#rip to me mixing up my days and working on the finishing the wrong set last night fkdjfsk
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Chapter 2: An Inconvenient Interruption
F!Reader (Dark Urge), Spawn Astarion, Haarlep - NSFW (minors DNI)
[Major Spoilers - Set post BG3]
***
Yay finally I've finished chapter 2 of the fanfic I've been working on (you can read chapter 1 here on Ao3 or here on tumblr). Shout-out to my fellow Haarlep fans <3
Content Warning: Dubious consent, light exhibitionism, smut (let me know if I missed anything to include here, please!!)
Summary: You are interrupted by some old...(friends? acquaintances? enemies?) at a truly terrible time. And they have an urgent message for you.
Chapter 2: An Inconvenient Interruption
Slowly, you open your eyes in response to the beams of sunlight rising across your room. Artificial sunlight, of course, very helpful in keeping your regular circadian rhythm in the sewers. The contraption was an incredibly kind gift from Gale. The memory rushed into your mind.
Rolan placed the apparatus into your hands, then moved his fingers to smooth out his already neatly pressed coat and fiddle with his cufflinks.
“Yes well. Gale wanted me to make sure you knew that this is something he made for Astarion, specifically.”
Rolan rolled his eyes. “The role of a messenger boy is hardly one for a man of my station. I told Gale this will be the last time I do something like this for him.” A tenderness filled his eyes as he met yours.
You roll over to pull your mind out of the bittersweet memory. Out of instinct, you reach over to the other side of the bed, fingers tracing the recent indentations left on the blanket and pillow by Astarion’s body. With the rising pressures and demands from the thousands of spawn, Astarion has spent less and less time lounging in bed.
But this time, your fingers brush across a note. While reading the note he left for you, you pull his pillow into your chest and breathe in the comforting smell, a gentle mix bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy.
My love,
Let’s take an evening for ourselves. Get away from all of this, and have some privacy. I know somewhere quiet. Somewhere intimate. Somewhere we can…indulge in each other.
I’ll see you this evening, my sweet treat.
-A
***
Thoughts of tonight fill your head to the brim. Floating with nerves and eager anticipation for the evening, you find yourself getting distracted - exceedingly and embarrassingly so. Your various errands to help with rebuilding the city are interrupted by your daydreams, which cause you to wander off course, or even worse, force you into having to take a break in a private space to work through some of your more vivid imaginations. Fortunately, your day above ground is light.
Released from your city duties, you walk the familiar stone path to your home above ground. The faint smells and sounds of the old Baldur’s Gate are beginning to emerge, each day stronger than the last. Sounds of people greeting each other - laughing, even. Vendors hawking at their stands and now starting to bring in customers. Bakeries emitting wafts of pleasant aromas when their doors are opened. Even the unpleasant smells of living in the city - hints of animal waste and spoiled food - aren’t wholly unwelcome in your nostrils.
You stop just shy of your home to check your mailbox. Pulling out a wad of letters, you flip quickly through each one, until you spot one penned in familiar handwriting. Your heart skips a beat, tossing away the trash and tucking the remaining letters under your arm. You rip open the envelope right away, and confirm that the letter is indeed from Lae’zel. A smile spreads across your face as you clutch the letter to your heart. Your eyes greedily start to soak up the words your friend wrote. Ever focused on her goals, she describes some of the recent victories (though nothing too important, in case this letter gets into the wrong hands).
As you read Lae’zel’s description of what it’s like to fulfill her dream of riding atop a beautiful, powerful dragon, your body freezes, feeling a shiver run up from the base of your spine to your neck. The same eerie shiver from the previous night. You glance over your shoulder, confirming that no one is directly behind you, though the street hums with light afternoon foot traffic.
A pit grows heavy in your stomach as your mind races to place this feeling. It almost felt like…
You shake your head adamantly. It’s been almost a year since you last felt those phantom fingers dance across your skin. Six months since you defeated the Netherbrain. There’s no way-
Your stomach lurched as five warm, long fingers wrapped around the back of your neck, grip strong even from worlds away. Your knees, shins, forearms felt the soft caress of silken sheets.
“Shit” you whispered. “Shit”. The firm grip on the back of your neck pressed down, pushing your face into the soft sheets. You needed to do something, to move, to get out of the street. You only have a matter of moments before -
You feel two knees, two strong thighs push between your own legs, spreading them further apart to make room for this person’s body. Their hips pressed firmly against your ass, holding you in place. You feel their free hand trace lazily up your thigh, to your hip, then around to your stomach and slowly climbing up to settle on one of your breasts. The hand massages you tenderly, and for a moment you close your eyes and lose yourself in bliss - until two fingers latch onto your nipple and pull - hard.
The mail spills out from under your arm as you reach out to brace yourself against a nearby wall, stifling the sounds threatening to fall out of your mouth. Your eyes fly open to witness a few onlookers begin to make their way towards you to help pick up your mail.
Shit, you think to yourself. Truly, this couldn’t get worse.
You try to wave off your neighbors in the most urgent yet kind way possible. You feel the hand release your neck just to snap a firm grip onto your hips, nails biting into your skin. The other hand traces down from your breast, traveling lower…and you know you only have mere seconds before you need to get away, lest you need to find another neighborhood to live in.
The hand continues its journey down to dip into your folds, to deftly spread your labia wide apart, exposing yourself to whoever this person is. Your face begins to burn bright with embarrassment as you press your own thighs together - a vain attempt at concealing yourself. A finger dips between to swipe at your clit, slipping around it easily with how incredibly wet you are.
A moan breathes out your lips as the infernal fingers caress your clit. Wide-eyed, you snap your hand against your mouth to stifle the sounds but it’s too late. Some of the people gathered around you begin to take a step back in confusion, hands raised. Some of the women raise their brows and give you knowing, stern frowns but you barely have time to register their judgment before you start to feel the fingers start to circle your clit with more intensity. You quickly scoop up the scattered letters and run to your front door.
Frantic and frazzled, you finger through your keys, leaning your body up against the door to help brace yourself through the thrums of pleasure wracking up through your core. The key ring slips from your grip and clatters to the ground, and you let out a mix of a groan and a sigh, your body confused by its physical pleasure and mental frustration.
Finally, you unlock the door and throw yourself inside, quickly fixing the latch. Once safe, you rested yourself against the door, chest heaving, in the safety of your home. Sliding to the floor, you rest on your knees and elbows, matching the stance of your body double. You slip one of your hands beneath your body to join the infernal fingers between your folds, rubbing your clit with renewed fervor. Your body begins to shine with lightly glistening sweat, gathering on the small of your back and highlighting the back of your neck. You press your face against the cold wood of the floor for a reprieve against the building heat in your body.
Your body double - Haarlep - notices that you’ve joined in and begins to writhe with pleasure from the multiple sensations. The phantom fingers stop immediately, halting your own self-pleasure in anticipation. The hand tangles itself into your hair and yanks, hard, arching your head back and bending your spine, forcing you to use both your arms to hold yourself up.
Bastard.
The other hand leaves your hip for a moment to introduce a new sensation. The thick head of a cock swiping up through your folds, rubbing against your clit, before finally resting at your entrance, teasing you. Even just the tip of him felt impossibly large, too thick for you to handle - but still you ground your hips against the invisible touch. As he began to press inside, his hand snapped back to your hip. With a sudden thrust, he slammed himself inside you, splitting you open. Your body strained to accommodate his girth, the pain taking your breath away. Tears sprung to your eyes as you cried out from the sudden intrusion, the forceful claiming of your - no, Haarlep’s - body.
But you love the pain, relishing and revealing in it. Your cunt pulsed, dripping wet from the sensation. Panting with each thrust, you dig your fingernails into the floor, clawing for purchase. Pounding faster, harder, deeper into you, a desperate cry escapes from your throat as pleasure wracks your body. Your core clenches tightly like a spring, so close to release…
The hand that was wound in your hair frees you to clutch your hips to pin you in place as he thrusts deep one last time, releasing himself inside you - inside Haarlep. You can feel the heat of his cum filling you, the excess dripping down your thigh. It feels so vivid that you are surprised to find only your own slick on your fingertips when you reach between your thighs to check.
And whoever it was, the bastard made sure to finish before you. You rolled your eyes as you got on the bed to take care of your own needs. Reveling in the aftermath of your pleasure, you find a faint sense of guilt creeping up at the edges of your mind. Of course you didn’t actually have sex with anyone, nor was it really your choice, and Astarion is nothing but understanding of the situation… still you can’t help but feel a sense of remorse.
***
Coming back to your senses, you pick yourself off the bed and begin to straighten up the house. A strange, small package on your bedside table catches your eye. You pick up the note, quickly scanning the letter to see that it is from Korilla. Panic rises in your throat - you know she can travel anywhere, but realizing how easily she can get into your home only adds to the violation you just experienced.
You’re a tough person to get on your own. But it seems like this did the trick. Please come to the House of Hope as soon as possible. In the package, you’ll find what you need. I’m confident you’ll remember how to use these items.
-Korilla
You place the letter down with shaky hands. Back to the House of Hope? Your last trip there was…less than ideal. Why would you need to return? You press your hand to your now sweaty, matted hair and decide to take a shower before setting off.
Read the next chapter here
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 spoilers#bg3 astarion#bg3 haarlep#bg3 fanfiction#astarion x dark urge#astarion x reader#haarlep x reader#baldurs gate smut#BG3 post game
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Second Chance - Spring Fever Starker Exchange!
A/N: My oneshot entry for the spring Starker exchange, written for @kreket-popcorn-lover ! Please forgive any technicalities I may have gotten wrong story wise, think of it as I'm taking full creative liberty while obviously staying true to the ship. I've never written a fix it fic before, and I'm just so happy I got to write one for the exchange as a prompt. Please enjoy!
-
Events have clashed and the multiverse has dissolved into quite a mess, you’ll be going back now, Anthony Stark - back to your old universe. It’s how the web of fate must tangle.
Tony had no choice but to listen to every word Death told him. In the world beyond life, she was the goddess of everything, and every soul that left Earth and walked into her arms knew that her word was all.
But Tony wasn’t without his soul in the world beyond, so he asked Death, “Why? What’s-”
Before he could finish his sentence, a horrible pressure set on top of him, there was so much blinding light he thought he was next to the sun. The air around him howled like the eye of a storm, he lost his footing, all at once it felt like he was being ripped apart - and then it all stopped, leaving Tony feeling empty inside, but relieved. His eyes were screwed shut, and it dawned on him that he was laying down on the most uncomfortable surface in any world - a sidewalk.
Tony sucked in a horrified breath, jumping up and looking all around - his heart bursting with an insane mix of shock, disbelief, happiness, paralyzing reverence.
His mouth agape, Tony scrambled to his feet - albeit weakly. His knees were shaking on their own, as if he hadn’t walked for months. Thankfully, no one walking around seemed to pay any attention to him, typical for New York.
New York. A place that still ran through his veins, even when he was in the world beyond - not even dying could take it out of him.
Tony’s legs were steadying as his entire body seemed to come back to full working order, all as if he had never died. He looked down at his hand, the one that once bore the mock-up infinity gauntlet, and found it to be unmarred. All evidence of everything that had happened in the final battle with Thanos was missing from his body. The only familiar thing was his arc reactor, settled in his chest, glowing peacefully as it would any day before he died.
As he drew his first deep breath, panic started rising inside him, Death’s words haunting his thoughts. “Events have clashed and the multiverse has dissolved into quite a mess… it’s how the web of fate must tangle.”
The multiverse? What was going on with the multiverse where it made Tony come back to life?
Tony knew where he needed to go first for answers: the Sanctum Sanctorum. Tony started walking, doing his absolute best not to break down in the middle of the sidewalk, stumbling from bouts of dizziness. He expected to see New York start crumbling and burning around him, like all those years ago when aliens poured out of the sky, but everything seemed peaceful - a small comfort.
“Stephen,” Tony mumbled to himself, “please be there. You gotta be there.”
-
The sanctum looked as untouched by time as it did the first time Tony was alive. Tony pounded on the door, muttering “come on, come on!”
“Jesus,” Stephen spat as he opened the door, annoyance dying on his face as he laid eyes on Tony.
Tony swung his arms out stiffly, presenting himself, shaking his head. “You gotta help me figure out what’s going on, Stephen, please.”
“Come in,” Stephen said quietly, ushering Tony inside. He shut his eyes, rubbing his forehead. “Tony, God - not that I’m not happy to see you, but I need to apologize-”
“Apologize?! Stephen, tell me what’s going on! You did this? Where is everyone - where’s the kid?!”
“Tony, slow down, I’ll get to everything!” Stephen shouted, holding his hand out as if he could physically stop Tony’s words in the air.
“I was just… and now I’m… I’m back… I remember dying, and… everything worked out right? Thanos is done? Everything looks fine outside, but I’m here, so I don’t trust-”
“Tony, I know this is a lot, but I need you to slow down so I can explain everything to you, alright?” Stephen said in an even tone, leading Tony to the staircase and having him sit down on the cold marble.
Tony sat down, looking at Stephen as he tried to steady his breathing. “Stephen, I -”
“No, wait, let me explain things first, then you can ask anything you want. The… easiest way to say this is that I’ve cast a spell that… completely bled into the multiverse, which I had no intention of doing, it was beyond my control. The worst part about this is that the reason I cast the spell was because of Spiderman… but the exact reason is fuzzy. I’m thinking that the spell had to involve memories connected with Spiderman, because… I don’t know who’s behind the mask,” Stephen breathed out, shaking his head. “Every time I try to think of his face, nothing comes up. Is he the ‘kid’ you were talking about?”
“This is crazy,” Tony huffed, “Yes, and his name is Peter, Peter Parker. So I’m the only one on Earth right now who knows Peter is Spiderman? This is insane!”
“I don’t know what happened to make him wish away everyone’s memories of his identity, but whatever it was, it can’t be good. I wish I could give you more details, Tony, but you even telling me his name isn’t bringing anything up for me.”
“I have to find him,” Tony muttered, getting up from the steps, stumbling with the force he used. “I have to know that he’s ok.”
“Tony, you can’t-”
“I’ll put it this way,” Tony said, turning back briefly, “I’m gonna find Peter, and then you guys will get reacquainted.”
“Tony, stop!” Stephen yelled, trying to chase after him, but stopping in his tracks after he got past the entrance of the sanctum, looked both ways, and saw that Tony was nowhere to be found. “God help me,” Stephen muttered, closing the sanctum doors, although he prayed that Tony would come back - and in one piece.
-
“At least I know for sure that I came back to the same universe,” Tony said under his breath as he successfully keyed in the last code he remembered using to a hidden entrance he installed in Stark Tower ages ago.
Being dead - or rather, having died and then suddenly coming back to life - made everything about Tony’s mission to find Peter harder. No longer could he freely walk in the tower that he brought to life, now he had to sneak around like a traumatized James Bond to get to the technology he needed to locate Peter. Even though he couldn’t move at the time, Tony still remembered how Peter’s face looked as he lay dying, how badly he wanted to comfort him, tell him that everything would be ok, how each tear that ran down Peter’s face heightened his pain even more -
Tony shook his head, forcing himself to concentrate. If he slipped up and got seen, who knows what would happen - and tracking down Peter quickly would become a fantasy. He checked himself everywhere for a way to activate his suit - he had installed a prototype invisibility mode into it shortly before the first fight with Thanos - but to no avail. Gritting his teeth, Tony had to remember on the fly each of the security traps and measurements in the tower to avoid detection. He mostly stuck to the stairwell, and nearly reached his lab when he turned a corner and caught sight of her - Pepper Potts.
“No, that meeting got rescheduled, and last night we agreed on-”
“But Miss Potts!”
“I said what I said,” Pepper snapped.
Tony felt a powerful mix of pride and sadness seeing Pepper take on his old role so well. If he needed anyone to help him find Peter, it would’ve been Pep - but he knew that he’d have to save a reunion for much later.
When Tony finally reached the lab, he realized that he’d have to be quick - it was clearly still in regular use since his death, presumably by Pepper. Tony remembered overhearing that some meeting had been rescheduled, so the possibility of her coming here soon was sky high. He hurriedly accessed his supercomputer, relieved that the same password still worked.
“Welcome back, sir,” Friday’s voice spoke, sounding relieved.
Tony couldn’t hold back a smile. “Hey, Fri. Good to hear you again.”
“Shall I inform Miss Potts of your return?”
“Nope! Nope, absolutely not, it’s - not a good time yet, Fri. I need you to help me find Peter Parker first.”
“I… apologize sir, I’m finding very few records concerning Peter Parker. There’s hardly any details with which to confirm that he’s the one you’re seeking.”
“Give me everything you have, quick, I don’t think I have much time before Pep gets up here.”
“Yes, sir. I have a record indicating a library card in the area registered to Peter Parker-”
“More than likely him… any listed address, Fri?”
Friday relayed the address of the cheapest block of apartments in Queens. “Thank you,” Tony whispered, the possibility of seeing Peter soon filling him with nerves, “Thank you, Friday.”
“Your suit appears to be offline. I cannot accompany you, sir.”
“I know Fri, I know - look, I promise to come back for you later. Do not tell Pepper I’m back.” It broke Tony’s heart to leave Friday, too, but he knew he wouldn’t be at peace until he found Peter, and made sure he was safe.
Tony shut down the supercomputer, turning his head to check his surroundings, barely breathing. He made a beeline for the stairwell, inhaling sharply as he heard the lab elevator ding right as he reached the stairs.
-
Tony prayed that Peter would be exactly where Friday told him he’d be, and that this wouldn’t turn into a colossal waste of time. His heart was beating faster every second as he made his way through the maze of motel-converted apartments, lurching to a stop as soon as he laid eyes on the correct apartment number. He didn’t hesitate, knocking hard on the door.
“Peter!” Tony said loudly, knocking on the door twice, harder this time. Is he not home? Tony thought, looking past the blinds in the window. He was able to see dim light coming from a tiny desk lamp, so he had to be there-
The door opened. “I sent in rent on Thursday, Mr. Miller, I swear -”
Tony saw Peter’s face for the first time since the final battle with Thanos, the one that claimed his life - and Peter was even more beautiful than Tony remembered him being. His heart stopped.
Peter stopped talking, taking a step back to fully look at Tony. His eyes widened, blinking rapidly as they filled up with tears. He stepped back further, harshly rubbing his eyes as he struggled to form words.
“-dreaming, Mr. - Mr. Miller - Tony?! Mr. Stark, you’re… are you real? Is it really you?!”
“Peter,” Tony began, his voice breaking from the emotion. “Yeah. It’s me.” Tony stepped towards Peter who barreled into him, holding on tighter than he did when the snap claimed him.
“Please be real,” Peter sobbed, pulling Tony inside of his dingy apartment. “Please be real, please be real,” Peter continued to sob, his fingers digging hard into Tony’s back.
“It’s ok, you’re ok, I got you,” Tony comforted, holding Peter firmly in his arms. He was overcome with an urge to kiss Peter’s hair, but the last thing he wanted - could bear - was to make Peter repulsed by him. But it felt amazing holding Peter close to him, to finally know that he was safe.
Peter pulled back to look at Tony, his face flushed from crying. “You… you remember me? Please say you remember me!” Peter clutched onto Tony’s shirt tighter, as if doing so would make his desperate wish come true.
“Of course I do, Pete!” Tony said, reaching behind him to shut Peter’s door, hoping that no one had heard them. “But - look, Stephen told me that something big happened with you. What happened? Tell me everything,” Tony demanded, putting his hands on Peter’s shoulders.
“But - this isn’t a dream, right? You’re really back? You gotta tell me what happened!” Peter exclaimed, blinking away more tears.
Tony could feel himself thinking with his heart and not with his head as he held Peter’s face in his hands with a gentle touch. “I… can’t really explain it myself. I was dead, and next thing I knew, I came back here - I was told I had to come back. All I’ve really put together is that it has something to do with the multiverse, and… a certain wish you made. Stephen told me a bit about it, but couldn’t explain everything - so that’s where you come in. I just need to know that you’re not in danger, Pete.”
“It’s - everything’s been so hard after you… left… everything just fell apart, Mr. Stark… everyone thought I was a murderer, I fought this guy, Mysterio, Mysterio told everyone who I was, before he died - he made it looked like I killed him, and then MJ and Ned couldn’t get into MIT because of me, there were people coming after me and May, everyone hated me, and it was a disaster,” Peter buried his head in Tony’s chest and started sobbing again. “I didn’t know what to do, so I made Stephen cast a spell to make everyone forget I was Spiderman, except for a few people.. I kept interrupting… and then I lost May, I had to start over, and now you’re here, and it’s definitely my fault, but I’m so happy because I needed you so much, Tony,” Peter cried, holding on to Tony so tight that he feared he’d hurt himself.
“Peter, I’m gonna do everything I can to help you, ok? Even if it just means getting you out of this dump -”
Peter giggled - the sweet sound was the best thing Tony had ever heard, even before he had died. “It was all I could afford,” Peter said, his voice more steady as he looked back up at Tony and smiled.
“Well, we’re gonna fix that,” Tony promised, unable to stop himself from running his hand through Peter’s hair. “Although I might need some time, seeing as… everyone except you and Strange thinks I’m dead right now.”
“You can stay with me!” Peter said, taking hold of Tony’s hand with no hesitation, making Tony’s heart pound in his chest. “I know I don’t have much room here, but I’m sure I can make it work, somehow, I still need to go grocery shopping this week, I’m really sorry, but-”
“Peter,” Tony interrupted, “you never have to apologize for anything. I die, I come back, and you’re still apologizing - even after all of this, you haven’t changed at all…” Tony looked directly into Peter’s beautiful, innocent eyes. “I don’t want you to change.”
Peter visibly blushed, averting his eyes to the floor, with a shy smile. Fuck, Tony thought, did I never notice how perfect he was before?
“Well, I have changed a bit, I’m sorry - shit, I gotta stop saying that -”
Tony wrapped his arms fiercely around Peter, stopping him mid-sentence. He gripped on to Peter as if holding him close would ensure that they’d never be separated again. Tony inhaled, shuddering, before whispering “I thought I’d never see you again, not until you died too - I’m so, so sorry for leaving you, Peter -”
“Tony,” Peter said, pulling back to look at him again. “You saved the world, you saved all of us, you sacrificed yourself, I just… I guess it makes me selfish, but I just didn’t expect you to -”
Every last bit of restraint that Tony had vanished, and the rush of pure love that coursed through him as he cut off Peter’s sentence with a loving kiss, taking Peter’s hand in his, but holding it with a gentleness that even he felt unfamiliar with. Barely a moment had passed before Tony felt Peter kiss him back, and he felt nothing but joy, pure elation - until guilt came crashing down on him, making him rip himself away from the boy he desired so much, cursing under his breath.
“I’m sorry,” Tony spat. “That was completely out of line, I’ll - show myself out. Please be safe, Pete.” Tony felt his heart sinking as he raced towards the door, ready to accept his fate of permanent shame, before he felt Peter clamp a hand on his shoulder and jerk him back around.
In a flash, Peter slammed Tony up against the wall, kissing Tony fiercely, mumbling “no” in between kisses. “Don’t leave, don’t go.”
Tony couldn’t help but give in, kissing Peter back, filled to the brim with passion, but shame overtook him once again, making Tony tear himself away. “No, Peter, this is wrong, I was wrong, I’m an idiot. I don’t know what I was thinking. You don’t know what you’re doing, you don’t really want this -”
“No!” Peter shouted, shaking his head. “No Tony, you don’t know how I really feel, you have no idea -”
Tony held Peter’s face in his hands again, firmly this time, holding eye contact. “Don’t just agree with what I want, just because it’s me. I need you to think for yourself, there’s no way we should be involved together -”
“Why don’t you believe me, Tony?! I’ve known how I felt about you for longer than I wanna admit, please, I’m begging - I thought I’d never see you again, please kiss me!”
“Peter, I swear to God, if you push me any more, I’m gonna -” Tony could feel himself break into a cold sweat, “I’m going to lose what frighteningly little control I have with you right now. I’m… older than you, to put it lightly, I don’t want to be the bastard to tie you down when you still have your whole life ahead of you,” Tony said, trying to fight back tears. “You mean so much to me, Peter.”
“I love you,” Peter said firmly, not taking his eyes off of Tony. “And I’m sorry about a lot of things, but I’ll never be sorry about being in love with you.”
Tony swore that he could physically feel all remaining hesitation and shame leave his body as he let himself go and kissed Peter with everything he had, every part of him feeling on fire with devotion. Tony finally broke away for long enough to shakily tell Peter “I love you, too.”
“We’ll start over together,” Peter said quietly, pressing his forehead against Tony’s. “I don’t care what we do, I don’t care where we go, as long as I’m with you - I can handle anything.”
It was in that singular, desperate, honey sweet moment that Tony realized the real reason why Death brought him back to life - it was so he could have this second chance with Peter, to have what he longed for most, to hold Peter, to be able to love him. He knew he would die and resurrect all over again, just to be able to love Peter without ever having to hold back.
“But first,” Tony began, kissing Peter once more, “there’s someone I promised to reintroduce you to.”
#SFspringfever22#starker#ironspider#marvel#starker fic#slight angst but happy ending#sfw#peter parker#tony stark#tony stark x peter parker#kreket-popcorn-lover
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for the ask game: 4, 8, 12, 21
aliii ♥ thank you so much for this ^^
4. What do you enjoy about making graphics?
tbh i enjoy the whole process - after am done with screenshotting and choosing the images i will use. that part is a pain. but otherwise? i am having so much fun. it is insane how much of a kick i get from something so simple :'D but if i had to choose an exact favorite part out of everything, i think it's either coloring (for edits where colors play a big part, like i.e. the bb seasons one) or the details (for edits where i end up adding stuff that isn't just the pictures, i.e. my danyok edit where i actually liked writing down their dialogue for the ripped paper parts). i also love research which has translated into a lot of symbolism edits lately ^^ (also i have at least three more ideas for things like this bc apparently i love reading about random things online)
8. Your favorite graphic created by yourself
oh boy hmm. i love my latest one bc it was very different from the edits i've been making for bb. my personal fave out of the pics is the one for kryptonite! it was a struggle but looks so nice now. then i also gotta mention this seanwhite edit bc i just grow all soft every time i look at it. it was fun working on the overlays and i think they came out nicely ^^
my absolute favorite edits i've made so far are the sets (1 & 2) i made for dew the movie. i love that movie so, so much, and bc of the emotional connection, these edits are very important to me. i also like how they capture the vibes of the whole movie :')
12. Font(s) you like using
i have a ton! and i try using new fonts all the time. tho i of course have some i always return to. current favorites are:
basic fonts: Quicksand / Josefin Sans / Lemon Milk which all are kind of similar, just simple and clean fonts for basic text
curvy fonts: Adriatne / Crehme Honstlan / Dancing Love / Modena Script / Roses Please / The Scientist which are all big and have long lines that seem to curve nicely around the edits, so to speak. especially Modena Script is one of my go to -fonts if i want the highlighted words to Take Space
brush fonts: Beardies / Castedral / Chasing Embers / Garland / Halcyon / Julya / Mind Rush which i don't use that often anymore but at some point, i was actually obsessed with all these bold brush fonts. now they feel like a bit too much but they still find their way to me sometimes
bold fonts: Al Veshion / Athene / Black Gold / Glimmer of Light / Grozery / NT Josefine which i use A Lot. i have found a new love for this type of bold fonts. they look cool and clean and i can always add effects to them myself (if am not fond of the ligatures)
21. How much time do you spend on a single graphic?
does "single" mean like one image or one sets? i'll take that as one set bc i usually finish the set at once after i start working on it.
but hmm, if i count in the time it takes for me to take screenshots, i'd say maybe 6-8 hours? it depends of course on how long the edit is/how many images the set has, how many details i need to work on, and if my plan for the edit is very detailed or not. for example, my bb sun & moon edit took only a couple of hours bc it's only two images and i had quite clear plans for it (i also had the screenshots ready in my folders haha). then again, the not me seven deadly sins edit actually took 2 days and maybe 10-ish hours (i have not counted really, might be more) plus all the research i did for it during the week. i had plans for it but they kept changing and there were so many details, oh boy. also i failed the white edit once bc i used the wrong colors for him :'D i saved the other version bc i liked how it looked and was kind of sad i had to abandon it, so take it here:
(wrong color bc i somehow got the sloth and gluttony colors mixed up in my head hhh probably bc my initial plan for white was sloth)
thank you once more ^^ this was fun! also a great way to avoid writing my last essay of the semester lol. hopefully this was fun to read too!
ask me graphic maker questions!
#thank youuuu#especially for the font question bc#wow am a hoe when it comes to fonts#and playing around with them#should do new experiments with fonts again#i have some in store am waiting to use
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Dead Clown 🤡
Jason todd x reader
Warning: smut, murder but it’s okay.
Jason pulled his helmet off and ignored the rain that poured down his face. He had to see this without a filter. He even considered taking off the domino mask but he was out in the open. The pouring freezing rain had him shivering but Jason was unaware. He literally couldn’t believe the sight before him.
The joker was laying in his back, the pasty skin on his forehead was marred by 2 small holes. The back of his stupid green hair looked almost black when mixed with blood. Blood and water mixed in a pink puddle around his head. Jason forced himself to check for a pulse before hitting his comms.
“Bats, you need to get down here,” he said in a shocked voice. “The joker is dead.”
“..... are you okay,” Bruce said in a measured voice.
“I’m fine. He was dead when I got here,” Jason added knowing he was number one suspect.
“On the way.”
Batman and Red Robin showed up shortly with Robin not far behind. It didn’t take long for the detectives to believe Jason’s innocence. The evidence didn’t match him.
Jason sat on a piece of concrete near the scene as they worked. He had hoped to see this for years now. But it wasn’t the same. Maybe it was because Jason didn’t get his revenge or because it looked too neat. Two quick shots to the brain. Probably didn’t even see it coming before he was lights out.
Bruce walked over to him as the other two took photos and bagged evidence. A little blood here. Some fabric fibers there. No fingerprints because of the heavy rain but a bullet casing.
“Did you see who shot him?”
“No B. I literally got here and he was already out. He was supposed to have a drug drop but I guess that didn’t happen,” Jason said with a shrug.
“You were going to fight him alone,”Bruce said with a raised brow.
“No. Just reconnaissance. I would have called it in,” Jason defended himself. Bruce gave him a side look before moving on to the case.
“Commissioner Gordon is on the way,” Tim said. He held bags of evidence carefully in his lanky fingers. “We’re finish collecting-“
“Can we go home, father? It’s freezing cold,” Damian interrupted. Bruce sighed before looking at him.
“Red Robin was talking but yes, you both should back to the cave to process everything. Red Hood, you too. The commissioner knows you have a history with the joker so it’s best you leave too. I’ll take care of this,” Bruce said carefully. Any wrong word might set Jason off with his trauma over the death of his murderer.
“Uh yeah, sure man,” Jason said clearly distracted. He would usually argue with everything Bruce said and this made Bruce even more worried for the young man. He sent a quick message to Dick before the commission met got there.
——————————
“We’re running the tests right now and there really isn’t much else to do. Robin already went to bed. Go home Hood and get some sleep,” Tim said by the computers. Jason hadn’t bothered to get out of his suit or shower.
“How long? How long until you get results?”
“Oh, uhhh maybe 12 hours? A while. Sorry DNA testing isn’t like in the movies. The meta or clone tests are even longer. It probably won’t be until tomorrow night that we know anything,” Tim said turning in his chair. “Get some sleep.”
Jason considered giving him a nasty comment but held it. He certainly felt dead on his feet and had a nice warm woman waiting at home for him.
“Call when you know anything,” he said with a growl.
“Yeesh, yeah. I will,” Tim said backing away. “Say it. Don’t spray it,” he muttered as Jason walked away.
———————————
Jason trudged into the apartment leaving wet clothing in his wake until he stumbled to bed in nothing but his boxer briefs. You were going to be mad at him for the mess in the morning but that could wait. He looked at you asleep on the bed. You looked so sweet and innocent. Like an angel compared to his dirty hands that practically dripped blood every night.
He slid under the blanket and pressed close to your warm form. You gasped awake before relaxing when you realized it was just Jason. Did you not realize he could kill you 84 different ways in your sleep? It didn’t really matter as you snuggled your head into the crook of his neck and slid your legs to entangle with his. Jason’s arms automatically wrapped around you and rubbed your back until your breathing was even in sleep. He stared at the ceiling until the hint of dusk could be seen outside.
Jason woke with a gasp followed by a moan as he felt perfect wet heat encompass his dick. He looked down to see the blankets move rhythmically as you slid your mouth along his dick. He blinked himself more awake to truly enjoy it.
It wasn’t the first time you had woken him as such but it was certainly a rare occurrence. Reserved for birthdays and Christmas, he couldn’t imagine what he did to deserve such a wonderful wake up.
“Fuck! Princess,” he groaned as you swirled before taking him deep. You hummed questionably.
“What did I, mmmm, do to deserve such a fuck! Perfect mouth. Perfect wake up,” he said pushing covers down to show you between his legs. You looked up at him with big innocent eyes as you licked long hot strips up his cock. You took him deep in your mouth before sliding off with a pop.
“I can’t spoil you?” You purred and he twitched. How did he get so lucky? “Do you want to finish in my mouth or can I ride you first?” You asked and he god honest choked on his spit.
“Baby, *cough* whatever you want, what. Ever. you want,” he said and you grinned before climbing up his body to straddle him. His hands ran along the side of your body before gripping your hips. You sunk down on him with a little mewl.
“Fuck Princess, you’re so wet. Do you like... do you like sucking my cock?” He asked breathlessly.
“Of course, Jaybird. Sometimes I touch myself when I blow you, like today,” you admitted with a sweet little giggle. He almost came right them. How could you say the dirtiest things while being the sweetest person he’d ever known?
Jason reached his thumb down to rub your clit as you moved. You whined before nodding at him. Your mouth fell open and your hips sped up. He knew that you weren’t going to last long. You really did get hot and bothered blowing him. You made little whined and whimpers before moaning his name loudly as you came. Your body clenching on him was enough and he thrust up into you as he came as well. You bent down and kissed him deeply. Jason was panting by the time you pulled back.
“Loved that for sure, but what the hell was that, Princess,” Jason asked breathlessly as you climbed off and threw on some clothing. You chuckled a little before tossing him his boxers.
“Just wanted to wake you up this morning. Do you want some pancakes, Jay,” you asked. He sat up and pulled them on.
“You certainly did. And I never say no to food. Especially my favorite food,” Jason said with a grin. “Is it secretly my birthday? Am I dying and you’re prepping me beforehand?”
You laughed. “You already did that, baby.”
Jason gasped a little before laughing.
“I just wanted to treat you like you deserve. Pick a movie. There’s a new slasher out that you can tear apart,” you said walking in the kitchen and grinned at Jason’s heart eye look he gave you.
He looked through the movies without paying them much mind. He’d seen the joker dead the day before and now his girlfriend was spoiling him. He didn’t know what to think about. He’d think about the joker finally being dead. He couldn’t hurt Jason or those near him any more. You’d been kidnapped 6 months earlier and it had almost ripped Jason apart when he found you bloody and beaten. Luckily alive though.
Then he thought about how sweet you were. A perfect angel who had nothing to do with that life. You couldn’t kill someone if you tried. He just wanted to keep you in an innocent bubble, especially after being kidnapped.
“Jay? Jason?” You said near him and he jumped. He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you coming over to him with a plate of food. Heart shaped pancakes covered in whipped cream stared up at him and Jason had a little grin on his face.
“Sorry, thanks. This looks good,” he said and you grinned before sitting with your own. Jason turned on a movie and sat next to you to eat.
Jason’s phone rang.
He gave you an apologetic look before answering.
“Yeah,” he answered before quickly standing up to talk in another room. Definitely bat business, it sounded like. He came back in a few minutes putting on his suit. He bent and shoved most of a pancake in his mouth. Jason pulled you to your feet and swirled you around before holding you by the waist. You giggled.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“I’ve got to work. But when I get back, I’m making up for this morning, okay? Breakfast was amazing,” he said before pulling you into a dizzying kiss. You nodded before he left.
——————————
Jason arrived at the cave and realized something was instantly wrong. Tim, Dick, Damian, Bruce, and even Alfred were waiting for him around the computers. He slowly walked up. They didn’t think he did it, did they? Jason looked around in case of a fight.
“I have some bad news,” Dick said. Jason just stared at him. Dick sighed. “We know who killed the joker. You won’t like it. You- you might want to sit down.”
Jason frowned at his tone. It was the tone you used when telling a kid their parents died. He looked at the computer to see surveillance footage of the roof where he found the joker. He clenched his fist as the mad man walked in the screen.
“You know, this is the worst meeting place in the world,” joker said with a laugh. Jason’s eyebrows rose. He hasn’t expected audio. “So what do you have that I might want on the birds?”
A female voice off camera could be heard saying, “peace of mind.”
“Doubt you could give me that Princess,” he said in a mocking tone. His posture was casual even though the lower half of a woman’s body had walked into the screen and she held a gun in hand pointed at him. She froze at his words.
Jason couldn’t look away if he wanted to.
“Yeah, I know,” joker said. “I forget faces. Too many changing and quite a few people are a little two faced,” he said with a laugh. “But I never forget a voice. You sounded so much more sweet when you were crying tied to a chair. And the way you sobbed when I brought out the crowbar.... music to my ears. I bet it just reminded you of a certain bird that just didn’t quite make it the first time.”
“Shut up. I- I don’t care,” she said. Jason’s heart was in his throat. He knew exactly who that was before Tim’s DNA tests were complete. She moved around a little nervously.
“Honey, Princess,” he said drawn out in a mock of Jason’s voice. “Unless you plan on using that gun, put it down and we can play a game. You like games? You play one with the red bat all the time. Does he know? Does he know that you’ve been hunting me for.... geez, since you were kidnapped I’d bet.”
“Now drop that gun and I show you what pain really feels like,” he growled and she shot him in the forehead before he moved. He made a disconnected sound before falling to his knee, perfect height to be seen in the camera. She shot him again between the eyes and he fell back silently. His body splashed on the rainy roof before blood began to pool behind his head. The woman looked for a second, her body language painfully stiff, before running out the way she came.
The cave was silent as Jason realized what he just saw. He blinked a few times before clearing his throat. Has she- did she-??
“I assume the DNA matches?” He asked and Tim nodded before sliding him a paper copy. 98% match. Only chance it wasn’t you was an evil twin or clone but no, he noticed the clothing and mannerisms. It was you.
“Are you going to bring her in?” Bruce asked quietly and Jason gaped.
“I sure as shit ain’t. She killed the man who kidnapped her and abused her. That sounds like self defense to me,” he defended. Dick looked at him in pity and Jason quickly looked away.
“It was premeditated, Jason,” Bruce reminded him.
“I know. I’ll take care of it. She’s not going to prison. I’ll talk to her,” he said. Bruce gave him a hard look. “You come near her- I swear to god, Bruce. I’ll shoot you myself.”
Jason got up to leave. Dick moved out of his way. He wasn’t getting in this.
“Jason,” Bruce said but Jason was already gone.
——————————
Jason was a pretty smart guy but he was completely shocked at this moment. What possessed you to kill the joker? To seek him out? A man that tried to kill you and you were willing to meet him alone? Not even Jason wanted to do that. And that morning you were treating Jason special. He thought for a second that you killed the joker for him. It chilled him to the bone but he put that thought out of his head. No, you had your own reasons to do it.
Jason walked in the apartment cautiously. Who knows how you would be acting, the perfect girlfriend or finally breaking down when you realized you killed a man. He found you in the bedroom asleep. You didn’t look like you had just killed someone and for a second Jason had doubt but the video and DNA didn’t lie.
He crawled in bed with you. You pulled him close and laid your head on his chest and Jason’s heart hurt. You looked fine but killing people left scars and your first time killing someone was not something you forget.
You woke with a gasp and cry hours later. You trembled and grasped at Jason tightly. He woke up confused before pulling you closer.
“Hey, Princess, I’m right here. You’re okay,” he said rubbing your back and holding you close. “What’s going on?”
“I see him. When I sleep. Every time,” you breathed almost in tears. Jason kissed your cheek and he felt wetness on your skin. You had been crying. He didn’t want to ask but now was as good a time as any.
“Princess, what did you do last night?” Jason asked so quietly. You looked up at him quickly and it confirmed everything he needed to know.
“Nothing. I was here. All night. Wh-why?” You asked, lying terribly. Jason sighed. He closed his eyes before willing himself to speak.
“You know I’m a detective. I can tell that you’re lying,” Jason started gently.
“What does that mean,” you said a little too quickly. Your breathing started to speed up again and Jason hated the look of fear on your face.
“I’m not mad. I won’t turn you in. Just tell me what happened,” he said softly, watching you intently. You wanted to shrink away a little.
“I can’t,” you whispered. Your eyes started to water and you blinked them away.
“Did you do it? Did you kill him? I can help you,” Jason said and you froze. “Talk to me.”
“I-I did,” you said looking at him in terror. Your eyes were red rimmed. “I did.”
“I’m sorry,” he said pulling you tight to his body. You broke down in little sobs and clung to him. “I’m so sorry that you thought you had to. I should have. I’m sorry.” He wrapped you up and made little shhh noises and you cried until you fell back asleep.
You woke up later with a pounding headache wrapped up tightly against Jason. He was on his phone but sat it down when he saw you were up.
“Hey,You don’t have to worry about it. I’ve taken care of everything,” he said ever so gently. You nodded.
“What does that mean?” You asked slowly.
“Red Hood took the wrap on it. No great loss with one less psycho in Gotham. Harley Quinn had an impromptu parade with hyenas and jugglers and everything. Nightwing made an appearance. Dick said Barbie slept through the night for the first time in months and she said she’d help you with anything you need,” Jason said trying to be positive. You gave him a dry smile.
“That’s nice. What about- what about Batman?” You asked.
“He’s Batman. But he’ll get over it. And the next time you kill a murderous clown, let me help. He could have killed you. And if anyone knows how to hide a body, it’s me,” Jason said giving you a squeezing hug. You smiled despite yourself.
“I’ll remember that. I’m a little sad I missed the hyena parade,” you admitted.
“Oh she’s having a parade every day this week. An anonymous donor gave her a ton of fireworks. Fairly certain it was Tim,” Jason said.
#Jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#Jason todd smut#red hood smut#batboy smut#the joker needs to die okay#and I’ll do it myself
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The Three Times Jason Wasn’t Saved- and The One Time he Was
Jason Todd x Reader
Warnings: detailed descriptions of torture, angst, character death, blood, needles, knives/ cutting, batfam au where the gangs all here, Robin!Jason, reader can summon weapons, sad ending
One
His head hangs, he doesn't have the energy. His feet barely touch the ground, and yet he makes no move to stand himself up. They're tingly and fuzzy and cold, as are his hands that are tied above his head.
Jason Todd hangs in chains like a slaughtered pig, and his breathing is hoarse. His dull blue eyes land on the bloodied crowbar laying on the floor. It's his blood, and it makes him groan in pain. Hyper realization of his injuries hits him and he whimpers. It's low, pathetic, and his breathing picks up.
He doesn’t remember how to wear clothes that aren’t covered in dirt and grime and acid. The fabric of his robin suit sticks to his skin, blending with his wounds. Every small move of limb sends fires of pain throughout his body, and he tries his hardest not to make a sound.
The Asylum wing is freezing and he’s cold, skin almost blue. He shivers every once in a while- it’s different from when the Asylum is scorching hot and he feels like he’s in hell where he belongs. The hair he used to keep so elegantly messy, it's dirty and scorched and matted and greasy against his head.
And he’s scared.
He knows that if he looks up, he'll see pictures. Taped to the dusty and damp walls of Arkham Asylum. Red circles trace each of their faces, and whether or not it's paint or blood he doesn't want to know.
It’s blood, it’s always been blood.
He can't bear to see their faces right now. Barbara, happy and smiling next to Dick as they enjoy a Gotham carnival. They're happy without him, he always held them back. He was too dependent on Barbara as a sister figure and was just an annoying kid to Dick, they're better now.
Bruce. With a child on his shoulders. The son Jason could never be. A new Robin, one that could properly fulfill his duties. He was the failure, he was never going to be what Dick Grayson was. Maybe his replacement could, his replacement wouldn't let himself get captured.
Barbara and Selina and Alfred who had only ever taken care of him.
All with red targets around them. Everyone he'd ever cared for. Marked.
Everyone except Y/N, who's picture lay in pieces on the ground. Unlike the others, it wasn't taken by Joker's goons, and it wasn't recent.
It was her student ID from their first year at Gotham Academy. She was young, really young, eyes still bright and skin untainted by the scars of vigilante work. And she wasn't even looking at the camera but rather off to the side, caught by surprise when the photographer flashed his equipment. She hated pictures, and going to school was never a part of the deal. She’s mid laughing and so alive and happy in a world where Jason never hurt her.
He'd stolen it soon after it was taken, sticking it in his wallet so she'd be forced to ask him for his own. You couldn't access the Academy Library without one after all.
And the Joker had found it in his pocket and took it and ruined it and tore it and left her in pieces in the corner, her name never spoken from the maniac again.
Jason assumed that was good. Better to be left in silence than threatened and marked for death. Hell, he couldn’t remember how long it's been since he’s seen her, and he softly starts to whisper her name. She promised him a night out once he found his mother,
No, he couldn’t.
Maybe the Joker couldn’t find her, hadn’t figured out her identity. He could keep her safe.
"What's that my boy?"
"No.. no," Robin pleads, the voice of nails on a chalkboard sending fear into his every bone. "Not again, not again."
The Joker comes into view and a weak cry comes from Jason's lips. His body jerks and another cough wracks his body, warm blood spilling from his mouth. Broken ribs, internal bleeding, punctured lung, he has no idea what it could be. If only Alfred were here, or Dick. To let him rest as they fixed him up, took care of him.
His chin is grabbed harshly, the bruising making it worse. The Joker laughs, pushing his face upwards and close to his own. He can smell death and acid on this villain, and Jason whimpers again.
"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"
The robin doesn't answer. He can't keep track. He tried counting the amount of times Joker visited him, but then again, that was most likely more than once a day. And sometimes it was Harley, or a low level goon dressed like Batman and Nightwing and Batigrl and her.
Time is a blur to him, he's been in pain too long. Everything hurts, even if someone were to save him now, he feels practically gone already.
He wanted someone to save him.
"What about it Jason? You think Bats will come? Save his precious son?" The Joker prods, mouth wide.
Jason wants to say it. But the words dont leave his mouth.
"Go on, don't be scared Jason. Tell me, tell dear old Joker."
"HE'LL COME FOR ME!" he yells, and it uses all his strength to just move his jaw.
"Even when he's better off without you?" The Joker asks, and he bends down to lift the bloodied crowbar.
No. Please, anything but that.
"He's going to! He has to!" Jason screams, and then tears start streaming down his cheeks.
The metal finds its way onto his hip, sending his body swaying helplessly as he cries.
"Tell me, who's hurting you?" The Joker asks, grin never leaving his face as he hits Jason again.
"Please stop, I'll do anything," the boy pleads, desperately trying to think of anything else. If only the Joker would end him now, let him go free.
"Who's hurting you Jason?"
"YOU!" He shrieks, the crowbar smacking painfully across his chest and ripping at the skin. It's like his lungs have collapsed, he no longer has bones.
"Wrong!"
"The, the Joker-"
"WRONG AGAIN MY BOY."
Jason looks up at the pictures on the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. Blood pours into his mouth and he spits it out, shaking in his chains. "Batman.. batman is hurting me."
The next hit never comes. "Attaboy," The Joker mutters, and then he leaves.
Two
He returns the next morning. Jason assumes it's the next morning, as he's in a new purple suit. Harley gave him a dosage some odd amount of time ago, it must be a new day. His limbs are numb, his wrists are cracked and bleeding. He tries to keep his tongue in his mouth but his jaw is slack and disfigured, it’s increasingly difficult.
Jason hasn't slept in days. Dark circles accessorize his black eyes, it's a miracle he can see at all.
The green haired man sets a timer in the corner of the room, and the Robin's brain goes into endless loops of trauma. The crowbar, the explosion that almost killed him. His mind wandered to warm arms pulling him out, thinking Bruce had pulled him from the rubble. Except it wasn't his father at all.
Batman hadn't even tried.
"Jason." The Joker says sweetly, walking around the boy like a predator. The robin is helpless, he's lost all feeling in his limbs. "I thought I might tell you a story today."
The dark haired boy stays silent. He doesn't cry, he doesn't scream, he prays to a god he doesn't know for it all to stop. A bullet, a poison, the world ends in a fiery explosion, he didn't care.
"Jason."
"Just kill me already," he pleads, voice cracking and desperate.
Loud laughter echoes through the room. Jason's head hurts from the sheer volume, and it doesn't stop. It gets louder, and it carries around, and Jason lets out hushed breaths.
"I can't kill you boy, we're a great team you and I! Would you like to hear my story?"
Jason closes his eyes in anticipation for today's beating.
The Joker grabs his face again, and Jason is groggy. Fading in and out of consciousness. But as his eyes are forced open and the first thing he sees is a blade, Jason screams.
It's a dull knife, long and serrated and bloody and dirty. And in its reflection is the lunatic's face, grinning like mad. The light catches on the razor as the Joker's eyes go wide.
"Wanna know how I got these scars?" He sneers, and Jason cries. He struggles to get away, hanging helplessly from his suspension. Nothing works, and two goons from the shadows hold him still with no thought towards his bruised and broken body.
He's in agony, and he's begging. He's in insurmountable pain and he can't do anything about it. The razor is brought to Jason's lips, presses to the side of his mouth with dull pressure.
He’s muffled now, and he continues fighting.
"Just,, like, this!!" The Joker yells, dragging the blade upward through Jason's skin at a slow agonizing pace. He wants this to be slow and torturous, and Jason only cries and shakes. It hurts, god it hurts, he's being cut open, and the blood and tears mix and cause him more pain,
He almost wishes for the crowbar again and once the knife is finished on one side, he screams again. His blood bleeds from the blade and falls onto the floor, joining the rest from the past days. Months? It couldn’t have been years.
“Such a handsome young man,” the joker croons, erupting into even more laughter. “Tell me what brought the chicks in, your crippling daddy issues or your criminal record?”
Jason couldn’t answer if he tried. The Joker grabs his face, almost smelling his newfound wounds, and then pulls back, leaving him in a hanging sway.
“Let me go..” he pleads, mouth sore. His bright blue eyes are so devoid of color it hurts, and he closes them. Blood and dirt clumps on his pretty eyelashes.
“Now I don’t think I can do that dear Jason.”
Joker licks the blade clean, it catches on the man's tongue and cuts him, not that he cares. Jason's glad he's not forced to swallow the damn thing.
Well, be careful what you wish for.
Its sharp edge is brought down his jaw, down his neck, so close to his jugular veins, if only he could shift and catch himself on the blade, he could end it all.
He starts crying.
He doesn’t know when he stops.
The Asylum walls go black, and he's shrieking. Harley Quinn brings a bat to his body as the Joker moves his knife, and it finds solace along Jason's cold chest.
One cut. Two cuts. Jason screams more. His throat is raw, he doesn't even know where his terror is coming from anymore, it'd been beaten out of him.
"Bruce-, bruce stop-"
The Joker laughs. "AHA, the boys learning, don't you see? That's right, that's right."
The cuts are few, and after a while they're bearable. The hardest part to deal with is Harley"s high squeals as she beats him. She calls him cute, handsome, a songbird.
Songbird.
"You can't.."
"I can't what Jay darling? Hmm?? What can't I do?" The Queen of crime pouts, and Jason sees red.
"Don't say that," he spits, finding his voice. "That name isn't for you bitch."
The next time the knife touches his skin, it's coated in acid. And he's yelling for it to stop, he's pleading, thrashing around.
His kicks find Harley and he's flown forward and backward, still chained to the ceiling. Its desperate.
"JAY DARLIING," she sings. "Puddin what else gets our birdie going?? Mm? What makes him sing like a good pet. Oh this is exciting!"
"SHUT UP-"
"Jay," Harley flutters her eyelashes, bringing herself close to his face. "Baby? Love? Is it sweetheart?" Her mouth is wide, eyes deranged. "Perhaps it's Mister J! He stares into her gaze, and for a second the jester flinches.
If Jason wasn't suspended and restrained, he'd kill her. He knew it and she knew it and Joker most definitely knew.
"Well Jason, kill her then! Do it loverboy, why won't you end her?" He croons, and Harley feigns sadness.
"I-" he starts, unwilling to let himself hang in shame. How could he do this?
"Oh come on angel! Why don't you try?" She shrieks, and then Jason is shouting, further tearing into the cuts along his mouth as he brings his legs up, attempting to wrap them around Harley's neck.
He doesn't get very far. Someone holds him steady, and the stinging knife is brought back to his chest. An H. An A. Another H and an A.
Straight across his chest, and then it begins again. Jason's breathing is labored from his attempt to retaliate, and he slips back into his daze of unconsciousness. He can't do this much longer.
THE.
Jason can see it in the mirror on the opposite wall. He doesn't remember when that got put there. If he could reach something with his feet he could throw it. Break the glass, pick it up with his feet again perhaps, end this torture-
JOKES.
Jason feels like vomiting.
ON.
Jason vomits on the ground in front of him. Sweat sticks to his skin and he's pale, he feels a fever growing on him. The knife continues lower to his bruised skin. This couldn't get worse, could it.
YOU.
The words are engraved on his body, marred by the blood dripping from it. Jason's eyes roll to the back of his head. The trauma puts him to sleep, and the Harley Quinn whispers another "Jay Darling" into his ear before departing.
Three
Y/N’s picture is gone now, he can't even piece it together in his mind anymore. The scraps are scattered and disintegrated into dust.
This time he hears Harley before Joker, she's hanging off of the clown's arm, looking at him with the adoration of a psychopath. In her hands is a long poker, tip red hot, and she swings it without a care in the world. She giggles as her love comes closer to the half dead boy, untying his chains.
Jason lands on the floor, a crumpled heap of skin and broken bones. His head hits the ground, but it's the most beautiful thing he's touched in a long time.
He doesn't move, curling into a protective ball.
"Mister J our bird isn't moving," Harley whines, kicking him in the back. He groans, shielding himself as best he could. There's nothing on the ground that's usable, not even a sharp stick or rock, there's a used abandoned needle but it sends him into nausea.
The Joker's laughing brings him back to reality as he attempts to crawl away. The floor is appalling, disgusting, a mix of wax and blood and body fluids that he wished he could forget, but he's let go.
Jason slams his hands on the cement, using the force to wake him up and pull himself forward. His legs don't work, he's going delirious again, and then there's the sizzle of water behind him.
"Where are you going birdie?" Harley asks, and the Joker takes another step closer.
"No, no, NO-" Jason pleads. Please let him go, dead or alive he doesn't care. Just get him out of here, make it stop. It's the only word he knows at the moment, every syllable is tortuous to pronounce. He bangs his head on the cement. God he’s going insane.
Stop touching him. Stop hurting him.
He’s been beaten and tortured and degraded in the worst ways possible. He couldn’t remember what it was like to be human. And still, this was the worst pain yet.
He's pinned down as the hot poker nears his face, the symbol bright red on the end. Like a branded piece of meat. His flesh burns and sizzles as the Joker gives more pressure, and Jason's never screamed louder.
It's in the intense silence within which he screams with his whole body. It forces its way from deep in his throat, demonic and angry and scared.
He's hiding a truth from himself, and soon he's not screaming from the burning, but rather that he's stuck here. Forever.
Edged with the tantalisingly sweet release of death, the Joker will never give it to him.
The Joker will never let him die, he will never let him go. And now his cursed J is on Jason’s cheek, he’ll forever be the Joker’s pet.
When the brand stick is taken off his skin, Jason is sweating and pale and falls asleep.
"What a shame you couldn't handle it."
x
Y/N runs through the hallway with desperation. She'd tracked down Harley one night and by some god forsaken miracle, the deranged woman had blood on her skirts.
Another miracle hadY/N sneaking into Wayne Manor to ask Barbara to help her, analyzing the blood samples to track down the Joker.
They found something better.
For a second she believed Bruce's high end, most technologically advanced equipment was wrong. Babs assured her it wasn't. That was Jason's blood on Harley, less than two weeks old.
"Jason?"
The boy looks up, whimpering. He almost doesn't hear her.
"Oh Jay," she whispers from the hallway. She's just a shadow but Jason knows it's her. No one has ever said his name with such gentleness.
The woman lets out a sob. He's here, he's alive, he's gonna be okay.
Jason holds back sobs of his own as she runs to him. Her fingers are first to touch him, resting on his chest and trailing over his scars, his wounds and his blood. His torn clothes, the dirt and acid burns. Her hand stops over his heart, beating so slow she would have believed him to be dead.
But this is Jason. He's not dying anytime soon. Especially not if she can help it.
Tears stream down her face as she wraps her arms around him, holding him close.
He's gonna be okay.
Y/N is immediately supporting him as she conjures a knife to cut him down. His arms are free and he nearly goes unconscious.
She catches him before he can fall. It's not like the Joker when he needs to crawl away like a wounded puppy. He welcomes the other presence in the damp room, shaking. Jason lifts his head, and he doesn't even have to move until she's at his side. It's so different.. he forgot what this feels like.
Jason forgot what it felt like to have emotions besides fear.
He curls into her lap, slowly using her body to sit up.
"Jay look at me, please," she murmurs, holding his face and brushing the hair out of those colorless eyes. "Oh my god I knew it.. I knew you were alive.. Jay I'm so sorry-" she stops herself, kissing the top of his blood matted head.
That doesn't matter now.
"I'm gonna get you out of here, you're okay sweetheart. Stay awake okay? Okay. Stay awake for me please."
Jason nods, hanging onto her. If he lets go, she'll leave. He'll lose her and he'll be stuck here again. She'll fade away.
It hurts to move, every bone and every limb is on fire. Then she's grabbing him and they're standing up, she's practically half carrying him.
Mumbles of his name fill the empty asylum wing. Js and Jason's and Jay's pass her lips as if just repeating it is gonna make him alright.
One step, and Jason crumbles. He can't walk, it's a miracle he can feel his legs at all. "I'm not going anywhere," he mutters.
She doesn't say anything. She knows.
Footsteps in the background. Walking, jogging, running.
Maniacal laughs and snarls and spit.
Y/N bends her knees and slings him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and then she starts running. Down one hallway and then the next, the Arkham Asylum is a maze.
"Jay, side of my mask, the-"
"Comms," he finishes, holding the button to turn it on.
"Bat? Batgirl, do you read me?" The girl whispers, ducking into an alcove.
"I'm here. Did you..?"
"I've got him. Babs, he's alive, Jason's alive, he's breathing-" It feels so good to say, to not just breathe an empty statement.
Crying comes from the other side of the comms. Barbara composes herself enough to speak, but even then, emotion hangs in her voice. "Let's bring him home then, where are you right now? Dicks outside the Asylum with Bruce, don't worry about the thugs or the cameras, we have it covered."
"I'LL FIND YOU BIRDIE!"
"The Joker's here," Y/N tells Barbara and the air hangs with a pregnant pause.
"Okay, Tim's gonna have you turn right, we got his signal."
The woman turns, ducking into the darkness.
"Y/N,." Jason wheezes, hanging onto her shoulders with the strength he could muster.
"Jason if this is one of, one of your 'if we don't make it out' speeches-"
"Nevermind," he replies, wishing he had the energy and the ability to smile. She does, she smiles for the both of them- even if he can't see it from this angle.
"God I'm going to make him pay for this. Writhing and screaming and begging for me to end him," she threatens, listening for the next of Barbara’s directions.
She's told to go right and through a door.
There's two sets of footsteps now.
Y/N continues, trying to fill the silence. The Joker won’t track her voice, the alarms are too loud. "That doesn't matter now, I guess. You're alive and I- we thought you were dead and it took so long for me to accept that, and I still don't know how I found you but I did and Jay I'm so proud of you-"
"Hey this doesn't mean you can give me a speech of your own," Jason interrupts, and she cracks another smile. She’s rambling like she always does when she overthinks, and he closes his eyes to imagine that they’re once again on a Gotham skyscraper with a bottle of champagne. Spilling secrets and laughing like they weren’t masked vigilantes with secret identities.
"I love you Jason, and you're not leaving me again."
"HAHA I LOVE THIS GAME-" The Joker yells. His psychotic grin fills Jason’s vision as the maniac throws open a hatch, jumping down into the room. Jason is dropped to the ground and Y/N has her sword in hand, stepping in between the two men.
His vision is blurry, he can’t see anything, and the ground is warm.
He can’t succumb. Jason stands up again, grabbing a pistol from Y/N’s leg and he shoots. The feel of a gun trigger isn’t unfamiliar.
Yelling fills the room, as does the clash of metal and fists, Jason smiles as the Joker cries out in pain. Another door opens, there’s girlish laughter now, and so many footsteps. He keeps shooting, dropping enemies like a second nature because he was Jason Peter fucking Todd.
Jason’s ribs get stomped on again and he loses his gun, and metal echoes on the ground as something is dropped. Three gunshots ring through the room.
No.
No.
The Joker and the Harlequin keep laughing in glee, and Jason blacks out from crying again.
x
Cold hands grab his face. The man who laughs is, well, laughing and pulling Jason’s face close to his own. The smell of death fills his senses and Jason opens his eyes.
"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x oc#jason todd imagines#red hood x reader#red hood#dc#batfam#batfam x reader#jason todd hcs#redhood hcs#arkham knight#titans#titans jason
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𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐞𝐱/𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 (𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝)
Warnings: NSFW content. Read at your own discretion.
❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰
Hongjoong was already frustrated. He was on a deadline to finish up a song and he was nowhere near even getting halfway. Eden had just recently scolded him and he felt extremely agitated and irritated at this point.
"Hey Joong? I brought you lunch so-"
"Just leave it on the table, I'll eat it later." He cut you off rather sharply, barely even sparing you a glance.
"I was actually thinking we could eat together." You were off put by his short temper.
"I don't have time Y/N." He huffed out, a hand running through his hair.
You were pissed at this point and were not about to take his crap anymore.
"Exactly! You don't have time for me anymore! I get your job demands a lot of your time, but to not even take a break and enjoy just 10 minutes without....these." You gestured to all the mess scattered around his desk.
Hurt about being reminded about his neglect of you yet angry at being scolded once more, Hongjoong slammed his hands on the table, swiftly pushing off the chair before going over to where you were standing and stared you down.
"All right. Fine. 10 minutes you say? I can work with that."
Without a warning, he pushed you onto the couch, making a quick work of your pants and stripping them off you. You let out a sharp cry when he began devouring your pussy, animalistic growls spilling out his lips as he slurped you up as if he'd been starved. When you tried pulling away, he landed a harsh slap on your clit, making your hips jolt up and a shriek come out.
"Shut up and take what I give you you needy desperate whore. You wanted 10 minutes? Let's see how many times I can make you cum in that time."
❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪
Hearing the front door slam, Seonghwa brace himself for yet another one of your moods after a long day at work. Wanting to help your day be less stressful, he had prepared you some of your favorites food.
"Y/N." He called out to you in a sing song tone.
Stomping over, you just looked at him with an eyebrow raised, total resting bitch face plastered on.
"I made your favorite." He happily told you, but you still didn't seem to bat an eyelash at him, you simply turned around and began walking out.
"Wait Y/N come on. Here at least try some. It'll help you with your stress-"
"Can't you take a damn hint Seonghwa?! I don't fucking want it!"
When he tried to approach you with a spoonful of food, you actually snapped and slapped it out of his hand, making it stain his perfectly polished floor. Seonghwa looked at it then looked back at you.
"You know Y/N I think I put up with your bratty attitude and bitchy behavior for too long."
You gasped sharply when he suddenly turned you around and slammed you up against the table, grabbing your arms so he could hold them behind your back.
"Maybe I've been a little too nice to you....making you baths, preparing you food, all in hopes of helping you release stress....but its clear a little bitch like you doesn't need that."
You squirmed under his grasp, trying to get free but with no use as his grip was tight on you. The sound of him unbuckling his belt made you stop moving entirely, and you shivered when pulled your skirt up before ripping your tights and pushing your underwear to the side.
"Clearly a bitch like you needs a good pounding, fuck that attitude right out of you."
❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸
You knew you were screwed the instant Yunho roughly pulled you off Mingi's lap and took you into his room, shutting the door right behind him before staring at you with fire burning through his eyes. You had never seen him so mad before.
No soon afterwards, you were currently on top of him, his hips bucking up at you at a relentless pace that had you screaming his name over and over again. His hands were practically digging into your skin, holding tightly onto you with such ferocity.
"Look at you, being so desperate for a good fuck that you'd actually try and whore yourself out to my best friend like a cheap bitch."
When one of his hands came up to grasp at your throat, you were shivering on top of him.
"Weren't you?! What! Is my cock not enough for you? My cock and these hands you love so much not satisfying you anymore? Hmm? Is that why you were all cuddled up to Mingi? Hoped he'd actually take pity and fuck you?"
You knew it wasn't your intention to make him jealous, but god if this is what jealousy did to him, you would totally do it again.
"Stupid slut. Mingi's not going to fuck you. You're just a dirty, filthy hole, he doesn't want you...."
Even after you came, you were still a crying mess as Yunho kept fucking up into you, not caring that you were beyond your limit, your inner thighs getting sore.
"But you're my little hole for me to fuck. Got it? And if I need to fuck you dumb to get it through that stupid useless brain of yours to understand that only I can make you feel this good, then so be it. I'll fuck you til you break, my little sex toy."
❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰
Yeosang was not very pleased by your behavior lately. You had been giving him the silent treatment and avoiding him for no good reason. Trying to coax what was wrong out of you, he came up behind you as you were washing dishes.
"How's my little princess? Did you have a good day?"
He was only met with you elbowing him in the rib and shoved him off you.
"Ok seriously Y/N? What did I even do? Stop being so childish and talk to me like a mature adult."
Hearing you scoff and seeing you roll your eyes at him made him furious and irritated with you. As you tried to walk past him, he grabbed your elbow and picked you up, setting you down on the kitchen counter as his eyes burned a hole through you.
"If you're going to keep acting like a brat, maybe I should just treat you like one then."
You don't know if you truly regret breaking Yeosang's patience. On the one hand, you were definitely not going to be walking straight for a week. On the other, you utterly enjoyed having your face pressed against the pillow, ass up as Yeosang was shoving his dick in and out of you, red handprints scattered across your butt cheeks and hands tied behind your back with one of his ties. Everytime you tried to hide your face in the pillow to muffle your screams, he'd yank your hair up.
"I said I wasn't having you ignore me anymore princess. Now come on, scream my name. I want this entire floor to hear your pathetic whimpers."
❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷
San looked at you with an unamused gaze.
"Repeat what you just said.....I dare you to."
He was pissed off, it was more than clear. But maybe that's what you wanted, wanted him to be as pissed as you were, even just a bit of what you were feeling. It's not that you meant to take out your jealousy on him, but seeing his co-host be extremely clingy towards him backstage and he never did anything about it made your blood boil.
"I said you're nothing more than a fucking horn dog. Probably let that skank suck your dick." You exclaimed in disgust.
The sudden slam of his hand against the wall behind you both scared and thrilled you. Looking at you with a hungry smirk, he opened the door behind you, trapping you inside a closet. In minutes, he was pressing you against the wall, his frantic grunts mixing with your whimpered cries. San would occasionally let out a sadistic laugh at how wrecked you look.
"You're right baby, I am indeed a horn dog. Absolutely love getting my dick wet and fuck a pussy all the time."
Hand reaching between your legs, he began to harshly pinch and rub at your clit, his other hand that was holding onto your hip keeping you from collapsing on the floor as your orgasm took over you.
"But get this straight: I only fuck this pussy right here. Ok? I fucking claimed this a long ass time ago and I'll fuck it whenever I want to."
❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲
Ending the call with your friend, you were coming out of the bedroom when you were suddenly shoved back inside by none other than your usually caring and sweet boyfriend, who looked angry as he closed the door behind him.
"Mingi? What-"
You couldn't finish your sentence as his large hands cupped your cheeks, his long body pushing you back until you landed on the bed. He was kissing you harshly, nothing like the usual tender and loving kisses he'd be known to give you. His hands clutched at your covered breasts, groping at them before he unexpectedly tore your shirt in the middle.
"Mingi! What has gotten into you?!" You exclaimed in shock at his sudden change in behavior.
"I heard you talking to your friend. Saying shit like I'm too soft and vanilla for you."
You moaned out when he began to suck along your neck, his hands cupping your bra and pulling it down enough to have your breasts spill out.
"Oh princess if only you knew I've just been holding back all this time."
With a taunting chuckle, he pulled of you. Undoing his zipper, he began to strip out of his jeans and briefs, letting his long cock spring free, precum leaking at the tip.
"I didn't want to be selfish and break you like I wanted too....... but if that's what you want well then, I'd be happy to oblige my little princess."
❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰
Neither of you knew how it started nor exactly how it escalated. One minute Wooyoung was being the annoying shit he was, with you playfully shoving him away and calling him names, and then the next you were both pushing each other rather abruptly. When you called him a particularly degrading insult, he retaliated likewise and now it seemed like a screaming match between you two.
"You know what? This is fucking stupid!" You hollered and turned away, making a bee line towards your room.
"I'm not done yet!" Wooyoung trailed after you.
"Well I am! Now excuse me, I'm going to go take a shower and hopefully cool off this rage." You stated firmly before slamming the bathroom door right in his face.
The refreshing water seemed to calm you down a little, so you just stood there under the shower head, just letting your body soak in the cold. You were so unaware of your surroundings that you failed to notice Wooyoung had entered the bathroom and didn't realize it until you felt his arms turn you around to face him. No explanation, he just began kissing you, his tongue taking control over your mouth while one hand hiked one of your legs over his waist.
"Still think I'm an annoying bastard?" He grunted fiercely as he thrusted up into you, not giving you time to react as he began pounding into you.
"Yes you are!" You hissed at him, hands swooping his wet hair and tugging at it rather hardly.
He just looked at you with a shit eating grin.
"Yet you still let me fuck you. "
❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸
You were frustrated and stressed out, so was Jongho. Even as you two did your own little things inside the apartment, even the smallest things either of you did made the other let out an annoyed huff. It all culminated when Jongho accidentally spilled his cup of juice on the floor, that little action had you both looking at each other with near contempt.
"I feel like punching something." Jongho confessed.
"Me too." You admitted.
"Wanna punch me?" He offered.
Smirking at him, you thought about something better.
"No.... I think I'd rather fuck you."
So now here you were, underneath your inhumanely strong boyfriend, his cock balls deep inside you, your legs thrown over his shoulders while his hands were already leaving bruises around your inner thighs from how hard he was squeezing at them. You two had already cum several times but you still kept going, pushing past your sensitivity as you both still had a lot of rage and energy to release.
In a particularly sharp angle of his hips, you were quivering under Jongho, for the first time you were actually squirting under him.
"Oh fuck!" Seeing you break down and make a mess all over him and yourself had him cumming soon after, his body collapsing on top of yours.
Both of you were beyond exhausted after all that. Your bodies were so sticky with sweat and your breathing had not yet returned to normal. Looking over at you, Jongho smiled sincerely for the first time in days.
"So.... now that we got that out of the way.... can we cuddle?"
Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.
#ateez#ateez reactions#ateez scenarios#ateez imagines#ateez seonghwa#ateez smut#ateez hongjoong#ateez yunho#ateez yeosang#ateez san#ateez mingi#ateez wooyoung#ateez jongho#ateez headcanons
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Insufferable
A/N: The long-awaited flashback is here! It's short, but it is here! I hope this can really show the turning point in Jungkook's and MC's relationship and I would love to hear everyone's thoughts. As usual, tips are not required but greatly appreciate. Hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful day/night!
Note: This is a part (specifically a flashback) of The Household's Bunny series, so I recommend reading at least the Prologue before this one
Word count: 3.6k
Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader
Summary: Roommates are bound to have arguments, especially when one of them is as temperamental as Jungkook, but you didn't expect the first argument to get so unbelievably personal.
Warnings: abandonment issues, mommy issues, allusions to past abuse, family issues, crying, yelling, vomiting, panic attack, exhaustion, some soft yandere thoughts, some possessiveness, jungkook is mean and the MC gets a little mean too
There was something so constricting about memories of a shitty childhood. There were times when looking in the mirror felt like searching for the child in you so you could give her the hug she desperately needed. There were times when waking up felt like a check to make sure you were no longer in the home you had to grow up in far too quickly. However, the comfort of being in a different home only came so far when you didn't have anyone beside you or even emotionally available enough to talk to.
You stayed in bed for hours before it felt like a good idea to move, almost waiting for the mirage of change to fade before it brought you back to the gym with your mom or your uncle's apartment littered with whiskey bottles and leaky tear ducts.
Sometimes putting your best foot forward each day felt so hard with all-consuming loneliness clinging to your heels.
You had started your day going through your memory box. Hindsight said that was a poor idea. The box was a sure way to get you into a bad mood. You liked to think you breezed past all the stages of grief, but just because you accepted reality didn't make it hurt any less. The box was a strong reminder of that much as it sat with a melancholic aura. The creme color faded and the thorned vines connected to roses only added to the malicious undertones of its existence to your mental health. It was full of childhood photos, your birth certificate, school achievements, and the last known address your mom had.
Ah, your mom. What a way to bring clouds to your sunny day. You don’t know why you put yourself through the turmoil of the memory box. Maybe you were hoping it would be easier by now. You were always wrong. Looking through childhood photos and finding no love in the eyes of your mother when she looked at you and watching the love in your uncle’s eyes fade with your mother’s presence. You got to the fated birthday card, thumb rubbing over the defunct address longingly. You held the envelope in your hand, inspecting the birthday card she sent you. Three words in the repetitive note written on the inside caught your eye, and not the ones you so desperately wanted from her.
Feeling a familiar pressure behind your eyes, you tossed the card aside and stood. It was time to eat, go on a walk, do anything other than this. You found your way to the kitchen and came across a silent and solemn Jungkook. His jaw was clenched, but it felt like it always was around you.
Your relationship with Jungkook so far was not very complicated, in the way it was nonexistent. He either didn’t care about talking to you or he actively didn’t want to, you really couldn’t tell. This didn’t stop you from trying, though. Like an idiot.
“I’m making food, did you want any?” You asked from your place seated on the couch, and the silence that was his response for deafening, “Okaaaay.” You sang awkwardly, “I just know that you usually don’t eat throughout the day and-”
“And what do you know?!” He snapped, blinded by his pure and unbridled, but most important unprovoked, rage of you. Your eyes widened and your body jumped. Holy shit, you had never heard him yell like this, “You don’t know anything about me, or in general, so just stop trying so fucking hard!” He was harsh in his tone and it lit your whole nervous system on fire. What the hell did you do to him?
You shook your head, not sure why he was yelling about, but it made your throat feel like it was going to close, “Look, I was just trying to be polite, but you don’t need to talk about me like you understand-”
“Understand?! What’s there to understand?” He challenged, eyes wide like he was expecting you to say something but he continued, “You’re some spoiled girl living here rent-free because your precious dad doesn’t want to take care of you.”
Your heart caught in your throat as it shattered. He was right, your dad didn't want to take care of you, but not in the way he thought. Why was he doing this? Has he genuinely felt this way all along? Was he just holding in his anger until you poked the bear a little too hard? “You don’t need to yell at me.” You stated firmly and it seemed to only make things worse.
“And you don’t need to fucking be here in the first place!” He spoke, temper long lost and you could hear his voice mix in with Jungyoon’s, all he needed was a bottle of whisky and a set of calloused hands, “You didn’t need to fucking live here-”
“You don’t know anything about me.” You spat out. Now, you were losing your temper. You could take a beating, but for only so long, especially as an adult, "And it's not like you're paying rent either, so what do you know about me or my living arrangements?" You hissed and you watched his eyes flare, making you nearly regret your provocation.
“No, but I know how you look naked-”
“Fuck you.” You spit the word out at him, something you haven’t done to another person for a while “Don’t weaponize my work or play a game that you absolutely will lose.” You warned, “I know all about you, and I can use that, because you’ve been a star since you were 15, and that sucks, that makes you mad, doesn’t it?” Your temper effectively lost as you ripped into the rage-filled man before you, “Yet you don’t know anything about me, and that must piss you the fuck off, huh?” You stood from the couch, tears building in your eyes before you could stop it.
“I know enough, spoiled rich girl.” He seethed and you laughed humorlessly at this worldwide pop star calling you spoiled and rich.
“Not only are you wrong, but you’re also a poor listener.” You shot back, “I’ve told you all before Jungyoon isn’t my fucking dad, he’s my uncle.” His mouth opened but you cut him off before he could start, “He can’t stand the sight of me so he travels for work.” Your tears are undoubtedly falling, but you can’t stop, “And you’re talking to me like this because what? You had a scandal or something?” You gave him his chance to talk and boy, he took it.
“Mona told me you know your mom.” His voice was like venom, “So, why the fuck are you here? You have your blood relatives.” He exaggerated the word like it meant anything to you, “Why are you here, disrupting our lives, acting like an innocent orphan girl around actual fucking orphans-”
“I never said I was or acted like an orphan!” You exclaimed incredulously before scoffing, “That’s why you’re mad? Because you never knew your mom and I did? Because I know who my blood family is?” You could laugh at how ridiculous that was, “I know them, so what? Where does that get me?” You looked at him expectantly but he didn’t talk, “I knew my mom, and guess what? She just didn’t fucking want me.” He was silent, but you still couldn’t stop, “I’m sure if your mom could’ve got to know you, she would’ve kept you, because you’re not insufferable to be around, you’re just a fucking asshole.” You wiped at your cheeks furiously, “But me? I had 15 years to prove myself and it still wasn’t enough. I still wasn’t enough. Jungyoon never wanted me either, he got stuck with me and had to cope.” Your voice began to break and you had to take a breath, “I was the insufferable one, so-” You stopped, finally as you regained your sense of reality and watched Jungkook who had an unreadable expression and the realization of the word vomit you spilled out to him hit you like a train as you exhaled quickly, rage in your voice quickly replaced with soft melancholy “I am the insufferable one here, so there.” You shrugged, face a wet mess, “Hope that brings you peace.” Your stomach was churning as you turned on your heel, unable to hold in your sobs. You couldn’t bear the awkwardness of waiting for the elevator so you opted to take the stairs.
You sobbed louder as the door slammed shut behind you, but you didn’t want to linger so you bolted down the stairs, the bile in your stomach signaling that you needed to find the nearest trashcan and quickly. You made it to the ground floor and spilled your guts into the small trashcan. Yelling always made you unbelievably ill, whether it was getting yelled at or yelling, the sickness it made you feel overflowed. The yelling only reminded you of-
You vomited again at the mere thought. You cried harder when you finally finished, breathing becoming staggered as you began to panic.
Fuck, they’re gonna kick you out, and then you’ll be alone again. You lost your temper, people don’t like other people who lose their temper. Why couldn’t you just mind your own fucking business and leave him be? You’re stupid. Why do you think you’ve been alone all your life? It’s because people don’t want to be near you. You’re-
“Insufferable.” You mumbled, numb, even if for only a moment.
Sure, Jungkook provoked you, but you knew better. You didn't go to therapist after therapist throughout your adolescence for nothing. You felt as if you set yourself back eons after that outburst. He didn't need to know all that about you, ever. He probably didn't even care to know, and you said it anyway, like you were gunning for gold in the trauma Olympics. You didn't want to minimize his struggles, you just wanted him to shut up and stop yelling at you. You let your eyes flutter closed as you cried. How can you complain about being alone when you're like this?
You don’t know how long you stayed there, sitting next to a trash can full of your vomit as you wallowed in your self-hatred. The all-consuming loneliness the boisterous house subdued returning with full force. Jungkook was right. You didn’t need to be here. You were only disrupting their routine.
You blew out a sigh as you staggered to the elevator, fully set on going up to your room and crying yourself to sleep after you clean up. You brought the trashcan with you, not having the heart to just leave your puke down there. You thanked your lucky stars when Jungkook was no longer on the second floor as you went to the kitchen and rinsed your mouth before going to take out the trash and take out your burnt oven pizza. Finally, you were headed back up to your floor. You watched the numbers tick by with tired eyes. You glared at the empty trashcan, electing to take it with you instead of making the trip back down to put it back. Surely, they wouldn’t need it for a few hours.
The elevator dinged as you grabbed the black plastic bin and then you were met with Jungkook. Relief flashed across his face before irritation settled on it, “Where the fuck were you?!” He asked hurriedly as you trudged past him, too exhausted to fight. You were running on autopilot the whole way up here, and you couldn’t bear another spat.
“I was on the first floor.” Your voice was low, trying to communicate you were done arguing as you lifted the bin as proof. You then set it down and went to your bathroom and began brushing your teeth.
He scoffed, “You were on the first floor for 30 minutes?” He asked as if he caught you in a lie but you nodded as you rinsed your mouth.
You were down there for thirty minutes? No wonder you felt so tired.
“Yep.” You popped the last letter before correcting yourself, “Well, I spent like 10 minutes cleaning up that bin, so not exactly.”
“Why?” He asked as if you were being ridiculous, as if he wasn’t the one on your floor demanding answers.
“I vomited.” You spoke simply and before he could ask, “Yelling makes me puke.” You were so blase about it he sighed in frustration.
You walked to your room and froze when you saw your memory box strewn about, and it was like a dam broke all over again. You looked at the photos, at the eager little girl looking for love in places she would never find it.
Old habits die hard.
Before you could even stop yourself, you sunk to your knees in garbled sobs and broken cries, “Hey, hey, wait.” Jungkook’s shaky voice did nothing to bring you back to reality as you cried. His hands placed themselves on your shoulder, making you flinch violently, much to his horror.
Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know why you were crying, but he knew it was his fault, at least in part. Even if at this moment it wasn’t, his outburst surely didn’t help. Fuck, he’s so dumb. Fuck, he shouldn’t have talked to Mona just moments before seeing you.
The envy of even seeing your own mother’s face ate up at him and he took it out on you. Not to mention that he made you vomit from the yelling. He suddenly felt more like an arrogant asshole than he did before as his hands now hovered over your form and he took a moment to look at your room.
Scattered on the floor were childhood photos and ribbons from competitions. Things Mona kept in her own house, having a whole wall filled with every one of their achievements. Even Jin had a photo album of their things. And you, you kept all these for yourself. You were the only one who cared enough to save these things and he wondered how much you threw away to maintain space in the small empty box. Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this.
You sighed shakily, “You can just go.” You cried, “You don’t have to be here.” You don’t know what he could possibly gain from watching you cry.
“I know.” His voice was calm, even, “Can I help you up?” He asked and you wanted to look up at him in confusion but you didn't want him to see your tears.
You both had just ripped into each other, and here he was, wanting to help you. Why would he do that? Why would he stay when he doesn't have to? Why would he want to help you up after a fight?
Too tired to even think about questioning him and no longer angry at him, you simply scoffed, “Can you?” You sighed, not having the energy to stroke his ego and stand up without his help.
You never let people bear your dead weight, not wanting the awkwardness if they couldn’t carry you, but right now, you just wanted to lay down.
He snorted lightly, happy to hear anything other than a sob for you, “Don’t worry about me, you just cry and mind your business.” He spoke lightly, and the comment made you fight a smile. Then, he lifted you with so much ease, you figured he was trying to show off as he placed you on the bed. He looked at you after he sat on the floor before his eyes caught onto the gold foil of a 16th birthday card. You were wiping at your face as he read the card against his better judgment.
I know you must be confused, and I can’t help that. I wish I could pretend to be a mom, but I can’t. I can’t be your mom, and I never should have tried. It would be best if we forgot each other. I just can’t keep pretending, and I know you can see it, even if you don’t want to.
I’m so tired.
-Mom
Now, he felt even more like an asshole. He also felt a little bit angry that your mother could just leave you behind without so much as saying sorry. She wrote like she was a teenager and you were her mother. She obviously didn't put much thought into the seemingly last message to her daughter and it made his heartbreak for you, “That was the last I heard of her.” You snapped him from his thoughts and he looked at your puffy face, “She had left months earlier, and then I got that, but she moved before I could try to see her one more time.” There was a distant ache in your words as you looked at Jungkook sitting amongst your memories.
“Is she… still alive?” He asked, not sure why he felt the need to know.
“Not sure, but it doesn’t make much of a difference, I guess.” You blew out a sigh, before looking at your papers and folded posterboards, “I was cleaning out my memory box, and I’m not sure why I do it when I know it just upsets me.” You could still feel tears leaking from your eyes as Jungkook picked up a photo of you on your 14th birthday, posed between Jungyoon and your mom. You had a bright smile on your face and they looked at the camera with a tight expression, “You can really see how much they didn’t want to be there, but that's the happiest they look in all of the photos.”
He wanted to say you were wrong, but he could see it. He could see the happy little girl trying to make up for the unhappy adults around her. He knew he should’ve asked Mona why Jungyoon didn’t try to call or visit or why she was so eager to take you in if you knew your family. He should’ve just known better. Yeah, he understood how it felt to be alone growing up, they all did, but by the time they were all 17 they had a home that wanted them. You were going to graduate from college soon and you still felt unwanted.
No thanks to him.
“I’m sorry.” He blurted and you looked at him with wide eyes, “For being an asshole, I’m sorry- and for making you cry. I just…” He shrugged, “You’re right. I was jealous you knew your mom and I already was suspicious of you and I- I’m dumb, and I’m sorry.” He looked at you, eyes a bit glossy and you wondered when was the last time someone apologized for making you cry.
“It’s okay.” You smiled weakly, “You are dumb, but that’s okay.” You chuckled when he frowned, but eventually, he also broke into a short laugh, “I think… we’ve felt a lot of the same things in different ways, so I can’t blame you.” He wondered how you could be so forgiving, and he was scared of how many times that has gotten you hurt, “I like living here and I like all of you, so I hope I can get you all to like me too, even if just a little.”
“Don’t accept less than you deserve.” He spoke firmly before he started picking up your memory box, putting things neatly back in.
“Wh-”
He waved his hands nonchalantly, “You, sleep, I’ll clean this up and order some food.” He didn’t look at you as he said this, mostly to hide his blush, "If...If you want, I can give this to Jin. He has a whole place he keeps our stuff like this… he's really sentimental." He stumbled, still refusing to look at you.
However, he jumped when he heard you hiccup a cry. Ready to apologize, Jungkook was just about to turn to look at you until he heard you speak, "That… That sounds very sweet of you to do." You wiped a sentimental tear away as the blushing boy remained frozen.
"It's Jin's hobby, not mine." He deflected before waving his hand at you, "Sleep, I said." He frantically demanded.
You could see his ears getting red and you smiled, “Yes, sir.” You mocked in your work voice and made him freeze for a moment as you erupted into giggles while he whined, “Okay, okay, I’ll sleep.”
Eventually, you surrendered to your exhaustion as he delicately put away your papers and photos. He hummed lightly, smiling as he came across your debate team awards. No wonder he lost the fight before it even started. He turned around after lifting the box and sighed almost dreamily as he watched your sleeping face. You were beautiful, delicate, and puffy from the tears. He had the urge to keep apologizing for being such an asshole, but after looking through your achievements and your photos, he resolved to just keep proving it.
He wouldn’t let you get hurt again. Not by him or anyone, especially your mother, even Jungyoon was on thin ice.
His blood boiled at the thought of your mother for a reason he couldn’t understand. His hand extended shakily as he pulled the covers up to your shoulder and you hummed contently, making his heart melt a bit at the little smile you had. He wouldn’t fuck up with you again, not like this. He would be nice, at least a little, and first and foremost, he would order food you liked.
He froze.
Fuck, what food do you like?
He relaxed. Well, he could just ask the guys.
Fuck, they’re gonna ask questions.
Fuck, they’re gonna kill him when they found out he made you cry.
He looked back at your sleeping form, not having the heart to wake you up. He sighed, looks like he’ll just have to bite the bullet. He dreaded each moment as he quickly made an untitled group chat with the guys since you were added to their original one. He could only hope Taehyung wouldn’t change the group chat name to something stupid.
Tip Jar
#yandere bts#soft yandere bts#bts fanfic#bts series#yandere jungkook#bts angst#bts fluff#poly bts au
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HYACINTHE | Chapter 1: Jaemin x Reader
Summary:
Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones.
Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul's top organized crime family normal.
There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word.
So why, then, does he always find himself in the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?
A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.
PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader
BLACK DAISIES MASTERLIST
___________________________________________________________
I've known him for almost a year and a half when it happened.
The small bell of the cafe's back door dinged so hard, I thought it would get ripped off from the wall. I looked up, eyes wide with panic and hands still wrapped around the cold corners of a metal tray when a head of jet black hair appeared on the entrance. It took me half a second to register what I was seeing before I found myself flying to his side in a heartbeat.
"Jaemin! Oh my god, what the hell is going on!"
My first thought was that he was injured. He was doubled over and I quickly hunched to his level so that I could peer at his face. He looked paler than usual, beads of sweat stuck on his forehead, eyes glazed with a slight look of panic as he tried to keep himself from falling over. I threw out my hands to hold him by the shoulders and that's when my gaze caught it; the small black package that he quickly tried to hide inside his bomber jacket before I could even fully see what it is. I didn't give it much attention back then—I was far too focused in trying to see if he was hurt anywhere to worry about anything else. When his gaze finally focused on me, I thought I saw guilt there.
"I need your help. Sorry, I don't know where else to go."
My brows furrowed together.
"What the hell is going on—"
He reached out for one of my hands helping him up and squeezed it tight.
"Please don't ask me questions. Just—can you trust me?"
"I don't understand—" my voice started to rise. Is he hurt? Bleeding? In pain?
"Please."
My lips parted then pursed again.
"Okay."
Jaemin tugged me closer to him and threw a panicked look outside. He then pulled me farther into the now closed cafe, back into the storage room, the location of which he shouldn't even know in the first place.
"Let me hide here for a bit. Just a bit."
That encounter was my second mistake since meeting Na Jaemin.
I should have asked questions.
Lots of them.
___________________________________________________________
The first mistake happened about a year and half ago.
"Welcome to Brick and Beans, what would you like to have today?"
I plastered on my practiced smile and looked at the stranger in front of me without actually looking at him. Working in the service industry sure does things to your head once you get used to it. Despite having to deal with people all the time, you also get to develop a kind of numbness and detachment to human interaction. A face just becomes a face, a customer simply becomes just another passing responsibility. I tried to blink a few times to make myself seem more interested on the boy standing in front of my counter, patiently waiting for him to give me his order so we can go ahead and get on with both our business.
"Uh… I'll have an iced americano. No water. Eight shots of espresso."
My lips parted and curled on the sides to give him my service smile. My hand automatically reached out for the plastic cups stacked on my side while my other whipped out the marker clipped on the pocket of my apron to scribble his order.
"That's one iced americano, no water, eight—"
I stopped and blinked once. Twice. My gaze shot up at the customer in front of me again and really looked at him for the first time.
"I'm sorry, that's eight shots of espresso?"
He nodded, seemingly unbothered by my question.
"No water?"
A slight shake of the head.
"...eight shots. Of espresso."
"Eight shots, yes."
For a moment we both just stared at each other. He was looking at me patiently, probably only slightly weirded out by my question while I gave him a look that's a mix of worry and disbelief. Working as a barista has exposed me to my own fair share of weird coffee requests, but this is by far the one that takes the cake.
I softly cleared my throat and turned my attention back to the words I was scribbling on the cup. As strange as it is, I really am not in the position to judge a customer.
"That'll be 4.50 dollars. Is that for here?"
"Make it to go."
"Got it. I'll get you your order soon…"
"Jaem."
I smiled and scribbled his name on the cup.
Foot traffic was pretty slow on the cafe so I was able to quickly finish the order on autopilot. As I worked on mixing, I found myself humming softly to myself, my tune shifting into short whistles every time I would dunk an espresso shot down into that cup. I didn't even realize that the customer didn't bother taking a seat on one of the empty tables, opting to lean on the wall by the side instead, hands shoved in the pockets of his jogs as his eyes followed me.
"One iced americano for Jaem," I called out and pushed the packed drink into his hand. He handed me his card and I quickly worked on swiping it.
"You sure like your coffee explosive, huh?" I shot him a question for the sake of making small talk as I punched some buttons on my terminal.
"It's the eight shots, isn't it?"
I answered by giving him a shrug and a smile.
"It's the first time I ever did one like it. I can only imagine how it tastes like."
His lips slightly quirked into a smile. A...really cute smile if I might add.
"Is there anything wrong?"
"It's really good."
"Sure, Jaem. I'm not here to judge," I gave him a wink before handing back his card and receipt. "Well, thank you for dropping by. We hope to see you here again." He took both wordlessly and slipped them on his wallet.
I was waiting for him to walk off with his drink with the practiced polite smile plastered on my face again. He turned, coffee in hand, took about five steps, before turning to me again. I blinked in mild confusion as he placed his cup back on my counter.
"Actually… I'll have it here."
___________________________________________________________
"I'm not going to try your death coffee, Jaemin."
I didn't look up from the page I was reading but I could feel it, that deadly pout and puppy eyes combo drilling onto the side of my head. I flipped a page of my textbook over and I heard a sigh come from the boy beside me.
"I bought it for you. You said you need to finish a paper tonight."
"I do. That doesn't require me to be awake for the next week and a half," I answered back with a quirk of my lips as I finally looked up to meet his gaze. We were seated at one of the far tables of the cafe for my 15 minute break, away from the handful of customers scattered on the smattering of tables and high chairs. This has become quite a routine already… but how it started, I can't really explain.
Ever since that first order, Jaemin had made it his routine to drop by almost regularly. At first the banter started similar to how a regular customer and his favorite barista would have, but since he would always come and visit during slow hours, we would always have more time for longer conversations. Casual talk turned into light-hearted jokes, and finally into a kind of banter that comes with familiarity with each other. Slowly, I came to know the complexities of Na Jaemin, and boy, is he an enigma and a paradox rolled in one.
You never really know what to expect with him. There are days when he would be a bursting ball of energy—most of the time when he would order his drink from hell—but there are also moments when he would be quiet and reserved. I found it odd at first, but slowly accepted it since it didn't really hurt me in the first place. In fact, if I am going to be completely honest, I find this kind of personality set working for me. Imagine gaining two friends, except they're only in one body.
But that's not the only odd thing in our dynamic, too. If someone would ask me now to describe the kind of friendship I have with him, I wouldn't really know how to explain it. We joke together, laugh together, sometimes even tease the crap out of each other like we've known each other for years. We work well together, but at the same time… I know almost next to nothing about him. I don't know his address, who his other friends are, if he's going to school or not… hell, I don't even know what his number is. Outside of this cafe and his regular visits, I don't have anything to prove that he actually exists. He didn't share, and I also didn't ask.
Until today.
"Fine. I'm just going to drink this then."
I gasped before shooting him a squinted glare.
"You are going to burn a hole in your stomach, I swear to god—"
He simply shrugged and made a huge show of sipping the previously untouched tears of Lucifer.
I reached out to tug at the hood of his jacket in an attempt to call him out when I noticed it. His hair was initially masking it at first but now I could see it in full view: a purple bruise just on the side of his eye, almost to his temple.
"Oh my god, Jaemin. What happened?" I asked in a hurry as I tried to take a closer look at it. His expression changed in a heartbeat as he realized what I saw and he quickly leaned back and pulled the hoodie again over his head.
"That's—it's nothing."
"It looks so bad. How did you get that?"
He didn't answer. His eyes avoided my own and his hand gripped the plastic cup between us a little bit tighter.
"Did you get into a fight?" I pushed, gently this time.
His gaze moved to meet mine again for a few seconds. It's obvious he was contemplating what and how to answer.
"Yeah… I got into a bit of a tumble with some friends."
I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest as I leaned back on my seat. He threw me a look that silently asked what else I want from him.
"Look. You don't tell me shit but at least I know enough to be sure you are lying."
Jaemin looked away and started tapping his finger against the table.
"Why are you… why do you even want to know?"
I looked at him incredulously for a few seconds before leaning over.
"Because you're my friend and I want to make sure you are okay."
"I am okay."
"Your black eye says otherwise."
"Come on, don't push this. Can't we be friends without," he waved his hand between us. "This?"
"Jaemin, I don't even know who you are."
That made him stop. He stared at me for what felt like a full half minute and that's when I saw it for the first time. The dilemma in his eyes.
"It was because of work…"
The look of confusion I made must have been so intense that he quickly tried to jump over it.
"Work—why, what do you—"
"I'm sorry, but that's really all that I can tell you."
The sound of desperation in his tone wasn't lost on me. He looked so torn that I felt almost guilty for pressing.
"Fine… I won't ask again… As long as you are sure you're fine."
He peered at me once more as if assessing if he was finally off the hook.
"So...we're still friends?"
"Huh?"
"You and me… we're still friends?"
"Uh, yes…"
The look of relief on his face made me smile despite myself. He caught it and he made it a point to answer it with his best eye roll.
"Don't laugh at me. I don't know how to do friends."
"You're so cute~"
"Shut up."
And that was the exact day I decided—I'm never going to let Na Jaemin feel alone again.
Chapter 2
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Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 7
[I knew that this was going to happen one of these days XP I posted this on the wrong blog at first. XP ok, now it is fixed]
Grian sored through the sky, far to his right the sun sat on the horizon glowing across the water, as he followed the coast. As soon as the day was reset he had gone to his base and shoved a couple of things in a shulker box before heading off to X’s base.
It wasn’t long before the purple top of the portal tower came into view. Grian circled down and skipped to a stop in front of X’s house. Ok, so maybe he was a bit early. Xsiuma was nowhere in sight.
Grian hesitated then knocked on the front door. A couple minutes and X came to the door, he was wearing a t-shirt and sweats, and yawned, running a hand through rumpled hair.
“You're punctual,” X chuckled, “Come on in,” he moved aside to let Grian enter, “I was just getting a morning nap to keep the phantoms off. Spent too many all nighters already trying to fix this,” He shrugged, closing the door behind Grian and moving over to some barrels set against the wall and rummaging around inside.
“Oh, I’m sorry for bothering you. I can come back later if you would rather do this then.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. Want some coffee?” He asked, pulling speed, regen and fire res pots from the barrel and setting them down on an empty furnace top.
“Sure” Grian shrugged looking around. The interior was sparsely decorated, there was an oak wood floor and exposed roof rafters overhead. Chests and barrels lined one of the longer walls with a crafting table and furnace nearby. There was a bed shoved into a back corner. But that was it as far as furniture went.
X got two mugs out of a chest and started mixing the potions “Sorry about the poor excuse for an interior. To be honest I hadn’t done anything before George showed up and I had to throw something together quickly for him. Do you take speed one or two in your coffee?” He added.
“Juse one, and don’t worry about the interior, did you see the inside of my base last season,” Grian laughed.
“True,” X shrugged, stirring a little fire res into the coffee to heat it up before handing Grian his mug.
Grian held the mug up to his nose and took a deep inhale, letting out a long sigh of contentment. “Gotta love that smell,”
X closed his eyes and took a long draught before opening them again looking at Grian. Despite the tiredness still hovering behind his eyes he was back in business mode. “Alright, we can go ahead and get started. I really should do something about a table and chairs though.” He added as he started to look around for some supplies.
“Don’t worry about it,” Grian assured, “We can sit outside on the steps, it’s a beautiful morning. Besides, we'll probably want some space to work. Admin stuff might not take up much space but Watcher magic works a little differently.”
“Oh sure, Just let me get my shoes on,” X said. He summoned a pair of boots and the rest of his armor from his inventory and hurriedly started to put them on. Grian wordlessly took X’s coffee mug from him so he could use his hands without spilling on himself and then went out to sit on the steps and wait for X.
He took a sip of his coffee. The sunrise was almost over but the view was still beautiful. Grian remembered X had mentioned he was planning on building a massive statue that would fill up the sky.
X came out to join him, now dressed in his full suit of pink armor, and sat down on the step beside him taking his mug back as Grian handed it to him. His visor was up and he took another sip of his coffee before speaking “So what did you have in mind? You said you wanted to try some things. I’ve done about everything I could think of on my own.
“Yeah, first I just wanted you to give me admin permissions to leave, like you would whitelist someone. From what they were saying it sounded like their admin could give people permission to leave if he wanted to.”
“Yeah, sure. Sounds like a plan, tell me when you're ready,” X said, pulling up his HUD and setting his mug aside on the step beside him.
Grian also set his mug down and stood up “Alright- wait, did you ever actually get around to whitelisting me? I mean, it’s not like I was exactly invited in the first place. This might not work if I’m not whitelisted properly.”
“Yeah,” X nodded “I whitelisted you when we did the last server reset. As far as I can tell your connection to the server is stable.”
“Alright then, X, fire away,” Grian said, stretching.
X typed in the command and then looked back at Grian when finished “It’s done.”
“Alright, I’ll let you know how this goes,” Grian said, rubbing his hands together, soft purple sparks flying as his eyes start to glow. With a sweep of his arm he ripped a gash in reality, edged with purple void, and passed through.
Grian stands in the void where the server dwells, purple currents and mist swirl and push around him. It feels cold against his skin. He shivers. He never liked lingering in the void, it was too open, too vulnerable. Grian flaps his wings and lifts off, the mist billowing around him. He feels no resistance as he leaves the Hermitcraft Server’s domain. It seems like X’s permissions worked.
Grian turns his attention to the Dream SMP Server, he Immediately feels the mist grow thick and warm, clawing at him as he fights to stay airborne. A current knocks him askew and he flaps his wings frantically to regain control.
Slam!
He runs full force into a barrier. Stunned, he starts falling. Falling forever. Grian thinks of Hermitcraft and he can feel the soft mist of the server welcome him. He struggles to twist himself around, ripping an exit in the air below him as he falls.
Grian came tumbling through into the light and Xisuma jumped up from the steps. “Grian! What happened? Oh gods you're bleeding!”
Grian shakily picked himself up, his head throbbing. He touched his hand to his nose and it came away red. “Oh, so I am,” He muttered. “Ow,” He added as his eyes tried to adjust to the bright light of day. Was it this bright when he left? “I just-”
“Sit, sit down, you don’t look so good,” Xisuma insisted, helping Grian sit back on the step.
Grian didn’t protest “Oof, that was even worse than the first time I tried to get into that server. It’s really locked itself off”
“But what happened?”
“Um... for lack of a better explanation, I flew straight into a wall. When I am in the void I can usually move between server’s just by thinking about them. But the Dream SMP is the only server that is Watcher proof. It basically put up a fight and refused to let me in.” Grian explained.
“Hum,” X muttered rubbing the chin of his helmet as he took in the information.
“I’ve still got a couple more things we can try though. We can try and simulate the server reset and if that doesn't work, I might be able to make a special portal to-”
“Oh no you don’t, you’re done for today,” X interrupted “We need to get you checked out and make sure you don’t have a concussion,”
“I’m fine,” Grain protested, standing up and trying to force himself to focus... ok so maybe he had a concussion.
[Notes: Ok, so I wasn’t planning on giving Grian a concussion but sometimes these things just happen. It’ll make things interesting. Hope you all enjoyed this.]
#dsmp#dream smp#hermitcraft#dsmp au#dream smp au#hermitcraft au#hc x dsmp au#hermitcraft dsmp swap au#grian#watcher grian#xisuma
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Temporary Home: Chapter 14
Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)
Summary: The guardians keep trying to include you in various activities to keep your mind off what's troubling you since you won't talk about it. However, one of these activities turns out to have a, shall we say... slightly less than desired outcome.
Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here
Or click here to: Start From Beginning
Author’s Note: Thank you to @quillsandtypos, @theambracer88, @mcugiggles, @marvelouslyfluffy and all the anons who participated in my questionnaire post! As you probably guessed, I'll be using the answers (and any future ones, if anyone else still wants to play) to complete some fluffy scenes in the story!
Also, for my records this chapter ends on day 23 of the Guardians living with reader. Enjoy!
Word Count: 4,683
Rocket, though he finally had a way to repair the device, had decided to wait a bit before actually doing so. Hell, he had waited this long, certain that his smuggling had been in vain once he found one of the parts had broken on... ahem, "departure," so what was another day or two? It was obvious they were going to be here awhile anyway, so he wasn't too rushed.
One might wonder, how was Rocket able to smuggle anything if SHIELD had searched him, already having found and confiscated contraband he had hidden in his "back pocket?"
Well, Rocket wasn't an idiot. He knew of other ways to smuggle goods on his person. Or, in his person, rather. That being said, maybe to say he wasn't an idiot might be giving him a bit too much credit... Swallowing the pieces of a small data pad might not have been exactly the safest thing to do, though he had given himself a pat on the back for rightfully assuming the Terran's wouldn't think to put him through a body scanner.
He had been damned lucky that nothing had gotten lodged or had punctured any of his innards on the way through, but hey, it worked, didn't it?
Well, mostly.
As said, a part had broken on "departure," which he of course blamed on Gamora and Mantis for rushing him in the bathroom that first day. If that bug-eyed chick didn't have such a tiny bladder then he could have allowed for a more "graceful landing."
No matter, he now had a way to fix it thanks to you. This had admittedly softened his attitude towards you the tiniest bit, though he wasn't going to admit it, nor was he going to completely let his guard down. Use of your workshop was probably just another bribe to win his favor, after all. Just like the bed. He was definitely going to take advantage of it, don't get him wrong. He wasn't just not going to use the tools available to him. Just like he wasn't going to just not sleep in the bed you built him. It was better than sleeping in the crib, though he had been grateful the crib had been left in the room when you left the bed. He had been hiding the pieces of the smuggled device under the crib's mattress -the only good use he saw for it, other than the fact that Groot actually slept pretty well in it- because boy, if the others had found out he had smuggled that in, they would have been pissed. Hence, why he wasn't in too big a hurry to fix it just yet.
Perhaps it couldn't hurt to maybe fix that broken stool in the shed for you, though. Just for a warm up, not because he thought he owed you anything, of course.
***
The evening of the check-in you had found yourself with nothing to do and back in the thoughts that had plagued you since the couple came, and you once again considered pouring yourself a glass or two of whiskey.
Yondu had been leaning against the counter enjoying a snack when he saw you retrieve the bottle from the fridge. Remembering the previous night he raised an eyebrow at you. The last thing he wanted was to witness a repeat, but thought he'd still keep an eye on you. Cut you off again before/if you started to look a little too "weepy." He had doubts that you even remembered what you'd done the previous night, and this was confirmed when he made a lighthearted comment about, "Ya goin' to take it easy tonight, or will I be needin' to cut you off again?" and you raised an eyebrow at him before saying, "What? You didn'- Oh right- I think I do remember you taking my drink now that you mention it," as you set the bottle on the table and went to retrieve a glass from the cupboard.
You now sported a slight blush and, pausing your actions, asked, "I um, didn't say or do anything embarrassing to have warranted that, did I?"
Yondu looked you right in the eye, and lied. "Nope. It was just clear ya had a bit much. Figured I'd save yer wimpy Terran liver." He laughed at your slight pout and added, "Ya just whined at me fer takin' yer drink and then fell asleep. Nuttin' too excitin'."
Yondu could see the relief on your face and it solidified his lack of regret of not telling you. Sure, he might have wanted to crack the mystery to see why you were the way you were, but not like that. He hadn't expected the previous night's display, and if anything, it made him feel like he should back off. Yes, it prompted more burning questions, but even he knew there were some things you just didn't pry into.
Around that time Peter and Kraglin came into the kitchen, messing about and horse-playing. You considered telling them to break it up, but then decided you didn't actually care enough as long as they weren't about to break anything... or anyone. You were about to make your standard polite offer of a drink when suddenly a rip was heard and Peter whined out, "Aw man! You ripped my favorite shirt!"
Sure enough, their rough-housing had managed to rip the seam along the left-shoulder of Peter's dark blue shirt, leaving a sizable hole of a couple inches long that revealed another white shirt underneath.
You rolled your eyes and told him where he could find the sewing kit.
Peter looked at you sheepishly and said, "I don't know how to sew."
You sighed and said, "I guess I'm not doing anything..." and you began to walk towards him and the exit of the kitchen, abandoning the bottle of whiskey on the table without having poured a drink.
Peter took off his ripped shirt and in a surprised voice said, "Oh!- Thanks-" starting to hand you the shirt as you walked past.
You didn't take the shirt, just looked at him as a laugh escaped your throat. "I didn't say I'd do it for you. I meant I'll teach you." With that you cocked your head towards the door and headed out towards the sitting room.
As you walked away you shook your head and muttered something Peter couldn't hear but assumed was an insult as he blushed both from embarrassment at his mistake and from hearing Yondu and Kraglin now laughing at him. He wordlessly followed, not wishing to make more of a fool of himself.
Watching Peter leave, inspiration struck Yondu. It might be overstepping, and might have been a long shot, but it was worth a try. He nudged Kraglin in the arm to get his attention. "Ya remember last night? How things got a little too..." he searched for the right word.
Kraglin finished for him, "Sad? Yeah. I remember." He caught sight of the bottle on the table. "She back at it tonight?" He and Yondu hadn't discussed what happened when he had returned to the kitchen after walking you to your room. It had gone unsaid that you were in a bad way.
"She was gonna," Yondu answered, "but then you two came in and gave her something to distract herself. Might not hurt to keep doing that for a bit."
"Ya wanna keep her busy?" Kraglin asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Better than watchin' her drown herself in a bottle," Yondu replied flippantly with a shrug, but Kraglin could see through his blasé attitude.
He was slightly surprised, but not completely opposed to Yondu's suggestion. You had been drinking a lot the past few days. It didn't take a genius to see that something was obviously wrong, and he knew better that drinking like that only made sad feelings worse. If this had been the Eclector, and you part of the crew, he or Yondu would have cut you off well before now once they saw the pit you were digging. You just don't let sad people drink themselves into a stupor. It's bad form. But this wasn't the ship, and you weren't crew, and they couldn't stop you. They were in your house. They've barely known you for three weeks. He knew they couldn't just order you around, but if a little bit of distraction kept him from seeing you looking that sad again and kept you from hiding in the bottom of a bottle, he was for it.
Yondu spoke again, more or less repeating Kraglin's thoughts back at him. "I know we're on her turf, but someone's gotta do somethin'. It's bad form to just let h- to just to let a person drown like that. She needs to get her mind off what's been troubling her."
Kraglin examined the former captain's features. There was something else there. An emotion behind his eyes the first mate was familiar with after years of faithful service. Cap'n might not always be the best at admitting his softer feelings, but Kraglin knew. He could see it.
It was a look similar to the one he wore after he finished telling Rocket just how alike they were, right before they went to fight Ego. It was the same look in his eyes he had shortly after Peter came aboard the Eclector as a boy and it was decided he wasn't going to be delivered to Ego. One Kraglin even thought he recognized being on the receiving end of when he was a younger lad on the crew.
Kraglin smiled, a soft mix of understanding and sadness. "Sir," he said gently.
Yondu grunted in response and glanced at him.
"First, I do agree with ya, we should help keep her mind off it, but I just gotta say this too." He sighed before continuing. He knew Yondu wasn't going to like what he was about to say, but they were alone now, so he felt safe to say it. He knew if he said this in front of anyone else it'd a a surefire way to put Yondu dangerously close to whistling territory. "We can't be getting too attached, now."
Yondu glared at him. "Who said anythin' about-"
"Sir, all respect and all, but I think I can say I know ya better than anyone else here." Kraglin said, having cut Yondu off with a slight chuckle. "I can see it, I can tell when you're getting attached." His tone got slightly more serious, more comforting. "I don't think it'll be good for ya to get too attached, sir. We'll be leaving here eventually, and we know she ain't gonna be coming with us."
Yondu set his mouth in a firm line and stared Kraglin down hard but didn't say anything. He knew his first mate was right, but that didn't mean he had to admit it. Finally he answered with, "I ain't gettin' attached to nuttin' or nobody."
Kraglin sighed. If he knew anything else it was that Yondu could also be stubborn as hell. If he wanted to live in denial, well there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. "Alright, sir," he said with a shake of his head. "I believe ya." He didn't, and his tone betrayed that, earning him a narrowed eyed look from Yondu, but they dropped the conversation, at least for now.
***
Showing Peter how to sew went fairly smoothly. He seemed to grasp the concept well enough, watching you sew the first third of the tear - not the easiest task with your brace on- and then repeating what you had shown him on the rest himself. He finished soon enough and thanked you before leaving the table.
However, almost immediately after that Kraglin showed up with something ripped and asked if you could teach him too. You sighed, and mildly scolded him about how come he couldn't have asked while you were showing Peter, but you agreed regardless. Again, it wasn't exactly the easiest task considering you only had a limited range of motion to move your arm, but you managed. After he finally seemed to get it (he asked a lot of questions, even if he understood, assuming it'd be helpful to keep you occupied for longer) you noticed it had gotten dark out, and you were tired anyway, and so when it looked like he had a handle on it you decided to just go to bed.
***
The next day it seemed like people just kept asking you to do things. Not like they were ordering you around, but more like asking you to do things with them, which they hadn't often done.
It wasn't all bad, but you had the feeling it wasn't just a coincidence that they were seemingly trying to keep you engaged in various tasks and activities after Maria had informed you that one of them had expressed concerns about your well-being. You didn't know if they were now acting on their own or if Fury or Agent Hill had suggested it, but either way you figured you'd just roll with it. If you made an effort maybe they'd be happy and drop it.
That morning, before you realized what was going on, Mantis came to you with a book on plants and asked you to help her identify different plants around the property. You had almost said no, perhaps another time, but then you saw the expectant look on her happy face and decided you had time to kill anyway, so what could it hurt?
It was about when you were asked by Mantis and Drax to join the others for a game of UNO that you started to suspect what was going on.
Before this, Peter had kept coming up to you wanting to show you funny videos he found, having recently discovered the YouTube app on the TV; Yondu had come to you with an archery book and tried making small-talk asking about Terran types of archery; and Gamora and Kraglin asked you to help ref while everyone sparred.
You had agreed to reffing, feeling a little better than you had been all those days you had refused and now therefore not seeing any reason not to.
It was a slight bummer though, needing to sit on the sidelines and watching others train, but you supposed watching them to see if they knew any cool 'space moves' couldn't hurt. Plus, watching how the raccoon was able to hold his own against human-sized opponents was always interesting. Groot sat with you, not being permitted to spar with the others (except for when Rocket would decide to pretend spar with him, just to make him happy) and he was adorable as he played with the grass, so it wasn't all bad.
After that everyone else was pretty much tired, but Groot came up to you with the car you had given him, holding it above his head. You raised an eyebrow and looked to Peter, who informed you that the little guy wanted you to push him on it. You did, because how could you possibly say no to that?
What was cute to Peter, however, was the fact that no one had prompted Groot to do that. He just genuinely wanted you to play with him.
After a while of playing with Groot is when Mantis and Drax had come to you about playing UNO. Now you were getting a hint of what they were doing, but you agreed to play a few games with them anyway. You even caught yourself actually starting to have fun.
Around suppertime Peter came up to you, asking if you could teach him how to cook something. He talked about how he thought it'd be fun to learn to cook more things from his home world, and also reminded you how you did say several times that he could 'help you cook later.'
You sighed and after some more prodding from Peter you finally agreed, asking him what he might like to learn how to cook.
Peter looked like a deer in the headlights before admitting that he didn't actually know. He didn't remember a whole lot of different Terran foods from when he was a kid, and he was now drawing a blank.
You nodded towards the kitchen and told him the two of you would figure it out.
After looking for a bit you decided on a vegetable stew, mostly because this had been unexpected and you hadn't pulled any meat from the freezer to thaw.
Peter was surprisingly not bad at it. He handled the knife safely, he cut the vegetables evenly, and he listened as you told him what to do and when. You wondered if he had some experience cooking before, but you didn't ask.
After dinner Gamora wouldn't take no for an answer on helping with the dishes, of course using your injury as an excuse. You sighed, but allowed it, agreeing to dry while she washed, still under the impression that if you just indulged them for a bit they'd eventually stop and start leaving you along again.
Just as you finished Peter came to the two of you asking if you wanted to see a new movie he found on Netflix.
Figuring it wouldn't hurt to make an effort, you agreed to watching a movie with them and followed into the sitting room, wondering what film he had picked out.
Turned out, he had chosen a horror movie. Candy Man.
You sighed. Obviously you weren't completely immune to jump scares, but you didn't really mind horror movies. You could even go as far to say that you enjoyed most of them. However, you were concerned about Mantis, who you could see sitting happily on the rug in front of the couch next to Rocket as you entered the room.
"Are you sure this movie is appropriate for everyone?" you ask Peter.
"What? You scARed?" Rocket taunted with a smirk, and it was then that you saw Groot on the rug as well, having been sitting in Rocket's lap.
You roll your eyes and explain that your concerns were for the wooden child and Mantis, as your time spent with them hadn't made you very confident that they would recieve a scary movie well. "I'm more concerned the movie's gonna give them nightmares," you explained as you took a seat at the end of the couch.
Gamora seemed to agree with you, but the two of you were outvoted. Rocket just rolled his eyes and snarked that he bet you were scared, and Mantis assured excitedly that she could watch it. Groot, even though you couldn't understand him, also seemed adamant. You had a feeling they didn't really know what they were getting into, but combined with the fact that Mantis was an adult, and Groot wasn't your child, and Peter was doing his best to convince you and Gamora that everything would be fine, you eventually gave in, stating, "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. She better not crawl into my bed tonight. I'll send her your way."
Peter just laughed and shook his head, not taking you seriously, before turning out the lights and taking a seat next to Gamora at the other end of the couch. Kraglin took the last available seat between you and Peter and Rocket smarted off again.
"If you're gonna get scared maybe Kraglin will hold your hand!" he laughed as Peter turned on the film.
You rolled your eyes at him and crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to look at Kraglin to give the rodent any satisfaction that he might have succeeded in embarrassing you. This, Kraglin was grateful for, because he was sort of an easy blusher, and he didn't want you to get the wrong idea. He just gave Rocket an unamused look, but he was also grateful the lights had been dimmed so that Yondu couldn't see him blushing and then tease him for it. Whether or not the former Ravager captain would actually believe Kraglin might have managed to develop feelings for you wouldn't matter. That fact that Kraglin had just told Yondu the previous night that he shouldn't be getting attached would be enough for him to jump on it and tease the hell out of him purely out of spite.
Despite the movie being old, it was still relatively new to you. You had heard about it, thought you remembered seeing a commercial or maybe a clip or two of it over the years, but this had been your first time actually watching it.
It was about halfway though and nothing terribly scary had happened yet. There was the flashback scene of a little boy having been mutilated that made you cringe, as any show that featured little kids being harmed always hit a sore spot, but it didn't really show much more than a bloody bathroom.
You were starting to think it probably wasn't going to be any real scary scenes, but then Candyman started to call the college lady's name, and it actually made you fight a shiver. You didn't know why, but creepy sounds were one of the few things from a film that could actually strike fear in your heart. Thankfully it didn't last long. You weren't looking forward to being teased for jumping or shivering at a movie that wasn't really even that scary.
At least it would mean that Mantis would be unlikely to crawl into your bed scared tonigh-
Candyman just shoved his hook through the college lady's medicine cabinet.
Half of everyone jumped, including you. Among those startled was Kraglin, and he shot you a glance that you purposely didn't return, not wanting to answer to any cocky smiles or teases accusing you of being scared.
A shot came on the screen centering on the baby Candyman took and you tensed, worried he was going to kill it, but you were relieved to see that he only let it suckle on his finger.
Kraglin felt you tense and then relax beside him, and he frowned, remembering the other night. He considered asking if you were alright, but then thought better of it and held his tongue, instead watching on as a scene played where the lady was now stuck in a mental hospital, having been believed to have killed her best friend and said baby from the previous scene.
Yondu didn't think he liked this movie, but he continued to watch in silence. He didn't want to see kids being hurt, and he had also tensed at the previous scene. Like you, he was sure that the bad guy was about to kill the baby. However, as he was sitting in his usual spot in the armchair, his tension went unnoticed.
Mantis let out a short scream when the lady summoned Candyman and he killed the psychiatrist. You sighed, realizing this wasn't looking good for her staying in her own bed tonight. Little did Peter know, you hadn't been kidding. If she tries to crawl in with you, you're sending her right to him, seeing as it would be his fault.
The lady was now exploring Candyman's lair, and you started to get a little tense at the creepy sounds of his breathing, and you mentally cursed whoever mixed the sound for this movie.
You got even more tense and fidgety when he opened his robe to reveal a ribcage full of bees. You only hoped no one noticed to tease you for it. Body horror was another thing that never failed to make you shudder.
Eventually the movie started to come to a close, a scene played where the lady's jerk ex-fiancé was having flashbacks to how good he had it with her now that she was dead, and you thought it was just going to end on a sad note.
That is, until he said her name, Helen, five times in the mirror (just like Candyman) and she came back and killed him with the Candyman's hook. Her sudden appearance made you startle slightly, and you heard more squeals from Mantis. You sighed again. Yep, she was definitely not going to sleep tonight.
The movie was finally over and Peter got up to turn on the lights. He turned to see you giving him a glare and he smiled. "What? Was it too scary for you?" he jeered.
You just pointed down to Groot. He had his head buried in Rocket's chest and was softly whimpering. "I told you that movie wasn't for kids."
Rocket scoffed at you and told you he would be fine, then turned it on you, saying how he felt you jump at least three times from where he was sitting.
You rolled your eyes and ignored him, turning to Peter and this time gesturing to Mantis, who still looked a bit shaken. "I meant what I said. She tries to crawl in bed with me, I'm sending her to you," you say, leaving to go to go get ready for bed, both because it was now late, and to avoid any inevitable further teasing from Rocket.
The others seemed to have much the same idea about bedtime, and a few of them followed you up the stairs.
You let Mantis shower first, hopeful that if you went after her that she might hopefully be asleep by the time you got out. However, when you finished your own shower, Peter had thought it'd be funny to jump-scare you as you exited the bathroom, grabbing your shoulders and shouting, "CANDYMAN'S GOTCHA!" which resulted in you jumping a mile with a noise you'd deny was a shriek before you turned to punch him in the arm scolding, "Damn you!"
He, along with Rocket, only responded by laughing their asses off at you. You thought you could also hear Drax's own booming laughter down the hall from his room, and you caught a glimpse of Yondu and Kraglin sharing amused glances and snickering from their shared room.
Your face getting warm at the fact that he had actually managed to get you pretty good, you then just storm off to your room, ignoring Rocket's teases that he bet that you'd be the one crawling into Mantis's bed tonight.
You shut the bedroom door behind you to see Mantis awake and clutching her bear for dear life. Whether she was just already awake due to nerves or you had woken her with your startled cry, you didn't know, but you flicked on your desk lamp for her, turned out your overhead light and crawled into bed without a word.
Sometime later, long enough for you to have drifted off into a decently sound enough sleep to be dreaming, you were startled awake by someone crawling into your bed.
Guess who. That's right. Mantis.
You groaned and turned to see she had already crawled halfway into your bed before you stopped her by rousing. "Mantis," you groaned, pointing towards the door, "go climb into Peter's bed. He's the one that chose the movie."
Mantis tucked her chin sheepishly and admitted she had already tried that, but his and Gamora's door had been locked.
You stared at the ceiling and sighed. Clever bastard.
You made a mental note to squirt lemon juice in his coffee in the morning before letting out another groan. "Ugh, fine. But just this once," you allowed, ignoring the fact that this would actually technically be the second time. You were also not actually quite as salty as you let on. If anything, you should maybe thank her for waking you from a bad dream involving the Candyman's ribcage full of bees, but you weren't going to tell her that.
She smiled gratefully and thanked you as she snuggled in.
You sighed quietly and Mantis fell asleep quickly. At least she didn't snore.
You spent the next bit before you fell asleep yourself contemplating different ways that you might be able to annoy Peter for sufficient payback.
#gotg#gotg fanfiction#guardians of the galaxy#x reader#yondu lives#scary movies#candyman#yondu udonta#kraglin obfonteri#rocket racoon and groot#mantis#peter quill#starlord
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Chapter 5: An Old Friend
Warnings: this one is mostly fluff, so I don’t think there are any warnings. Maybe references to past trauma? If I’m missing one please lmk!
Author’s Note: Chapter 5!! Enjoy!!
(gif gotten from javierian)
After the little…. predicament with the last mission…. you couldn’t deny that you had gotten closer with the anonymous man you had been living with.
You made pleasant conversation, never too deep, but you felt more comfortable in his company. You had felt the same way with Peli… but this was different.
Your heart rate would increase whenever he would talk to you, and your mood would increase as well. You were excited to get to know him! This man who had taken you in knowing absolutely nothing about you. The least you could do was make him feel comfortable around you, and that didn’t even feel like enough.
It made you happy when he would ask you questions, like “did you enjoy the dinner last night” or “how did you sleep.”
It felt good to have someone be curious and care about you in your present state, not just your past or your abilities. And you loved to ask him questions too.
If you were lucky, he would tell you a story about an old job he did, and those were the best. It was like getting little pieces to a much larger, beautiful puzzle. A puzzle you prayed you would see finished by the end of your time with him.
The best interaction you had, by far, was when he finally ate with you.
It had been a nice day. You guys had stopped for supplies and it felt good to stretch your legs a little bit.
You found a great little food stand that had fresh meat and vegetables, and you knew you could make a delicious meal out of it. You shared your excitement with Mando, who nodded and helped you carry the supplies back to the crest.
Once you made it back and put all the supplies down in the incredibly tiny kitchen, you went to work.
You used amazing spices that you hadn’t tasted in weeks on the meat, and made sure to brown the vegetables in the same pan you used for the meat. That way they would soak up the amazing rendered flavors that the meat left over. After that, you put it all together in a pot and poured savory chicken broth in to mix the flavors.
Your stomach was grumbling at the smell alone.
The kid was hungry too, you could tell by the way he stared at you while you worked, so you made sure to save a hefty serving for him when you poured the meal into serving bowls.
You gave the little guy his serving and set yours right next to his on the dining table. You then carried Mando’s serving to the cockpit to give it to him.
You had an idea…. and you hated how you got your hopes up that he would agree.
You stood behind the pilot’s chair for a moment, until you finally took a deep breath and said, “Dinner is ready.”
Mando spun around in his chair and took the bowl from you.
“This smells amazing. Thank you,” he said and got up to walk to his room. He always ate in there because of his creed, and you felt a pull on your heartstrings every time you would think about him eating all alone. You wanted him with you and the kid. You felt full when you three were together, and Mando eating alone felt like you were leaving him out. You knew what that felt like, and you never wanted to inflict it on others.
This was it. This was the moment.
“Wait,” you said, and he turned back around to you, still holding the bowl in his hands.
Every time he looked at you straight on you felt your nerves creep up your spine and your hands become fidgety. You felt cheesy and stupid. This man was basically your roommate, not some partner you needed to impress.
But why does it feel that way?
“I uh… I was thinking that maybe.. we could figure out a way to eat together? I feel bad that you have to eat alone in your room, so maybe I could.. I don’t know.. turn around? And get the kid to do that as well? If you aren’t comfortable with that I totally get it, I just.. feel really bad that you don’t have anyone to eat with,” you say.
Of course he will say no. Why would he trust someone to just “turn around?” As if they wouldn’t want to catch a glimpse?
Your hopes were sinking every moment he stood in silence, and you weren’t liking your chances.
He looked down at his bowl and then back up at you, and these were the moments you wished he wasn’t so good at hiding his emotions. You wanted to see and feel what he was thinking, but he was impenetrable. He was like a stone wall, and you hated it.
He sighed, obviously thinking about what you said, and you just waited. You didn’t want to pressure him anymore. He can make his own decisions, and you can deal with them.
“If I do that,” he says, “you have to swear to me… you won’t turn around. And you won’t let the kid turn either.”
Your eyes widened.
It worked, you think. How the hell did that work?
“I swear Mando. I will not turn around on any circumstance, and I will do everything in my power to keep the kid at bay. If he doesn’t want to cooperate, I will eat with him away from you just to be safe. I promise,” you say and he nods.
“Ok,” he mumbles, and you smile at him. A genuine smile. A smile that says all the things you wish you could say, but are too afraid.
You hoped he wasn’t as good at reading people as you were.
“Ok. Let’s go,” you say and he follows you back to the table.
“Ok kid. You’ve gotta turn around for me ok,” you say to the kid and he babbles something incoherent.
“Thank you for the compliment on the food. I’ve known that recipe for a while,” you say with a giggle while turning his chair around.
You turn yours around as well and grab your bowl to set on your lap.
You and the child are now facing away from Mando, eating your dinner, and you couldn’t be happier.
Your belly slowly becoming more full calms your excitement, until you hear a small hiss and the sound of metal scratching the floor.
It’s off. Mando’s helmet is off.
You take a deep breath and close your eyes.
He did it. He really trusts me to do this.
You hear the sounds of him eating the soup and you swear this couldn’t get any better.
You go back to eating with a huge grin on your face, and you keep the child in your peripheral vision to make sure he doesn’t turn either.
You had connected with him through the force a couple of times since your first meeting. You had gotten better at reading the little one, and you could see just a faint look of understanding in his body language.
He didn’t waver. He didn’t squirm. He just ate as still as he could, and you were so grateful.
Seriously? This was all it took for the kid to behave, you wondered to yourself
Mando mumbling, “This is really good,” shatters through your thoughts like ice.
Mando’s voice. His true voice, just hit your ears for the first time ever, and you wanted it burned into your brain forever. You never wanted to hear anything different.
It wasn’t just the sound of it, but the feeling. You could hear the gratitude in his voice and it sent chills down your arms.
It was him. His voice. Something no one could ever replicate. It was truly his own.
“Thank you,” you say and take another sip of your soup. Your appetite has basically vanished at this point, and your ears just yearn to hear more.
“I think the kid is enjoying himself,” you say, and you pray you get Mando’s rarest gem of all in its rawest form.
And you do.
He gives a soft chuckle of a laugh. “Yeah, I think so too,” he says and takes another bite.
If you dropped dead right now, you would die a happy woman.
How do you even iterate what that felt like? What it felt like to hear this big, scary, metallic man give off something so vulnerable to you.
Had other people heard this at all? Maybe not even since he was a child?
Your hands started to shake from the endorphins and you finished your bowl. You took the kid’s bowl as well and placed it inside your own and just sat. Just soaked in this happy moment that you never wanted to end.
If only you knew how big of a smile Mando had on his face behind you.
~~*~~
A few days pass and the energy on the ship is the best it’s ever been.
You had eaten dinner together every day since then, and you wondered how something so simple could make you so….happy.
Mando was at his pilot’s chair (as usual) and he called for you to come to the cockpit.
Luckily it was pretty late, so the kid was passed out.
You made your way to the cockpit and saw that Mando had an image broadcasting from the ship’s holoprojecter. The image was of a man with a darker skin tone and flecks of grey in his hair. He looked like he had been through a lot, as his clothes were slightly tattered and ripped.
“I’d like you to hear this,” Mando said before pressing play.
The man in the image proceeded to explain how ranks of ex- imperial guards were ruling over his city and they needed Mando’s help to take them down. He proposed that Mando return to Nevaro and bring the child as bait, and once they got near the client, Mando would kill him.
The man said that if Mando succeeded, he would have his name cleared in the Guild and he can keep the child.
The clip ended and Mando turned to face you.
“What do you think,” he asked, and you looked to the floor with knit eyebrows, thinking.
“Bringing the child as bait is incredibly risky, but if you trust that man, I don’t see a problem with it. You can take down ex- Imperial guards no problem,” you say, and he nods.
“I’m just confused how you even know that man,” you say.
“He’s… an old friend,” Mando says, and you don’t like the sound of that.
“We kinda got off on the wrong foot last time we talked,” he said, and you nodded.
“So… he is saying you get to keep the child if you succeed, but we have had him this whole time?”
“There’s something you need to know,” he says, and he goes to explain how he really got the child, and how he has been being hunted by the Empire this whole time.
Throughout the explanation, you listen intently, nodding and keeping eye contact with Mando.
You would think that the fact that the Empire had been on your tracks the whole time would scare you, but it doesn’t.
It fuels you. You three were pissing the Empire off, and there was nothing you liked doing more.
You felt powerful. Unstoppable. For once you were making them mad, not the other way around. And you liked it.
You are not angry at Mando, not even a little. You feel relieved.
This perfect man who had given you nothing but happiness….wasn’t perfect. You had so many demons, and you found someone who did too. Someone who did something bad for the right reasons. You found a good person, who did the right thing because it was right. He had a good heart rather than an ego, and he let you in on something so precious to him. This child.
And you were not gonna let the galaxy rip him away.
Once he finished, you took a deep breath. You looked at him and smiled.
“You know…I am pretty relieved Mando,” you say, and he cocked his head to the side slightly in confusion.
“I thought you looked like that under the helmet,” you say, gesturing with your head to the sleeping green creature behind you, and you laugh.
Mando’s shoulders relax, and his grip on the arm rests of the pilot’s chair softens.
“Seriously Mando, it’s ok. You did the right thing. 99% of people would have just dumped the kid and left. I am proud of you. I am proud to be on this mission,” you say.
“If saving a baby from the Empire gets me arrested, then by all means let them arrest me.”
Mando’s shoulders shake a little. It probably felt incredible to get this off his chest. He had been keeping this from you for a while.
I wonder if eating with me helped him trust me more?
“Ok,” he breathes out of his helmet. “Good. I was hoping you’d stay.”
“Oh I’m staying alright,” you say and he gives a breathy laugh.
“But this is your decision Mando. I am up for going or staying. I know you understand there are risks in both options,” you say, referring to the offer the man on the recording had given you earlier.
“Whatever you want to do. I trust you,” you say and his head snaps back to make eye contact with you.
You give him a weak smile, and allow what you said to sink through his beskar and into his skin.
I. Trust. You.
After a moment, he turns back to his controls and stares into space.
If you’re being honest, you have no idea what you would choose. If you don’t go, the kid will keep being hunted and at risk. If you do go, that man could betray you and get you all killed.
Mando is in deep thought, as are you, and you jump a little when he starts punching coordinates into the controls.
“Sorgan? Why Sorgan?” you ask.
He turns to face back to you, and you can only imagine the cocky smirk he has on his face.
“An old friend.”
Tag list:
@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @bookloverfilmoholic @farfromjustordinary
#din djarin#mando#din djarin imagine#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#din djarin fluff#the mandalorian fanfiction#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian
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Wrong Encounter
Synth’s 5K Follower Challenge / How it started – How’s it going?
@syntheticavenger , Congrats on reaching 5K and thank you for hosting this magnificent celebratory challenge.
Title: Wrong Encounter
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader
Challenge: Any character but arguing over being charged for something you didn’t order at a restaurant and the owner comes to assist.
Warning: 18+ only, dark content, explicit language, explicit sexual content, vaginal play/teasing?, sex/human trafficking?, sexwork, forced prostitution, forced sexwork, smut, unprotected sex, NonCon
A/N: I can’t say this enough; Synth thank you for inspiring me to write again!
I could have gone any direction yet this came out and fought me along the way, so I whipped out the old skool pen and paper. Maybe a little too save on the warnings, but at least they’re there. Don’t think it is dark enough, so enjoy this masterpiece of crappiness, because editing is not making it any better with this beer I’m consuming. Also as a non-native tongue here, so ALL mistakes are my own. Only lightly proofread, so don’t come for me.
ENJOY!
Pictures for moodboard inspo found on pinterest, so all the credit goes to the respectful owners. The quote inspired the final part to this.
How it started
The red ambiance of the room mixed well with the black shining floor and hanging chandeliers, it was slick and well set up. Looking around the room had you wondering what the parties must be like at night. A colleague had recommended this new place – an exquisite night – as they had described it. Yours ending miserably having a disagreement with your waiter.
The waiter had a way of pissing you off tonight and irritation was clearly bubbling “I’ve only had the steak with sides and a fucking bottle of rose, not the entire fish tank and three bottles of your most expensive champagne” your white knuckles balling around his collar as you practically screamed in his face.
“There was another table that said you would pay for them.” It sounded like a plea of trying to settle the rage that was coursing through your body.
“OUTRAGEOUS -- you don’t fact check with your customers?” You seethed “Listen up you little shit. I want to speak to your manager” throwing him out of your grasp, making him stumble backwards bumping into someone.
“He’s already here and you have his undivided attention” your waiter stands in front of the large man awkwardly “Get back to work Jensen, I’ll deal with this fiery kitten” he nods and practically runs off.
Annoyance rising at his degrading comment. “Perfect, an insult to go with the wrongly charges to my bill”
“Ma’am please calm down, I’m sure there’s a way to resolve this mishap” his stance intimidates you
Your eyes wandered to his silver nametag “Why should I calm down, mister Drysdale? Or should I say, entitled prick?” there was pride in your comeback, no-one should ever call you a fiery little kitten.
“Ma’am, Ransom, please and watch your mouth, because we have places for woman like you.” It almost sounds like a threat and you’re willing to fight him on it.
He’s a dark enigma, you can feel it radiate from his body. You’re too caught in taking in his enchanting features and wonder what kind of sorcery this man is using on you to make you feel so small.
“Why don’t we settle this in my office” A charming smile thrown your way, but you’re too caught up in observing the blue-eyed man in front of you “Ma’am?”
“Sorry, yeah, the idiot waiting on me charged more to my bill than I even consumed.” You explained without him asking for any of it.
“Unfortunate, but it happens, please follow me to my office so we can resolve this. Can I offer you a coffee or something else for the inconvenience?”
“No – No, your waiter overcharged me. No need to sit down somewhere private for this idiotic mishap” words falling firmly from your tongue “Just fix my bill so I can be on my way and never come back.”
“Please, let us sort this out, if you just come with me to my office -- we can talk this over” His calming persistence had you hooked and you took a deep breath in.
“Fine.”
“Great, thank you – Jensen, we’ll be in my office, don’t fuck up more than you already have” You roll your eyes at the barked order, he felt superior to his employees.
You had followed him into his office, the golden name plate beaming on the door. The dark aesthetic of his office fitted well with the ambiance he’d created in his restaurant and nightclub, it felt luxurious and exclusive, sprinkled with a bit of mystery.
Ransom stood by his bar cart filled with expensive liquors while your eyes lingered on the well-stocked bookshelves. Ransom Drysdale didn’t look like much of a reader to you.
“My grandfathers, well most of it anyway, he’s a writer and owns Blood Like Wine Publishing” Ransom explained looking at your admiring gaze. You look back at him noticing his motioning gesture to the chairs “Please sit, can I offer you a drink?”
“No thank you” shaking your head at his offer, he poured his poison of choice, even though you had refused he handed you a glass. It would be rude to decline again, you accepted the tumbler letting your fingers trace the outlines of the crystal glass in your hand.
“I won’t keep you for long. What happened?”
“Tonight I celebrated my promotion and a colleague recommended this place. To find out that – Jensen, I believe his name is – added the entire fish menu and three bottles of your exclusive champagne to my bill. Only to justify it with -- the other customers told me that you would pay for them – kinda bullshit” anger returning you gulped down the strong spirit.
“I apologize for the experience. How about we forget this night? I want you to come back somewhere next week. Let us wine and dine you, give you the experience you deserved to have had tonight.” He took a sip from his own glass looking at you with darkened yet hopeful eyes.
It had been a tempting offer, was it going to be worth your time or would you be left disappointed again? “You know what, fine. I’ll be here next week, same time, same day.”
How’s it going?
One week later
Everything in you had screamed not to continue the night in Ransom’s office. Yet here you we, having had that hard liquor burning down your throat. He’d explained how you owed him now and that his interest in your aggression -- a week prior -- had sparked his desire. There was no going back, there was no way out.
Ransom’s looking forward to what is to come. For now, he’s cherishing this moment, he loves the switch being pulled, when the terror fills your eyes and start to physically fight him. They always did and he knows you will too, within the soundproof walls screaming when there is still fight left.
Your mind still trying to comprehend his plans for you. You weren’t sure what to say, instead you settled on staring back at him. Your optic view taking in his well-build frame. You licked your lips unknowingly when he flexed his pecks under the crisp white button down. Your body betraying you by your crossed legs clenching together.
“Like what you see, precious?” your wandering gaze shot up to meet his eyes, your cheeks blushed as you got caught in the act “-I am certainly liking what I’m seeing”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Mister Drysdale” you roll your eyes, leaning forward to set the empty tumbler on his desk. He’d taken a step sideways having his crotch right in your face. “Is this really how you want to settle this?”
“Ransom, I insist -- and funny you should ask.” He looks amused by your question “This is exactly how we’re going to finish this extravaganza I offered you”
He was on you before you could even make a comeback. His strong arms had lifted you from the chair, kissing you roughly. A strong – almost painful – hold on your neck, other on your hip pushing you into him feeling his stiff shaft probing against your lower belly.
You felt the shame rising as you let out a moan. His free hand hiking up your skirt, ripping your panties with his calloused hands. The sound snapped you back to reality of what was happening. You tried to push him off, but struggled in his strong grasp. Grabbing his wrist digging your nails in into his flesh.
“You evil spawn.” He roared crushing the grip on your neck, making you squirm “I was going to make this a pleasant thing, but now I’ll take what’s mine.”
“Rail me daddy.” You taunted, you knew you shouldn’t, but there was nothing left to loose.
“That mouth on you little minx. Not one to deny requests though, so the pleasure will be all mine -- Until.That.Cunt.Is.All.Fucked.Out.” with each word spoken he had rubbed himself on you, the heat in your pussy rising unwillingly.
“I just didn’t know you were running a brothel.”
“This is not a brothel, there are no prostitutes at this address. Just woman with disrespecting mouths like yours solicited for exclusive places like mine” Ransom muses “Because you’re staying right here – with me” He forces your neck to bend uncomfortably forcing you to look into his darkened orbs.
Trying to fight him, but failed under his strength. Your body surrendering to his brutal force pressing you into the mahogany wood. The chime of his belt and zip being undone echoing through the room.
“Don’t please.” You begged trying to get out of this horrible nightmare. A wrong encounter because of being wrongly charged for items you didn’t consume.
“Let’s play a little game first; if those panties aren’t drenched - I’ll let you go” Keening at the cool air hitting your clit when Ransom’s hands opened your wet lips. “But – if that sweet little honey pot of yours is soaked for me, I’ll fuck you open with just my cock and you’ll stay right here -- forever.”
“No.” you protested.
His whispered confession only proved his twisted game. “I think you and I both know what it will be.” His fingers played with your clit and prodded your entrance. A soft wail escaped at his given attention. “I think you’ll be a nice addition to my selection of ladies.” Ransom couldn’t help but smirk at your powerless expression. His confession only added to the unwavering pain of realization that you were stuck in this newfound imprisonment.
Thumbs pressing into your ass, his other fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He slams into your fluttering cunt, the air leaving your body from his unforgiving pace. You scream loudly at the unwanted pleasure.
You’re fully trapped underneath Ransom’s body, impaling you from behind continuously. “Scream for me!” It’s an order you won’t obey and you squeak when he balls your hair in his fist “Fierce little minxes like yourself are made for places like mine” Ransom growls into your ear. “Let me hear those gorgeous sounds, precious. Scream while you still can before it vanishes. No-one can hear you, scream for ME.”
Ransom’s arm finds its way around your neck jerking you into his toned chest, your hips being bruised from the impact of the wood. Your hands grip his arm trying to loosen the chokehold, fighting for air into your lungs only to have it escape with every rut inwards. His free hand rubbing circles on your pulsating bead, his pleasured grunts making your stomach churn.
Pleasure taken from your - desperate, powerless and giving - body in his arms. He ravishes your body, like you’re his personal favourite fucktoy. Your legs start to tremble and your orgasm builds rapidly under the abuse, little whimpers escaping you. Tears streaming down your cheeks at the realisation of being solicited for a brothel.
Only seconds later your body surrendered to the fire within you, screaming out to Ransom while your body shook heavily in his hold. His arms let you go, your quivering body dropping on the desk, panting from the intense build orgasm. The lost air stings with every inhale, you’re too tired to fight him.
Ransom sat down in his leather chair and picked up the phone. You tried to look away from him, but he is fast to grab your hair and keep the intense stare. Ransom’s pride beams, he’s a heartless beast. He’s always gotten what he wanted and you’re just a new addition to his elite gentlemen’s club.
“Barber? Yes! She’s definitely the one. How I know? She’s fucked out on my desk, tight little cunt on her. Perfect for the job, draw up the contract will you” A snarled order followed by a darkened smile and filthy wink thrown your way. “Her mouth looks exquisite; I’ll make sure to reserve it for your cock. So she can suck it as a thank you!”
#synths5kfollowerchallenge#ransom drysdale#ransom drysdale × reader#ransom drysdale x female reader#ransom drydale x you#ransom drysdale x y/n#ransom drysdale smut#chris evans smut#lilo writing
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Beauty is Pain
Pairing: Mostly Platonic!Pogues, mentions of JJ Maybank x reader
Summary: You and Kie try to wax your legs yourselves for the first time and accidentally get yourselves trapped in a sticky situation that gets you locked in your room with JJ and Pope while you listen to Sarah and John B fight outside your door. Routledge!Reader.
Note: I got this idea from a Friends episode. If you watched the show, you’ll know exactly which one I’m talking about. Mostly wrote this without the intention of doing a JJ x reader pairing but then I got an idea(: Hope y'all like it!
Word Count: 3.5k
Warning: Language, maybe angst??
For her birthday, Kie was gifted a hard waxing kit. At first you thought it was odd, a Kook like her was better off going to a professional to get evenly waxed brows or a perfectly clear bikini line. But when she asked you to try it out with her, you were intrigued.
You invited her over to your messy home everyone calls the Chateau. Your brother had a date with his Kook girlfriend, Sarah Cameron, which meant you had the house all to yourself. Even though it was just Kie, your best friend of four years, you decided to clean up the place before she got there. Your house was littered in empty beer cans and ends of JJ’s rolled blunts. You noticed John B was drinking more, smoking JJ’s weed, and even sleeping in later than usual. He’s called out of work two times in the past two weeks, and if he does manage to a say hello to you, it’s a grumbled mumble of words you can barely understand. You chopped it up to him just being moody, but there was also a small part of you that wondered if something serious was going on you didn’t know about.
You tried questioning your friends about it. Kie said she had no clue but noticed his change of attitude too. Pope would get nervous when you brought up John B’s name and claimed he didn’t know what you were talking about. Before you could question him further, his dad whisked him away to clean up the store and run a couple of last minute groceries. JJ, your boyfriend, tried to tell you it was probably nothing, but he wouldn’t make eye contact with you when he talked. He busied himself with rolling another blunt or folding the tossed laundry on your bedroom floor. When you called him out on it, he got snippy and frustrated, which just led you to drop the topic because you didn’t feel like dealing with a second moody teenager.
Kie showed up right when she said she would with the boxed waxing kit in her hand. You raised one brow up at it as you tossed the filled trash bag out the door.
“This it?” You said.
“Yes. You haven’t shaved your legs in a while, right?”
“Yeah. It’s been two weeks like you said. JJ says my legs are looking hairier than his. He’ll barely even touch them. One time he called them monkey legs.”
Kie rolled her eyes. “Boys are such hypocrites. If they had to do half the stuff we did, they wouldn’t be complaining at all. They shouldn’t even get to complain about what women decide to do with their bodies.”
Kie continued ranting about how pain is beauty and men will never understand it unless they lived in a woman’s body for a whole month, including the week a woman’s period started, as she set up the kit.
You worked in your room because there was more space for both of you to try your best to be comfortable. Kie plugged in the warmer on your nightstand and mixed the pink wax pellets with a flat wooden stick until it turned to a warm goo.
“Okay,” Kie sat up against your bed’s headboard and patted her thigh to motion for you to give her your leg. “You’re up.”
“Why do I have to be first?” You asked.
You’ve never waxed your legs before. Only your brows and sometimes bikini line and even then, you usually just pluck and shave. Getting your hair professionally waxed was expensive and you tried to prioritize your purchases as much as possible to stabilize the life you and John B still had.
Kie sighed. “Fine, we’ll do it together. Let me just put the wax on you.”
You gave Kie your left leg and she slathered the warm wax up the left side of your shin. You watched as she did the same to her own leg and grimaced nervously when you felt the wax hardening against your skin.
“Ready?” She asked with a teasing smirk.
“On the count of three?”
Kie nodded. “One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
At exactly three, Kie pulled the long waxing strip from your leg and you did the same with hers. A searing hot pain ran up you leg as Kie ripped the wax off, making you bite down a scream.
“Fuck!” Kie screamed up into the ceiling. You looked down at both your legs. There was a thick line of red from where the wax was. “That shit hurts.”
“Let’s try it again,” You suggested. “Maybe we’ll get use to it if we keep doing it.”
Kie nodded. “Okay. Yeah, let’s try again.”
This time, Kie slid two long strips on both your left and right leg. The warm wax felt soothing. You almost wished you didn’t have to rip it off in the first place.
“On three?” You said.
Kie nodded.
On three, you each ripped one strip off your own legs. You cursed against gritted teeth from the pain. You were wrong about getting used to it. You didn’t think you would ever be able to tolerate this pain.
“What the hell? This has never hurt this bad.” Kie said.
“I think whoever gave this to you secretly hates you,” You said to her.
Kie sighed and looked down at the hardening wax still left on your legs. “Well, we have to finish. We’ll just rip them all off really fast.”
“Okay.”
You ripped three out of the four strips that were left at rocket speed, but they all hurt exactly the same. It felt like you were ripping more than just the hair off your leg. You wouldn’t be surprised if you looked down and saw half the layers of your skin ripped off.
You blinked back the tears at the exact same time Pope and JJ busted into your room looking around frantically. JJ was holding a baseball bat and Pope a pan you just washed and placed on the drying wrack an hour ago.
“What’s wrong?” Pope yelled.
“What the hell is going on?” JJ narrowed his eyes at you, surprised he wasn’t looking at you being attacked by an intruder or covered in cuts and bruises. When he first heard you screaming when he and Pope walked into your house, his heart raced a million beats per minutes. His mind wandered to all the different things that could have happened to you. He swore he was going to make you lock your door every day and night now.
But here you were, safe and sound and laying in bed with Kie. Although he could see your labored breathing and clouded eyes, he knew you weren’t in any imminent trouble. His eyes traced from your face down to your legs where a pink strip of wax was still waiting to be pulled off.
“We’re fine. We’re just waxing our legs.” Kie said.
“What are you doing here?” You asked your boyfriend.
“Pope said Kie was here so we came to hang with you,” JJ said absentmindedly. “I thought you were being murdered.”
“It sure felt like it,” You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered from JJ’s protective side.
JJ scoffed. “It can’t hurt that bad.”
Kie tutted her head forward. “Oh yeah? Come here.”
“What? No.”
Kie ignored him and grabbed his arm from across your body and slapped on another slab of wax. JJ hissed from the heat then visibly relaxed.
“Y/N, wanna do the honors?” Kie smirked at you.
You glared at her. “I’m not volunteering to hurt my boyfriend.”
Kie scoffed at you. “What did he call your legs again?”
You clenched your teeth together and nodded once. Kie made her point, and you remembered everything she said about how men will never understand the pain women go through to please not only themselves, but their lovers too.
“Oh, yeah,” You said within a split second and ripped the wax off JJ’s arms. He flinched away from you, rearing his arm back far away from your reach. His mouth was opened in an ‘O’ shape and his brows pinched together. “Monkey legs.” You smirked at him.
“Fuck,” JJ shook out his arm as if you physically lit it on fire.
“It can’t hurt that bad, right, JJ?” Kie mocked him.
Pope laughed at his blonde friend and shook his head. “Stupid.”
“Y/N, you have one left.”
“Shut up, I know,” You rolled your shoulders back like you were getting ready to run a marathon.
“Want me to do it for you?” You nodded. JJ came up next to you and offered his hand for you to squeeze. “Okay. On three. One, two -” Before Kie even said the word three, she ripped the wax off. You closed your eyes and squeezed JJ’s hand hard, until his knuckles rolled in your closed fingers.
“Shit, baby,” JJ crouched next to you awkwardly, trying to mend his fingers back together.
“Sorry,” You huffed. You weren’t that sorry. He called you monkey legs.
You heard the screen door open and close. Figuring it was just John B back from his date, you relaxed against your headboard again and made a promise to yourself to never wax your legs again. Beauty wasn’t worth this pain. You’d rather be monkey legs than go through that again.
Or just simply shave.
“ - And that’s supposed to make this all okay?” Your eyes opened when you heard, not JB, but Sarah Cameron screaming right outside your room. Pope quickly closed your bedroom door as quietly as possible and held up his finger to you and Kie to be quiet. “That’s your excuse?”
Your brows pinched together in confusion and you looked at your boyfriend for some kind of answer. This was the first time you ever heard Sarah raise her voice at your brother. As far as you knew, the couple never fought.
JJ was looking down at the ground and avoiding your stare. His hands were wracked through his blonde strands and resting on the top of his head. He and Pope didn’t look as surprised as you and Kie.
“What the hell is going on?” Kie asked in a hushed whisper.
“I - I was scared. I’ve never done this before -” John B stuttered.
“Here’s some advice. Rule number one. Don’t cheat!” Sarah yelled. You swore you could hear the pain behind her voice.
You gasped in surprise and snapped your head in JJ’s direction. He wouldn’t look at you, which mean he knew about this long before you did. You put the pieces together. No wonder John B has been acting miserable. Who knows how long he’s been holding onto this.
Well...apparently JJ and Pope know.
“What the hell...” Kie sits up straighter. “Is she serious?”
“Did you know?” You asked your boyfriend. This time he did look at you. And he looked guilty as hell.
Your eyes snapped back to the door when John B yelled back at her. “That’s gold coming from you. Did Topper use that same line when you got together with me?”
You physically cringed at the mention of Topper’s name. It may have been a low blow, but John B had a point.
“Shit,” Kie cursed and sped walked towards the door.
You followed in her footsteps and pressed your ear against the door. One thing was for sure, you couldn’t leave your room now. You couldn’t walk in on that. But at least you could be nosy and eavesdrop.
“That’s not fair. I didn’t love him. I loved you. I left Topper for you!”
“You cheated on him.”
“Because I loved you, John B! You cheated on me because you were scared because...why? Because I’m a Kook? I’ve always been a Kook and you’ve never had a problem with that! Not until now!”
You and Kie crouched on the floor so JJ and Pope could hover over you and listen. It sounded like John B cheated on Sarah a couple weeks ago with a Pogue from your school because he got scared of his feelings for Sarah. Rafe got in your brother’s head, telling him how he will never be enough to care for Sarah when she’s no longer reliant on her father’s money. He became insecure and looked to someone who wouldn’t ever think of him like that - someone who would understand him.
John B was in the wrong and your heart cracked for the couple you once swore was going to be the first to get married out of your group of friends. Although you and Sarah had a rocky start, she quickly became the sister you never had. You got along just as much as you and Kie did. Sometimes John B would find it annoying when Sarah would come over to hang out with you instead of him, but the other part of him loved that the two most important people in his life were as close as he was with JJ. You couldn’t imagine him with anyone else. Not even another Pogue.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Sarah asked. She sounded broken and her voice cracked with exhaustion. You wanted to walk out of the room and hug her tightly while yelling at John B for being an absolute idiot.
You heard John B sigh. “I was going to. I regretted it the second it was over and I was afraid to tell you because I didn’t want you to leave me over some stupid mistake. JJ and Pope said -”
“JJ and Pope knew about this?”
You and Kie looked up at your boyfriends with the deadliest glare either of them have seen out of both you. JJ took a step back and held his hands up in surrender as if you were holding a loaded gun to his head.
“I can explain -” JJ said quickly as Pope’s mouth moved silently to come up with an excuse.
“I didn’t know what to do! They said telling you would only hurt you -” John B weakly tried to explain.
“Of course it would fucking hurt me! You’ve been lying to me for weeks. You had sex with another girl!”
You heard something shatter before a deafening silence. You waited for John B to say something, praying he was smart enough to say anything that could salvage what little of a relationship he had left.
You didn’t want to make this about you, but you wondered how many times JJ didn’t tell you something because it would hurt you. You wondered if he did anything just as detrimental to your relationship and didn’t tell you because he was afraid you would break up with him.
John B and Sarah continued to fight for another hour. You wondered if John B was worried about where you might be. If you go somewhere without telling John B, you usually text him later in the day to tell him where you are. It’s something both of you started doing ever since your father disappeared. So that if something were to happen, you would know where to look first.
You thought about jumping out your window, but your window frame was rusty. Even if you moved the window up a little bit, the wood would grind against each other, and your cover would be blown. You were getting hungry and JJ was getting antsy, probably afraid that John B would say something more to push him in the dog house. You’ve barely looked at him since John B threw him under the bus.
“Baby...” JJ said quietly to try to get your attention. “Come on, baby, let me explain.”
You glared at him and continued braiding Kie’s hair with your back to the door.
“We had good intentions,” Pope tried to save his own ass but Kie’s look mirrored yours. “We just didn’t want them to break up.”
“Shut up, Pope,” You said for Kie.
“We were wrong,” JJ said, making you advert your attention from Pope to your boyfriend. “I was wrong. It was my idea for John B not to tell Sarah. But the more time I spent with you, I knew I’d never be able to do that to you. It would eat at me inside, and that’s exactly what it was doing to JB. So yesterday I told him he had to tell her. Or else he would hate himself for the rest of his life if he didn’t.” Your eyes soften under his ocean blue ones and your hands fell from Kie’s hair. “I know I would.”
The corner of your lip twitched up into a lopsided grin, and just like that, you were entranced by the blonde Pogue all over again. JJ had his way with words. It’s gotten him both into certain situations and out of other bad ones. But you knew JJ like the back of your hand. You knew when he was lying. He wouldn’t look at you and if you questioned him on it he would get angry. Looking at JJ, you knew he was telling the truth.
“Yeah, what he said.” Pope said, pointing at your boyfriend.
You and Kie rolled your eyes playfully. Pope, on the other hand, wasn’t so great with his words. That’s why it took so long for him to score Kie as his girlfriend.
“Where are you going?” You heard John B yell. He sounded defeated.
“I can’t be here. I need...I need space.”
“Sarah...”
“Please. I just need time to think. Okay?”
Your front door slammed shut and you held your breath, waiting for John B to run after her or break more shit in your living room. But nothing like that ever came. Instead, you listened to John B cry to himself probably somewhere on the couch.
And just like that, you didn’t care about being caught. You didn’t care if he screamed in your face for eavesdropping or calling you nosy and inconsiderate. Your brother needed you, and in that moment, it didn’t matter to you that he was the one in the wrong. At the end of the day, he was your brother. Your blood. Your family. And you’re the one who will always be his rock.
Kie stood up with you and watched wearily as you showed yourself to your brother. John B looked up with wide eyes, surprised to see not only you but the rest of the Pogues hidden away in your room.
He wanted to be mad, but he didn’t have the energy to be. Instead, he cried harder because he hated that you of all people knew what he did and that he was now being weak by crying about it in your living room. He wanted to be the role model you could always look up to, especially now that your dad was gone. And he thought he failed at it.
John B was pleasantly surprised when he felt a pair of gentle arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him into a side hug as you sat on the couch next to him. Kie sat on the coffee table in front of you and rubbed John B’s knee comfortingly. Pope and JJ knew the girls were better equipped to handle John B’s emotions, so they busied themselves in the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers and pretzels and setting them down on the table next to Kie.
Even though John B cheated and created a big mess in not only his life, but the rest of yours too, you were family. You would never leave him on his darkest day and play the blame game. You’ll help him get control. You’ll help him fix it. You’ll help him live his life to the fullest. And that’s what John B loved about you. You never turned your back on him, even when he deserved it.
The five of you spent the rest of the night drinking beer, ordering pizza, and watching comedy movies to get him to forget. Later in the night, you and Kie left to comfort Sarah. You admitted that you two heard the whole thing and would support her with whatever she chose to do about her relationship. You and Kie slept over her house and discussed the pros and cons of her staying with John B. You ate popcorn and applied face masks while Keeping Up With The Kardashians played in the background.
“You know, Kie’s waxing kit is still at my house,” A mischievous smirk pulled at your lips. “We could cause a lot of damage while he sleeps.”
Kie encouraged the idea and Sarah laughed, feeling grateful that the two of you would even come to see her when you both had loyalties to John B. She really did love you guys and would be devastated if her relationship with John B drove you guys apart.
In the end, Sarah ended up taking John B back. It took a while for them to get their relationship back to the way it was, but they loved each other enough to salvage it. John B worked his ass off to prove how much he loved her and Sarah appreciated every second of it.
And as for you and JJ...well you made sure to give him one really good reason as to why he should never cheat on you (;
#jj maybank fic#jj fic#jj x reader#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#outer banks#outer banks fic#outer banks imagine#john b routledge#john b#kie carrera#pope heyward#pogues x reader#pogues#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank one shot
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Drink, No Drink
xuexiao - M for violence - 4.9k - AO3!
In which Xiao Xingchen drunkely flirts with an oblivious Xue Yang ____________________________
They come by once a month on average, sometimes twice. Once, about eleven months after Xue Yang came to Yi City, three come at once, but that's a group and Xue Yang, always fair, counts them as one.
Still three times the fun to kill, of course.
The men step into the Coffin House courtyard at noon, just ten minutes after Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing had left to buy groceries.
Xue Yang is busy dumping fresh dirt into a raised bed. He and Xiao Xingchen have built raised beds throughout the courtyard to plant vegetables in. Xiao Xingchen had wanted flowers, but Xue Yang had vetoed the idea, flowers being useless, and the daozhang isn’t one to argue.
He looks up as the men step into the courtyard. “Who are you?”
The leader of the group, a tall, brutish-looking man with a cauliflower ear and broken nose, seems almost angry at the question. “Where is he?”
Xue Yang dusts his hands off. And here he thought he’d be bored until the daozhang returned. “Who is this ‘he’?”
“The blind cultivator in white! Xiao Xingchen! We know he lives here!”
Xue Yang taps his chin. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
The musclebound man on the right steps forward, seconds away from grabbing Xue Yang by the collar and losing a hand. “We were told there’s a blind cultivator living here!”
“Ohhh, I thought you meant the other blind cultivator in white. I lose track. What do you want from him?”
“To take a strip out of his hide!”
Xue Yang rolls his eyes. “Let me guess, you committed some crime once upon a time, and he got you in trouble for it, and now that he’s blind you want your revenge.”
“How did—”
“It’s all very original.” Xue Yang’s knife is in his hand. He tosses in the air, catching it deftly. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
The skinny little man on the left shrugs. “Not reall—”
He never finishes his sentence. A flash of silver blade, and Xue Yang’s knife is sprouting from his eye. Shrieking, he falls backwards into a vegetable bed, yanking the knife out of his face.
Xue Yang shakes his head. “Don’t you know not to pull a knife out of a wound? Trust me on that one, I should know. Look, now you’re bleeding all over the place.” He produces a second knife and turns to face the other two men, who stand gaping at him in slack-jawed shock. “How about you two? Up for some first aid practice?”
“You—you—”
“Got any weapons? Get them out. It’s more fun that way.”
Still looking confused, the leader draws his own knife out and stands there, blinking, while the other man drops to his knees beside his companion, who’s writhing in the dirt and shrieking like a wounded fox.
Xue Yang makes a face. “Can you shut him up? He’s going to give me a headache at this rate.”
“He—he—”
Xue Yang floats over and slices the man’s tongue out with a practiced twist of his blade, but the man continues to emit bone-chilling scream from deep inside his throat.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake—” Another twist of the blade, and the man falls silent. Permanently. “You’d think he’d never been stabbed in the eyeball before.”
“You killed him—”
“Like you were going to do to the daozhang?” Xue Yang flies back over near the leader. “And for what, arresting you? You clearly escaped whatever the charges are. Grow up and let it go.”
The leader’s hand tightens on his knife. “The magistrate beat me so badly I couldn’t get honest work again as a porter—”
“Your back, your arms, your legs, what was the problem?”
“My left leg was broken so badly it—”
Xue Yang jams his heel into the man’s left kneecap, shattering it. Howling, the man collapses, knife falling from his spasming fingers. “Like I want your life’s story?” He hauls the man up by his collar and flies him over to one of the raised beds, dumping him in the dirt. Dislocates the man’s shoulder, just to be safe, and nicks the side of the man’s throat so that he bleed out into the soil.
Best kind of fertilizer, or so he’d been given to believe.
Then he turns to the third man, who’s cowering on his knees, forehead pressed to the dirt. “How about you? Going to put up more of a fight, I hope? I mean, what were you three arrested for, anyway? Couldn’t have been anything requiring actual fighting skills. Tax fraud?”
“Forgive me—forgive me—I won’t harm Xiao Xingchen! I swear I’ll leave here, I’ll never speak of this—”
“A bit late for that, I’d think.” Xue Yang tilts his head down at him. He likes seeing the man grovel. Kowtow, really. A trembling heap of peasant clothes and greasy hair, not half as good as if it had been the daozhang or one of the self-righteous cultivators who’d dogged him half his life, but it still fills him with heady tingling pleasure. “You should never have come here.”
“It wasn’t my idea—I swear it wasn’t!”
“Great, a spineless lackey. Even better. Now, the question is how to kill you.” He crouches before the man, patting his trembling cheek with his knife while he thinks. “I usually go for something more creative, but we need to wrap this up before the daozhang gets home, and more than two beds needs fertilizing, so here we go.”
The man makes a feeble effort to resist, taking an easily-dodged swing at Xue Yang's jaw. A flick of his hand, and Xue Yang’s knife is suddenly plunged deep into the man’s throat. Grabbing him by the hair, he hauls the man into the neighboring vegetable bed and gives the knife an experimental jiggle, then wiggles it a bit farther up his throat. A delicate balance, this—he needs the man alive to pump out as much blood as possible, but can't resist playing with him a bit. Of course Xue Yang could always rip out his intestines and bury them in the dirt, but that would be messy, and Xue Yang hasn't time to clean up.
A sigh, and the man bleeding out from his eye socket expires.
Xue Yang hesitates, then removes his outer robes and flies the man over the back wall of the courtyard, dumping him in the forest outside the city.
The second man has died by the time he returns. Xue Yang flies him out, then the third man when he too dies.
He stands beneath the trees, eying his handiwork.
Not a bad day’s work.
If only the daozhang knew that Xue Yang, his worst enemy, had been saving his life for the past eleven months. Knew how deeply indebted he is to the delinquent from Kuizhou.
But the daozhang can’t know.
Not just yet.
He’d probably make me stop, Xue Yang thinks, no matter what the personal risk. He’d insist on arresting all these opportunistic degenerates and bringing them to justice, as if such a thing exists.
The idiot. Xue Yang finds himself smiling at the thought. The sanctimonious idiot, blind in more ways than one. For all Xue Yang knows, he might even hear the men out—“Oh, your leg was broken? The scoundrels!” and embark on a journey to track down the magistrate who’d wronged the criminal degenerates—
A vulture approaches, drawn by the scent of blood, startling Xue Yang out of his thoughts.
“Wait your turn,” he tells the bird. “It’s first come, first serve around here.” Chuckles to himself—too bad the daozhang is completely unsuited for the day’s activities. He knows Xiao Xingchen would have appreciated the afternoon’s humor—maybe even relished the irony of watching Xue Yang, the man who was going to one day kill the daozhang, protect him—
Well, perhaps not that. But he could have gotten a few laughs, at least.
Xue Yang cuts a lock of hair from each of the men, just as he has for the last thirteen criminals who’d come after Xiao Xingchen, removes their tongues, and flies back over the wall.
He can take care of the bodies later, if the vultures don’t handle them for him.
He places the tongues in jars he sets inside a coffin painted with preservation sigils. Then, grabbing a rake, he begins mixing the blood-soaked earth, evenly dividing it among the dozen raised beds that take up half the courtyard and patting the soil down in preparation for tomorrow’s sowing. He’s just finishing up when Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing return.
The first thing out of the daozhang’s mouth is, “What’s that smell?”
“What smell?”
“Smells like blood,” says A-Qing, who can always be counted on to say the wrong thing.
Xue Yang fights the urge to tell the daozhang the truth, see the look on his face. “I got bored without you, and went for a walk in the woods, and found a fierce corpse.”
Xiao Xingchen’s face softens at the words without you. Xue Yang is still at a loss to explain how readily Xiao Xingchen displays his feelings. Surely letting another person know that you value their companionship is a dangerous show of weakness?
Xue Yang has learned to reveal nothing that can be used against him in the future.
What Chengmei says to the daozhang is different. His esteem for the blind white fool is all an act, and there is no way a lie might harm him.
“I have the beds all ready for planting,” he tells Xiao Xingchen.
Xiao Xingchen moves towards him as A-Qing runs inside with the groceries. “Were you wounded?”
“By what, tripping and falling on the rake?”
“The blood smells fresh. Did the fierce corpse manage to hurt you? That’s unlike you, Chengmei.” He lays a hand on Xue Yang’s chest, eyebrows rising slightly at the feel of Xue Yang’s thin, silky inner robe beneath his hand instead of his textured outer robes. “I know you, Chengmei. You wouldn’t tell me you were hurt, even if you were.” Slowly, he runs his hands over Xue Yang’s chest, pats his arms, feels his waist.
Xue Yang swallows hard, freezing.
From the touching, he tells himself. Not from the display of concern. It’s hard not to tense up when touched, given how often past touch has been something bad.
Truly it means nothing, the daozhang’s concern. Xue Yang knows this. Has always known it.
What good is the compassion of a man who only cares because he doesn’t know the truth?
Xiao Xingchen rests his hand briefly on his hip, but seems unwilling to go any lower and check Xue Yang’s legs. “You’d tell me if you were hurt, right?”
Xue Yang’s heart is pounding. “….I wouldn’t lie to you…”
“I know you wouldn’t.” Seeming to realize how close they're standing, Xiao Xingchen moves away. “I’ll go help A-Qing make dinner. We'll keep the seeds from tonight’s vegetables, we can plant tomorrow…”
Xue Yang slips his outer robes back on but doesn’t head back into the house. He’s cursing himself for having lost his composure for even a second, especially in front of Xiao Xingchen, of all people.
It’s not like he noticed. You sounded normal, and he’s blind, for fuck’s sake.
The reddish gold sun has sunk beneath the courtyard walls when Xiao Xingchen comes out onto the porch. He looks blue in the twilight, slender and beautiful and somehow soft despite the boniness of his long slim body.
“Chengmei? Dinner’s ready.”
Hesitating, though he’s not sure why, Xue Yang heads inside. Xiao Xingchen hands out the bowls and chopsticks while A-Qing serves.
Xue Yang is silent during dinner, mechanically shoveling rice into his mouth.
Xiao Xingchen does most of the talking, as if sensing Xue Yang is in a strange mood. He talks about the past, places he’s seen, people he’s met. He’s a poor storyteller, with a laughable memory of details, but his tendency to ramble from one story to the next without finishing any of them is amusing in its own way, and A-Qing's interjections of her own more colorful experiences keep any heavy silence at bay.
After the meal, Xue Yang removes Xiao Xingchen’s horsetail whisk from where he keeps it on a shelf in the corner.
“Just combing it,” he says when A-Qing, who has even better hearing than the daozhang and an uncanny knack for getting in his way, asks him what the hell he thinks he’s doing. “It’s getting tangled.”
“Tangled. Right.”
Normally Xue Yang would bicker back, but he doesn’t have the energy tonight. He sits on the steps, the horsetail whisk in his lap, while A-Qing lies on a blanket, staring up at the dazzling carpet of stars as if she can see, and Xiao Xingchen polishes his sword beside him.
Xue Yang knots the locks of hair he’d taken from the three convicts into the flowing mane of the whisk, streaks of black staining the pure white.
A little ritual he’d developed after the first would-be murderer had come to Yi City. Watching the daozhang parade around with a murder trophy tucked under thin white arm was endlessly entertaining.
Now…
It’s still a good joke, Xue Yang tells himself. Still good fun to see the streaks of black against the white. But it’s become a symbol of something else, now, too.
Of what, Xue Yang isn’t entirely sure.
But of something.
The eggplant is starting to sprout when, five weeks later, another convict comes to the Coffin House searching for Xiao Xingchen.
Xiao Xingchen is inside the house making dinner with A-Qing. Xue Yang had just stepped outside to fetch more water when he sees a shadow detach itself from behind a coffin and slither across the courtyard, a flash of silver in its hand.
Jiangzai is out before Xue Yang can even think.
Footsteps.
Xue Yang flies across the courtyard and grabs the shadow by the throat. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“Xiao Xing—”
Xue Yang cuts his throat before the man can finish, flying him over the wall before so much as a drop of blood can splash onto the stones of the courtyard.
A shame to waste the fertilizer on the trees of the forest, but Xiao Xingchen is expecting him back any second now.
He’ll fetch the tongue later.
“Thank you, Chengmei,” Xiao Xingchen says when he returns, accepting the bucket of water. “Do you mind chopping the potatoes? The oil should be hot enough any minute now.”
“Fried potato? Not boiled? Do my ears deceive me?” His pulse is reverberating through his skull, so that’s very possible. The quickness of the kill had done nothing to diminish the euphoria that always accompanies it. If anything, it had heightened it, a half-hour’s torture compressed into an intense dose of power and pleasure and blood.
“I figured I would fry it, as a treat. It’s been a year since…well, it’s been a year since we all came to the Coffin House.” Xiao Xingchen turns to the stove, blushing slightly, as if almost ashamed to have kept track of the anniversary, as if he doesn’t think it's as important to Xue Yang as it is to him.
Xue Yang doesn’t speak. A-Qing is glancing at the floor, looking uncharacteristically solemn.
“I know it’s foolish—” Xiao Xingchen begins again, but Xue Yang shakes his head, forgetting for a moment that he can’t see him.
“It’s never foolish to fry potatoes,” he says emphatically. “That boiled stuff is for the dogs. Anything else?”
Xiao Xingchen smiles. “I bought nian gao at the market today.”
“Now you have my attention.” He slices the potatoes swiftly, hand shaking slightly. Lingering euphoria from his recent kill, most likely. “The sweet cake kind, right? Not that vegetable stuff.”
Xiao Xingchen affects chagrin. “Do you take me for an amateur?”
Xue Yang discovers that he’s grinning.
Still from the murder, no doubt. It’s been a while since he’d killed anything larger than the rats that sneak into the Coffin House.
It’s not that he needs to kill. Enjoys it, yes. Who wouldn’t enjoy holding complete and utter power over another human being? Being the most important thing in their world, if only for those final moments? The pleasant exercise of the fight, the witty banter, the desperation in the victim’s eyes as they bleed out?
But, if he’s being entirely honest, he hasn’t thought about it much these past few weeks.
A-Qing turns in early that night, having eaten too much fried food and nian gao, leaving Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang alone on the porch. Xue Yang plays with the dead man’s hair in the horsetail whisk while Xiao Xingchen sits beside him, just a little too close, knee almost touching his, having misjudged the distance. It’s odd, how the daozhang can spin through the forest to sever a fierce corpse’s throat without disturbing a single leaf or blade of grass, but he’s rather clumsy around Xue Yang, stumbling into him at times, brushing his hand with his while handing him something, mistakenly letting his shoulder touch his as he passes.
“I have a surprise,” says Xiao Xingchen.
“We’re getting a puppy.”
“We can, if you want."
“Just joking.” Briefly, Xue Yang wonders what a dog would make of the corpses popping up around the Coffin House.
Well, it would be one way to dispose of the bodies, and save on buying dog food.
He grins to himself at the idea. It's a real shame he can’t share some of his best thoughts with Xiao Xingchen.
Who’s tilting his head at him expectantly. “Chengmei?”
“You’re buying us a new house. A-Qing found a husband. We have an invitation to Jinlintai.”
Xiao Xingchen smiles. “I feel quite inadequate, now. I bought some of this.” He draws two wine jars from his sleeve. “Or rather, traded some protection talismans for it with the local weaver.”
“Is the daozhang a secret wino?” Xue Yang accepts the small white jar. He’s not one for drinking, but he can’t turn Xiao Xingchen down. “Is that what you’re really doing during your private meditation sessions?”
Instead of being offended, Xiao Xingchen smiles. “Given how many great poets were drunks—going by their poetry—I could do well to follow their example.
‘Life in the world is but a big dream;
I will not spoil it by any labor or care.
So saying, I was drunk all the day,
Lying helpless at the porch in front of my door—’ ”
“A tripping hazard for A-Qing.”
“ ‘When I awoke, I blinked at the garden-lawn;
A lonely bird was singing amid the flowers.
I asked myself,
Had the day been wet or fine? ’ ”
Xue Yang struggles to keep a straight face despite the fact that Xaio Xingcheng can’t see him. “Baoshan Sanren teaches cultivating by way of winemaking? No wonder she has to hide on her mountain. Every cultivator for miles around would be trying to sign on with her.”
Xiao Xingchen laughs. “Given how many classic poems are about drinking wine, I wouldn’t be surprised if such a thing existed...at least the poems in Shifu’s collection. She didn’t focus much on classical poetry.” He pulls the stopper from his jar, sniffing it. “So…I just…drink it? Is there some kind of…I don’t know…”
“A wine-drinking ritual? Like you walk in a circle three times, flapping your arms—”
“…do you think we can forgo it, just this once?”
Xue Yang is the one to laugh this time, though he’s not sure if Xiao Xingchen is joking. “You just drink, from what I’ve seen.”
“From what you’ve seen?”
“I don’t drink.” He instantly regrets his words at the look on Xiao Xingchen’s face. “I mean…”
“It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to make—”
“I mean—” And suddenly he hears himself saying, “I could never afford to be…impaired in any way. For…my own safety, I mean. I was just never…look, it’s…” And then, just as suddenly, he’s uncorking his jar and taking a deep draft.
It burns unpleasantly in his throat, but it’s worth it for the smile on Xiao Xingchen’s face at the silent admission that he feels safe here.
That Chengemi does, at any rate.
“How does it taste?”
“Good, I think,”Xue Yang lies.
Xiao Xingchen sips delicately at his jar, then wrinkles his nose. “The poems made me think it would be a lot more like drinking moonbeams and lotus blossoms.”
“More poems about passing out on the lawn?” Xue Yang asks. Poetry is just as useless as he’s always imagined it to be, but it sounds nice coming from Xiao Xingchen. Melodic. Kind of like singing...
...Must be the wine, that idiotic thought.
" 'A cup of wine, under the flowering trees;
I drink alone, for no friend is near.
Raising my cup I beckon the bright moon,
For he, with my shadow, will make three men.’ ”
Xue Yang frowns slightly. “I’m sitting right here, daozhang.”
Xiao Xingchen smiles. “So you are.”
Xue Yang shakes his momentary pique away. “Four men, then. Five, counting my shadow. You know, I don’t think those poets knew what the hell they were talking about, like with anything.”
“That’s not true…well, not entirely…there are some very pretty poems about nature…”
“How about a drinking game: I say something untrue, and if you correctly guess that it’s a lie, then I have to drink.”
“Alright.” By Xiao Xingchen’s amused smile, it’s clear he doesn’t think Xue Yang can successfully lie to him.
“I’m ugly. Hideous. Ladies pull their skirts away from me in the street and I frighten children and old people.”
Xiao Xingchen laughs, misjudging the distance between them again and touching his arm by mistake. “Not going by what I’ve heard.”
Smirking, Xue Yang takes a drink. “Your turn.”
“I…I have two heads.”
Xue Yang rolls his eyes. “That the best you can do?”
“I’m not accustomed to falsehoods!”
The pretentious way he put that should have made Xue Yang roll his eyes again, but the strong wine has mellowed him. “Drink. I hate candy.”
“Drink!”
“See, it’s not fun if it’s something too obvious.”
“Fine. I want that puppy you mentioned.”
“…drink?”
Xiao Xingchen raises his jar. “No drink! I wouldn't mind a puppy."
“You seem more like a cat person.”
“I like all animals. Would you rather a cat? You seem like a cat person. Like…” Xiao Xingchen hesitates. “Takes a while to warm up, independent, but loyal once you know you can tru…” He trails off, as if sensing he’s gone too far.
Biting his lip, Xue Yang looks out over the beds of budding vegetables, silver in the starlight. He’s never imagined anyone examining him in any way other than to evaluate him as a threat. Certainly not to comment on any traits in a tone Xue Yang tells himself is definitely not one of fondness, no matter how much it sounds that way. “Well, I have always liked cats better.”
“My favorite food is congee.”
“No drink, for reasons I’ll never understand.”
“You can add anything to it, and you have a nice warm meal!”
Xue Yang shakes his head. “I killed a man today for trespassing.”
“Oh, that’s terrible, Chengmei! Drink….”
It’s late when Xiao Xingchen's wine jars are empty. He'd had another two tucked away in his long white sleeve, and grown melancholy as the night wore on.
“I did everything I could to ruin my friend’s life,” he says, raising the last of his wine to the moon.
Xue Yang glances at him sharply. He’s kept his head better than Xiao Xingchen, only pretending to drink most of the time. “You what?”
“Song Lan. Zichen. The destruction of his temple was all my fault…” Head drooping, he slides sideways, cheek resting on Xue Yang’s shoulder. “All my fault, his eyes, all me…”
Xue Yang sits very still. Xiao Xingchen is warm against him, his breath soft on his neck. Then, very delicately, he pries Xiao Xingchen’s fingers from the wine jar and sets it beside them on the step.
“That was not your fault,” he says, and feels a thrill at his own words, because of course it was Xiao Xingchen’s fault, it was all his fault, and one day Xue Yang will get to throw it all in his face—
But not tonight.
“You did more than most would,” he says instead. “You gave him your eyes.” And he took them, the fucker! he wants to add. You do-gooding moron, mutilating yourself in service of that plodding lump of self-righteousness—
“My fault, my fault…”
“For what, doing your duty?” Xue Yang’s throat is beginning to tighten. He’s not sure why Xiao Xingchen would be telling him something so personal. For all his friendly, open nature, Xiao Xingchen is guarded when it comes to anything too revealing, to the point that Xue Yang sometimes feels as if he only half knows him. “You’re not responsible for that madman’s actions.”
Xiao Xingchen moves slightly, eyelashes brushing Xue Yang’s throat. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” says Xue Yang, and then, mentally, Drink!
And suddenly Xiao Xingchen is all smiles again, straightening up. “You always know just what to say to cheer me up. You—you wouldn’t leave me like Zichen did, would you? Not even if…I…” He hiccups. “I’d…I’d miss you too much…”
“Drink,” Xue Yang says automatically.
“No drink.”
Xue Yang glances away. Xiao Xingchen chooses this moment to pitch forward, to be caught by Xue Yang moments before he sprawls forward onto the stairs.
“I might be a little tipsy,” he mumbles into the hollow of Xue Yang’s throat.
Xue Yang tightens his grip. It feels…it feels wrong to be holding a person that isn’t a corpse.
A warm, living person, who seems to want to be in his arms.
Not hate being there, at least.
Or so he thinks. Xue Yang has never embraced another person before and isn’t quite sure how people are supposed to behave. Surely Xiao Xingchen would have pushed him away if he found his touch detestable—?
“You really can’t hold your liquor, can you,” he says before he can think into it too much. Gently, he scoops up Xiao Xingchen and half-carries him into the house. He weighs almost nothing, and Xue Yang thinks, I should get him to eat more, then chases the ridiculous thought away and bleaches the spot it had rested.
Xiao Xingchen grips the front of his robe as Xue Yang lays him down on the Coffin House's single bed. “Stay with me. Talk to me.”
Xue Yang hesitates, glancing over at his coffin in the corner of the room. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Xiao Xingchen almost pouts. Drunk daozhang is a petulant daozhang, it seems. “Just for a little while.”
The feeling of wrongness increases as Xue Yang crawls into bed beside Xiao Xingchen, keeping on top of the covers.
It shouldn’t be like this.
It’s not as if he hasn’t pictured sharing a bed with the daozhang. Who wouldn’t, if they had only a claustrophobic coffin to sleep in? But he’s never imagined an inebriated Xiao Xingchen curling into him, picking up his good hand, playing with it. Tracing the scars, running his fingertip between his fingers, brushing the palm with his thumb.
Soft, harmless touch that makes Xue Yang freeze, every nerve in his body screaming at him to snatch up Jiangzai.
“You have nice hands,” says Xiao Xingchen, voice thick with alcohol, almost giddy, and Xue Yang, focusing on the familiar voice, feels himself relaxing.
He’s safe, here. Safe with the daozhang.
The daozhang would never hurt Chengmei. And Xue Yang is Chengmei, for now.
The daozhang cares about Chengmei.
And in turn—
And in turn, the daozhang belongs to him.
Xiao Xingchen, the man who despises Xue Yang more than anyone else, now owes him more than he can ever repay in a single lifetime. He has saved Xiao Xingchen’s life a dozen times over without him having so much as suspected his life was ever in danger.
True, Chengmei could have killed the unsuspecting daozhang hundreds of times over the past year.
But this is different somehow.
Better.
Xue Yang is the guardian of the man he hates most in this world. Has held his life in the palm of his hand and chosen not only to let him live, but to actively destroy his enemies.
A delicious perversion of what he knows will come on the day he tears off his mask and reveals everything to Xiao Xingchen.
Finally takes his life, after preserving it for so long.
Xiao Xingchen rolls over, soft black hair in Xue Yang’s face, still holding Xue Yang’s hand in his.
Xue Yang wonders what Xiao Xingchen will say in the morning. If he’ll be embarrassed or realize that this was all simply the wine. If Xue Yang should pretend to have been too drunk to remember, or if he should say something, maybe crawl under the covers tomorrow night before Xiao Xingchen gets into bed, see what happens…
The bed is far more comfortable than the coffin, after all.
Will be warmer in winter, too…
He winces at the thought. He should go back to his coffin, stop whatever this is.
"You don't really want me here," he says.
“Drink,” Xiao Xingchen mumbles, and drops off into slumber.
Xue Yang takes a deep breath. He wants to free his hand but is afraid of waking the daozhang. As if sensing this even in sleep, Xiao Xingchen tightens his grip on his hand.
Xue Yang stares up at the ceiling, mind settling, the last of his tension fading.
He thinks he’ll go into town tomorrow and buy some flower seeds.
_______________________
thanks for reading! Spare a reblog? AO3
#mdzsnet#theuntameddaily#fytheuntamed#drink no drink#xuexiao#xue yang#xiao xingchen#a-qing#yi city#lotus writes#aside for the violence this is basically G rated
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