#himself to mo ran in every way and hate him but why would he need to store nangong blood for mount jiao is he is nangong himself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

Text

Suits, Dresses, and Heels

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, More Mentions of PTSD, Gun Violence, Slight Mentions of Drinking, Club Dancing (You’re all gonna hate me for that part, but I’m not sorry)

A/N: Here’s Part 4.2 - The Second Part to Episode 3 - as requested. This is a little more scene-by-scene, but there are some off-screen moments. I’ll be posting Part 4.3 (which will have the rest of the episode) later tonight.

There’s a bit more information on Reader, but not as much as the last chapter. Sharon comes in during this part, so you get to see her and Reader’s relationship.

Also, I have mixed feelings about Zemo at this point. Not in the story, the Reader’s not a fan as you learned previously, but for me personally, he’s surprised me a couple times by coming back and helping.

Anyways! Thank you so much for reading! This isn’t beta’d so excuse any mistakes! Check out my other parts before you read! Thank you again! Stay tuned, loves!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The dress was far too tight for your liking, and showed way too much skin. Not that you didn’t like being a tease every once in a while, but for this mission, you’d rather have more cover and movement.

You had to admit though; Zemo had nice taste. The dress fit deliciously - which made you wonder how he got your size. The color and cut was devastatingly flattering. Plus, he let you do your own makeup.

Being the only female, you were in a separate area of the jet getting ready. Once you were done, you made sure to knock, even though you’d walked in on Sam changing too many times to count while on the run and had seen Bucky answer the door in nothing but a towel. It was mainly for Zemo’s sake, just a warning that you were walking in whether or not they were ready.

“Damn, girl! You clean up nice!”

You rolled your eyes at Sam, painted lips quirking up as you studied him, shooting him a wink. “You should try a mirror, Sammy.” You turned to Bucky to find him staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at you. “What do you think, Buck?”

His mouth snapped shut and he cleared his throat, eyes exploring the dips and curves your body. “You…” He blinked once. Twice. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his intense eyes making you heat up, before he shook his head. “You look good.” He rushed out, before spinning on his heel shoving past Sam who was snickering.

“Where’s Zemo?” You noticed he wasn’t in the main area of the plane when you walked in.

“Rearranging our ride once we get there.”

You huffed, fixing your hair. “Oh God. We’re really doing this.”

“Yup.”

“Okay.” You looked down at yourself before looking up at the boys. “Something’s gonna go wrong, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

“No doubt.”

Giving a slight groan at their simultaneous answers, you nodded. “Let’s try not to screw up too badly, boys, alright? I at least want to live long enough to see Peter graduate.”

Sam rolled his eyes with a scoff. “That kid’s a punk.”

“You’re a punk.” You shot back.

Bucky raised his hand. “I second that punk thing.”

“For which one?”

“Both of them.”

You chuckled as Sam gaped at Bucky, who shrugged innocently. The former assassin tilted his head in your direction to shoot you a grin and a wink, making you laugh more. Shaking your head, you go to make a joke when Zemo walked in.

“It’s time. We’re landing now.”

And just like that, the teasing atmosphere dissipated, leaving you anxious and regretful.

*******************

You walked by Bucky, arm linked with his metal one, listening as Zemo told Sam about his “character” he was to play.

“He’s a known womanizer - always has a gorgeous lady on his arm.” Zemo gestured towards you. “It’s the only way they’d let in a woman.”

“Aren’t we going to see a woman?” You questioned, gently patting Bucky’s metallic bicep when his hold on you tightened.

“Which makes it more imperative that you don’t act threatening. Women don’t make the same mistake men do; they don’t underestimate other women.”

You nodded. He had a point there. Bucky faced you, a frown on those pretty lips. “I don’t like this.” He mumbled.

“You think I do?” You whispered back. “With you being him again? Even if it’s just pretend? And need I remind you whose idea this was?”

“I know, I know. Just…” He sighed. “Promise me you won’t get hurt on purpose.”

Your forehead creased. “Why would I-?”

“To protect people. You always do. And I get it, I do. It’s why you started this in the first place, but…save yourself first, this time, okay?”

“Buck-”

“Promise me.”

It wasn’t often you could see the fear in his eyes, hear it in his voice, but you could then. Unable to do anything else you nodded, a soft, “okay” falling from your lips. He nodded back, pressing a kiss to your head, before letting you go as a car approached.

Bucky helped you in - the heels you were wearing were no joke - before sliding in himself, Sam getting in on the other side of you. “And you two can’t be…” Zemo gestured to the two of you as the car started moving, eyeing your still connected hands. “Doing that.”

“This isn’t my first theater production.” You snapped at him. “We’ll be fine.”

He raised his hands in surrender, turning back to look out the windshield. Once you arrived, you gave Bucky’s hand one last squeeze, before accepting Sam’s hand to get out on his side, linking your arm with his like you were doing with Bucky earlier.

“I finally get to see one of your performances, baby.” Sam grinned at you.

You smirked back. “Best seats in the house, too, Smiling Tiger.” He groaned at your jest, nudging you playfully with his elbow as you giggled.

“This way.” Zemo cut in, jerking his head in the direction you’d be going. You took a breath, steeling yourself, before the three of you nodded at each other and followed his lead.

You found the fellas reactions amusing, their heads turning to study and scan everything they could see. You were more subtle in the way you analyzed your surroundings, feeling a bit more at home in this situation than, say, fighting super soldiers on top of semi trucks.

Your jaw tightened, as did your grip on Sam’s arm, when Zemo started speaking Russian, the four of you pushing through a crowded bar. Sam ran his fingers over your arms, giving your hand a little squeeze, silently reassuring you.

It was a bit obvious Sam hadn’t done much undercover work, put he stayed in character and you were impressed. Especially when the bartender started cutting up the snake, which you had to look away for because if there was one thing you couldn’t do…it was snakes. You nearly gagged when Sam reluctantly downed the drink.

Bucky eyed you, lips pursed in a way you recognized as him trying to hold in a smile. That made you feel a little better, hiding your own smile by turning into the crook of Sam’s neck. “Not. Funny.” He growled through clenched teeth, lips not moving.

“Kinda is.”

He grumbled under his breath, before the two of you tuned into the conversation between Zemo and a thug that came up, learning about the apparent power broker of Madripoor, which you a bit of from your time undercover there.

Sam held you tightly when Zemo turned to Bucky, knowing what was about to happen.

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like how easily aggressive he became. You didn’t like the little smirk Zemo gave as Bucky attacked. You didn’t like the cellphones being pointed in his direction. You didn’t like it.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” You gave Zemo a warning glare, a shaky breath leaving you.

He’d been doing so well. At least, for someone who had been through what he had. Especially considering it’d only been a few months since he’d been pardoned - half a year since everyone came back. You knew bringing Zemo on board had been a bad idea, but-

A squeeze to your hand pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out an inaudible sigh of relief as Zemo allowed Bucky to let the man he was choking go.

“Selby will see you now.”

One step down. You hoped that would be the hardest part, but you knew it most definitely wouldn’t be.

“You good?”

Bucky sniffed, giving you two a curt nod, before following Zemo. You bit your lip. “That wasn’t really an answer, was it?”

Sam shook his head. “No. No it wasn’t.”

Selby wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you’d come to expect that. You stayed on Sam’s arm, giving the guards coy smiles and playing with the fake nails you had on in faux-boredom.

When she purred at the man besides you, you and Bucky glanced at each other, with you resisting the urge to scrunch up your nose. “And who is this gorgeous creature?”

Your eyes snapped back to Selby, giving her a slightly bashful smile. “Celeste Addams. Pleasure.”

“Trust me, dear. The pleasure is all mine.” Alright, you thought as she scanned you with a smirk. She was swinging for both teams. You could work with that. “What’s the offer?” She looked back to Zemo.

Zemo gave her the offer - information about the super soldier serum for the Winter Soldier and the code words to control him. Your blood boiled as Zemo touched Bucky, fingers grabbing his chin. You swore, once this whole thing was over, you would kick Zemo’s ass. You should make a list, just to keep track of all the things he’d done, and no doubt would do, to piss you off. That way he’d know why exactly you were beating his ass.

A name came up, Dr. Wilfred Nagel, along with the knowledge that the super soldier serum was, in fact, in Madripoor. You and Sam met eyes. Second step down.

But before they could get anything else, Sam’s phone buzzed. You ducked your head, closing your eyes, mumbling “fuck” when you saw it was Sarah. Sam’s responses just made you inwardly cringe even more.

“The bank, yeah. We laundered so much mo-” He chuckled nervously. “Yeah. They’ll come around.”

Is he fucking serious? For the love of God, Sammy…

And then she called him Sam. Next thing you knew, Selby was shot and you, Bucky, and Sam were taking out a guard each, you growling at the fact that you couldn’t use your legs because the dress was too damn tight.

You had no choice but to trust Zemo’s lead, but word traveled very quickly here, and less than a minute after walking outside, you were getting shot at.

“C’mon!” Bucky grabbed your arm, pulling you besides him.

“Can you not right now?!”

“I can’t run in these heels!”

You glared at Sam, the killer six inchers on your feet feeling like hell. “Hell no! You did not just say that in front of me!”

“You started it!” You scowled at him, following Bucky into an alley, only to duck as shots rang out. Chest heaving, you looked around for the source of the bullets that killed the men chasing you. Your “guardian angel” as Zemo put it.

She soon appeared in all her stunning, blonde badass glory. “Sharon?”

Sam quickly explained the situation, trying to get her not to shoot Zemo who she had a gun pointed at.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass,” she pointed the gun at Sam, then Bucky, “so that you could save his ass, from his ass.” And the gun was back on Zemo. She shot you a smile. “And your ass is looking beautiful as always.”

You grinned back. “Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

As she spoke, your lips turned down. You had tried calling her after Germany, but it always went to voicemail. First thing you did when you got back was try to get everyone pardoned, but it was a process. And then you found out about Wanda and ever since…

Sharon was your first real friend. She was only a couple years younger than you and had been one of your first partners during your time with SHIELD. And the fact that she’d been on the run for years now, even with the Blip, her family not having seen or talked to her since…that was exactly why you couldn’t take a break. She was family and you found there was nothing more important than family. But when she needed you, you were out searching for someone who didn’t want to be found.

How were you supposed to choose between two sisters? How could you cope with the fact that you chose the wrong one?

“Sharon, we need your help.” She laughed at Bucky’s statement. “Please,”

She glanced at you and you nodded. “I’d appreciate it, Share.”

She gave a sigh before nodding. “This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town. You should be safe there for a while.”

She turned and started walking, and you were about to follow, when you remembered something.

Spinning around, your fist connected with Zemo’s cheek, Sam and Bucky shouting in surprise while the man stumbled back. “Don’t you fucking dare touch him like that ever again, or I will break every bone in your body.” You threatened, your expression twisting into a scowl as you grab his hand and bend it awkwardly. He grunted but didn’t move, knowing one wrong turn would break his wrist. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” He ground out.

You pushed a little more, making him wince, before letting go and rounding back to Sharon, who was smirking at you. “Let’s get moving.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She jerked her head back over her shoulder to where a car was waiting, leading them over.

You quickly followed after her with Bucky on your heels and Sam dragging Zemo along. Speaking of heels, as soon as you got in the car - getting shotgun for the first time ever at Sharon’s insistence - you prodded the stupid shoes off your feet.

“Nice kicks.”

“Yeah.” You scoffed. “Unless you’re trying to kick.”

“Did you rip the dress?”

“I was tempted to.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you in something more comfortable. And you’ll look just as good. Not that you wouldn’t look good in literally anything.”

You chuckled, giving her a look. “Let’s not test that theory.”

She smiled back, nodding. “Fine. I’ll let you pick something out.”

Sam huffed, crossing his arms best he could, being squished with the two other fully grown men in the back seat. “Women.”

The two of you exchanged looks, rolling your eyes at the three pouting guys. “Men.”

*****************

“I’m gonna go check on the boys. But I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, looking through her closet. No dresses. And absolutely no heels. Flats, if you had to, but you’d definitely prefer sneakers right now. You decided on shorts and an off-the-shoulder blouse, grateful for the looser clothing.

“They’re idiots.”

You laughed and looked over at the door as Sharon entered. “Yeah. I know.”

“Cute.” She commented on your outfit, sitting on her bed. “They explained the situation. Sam said if I help, he’d clear my name-”

“Sharon.” You sighed, biting your lip. “I tried. I really did. I-”

She shook her head, smiling at you reassuringly. “No, I know. It’s why I’m not mad at you. Sorry I didn’t call back. How’ve you been?”

You shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“Even with the whole ‘Cap is back’ thing.”

“Walker’s the government’s pet. He’s not Captain America. He’s not…”

“Steve?”

Looking up at her from the ground, you nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you miss him?”

You smirked, wagging your eyebrows at her. “Do you?”

She rolled her eyes, tossing a pillow at you. “It’s kinda weird now, isn’t it?”

“Maybe a little. But I can’t blame you. Have you seen him shirtless? Good God.”

Sharon laughed, shaking her head as you joined her on the bed. “How come it’s always you getting wrapped up in these things?”

“I have no clue.” You chuckled, crossing your legs underneath you. “First I’m answering a phone call from Bucky at five in the morning and next thing I know, I’m being kicked off of semi trucks, breaking criminals out of prisons and running in six inch heels.”

“You answer Bucky’s calls at five in the morning?”

You gave her a look. “Sharon-”

“No, no. Hey. That’s cool. Some girls like bad boys, some like jocks, others like nerds. You like super soldiers from the 40’s. Everyone’s got a thing.”

A playful shove turned into a pillow fight, which turned into a sparring session, during which you pin her on her back. “You’re getting better.” You complimented, getting up.

She glared at you, taking your outstretched hand and letting you pull her up. “I guess that’s why you’re an Avenger.”

“That’s still weird to say.”

“Why? You’ve been an Avenger since, what? Ultron?”

You nodded, straightening your clothes. “Officially, anyways.”

“Right. Because you were there for the Battle of Manhattan as the secret seventh superhero.”

“Yeah…I miss it. The anonymity. I’m pretty sure I’m one half the Senators’ speed dials.”

Sharon frowned, brows pinching together. “What about the other half of the OG? Where are they?”

“Thor’s in space, Bruce is MIA - which I can’t really blame him for - and Clint’s retired with his family.”

“You think he’s gonna stay retired?”

You shrugged. “I hope he does. He’s been trying to retire for years. He deserves it. Knowing him, though…probably not.”

Sharon crossed her arms, nodding at you. “So that leaves you.”

“Yes it does.”

“Do you ever think of taking a break?”

You gave a half-sigh, half-groan, making her smirk in amusement. “It’s…come up a lot recently. I dunno. I think I’m burning out, anyways.”

“What makes you say that? I was watching you guys with Selby. You’re still one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“I-I’ve been having…problems.”

Her eyes narrowed, her hands setting on her hips like a mother about to scold her child. “What kind of problems?”

“Just flashbacks. Of different things. It happens at random times. Certain triggers; something someone says or does, or something I smell or hear.”

“PTSD?”

“Something like that.”

“Has it affected you in the field?” Hesitating to answer was answer enough and she nodded. “Then…maybe it’s time you do start considering retiring.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “At 36? There’s no way.”

“C’mon. It’s not too late for you to settle down. Go one a few dates. Meet someone. Maybe have a couple kids-”

“Woah, woah. Slow your roll.” Your features scrunched up in incredulity. “Pump your breaks. No one said anything about marriage or kids.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying…think about it. I heard even Bucky’s been on a few dates.”

It was your turn to narrow your eyes at her, hearing the suggestive tone in her voice and seeing the eyebrow raise. “Yeah. He has. A few. I told him to. Told him it might be good for him to, I dunno, get back out there.

“Or, you could just…go out there with him.”

“Not you too! Have you been talking to Sam?”

“Is it Steve? Is that what’s stopping you? Because you know he’d just want you to be hap-” She stopped as he phone vibrated, grabbing it and reading the text. “Company’s arriving.” She pointed a finger at you. “You got very very lucky. This conversation isn’t over. I’m not dropping this.”

You bit your cheek and nodded. “Alright, mom. Can we go party now?”

She breathed out a laugh and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go party.”

**********************

“Hey, gorgeous! There you are!”

You smirked at the boys as they met you near the top of the stairs, eyeing Sam and Bucky appreciatively. Damn, could Sam pull off a turtleneck. And Bucky in black and skinny jeans? Sharon sure had good taste. “Today’s the day for attractive outfits, huh, gentlemen?”

“I’ll say.” Bucky hummed, glancing at your own outfit. “You look beautiful, doll.”

“You look very dashing yourself, Barnes.” You grin, pulling at the lapels of his black blazer and fixing the collar. You smoothed your hand down the front of his shirt, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised when he caught your wrist, keeping your palm over his heart.

He clenched his jaw, taking a breath, before letting it out, almost dejectedly, and letting your hand go. “Um,” He cleared his throat, hand falling down by his side. “Did, uh, did Sharon say anything more about these friends of hers to you?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. “Just told me to enjoy the party.”

“I guess we should go enjoy the party, then.” Sam nodded towards the stairs, where the music was floating up, her guests already pouring in.

You made your way downstairs, looking around the room. Sharon sure did know how to throw one, that’s for sure.

People were pushed together, dancing to the beat of the music, drinking, with colored lights flashing every which way. Bucky’s hand found yours almost instantly, and you smiled at him. “C’mon.”

“What?” His eyes were wide as you dragged him towards the groups of people dancing.

“Dance with me.”

He shook his head violently. “I-I can’t.”

“I thought you used to be a dancer?”

“Used to. And I was a swing-dancer. Not…” He gestured around to the people bobbing up and down, moving their bodies with each other.

You waved dismissively, pulling him closer. “All you need to do is feel the beat. I’m sure you can do that, can’t you, Mr. Tough and Scary Assassin?”

He licked his lips, looking around nervously. You brought his hands to your hips, making his eyes snap back to yours, your own arms winding around his neck. You started moving rhythmically, nodding your head to the music, smiling up at him and giggling at the adorable concentration on his face.

“You, uh, you go to parties like this a lot?”

“I specialized in undercover operations, remember? I practically lived at these places for some of them.” He licked his lips, his grasp on your hips tightening. “Loosen up a little.” You laughed, catching his jaw between your fingers and making him look at you instead of the crowd surrounding him. You scratched at the scruff, speaking softly, but loud enough for him to hear. “It’s just me.”

He nodded and, slowly, a bit hesitant, started moving his body with yours, relaxing his tense muscles the longer you two danced.

“Nice hit, by the way. With Zemo earlier.”

You shrugged, turning in his arms, biting your lip when he pulled you closer, your back to his chest. “I didn’t like the way he grabbed you. It was unnecessary. I was thinking of making a list, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Your arms wound around his neck again, your head falling back to his shoulder. “Of things he’s done so far that warrant’s me beating his ass once this is done.”

He chuckled, warm breath tickling your cheek, thumbs tracing circles on the bare skin just above the waistline of your shorts. Your own fingers had found home in his hair holding his head where it was, his lips centimeters away from your ear. “Share it with Sam. I’m sure he has a few things to add.”

Your breath hitched as his metal fingers danced along your bare navel, arm tightening around your waist. “I’m sure he does…I thought you said you can’t dance.”

“I guess I just needed to warm up. I’m a bit rusty after eighty years.”

“Don’t seem that rusty to me.” You breathed out, turning your head to look at him. His tongue ran across his lips again, his eyes glancing to your own.

“Hey, guys!” The world and your situation came crashing down on you, the music you didn’t realize you’d been tuning out, along with the crowd’s boisterous laughter and cheers, rushed back to yours ears. The little bubble with just you and Bucky shattered. You both stepped away from each other; you cleared your throat and pushed down the heat that had nothing to do with the hundred bodies in the one room, while Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, the tips of his ears red with no help from the colored lights. Both of you were panting lightly, avoiding eye contact with the other three staring knowingly at you. Sharon nodded her head, gesturing behind her. “I found him.”

Sam nudged Bucky - who was staring at you, his jaw ticking and his throat tightening as he swallowed thickly - before jabbing his thumb in Sharon’s direction. “Here we go.”

You nodded, eyeing Bucky with a small smile. “Here we go, Buckaroo.”

2K notes · View notes

translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 28

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 28 - This Venerable One is A Little Confused

Elder Yuheng broke the rules and was punished. He might as well have sprouted wings. There was no need to wait until the next morning; Almost all the disciples of the sect had heard about it that same night.

Two hundred strikes; if he were replaced by any other ordinary person, they would probably be beaten to death. Even a cultivator isn't indestructible.

Xue Meng jumped up after learning about it: "What?! Master went to the Court of Discipline?"

"Young Master, go and talk to the Lord. He's already injured. How could he stand two hundred strikes?"

Xue Meng was going crazy: "My father? I can't. My father is still at the Snow Palace and hasn't returned yet. A carrier pigeon wouldn't even get there for another day. Why didn't you guys stop Shizun?"

Mo Ran and Shi Mei glanced at each other.

Stop Chu Wanning?

Who in this world could stop him?

"That's out of the question. I'm going to find him right now." Xue Meng roared and ran towards the Court of Discipline. Before he entered the courtyard, he saw a group of Elder Jielu's disciples blocking the entrance of the main hall, whispering about something.

"What are you standing there for? Move! Get out of my way!"

"Young Master!"

"Ah, the young master is here."

"Make way, the young master is here."

The disciples quickly separated and gave way to Xue Meng. The gate of the Qingtian Temple was open, and Chu Wanning was kneeling silently, his posture straight, his eyes closed. Elder Jielu, with an iron rod in hand, was reciting the laws of Life-Death Peak. Every time he finished reciting one, the iron rod slammed against Chu Wanning's back.

"The ninety-first law of this sect: do not indiscriminately hurt the innocent, and do not use cultivation against a mortal. Under this rod, do you have any objections?"

"None."

"The ninety-second law of this sect; do not act arbitrarily, do not act selfishly. Under this rod, do you have any objections?"

"None."

Elder Jielu didn't dare hold back and had to execute the punishment as he would with any other disciple. After more than ninety sticks came down, Chu Wanning's white robes were stained with blood.

Xue Meng respected Chu Wanning the most. When he saw this, his eyes went bloodshot, and he shouted: "Shizun!"

Chu Wanning ignored him. His eyes were still closed and he frowned slightly.

Elder Jielu glanced at the door and muttered: "Elder Yuheng, the young master is here."

"I'm not deaf, I heard him." Blood dripped out of the corners of Chu Wanning's mouth, but he didn't raise his eyes. "He's a noisy child, don't worry about it."

Elder Jielu sighed. ". . .Yuheng, why are you doing this?"

"Who is the one that is always punishing my disciples for being disobedient?" Chu Wanning said indifferently. "If I'm not punished today according to the law, how will I be able to face my disciples in the future?"

". . ."

"Carry on."

"Hah. . ." Elder Jielu looked at his pale, slender neck protruding from the edge of the wide collar that hung gently like thin smoke and asked: "Then can I at least make them lighter?"

". . . This is nothing more than deception." Chu Wanning said. "Don't worry. It's only two hundred strikes, I can bear it."

"Elder Yuheng. . ."

"Jielu, if you don't have anything more to say, carry on."

The iron rod finally fell again.

Xue Meng's voice was frantic: "Elder Jielu! Are you not going to fucking stop? Do you know the situation you've put me in? That's my shizun you're beating!!! My shizun!!!"

Elder Jielu had no choice but to bite his tongue and pretend he didn't hear him.

Xue Meng was about to explode: "Can't you hear me, old man? I'm ordering you to stop! You - If you dare hit him again, I'll, I'll, I'll—"

He thought for a while and couldn’t come up with anything to say. After all, he was only a fifteen-year-old boy. Regardless of the fact that he was "the proud boy of heaven," his strength and qualifications are far less than those of the elders. He could only blush and throw out an outrageous claim --

"I'll tell my father!!!"

Elder Jielu: ". . ."

Chu Wanning let out an almost inaudible sigh.

Ninety-seven strikes. Ninety-eight strikes. Ninety-nine strikes. One hundred sticks. . .

His clothes were torn and blood was glaringly seeping out.

Xue Meng couldn't hold back anymore. His eyes were red with anxiety, and he was about to recklessly rush in, but Chu Wanning suddenly opened his eyes. He waved his hand and a barrier instantly lowered, blocking the entrance. Xue Meng bounced back a few steps, almost falling to the ground.

Chu Wanning coughed up blood. He shifted his glare, narrowing his fierce phoenix eyes.

"Disgraceful! Leave!"

"Shizun!"

Chu Wanning sternly said: "Since when can the Young Master of Life-Death Peak order an Elder to bend the law for his own personal gain? Leave now!"

Xue Meng stared at him. His eyes widened and it looked like little beads of water appeared in them.

Next to him, Mo Ran stroked his chin, and the corner of his mouth was still playfully curled upwards: "Oh, that's not good. Little phoenix is going to cry."

Hearing these words, Xue Meng harshly turned his head and fiercely glared at Mo Ran. His watery eyes were red, but he kept any tears from rolling down.

He had no more objections and no more talk back.

He climbed up from the ground with a single movement. He lowered his head, grit his teeth and wiped the dust off his body. Then he knelt down facing the Qingtian Temple: "Shizun, I know my mistake."

Chu Wanning was still being tortured by an iron rod. His straight posture never wavered, but his face was pale, and his forehead was coated with a fine layer of cold sweat.

Xue Meng stubbornly said: "But I'm not leaving. I'll accompany Shizun."

He said while kneeling.

Mo Ran rolled his eyes towards the sky. Xue Meng, courtesy name Xue Ziming, the proud son of heaven, was only ever humble in front of Chu Wanning. In front of others, he was a phoenix, and in front of their shizun, he became a quail. If he wasn't positive that Xue Meng didn't like men, Mo Ran would start to suspect that this guy was probably in love with Chu Wanning, so much so that he would throw himself in front of death itself for him. If Shizun slapped his left cheek, then this little bitchy quail would humbly slap his right cheek.

Real convincing.

Like an obedient little puppy.

Although he despised him in his heart, he couldn't understand why he was feeling somewhat upset. Mo Ran looked at Xue Meng. The more he looked at him, the more uncomfortable he got and he felt that he could not let him show his loyalty alone.

Chu Wanning already didn't like him. If Xue Meng made such a fuss, does that mean Chu Wanning wouldn't be as harsh with him in the future?

So he simply went over and knelt beside Xue Meng.

"I'll also accompany Shizun."

Of course, Shi Mei also knelt down, and the three disciples all knelt and waited outside. When disciples under the other elders heard the circulating rumours, they all hurried to the Court of Discipline to watch the excitement.

"Oh my god, why is it Elder Yuheng. . ."

"I heard he went into a rage and beat a civilian."

"Ah! He's that cruel?"

"Shhh, keep your voice down. If Elder Yuheng hears you, he won't hesitate to whip you!"

Others: "Why is the young master kneeling?"

"Young Master Mo is also kneeling. . ."

Mo Ran was handsome and he had a way with words. He didn't know how many female cultivators he'd earned goodwill with over the years, but right now, there were several people who couldn't help but feel pity for him and whisper: "I feel so sorry for Young Master Mo. What should I do? Should we intervene?"

"We shouldn't concern ourselves with their shizun - disciple issues. Do it if you dare, I'm not that brave. Do you remember the senior sister who was whipped hundreds of times by Elder Yuheng..."

". . ."

The two hundred strikes were completed.

The barrier was finally removed.

Xue Meng quickly got up from the ground. He ran into Qingtian Temple and approached the scene. Seeing Chu Wanning's appearance, he cried out. He turned his head and grabbed Elder Jielu's collar. "You're dead, old man! Couldn't you have hit him a little lighter!!!"

"Xue Ziming." Chu Wanning closed his eyes, his blood-stained lips moving, and his hoarse voice carried a hidden deterrent.

". . ."

Xue Meng's knuckles creaked. He violently pushed Elder Jielu away, letting him go. This was when Mo Ran came in. He was still smiling, thinking that Elder Jielu must have taken into account Chu Wanning's status and wouldn't deal heavy blows. But looking down at Chu Wanning's injury, the smile on his face suddenly fell.

Didn't Chu Wanning tell Elder Jielu that he had a shoulder injury?!

The two hundred strikes had all more or less slashed across the older wound on his shoulder.

New wounds overlapped old wounds.

Chu Wanning, you. . .

Are you insane?!

His pupils shrank sharply, and a strong resentment surged into his heart.

Mo Ran didn't know what he was resenting, or what he was so annoyed about. He only knew that he felt a blazing fire in his gut, torching through all his organs. He was used to torturing Chu Wanning to death himself, crushing his self-esteem and tarnishing his purity. Mo Ran couldn't stand seeing injuries on Chu Wanning that were made by someone else!

He could move on from his past memories because Mo Ran subconsciously felt that this person was his. This person, whether dead or alive, hated or hated, was all.

He originally didn't care about Chu Wanning being punished because he thought that, since Chu Wanning was an elder, the two hundred strikes would hardly be considered a severe punishment.

At the very least, they would avoid the fresh wound on his shoulder.

But Chu Wanning didn't say anything! He didn't even mention it! What was this lunatic so stubborn? Why did he put up with this? What point did he so stupidly and stubbornly need to prove?!?

His mind was in turmoil. Mo Ran raised his hand to help him, but Xue Meng was already one step ahead of him. He took Chu Wanning in his arms and helped him up.

". . ." Mo Ran's hand hung in the air, and after a while, he slowly lowered it again.

He watched Xue Meng help Chu Wanning walk away, not knowing the feeling that was stirring in his heart.

He wanted to catch up with them, but he wasn't willing to move.

What happened in his past life was all in the past.

Nowadays, Chu Wanning was just his shizun.

Any chaotic, hateful, or intimate entanglement hadn't happened between them yet.

He shouldn't have such thoughts. Whether Chu Wanning was beaten by someone, supported by someone, loved someone, or was even killed by someone, it had nothing to do with him.

Shi Mei came to him: "Come on, let's join the young master and go take a look."

"I'm not going. It's enough having Xue Meng there. I wouldn't help much. Any more people would just create chaos." Mo Ran's face remained unchanged, but his heart was a bit confused.

He really didn't understand what he was feeling right now. What was this feeling called?

Was it hatred?

#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #chinese bl #chinese novel #mo ran #chu wanning #ranwan #english translation #bl novel #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei novel #danmei

194 notes · View notes

interlunium-opus · 3 years

Text

"I hate him spending time with you more than I hate running so you know, priorities." [ Jay. ]

[ Jay | fluff ]

Author’s Note: Here's a fluff in response to the following request "Can you maybe do a fluff/crack for Jay where maybe he felt a little jealous when you praised someone for their skill and he immediately goes competitive mode and openly tries to show how he's far better indirectly to the guy?" Hope it's close to what you have in mind and hope you like it :3

“Do you have anything to explain to me?”

You jumped, startled, as Jay appeared beside you while you were busy shoving your textbooks into your locker, “Jay! What did I say about sneaking up on people?”

“And what did I say about not keeping secrets between us?” Jay snapped back, arms crossed, brows raised, “Is this how much our friendship is worth?”

“My goodness, what is it this time?” You sighed as he fished his phone out of his pocket, turning it to show you a candid picture of you and Sunghoon from last night.

“I mean seriously, of all people to date, you have to go for this pretentious prick?” Jay scoffed before gesticulating wildly, “Look, I know I said that you need to stop being aromantic and start planting some sort romantic interest somewhere — but Sunghoon is just ain't it. In fact ! I’d rather you date the spawn of the devil, Jungwon, instead.”

You snorted a laugh before shaking your head dismissively, “Dude, we were just running last night okay? Does that even look like a date to you?”

“Okay,” he repeated sarcastically, “but you love running alone! So why are you suddenly running with someone — and not just anyone but this prick???”

“I really don’t get why you two hate each other so much,” you raised an eyebrow at Jay, “Look we just happened to bump into each other last night and since we were heading the same way, he asked if I don’t mind him tagging along for the remainder of the way — no big deal.”

“Ughh, that’s the oldest trick in book,” Jay scrunched his face, “And you said yes?”

“I mean — we’re not exactly strangers, we have been in the same tutorial class together for more than a year now," you mumbled as you zip your bag up, "He's a good running partner too. His pace was so stable and steady that it made me stuck to mine as well — I mean, duh, he's an athlete after all."

"Hey, I can run well too," Jay grumbled defensively, "You know if you needed a running partner, you could've called me right?"

“Maybe if you were as fit as I am, she would have,” Sunghoon suddenly appeared beside Jay, peering over his shoulder to look at the picture on his phone, “That’s a good picture of me and y/n — no wonder you got jealous.”

“Speak of the devil,” Jay rolled his eyes, “Aren't you a bit too greedy over what I have? first, you took up my spot for the dance competition and now you're trying to make a move on my girl."

"Jay, that was 2 years ago — get over it. You've taken my spot afterwards for the Summer competition anyway so we're actually even," Sunghoon retorted, "Also, she's not your girlfriend anyway so your territorial behaviour is pretty misplaced."

"Guys, cut it out," you shut your locker close with extra force in an effort to shut the squabbles, "Also, why am I suddenly dragged into your petty fights."

"Right sorry about that, he's just always trying to pick a fight with me," Sunghoon shook his head dismissively before turning to you and beamed, "Just stopping by to ask if you're running again tonight 'cause I would love to join again. It’s off season for ice-skating so I thought it's the perfect time to get back to running again."

“Oh? Yeah I am going tonight as well, just a tad bit late in the evening though. I want to finish up some work at the library first,” you smiled back at Sunghoon, ignoring Jay’s burning stare, “You know you can start ahead if you want — don’t want you waiting too long in case I'll take too much time at the library.”

“I’ll go when you go, don’t worry,” he reassured as he backed away, joining Heeseung who was waiting for him, “I’ll text you alright? Looking forward to tonight!”

You nodded and waved at him before turning to Jay, “What?”

“That’s it,” Jay clasped his hands together, “I’ll run with you tonight — and the next.”

“Jay, don’t be ridiculous, you hate running,” you emphasized, “which is why I never asked you to run with me.”

“Hey — I can love running if it’s for you,” he winked, wrapping an arm over your shoulders, dragging you past the crowded hallway towards your next class, “Or let me paraphrase: I hate him spending time with you more than I hate running so you know, priorities.”

“your priorities are all skewed then," you clicked your tongue, "Well, as long as you don't hurt yourself."

_________________________________________________________________________

The next morning however Jay did not show up in Modern Political Thought seminar that you guys have every Thursday morning. Though the guy is such a sleepyhead, he never misses a class even when he pulled up an all-nighter the night before. So this sudden absence, paired with the fact that he managed to run a whole 5km without stopping last night, was sowing seeds of suspicions and guilt within you. To make things worse, he did not even respond to any of your messages for the last 5 hours.

That was why you ended up being in front of Jay's apartment instead of having your lunch that noon. "Hi!" you immediately say as the door of Jay's apartment opened. It was Jake, his flatmate, with his lids only half-opened and hair all disheveled, "y/n?"

"Sorry for waking you up Jake," you smiled apologetically, "Is Jay home? He missed a Politics seminar this morning and he didn’t respond to my text at all — just wanna make sure he’s alright.”

“mmhmm, pretty sure he’s in," he answered drowsily before yawning, "but probably, still hibernating.”

“Oh okay, do you mind if I come in?”

Jake nodded, backing up as he held the door open, “Of course, come in — it’s messy though.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassured, making your way towards the room at the end of the hallway. As you knocked on his door, Jake suddenly shouted from the kitchen, “don’t bother knocking y/n — that guy sleeps like a log. Just go in.”

“Uhh…” you bit your lip, slightly hesitating but relented when your subsequent knocks yielded no answer.

“Jay? I’m entering okay?” you say as you let yourself in, carefully navigating around the dark room, stumbling a few times against some random furnitures.

"Jake, get out okay-" you hear him grumble from underneath the covers, tossing the other way, "just let me... sleep mo..re."

As you neared his bed, you reached over to his bedside table and turned on the lamp. Suddenly, Jay rose from the covers, his hand gripping your wrist, grunting "Jake what did I just say-"

Trailing off, he looked at you with brows furrowed in a mix of annoyance and confusion, before his expressions gradually soften "y/n?"

"dude, you almost gave me a heart attack," you muttered, sighing exasperatedly.

"Sorry, I thought it was Jake trying to disturb me again," he softened his grip and rubbed your wrist as if he had just hurt it, "Did I hurt you?"

"My heart, almost but my hand is fine," you pulled your hand away, "How about you?"

"What about me?"

"You missed class this morning," you crossed your arms.

"It's just one class, no big deal. I just overslept-"

"Is that all?" you raised an eyebrow before pointing at the crumpled muscle relief patch packs and pain relief creams strewn messily across his bedside table, "Did someone overexert himself last night?"

"Fine, I didn't come to class partly because my legs are sore," he shrugged, "but hey, I ran as much as Sunghoon did! Aren't you proud of me?"

"Not if it's at the cost of your legs!" you replied exasperatedly, "Come on, where is the rational Jay that I know? he wouldn't have let his competitiveness and ego cloud his judgements like this."

"It's just normal post-workout sore, I've had it a couple of times before," he reassured, "Also, I may hate running. But I'm actually good at HIIT and strength training so I'm not all that unfit as you think I am. Or he thinks."

"All that just so you can prove him wrong?"

"No of course not, I couldn't care less about him," he huffed, "I just wanted you to know that I can pace well with you too."

"Jay, that does not make it any better-"

"Probably also to convince you that I make a better running partner than Sunghoon," he sniggered.

"Well, guess what, you can't run if your legs are hurt," you quipped.

"Oh shit, that's true," he muttered under his breath, "Well post-workout sore usually last between 3-7 days so I'll be good as new after that. Running partners?" he stretched his hand out as if asking for a handshake.

You sighed, grabbing his outstretched hand, shaking it as if you guys are signing on a pact, "Only if you promise not to overexert yourself next time."

"Promise," his smile widened, "Have you had lunch? I'll cook something up for you."

"Your legs are hurt though."

"They're sore not hurt," Jay emphasized, scooting to the edge of his bed, "Also even if they are hurt, I cook with my hands not legs so..."

You chuckled, "Well sir, if you insists."

"Of course, wouldn't let my girl go out of this house famished," he wrapped an arm over your shoulder, grinning gleefully.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypenwriters #enhypen jay #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen scenarios #jay park #park jongseong #enhypen fluff #kpop imagines

202 notes · View notes

enquiringangel · 2 years

Note

Madara&Obito au where they find out a way to actually give Madara some form of immortality so instead of leaving Obito to deal with all shit alone and dying Madara lives and they both somehow form plans and do things towards goals

Obito still very much grows to hate him maybe even more than in canon cuz here he has to deal with him Every Day of his life imagine what a nightmare

Okay so, this is not MadaObi because Obito is still a kid. BUT if I took this concept and ran with it then it could definitely turn into another long-winded slowburn AU and I am sorely tempted!!!

Anyway, here's your teaser:

-x-x-x-

The truth was beautiful in its simplicity: all he had needed to do to finally awaken the Rinnegan, was to die. To think he hadn’t known this! He should’ve known. It was hidden plainly in the ancient lore of shamans, who travelled out of their bodies to be devoured and then remade from the same stuff as the spirits who ate them. Not a physical death, but a death nonetheless. And what was the physical world anyway? Nothing but a bad dream.

Madara returned from the borderlands of death with the Rinnegan gleaming violet in his sunken eyesockets, and the hands he raised to touch his face were still lined and knotted with great age. He was a Saviour with great power, but no strength. One stiff breeze might do him in. No, that just wouldn’t do at all.

So he chose a successor, a child of the Uchiha clan who could carry on his great work and revive him at the right moment.

The child died.

He had not been strong enough, and Hashirama’s cells had overwhelmed him. The twisted corpse had branches erupting from its mouth and eyes, pale white flowers blooming in the darkness of the cave.

Several other failed experiments had followed over the years, until at last he found Obito.

He had known somehow, that this one was different. He looked into the boy’s scarred face and could see flashes of the naïve child he had once been, so long ago. He was reminded of another boy as well. He could picture the pair they had made; two boys meeting by the riverside in the midst of a war, crafting their foolish dreams.

His plans for Obito were all laid in out, when an experiment with the Gedō Mazō made them obsolete.

Madara had been tethered to the shell of the Juubi for years, with its power the only thing that was keeping him still breathing. So why hadn’t it occurred to him to seal it into himself in the first place? The bijuu had to be sealed into it in order, starting with the Shukaku and ending with the Kyuubi, but his mistake had been in thinking that this couldn’t be done with the Gedō Mazō already sealed into a jinchuuriki. Oh, how Mito would’ve mocked him if she were here.

Empty though it was, the husk of the old nature god was a powerful thing, and the moment he sealed it into himself Madara was left breathless and shaking with ecstasy as vitality surged through his veins and renewed his youth. He was crazed in his delight, the sound of his laughter echoing through the caverns beneath the Mountain’s Graveyard. His creations—the White Zetsu and Uchiha Obito—looked on with astonishment as he rose to his full height, his back strong and no longer stooped with age.

“Whoa! Madara-sama, why didn’t you tell us you were having some work done?” exclaimed Tobi. The spiral-faced Zetsu moved in close and grasped Madara’s arm, flexing his elbow and feeling the muscles of his upper arm while the other Zetsu all chattered among themselves excitedly. Since nothing could currently spoil his good mood, Madara raised an eyebrow but magnanimously permitted it.

Obito, who was still wearing Tobi like a suit of armour, looked deeply chagrined by this ridiculous behaviour. “Would you cut that out?” he hissed. “These are my arms too you know!”

“Not at the mo-ment~ Obitobi~”

Madara tuned out the Zetsu nonsense through the ease of long practice, nudging the intrusive hands away absently. His mind was racing. Yes, there was nothing that could ruin his happiness. He would go to Amegakure and take his eyes back, and then, then there would be nothing that he could not accomplish.

Which meant that there was no need for Obito any longer, he supposed. His eyes flicked to the boy in question. For the first time since he’d come back to the cave after bathing in the blood of those Mist shinobi, Obito looked…lost. As well he might, Madara supposed. He would have to be reminded of his place in the scheme of things.

“Enough now,” he said, cutting through the Zetsus’ inane babbling effortlessly, as if he’d actually slit their throats. “There’s much to be done, and it’s past time I got a move on.” The hem of his robe swished around his calves as he crossed over to the wall where his weapons hung, lifting down his kusarigama and battle fan. He looked back over his shoulder expectantly, his lone Sharingan blazing in the gloom.

“Are you coming, Obito?”

#madara #obito #madaobi #except not actually #my writing stuff

29 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 3 years

Text

Life As We Know It {Prologue}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both Shelby and I’s blogs! >> @snelbz

We hope you all enjoy. :)

Cassian knew very little about Nesta Archeron, but he knew one thing for certain: she was hot as hell.

He had sworn he’d never go on another blind date, but Rhysand had begged, over and over again, for him to go out with the eldest sister of his girlfriend. So, to shut his brother up, Cassian agreed.

Reluctantly, but nonetheless.

He took a quick shower where he bathed himself in a new bottle of body wash before stepping out and towel-drying his hair. Considering Nesta was Feyre’s sister, he felt the need to make a good first impression, although he wasn’t sure what a good impression was to Nesta Archeron.

He was hoping he was sufficient enough.

He dressed in his usual attire of jeans and old boots, but decided to wear a button up for once, rather than one of his go-to t-shirts. Still, he pulled on his leather jacket and grabbed his keys before hurrying out the door.

He typed the address Rhys had texted him into his gps, seeing the drive was going to take him nearly twenty minutes longer than he’d anticipated, thanks to an accident on the interstate.

He swore under his breath, throwing his truck into motion. He hurried across town and parked in front of Nesta’s townhouse, fifteen minutes later than he was supposed to. Flipping down his sun visor, Cassian ran a quick hand through his loose hair and was heading up to the front door, knocking twice.

Or he would have, if the door wasn’t pulled open the second his fist made contact with it.

Suddenly, in his jeans and leather jacket, he felt extremely underdressed.

Nesta Archeron wore a beautifully fitted dark blue dress that fell only a couple inches above her knees. She wore heels, and her hair was curled. A silver clutch was gripped tightly in her hand.

She eyed Cassian, from the top of his head to his toes. For once, even though he was half a foot taller than she, even in heels, Cassian felt smaller than shit.

“Hey,” he said, at last, once the silence became unbearably awkward.

“You’re Cassian?” she asked.

“Were you expecting someone else?” he shot back.

Nesta’s lips thinned. “You’re late,” she said, instead.

“At least I came,” he grinned. “Hungry?”

Nesta took a deep breath as she lifted her chin. “I suppose so.”

“Good,” he said, gesturing toward his running truck. “Let’s go. I made reservations.”

She locked her door and followed him down the sidewalk. “Are we going to be late for those, too?”

Cassian elected not to answer her, pausing at the passenger door and opening it for her. He let out a sigh as he rounded the truck to his own seat.

Something told him this was going to be a long night.

He was absolutely right.

Not a single word was said on the way to the restaurant across town, and, by some grace of the Cauldron, they made it on time for their reservations.

They were set at a table by the entrance quickly, and once their server arrived, Nesta ordered a glass of wine, while Cassian stuck with his usual beer.

“So,” Cassian began, clearing his throat as they waited for their drinks to arrive. “What should I know about you, Nesta?”

“That’s it?” she asked, brow raised. “That’s the question you’ll begin with?”

Cassian’s head fell to the side. “What question should I have gone with?”

Nesta took a moment to look around the bustling restaurant. “Well, you’ve yet to tell me how beautiful I look, or ask me how I’m doing tonight.”

Cassian couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fine. You look nice. How are you?”

Nesta snorted. “Well, I waited twenty minutes for my date, thinking he wasn’t coming. Other than that, fine, I guess.”

“You don’t do this often, do you?” Cassian asked. There was nothing accusatory in his tone, just simple curiosity.

“Do what?” Nesta asked, the words nearly clipped.

“Date,” Cassian replied, simply. “Go out with someone for the first time.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “No. I don’t particularly have a lot of free time to waste.”

Cassian’s eyebrows rose at her choice of words. “You don’t have to be here, you know?”

The server quietly returned to the table, setting their drinks down, before hurrying away, sensing the tension between the two. Nesta’s eyes didn’t leave him the whole time. She picked up her wine glass, taking a long drink, before she asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you clearly would rather be anywhere but here,” Cassian replied, leaning back in his seat. “I’d hate to waste your time.”

She was about to reply when a voice came from their left.

“Cassian?”

He looked over his shoulder to find an old friend - a term that he used very, very loosely.

Tanwyn and he had a very complicated relationship. They were friends - at least, they had been at one time. It had all become very complicated the first time he had invited her into his bed.

And the second time.

And the third.

And every time after that.

He smiled at her, almost hesitantly. “Hey, Tan. What are you doing here?”

“Here with some friends,” she grinned, approaching their table. “And you?”

“Here with…” Cassian’s voice trailed off as he looked across the table. “This is Nesta Archeron. Nesta, this is Tanwyn-.”

“Nice to meet you,” Nesta said, words clipped. “If you’ll excuse us, we’re on a date.”

She blinked, taken aback at Nesta’s cold greeting. “Right… Sorry to interrupt. I’ll see you later, Cass.” She nodded to Nesta. “Nice to meet you.”

She was gone before Cassian could say another word, and he looked at Nesta incredulously.

She raised her glass before putting it to her lips. “So when is the last time you slept with her?”

Cassian was stunned, shaking his head. “She’s a friend, there was no reason to be rude.”

“My question still stands.” Nesta folded her hands on the table, her eyes on Cassian’s.

“How do you even know-? What are you, a psychologist?”

“No, I’m a chef,” she said, glaring at him. “But you show everything on that pretty little face of yours. It was easy to read.”

He closed his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. “We just need to…start over. This is all going wrong.”

Nesta stayed quiet before finally nodding. “Fine.”

The server picked that time to return, the two of them ordering their food, and the awkward first date conversation began again.

“I have to be honest,” Cassian began. “I’m not sure where to even begin.”

“Your name would be fine,” Nesta said, sipping from her glass.

Cassian watched her for a moment to make sure she was serious before saying, “Cassian Nazari. Childhood friend of Rhys’.”

“And your occupation?” she asked, in all seriousness.

“I’m a bartender,” Cassian said.

Nesta stared at him for a moment before asking, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously, and before you make any judgements, bartenders make damn good money,” Cassian said.

“Interesting,” Nesta said, watching him intently.

“Right,” Cassian muttered. “Now, will you give me some insight into you or should I beg?”

Nesta rolled her eyes before saying, “I’m Nesta. And, yes, lie I said, I’m a chef. I’ve got a little restaurant in the Square”

“That sounds…interesting,” he said, repeating her words. “And your Feyre’s sister?”

“I am,” she said, pausing as the server brought out salads and she began to eat hers, without any dressing.

Cassian, on the other hand, nearly drowned his in ranch dressing. He watched as she ate her plain lettuce. “That looks…boring.”

“Salad dressing is fattening. It negates all of the goodness of the salad.” She took another bite, chewing and looking at him, then his salad swimming in ranch. “You look like you take care of yourself, I’m surprised you don’t watch what you eat as well.”

He scoffed. “I work out, but I’m not going to be miserable and eat rabbit food.” He gestured to the bowl in front of her.

She rolled her eyes, but continued to eat her rabbit food.

Silence grew between them but neither of them attempted to break it. It wasn’t until their main courses arrived that Cassian nodded toward the cursive ink on the inside of her wrist.

“You have a tattoo,” he said.

She eyed the ink that swirled around his arms, up beneath his rolled up sleeves. “I have a few,” she confessed.

“What are they?” he asked, starting to cut up his steak.

She took a bite of her salmon, chewing it slowly before deflecting his question with one of her own, “What are yours?”

Cassian glanced down at the swirls and marks of black ink that covered his forearms. “They’re Illyrian tribal marks. They all mean something different, but I would be lying if I told you I knew what every one of them meant.”

Nesta snorted. “Then why have them?”

Cassian met her eyes. “My mother was Illyrian. I grew up in Illyria, with her tribe.”

It seems the answer nearly took her back, but she ended up nodding, curtly. “How is your steak?”

“Too done,” he said, shrugging as he took a bite. “I like my meat red.” Her nose crinkled slightly. He asked, “What?”

Nesta shrugged. “I don’t eat meat.”

He blinked and watched as she took another bite of salmon. “You’re…eating fish.”

An eye roll was her reply. “I don’t eat red meat,” she clarified.

“So you’re a vegetarian?” He asked.

“No, I just don’t like to eat red meat. Chicken, pork, fish,” she gestured to her plate. “I like that. But I just prefer not to eat red meat.”

“Hmm.” It was more of a non-answer than anything, but before she could say anything, a man appeared, standing next to their table. Cassian glanced up at him. “Can we help you?”

He wasn’t looking at him though. He was looking at Nesta, who was pointedly not looking at him.

“What are you doing, Nes?”

She took a drink of her wine, draining the glass. “This doesn’t concern you, Tom.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “We take a break and less than a month later, you’re on a date?”

She finally looked at him. “We’re not on a break, I broke up with you.”

Cassian cleared his throat. “Is this where all exes gather?” He looked around again to see if he saw Tanwyn, but she was gone.

“Leave,” Nesta said, plainly. “I can’t enjoy my dinner with you standing over me like the controlling bastard you were in our relationship.”

Cassian’s lips nearly fell open.

The woman had balls.

He respected that.

“I hate to break up this little reunion, but this is awkward as hell,” Cassian muttered, popping a spoonful of garlic mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Tomas said, looking to Cassian, using Nesta’s own words.

Cassian chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll give you two choices here, Tom. Either I call someone to take your ass away from our table or I make you leave, myself.”

“Tough guy, huh?” Tomas asked, putting a hand on Nesta’s shoulder.

Nesta brushed his hand off the second it made contact with her skin. “This is ridiculous. I’m calling over the server. We’re leaving.”

Cassian was inclined to agree. This date had been a catastrophe so far, but he was hopeful that maybe if she invited him in, he could salvage it.

Tomas seemed to take the hint, looking back to Nesta. “I’ll call you tomorrow. We’ll talk about this entire situation then.”

She flagged down the server, but said to Tomas, “Don’t waste your time or mine.”

He walked away, muttering something under his breath, but the server returned and after a quick explanation from Nesta, she was off to get their check.

“Well, that was awkward,” Cassian said, clearing his throat, taking a drink of his beer, planning to finish it off.

“No more awkward than running into your fuck buddy,” she replied, pulling her lipstick out of her purse to re-apply it.

Cassian managed to swallow the mouthful of beer before he spewed it all over her. He coughed quietly. “You don’t tiptoe around anything, do you?”

Her answer was curt. “No.”

The server returned, standing the check book on the edge of the table, and Cassian elected to let the conversation drop at that. He reached into his back pocket to grab his wallet.

And froze.

It wasn’t there.

He checked every other pocket he had on him.

Nothing.

“Fuck,” he breathed, patting himself down.

Nesta arched a brow. “Issues?”

“I have to run out to the truck,” Cassian said, quietly. “I can’t seem to find my wallet.”

Nesta froze from where she sat behind her half-eaten salmon. “You forgot your wallet?”

“It’s probably in the truck-.”

“I didn’t see it in the truck-.”

“Then the glove box, maybe,” Cassian snapped. “Just, give me a minute.”

“Don’t bother,” Nesta bit, reaching across the table to grab the check.

Cassian got to it first and held it outside of her reach. “I can pay for it. I took you out, I’m paying.”

Nesta scoffed. “Spare me your holier than thou male bravado.”

Cassian stood. “I just need to run out to my truck.”

She was on her feet, snatching the check book from him and looking at the total. Without another word, she reached into purse and laid down a series of bills, before closing it and heading for the door.

Sighing, Cassian followed her, his cheeks heating. Never had he let a woman pay for his dinner, and he’d sure as hell never let her pay for the first date.

He didn’t say a word as he unlocked her door, opening it, and closing it after she’d climbed in. He rounded to his own door, immediately looking around the cab for his wallet. It was nowhere to be seen. He reached across, opening the glovebox, pulling a few things out.

His wallet wasn’t one of them, but Nesta didn’t fail to notice the gold foil wrappers. And how many he had. She scoffed, buckling her seatbelt and looking out the window.

“I’ll pay you back,” he said, after he’d started the truck and had pulled onto the main road.

“No need,” she snapped, staring out the passenger side window. “Dropping me off and leaving me the hell alone will do.”

The words were barely audible. She spoke the words under her breath. And yet, Cassian felt them like a slap in the face.

He was mortified.

He was at a loss for words.

He just wanted to go home.

He also wanted to make a move on Nesta Archeron.

There was something about the head-strong, independent woman that made Cassian swoon.

Not that it stopped the car ride back to her home any less silent and awkward.

“You’re Feyre’s sister,” Cassian said, randomly.

Nesta blinked, looking toward him. “Yeah. Is there something wrong with that?”

“No,” Cassian said quickly. “It’s just that, you’re so…” Different. Cruel. Different. Opposite. Different. Vindictive. Different. “Not the same,” Cassian finished, at last.

“I am my own person,” she snapped, as he stopped in front of her townhouse.

“I know you are, just-.” He sighed, turning to look at her. “This has been a mess from the start. Can I come in? I’d like some time for us to talk, just the two of us. No ex’s, no servers, no interruptions. I just want to get to know you.”

She laughed once.

The sound infuriated him.

“You mean you want to fuck me,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. He was, once again, caught off guard by how blunt she was. She pulled open his glovebox and removed the strip of condoms, holding them up. “Forgot your wallet, but made sure you didn’t forget these.”

Cassian slowly looked at her. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” she repeated. “What are you, a child?”

Cassian couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve tried to be the perfect gentleman tonight, alright? Yeah, I forgot my wallet, but-.”

“And we also ran into your fuck buddy, don’t forget about that,” Nesta said, with a vindictive grin. She opened the door, grabbed her purse, and hopped out.

Cassian was close behind her, following her up her walkway. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Nesta spun around. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she laughed, humorlessly. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” Cassian asked, as she approached her front door.

“Yet you’re still following me to my door,” she said, not looking back at him. She unlocked the door, opening it and stepping inside. Turning back to him, she held the door in one hand, the hand holding her purse propped on her hip. “Thank you for a truly unforgettable evening, Cassian, but I don’t think this is going to work out.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, letting his gaze slowly drag from her head to her toes and back up again. He watched as her cheeks heated, anger lighting up her eyes. “Yeah, I think you’re right. You’re too stuck up for your own good. Too bad.”

She groaned before slamming the door in his face, praying she’d never have to see Cassian Nazari again.

#shara #collab #LAWKI #nessian #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au

305 notes · View notes

dangermousie · 3 years

Note

Hello !

I was wondering whether you could rate and tell us of your top 5 favourite webnovels/cnovels of all time ?! (Sorry if this has already been answered lol😅)

Thank you, stay safe and have a nice day🖤

Awww, thank you and that is such a lovely ask!!!

From n1 to n5, here they are (they happen to be all danmei.)

1. The Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha) - my n1 forever and ever.

Taxian Jun, the horrific cultivation emperor of the world who razed cities and destroyed sects, is surrounded on his mountain. The righteous sects are terrified to confront him but tired of living, Taxian Jun consumes poison and dies by suicide at the age of 32. And opens his eyes as 16 year old Mo Ran, Mo Ran long before he became Taxian Jun, Mo Ran who is excited at a chance to save the one person he loved and lost. Oh, and to deal with his loathed shizun, the unapproachable and strict Chu Wanning, his past life’s biggest enemy.

I have no idea if it’s objectively the best on this list but it hits every trope I love, its bleak worldview (the world will change only incrementally but that’s enough, average person will not appreciate the sacrifice but it’s still worthwhile, and love is worth everything) mirrors mine, and the sheer complexity of the plot and cascade of plot twists each of which is insane and yet completely logical, is amazing (this is a rare novel where it’s even more fun to reread than read for the first time because you keep seeing all the hints and trail crumbs laid out that you did not see the first time.)

And the characters!!! I mean, this novel has multiple universes/timelines, a side trip to the Underworld AND the demon realm, a plot more twisted than a store’s worth of pretzels and yet the thing that hits me the most are the characters. Mo Ran is my favorite web novel character of all time and I love Chu Wanning so. All the secondary characters are wonderfully written (and some of them made me bawl) and they are all complex. My opinion of all of them changed many times over; the novel doesn’t make it easy to love some of them but then you do and it’s so worthwhile! That slow change is one of the delights of the novel - I started out disliking the unpleasant, superior Chu Wanning and cruel, callow Mo Ran and then I loved them so so hard and cried for them so so hard and was in awe of their heroism and sacrifice and selflessness and capacity to love.

Oh, and the fact that this novel does something almost impossible - it has its protagonist start out as so clearly irredeemable and then slowly and painfully and thoroughly redeems him (without ever letting the reader forget what it is he needs redemption for.)

Also, for a novel that made me cry so hard I felt ill, this book is just so damn funny with the most sarcastic sense of humor imaginable (the serious angst doesn’t even kick in until 90+ chapters!)

Anyway I should stop or I will write a dissertation. But this is the one web novel that I would put in my top 5 not just web novels but any novels in any shape or form. The plentiful trigger warnings are there for a reason so stay away if they are an issue, but if not, if anyone hasn’t read it yet, what are you doing with your life?!

2. Stains of Filth (Yuwu) - another novel by the author of 2ha. Clearly she just pushes all my buttons every time. This one is much shorter and has a plot that is twisty but less twisty than 2ha. Still, all that means is that intensity and the pain are more concentrated.

Aristocratic Mo Xi and former slave Gu Mang were both legendary generals of the empire and lovers. But Gu Mang betrayed the country and switched to the enemy. Now he is back as a peace offering by that country and Mo Xi has to deal with the fact that his feelings are as strong as ever.

This novel!!! So much pain and intensity!!! So many amazing plot twists and supporting characters. The same bleak world view, the same unjust society, the same protagonists doing right things despite the cost. Mo Xi’s intensity and inability to let go (he’s imprinted on Gu Mang and that’s it) is romantic, bone-shakingly intense, and tragic all at once. And oh Gu Mang! So many times I just wanted to reach into the book physically to protect him. The novel deals with unjust societies, memory versus personality, what it’s like to be good in a bad universe etc. And it both made me sob and giggle, repeatedly, and sold me on literally death-defying (but not honor-defying!) love.

Oh, and special shout out to the fact that like 2ha, you may start out hating some characters and end up a rabid fangirl (cough Murong Lian!)

3. Qiang Jin Jiu - a dense political tome that takes a while to get going but then it’s a runaway train.

In a fictional dynasty, Shen Zechuan, the only remaining son of a disgraced aristocratic family and Xiao Chiye, the younger son of a family of generals guarding the border join forces (and then something else) to get power and pull down the dysfunctional system.

This is so elegant and smart (a rare web novel I’d recommend to anyone who just loves solid period fiction) and you probably need a notebook to keep track of the politics and military strategy. These characters are very very smart not just because the author says so.

As to the characters, there is a large cast and I love many of them, but for me the novel is made by Shen Zechuan and Xiao Chiye. SZC is gorgeous and delicate and icy and can kill you before you have time to blink. Saddled with the sins of the family he had no pleasant interaction with, he claws his way out of hell (seeing the sinkhole he was trapped in, literally as well) to take down those who wronged him but also to amass power so all the tragedy and corruption won’t happen again and the whole rotten system comes crashing down. XCY is a military genius who is trapped as a hostage in the capital because the court doesn’t trust his family. He longs to return to the plains of home and to take his rightful place. The two men start out as bitter enemies, then reluctant and sniping allies, then as friends and eventually as one of the most gorgeous, tender, swoony OTPs.

Anyway this is one is a bona fide masterpiece, equal parts smart and emotionally intense.

4. Wu Chang Jie - are you an emotional vampire? I am and this novel is a banquet.

In a highly fantastical setting, we meet our protagonists - the sunny Xie Bian and the intense and surly Fan Wushe. Xie Bian is a human who assists his master in conveying souls to the underworld and making sure no mishaps happen. Bian is concentrated sunshine in human form and to meet him is to love him. When the novel opens, his drunk master brings back another human to be his shidi and assist with duties - said human is uncommunicative, intense and surly Wushe. Bian is excited to have a shidi but little does he know that a story dealing with the horrors of past lifetime is about to start.

Anyway, why WCJ? So many reasons. It has such a dark bleak worldview - this world is a horrifying system where powerful cannibalize each other’s cores for an impossible chance to ascend, where gods have sealed off their realm and all that’s left is neverending human misery and hell (the only way you’d see a deity is if they’d been sent down to suffer over and over and over), where even reincarnation doesn’t fix things and bad acts are often unpunished. And the novel then asks - is it worth being a good person in such a world? More, is it worth being a good person in such a world when nothing good has ever happened to you and you have been repeatedly betrayed due to your goodness? And the answer, on Bian’s part, is an uncompromising yes.

Ah yes, the other reason to love this novel - the protagonists and their fucked up fucked up relationship. Bian (who was Prince Ziheng in the past life) is so genuinely good. But he is that rare thing - good but not saintly, noble but not cloying. So much of the novel is his getting taken apart over and over and barely able to put himself back together every time but his soul is still as amazing as ever.

And then there is Wushe (who was Prince Zixiao in past life, Ziheng’s not-bio-related brother.) Wushe is not a good person. He is a monster. And he loves Bian/Ziheng more than his life and his soul and the entire world but he’s also the one who hurt him more than anyone else ever could and did it over and over. His love survived a literal century of torture in the worst kind of hell and refused the usual memory loss of new life. But it also humiliated and broke Ziheng down to his constituent parts.

One of the things that is so fascinating to me about this novel is the question of what can be forgiven/what should be forgiven/what kind of expiation is enough/can you ever love someone who you loved so much and then he hurt you so badly and is now repentant? And it never sweeps trauma under the rug or hand waves it away but deals with it head on.

If you want healthy relationships, you should stay far away from this novel but if intense insane ones with a feral barely human one capable of destroying the world leashed by love and guilt to the sane deeply good one is your bag, come right in.

There is also the world building and the fact that yes, the big fall out between Ziheng x Zixiao is based on not knowing all the facts but it’s not “why can’t you talk?! This is dumb!” But is totally in keeping with both events and their characters. It’s reasonable for Ziheng to do what he does and for Zixiao to misunderstand and decide Ziheng is now his biggest enemy (but still one he’s fixated on) and for Ziheng to never be able to clarify.

Anyway, once again this is trigger warning central so please heed those, but if they are no issue, this one is wonderful.

5. OK, this is hard and switches between Sha Po Lang, Heaven Official’s Blessing and The Golden Stage depending on my mood. So what the hell, I am gonna write about all of them.

Sha Po Lang - so smart and so much clever world building. There is enough politicking to satisfy a Qiang Jin Jiu fan, it’s steampunk, and our two protagonists - Gu Yun, the empire’s most powerful general, who’s loyal to the empire despite being badly wronged by it, and Chang Geng, a cursed prince with barbarian blood and horrifying childhood - are wonderful separately and together. This is a huge slow burn but it’s totally worth it! They fall in love with each other’s hearts and brains and ability as much as anything. (Yes, this is the one with the yifu thing. Gu Yun is made Chang Geng’s foster father when he rescues him and brings him back to the capital as a way to keep CG safe in imperial strife. They are 12 and 19 at the time so clearly it’s never a parental relationship.)

Heaven Official’s Blessing (TCGF) - I love it’s sprawling narrative and cast, I love its inventive setting and picaresque story. It’s hilarious and can make me cry. But the novel’s place on this list is due to Xie Lian who is part Kenshin part drama WWX part pure goodness wrapped in heartbreak and trauma wrapped in sunshine.

The Golden Stage - two smart and principled (yes, they both have principles different though they may be) men navigate their arranged marriage, their past friendship and their past break up, become a super couple (one of the healthiest danmei couples I’ve ever read and proves healthy doesn’t have to be boring), save the country and bring down the emperor or two and just generally this is my rainy day book.

I guess I didn’t write as much for the three n5 candidates as I did for 1-4 but my brain is beginning to curdle so...

#cnovel #heaven official's blessing #2ha #yuwu #sha po lang #qiang jin jiu #wu chang jie #the golden stage #tcgf #asks

287 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

dire, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: One fateful night. That was all it took for Jeon Jungkook’s world to turn upside down. One mistake, one lick to the face, and something between biology? a spell? and now he’s horny as fuck for a Dire Wolf. Who needs catgirls when you have doggirls, right?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, world building, mentions of death, blood; eating raw meat; mentions of (species) discrimination and prejudice; violence; smut (fem reader, too much m-masturbation, m-receiving oral (ish?); saliva everywhere lol); non-idol!AU - werewolfAU; werewolf!reader x blond, human!Jungkook; switches between Jungkook’s POV and your POV; is JK a furry? you decide

tried to keep it fast paced during the world building, hopefully it doesn’t feel as long as it is haha and yes there’s a rap line cameo slipped in there hehe inspired by YOASOBI - 怪物 (Kaibutsu)

He shouldn't be out so late at night. He had lost track of time, stayed out too late, and now he was paying for it, running, trying to stay swift and quiet, keeping out of the streetlights. The sky was pitch black, oppressively towering over the city. The moon was high above him, thick and full.

A howl tore through the darkness.

The hair on the back of his neck raised. His breathing shallowed and he tried to move quicker, hiking to the tips of his sneakers, trying to avoid the fallen leaves. There was no one walking around. No one else would be crazy enough to be out this night. The wind swirled around him, as if it too was afraid, hurrying him along. Another howl followed.

And then another.

And another.

Panic rose within him, breaking out into a full out run, not caring anymore about being silent because there was scraping now, claws on asphalt, insatiable huffs mixing with growls.

This was why they had curfew on the nights of the full moon.

He was going to die.

Anyone in their homes was off limits. But he wasn't in his apartment, he wasn't home, and he was going to die, he was going to die, he was going to–

Strong arms grabbed his body from the air, dragging him into an alleyway. He almost screamed, but a hand clamped over his mouth, grip like iron.

A human hand.

He was slammed against the alley wall, brick cutting into his thick hoodie, pain shooting up his back, tearing it up as he was thrown down onto the dirty sidewalk. The body followed, flattening over his. For such a strong grip, the weight was not as heavy as he expected. The stranger was wearing a dark hoodie as well, incredibly oversized, similar black jeans to his, but it was obvious they were several sizes too big, swamping the legs inside.

He whimpered as his head was pushed into the brick.

"Silence, human."

The hand was still over his mouth but his eyes widened. The voice was low, grating, yet distinctly female. The other hand, her left, popped up and he saw the tattoo on the back of her hand, a number below a wolf symbol.

Stay away from the Dire.

The Dire were the reason he was running. The Dire were the reason he was going to die. The Dire were the wolf people that lived among them, too many to not be members of society, but hated for what they were. Essentially werewolves, but not as romantic as the folktales like to make them.

She reached up and lowered the face mask.

He could smell it on her breath.

Blood.

He was going to die.

He started at her teeth, sharp, pointed, a true carnivore, almost too big for her mouth. Still, he was surprised to see her mouth was mostly human, full lips, smooth skin. He thought all the Dire were forced into wolf form during the full moon.

"Stay still."

She licked him.

His eyes went wide, unexpectedly seeing her lean over, long tongue extended, slobbering on his cheek, all the way to his temple. It coated his face, the scent of blood and something else – thick, intense, and heady, unlike anything else he had ever felt in his life. His eyes rolled back in his head, entire body shuddering at the touch, thighs quivering. Her hand pressed harder against his mouth and she drew back, turning her head, waiting.

The snarls neared, then stopped.

"I swore I smelled human here."

Heavy, thudding steps. His eyes snapped back to see the shadows dancing on the wall. Huge, misshapen shadows. Multiple ones. The fear rose within him, but she pressed her hand down on his lips, shaking her head just barely. Her body was still on top of his, covering it. He was very aware of her weight now, firm, solid. He heard more noises. Rustling. Harsh sniffing.

"Ugh, let's get out of here. I smell a claim," came a deep, disgruntled grumble.

"We can take them." Higher pitched, a little annoying.

"Smell it, you fool."

A snorting whiff.

"Fuck, you're right. Let's get out."

Then the heavy steps bounded away, claws clacking on the concrete.

She waited until the night was silent for a full minute before removing her hand from his mouth. His face was still covered in her saliva. He raised his hand to wipe it off, but she growled deep in her chest. The sound tingled throughout his nerves, igniting them.

"Do you want to die, human?"

He froze at her cold tone. She backed up, hood falling.

Suddenly, he forgot how to breathe.

She had tall, pointed ears, fur silvery in the moonlight, with black tips. Her hair was wild, the strands probably thickened from the full moon. Whatever her usual eye color was replaced with bright yellow, flashing as she scanned the area outside the alleyway. She had a mole underneath her right eye, near the inner corner.

She sighed, standing up. A bushy silver and black tail poked out from under the hoodie. Despite her smaller frame, there was sheer power in her stance, an unmistakable predator.

"W-Why aren't you in wolf form?" he wondered out loud, breathless in awe.

She turned her head to look down at him. Something flitted in her eyes. Then her gaze hardened.

"How close is your home?"

He swallowed, shakily standing up, aching all over. He pointed. "A block from here."

She stepped back, ticking her head. Her silvery ears were straight up, tufts of white hair sticking out of them. They looked soft, pretty.

"Go home, human. The world will be yours when the sun rises."

She left quickly, light steps in her wake.

You shadowed him until he entered his home.

He didn't notice.

Dumb human, almost getting himself killed.

The Dire wolf people lived among them. Some had good jobs, worked hard, and even had respect from human society. But most had low-paying jobs, poor reputations, and were behind bars. Because at the end of the day, they were carnivores. They hunted. They ate meat. Most of the time they hunted animals in the forest, with one exception. Any human out during the full moon was free game, no reprimand. Any other time was considered murder, but the full moon was theirs. That was the deal between the Dire Alpha and the nation.

It was not a great deal, but that was the deal.

Even though the Dire looked human most days, a few things gave them away. The ears, the fluffy tail, the teeth. Some Dire had them removed, clipped, or filed, for style, in shame, whichever. But every Dire had the tattoo on their left hand, complete with the identification number. If you didn't have a left hand, the national government put it wherever it could be visibly seen.

That was also part of the deal between the Dire Alpha and the nation.

If you asked Jeon Jungkook, he tell you this deal was absolute shit, but there really wasn't anything anyone could do about it.

No one except the Dire Alpha and the government.

We all know the old ones are set in their ways.

"How much?"

Jeon Jungkook raised his head at the familiar voice. It wasn't as grating or rough as before, but it had a distinctive raspy huskiness to it that he recognized instantly.

It was the middle of the day, at the local butcher's shop. The air was frigid, mostly to help keep the meat fresh. The prices were cheap here, definitely cheaper than the supermarket chain.

He looked up to the counter to see a huge bag of meat sitting on the scale. Raw, red, bloody. The figure was wearing a dirty oversized black hoodie and jeans that were about four sizes too big, swamping the legs. Not that imposing, but there was something about that voice that made it imposing.

The left hand slid out of the hoodie and sat on the counter. Wolf tattoo, numbers. Nails painted black, a wolf ring on her middle finger with glittering, opalescent stones for eyes. Her pinky had a simple silver band. She hasn't been wearing those rings on that night.

The butcher curled his lip and stated the price.

Jungkook could see the weight from here. He did a quick calculation and furrowed his brows, marching up to the counter.

"That's twice as much as you charge me."

The butcher looked startled that Jungkook had cut in. The hooded figure was wearing a face mask but there was no mistaking the mole under the inner corner of the right eye, even if she had her normal eye color now.

"It's... it's higher quality meat!" the butcher sputtered, alarm rising in his throat.

"Oh, shut up," the woman spat, reaching into her hoodie and dumping bills onto the counter. "There's no need to lie. Dires can do math as well as you, human." She grabbed the bag from the counter, growling. The butcher crawled back in fear, hand fumbling for the knife behind him.

"Keep the change."

She yanked the bag off the counter and stalked away. Jungkook stared at the bills and shot the terrified butcher one last glare before he rushed out to follow. She wasn't that hard to find. The bag of meat was huge. It bulged against the thin plastic, almost breaking. Jungkook ran up to her, skidding on his sneakers and grabbed the bag from below, hoisting it up.

The Dire turned her head, raising an eyebrow.

"It'll fall," he explained, swallowing. She released her hand from the bag. The black face mask covered her expression but her eyes were visible. Careful, intense, not to be messed with.

"Do you want it, human? Is that why you're bothering me?" she asked. Her tone wasn't condescending or rude, mostly impartial.

"Uh, what? No, no, I was worried that the bag would break and the meat would fall to the ground and then you wouldn't be able to eat it..." Jungkook trailed off in his explanation. His nerves felt like they were on fire when she looked at him, even if they weren’t the same yellow color as that night.

Those eyes sparked with something unknown, squinting in amusement. There was a single bark of laughter, her chin lifting and hood sliding back a little, revealing some of her hair.

"Silly human, everyone knows dogs can eat off the floor."

She said it lightheartedly, but there was bitterness, piercing like venom.

Jungkook frowned.

"You're not a dog."

She raised an eyebrow. Reached up with her left hand, lowering the face mask. The wolf hand tattoo gleamed, dark despite probably having it for most of her life. The government probably forced her to touch it up every so often. His eyes widened as her face was revealed, nose, lips, chin. He remembered the intoxicating feeling of her tongue on his face. The way his whole body reacted, falling into it. Her mouth opened, white teeth sharp and pointed, but not as large as they were during the full moon.

"Are you sure?" she growled.

It was the middle of the day. Lunchtime. Her right hand lifted, reaching into to the bag. Jungkook's eyes grew wider as her fingers closed around a hunk of meat, blood seeping onto the silver rings she wore on this hand, an intricate skull with a snake coming out of its mouth on her index and a silver band with script on it on her ring finger.

It read...

FEED.

She gripped the slippery meat and pulled it out of the bag. Brought it to her lips and sank her teeth in, tearing at it. She even turned her head sharply to the side, ripping the uncooked muscle to shreds.

Chewed.

FEED.

Chewed slowly, staring.

"Best stay away from the Dire, human. They are not nice like me."

"Thank you," Jungkook blurted.

He did not know why he said it now. Now, as she was literally eating a chunk of raw meat in the middle of the fucking street, blood dropping down and seeping into the face mask on her chin. She was eating like an animal, probably on purpose to scare him, but all he could remember was arriving home and looking at himself in the mirror, her saliva stuck to his cheek and temple.

She blinked, slowly.

"Thank you for saving me."

She shoved the last bit of meat in between her lips. She looked thoughtful as she swallowed. Something seemed to be different now.

"You're welcome, human. I'm glad you're safe."

She held her bloody hand out.

"I need to feed. I would like to do so in peace, if you don't mind."

He jumped, holding out the bag of meat. She gripped it from the top and placed her left hand under it, supporting it as she took it from him.

"Um."

He lowered his hands. She looked at him with impassioned eyes.

"My name is Jeon Jungkook."

She tilted her head, a curious puppy gaze.

"What... what's yours?"

You told the human your name.

Not your full name. Just your given name.

Part of you still wanted to refer to him as the dumb human.

But he did say you weren’t a dog.

That was nice of him to say.

Maybe he should have been disgusted, watching her eat raw meat like that.

Then again, maybe he was desensitized, because many Dire ate raw meat out in public. At restaurants and such. Usually with some sort of utensil though, and not with their hands.

Jungkook wasn’t sure what came over him to be honest. He just kept thinking about her tongue. The smell. The saliva. The two Dires hunting him had called it a claim. He wondered what that meant. He took to the internet.

The internet scared him.

He put down the internet.

He stared at his phone, reading the words that he had looked up in the web browser. What is a claim? That didn’t work. What is a Dire claim? Jungkook found the answer on a communal website that defined slang words.

A claim is when a Dire wolf claims a piece of property as theirs via marking them with their scent. Usually, that property is a mate or a human used as a sex slave.

The internet was scaring him. That can’t be right. She didn’t have sex with him. She didn’t even attempt to or try when they met again afterward. She had spent the time eating raw meat in front of his face. She didn’t even give him a phone number.

“I don’t have a phone,” she said. “Such things are of no use to me.”

Who didn’t have a phone these days? He thought that was weird.

“If you want to find me, I can smell it off you. I will come. Or I will not.”

That was also weird.

But she was a wolf. So. Maybe not?

Jungkook did not have many interactions with the Dire. He met a banker once when he was withdrawing some money. Saw them went he bought groceries or went to amusement parks. The Dire didn’t really interact with humans. The Dire even went to different schools than the humans, so he wasn’t exposed to their customs. The education system didn’t focus much on Dre history or culture.

Also.

Sex slave???

Jungkook couldn’t stop thinking about it.

They must have been mistaken.

You could smell the human. He was thinking about you.

What was his name again?

Jungkook.

He was horny.

You snorted and went back to your shower.

Jungkook was in the middle of gripping his dick when he realized.

If you want to find me, I can smell it off you.

Was there a radius? A limit?

The words sex slave kept flashing in his head.

Could she smell him now?

He stroked his cock, slowly.

Maybe?

He kept going.

You were in the middle of drying off when you smelled it.

You raised your eyebrows.

You went back to drying yourself off.

Your tail was drenched with water. Sigh. Perhaps you would have to blow dry it before sleeping.

Oh dear.

He made a mess.

Could she... smell it?

No way, right?

“I can smell it, you know.”

Jungkook shot up out of his bed. He was shirtless. Fuck that, he was pants less too. He only had his underwear on, and the female Dire was standing in his bedroom, hood down, head cocked. His window was wide open, curtains flapping in the wind. Her fluffy silver ears were ruffling in the breeze.

It was nearly noon.

The next day.

After, well, the night he jacked off to thinking about her tongue.

She was fully clothed, in a giant gray hoodie and loose black pants, far too big for her. They looked clean, compared to last time they met. There was a black face mask under her chin, squishing her cheeks a little. As usual, her voice was a little raspy and husky, if not monotone.

“H-How did you… g-get in?” he sputtered, grabbing his covers and yanking them over him.

She raised an eyebrow. “This window, obviously.”

He stared at the window. How…? He was on the fifth floor.

“O-oh…?”

Her ears twitched, up and down. He watched them with fascination.

“Well. I just came to tell you that. That’s all.”

She turned around and placed her hands on the sides of his window.

“What are you–”

She turned back, lifting the hood up and over her head and ears.

“Good afternoon, by the way.”

And she launched herself out the window.

Jungkook’s eyes widened and he bolted out of the bed, scrambling to the window. He stuck his head out, looking down. Her sneakers deftly tapped windowsill after windowsill and she dropped down, landing on the sidewalk. She seemed to feel his gaze and looked up.

Tilted her head.

Then pulled the face mask up her nose and walked away as if nothing had happened.

I can smell it, you know.

He turned fifty shades of red and yanked his window closed, locking it, and drew the curtains.

The human had a clean bedroom. Shades of navy and dark wood. Pretty. A lot of speakers. Records. Did he actually play them or did he only have them for aesthetics? You knew humans these days loved aesthetics. It was trendy. That’s all they cared about, really.

So, why did the human do that last night?

You wondered.

Maybe he was desperate or something.

No.

He wasn’t that ugly. And, even ugly humans these days could attract mates. With personality. And such.

Maybe he was a freak or something.

Ah.

Yes.

Sexualizing the Dire.

There were people like that.

You nodded, accepting this as your answer and went on your way.

Jungkook stood at the counter of the records store.

He worked here most days as the cashier. The manager was rarely here. At this point, it was basically Jungkook’s store without the actual responsibility of paying the rent for it. Jungkook was fine with that. He liked talking about music, not fighting with landlords about the raising rent prices.

There were a few people in the store. A guy with dark hair and cat-like eyes, frowning as he looked even though he probably wasn’t upset by anything. He was probably just frowning because that was his default expression. Another guy with colorful clothes and an equally brilliant smile was browsing through the ’80s section. He looked quite cheerful. There was another tall guy with an inquisitive face that was inspecting the artwork on every single record. He nearly dropped them six times.

Jungkook was a little worried about him.

Also, he couldn’t stop thinking about how the Dire said she could smell his orgasm.

Or rather, his orgasm as he thought about her.

Maybe if he just…

Did it without thinking about her.

But that was impossible.

If he tried not thinking about her, then he would end up thinking about her. That was how ‘The Game’ worked and, fuck, now he just lost that too.

Sigh.

“Could I buy this?”

Oh, thank God, please don’t drop it again, Jungkook thought as he pleasantly rang up Kim Namjoon.

Should you eat the cheese?

You ate the cheese.

It was very delicious.

Maybe you should buy more cheese. You father did not like you eating human food. Every meal was only raw meat. It was fine, but boring. You could digest human food, but only in small portions, and still had to eat meat. You didn’t really have much chance to eat human food anyway. But you had bought this cheese out of curiosity. It had smelled interesting.

So, you ate it.

And it was good.

The human was horny again.

The human really needed to stop this.

You rubbed your chin. Perhaps it was the claiming. Still, he shouldn’t have noticed what it was. Humans couldn’t smell it like other wolves could. Maybe he was starved for intimacy. Maybe no other human had licked him like that. You frowned. Why not? He seemed attractive. Long, ashy bleached hair with strong features and pouty lips. He had moles too, one under his lip, one on his nose, and one on his cheek. You only had one on your face, the one under your right eye. He had tattoos, an entire right sleeve, all the way up to his shoulder. You liked the red eyeball one. That was interesting.

You ate another piece of cheese.

You wouldn’t have marked your scent on him, but it was meant to mask his human one. He was going to die if you hadn’t. You didn’t need to do anything other than the simple lick. You had a strong scent, only outdone by the Dire Alpha.

Your father.

You ate another piece of cheese.

The human was really wanting you.

Should you have saved him? You had saved humans before. You did it often, on full moon nights. You never had to mark a claim though. Every other time, all you needed to do was drag them to safety. They sometimes thanked you and sometimes screamed in fear before slamming their doors in your face. Odd. Some thought about you afterwards, but not like this. You father would not like you saving the humans, but you didn’t really care. You father was an ass to the humans.

He was kind of an ass to you too, but he was less of an ass to you than to everyone else, so you accepted it. You were his only daughter, after all.

The human was having a good time.

You raised an eyebrow and ate another piece of cheese.

Let him be.

What if he just…

“This is the third time this week.”

Jungkook jumped, throwing himself into the wall. He was standing in his kitchen, and the window was opening, the female Dire sliding in, hands first, then legs, too much fabric. She must have had a smaller body than her clothes showed, because the window was not that big. The hood of her blue hoodie fell back, revealing her silvery pointed ears. She was still wearing her black face mask. Dark brown pants. Dirty white sneakers all over his countertop.

“H-Hey!”

“Stop jacking off thinking about me.”

“What?”

She slumped down on the counter, legs hanging off the edge. Her ears flickered back and forth. It was early evening. He had been trying to decide on whether to make dinner first or, well.

The other thing.

Her tail slid out of the bunched up blue hoodie, slapping against the gray countertop. Silvery fur, tipped black. It looked really soft. He kind of wanted to pet it. No, he very much wanted to pet it.

“Human.”

Jungkook snapped to attention. He did not really know how to feel about her breaking into his apartment like this. He wasn’t mad at it. Just didn’t understand how or why she kept doing it. He could have opened the front door for her. She didn’t lower her face mask.

“You are distracting me with your constant masturbating, so I would appreciate it if you watched some other porn and did it to that.”

“E-eh?” He swallowed. “H-How would you know?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course, I know. I told you, if you want to find me, I can smell it. What more want is there than sex?”

Jungkook blinked at her.

“Are all Dires like that?”

She tilted her head.

“No.”

Finally, she reached up and lowered the mask. Her voice was now less muffled, still husky though.

“Only strong Dires can discern who desires them. And most can only smell it when it’s sexual desire, driven by the need to mate. My nose is a little more sensitive.” Her fluffy tail thumped. “I can smell you if you are simply wanting my presence.”

She didn’t move from the counter. Just kept talking to him as if this was normal.

“Humans do not usually desire Dires. It is typically the other way around.”

Sex slave???

“And Dires frequently simply use humans for fun.”

Jungkook’s brain was still fixated on that weird definition he had found on the internet.

“But, in any case, pheromones are usually not compatible, so therefore most humans don’t even realize they’re not physically attracted to Dires. Which is probably why the segregation is so strong, even now.”

She was giving him a biology lesson and his dick was wondering is he was going to get any action.

“Anyway,” she finally said, raising one of her sneakers to place it on his counter. Jungkook winced. So dirty. He would have to deep clean that counter the second she left. “Go get laid or something.”

“I tried.”

She looked like she was about to get up and paused. Her head turned; wolf ears perked.

Jungkook’s cheeks burned hot as he shifted his eyes. “I tried earlier this week. I wasn’t… masturbating.”

No expression.

She raised her face mask to cover her nose and stood up.

“Human.”

Jungkook looked up at her.

“That’s weird.”

And she slithered out his kitchen window.

He didn’t even bother to see if she made it safely. He could hear her deft sneakers touching the wall before the heavy sound of her dropping down to the sidewalk.

From now on, you ignored it.

Humans were peculiar.

Maybe he was just… weird?

Jungkook leaned against the at the counter of the records shop, hand on his chin tapping his cheek. No one was in the store.

He never really thought about his sexuality much. He just did stuff when the opportunity arose, mostly because he was horny and the chance was there. He never noticed that everyone who was interested in him was human or even those he had a minor interest in were human. Why was that? Why didn’t he think about Dires sexually until that female one licked him like that?

And now she was all he could think about, which was weird because he never really thought about them like that at all.

The wolf people weren’t well liked by society and Jungkook, while not going along with it mindlessly, was definitely influenced by popular opinion. He stayed out of their way, took more care when he noticed a group of them congregating at the sidewalk, and did not have idle chat with them like he would with a human.

He bit his lip thinking about it. He did not like that he only noticed this now.

It took lust for him to realize that he had innate prejudice.

That was a little fucked up.

But better than never noticing?

Jungkook slumped onto the counter. Maybe she could tell. Maybe that’s why she acted so aloof and indifferent. Could she discern his emotions when they were close? He didn’t really know what was fact or fiction when it came to the Dire wolf people. He knew the Dire couldn’t turn humans like the stories. That was just a fable. They could eat them though. That wasn’t a fable.

He wondered how genetics worked. Could they have children?

Was he seriously speculating if be could have children with the silvery female Dire right now?

Jungkook blinked slowly.

Oh, fuck, what if he was weird?

You slipped your silver rings onto your aching fingers.

The wolf one.

The silver band.

The skull with the snake.

The FEED ring.

And now, a large opalescent gem inlaid with a star design around the stone, onto your right thumb.

Around your neck was a medium-weight silver chain, carrying the symbol of the family of the Alpha. The jagged diamond shaped like the full moon with a platinum plum flower pressed into the center. The pendant was over ten centimeters wide and hung like a weight under your collarbones.

This was a stupid tradition.

Still, you put it all on because your father insisted. You were proud to be his daughter, but this shit was unnecessary in your opinion.

You licked the back of your forearm, sighing. You were cleaning the blood off. The gash was deep, but it would heal. It was clotting quickly.

Unlike the other times you were outside, you had been previously dressed in a tight, short, sleeveless robe. Silver, with a black sash, and black shorts. Your tail out and proud, not hidden. Ears up and well brushed, hair braided back. There wasn’t much other clothing, because it all immediately got ripped off.

That’s what happened when you changed into wolf form.

You always wondered why the wolf form was always such a contrast to your human form. It made life somewhat inconvenient.

This tradition was stupid, but it was what your father wanted, so you did as you were told. And besides, you hadn’t wanted to marry the other Dire anyway.

You looked down at the silver rings.

The symbols of each family that had tried to present their suitors to your father. Five in total you father accepted to the ritualistic arena. And all five you defeated, now adorned on your hands. They were all different, from rich to poor. The simpler ones were from the poorer families. Your father didn’t care about family background, at least. He wasn’t classiest. Was that a good point?

Your father only cared about one thing.

Power.

If you were to be Alpha, then you needed to have a strong husband.

The point of the ritual wasn’t for you to be defeated. It was for you to be matched. If you didn’t want the match, you had to defeat your opponent.

Which usually meant kill, but you infuriated your father by only breaking bones until the other Dire begged for the ritual to end. He really hated that, but you didn’t care. The Alpha tried to kill them himself, but you always pinned him down, stopping him.

Your father never told you he loved you. You only knew he did because he let you pin him down and stop him, even though he could probably fight you tooth and nail and win. But not without killing his own daughter and he would never.

“They are strong, Father. You let them in this arena. The pack needs strength.”

It was fucking stupid to kill the strongest men in your pack on the sole basis that they wanted to marry you. Again, why this ritual was stupid. Your father saw reason, but not without losing his temper first and trying to kill them.

Again, why your father was an ass.

You checked the gashes on your naked body. They were clotting fast, a result of your Dire blood and Alpha family strength. They were nothing more than flesh wounds. The other Dire male was strong, but slow. He hadn’t been able to get a good hit on you and make you submit.

One day, you might have to kill your opponents.

You had killed before, executions for those that transgressed the Dire law. If a Dire broke human law, they were tried by the humans. But if they broke Dire law, they were tried by the Dire. And trial by Dire usually meant death. Your father made your carry out the executions, because you didn’t like killing. You felt a little less bad about it because those Dire were seriously twisted.

But once you were Alpha, you would have to fight those who challenged your rule.

Would you kill them?

Or would you let them live and allow them to keep challenging you?

You sighed. That would be very tiring.

It would be much easier if the Dire could listen to reason, but they mostly only listened to strength.

Why couldn’t you be courted like humans? Clumsily falling in love, doing silly romantic actions, nervously picking out gifts. Actually, most Dires were like that too. You were the exception because you were the Alpha’s child. It wouldn’t have mattered if you were male or female. The difference in strength was negligible when it came to the Dire. Your people were not like the humans.

You sat on your bed. Your room was black, with accents of silver. Black furniture with carved images of wolves everywhere. A high canopy bed, with velvet curtains tied back with silver rope. You had never untied them in your entire life. What was the point of them? Too ornate and too frivolous for your taste, but you didn’t pick out this décor. The Alpha did. You didn’t have much interest in interior design anyway. The velvet duvet underneath you warmed your naked body.

You settled down, resting your chin on your hands, legs curled around you.

You did not hate being your father’s daughter, but sometimes you wished your biggest problem was being horny and constantly annoying a Dire with your insatiable lust.

You breathed out and your head tipped over, slowly falling into sleep.

The human was still going at it.

Jungkook was pretty sure he was going to die.

Last time he thought he was going to die, he was saved.

But this time, it was not the night of the full moon and he was already ganged up by five Dire males who decided mugging him and kicking his ass was a great idea on this random Tuesday night.

Should Jungkook have given them the money outright? Yeah, maybe, but he had a bad day, snapped at the first guy and told him to fuck off, only for two guys to grab him by the armpits and drag him into the alley where two more were waiting and they were currently beating the shit out of him. He was fighting back, kicking and twisting, but it was still five guys and he was rapidly losing strength despite the adrenaline. He was a good fighter and he got a couple of good hits, but a couple kicks to the solar plexus and he was seeing stars, gasping, pain all over.

“Stupid human,” one of them cackled. “You should have listened like the weak species you are.”

Fucking shit. Was a rib broken? He didn’t know. His vision was clouding and his lungs were on fire. Why was no one helping him? No one could help him. He was going to die in this dirty back alley.

Don’t let her see me like this.

The roar tore through the night.

Like bowling pins, the Dire males were scattered, flung aside suddenly by a strong force. Jungkook crumpled, unexpectedly let go. A pained shriek left his throat as he hit the floor, his battered body further injured by the concrete. He could barely see, hazed by pain. The only thing he could see was a huge silver blur. He could hear better.

The sounds.

Gashing of teeth, vicious growling, the sound of ripping flesh as claws tore in, violent smacks of bodies being thrown around. Cries of immense pain as the five were thrown around like rag dolls by the massive silver figure. The voice, booming and intense, with the distinctive huskiness.

“Weak, pathetic creatures,” came the snarl, pure authority to the whimpers of the beaten. “Do you think you are strong, ganging up five against one? You insecure imbeciles, I will show you what true strength is.”

“P-please, it’s just a human!”

Another roar and there were the sounds of a slap and a yelp.

“You embarrass the name of the Dire. Get out of my sight or your families will have one less member to feed.”

Teeth snapped savagely and the five males scrambled away, whimpering and sobbing as they rushed out of the alley on all fours. Jungkook could hear the large form letting out huffs of rage and exertion. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. Silver fur tipped with black. Obvious, rippling muscle underneath the layers of fur, down to a bushy tail and canine legs, far too large for a domestic dog. There was a pattern on the wolf’s back. Some of the fur was white, creating the shape of a large crescent moon that went from the shoulder blades to the small of the wolf’s back.

The wolf turned around.

Large silver ears with black tips, elongated snout. A black nose, far too many teeth, and yellow eyes, with a tiny patch of black under the right one, disturbing the otherwise perfectly silver fur. Anthropomorphic, but with long, wicked black claws tipping each finger. Around the neck was a necklace with a circular pendant, jagged diamond with a platinum plum flower pressed in the center, five rings slipped onto the chain. A wolf with opalescent eyes. A silver band. A skull with a snake. A script one that read, FEED. A large opalescent gem with stars. The pendant and rings looked small on the furry chest, but Jungkook suspected it was because the wolf was huge.

He had never seen a fully transformed Dire in real life before.

The wolf bent down, breathing out. Hot, heavy, intense.

“Human,” the wolf said, voice deep but still recognizable.

Jungkook whispered her name, pain overtaking him.

“You should have called for me.”

He woke up.

Everything hurt.

He was in the hospital.

He tried to lift his head and look around, but he couldn’t focus on anything. It was like his eyes hadn’t been opened in years and they no longer knew how to process light. All he saw was a black blob at the end of the bed, furry silver splotches twitching at his movement.

Unconsciousness took over once again.

“You’re free to go.”

His parents picked him up from the hospital. They asked him so many questions, and Jungkook struggled to answer with his limited memory. He was worried for them too, asking about the medical bill, wishing he hadn’t been so stupid and put such a burden on them, but they blinked at him, confused.

“The nurses said everything was paid for already.”

What?

“They said someone brought you to the hospital and an anonymous donor paid for everything.”

You father found out you saved the human.

The five wolves had babbled, the little shits.

He was angry at you, but also proud you smacked around the five Dires like the bitches they were.

Still, you used his money to pay for the medical bills.

So.

He had you kill each one in front of their parents.

It was very unpleasant.

You told him that wouldn’t earn you much favor with the pack if you were killing them over a simple human. Your father told you that was your problem for saving the human. You could have let the five Dires kill the human and let them be persecuted by the humans instead of saving him and letting the Alpha decide the fate of the Dires.

“But then the human would be dead.”

“So?”

Your father was an ass.

“How are you, human?”

Jungkook mumbled in his sleep. He squinted and blinked as he heard the raspy voice. It felt a little cold. He could feel a slight breeze. He turned his head and opened his eyes.

The female Dire was looking down at him.

He jumped, but she pressed a hand to his chest, steadying him. Pain shot up his torso from the sudden movement. Her black hood was pushed back, revealing her hair and her large wolf ears. Face mask taken off, hanging by one ear. The hand on his chest was her right. Three rings. Gem on the thumb, skull on the middle, FEED script on the ring finger.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

His window was open. Of course.

She looked solemn. Worried. Tired.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked.

She removed her hand and brushed his hair away from his face. He hadn’t been able to upkeep the blond well because of his injuries. It was getting a little brassy. His mom came over every week for a few hours to help him out with house chores, but he bathed alone. He could still do it, slowly. His parents lived in a different province, after all.

“I am a bit disappointed you didn’t think of me immediately,” she said quietly with a small smile. “Am I only interesting to you when you’re jacking off?”

His cheeks heated. “U-uh…”

She lowered her hand to the bed. “Then again, you were probably too busy thinking about survival.”

She looked sad for some reason. Jungkook frowned, watching her look around his room.

“Have you been getting by well? Do you need monetary help?”

“Was it you?” he questioned.

She turned back. She seemed to know what he was referring to. “It was me.”

“Are you rich?”

She tilted her head. “Something like that.” Amusement flitted in her eyes. “Is that it, human? You want money?”

Jungkook looked into her eyes.

“Why do you always think you know what I want?”

The female Dire paused. Jungkook had been thinking about this for a while now. She seemed to have a fixed opinion of who he was, not bothering to learn more. She came and went as she pleased, as if she owned the place. She was not without some sense of entitlement. He didn’t know why that was, but he had accepted it because of his initial attraction that was still very much there. But he too, was disappointed. He was disappointed that she didn’t try to get to know him and simply observed him and assumed things.

She smiled a little. “I suppose it is because of the way I grew up.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

She chuckled. “No, human, it is not.”

“I have a name, you know,” he pouted.

Her smile widened. It was pleasant, not teasing or mean.

“Yes, Jungkook, I remember.”

“Why do you only come through the window?” Jungkook complained.

She crawled through the opening, hands touching the floor first before swinging her legs in, removing her sneakers and placing them on the towel next to the window.

“Because,” she said, patting down her gray hoodie. “I don’t like the door.”

“Why not?”

“The humans will see me enter.”

Jungkook pursed his lips. “It’s the same.”

“It is not,” she retorted. “If I enter by the door, your neighbors will have reason to question you, judge you, hate you. If I enter by the window, then they will only find out by being nosy and they cannot display this obvious prejudice to your face.”

“Someone will think you’re breaking and entering and call the police.”

“I will handle it then.”

Jungkook frowned. “Who cares if they hate me?”

“I do.”

She pushed her hood back and made eye contact with him.

“I care.”

She looked down at the laundry he was attempting to fold.

“You are terrible at that.”

“You have another ring.”

“Yes.”

It was a black stone with a bone pressed into it as the silver band.

“What do they mean?”

You looked down at it. It was on your left index finger. You were wiping the blood of the gash above your left eyebrow in his bathroom. He looked much better now, the human. Fuller, less broken than the last time you saw him. You saw some bruising on his ribcage, but he was mostly healed now. In contrast, you ached all over, wrapped up underneath the large blue hoodie you wore. The gash on your eyebrow had reopened when the girl in his bedroom had thrown one of his Bluetooth speakers at you when you entered from his window.

Well, to be fair, you had thought he was masturbating.

He made this confusing sometimes.

“I think I scared her.”

Jungkook laughed. “You did. She fucking ran.”

“Are you going to explain?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I could, but she was pretty drunk when she got on top of me, so I don’t even know if she will remember.”

He was naked at first, but he yanked on some underwear after you appeared. The first couple times you visited him, he cared more about his appearance, but as time went on, he seemed to care less and less. He was more worried about your cut that was already clotting.

“What do they mean?” Jungkook asked again, pointing to the rings.

“They’re trophies,” you replied, flecking away from dried blood into his sink. “From defeating the suitors trying to woo me.”

“Huh.” Jungkook watched you rinse off your eyebrow. “You can’t just get drunk and fuck?”

“I can. I just have to viciously beat the living shit out of them if they want to marry me.”

“Damn, every Dire has to do that?”

You lifted your head, water dripping down your face.

“No.”

You suddenly felt very heavy.

“Just me.”

Jungkook stared at you through the mirror. His blond hair was more well-kept now, ashy and light.

“Why?”

You wiped the water off, shaking your hand onto the sink bowl.

“Because of tradition.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like that tradition sucks ass.”

You chuckled. “It does.”

He scratched his nose. “Uh, so… Why did you come?”

You stared at the drain of the sink.

“Because you wanted me.”

You could hear the embarrassment in his voice. “But you, uh… never come during the act.”

You kept staring at the drain.

“You have a nice life, Jungkook.”

“Huh?”

You lifted your head, exhaling tiredly. You were aware he was watching you, but you were looking at yourself, at the cut above your eyebrow, at your own eyes, hours before bloodthirsty and violently gold, at the pointed teeth and the furry ears and the everything, the fucking everything and for some reason you hated it all, you hated it and wanted to be human, just like Jungkook, just be human and do dumb shit like have drunk sex with a stranger, but instead you had just competed in some primitive combat ritual with some male Dire who thought he was hot shit and wanted to be the Alpha’s partner.

You wanted to scream.

“I wish I could just get drunk and fuck.”

Jungkook blinked at you.

“Well, uh… I have some soju… and a dick, so…?”

He was relentless. Why? Was he even aware of it? You suddenly narrowed your eyes.

“Why are you turned on by me?”

Jungkook blinked faster, cheeks flushing pink.

“Uh… I don’t know?”

You frowned. “It shouldn’t be possible.” You turned around and tilted your head at him, inspecting his anxious, self-conscious expression. “All this, since that night. Since the claim.” Jungkook stiffened, but you figured it was because you were verbally analyzing the situation. “But the claim is my scent painted on you. It is a possessive action and should have no effect on the way you feel about me.” You placed a hand on your chin and walked out of his bathroom, still thinking. “Unless for some reason you reacted to my scent. But how could that be? You’re human. Sure, humans sexualize Dires, but it is more of a fetishization in most cases.”

You spun around, standing in his bedroom, where, ten minutes before, he had been in the middle of getting head from a stranger.

“Did you react to my scent?”

Jungkook’s eyes darted from side to side. “Uh.”

You waited.

“I don’t know what that means.”

You waved a hand impatiently. “The scent of the saliva. Is that what you think about when you’re getting off?”

Jungkook shoved his hands in front of his boxer briefs. Your eyes darted down at the action. Then you lifted your gaze.

“You reacted.”

“Uh…”

You moved your tongue in your mouth, producing the saliva enriched your scent. Then you opened your mouth and breathed out, tongue extended and glistening.

Jungkook crossed the room instantly like he was pulled on a string.

You shoved your tongue back in your mouth, startled.

“You do react.”

His body collided into yours and his hands gripped your arms, pushing your body into his. He was breathing hard, right into your face, eyes glazed, lower lip quivering.

“Wha… what happened?” he gasped.

You frowned a little, cocking your head. No one had ever reacted so strongly to your scent before. Sure, all the male Dires were supposedly attracted to you, but that was because you were the Alpha’s daughter and all of them wanted to be the Alpha’s partner. But Jungkook’s reaction was completely pure, because he had no such external desires that drove his attraction.

Just one weird night where you licked him in the face.

She was so close.

So fucking close.

And Jungkook could smell it, feel it, needed it.

“Uh… I know you’re trying to break down the science of this, but I’m really fucking horny right now.”

Her silvery ears flicked upwards and she raised her head to make eye contact with him. Was it his imagination or did her irises become flecked with gold?

"Oh, right. I suppose you are."

He frowned at that. She seemed to be contemplating something. Then she removed her arms from his hands. He let go, but the feeling in the pit of his stomach remained. Like he was possessed, like all of his blood was calling him to the Dire.

"Jungkook," she said slowly in that husky voice of hers. "Today is not a good day to see my body."

I beg to differ, he wanted to say, but she cracked her neck, holding up her left hand, the black stone on the index finger gleaming.

"I had a fight today, so I've got some cuts," she clarified. "Don't want to bleed all over your sheets and stuff."

"Oh." Right. He wondered how bad it was. "Are you in pain?"

She tilted her head, one ear flattening. Fuck. She looked so cute.

"No. Well, I am, but it's familiar so it doesn't seem too bad."

The ear raised again and she breathed in, eyes on him once more. No, he wasn't going crazy. There was definitely gold laced in her iris color.

"Let me smell you, Jungkook."

"Uh... sure?"

She leaned in, sniffing his neck. Jungkook was suddenly aware that he was mostly naked, but there was no time to think about that as her breath wafted against his collarbone, her silvery wolf ear brushing his jaw. Oh! It was furry. Well, yeah, duh, it was obviously furry, but he hadn't expected the contact. He stiffened as she bent down, sniffing his chest, tilting her head this way and that, not touching him except for the soft huffs of breath on his skin. It was not making him any less horny. In fact, it was making it worse. Hopefully she didn't–

She dropped to her knees and took a huge whiff his crotch.

Oooooookay, now that wasn't what Jungkook thought was going to happen, but he wasn't exactly complaining, but also it was kind of embarrassing because he was pretty damn hard now–

She shoved her nose into his clothed cock and inhaled.

He moaned.

What?

He couldn't help it! He was already horny, was midway in getting a blowjob from some random girl he picked up at a bar but spent the entire said blowjob thinking about her tongue, and then the female DIre interrupted by arriving, and after that she did that weird breathing thing that made his body all hot and bothered, and now her face was all up in his dick!

She nuzzled around, either ignoring or not caring about how he was grimacing, trying to muffle his lustful groans behind closed lips. Did he maybe have a preference for blowjobs over pussy now because of the whole lick-on-the-face thing? Maybe. Okay, yes, absolutely. Was this probably turning him on too much?

Yes. Yes, it was.

Jungkook looked down. Oh, fuck. It made him harder, seeing her face pressed into his crotch, eyes closed, nose buried in the crook of his cock and balls, silvery ears perked with interest. Her bushy tail poked out of her hoodie, swaying from side to side.

Was her tall... wagging?

She inhaled sharply and one of his balls pressed against the fabric, right to her soft lips.

His hips bucked into her face.

She made a disgruntled noise and pulled back, rubbing her nose.

"Sorry! S-sorry, it's too... a-are you okay?" Jungkook sputtered, very disappointed in himself.

She made a strange noise, hurrrmph, and sat down on the floor, pushing her sleeves up. He saw the scratches on her arms, cut up and slashed, but all clotted and dark. Did she heal quicker than a human? Her hands glinted with the various silver rings.

"You smell different than a regular human," she murmured. "Do you have wolf blood in your family?"

"Uh... no? At least, I don't think so?" Jungkook scrunched up his face. He didn’t remember any Dire present at his family reunions.

She pursed her lips. "Maybe it's a genetic mutation."

He wished she would address the fact that she had made a giant tent in his boxer briefs instead of trying to break down the biology of his desire for her.

"Maybe I'm attracted to you too? Maybe that’s why you smell different," she pondered. "But I can't really tell until I smell your orgasm."

Please, you're driving me crazy.

"Well, uh, that could be arranged... in probably less than a few minutes..."

She raised her eyebrows and looked up at him.

"Okay."

She placed her hands on her lap and sat up, opening her mouth. Pink tongue sliding out, white pointed teeth visible. Wicked, sharp, definitely capable of chewing on flesh.

Oh.

No.

This wasn't turning him off.

"Um... should I just...?"

"Onto my tongue, mhm," she said with her mouth open.

What?

"Er... this is kinda awkward..." he said, even though his dick was screaming at him to fucking do it.

She closed her mouth. "Do you need encouragement?"

Jungkook felt his face heat. "Uh..." He watched her tail sway slowly. "Maybe?"

"You seem hard enough."

He swallowed.

"You also have casual sex with strangers."

Yeah, his face was definitely on fire.

"So, what's the difference?"

I don't know, maybe because... the reason I have casual sex with strangers is because I can't stop thinking about your tongue and saliva???

Then it hit him again.

The feeling, the need, rising, all encompassing, like a flurry of desire overtaking him. Jungkook snapped his head back to see her tongue trace her teeth, coating them with saliva, the scent, the scent. He could smell it and rousing him instantly, suffocating the embarrassment.

"Y-You're cheating..." he moaned, his fingertips touching the waistband of his underwear, cock throbbing uncomfortably.

A single eyebrow raised. Playful. Ears perked, tall rising, eyes flecked with gold, the mole underneath her right inner corner a little scrunched from her smile. Mouth open, tongue glistening.

She breathed out.

Jungkook had a split second of – how weird does this make me? – before he realized he didn't give a shit and shoved his underwear down, right hand clasping his stiff length. Oh, fuck, it felt so good, even if he was only touching himself, because he could see her, her face, her tongue, smell the scent that had covered him that night. He stroked himself right in front of her face, grasping his cock firmly and pumping it, wincing at the lack of lubrication.

"C... closer, please..."

Her eyes traveled down. She slid closer, hot breath on his hand and the swollen head.

"Move your hand," she rasped.

He whimpered and lowered his hand to the base of his cock, holding it in place.

"A-are you going to...?"

Her eyes flickered upward. Smirk on her lips.

"You look like you need some assistance."

Then she collected the saliva on her tongue and let out drip down onto his swollen cock.

Ho-o-oly shit.

Warm, wet, thick, saturated with her scent, so erotic that his hand slid up to catch it and spread it all over him, his length, his balls, fucking everywhere. His head was clouded, his core was on fire, his cock was slippery, and her eyes were on him, blazing gold.

"Better?"

The scorching rasp faded on his equally hot skin.

Jungkook was gone.

His hand was moving automatically, closing around him and pumping fast and hard, breathy gasps leaking from his lungs, instinct taking over and consuming him, completely focused on chasing his release, staring into gold and peeled back lips exposing sharp teeth and strings of saliva clinging to the insides of her dark pink mouth and tongue. He whimpered in desperation, her name drifting out of his lips like smoke.

Her tongue lowered, dripping spit onto his bedroom floor.

"Jungkook."

Like a rumble, deep in her chest, a command.

The fire inside him exploded and he gasped, grabbing her head and shooting straight into her open mouth, coating her tongue, teeth, and lips. The force was so strong that his entire body shook, fingers grasping one of her silvery ears, pleasure shooting up his spine like lightning, racking his ribs. She growled low, tongue scooping it in, swallowing in large gulps, voracious grunts as she leaned forward, swiping her tongue on the head to collect the last bits dribbling from the tip.

O-oh, fuck, it was pure elation and ecstasy.

The high was so high that Jungkook momentarily forgot he was standing and fell, tanged from his underwear still around his knees, yelping as strong arms caught him and brought his shaking body to her chest. Almost possessive. Her breathing was coming out in harsh puffs, tongue still licking her lips.

She reached up and brushed his blond hair out of his eyes. The gold streaks in her irises still seemed so strong.

"Are you okay?" she chuckled. "People don't usually fall over."

"Uh... yeah..." His face heated at their closeness but, somehow, he didn't want her to let him go. He was much too large to fit in her lap, but she held him easily as if this wasn't awkward for her at all. "I don't usually, uh... fall over."

She hummed. Jungkook started as her fluffy tail brushed against his legs. So soft.

Silence.

Her breathing calmed, the gold fading. Her left hand on his leg raised and she swept back her hair, rubbing the ear he had yanked at.

"Oh, sorry... sorry about that..."

Her right hand was around his back and upper arm. She turned her head, face right next to his. He gulped. She lowered her left hand, placing it on his chest.

"Don't worry. I doubt you could do any real physical damage to me," she chuckled, caressing his skin.

Their faces were so close. If he just...

"So, uh... what are the results?" Jungkook whispered.

Her eyes weren't giving him any hints. He kept staring at the mole underneath the inner corner of her right eye.

"Hm?"

"Uh." Mole. Eyes. Mole. Eyes. An amused spark as she noticed. His eyes dropped down to her lips. "Are you... attracted to me?"

Wait.

She tilted her head.

The lips were getting closer.

"Unfortunately for you," she whispered. "I am."

And then she kissed him, soft and warm, a resigned sigh in her chest, her hand holding him close. She still tasted a little bit like his cum, but he could also taste the unique flavor of her, sensual and addictive. His hands found her hoodie and he righted himself, pressing back into her lips. She smiled, backing up a little. He whined, tugging her back, but she was stronger, unmoving.

"Jungkook," she said gently. "Maybe calm your insatiable hormones for a second and think about what I am."

He opened his eyes, gazing at her through his lashes.

"You're a fucking tease, that's what you are," he hissed, grip on her hoodie tightening. "You can't just give me a taste and not expect me to want more."

Her smile was frisky, but also rueful.

"Ah, I admit I probably shouldn't have done that." She placed her hands on his, silver rings cool in his hot skin. Prying his fingers open one by one, releasing his grip on her. "Perhaps my curiosity got the best of me."

Jungkook frowned. "You're not a cat."

She laughed. It was like a bark, a little husky, but lovely, full of life. It sounded genuinely happy, fading into light chuckles.

"Not tonight, alright? I'm all beaten up." She pointed to the cut above her brow. "It's worse under these clothes, believe me."

"I can be the judge of that."

She flicked his chest. He winced, rubbing the sore spot. Damn. She had a mean flick.

"Give me some time." She stood up, looking troubled.

"Okay."

He yanked his underwear back up as she went over to her sneakers, slipping into them.

"But don't take too long or I'm going to relentlessly jack off thinking about you now that I have more material."

She was halfway out the window but stopped, looking back at him with a raised brow.

"Jungkook."

She pulled up her hood.

"You're weird."

And then she jumped down.

"Yeah, yeah, don't keep reminding me," he mumbled, shoving the window closed and drawing the curtains.

part ii

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #jk x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jk x you

634 notes · View notes

another-tmnt-writer · 3 years

Text

Truth or Dare?

Raphael x Reader

Author: Admin Mo

Summary: When Mikey needs another actor for his film project, Raph gets roped into it. He didn’t, however, expect for his costar to be so cool.

Note: There are not NEARLY enough college au fics for the bayverse boys, so have this as my first contribution. <3

Warnings: Swears, mentions of drinking, plenty of fluff

Word Count: 3.9k

“Raph, PLEEEEEAAAASE!!!” Mikey folded his hands together, pleading. “We need actors for our project and our group members can’t be in it.”

Mikey, as part of his endeavor to explore every creative program at the university the turtles were currently attending, was taking a filmmaking class. And, as a part of that class, he and his fellow classmates were required to make short projects in order to learn the basics of filmmaking, from writing to directing to using the equipment to editing. As an added bonus because his professor was so especially cruel, none of the people in his group could appear in his project, and while they had managed to recruit some of their classmates to fill in the smaller roles, one of the main roles was still unclaimed.

Raph scoffed. “Mikey, you know I can’t act for shit.”

“You don’t have to actually be good at it!” He pleaded. “You should see some of the other projects. No one in the program is good at acting.”

Raph was quiet for a second, his large arms crossed in front of him, thinking. “How long is it gonna take?”

“Few hours.” Mikey shrugged. He raised an eyebrow. “And your costar is really, really hot.”

Raph sighed, disgruntled. “When?”

“YES! DUDE THANK YOU SO MUCH! YOU WON’T REGRET IT!” Mikey ran and returned with a script and a schedule, shoving it into his older brother’s hands. “We film tomorrow!”

Raph’s eyes widened. “TOMORROW?!”

***

Raph went with Mikey to where the rest of his group was meeting to film their project. He hadn’t really had time to look at the script and Mikey assured him that they’d be filming in small enough chunks that he wouldn’t need to have very much memorized at a time. He also didn’t really know what kind of movie it was and he didn’t care; he just couldn’t wait until it was over.

A few minutes after they arrived, so did his costar. And god, he couldn’t stop staring. Mikey was right. God, why was Mikey always right?

“I am so sorry I’m late. The bus almost hit a pedestrian and it was a whole thing.” You apologized.

“Don’t worry about it!” Mikey waved off your concern. “This is my brother, Raph.”

“Nice to meet you, Raph. I’m (Y/N).” You introduced, a warm smile on your face.

Raph didn’t miss the way your eyes lingered on him, but instead of the looks disdain he usually got, instead it seemed to be curiosity. Awe, even? Weird, he decided, but not unwelcome.

It was a long, awkward moment before he realized he’d better respond. “Oh, uh, nice to meet you too.”

“Um, you guys can get to know each other a little better. We’ve gotta get the equipment set up.” Mikey said, leaving the two of you on your own.

The filming location was a place you were very familiar with: the library. Particularly, in front of the cozy little coffee shop in the library.

“I didn’t really, uh, look at the script, but I’m guessing they needed a monster for a horror movie or something…” Raph flipped through the pages, skimming.

“It’s a rom com.” You corrected quietly. “I’m the main character. You’re the love interest.”

If Raph could physically blush, he was sure his cheeks would rival the color of his mask. “…Oh.”

“Is that alright?” You asked.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah it’s fine, I just…” He chuckled to himself. “I ain’t ever acted in anything before, let alone anything romantic.”

“It’s not too much, I don’t think.” You reassured him. “I’m pretty sure the most they’ll have us do is awkwardly brush hands. It’s a coffee shop meet-cute.”

“Gotcha.” And while he was relieved, he was also a little…disappointed? Huh. Weird. “So, uh, what’s yer major?”

“I’m a film major. I’m in Mikey’s class and they needed actors, so I’m paying it forward in case I need someone in my project. What’s yours?”

“I’m undecided. Just, uh, taking some time to figure things out, you know. I never really had any…school experience before this.”

“That’s a lot to adjust to.”

“Yeah, it is. I’m getting used to it, though.”

“That’s good! If you need any help with anything, let me know. I’ve picked up a bunch of good tips and tricks.”

He chuckled. “I will, thanks.”

“Do you have snapchat?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“One second.” You fished your phone out of your bag and unlocked it, opening the app to your snapcode, which he scanned and added you. “There you go.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Raph took some more time reading over the script to get the gist of the scene and you were right. Indeed, it was a rom com. Not his preferred genre, by any means, but maybe he’d warm up to it a bit over the course of the day.

“Hey (Y/N)?” Mikey called from over where they had the camera set up on the tripod. “Do you know how to white-balance this thing? Everything is orange for some reason. Which is a great color, but I’m sure Smith will dock us points for it.”

“Oh, I’ve got you.” You nodded. You looked up at Raph, your purse in hand. “Will you hold this for a second?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” He nodded, holding out a giant three-fingered hand to take the bag from you. He watched you walk over to where the rest of the group was standing, crowded around the camera. You worked your magic, shuffling through the menu and helping adjust the camera correctly. Raph couldn’t stop staring. You looked so focused. So passionate. He could tell you really liked film and everything it entailed and he wished he could just find something he cared about as much as you cared about your major.

“Awesome.” He heard Mikey say, his eyes fixed on the camera’s screen. “Thanks!”

“Of course!” You walked back over to where Raph was and he handed you your bag back. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but Mikey walked over to the two of you.

“You guys ready? I think we’re good to start now.”

“All set.” You confirmed, giving him a thumbs-up, and Raph nodded.

***

Raph might have to reconsider his stance on this acting thing. Did he think he was all that good at it? No. But so long as he had you as a costar, he’d act willingly in any project Mikey (or you) needed him for. And at the end of the shoot, he ended up having a really good time. So much so that when you guys were all done, he was…sad. Like, really sad about it.

You parted ways. You weren’t in any of his classes, so Raph wasn’t really sure if he’d see you around that much. And he didn’t see you around…until a few weeks later.

He was at the library studying with his brothers at their favorite table when suddenly, his phone buzzed, a message from snapchat coming in. He looked at the notification, doing a double-take when he read your name there. And when he reached to answer it, he moved too fast and knocked his shell-shaped cell phone off of the table.

Shit.

He bent down to pick it up and when he opened the snapchat, he was surprised to see…the back of his shell? It was captioned: “I spy with my little eye…Something red and green 😉”

Immediately, he whipped around, and sure enough, nestled in a table by the windows was you, looking at him over the top of your laptop screen. You giggled when he spotted you, waving.

Raph nudged Mikey, who was sitting across from him and Mikey traced Raph’s eyeline to where you were, his face immediately lighting up.

“Oh! Hey (Y/N)!” Mikey waved. “You wanna sit with us?”

“Is that alright?”

“Hell yeah!” Mikey motioned you over. “The more the merrier! We can pull up a chair over here on the end.”

So, you gathered your stuff while the guys rearranged some things, putting you on the end of the table, right between Mikey and Raph. When you got over there, you noticed they were sitting with the other two giant mutated turtles on campus, who you had heard of, but hadn’t met yet.

“(Y/N), these are our brothers. Leo’s over there in the blue, our fearless leader. And this is Donatello, the one we go to for homework help.”

“Not tonight you aren’t. This paper is due at midnight and it is…” Donnie glanced down at the clock on his laptop and as soon as he did, he started typing impossibly faster. “Eleven thirty-seven. Do not look at me or breathe in my direction.”

“Noted.” Mikey nodded, a trace of fear in his eyes.

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N). You’re in one of Mikey’s classes, right?”

“Yep! I’m in his film class.” You smiled, taking a sip of your iced coffee. “I got the pleasure of costarring with this one.” You nudged Raph lightly, causing him to smile the most genuine smile Mikey had ever seen on his older brother’s face.

Huh. Mikey took note, something devious stirring in the back of his mind. Interesting…

“What did you get on that, by the way?” You asked.

“We got an A! Well, Minus. But you know how Smith is.”

“Dude that’s awesome!” You bumped your fist against his. “Good job. I’m pretty sure my group got a B, but we’re not mad about it. C’s get degrees, as they say.”

“Cheers to that.” Leo chuckled.

“What are you working on today, Raph?” You asked, tilting your head in a way that sent his heart racing in a way he could not explain.

“I have a paper for my Writing 150 class.”

“Oof that sucks. Who do you have?”

“Trainor.”

“Ouch. She hated me.” You grimaced, shaking your head. “She found out I was bi and it was all over for me.”

“Did you report her? I’m pretty sure you can report her for that sort of thing.” Raph asked, trying not to get heated over it. He was pretty sure she didn’t like him very much either, but it was probably due to the fact that he was a giant green turtle. “That’s bullshit.”

“I’m in the process of that right now.” You nodded. “She’s a bitch. I don’t know if they’ll actually do anything about it though.”

“Keep me posted. I might file something too if she doesn’t stop glaring at me during class.” Raph grumbled. “It’s annoying.”

“That would be annoying. Her beady little eyes glaring at you for two agonizing hours of ‘This is how to correctly use a comma’.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. It is.”

You glanced at your phone, which buzzed with a text from one of your roommates. “Oh! Uh, do you guys have any plans this weekend?”

“Nope. Why?” Mikey asked, curiosity seeping into his voice.

“My roommate is throwing a party, if you guys wanna come. It’ll be pretty chill. Drinks, pizza, some music.”

“Oh hell yes.” Mikey nodded. He looked at Leo. “Leo, can we?”

“I don’t see why not.” Leo shrugged. “Sounds like a good time.”

“Is there a dress code?” Mikey asked. Now that he was finally allowed to socialize, he didn’t want to fuck it up.

“Nope. Just casual. Come as you are.”

“Do you need us to bring anything?”

“If you guys have a drink of choice, bring that, I guess, but otherwise, my roommate’s boyfriend works at a pizza place, so we get a pretty good discount and we have literally so much wine.”

“That’s amazing.” Mikey nodded, making a mental note to look into jobs at a pizza place later.

“We’ll bring a veggie tray.” Donnie said, his fingers flying across the keyboard of his laptop until finally, he stopped. “I finished, by the way.”

“Good job, dude!” Mikey gave him a thumbs up. “You wanna write mine next?”

“Ha.” Donnie stared at him. “Funny.”

“What’s your paper on, Raph? Maybe I can help.”

Raph turned his laptop towards you. “We have to write it about like growing up. You can, uh, read it if you want. I don’t mind. I’m kinda stuck right now anyway.”

“Okay.” You agreed, switching his laptop for yours. You winked. “Trade ya.”

“What are you writing about?” He asked, scrolling to the top of your document.

“Women in Film.” You shot finger guns at him. “I’m about to make some Film Bois REALLLL mad.”

“Roast ‘em, (Y/N).” Mikey laughed, knowing all too well exactly which film boys you were talking about. He was not a fan.

“That’s the plan.” You chuckled and then started reading over Raph’s paper. You had known before meeting them that they hadn’t exactly had the best childhood, but…wow was it eye-opening reading the experience from his eyes. “Holy shit.”

“That bad?” He joked, trying to read your expression.

“No, it’s…Raph, this is really good, but wow. You guys went through a lot, huh?”

“Yeah…” He shrugged. “It wasn’t all bad, but it sure wasn’t normal by any means.”

“Mmm…” You nodded, looking up at him. “I mean, normal is kinda overrated.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad ya think so. Not many people do.”

You shrugged, smiling softly. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not like many people.”

***

“(Y/N), this place is as clean as it’s gonna get. It’s a party. It’ll be messed up in,” your roommate, Haley, glanced down at her watch, “like twenty minutes.”

“I know, I just…I’m nervous. These guys are basically superheroes. I want to make a good impression.”

“Fair point.”

You swept the kitchen floor and got out the cutest paper plates you had in the cupboard as well as some solo cups and plastic wine glasses. If you could avoid broken glass today, that was probably the move.

The doorbell buzzed and your heart raced, but it was just your other roommate’s boyfriend with the pizza.

“Is Darcy here?” He asked.

“She’s upstairs getting ready, you explained, helping him get the pizza and breadsticks and everything set up on the counter. He’d also brought a few two-liters of Pepsi, which was good. You put it next to the giant jug of fruit punch you’d bought at the grocery store. It was important to make sure your non-drinking friends had something to drink, too.

A few minutes after, guests started arriving. Darcy came downstairs and started up her iconic party playlist. Your neighbors popped in. It was easier to invite them and let them have a good time with you than have them call security on you guys for throwing a party, even if it was the weekend and it was only nine.

You turned off the lamps in the living room and instead set your strip lights to party mode, causing them to cycle through a bunch of colors in time with the music. It was then that the doorbell rang again and you rushed to the mirror to check yourself once more. You adjusted your hair, straightened out your top, and checked your teeth for food. Nope, you were good.

So, with the rest of the hosts distracted, you opened the door. On the other side of it were four tall, green gentlemen, one of them carrying a veggie tray.

“Hey guys, come on in!”

You moved out of the way so they could step inside.

Mikey’s eyes widened, looking into the living room full of dancing college kids. “Woahhhhh this is awesome!”

“Glad you think so.” You laughed. “There’s food and drinks in here, the bathroom is in the hallway, and everyone else seems to be either in the living room or the back yard.”

“Where do you want this veggie tray?” Donnie asked.

“Thank you so much for bringing this, by the way! You can set it over by the pizza boxes. I can get a spoon for the dip.” You said, walking towards the silverware drawer and producing a spoon while Donnie popped the lid off of the plastic serving tray and opened up the dip. You handed him the spoon.

The guys were each sporting their signature color, but they were wearing clothes you hadn’t seen them in before. Usually, Raph liked to wear a large gray hoodie, but today, he was sporting a black t-shirt and an impossibly large red flannel with some jeans. It looked good on him. Like, really good.

Apparently, he was thinking the same thing, because as soon as you were free, he walked up to you and nudged you gently. “You look really good.”

Your cheeks flushed with warmth and you wished you could blame it on wine, but you hadn’t even had a sip yet. “Thanks. You clean up pretty nice yourself.”

Had you worn a red top on purpose? Yes, absolutely. Would you admit to it, though? No, definitely not.

But Mikey noticed. Oh, Mikey noticed everything. And he couldn’t help but think that you and his older brother would make quite the couple. Maybe there was something he could do to just…give it a little push.

***

The time came later, when the party was finally starting to wind down. Some people had left. Your neighbors had gone home, and you’d switched the strip lights to a light, warm color. You’d also switched the upbeat party playlist for something chill to play in the background. The remaining partygoers were all settled in a circle in the living room, eating whatever pizza was left, sipping on box wine, and playing a game of truth or dare.

“Haley, truth or dare?” Darcy challenged.

“Truth.”

“Okay…Fuck, Marry, Kill: Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth and…..Chris Pine.”

“DAMN.” She cursed. “You can’t do that to me. Shit. Uh…Fuck Chris…Hemsworth. Marry Chris…Pine? And—”

“Don’t you do it!” You warned.

“Kill Chris Evans.”

“Noooooooooo!” You whined, taking a sip of your drink. The rest of the group laughed. “Poor Captain America.”

“Rest in pieces, Cap.” She agreed, shaking her head. “Okay…Mikey, truth or dare.”

“Dare.” Mikey answered quickly. He always picked dare, so in the fifth round of the game, it wasn’t much of a surprise.

“I dare you…to take a shot of straight lemon juice.”

“Easy peasy.” Mikey scoffed, pouring himself a shot and downing it.

You watched as his face contorted at the sour, sour taste. You couldn’t help but giggle a little at that.

“Good job, Mikey.” Donnie laughed, dipping a piece of broccoli in dip before popping it into his mouth.

“Taking it like a champ.” Leo added, nodding.

“Alright, my turn?” Mikey asked, looking around the circle for his victim, pretending he hadn’t been planning this since round one. “(Y/N). Truth or dare?”

You thought about it for a second. How easy it would be to just choose truth again, but for some reason, you were feeling a little brave, so instead, you picked, “Dare.”

“Oooooooh,” the circle said, all of them a little surprised by that choice.

“Okay. Alright.” Mikey rubbed his hands together mischievously. All according to plan. “I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.”

“OOOOOOOHHHH!” The circle all stared at you and you thought for a second, a smirk settling on your features.

“Oh that’s easy.” You got up and crossed the circle until you were standing in front of Raph. Even sitting down, he was almost your height. “Think I could get a kiss?”

Raph stared up at you, shocked, waiting for you to say Sike! HAHA! Did you actually think I thought you were hot?! Loser!

But you never did, instead looking down at him with sincerity, patience. Were you a little…nervous, even?

“Why me?” He whispered, his eyes fixed on you. There were plenty of good-looking human guys still there, and yet you were certain. Unwavering. Then, louder, he asked, his heart absolutely fighting to get out of his chest, “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You nodded, starting to lean closer. Once you were most of the way in, you let him meet you in the middle, your soft human lips meeting his, which were, you had to admit, way softer than you thought they would be.

Raphael kissed you like you were made of glass, like if he moved too fast, you would shatter. It was his first kiss, after all, and he didn’t want to fuck it up.

When it finally ended, you walked back to your seat in the circle, your cheeks rosy, heart racing. Haley gave you a nudge and you giggled, your stomach filled with butterflies. The rest of the game went along with little fanfare, and once everyone was tired enough, the apartment cleared out even more, leaving just your roommates, Darcy’s boyfriend, and the turtles, who insisted on helping clean everything up. Well, it had been Leo’s idea, but the rest had agreed to stick around to help.

You volunteered to go out into the backyard to pick up all of the stray solo cups and White Claw cans. You hated litter. You worked out there alone for a bit. As you bent down to pick up the last can you heard the signature screech of the sliding door opening.

Raph squeezed through the narrow doorway, cursing his shell for making him so damn wide.

“Hey,” you said softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Your voice was almost swallowed up by the sounds of the choir of crickets outside.

“Hey.” He closed the sliding door. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded, tying off the trash bag you were using to collect garbage. “How was your first college party?”

“It was great. Really, really great.” He said, taking slow steps through the grass towards you. “Um…I…did you mean what you said? Earlier.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you…was I really…” he laughed at the absurdity of it. “You think I’m hot?”

“I do.” You nodded. “Of course I do.”

“I’m sorry if I find that a little hard to believe.” He shook his head, stopping right in front of you. When he was standing in front of you like this, he was remined of just how big he was compared to you, just how much he towered over you. Just how different you were. “I’m just used to the opposite reaction.”

“Believe it.” You reached forward and took his hand in yours, gripping one of his giant green fingers.

“I’m trying to.” He chuckled and fiddled with your little hand, nervous. “You know, uh…that was my first kiss in there. I wasn’t too awful, was I?”

“I didn’t mean to steal your first one.” You laughed softly. “Sorry. But to answer your question, I thought it was perfect.”

“That’s a relief.” He was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Uh…If it’s alright with ya…I’d like to give you my second kiss, too.”

Instead of answering, you took another step closer, looking up, up, up into his piercing green eyes. “You’re gonna have to come down here; I can’t reach.”

He laughed. “Right.” Raph craned his neck down, one of his large hands tilting your face up towards his so he could meet you in the middle for another perfect kiss.

***

“What are you doing?” Leo asked Mikey, who was peering through the blinds into the back yard of the apartment.

Mikey only grinned proudly, nodding to himself. “Works every time…”

#raphael #raph #raphael x reader #raphael imagine #raph x reader #raph imagine #tmnt #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt imagine #bayverse

361 notes · View notes

sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Better Than Sex

Author: SisterSpooky1013

Rating: Teen and up

Words: 1666

Tagging: @today-in-fic

Read it on AO3

“Better Than Sex Cake” Mulder read aloud from the menu before looking across the table at Scully with his eyebrows raised in question.

They had just concluded an evening traipsing through an (alleged) actual ghost town, though no signs of ghosts were to be seen. Just a lot of graffiti, dirty mattresses and a used condom or two. Now they were sitting at the first diner they came across, Mo’s Café, and Mulder was considering the sex cake.

“Knock yourself out, Mulder, I’m sticking to coffee.”

“You aren’t curious as to whether this cake is, in fact, better than sex?”

“Well I’m sure it’s better than bad sex, but if it were better than great sex the population would die out because everyone would skip procreating and just eat cake.”

Mulder considered her statement. “Isn’t ‘bad sex’ somewhat of an oxymoron?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Are you being serious?”

Now it was his turn to look incredulous. “The only bad sex is no sex, as far as I’m concerned.”

Scully shook her head ruefully. “Must be nice to be a man.”

Just then the waitress came by to take their order. Scully requested coffee and dry toast, while Mulder opted for coffee and the aforementioned sex cake. After she collected their menus and retreated to the kitchen, Mulder eyed Scully appraisingly, gaging her mood. Sometimes she was open and willing to talk about things of a personal or private nature, other times she kept her lips as tight as a steel trap. He suspected he might have a chatty Scully on his hands, and didn’t want to waste the opportunity.

“So, if I’m understanding correctly, Scully, there would be a circumstance under which you would choose a piece of cake over sex?”

She screwed up her mouth a little, not in consideration of how to answer the question, but whether to answer it at all. “Depends who the sex is with, I suppose, but yes, I could think of a few times where cake would have been a more enjoyable option.”

“Hm” was his only reply as he sat back against the seat of the booth, absorbing this information.

“Are you saying you’ve never had sex that was subpar enough that cake would have been better?”

He pulled in a deep breath and looked to the ceiling briefly, and she could imagine him running through his mental file of sexual encounters. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Is it wrong that I feel compelled to kick you right now?” She asked, just a hint of playfulness in her voice.

He laughed.“I’m not saying that every single time was Oscar-worthy, but even the worst was still better than some flour and butter.”

“And they say male privilege isn’t real” she deadpanned as the waitress came by to present them with two coffees, cake, toast and a tray of sugar and cream. She mixed the accoutrements into her cup while Mulder sipped his black, followed by a bite of the cake, which looked like a basic white cake with some kind of custard and whipped cream on top.

“This is pretty good, though I can’t say it lives up to its name” he said around the food in his mouth, pushing the plate towards her and holding out the fork suggestively. She took it and stabbed a small bite, meeting Mulder’s eye as she pulled the tines from between her lips. It was good, as most cake is, but nothing to write home about.

“Well?” He asked expectantly.

“Well what? She returned, wiping her finger at the corners of her mouth.

“Is it better than sex?”

She paused before answering, knowing that Mulder was going to keep picking at this until it got uncomfortable. He liked to do that, to see how far he could get her to go before she blushed and demanded they change the subject. He took immense pleasure in making her squirm, and even more in getting her to reveal something personal that he normally wouldn’t be privy to. Sometimes, she had as much fun indulging him as he did in goading her. She wasn’t above sharing something that she knew would shock him, just so she could see the look on his face. She liked that she could still surprise him.

“Not better than all sex, but certainly better than some of the sex I’ve had, regrettably.”

“What would make sex so bad that cake is better? I must know.”

“I think you can use your imagination, Mulder.”

“Come on, Scully, you could be saving some poor woman from ‘worse than cake’ sex with me in the future. Consider it an act of charity.”

She shook her head at him, but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at her lips.

“Your answer lies in that drawer full of tapes that aren’t yours, Mulder.”

“How’s that?”

“Let’s see, sex starts when the man presents his erection and ends when he ejaculates. The woman howls like an animal no matter what he’s doing, though her orgasm is never mentioned. There is no foreplay. Would you like me to continue?”

He swallowed a mouthful of coffee he’d been holding, afraid he might choke. He’d never heard her speak so openly about sex before, especially not sex she had personally experienced, and though he’d been the one who initiated the conversation he was suddenly afraid he was going to have to walk out of this diner trying to hide a bulge in his slacks.

“Fair enough, Scully, but porn isn’t real. It’s like an action movie. No one actually hangs off the skids of a helicopter mid-air, it’s just fun to watch.”

“I’m glad to hear that you’re aware of that, Mulder, and I would implore you to spread the news to the rest of the male populace.” She punctuated her statement with a loud crunch into her toast.

Mulder’s mouth fell open slightly as he studied her, trying to tell if she was joking or embellishing.

“People really do that? Have sex like they do in porn? Men you’ve slept with?”

She rolled her eyes. “Mulder, if you’re going to sit here and tell me that you have never done that, even as a young man, I’ll have to call BS.”

He put his hands up in defense. “I’m not saying I emerged from puberty as Don Juan, but I don’t recall ever not being invested in my partner’s experience. I’m sure my skills were lacking at the outset, but I always tried.”

She looked at him derisively from under her eyelashes. “Well then, you really should get out there more, Mulder. Share your gift with the world.” Her voice was laden with sarcasm.

He laughed and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “How am I coming out to be the bad guy, here Scully? I’m not the one who gave you a ‘worse than cake’ lay.”

She smiled at him but her tone remained facetious “of course not, you’ve demonstrated that your skills in this area are unparalleled.”

“Damn straight!” He said with a slap of his palm on the table, and they both erupted into laughter.

They held eye contact as the laughter subsided, awkwardness descending over the conversation. He had made reference to the two of them having sex, which was a topic he’d only made innuendo about, never mentioned directly. Trying to break the tension, Scully finally spoke.

“Well, I guess you can see why I don’t bother dating.”

“I guess I can” he replied, swiping the last crumbs of cake off the plate with his finger.

“Why don’t you date, Mulder?” His expression registered surprise. “Or do you? I don’t want to be presumptuous.” She felt a pit in her belly at the idea that he may actually have a secret love life.

“No” he spat out, chuckling a little. “No, I definitely don’t date. It’s just too complicated I guess. I’m kind of a serial monogamist anyway.”

“Really?” Now it was her turn to be surprised.

“Yeah, for the most part. I’ve had a couple flings, but the vast majority of the women I’ve slept with I was in a relationship with. The emotional aspect is important for me.”

She studied him, imagining a version of Mulder who would be so considerate and giving. She didn’t need to imagine it, really, she’d seen it. While he was capable of being selfish and obtuse, he had also been incredibly tender and caring with her on many occasions. He had certainly shown a proclivity towards chivalry; opening doors for her, walking closer to traffic on the sidewalk, helping her into her coat or holding an umbrella for her. The idea that such gestures would extend into the bedroom was logical, but it still set off a stirring in her belly. In what other ways might he be so attentive to her needs? She swallowed the last of her coffee and tried not to think about it. Maybe later, but not here. Not now.

“Well, I hate to state the obvious here, Scully, but I don’t think you’re going to happen across the guy that will give you a 5-star experience if you never put yourself out there.” As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to kick himself; why the fuck was he encouraging her sleeping with other people?

She smiled demurely and shrugged “for now I get my thrills from ghost busting and the occasional slice of really good cake.”

He bobbed his head and smiled back, pulling out his wallet and setting his bureau credit card on the tabletop.

In truth, she had already happened across that guy. He was sitting in front of her at a shitty diner in the middle of nowhere. And while she hoped that she may enjoy that 5 star experience in the future, for now just being in his presence, laughing and seeking the answers to the mysteries of the universe together, that was better than sex.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #xf fanfic

99 notes · View notes

jamiemackenziefraser · 3 years

Text

All That Was Fair

Chapter 28: The Precipice

Summary: The bliss of blind optimism begins to dissipate

Read on AO3

Read chapter 28 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

Jamie awoke the next morning to find Claire curled up against his back, one of her legs thrown over his and her arm draped across his chest. A content smile sleepily formed on his face as he came to the realization that he was the little spoon. As much as he didn’t want to disturb her— and he very much enjoyed this cuddling position and would have to keep it in mind for later— he thought she needed a little extra care this morning.

Turning over with the utmost delicacy, Jamie tried to keep her limbs in position over him while he shifted to face her. Once he was face to face with his faerie, he could watch her expression as she slept.

“Mo calman geal,” he breathed in barely a whisper. My white dove.

She was so beautiful lying beside him, the early morning sunlight illuminating her alabaster skin. Her lashes were dark against her cheeks, and the curls of her hair twined around her face with abandon. He wanted to wake up every morning to the sight of his love like this.

Leaning forward, he brushed his lips gently in the spot between her brows that was smooth with sleep. Moving along, he hovered his lips over her cheek before pressing the barest hint of a kiss along the cheekbone.

She awoke slowly as he kissed her other cheek, murmuring something unintelligible and squeezing her eyes shut tighter against wakefulness.

“Good morning, mo chridhe,” he whispered as he ended his exploration of her face with a quick peck on the lips.

“Jamie?” she dazedly murmured.

Her arms came up to wrap around his shoulders as her eyes fluttered open.

“Hi, a leannan,” he said warmly.

She pulled him closer and then rolled them slightly so Jamie was lying back and she could rest her head on his shoulder.

“How are ye feelin’ this mornin’?” he asked.

“Tired,” she replied, her voice hushed.

“Tired? Ye’ve only just woken up. Could ye no’ sleep last night?”

“I did. I’m just… tired,” she responded. The fatigue was apparent. She seemed muted somehow, speaking as though her head was underwater.

This sent Jamie’s heart beating faster, and he lifted up his head so he could look down at her, studying every inch he could see. But to his knowledge, nothing seemed wrong with her physically, other than the fact that the sweet calm of sleep was dissipating, leaving her with a pallor and listlessness that made Jamie’s stomach knot.

“And ye dinna ken why? Maybe ye’re sick?” he asked anxiously, “maybe ye’ve caught something?”

He repositioned them, shifting so that Claire moved back to the pillow and he could brace up on his elbow above her. He placed a hand on her forehead, his thumb brushing over her brow, but found it cool. “Can ye tell?”

Jamie held his breath, daring to hope that maybe she could simply heal herself as she’d healed him. Could faeries even do that?

Shaking her head against his head, she seemed sad. “I can’t tell,” she answered softly, but couldn’t provide any more explanation, “I can’t feel anything.”

“Maybe ye should go back to sleep, a leannan?” Jamie suggested, his anxiety mounting. He brought his hand up to brush his fingers down the side of her face.

She gave another shake of the head, interrupting his motions. “I don’t want to. Can I just sit with you for a while?”

His heart broke a little at her tentative question.

“Of course ye can, my sweet one,” his voice caught a little on the endearment, “but why dinna ye jes’ stay in bed while I feed Adso and myself? I have time, I’ll be back before ye know it.”

“I want to stay with you,” she insisted, the clinginess obvious in her voice. But instead of its usual feisty quality— the way she adhered to him with passion, as if every touch lit the fire inside of her— she seemed limp. As if the most she could do to keep herself by his side was ask.

Jamie’s brow furrowed. He was really starting to get concerned about her. Studying her pale face, he traced a fingertip across her cheekbone.

“We’ll stay then, a leannan,” he opted not to bring up his worries any further. Not when she was like this.

Despite the words that had just left his lips, there was a lump in his throat and a tugging on his mind that he couldn’t ignore. They could only stay for so long… Jamie was supposed to go into work. To leave Claire by herself. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was only 6 am, and he let out a sigh. There was still plenty of time to take care of her before he had to leave.

For the umpteenth time, he wished he could simply up and quit his job. Everything in his life paled in comparison to the consumingness of her. But he knew that this trouble would pass soon enough, and it wouldn’t be right to abandon his passion and livelihood simply because he wanted to spend every waking second with his lass.

Claire was staring at him, her head tilted against the pillow as she watched this struggle play out on his face. There seemed a moment where her features darkened and her eyes fell.

“I forgot about work,” she murmured, having correctly intuited exactly what was going on in his brain. Disappointment cast a veil over her normally open face.

“I have time, a leannan. I always have time for you.”

Jamie started to reach out, meaning to bring her into his arms again, but she shook her head.

“Go on. You need food, and time to get dressed. Let’s go,” she said.

Whether she was fighting it or not, Jamie would slow down. He shifted himself closer to her on the bed, cupping her face with one hand and sliding his other over her hip. He caressed up and down in long strokes, intentionally slow.

“Ye’re the only thing on my mind right now, mo Sorcha.

The look on her face made his stomach twist. Her eyes were downcast, not meeting his, and there was tension in the muscles of her cheeks, as if she was trying to hold a mask in place. She was quiet, and the only reply to his words was a shaky exhale.

Jamie drew up so he hovered over her. Tilting her face up, he brought his lips to ghost a kiss over those beautiful pink lips.

Even that didn’t seem to break the somber mood that trapped his love. Jamie felt excessively guilty as he stayed rooted in that position, staring into her eyes and cradling her face with both hands. He wished he could tell her he would take off again, that they could take a sick day together, and that he could hold her until she felt normal again, but he couldn’t say any of those things.

“It’s okay, Jamie,” Claire murmured, turning those fatigued eyes on him full force, “let’s go downstairs.”

While Jamie made breakfast, Claire wandered over to the kitchen table. He glanced over every few seconds to check on her, but she was so quiet. His concern amped up several notches when he looked over at one point to find she had laid her head in her arms where they rested on the table. Her eyes were closed and her breathing slow.

Something was definitely wrong.

Jamie turned off the stove and abandoned his parritch. He walked over to her and gently ran his hand over the back of her head, trying to shove down the worry that nearly made his hand tremble.

Her response was to simply turn her head a bit on her arms, indicating she felt him, but she didn’t say a word.

“Sassenach—” he started to say, but she lifted her head.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

“I dinna want to leave ye.”

She did raise her head then, turning big honey eyes up toward him. Her lips caught the heel of his hand in a kiss before she spoke.

“You have to go, Jamie. It’ll be good. I’ll go back to sleep, and I’m sure I’ll feel more like myself when you get home.”

Jamie felt like a toddler about to have a tantrum. He was tired of this conflict every damn day! He hated going into work and leaving her here, but he hated leaving his company when he knew very well they needed him. He felt like he was being torn in different directions and that one day he would simply snap.

Taking a deep breath, he shoved down that line of thinking. It wouldn’t do Claire any good to have him strung out over work. While she was sick, he would simply have to keep it together and make one decision at a time. And today, whether he liked it or not, the decision was clear.

“Okay, Sassenach. But that doesna mean that I willna give ye my full attention now while I’m here.”

She smiled a little at this, lifting her head enough to fix him with that whisky gaze. “Does that mean you’ll have your breakfast on the couch?”

Jamie rolled his eyes but felt his muscles ease at the relief of seeing that glimpse of her usual self.

Recently, she’d begun to rebel against the kitchen table. The kitchen chairs were no good— she would complain. No good for snuggling, she meant. Even when she scooted hers as close as possible to Jamie’s, that was apparently not close enough for her. She’d begun a campaign against the table then, trying to get him to sit on the couch for meals where she could burrow into his side. Finding her incredibly distracting and a bit disconcerting to have a faerie trying to apparently jump into his skin while he attempted to have a meal, Jamie had stood firm on his policy. Meals were taken at the table.

Only now, seeing that tiny spark in her eyes at mention of breakfast on the couch, Jamie never stood a chance.

“You win, a leannan. Jes’ this once, I’ll have my parritch wi’ ye in the living room. Come on, then, lass.”

And so he found himself on the couch, bowl held out in front of him and Claire glued to his side. It didn’t take long for her head to meet his shoulder and her hands to wrap around his bicep in a sort of half-hug.

His heart skipped a few beats as she clung to him.

“Yer hands are cold, a leannan,” he noticed.

She murmured an uncertain hmmm? but didn’t say anything more. Jamie decided to drop it. Clearly she was under the weather, no denying it, but he hoped that an actual day of rest would do her well. He simply swallowed down his parritch and tried not to think too much about what he couldn’t control. Claire was silent nearly the whole time, just breathing deeply against his side.

When it came time for him to run out the door, he was ready to cry and stamp his feet at the unfairness of adult life. He tugged his bag over his shoulder with more force than necessary, and had to resist tearing it off again as he returned to Claire where she lay on the couch.

“If I have a second free I’ll run back to check on ye, alright, mo ghraidh?” he said after getting her tucked underneath a warmth blanket, an edge of urgency on his voice. The blanket was a poor substitute for his body, but he didn’t want to leave her with nothing. At least he could wrap his tartan around her, imagining his protection enveloped her.

“Don’t worry, Jamie. I’ll see you when you get home,” Claire said, already settling down on the throw pillow with her eyes falling closed.

It eased him considerably to see her already burrowing in for a nap, and he muttered a quick prayer over her in Gaelic before giving her one last kiss to the forehead.

“I love you more than anythin’, mo chridhe. Be well,” he said in farewell.

“I love you,” she echoed, her voice already laced with the slur of sleep.

***

Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser was no babysitter.

Sure, he’d spent nearly all his free time with Ellen’s bairns, but that was different. He was a hard man, used to solitude, and he most certainly did not take care of people.

Only when Jamie Fraser had called him from work, his voice dripping with anxious concern, pleading with him to go check in on his lass to see if she was alright, Murtagh had somehow lost his mind and relented. Maybe it was something about Jamie’s story— how Claire was feelin’ ill but he’d forgotten to leave a cellphone with her so she could call if she needed something— or maybe it was just the obvious worry in his godson’s voice, but something had made Murtagh give in. He hated letting down the lad more than anything, so he had decided that he could manage a little look-in that was most certainly not anything more than that.

A short time later, he found himself unlocking Jamie’s house with his spare key and yelling a greeting as he stepped inside.

“Claire? Lass? Jamie asked me tae check in on ye. Are ye alright?” he called.

But he heard no answer. Figuring she was upstairs in the bedroom having a nap, Murtagh made his way upstairs, only to find all the rooms empty.

“Lass?” he called again, “are ye here?”

He worried for a minute that she’d left, made a run for it while Jamie was at work so she could avoid saying goodbye, but then he remembered the way the lass had looked at Jamie, spoke about him, and he knew in his wame that there was no way the lass had up and left.

He checked the basement before making another round through the house, only to find no trace of the wee lassie.

There was one last place to look, even though only someone out of their damn mind would go outside on a dreich day such as this one.

He slid open the back door reluctantly, squinting out into the back garden. His eyes swept lazily across it, not expecting to find anything, but then his gaze landed on the shape of a figure laying on the ground in front of the wee patch of dirt that was a sorry excuse for a garden.

Adrenaline flooded Murtagh’s veins, and he ran outside, cursing under his breath.

By the time he got to her, dropping to his knees beside her, she was struggling to sit up, pushing up on her hands and shaking her head, looking disoriented.

“Have ye lost yer mind, lass?” Murtagh burst out, reaching to help her sit up.

She didn’t answer, just pressed her dirty hands against her face and swayed slightly.

Taking in the sight of her, Murtagh realized Jamie had been right to call him. The lass certainly was ill. Her face was pale and drawn, and she looked damn near ready to keel over again. Her hand shook where it was lifted to her face, and she was blinking hard.

“Come on, now,” Murtagh said, much more gently this time.

She still didn’t say anything, but she didn’t protest either when he took her arms and laid it across his shoulders so he could lift her to her feet with a quiet “up ye get.”

Her breath hitched the moment they were upright, and she sagged heavily against him, barely supporting her own weight. Like a sack of grain against him, the puir lass couldn’t even manage to hold on.

“Ye’re alright,” Murtagh found himself saying to her as she struggled to stay upright, “let’s get ye inside.”

Slowly, they made their way inside, Murtagh taking the majority of her weight and offering encouragements he didn’t know he had in him. She didn’t say a word, white lips pressed tightly together as her feet dragged.

Once they had finally made it inside, Murtagh deposited her on the couch before grabbing a blanket and tucking it around her.

“There ye go, that’ll be more comfortable than the dirt outside, I’d expect,” Murtagh said.

By this time, he was used to the lass not saying a word. He thought maybe she was one who simply shut down when she wasn’t feeling well. Besides, she seemed like she was barely conscious, let alone coherent enough to have a conversation. So he was surprised when she murmured out a weak, “thank you.”

“Ye’re welcome, lass,” Murtagh said, trying to sound gruff and uncaring, but the words came out gentle as her tone struck some chord inside him, “get some sleep now. Ye’ll feel better wi’ some rest.”

He must have been losing his edge if one sick lassie could turn him into a mother hen.

“Jamie?” she asked, her voice muffled by the blanket which she was pulling up toward her face.

“He’ll be back when ye wake,” Murtagh promised.

She closed her eyes then, seeming content with that answer, and Murtagh left her to head into the kitchen where he could call Jamie privately.

The poor lad was rocked by his report, sounding over the phone like someone had punched him in the stomach, and he’d promised to be home right away. He must have broken every traffic law because it took him only 20 minutes to get home from the city.

Jamie burst in through the front door, disheveled and wild with worry, and Murtagh found himself rushing over and shushing him so he didn’t wake the lass where she slept on the couch.

His godson had quieted immediately, and before Murtagh could give him the story, Jamie was pushing past him into the living room.

Murtagh watched as the lad caught sight of Claire, his eyes filling with soft worry. His entire demeanor changed from wired to gentle as Jamie knelt down beside the couch, brushing curls away from the lass’ forehead so he could press a kiss there.

Her eyes fluttered open at the touch. It seemed to take her a second to orient herself, but the second she realized who was with her, her whole face melted.

“Jamie,” she breathed out.

“I’m here now, mo ghraidh, dinna fash,” he said, more gentle than Murtagh had ever seen him, “go back to sleep. I’m here.”

“Will you stay with me?” she asked.

Murtagh felt like he was intruding on a private moment, but he couldn't seem to look away as Jamie pressed another kiss to her brow. “In jes’ a minute, lass. Hold on, jes’ a moment.” He kissed her again, as if he couldn’t bear the words coming from his mouth. “I promise I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, barely moving her head, and then closed her eyes again. Looking like the weight of the world was on his back, Jamie stood and turned toward Murtagh, gesturing toward the kitchen with a tilt of his head.

“So you found her in the garden?” Jamie asked once they were both seated at the table.

“Aye. She looked like she’d collapsed out there. Something’s wrong wi’ the lass, Jamie.”

Jamie looked sad, his blue eyes— so like Ellen’s— were unfocused. His mind was clearly in the living room. Shaking his head, he admitted, “I ken. I’m scared for her.”

“Take her to a doctor, lad,” Murtagh told him, “she needs help.”

For some reason, this seemed to pain Jamie all the more. He looked down, fiddling with his fingers. Something was going on in that brain of his, but Murtagh had no idea what it was.

“Dinna fash, I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Murtagh told him, “take some more time off, see her well, and call me if ye need anythin.”

“Thanks, Murtagh,” Jamie said, nodding as if to convince himself of the validity of Murtagh’s assurances.

“Dinna think on it,” he dismissed, “Now, go back tae yer lass.”

***

When Jamie closed the door behind Murtagh, he had to take a second to lean his back against it, pushing all the air from his lungs in a long breath. He felt like his head was whirling, his body thrumming as he came down from the adrenaline. The drive home had been a mad dash, and Jamie didn’t even remember half of it. Now, the quiet stillness of the house seemed stifling.

He wouldn’t think about Claire’s suffering. He wouldn’t think about her laying outside the garden all by herself.. He wouldn’t think about her perfect skin marred by dirt as she tried and failed to push herself up… he wouldn’t—

The punishing flood of mental pictures burned in his brain and twisted his stomach in guilty turmoil.

He was a fool. He was a damned fool for leaving her. He’d known she wasn’t well this morning, and he’d known she was far too stubborn to take care of herself and simply sleep, but he’d left her anyway.

As he returned to Claire’s side to find her fast asleep, he was torn between cursing her for her foolishness in going outside and cursing himself for deciding to leave her.

“I’m here, mo nighean donn,” he whispered to her as he pressed a long kiss to her temple, lips lingering as if his touch could erase the mistakes of the day.

Part of him wished that she was awake, if only to comfort him that things weren’t as bad as they seemed. But she was finally resting, and if his kiss didn’t wake her, he wouldn’t disrupt her sleep.

Deciding she would be better off in bed, Jamie slid his hands underneath her and gathered her in. He carried her upstairs, taking careful steps with his most precious cargo before settling her again in bed. She barely stirred— hardly reacted at all to the change in location. Her eyes remained shut and her face still.

“Rest now, mo ghraidh,” Jamie murmured over her.

He allowed himself one caress over her brow and one kiss to the top of her curls. And then he left her to her sleep.

The second he sat down at the desk in his study, he felt himself deflate like a balloon. He buried his face in his hands and swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

The only sound filling the room was the clock ticking on the wall.

***

#i shall be hiding somewhere in the bushes if anyone needs me #all that was fair #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #update #fae claire

68 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

My fav MDZS stories are ones where Mo Xuanyu lives and WWX takes him under his wing when the Sacrifice Summons goes slightly wrong. I would love to see your version of this au bc your writing is very very good and I've fallen in love. However you want to character MXY is fine, but I know you'll make him compelling.

also on ao3 because long

“It’s not wrong if you write it down,” Mo Xuanyu muttered to himself like a mantra as he scribbled down a rough explanation of what he was going to do. “If you write it down, it’s just an experiment, and that makes it okay.”

That’s what they used to say back at Koi Tower. Not all of them, no – most people didn’t talk to him, stupid shy useless stuttering bastard that he was.

But Jin Guangyao had smiled at him, smiled the way he smiled at everyone no matter how lowly, and Mo Xuanyu, flattered at the unfamiliar feeling of positive familial attention, had tentatively smiled back. That had been a mistake, of course, but he hadn’t realized it at the time – he was still young, then.

He hadn’t been crazy, then.

(Had he? He didn’t remember. The screaming nightmares weren’t until later, after he’d swallowed down that medicine that Jin Guangyao gave to him, that he’d forced down his throat with Xue Yang holding his shoulders down – they’d been regretful about it, he remembered that. That’d been nice. No one’d ever been sorry about what they’d done to him before. Or after, for that matter.)

That came later, though. Towards the end. The experiments – that was earlier, wasn’t it?

Yes. Back when Jin Guangyao still thought he might be useful, and he let him follow him around; back before Xue Yang had disappeared – wait, if Xue Yang had disappeared, who’d held him down? – back when he still called him Xue-gege because Xue Yang thought it was funny, and if he did that he could sit around in a place where no one would find him and watch while Xue Yang did…stuff.

Usually bad stuff.

Still, it was better than being anywhere else in Koi Tower. With Madame Jin, who hated him and threw things at him, just like Auntie Mo did, and his father who wanted him to talk about girls (Mo Xuanyu didn’t know anything about girls), and all the people who giggled at him and talked about him behind their sleeves as if he couldn’t still hear them.

If you write it down, it’s just an experiment, Jin Guangyao told him, smiling, because he always smiled. That’s why what Xue Yang does is okay.

Xue Yang taught him the basics of drawing arrays, how to hold the brush in your hand and push spiritual energy into it. Mo Xuanyu didn’t have very much, so it made him very tired and then he dropped the brush; that made Xue Yang laugh at him, push him down until his face was on the ground so he could get a better look at what he was drawing, and then he got bored and pulled him back up to try again.

It was still better than being taught by the Jin sect cultivators who sneered at him and ordered him to get hit with boards any time he made a mistake, and Mo Xuanyu made a lot of mistakes.

Mo Xuanyu didn’t like to talk to people much, wasn’t very good at it. Wasn’t much good for anything, really.

Except this, he supposed. This was something he could do.

Xue Yang taught him the basics of drawing arrays, but it was only ever the basics – as soon as he figured out how to do it, Jin Guangyao took over the teaching, and he only ever wanted Mo Xuanyu to learn one array in specific.

It didn’t have a name. It was an ancient, forbidden technique; those didn’t get names. Jin Guangyao’d found it in a book, hidden on an abandoned old mountain – a place where lots of people died in a battle a long time ago, and then again not so long ago – and he’d thought it was just right for Mo Xuanyu.

The array required blood, blood of the caster, incisions all over – painful ones – and the point of it was to offer up your body to some extremely villainous ghoul so that it could take revenge for you.

“But I don’t want revenge,” he’d told Jin Guangyao, plaintive and naïve. “And I don’t know any villainous ghouls.”

“You don’t have to ask for revenge,” Jin Guangyao had told him, patient. He was always patient when he wanted something. “You can ask for something else, if you want. Revenge is just the usual reason.”

“Not many things besides revenge are worth sacrificing your soul for,” Xue Yang had opined, and Jin Guangyao had glared at him like he’d said something stupid. “What? It’s true.”

“We’ll discuss the Chang clan later, Chengmei. I was talking to Xuanyu.”

Mo Xuanyu had been poking at the manuscripts, feeling doubtful, and Xue Yang’d huffed and grabbed them. “Don’t touch the papers! Wei Wuxian didn’t leave much behind; I’m not losing the bit we got.”

“Wei Wuxian,” Mo Xuanyu had said, feeling the weight of it on his tongue. He didn’t know much, but even he’d heard about the Yiling Patriarch. “Is he the villainous ghoul you want me to summon?”

“No,” Xue Yang’d giggled. “He wants you to bring back Nie Mingjue.”

Mo Xuanyu hadn’t known that name – he really didn’t know anything – but the weeks that Jin Guangyao thought that he could one day become him were probably the best in his life. He’d never been petted or coaxed before, never been treated so well; he ate nice food every day, wore nice clothing, slept as late as he liked, took lots of baths…Jin Guangyao wanted his body to be in good condition before he did the ritual. He gave him lotions to make his skin feel soft, used medicine to nourish his organs, spent hours and hours teaching him to braid his hair the way the Nies did, all complicated and pretty yet practical.

(“He’ll hate it so much,” Jin Guangyao whispered in his ear on the nights he let Mo Xuanyu share his pillow. “Soft and decadent and weak – you’ve got the weakest golden core I’ve ever seen, Xuanyu, weaker even than me, and you’re too useless to even have any ambition to make it stronger. I could push you down with one hand, overpower you, make you crawl…no one will ever be scared of you. Let’s see how much you like being the weak one, da-ge.”)

It’d only been when the ritual failed – not just once, but many times, no matter how many cuts Mo Xuanyu made on his arms or how well he painted the array – that Jin Guangyao had given up on Mo Xuanyu.

They hadn’t been able to figure out why it wasn’t working, back then, but now Mo Xuanyu thought that maybe he just hadn’t wanted it enough back then. He’d wanted to make Jin Guangyao happy, yes, and he hadn’t really cared what it cost to do it – Jin Guangyao’s arguments that he was useless and pointless, his life worthless, and so he might as well do something useful with his death were pretty convincing – but he hadn’t wanted it.

He wanted it now, though.

Something worth sacrificing your soul – it really could only be revenge, couldn’t it? Xue-gege knew what he was talking about. Revenge was something you needed, something that ate away at your soul until sacrificing it was the only thing left to be done with it, and that, that, was what was going to make the ritual work this time.

Mo Xuanyu was going to get revenge. Revenge on Auntie Mo, on Master Mo, on Mo Ziyuan, on A-Tong…they deserved it. He hated them. He hated what they did to him and how often they did it, he hated that this was his life and that nothing would ever get better, he hated hated hated…!

(“You don’t have to do this,” the young sect leader surnamed Nie had told him when they’d had tea for the last time. He’d bought Mo Xuanyu the cosmetics he liked – he’d offered to buy him something nicer, but Mo Xuanyu had his preferences; the expensive stuff didn’t feel heavy and greasy on his face, didn’t make him feel like he’d painted himself into being somebody else, someone braver. “Just so you know.”

“I know,” Mo Xuanyu’d said. Sect Leader Nie had come to ask him for any information he had about Jin Guangyao. He didn’t say why, but – Nie, Mo Xuanyu’d thought to himself, Nie like Nie Mingjue – he hadn’t been at all expecting to hear the story Mo Xuanyu’d had to tell him. He hadn’t been the one to suggest the ritual, that’d been Mo Xuanyu – he hated, hated, hated – but Mo Xuanyu never did learn the name of any of those extremely villainous ghouls so he’d asked him for a suggestion.

He’d suggested Wei Wuxian, and that’d made Mo Xuanyu giggle to the point of hysterics. Don’t touch the papers, Wei Wuxian didn’t leave much behind – oh, Xue-gege, you’d think this was so funny!)

“Gotta write it down,” he said to himself as he made the cuts and drew the array: it was already starting to glow in a way it hadn’t any of the other times he’d done it, and it wasn’t that he’d gotten any stronger. “Writing it down makes it okay…”

He went to get some paper, and that’s when the cat came in. A big old fisher cat, vicious and mean.

And, well, Jin Guangyao and Xue Yang were always talking about how you’re supposed to try stuff out before you do the real thing – practice makes perfect, that’s what they always said, until the day Jin Guangyao got tired of Xue Yang’s practice and made him disappear, and after that it wasn’t all that long until the day that he got tired of Mo Xuanyu, too, and made the sect kick him out.

(They said he was a cutsleeve, which was true, and they said he’d attacked Jin Guangyao, which was laughable – wasn’t Jin Guangyao the one who was always commenting on how weak Mo Xuanyu was? But that was after he drank the medicine that came with the nightmares and the weird spasms and the rest of it, and it wasn’t as if anyone in Koi Tower had ever listened to anything he said even before that.)

He wasn’t actually going to do anything bad to the cat. He just wanted to use it to make sure he got the markings all done right; it wasn’t as if the array would actually work, not without him in the middle – this array ran on resentment, on revenge, and how much resentment could a cat have?

Apparently Mo Xuanyu’d underestimated cats, or possibly his array-drawing skills, or maybe even it was only that he’d poured so much hatred into the array that when he put the cat down in the middle to see if the positioning was right the whole thing exploded right in Mo Xuanyu’s face.

He woke up to Mo Ziyuan kicking him and yelling about how dare he report him to his parents (he hadn’t reported anything, just asked for his stuff back, he hadn’t even meant to do that because he knew it was pointless but they’d asked what he was thinking about and it had just slipped out) while A-Tong broke all his stuff, but that was pretty normal so he didn’t think too much about it.

The cat leaping for Mo Ziyuan’s face, howling something that sounded an awful lot like the words fuck you except sort of halfway into being a cat’s meow, was new.

Kind of funny, too.

Mo Xuanyu giggled and lay back down on the floor while Mo Ziyuan ran out, crying for his mother, with A-Tong right on his heels as always.

The cat made its way back over to him and jumped up on his chest, looking down at him. It was a pretty handsome cat, now that Mo Xuanyu was looking at it: long and black, with white on its chest and like little socks on its forepaws, a noble appearance that had been concealed by the messy state of its fur.

“I’m sorry I accidentally nearly sacrificed you to a villainous ghoul,” Mo Xuanyu said to it.

“Who told you that I’m a villainous ghoul?” the cat said back. “You couldn’t find another wandering ghost as harmless as me!”

Mo Xuanyu was crazy, yes, but it wasn’t – it wasn’t that type of crazy. He had fits that sent him down to the floor, limbs thrashing crazily; he had days in which he wanted to do nothing but die; screaming nightmares at night and sometimes during the day, hearing and seeing things that weren’t there…

This was still new.

“Did you just talk?” he checked.

“You bet I talked,” the cat said. “Now tell me, how in the world did you manage to offer up the body of a cat? That’s not how that ritual’s supposed to work!”

“It was supposed to be my body, Master Cat,” Mo Xuanyu explained. “But they said that you should always try something out first –”

“First off, you shouldn’t be sacrificing yourself either,” the cat said. “That’s your soul you’re talking about – the ritual just says the soul goes back to the earth, but what if it destroys it entirely? You could’ve been doomed never to reincarnate!”

“That sounds restful,” Mo Xuanyu said wistfully.

“…you have serious issues. You know that, right?”

“Yes, Master Cat.”

“Stop calling me ‘Master Cat’. You know my name, you can use it.”

Mo Xuanyu blinked, long and slow. “But I don’t know your name? You were just the stray that lived out back behind the grocer…”

“I’m Wei Wuxian! You summoned me here and offered me a body!”

Mo Xuanyu hadn’t realized it’d worked. “Does that mean you won’t help me get revenge?” he asked, disappointed.

“I don’t exactly have much of a choice, do I?” The cat – Wei Wuxian – huffed. “That stupid ritual…how many cuts do you have?”

“Four,” Mo Xuanyu said automatically, except when he checked they were about half-there, half-gone, and after a little bit of investigating it looked like the other half of them were echoed in appropriately parallel locations on Wei Wuxian’s fuzzy feline body. “Oops.”

“Oops, he says,” Wei Wuxian said, but he already sounded cheerful again. “Seems like you bound our souls together when you brought me back – probably because there were too many souls in the center of the array, once you added in the cat. Anyway, don’t count me out – two legs or four, I can still help you get revenge. Who on, by the way?”

Mo Xuanyu tried to explain. He wasn’t very good at it, tongue tripping over his words as he tried to put into words why he hated them so much that the idea of killing them had possessed him in every one of his three souls and seven spirits, and it all sounded really stupid when he said it so he went off on a tangent and explained how his father had wanted to use him but he was too useless for that, and his half-brother wanted to kill him but he was too useless for that, and his family just wanted him to die, but –

“Too useless for that,” Wei Wuxian said, and his ears were pinned back against his head with his hackles raised and fur all puffed up all over. “Yeah, I got the gist. Okay. I’m sold. Let’s kill ‘em.”

“Really?”

“…I’m actually pretty bad at cold-blooded murder, even if the people you want me to kill do sound like scum. Hmm. Maybe we could just cause them a lot of trouble? A lot of trouble?”

“That seems like a bad idea,” Mo Xuanyu said doubtfully.

It was, if only because Mo Xuanyu was about as terrible at causing a disaster as he was at anything else.

Wei Wuxian ran off into the main greeting hall and started knocking things around, bellowing unconvincing meows as if he’d never met a cat in his life, and Mo Xuanyu wanted to die of embarrassment, stuttering apologies at the visiting Lan sect disciples that looked about as awkward about the whole thing as he was.

(They’d tried to get him to deal with the fierce corpses first, sending him out to the hills and yelling at him to do something, but he’d never been invited to night-hunts back at the Jin sect so he just stood around uselessly until they’d given up and invited some real cultivators.)

Auntie Mo was furious – even more so when Mo Ziyuan showed up and started trying to hit Mo Xuanyu for being a liar, except he wasn’t lying (Wei Wuxian had shouted something about theft and robbery, about cutting off someone’s hand if they stole from him again, and everyone thought it was Mo Xuanyu doing the yelling and then he’d had to explain, hadn’t he?) and eventually the entire thing got to be so stressful that it brought on one of his fits.

He woke up not long afterward, with his head in a Lan sect disciple’s lap – he was transferring spiritual energy, which was nice of him but unnecessary – and Wei Wuxian on his chest, frantically licking his cheek and trying to whisper questions of “Are you okay? Mo Xuanyu? Can you hear me?” into his ear.

“I’m okay,” he said, blinking away the daze. There were broken teacups and wine jars tossed all around – it must have been one of the screaming fits, where he threw himself down on the floor and tossed and turned and screamed and sometimes frothed at the mouth. He broke a lot of things during those fits, almost always his own. “Sorry for disturbing you.”

“I told you he was a lunatic,” Auntie Mo said, her voice shrill as always. “Always breaking our things, and then he still complains when A-Yuan borrows a little, as if he wouldn’t just break it himself anyway…! Wretched thing! Useless thing! Honored cultivators, please pardon us this embarrassment, forgive me. We’ll take him away at once –”

Mo Xuanyu flinched, and the Lan sect cultivator who still had his fingers on his pulse frowned. He was very young, and Lan sect; he’d probably never encountered a lunatic before. “No need,” he said. “We need to go and get started with setting up the array in the Western Courtyard. Senior Mo here can show us where it is…can’t you?”

“I can,” Mo Xuanyu said, eager to avoid being locked away again. He scrambled to his feet, not forgetting to scoop up Wei Wuxian the troublemaker. “Follow me.”

They said a few more words, reminders not to go outside once the array was set up, and then they followed him, talking quietly behind him –

“Why’d you call him Senior, Sizhui?” one of the Lan sect disciples was asking the other in an undertone. “He’s a lunatic!”

“He’s a cultivator,” the one that had helped him earlier said. “He has a golden core, and he’s older than we are; that means he’s a senior.”

“He’s got a golden core? No way! He paints his face like he’s a hanged ghost!”

“Jingyi! What does it matter what he does with his face? It’s true, I felt it when I transferred him spiritual energy. Anyway, I didn’t want him to get punished just for having a fit…hey!”

That last exclamation had been because Wei Wuxian had twisted out of Mo Xuanyu’s arms and leaped towards the flags they were carrying, snatching one to the ground and rolling around with it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Mo Xuanyu said, wanting to cry. He didn’t have any grudge against these Lan sect disciples; why was Wei Wuxian making trouble for them? “I didn’t mean to mess up your flag formation, or the…”

“Spirit Summon Flag,” Wei Wuxian muttered from his feet and Mo Xuanyu quickly used a foot to slide him back behind him and pretended he’d been the one to speak, smiling earnestly at them. “Weak, with a range of no more than five li, but serviceable enough; they can go ahead and use it.”

“You know about Spirit Summon Flags?” the taller Lan sect disciple – the one who’d been called Jingyi – asked, looking surprised, and Lan Sizhui elbowed him in the ribs.

Mo Xuanyu shrugged helplessly. “They used them sometimes at the Jin sect,” he said, which was true, even though he’d never gotten involved in that sort of thing. Saying that just made them all look even more surprised, though; probably at the idea that a lunatic like him had been part of the Jin sect in any way shape or form. “That was back before I went crazy. And you don’t have to call me senior – I got kicked out before I learned anything useful.”

“You’re still a fellow cultivator,” Lan Sizhui said, and smiled at him. Mo Xuanyu felt his face go red and he looked away, regretting how easily he showed his emotions; it would probably embarrass Lan Sizhui later on, when he heard the rumors about Mo Xuanyu’s sexual preference. That wasn’t the reason he’d blushed, he’d never had any interest in children – it was only that he liked it when people smiled at him.

“I’ll be going,” he said, and grabbed at Wei Wuxian again, only to miss and nearly trip before finally managing to pick him up. “Good luck with your hunt. I hope it goes well.”

It did not go well. Mo Ziyuan got himself killed by stealing a Spirit Summon Flag – Mo Xuanyu and Wei Wuxian both checked their left arm or forepaw at the same time, seeing the cut there heal up before their eyes; apparently the curse considered it to be close enough, maybe because Wei Wuxian had invented the thing – and somehow Mo Xuanyu ended up being accused of his murderer.

And that was before things got really bad.

“Set up a blocking array at the corner,” Wei Wuxian hissed in his ear.

“I can’t!” Mo Xuanyu said, hiding behind a tree. “I don’t know any arrays!”

“What?! Impossible. You did the body offering array – that’s extremely difficult, especially for someone of your cultivation level.”

“It’s the only one I was ever taught,” Mo Xuanyu explained, and Wei Wuxian’s fur suddenly puffed up all over again.

“Someone is going to die, and not necessarily the Mo family,” he said darkly; it might have been more intimidating if Mo Xuanyu hadn’t tied a red ribbon around his throat earlier to try to make the idea of him being someone’s pet a little more believable. “Whoever did that really only wanted you for one thing, didn’t they? I wonder why they wanted me back so badly.”

Mo Xuanyu was about to explain that actually Wei Wuxian hadn’t been the original target, but then there was more yelling – the Lan sect juniors were very competent but the ghost hand was terrifying – and Wei Wuxian got distracted, hissing at Mo Xuanyu to kick Lan Jingyi.

He obeyed on instinct, which saved Lan Sizhui’s life, and then Wei Wuxian was out of his hands again, streaking towards the corpses like a bolt of feline lightning, and suddenly there were three more corpses standing up and fighting against the possessed remains of Auntie Mo.

“Looks like I can still cultivate,” Wei Wuxian said happily, strolling back over and using the tree to leap back up to Mo Xuanyu’s shoulder. “I thought I should be able to use your golden core, given the way the curse bound us together…how are we doing on the curse, anyway?”

Mo Xuanyu checked. “I think that’s everyone, actually? I should thank whoever sent the ghost hand.”

Wei Wuxian was silent for a moment. “Huh, you’re right,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking about it at first, but those Spirit Summon Flags definitely didn’t have enough of a range to summon a ghost hand like that from far away – and we would have heard of a lot more deaths if it’d been that close. Someone must have released it near here.”

Mo Xuanyu hadn’t been thinking along those lines at all. It was only that no matter where he lived, Mo Manor or Koi Tower, there was almost always someone causing bad things to happen.

“Should we do something to help?” he asked hesitantly, watching the battle unfold and then flinching when there was an unexpected sound – two strums on a guqin, full of spiritual power.

“Nope!” Wei Wuxian said. “In fact, we should leave. Right now.”

“Leave…?”

“You can’t be planning on staying at Mo Manor now that everyone’s dead? Come on! Let’s go! Hanguang-jun’s here; he’ll take care of the ghost hand.”

“I wasn’t planning anything,” Mo Xuanyu argued even as he headed towards the exit obediently. “I was going to be dead, and the body would be yours, and you could do whatever you liked with it when you were done.”

“Well, we’re done,” Wei Wuxian said. “And you’re not dead. You’re just going to have to live with that.”

“Live with…not being dead?”

“Just accept the glorious wisdom of your elders already,” Wei Wuxian said cheerfully. “Either way: we go. As quickly as possible. Before anyone notices. Is there anything you need to pack? We should take the donkey in that courtyard.”

“And money,” Mo Xuanyu said practically, heading for Auntie Mo’s room first. After all, she was dead and wouldn’t need it, and he was the last living heir of the Mo family – it was only reasonable that he take the first pick before everyone else got it. “You can always use money, even if you’re dead. Or a cat.”

Travelling was a bizarre experience.

Mo Xuanyu hadn’t been allowed to go outside of Mo Manor in a few years – Wei Wuxian hissed and spat some very impressive curses on the Mo family name, present company excluded – and even at his time in the Jin sect, he’d always been taken places by other people. Now, for the first time, he was alone…well, alone but for Wei Wuxian, who insisted that they had to stay together, curse or no curse, because of how they’d been bound. Mo Xuanyu suspected the real reason was because he didn’t think Mo Xuanyu could make it by himself, and he was probably right.

At any rate, he didn’t have anywhere to go, so instead he followed Wei Wuxian’s instructions to head towards Dafan Mountain to see if they could find some tombs that Wei Wuxian would be able to use. He still had fits, still wanted to die rather a lot, but he ended up spending so much of his time trying to coax the donkey (dubbed Little Apple by Wei Wuxian after they figured out that apples were the best and possibly only incentive to get it moving) that he didn’t have time to think about it too much.

Not being around either Auntie Mo or anyone from the Jin sect helped. Wei Wuxian wasn’t too bad – he may have been a villainous ghoul once, but now he was a cat.

“Didn’t you used to cultivate with a flute?” he asked as they walked along the mountain paths late at night. Well, the donkey walked, Mo Xuanyu rode the donkey, and Wei Wuxian rode in Mo Xuanyu’s arms. “What are you going to do about that? You can’t play a flute anymore; you’re a cat.”

“Cats are innately musical creatures,” Wei Wuxian said. His voice had become a lot more human in the past few days, rich and compelling and increasingly lacking the rough meows that had initially interrupted his speech. It was no surprise that someone as talented as him could pick up being a cat faster than Mo Xuanyu had ever learned to pick up being human.

Mo Xuanyu narrowed his eyes. “That’s a lie, right?” Wei Wuxian had been trying to teach him how to distinguish those, but they weren’t having very much success with it. “I don’t think I’ve heard a single decent sound out of –”

“Why don’t we see who’s making that noise?” Wei Wuxian said loudly, so they dismounted and went to go look.

There were people yelling, caught in a golden net.

“Can you get them down?” he asked Wei Wuxian, who reached out with his claws to grab a leaf, muttering something that was probably uncomplimentary.

And then –

Oh, no.

“Why are you hiding behind a tree again?” Wei Wuxian asked him, not keeping especially quiet. “Don’t tell me you’re hiding from that little Jin sect boy who clearly didn’t have a mother to teach him?”

Mo Xuanyu dropped him like he was a boiling hot skillet.

Like everything he’d ever done on instinct, the move immediately backfired: Wei Wuxian landed on Little Apple’s foreleg claws first and suddenly Little Apple was braying loud enough to wake the dead, which set Wei Wuxian off yowling and hissing right back at him.

“Who is that?!” Jin Ling demanded, striding over with an extremely cross expression that suggested he’d heard the bit about mothers. “Who is – oh. It’s you.”

Mo Xuanyu weakly lifted up a hand. “Uh…it’s nice to see you, Jin Ling.”

Wei Wuxian’s yowls cut off as if he’d been suddenly smothered.

Jin Ling glared at him. “Stupid cutsleeve, you think I didn’t hear what you said earlier?”

“I didn’t!” Mo Xuanyu said immediately, starting to shake at once. He couldn’t bear it when people in bright yellow were angry at him, not since those last few days at the Jin sect; it was a sure-fire way to bring on a fit. “I swear I didn’t! I – I –”

Jin Ling lifted his sword and Mo Xuanyu squatted down to cover his head at once, feeling his eyes overflow with blubbering tears as he began to panic. “I didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t,” he wailed. “Don’t hit me! I don’t want to drink any medicine! I don’t want to get hit! I didn’t do it!”

“You…!” Jin Ling didn’t seem to know what to do now. “You’re such a coward! You – damnit!”

Mo Xuanyu had his face hidden away, so he didn’t see what Jin Ling did next, braced as he was for a blow. He could vaguely hear the sword being put away, but that didn’t diminish his fear in the slightest: the majority of the Jin sect had never been willing to use swords on each other, thinking it disgraceful. Even Jin Guangyao didn’t use his sword very much – he preferred other methods.

Mo Xuanyu was most afraid of those other methods.

He flinched violently when someone lightly touched his shoulder.

“Stop crying, you’re making a fool of yourself!” Jin Ling said, his harsh voice at odds with the gentle touch of his fingers. “Have some thought to your face, okay?! You can’t embarrass yourself like this! Aren’t you my uncle, after all?”

“He’s your what?!” Wei Wuxian’s muffled voice came from under a bush.

“It’s true no matter how you look at it, even if I don’t want it to be,” Jin Ling said with a sniff, clearly assuming the exclamation had come from Mo Xuanyu. “Listen here, what are you doing on Dafan Mountain anyway?”

Mo Xuanyu snuffled, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “Well, my cat –”

“Night hunting!” Wei Wuxian hissed.

“I mean, I was night hunting,” Mo Xuanyu repeated obediently, then frowned. “That’s not really believable, is it?”

Jin Ling looked pityingly at him. “Not really. Do you need – is there something…?”

“Those words from earlier were really rude,” Wei Wuxian said from the bushes, and Mo Xuanyu covered his face with his hands. “They shouldn’t have been said.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. It’s not like I haven’t heard it all before –”

“Jin Ling, get away from him,” a low, cold voice said from behind him.

Mo Xuanyu’s shoulders slumped. It wasn’t relief so much as it was resignation: if there was one thing he knew, that everyone knew, it was that you didn’t cross Jiang Cheng. They said he could smell the stink of demonic cultivation on you, and once he did, that was that, and Mo Xuanyu was pretty sure, though no one had ever said for sure, that the body offering array was some form of demonic cultivation.

They said Jiang Cheng would take demonic cultivators back to the Lotus Pier to be tortured to death.

Mo Xuanyu was almost looking forward to it. Other than the horrible sword flights back and forth to Koi Tower in Lanling, Dafan Mountain was the furthest from home he’d been, and Wei Wuxian had been waxing poetic about the beauties of the Lotus Pier for days now; it would be nice to see it, however briefly, before he died.

He’d probably get to see lots of Jiang Cheng, too – he’d only ever caught glimpses of him before, when he was visiting Koi Tower, so he’d never had a chance to look his fill. And whatever could be said about the man’s temper, it couldn’t be denied that he had a first-rate face.

“Why?” Jin Ling asked, not moving. “It’s only Mo Xuanyu. Did you ever meet him? He’s –”

“Not him,” Jiang Cheng said, and he looked – bemused? That wasn’t the expression Mo Xuanyu would have been expecting. “It was – Wei Wuxian…wait, the cat?!”

Mo Xuanyu’s mouth dropped open in shock. How did he know?

“Definitely not!” Wei Wuxian blurted out, which didn’t seem smart, and suddenly Jiang Cheng looked extremely confused and abruptly sat down.

“Uncle, what are you talking about?” Jin Ling said. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng said, a hand to his temple as if he had a headache, or possibly questioning his sanity. “It’s – it’s the cat. I heard – that voice – Wei Wuxian wouldn’t be sniveling on the ground like a newborn infant, and the only other thing around is – so it must be –”

“Is lunacy contagious or something?” Jin Ling demanded. “Uncle, I know you’ve been looking for him for years, but you can’t seriously think Wei Wuxian resurrected himself as a cat!”

“Meow!” Wei Wuxian said desperately, except it was as awful a meow as it’d ever been – entirely human. “Meow, meow –”

“That voice –!”

“Uncle!”

“Shut up!” Mo Xuanyu abruptly yelled, pushed entirely beyond his limits. “All of you! Just shut up! Stop yelling and stop harassing my cat!”

With that, he grabbed Wei Wuxian and ran blindly into the woods.

He kept running until the air wouldn’t enter his lungs anymore, and then he fell down under a tree and burst into tears again, the fear and panic and exercise all escalating uncontrollably until he fell into another fit, no matter how much Wei Wuxian tried to talk him down.

When Mo Xuanyu woke up, he felt as though he really had gotten beaten up by Jin Ling, even though he knew he hadn’t been. He groaned.

“You’re awake again, good,” Wei Wuxian said. He was standing on his two hind legs, forepaws behind his back as he slowly paced a circle. “Those fits of yours – they only started after you went crazy, you said?”

Mo Xuanyu nodded and sat up, rubbing his face – he didn’t have a mirror to check, but all those tears must have messed up his make-up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the case of cosmetics he’d insisted on taking the time to remove from Mo Manor, no matter how much Wei Wuxian had urged him to leave quickly before they were found.

“Based on the things you’ve said, it seems like there was a particular point in time where you went crazy – enough that you can accurately pin-point things as being before and after.”

Mo Xuanyu nodded again, using his fingers to apply more red paint around his eyes, which were still a little swollen and tender from all the crying.

“And you said something when Jin Ling was holding his sword – damnit, that was Suihua, I should have recognized it at once – anyway, you said something about…about not wanting to drink medicine?”

Wei Wuxian certainly fixated on the strangest things, Mo Xuanyu reflected. Maybe lunacy really was contagious.

“Someone poisoned you,” Wei Wuxian concluded. He still had the red ribbon around his neck – in combination with the way he was just barely maintaining his upright balance and the way his tail was lashing around, it was rather cute. “If it took place in the Jin sect, it was probably something with quicksilver, since they use it to make vermillion. It damages the brain and liver if consumed in high quantities, and it’s associated with epilepsy, hallucinations, and terrible nightmares; it’s been used since ancient times to make men into fools.”

Mo Xuanyu nodded politely, mostly disinterested. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know who was behind it, and it didn’t really matter what exactly was involved – if anything, the medicine could almost be seen as Jin Guangyao’s way of being nice. He could have had Mo Xuanyu disappeared the way he did for Xue Yang, or he could have fed him to Xue Yang’s fierce corpses, or even just slit his throat...at least by going mad, Mo Xuanyu would still be useful to Jin Guangyao, a vivid demonstration that any madness in their bloodline must have come from their shared father’s side, not the mother.

He wasn’t sure why Jin Guangyao cared about that, but at least he wasn’t dead. No, wait, didn’t he want to be dead? His half-brother was so confusing sometimes.

Maybe sending Mo Xuanyu back to Mo Manor, back to Auntie Mo and all the others that Jin Guangyao knew Mo Xuanyu feared, maybe it was supposed to teach him how to hate enough, so that he could make the ritual work – if so, Mo Xuanyu’d probably disappointed Jin Guangyao all over again.

“…some ways to at least ease the symptoms, maybe more if we can find a good enough doctor.” Wei Wuxian was still talking, for some reason. “At least you have your golden core; if you were a regular person, there wouldn’t be any hope at all.”

“Hope is overrated,” Mo Xuanyu said. “It just makes it worse when you’re inevitably disappointed, and then you die, if you’re lucky.”

Xue-gege had taught him that one, and he was even pretty sure he’d quoted it correctly, but Wei Wuxian didn’t look particularly impressed.

“I’ve heard that quicksilver poisoning can cause qi deviation, which is associated with suicidal urges,” Wei Wuxian said, dropping to all four legs and then hopping onto his shoulder. “Let me try to stabilize your qi – maybe it’ll keep you from saying things like that all the time. Go on, get up and stretch your legs a bit; they’re probably sore from all the running and thrashing you were doing.”

Mo Xuanyu walked all right, walked right into a confrontation with a stone goddess, which was honestly just how this day was going. Wei Wuxian really needed to stop being so surprised when bad things happened.

“Can you play the flute?” Wei Wuxian hissed into his ear, all thoughts of qi stabilization forgotten. “I need to summon something powerful, and yowling, while surprisingly effective, isn’t going to cut it.”

“I can play the dizi,” Mo Xuanyu offered. “But I’m not good at it, and anyway we don’t have –”

“Good enough! Grab that piece of bamboo and give it to me, I can use my claws to make the holes, and you can follow the tune that I show you –”

Wei Wuxian meowed, Mo Xuanyu played, and Wei Wuxian’s ears went flat backwards in apparent agony.

“Whoever taught you should be tortured to death,” he said briefly before resuming his guidance, focusing in on whatever demonic cultivation technique he was doing – it made the Ghost General appear, so Mo Xuanyu assumed it was successful, although Wei Wuxian’s shocked muttering suggested something had gone wrong regardless. Again, not much of a surprise.

One thing led to another, and then a tall man in Lan sect white showed up along with the juniors from Mo Manor, along with Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling, and at that point Mo Xuanyu decided that some of this bad luck had to be Wei Wuxian’s, because even the worst of his bad days weren’t usually this bad.

Wei Wuxian panicked when they bumped into the tall man – Hanguang-jun, apparently? Mo Xuanyu vaguely recalled hearing about him, but he’d never come to Koi Tower while Mo Xuanyu had been there – and it was very uncomfortable to have a panicking cat on his shoulder, especially when he was still trying to remember enough flute-playing to follow along with the tune Wei Wuxian was meowing, something more relaxing to try to calm down the Ghost General.

“…Wei Ying?” Hanguang-jun said, staring at the cat.

Mo Xuanyu stopped playing and turned his head to stare at Wei Wuxian. “How are you this obvious?” he asked.

“This is not my fault,” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, aggravated. “I’m a cat! Nobody should be blaming me!”

“I think I’m losing my mind,” Jiang Cheng, located somewhere further away on the field, said, his voice sounding strangled. “I really do swear I just heard….”

“That was me!” Mo Xuanyu said quickly. “Totally me! I picked up ventriloquism to better process the auditory hallucinations! I’m very sick, and also a lunatic – you can just ignore me!”

Nobody seemed especially convinced.

“…Sect Leader Jiang,” Hanguang-jun said after a while. “There are very good healers dedicated to the calming of the mind at the Cloud Recesses. I can take Young Master Mo – and his cat – with me to see them, which I think will be beneficial to everyone involved.”

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng said. “But I’m coming too. I think I need it.”

Hanguang-jun frowned for a moment and the two of them stared at each other for a long time, unspoken emotions crackling in the air between them. Finally, he nodded. “Very well.”

“You know, I don’t think we’ve ever agreed to go to -” Wei Wuxian started to say, but Mo Xuanyu stuffed his fingers over his little snout. Hanguang-jun was the second master of the Lan sect, which meant Zewu-jun was his brother, and Zewu-jun was Jin Guangyao’s friend – and you didn’t go against what Jin Guangyao wanted, not if you knew what was good for you.

Mo Xuanyu might be stupid, but even he could figure something out after it hurt enough.

“It’s fine,” he said. “We’ll go with you for a little, but you have to promise to let us go afterwards. You have to promise, you hear me? I don’t want to be locked away again!”

Hanguang-jun had a strange expression on his face, which was about the same as the expression on Jiang Cheng’s face, and Jin Ling’s, and all the Lan juniors – had Mo Xuanyu said something wrong?

“Your freedom and safety will be assured,” Hanguang-jun said.

“And my cat’s!”

Jiang Cheng put his hand on his head, looking pained.

“And your cat,” Hanguang-jun agreed peaceably, and turned and started to lead the way.

Mo Xuanyu and all the others followed behind.

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian muttered in Mo Xuanyu’s ear once the others were far enough ahead to not immediately overhear. “We can go with Lan Zhan back to Gusu one time. They really do have good healers there, anyway – but I want to talk to him about that ghost hand. Someone released it right next to Mo Manor, probably the same person who wanted me back so badly that he taught you how to do the body offering array, and I want to have words with that person.”

Mo Xuanyu was a little confused: was it Sect Leader Nie he wanted to talk to or Jin Guangyao? And why was Wei Wuxian so angry at them? They were both so nice, at least some of the time…better not to ask.

“You should get some Emperor’s Smile when you get to Gusu,” Wei Wuxian added.

“I don’t drink,” Mo Xuanyu objected.

“For me.”

“Cats don’t drink.”

“I’m not planning on being a cat forever,” Wei Wuxian said. “And won’t that be a surprise to everyone?”

Mo Xuanyu thought about it. “No,” he said after a moment. “I really don’t think it will be, actually.”

#mdzs #mo xuanyu #wei wuxian #jin guangyao #xue yang #lan wangji #jiang cheng #jin ling #nie huaisang #my fic #my fics #dark #just assume ALL the trigger warnings #Anonymous

781 notes · View notes

incarnateirony · 3 years

Text

I'm gonna need fandom to stop projecting some weird romanticized and/or bitter idea of suicidal ideation on 15x20 Dean which is directly contrary to the text.

If anything, 15x20 was Dean's least suicidal period. He had opted to start trying to enjoy life. He still clearly struggled with depression and grief from his sloppy room, but that doesn't necessarily translate to suicidal thoughts.

Dean highlighted his desire to make sure sacrifices weren't in vain. He tried to eat after a whole season of refusing to because he was too angry and scared.

People misunderstand "being realistic" as "suicidal". While yes, you can even check the script and there's a moment of panic thinking about if Cas was there, and yes, it even clarifies the nearest hospital is 45 minutes away and yes, clarifies Dean was 100% run through, just because that didn't make it to screen doesn't mean it's suddenly Dean surrendering.

Maybe this is something not understood because of how international SPN fandom is, or how urban its digital demographic tends to be--but I've got news for you. It's basically common knowledge that places like that are at least half an hour from anywhere in the US.

I've lived in those places.

One such place, for example, was Timpson Texas. When I moved there for a few months, I was warned. Don't get hurt. The nearest hospital is 45 minutes away. But if it's really bad--they do have a volunteer EMS department. Which, they joked, was "express delivery" because it was located right next to the funeral home, and frankly nobody was sure what their actual credentials were in a town of 200~.

It's very, very rare to find a farmhouse setup like that near a city. Or at least anything less than 20 minutes from anywhere. There's a few exceptions to that rule for anything in life, like the Independence, MO area that has really weird fucking zoning and you can go from farmland to ghetto to farmland to downtown in a straight shot, but by and large, this is how it is in the US. I know 45 minutes sounds insane to someone living in like, the UK. Or even people who've lived their whole lives in and around big US metro cities like New York and Chicago.

But I can promise you, just because those thoughts didn't come out of Dean's mouth, they ran through his head, like many silent things you can see him assess at any given moment in the show that are common sense life, battle, or other issues. "Well, shit, it'll take an ambulance at least 30 minutes to get here if I'm lucky and my vision's already tunneling, Cas isn't here, gotta take my chance to say what's important, like I learned from Cas."

That's it. That's what that was. Was the death comically long? Yes, still not enough for him to get help. Were there ways they could have illustrated it better? Sure, they could have used that one overhead driving in a field shot for the 1000th time. Would the text have helped in dialogue--maybe, you know this fandom loves missing the point anyway.

Everyone goes "but why tell Sam not to bring him back then!!" bro-- bro--he literally says why, and it's true. That always ends bad. It's stopping this jerk off cycle and realizing it's ok to be freaking mortal. That they can't keep fucking up the cosmic balance for all eternity. Letting hundreds/thousands/millions/billions of people have their entire universe fucked up because the two brothers insist on being in the same spot at the same time. He insisted Sam live on.

Maybe it's a misunderstanding of biology too? Hell, there's some ways that could have gone in that would have had him dead even faster. It really just depends what exactly it punctured how. Is it technically survivable? Yeah, if you're not basically an hour and a half out from a hospital with the weewoo cab trip both ways. If he already felt himself fading though, reality strikes.

That's Dean Winchester becoming spontaneously aware of his mortality, not giving up. Like I hate to tell people, but you'll never make it out of life alive. That's not suicidal, that's reality. The point is, to live the best life you can while you have it, and to not give up, sure. But also to be aware that you might get diagnosed with terminal cancer or you might get hit by a bus or maybe you'll fucking ridiculously get run through on a dickbar. Some things in life you can't control.

Are there ways this could have been pulled together far better? 100% absolutely. The finale was a disaster in delivery. At literally every corner. In every way. But that shouldn't make us just scream past it and somehow convert it into the worst possible take guys. I should hope that a young adult to middle aged demographic understands things like basic biology, emergency response time, the fact that we're all mortal beings, and the general moral of learning what to say when it's important and maybe your last chance, c'mon.

Or worse, trying to turn it into "Dean didn't want to live anymore because he missed Cas." Like shit. I'm blazing "Destiel is canon and has been for a while" trash but -- that's literally? Contradictory? Dean wanted to live because he respected Cas' sacrifice. That's canon. Even when he still felt down and his room was still messy and some days he might have almost felt dead, he kept trucking, kept dreaming, put in job applications, tried to be the young self he used to be and go to a pie-fest, whatever. He kept moving. THAT'S where he kept fighting.

Giving up isn't Dean accepting that a pike through all his major organs an hour out from medical help is gonna be the end. Giving up would be him having stayed passed out on the whiskey bottles on the floor forever moping and just WAITING for that instead of being like, damn, I didn't think today would be the day.

Is it a perfect ending, no, not saying that, nor in any way defending the fucking trashfire finale but I'm so sick of seeing this "suicidal dean" talk. When that isn't even remotely what it was.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #tw suicide

43 notes · View notes

translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 6

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 6 - This Venerable One's Shizun

Xue Meng had lived on Life-Death Peak since he was a child. He was familiar with shortcuts and terrain so he had no problem catching up with Mo Ran

He escorted him all the way to the back of the mountain. The back mountain of Life-Death Peak was the closest place to the ghost realm in the whole world, separated by an enchantment, behind it is the netherworld.

Looking at the miserable situation in the back mountain, Mo Ran immediately understood why that person was clearly at home, but still needed Madam Wang to treat guests in the front hall.

It wasn't that the man didn’t want to help, but he couldn’t step away--

The barrier of the ghost world was broken.

At this moment, the entire back mountain was filled with a heavy spiritual resentment. The ghosts that hadn't taken on a body howled and hovered bitterly in the air. At the entrance of the mountain gate, there was a giant breach ripping through the sky. Behind the breach was the ghost realm, and a tall, bluestone staircase stretching thousand of steps escaped from the barrier cracks. Seeing out from the staircase, the fierce spirits that had regained a flesh body were climbing down this step disorderly and chaotically, rushing from the underworld to the human world.

Any ordinary person would be terrified at the scene unfolding. The first time Mo Ran saw it, he was shocked to the bone, but he was used to it now.

The barrier between the human and ghost realms was set by Emperor Fuxi in ancient times. Today, it was very weak. It would grow weak spots every now and again, which need to be repaired by immortal cultivators. However, this kind of thing not only does little to improve one's cultivation but is thankless with how much spiritual energy it consumes. It was a real drudgery, so few immortals in the upper cultivation world were willing to take this job.

When a fierce spirit was born, the people of the Lower Cultivation Realm were the first to come under attack. As the protectors of the Lower Cultivation Realm, Life-Death Peak was forced to undertake the task of repairing the barrier. The back mountains of the sect faced the weakest point in the barrier all to ensure they could be repaired swiftly.

There would be breaks in the barrier about four or five times a year. It was just like an old, chipped pot; useless.

Now, at the entrance of the ghost world, on the long bluestone stairs, a man stood there with snow-coloured clothes and wide sleeves flowing in the wind. He was surrounded by the aura of his sword, the golden light shimmering. Using his own power to clear out the evil spirits and ghosts, he repaired the small holes appearing in the barrier.

The man had a slender waist and an elegant appearance, with a holy aura and a handsome face. From a distance, it was easy to imagine he was a scholar reading an ancient scroll under a flowering tree. However, looking closely, he had sharp eyebrows, phoenix eyes slanted upwards, and the bridge of his nose was straight and narrow. While he seemed to be gentle and elegant, his eyes were mean and seemingly unkind.

Mo Ran glanced at him from a distance. Although he thought he had prepared himself, when he saw this man appear in front of him alive and healthy again, it made him tremble down to his smallest bones.

Half fear, half. . . excitement.

His Shizun.

Chu Wanning.

This was the person that Xue Meng had cried and begged to see when he arrived at Wushan Hall in the previous life.

It was this man that ruined Mo Ran's ambition, ruined his plans, and was finally imprisoned and tortured to death by Mo Ran because of it.

Logically speaking, if Mo Ran had the chance to avenge himself and defeat the enemy that had blocked his progress.

The sea is wide and free for fish to swim in, the sky is high and the birds could fly endlessly, no one could reign him back anymore. At least, that's what Mo Ran thought.

However, that doesn't seem to be the case.

After his Shizun died, something else seemed to have been buried along with his hatred.

Mo Ran was not a man of culture and didn't recognize any other feeling than being evenly matched with a worthy opponent.

He only knows that here on out, he had no archenemies.

When Shizun was alive, he had been afraid, paranoid, and anxious. When he saw the willow vine in Shizun's hand, the hair on the back of his neck stood on up. He became just like a beaten mutt, just the sound of a wooden club slap caused his teeth to ache and legs to give out. Even his calf muscles would spasm from fear.

Later, when Shizun died, the person Mo Ran had feared the most was finally gone. Mo Ran felt that he had grown and matured, being able to finally commit this act of murdering his teacher.

Afterwards, when looking at the mortal realm, no one dared force him to kneel down, and no longer slapped himself in the face.

To celebrate, he opened the pear blossom white wine, sat on the roof, and drank wine all night.

That night, under the influence of alcohol, the scars that Shizun had inflicted on his back when he was a teenager seemed to feel hot and painful again.

At this moment, when he saw Shizun reappear in front of him, Mo Ran started, filled with hate and anger, but there was also a slight twinge of ecstasy.

Such an opponent, lost and now regained, how can he not please?

Chu Wanning ignored the two apprentices who broke into the back mountains and continued concentrating on fighting the scattered undead.

His facial features were elegant, his eyebrows are evenly long. His phoenix eyes were cast downwards, his cool demeanour powerful. Amidst the demonic air and blood rain, his expression had not changed. His face remained calm, as though he might sit down and burn incense or play the guqin at the moment.

However, such a gentle and beautiful man, at that moment, was holding an icy exorcism long sword dripping with red blood droplets. With a flick of his wide sleeve, the sword's energy sliced through the bluestone steps in an explosion. Crushed stones and bricks rolled down, cracking an immeasurable chasm from the gate all the way to the bottom of the mountain, splitting the staircase and its thousands of steps!

So ferocious.

How many years had it been since he had seen his Shizun's power?

This familiar and powerful dominance made Mo Ran lose all his strength. Shakily, he fell onto his knees with a thump.

It didn't take long for Chu Wanning to kill all the ghosts, and neatly fill in the holes in the barrier to the ghost world. After doing all this, he fell from mid-air and went over to Mo Ran and Xue Meng.

He first glanced at Mo Ran kneeling on the ground, and then raised his eyes to look at Xue Meng, his phoenix eyes holding a powerful chill.

"Causing trouble again?"

Mo Ran sucked in a breath.

Shizun had the ability to always correctly assume any situation.

Xue Meng: "Shizun, Mo Ran went down the mountain, committing the two crimes of stealing and prostitution. Please punish him accordingly, Shizun."

Chu Wanning was silent for a while, expressionless. He coldly remarked: "I know."

Mo Ran: ". . ."

Xue Meng: ". . ."

Both of them were a little confused. Then? Is that it?

However, just when Mo Ran thought tat he had gotten off lucky, he looked up at Chu Wanning and caught a a glimpse of a sharp golden light suddenly cutting through the air. There was a lightening-like crackling sound that slashed across Mo Ran's cheek!!

Drops of blood splashed everywhere!

The speed of that golden light was so fast, Mo Ran didn't even have a moment to close his eyes, let alone dodge it. The skin on his face was flayed open with a fierce pain.

Chu Wanning stood with his hands clasped behind his back, standing coldly in the chilling breeze of teh night air. The air was still filled with the foul aura of fierce spirits and ghosts mixed with the smell of human blood. It made the forbidden area of the back mountains appear even more eerie and terrifying.

In Chu Wanning's hand was a willow vine that had whipped Mo Ran. The vine was narrow and long, with green leaves sprouting from it, hanging down near the edge of his boots.

It was clearly sucha graceful object. Looking at it would have made people think of poems such as "Pliant is the the willow branch I gift to my beloved".

It's a pity that Chu Wanning was neither pliant or had a beloved.

The willow vine in his hand was actually a magic weapon named Tianwen. At this moment, Tianwen was glimmering with golden red light, piercing through the surrounding darkness, and also reflecting in the bottomless depths of Chu Wanning's eyes.

Chu Wanning pursed his lips, and said sensibly: "Mo Weiyu, you are so bold. Should I really not do something to discipline you?"

If this really was the fifteen-year old Mo Ran, he might not have taken this exclamation seriously, thinking that Shizun was just trying to scare him.

But after being reborn, Mo Weiyu had thoroughly experienced Shizun’s "control" with his blood in his previous life. He immediately felt the roots of his teeth ache and blood rushing to his head. His mouth was already moving, ready to deny everything and clear his name

"Shizun. . ." His cheek still bleeding, Mo Ran raised his eyes, staining them with a thin veil of tears. He knew that his current appearance must look extremely pitiful. "This disciple has never stolen. . . has never laid with a prostitute. . . why did Shizun listen to Xue Meng's words and strike me without even listening to my side of the story?"

". . ."

Mo Ran had two tricks to get out of trouble with his uncle. First, act cute. Second, pretend to be pitiful. Now he tried these out on Chu Wanning, trying to look so pitiful that tears almost fell from his eyes: "Is the disciple really so worthless in your eyes? Why doesn't Shizun even give me a chance to defend myself?"

Xue Meng stomped angrily next to him: "Mo Ran! You, you piece of shit! You truly are shameless! Sizun, don't listen to him, don't be fooled by this bastard! He really did steal! All the stolen goods are still on him!"

Chu Wanning looked through his eyelashes, his expression cold: "Mo Ran, you truly never stole?"

"Never."

". . . You should know the consequences of lying to me."

Mo Ran's arms were covered in goosebumps. How could he not know? But he still foolishly persisted: "Shizun, please!"

Chu Wanning raised his hand, and the shiny golden vine waved again, but this time he did not draw it on the face of Mo Ran. Instead, he used it to tightly bind Mo Ran.

This feeling was all too familiar. In addition to whipping people on the regular, the willow vine "Tianwen" has another function——

Chu Wanning stared at Mo Ran, who was held tightly in Tianwen's grasp, and asked again: "Have you never stolen?"

Suddenly, there was a familiar stabbing pain straight in Mo Ran's heart, as if a sharp fanged small snake had slid its way into his chest and was playing with his organs.

Accompanied by the severe pain was an irresistible temptation. Mo Ran couldn't help but open his mouth, his voice hoarse: "I. . . never. . . ah. . . !!!"

Tianwen's golden light seemed to pick up on his lies, glowing harder. The pain caused Mo Ran to break out in a cold sweat, but he still desperately resisted such torture.

This was Tianwen's second function: interrogation.

Once tied up by Tianwen, no one could lie. Whether it was a person or a ghost, dead or alive, Tianwen had a way of forcing them to speak and reveal the answer that Chu Wanning wanted to know.

In his last life, by relying on a strong cultivation base, there was only one person who had finally managed to keep a secret under Tianwen's influence.

That person was the person who had become the emperor of the mortal realm, Mo Weiyu.

After being reborn, Mo Ran had hoped he'd have a bit of luck, thinking that he would still be able to resist the forced interrogation of Tianwen. But after biting his lip for what felt like forever, with big beads of sweat dripping down over his dark eyebrows and full-body trembles, he finally bowed before Chu Wanning's boots in pain, gasping for breath.

"I. . . I. . . stole. . ."

The pain abruptly disappeared.

Mo Ran hadn't even caught his breath before Chu Wanning asked another question, his voice even colder than before.

"Did you commit debauchery?"

Smart people don't do stupid things. Since he hadn't been able to resist before, it was even more impossible now. This time, Mo Ran didn't even resist, and when the pain struck, he went so far to even shout: "Yes yes I did!!!! Shizun please! No more!"

Xue Meng's face turned blue at his side. He exclaimed with shock: "You, how can you. . . That Rong Jiu is a man, you actually. . ."

No one paid attention to him. As the golden light of Tianwen slowly dimmed, Mo Ran gasped for breath, his whole body was drenched as if he had just been fished from the water. His face was as white as paper, his lips still trembling, and he collapsed on the ground, unable to move.

Through sweaty eyelashes, he looked up at Chu Wanning's elegant figure, wearing a green jade crown and wide sleeves that fell to the floor.

A strong hatred suddenly surged into his heart - Chu Wanning! This Venerable One wasn't wrong in is treatment of you in his past life, that much is true!! Even after being reborn, the hatred still burns strong! Fuck all eighteen generations of your ancestors!!

Chu Wanning didn't know that this crafty disciple was going to fuck all eighteen generations of his ancestors. He stood there for a while with a sullen expression, and then said.

"Xue Meng."

Although Xue Meng knows that men were the popular choice among rich businessmen and wealthy households, and many people play with male prostitutes just for something new and not really because they liked men, he still couldn't digest it. After a while, he said: "Shizun, this disciple is here."

"Mo Ran went against the three mandates on corruption, debauchery, and deception. Take him to the Yan Luo Hall so he can repent. Bring him to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil tomorrow morning so that he receive a public punishment."

Xue Meng was startled: "What. . .? Public punishment?"

Public punishment means taking the disciples who have committed severe transgressions in front of the disciples of the whole school, in front of everyone, even the ladies in the dining hall, and punishing them for the crowd.

Utterly shameful.

It should be known that Mo Ran was a disciple of Life-Death Peak. Although the disciplinary measures in the school were strict, because of Mo Ran's special status - his uncle pitied him for losing his parents so young and was scavenging outside for fourteen years - he couldn't bear to punish Mo Ran. No matter what Mo Ran did, he would just get a small lecture in private, and he would be beaten.

But Shizun wouldn't even save the face of the sect leader. He wanted to take his precious nephew to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil and publicly punish and shame Young Master Mo in front of the entire sect. This was something even Xue Meng hadn't expected.

Mo Ran, however, wasn't surprised.

He lay on the ground with a sneer at the corner of his mouth.

How great and selfless his Shizun was.

Chu Wanning was truly cold-blooded. In his previous life, when Shi Mei died in front of him, Mo Ran cried and pleading, pulling on his clothes, kneeling on the ground and begging him for help.

But Chu Wanning turned a deaf ear.

And so his disciple had breathed his last breath before him, and even with Mo Ran crying his heart out next to him, Chu Wanning simply stood there and ignored his sobs.

Now all he was doing was putting him on the Platform of Righteousness and Evil to be dealt with before the public. There was nothing strange about this.

Mo Ran could only resent how weak his cultivation base was now. He couldn't peel off Chu Wanning's skin, rip out his nerves, drink his blood, can’t pull his hair back, can't insult him, can’t torture him and destroy his dignity, make him desire nothing but death. . .

He hadn't been able to hide the beast-like hatred in his eyes, and Chu Wanning picked up on it.

He faintly glanced at Mo Ran's face, a stoic expression on a gentle and elegant face.

"What are you thinking about?"

Fuck!

Tianwen hadn't been removed yet!

Mo Ran once again felt the vines tying him up, and his internal organs felt like they were about to be squeezed into mush. He yelled in pain, panting and roaring out the thoughts in his head——

"Chu Wanning, you think you're so refined! Watch me fuck you to death!"

No one made a sound.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Even Xue Meng was stunned: ". . ."

Tianwen suddenly retracted Chu Wanning's palm, turning into a small speck of golden light before disappearing altogether. Tianwen was made from the bones and blood of Chu Wanning and could appear when summoned and vanished at will.

Xue Meng's face was pale and he stuttered: "Shi-Shizun. . ."

Chu Wanning didn't say a word. His delicate black and slender eyelashes lowered, examining his palms for a while. Then, he raised his eyes, his face even, but his complexion even colder. He glared at Mo Ran with a gaze saying "this disciple deserves death", then said in a low voice:

"Tianwen is broken, I am going to go fix it."

Chu Wanning threw down these words, turned and left.

Xue Meng was kind of slow: "How could an immortal weapon like Tianwen be broken?"

Chu Wanning heard it, and glanced back at him with a look of "this disciple deserves death" as well. Xue Meng shuddered.

Mo Ran lay on the ground, half-dead, with a blank expression.

What he had been thinking really was looking for a way to fuck Chu Wanning to death. He knew that the Master Chu, who held titles like "Yuheng of the Night Sky, Beidou Immortal", had always paid attention to elegance and correctness, and he couldn't stand being stepped on by others, defiling him.

But he didn't want Chu Wanning to know that he was thinking that!

Mo Ran whimpered like a stray dog, covering his face.

Thinking of the look in Chu Wanning's eyes when he was leaving, he felt that he probably did not have long to wait until his death.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#the husky and his white cat shizun #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #2ha #2ha translation #2ha novel #chinese novel #chinese bl #english translation #mo ran #chu wanning #yaoi novel

214 notes · View notes