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gible-love-nibles · 11 months

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Eternal Diva Fic (Part 4)

*(spins around in a swivel chair like a supervillain but I just. Keep spinning)* It is time for the L.ayton specialty: puzzles. And some goofs and gags.

This is the most hefty chapter so far (and maybe one of the biggest for the whole story); in movie time, this covers like. The rest of the first act (at least how I split up the story). So get comfy and enjoy!

Trigger warning for (again) implied falls to death (everyone turns out to be fine, though that's not said until later) and an explosion near the end

Word Count: 2.4k / Previous / Next

“Let us begin. Puzzle Number 001.” Spotlights shaped like the numbers shined on the back of the stage. “Look around you, ladies and gentlemen. Look for the oldest thing you can see and gather by it. Sounds simple… but there is a catch.”

Another brighter light shone on the middle of the stage, and a strange machine rose up from a hidden platform. It was tall, with a crank and a large run of paper with holes and music notes on it. When the crank started to turn, a song like you’d hear from a music box started to play.

As bizarre as the thing looked, it was obvious what its purpose was: a timer.

“When the music stops, your time is up. If you want eternal life, then there’s no time to lose.”

The game master wasn’t even finished speaking before people started to rush out of the theater. Even the Professor, Luke and Janice made their way over to the main hall. It made sense: there were loads of relics on display. Who knew how old some of those things were?

But I didn’t follow anyone out. I thought hard about the question the game master posed: look for the oldest thing you can see.

“That might mean you don’t have to leave this room to see it,” I muttered to myself. I sat in one of the theater chairs.

Well, the book about everything here said that the opera house was built very recently. Now with the revelation that it was actually a boat, it made even more sense why. But neither this theater or this boat would come anywhere close to the displays in the main hall; there were fossils that I was sure were millions of years old! Then what could it possibly--

I had been leaning back in my chair and not paying attention: a very bad combination. I yelped as the chair’s back flipped back so far as to slide me out of the whole thing. Thankfully, it did little more than startle me and give me a bit of a bruise on my head. “Ow.”

But that turned out to be my saving grace; my tumble made me look up, straight up into the sky. Of course! Nothing on earth was older than the stars!

Just a bit after my revelation, I heard the theater door open behind me. I scrambled back up to see who it was. To my relief, it was the Professor, Luke and Janice.

Layton explained the answer to his group: our game master wasn’t looking for the oldest thing on the ship, just the oldest thing we could see. Now the roof opening up made more sense. Very soon after, the music box contraption’s track stopped.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your time is up. The oldest thing above you are the stars above you. To those of you here in the theater, congratulations! You can continue.” I couldn’t help myself from pumping my fist a bit. “For those of you who got it wrong…”

Despite the thick wooden doors, the screams of those outside the doors weren’t completely blocked out. It made my joy felt at solving the puzzle extremely short-lived.

The music box timer flipped over like an hourglass.

“Let us proceed to Puzzle Number 002. Now, go to where you can see the largest crown.”

“The largest crown?” A young girl with blonde hair and a red ribbon echoed.

“This is hardly a competition if he keeps gathering us all together,” the sea captain commented.

“Ugh, there are hundreds of crowns on display all over this silly little ship,” the blue-dressed woman groaned. “There is no way we can compare all of them in the time we have.”

“They must all be red herrings then,” I thought as a woman echoed the exact thing aloud.

Besides, a random crown in the main hall just didn’t feel right. We were stuck on a boat that was disguised as an opera house. The roof opened up to reveal the answer to the first puzzle. Our game master clearly had a flair for the dramatic. If this was a pattern, the answer to this puzzle would have that same flair. But what could it possibly be?

I glanced over at Layton, Luke and Janice. Luke was sketching something in a little notebook while the other two watched. After a bit, Luke looked elated. “YEEES! That’s it! The ship we’re on is the Crown Patone!”

And just like that, it clicked.

The gold arches, the windows that looked like gems, all those parts shuffling around when we started to sail out…

I sprang up and booked it out of the theater, no doubt startling some of the other contestants. I thought I heard Luke calling my name, but I was already closing the door.

I ran down the hall and eventually came to the stern of the ship. And sure enough, there were lifeboats ready for use, along with a very small rowboat.

“Well, I guess I’m taking the rowboat. No way are my noodle arms going to turn those big cranks.”

I approached the little boat… but quickly realized this was its own miniature puzzle. I had to be on the boat when it dropped into the water obviously, but I couldn’t jump down onto it when it was already dropped. Best case: I land on the boat, probably break through it with the kinetic energy I generate from the jump and the whole thing sinks. Worst case: I hit the water and hitting that would probably be like hitting concrete.

Neither were favorable. Not to mention the sharks were still around.

…There was a third option.

Standing on top of the railing, I managed to climb into the little boat without shaking it too much. But now how was I supposed to get the boat into the water?

Thankfully, being scrunched up in the boat forced me to look at my whole person and-- more importantly-- my shoes. These dress shoes had a thick rubber sole on the bottom and no doubt could get the hand crank moving, just as long as I hit the crank.

I took off my shoe, lined up my shot, and then whipped my arm as hard as I could for maximum throwing power. The shoe hit its target, and the crank released, sending the boat-- and me-- down into the sea.

I just didn’t account for how fast the boat would drop.

I shrieked as the boat plummeted and bounced up and bobbed when it hit the water. By some miracle, the thing stayed together, only getting some water in it.

“...That… could’ve gone better.”

I clutched a hand over my heart to try and settle it. Well, that was the hard part done. Now time to row out and look at the Crown Patone.

Assuming that was the answer.

And minus a shoe.

Just as I bent down to grab the oars-- accepting that I would probably be doing the rest of this game in my socks-- something caught my ear.

Laughter. Honest, tears-in-your-eyes, “I-just-saw-the-funniest-thing-ever” laughter. I looked up.

I was too far down from the boat to see them well. All I could really tell was that the top of their head looked pointy. Maybe it was that dark-bearded man with the puffy pants. I remembered he had a tall pointy hat.

“HEY!!” I shouted as loud as I could over the waves. “Is there a black shoe on the deck? Can I have it back?”

They extended their arm out, and something dropped from their hand. After a bit, it landed on my face. Yep, it was my shoe alright.

After I put it back on, I turned back to thank whoever it was. But they had vanished from the deck. “Probably went to the cranks,” I thought as another voice caught my ear.

“Miss Clare!! Miss Clare!!” It was Layton. “Are you alright down there?”

“Just fine, Professor!” I reassured him. “Were you the one who sent my shoe down here by any chance?”

“Your shoe? No, the deck was empty when we came out here. And there was no one else in sight.”

…What? No one else was on the deck? Then who on earth gave it back to me?

Eventually, two other boats made it down to the water and we all started to row away from the ship. As far as I could see, the sharks weren’t following us. The farther out I rowed, the more confident I became.

I looked over at all the contestants. I quickly realized that the dark-bearded man couldn’t have been the one who returned my shoe; he was way too short. Layton had a hat, but it wasn’t pointy. Besides, he would’ve responded to me asking since we knew each other. I went through everyone one by one and deduced it was no one in this group.

But then… who could it have been?

To pass the time, the group more properly introduced themselves. The young girl with the blonde hair was Amelia, and she hadn’t bought her ticket. She had been invited to the opera by Mr. Whistler.

“Just like me,” I thought almost immediately. “But at least she knows who invited her.”

I felt extremely bad for Amelia. I imagined she had thought she was only going to an opera, but now she was roped into all of this. She only looked a few years older than Luke.

…The words of the dark-bearded man rung in my head. “Mr. Whistler. You were the one behind this opera. Tell me: did you also plan this deadly game?” If Mr. Whistler was in some way involved with this game, why invite such a young girl? She had her whole life ahead of her. Would she have any use for eternal life?

Introductions continued.

The ship captain was Curtis O’Donnell, and he was indeed a captain of a merchant ship for a time; a large woman with chestnut hair was Annie Dretche, a famous mystery writer; the woman with the blue dress was a Mrs. Raidley, who didn’t care to elaborate any further on herself; the dark-bearded man was Frederick Bargland, president of the World Fleet Corporation; the man with the red hair and long nose was Pierre Starbuck, a soccer legend. Professor Layton and Luke introduced themselves; Mr. Whistler and Janice didn’t need an introduction. The older gentleman simply said his name was Marco, and I introduced myself. I stopped talking when everyone who didn’t already know me looked at me funny hearing my American accent.

What zoned me back into the conversation was a question from Layton: “Mr. Whistler, is it true that this girl came back to life, reborn as Melina?”

Wait, what? What was all this about?

Mr. Whistler of course denied the claim, saying he only called his adopted daughter Melina as a sign of affection. Which… didn’t sound very affectionate to me.

He went on to thank Janice for wanting to keep Melina’s memory alive, and that he decided to write music again for Melina’s sake. Apparently, she loved music.

“When that man asked me to write an opera, I agreed to do this for Melina. To play for my daughter’s memory. But I never expected this.”

The mystery man. The commissioner of the opera. The builder of the opera house. The host of the game. The question of who he was hung in the air again. He was the cause of all this misery.

We had to find him. We had to put a stop to this.

“Professor!! The ship!! It was the biggest crown all along!” Luke’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts and it was easy to see why.

The full splendor of the Crown Patone was spread out before us now. Just as I had suspected, the golden arches and jewel colored windows made the whole ship look like a gigantic crown.

“Ladies and gentlemen in the boats,” the game master’s voice returned right on cue. Somehow, he was just as easy to hear this far out at sea as he was in the ship. “My congratulations. You have come one step closer to eternal life!”

Suddenly, a little mechanism at the back of our boats unlocked, and an engine jutted out into the water. The golden rims around the boats raised up to make safety rails.

“Now sit back. Enjoy the next part of your journey.”

The boats suddenly sped away from the ship and into the night. It was hard not to get jolted by the sudden shift in speed.

“Hey!! Where the hell are we going?!” I yelled out. Of course, no one answered.

…Wait, the ship! What was going to happen to the Crown Patone?

My question was swiftly answered in the most horrifying way possible. Windows shattered and the waves rattled as the ship started to explode. Fire raged across the boat as the arches crumbled beneath the weakened deck. The angel statue fell into the water.

It happened so fast, but at the same time so slowly. I didn’t even think of moving until I saw everyone else raising up their arms to protect themselves.

I had all sorts of swirling emotions: anger, disgust, horror, and a million other feelings I couldn’t put into words. I was more determined than ever to put a stop to this; I was sure Layton felt the same. No prize was worth people’s lives.

Obviously, no one was up for much conversation after what we just saw.

Eventually, our host came back to talk to us, telling us that there were blankets under the seats. The journey to our destination would take all night. We might as well get some sleep so we could be ready bright and early for more puzzles.

Everyone reluctantly obeyed, wrapping themselves up and going to sleep one by one.

I don’t know how long it took me to fall asleep. I pulled out a tiny notebook and pencil I had stashed away in my bag. I always had one handy for when I got bored or when the doodling mood struck me. But neither of those were on my mind; I just scribbled nonsensically on the pages.

I just had so many thoughts swirling in my head. Where were we going? What challenges would we be faced with next? What was this about the composer’s daughter coming back to life?And most importantly: who was our host? And what did he want?

#🐉🎮.txt #clare's writing #eternal diva au #seen a lot of things; places you ain't ever been 🐉💫#and just like that act 1 is done

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luckychi7 · 2 years

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Chainsaw Man Chapter 103 Thoughts

The News Reports were one thing when it came to the level of praise Chainsaw Man had gotten, but the way you have a bunch of extras showcasing various different opinions was intriguing. Some people absolutely cheer for him for everything he has done against other devils in the city, and there are others who can’t really accept him because they don’t like him or even criticizing how it lessens the efforts of the jobs devil hunters bring to the table. There’s a very meta like approach Tatsuki Fujimoto showcases in the writing of this particular scene and it’s really neat to witness.

During the whole reports that were going on from person to person, we come across one person that the fandom has been really curious to see in the flesh since the end of Part 1. You all know exactly who I am talking about, our lovable main protagonist, Denji finally makes his comeback. Yes, he made his return technically in the last chapter, but that was in his devil form.

Here we actually get to see Denji in the flesh in his normal human form, and man I just love how he’s gloating about himself throughout the interview. Almost to a point where he was about to share his phone number before the cameraman cut off the recording, and the reporter tells the broadcaster they’ll cut Denji’s part out. I thought it was kind of funny that this man was gloating about himself, but then his part doesn’t make it into broadcasting program. You could say it’s an ironic sense of karma where he was trying to play koi only to be shot down just like that. The reporter told everyone in the audience to give Chainsaw Man a huge cheer who unknown to them, Denji being the guy poses like he’s on top of the world.

Then out of nowhere, Yoshida appears right before Denji in his all aspiring glory who is confused as to why he knows his name. Yoshida recalls a story when assassins were after Denji during that point of time in Part 1, but it seems like he didn’t recall any of those events. However, Yoshida offers to treat Denji to a trip to cafe shortly after the latter revealed that he was broke. The real meat of the chapter all takes place right here between the two them.

Yoshida was actually quite surprised that he bumped into Denj in broad daylight, but that leaves him more curious after recognizing the school uniform. Denji even asks if he’s been tailing him for quite some time which causes Yoshida to chuckle and admits that organization had given a task to monitor Denji. Which okay... the fact that Fujimoto has to address that it’s not some evil organization is very meta yet hillarious all at the same time. The goal of the organization he’s associated with it is to ensure peace in life. All the while, Denji orders a few more things off the menu while continuing to listen to what Yoshida has to add, and that’s simple a fact of Chainsaw Man’s identity being revealed to the world will place him in serious trouble.

When asked, what would happen if Denji is found out by the public about his identity of Chainsaw Man being exposed, and Yoshida grabbed a pair of knives claiming to “prevent Denji from eating the cake that just arrived or anything that Denji ordered off the menu to be exact.” Very shortly, the cake had arrived to which Denji enjoyed to his hearts content when Yoshida further explaining that exposing his identity will ruin the life he’s worked so hard to maintain.

It i here where Yoshida asked why Denji fights against other devils as the Chainsaw Man, and the simplest answer once again is that he wants people to discover his secret. To which he is asked by Yoshida a simple “Why?” and the answer was something that didn’t really come as a huge surprise. The reason Denji wants his secret as Chainsaw Man to be revealed is because he wants the ladies to be all over him which is fitting and in line with his character given from what we knew from Part 1. The Chapter comes to a close with Yoshida placing his hand against his cheek in observation to Denji who is enjoying his cake in peace.

All in all, I give this chapter of Chainsaw Man an Amazing+ rating. Truth be told, I was gonna go for a pure perfection rating, but the only downside is that we didn’t really get to see Asa Mitaka at all in throughout the chapter, but it’s a minor nitpick to be perfectly honestly. The real highlight of this chapter was honestly getting Denji back in the picture and getting a sense of where his state of mind is currently which isn’t much different, but that could also factor in with a fact that that we haven’t seen Nayuta yet. I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that something will arise with Denji showcasing a bit of difference in his character from where we left off with him in Part 1. that’s all I gotta say about my thoughts on this chapter of Chainsaw Man, and soon I’ll drop my thoughts for Chapter 104 as I catch myself up to the latest one. Until then, I hope you all take care of yourselves out there.

#Chainsaw Man Chapter 103 #Chainsaw Man 103 #Chainsaw Man Chapter 103 Thoughts #Chainsaw Man Chapter 103 Review #Denji #csm manga #Chainsaw Man Part 2 #Chainsaw Man Part 2 Chapter 6 #csm #anime/manga

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iin2u · 2 years

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Teaser,

Heres chapter one of my story i'm working on!

Chapter One.

“Atlas, y’know your shift is over?” Mateo, my friend and co-worker called out whilst cleaning the coffee tables.

“Ah, I better get going” I untied my fitted apron, the brown, silky material draped in my hands. I hung it on the wall, placing it under my name before slinging my brown satchel over my shoulder and pulling my white Sony headphones over my white mullet. I could hear Mateo talking to another one of the workers before I left through the door. I did not say goodbye.

I’ve always been shut out, never fitted in. Casted away. I was born with a condition, Albino to be exact, which halted me from making friends throughout my childhood and teenage years. Quite tragic I know. I am 22 now, 23 in about 24 days (about 3 and a half weeks) and still do not have a social life.

As I walked down the streets, many school aged kids chucking gum and many assorted items at me, I did end up pointing my slender middle finger up at them, but mainly ignored the little shits they were. I had decided to take out a book tonight, I had nothing to do this weekend and I needed to study, I was actually quite behind. I pulled open the door to the library, beginning my search to find the perfect study book. I was studying English languages and literature, so to be safe I had to pick up some basic Shakespeare novels.

I had three books in my hands; Romeo and Juliet, Midsommer Night's Dream, and a considerably basic English literature study book. I set them down on the counter, settling my library card on top of the stack. I had not said much and kept my head down, yet I could see his hands flicking through the books and taking interest in what I had taken out.

A cold hand touched my head, pulling down my headphones. I peered up at the man above me, he seemed to be about 3-4 inches taller to me (for confirmation I'm 6 feet tall.) I immediately recognised him; he was in my English classes. I gave a smile; I should at least try give an okay expression.

“Hey Atlas, how are you? I haven’t seen you at college lately?” His voice comforted me, it was silky and soft, I could talk to him forever.

I fumbled over my words “Oh, uhm yeah... You’re Danny, right?” I had gathered that he was misunderstood like me, he vitiligo, it was pretty, it complimented his eyes.

“Yes! That’s me” He exclaimed.

“Hey uhm...” I said, “Mind if I got your number, I want to get to know you more” He made a beautiful smile, dazzling me before I could even say a word. He pulled out a pen, my eyes gave a puzzled look. He took my hand. Before I could even mutter a word, he wrote his number on my palm, closing it gently and smiling.

“I... Thank you” I giggled, he started to chuckle along with me. I grabbed my books and bolted out of that library as fast as I could. The only kind of colour came to my face in that moment. My pace got faster, walking home in the rain, even though it was New Years Eve, I hadn’t planned to go out, it seemed quite unnecessary.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Mateo’s number. It rang about 4 and half times before I heard his voice on the other end.

“Hello! You don’t call me this late. You coming to the New Years party?” He screamed down the phone, music roaring in the background.

“No, no... I think I just got a date.” I muttered down the phone, I didn’t exactly want the universe to know.

“WHAT!” He screeched; I could hear his excitement through his phone. Before I could even reply I heard Danny racing after me down the street, he must have ran far as I was about three streets down, yet he still ended his shift to see me.

“I’ve got to go!” I hung up, turning around to look up at Danny.

“Follow me to the square, the clock is about to strike midnight!” Danny grabbed my hand, pulling me to the miniscule square my town, Rhyle had. We squished amongst many other people, I didn’t particularly like it, yet I had a protective arm wrapped around me, Danny was very protective.

I heard many people start to count down, 3...2...1... 2014 had struck. Streamers and party poppers exploded around us, everything felt like a dream. As glitter fell onto my blonde hair, Danny leaned down and kissed me.

As he broke the kiss he said “Happy new year Atlas” before letting go of my shoulders. I had seen that many people kissed when the clock stuck, but it had finally happened to me, I stood still like an ice sculpture.

“I’ll see you in school soon! Text me” He exclaimed before flowing off into the crowd, disappearing into the human abyss.

#books & libraries #literature #tumblr blog #booklr #bookworld #reading #booklover #bookshelf #books and reading #bookworm #bookstagram

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azazelsocks · 4 years

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I've just started reading "Like a Nail to a Cross" and I love it! Just wanted to thank you for sharing it with us.

thank you anon! i’m so pleased you’re enjoying it, i’ve been enjoying writing it 💛

#i don’t want to give an exact chapter number but we are VERY close to the end #sock talks fic #anonymous

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fannish-karmiya · 3 years

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Wei Wuxian’s Position in the Jiang Household

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

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

A Companion to Upper Class Children

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 24, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

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

[...]

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

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

(Chapter 71, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 71, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 13, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

(Chapter 16, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

(Chapter 90, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

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

Jiang Cheng instantly stood up.

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

[...]

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

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

(Chapter 18, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

(Chapter 52, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 59, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 56, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

[...]

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

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

[...]

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

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

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

(Chapter 58, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

A Lower Status Family Member

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 86, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(MDZS Donghua, Episode 3, Guodong Subs)

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

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

(Chapter 13, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

And so, Wei WuXian was punished again.

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

(Chapter 18, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

[...]

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

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

[...]

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that his back is heavily scarred from it:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 87, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

[...]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 49, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 49, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 69, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

(Chapters 69-70, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

Never a Brother

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

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

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

Wei WuXian remembered. So it was this time!

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

He then began to converse with Jin ZiXuan.

(Chapter 49, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

Not our nephew, mine.

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

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

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

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

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

[...]

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

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

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

Cast Aside

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

All was silent within Glamor Hall.

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

[...]

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

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

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

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

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

[...]

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

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

[...]

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

Lan WangJi spoke coldly, “Was he wrong?”

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

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

(Chapter 72, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

[...]

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

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

[...]

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

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

[...]

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

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

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

(Chapter 73, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

(Chapter 73, Exiled Rebels translation)

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

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

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

In Conclusion

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

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

#mdzs #mdzs meta #modao zushi

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prolix-yuy · 2 years

Text

Chapter 5: Relax and Unwind

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: A game of numbers. A blooming. A reciprocal action. A continuation.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: E, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of a female body, breast play, fingering (f receiving), grinding, dirty talk.

Notes: Here we go again! You didn't think that's all Mando had in store, now, did you?

Cross-posted on AO3

One Very Good Night Masterlist || I Think of You Series Masterlist

You’ve barely had time to recover from the first (karking mind-blowing definitely not repeatable) orgasm when he’s pushing into you with that sinfully thick and talented finger. This is new territory for you; you’d only cum twice with yourself, and that was a rare surprise, but you’re still so turned on by Mando that you can feel a second orgasm beginning to burn in your abdomen.

“Shit, Mando, you’re…” you pant as rotates his wrist to rub your clit with the heel of his hand while teasing another finger near your entrance. The mixture of sensations, the sensory overload of all of your pleasure centers being stimulated is locking up your tongue.

“Good with my hands?” he asks, and you laugh breathlessly until he strokes something inside you that makes your hips buck. “You’re so kriffing responsive. Your body wants it so bad. I’m going to give it to you.”

How can a voice that sounds like it’s coming through a communicator make you tremble like this? Or is it everything that’s happening around you at once - his words, the cords of his muscle under and around you, the impassive helmet that you’re learning to read the more you cry out for him?

(shitshitshitfeelssogoodsogoodfuckfuckfuckfuck)

Mando shifts underneath you and you feel your thighs slide down his as he settles you back on the bed. You nestle in the blankets as he shifts to hover over you, still working his finger inside you but with less pressure on your clit.

“I know cumming twice can be elusive,” he says, and for a moment you imagine him tracking your orgasm like a quarry. A giggle churns against your throat but you suppress it with a moan as he begins working his second finger into you. You know you’ll need it from how thick his cock feels but you’re already full with just one. When the second finger finally slides in next to the first he sighs and palms your breast with gentle pressure.

(I’m so wet he actually got it in, holy shit)

“So this time I’m going to guide you. I’m going to count down from 10 and when I get to one, you’re going to cum.” The implication of this makes your cunt pulse but you can’t help the skeptical look that flashes over your face.

“If only it were that easy, I would be counting down orgasms once an hour,” you snark. Mando hums deep, low and long and brings his head close to your ear.

“You’re right, that’s why every time I count down, you’re going to tell me what you need, in that moment, to get you closer to cumming.” Mando’s filthy words shock the expression off your face and you lay there mouth agape. “You have to be exact, specific, or else I won’t know what to do. So as soon as I feel like you’re ready, I‘m going to start counting…” The bottom edge of the helmet skims across your shoulder and if you close your eyes, it feels like the scrape of teeth. “...and you’re going to tell me how to make you cum again. Because I need to feel you cum again.”

Your breath is coming in short pants now as Mando continues fucking you on his fingers, every third or fourth thrust a stretch of them inside. You keep gyrating against him, one hand sliding up to flick a thumb over your nipple and the other tentatively laying over his hand working your cunt. It’s even filthier when you can feel how he contracts and flexes against you, how the muscles in his arm bulge and twitch with his focus.

He’s not counting yet, but you’re still enjoying the arousal he’s finger fucking into you. You’re trying not to overthink this, enjoying the attention he’s laving on you even if you don’t know if you’ll cum from it. His free hand begins swirling two fingers around your other nipple at half the speed of thrusts, and the pattern of it makes your feet scrabble for purchase on the bed. You reach up and curl your fingers around the edge of his chest plate, the metal firm against your palm.

“Mesh’la…” he whispers, that mysterious word he’s peppered into praise for you. You want to ask him what it means but the fear of the answer stops your throat.

(too personal, too close)

Mando hits a particularly good rhythm and you feel your toes curl, your back bowing as you throw your head back with a loud cry.

“Yes,” he growls and the excitement in his voice can’t be filtered out. “Yes, you’re ready, I can feel it now. I want you to start in ten…”

Your heart rate spikes at the beginning of the countdown. You can’t think of what to tell him, it’s already so good, what else could you need?

“Mesh’la, tell me.” He’s hovering over you, all you can see in your field of vision.

“I…I don’t…” you stammer and he pulses his fingers inside you.

“Yes you do, open that pretty mouth of yours and say it.” The command might have turned you off in other circumstances but the control he gives with it shoots a phrase into your mind.

“Need you to…rub my clit again,” you manage to get out (a full sentence!). There is no hesitation, no teasing; Mando presses his palm against you and begins that torturous rub, well lubricated by the slick he’s coaxing out of you.

“Nine…”

(oh shit there’s more fuck)

You think the words are coming easier, or your filter is just off now and you say the first desire that comes into your head.

“Put your hand in my hair.” Mando moves his hand from your breast to slip behind your head, working his hand into your hair. “Harder,” you amend, and he closes his fist just enough to put tension on your scalp. You feel a new wave of arousal and your body flushes with his compliance.

“Eight…”

“Fuck me harder with your fingers. I want to feel them sliding in and out of me.” His fingers slip out until just the first joint is in, then slide back to the knuckle in a firm snap of his wrist. Mando sets a steady pace of hard thrusts that have you moaning at each slap of skin.

“Seven…”

“Keep going, feels so good.” Mando does just that. No rules against something new every time.

“Six…”

The force of his hand smacking into your cunt starts to be a little too much, overstimulating you in a way you know will end with disappointment.

“Leave them inside and curl them. Put your thumb on my clit.” You can feel Mando’s cock pressing against your thigh as he begins grinding his fingers into your cunt.

“Fi-ive…” Mando’s voice stutters and looking up at him you see why. The insistent press of his cock against your thigh is beginning to unravel him. His chest is heaving, his hips flexing against you as he tries to relieve some pressure. You admire his stamina and control; you are quickly losing yours.

He’s leaning over one of your arms and if you slide it to your side you can reach his aching cock.

“Let me put my hand on you.” The request is simple but Mando’s body stutters, his fingers stilling inside you.

“This is supposed to be about you.” His words aren’t a reprimand or an order. He almost sounds confused.

“This is what I want to make me cum,” you say, and the double entendre of the statement isn’t lost on Mando. He pauses a moment more and nods, shifting his hips back so you can slip a hand down his front and against his straining cock.

You were right - this is something he would need to get you good and opened up to take (but we’re well on the way). The length isn’t the issue, it’s the sheer girth of it. Your palm can barely wrap around the underside of it and at the pressure Mando bucks and bites back a soft “fuck”. His fingers resume their indulgent strokes inside you.

“Four…Mesh’la, careful…” he warns as you begin a languid pace tracing your fingers up and down his cock, pressing your palm against the underside as you reach the base.

“Tell me how I’m making you feel.”

Mando’s groan makes you feel like you actually might cum when the countdown stops. His hand tightens in your hair just shy of painful as you both rut into the other’s hand.

“Fuck, you make me feel like I’m going to cum in my Maker-damned pants, that’s what you’re doing. Asking to touch me…letting me make you cum…the night isn’t long enough for all of the things I want to do to you…fuck, fuck, fuck, Three…” Mando rushes, his breathing erratic as your fingers alternate between firm strokes and light touches against his cock. The fabric is damp with sweat and precum.

“Tell me…” you pause. This could undo everything, deaden the frenzy you’re in, but you’ve lost all inhibition. “Tell me…why me.”

Mando’s groan is pained, long and wrenched from his chest.

“You…” Mando is holding on to a thread of control to give you what you want. “You were funny, and sarcastic, and you weren’t…scared of me.” The last three words were soft, a secret you would bury. “You didn’t…need anything from me. Just talked. Make me laugh. Made me feel like…” Whatever he’s going to say is swallowed by a growl as he traps your hand between his cock and your thigh to grind against it. “I told you, I saw you. I didn’t see anyone but you.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you press Mando’s fingers deeper inside. You begin rolling your hips hard and fast against him. It’s right there, you can feel the muscles tightening in your cunt and the spreading tingle of your impending orgasm.

“Two,” he spits out, and you tear his hand out of you and dig your fingers into his shoulder.

“Grind your cock against me until I cum.”

Mando is on you like lighting, slotting his hips between your thighs and sliding his hands under you to grip your shoulders, pulling you down flush against him. His hips are snapping into you but not so hard as to chafe, just enough to send jolts of pleasure straight to your cunt. You wrap your arms around his back, moaning and crying out against the friction of his hips as you crest the peak of your arousal.

“One.”

You choke on words, on breath, as Mando stills his hips, pressing them hard against you. The moment swells, the second orgasm even more devastating than the first as your body seizes tight around Mando. Finally you spasm, your hips bucking against his and your fingers scrambling across his back. His name is all you can manage, broken up into syllables as you chase air back into your lungs. Mando sounds pained, a groan wrenching out from clenched teeth while he pins you beneath him.

As you come down (float down) from your high, you notice Mando hasn’t made a sound or moved. He’s tense, tight over you, breathing in measured intervals.

“Mando?” you manage to say, stroking his back. His arms relax and you feel him shuffle back a fraction from you. Once you can see his visor, your fucked-out expression distorted in the reflection, he lets out a sigh that ends with a chuckle.

“Had to concentrate on not cumming.”

(holy fuck you need him inside you)

The insistence of this thought fades as you realize your whole body is jelly-like. You can barely hold up your arm to rub the back of Mando’s neck. He strokes the sweat off your forehead and Maker be damned, you wish you could kiss him.

Again you wonder if the helmet can read thoughts because his palm skates down to your cheek and he presses his thumb to your parted lips. You purse against him, turning your head to drag kisses down his thumb and into the cup of his palm. He lets you take your time, stroking across your cheekbone, the curve of your face, the corners of your mouth like he’s memorizing you.

(how often does he get to touch someone like this?)

The slow exploration allows both of your breathing to wind down to a more reasonable pace. Mando presses his forehead against yours again (kiss this is his kiss) and without reservation you press your lips to the helmet. It doesn’t matter that it’s not his mouth, probably nowhere near his mouth, it still satiates your desire to brand him with your lips.

You both are silent for several minutes before Mando murmurs something the vocoder doesn’t properly relay.

“What’s that?” you ask, pushing yourself up on the bed so you can better look at him. On his hands and knees over you, his back rising and falling with his breathing, Mando looks every bit as dangerous and sexy as he did back in the cantina.

“Two.” You can hear the grin in his voice. A laugh barks out of you and you swat at his shoulder, the dual sensation of flesh and metal biting into your palm as you fall back on the bed.

“Fine, you win, you’re the best lover I’ve ever had. Chasing bounties and orgasms with the same level of tenacity.” You enunciate with your hands like a market storyteller, wide motions and over exaggerated expressions. Mando sits back on his heels and the sight of his hands on his hips and the exasperated shake of his helmet has you laughing out loud now. You try covering your mouth but the wideness of your smile isn’t letting you soften the sound. Mando chuckles at the way your laughs ripple through your body, sliding his arousal-slick hand up your calf to notch behind your knee. The dampness of it clings to your skin and mixes with the sweat gathering in pockets on your body.

“I didn’t think I’d get to see what you look like when you’re happy,” he says, and it relaxes the last of the laughter from you. You smile at him, warmly, without reservation. “This is happy, right?” he clarifies.

“Yes, very happy Mando. I don’t think I’ve felt this good in…” You pause to think but it’s taking too long to find an example. “...in a good while. Thank you.”

Mando’s head tilts down and you think you might have made him blush. It’s endearing, sweet to see from someone who you never thought you’d be able to read.

“I’d like to make you feel good, if you’ll let me,” you say, brushing your fingers against the ones hooked under your knee. Mando shudders (skin on skin what a sin) and squeezes the flesh of your calf.

“I’m not sure I’ve got enough control to last long,” he admits and the heat that blooms under your skin makes you tingle.

“Like you said, we have all night.”

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#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #mandalorian fanfic #prolix fics #i think of you series

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study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

Text

Stupid Game...But They’re All in High School This Time AU (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister Imagine)

Trigger warning for very graphic attempted sexual assault

"What are the rules?" Jay asked you as you double-checked your backpack to make sure you had everything for the first day of your freshman year of high school.

You sighed and zipped up your backpack. Your two older brothers, Jay a junior, and Will a senior, had already gone over and over this with you. "No spaghetti straps, no backpacks in class--"

"Not written school rules," Jay told you, abruptly cutting you off. "Unwritten school rules."

"Oh," you said as Will entered the living room, holding his car keys in his hand. "Walk on the right side of the hallways, always remember your locker combination or write it somewhere so you will remember it after long breaks, and no talking to the varsity football players unless it's Adam, Kevin, or Kelly because all the rest of them are absolute douchebags."

"There it is," Jay said and grabbed onto the handle of your backpack. "And if someone does this?" He tugged hard and you flew backward.

"Turn around and swing," you told him and quickly regained your balance once he let go.

"Jesus, Jay," Will said and smacked Jay upside the head, resulting in Jay letting out an ow in response. "Don't scare the poor girl. No one's gonna do that. It only happens in the movies." He turned back to you. "Don't listen to him."

"So, all that unwritten rules stuff I can just forget?" you asked.

"No, that was all legit. Just the backpack tug thing was a lie. Now let's go before--"

"Will, Jay, Y/N!" The three of you groaned when you heard your mom's voice calling you and then stepping into the living room. "Take off your backpacks and go on the front porch."

The three of you groaned again.

"Mom," Jay whined. "Do you we have to take a first day of school picture every single year?"

"Yes. And it's your brother's first day of senior year and your sister's first day of high school in general. So, get out on the porch and quit complaining. The faster I take this picture, the faster the three of you can leave."

You all grumbled and then went out on the porch to take a picture. Even though it was early September in Chicago, it was sweltering hot out. You thanked your lucky stars that Will's car had working AC because you knew that some of your friend's older siblings didn't have working AC in their cars and they always complained about how hot it was on the ride to and from school. But, it was better than taking the bus.

Once you had finished taking the pictures (and Jay pulled your hair in one of them so Will told Jay he has to sit in the backseat on the way to school and you got the passenger seat), you got in Will's car.

***

"So, meet you right here after school?" you asked Will when you entered the high school through the double doors of the main entrance.

"Yup. Jay, you got a ride home from soccer practice?" Will asked.

"Yeah. Adam's dropping me off at home. But I swear to God if I have to sit in the backseat one more time--"

"Give it a rest. I could've stepped on your foot, but I figured you'd need it for soccer. So, I let you off easy."

"Whatever," Jay mumbled.

You started to walk towards the freshman hallway and wondered why Jay and Will were still walking with you when you passed the junior and senior lockers. But, then you saw a huge group of varsity football players in the long hallway between the sophomore and freshman hallways, pointing at girls they thought got prettier or skinnier over the summer or new freshman girls for them to hit on or have a one night fling with.

"I'm gonna need to tell Kelly to keep his boys in line," Jay said to Will.

"No shit," Will replied.

"Don't you creeps have anything better to do?" Jay yelled at them. "And, I see at least three of you who are eighteen, so I'd recommend you stop ogling at minors and get back to watching tapes or something so we can actually make it to the playoffs this year."

"And what are you--" a football player who was obviously new on varsity stepped forward and started to say, but another one pulled him back.

"Dude, he's stronger than he looks and they're both best friends with Severide. So, shut the fuck up," he told the new varsity player.

"Yeah, listen to your friend," Will said. "C'mon, Y/N, just keep walking."

You did as he told you and shook off the weird encounter.

"They stop after homecoming," Will told you as he took a piece of paper from you and looked at what locker number you had.

"What do you mean after homecoming?" you asked.

Jay and Will shared a look. They had never told you about the game the football players had from late September/early October until homecoming which was usually mid-October/late October.

"We'll explain later," Will said. You walked a few more steps until you found your locker.

Next to you, there was a girl with blond hair who was wearing a flannel and jeans and brown combat boots who was helping a freshman with their locker as well.

"Alright," Will said. "So, this is your combination. Don't feel bad if you forget it after Christmas or spring break. Everyone goes to the office to ask for their combo when they get back, so don't feel embarrassed about it."

Will showed you how to unlock your locker, but it didn't budge. He tried it again. Nothing. Then, he let Jay have a go at it. Again, nothing.

"Need help?" the blond next to you asked. She was now done helping the other freshman with their locker.

Jay opened his mouth to tell her no, but you said yes faster than he could answer.

Will handed her the paper with the combination and she tried it. Nothing.

She looked down at another paper she was holding. "Ah, I know why this one isn't working. It's on the flagged list."

"The flagged list?" you asked.

"Yeah. They didn't have time to fix some of the lockers during the summer, but they'll be getting to them this weekend, so you should only have to deal with it being crappy like this the first week," she answered.

She tried your combination again, pushed up on the lock, and then kicked the bottom of the locker.

It opened.

"Upton!" A teacher yelled. "No kicking lockers!"

"This one was flagged!" she yelled back. "Only way to get it to open!"

"Fine. I guess it's okay for this week." The teacher narrowed his eyes. "Halstead."

"Mr. Williams," Jay said and then turned back and rolled his eyes.

"What's up with him?" you asked Will.

"Yeah, Jay may or not have fired spitballs at Mr. Williams freshman year," Will answered.

"That was you?" the girl asked. "I remembered hearing that a soccer player did it, but I never got the name. Guess now I know it was you, Jay."

"Yes, it was me, Hailey." So, this girl's name was Hailey.

"Wait, you two know each other?" you asked.

"We had what, an English class together last year?" Jay asked.

"Yeah, first semester because then I got put in the honors class," Hailey said.

"That class always seemed so much more for than the normal class," Jay mused.

"Too bad you can't write papers for shit," Will told his little brother.

"Shut up," Jay groaned.

Will looked up at one of the digital clocks in the hallway. "We should get going," he said. "We've only got fifteen minutes until we have to be in homeroom."

"Good luck, fresh meat," Jay joked and you rolled your eyes as your two older brothers walked off to their wing of the school that housed their lockers.

"Want some help putting your things in here?" Hailey asked. "I have a pass to get to class half an hour late since I'm on student council and helping you guys out."

"Uh, sure, since you're here. Mind if I close my locker and then try opening it myself?" you asked.

"Go for it."

You closed your locker and then did the exact same thing she did to get your locker open, including the kick. It opened on your first try.

"Perfect!" Hailey said. You unzipped your backpack and you and Hailey stooped down to grab folders, binders, and notebooks out of it. "I'm sorry, I never actually introduced myself. I'm Hailey Upton."

"Y/N Halstead," you replied. "Those two doofuses who just left are my brothers, Jay and Will, seems like you already knew Jay, though."

"I mean, I don't really know him. I guess I know of him if that makes sense."

"Makes total sense."

The two of you continued to put stuff in your locker until everything was in there, just in time for the five-minute bell to ring.

You looked at your schedule. "You don't happen to know where Mr. V's room is, do you? My brothers told me it's not in the freshman or sophomore halls."

"Oh, yeah. You just go down the connecting hallway and past the junior and senior lockers and then you'll see-- you know what, I'll walk you there. It's kind of hard to find."

"Thank you."

"No problem. We've all been freshmen before."

***

Hailey entered her AP biology class just as the late bell rang. She took the first empty seat she saw...which ended up being next to none other than Will Halstead.

"Hey," Hailey said. "This seat wasn't saved, was it?"

"No," Will replied. "It's yours now." He looked at Hailey. "You were the one who helped my sister with her locker this morning, weren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm Hailey."

"Will," he told her.

"So," their teacher, Mr. Davis began, "since this is an AP class, there will be a lot more homework than a typical biology class. I also know some of you are juniors, so I hope that you take AP anatomy and physiology next year with me if you do well in this class. As for you seniors who are taking this AP class and AP A and P--which stands for anatomy and physiology by the way--I know that the first three chapters of this class overlap a lot, so I'm sorry if you get bored.

"But, the person you have chosen to sit next to, will be your partner for any projects we have this semester. And, they aren't typical projects like presentations and the like. They're mostly practice AP tests that I want you to take with another person so that you can talk over the answers and make sure you don't make the same mistake twice. Obviously, around February, I'll ask you to take the practice tests by yourself so that you can practice for the real tests.

"Every chapter there will be presentations. I will give each pair a sub-topic of the chapter and I want you to do a five to ten minute presentation on it for the class. I also want you to put together a Kahoot for your subsection after the presentation because I found that that makes students pay way more attention than when there isn't one because everyone wants to win."

Hailey raised her hand. "Yes, remind me of your name," he said when he pointed to Hailey.

"Hailey," she told him.

"Hailey," he repeated and scribbled her name on the piece of paper with the seating chart on his desk. "Oh, and after I go over all this, I would like all of you to come and write your name on the seating chart. Hailey of course won't have to write her name because she doesn't need to be on there twice. Anyway, what was your question?"

"I was just wondering how many practice tests we'll have to take and how often you were should meet up with our partner outside of school?" Hailey asked.

"Both great questions. For the practice tests, we'll start taking them in November because that gives us time to go over the format and content. Don't worry, I won't put any new content on the practice tests. I'm not that mean. You'll take one in November, one in December, and one in January. These will all be done with your seat partner. Then, from February on, you'll have one every month, but these will be taken by yourselves so that you get used to it before the actual test.

"As for meeting up with your partner, I'd recommend every two weeks. That way you won't fall behind on the presentations."

Hailey nodded and scribbled this information down in her notebook. But, she was also nervous. She couldn't let Will come to her house. She just had to hope that Will would have all the meetings at his house.

***

"How was your first day?" Will asked when you met him at the main doors after school.

"It was good. Not as scary as you guys made it seem. Still need to make sure I get to my classes on time, though," you replied as the two of you walked out of the building and through the parking lot towards his car.

"They'll give you a grace period to get to class on time," Will told you. "It's usually a week, week and a half until they start handing out tardies."

You were about to ask how his day was, when someone yelling stopped you.

"Nice ass, Halstead!"

Your jaw dropped and your eyes bugged out of your head as you and Will both turned around. Of course, it was a varsity football player who yelled that, of course, it was.

Will put his hand in front of you. "Y/N, I'm gonna give you my keys and you're going to unlock my car and get inside."

"Will, he's not worth it," you argued.

"Y/N, take my damn keys. I don't want you anywhere near this."

You relented and took his keys and then went and got in the passenger seat of his car. But, you watched as everything unfolded.

Will stalked up to the football player, who he knew was Derek Evans, the school fuck boy who every girl liked because he was a shoo-in to get drafted by the NFL right after high school and had really good looks even though he was a total sexist asshole.

"What the fuck did you just say to my sister?" Will roared.

"Said she had a nice ass," he replied while shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"You son of a--" Will lunged at him but Kevin and Kelly ran in to hold him back. Turns out they were walking out of school and saw the entire exchange.

"Will! calm the fuck down!" Kelly shouted as he pushed Will back.

"Did you not hear what he said?" Will yelled as he kept reaching out to Derek.

Kevin was pushing Derek back, too.

"We did. But you can't be fighting on the first day. If you're gonna do it, do it somewhere else not on school grounds."

"Both you, take a damn breath and walk away," Kevin told them.

Kelly pushed Will back and then grabbed his arm and walked him towards his car while Kevin walked Derek towards the football field.

"You better fucking do something about that, Severide," Will told him.

"Believe me, I'll make sure he runs lap for the entirety of practice."

"I meant punch his face in."

"Can't do that, man. I got scholarships on the line."

"At least let me bring my baseball bat to school and bash his face in. If my batting average is any indication, I could knock him out and kill him in one swing."

"That would be murder and then you'd be in prison instead of going to med school." Kelly paused and took a deep breath. "I guess now's not a great time to tell you, but freshmen are up for grabs in the game this year. The players all said they weren't going to do it because the coaches banned it, but they're going to try and be sneaky. Only writing the points down on paper and burning it, no texting about it or putting it on social media, you can only talk about it on the phone or in person, and it can't be talked about at school."

"Fuck. So the girls won't really know what's going on until it starts."

"Exactly. Just, let Y/N know, okay? And have her pass it on to some of the other freshmen...because we both know if they go to Principal White he won't do shit."

"Yeah, he's as much of a son of a bitch as Evans. But, I'll tell her. Thanks, Kelly."

***

"Jay!" Will yelled when Jay walked inside all sweaty after his soccer practice.

"What? Dude, I need a shower," he said as he threw his soccer bag and his backpack down by the door.

"Better pick that up before Mom gets home. She'll be pissed if she comes home at 3 am and trips over it."

Your mom was a nurse and worked from 2:30 pm-2:30 am, which meant she only saw you in the morning for four days a week...even though she's only supposed to work three days a week, so 36 hours, but she always picked up an extra day so that she could put some money in all of your guys' college funds. Sometimes, she'd even work five days a week and she'd be exhausted once her week was over. But, she was the hardest worker you knew and inspired you to work as hard as you possibly could at everything you did; you never did anything half-assed because you never saw your mom do that. She always gave it her all.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But I want to shower," Jay said.

"Wait five minutes. This is important," Will told him.

Jay sat down on the couch next to him. "Fine. What is it?"

So, Will explained what happened when he and you walked out of school today and how Kelly had to hold him back so that he wouldn't beat Derek Evans to a pulp. He also told him that the game was still on...and this time freshmen are fair game.

"Fucking hell," Jay muttered.

"Yeah," Will agreed.

"Should we tell her?"

"Probably. The sooner the better, too."

"Okay. Let me jump in the shower and then we can tell her and tell her how to protect herself."

Ten minutes later, Jay was out of the shower and he knocked on your bedroom door, Will right behind him. When he didn't get an answer after a few rounds of knocking, he opened your door.

"She's sleeping. Guess we'll have to tell her when she wakes up," Jay said.

"As long as we tell her tonight," Will said. "The more time she has to prepare for what's to come, the better."

***

"Jesus. Fuck," you muttered as you rolled over and looked at the time on your phone. After stretching and jumping out of bed, you walked from your bedroom into the kitchen, to see your brothers both eating pasta. "Neither of you two bothered to wake me up? It's 6:30."

"Figured you needed the sleep," Will shrugged. "Dinner's in the fridge. Mom made lasagna."

You grabbed yourself a plate and then put some lasagna on it and put it in the microwave. Then you sat down across from Jay and Will who were both sitting on the same side of the kitchen table.

"How was your first day?" Jay asked.

"Good...other than Wiliams making me sit in the front right in front of his desk. I don't mind the front because then I can see the board easier, but his desk, really? This one's all your fault." You pointed your fork at Jay.

Jay held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, really wasn't thinking about you when I fired those spitballs."

"What were you thinking about?" Will asked.

"That I needed to aim for his head."

"My god, you're a child," you laughed. "And, Will about ripped a football player's head off today. I think his name was Derek? He would've, too if Kelly didn't hold him back."

"But he said you had a nice ass," Will quoted. "Pretty sure that warrants me ripping his head off."

"Will's right," Jay agreed. "I would've pushed past Kelly and beat Evans to a pulp."

"Good to know you guys have my back. But, I'm in high school now. You can't keep fighting my battles for me."

"Too bad," Will said. "You're stuck with us."

"Ugh," you groaned and took a bite of your lasagna. "How was your day, Will?" you asked once you had finished the bite. "Any talk of what the senior prank will be?"

"We didn't actually talk about that. But, the girl who helped you with your locker, Hailey, she's my partner in my AP bio class," Will answered. Jay coughed. "You alright there, Jay?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine."

"Anyway," Will began, "she'll be coming round here a bit because we have to do these presentations. She said her brothers are usually home, so she'll probably come here most of the time. Oh, Y/N, she also told me to tell you that if there's ever a day where you can't find anyone to sit with at lunch, that you can always sit with her."

"Really? That's so nice of her. I wish I had classes with her," you said.

"Okay, since it's obvious neither of you is going to ask about my day because I'm the forgotten middle child," Jay started, causing both you and Will to roll your eyes, "I'm just gonna tell you. Nothing important happened. They just drilled that we have to take the SAT into our heads. Oh, and we have read like this 16th century crap in English 11, so that sucks."

"English 11 is the worst," Will agreed. "Good luck."

The three of you continued to eat and the Will started talking again when he and Jay were finished and you were almost done.

"So, Y/N, there's this sick and twisted tradition at school," Will began with a worried look on his face. "And it ends after homecoming."

"So that's what you were implying earlier," you said.

"Yeah, so what happens is that the football players kinda sorta get dares to do, but they aren't specifically dares. It's like there's a list of things they do with a girl and there's points attached to them. Like, apparently if a guy grabs a girl's ass in the hallway or anywhere else on the school's campus or at a school event, it's 50 points. But, since that's pretty tame, that's the only one that actually has to be done on campus. The rest of them can be off or on-campus...but they'd probably be off-campus," Will explained.

"I'm confused. So they get points for assaulting us?" you asked.

"Technically, it's just harassment...but some of the other ones could be classified as assault. But, those ones are supposed to be consensual, so the only risk you really run is having your butt grabbed in the hallway. Jay, you wanna take it from here?"

"Uh, yeah," Jay answered. "Usually freshmen are off-limits, but this year they changed the rules, so they're allowed. But, Kelly, Kevin, and Adam opted out because they're decent human beings, so if you see them in the hallway, you're safe; you don't have to be scared of them."

"But the rest...?" you trailed off.

"The rest of the varsity football team you need to be aware of."

"So, when does this game start and what do I do?"

"It starts in two weeks and goes on for a month, so until homecoming. As for what to do, well most girls just wear long shirts to cover their butts and not wear super tight pants," Jay told you.

"And if me or Jay have a class close to one of yours, we can walk you to your locker or to your next class. That should help a bit," Will offered.

"Thanks. That might help. But, why hasn't Mr. White stopped it?" you asked.

"Because he's as much of a sexist asshole as the football players. But, it's only a month. You can get through it," Will promised.

"God I hope so."

***

It had been two weeks since you started high school and in two days that stupid game of grab ass would begin. Hailey and Will were currently working on their presentation in the kitchen and Jay was playing at an away soccer game...which is where your mom was, too. You were sitting in your room working on your planner for next week.

You looked at your planner and saw Monday was circled and said The Game in black ink. God, why did guys have to be such sexist pigs? Just because they were the football players didn't mean they got on pass on all the school rules and hell, even all the general rules of society.

You shook your head and turned up your music and started writing in your classes for that week in your planner.

A few songs later, you thought you heard a knock on your door, so you took out one of your headphones. "Yeah?" you asked.

"Y/N, it's Hailey. Can I come in?" she asked from the other side of your door.

"Yeah," you told her as you took out the other headphone and paused your music. "What's up?" you asked when she entered.

"Will told me you're really nervous for the game starting this week?" she motioned to the spot next to you on your bed. "Can I sit?" You nodded and she sat down. "Honestly, you just have to be on high alert for a whole month. Try to walk by other people whenever you can and, I think Will said they already told you this, but don't wear tight-fitting clothing."

"They did. I just don't know what to wear."

"Well, I can help you with that. Let's go through your clothes and we'll take out what you can't wear during this and put it in another drawer, okay?"

"That sounds good." You closed your planner and you and Hailey began going through your dresser and closet.

"Another tip," she started, "if you have the chance to knee one of them in the balls, then do it. Why do you think they stopped coming after me halfway through the game last year?"

"You kneed a football player in the balls?" you asked as your eyes went wide.

"Mhm. Did it to the captain of the football team last year. He was a senior, so he's not here anymore, but now all the football boys know not to mess with me."

"I will most definitely keep that one in mind."

***

Jay met up with you that Thursday after one of his classes because it was in the same hall as yours. "Day going good?" he asked as his eyes darted side to side, clearly in overprotective big brother mode.

"Yeah, and no one's tried anything yet, so I guess that's a good thing," you told him.

You were focused on dodging people in the hallway so you had time to stop by your locker and change out your books, go to the bathroom, and then get to your next class all within the span of five minutes (your school really needed to make passing time at least seven to eight minutes instead of five), so you didn't hear the booming laughter of a few varsity football players behind you...but Jay did.

"Back the fuck off," Jay growled as none other than Derek Evans reached out to grab your ass. But, Jay stopped him by turning around and walking backward to shield your backside and then grabbing Derek's outstretched hand.

"Aww, look guys, the little freshman needs her big brother to protect her," Derek mocked.

"From you, yeah she does. You're a sick fuck, Evans...and that goes for your posse, too."

"Let go of my hand, Halstead."

Jay narrowed his eyes, but he let go. "Next time you try to grab my sister, that arm will be twisted so far back behind you that you can kiss your senior season goodbye."

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes and then turned around to go back the other way, towards his actual class.

"Thanks," you said as you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Don't mention it."

***

Jay made his way out of a classroom later that day and saw Hailey, so he made his way over to her.

"I don't need protecting, Jay," she told him.

"I know," Jay replied. "Everyone knows about you kneeing the captain last year. Great job on that by the way. I know I'm a year late, but that was a good move on your part."

"Thanks. It was just a reflex, honestly."

"And thanks for helping Y/N with the clothes thing. She was really nervous."

Hailey waved a hand flippantly. "That was nothing, just a girl helping another girl out."

"As the world should be," Jay agreed. Hey, his mother taught him to look at women as equals and he was going to treat Hailey as such...now that he knew she could protect herself from all these assholes. Because if she hadn't kneed that captain where the sun don't shine last year, you best believe he'd be on high alert for the varsity football players just like he was with you a few classes ago. "So, our practice got canceled because of the rain and the football game got canceled, too. So, me, Adam, and Kelly were gonna go out for tacos at that place across the street, but Adam's bringing his girlfriend, Kim, and Kelly's bringing his girlfriend, Stella, and I don't want to third-wheel, so do you maybe want to go with me? That is if you don't have to be home right after school."

Her dad didn't get home until 5:30. "Sure," she told him. "I just have to be home by 4:30. But, I normally take the bus, so unless one of you can bring me home, I can't come." She figured getting home an hour early would work well so that she wasn't rushing.

"Adam's bringing me home, so I'm sure he can stop by your house, too. Where do you live?" Jay asked. She told him her address. "That's only a block away from me. I'm sure he can bring you home. I'll text him and then text you." He held out his phone. "Put your number in."

So, Hailey put her number in his phone. Then, she handed it back to him and they hurried to get to their respective classes before the late bell rang.

But, she was wondering why she was blushing so much as she turned away and why all these butterflies had erupted in her stomach when their fingers brushed against each other's when she handed his phone back to him. She wasn't falling for Jay Halstead. There was no way, right?

***

"So, party this weekend. Everyone in?" Adam asked as the six of them ate tacos.

"Whose house?" Kelly asked.

Adam said a name of a football player and told them it was Saturday night, and they all agreed to go...except for Hailey, who spouted off some excuse about how she had to be up early on Sunday, so she couldn't go. Jay was disappointed that he wouldn't have an excuse to dance with her, but he figured there'd be other parties.

"Mom's working that night," Jay said. "So, as long as I'm home by like 2:45, I should be good. Will will probably be down, too. Then Natalie will probably come."

"Great. I'll text him so he knows how much beer to have his older brother buy...but I'm sure they'll buy extra because more people usually show up anyway."

They talked and ate for another hour before they had to leave so Hailey could get home on time.

Jay and Hailey sat in the backseat of Adam's car while Adam and Kim sat in the front.

When they pulled up to Hailey's house, Jay offered to walk her to the door, but she told him no, that he didn't have to. He insisted, but she still said no, so he let it go and she got out of the car and went inside her house.

"Dude, you so like her," Adam said as they drove another block to his house.

"I do not. I don't know what you're talking about. She's just a friend," he argued.

Adam snorted. "Yeah right. And I'm the fucking king of England."

"You should ask her to homecoming," Kim suggested.

"Kim! Not you, too!"

"It's obvious. You should ask her. She might just surprise you."

***

You woke up Saturday night to your phone ringing and breaking you out of a peaceful sleep. You rubbed your eyes and looked at the time and the caller. Why the hell was Jay calling you when it was past one in the morning?

"Hello?" you asked sleepily.

"Y/N, me and Will need your help," Jay said.

You immediately sat up. "What do you mean? I thought you were home. Where the hell are you?"

"We went to a party and we couldn't risk you telling Mom, so we snuck out around 11 when we knew you were sleeping. But, Kelly's the DD and he had two drinks, so he can't drive us home. He's not drunk off his ass, but if we get pulled over and they pull out a breathalyzer, we're all shit outta luck."

"Why can't you do it?" you asked. "You sound pretty sober to me."

"I'm two and a half beers deep and it'll probably be four by the time you get here."

"Fucking hell, Jay. And me? You seem to forget that I don't have my license yet, just my permit. I can't come get you. You're just gonna have to wait until Mom gets home and call her."

"No! No way is Mom finding out!"

"What's in it for me? I'm not breaking the law and coming to get your dumbasses for free. And I need something from both you and Will."

"Fine," Jay huffed. "Name your price."

"You do my laundry for a month and Will does my algebra homework for a month."

"Two weeks. We'll do those for two weeks," Jay said.

"No. Three weeks or I'm not coming and you get to suffer the wrath of Mom."

"Fine," he relented. "I'll text you the address."

***

You drove Will's car like an old grandma on the way to the house party, sometimes going ten miles under the speed limit. There was no way you were getting busted for your brothers.

You turned off your car and parked in the closest spot you could find to the house where the party was at. Then, you pulled out your phone and texted both Jay and Will that you were there.

Five minutes passed...then ten and still no answer from either of them.

"Fucking hell," you muttered as you unbuckled and then grabbed the keys and got out of Will's car and locked it, safely zipping the keys in one of your sweatshirt pockets. "I swear to God if both of them are three sheets to the wind and I have to drag their asses out of there, I will not be fucking happy."

You started to walk towards the party, looking at your phone every couple of seconds to see if either of your brothers had texted you back.

You gasped when you felt someone grab your ass.

"Fifty points," he whispered in your ear and then grabbed your wrist.

Derek Evans.

"Let me go!" you told him as you tried to pull away from him.

"No can do, freshman. It's 500 points for fucking a freshman and there's no way I'm passing up that opportunity."

"Let me go!" you screamed. You even dropped your phone to the ground to try to use your other hand to pry his hand off your wrist. But, he just laughed and kept holding you. Then, he stomped on your phone, breaking it into pieces.

You kept screaming, but the music was so loud that no one could hear you. And, you tried to dig your heels into the ground to stop him, but it was no use; he was too strong.

Eventually, he got tired of dragging you and just picked you up. You punched and kicked him, but it didn't seem to work. It was like this senior was immune to pain.

He got to a shed near the side of the house and quite literally threw you against it. You groaned and took a few deep breaths. In that time, Derek had ripped his shirt off and grabbed your wrists with one hand. You dug your nails into his hands. You weren't going down without a fight.

"That's cute," he laughed. "You think some nails are going to stop me."

He dragged you over a few inches and then used some of his shirt to secure your wrists to the fence that separated this house from the one next to it.

"Help! Help!" you yelled. "Somebody help me!"

Your head flew to the right as he slapped you across the face. "Shut the fuck up!"

You whimpered and then started kicking your feet. But, he just walked away and watched you struggle as he removed his pants. Then, he sat on your legs. You couldn't kick anymore, so you started screaming even louder. He slapped you a few more times across the face until you finally shut up because, fuck, that hurt. That just left you whimpering at his mercy as he fumbled with the string on your pajama pants. (You hadn't bothered changing your pants when you came to get your brothers, only threw on a bra on under your t-shirt.) You didn't know what to do. No one was going to save you and you were completely and utterly helpless.

***

Kelly Severide knew you were coming to pick them up as Jay had told him that when he was on his way to grab his fourth beer. He hadn't heard anything from Jay or Will yet but figured they were both shit-faced. So, he tried to text you. No reply. He tried to call. No answer.

So, Kelly walked out onto the back porch and started around the side of the house to see if you had parked. But then, he heard whimpering and what sounded like a slap and then a yelp. He started running.

When he saw what was happening, he saw red.

You were lying on the grass whimpering while Derek was just in his boxers. You wanted him to stop smacking your thighs and face because god, you were fucking hurting and you were also fucking terrified about what was going to happen next.

"Please," you whimpered. "Please, st--"

"You son of a bitch!"

Before you could even register who yelled that, Derek was thrown off of you and to the ground.

You caught your breath and just laid there panting and crying while Kelly did a number on Derek's face. He sent more punches to his stomach until he finally doubled over and groaned in pain. Then, he kicked him in the back and he fell to the ground. Kelly placed his foot on Derek's back. "Stay the fuck down you fucking bastard."

He pulled out his phone and called 911. "Hello, I'd like to report a sexual assault."

***

Will felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. "Kelly, where the hell are you, man?" he asked as he dirty danced with Natalie on the dance floor.

"Will, you need to come out by the shed now," he said, still with his foot on Derek's back, keeping him down. Kelly felt terrible that he couldn't untie you, but he couldn't risk Derek getting up and trying to finish what he started.

"Why? You snorting coke out there? Because count me out. I don't do that."

"No. It's Y/N. She was- she-- It's that stupid fucking game some of the bastards I call teammates are playing. An ambulance and the cops are on their way."

Will's mouth went dry. It went dry when he heard the game part, but now it was as if it was sandpaper.

"Jay's by me. We'll be there in a second."

Will pocketed his phone and let go of Natalie. "Baby, what's wrong?" she asked.

"It's Y/N. I think one of those football players got to her."

"Fuck a freshman." Adam's eyes went wide as he let go of Kim.

"What? What about fucking?" Jay asked as he went to take another sip of his beer, but Will swatted it out of his hand.

"We need to go. Now." He grabbed Jay's arm. "Adam, explain."

The three of them started running, Jay barely being able to run in a straight line and Natalie and Kim hot on their heels, and Adam explained how he heard about one part of the game that was called fuck a freshman. But, he thought it was a joke because he didn't know for sure because he didn't sign up for the game.

"Well, obviously it's not a joke!"

Will saw Kelly with his foot on Derek's back before he saw you.

"You fucking son of a bitch!" he yelled.

"Will!" you cried.

"Y/N, hold on. We're here, we're here." He knelt down next to you and untied the t-shirt that kept your wrists tied to the fence.

It took Jay a minute, but then he realized what happened...it also took Kim shaking him and telling him she was going to slap him across the face and then actually doing it. Now that sobered him up.

You could hear sirens in the distance.

"Me and Natalie will go get them," Will said. "You three good here?"

"We're good. Now go get help," Kelly said.

***

The ride to the hospital was a blur. You were still freaking out, so the paramedics had to give you a light sedative to calm down. You remembered your brothers being in the back of the ambulance with you and you remembered Jay puking in a bucket from all the beer he drank.

You vaguely remembered the doctors asking you questions and taking pictures of your bruises. You also remembered them telling the three police officers that they couldn't question you yet. And then, you fell asleep.

***

You slowly opened your eyes and squinted against the bright hospital lights.

Damn, it must've taken me a helluva long time to get the boys out of that party if I'm waking up when the sun is this bright, you thought to yourself.

But, then you looked at your surroundings and it all came flooding back to you.

"Mama, Mama," you cried.

"I'm here, honey, I'm here," she said as she gently grabbed your hand.

You tried to sit up, but your thighs and stomach hurt so bad from Derek hitting you that you couldn't.

"I want a hug but I can't sit up," you cried as tears started to stream down your face.

She stood up and bent over the bed and wrapped her arms around you. It was an uncomfortable position for her because she was bending over to hug you, but she didn't care. You were her little girl and she'd do anything to make you feel safe and loved.

Will and Jay sat in the chairs on the other side of your bed. You hadn't even realized they were there. Will had tears in his eyes and Jay had a hand over his mouth trying to stop a sob from coming out. God, if he wouldn't have called you to pick them up, then this wouldn't have happened. It was all his fault this happened to you.

A knock on the door sounded and your mom let go of you and the two of you looked towards the door.

It was Hailey.

Jay looked to you to see if it was okay that she came in and you nodded.

"Hey," she said as she entered. "I brought donuts. Figured you might be hungry."

You were glad she didn't ask if you were okay because it was apparent that you most definitely were not okay.

You nodded and she walked over to you and opened the box. "You get first pick."

You picked a raspberry-filled one and then proceeded to take tiny bites of your donut. It hurt too much to open your mouth a lot because your cheeks and chin were heavily bruised.

You almost finished your donut, when there was another knock on the door. This time it was three police officers. Then, they opened the door.

"Y/N, I'm Trudy Platt and this is Detective Alvin Olinsky and Detective Hank Voight. We're here to take a few statements about what happened," the officer told you.

"Am I in trouble?" you asked. You did drive without a license.

"No, not at all. We just need to know what happened. We can give you a minute to finish eating if you would like?"

"Can I do it now?"

"Of course." She turned to your mom. "Mom, you want to stay in the room?"

"If I can--"

"I don't want you to know the details, Mom. Please," you pleaded as more tears fell.

"Are you sure? I'll love you no matter what, honey. Good or bad, you're still my little girl."

"I know. But I just- I want to be alone."

"Okay, me and the boys and Hailey will be right outside."

The four of them left and the two detectives left as well, leaving only you and this officer known as Trudy Platt.

"Am I in trouble?" you asked when the door shut.

"Oh, honey, no," Trudy said as she sat down in the seat your mom was previously sitting in.

"But, I drove without my license be- because they asked me to pick them up and then- and then--"

"Y/N, you are not in any trouble. Kelly Severide told us most of the story about what happened, but we need to hear it in your own words. And you can take as long as you want. Take as much time as you need."

So you told her what happened.

"It's all my fault. If I would've never agreed to go pick up Will and Jay--"

"This is not your fault. None of this is your fault," she told you.

"But why does it feel like it is? If I could've just fought him off, maybe this wouldn't have happened." You wiped your eyes with the heels of your hands and let out a strangled sob which was more like a yell. "Why do boys get away with everything?"

She pulled the chair closer to your bed. "Y/N, you have my word that he won't be getting away with what he did to you. I promise you he won't get away with it."

"But how do you know that? You can't possibly know that!"

"Because I have two of the best detectives working with me and I just know that he won't get away with what he did to you."

After a few more minutes and explaining that you really didn't want to go through a trial, Trudy left the room. She also handed you her card in case you changed your mind about the trial.

Then, Trudy Platt went to the bathroom where she saw the other girl who was in the room with you while she was washing her hands. As the girl was scrubbing her hands, Trudy noticed a bruise on her arm, a little above her wrist. It was low enough that it could be hidden by long sleeves, but that it could also ride up when the girl was washing her hands.

"You're one of Y/N's friends?" Trudy asked.

"Yeah. Me and her brother got paired up for a project and I was supposed to meet him this morning, but he texted saying family emergency. So, I thought I'd bring them breakfast," Hailey answered.

"That's very kind of you. Were you at the party last night?"

"No, I was at home."

"Is that where you hurt your arm?"

Hailey quickly pulled on her sweatshirt sleeve "No, I uh, I hit it on my locker a few days ago."

Trudy knew this girl was lying. She had worked enough domestic and child abuse cases to know the usual excuses. So, she pulled out her business card and handed it to Hailey. "This is my business card. My cell phone number is on there as well. Call me if you need help getting out."

***

Trudy, Hank, and Al entered the district and then went into the basement where there were no cameras.

"I think we can all agree on not putting that the girl was driving without a license in the reports," Trudy started.

"Agreed," Al said. "What about the boys?"

"We leave out that they were drinking, too," Hank said. "The only people who know that they were drinking are us three and them since they obviously can't take a breathalyzer now, there's no use in putting it in the reports. They were just kids being kids."

"Yeah, except for the asshole who assaulted her," Al stated.

"Yeah, except for him. We're throwing the book at that bastard," Hank agreed.

"She said she didn't want to go through a trial," Trudy said.

"What? Why not?" Hank asked.

"She said that she didn't think that anyone would believe her. He's a senior who everyone likes, hell, this whole town knows he's going to be drafted. So, she thinks he wouldn't get in trouble if he does actually go to trial."

Hank sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Well, we have 48 hours to hold him, and then me and Al will figure out how to take care of this."

***

"Are you hungry?" your mom asked when you got home later that day. The hospital had discharged you since all your injuries were superficial, such as the bruises on your face, wrist stomach, and thighs.

"No," you muttered. "I'm gonna go to my room."

"Okay, well if you want to be alone, that's fine, but I took FMLA leave, so I'll be home for a while. Take all the time you need, honey."

You nodded and then walked into your room and cuddled under your blankets. Since it was the afternoon, there was still a bit of sunlight coming in from beneath your blinds, which you were thankful for. You turned on your fan and allowed it to blow lightly on you. You were glad that you always used your fan for white noise so that you could sleep, but it also helped to muffle your quiet sobs as you cried into your pillow.

Meanwhile, Hailey, Will, Jay, and your mom were in the kitchen. Hailey had come home with you and your family so that she and Will could work on their presentation. She said it was fine, that she could go home, but Will said working on the presentation would be a welcome distraction.

"What's FMLA leave?" Jay asked.

"It's the Family Medical Leave Act," she answered as she sat down at the kitchen table. "It means I can have up to twelve weeks unpaid leave at work and still be guaranteed a job when I get back. But, I'll probably just take half of that, because uh, I won't be making any money during that time."

"I can see if I can get my summer job back," Will immediately offered. "I know I said I can only work during the summer, but I can work on the weekends even if it's only ten hours a week and I've only been off for a month, so they should probably be able to rehire me--"

"Honey," your mom said, cutting him off. "I really appreciate you thinking of that. But it's your senior year and you're taking four AP classes. School comes first. We'll get through it. This is only temporary and I do have a savings account in case of emergencies and we should be fine."

"Okay, well, you can always tell me to talk to my boss if I need to," Will said. Then, he turned to Hailey. "I'll go grab my stuff and then we can work on the project."

Will walked away to his room, leaving Jay, your mom, and Hailey. "Can I get you anything, Hailey?" your mom asked. "Water, coffee?"

"Oh, no. I'm fine," Hailey said. This wasn't about her. She knew that you needed your mom and that your mom needed time to feel what happened as well. "Thank you, though."

"I'm gonna go check on Y/N and then go for a drive. If anything happens with her, Jay, I need either you or Will to call me right away."

"We will, Mom, don't worry."

Your mom pulled Jay into a hug. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Mom." Normally, Jay wouldn't have hugged his mom when his friends were around--or whatever he considered Hailey--, but he knew his mom needed it, so he returned her hug.

"Be back soon."

Then, she checked on you and seeing that you were asleep, grabbed her keys, and left.

"I'm gonna put on a pot of coffee," Jay said. "I know you said you were good, but you can have some if you want." He made his way to the cupboard and grabbed the container of ground-up coffee beans and started putting them into a filer.

"Thanks. Might take you up on that when me and Will are working. A little liquid focus never hurt anyone," she replied.

"No doubt."

Hailey paused, she wanted to keep talking with Jay but didn't know what to say. She didn't want to mention last night either. "So, are you taking any AP classes?" she asked. "You know, since Will's apparently taking four."

"Will's a psychopath and no, I'm not. Too much work if you ask me. If I was planning on going to college, I might take a few, but I'm not."

"Oh. Then what are you planning to do?"

"Maybe the army. My mom doesn't like the thought of me fighting in wars, but she supports my decision. I just don't feel like studying is for me."

"What branch?" Hailey asked.

He raised his eyebrows at how interested she was. "I was thinking the Army Rangers. They're the first ones on the ground in war zones."

"Sounds dangerous. You're practically flying blind."

"Oh, but that's what makes it fun."

Hailey laughed. "You're an adrenaline junkie, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah. I love rollercoasters...and anything else that gets my heart racing."

"Hear about that new coaster at Cedar Point?"

"Yeah!" Jay exclaimed. And, before he even had time to process what he was about to say, he blurted it out anyway. "Maybe we could go together sometime."

Did he just ask me out? Hailey thought to herself. "I'd like that." She smiled.

"Am I invited?" Will asked as he walked down the hallway, overhearing their conversation.

"Uh," Jay blanched.

"Dude, chill. I know you were trying to ask her out--"

Jay's phone rang before he could yell at Will to knock it off and Hailey just took a seat at the table blushing really badly while she did so.

"It's Kev," Jay said while glaring at his older brother. "I gotta take this." He accepted the call and started to walk down the hall to the bedroom that he shared with Will. "Hey, man."

Jay closed his bedroom door and sat on his bed. "Adam just told me that Evans tried to rape your sister?"

Jay ran a hand down his face. "Uh, yeah, if Kelly wouldn't have gotten there when he did, who knows what would've happened."

"Is she okay? Is he in jail? Is she in the hospital?"

Jay knew that Kevin would react protectively since he had a younger sister, Vanessa, who was in seventh grade, just two years younger than you.

"I mean, physically her injuries are just bruising." He took a deep, shaky breath to stop himself from crying. "I think they're holding Evans and we just got home from the hospital. Y/N's sleeping now."

"Evans is so fucking lucky I wasn't there. Adam said that Kelly beat his face in pretty bad, but I'd do worse. I probably would've killed him, at least given him brain damage from a concussion."

"You and me both."

"And, uh, Adam said the cops are gonna talk to all the football players?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah. The detective did mention that. He also told me and Will not to go after Evans, but--"

"You're not gonna listen?" Kevin asked.

"I'll probably wait two weeks so he thinks he's safe and then go after him. You're more than welcome to help."

"I'll cover for you that night."

"Thanks, man. So, the cops talk to you yet?" Jay asked.

"Not yet. But I really don't have anything to say. I didn't participate and I would never participate. Might mention that White never tried to stop it and Coach Davis said it was off-limits, though."

"You think Davis knew what was going on?" Jay asked.

"There's no way. If he knew, he would've kicked all of them off the team. He doesn't fuck with stuff like that. White, on the other hand, well, we both know how that cat rolls."

"I should've mentioned that when they were talking to me earlier this morning. I was just, I was so worried about Y/N."

"I get it. I'd be the same way if this happened with Vanessa. I'll tell them about it. You just make sure she's okay. And, if you, her, Will, or your mom need anything, gimme a call. I'd be happy to help."

"Thanks, Kev."

"Good luck planning your revenge. Tell me what the cover is."

"Oh don't worry, I will."

***

Two weeks later

Jay popped the screen out of his window. "You can put this back in, right?" he asked Will.

"Yeah, yeah. I got it. Go give Evans hell for what he did to Y/N," he replied as he got out of bed and stood by the window.

"You know, still time for you to come with me."

"I got accepted to college already. I'm not about to jeopardize that. Cover still that Kev called and needed help babysitting Vanessa and Jordan?"

"That's the one. I'll crash at his house after this is done just so it seems believable. See you tomorrow."

"See you. Don't get beat up too badly."

Jay scoffed. "Yeah right."

Then, he started the three-mile walk to Derek Evan's house.

So, Jay had decided not to actually beat him up because his parents were home and he didn't want to have to deal with the parents. Derek and the cops he could handle, but having his parents yell that they want to press charges and scream at him, yeah no. He had stashed a can of black spray paint in a bush in his front yard and grabbed it when he was leaving. He planned on spray painting rapist on Derek's white car. Even though he didn't technically rape you, he tried to, so the word still stands.

Jay got there and pulled his hat down over his face. Then, he walked up the driveway and to Derek's car. He shook the can of spray paint and took the cap off. His finger was down on the button--

"Chicago PD!"

Fuck.

***

"Your last name's Halstead?" the cop who picked him up asked when they entered the 21st District.

"Yes, sir," he answered, his head hanging low and the can of spray paint still in his hand.

"Well, I need you to take a seat right there while I make a phone call. Do not move."

"Yes, sir."

Jay sat down on the bench across from the front desk and pulled out his phone. He sent texts to both Kevin and Will.

Cops caught me. At a police station right now. Will, don't you fucking dare tell Mom.

They replied that they were shocked, but Kevin said he could always come pick Jay up if he needed it. He figured Jordan and Vanessa would be okay by themselves for half an hour. And Will promised he wouldn't tell Mom...unless Jay needed bail money, then he'd have to tell her.

"Halstead," a gruff voice barked from the side of him.

Jay looked up to be met with one of the detectives who had worked your case. But, instead of being in his uniform, he was in normal clothes. The only thing that could tell anyone that he was a cop was the badge pinned to his jeans and the gun in its holster at his side.

Jay stood up.

"I had a feeling something like this might happen," Hank Voight stated. "So, I put a patrol car in front of the Evans' house."

"Am I under arrest?" Jay asked.

"You're not. But follow me."

Hank opened the door to the office next to where the bench was and Jay followed him in.

"Have a seat." Jay sat down in the chair in front of the desk and Hank sat in the chair behind the desk. If Jay didn't know any better, he'd say he was in the principal's office. "Jay, listen."

"Wait, how do you know I'm not Will?" Jay asked.

"I know that Will had red hair. And, you told the responding officer your full name, remember?"

"Yes, sorry."

"It's okay. A little questioning never hurt anybody. But, Jay, listen. You can't go and beat this kid up or destroy or vandalize his property." Jay opened his mouth to protest, but Hank put a hand up to stop him. "I understand that you're angry and want to get revenge for your sister. But, that's not going to make it like it didn't happen. And, you'd be the one getting in trouble, not him. Severide already did a number on him."

"But, Y/N doesn't want a trial because she doesn't want to relive it!" Jay argued. "I just have to let him get away with it?"

"He's not going to get away with it, I can promise you that. I just don't want you to be the one getting in trouble for bringing a little justice to the world. I can promise you justice will be served, though."

"How? If there's no trial and I can't go after him, how will justice be served?"

"Jay, just let it run its course. Now, I'm assuming your mom doesn't know you're here?"

"No, she doesn't. I planned on going to a friend's house after."

"I'll drive you there. All this vandalism stuff will stay between me, you, and the patrolman."

Jay's jaw dropped. "Wow, thank you so much."

"Hey, I would've done the same thing if I was in your shoes. Now, c'mon, let's get you to that friend's house."

***

One month later

It was your mom's first day back to work. She said she would stay home longer if you wanted her to, but you told her you were fine. And, she thought that as well because you had been coming out of your room more these past two weeks.

You walked to the kitchen to go get some water which was normal for you. All you had been doing since you were almost raped was sleeping. You'd occasionally have dinner with your family, but that was it. You also started seeing a therapist a week after the attempted rape, which helped immensely. But, when she saw your symptoms, she had suggested anti-depressants after you had talked to her for a couple weeks. So, you were on them.

After a week, you started to gain some energy back. It wasn't back to normal yet, but it was enough that you would watch movies and tv shows, read, and journal in your room instead of lying in bed staring at the ceiling and sleeping all day.

You were on your way back to your room with your glass of water when you heard a familiar opening line to one of your favorite Disney Channel movies: Lemonade Mouth.

You poked your head into the living room. "Are you guys watching Lemonade Mouth?" you asked your brothers.

"We were gonna change it to watch some hockey," Jay said. Then, he saw Will's pointed look. "But, if you want to watch Lemonade Mouth, then we can."

Will paused the tv. "Are you sure?" you asked.

"We're sure," Will replied. "I'll go make us some popcorn while you get comfortable."

And thus started the plan of watching a movie every night to get you out of your room. Sometimes, Will would have too much homework, so you'd watch a movie with Jay. Sometimes Jay would have a soccer game, so you'd watch a movie with Will. Sometimes, Will would have a ton of homework and Jay would have a soccer game, so you'd watch a movie with your mom. Either way, it was nice to know that they were there for you and that you didn't have to talk about anything with them.

"Hey, like my new shirt?" Jay asked.

"When did you go shopping?" Will asked as he looked up from his textbook.

"Practice got canceled because Coach is sick and Hailey wanted to get some food and go to Goodwill, so we got food and went to Goodwill."

"Jesus, man, you are so whipped. Didn't you just become boyfriend and girlfriend last week?"

"Yes. Y/N you-- what's wrong?"

Your breath was caught in your throat and you felt like you couldn't breathe. If you could see yourself right now, you knew you'd look like a ghost.

"Nothing. I- I just need to get some water and then I'm gonna go take a nap."

"Okay," Will started, "you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

You walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, but you also grabbed your bottle of antidepressants and put them in the pocket of your sweatshirt. Then, you made your way to your bedroom and locked the door.

How the hell did Jay manage to find the exact same shirt at a thrift store? It was a navy blue shirt with the Abercrombie and Fitch logo on it...the same exact shirt Derek was wearing on the night of the party.

It all came flooding back to you. You screaming...him slapping you...you crying...

You couldn't breathe.

"Ahhh!" you sobbed and dropped to your knees and curled up into a ball, taking the pills out of your pocket.

You continued sobbing and then you heard a knock on your door and heard the doorknob rattle.

"Y/N, Y/N, I need you to open this door," Will told you.

"No! Leave me alone!" you yelled.

"Can't do that. Mom left us in charge since she went back to work. If you don't open this door in three seconds, we're coming in somehow."

He got to two and you relented and opened the door.

"Y/N...what--"

You thrust the bottle of pills in his hand. "Take them! Take them, please!"

"Were you...?"

"I don't know! I don't know, Will! Just get them away from me!"

He pocketed them. "Okay, what's going on? What happened?"

Jay came around the corner.

"It's the same- the same--"

"Y/N, I need you to take a deep breath for me and then we can talk about this."

After five minutes of Will calming you down, you were finally able to catch your breath enough to talk.

"Jay's got the same shirt!" you wailed.

"The same shirt as who?" Will asked gently, careful not to touch you for fear that it would send you into another anxiety attack.

"Derek!"

Will turned around. "Jay, go rip that fucking shirt off and fucking burn it!" Jay just stood there, shellshocked. "Jay!"

He turned around and went to his room to take it off and get rid of it.

"Now, can I give you a hug?" Will asked. You nodded and allowed him to embrace you. When he pulled away, he asked, "Were you really going to do that? With the pills?"

"I- I don't think so," you told him. "I just saw them when I was getting water and grabbed them. I don't want to die."

"That's good. That's really good. But, you know we have to talk to Mom about this, right?"

"Yeah. And, I know I'm supposed to go back to school next week, but I- I don't think I can handle it, Will."

"Then we'll talk to her about that, too."

Jay ran out of his room--in a different shirt--holding his phone in his hand and looking frantic. "We have to go now!" he yelled.

"Why?" Will asked. "Where?"

"Mom just called and said she had to check out Hailey in the hospital."

***

"Hailey!" Jay yelled as he entered her room. He saw her bruised face and her arm in a sling. "Baby, what happened?"

"He- he--" And then she erupted into sobs and reached her good arm over to Jay.

You noticed that one of the officers who worked your case was also in the room.

"Hailey, honey, do you want to press charges?" Trudy Platt asked.

"I can't!" she wailed as she lifted her head off of Jay's chest. "I know I called you, but he's my dad!"

Jay let go of her. "Your dad did this? That son of a--"

"Jay!" your mom yelled.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Hailey reached for her water, but you noticed it was slightly out of her reach so you handed it to her. You hated seeing the girl who you considered your best friend in this much pain, at the hands of her father of all people.

Since you were only in school for less than a month before everything happened and didn't have time to form real, long-lasting friendships you didn't really have any close friends besides Hailey. And now, you knew how she felt when she saw you in that hospital bed six weeks ago.

"Hailey, I can't let you go back to that house," Trudy said.

"But I don't want to press charges! Can't you just pretend you didn't see that? That I didn't call you?" Hailey argued.

"Honey, since you're a minor, I'm supposed to press charges no matter what."

"But he's my dad!" she cried. "I know he's horrible, but I don't want him to rot in prison."

"Hailey, listen to me," Trudy began. "I am giving you an out here. I won't press charges, but for me not to press charges, I need you to be in a safe home."

"You're saying I need to find to find someplace else to live?" she asked.

Trudy nodded.

"Mom, can she...?" Jay asked as he looked up at his mom.

In that moment, your mom saw in Hailey what she had seen in you six weeks ago: a scared little girl who needed the comfort and love of a parent. And, your mom knew she wasn't her actual parent, but she had been over so much recently that it was hard for her to see Hailey as just one of Will's classmates...especially now since she was your best friend and Jay's girlfriend.

"She can stay. As long as she doesn't mind sharing a room with Y/N," your mom agreed.

And, it was that day that Hailey Upton decided that she wanted to become a cop.

***

Hank Voight pulled over Derek on his way home from school.

"Is there a problem, officer?" Derek asked as he rolled down his window.

"First of all, it's detective. And second of all, there is a problem. The problem is that you almost raped a girl," he stated.

"And she didn't file charges, so until she does, I didn't do that."

Hank reached over and grabbed Derek Evans by the collar. "Listen here. In two weeks, you are going to write a letter to your parents saying that you're running away because of all the ridicule you've faced because of this. And then, you're going to meet me at this address." He thrust a piece of paper into his hand. "Oh, and if you think I'm not serious, let me know if your principal shows up to school tomorrow because I can promise you he won't be there. He'll be in prison...or dead. I'll let you think over which one it is." He let go of his collar. "If I were you, I'd show up or it will be a whole lot worse for you."

Derek swallowed. "Okay."

***

Two weeks later

Hailey was settling in at your house, but you still weren't ready to go back to school.

"Y/N," your mom called from the kitchen. You walked out there. "I talked to one of your counselors. They said that they think online school would be helpful. Is that something you might be interested in?"

You never thought your mom would cave to this, but you were on cloud nine. "Yes, please."

"Okay, but can you try to go back at the beginning of next year?"

"I don't know, Mom."

"That's okay. I shouldn't have asked you that. You'll know when you're ready." She paused. "But, one of the things I'm worried about is you not getting any social interaction."

Will walked out of his room. "What if I do it with her?" he asked. "I could go to school for my AP classes and then take the other ones online. The AP ones are really the only ones that matter."

"Will, it's your senior year," your mom argued.

"I know. I can still do all the fun senior stuff, but I wouldn't have to be at school all day."

"Can I do it, too?" Jay asked. "And, I can still go to school for math and English because we know how I am in those subjects. I can even ask Hailey and text some friends if they want to do online school, too," he suggested.

Tears formed in your eyes. Your brothers were giving up their high school experiences for you.

"Boys, I don't know--"

"Mom, you said the issue was social interaction," Will began, "if we're there and other people are there, she wouldn't be missing out on social interaction."

Your mom sighed. "Are you two sure about this? This isn't a decision you can take lightly." They both said they were sure. "Okay, I'll call the school."

"I'll ask Hailey and make some phone calls," Jay said.

And so, three days later, you, your brothers, Hailey, Kim, Adam, Kevin, Natalie, Stella, and Kelly were all sitting in a coffee shop working on online school.

***

Derek Evans walked a block before he got in Hank Voight's car.

"You have everything?" Hank asked, referring to Derek's backpack filled with clothes, toiletries, and other necessities.

"Yes, sir," Derek answered. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," was all Hank said and then he started driving.

They pulled up to a dirt area on the water with four huge silos. "What are we doing here?" Derek asked.

"Get out of the car."

Derek listened and then Hank followed him around the car. He pulled his gun out of his holster and pressed the cool, black metal against Derek's temple. Derek froze.

"Walk," Hank commanded.

Derek listened and he walked with Hank still holding a gun to his head.

Hank told him to stop and then he drew a line in the dirt with his foot.

"You see this line?" he asked.

"Uh huh," Derek answered while visibly shaking.

"If you ever cross this line again, there will be a bullet in your head. Walk and don't come back." Hank lowered his gun and Derek started walking, not looking back, doing exactly as Hank had told him to do. "Nobody fucks with my city, Evans," Hank said to his retreating back. "Nobody. Not even you."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this rewrite! Thank you for reading! Please remember to reblog/like and comment because I always love when those notifications pop up and I love reading your comments!And, if you like my writing, you can support me at buy me coffee here. It's only a dollar and it's through Paypal and any currency can be used, no subscription required! (I write these fics for free, so I figured I'd try this out!) As always, if you want ti be added to my taglist, just comment that and I’ll add you

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sunder-soul · 3 years

Text

𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖛𝖊

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

Chapter Two: He’s very, very beautiful. Black hair in tidy waves, dark, hooded eyes lined with sooty lashes, full lips, angled jaw, and all his fine features illuminated by the glow from the pub behind you. If you’d met him anywhere else you might have blushed, but here, now, you have to resist the urge to arch a brow. Wordcount: 2.3k Content warning: language, allusions to bigotry.

Story Tags: @crazytwentythrees

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McCollin slams the Records Room logbook down on your desk and you nearly jump out of your skin. “I told you to drop it,” he says coolly.

Your initials are scribbled on the page half a dozen times over the past two weeks. You look up at him wide-eyed. “I…”

“You were only supposed to watch that stupid trial once,” he interrupts, eyes hard.

“Look, I’ve found stuff, McCollin! Merope Gaunt? She ran away with Tom Riddle, for Christs’ sake, they got married and everything! That’s why Morfin was talking about her in his trial!”

He falters, brow furrowing. “How did you find out that –”

“I’ve been doing some work on the case – off hours,” you add hastily at his expression, “and look, I know you said it was pretty cut and dry, but in that whole trial no one actually asks him why he did it –”

McCollin laughs a little unkindly. “No one asked him why he did it? Do you hear yourself? Didn’t you just say his sister married a Muggle?”

“Yeah but she died ages ago,” you say desperately, leaning forward.

“Why does that matter?”

“Morfin was released from Azkaban in ’28 and came home to find his sister gone. He lived right around the corner from those Muggles, McCollin, so why did he wait fifteen years to kill them?”

McCollin gives you a deeply sceptical look. “Your problem is that he didn’t kill them sooner?”

“My problem is there’s no reason that he didn’t kill them sooner!” you correct. “If he’s really such a nutcase, why did it take him that long to get revenge on the Riddles?”

“Maybe he didn’t know who she’d run off with until then,” he shrugs.

“Then how did he suddenly find out in ‘43?”

McCollin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, kiddo, I’m gonna do you a favour. I’ll let all this slide if you drop this thing now and stop letting it distract you.”

You gape at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“But I’ve found –!”

“I don’t care what you’ve found, I need you to do your job,” McCollin snaps, waving at your desk. “So some pure-blood nutter murdered some Muggles because his sister ran off with one of ‘em, what in Merlin’s name is so hard to understand about that?”

“She had a kid with him!” you hiss.

He hesitates again. “You found a birth certificate?”

“No, but she died in a Muggle orphanage and was buried in the pauper’s yard, what do you think happened?”

McCollin, for the first time, looks somewhat doubtful. “Case never mentioned a kid…” he says slowly.

Hope sparks in your chest. “And where was Tom Riddle whilst his wife died in childbirth, huh? Where did the kid end up? Did Morfin know about them? Did Riddle even know?”

McCollin exhales a very fatigued sigh. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you.”

“No,” you say immediately.

“If you figure this out, will you get back to your actual job?”

“Yes.”

“You promise?”

You’re on the edge of your seat. “I promise.”

He grits his teeth. “Merlin… fine. What do you need?”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

You hate Azkaban. The place is dark and cold and dripping wet, the dementors never stay quite far enough away, and the screams and sobs of the prisoners within the black stone stick in your heart for weeks afterwards.

“In and out,” McCollin mutters, pulling off his hat and casting the dementor beside you an aspersing look. “Five minutes, kiddo, and then we’re gone.”

You nod quickly and step down the long, dark corridor, peering at the parchment in your hand and checking it against the cell numbers scratched into the stone on either wall. You find him around the corner. Cell 75191.

You lift your lit wand, squinting into the darkness. “Morfin…?”

There’s the faint clinking of chains and then a skin-crawling hiss that makes your heart clench in fear, followed by a rasping, phlegmy cackle.

“Morfin Gaunt?” you try again, catching sight of movement in the corner of the cell, a figure hunched there.

He only hisses again.

“I don’t speak Parseltongue, Mr Gaunt,” you say with a forced calm, “I’m here to talk about the Riddles.”

Morfin spits at the ground. “Riddles,” he growls. “Fucking Riddles, fucking filthy Muggle Riddles in their filthy stinking house, got what was coming didn’t they? Got what they deserved in the end –”

“You knew about Merope and Tom Riddle, didn’t you, Mr Gaunt?” you interrupt, hands shaking in the aching cold. You bury your non-wand hand in your pocket in vain – the chill of the prison is all-permeating.

“Filthy Riddle… filthy scumsucker…”

“Why did you kill the Riddles in 1943?”

He barks a hideous laugh. “Muggle scum they were, had it coming, saw the light leave their eyes at the end of a wand like was intended, not my sister, not my family –”

“Why did you wait, Mr Gaunt?”

There’s silence. Your heart thrums nervously.

“You got home in 1928 but you didn’t kill the Riddles until 1943… Why didn’t you kill them sooner?” you press carefully.

Morfin doesn’t reply for a moment, and then – “Muggle scum,” he mutters a little dolefully.

“Yes but what changed?” you say, patience fraying a bit. “What changed in 1943? Did something happen?”

“Scourge of the earth… got to get rid of ‘em all, that Grindelwald fellow had the right idea, get rid of ‘em –”

There’s a sound like a heavy door closing in the distance and you’re suddenly very aware that you don’t have a lot of time left. “Did you know about Merope’s child?” you ask pressingly.

Morfin descends into a coughing fit and spits what sounds like a hefty wad of mucus onto the floor of his cell. “Knew it,” he says darkly, “I knew it, that slut…”

“You knew?”

“Looked just like him, didn’t he?” he snarls.

“Who?” you say at once.

“He looked just like that nasty, filthy, disgusting Muggle… Well, they’re all dead now.” He laughs nastily again. “Rotting in the ground where they belong, Muggle scum…”

You can hear McCollin calling for you but your head is spinning. He waited… he waited fifteen years…

If Merope’s son had been born at the end of ’26, he would have been sixteen in July of ’43.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“I know why he waited,” you breathe to McCollin the second you’re back in the safety of the Ministry.

“Why?”

“I know why he waited to kill the Riddles – Merope’s son came to find him – maybe he was looking for his family, he probably grew up in that orphanage – he really did only find out about her kid in ’43 and it made him snap and –”

“Slow down,” McCollin frowns, hand on your shoulder. “What are you saying?”

“You have to get me access to Morfin’s memory of that day,” you say intensely.

His face and his hand fall in unison. “You said that if I got you in to see Morfin, you’d let it go,” he says sharply.

“I know but Jesus McCollin! Shouldn’t we find her son?”

“This is getting out of hand,” he mutters, turning and walking off across the huge entrance hall.

“Please,” you say, following him. “Please! I –”

“No,” he says flatly.

“But –!”

“What, you want to watch murders now?”

“McCollin, just listen –”

“I’m serious, drop it,” he drawls, stepping into an elevator and turning to point at you. “I don’t wanna hear you say the name Riddle again.”

The elevator dings, the door slides shut on McCollin’s serious face, and you sigh in frustration.

“Riddle?”

Your head lifts in surprise. The voice had come from beside you, a very formally-dressed old man with curated grey hair, gold glasses, and a haughty expression. “Yes, sir…?” you ask slowly.

“Ah yes, a real shame, all that,” the man sighs, looking up at the elevators expectantly.

You blink. You recognise the man from around the Ministry, but you can’t think of a single conceivable reason why a senior member of the International Confederation of Wizards knows the name of a Muggle murdered eight years ago. “…Yes, it was.”

“Such a waste,” he shakes his head sagely. “He could have gone far.”

You don’t know what to say. “You’re… you’re talking about Tom Riddle, sir…?”

“Yes, of course,” the man titters, “Slughorn recommended him to me personally – assured me he’d go far. A real talent, he said.”

Something is definitely not right, but the man’s elevator dings and he steps inside at once, expensive robes swirling as he turns. “To end up in Knockturn Alley of all places,” he sighs, “and to think... the boy could have been Minister for Magic one day.”

The doors shut before your gobsmacked face.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“So let me get this straight,” Mori says lowly, setting down another drink for you. “You think the kid’s here? In Knockturn Alley?”

“I think so,” you murmur as Mori takes your empty glass away. “Either that or some poor schmuck with the exact same name as a murdered Muggle is walking around completely unrelated to all this shit.”

“Have you found anything on the kid?”

You nod blankly. “Looked up the name and found a ton of stuff straight away – star pupil at Hogwarts, won a ton of awards, Prefect, Head-boy –”

“Sounds like a square,” Mori snorts.

“He fell off the map a bit after school,” you frown, leaning forward on your forearms. “Found an address from a few years back but doesn’t seem up-to-date. The guy definitely mentioned Knockturn Alley though, so –”

“If you told me a name, I’ll probably know him.”

You shoot him a nervous look. “I dunno, Mori, I’m really pissing McCollin off with this already. If he finds out I’m leaking names –”

“Well I’ll tell you this for free, no one down this way’ll take kindly to someone in Ministry robes poking their nose around,” he says darkly.

You sigh and take a sip from your drink. “I know.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

You leave just past midnight, giving Mori a wave as you grab your cloak and head for the door, already reaching for your wand to Apparate as you push it open –

You walk straight into someone. “Oh,” you exclaim, stepping back. “I'm so sorry.”

“Not at all.”

You look up at the voice in surprise, smooth and pleasant and velvety. The face behind it is even better; he’s very, very beautiful. Black hair in tidy waves, dark, hooded eyes lined with sooty lashes, full lips, angled jaw, and all his fine features illuminated by the glow from the pub behind you as he pushes the door wide and holds it for you, stepping aside with a polite twist to his lips to let you out first.

If you’d met him anywhere else you might have blushed, but here, now, you have to resist the urge to arch a brow. He’s not exactly what you’d normally expect from customers of Moribund’s.

“Thank you,” you say evenly, stepping past him and rather theatrically hoping he’s not some sort of pretty-faced creature that would strike when your back’s turned –

“You’re from the Ministry?”

You hesitate. His question was perfectly curious and well-warranted – the purple robes you were still wearing were also not what one might normally expect from customers of Moribund’s. “I am,” you say quietly, pulling out your wand.

“Are you here on business or for pleasure?” he smiles a little. It makes him even more beautiful. It makes you more suspicious.

“A bit of both,” you say truthfully, thinking of your conversation with Mori.

“Rather strange for someone of your profession to patron a place like this,” says the young man, head tilting a fraction.

You hesitate for a moment, but if he intends on giving you trouble, it feels like a good idea to establish that you have people looking out for you around here. “I’m friends with the barman.”

“In which case it's odd I’ve not seen you more, then,” he says very smoothly, the little twist to his lips returning, “since I’m something of a regular.”

But you’ve had quite enough. “You’re letting the warmth out,” you say politely, inclining your head at the door he’s still holding open as you lift your wand. “Enjoy your drinks.”

“Would you care to join me?”

You hesitate, eyes flicking back to the young man. His head is still tilted slightly as he watches you, and suddenly you can’t tell if the curl to his lips is more attractive or unnerving.

“I’d very much like the company,” he smiles, white, straight teeth, too handsome, too gorgeous.

Alarm bells are going off in your head. Too smarmy. He knows he’s beautiful, that much was certain, and something about him is giving you the creeps in a way that feels strangely familiar. Like you’ve met him before. “No,” you say clearly, “but thanks for the invitation.”

“Ah, I should have known that someone like you would already be spoken for,” he says with a knowing nod, charming and good-natured.

“No,” you frown. You can’t tell what’s rubbing you the wrong way about him, but there’s something.

His brow lifts slightly, like your response surprised him. “Not a fan of the drink, then?”

You snort a light laugh. “No, I am.”

There’s a beat of silence. “An early morning, perhaps?” the young man says just as lightly – though there’s a very faint edge to his expression that you clock at once. He can’t figure out why you’ve rejected him. What an arrogant asshole…

You sigh a bit shortly, liking him less by the second. “Goodnight,” you say pointedly, trying to lift your wand again but –

“Have I offended you somehow, madam?” he asks, sounding slightly amused. “If I have it wasn’t my intention to do so.”

You shoot him a look that is unapologetically annoyed. “You haven’t offended me, you’ve disrespected me,” you say curtly.

His eyes sparkle, his lips curl even more. “By asking you to join me for a drink?”

“By refusing to take my answer graciously,” you retort smoothly, “I said no. I don’t appreciate being cajoled.”

Some of the humour dissipates from his face, and you seize the opportunity to escape.

“Goodnight.”

And you lift your wand in a swift motion and vanish before he can interrupt again.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

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phati-sari · 3 years

Text

Arshi FF: Tere Bin - Chapter 8

Read from the beginning | Chapter 7

Chapter 8: Ranjha (listen while reading)

Khushi

“What was he doing here?”

Khushi answered without turning, her head resting on the window sill as she studied the moon. “I don’t know.”

It’d taken a long time to escape to the room she shared with her sister after they’d first stepped through the doors. First, Amma had asked about the hospital visit, making Khushi recite everything the Doctor Sahib had said while Bua-ji interrupted often to ask questions. Babu-ji had soon taken over, asking to see the paperwork Khushi had collected and asking a few questions of his own. Still full from the gol gappe, Khushi had nibbled on some puri under Jiji’s watchful gaze while the family considered the payment plan the clinic had laid out.

Luckily, no one had asked exactly how she’d gotten home.

“You were in his car, Khushi.” Jiji came to stand next to her, her tone coloured with disapproval.

“The auto broke down. He was driving past.”

“He, of all the people in Lucknow and Delhi, just happened to be driving by? At the exact moment your auto broke down?”

An odd defensiveness flared in her chest, words popping out of her mouth before she’d thought them through.

“What can I say, Jiji? My phone’s battery was dead, it was dark. He offered to drop me home.”

Jiji reached out to touch her shoulder. “Did he fight with you again?”

No, he bought me gol gappe.

“No more than usual,” Khushi tried to smile at her sister. “I’m fine. Really. He drove me home. That’s all.”

Though she looked unconvinced, Jiji stepped away with a nod to ready herself for bed. Khushi waited until she was alone to snatch her bag from where it hung on a hook. Her searching fingers found the business card he’d offered.

“Well, it’s just that you like arguing so much, and we argue so often … I think we should keep in touch.”

At the time, she’d been so startled that she’d simply taken the card and slid from the car without answering. Jiji, fortunately, had been too busy scowling at him through the windows to notice as she’d slipped it into her bag.

The card was thick, the surface almost velvety to the touch. It sported a bright red logo in the top corner and announced his name in crisp black letters — ARNAV SINGH RAIZADA. Khushi shook her head to clear the unbidden memory of correcting his name on hundreds of letters.

The writing on the card included a number she recognised for the reception desk at the head offices and an email address that his managers monitored. But he’d scrawled another number untidily along one side with a black pen.

His personal number, Khushi realised with a jolt.

It felt strangely intimate, though logic reminded her that she’d had the same number saved in her phone before he’d broken it on the storeroom floor.

Why is he still in Lucknow?

On the heels of this thought came another: Why should I care?!

Her mind was suddenly awhirl with memories — raised voices and shouted words, a fall from his window, the broken door to the storeroom. His airs about money and power. The terror of the guesthouse.

Khushi ripped the business card in half, her breath coming in rapid pants, and then tore it into even smaller pieces. Tears stung in her eyes. She scrunched the pieces into her palm as Jiji returned to the room.

“Make sure you wake up early tomorrow,” her sister draped her towel near the window. “We’re going to the temple.”

“Okay.”

Waiting until Jiji was occupied with something in the cupboard, Khushi returned the ruined card to her bag. In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and washed her face before studying her reflection. Her pulse was a chaotic drumbeat in her body, her thoughts a wild tangle. And underneath it all was something that thrilled and scared her at the same time, something that had followed her to Lucknow.

#####

“Everything leads back to him,” Jiji had groaned, rolling on her side on the bed they shared. “Just go to sleep quietly.”

It had been a week since they’d returned to Lucknow, and Khushi had been comparing the price of potatoes between Lucknow and Delhi. Or at least, that was how the conversation had started. She couldn’t remember how they’d gotten to talking about that Laad Governor.

“You’re right Jiji. We’re in Lucknow now and we’ll soon forget that we ever went to Delhi. Or that we met such cruel, haughty people. Although … Anjali-ji had such sweetness in her. It’s a shame that we had to leave without saying goodbye to her. At least we met one nice person in Delhi. Oh … and Nani-ji. Maybe two nice people. And Aakash-ji, I suppose, though —”

“— Khushi! Are you going to count out every member of his family? Your mind is like a compass that’s always stuck on him!”

“And why wouldn’t it be?” Khushi had asked hotly. “He sent me there to do some meaningless task, knowing the place was about to collapse.”

“I know. You’ll never have to see him again, Khushi. You resigned from that awful job, you gave him an earful, and now you’re here and he’s there.”

The words should have elated her, but they only left her feeling strangely hollow.

#####

That hollowness sat heavily inside her as Khushi joined her sister in their bed a few minutes later, sliding between the covers with a sigh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jiji’s voice was soft in the dimness.

“Yes.”

“You barely ate dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

A short silence, in which Khushi’s mind unhelpfully replayed the way she’d fallen into his arms yet again.

Oh Devi Maiyya, couldn’t you find another place to make me slip? You mustn’t have liked the offering I left you this morning.

“I’m glad we came back to Babu-ji,” Jiji said softly. “I can’t imagine being away from home at a time like this.”

“The doctors said that as long as he rests properly and takes his medicines, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“He isn’t resting nearly enough, even with both of us at the shop.”

Khushi nodded her agreement, “He’s worried about the bills.”

“Bua-ji and Amma are talking about selling some jewellery. I thought I’d give them my bangles.”

“I have bangles we can sell too.”

It took a while for Jiji’s breathing to fall into the deep, slow rhythm of sleep. Khushi lay awake, her thoughts chasing each other in ever-tightening spirals.

The night of the photoshoot. The softness of her pallu as it slipped. The scorch of his gaze as it roved over her body and left her feeling singed. The electricity between them on Teej, every touch a bolt of lightning. The weight of him pressing into her in the storeroom.

She flushed, skin prickling and warmth blooming in secret places.

Stop it, Khushi. A handful of gol gappe is all it takes for you to forget his cruelty?

She turned onto her side with a huff. Sometimes it felt as though her life had been split into Before and After, as though falling at the fashion show had created an entirely new Khushi Kumari Gupta. A Khushi who was strangely compelled towards him, a Khushi who’d come dangerously close to swooning in his arms today. A Khushi who wanted something she had no name for.

“I didn’t know the situation at the guesthouse was that bad!”

“Do you really think I would’ve sent you there if I’d known? Is that what you think of me?”

For the first time, she allowed herself to entertain the idea that he hadn’t sent her there on purpose.

So what if he hadn’t? I was still trapped there for an entire day. He was wrong.

But the thought was impossible to dislodge now that it’d wormed into her mind. Having assumed he’d wanted to argue every time he’d approached her, she now considered whether he might have been trying to explain. She saw their interactions in a new light. The sweets, the cheque.

Did he feel guilty? Was he trying to say sorry?

She eventually fell into an uneasy sleep, tormented in her dreams by his eyes, his voice, the memory of his touch. She woke just before dawn, breathless and damp with sweat, the sheets tangled with her legs. Flinging them off, Khushi sat up in bed. Her sister made a questioning noise.

“Sleep, Jiji. It’s not time to wake up yet.”

A nameless storm raged in her chest, making it hard to breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut.

I should hate him.

A lurch in her tummy.

But I don’t.

Padding slowly over to her bag, she fished out the pieces of the business card one by one. There was a roll of tape amongst the paper and pens scattered on the table in the corner. Khushi glanced back at her sister as she sat. It took a few minutes to line up the jagged edges, to press the tape along them with trembling fingers until she could read his name again.

He’d set down a challenge. She wouldn’t back down.

********

Thanks for reading :) I know some of you may be disappointed with the level of introspection in this chapter and where I chose to end it. Tere Bin is Arnav’s story, one where he has to work out what he wants and how to get it while Khushi is in Lucknow. While I intend to dip into Khushi’s point of view where the story demands it (and I feel that her presence greatly improved Chapters 6 and 7), it will focus heavily on Arnav. I am not intentionally writing something to annoy or disappoint readers. I’m trying to do something very specific with this story, and like all experiments, I’m learning as I go :)

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #ff: tere bin #iwrotethis #arshi ff #arshi #ipkknd ff #mine

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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 3 years

Text

When Clary meets Ash (Fan Fic)

Hey :) this is how I imagine Clary and Ash's reunion (after the events of TDA) in the fic I am currently writing.

It's Chapter 5 of "The new Shadowhunter Academy" (Ao3 link to the full fic is here but don't click or skip Chapter 4 if you are not in for Kitty sexy times).

Thanks to @amchara for providing beta work and to @blaidr for letting me bounce my ideas off him.

To give you context, Ash met Dru in Faerie and they exchanged their numbers. Clary seized the opportunity to obtain Ash's number from Dru and write him the following text message:

“Hey, Ash. Dru gave me your number and please don’t be angry with her, I am very strong headed and there was absolutely no way she could have refused. I am Clary. You may have heard of me. I am your late father’s sister. That’s right, your aunt. You can call me whatever you like. Emma told me what you did in Thule, how you saved her. How you saved everyone. That was very brave of you. In a way, both of us were faced with a very difficult choice and made the same. Doing what we thought was right. I would love to meet you and tell you about my mother – your grandmother – or just talk about anything. It can be things totally unrelated to the Shadow world. Hobbies, movies, books and games we like. You can pick the time and place. Neutral territory. Hope to see you soon. Clary.”

This is what happens following the text:

*****

Clary wrapped her oversized woolen coat tighter around herself, as she made her way through the crowded streets of Manhattan. The route was familiar. She took it almost every week to meet up with her parabatai and have what they called their “mundane hour”. They talked about everything, from Clary’s art to the latest TV shows they had binge watched. No topic was off the table, save for anything related to Shadowhunter duties, and the Shadow world in general. As co-head of the New York Institute and since recently, artist owning her own gallery, her weeks were very busy so she looked forward to those rare and precious moments when she could escape with Simon. Her heart rate seemed to accelerate with each of her steps, and it didn’t help that she also had the strange feeling she was being observed. When she reached her destination, she took a deep breath and opened the double glass doors leading her inside the coffee shop. She and Simon had their regular routine there, and her gaze went automatically to their usual spot, near the large windows.

A broad-shouldered jock with a baseball jacket was already sitting there, speaking loudly to his cheerleader girlfriend. Two of his friends were standing next to him, mock punching his muscular arms. It made her realize that Ash probably never had this. High school friends and romance. Ash. She was still struggling to figure out why he had asked her to meet up at this place, at the exact time she usually got there with Simon. Was it him being considerate, a clumsy way to make her feel comfortable in familiar surroundings? Or was it a warning? I know your habits, and precisely where you take your coffee, when and with whom.

Her gaze swept over the crowded room - her heart seemed to have moved up her throat, the frantic pulse almost choking her - and zeroed on a tall, white blond haired boy ordering coffee at the counter, standing with his back to Clary. She sucked in a breath. Ash. He was fully clothed in black - Dru had told her that was his usual style - and huge headphones were covering his ears. She slowly and cautiously approached him and when she was close enough, put a tentative hand on his elbow. “Ash,” she whispered. The boy glanced over his shoulder, his blue eyes quizzical and… it was not Ash.

She mumbled an apology.

“Clary,” said a voice coming from behind, and she froze. It was not a boy’s but a man’s voice, the sound beautiful and ethereal. She just stood there for a few seconds before she slowly turned.

What had she expected? Merely a taller version of the young boy with pointy ears and a sour expression that she had met three years before, dressed in the same refined velvet clothing threaded with gold that identified him as fey royalty?

If so, she had clearly been mistaken.

She blinked a few times to make sure her mind wasn’t playing tricks. He was tall, as she had anticipated (Sebastian had been after all). At least two heads taller than her and probably taller than Jace. But he was also very different from the Ash of her memories, from the sketches she had drawn of him after they had crossed paths. He had amazingly grown into his features, his face now the best combination of the Seelie Queen and Sebastian’s. As if he had picked the most alluring colours of the palette. And the result was… Stunning. Clary’s hand twitched, aching for a pencil.

He was not dressed in black, but in plain blue jeans and he had stuffed his hands in a very elegant, long pale gray cashmere coat. His white blond hair and pointy ears were concealed under a deep green beanie, the same colour as the scarf around his neck.

He arched a silvery eyebrow at Clary, his expression bemused, and she realized she was staring.

“Clary, seriously?” he said, his gently scolding tone at odds with his enchanting voice. “This guy isn't even half as good looking as me." He glanced pointedly at the patron in question, who was gaping at him, and shrugged. "No offense, dude,” Ash added as an afterthought.

He turned his attention to the barista. She was beautiful, dark skinned with long braided hair and pouty lips. “Hello, gorgeous. We’ll have a double espresso with oat milk and a dash of cinnamon for the lady and a plain black coffee for me.”

Clary stifled a gasp and tried to hide her discomfort. He knew exactly how she took her coffee, and she didn’t know how she felt about this.

The pretty barista nodded eagerly, her cheeks red and her big dark eyes dreamy as she stared at Ash. “Why don’t you… Go sit at your table and I’ll bring you your beverages when they are ready?” the girl offered enthusiastically. The long line of patrons that had formed behind Clary and Ash would probably disagree but she didn’t seem to care.

“That would be lovely,” Ash said in his euphonious voice. “And so are you.” He winked at her, and Clary wondered if she would need to catch her while she swooned. He paid before Clary even had a chance to reach for her purse.

“Come,” he said in a commanding tone, as he made his way to Clary and Simon's usual table. This was unnerving.

The jock seated there paused in the middle of his conversation with his girlfriend when he saw Ash stand casually next to him. Clary braced herself for a heated exchange, but she should have known better.

“You want to sit somewhere else,” Ash said evenly, one hand inside the pocket of his designer coat and the other stretched out in front of him as he studied his fingernails.

“I want to sit somewhere else,” the jock repeated in a monotonous voice, his gaze blank. He stood, as if in a trance, and his girlfriend and friends followed him, puzzled, to an empty table at the far end of the room.

Ash drew a chair for Clary and she sat. He did the same, opposite her. He pulled off his beanie, and shook his silvery hair, like a crown of liquid white gold. He wasn’t dressed for the part but he had never looked more like a prince.

“Ash… please don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Your mind tricks.”

He cocked his head and observed her, his face unreadable, for what seemed like an endless minute.

“You’ve been my aunt for what? Five minutes? And you’re already trying to boss me around?”

“I am not trying to boss you around, Ash. Simply asking you not to abuse your powers.”

A shadow flickered across his green eyes.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Clary. I spend much more time and energy holding back than using my powers. If I did let go, trust me, you would know.”

Clary opened her mouth to reply but was cut short as the barista popped in front of them and placed the mugs on the table. She slid a paper napkin to Ash, her phone number scribbled on it. Clary tried not to roll her eyes, as Ash flashed his dazzling smile at the girl, who almost tripped on her own feet as she returned to the counter.

Clary lifted her cup to her lips and paused, as she caught sight of the cinnamon powder floating on the surface. She put it down.

“What about this?" She pointed at her coffee mug and waved around them. “ What is it, if not a show of power? What are you trying to tell me? That you know everything about me? That you’ve been spying on me?”

Ash pulled on a fake shocked expression, mouth open and green eyes wide in mock innocence. “Spying on you? What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Ash. The evidence is right here.” She lifted her cup abruptly, and hot liquid splashed out of it. “You know exactly how I like it. When I take it, where I take it.”

Ash’s mouth twitched. “Where did you pick up these lines? From the script of some lame X-rated movie?”

“Adult movies have storylines?” Clary asked, arching her eyebrows.

“Of course they do. Where do you think the Grimm Brothers took their inspiration from?”

He grabbed the paper napkin and started mopping the coffee she had spilled on the table. The blue ink faded and the barista’s phone number vanished.

“You lost that girl’s number,” Clary noted.

Ash shrugged. “I have a girlfriend now.”

Right. Drusilla Blackthorn. From the moment she had met her, Clary had known that the smart and quiet turquoise-eyed girl would someday turn heads.

Clary knew that Dru hadn’t really confirmed their relationship status yet, but it was neither the time nor place to broach the subject with Ash. She was, after all, on a mission to win over her nephew and had not been doing a very good job so far.

A young lanky boy with pink hair and piercings covering his skin walked by and dropped a glossy flyer of the upcoming Mortal Instruments concert on the table between them. Clary hid a smile. It reminded her...

“I have something for you.” She said as she fumbled inside her bag and took out the drawing she had made of Jocelyn, Luke and herself, in front of Luke’s upstate farm (before it was turned into the new Shadowhunter Academy) and laid it on the table.

Ash looked at it hesitantly, like a kid who really wanted to grab the candy but was afraid there was a mouse trap under it. He hunched his shoulders forward and clasped his hands under the table, as if to keep himself from temptation.

“I recognize your art. I like it. I also appreciate Julian Blackthorn’s but I may not be as objective where… one of the subjects of his drawings is concerned.”

“You’ve seen my art?”

He leaned back on his chair, crossing his long arms behind his head. Somehow, he managed to make it look graceful.

“Which Shadowhunter hasn’t? I noticed that you often drew Jace with angel wings.”

“Yes. That’s how he used to appear to me. In recurring dreams.”

“Was it?”

“Was it what?”

“Jace. In your dreams.”

“Who else would it be?”

“Someone who looks like him, but who actually has wings.”

“You mean Kit.”

Ash shrugged. “It would make more sense.” His gaze flickered back to the drawing, which still lay on the table, untouched. “You look a lot like your mom.”

“So do you”, Clary blurted before she could take it back.

Ash shot her an unfathomable look.

“How is she?” She asked.

“You mean, the Seelie Queen? You tell me. You must see her more often than I do.”

“Well, not really. I am not that involved in politics, even though Alec is Consul. Julian Blackthorn is the one who deals with her most of the time. She appears to have... a fondness for him.”

“Who doesn’t?”

Clary’s mouth quirked up.

“I am glad you are getting along with the Blackthorns. They are such an incredibly strong and talented family.”

“They are.” He turned his face away, but not before she could see the expression of longing plain on his delicate features.

She swallowed. She was painfully reminded that Ash never had a shot at a happy family. Born of a political union, and dragged here and there, though interdimensional portals, by people more interested in his powers than anything else he had to offer as a person. And judging by how Dru talked about Ash, he had a lot to offer.

“I imagine it must have been awful living in Thule… But what you did for Emma and Julian back there... if it hadn’t been for you…”

“I don’t want to talk about Thule,” he interrupted her. “Can I borrow this?” He asked, his long fingers brushing the Mortal Instruments concert flyer.

“Sure.”

She watched as he started folding the paper, realizing with a jolt of surprise that he was making an origami and wondering what shape would come out of it. It was odd seeing him doing such an innocuous thing, as if he was not a faerie prince with a heavy heritage and a giant target on his back, but an ordinary boy. She remembered what Emma had told her of her encounter with Ash in a nightclub in Thule. The way he had shown no interest, playing a video game in a corner of the room, while Sebastian was committing atrocities. Had he really been as indifferent as he looked?

“Ash, we don’t need to talk about Thule if you don’t want to, but if I can help you… If there is anything I can do-”

“Why?” He looked up sharply. “Are you able to create a rune that could undo the things I saw?” His tone was even, but his delicate fingers had started slightly shaking and he suddenly dropped the paper - his work unfinished - to fold his hands under the table to hide it. From that moment, she knew.

“No…” Clary said, drawing the word out. “But trust me, coming from someone whose memory has been tampered with... it’s not a solution.”

“I said undo. Not forget.” He snapped. “I am not such a coward that I would choose blissful ignorance over knowledge.”

He caught himself, blinking, then clenched his jaw and looked away. As if he was ashamed he had allowed himself to show any emotion at all. But Clary had managed to catch a glimpse of what lay underneath the mask and wanted nothing more than to see the rest of it.

“I don’t think you are a coward,” she said.

He looked over at her, a silver eyebrow raised. “I let it all happen, didn’t I? I didn’t lift a finger.”

“Because you couldn’t. Sebastian would have killed you. And you, Ash, are just like me. A survivor.”

He snorted and crossed his arms in front of him, leaning back on his chair. He had stretched out his long legs and Clary realized that he was tapping a foot nervously next to hers.

“Wrong. I could have. I chose not to. Because I am selfish. I don’t care about other people’s fate.”

His face split into a lazy, wicked grin. Clary could see Sebastian’s influence in his leer, but she wouldn't let it deceive her. Just as she wasn't fooled by his laid-back demeanor.

“I think it’s the opposite, actually. I think it’s because you care too much. It’s not death you are afraid of. The thing is, you have such a tender heart, you need to protect it from an affliction far greater than any physical pain you could endure. So you’d rather lie to yourself and pretend you feel nothing.”

From the long conversations she had with Tessa about her ancestors, Clary knew of a Fairchild boy who had been too compassionate for his own good. And he had been surrounded by loyal friends and loving parents, even though he had shut himself, putting on a facade while burying his grief in alcohol. Ash never had that kind of support. Throughout his life, he was left to figure things out on his own. If he was as empathetic as Clary thought he was, Ash probably had no other choice but to deal with his sensitivity alone. It was a miracle he had turned out the way he did.

“You have a lot of imagination,” he said after a moment. The ghost of a smile was still playing on his lips but something had passed across his eyes. “Then again, you are an artist. You seek beauty in the ugly. You find colors on a blank page. I admire your faith, but in this case, there is nothing to see.”

Clary jutted her chin stubbornly and they held each other’s gaze - his green eyes glittering in amusement and hers dead serious - in a staring contest.

“Still,” he said when he finally broke, first. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. I am sorry.”

Clary softened. “Don’t be. I am glad you are finally showing your true self. You don’t need to wear your mask around me, Ash.”

He chuckled. “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”

“It’s funny that you would quote Oscar Wilde.”

“And why is that?”

She shrugged. “Just another thing you share in common with a Fairchild I heard stories about.”

“Clary,” he said in a gently reproving tone. Her name sounded like a caress in his melodious voice. “Are you being purposefully cryptic to arouse my curiosity?”

She moved closer, so she was sitting at the edge of her chair, and leaned forward, hands folded over the table.

“If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” she whispered. “Let me in. Shed all pretense.”

“I can’t promise you that,” he whispered back in confidence, leaning closer still so that their faces were inches from each other. “It’s like fabric that burns and melts into skin. If you peel it off, the skin goes with it.” He grimaced, reclining on his chair. “It won’t be a pretty sight. I don’t think even my level of hotness could sustain it.”

“Ash…” Clary said, sensing that she finally had an opening to say what she had been brooding over ever since she had learnt of Ash’s return from that forsaken land. “I wanted to tell you… I am sorry.”

Ash’s green eyes widened.

“Sorry for what?”

“I should have looked for you. I should not have given up on you.”

Ash’s jaw clenched and he looked away. “Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I do. Seb-...Ash, we...”

“What did you just call me?” He snarled. His eyes snapped back to her, suddenly cold as ice.

“Sorry, Ash. What I meant to say is… we are family."

“I already have a family.”

“I know that you care about Janus…”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” he cut her off.

“And we don’t need to. I just wanted you to know… I understand that he’s been like a father to you, and I don’t plan on moving against him, unless he strikes first or makes it impossible for me to overlook his actions.”

“Because of me?”

“Of course, because of you.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Ash… You are my nephew, my blood. You may not feel the same way about me, but that’s how I feel about you. I want you to know that, if things go wrong, for any reason, you can always turn to me. My home is your home.”

“What you are actually telling me is, Ash, if I kill the one person who has ever really cared about you - and it might definitely come to that - you can always grab my hand, still sticky and warm from his blood. Well, how nice of you. To quote Oscar Wilde again, true friends stab you in the front.”

“That’s not what I am-”

“Clary,” Ash interrupted as he stood. “Do not make me choose between you and him. Because…” Looking down at her, he swallowed hard, as if the words pained him. “Because you will lose.”

She knew exactly what he was telling her. Because they were the same in that way. Ruthless, even with their own blood, when it came to protecting their loved ones. If I had to choose between killing him and you, I would not hesitate. I would end you. Yet, despite his cold statement, despite his sharp and resolved tone, his eyes seemed to carry a deep regret.

“Ash, I understand what you're saying and I swear I am not trying to make you pick a side”, Clary said, suddenly desperate, as she mirrored him and stood. “Please don’t go. I am sorry I brought it up. We will stop talking about him. Starting now.”

“This was a bad idea. Never try to contact me again.” He drew his green beanie from the pocket of his coat and put it back on. He turned and strode toward the exit. She grabbed the family drawing that still lay on the table, stuffed it in her bag and followed him, half-running, as he was quickly losing here with his long legs.

“Ash! Please. Give me another chance. I am so sorry.”

He paused right outside the coffee shop, closed his eyes and sighed. “Don’t be. It didn’t change what I had planned to tell you anyway. I don’t want to know anything about you or your mother. I don’t want to have anything to do with either of you.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” she said, and he whipped his head around to look at her in surprise. “I know you were under house arrest. You probably had to break out of whichever place they were holding you in to come here. You wouldn’t have done that unless you wanted something. Something from me. Tell me, Ash. Tell me what it is.”

He turned his face away so she could not see his expression. A full minute passed and she had almost given up on receiving an answer, when he finally spoke.

“My fa… Sebastian. How different do you think he would have been if not for the demon blood?”

“Oh. Ash.” she whispered. She brought her knuckle against her sternum instinctively, as if to cover the gaping whole in her chest. “I saw him, you know. The brother I should have had. The father that should have raised you. If only for a few minutes.” She paused to bite back tears. “In those few minutes, he told us how to get rid of the Endarkened and said he was sorry. It’s not much to go for, but… that’s not all. I have recurring dreams of the green eyed boy that was robbed from us. And I know in my heart he would have been the best brother a sister could ever dream of.”

He was still looking away and she could see the sharp line, the stubborn set of his jaw. She wanted to hug him, to tell him she would not fail him again. That they could mourn her brother, his father, together. That he didn’t need to bear the anger at everything that was wasted alone.

He finally turned to look at her. A tear had escaped to run freely down his cheek. He had completely shed off his mask, and what Clary saw was like a stab in her gut. She shivered. Wordlessly, he reached for his deep green scarf and tied it gingerly around her neck. The way Sebastian had when they had walked down the streets of Paris. Ash looked nothing like her brother had then. His green eyes held an infinite sadness that spoke of a grief deeper, older than the short years of his life.

“It doesn’t change anything.” He said - she hadn’t imagined his beautiful voice could sound so hollow - and turned to leave.

“Ash, wait.” She grabbed him by the elbow and he froze. His eyes widened as his gaze zeroed on the fingers covering his coat, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. She realized she had never touched him before.

“Clary, what do you want from me?” He asked in a tired voice.

“I just want to get to know you.”

“Trust me, you don’t. I am not the brother who was stolen from you. I cannot replace him. If anything, I am just like Sebastian was before me... my father’s broken toy. There is no way to fix me.”

“I don’t believe it for a second,” she said, almost frantic. “And I don’t want to find my brother's replacement, I want to get to know you! Ash. The real Ash.”

“I already told you. That’s not happening. Don’t ever try to contact me again. I am serious.”

“So that’s it?” She tried not to sound too whiny but panic was eating away at her stomach and she thought she would throw up. “You went through all this trouble spying on me, learning how I take my coffee to simply disappear from my life from one moment to the next?”

He gazed at her for a moment, his expression unfathomable. It seemed like an eternity before he finally spoke.

“I was not spying on you, Clary. I was merely following your stalker.”

“What? You were… protecting me?”

“Take care of yourself, Clary.”

He said as he stepped away from her and vanished into the crowd.

****

Clary threw herself in Jace’s arms as soon as he opened the door to their bedroom at the New York Institute. He froze, then started stroking her hair in a soothing gesture.

“Clary, what happened? Is everything okay?”

“No,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

“Tell me, Clary. What is it?”

She pulled away and wiped tears with the back of her hand. Jace’s face was a mask of shock. Clary couldn’t blame him. She almost never cried.

“I messed up.”

“What did you mess up?”

She walked to the bed and sat on the mattress. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for his reaction. “Ash. I met up with him earlier today.”

Jace tensed and his hands clenched into fists. “WHAT- Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would have insisted on coming.”

“Damn right, I would have. And I would have been right, too. Look at you, you look miserable.”

“It’s my fault,” she said in a small voice. “I pushed him too far.”

Jace sighed and came to sit next to her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder. “I am sure you did nothing wrong, Clary.”

“I thought- When I showed him the drawing… the way he looked at it, Jace. He is not indifferent. He cares.”

“What drawing?”

“The one I made of the family,” she said absently, as she grabbed her bag and started fumbling inside.

She sucked in a sharp breath. The drawing wasn’t there. Peeking out in its stead, and folded out of the flyer of the Mortal Instruments concert, were origami faerie wings. The Fairchild family symbol.

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organabanana · 3 years

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What spring does to cherry trees || Supercorp

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Supergirl (TV 2015)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor

Characters: Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor

Additional Tags: mostly fluff, with some porn for flair, pre-canon, but also, post-canon, tooth-rotting fluff.

Summary: I want to do with you what spring does to cherry trees. What does that even mean? It's taking a simple I love you and putting lead-lined glasses on it to keep its power contained. No offense, Mr. Neruda, but that's just weak. Kara doesn't like poetry. Until she does.

Notes: Written for a very patient anon who prompted me with “Seeing the cherry blossoms in Washington DC” but I got sidetracked by Neruda and my favorite of his poems and it turned into This. It's poem number fourteen, found in "Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada" (Twenty love poems and a song of despair) by Pablo Neruda, which you can read here (Spanish) or here (English). I mostly translated the lines I needed myself, so I can't guarantee they'll match the official translation (I'm also not sure there is such a thing as an official translation, so there's that). With special thanks to the most patient anon in history for the prompt, to @lavenderrry for praising my vibes, and to @emiltons for the gorgeous graphic.

[ao3 link]

The first time Kara encounters Neruda's poetry she's nineteen and bored. In her defense, she thought taking a poetry class would make her feel sophisticated and cultured, but all she feels is annoyed at the insistence of using language to obscure your message rather than share it.

And yes, yes, she gets it. It all sounds very pretty and evocative. It's just Kara has been hiding her true self in plain sight for the last six years, and she can't understand why anyone would willingly and needlessly do that to themselves. To their feelings. She may never have been in love, but Kara is pretty sure if she ever is -- if her heart ever feels full to the brim with the kind of big feelings her professor keeps making them read in metaphors and symbolism -- she'll want to make them clear as day.

I want to do with you what spring does to cherry trees.

What does that even mean?

It's taking a simple I love you and putting lead-lined glasses on it to keep its power contained.

No offense, Mr. Neruda, but that's just weak.

***

Kara doesn't take any more poetry classes, and she doesn't think of Neruda (or any other poet, for that matter) for years. She has so many other things to think about. She moves to National City and starts working for Ms. Grant. She grows into herself, she thinks. She becomes Supergirl and feels more like herself than she has since her pod left Krypton. She dates, a little bit. Dips her toe in the dating pool, if you will. She meets Lena Luthor.

And that's the second time she runs into Neruda. Right there on a shelf in Lena's living room, on a book that looks well loved and well read, spine full of small cracks and lines from being opened over and over again. Kara has always thought you can tell a lot about a person by looking at their shelves.

"Pablo Neruda," Kara says, one finger tracing a line down the spine of the book like she's trying to read something in the pattern of the cracks, "I didn't know you liked poetry."

"I don't dislike it." Lena's heels click-clack on the hardwood floor before she sets the bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table and sits on the couch. "Have you made up your mind on what we're going to watch?"

Kara can hear the faint electrical hum of the TV being turned on, but she's a bit too distracted by the book to focus on deciding whether tonight is a night for a romantic comedy or an epic drama. She couldn't say exactly why this book feels important. It just does. Maybe it's because Lena keeps so much of herself hidden somewhere not even Kara's X-Ray vision can reach, and finding little clues about her thoughts and feelings feels a lot like she's struck gold.

Yeah. Maybe that's why.

Her fascination with the book only grows when she pulls it out of the shelf only to find the title written in Spanish. "Veinte poemas de amor--"

"And a song of despair," Lena finishes in English. "Atonement? I've heard good things about it."

"No way. I said I could be persuaded to watch a tear jerker, but I did not sign up for actual depression." Kara brings the book along when she walks over to sit down next to Lena. She's so focused on the book, still, that she miscalculates her landing just by an inch or so and her thigh bumps against Lena's as she settles on the couch. But Lena doesn't move away, and Kara figures there's no reason why she should. They're friends, after all. Close friends. Figuratively and now very, very literally close.

"I didn't know you spoke Spanish." Kara speaks again, breaking the silence before it solidifies into something potentially awkward.

"I don't. It's a bilingual edition. Can we please pick a movie?"

Kara would love to do exactly what Lena wants. In fact, giving Lena everything she wants has become sort of a constant in this fledgling friendship between them. It just feels nice, you know? Giving her what she wants and making her smile. But this book. It's all so very distracting.

"So. Do you prefer the twenty love poems, or the song of despair?"

Lena rolls her eyes, but she can't quite hide the amused smirk behind the glass when she sips her wine, so Kara knows she's not nearly as annoyed as she's trying to appear.

"What is it with you and Neruda? I didn't know you were a poetry fan."

Kara scoffs. "I'm not." She still remembers the feeling of relief washing over her when she saw her passing grade on that stupid course and realized she'd never have to read another line of poetry in her life. "I don't even like poetry. I'm just curious, that's all."

Lena cocks one eyebrow at her. Studies her, in a way that makes color rise to Kara's cheeks and has her wondering if Lena can see through people, too.

"Anyway!" Kara shakes her head like she's hoping that'll make the blush fade. "The love poems, or the song of despair?"

"The poems," Lena finally concedes, "and I'm very surprised you don't like poetry. You seem the type."

"What?" Kara is already thumbing through the edge of the book, trying to find the place where it'll open naturally and hopefully show her which of the twenty love poems Lena happens to like the most. "What does that even mean?"

"Well, you have a big heart. Big feelings." Lena looks into Kara's eyes like she's trying to read all those feelings right there in shades of blue, and Kara finds herself looking down at the book just in case. Just in case all those big feelings she can't even name herself are there for Lena to read. "Seems like a recipe for liking poetry."

Kara shakes her head and pushes her glasses up, just in case. Just in case the lead in them can shield more than just her powers. And just as she's about to argue -- just as she's about to tell Lena precisely why she doesn't like poetry -- she opens her book and her gaze lands on a familiar phrase.

"Quiero hacer contigo," she reads out loud from the page on the left, and her fingertip is already finding the next verse on the right when Lena finishes for her.

"What spring does to cherry trees."

If Kara was just Kara Danvers, she'd have missed it all. She'd have just heard her best friend speak a line from a poem that -- much like most poems -- means very little to her. But she's not just Kara Danvers. So Kara hears the way Lena's heart beats just a little bit faster. The way her breath catches just so. The exact fraction of a tone her voice drops when she speaks. The faintest hint of a sigh.

"See? This is why I don't like poetry." Kara chances a look into green eyes, and she's so very grateful Lena has no superhearing to tip her off to the way Kara's heart seems to trip all over itself. "'I want to do with you what spring does to cherry trees'. What does that mean?"

Kara swears -- she swears -- she catches Lena's pupils dilating just enough to make her think she knows exactly what the poem means.

"It's not about what it means, Kara. It's about what it makes you feel." Lena lets out a soft chuckle, something light and airy like this is just a silly little conversation with no weight to it at all. Like she can't feel the way the air itself seems to have changed into something new.

"Is it your favorite line?" Kara pretends she can't hear the way her own voice has changed, too.

Lena shakes her head. "No. My favorite is actually--"

Kara hears the DEO alarm before Lena's fingertip can make contact with the paper, and she almost considers ignoring it. She almost considers letting whatever danger is looming over this whole city have at it because finding out what's Lena's favorite line in her favorite poem seems far more important right now.

But of course, that would be crazy. Crazy! Kara would never.

"I'm so sorry, Lena, I--" Kara stands up, already hearing Alex's voice telling her where she's needed as she pulls her phone out of her pocket and pretends to read a text, "I have to go. I forgot I had this thing with--"

"Go." Lena's smile is just small enough to make Kara's heart twist in an uncomfortable way that's become familiar since she started lying to her friend. "Sounds important. I understand."

Kara nods, just once. "Tomorrow?"

Lena's smile doesn't grow, but it suddenly reaches her eyes, and something settles in Kara's chest. "Of course. Tomorrow."

Five hours later, foe defeated and safely locked away at the DEO, Supergirl touches down on Lena's balcony. There isn't a single light on inside the apartment, and Kara hesitates for a second by the sliding glass door. She shouldn't sneak into Lena's apartment in the middle of the night. That's a little creepy, right? Even if she knows Lena's said over and over again Kara's welcome any time.

It's just.

That book.

Lena's favorite line.

Kara may never be able to sleep again if she doesn't find out what it is.

So with a non-zero amount of shame at her own choice, Kara ends up sliding the door open and slipping into Lena's living space. She listens for Lena's breathing to make sure she's asleep, and once she's satisfied that's the case she makes a beeline for the shelf and the now-familiar book. It doesn't take her long to find the page she'd been reading before, and soon enough she's reading the lines Lena had been pointing to.

How you must have hurt getting used to me, to my savage, solitary soul, to my name that sends everyone running.

The words wrap around Kara's heart like a vice. If she could do it without blowing her cover and putting Lena in danger, she'd go in her room right now just to wake her up and tell her what Kara thinks about her soul. About her name, too, while she's at it. She'd tell her everyone else is free to run if they want, but Kara isn't going anywhere.

But she can't do any of those things.

***

The two lines stay with Kara, sort of swirling under the surface of her thoughts. She never actively thinks about them -- about poetry in general, for that matter -- but they're there.

She remembers them sometimes. When their friendship grows and strengthens and one day Kara realizes Lena may be the person she loves the most in the world (tied with Alex). When the secrets and lies catch up with her and she thinks she may have lost Lena for good. When she finally gets Lena back.

It's been five years since she snuck into Lena's apartment that one night to find out about her favorite line in her favorite poem. Five years since she's actively thought about Neruda and the book and the words inside it. But for some reason, when Kara wakes up a couple hours earlier than she needs to and finds herself unable to sleep, she feels like that's precisely what she needs to read to soothe her brain. Maybe poetry will have the same sedative effect it used to have in college.

Wearing only an old t-shirt, Kara walks out of the bedroom and into the living area, scanning the shelves where she thinks she last saw that book. It's hard to keep track when your book collection has multiplied and turned into more of a home library situation than anything else, but she eventually finds it -- spine still cracked and pages still well-loved and well-read -- and settles down on the couch.

Kara flips from poem to poem, not really paying attention to any of them. A line from the third and then two from the eighteenth and a word or two from the seventh, eyes flicking between the Spanish lines and their English counterparts on the other side of the page. It's soothing, in a strange way. Like white noise, she figures. Nonsensical but calming. Until she lands on the fourteenth.

"Oh, those cherry trees," Kara half-groans in a whisper. The cherry trees and the spring and the convoluted way to say I love you. And Lena's favorite lines.

Kara feels it all over again. The pang of pain at the sight of that line.

My name that sends everyone running.

It lands different this time, five years into a friendship that turned out to be so much more and nearly went up in flames at one point. Because of names and lies and... well. Everything else. Lena was right after all, wasn't she? It's not about what the poem means. It's about what it makes you feel. And right now Kara feels a lot more than she'd be able to put in words if she had to.

Maybe Mr. Neruda was on to something after all.

"Hey," Lena's voice is laced with sleep, and Kara smiles as she listens to her footsteps bringing her closer, "what are you doing? It's the middle of the night."

Kara wouldn't call it the middle of the night -- more like a very early morning, really -- but she's not about to argue. "Reading. I couldn't sleep."

"Everything all right?" Lena reaches the back of the couch and makes the most of the rare height advantage over her girlfriend to press a kiss to the top of blond hair. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

Kara opens her arms before Lena can even think about sitting next to her instead, and smiles at the familiar weight of Lena sliding onto her lap. Even as she shrugs off Lena's question, Kara is already burying her face against the soft skin of her girlfriend's neck, breathing her in and letting the familiar scent filling her lungs soothe her like no amount of poetry ever could.

"Kara," Lena's fingers slide into blond hair, blunt fingernails scratching at Kara's scalp and making her hum in delight, "that's not an answer."

"No reason. I'm just not tired anymore I guess." A deep, content sigh. "Baby, you're so good at that."

There's still a slight crease between Lena's eyebrows, but that doesn't stop the smile Kara's praise brings to her face. "You'd tell me if I had to worry?"

Reluctantly, Kara pulls away from the warmth of Lena's neck. Her arms wrap around Lena's waist as she looks into green eyes. "You know I would."

And Kara watches Lena let the words sink in. They've had this conversation before, and Kara knows they'll have it again. They both have sore spots that need special care from time to time. And just to keep Lena's mind from going down any sort of rabbit hole, Kara decides it's time to continue a conversation they left unfinished five years ago.

"It didn't hurt at all, you know. Getting used to you." Kara shows Lena the book she's been holding, and grins when Lena smirks as the reference clicks.

"I thought you didn't like poetry," Lena chides, taking the book and flipping through the pages until she lands -- unsurprisingly, if you ask Kara -- back on poem fourteen.

"I don't. It's like... giving feelings a secret identity."

Lena arches one eyebrow, looking somewhere between amused and curious. "Care to explain?"

"Well, you know," Kara leans in to steal a quick, soft kiss, "say I want to kiss you. I can just say it. That's better than hiding it behind some kind of... flowery metaphor that'll make you wonder if I'm even saying that in the first place. Right?"

There's this look on Lena's face. Kara knows it well. It's like a challenge. Like she's playing chess and she's already thinking six moves ahead and knows you're toast whatever you do from that point on. Kara finds it nothing short of delicious.

"So you're saying," Lena says, and there's victory right there simmering under the surface of her words because she knows -- she knows -- she's won, "you'd rather I say 'this is a lovely sunrise we get to see together'," Lena's gaze drops to the open book in her hand to refresh her memory on the line she's about to quote, but she makes sure she's looking into blue eyes once again when she speaks, "than 'so many times we've watched the morning star burn, kissing our eyes, and over our heads the grey light unwind in turning fans', right?"

Kara swallows, hard. Her cheeks burn with a blush that will simply not be contained, no matter how hard she tries to keep some semblance of dignity. Her mouth feels dry all of a sudden, heart beating just fast enough -- hard enough -- that she's sure even Lena's plain human hearing can pick it up. And the look on her girlfriend's face lets Kara know she knows exactly what's currently happening to her.

"W-- well." Kara blinks, shaking her head like she's trying to physically clear the fog inside. To her credit, she thinks she manages to sound more indignant than turned on. "I mean that's unfair. You made it hot."

Lena lets out a delighted chuckle that hits Kara right in her heart, like a little pinball ball making it ding with the knowledge that Lena Luthor is happy enough to laugh. Really, truly laugh.

"What?" Lena asks, still grinning, fingertips teasing the soft hairs at the back of Kara's neck like it's nothing -- like she doesn't know what she's doing to her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Ohh no, ma'am," Kara grins, cheeks still burning with the feeling simmering down low in her belly but too charmed by her girlfriend's teasing smile to stop, "you don't get to pretend you didn't do that on purpose."

"Kara," Lena says, in that way, because she knows, she knows, she knows Kara's weaknesses so perfectly well, and Kara wouldn't have it any other way, "I was just quoting Neruda, I didn't do anything."

"You did the voice thing!"

"What voice th-- Kara, if you can't just admit plain language and poetic language are simply not on the same level I--"

"You purred the words! How is that fair!?"

Kara presses her lips together like she can retroactively keep the words from exiting her mouth. Too late, though. Lena looks positively delighted.

"I purred the words?" Lena echoes, barely able to keep a straight face. Actually, you know what? Scratch that. She's openly pleased with herself. Smug, even.

"I mean. I mean," Kara says, and she touches the bridge of her nose with one fingertip because for a moment she's forgotten there are no glasses to push up at all, "obviously it's not the same. Poetry and prose, they're inherently--"

"Different, right," Lena finishes Kara's thought, "so you see how you'd use one or the other depending on how emotionally charged--"

Kara shakes her head. "But you don't need flowery metaphors to convey emotion! You can just say what you mean and mean what you say."

"But you just said it yourself. It felt different when I just said it's a sunset, and when I quoted--"

"You purred poetry at me, Lena, of course I'm going to feel a certain kind of way!"

And there it is. Kara feels it in her bones. The checkmate Lena had seen coming a mile away. She sees it right there in the smirk on her girlfriend's face. In the way Lena's pupils dilate just so. The way her tongue peeks out to lick her lips as she looks at Kara like she's lunch.

Or, you know. Breakfast, as the case may be.

"You feel a certain kind of way?" Lena shifts on Kara's lap and they've been together for long enough that Kara absolutely knows there's nothing innocent or coincidental in the way Lena's night shirt (Kara's high school gym t-shirt, mind you) rides up to expose Lena's lace-covered ass. "What kind of way is that, Supergirl?"

Kara perks up at the sound of her name. Her other name. Because maybe it wasn't checkmate after all. Maybe it was just check. Because the thing is, it's not just Lena knowing all of Kara's weaknesses. That knowledge very much goes both ways. And Lena calling her Supergirl?

Oh, Kara is absolutely not the only one who's feeling a certain way.

"You know." Kara shrugs slightly, pretending to still be the mouse in this little game. She rests one hand on Lena's knee and lets her palm slide up her thigh, slowly, listening to Lena's heartbeat speeding up with each inch of skin Kara explores. "You know the way I mean."

Lena's breath hitches just so when Kara's hand slides further up, and Kara savors the sound of Lena's heart tripping over itself when her fingertips drag along damp lace.

"You're listening, aren't you?" Lena cocks her eyebrow, but her lips stay parted and her breathing comes in short, warm puffs so the whole thing really doesn't come off as stern as Kara is sure Lena would like.

"Hmm?" Kara knows she's probably pushing her luck, but she bats her eyelashes anyway, her face the very picture of innocence as if her fingertips weren't tracing the very edge of Lena's panties, hinting at what they could (will) do if she just happened to push that fabric aside. "Listening to what, baby?"

Lena tries not to -- Kara can see the struggle right there in her eyes -- but she whimpers anyway, quiet and just barely audible to the human ear.

"Kara." It tries to sound like a warning, but it falls just this side of pleading instead. Lena blushes so very pretty when she's feeling a certain kind of way.

"Yes, Lena?"

"You're listening," a breath, slow and measured like she wishes she could take in a deep one but her lungs can't quite cope with that right now, "to me."

"Well, I mean," Kara shrugs slightly, like she can't feel the warmth of Lena's pussy against her fingertips, "I try to. I feel like it's good girlfriend etiquette."

Lena is trying so hard to look at least moderately annoyed. It's not working at all, but Kara can see that's her intent. She also knows exactly what Lena means, too. She means Kara is listening to her. To the beat of her heart and the air in her lungs and all the tiny, inaudible (for everyone else) sounds that tell her exactly how much Lena wants her.

"You're listening to what you're doing to me." Lena drops the book on the floor to wrap both hands around Kara's neck, hips shifting forward just enough to get more contact with Kara's hand between her legs. Kara knows Lena doesn't need superhearing to notice the way Kara's breath catches in her throat.

"And what am I doing to you, baby?" Kara won't cross the barrier of Lena's panties just yet, but her fingers becomes more purposeful, less teasing as two fingertips press against Lena's clit through damp lace. Lena's eyes flutter closed and she takes in a sharp breath that sounds almost like a gasp, and Kara rewards such a gorgeous sound with a kiss to Lena's jaw. "What Spring does to cherry trees?"

Lena must feel Kara's teasing grin even if she can't see it, because she lets out a breathless chuckle even as her hips start rocking to meet the movements of Kara's fingers. "Just admit poetry can express richer emotions than prose ever cou--"

Kara's mouth is on Lena's before she can finish her thought, and Kara would maybe feel a bit guilty for interrupting, but Lena's fingers fist in blond hair and pull her close and there's no way someone who's offended would kiss her like that. And Kara isn't even listening anymore, because Lena's tongue is in her mouth and all she can hear is her own heart thumping along anyway.

When she breaks the kiss, Lena keeps Kara close. She's panting slightly, breath hot and wet against Kara's lips and pupils so dilated Kara wonders if she can see her at all. A quiet, hitched moan escapes parted lips, and Kara swears there's nothing in the world -- in the universe, really -- more beautiful than Lena when she's like this. Like putty in her hands. And Kara just can't resist.

"Admit you purred," she whispers against kiss-swollen lips, knowing if there's one chance for her to win an argument with her girlfriend this must be it. When she has Lena rocking against her fingers, wet and wanting and just the right amount of needy to get her to give in, for once.

"Kara." It's practically a whine, and Kara swears it sounds like victory. Until she sees the glint in her girlfriend's eyes, and Lena gets her checkmate move after all. "Shut up and fuck me."

Kara feels the words rather than hears them. They hit right between her legs and spread all over her body, and you know what? Kara really is okay with losing under these particular circumstances.

Two fingers hook under the crotch of Lena's panties and Kara tugs lightly, almost like she's testing the strength of the lacy fabric. "Do you really like the..." Kara's voice trails off as Lena pulls the t-shirt up and over her head, blue eyes staring unabashedly at her girlfriends breasts as she struggles to finish her thought, "...these?"

It's just polite to ask before tearing someone's panties to shreds, if you ask her, even if you're currently transfixed at the sight of her breasts.

"I don't care." Lena's voice is doing that thing again, except this time Kara is pretty sure she's not doing it on purpose at all, it's just that's what Lena sounds like when she needs Kara now and isn't that just the best thing ever? "Baby, please, I don't care."

Kara doesn't know if she rips the panties off first and then leans in to catch Lena's left nipple with her mouth or if it happens the other way around, but she honestly doesn't care either, as it turns out. All she knows is two fingers slip inside Lena in one smooth, firm thrust, and her free hand grabs Lena's right breast, and then--

"More," Lena moans, breathy and greedy, but when Kara starts thrusting harder into her Lena shakes her head, "no, no-- more fingers," and Kara lets out a quiet whimper around the stiff nipple between her teeth.

Kara pulls her fingers out of Lena and stretches her ring finger to join the first two before sliding them back inside. Her movements are slow and careful, all of her senses focused on detecting even the slightest hint of discomfort in her girlfriend until her three fingers are fully inside Lena.

"Go on, Supergirl."

Lena's tone is just the right amount of teasing to make Kara chuckle lightly, mouth leaving Lena's breast to trail kisses up her sternum and to the freckles on her neck as her arm starts pumping once again. She's so very close, Kara can tell, and even more so when she turns her wrist just so to press the pad of her thumb against Lena's clit.

Lena's fingers dig into Kara's scalp, into the strong muscle at her shoulder as Lena holds on and rides Kara's hand, hips rocking hard and fast in time with Kara's thrusts. Kara couldn't listen to any one thing if she tried. It's a symphony of sighs and moans, whimpers and ragged breaths and stuttering heartbeats that nearly overwhelms her senses until she feels Lena clench around her fingers, hips losing their rhythm as Lena comes with Kara's name on her lips.

Kara pulls her face away from Lena's neck just so she can look at her. Watch her come around her fingers and then relax, chest heaving with the effort of trying to catch her breath. Kara swears there can't be a more beautiful sight in the universe, especially not now, with the sun rising and bathing Lena's damp skin in early morning light. And as much as Kara tries to suppress it, there's a thought running through her head. A line from that stupid poem with its stupid cherry trees.

A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body...

"You're thinking very loudly," Lena whispers, already resting her head on Kara's shoulder as her fingertips play with the hem of Kara's shirt, "what are you thinking?"

For a second, Kara considers telling her, but Neruda's words aren't what comes out when she opens her mouth. "Just how beautiful you look," she says, which is in fact the truth. Kind of. She can't let Lena win every single time, right?

***

"Apparently the first cherry trees got here in 1910, but they had to burn them all because of a bunch of insects." Kara holds the little guide book in her hand as she reads, her other hand safely in Lena's as they walk along the Tidal Basin. "These ones are newer, from 1912."

"Oh, like the Titanic!" Lena looks delighted with the coincidence, and the bright smile on her face makes Kara lean in to steal a kiss from her lips. Her fiancée is super cute when she lets her inner dork show, if you ask Kara.

"See? I told you buying an actual guide book would be worth it!" Kara holds the small book in her hand with the pride of someone who's just won an argument (for once). "Where else are you going to get that kind of high quality trivia?"

"You do know the prototype L-Corp keychain I gave you last week can access Google, yes?"

"Not the same."

"Not to mention the actual supercomputers we all carry around in our pockets. Or the high-tech communicator in your wat--"

"Lena!" Kara groans. "Look around! The cherry blossoms! The quaintness of springtime! A romantic stroll along the river! Where's your sense of romance?"

Lena chuckles lightly, her free hand sliding up Kara's arm to wrap around her bicep. And Kara would complain about the obvious use of one of her many Lena-related weaknesses, but you know what? It works.

"Kara Danvers," Lena says, voice low and teasing, "that's all very poetic."

Kara rolls her eyes, but she can't quite stop the bright smile that's already appearing on her face. "Don't you start with me," she warns, not very convincingly.

Lena presses a kiss to Kara's shoulder, and it makes color rise to Kara's cheeks even through the soft fabric of her cardigan. Even after all these years. But she figures if there's one day to be particularly enamored with one's fiancée, that's the day she's scheduled to receive a Presidential Award for her contributions to science and the betterment of humanity.

Not to brag. But Kara is proud.

"I love you," Kara says, because she can't not, "and I'm just so proud, I--"

Lena presses a finger to Kara's lips, stopping what was potentially about to turn into a whole speech about the many ways in which Lena Luthor could not possibly be any more perfect if she tried.

"Kara," Lena warns, all cocked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips, "you promised. You promised you wouldn't cry before the actual ceremony."

And Kara would argue. She'd argue that she's perfectly capable of going on about Lena's many virtues without actually crying, but you know what? Her eyes are feeling just a tiny bit misty already so she's just gonna go ahead and trust Lena on this one.

"You know what I also love?" Kara presses a kiss to the pad of Lena's finger and obediently changes subjects. "Sushi. Let's go get some." Kara starts walking away from the beautiful soft pink trees and in the general direction of the street festival, tugging Lena along. She's all for the romance of blossom-watching, but she'd be lying if she said hearing about the culinary side of this whole festival hadn't excited her a bit more than that.

It's only when she hears a sigh coming from Lena that Kara's focus shifts from food to the woman next to her. That wasn't a happy sigh.

"Are you okay, baby?"

Lena smiles. It's not a fake smile, but there's a hint of something in it that isn't fully happy, either. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine. It's just... between the cherry blossoms and all this talk of sushi, I guess it made me a bit nostalgic for Sendai."

"Sendai?" Kara looks at Lena with curiosity written all over her face. "What's Sendai?"

"Oh, it's a city in Japan. I lived there for a few months for an exchange when I was in college. Did I never tell you?" Kara shakes her head, her face the picture of delight at getting to learn something new about Lena. "There was this little restaurant near Tohokudai, I swear they had the best sushi in the world." Lena hums, letting her eyes flutter closed for a second like she's trying to imagine the taste. "I'd do anything for some negitoro maki from that place right about now."

Kara listens intently to her fiancée's words. She knows it's just a silly little comment. She knows Lena will be perfectly happy eating the undoubtedly delicious sushi currently being sold at the street festival. And yet.

She can't resist a chance to make Lena just that little bit happier, can she?

So Kara looks around to make sure they're not being watched, and lets go of Lena's hand. "Be right back."

"Where are you--?"

But all Lena gets is a quick kiss and a gust of wind on her face before Kara disappears.

She's only gone for a couple of minutes -- just enough for Lena to wander back towards the cherry trees -- and when she comes back she's holding a small box which she immediately presents to Lena.

"Sushi for my... sushi," Kara lets out a chuckle, her now-free hand coming up to scratch at the back of her head like she's aware she may have gone just a little bit overboard but she's hoping it won't be too much, "Sendai's beautiful, by the way."

Lena's smile is soft, and Kara has a feeling -- not to toot her own horn -- if she'd been listening she would've heard Lena's heart skip a beat.

"Kara Danvers," Lena sighs, shaking her head like that'll do anything to hide just how charmed she is right now, "you're something el-- what's that?"

"Nothing," Kara shifts slightly and puts her hand -- and the little carton box it's holding -- behind her back, fully intending on letting the focus of this moment be on her romantic gesture, but Lena raises one eyebrow and Kara loses her resolve. "Potstickers." Kara's voice is quiet as she shows Lena the box. "What? I was in the neighborhood!"

"In the neighborhood of," Lena squints slightly as she reads the words on the box, "Shanghai?"

"Well, China is next door to Japan, if you think about it."

Lena chuckles, clearly too charmed by this whole thing to even continue teasing Kara about it. "Thank you. For this. You didn't actually have to fly all the way to Japan to get my favorite sushi, but I appreciate it."

Kara shrugs, chopsticks already grabbing the first potsticker in the box. "I'd go way farther than Japan to make you happy. You know that."

"I do know," Lena nods, looking just a little thoughtful, like she's just now realizing she fully believes Kara would stop at nothing to make her happy, "you even promised when you proposed."

Lena wiggles her finger, flashing the kryptium ring that's been there for a few weeks now along with a teasing smile, and Kara can only shrug. "Well, I meant it," she says, popping the potsticker in her mouth and leaning against the trunk of a nearby cherry tree.

"I know," Lena says again, but this time she's smiling, amusement shining in her eyes, "if only Lex had figured out the one true way to have the world in the palm of your hand is to make a Kryptonian fall in love with you."

"To be fair, I really don't think your brother is Kal's type."

***

Eight hours later, they're seeing the Tidal Basin from above, the cherry blossoms looking nearly white in the moonlight. They could be in National City already, but Kara figures there's no reason why she can't take the scenic route with Lena in her arms and enjoy the view without the crowds and the bustle they experienced earlier today. Perks of being your own private jet.

"Go a bit lower, baby," Lena's voice is soft against Kara's ear, like she's afraid if she speaks too loud she'll break the spell and they won't feel like the only two people in the world anymore, "I want to see the flowers."

Kara doesn't make her wait. Lena's just been awarded an actual medal by the President, and spoiling her a little is the least Kara can do. So she dips until they're hovering just above the soft pink blossoms and then a little lower still, close enough that Lena can smell the sweet, fresh scent of Spring.

The night is clear and quiet, just cool enough for Lena to reach for Kara's cape and pull it forward to wrap it around herself. Kara holds her a little closer, just enough to hopefully provide a bit of extra warmth, and she figures it was the right move when Lena slips one arm from under Kara's cape to reach for the tree and pick a particularly pretty blossom from one of the branches that's closer to them.

Lena looks at it for a moment, twirling the little stem between her fingers like she's pondering what to do with it. And then she turns and tucks Kara's hair behind her ear, sliding the small flower between soft blond strands and smiling when she's satisfied it'll stay exactly where she wants it.

"Happy?" Kara chuckles, something soft and quiet and a little teasing because there's something equal parts amusing and endearing about Lena's perfectionism when it comes to silly little things like putting a flower in Kara's hair.

"Very."

And there's something about the way Lena smiles, more with her eyes than with her mouth, that makes Kara see, clear as day, just how serious Lena is. How sincere, when she says she's very happy.

Maybe that's why Kara gets a little transfixed just looking at her, suddenly aware of just how different this Lena -- the Lena wrapped in her arms and her cape, wearing her ring and smiling with a smile that's just Kara's -- is from the Lena she first met all those years ago.

"Kara Zor-El," Lena's voice is soft just like the sound of Kara's true name on her lips, "what are you thinking about?"

And Kara wishes she had the words to tell her. But how does she even begin to explain what she's feeling right now? How she's still the same Lena that made Kara's heart trip all over itself the first time she saw her, but she's so very different all the same time. Brighter. Lighter. Loved. God, she's so loved, and Lena knows it, finally, and that's what's different, maybe. Not just Kara's love, because Lena's had that from the very first day, probably, but the fact that Lena can feel it now.

How do you put that in words? I love you just doesn't feel like enough.

And then it hits her.

"I'm thinking," Kara smiles, cheeks pink with the knowledge that she's just been proven wrong, "about what Spring does to cherry trees."

#fic #fanfiction #supercorp fanfic #supercorp fanfiction #supercorp

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elonaackerman · 3 years

Note

In a few hour's the spoiler leaks are going to be released for the final chapter of Attack on titan manga and the official translation on April 9th so before all that happens what are you're thoughts and predictions between the character's and the end of the storyline?

https://ww7.readsnk.com/chapter/shingeki-no-kyojin-spoilers-raw-chapter-139/.

Hello Kian ! I see several of your questions about the ending and I must say I was lost myself with everything happening. However, I think I elaborated a good theory now !

Theory number 1: Eren is alive

This is the theory I acknowledge the most. Many people say that Eren not dying would be too strange after he already survived so much times to his expected deaths, but I don’t think so. Isayama loves to take some clichés and to twist them:

Here is a brief list:

- The MC not dying in the first episodes

- The power of will and friendship (which is shown to be useless in the Trost arc)

- The guy protecting the girl (Mikasa is Eren’s bodyguard, not the contrary)

- The main trio sticking together until the end

- The MC being « special »/being the « chosen one » (Eren is an usurpator)

Something very used in films/books is to use the absence of body as a way to cancel the absolute truth of a death. By showing us a body, Isayama can fool us by transgressing this common rule of « body=dead ».

Also Eren’s death in chapter 138 was just serving Mikasa’s development arc climax. It didn’t solve any matter of their world.

You know I feel like Eren was very relaxed when he saw Mikasa approaching to kill him. He probably already knew what she was going to do and even closed his eyes when she did it (you can see it since on the last panel, Eren has his eyes closed). I feel like if Eren acted this way, it’s because he transferred his consciousness to his body (all this time his head was controlling the titan so he may have regenerated a head on his body). It would explain why this concept was introduced to us with Reiner in season 3 and then never used again.

Plus, Grisha said everything would go along to Eren’s plan, but if Eren didn’t succeed, the Rumbling is stopped and hell awaits eldians: they will be killed after what happened, considered too dangerous, more than they already were. And even if the titan power is removed, there will still be a large part of hate and of revenge in the Rumbling survivors’ hearts. I don’t believe the « Code Geass theory » which says that Eren did the rumbling so the world could see Eldians defending it, and stand united with Mahrs against him (in the role of the bad guy), especially since some Eldians sided with Eren and that he exposed them in Revelio or even in Paradise with his devoted Yeagerists. It’s not realistic at all and it doesn’t fit nor Eren’s character, nor SNK spirit.

Eren had defined goals: « exterminate them all », and that’s what he did, he doesn’t seem to want to stop the rumbling on this panel:

Isayama said he didn’t like characters who weren’t true to their goals, that let the story change their plans and motivations too easily. He wouldn’t give to his MC the traits of a writing he despise.

Another reason why I believe the guy is alive is because his POV was hidden all this time. What’s the point of not giving to us Eren’s perspective while his final battle, when it would have been more powerful, if you did not have a big secret/plot twist generator to hide ? I think Eren and Ymir, who smiles like a creep in 138, manipulated everyone: the way Armin came with all the titan shifters in 137 with the help of Ymir was already really suspicious. Kruger, for example, had no reason to stand against Eren.

Chapter 137 was Armin, 138 was Mikasa so we will surely get Eren perspective for 139. And it will be weird if we have it while the guy is dead. Of course we’ll see what happened in chapter 130 between Eren and Historia (I can’t wait for their POVs) and Historia’s baby. The final panel makes me even more sure that Eren is still alive otherwise who on earth would say « You are free » to a new born child ? Eren x Freedom is canon.

• The Attack Titan

We know the path is a place out of time. It’s in this place that titans are sculpted by Ymir, and that’s why I think it makes sense for Eren to be the first owner of that titan: the attack titan is the only one who ascends in the past instead of descending in the future. If physically it seems to be passed down following the classical timeline, all of it is actually playing in the paths. The Attack Titan was only possessed by rebels, directly influenced by Eren’s mindset. It disappeared at a time, and it was also a part of Ymir’s titan: it’s her rebellious part designed to « attack » the world 2000 years later. I think Isayama might add depth again to the title of the story in 139.

• Major deaths

I can’t help but think: why did Eren let Mikasa cut his head and even indicated his location with titan marks ? I think that it’s possible he wants his last friends to fly away from the battle, thinking they have won when they didn’t, so that he can restart the Rumbling without killing them. The survivors would be Levi, Mikasa, Armin and probably Annie. I think Reiner will die to let Gaby eat him, so that Falco and Gaby, representing the future, can be saved.

It makes sense for Reiner to sacrifice himself for his little cousin: he lived for the ones he loved even if he didn’t wish to live himself, and since Gaby represents the new generation, hope, and that she was the potential inheritor of the Armored Titan, I am convinced she is the one who will eat him.

After that the most probable thing is that Levi and Mikasa, who grew incredibly closer, will live together, same for Annie and Armin. Eren will achieve the Rumbling then go back to Historia and we will have that Akatsuki no Requiem ending.

However, a darker possibility is that everyone except Falco and Gaby might die. I am in denial 😄✌🏻

But, I ask myself how Eren will make titans disappear. I think he might have plotted something with Ymir, after all isn’t she free from King Fritz now ? Or maybe Falco will eradicate the worm (bird vs worm is kinda obvious). However I do not think the people transformed into titans will turn back to normal, it’s not Isayama’s style to « bring back » dead characters, it would make Jean’s and Connie’s deaths less tragic. I think that only shifters will loose their ability and the 13 years thing.

Theory 2: if Eren is dead

• Ymir’s manipulation

I don’t wanna believe it but what if all of this was Ymir’s plan ? If he IS dead, it’s Ymir who is the mastermind and manipulated him so that the parasite would die and that she could get out off the paths. « I took the world’s freedom to gain mine » what if it’s YMIR TALKING in 133 ? She could even had sent the dream to Mikasa in 138 so that she would know WHERE Eren was and kill him, all of this after Ymir took revenge on the world. Remember, the titan who protected Zeke came from earth, and Ymir entered in contact with « the source of all organic life », which means she could be the one behind the birds we keep seeing, including the one on Mikasa dream. She could be smiling because her plan WORKED.

Also remember in the paths where Eren was talking to the Alliance ? He was in his kid Eren form, like Ymir, we didn’t see his eyes, showing his slavery and a strange alike-look. Ymir was standing right next to him, in the exact same position, mirroring him as if he was a sort of reflection/puppet of hers. Everybody thought the contrary until now, that Ymir followed Eren. While she was here, Eren was saying that the only way to end all of this was to take his life: what if Ymir made him say that ?

It makes even more sense when Ymir helped Armin with summoning shifters and that they also had their mouths don’t moving.

• Eldian Society ?

The only way to resolve everything if Eren is dead is to create an Eldian empire domination with the rest of the world being weak and wiped out. Everybody would live on Paradise and would be teached about the cycle of hate and the heroes who stopped the Rumbling as new Helos, giving us an explanation of that picture in the opening (it could also be Eren’s society as well meant to not repeat the same mistakes as well)

I hope you liked it ! Let’s not suffer too much during the waiting and organize cottagecore RM and EH weddings with the beach Aruannie one instead of crying 💁🏻‍♀️

#rivamika #snk #aot #ackerman clan #erehisu #levi #levi ackerman #ackerman #mikasa #eren #snk 139

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teawaffles · 3 years

Text

Forbidden Games: Chapter 7

One day, three assassins had gathered for a gunfight.

The three of them had varying levels of skill with a gun. The first assassin had perfect aim. The second could land two shots in three. The last was only able to land one shot in three.

They were to take turns choosing one of the other two to shoot at. In order to compensate for their differences in skill level, they would start from the most inexperienced assassin, who could only land one shot in three.

Now if you were this person, what would you consider the most reasonable thing to do?

The right answer is—— to fire straight into the air, without aiming at either opponent.

Ordinarily, one would think to target the most dangerous assassin, who could land every shot. But if they were struck down, then on the next turn, you would find yourself in the sights of the remaining opponent, who could land two shots in three.

As such, if you were to avoid shooting either party, the next player would definitely target the most dangerous opponent. If they succeed, the subsequent turn would cycle back to you. Hence the best course of action is to shoot no one at the start.

An action that seems meaningless at first glance, may in truth be the most logical choice.

This was a paradox —— the gap between logic and intuition.

“While there are some slight differences, our game bears a striking resemblance to this story, which is why I chose to apply it today. Although, I admit I may have been a bit too dramatic when aiming the gun at myself.”

A contradiction for a contradiction. Saying that, a small smile rose on William’s face. It was the smile of a demon.

For a moment, the extent to which he’d misjudged William had made Alan break out in a cold sweat. But he quickly regained his composure.

“I get it — you’re smart enough to know what you’re doing. But now, what will you do? The chance that your gun will fire in this turn is two-in-five. As for me, with one bullet fired and two left, my chances are the same. We’re even now.”

“But that’s not true. I believe you know very well that on your next turn, your gun will fire,” William asserted.

“……What?”

William brushed his thumb over the revolver in his hand.

“It appears that the guns we were given have been rigged, such that the cylinders will stop at predetermined positions when they are spun. These positions have been marked with scratches. In other words, this game has been a lie from the very beginning.”

William looked at Alan, who was in a daze, as he continued.

“That’s why you were able to add two more bullets to your gun with no hesitation whatsoever. You knew that even if Mr Holmes were to face off with five rounds, the gun would never fire.”

He then struck his index finger against the table.

Alan had been thoroughly shocked when the secret behind the guns was revealed. But now, he retaliated in full force.

“That’s right. These guns are for cheats. Why wouldn’t I use them in this game? Counting from the chamber where the cylinder stops, my revolver has three consecutive chambers loaded. But only the last two chambers of your gun are filled. ——Do you get it? This means your gun will not fire this turn, and on my turn, mine will definitely fire. The game has already been decided.”

“I’ll throw that question back to you. Do you understand what it means for us to know about this trick?”

Somewhat stunned by his opponent’s lack of awareness, William proceeded to explain the situation with eloquence.

“In our previous match, I said something to Mr Holmes. ‘Allow me to advance a proposition. Two chambers— don’t fill them.’”

There was another meaning behind those awkward words. “What it meant was, ‘Advance by two chambers’. After that, Mr Holmes violently loaded the gun —— so much so, that he had scratched the cylinder too.”

Alan covered his mouth with his hand as he looked at his own gun.

“……No way—”

“Because the two of us were given new revolvers, and you chose to use the gun from our previous match, you are now holding a revolver with two chambers’ worth of scratch marks added. Although the previous scratches remained…… since it was Mr Holmes who made them, I trust that the new markings were able to fool your accomplices.”

With no need for any further explanation, William fell silent.

In a game of Russian roulette where the number of rounds loaded increases over time, Sherlock had unexpectedly done something rash.

Alan had taken his sudden change in attitude to be mere desperation. But in reality, Sherlock had received William’s message, and while maintaining his composure, he proceeded to act as if he had no regard for his own life. By doing so, his violence in loading the gun, as well as his choice to fill the cylinder to its upper limit, were all interpreted as the products of a meltdown — and they were able to avoid any suspicion that they had seen through his trick.

However, this method of using Alan’s own trick against him was not foolproof. Although they had added new scratches to the cylinder, the original marks still remained. On close inspection, it might be possible to distinguish them.

With that in mind, Alan turned to face his accomplices behind him. But they said nothing, perhaps out of confusion. They had no confidence that they’d loaded the bullets in the right chambers. A sense of unease began to swell within Alan.

If Sherlock’s trap had succeeded, the positions of the bullets in Alan’s gun would now be off.

His revolver had six chambers. Counting from where the cylinder would stop, the first three chambers were supposed to be filled. Now with the markings “shifted” two positions forward, it would be that the first, and last two chambers were filled instead.

Since one round had already been fired, only the other two bullets remained. He was essentially in the same situation as William. In that case, as William had the first move, he would be able to fire on Alan one turn earlier.

In short, in this perverse version of Russian roulette, Alan had employed rigged revolvers, his accomplices had mistaken the positions of the scratch marks, and William had elected to go first. With these three conditions in place, William’s victory had been secured.

“What kind of joke is this……”

From the start, the game’s outcome had been set in stone.

That had originally been Alan’s plan. But William took advantage of it and turned the tables on him.

Despite being in a position of absolute superiority, victory had escaped him a second time. Alan’s blood was boiling.

“A—Again! I will surely win if we play again!”

William put his revolver down, and shook his head in pity.

“Unfortunately, there will be no rematch. Both of us no longer have the time to humour someone like you,” he replied curtly.

Alan lost his patience and slammed the table.

“Do you look down on everyone, you brat?!”

“All you do is envy others, and that is why you have lost yourself,” William said, with the air of an educator.

Before Alan could make sense of that, the sound of a revolver’s hammer being cocked emanated from the floor.

“——Don’t move.”

Then, the fallen detective staggered to his feet. Even though he had been shot in the abdomen, his face betrayed no trace of pain, instead wearing the grin of a child whose mischief had succeeded. In his hand, was a fully-loaded revolver.

“Holmes, why you bastard—”

“I don’t feel like explaining myself right now. Anyway, all of you raise your hands like grown men,” Sherlock ordered sharply, amidst their confusion.

Perhaps they were caught completely off guard, but Alan’s accomplices put up no struggle as they timidly raised both hands. The young man who had been held hostage edged quietly away from them.

William rose from his seat in a leisurely manner.

“From the start, our goal was to create this exact scenario. You have no intention of giving up no matter how many times your opponent wins. In that case, we should overturn the entire stage. To that end, this game, which allowed Mr Holmes to be eliminated by faking his death, presented the perfect opportunity.”

Just as William had planned, his act of near-suicide right from the outset had thrown them off balance, such that no one paid any notice to the fallen Sherlock. Then Sherlock came back to life with perfect timing, providing the key to their counterattack.

With their plan a roaring success, William and Sherlock were brimming with satisfaction.

“You two……”

Alan glared at them with hateful eyes.

“Oh, you’re not going admit defeat at this stage, aren’t you? That might actually be a good idea. Since all of you outnumber us, if you all take your guns out right now, you could certainly kill us. But Mr Holmes is sure to take a few of you down with him too. Is anyone prepared to be one of those ‘few’?”

“Now this is a genuinely fair and exciting challenge. Come on, who wants to join the game?”

Against the two of them, who were proudly putting their lives on the line, not a single person made a move.

In the end, the ‘equality’ that Alan and his accomplices had put forward, was nothing more than a hollow notion bragged about from within their circle of safety.

Having truly fought for his life and come out standing, to these men, William directed a gentle smile.

“Since it seems no one wishes to participate, ——this is game over.”

T/N: You may have noticed that the explanations of the trick are somewhat awkward (haha). It wasn’t explained 100% clearly in the Japanese text — I took a while to get it myself — so I decided to drop more hints within the text, rather than do so in a footnote. I hope it made sense for you!

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #forbidden games #illustration insert

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matryosika · 3 years

Text

shoot me, chapter V

pairing — changbin x reader

rating — 18+

genre of the overall series — smut, angst, fluff if you squint

prologue chapter I chapter II chapter III chapter IV chapter V

word count for this chapter — 3.7 k

warnings — exhibitionism, fingering, mild humilliation, dirty talk, daddy kink, sort of orgasm denial?

note — this chapter was more focused on describing where the story it's going to go next. also some insights as to what changbin has been thinking the whole time.

i want to thank you all for waiting, once again, and next week i'll be completely free from school so that's nice! i think there are a very few chapters left for this, so stay tuned :-)

taglist:@cozyblues @ahgasearmyfan @binnie-m00n @minaamhh @pinkishwen

that night was all it took for you and changbin to start fucking almost every single day. at arthur's house when he wasn't around, his place, his parent's place, his car... the hunger you both had for each other was insatiable and you couldn't really understand why.

sex was awesome with him, he was perfect for you in that aspect. but every time he opened his mouth... god, you just wanted to get into a fist fight with him. he was cocky, arrogant, proud, kind of stupid, egocentric, self-centered... long story short, an asshole. you disliked him so much but maybe that was the reason behind you being completely at his mercy in bed.

"so, i was thinking" changbin went as the two of you entered the elevator of arthur's company ready to leave. he was nice enough to offer you a ride to arthur's house because you had lunch plans with hyejin, your sister "how about dinner tonight?"

you looked at him confused, a slight smirk appearing at the corners of your lips "do i look like i'm interested in getting to know you?" you asked, playfully. you could see from the side how hard he swallowed, licking his lips and trying to gain composure after how you mocked him for inviting you to something so casual as a dinner can be.

"we spend a lot of time together anyways" he responded "i was trying to be nice with you"

"you couldn't be nice even if you tried" you replied, pushing the botton of the building's first floor "we both know we are fucking and that's it. i'm leaving in a couple of months, you will never see me again... no need to get to know eachother"

changbin made a grin as he snapped his neck, releasing the tension of his shoulders. you wouldn't know this, but it actually took him quite courage to invite you.

"dinner" you whispered, laughing faintly "god, men are so pathetic thinking we are all waiting for them to be our charming prince when in reality you are all useless"

"really?" he asked, watching as the numbers of the little screen decreased, indicating that there were 7 floors left. "even me?"

"specially you, changbin" you said, crossing your arms without parting your gaze from the doors "all cocky and arrogant, if you didn't know how to use that mouth for something else you would be a pity"

suddenly, the elevator stopped and the lights were dimmed. you glanced right at changbin, who was pressing one of the elevator buttons as it shuted down "what the fuck are you doing?"

"you don't get tired do you?" he mumbled, approaching your body. the elevator was painfully small to escape, so your back soon met the other wall that was now suffocating the both of you "you never get tired of opening that stupid mouth of you"

"i don't know what you did to the elevator but you better make it work again" you said, swallowing hard. changbin's thigh parted yours, his jeans making contact with your clothed core immediatly "i have plans and i'm not going to be late because you have the libido of a 14 year old who can't control himself"

"when has that bothered you, princess?" his lips approached your ear, nipping at your lobe, giving you goosebumps on your skin "because as far as i can remember, you are always who ends up begging for me to fuck her"

you looked right at changbin as his lips left your neck.

his eyes.

his fucking eyes.

you couldn't count how many times you had cum only because he made eye-contact while he was fucking you. his gaze transmitted a lot of things that his mind and mouth failed to do.

"is my princess already too needy?" he asked, laughing. you snapped back from his gaze and soon realized that your hips were already grinding against the end of his thigh. your cheeks turned bright red as the arrogance you showed just a few seconds ago was already gone.

"i can't fucking deal with you" you spitted, your whole body sweating due to the lack of air conditioner and how aroused you were by changbin's closeness.

"look at how pathetic you look, y/n" he growled, his voice getting deeper. you had fucked with changbin enough to learn his body language when he started to feel aroused. his voice would get deeper and lower, his eyes would get darker, his breathing would get heavy... you knew every detail there is to be known about him. "i can feel through your skin how hot you are, i bet your tight cunt is throbbing isn't it?"

you licked your lips, trying to part your eyes from his in an attempt to lower your libido "my poor princess must be dripping wet" he pouted, his thigh still making contact with you but the rest of his body was mere inches away from yours "i bet my pretty princess is just thinking about daddy pounding into her so fucking hard right here in this elevator"

he knew what he was doing.

he knew how much you loved it when he dirty talked like that, specially referring himself in third person. you couldn't really know why, but it drove you insane.

"changbin" you moaned, your head falling back as your hips moved slowly against him "if you are going to do something, just do it now"

"but i'm useless" he laughed, now using your own words to make you even needier "i'm a cocky arrogant asshole, you said it yourself"

"yeah, was i wrong?" you asked him, whining at the feeling of him withdrawing his thigh from your cunt.

"you just don't learn anything" his body approached the set of buttons next to the elevator gates, ready to press the same button he did just mere seconds ago.

"stop" you mumbled, approaching him as fast as you could. your whole body jumping into his embrace as you planted an aggresive kiss into his lips.

changbin's neediness only made you more wet, his hands on your ass gripping it as he landed a few spanks on it "who was the one who had the libido of a 14 year old?" he muttered in between kisses, his voice sending shivers to your spine and core.

your hands traveled instinctively to his belt, trying to release his painful bulge that was now rubbing against your pubic area.

"mhmh no" he breathed, landing you on the floor as he turned you around so that your back could meet the wall for support "i have a meeting after this, you are going home. i can't afford to ruin my clothes"

with greedy hands, and while he was on his knees for you, your panties were now gone of your body "such a pretty princess" he moaned, covering you in kisses from your legs to your thighs "open up your legs a little bit more for me"

and you did as he ordered, your whole body shaking in anticipation of contact. your breathing was strangled and it was getting really hard to swallow. your heart was beating ten times faster as a trail of thoughts flooded your mind "are there cameras in here? what if the elevator starts working again and the doors open? is it going to start working again in the first place? fuck, this feels so good"

"you still think i'm useless?" changbin asked, a smile appearing on his face as your whole body squirmed at the feeling of his breath against your wetness "i can make you all this worked up in a matter of seconds and you still think i'm useless"

"just shut the fuck up, please" you moaned, gripping his black hair and sinking his lips against your clit "fuck, just shut up"

changbin's hands held to the back of your knees for support as both of your hands were on his head, trying to get him closer to where you needed him the most. changbin's way of eating you out was needy and messy, his tongue and lips tasting every single part there was of you down there, licking all your wetness and making sure to make contact in the places he knew would make you feel good.

your hips moved in circular motions against his mouth as you were riding his face, changbin's eyes fixed on how your chest was moving stupidly fast.

"right there daddy, right there" you moaned, your head reincoporating to make eye-contact with him, immediatly making your hips move even faster.

"right here?" he hummed, sending waves of pleasure throughout your whole body that was barely standing, your knees threatening to give up any time.

"changbin" you moaned, feeling how his fingers made their way through your legs and into your inner thighs "god you make me feel so fucking good"

changbin's cock twitched at your words, making him growl against your body as his tongue increased its pace, now accompanied with two of his fingers pounding inside you.

"daddy" you cried, your legs shaking as one of your hands left his dark hair to support yourself even more by resting on the lowall "i think i'm going to cum"

as you breathed out the last words, changbin withdrew from your cunt with a proud smirk growing in his face as he witnessed the sight of tears streaming down your cheeks.

"too bad i'm just a cocky useless man" he mumbled, one of his hands reaching the exact same button he pressed to make the elevator stop, only to push it again.

the lights of the elevator turned on as well as the engine, the air conditioner now working. your gaze could catch a glimpse of the floor you were in, but your mind was too fucked out to even re-think your decision.

before changbin could get up from his knees, your hands traveled all the way to his hair as you aggressively grinded against his lips again, the now threatening knot to come undone at any second.

6th floor.

the arousal from being in a public space, the possibility of being caught, changbin's gaze, your inner frustration and the faint sounds of changbin moaning against your skin only made you needier.

5th floor.

with strength, changbin's nails gripped the back of your thighs, his tongue accelerating the pace to match the one from your hips.

4th. floor.

"fuck i-" you moaned, tears uncontrollably streaming down your cheeks and getting lost at the fabric of your dress. changbin's gaze admiring your whole body was the last thing you needed tu cum.

3rd. floor.

"changbin" you cried as the knot came undone. his growls were coming out louder than ever, the excitement of being at a public place intoxicating all his senses. you could feel yourself dripping into his mouth, something that hadn't really happened before. changbin's lips never left your core, licking clean all your juices as his hands now caressed the back of your thighs.

2nd. floor.

"fuck" you cried, changbin standing up from his knees as his lips and chin glistened with your own fluids.

1st. floor.

carefully, he took the panties you had worn that day and he stuffed them in one of the pockets of his black jeans.

"give them back" you whispered, your voice raspy as you spent the last 5 minutes with your mouth opened. changbin gave you a side smile as you fixed your dress and hair, standing in front of the gates as if nothing had happened mere seconds ago.

your breathing was fast, just like your heartbeat, and your skin was glistening with sweat.

the doors opened.

five men and a woman were waiting desperately for it, almost running inside as if they were already late for whatever they had to do. before you and changbin could even get out, he pulled you in for a kiss so you could taste a glimpse of your own juices on his lips right in front of them.

he kissed you at a public place.

not just a public place, but a place where people knew him and you.

before the doors closed again, changbin stepped out of the elevator while pressing gently your lower back as he guided your movements to start walking. you were still in shock about everything that happened, specially the last part of it.

with a swift movement, he approached your ear as he was walking besides you, whispering the words you'll never forget

"next time, learn to watch your mouth when you are speaking with the man who owns you"

[Changbin's POV]

the thought of you was driving him insane. the sight he got from you at the elevator was something that would be tattooed in his mind for the rest of his days; the way you eagerly chased your orgasm using him for your own pleasure as droplets of sweat toured your whole body, the sound of your whines and moans as you were approaching the highest point of your arousal, the gaze you gave him just right before you came undone on his lips... he had fucked too many women before, never bothered to learn the name of any of them. but you, every single part of the way you moved, talked and acted was like an invitation to get lost into a territory he knew wasn't supposed to explore.

and that only made him want to explore it even more.

"have you talked to jisung yet?" bang chan asked him, sitting down in the couch right besides him as he extended him a can of beer.

"he won't talk to me" changbin replied without even looking at him.

"it's been almost 3 weeks since the party" chan argued, relaxing his whole body on the couch as he took a sip of his beer "i know he has been texting you, he showed me the messages"

"okay, yeah, he has been trying to talk to me" changbin muttered, annoyed "but i don't want to talk to him just now, alright?"

"look" chan said, reincorporating into the couch to be closer with him "jisung didn't know that you liked the-"

"i don't like her" changbin interrumpted, making a gesture with his hand so chan would stop talking.

"then why wouldn't you talk to jisung then?"

changbin made a pause and bit his lower lip, trying to come up with a lie quickly.

"why are you acting like a fucking highscooler anyways, changbin?" chan stormed, leaving the can of beer in the the coffee table by the couch "seriously, all you have been talking about for the past month is her. there's nothing wrong with liking someone, you don't have to make such a fucking big deal about it"

"i don't know" changbin slightly grunted in frustration "i don't know"

"do whatever you want to deal with your emotions but just talk to jisung, please" chan pleaded, resting one of his hands on changbin's shoulders "i won't give you any dating advice but please, for the love of god, leave your fucking jealousy and possesiveness issues and talk to him"

changbin was left alone at chan's living room as he finished his can of beer, reflecting on some of the things the brown-haired just said.

"what's the big deal about it? i'm fucking obssessed with her and i can't do anything about it"

[flashback]

"changbin, can i spare some of your time for a minute?" the old man asked as y/n and changbin's parents were leaving his office. changbin looked at him with half-lidded eyes as they were leaving to grab some lunch together. "we will be joining you in a while, i just have to talk with him about work"

his parents smiled as they continue on walking towards the hall, followed by the long-haired woman changbin met at the bar last night"

"you like what you see?" arthur asked, following changbin's gaze who was now fixed on y/n as she walked through the corridor.

"excuse me?" changbin cleared his throat, unsure of what to answer to a very specific and blunt question.

"do you know her?" arthur asked, the environment of the room changing drastically as he persecuted the young man with questions.

"why would i know her, sir" changbin replied.

"you were looking at her as if she was familiar"

"no" he answered, trying to keep his posture so arthur couldn't catch any glimpse of his awkwardness.

"look, changbin" arthur mumbled in a sort of playful tone, landing a hand on changbin's back as he palmed it slightly "you know i trust you, right?"

changbin nodded.

"i don't know how much time she will be staying here, but i would really love for her to have a healthy time while she is in korea" the man said, smiling as if changbin was understanding his words "meaning i don't want her getting with any man around here, you understand me?"

"yes, sir"

"and that's why i want you to get close to her while she is here, so you can make sure she is not... doing anything she isn't supposed to"

changbin licked his lips and nodded, kind of unsure on what answers to give since arthur had never approached him with such a serious topic.

"and that includes you" he said as his grip on changbin's shoulder went rougher "i don't want you near her with any intentions other than to take care of her as if she was your family"

"right" changbin agreed.

"what would people say if they saw my daughter engaging in... that kind of behaviors, drinking, smoking, doing whatever the hell you young people do before marriage" arthur clicked his tongue as his head moved from side to side "i brought her here because my fiancee told me to, but y/n can be quite problematic and i don't want her to ruin my status"

this wasn't about her, this is about him.

"i understand" changbin replied, a hint of anger sparking through his veins at his words.

"i don't want her to distract you either" arthur continued "the minute i see you getting closer to her in a way you are not supposed to, you are out of here"

arthur's words were serious, but his tone was playful and even teasing, as if the two of them were just joking about casual things and not the probability of losing the future changbin worked his ass for.

"that last part is just out of pride" arthur smiled "she is my daughter after all"

[y/n's pov]

"are you alright?" hyejin asked you as you had barely touched your food.

the thought of the kiss changbin gave you right after exiting the elevator was completely engraved in your brain. it was risky, it was innapropiate, and it was something that felt amazing in ways you couldn't even begin to explain.

that shouldn't be happening.

you were just fucking with him because 1) you liked it and 2) because you liked the idea of fucking someone your father thrusted with his life.

it was like some sort of deranged payback for all those years he wasn't around. the idea of someone putting at risk his loyalty to arthur for you was exciting enough, and that was the main reason of why you continued the game.

or so you thought.

"what do you know about changbin?" you asked her, bluntly. she laughed and covered his mouth as particles of food made their way out as she gasped.

"do you like him?" hyejin asked, fixing his hair behind her ear as she landed her chopsticks on the plate "i didn't think he was your type"

"i don't like him" you replied, taking an extra effort to hide any hint of nervousness that could be seen by her "i'm just interested in knowing why my father adores him that much"

"well" hyejin started "i have never really talked to him, like ever. he has been around for as long as i can remember but we had never gotten along. i believe its because of the age difference, you know?"

you nodded.

"his parents are arthur's best friends since college, maybe, i'm not too sure" she hummed as his eyes looked everywhere on the restaurant, trying to remember more information about the man himself "there's not really much to know about him anyways. i went to school with one of his friends's brother, his last name is Han"

jisung's brother, the guy at the party.

"we worked together a lot in university and we would often get together to make projects and stuff, uh... changbin was there often too, because of jisung. he really has a bad reputation with women, you know?"

you licked your lips and took a sip of water, intrigued.

"they were barely adults at that age but they would often talk about all the women they allegedly fucked" hyejin laughed "that man has a longer list than i do and i'm 26"

the memory of changbin with that girl at chan's party strucked your mind, and a lot of questions started to flood your mind. is he fucking someone else while he is fucking with me?

not that it mattered, because this was solely for the sex, right?

"he is cute, i'll give you that" hyejin followed, ignoring the comment you made earlier about how you didn't actually liked him "but if i were you, i wouldn't go down there. not only is he some sort of casanova but i also heard arthur threatening about being careful around you"

you opened your eyes, completely surprised. "what do you mean?"

"the very first days you arrived here" hyejin mumbled, his mouth full of food " i was going to ask arthur about some project we have in mind and before i could enter to his office, i heard this little chat with him. the usual, you know, but he did told him something along the lines of being careful with his job and future regarding you"

you swallowed hard.

the kiss had now even more impact than it did before.

the idea of arthur threatening changbin was all in your head at first, you didn't actually believed he would do such a thing. but hyejin saying this so casually only made your soul ablaze.

changbin wasn't supposed to be doing any of the things he was doing for you and he was still risking them.

whether it was lust, ambivalence or obsession, the thought of him breaking rules only made you feel a current of electricity through your veins.

falling in love wasn't part of your plans, but ruining arthur's pride was.

and changbin was the best option for this.

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