#received I can respect *at least that* and their OC was compelling instead of *gesture vaguely of hot woman self insert of the week that

[qcomicsy]

Marvel writer: Then Wade get involved with monsters! And–

Me:

[carolyncaves]

This is for Day 28 Bliss, but it’s also the make-up for Day 21 Charm - I told y’all I had a plan for that one, didn’t I? Welcome back to the ace!JC vs ‘The Bachelor’ AU. 1749 words, Ace!Jiang Cheng, OC, speed dating, JC is having a terrible time, so is Lu Lian

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There were eight suitors, and they arrived with their chaperones at Lotus Pier in time for a lunch banquet. They were all very lovely. They acted refined and dignified, they treated his servants and one another warmly, they were each probably intelligent and talented in various ways, and they all deserved husbands who were not Jiang Cheng.

The one in the left corner looked positively ill, she was so angry.

It took Jiang Cheng’s brain several seconds to catch up, because it was so out of line with the rest of the scene. Most of these women had to be convinced to come, but they were here because they would be willing to consider Jiang Cheng if it meant marrying a sect leader and were interested in being considered in return. This one – she was his age or even slightly older, old enough that her family had to be apoplectic she wasn’t married – did not want to be here, did not want to be considered, and did not want to marry Jiang Cheng.

He could relate. Still, it was weird.

///

After the banquet, the agenda was for him to have tea with each one in succession. Jiang Cheng didn’t know how he was supposed to drink that much tea, but obviously none of this had anything to do with him or his comfort, so he didn’t argue. His agenda was to get this over with.

The first suitor was a woman from Gusu, an outer disciple of the Lan sect. From Jiang Cheng’s observation of the group, she was probably the most objectively beautiful. That obviously meant less than nothing to Jiang Cheng. Properly it should mean little to anyone actually looking for a wife instead of a decoration, but Jiang Cheng had resigned himself to failing to understand other people’s priorities long ago.

Her father joined them in the tea room, as did Jiang Cheng’s head of household. She bent down and informed him sotto voce, “This suitor was recommended by Wei-qianbei. He says …” She glanced at her book. It wasn’t because she needed to refresh her memory of the words – his advisor had an excellent memory. Reluctance, then, because his brother … because Wei Wuxian had said something stupid.

Jiang Cheng turned to look. She angled the book so he could read.

If it’s merely an aesthetic reluctance, I recommend you consider Shu Qi – I can personally attest that the people of Gusu are the most talented in the world in the amorous arts, so if you’re looking to be initiated, perhaps she could do the trick : )

Jiang Cheng could feel his brain beginning to boil. He would fling himself off the cliff at Nightless City himself before he would go around matching Wei Wuxian and Hanguang Jun. Or maybe he should drag Wei Wuxian there and heave him over again instead. He’d sent this woman all the way here for nothing more than a fleeting joke at Jiang Cheng’s expense.

He drank tea with Shu Qi politely, and at some point in the conversation – mostly driven by his advisor – it came out that her father was originally from Yunmeng and they’d had a chance to visit his hometown and see his parents – her grandparents – along the way. Jiang Cheng forgave Wei Wuxian one quarter of one inch.

He drank tea with several additional suitors in succession, each as pleasant and educated and unsuitable as the rest. Some tried in vain to engage him in conversation. Some sat quietly, having apparently gathered from his demeanor at the banquet or the reports from previous suitors this was unlikely to be a fruitful excursion.

For one, a woman from Yiping City, her brother who was chaperoning her sat down at the table with them. This was unusual, but he had already dealt with a wide range of fathers, brothers, and one particularly memorable auntie, so he paid it little mind. Then she introduced him as her didi – also unusual, but perhaps she had no elder brothers, and perhaps her father had been too busy to attend himself – and about a sentence and a half into her description of his “many endearing charms”, Jiang Cheng clocked that the suitor and the chaperone were in fact the other way around.

“Who nominated this one?” Jiang Cheng asked his head of household, at the first reasonably courteous opportunity.

“The Wang suitor was selected by your faithful staff,” she replied.

“Ah,” was all he said. He supposed he should be grateful for their unambiguous support of his cut-sleeve yearnings, even though they were nonexistent. He muttered something to about how ‘charm’ wasn’t precisely his type – it seemed courteous to let them know he understood and was declining – and passed a fairly pleasant rest of the half hour with the Wangs in which they chatted with each other and left him to drown himself in oolong in peace.

There were only a few more. Once the teas were through, maybe he could call off the rest of this with at least a hint of respectability.

///

The angry one was second to last.

Her name was Lu Lian. He learned this from her paternal uncle, who was her very enthusiastic chaperone. The woman herself said nothing, stared at the table, and barely touched her tea.

“Lian would make a marvelous wife, Sect Leader,” the uncle said. “She has sterling manners and speaks and writes well. She knows how to keep a dignified household in order, from my wife’s good example – not that our manor holds a candle to Lotus Pier, of course, but Lian is capable, more than capable of rising to the task. She maintains my books and records for me, in fact, and has always done so without flaw or error – so you see, it would be hard for me to lose her, a constant fixture of my household for the past fourteen years. But if you two were to marry, I would be willing to, in hopes of achieving a lifetime of marital bliss for my beloved niece, and for you as well, Sect Leader.”

Lu Lian was glaring at the kettle so harshly Jiang Chang would have thought she could boil tea that way. For an beloved member of the family her uncle was reluctant to part with, she certainly seemed to be here rather against her will.

“I assure you, she is not so deathly quiet most of the time,” the uncle said with a threadbare jollity. “She does not talk too much, of course!” Apparently someone had gotten ahold of one of Jiang Cheng’s matchmaker lists. “But she has a good head on her shoulders.”

The silence stretched. Jiang Cheng could practically see the uncle trying to calculate how he might command his niece to act friendlier without being obvious about it. As if he wasn’t already. Jiang Cheng was no fool, and he didn’t even have a reputation as one like Nie Huaisang that would give this man an excuse.

Lu Lian’s hands were curled into tight fists on her knees.

“You can step outside if you want,” he told her across the table. “You’re welcome to the porch, there.” He picked up his cup, gestured with it, and took a sip.

Lu Lian’s brow dipped. She looked at the door, and then – for the first time, probably – at him.

“Take your tea,” he suggested. She’d come all this way, so she might as well get to drink it.

One of her hands uncurled slowly, reaching out and claiming her cup from the table. She rose and let herself out, shutting the door gently behind her.

The uncle looked appalled. “Ah, Sect Leader, please forgive my niece. She has been so eager to meet you since we received the invitation, she’s simply overcome with nerves! I hope you will be generous enough to give her another chance when she returns. Why don’t I go fetch her for you?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng said, leaving the man helpless to do anything but stand there and wait, pinned by his order. He ignored him entirely, turning to his advisor. “Who recommended Lu Lian?”

“Sect Leader Nie,” she read out of her book, voice tinged with the same puzzlement Jiang Cheng felt. He wouldn’t have expected Nie Huaisang to make such a poor choice. “Apparently the new Nie-furen knew her for a time when they were young.”

He and his advisor exchanged a look. People could change a great deal from when they were young. Jiang Cheng knew that all too well himself.

Still, the combined involvement of Nie Huaisang and Zhang Meihua gave him pause. It made it less likely this was a thoughtless choice and more likely a deviously thoughtful one. This was an inane situation which Nie Huaisang had himself contrived, but within it, Lu Lian was the suitor that most stood out.

She stayed outside for the full half hour, which gave Jiang Cheng time to turn the puzzle over in his mind and come up with the rudiments of a plan – one that would get him, and in the process also Lu Lian, out of this. He would have to sit through one more tea first, but that might truly be the end of it.

When she finally came in, she stood uncertainly in the doorway, her empty cup held limply in front of her.

“Take an ozmanthus cake when you go,” he offered. “And more tea, if you want it.”

The uncle was glaring unsubtle daggers at her, gesturing with his posture toward Jiang Cheng as if he were trying to compel Lu Lian to petition him for additional time. Lu Lian did not heed him, stepping forward cautiously and taking one of the diamond-shaped cakes from the table. “Thank you, Sect Leader Jiang.” She set her cup down.

By the time he realized she was probably just intending to leave it, he was halfway through pouring her a new cup, which meant it was too late. “You’re welcome.”

She took it and left. Jiang Cheng looked significantly at the uncle, reminding him he was supposed to leave too, and he scurried after her.

Perhaps Jiang Cheng hadn’t given Nie Huaisang enough credit. He’d assumed his old ‘friend’ was trying to wheedle him into a relationship, but perhaps he’d actually set up the pieces so Jiang Cheng could knock them down in such a way as to ensure neither he nor Lu Lian would ever be hassled about getting married again.

[lyraparadigm]

Nostrum - Troy Otto/OC #7

Chapter 7

Once agian, beta-d by the lovely Sarah

“Troy protects us,” Gretchen nodded, her tone reflecting the assuredness of this belief.

“We can’t rely on the Troys of this world,” Alicia argued, deadpan. 

“She’s right,” Arya agreed, “You can’t. There are a lot of people out there that are worse than Troy. You need to know how to defend yourself against them.”

“Worse than Troy?” Alicia scoffed and Arya found her features twisting into a stern frown.

When Arya had entered the bunker, all her expectations of what bible study had to offer flew right out the proverbial window. Music, punch that was 80% vodka and 20% juice, as well as a bong, wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. Then Arya had taken one look at the decapitated Walker head, still groaning, on the coffee table and burst into hysterical laughter. The group had cheered her on as she played catch up and Arya was happy for this distraction. It was exactly what she needed…until Gretchen had brought up Troy.

As Alicia’s contempt for Troy became blatantly apparent, Arya felt something stir in her that compelled her to voice her own opinion of the man. “He has a code – he puts his people first. Men without codes are worse.” Arya’s tone left no room for argument.

Alicia though, too curious to let Arya finish there, probed, “You’ve met worse men?”

A short, humourless laugh left Arya’s lips, “Yes.”

Gretchen leaned closer, urging her to elaborate. Arya’s gaze flitted around the room, her eyes taking note of the boys passed-out on the couch. She blamed alcohol and exhaustion for the feelings of vulnerability surfacing to her usually cold exterior.

“There are men out there that think they can take what they want from you just because they helped you out a little– that you owe them or something – that your body and your affections are a commodity. They don’t call it rape but they hold things over your head: food, safety, weapons…they make it so you’re compelled to give in. You have to ‘contribute’ in some way or another.” Arya’s voice had turned bitter as she struggled to suppress the shiver that clawed up her spine.

Gretchen gasped softly, “Did you–  were you– in that group?”

Arya nodded, “For a couple of weeks, yeah. I had my brothers with me though and they were pretty intimidating so, aside from a few leers, no one bothered me…but I saw how other women in the camp were being treated.”

“And?” Gretchen asked, “You put an end to it, right?”

Arya stared diligently at the dirt beneath her finger nails. A rather painful lump had started forming in her throat as she opened her mouth to speak, “We snuck out of the camp, me and my two brothers. They wanted to stay back and fight but I didn’t let them. I said it would work out better for us if we raided the armoury and escaped quietly late at night.”

Heavy silence, seeming even to mute the head’s moans, filled the room for a few long moments until Arya broke it with sardonic laughter, “Karma came to bite me in the ass a month later.”

Alicia raised her eyes to look up at Arya, she hadn’t done so since the start of her story– she’d had a feeling that she knew how it would end - that Arya hadn’t stayed behind to fight. Alicia didn’t think much of Arya; the girl was selfish, surly and frankly a little twisted but Alicia had never stopped to wonder why she was this way because frankly Alicia had enough problems of her own to deal with. But as she heard Arya speak with a low voice that cracked in places, Alica felt somewhat guilty for being so quick to judge.

“When I was travelling on my own,” Arya paused to lick her lips, “I got caught in a trap. The same men from the camp had set it up in the forest to catch deer… instead they caught me.” She chuckled derisively as she tried to mask the fear those memories still brought her. Sucking in a small breath, she continued, “Three of them– they had this gleeful look in their eyes…like they couldn’t wait to get me back to their camp.”

“What happened?” Gretchen whispered, her voice hushed with horror. Her face had paled, as had Alicia’s.

Arya’s eyes were impossibly dark, “I killed them.” 

“How?” Gretchen blurted.

Arya shrugged, appearing nonchalant, “Luck. A bit of stupidity on their part and a bit of skill on mine.”

Gretchen seemed to accept Arya’s answer, though she wasn’t sure if it was because her curiosity was satisfied or if it was because Arya scared her. Alicia, however, didn’t buy into Arya’s answer even for a second. Something had happened…something that Arya didn’t want to even think about, much less talk about.

/-/-/

Arya felt somewhat responsible for Alicia as she guided her back to the Clark’s cabin, especially given the girl’s state: both drunk and high, glassy-eyed and giggling randomly. Arya hadn’t really spoken to Alicia before this evening, nor had she given the youngest Clark much thought. There was nothing for her to really go on; Alicia was quiet, choosing to simply follow her Mother’s lead. Arya had been surprised to hear Alicia had killed someone before. The fact that she had found the whole experience as being ’easy’ was also something Arya hadn’t expected. She felt like she could respect the younger girl now.

“Were you always like this?” Alicia sighed as she slumped against Arya’s shoulder.

“Like what?” Arya humoured her as they walked back, Arya supporting most of the Alicia’s weight.

“So cold and selfish. Were you like this before?”

Amusement faded from Arya’s voice as she replied coldly, “I didn’t have the luxury of being coddled by my mom.”

“Please,” Alicia scoffed. “My mom stopped looking after me the second Nick hit puberty and all his drama started.”

Arya’s eyebrows rose at the bitterness in the girl’s tone. “So you’re jealous of Nick? Guess we have more in common than you think,” she muttered under her breath as they approached the Clarks’ cabin. Arya knew exactly what it felt like to be the least preferred child in the household. Opening the door silently, she gestured for Alicia to be quiet so as not to wake Madison. She needn’t have worried- the Clark matriarch was sitting right in the centre of the room with a stern look on her face. Arya saw passed her anger though…she saw weariness and fear. It touched her in a way she hadn’t expected it to.

“She’s fine,” Arya mumbled as Madison approached the both of them in a hurry, taking Alicia off Arya. Both women helped Alicia to her bed and Arya watched pensively as Madison tucked her daughter in. 

“Turns out bible studies is more of a weed and vodka party,” Arya shrugged and Madison nodded, “Yeah I got that.”

Awkward silence ensued for a few seconds before Arya mumbled, “Right. Well, goodnight.”

“Arya–” Madison gripped her arm gently, “Thank you for bringing her back, and for everything you’re doing for Luciana.” Madison’s tone was gentle, persuasive almost, but Arya doubted her sincerity. She could tell Madison had reservations about her and she didn’t appreciate the false kindness.

“It’s fine,” she replied in a clipped manner and turned to leave but Alicia’s hiccupped giggle gave her footsteps pause.

“Don’t mind her Mom, she’s just mean because some very bad men did some very bad things to her.” 

Arya felt her blood freeze and every bone in her body turn to stone.

“–but don’t worry, she killed them all.”

Arya slammed the door shut as she fled the cabin. The nausea in her stomach lurched to her throat and threatened to make her retch. Flashes of memories ripped through her mind but she fought to suppress them. So engrossed in her torment, she didn’t realise Madison had followed her out.

“Arya!” The older woman gripped her arms, “Arya just breathe, Arya look at me- focus.”

Blood rushed to her head, making her dizzy, and suddenly she noticed how impossible it seemed for her to breathe. Wild eyes cleared to focus on hazel ones until clarity returned to her, until she could feel her pulse calming again. She found comfort in the woman’s words, soothing her, telling her she was safe…that it was okay…that she could talk to her about it. Something in Arya snapped as Madison said that. Recoiling, she slapped her hands away.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she yelled. “Leave me alone!”

“Arya, it’s okay, I can help you. I used to be a guidance councillor before all this. I can help.”

Arya looked at the woman in contempt and snarled, “Every word that comes out of your mouth is a lie. I don’t trust you and your farce of sincerity. You just want to know what my weakness is, so you can manipulate me the way you manipulate Troy!”

“Arya that’s not what–” Madison seemed fraught but Arya stepped back, ignoring her.

“Well I don’t have any weaknesses,” she growled. “I killed them didn’t I? I killed my demons. I let him think he was raping me. I waited until he was in me, till he was vulnerable, and then I bit his ear off.” She had a crazed look in her eyes as she struggled to maintain what little composure she had left. “Then he was the one with fear in his eyes… I strangled him to death and I enjoyed every minute of it. So I don’t need you, Madison, and I don’t need to talk about it because I’m not weak like your children,” she screamed. Her vision blurred from unshead tears as she ran, desperate for the sanctuary her small cabin provided. She needed to feel the cool steel of her daggers. She needed to clutch them to her breast and rock herself to sleep. She needed to feel safe.

~*~*~*~

 “So…how’s Luciana?” Troy asked casually as he started up the truck. They had successfully caught the boars that had been breaking into the cabbage fields and were on their way back to the Ranch now.

Nick scoffed as he glared at Troy from the corner of his gaze, “Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Alright.” Troy shrugged, “Just wanted to know how she was…adjusting.”

“She’s fine.” Nick rolled his eyes, turning to face the window, hoping that this would be the end of the probing questions. Sadly, it was not.

“How long’ve you two been together?” Troy asked jovially. Upon not receiving a response, he decided to fill the silence himself, “Must not have been long. Alicia and your Mom didn’t know about her so… a few weeks? Maybe a month? I mean, you guys seem pretty close though–”

“Why do you wanna know?” Nick snapped. “Why are we talking? Just drive.”

“I thought we were friends now, Nicky,” Troy replied, mocking Arya’s use of the nickname. “I just wanted to ask because…well, you seemed pretty close with Arya back there.” His tone had bite to it though his face was a picture of nonchalance.

Nick’s brows shot up  Troy’s questioning made sense to him now. Suppressing a snort at Troy’s jealous antics, Nick decided to play a little, “I guess.” Nick shrugged aloofly, “Arya’s special, you know? She’s one of those people you can’t help but be drawn to.”

Nick snickered under his breath as he watched Troy’s grip on the steering wheel tighten. Troy’s jaw clenched fiercely as he stewed in silence for the rest of the drive back. Arya was proving to be a more difficult challenge than he had initially presumed her to be. Her growing closeness with Nick and Luciana was hindering any further progress on his part. He understood why she’d want to be friendly with Nick – he had seen a different side to Nick earlier tonight but Arya’s warped sense of responsibility towards Luciana, simply didn’t make sense to Troy. He wasn’t jealous, he decided…he was simply irritated– irritated that Arya had so callously rejected him – the one who brought her to this ranch, the one who had saved her…but she was so ready to accept Nick, who had so traitorously left his own family behind, and Luciana who was all but useless.

Arya was better than that and Troy knew it. He just had to make her see that she was wasting her time with them. He had to make her see that where she truly belonged was by his side. He had thought his little ploy of getting the community to fear Arya would win her over. He thought she’d have asked to join the militia by now; he had bloody well hinted at it enough– but no, Arya hadn’t seemed to have caught the bait. Either that, or she had seen through his manipulations. She would be his perfect companion – his second in command, his partner.

His eyes narrowed in thought as he recollected exactly how she had reacted when he had kissed her. She hadn’t kissed back, no, but she had paused. She hadn’t pulled him in but she hadn’t pushed him away either. In fact, if Troy recalled correctly, at one point Arya had even sighed against his mouth. She had gripped his shirt and had become limp in his arms. He felt aroused just remembering how she felt pressed against him.

Troy hadn’t planned on kissing her. He hadn’t even thought about it…. Well, okay, maybe he had, but he hadn’t seriously considered it until he kissed her jaw the other day…but that, he thought, was only to bring her off that bloody high horse she had been on all day. After all, she had ignored him, pushed him away, screamed and slammed a damn door in his face. Worst of all though, she had called him ‘Cyclops’, in a tone that made him feel like he wasn’t wanted anymore. How dare she make light of him almost losing his eye?!  He had seethed for a good hour over that. He had decided to remind her that she found him just as magnetic as he found her. Sure, she’d scream at him, argue, throw things even, but at the end of it all she’d glance at him with that look…the look that meant she understood why he sometimes had to do the shit he had to do. It excited him, made him want to push her buttons, to see what else she was made of and every time he thought he had a read on her - on who she was- she’d do something unexpected. And that reeled him in all over again.

Earlier, when she had so passionately defended him it had been such a goddamn turn on. No-one had done that for him before. No one had been on his side because they genuinely thought he was in the right. How could he resist kissing her after that? She had spoken with such sincerity and it had made his heart lurch with elation. But the moment she had grabbed his face and dug into his cheekbone rather painfully he had realised he’d made a mistake. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it.

She tasted of chaos and bitterness and he wanted to drown in her. 

She had stormed off, pissed at him but he hadn’t let that bother him. Not really. Not until he had seen her with Nick on their late-night stroll. And now Nick was complimenting her like he knew who she was. It angered Troy and fueled his need to see her when they got back. He didn’t know what he wanted to say to her but he figured it’d come to him when he saw her. All he knew, he thought as he parked the jeep, was that Nick couldn’t be the last person she touched tonight.  

He jogged to her cabin, taking out the spare set of keys he would need to break in. His mind buzzed with all possible scenarios of their encounter tonight. He hoped it’d end in more kissing but he highly doubted that. Then again, watching her shout and throw things at him was a pretty heady experience too so he wouldn’t mind that either. 

What he had never, ever expected, however, was to find her curled into a ball on her bed, her body shuddering as she sobbed. She didn’t seem to even realise he had entered. “Arya?” Troy’s features twisting in concern and dismay as he saw her tear-soaked face in the moonlight. “What happened? Arya-”

“GET OUT!” she screamed, her voice laden with pain as it tore through Troy.

“Arya.” His features softened, his eyes wide and round, filled with anguish, as he reached to wipe away her tears.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!!” She tore herself away, hunching in fright with a rabid gleam to her eyes. Troy sucked in a sharp breath at the violent fear he saw in them. A sharp chill crept through him as realisation began to dawn on him. He felt sick to his stomach as his mind raced, figuring out something sick had happened to her. She was hugging herself tightly, her face streaked with tears, her body shaking from crying so hard. How was he supposed to help if she wouldn’t let him touch her?  “Tell me what happened, Arya,” he demanded gently, his features hard as he knelt in front of her. He already had an idea but he hoped to God it wasn’t that. The thought of her being touched against her will made his blood boil.

“No, no, no,” she fumbled and grabbed at her sheathed daggers, sending a lamp crashing to the floor in the process. She clutched them tightly to her chest and clenched her eyes shut as she struggled against her memories, trying to claw herself back as they suffocated her. She could still feel his rough hands on her skin, the bitter stench of his breath on her face, the foulness of his lips against hers. ‘Make it stop’, she sobbed, keeling into herself.

Troy ached to help her as he listened to her pleas; he felt powerless and it drove him to desperation. He didn’t know what to do. Every time he tried to touch her, she’d smack his hands away… but he burned with the need to soothe her– to make her feel safe. So he engulfed her writhing body in his arms and refused to let go, even as she scratched and clawed at his face, his arms, his chest. He held on firmly, tightly, pressing his mouth to her ear as he repeated, “You’re safe. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you, Arya. You’re safe.” 

His scent leaked into her consciousness, flooding her with an unexpected calmness. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”  His whispered words cascaded over her and despite not being lucid enough to really hear them, as she gazed into his stormy blue eyes that were ablaze with fury, she believed him.

Accepting his presence and her place in his arms, she slowly wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. Troy felt like this room and this moment with her was the only part of the world that mattered, that existed. Softly stroking her hair as he continued to hold her tightly, he whispered his promises until they fell asleep: he’d protect her, no matter what.