tears. I am just as sad.’’ He takes a long look at you, lets out a sign, and lays next to you as he caresses your back. ‘’I don’t want to play the ‘’Who has it worse’’ game, truly, I don’t want to, but in all the years I’ve been in heaven and hell, you’re the first human to have ever make my blood boil. Both from nerves and anger nonetheless, but losing you. Losing the one that made my family whole, the one that makes me feel all these emotions, the one that I love, hurts.’’ You can’t help but raise your brow. when he notices your expression he lets out a laugh.

You feel his hand grab your chin and suddenly your lips are only inches apart. ‘’I know you love me, Y/n. I’ve always known. Falling for you, was what surprised me.’’ You can’t help, but roll your eyes at him. Trying to ignore the way his hand feels on your back. The way it slowly moves it’s way to your hips. ‘’You know I do love all your brothers quite a lot too…’’ You say with all the confidence you have left. ‘’I know you do, but still I am the one that has you laying here. Practically begging for more.’’ He let’s out a chuckle as he pulls you closer. ‘’Let’s end this conversation, there’s not enough time.’’ And with that he’s on top of you. You know there isn’t much time, but when he starts to unbotton his shirt it’s as if time slows down. Of course he notices your looks and can’t help to give you a sly smirk. ‘’Don’t worry your next.’’ Is all he says as he takes his shirt off and starts tugging on yours. After your shirt is taken off he takes a look at your body and all you see is adoration on his face. ‘’I want to see all of you.’’ It makes your body flutter. ‘’You’re absolutely breathtaking.’’ He whispers. All this praise makes you feel weak. You try to grab his face, but as you put your arms up they fall down. You feel weak. Not because of his words, but something else. You see Lucifers expression change, the adorations is switched to concern, then back to concentration and before you know it he scoops you in his arms and makes you straddle him.

He’s looking at you, but not really. Obviously talking to himself. ‘’He wanted to be sure…’’ And as he says it he’s back. Back to giving you a sad smile. ‘’What’s going on?’’ Is all you let out. Is all you can let out, as you feel your body weighing more and more. He notices you getting weaker, making sure your settled between him and the headboard of the bed, before he speaks again. ‘’I think it’s time… Barbatos must’ve cast a spell… something that gave us a time limit. The probably knew it would be hard saying my goodbyes to you. Now I’m forced to make haste, just to make sure you’re safe.’’ You can’t even respond. You can move, but barely and all you can do is watch as Lucifer grabs his shirt. As he moves away from you, you’re sure of it. No this is not the way we’re going to say our goodbyes. It needs to be on our terms. Of course those words never leave your lips, but with all the power you have you reach out to him and as he looks back you let out a: ‘’No...not like this.’’ And maybe it’s the few words you’ve spoken, or the way your arm is trembling from all the power it takes to hold on to him, but he crawls back to you. His face is right above yours and if it’s not your eyes making it obvious what you want, you’re mouth will do. ‘’Take me…’’ It’s not a lot of words, but with the face you’re making and the fact that you guys were just in the middle of it, it doesn’t take much guessing. You can see that he’s thinking about it, obviously worried for you, but you can see his eyes change the moment it clicks.

His wings ar still there and you wished you could touch them, feel them one last time, but you should be lucky by what you can still get.’’I used to be a rebel, so why not know.’’ He laughs quietly before he lays you flat on your back.  ‘’I’m going to take care of you my love, promise me to let me know when it’s too much or when you want to stop.’’ You nod your head and you know that your eyes tell him all he needs to know. How bad you want him, how even when you were able to just talk normally, you would want this goodbye to be said only in silence. His body is hovering over yours, his hand touching your neck, giving you goosebumps. ‘’Does this feel nice?’’ he whispers as his hands move towards your breasts. You can only let out a tiny gasp and that tells him enough. ‘’I wish we had more time…’’ Is all he says as his finger enters your core. The moan that escapes you is loader then the both of you would’ve expected. As he continues to stretch you out with one hand, his other starts to prep his cock. ‘’Wish I could… do that for you.’’ You manage to say. You can’t keep your eyes from him. The way he’s hovering over you. His finger inside of you and the way you can’t do anything except for your stares, moans and gasps. ‘’All I want is to feel you right now, my love.’’

And with that he places the tip right in front of your entrance. He makes sure your faces are only inches apart and as he slowly slides into you, his arms make there way to your sides. He’s holding you as he bottoms out in you and the only thing you can do is let out a long moan. He starts moving slowly, tender, putting all his love in every trust. He’s the only one speaking from time to time. ‘’I love you’s’’ and ‘’You feel so good’ s’’ are filling the room. All that praise, all the love in his eyes. The fact that he’s not only literally hitting all your spots, but also the spots in your mind, is what does it for you. You feel yourself unravel under him. You’re so close, that you start to tear up. Your eyes are filled with tears, mostly because of how good this feels, the fact that you’re making love on stolen time, but also because the time is probably running out soon. Lucifer never increases his speed. When he notices your tears he quickly wipes them away and as his hand caresses your swollen cheek he whispers:  Don’t cry, my love, let us enjoy these last moments.’’ And just as he is about to give you a kiss on the lips you whisper a soft ‘’Love you Lucifer.’’ You notice his eyes being red as well and it’s devastating, but it feels so good. the way he keeps a steady pace has you reaching your peak and these final ‘’I love you’s’’, the final kisses is all you need to feel yourself tightening around him. He’s close too, because the moment he feels you tighten around his cock he gives you one firmer stroke and that’s all he needs to cum inside of you. He falls next to you and quickly takes you in his arms. ‘’I wish we could stay like this forever. I would sell my soul… but I guess in some way my soul has already been sold.’’ And all you can do is give him a sad smile before your eyes close.

Lucifer knew that it was time. You were starting to feel cold, too cold. After putting on some clothes and making sure you were fully clothed, he grabbed the coin Barbatos had given him. ‘’Use this before the time runs out.’’ So he had warned him for the curse. He knew he couldn’t be mad at his friends. He couldn’t be mad at you, he could only blame himself. He had shown his weakness by loving you. But you loved his brothers, loved him, despite all he stood for, without any shame. And even with the way it felt like he was going to lose you forever, it still meant the world he had the honor of getting to know you. The moment the coin was thrown a portal started to form and as he grabbed your cold body the darkness swallowed the two of you. As he opened his eyes he saw nothing, but darkness. It took a few minutes to notice that he was in a room. It must’ve been yours, because he noticed a picture of you next to a bed. He was going to take the picture, he was a rebel after all. As he tucked you in, he was at a loss for words. So all he could do was give you one last kiss on the forehead. Not being able to stop the tears falling from his eyes. ‘’Goodbye, my love…’’ and as the darkness was about to swallow him, he couldn’t help but leave one more thing behind. A raven feather, just for good measure. Returning to the Devildom was going to be almost as hard as leaving you here. He was once again going to be the villain in yet another story… the story of how he lost you.

You wake up to sunlight. Too much of it. Why aren’t your curtains closed? Wait, you have to get out of bed, it’s your turn to cook for everyone. Everyone? You live by yourself… right? It feels like you had a weird dream, but you can’t remember it. All you feel is sadness. As if you’ve lost something or someone important. The pain hits you so hard that the moment you try to stand your legs give out and you lay on the ground as tears fill your eyes. It hurts, but you don’t know why. As your hands try to find some grip to get up, you feel something soft. A feather. A raven black feather. It’s weird, but it feels comforting. Before you can help yourself, your lips are already on it and even when you should be grossed out by it, you plan to cherish the little trinket...

[kaunis-sielu]

October Challenge: 20

Hold Me in Your Arms

You and Steve are hanging out in the living room, he’s watching a football game and you’re reading while petting Cooper when the doorbell rings, causing Cooper to bark and you to glance over at Steve.

“Are you expecting someone?” Steve asks when you glance up at him from your book.

“No, are you?” Steve shakes his head then stands from his spot on the couch. You follow him to the door and when he opens it your jaw drops.

“Dad?”

“Fawn.” Your Dad says and you stare at him in surprise. “Are you not going to invite me in?” He asks and you feel the hint of an Alpha command but as usual it has no effect on you.

“No, I don’t think we will.” Steve says, his eyes hard.

“I am her Father.”

“Some Father from what I’ve heard.” Steve growls, your Dad’s scent is sour, you can’t help but tuck your face into Steve’s back and breathe deeply trying to rid yourself of your Dad’s scent.

“What are you doing here Dad?” You ask again, this time he lets out a huff but responds.

“I came because I’d heard you’d gone and found yourself an Alpha. I figured I should meet him.”

“Well now you’ve met me. You can go.” Steve says and you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing at the shocked look on your Dad’s face.

“You’re being very rude. I just want to make sure that my daughter is being taken care of.”

“Why do you suddenly care now?” Steve asks, it’s a good question.

“I’ve always cared.” You scoff from behind Steve and your Dad glares at you. “That was very rude Fawn. I raised you better than that.”

“I think you mean mom raised me better than that.” You tell him and he growls lowly. Steve growls back. “Okay, Alpha. I’m fine. He doesn’t scare me.” You tell Steve, you don’t need him getting into another fight over you this week. You step between the two Alphas and glare up at your father. “Why are you really here Dad? Where’s Mom?”

“Your mother is at home, helping care for your brother’s children. Which where you should be. With your pack.”

“I have a new pack now.”

“I am your Leading Alpha. You and your Alpha are to come home with me. Now.” You feel it, the Alpha command that used to make you submit, that used to control you and you laugh.

“You may be a pack leader, but my Alpha is a True Alpha. I’m the True Omega of a pack. I won’t be going anywhere.”

“What?”

“Can’t you feel it?” You ask surprised, “Most Alpha’s don’t need to be told that he’s a True Alpha.”

“You’ve gotten awful mouthy.”

“You mean I won’t bow down to you anymore?”

“Apologize.” Your Dad sneers but you shake your head and lean back into Steve who wraps his arms around you.

“I think it’s time for you to go.” Steve says, “Before I make you.”

“You’d fight your Omega’s father?”

“I don’t need to fight you to make you leave, that’s the beauty of being a True Alpha.”

“Your mother would be ashamed of you.”

“Actually, I think Mom would be pretty proud of me. I Mated for love, not because I was told to.” Steve hums happily in his chest, you feel the vibration from it in your back where you’re pressed against him. Steve presses a kiss to the crown of your head and it’s your turn to hum happily. Your Dad pulls a face but before he can say anything Steve says,

“Go. You’re not welcome in my territory again. Your Omega is welcome if she comes alone but you don’t get a second chance.” Your Dad goes glassy eyed for just a moment then he grits his teeth, glares down at you then turns and storms away. He goes stomping past Bucky who gives him a puzzled look then jogs up the sidewalk.

“Who was that?”

“My Dad.”

“What? Want me to kick his ass?” You laugh softly and shake your head.

“So the photographer can have to cover injuries on both of you? No thanks.”

“I’m insulted that you think he’d get a hit in.” Bucky says following you and Steve into the house. Steve drops down onto the couch but you continue to the kitchen with Bucky following you.

“I’m gonna grab a drink. You want anything Steve?” Bucky asks.

“Water. I don’t trust that Fawn’s Dad is just gonna let me Alpha Command him and be cool with it.” Bucky passes you and it hits you.

“Oh my god.” You gasp and Bucky looks at you, “You’re seeing an Omega!”

“What? No I’m not.”

“James Barnes I can smell her on you.”

“That’s just Becca.” He attempts to lie and you fold your arms over your chest giving him your most disbelieving look.

“Becca is one of my best friends. Would you like to try that again?” You inhale deeply, “She smells lovely. Like, Jasmine and Rose. I’ve smelled that before. Where have I smelled that?”

“In a garden? Look, please don’t say anything to Steve. She’s not ready for this to be a big thing and I really, really like her Fawn.”

“If there’s anything I can do to ease her mind please let me know.”

“Thanks. I just, I know she’s my Omega but I’m worried about coming on too strong, she kinda reminds me of you at the beginning. I think something happened with an Alpha but she hasn’t told me.”

“She probably won’t. I still haven’t told Steve everything that Grant did.”

“Why?”

“He wouldn’t like it and it doesn’t matter anymore. I have Steve, my past brought me to him and that’s what matters.” Bucky hums lowly as you pull two frozen pizzas out of the freezer.

“Any advice?” You start the oven before turning to look at him.

“Just be patient. I know it’s hard but being an Omega is exhausting and it’s really hard to trust Alphas. Show her that you respect her and her boundaries.”

“Thanks Fawn.” He says with a small smile. He heads back into the living room with his beer and Steve’s water but you’re not alone for long.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks coming up behind you wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Yea, just thinking.” You tell him, “thank you for having my back earlier and letting me mostly handle my Dad.”

“Of course Honey.” He says brushing his lips over your Mark. “Want me to stay for a minute?”

“Yes please. Can you just stay there until I put the pizzas in?”

“Yea Honey.”