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hariboz · 4 months

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NEW YEARS KISS

“your best friend decides to volunteer when you complain about not having anyone to kiss on new year’s eve!”

pairing: bff!gyuvin x gn!reader

genre: fluff!!, friends to lovers!!

warnings: reader is somewhat of a romantic (?), reader is also said to be a little inexperienced in terms of dating!!, a little (implied?) jealousy from gyuvin, seunghan cameo (1. FREE HIM!! HE DID NOTHING!! 2. he was the first non-jebi guy i thought of <3), they’re cute <3, this is nawt my best work i literally wrote this on new year’s eve while with my family 😭

notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR MY POOKIES!! i hope all of you have an amazing, healthy and happy 2024 🥹🫶🏻 may all your goals come to fruition!! also, i’m very excited for a new year with my jebis, may they continue to thrive and be as happy as they can be <3 also, hope wakeone burns down xoxo MWAH LOVE U ALL <33 ALSO!! i picked gyuvin for this bc some knetz are pissing me off currently with their stupid hate for gyuvin, so i decided to write this bc i LOVE KIM GYUVIN!! IF YOU DONT MAY GOD STRIKE YOU DOWN

word count: 1.6k

you don’t mind being single, really. it’s not really the ‘being single’ part that makes you feel weird, but rather just…not getting to have the same experiences as your friends. always having to sit and nod along when they talk about a date they went on, or how they celebrated a holiday with their partner. it’s exhausting being surrounded by couples all the time. they’re all your friends and you’re happy for them, but when it comes to events like this, you really wish you’d have more single friends.

new year’s eve is supposed to be fun, filled with laughter and loud excitement for the coming year — it is all that, but it’s also you watching your friends huddle together once the countdown to midnight starts, sharing sweet nothings before celebrating the new year with a sickeningly sweet new years kiss.

all while you kind of just stand there, celebrating the arrival of yet another year on your own. for those few lips-locking seconds, at least. is it a little silly to feel left out? of course, but is it really that absurd to want to experience a new years kiss just like everyone else? well, you don’t think so. gyuvin, your best friend, sees things a little differently, though.

“it’s so stupid, i don’t get why you’re so hung up on it,” gyuvin huffs past his snacking on some chips, throwing you a sideways glance. “just think about it, most of them have a different new year’s kiss every year. does that seem like something you want?” you roll your eyes, snatching the bag of chips from his hands. “you don’t get it,” you stuff a handful of chips into your mouth, “it’s romantic. it’s like saying ‘i have no idea what the new year will bring, but at least i will always have you.’ you’re not romantic enough for this.”

gyuvin just gives you a skeptic look, turning his attention back to the drama playing on your tv. it’s silent for a while, both of you a little lost in your respective thoughts until gyuvin quietly speaks up, “does it really bother you? that you don’t have someone to….” he trails off, voice a little unsure. his voice is sincere and doesn’t have the teasing tone it had earlier so you’re a little caught off guard.

you clear your throat, answering in an equally small voice, “well…yeah, kinda? i don’t know. i just think it would be…nice, for a change, you know? i want to experience stuff like that too, instead of just always watching from the sidelines.” gyuvin nods, seemingly understanding where you’re coming from, and that was that. for now, at least.

you didn’t think much of that little one off conversation, neither of you bringing it up again in the weeks that followed. though, unbeknownst to you, that seemingly unimportant conversation kept knocking at the back of gyuvin’s mind every single day. he thought about it an embarrassing amount, really. he kept telling himself that it was because he thought you were being silly, and all those times he thought about being the one giving you your new year’s kiss were definitely nothing more than fleeting, stupid thoughts. nothing more.

which is why gyuvin is so conflicted when he walks through the door of your little friend group get together on new year’s eve, bags of snacks in hand, only to see you laughing with a guy he hasn’t seen before. there’s an unfamiliar feeling bubbling in his chest and he almost involuntarily thinks back to your conversation, to the fact that you really want to kiss someone once the clock strikes midnight — and it starts to mess with his head.

he’s quickly roped into a conversation with ricky and some of his other friends, though his eye seem to be glued to you instead of the people talking to him right in front of him; his eyes drifting back to you giggling along to whatever that strange guy was talking about every few minutes, the unsettled feeling in his chest spreading all over his body. “are you even listening?” gyuvin’s attention is ripped away from staring holes in that guys head when ricky addresses him directly, ricky’s hand on his shoulder bringing him back to reality.

“yeah, sorry.” the smile on gyuvin’s face is tight, ricky glancing to where you’re still speaking to the guy and it all makes sense to him. he sends gyuvin a sympathetic look and tries to keep up the conversation, though it’s clear gyuvin’s mind is entirely preoccupied.

when the calls for new snacks start, gyuvin immediately volunteers to filling the bowls back up in the kitchen, if only to avoid his eyes from drifting back to you and the guy — whose name is seunghan, he learned — and in turn dampening his mood even further. today is supposed to be fun, why is he moping around like this?

“what did the chips do to you? you’re practically glaring ar them,” gyuvin’s head whips around at your voice, the playful smile on your face lifting some of the heaviness in his chest when he sees you standing in the doorway.

“oh, hey.” gyuvin gives you a small smile and goes back to his snack duties while trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, “who’s the guy you’ve been talking to? you bring him along?”

shaking your head you reach over to steal a handful of cheese puffs gyuvin had just emptied into a bowl, “not me, but ahrin. his name is seunghan and she has her eye on him,” you mumble, “he’s funny and they both seem to like each other.” gyuvin nods, hand absentmindedly playing with his sleeves, “you think she’ll go for the new years kiss with him?” gyuvin asks, and you can tell he regrets the question as soon as he asked it.

you just shrug silently, the sudden mention of the kiss rendering you a little speechless. “ and you? you got anyone to kiss this year?” gyuvin says in an overly sarcastic tone, seemingly in an effort to loosen the tension a little. you snort at that, “ha ha, very funny. leave me and my romantic aspirations alone,” the lightheartedness in your voice makes gyuvin relax a little, and just when he’s about to speak, someone bangs against the kitchen door, demanding your attention.

“c’mon you two, we’re playing some games,” matthew calls before rushing back to the living room. you and gyuvin share a short glance before loading up on all the snacks and following suit, excited for the mess that is most definitely about to ensue.

two screaming matches, one round of (rigged, according to hao) just dance, three bowls of snacks and dozens of tears spilt through laughter later and the almost dreaded countdown to midnight is inching closer. the couples are slowly starting to separate from the group again, looking for an area that is less crowded and a little more romantic. your high mood is slowly starting to go down, the feeling of once again being the third wheel, in a way, accompanied by this off-putting feeling of loneliness in a room full of your friends bringing the self-doubt at the back of your mind to the forefront again.

gyuvin plops down next to you, stretching his long limbs with a groan, “god i hate sitting on the floor,” he looks around, the amount of couples in your friend group only now really hitting him, “damn, is that kiss really that important?” it was a rhetorical question, really, and he was speaking to himself more than anything, yet you turn to scowl at him.

you open your mouth to go on a rant about the lack of romance in gyuvin’s mindset when he suddenly turns to you, cheeks a little flushed but eyes filled with determination, “i’ll do it.”

you blink at him, “huh? do what?” gyuvin swallows, “kiss you. give you the new years kiss you want.” it takes a second for his words to register, before you splutter at him incredulously, “what— gyuvin why would we—“

“okay, time for the countdown! ten!” you hear from the other side of the room, and panic starts to fill gyuvin’s expression. “because i want to. i’ve been thinking about it ever since you mentioned it, and—“

“seven!”

“you said it was like saying that i have no idea what the new year will bring, but at least i will always have you, right?” his eyes search for yours, his pupils shaking and you nod, still a little stunned.

“four!”

“that’s exactly i want to tell you. so please—“

“three!”

“i want to be the one to give you your new years kiss. if you want—“

“two!”

and then, it happens. you grab his face and pull him close, hesitation for just a millisecond before your lips meet right as it reaches midnight. the fireworks outside colouring the sky feel almost pathetic in comparison to the burst of emotions exploding in your chest, it’s warm and fuzzy and just feels so right.

both of your faces are flushed bright red as your lips separate, but neither of you can keep from biting back the goofy smiles spreading on your faces. before you can even begin to think of something to say gyuvin leans back in, pressing another kiss to your lips.

and another. and another…and another.

you only separate for good when your giggles break through the kiss, gyuvin’s hands cupping your face, “i’d say that was a pretty good start into the new year, no?”

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gingernut1314 · 2 months

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Songbird Pt. 9

Buggy x F!Reader

Summary: Buggy pulls you from your girl's night only for you to find your captain's emotions running wild.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut (drunk sex, misuse of Devil Fruit powers, oral f.receiving, slight restriction, p in v, biting), use of Y/N

Word Count: 6.0K

A/N: Heyyyyy guys!! Back with some of the main story!! Sorry it took....a while 😬. I hope you all enjoy!!! 🩷🩷🩷

Requested by: @srgtjamesbarnes

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Girls night.

You hadn’t had a proper girl’s night since you were very little with your mom. Those nights where it was just the two of you played a card game together whenever she had a day off from work, which had been far and few in between.

You had no siblings to account for and, though Nami had been a good friend, she had been too worried about Arlong and her family to truly be able to relax and have fun. Understandably so.

So when Esmeralda and the other girls aboard the Big Top told you of their tradition, which took place whenever they made dock and the boys went to some crummy bar to drink, you were ecstatic.

You helped them gather supplies of cheeses, meats, grapes, and copious amounts of alcohol and you all huddled together in your shared quarters, gramophone playing the latest songs Esmeralda had collected that day.

So far, Emi had shown off her sword-swallowing skills, Seqii and her Aerial Ensemble had done shots standing upside down in a pyramid, you had sung three silly drinking shanties, and Esmeralda had cried about her horse-turned-cat food.

You now sat in a circle on the ground, shoving the remaining meats and cheeses into your faces, talking about anything and everything that happened within the varying relationships amongst the crew.

“Cabaji made me scrub the deck two times. Two!” Seqii complained, her drink sloshing around dangerously in her cup as she turned towards Emi, who was equally as off-balanced as her friend. “Can’t you swallow his sword, Emi? Make him loosen up a bit.”

“I swallow his sword every godsdamn night and --hic-- he still makes me re-tie lines even though they were perfect--hic--before.” Emi hiccupped, downing the rest of her drink. “Just how the guy is. Commanding. Just how --hic-- I like ‘em.” Seqii gave a dramatic roll of her eyes, loudly disagreeing with that statement.

“What about nice? Gentle?” Esmeralda slurred horrendously from where she sat next to you, one arm looped through yours while her other hugged the skittish contortionist, whose head lay in her lap. Emi and Seqii both booed her, making the ex-equestrian huff.

“The difference between you and --hic-- the rest of us is you like like Mohji.” Emi hiccuped, spurring Esmeralda to pull from your hold, flabbergasted.

“He’s nice to me and he loves me. Sorrrryyyy.” She all but shouted, making Emi and Seqii laugh like a pack of hyenas. Esmeralda snatched the bottle of wine Seqii had just picked up in something like payment and the aerial performer let her with a wide grin. “I’m not the only one who like likes who we are with. Y/N like, likes the Captain.”

Your own laughter was cut short as your heart nearly stopped in your chest. All eyes around the room snapped to you to see if what Esmeralda said was true.

That warm, fluttery feeling rushed around in your chest at the mention of your captain. A feeling you had been struggling to get back under wraps, but nothing you did ever could lessen the happy feeling.

The thought of his smile had that feeling soaring. The thought of his sea-glass eyes and his bad jokes and the gifts he would shower upon you--

You gave an elongated, scoffing pfftt with a dismissive arching motion of your hand…and then another and another.

“Shit. She more than like likes him.” Seqii said, her grin turning shit-eating.

“I like no man. Men are gross. Ew.” You hissed, wobbling a bit as Esmeralda all but crashed into you on her way to flop on her back.

“Ughhhh--you’re in denial.” Seqii continued, grabbing the wine bottle back from Esmeralda before she could spill it all over the floor.

“It’s no --hic--fun.” Emi popcorned in, snagging the bottle from her friend and taking a long swing.

“You know what is fun?” Seqii asked, fixing you with a mischievous smirk. “Telling us about how good in bed he is.” You felt your face flush at the statement, a few girls giggling and gasping around the room. Others egged you on, all but begging you to tell them.

“That’s priv--” You started, only to be cut off by Esmeralda popping back up with a near-matching mischievous grin.

“How big is he?” Your mouth fell open at her bluntness, but the woman only laughed away like it was no big deal. “Tell me when to stop, okay!” She said excitedly, placing her hands together before gradually pulling them apart. “Tell me when to stop--tell--there's no way--Y/N! Tell me when to stop!”

“I’m not--” Again, you were cut off by a loud burp from Seqii who had regained the wine bottle back from Emi.

“Who cares --hic-- how big he is. I need to know if his dick can --hic-- chop off like the rest of his body.” Emi hiccuped, her question earning a collective eagerness to know from the gathered group.

“Pleaseeee!” Esmeralda begged, latching onto your arm and shaking you. “I’ve told everyone about me and Mohji--”

“You and Mohji’s sex life is vanilla.” Emi started, making Esmeralda gasp.

“It is not vanil--”

“I want the juicy --hic-- details. Tell us, come on!” Emi finished, everyone quieting down again to watch you, waiting for any snippet you might give up.

You thought about it for a second. Thoughts that were fogged and blurred from all the drinks you’d had. Loose thoughts that had you thinking of all the dirty things Buggy did to you and you did to him.

Had his dick ever detached during your escapades?

“I don’t know.” You slurred on a shrug, earning a collective groan from the group. “I’ll ask geezzzz. But Buggy does this thing where he detaches his--” A loud thump sounded at the door, cutting off your story and earning yet another groan from a few of the girls.

Another thump sounded and you thought it reminded you of a body getting slammed into a wall. A body that kept fumbling back a bit before attempting to knock once more.

“Shit--the fucking boys are back,” Seqii grumbled as another thump sounded through the room. She grumbled some more as she stood, wobbly navigating her way through the collection of bodies sprawled over the floor. The door was flung open, letting in a chilled breeze that rose goosebumps to your skin.

Standing there, looking just as drunk and disheveled as the rest of the group, was Buggy in all his Buggy glory. His make-up smeared over his skin, his smile wide and bright, and his hat sitting a-skewed on his head, hanging on by some miracle.

“Captian Buggy!” The girls all cheered at his appearance. Buggy grinned widely as he dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Girls! My loyal crew!” He cheered right back, pulling his hands from his pockets and into the air, wiggling his fingers in his excitement as confetti in a rainbow of color rained down onto the floor. You giggled with Esmeralda as more cheering filled the room.

“How’s your night going? Hope I’m not interpreting.” He said, a few of his words coming out elongated and awkward, but no one truly seemed to notice or care because you were all giggling, wobbling, drunk messes.

“You could never --hic-- interpret captain! Come in!” Emi said, her tone shifting the slightest bit to be more kind towards her captain. “Y/N was just telling us--” You shot her a warning glare that only seemed to amuse her. “How much she likes it here!”

“Oh was she? Heh. Good.” He said, stumbling into the room, Seqii shutting the door behind him. Those green-blue eyes found you and filled with that softness you had spotted here and there in them. A look that spoke to the same feeling thrashing about in your chest, wishing to meet it.

“Baby--ugh I mean Songbird--Y/N,” He finally got out. You’re name felt strange spilling from his lips, but you loved it just as you did hearing the nicknames he conquered up for you.

A few girls around the room gave giddy little laughs at the nicknames, which you shot them their own warning glares for.

“I always love to hear feedback from the crew. ‘Specially from you newbies. Helps me know what’s workin’ and what’s-” he gave a little burp in the back of his throat as he came to a wobbly stop next to you. “-what’s not.” He stammered on, waving his hands around as if to emphasize what he was saying, confetti that had stuck to his gloved hands falling into your crossed lap.

You huffed with a roll of your eyes as you pulled yourself up, bumping into his leg as your wonky vision threw you off balance. Strong, gloved hands grabbed you under your arms and helped hoist you up, making your face burn.

“Are the others back?” Esmeralda asked hopefully, sitting herself right-side up.

“Only lil ol’ me. Sorry, Es.” Buggy said, a hand falling away from your body only for the last to stay glued to your back. You leaned into his touch, loving the feel of his warmth, a warmth strong enough to seep through the white fabric of his glove and your shirt.

“Captian, before you drag our glorious singing songbird off, could we hear one more song?” Emi asked, raising the last wine bottle. “We still have this whole bottle left,”

“Sure. No skin off my nose.” Buggy said, turning to look your way with a shrug.

The room went deadly quiet at his words.

Breaths were held and prayers were muttered.

They were words that, under any circumstance would have gotten someone mamined--killed.

But as he looked at you, all that flashed in his eyes was that softness which had never once left them since his arrival. He looked--at ease, almost.

It was probably just all the alcohol he had drank that night.

Probably all the alcohol you had been drinking, making you see things.

“Heh. Nose.” He said, bopping your nose. You watched his grin grow wider--a grin that sparked your own to cross your lips. “Sing the one ‘bout that bottle of rum that’s hard to open.”

“Aye, aye Captain.” You said, giving him a little salute, which he wobbly gave back.

You instructed everyone who wished to participate to form a circle, snatching the bottle of wine from Seqii before you hopped into the middle, starting the fun and upbeat shanty about a crew of pirates who find a mysterious bottle of rum floating in the sea. A bottle whose cork was too tough for the captain to open, so it was passed around and around the crew, trying desperately to find someone who could open it.

Once the first verse was sung, setting the disastrous scene for your own crew, you passed the wine bottle to Buggy as you began singing the chorus. A chorus that spurred your captain to pass it to Emi who passed it to Esmeralda and around and around the circle of the bottle went. You followed it, skipping and hopping and dancing away as your crew joined you in singing the chorus.

You froze as the chorus ended, the bottle landing in Buggy’s hands on a last pass from Seqii. He winked your way, making your mouth run dry as he raised the bottle to his painted lips.

You almost forgot all about the silly little song you were singing as you watched him, but found the will in your foggy brain to sing the second verse. Buggy chugged and chugged, his throat working with each swallow of the liquid. It had your alcohol-flushed body burning up that much more.

The girls gave another round of cheers as Buggy detached his head and hands so that the rest of his body could do a twirling dance to the music you provided.

When the verse came to an end, his head and hands popped back into place and he quickly passed it to Emi who passed it to Esmeralda and so on and so on as you sang the chorus once more.

Several verses later, the bottle ran dry with a hiccupping hoot of triumph from Emi, who held the bottle high as you finished the song.

You gave a flashy bow as the girls and your captain cheered for you, blowing kisses here and there around the circle. Buggy detached a hand to pretend to catch one high up, holding it carefully in his palm as he put it in his coat pocket.

“Thank you, thank you! I’ll see you all bright and early tomorrow morning!” A groan spilled from a few of the girl's lips at the thought of what tomorrow held in store for them. Mainly; all the chores to be done that Cabaji, no matter how hungover, was sure to have to get done.

You looped your arm through Buggy’s and let him lead you out of the room, which you took one more look over your shoulder to look at your friends in their varying states of drunkenness.

“Ask him!” Emi mouthed your way as Seqii did the simple magic trick where one pretended like they were pulling their thumb from its joint…but she had positioned her hands at her crotch with a grin so wide it almost spilled off her cheeks.

You shook your head at their silliness and persistence to know of your private endeavors…but it had piqued your interest if not in the slightest.

The hall was chilled compared to the body-filled room you had both just been in, which erupted in more laughter as you shut the door behind you. A chill that Buggy’s body, instantly wrapped around yours, shielded you from.

He placed a big old, smacking, wet kiss on your cheek, making your heart flutter like some caged butterfly.

“That was so fucking sexy, songbird.” He said, words still coming out warped from all the alcohol he had drank against your temple.

“Oh yeah? You liked my little jig?” You murmured back, turning your face to steal a glance at those eyes you couldn’t look in long enough.

“Hell yeah. Got me all hot and bothered.” His lips kissed your temple, then your cheek, before latching them onto your neck. You hooked your fingers over the back of his neck and pulled him in closer, savoring the tingling sensations that shot over your skin at his sloppy affections

“Should I do another one?” In hardly the blink of an eye, Buggy grabbed hold of your hand and in a quick, sharp movement that had you wobbly all over again, spun you around and away from him.

“Please do another one.” He begged, eyes eating up your body as you fought to regain your steady footing.

“Aye, aye captain.” You laughed before starting to sing an upbeat shanty as you spun and moved your body to the phantom beat down the hall and around the corner towards the stairs. Buggy followed after you, joining you in song and grabbing hold of your hands here and there to give you a little spin.

When the song came to a close, Buggy gave a loud hoot that echoed back at him and mixed with your laughter. He was quick to scoop you up into his arms, lips finding yours in a sloppy kiss that had your alcohol-fuzzed brain going near blank.

“Sing again for me, songbird.” He asked against your lips. You kissed him again before pulling away, Buggy giving a little whine to let you know you had pulled away all too quickly. “Did you eat dinner?” Buggy rolled his eyes, his arms snaking around your waist once more.

“Baby--”

“Baby.” You insisted, wrapping an arm around his neck. “I’ll sing for you while you eat? How does that sound?” Light lit up Buggy’s eyes as he nodded several times at this, making his face, in your drunken state, go all fuzzy.

“I should really promote you to be my negotiator. You’re--” He gave another burp in the back of his throat that you crinkled your nose at in disgust. “Soooo good at it.”

“Only for you, Captain.” Buggy’s grin widened and he leaned down to claim your lips in another sloppy kiss, but you were quick to place a finger over his puckered lips. “Food first.” Buggy groaned dramatically, grabbing hold of your wrist to pull your finger from his lips.

“Fine.” He gruffed, all but dragging you to the kitchen so that he could eat and get on with kissing you.

The kitchen had been left in a state of disarray thanks to you and the girls ransacking its stores as soon as the kitchen staff left for the night. Kitchen staff you knew would set Cabaji on you all to clean it all up in the morning.

Buggy gave a groaning oof as he flopped himself onto one of the stools sitting before the island, plunking his forehead against the wood. You chuckled at him and opened the fridge.

“Why’d you come back so early, baby?” You asked, rummaging around for the leftovers you had saved from the diner you and the girls had gone to dinner at.

“I’m too old to keep up with the others anymore. Got tired.” He grumbled making you roll your eyes.

“Oh is that right? Then we should head to bed after this? Get my old man his full eight hours of beauty sleep?” You teased, grabbing your leftovers up.

Even in your alcohol-fuzzed state, Buggy having yet to snap something back at you was strange.

Turning around, fridge door shutting softly behind you, you found Buggy’s face buried in his hands, shoulders quivering.

Crying.

Buggy was crying.

It had panic and concern shoot through your chest rapidly, your leftovers abandoned as you rushed to his side.

“Buggy? What’s wrong, baby?” You asked, smoothing your hands over his back and arm to try and get him to look at you. To comfort and console him. “D-did I say something to upset you? I’m sorry, baby, you know I don’t think you’re old--”

“I missed you.” He moaned out. His words--they more than shocked you.

He had missed you. He had missed you so much he had left the bar early and was now crying about it.

It was…sweet. And doing nothing for that warm, fluttering feeling invading your every sense.

“You--you missed me?” You asked, gently grabbing hold of his hands to pull them away from his face. His make-up was done for, smudged so bad it had all but blended into his skin. His watery blue-green eyes looked up at you, only overflowing with more tears as he nodded.

“Baby I missed so much.” He whined, grabbing for your shirt weakly as if it was his anchor in the raging storm that was his emotions. “They can’t sing like you--they don’t know half the lyrics.” Tears continued to spill down his cheeks as he pulled you closer. “And--and I just--missed you.”

You smiled kindly at him, cupping his face with your hands and wiping away each tear that escaped his eyes.

“I’m here now. And I still owe you a song.” More tears fell from his eyes despite your attempt at comfort, his face falling against your chest as a sob shook his shoulders.

You were trying not to laugh--not to let that giddy feeling escape your chest through a silly giggle at your captain's confession. At the discovery that Buggy was a drunk crier.

You pulled his hat off his head, placing it on the island counter before going about taking his bandana off so that you could brush your fingers over his blue hair, which he had put in a singular braid.

“Fucking gods I missed you.” He sobbed again, burying his face deeper. “You’re--you’re just so beautiful and too kind to me.”

Beautiful. He was calling you beautiful.

Your heart was beginning to race with that feeling. With that overwhelming swell of that naggingly warm emotion.

A swell that the alcohol in your system was threatening to spill.

To spill the three words you had been struggling to hold at bay. Words that were just on the tip of your tongue--words that began to form and fal--

“And--And your tits are so soft and round and I missed them so much.” And that feeling was swapped with utter annoyance.

“Really?” You asked, placing your hands on his shoulders to try and shove him away, but his grip on you was iron-like.

“What? It’s true!” He moaned out mournfully as he nuzzled his face between them. You huffed, feeling just the tiniest bit hurt in that moment when you had thought you were getting a sweet, tender confession from your captain.

“You just missed my tits? Is that all you missed?” You snapped, Buggy’s face pulled from your breast so he could show you all that sadness welling in his soul.

“No.” He whined, resting his cheek again on your breasts. “I missed your ass too.”

“Jackass.” You grumped, yanking yourself away from the clown who gave another pitiful moan.

“Baby--” Buggy started, grabbing at your arms and hips to try and keep you close. You fought not to give in and fall back into his arms, especially when a wave of fresh tears were rolling down his red and blue smudged cheeks.

“I don’t think you deserve a song now, since you only missed my body” You huffed, crossing your arms and turning your head away from him.

Buggy moaned yet again, his head flopping onto the kitchen island once more and falling off. His shoulder drooped and his arms fell off, chop-chopped into pieces on the floor. It was a pile of chop-chopped limbs that continued to grow the longer you stayed away.

“Noooooo. I missed your voice.” He cried, his gloved hands inching their way up onto the island surface. “I missed you being mean to me and I mi-missed you takin’ care of me even when I don’t deserve it.” Those chopped hands continued to cross the wooden surface towards you like some strange spider. Fingers that brushed against your arm in a weak attempt to pull you back.

“I don’t deserve you--you’re too good for me. I’m a shitty shitty fool and you’re a perfect dove who's too bright for me.”

And now you felt like the asshole. Because none of that was true. Because Buggy was perfect for you in every way. He was more than you deserved. He was better to you than any person you had had a semblance of a relationship with had ever been before.

You didn’t deserve him.

“Buggy. No. That’s not true.” You started, going right back over to the chopped-up pile he had become. Buggy was quick to pull himself back together and was pulling you eagerly into his orbit once more.

“It is.” He cried, knuckles no doubt going white under his gloves at the tight he was holding onto your shirt. “I’m the East Blue’s biggest loser. The biggest in all the Blue Seas. You deserve someone who is better. Someone like that fucking shit-for-brains swordsman or shitty blond pretty boy.” You shook your head, gently pulling his fingers from your shirt to hold his hands tight.

“I don’t want them. I’ve never wanted them. I’ve only ever wanted you.” Buggy shook his head and you took his chin in a gentle scoop, keeping those sad eyes on you. “And I don’t think you're a fool. Not one bit.” Doubt and self-hatred continued to bubble in Buggy's watery eyes. Emotions you never ever wanted to see shining in them. Emotions you had put there.

It had your heart beating painfully in your chest. Had your hands sweating and blood running cold.

You were making him cry. You are a burden to him.

“I--I don’t deserve you.” Buggy scoffed at this, disbelief thankfully lessening those hurting feelings in his eyes. “I don’t. Before I met you--I was nothing. No one. Just an empty vessel floating around on some godsforsaken ship. A husk trapped in a cave. And now--now you make me feel--full. Like a real person. You make me feel so--so happy.”

“But you would be happier with--”

“I wouldn’t. I know I wouldn’t because I wasn’t.” Buggy’s bottom lip quivered in warning of another body-shaking sob. You couldn’t--wouldn’t see him upset. Upset over something you had foolishly started.

“I lo--” Your words lodged themselves in your throat. Words that had been threatening to spill from your mouth from the moment you had caught him singing your song to the night air all those weeks ago. Words your heart and soul begged to speak but your mind caged--bulling them away in fear. Fear of him rejecting such words. Words that were more than just words.

Words that sobered you right up, letting every last bit of panic flood your chest now that the dulling fog had vanished.

Buggy’s own breath hitched in his throat. That warm look you had spied in his eyes more and more often flashing through their watery depths. A warm look that was overpowered by those hurting feelings you had been trying to save him from.

“You are special to me.” You managed to croak out. Your heart was beating faster. So fast you were sure it was bruising itself against your ribs, making it hard to breathe. “And--and I want to be here. With you. And I don’t want you to feel that way. Not with me. Because--because you’re too special to me.” More tears fell from Buggy’s eyes and your panic gripped at your heart tighter.

Had you only made it worse? Had you said too--

A hand grabbed hold of your jaw, pulling you against Buggy’s smudged lips. Lips that kissed you soft and sweet.

He kissed you slowly. A slowness that spoke louder than any words he could have possibly said in that moment. A kiss that had your eyes sparking with tears right alongside his own.

You grabbed him closer, pressing your body against his as much as the stool would allow. But it was nowhere near close enough. It would never be close enough.

Your hands moved over his braided hair, down his stubble-lined jaw, and neck. Hands you moved under his coat to try and shrug it off his shoulder so you could feel his warm skin against yours. He chop-chopped his arms from his shoulders to let the coat slip off more easily. Arms that were instantly around you once reattached, hands finding their way under your shirt.

The kiss grew more hungry--needy, but that passion never once fled. A passion that burned through your heart, which struggled to keep the balance between your fluttering feelings towards this clown, and your darkened ones.

You felt the muscles in his arms work against your hands as he grabbed you up in them, laying you out on top of the kitchen island.

Random bottles and bits of trash you and the girls had littered it with clattered to the ground, but it hardly mattered. Not when Buggy was trailing a wet line of kisses over your jaw and neck and the swell of your breasts. Not when he pulled your shirt up to continue to leave opened-mouthed kisses along your stomach.

You breathed his name as he began to tug your brightly patterned pajama pants over and off your legs.

Those sloppy kisses attacked your calves and thighs--lips that turned biting every so often and had your body sparking, mind fogging in utter lustful need.

“F-fuck, Songbird,” Buggy spoke around a mouthful of flesh. “Always so ready for me.” You gave a shuddery gasp as a detached hand came to rest over your pelvic bone, thumb running over the thin fabric that still covered your dripping core.

“Always, captain.” You moaned out, reaching to feel over his cheek and jaw. Those damned fingers passing over your clit, sending a jolting shock through your near-burning body. “P-please--baby, I need you, please.” You begged.

“Let me taste first, baby. Please let me taste you.” He begged right back, his kisses growing ever closer to your weeping pussy. You whimpered but nodded at his request. A whimper that turned sharp and whiny when those wet kisses were placed over your covered core. Buggy moaned against you, tongue creating a dampened patch on your underwear right above your entrance.

“B-Buggy--please.” You moaned out, hips starting to ground against his mouth, fingers, and nose to create more and more beautiful mind-numbing frustration. Buggy cursed, that detached hand pulling away from your covered clit to start pulling your underwear down.

They didn’t get very far over your thighs when Buggy’s tongue ran through your folds. You cried out his name, underwear restricting your legs from opening further for him and all but clamping down around his head.

You couldn’t find the strength within yourself to stop rotating your hips against his mouth--to try to stop chasing your high long enough to loosen your grip on his head or make sure your underwear wasn’t choking him out.

But those chop-chop abilities handled all your worries.

His head detached from his neck, freeing your legs from their awkwardly folded position and allowing his hand to finally yank your underwear from your legs, giving you the freedom to hook them over his shoulders, granting him full access to your needy pussy.

His head popped back into place just as his tongue dipped into your fluttering core, lapping up every last bit of your ever-growing arousal in sinful slurps.

Your fingers wove their way into his hair, messing up that braid, as your hips ground against his mouth near frantically as that build deep within you began to wind. That detached hand crawled over your stomach and found home once more over your pelvic bone so that it could rub circle after circle into your clit, winding that coil ever tighter.

You moaned Buggy’s name like a prayer as he continued to fuck you on his tongue. As his own moans vibrated through you and set into motion that snapping release within you.

A release that tingled through your arching spine and sent that white buzz flooding through your thighs and core, which constricted around Buggy’s tongue.

You fell back against the counter, sweat making your skin stick to it and chest heaving up in down to catch your breath. Your fingers mused through Buggy’s hair, your thighs twitching and whimpering gasps falling from your mouth as Buggy’s tongue remained buried deep within you, licking up every last bit of your finish.

“B-Buggy,” You moaned, yanking weakly at his hair. “Ne-need you in me. Please.” Buggy mummed in acknowledgment, sending pleasure-filled vibrations through your sensitive core. You bit your lip as he continued to eat you out--as his fingers continued to rub mind-numbing circles into your clit that had your hips and legs twitching as if to try and get away from the persistent assault of your sensitive body.

“Buggy.” You whimpered, yanking at his hair just the sharpest bit tighter. He pulled from your core then, but not without trailing his drooling tongue back through your folds one last time. You wiggled your hips against the burning feeling that shot through you.

“M’kay, baby.” He murmured, kissing back up your exposed stomach to find your lips once more. The feel and taste of spit and your release had your mind spinning all over again. Had you hooking your legs together around his waist, pressing his hardened cock against your reignited arousal.

You moved to fidget with his belt buckle, spurring that detached hand to help you loosen it as well as yank his pants and stripped boxers down far enough to let his cock spring free, it tapping against your sensitive clit. Buggy hissed at the feel of your slick against the reddened tip of him.

You scooted closer, your ass all but hanging off the edge of the kitchen island so that Buggy’s cock lay flush against your throbbing folds. His lips left yours, resting his forehead on your collarbone so that he could watch as he split you open on his cock, that little whimper of his you loved spilling from his lips with every inch inwards.

You cradled the back of his neck as your walls flexed and adjusted for him, that shimmering pleasure starting that coil deep within yourself up once more.

“Fuck, songbird.” He groaned lowly as he bottomed out, his lips kissing the valley between your breasts. “So good--always feel so good.” Your lips kissed the bit of his forehead you could reach with a stratified hum. “A-always so good for me. A-always take care of me.” He mumbled, pulling himself out to his red-flushed tip before quickly thrusting back into you, pulling a gasp from your lips.

That shimmer turned into a pleasant buzz with each snap of his hips against your own. A buzz that built with each pass of sticky, warm skin, burning lips, and biting teeth.

Buggy’s sea-glass eyes found your own once more and you’re breath hitched at the warm emotions swirling within them. Emotions that stayed, not chased away by doubt or fear.

“I-I--you’re special to me, songbird. You--you make me happy. Happier than I’ve been in years.” Tears pricked at your eyes. Tears you fought against but ultimately lost to. Buggy kissed them away, his thrusts slow and circling to keep you closer.

“I--I think--” He hesitated, his breath huffing against your cheeks as he continued those shallow thrusts. Thrusts that allowed his cock to hit every last nerve ending within you, starting that white buzz you knew meant the coming of your second release of the night. “I--I missed bein’ ‘round you and it had only been a couple of hours. Fuck--you’re so godsdamn special to me it hurts, songbird.”

You huffed against the rise of emotions flashing through you. Emotions that only swelled that much more when he nuzzled his nose against yours. When he purposely brought attention yet again to his nose. His nose he protected against insult with rage and violence--but he was letting you near it--feel it.

He pulled away to look into your eyes again and you found tears were pricking at his own eyes once more.

Slowly, as to give him more than enough time to pull away, you leaned in to place a small kiss to that nose of his--a nose that complemented him and one you loved. Buggy blinked, those tears rolling down his cheeks. You smiled at him through your pants, wiping his tears away.

Your lips found his once more in a slow, open-mouthed kiss that brought you two that much closer.

That white buzz zapped through your thighs and spine and toes as it shot through down your core once more, Buggy’s name moaned into his mouth.

He moaned your own name into your mouth, cock twitching and balls pulling tight before spilling ribbons of hot come deep within you.

You both fell slumped against each other, taking in each other's air as heavy panting filled the air.

“I’m…I’m sorry for cryin’,” Buggy mumbled as he pet over the bits of your exposed skin he could get at. You placed a kiss to his neck, fingers messing with his braid.

“It’s okay, baby. Crying just means you had a good night.” Buggy gave that funky laugh of his, kissing your cheek as he made to look into your eyes once more. His smile, so bright and wide, nearly took your breath away.

“You’re right. I did.” His lips claimed yours in a kiss just as sweet as the words he had uttered to you moments ago.

“Hey…Buggy?” You asked once you had fully caught your breath.

“Yeah, songbird?”

“I was just wondering…what all can you chop off?” Buggy blinked at you in thought, not truly understanding your motives.

“Well--everything, I guess. Why--” Buggy cut himself off when he spied the mischievous smirk pulling at your lips. You clenched your tired walls around his softened cock in way of question. “Fuck, songbird.” He cursed, his pupils slowly growing larger in lust.

“Can it?” Buggy leaned so close that the tip of your nose touched his. It had your heart fluttering all over again.

“Want to find out?” He asked with a smirk to match your own.

“Yes, Captain."

Tag List: @lostfirefly , @fanaticsnail , @empressofmankind , @fanshavegottensotoxic , @wasabiprophet , @ane5e , @synoname-wordsmith , @cefni , @solarrexplosion , @luvrsbian , @misadventures0fdes , @friedtacokitty

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wonijinjin · 7 months

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seventeen members as feelings/personality traits

synopsis: the members as feelings or personality traits i associate them with

word count: 1.0k | genre: fluff | warnings: none

cheol is safety. when looking at him i instantly get the feeling of being safe if i was ever taken under his care, not any type of danger to worry about. protecting his loved ones is in his blood, the way he acts around his members and does everything in order to protect everyone from any harm both physically and mentally makes me think of the word safety when thinking about him.

hannie is cheekiness. we all know that he is a trickster and a mastermind. he has a very nurturing nature, which makes him whole with that youthful cheekiness he has. this is why it makes everyone smile and adore him when he does something playful and joins his members in joking around. his little smirk every time he outsmarts someone for fun makes me think of the word cheekiness when thinking about him.

shua is reliability. he is a very trustworthy person many others confide in, someone who gives reassurance to his members when they need it. he is very easy-going who can adapt to any situation, always providing a permanent and solid foundation to anything he is part of. being the gentle person he is, despite many burdens his selflessness always pushes forward to be someone people can count on, so i think of the word reliability when thinking about him.

jun is balance. he might not be the most talkative person you have ever seen, but he always knows what and when to say. he is playful yet serious and calm, on top of this, very self-aware. he is someone who is probably the rock and resting place of several members even though it might not seem like it at first sight for an outsider’s eyes. his very conscious sincere actions make me associate the word balance with him.

hoshi is passion. he is known for being the choreographer of many seventeen dances along with his unit, and every time he does what he loves he seems to be so passionate about it. his sharp moves and detail-oriented mind shows how seriously he takes his responsibility as a performer, and he never disappoints. his dedication to being a good artist is insane, almost like a fire which could never be taken out. he is a true hard worker, that is why the word passion describes him so well.

wonwoo is wisdom. he is more on the introverted side, but for his age I consider him to be exceptionally wise. given how much he has gone through in life it is not surprising, rather the way he deals with these experiences and grows as a person is. he is a very good listener and can easily give advice to anyone, instead of simply always trying to find a solution to everything his mindset reminds me of the word wisdom when thinking about wonwoo.

woozi is humbleness. as a producer he has done so many things he could boast about, but he never does. he seems like the very down-to-earth type of person, who knows about the amount of success he has, but is silent about it. he never forgets where he started, an ounce of disrespect towards anyone of any kind never crossing him. because of his kindness and honesty he suits the word humbleness best.

minghao is serenity. meditation is the foundation of his daily routine, he is good at keeping his emotions in place, but by no means does it equal the lack of them. his positive mindset and deep understanding of himself is a key to calmness, with which he can resolve many situations and reach his goals as planned. his mischievous side can shine in the right moments thanks to this tranquility, overall best support system when bringing up one’s spirits, so he is serenity itself in a person.

mingyu is curiosity. he is just a curious puppy, always so open to trying everything and widening his knowledge, preferably on many topics. his hobbies include a wide range of things, which shows how fascinated he can be when getting the chance to give a go to anything new and fresh. he is always part of the goofiest members and will easily say yes to doing something fun with his friends, just so curious.

dk is innocence. he is such a bright person, a true sunshine. being an empath means he feels many emotions all the time, which makes him have this child-like purity and optimism. because of these traits I think he is often mistaken by people as someone extra naive, when in reality he is excellent at reading people, again something he is able to do because of the unconditional love and zero prejudice he has, so innocence is definitely him.

seungkwan is diligence. his hard work has been permanent from the very first moments of his life, which got him to where he is currently. his efforts’ driving force is to make his loved ones proud, determination never faltering. he tirelessly works day and night, never being satisfied with his work, even though he is literally perfection itself, this kind of mentality is exactly what diligence is.

vernon is acceptance. he has said multiple times that he had faced discrimination of some kind in the past, so naturally coming from those experiences he is a very open-minded person in whom you can find a safe place no matter who you are. he always encourages everyone to be themselves, to be unique. he is one of a kind, who will always welcome everyone in his life with warmth, so i think of the word acceptance when thinking about vernon.

dino is comfort. as the members have already said before he is an old soul, who always looks out for his loved ones. he can be playful if the situation requires it, making the room brighter all the time. he is a solent lover, who makes sure that everyone gets the gentleness and kindness they deserve. his supporting words and actions couldn’t have been replaced by anything else, it just feels right when thinking about him that comfort is him.

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clarks-letterman · 17 days

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prison for life | johnny slaughter x gn!reader

a/n — I don't really like this lol, butttttt the low amount of Johnny content constitutes that the worst fics must be posted for the quantity

summary — Johnny got into a fight over you at the bar you own, and you patch him up.

words — 1.9k

warnings — mentions of blood and Johnny getting more scars. language

~~~

Watching people trickle out of the bar and onto the gravel pathway leading to your bar was always a treat—wishing them a safe travel home and a safer time searching for their keys while they laughed at the jokes the regulars heard every night and the newcomers would eventually get sick of. It’s what the final few minutes of any establishment should strive for. You got to be a part of the community from behind the bar, towel slung over one shoulder and the stream of a bottle flying over the next with the help of your many acquired flashy tricks. The final drink would be made just for you, by yourself. What wasn’t fun was watching them leave with shock and awe painted on their faces, the women ogling the man that just clobbered another out cold. The men with their spouses left in a hurry, both in fear of what happened moments before and nervousness that Johnny would snake his arm around those he stared at all night; his intentions for staring? Unclear. The line at which he would go from another bar patron to your champion of contest was equally so. Closing time should be that, but here you were, serving your last patron with alcohol that didn’t go anywhere near his mouth. It was for a scar on his shoulder…and for the nosebleed…and for his de-rooted tooth…and for the scar on his face. You would definitely need another drink after this.

Maybe two, just to see if Johnny was still alive. Still in the real world, if he was in it to begin with. His pain tolerance was uncomfortably high and he didn’t wince as much as you would in this situation. He proved it when he spoke, his voice low and gruff but still permeating through to the levity you were used to.

“Another scar to add to the collection.” He smirked, revealing the blood staining his teeth and wrinkling the blood that had dried on his skin just under his nose.

He could fight pretty well, but everyone has a center of gravity and the guys from the city possessed the knowledge to know how to tip him over like cattle. But Johnny actually did tip cattle, he was the one getting his hands dirty almost every day. He was used to meatheads. So in a quick motion of left-hooks and failed dodges, Johnny had the man on the floor within seconds.

“And another tooth lost.” You said, swishing around the one that was sitting at the bottom of an empty drinking glass. It rattled and clinked against the inside of the glass like someone dunked the body of a savior—your savior—in a stoup. While it was covered and stained with blood from the root it had been separated from, you could see between the red striping over it to notice the yellow staining—a trademark of bad hygiene. At certain angles, there seemed to be a black spot that was insidiously drilling into his tooth to rot it from the inside. “At least the cavity’s gone.”

“I got more of ‘em, though. Plenty, like shark teeth.” His smirk stretched into a wide grin, flashing his teeth in your direction. The gap between his teeth would have led you to believe he was missing something much bigger, but it was probably just your own head struggling to recognize it as a new feature on his face. It wasn’t like his fresh cuts that would turn to scars and eventually fade, no. Every time he smiled, smoked a cigarette, or bared his teeth to threaten someone, there would always be something missing now.

“I’ll count each row and if there aren’t fifty… Well, I know where one is. You want it?” Good thing there wasn’t anything missing in your relationship. He still bickered and didn’t lose his bite after the loss of one molar.

“Nah, just chuck it.” He didn’t want it to be more trouble than it was worth. It was his DNA—not yet incriminating for the time but it would be harder to identify him based on dental records, for the little paper trail he had left behind.

While he didn’t want to take home the proof that he didn’t walk away from the fight unscathed, he still won the fight. You tried to remind him of that, “Hey, you get to tell your family about the other guy when you get home. I think they will be pretty happy to hear that you’re okay. Minus one tooth.”

He laughed. This would be the part where he’d usually take a drink between pauses during the many conversations you shared with him before, his hand cupping at the air in a reflex before lightly knocking against the wooden bar with a flat palm. Almost in defeat; it was the same hand he had successfully tipped a cow down with one punch. “Sure… they’ll be real worried.”

You set the glass down as he tried picking one up, moving over to the first aid kit that was open and ripped apart from the inside, unpacking all of the quick medicinal fixes it had to offer. Johnny had a few cuts and you rushed to get it when the fight turned serious. Now that it had de-escalated: the man still on the floor with glass shards surrounding him, Johnny returning to the seat he’d been occupying at the bar all night, it made you feel a little overreactive to the situation.

Rounding the bar, you filled the space atop the empty brown stool next to Johnny. He leaned in your direction, brandishing his wounded shoulder with ease thanks to his sleeveless black tank. There was one deep cut heading straight for his bursa in the middle of his shoulder and a few lighter ones surrounding it that would only need to be cleaned and bandaged. The man didn’t speak and Johnny didn’t wince when you started patching him up. You were using vodka to treat his wounds, and a small glass of water to clean that after you wiped away the blood. The towel you usually had slung over your shoulder was now turning a deep red from its vibrant white, matted down with his blood. Lightly, you dabbed a little at his face, but he wouldn’t really turn to look in your direction. Once they were all clean, it was time to start on his dwelling laceration: you started on the right side and pierced the surface of his skin to lightly sew it back together. Johnny was a little squeamish to the feeling, but it started looking better towards the end. Too bad you couldn’t do the same for his tooth.

“Try not to move that arm so much or I’ll have to put another stitch in it.” You tried to get his mind onto something else and decided that being a pain in his ass would be better than letting his mind settle on the pain in his shoulder and face. You had two stitches or so left to do before you could tie off the thin thread. “C’mon, you can tell them about how you kicked that guy out!”

“He came at me with a glass after I asked him to leave. Not much of a story to tell.” Johnny sounded a bit unamused, like the work he did was conscientious to the liking of a law enforcer.

“That’s not how I remember it.” Johnny came up to the guy, commanding him to leave for the things he overheard. When he refused to leave, Johnny grabbed him by the arm with enough strength to lift him out of his seat. The man’s drink spilled out of his glass, and in an undefinable rage, he hit Johnny with the glass on his left shoulder—the same side as the arm he used to pull him away from his source of intoxication. You only caught wind of the last action, returning from the back office with a rack of clean drinking glasses that you let slip out of your grasp when you saw Johnny get hit. The noise caused him to turn to look at you, revealing the scar across his face from one of the shards of glass grazing his cheek from the impact on his shoulder to cut him up.

“Listen!” He snarled out, shooting up and pulling away from you. You just had to tie the knot at this point. “I woulda kept my cool but he—”

“I don’t pay you to keep your cool.” And you were right, he kind of just came in and occupied a seat in the bar. He would stare at people when they barked at you—his warm brown eyes hardening into dirt-colored pebbles and silica daggers, unseen but felt. Sometimes, these men would take it too far and he’d cause them to fall face-first into the dirt outside after a harsh eviction. What would Johnny do with this guy? You could probably drag him out of the place if you really tried, but Johnny could lift like he ate—big and hefty.

“You don’t pay me nothin’” But he was right, too. He wasn’t the typical image of security. He wasn’t big enough to block doors, he didn’t sit at the entrance, and he sure as hell didn’t care to card people walking in.

“Except in free drinks. Get a six-pack out of the cooler on your way out, you earned it. Just… don’t drink it ‘till you’re home?” There was a black refrigerator by the door with a glass panel taking up most of the hinged door in front of it. Of all the things to get broken in the fight, you wouldn’t expect a measly cup to go first.

Or for your heart to shatter, when Johnny asked with a little bit of surprise, “You worried about me?”

“About myself. I don’t have the strength or gall to take on the farmers around here.” You pulled on the string hanging from his shoulder, tying it into a knot. You decided in the brief moment between spoken words that Johnny would be fine without treating his face if it was only cleaned. “And you have to get that guy home—that’s your last job of the night. I’ll help you throw him into your pickup, yeah?”

“But he, he said things about you I didn’t like.” You turned to the first-aid kit, reaching in for the tiny pair of scissors to cut the extra thread. When you turned back, you spoke with intrigue.

“Like what?”

“I don’t want to think about it. He might not make it home safe if I do.” Johnny smirked, his eyes wandering off into his own fantasy for a moment at the things he could do to the man on the floor.

“Fine, I won’t pry.” You finished up stitching him, closing the book on the night’s chaos. Johnny got out of his stool, standing over the guy with both legs on either side of his unconscious body. He reached down and hoisted him up by the shoulders, being intentionally careless as he let his legs drag and hit against the table and chair legs on his way out. You got a six-pack for him—a Pearl beer, his favorite—and followed him out to his old Chevy. Johnny didn’t tear any of his stitchings when throwing the guy into the back of his truck, and the drunken bastard didn’t wake up to any of Johnny’s rough handlings. You said your goodbyes to him and wished the guy a safe and bumpy travel home, but he would never walk back into the bar again.

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moonkkives · 2 years

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— ( THE DUTCH & THE DUTCH(ESS) )

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader, driver!reader

summary: the ups and downs of max verstappen, the dutch lion, and his equally impressive dutch teammate.

warning: lots of fluff and adorable max for your enjoyment.

word count: O.9k

them: safe with me by gryffin & audrey mika

author’s note: thinking about turning this into a series of one shots if it’s something you guys would be interested in! i think it would be really fun to write shy boy! max and his equally shy girl! teammate. plus, the red bull team orders💀 that would also be interesting

‘22 france gp: my little ferrari heart can’t take this anymore😭 charles just had it in the bag and baby carlos i’m sorry!! the ferrari strategists really need to get their shit together oh my god.

• max and you go all the way back to karting. you bumped into each other a couple of times during races, never even looking at the other’s direction for years. in fact, there are group pictures in which neither of you remember ever even knowing that the other was there.

• that is, until one faithful day max, accidentally, —according to him— bumped into your kart as you were both fighting for the first place of a race.

• sadly, i’d ended with both of you out of the race and no one placing inside the top three.

• to say you were angry as an understatement; you were absolutely fuming. and so, your little six year old body marched you towards the incompetent kid and stomped on the ground.

• “you are a cheater!”

• max was in a fine line between confusion as to who you were and anger at the fact that he had lost the medal because of you.

• “no, you don’t know how to drive!”

• that was even worse; little you hated when you were bad at something. regardless, he was the one who bumped into you, so, with red cheeks, you retaliated.

• “don’t be mean!” you whined in dutch, something you usually did when you were annoyed.

• max immediately raised a brow in suspicion, as if surveying whether you were the enemy or not. “are you dutch?” he asked in, well, dutch.

• you raised a brow back at him. “are you dutch?”

• and that was the start of your friendship.

• after that, you were attached to the hip: cheering for each others wins, immediately looking for the other person during any break during competitions, playing board games that max was clearly bad at only to make him suffer. you know, the usual.

• max has always been extremely protective of you. when you were little he would “accidentally” slam his foot in the toes of any kid that would try talking to you.

• he would also throw them a dirty look or spit out a comment similar to ‘what do you want?’ in a very shady tone.

• however the protectiveness hit a new peek when you entered formula one, especially as his new teammate in redbull.

• his eyes would always try finding yours in the crowd. during interviews after each race, he’s always caught looking over his shoulder or to the side as if to check up on you.

• if possible he always has a hold on you: his arm over your shoulders, his arms hugging you from behind and, the fan favorite, his hand in your lower back or hip.

• you both have mastered the art of deflecting any type of question that involves you romantically.

• you probably spend almost every single day together, weather on race weeks or during breaks. you even spend christmas together, both of your families making a big dinner on christmas eve.

• max knows everything about you, and doesn’t hesitate to comfort you when he feels your mood drop for whatever reason.

• even though you have your own personal assistant, max makes sure to get your coffee every single morning before work.

• he knows how particular you are on the amount of sugar you put on your coffee, so he decided to go to the coffee shop every single morning and personally get it for you.

• he gets a coffee with no sugar and then he puts the exact amount of sugar you like.

• you’re lovingly referred to by the media as ‘the dutchies’ or ‘the dutch twins’.

• the craziness of the dutch grand prix is always heightened by the fact that both red bull drivers are dutch and they’re insanely good. austria too, almost feels like an extension of their country due to the amazing support from fans.

• shit talking about people that piss them off and complaining about media schedules. all in dutch. just to annoy people around them.

• many fans on social media refer to 2O21 as the ‘great dutch era’ of f1, as max verstappen won that year's championship, in part, thanks to his teammate and friend.

• however, being in the same team meant that max was your number one rival and the one you’re constantly compared to.

• the close bond you two had made it so you never let competitiveness get in between your friendship.

• there’s the infamous ‘team orders’ scandal which really put a strain between max and you, plus you and red bull.

• truthfully, you weren’t mad at max, as he had no say on what christian horner decided to do or not do. however, in the heat of the moment, you both said really hurtful things and it would have escalated to something much worse if charles hadn’t interfered.

• and you were both dutch so, obviously, you didn’t talk to each other for a couple of weeks.

• until one turn of events had you finally make up.

• at this point, everyone is aware of the way max’ is all smiles when he’s around you. how his eyes light up when he sees you walk across the room. how he’s always eager to hug you after a race, no matter the outcome. how his tone of voice fills with love when referring to you.

• “that’s p1 max, very well done.”

• “amazing job guys— how did she do?” every single race.

• both garages have a bet going on to see who will confess first.

• gianpiero is completely sure it won’t be max whilst christian horner doesn’t see you doing it yourself.

• in other news, the paddock is simply waiting for you guys to finally get together.

• but you are simply too stubborn and shy to be the first one to admit it.

• charles, pierre and daniel are on the verge of having a mental breakdown.

• only time will tell. maybe.

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er-osion · 1 month

Text

Haldir Headcanons

pairing: Haldir x gn!Reader

summary: relationship headcanons with Haldir of Lórien. [SFW]

word count: 789

warnings: none, fluff

∾∾∘⋅∗⋄⋆⋄∗⋅∘∾∾

- He is such a chill boyfriend.

- He’s the epitome of calm like 99% of the time and it really brings stability to your relationship.

- He seems pretty serious, and he is, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be fun. His humor is definitely dry, but once you get it, you get it and you’re always cracking up because he always makes the right joke at just the right moment.

- He can be pretty quiet so a lot of your time spent together will most likely be in comfortable silence.

- I think he’d prefer to show his love via quality time and words of affirmation. While his words of affirmation may not be spoken very often, they are always heavy with sincerity and very personal to you and your relationship.

- Haldir definitely likes using pet names like “my darling” or “meleth” or “sweetheart” and he uses them quite often, even in public. He also has nicknames for you that come from inside jokes, but he usually saves those for more private company.

- Haldir just loves spending time with you, he doesn’t care so much about what you’re doing, as long as you’re together. He’s happy just sitting quietly at home, doing your own things in the same room, or going out to do an activity. So long as the two of you are together, and you’re happy, he’s happy.

- Haldir likes to see you smile. Just seeing you smile brightens his day and makes him so much happier. He likes to tell you that your smile shines brighter than all the lights in Lothlórien. When he’s coming home from patrol, he’s actually looking forward to seeing your face while you're smiling. There’s something about the light in your face when you’re grinning that makes his heart pick up its pace.

- Haldir isn’t super great at communication though. Being quiet is his nature, and that can include his feelings. It’s kind of a slow start for you in getting him to open up. It still takes effort sometimes too, he just naturally keeps things to himself. This has been a point of some arguments, but both of you dislike fighting and understand what to do to avoid such things. So fortunately, actual arguments are few and far between.

- Haldir doesn’t like PDA. He’s quite professional and private so PDA doesn’t really mix with him. He doesn’t ignore or avoid you in public, just don’t expect big displays of affection because he’s not very comfortable with that. But, if the two of you have spent a lengthy amount of time apart, he’ll hold your hand in public and maybe even give you a chaste forehead kiss because he missed you.

- Haldir is surprisingly passionate, especially after he’s been away from you for a while. His passion can appear a little different though. For example, sometimes he’ll kiss you with desperate fervor and fire, but other times he’ll kiss you slowly and deeply but still with equal passion. His heart is always present in all his actions with you

- Haldir doesn’t drink a lot, but during festivals or other celebrations he’ll sometimes indulge and when he does, all he talks about is you. Haldir will drunkenly ramble about how pretty you are, how intelligent you are, how talented you are, etc etc. Those around him will find it equal parts endearing and annoying. His pale cheeks would be dusted with pink from both alcohol and thoughts of you.

- Haldir would be super happy with getting domestic with you. He loves those simple moments; getting groceries from the market, going shopping for your individual hobbies, doing the laundry, cooking. Haldir loves to be domestic with you.

- Haldir is very attentive to your needs. He may not say it or outwardly express it, but you can tell by his actions. If you’re sad, your favorite snacks will appear out of nowhere. If you ran out of supplies for a hobby or finished a book, new supplies or a new book will show up on your nightstand without a word. Whatever it is you need, Haldir notices and quietly takes care of it. He may not always be able to do it since he’s quite busy as Marchwarden, but when he has the chance, he takes care of all your needs.

- Haldir feels like he’s always falling in love with you. There will be moments when the two of you are together and he’ll just take you in and get that sensation of falling in love all over again. He’ll never get sick of it either, it’s one the greatest joys of his day.

- Haldir loves you so much, it’s a quiet kind of love but it’s strong all the same. He does everything he can to make sure you know that everyday. One of the things he’s proudest of in his life is his relationship with you. He prays to Eru that he’ll be with you until the end of Arda, so long as you’ll have him.

#haldir x reader #haldir #lotr #the lord of the rings #haldir of lorien #x reader #x you #headcanon #lotr fluff #haldir imagine #haldir x you

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 4 months

Note

I wonder like what does Yves like to eat? Does he prefer sweet foods? Savory? Salty? Etc?

I could also imagine that he would change his darlings food cravings and wants with his reality bending if they are lacking a certain vitamin or mineral.

TW: eating disorders, gore and nasty horrible rich people stuff like making people their toilets or something, sexual harassment and human trafficking

He has expensive taste, the palate of a stereotypical rich person. It doesn't matter if the dish is sweet or savory, it must be made from scratch from the freshest produce the market can offer. He prefers to eat his own cooking as he can easily control what goes into it.

Yves has an intense aversion to strong-tasting foods, not because he can't handle the pungent aroma of garlic or other spices; he used to eat boxes upon boxes of takeout, fast food, and convenience meals.

It's because he associated them with the decades he spent struggling to find his footing in this world. They were cheap, accessible, and definitely not something he would willingly put in his body despite knowing it probably wouldn't affect him greatly in any way now.

Foods that are greasy, overly salty, processed to unrecognizable heights, and contain a barrel's worth of sugar are foods that Yves has a strong disdain for. He very much prefers eating foods that are steamed, boiled, or baked with minimal amounts of oil, salt, and sugar. His cooking is definitely still flavourful, it's mostly simple but it has a quality that makes it lavish and 'clean'.

Yves wasn't always like this though. Just like most humans, he started off hating his vegetables and fruits, yearning for junk and other vices. His previous cravings are only exacerbated by the stressful life that he lived, to no one's surprise, he wasn't always in the best shape. Or the best state of mind.

He knows what it was like to live in a severely unhealthy body on both ends of the spectrum. Yves was both a hundred pounds overweight and a hundred pounds underweight, neither phase was fun at all and it just made his life much harder than it was supposed to be.

Yves sobbed hysterically when he failed to stop himself from eating an entire 5-pound chocolate cake to cope with his emotions, then promptly threw up everything afterward on the dingy floor of his dilapidated rental. He was too familiar with the feeling of his two fingers pushing his uvula as deep as he could so he could empty his stomach into the toilet bowl, to the point that the off-white ceramic was painted red. Yves knew what half-eaten hamburgers covered in god-knows-what, found in dumpsters taste like. He knew what ingredient in candies to look for that aided him in vomiting, he tried all the slimming teas, laxatives, and enemas. Yves had his favorite brands.

Yves vividly remembers how he would be out of breath just by standing up, how his joints felt like it was about to give out at any moment. The bruises he received from merely sitting on certain types of chairs, the horrible chafing that led to nasty, debilitating infections because he didn't have the means to receive medical attention, the humiliation, and degradation, painful and permanent swellings, the increased frequency of sexual groping that usually led to something much worse, overheating in a flesh suit that he cannot just remove, the cruel loneliness, the desperation for food when he doesn't even have a single cent left to his name, his reflection and more revolting memories.

He remembers all of it. He remembers the broken bones that were forced to heal on their own, bleeding orifices leaking with excrement due to his abuse of weight-losing drugs, articles of clothing ruined by his own feces and vomit, the obsession over the number on his scale, the shivering even at scorching temperatures, locks of his hair clogging the drain, fainting spells that cost him his meager wages for the week, the taste of his own stomach acid still lingers on his tongue, his "friends" who were equally as ghoulish calling Yves a fat pig and incessantly oinking at him for finishing a whole apple by himself, being unable to chew properly because his teeth were eroded, being unable to fight back because he was just that weak, fingers that looked like it belonged to a rotting corpse, his reflection, the hunger, the hunger, the hunger...

And in both chapters of his life, one thing stayed constant. The infamous, deep-fried, saturated, tastebud-abusing slop served to the disadvantaged masses.

So please do forgive him when he gives you a blank look for an uncomfortable while when you eat a crispy fried chicken leg in front of him. He didn't mean to give the plate of french fries on the table a long, dull stare before digging in like any other normal person; with a lot more elegance. Yves just had a few memories pass through his mind, that's it.

Not to say that he will act like it's the end of the world to eat the food that he hates. You wouldn't know that he despised them unless he told you, Yves would have eaten it without complaint and hesitation, expressing his gratitude to you for getting these for him. He doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve, after all.

Yves understands that his experience doesn't necessarily reflect yours, he has no issue with you eating garbage foods in moderation. You will have cravings, it's simply something humans like you have to deal with. He will still agree to have a date or two at a fast-food joint even if he detests the griminess and classlessness of it all, as long as it makes you happy to see him 'enjoying' himself too. Of course, he would attempt and succeed at making healthier alternatives at home.

If you're craving something that is missing many of the key nutrients but it's not harmful to your health, he would fortify it with the needed vitamins or minerals. You couldn't even tell the difference, but your body will.

He will have a massive problem if you exhibit the same symptoms his younger self had. Yves will plant his foot firmly on the ground, he wouldn't even talk to you about it. He goes straight to rewiring your brain without even thinking if Yves noticed your struggles. You would find yourself one day 'cured' of whatever complex you had with food, baffled but grateful, brushing it off as something trivial although it is anything but.

You might notice that the fridge always has at least one tin of sturgeon caviar on a block of ice. You deduced that his favorite food is caviar, but you might not truly know why.

He isn't stingy with it. Yves told you that you are welcome to eat as much as you want (within reason, it has a ridiculously high sodium content). Whether you like eating it or not, it was astonishing that he could replace it as soon as it's finished despite needing to pay an exorbitant amount for a container the size of your palm.

And he associated that overpriced spoonful of fish eggs with the dawn of a new era and the end of his horror-filled years. His life wasn't perfect when he first tried it, far from it actually. He still gets assaulted, spat on, molested, and insulted straight to his face, more so due to his new career as a budding fashion model. But it was a change, an overall positive change.

Despite first trying it at a mansion owned by a syndicate of influential Oligarchs who hire conventionally beautiful people and commit unspeakable acts against them, caviar became a symbol of hope. Yves, disheveled, drugged beyond belief, and covered in bruises, cuts, and disgusting fluids, managed to slip out of the room where the torture happened. His own disorganized thoughts drowned out the screams of his colleagues and the cheers of the rich, Yves was on a mission.

He somehow maneuvered his way through the hallways without being detected by staff or other members, finding his way to one of the private chambers. It was occupied an hour ago, as shown by the mildly displaced chairs and empty crystal glasses.

Even under the influence of substances, his first instinct wasn't necessarily to run away. It was to rob them of everything they had, watches, jewelry, shoes, bags- anything he could get his sticky hands on. God, he so badly wanted to own their wardrobe. The rings looked dazzling on his fingers, and the purses fit right around his arm.

Then his bloodshot, dilated eyes landed on the glass table.

An open bottle of champagne half filled; in Yves's eyes, half-empty. A tray with something he only heard of, but never seen. A tin filled with numerous, tiny black spheres accompanied by a plate of Blinis and an intricate bowl of creme fraiche, and a couple of lemon wedges.

His hands trembled as he stumbled towards the glistening set. These are what the rich and powerful eat. He thought to himself. Yves didn't understand the fondness towards these. Tastewise, he didn't find anything particularly exciting or great. Statuswise...

For a minute, just a mere minute, Yves felt like he was at the top of the world. Yves ate what his 'masters' ate.

It didn't matter that he got caught after, it didn't matter he was made an example of by being urinated in front of an audience, beaten unconscious, and had a skull fracture. For a moment, he was their equal. And this will be the last time he will be disrespected to this level.

He escaped with enough stolen goods to buy his way out of his hell.

And he stole a coveted tin of caviar for himself.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc yves #tw gore #tw sa #tw dead dove #tw eating issues #yea i kno its a simple qurstion about his likes n dislike of food #but i simply gotta seize da chance to expand on his lore #yves is basically a mary sue with literally every tragic backstory ever

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dreams-and-drabbles · 1 year

Note

i request Genshin angst

how Genshin men react when you wanna break up with them. :')

Oh, anon. I adore angst. This is going to be incredibly fun to write…

Thoma

He’s distraught— His first response is “Did I do something wrong?”

When you explain it just didn’t work, he stops asking questions and accepts that the two of you are over. He avoids your gaze as he excuses himself, and from the corner of your gaze, you can see he’s bitten down on his lip enough to bleed.

Thoma is happy to leave the relationship in the past, which unfortunately also meant leaving you in the past, as well…

Your friendship never really recovered from that. The two of you interacted just fine with others in the room, but anytime it was just the two of you alone, a tense silence seemed to overtake the room. It didn’t break until one of you left or someone else entered.

It was almost like you didn’t exist to him anymore, and you’re not really sure how exactly you feel about that…

Kaeya

Kaeya’s response is a self deprecating laugh and a bitter, “I told you so. Everyone tires of me eventually.”

If you thought it was hard to understand him before, after the breakup it seemed as though an entire ocean separated you from Kaeya.

While the two of you could still hold a conversation and even had friendly interactions, there was no real spark there anymore when you talked.

It felt as though the both of you were acting, in a desperate attempt to keep the normalcy.

Somehow, the others you’re acquainted with seem to think you and Kaeya are still fairly close.

At least, you’re fooling them… Neither you nor Kaeya can truly fool yourselves into thinking that things will ever quite be ‘okay’ between you again…

Ayato

His initial response is surprise, but he quickly writes it off, and asks for your reasoning to breakup.

He takes your explanation quite well, and his response is, “I understand. It will do no one any good trying to hold onto something that is not working…”

You and Ayato remain friends, and the two of you can still interact as you did before.

Perhaps, it’s because Ayato has seen and experienced relationships that didn’t work, but his response to the situation is one of incredible tact.

Sometimes, the two of you reminisce on things you did while dating, and those conversations always leaves you with a bittersweet sense.

At the end of the day, at least you still had each other… It just wasn’t in the way it used to be, as you both knew that wouldn’t work. ((Although, sometimes you wish it could.))

Diluc

His response to the breakup is a cold, “Okay.”

Any warmth he may have displayed to you dissipated after that, and he treated you like he would a stranger.

Diluc went above and beyond to keep you at arm’s length, and it equal parts hurt and equal parts made you mad.

You ask him one day, if everything you’d had amounted to nothing, and his response was—

“I asked that too, when you decided that we weren’t enough.”

Needless to say, that response was like a slap to the face, and you’ve started visiting the Cat’s Tail instead…

Cyno

He accepts the breakup rather gracefully, but as soon as you’ve parted ways, he throws himself into his work.

Cyno does not know how to deal with emotions at the best of times, so he goes on a hunting spree, tracking down as many targets as he can for the next month…

You’re concerned, of course, but anytime the two of you run into each other, he’s on his way to track yet another target…

You’re lucky if you even catch sight of him, after all of this…

Al Haitham

His first response is to list all of the reasons you should continue to date him, and why he was a logical choice. After you explained that emotions weren’t logical by any means, however, he accepted your reasons and let it drop—

Surprisingly, your friendship withstood the breakup fairly well, except now Al Haitham seemed to be incredibly interested in your emotional response to everything.

You went from dating to becoming his lab rat, and you’re not fond of that in the slightest—

When you explain this to Al Haitham, he immediately takes note of your response, and the next time you’re out he’s incredibly charming.

When you eventually ask him why he’s doing all this, his response is—

“I’m attempting to find some sort of logic in all of this, so that I can distract myself from the illogical hurt that I feel. Do you understand?”

To say you feel bad for your earlier words is an understatement—

The worst part was that in no way did Al Haitham attempt to make you feel guilty…

You just did…

#genshin impact #thanks for the ask!#genshin x reader #genshin angst #diluc x reader #al haitham x reader #cyno x reader #thoma x reader #kaeya x reader #ayato x reader #genshin reader insert #genshin headcanons #send asks

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cursedvibes · 6 days

Note

I have one disappointment with the reveal of Jin being a reincarnation of Sukuna's twin.

Kenjaku has lamented about their creations not being able to surpass their own potential, in the past. So it feels cheaper to finally have a creation/offspring have higher potential not through intrinsic growth or effort but cause of inheriting the other parent's greater potential.

Thoughts?

Hm, yeah I get what you mean. I'm at least glad that Yuuji got Shrine like Blood Manipulation, i.e. by absorbing a cursed object, not by just having it inherited.

I think with Yuuji and Kenjaku's expectations it comes down to two things. They say they wanted offspring that can surpass their expectations, but they acknowledge that they have always been too focused on controlling the process, therefore never quite getting something that really surprises them. Yuuji starts out like that too. His birth and upbringing was meticulously engineered. Parents picked out, even tracked down a specific soul, and then placed a sealed finger inside him to ensure he would be able to resist Sukuna.

I think that's where the Culling Game comes in though and what they said to Choso inside Tengen's barrier. The Culling Game was meant to be chaos that not even Kenjaku could control and Yuuji was intended to be a player. To Kenjaku's disappointment it didn't end up as chaotic as they wanted, but I think what they said about Yuuji is still true. They are obviously saying it overly crass to anger Choso, but I think they really didn't have a clear plan for Yuuji once he stopped being Sukuna's vessel and that was meant to give him freedom to evolve. Being Sukuna's vessel would kick off his evolution. Make him learn to control his cursed energy, make him aware of how he can use cursed objects to his benefits and make him familiar with Sukuna's soul and cursed energy to both awaken the potential he got through Jin and also what he took from Sukuna (e.g. Shrine). From there it's up to him what he does with it and how far he wants to go and that's what would make him able to surpass Kenjaku's expectations. Or at least they hope so. They have always kept their distance and only manipulated him very subtly if at all once he became Sukuna's vessel and their Shibuya and Culling Game plan kicked off. Among other things, I think it was to make sure they don't end up controlling his actions too much.

This still seems very controlled as is typical for Kenjaku and so far Yuuji seems to develop exactly how they predicted, so that might make them a bit proud but not satisfy their intentions for him fully. We'll see how it will continue from here. Kenjaku's main hopes probably still lie on the merger curse to surpass their own potential (it would've been born from them if things went as intended and they might still be involved in a way when the merger starts for real), but Yuuji was sort of like the second option I guess. In both cases they put an about equal amount of long-term planning into the result.

Kenjaku's dead now, so that would leave a lot of room for Yuuji to become what they are hoping for. They can't influence him directly anymore, only through what they set up before like making him and Sukuna clash. What happens afterwards is up to them. But they won't be able to see the result just like with the merger. Truly unpredictable now that it's out of their hands, but inaccessible to them (although I'm less sure with the merger, I think they still did something with curse womb!Tengen that would ensure their involvement somehow). They seemed to be fine with it though when they died because they got their own taste of unpredictable chaos with Takaba previously. Probably why they simply told Yuuta and his group aka also Yuuji that things will be fun.

#asks #jjk spoilers #kenjaku #itadori yuuji

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eternal-armin · 1 year

Text

SO, HOW SHOULD i begin this?

this is the first time i'm going to do a multi-part fic that goes beyond like 2 or 3 parts (rip to the chandelier fic.) bear with me ;;;; but i'm obsessed with everything everywhere and i wanted to do something with the abilities evelyn and joy specifically have. and, of course, the angst that can come from it. looked over this as much as i could but im exhausted so my apologies for any errors ;;;

pairing : five hargreeves x male/transmasc reader [he/him pronouns]

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where : five is instantly intrigued by the eighth sparrow, a kid just like himself, which makes him try to seek him out specifically; nothing better than a second opinion about time from another person who knew its intricacies, right? well, he... may have gotten more than he bargained for.

─────

warnings : future mentions of trauma, fighting and injury (specific mentions of choking), existentialism, reader is just exhausted of life and shit in general, future cheesiness and such because i said so, depression, a whole lot of 'if i can bend reality to my will then how much does it really matter' kind of questioning (later on for the most part.)

the disheartening sight of seven other people—ahem, sorry, and one very confusing cube—was made endlessly puzzling by the appearance of a kid behind them. someone who looked five's age. physically, anyway. they both seemed equally entranced by the other; the kid's eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted, as if seeing someone he had been missing for decades. he furrowed his brow a bit, cocking his head, and klaus found himself peering where five glared.

"well, would you look at that? they've got a little brother, too!"

"zip it, klaus," he hissed, though with a certain degree of gentleness in his voice, even excluding the volume he had to use. looking back at the balcony, he was wearing more casual clothes with a sort of... varsity jacket of the sparrow academy's traditional colors and emblems. he was a sparrow, meaning he was born in 1989, meaning he was around thirty years old. so why did he look thirteen? it clicked then, suddenly; his power could have something to do with time. five felt instantly that he needed to speak with him. and if it needed to be done by force, then...

hands crossed neatly over his lap, barely restraining that very obvious agitation, ben chimed in with, "dad, who the hell are these assholes?"

a chorus of "shit" rang out amongst the umbrellas. five stared at him with the same amount of emotion as usual, mostly overrun by confusion, however his sentimentalities ended there. that balcony, barely a few yards from where five stood, held something—someone, rather—that could be an answer to his predicament. or at least help figure out if he could retire or not. if this world was safe enough to stay in. there was a whole host of colorful characters. if he was the sparrows' number eight, what exactly inspired reginald to adopt him as well? or was it just sort of a convenience thing?

luther stepped forward along with klaus. "is that really you?"

no amusement struck ben. if anything, he somehow managed to look more annoyed.

"and who are the weirdos on the balcony!"

"they are the sparrows. my children." reginald's controlled, vaguely irritated voice was such a contrast to diego's harsh tone.

much to five's chagrin this moment was a bit more important than staring at a boy. he turned on his heel, narrowing his eyes at the old man. "i'm sorry, what do you mean your children? that's not possible, old man."

"of course it is! i think i'd know, wouldn't i?"

well. something was very wrong, wasn't it?

the sound of footsteps and shuffling caught his attention and yet again he looked back forward; all of the sparrows once situated haphazardly on the balcony now stood across the tile threshold. the kid was shorter than he expected, in all honesty, and he seemed to be the least serious out of all his siblings—not to say that he looked like he was having fun or that he was laughing, but that he didn't want to fight. he looked like he would avoid it at every cost.

"everyone else can see ben, right?"

"cute hat, sundance."

"they call themselves the umbrella academy," reginald interrupted, "a group of scheming, perfidious malcontents who accosted me in the fall of '63 when i was away on business in dallas. be warned—they claim to be my spawn." all throughout reginald's little schpiel, five and the other kid maintained eye contact, five puzzled at his existence and him puzzled by five's puzzlement. he seemed to find it weird but, oddly enough, he didn't seem weirded out specifically. occasionally five would glance about the rest of the sparrows, gauge them if he could, and when that happened he would sometimes catch the barest glimpse of the kid looking at two of his sisters with confusion.

should i be worried? he was probably thinking to himself.

with five on his opposition? absolutely.

"claim? look, five, what the hell is going on?" allison sounded like she was moments away from boiling over.

"not sure yet, but it's concerning."

"is he telling the truth?" seeming to sense the steadily-rising tensions, the kid started, very slowly, to back away, retreating to the furthest reaches of the carpet before the battle had even begun.

"not the part about us being perfidious." vanya seemed to kind of placate that cowardice in him. maybe he even smiled at vanya.

"no! no, we're amateur-fidious, at best!"

"but we are his children, this is our house."

"yeah, we grew up here."

"yeah, yeah, we grew up here," alphonso mocked, getting a snicker from jayme, however the kid just shot them both a slightly judgmental look.

"i kind of think we would've noticed you," sloane said, to which luther stated his name and offered out his hand. sloane did not accept, really she didn't do a thing, and some whispers broke out amongst her and her little brother, whispers that five couldn't make out.

"okay. none of you belong here."

"oh! well, then. i guess we'll just pack our bags and move out."

christopher babbled and chittered, milking chuckles from his brothers and sisters. five had to say he looked way better smiling than frowning, though he figured it would probably be the same for anyone.

grace came in to the living room, heels click-click-clicking, holding a plate of cookies in her hand and apologizing that she couldn't do better. five couldn't catch the precise details. it was just kind of nice to see her again, even if she was certainly in need of a... few repairs.

"mom." diego's sentimental mumble caught some of the sparrows off-guard. the kid included.

"she's a robot, you perv."

"it's not a robot."

"don't call him that!"

"or what?" ben challenged.

"come closer and find out." bickering broke out between the two families, vanya and marcus actively trying to keep everyone's heads on straight, and five may have lost track of the conversation. until ben threw the first punch, anyway. he ducked back, watching as luther next was flung like a ragdoll across the room, landing on and breaking the poor couch. he saw the boy duck out and wanted to chase but first kept his loyalties, attacking ben and getting lost in a flurry of sharp punches and occasionally-failed dodges.

"you're alive. that's—great, or possibly horrible, i haven't decided yet."

"is that some weird kind of smack talk?"

"it's more of an existential problem, really, ben."

"awesome. well, here's your next problem." with his arms extending back and torso leaning forward, a grimy tentacle quickly burst from his chest, though not fast enough to stop five before he blinked away and onto the balcony.

"y'know, even though you're a total asshat now," five began, rudely cut off by another attack which he yet again evaded with ease. it was easier to land a punch and he watched as ben crashed into the ground. "it's nice to see you again. really." after seeing a particularly disturbing scene between diego and the cube, he stepped in to save allison from a few of the other sparrows, yet again finding himself on the second-floor balcony.

"thanks," allison managed through uneven breaths.

"no problem." both standing up, both dusting themselves off, they saw someone rounding the corner. it was him. still, that look of passive pacifism remained, now somewhat stoic in nature; he didn't want to fight, but he may need to. he was resigning himself to that fact and five could see it in his setting expression. and most importantly, there was also endless loyalty. oh, well.

five furrowed his brow, readjusting his jacket. "go help the others. i'll handle this one."

his new opponent almost seemed to space out, eyes narrowing just a bit as if being flooded by tons of new information. with grace and precision, and certainly speed, he set into a defensive stance. five blinked behind him to try for an attack and it was blocked. he continued to block, evade, block, evade, as fast as five tried to attack. the only sounds he made for a while were little grunts.

every failed punch and every successful block was adding to five's aggravation and his exasperation.

"y'know, five," he said, and hearing him speak for the first time startled five terribly, "delores wouldn't like you fighting like this! i'm not doing anything to you!" that shocked him so bad he misfired a punch but it landed for the first time because of how he went to dodge. he was weaker than five first surmised, falling onto the ground, and five continued to strike him back down until he was pinned and unable to move. he looked enraged, face twisted, eyes wide, teeth bared and gritted, glaring daggers at the kid, who looked to be in quite a bit of pain.

"how do you know my name?!" he barked. "how do you know her name?!" five got no answer and that was endlessly more irritating. the kid slammed his hand onto the ground and grabbed the first thing he could, a small piece of rubble, but five watched as, in those few fractions of seconds, that small piece of debris turned into a metal candlestick.

a metal candlestick.

the moment five saw that, he teleported, reappearing just a few feet away. he pushed off his total confusion; no time. the kid kept the candlestick in his hand when he fumbled to stand, not getting even a moment before five tackled him into a headlock. he didn't think twice about the look of pain on the kid's face because that wasn't exactly imperative and he didn't hesitate at the sounds he made.

the kid raised the candlestick again and five watched in subtle horror as it flitted between many different forms, each punctuated by a small sound and a bit of light. he only recognized a few of those hundred forms before he saw it land, like a wheel of fortune, on a knife and he plunged it down. five jerked out of the way of the blade. even though he had once been so hesitant to fight, so afraid of hurting other people, he seemed finally able to push that away and actually defend himself. he may not have been particularly strong, but he was swift and flexible while wrenching himself out of five's grip and adept at landing hits that would still make five flinch and pause. the kid blocked a punch and the moment that they came in contact with each other, the world around them... changed.

from the slightly destroyed upper floor of the academy house, it became an office building, papers flying about while people panicked about the violent fight between the aisles of cubicles. in that moment of confusion, he landed a hit on five, right in the gut. after a pained second, eyes squeezed tight, he grit his teeth and kept fighting.

the office building had become a high-rise skyscraper that they were fighting on the edge of.

another punch and they were on the deck of a cruise ship.

another block and they were in a spanning parking garage. the kid advanced and forced five to back up, closer to the edge of the space, and certainly to a painful fall. he continued to evade every attempted hit, no matter how five had calculated them, before pouncing on him and shoving him right out of the concrete monolith, plummeting down toward the ground along with him.

"how the hell are you doing this?!" five shouted, voice swallowed up by the shouting winds. he grabbed his shirt, bunching up his collar tight enough to cut off his breathing. the panic in his eyes welled up very quick.

and then they were back. instead of hitting the hard pavement ground, five lost all the air in his lungs when he thudded onto the carpeted academy floor, gasping for a second as the kid scrambled away from him, coughing and wheezing.

five hadn't even strangled him for that long, what the hell?

five forced himself to sit, to stand, shooting the glare to end all glares at the boy across from him—however he didn't attack yet. after all the disorientation he felt from those few... transitions, he wanted to keel over and vomit. he was in no condition to fight. luckily, however, neither was his opponent.

killing the kid would not get five his answers, no matter how badly he wanted to do it.

the kid was on the ground, propping himself up on one of his hands, his entire body seeming wracked by pained, nauseated tremors. he looked to be heaving, expression conflicted, exhausted beyond exhausted. he held his head the way one would when suffering from a bad headache.

his question went unanswered, which just served to annoy five further. "are you a time traveler or something? no. a multiversal traveler? do you work with the commission? that's the only possibility i can think of." knowing about delores, knowing about his name, certainly knowing his past, instantly transporting both of them to different places, it could all connect to multiversal travel.

but that spacing out part, before he could dodge like some highly trained professional, and that debris-to-candlestick-to-knife part? those still kind of puzzled him.

the kid wrinkled his nose. "that's the only possibility? you've got a narrow range." for someone who sounded so pained and exhausted, he could manage some mouthiness. somehow he sounded more genuine than sarcastic, though. strange. what about him wasn't?

five's eye twitched and his lips pressed hard into a scowl. "a narrow range? a narrow range? my 'range' isn't narrow! i've seen so many possibilities unfold! do you even know what i had to do to get here?" his words hissed with pure venom. that didn't faze his opponent, even whilst he jabbed an accusatory finger at him, as though somehow this was his fault.

"i do, actually," he managed, although still short of breath. "you got trapped in the apocalypse for a few decades, offered a deal from the commission, broke your contract with them and became a fugitive, got back to your family, and have been trying to evade apocalypses ever since. third time's the charm, right, five?" he recounted it all with the cadence and sensitivity of a history teacher summarizing an important, yet complicated, period of time.

"how could you possibly know—stop calling me that! how are you able to do any of this!"

"i'm not gonna stop calling you by your name." he laughed through his words. he laughed.

"is my exasperation funny to you?"

"i-i mean, kinda! do you know how many ways i've seen this conversation going?" five stilled like a statue. "this was the most common outcome. well, uhm, aside from you just killing me. it's just a little funny how you always react the same way." he shrugged a bit, as though this was simply some high school gossip, and not (one of) the most puzzling thing that five had ever been exposed to.

"look," five began, trying to steady himself. "if you don't tell me how you know about me—how you know about delores—this will become a timeline where i kill you. okay? capiche?"

he raised his hands in surrender. they shook. "capiche, five."

"stop. calling me that."

"to even the playing field, i'm [y/n]. there." he sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, checking his hands. yet again he seemed to space out, just for a moment this time, before going through a grounding technique. he looked determined now, not as tired as before, though it did remain rather clearly in his eyes. [y/n] was just a kid again. he looked like a pathetic, sick kitten. "it's my power. i was born like this. you travel through space and time, i travel through reality. all of reality. alternate universes, as you know them. close by, far away, ones almost exactly the same and some with very distinctive evolutionary branches. the further away the world, the... stranger they get. i can see literally any possibility. so i—i fucking know you, five. i know you. i know your brothers and your sister and your in-laws and your niece and every other niece or nephew you could've had. there are so, so many worlds where i was an umbrella, or your friend, or stuck with you in the apocalypse, or... something like that. that's how i know you, and know delores. i was there."

sister, singular?

fuck, why was that his first take-away?

five narrowed his eyes slightly. "you can see every alternate universe," he said, slowly, as if clarifying something to [y/n] when he really needed the clarification for himself.

he nodded. "use them, too."

"use...?"

[y/n] broke into a little smile. his answer remained unknown because their restrained conversation was interrupted by one of [y/n]'s sisters. just one glance and his smile disappeared, staring at five with now-widened eyes, mouthing something along the lines of 'get the fuck out.'

five didn't need to be told twice. a flit of light and he had disappeared to who-the-hell-knows-where.

"who the hell was that creep," jayme mumbled, watching as [y/n] stumbled to his feet and dusted himself off. she grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket out of instinct to make sure he didn't fall over.

"uh... someone pretty interesting," [y/n] said, staring at where he'd once been, the flash of bright light still burned into his eyes. he wanted to find him. maybe needed to find him. probably because something in the world was very wrong, even if no other timeline had figured it out yet.

if any of the umbrellas knew where to hide out, it would probably be klaus, right? simple solution. kind of. as long as he could sneak out undetected by his siblings.

a good bit of time had passed when you finally had the chance to scope out the hotel obsidian. you had changed into something more casual and lowkey, sunglasses now balanced atop your nose and a nice light scarf about your neck. music played over your headphones and you wandered inside of the place, stricken with the sight of heavy art deco. it was rather nice, actually, when you took the time to appreciate it. then again, your mind was rather preoccupied with what was probably a very big deal. on the other side of the lobby, in the little bar and lounge area, you could spot a few of the hargreeves siblings. most notably five, now wearing a white bathrobe. soon his eyes glanced to you and you could feel his gaze sharpen. he looked back at his brothers and excused himself, stepping off the stool and teleporting to you before his feet hit the ground.

"what are you doing here," he hissed through gritted teeth.

"i mean, our conversation got cut off earlier. seemed right to continue it, y'know?"

five looked back at his brothers and then at you once more. klaus was staring after him but you didn't know if he recognized you; luther and diego were still totally enraptured in their chinese food.

the look on five's face told you a whole lot; it was critical to him to talk with you, figure things out, because he guessed—and guessed right—that you weren't just here to politely finish a conversation. something weird was going on, whether he wanted to know or not. "alright. okay. fine. just," he grasped your shoulder after a second and then you were both gone, reappearing instantaneously in a room you assumed to be five's. small cot in the corner, bunk bed opposite, and a couch.

god, you wanted to throw up. you clutched your stomach, squeezing your eyes shut for a minute.

he crossed his arms and looked at you. "so where exactly did we leave off?"

you paused to scrub your mind, trying to recall. a few blinks broke the few seconds of spacing out. usually you weren't this forgetful, but, uh, today was an interesting one. "i said i can use those universes and that confused you. and then jayme came around and i told you to leave."

"right," five muttered. "what exactly did you mean by that?"

"well, obviously i can use them for information." your voice was somewhat soft, actually, which was mighty strange to him.

"hmph. how could i forget." five's flat voice was thick with sarcasm.

you managed a smile. "but i can also use them for skills and stuff. the dodging, earlier; i can't really do that here. there's a world where i star in fighting movies and stuff, where i'm good at dodging and i'm fast and flexible, and i can... link my mind, i guess, and use those skills. and the... the candlestick. knife. thing. i can change things to whatever another me is holding. i can change my clothes. i can change reality."

"so, in essence, your mind is able to find every other instance of you across time and space and access them? and... communicate with them, i suppose, in some way or another."

you shrugged a bit. "about explains it. but the—... can i ask you something?" you suddenly sounded sheepish, hesitant, like you were constantly rethinking what you were about to say. five furrowed his brow, a little surprised to see that look on your face, and he really didn't like it.

"depends on what that something is," he responded, speaking cautiously.

you found yourself spacing out again, but this time not to access some alternate plane of existence. every other universe had its own noise, and every other universe was persistently audible; that loud buzz was starting to give you yet another headache. it was probably possible to overdose on tylenol, right? suddenly that constant look of exhaustion on your face was even more obvious to five. for a moment, he seemed almost sympathetic to that. he could certainly understand it, at the very least. "you've got about twenty-eight years of experience on me," you began, forcing your voice to be steady. "do you have any clue how to deal with the, uhm, existential part of it all?" lightheartedness seemed to be a skill of yours. five could respect it.

you doubted, sincerely doubted, that there could be anything in the world to help you from the persistent noise. or from the pain and exhaustion of swatting from world to world to world in the span of thirty seconds during a fight. it was a wonder you were still walking.

"why should i help you with that, exactly? your family tried to kill mine."

"i didn't try to kill anyone. i hid upstairs the entire time. well, uh, almost the entire time. i can be an ally to you guys. i'd... prefer to be allied with you guys." if anyone else in the world knew about the ins and outs of the umbrella academy, five had no doubt in his mind that it would be you and your presumably-torturous ability. it would probably be a smart idea on their side as well, to ally with you.

"before i agree to help you at all, how can i be sure your family isn't using you as some sort of... puppet? some sort of inside man?"

you shrugged a bit after a second. "i wouldn't be a very good choice."

"seriously? do you think i'm stupid or something?"

you crossed your arms, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "no. i know you aren't stupid. and i'm pretty sure that your first choice wouldn't be a 'weak thirteen-year-old kid with a power that cripples him with headaches and exhaustion whenever he uses it,' either. not to mention that said kid can't hear what's going on sometimes because of literally every other sound in the expansive multiverse." the words were sarcastic but the tone was very genuine, almost excruciatingly so.

"i have... so many more questions now."

you shrugged a bit. "i can answer some of them, i guess." considering that you knew almost all the ins and outs of his life, it seemed only fair to share some of yours. you were too tired to steer the conversation back to why you had came. perhaps you'd already forgotten it.

"why exactly are you thirteen? you were born in 1989, you had to be."

"... i chose to stay this age."

"how can you just choose to stay that age?" exasperation met with confusion in a very strange voice of five's. even after all he'd gone through and learned, you were just springing question marks all over the place. god damnit.

"i can manipulate almost every aspect of reality, five," you said, softly, in response. "it's not out of the realm of possibility to stay thirteen. not for me."

five nodded slightly after a second. that nod steadily turned into a shake of his head. "jesus—i should've grabbed some coffee." he pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "just give me a second."

"oh. uh, no need." glancing about the room, there was a small corner table, atop it an ice bucket and some plastic cups for water. he watched, for some reason a bit puzzled, as you placed your hands on it. spaced out. and it flitted to a fresh coffee pot and a mug. they seemed like something from a diner.

well, that would make sense, wouldn't it?

you poured him a cup and handed it, still steaming, over to him.

five scowled a bit, staring down at the filled mug, before his sharp gaze landed on you again.

"it's just coffee, five. it's not poisoned or anything. here." you plucked it back out of his grasp and took a sip, waited a few seconds, and handed it back. "see? you're fine."

after a second, he nodded. "right." he didn't find himself bothered by drinking from the same mug you had. he'd done a lot worse things, hadn't he?

"so... what were those other questions?"

after taking a few healthy swigs, he cleared his throat. "your ability—it really taxes you? even after all these years?" five would never admit it, but the coffee was pretty goddamn good. whatever diner your alternate-self worked in was worth a visit, if it existed in this world. "is that why you were shaking and panting so much earlier?"

you felt a bit embarrassed. "yeah," you mumbled. "i trained with it a lot, but, i wasn't very strong to begin with." you sat down carefully on the sofa, pulling a bottle of painkillers from your coat pocket.

"when's the last time you had a dose?" five asked, mug to his lips, shooting you a side-eye.

"... maybe three hours ago. why?"

he clicked his tongue and shook his head, plucking the bottle out of your hands. "not now, then."

"dude! what the hell! i-i need those!"

"well, i can't keep asking questions to someone sick from taking too much tylenol. and you can wait three hours."

you groaned but didn't complain, just settling back against the comfortable cushions. "fine. i'll wait." and you mumbled 'you're just like sloane' under your breath.

"good," he mumbled, sitting down beside you after tossing the pills onto his bed. "you said you could hear every sound in the multiverse. something tells me that isn't a hyperbole."

you nodded a bit and slouched down, trying to figure out a decent analogy. "when you remove a door from its threshold, you can always hear what's on the other side, unless you actively tune it out. just, for me, there were never doors. it was always like this. every single feasible universe is out there, fighting for my attention, almost every waking moment." you recounted with a deep sort of mourning. five couldn't blame you, he supposed. you had been robbed of silence, of pure solitude, of privacy. his heart almost ached for you.

had you been born with the doors off their frames? he wanted to ask, he really wanted to ask, but it was probably going to be way too... private of a thing. personal. from what he could tell.

"and i thought wrangling that crowd of toddlers was bad. i can't imagine hearing everything they do, everywhere, constantly," he mused.

you cracked a smile. it had been a while since you were able to joke around with someone, even if that someone had interrogated you like a police investigator. "oh, it's the worst," you giggled, and he laughed along. "i mean, it's bad enough knowing what your brothers do into their socks, it's even worse to walk in on them over, like, over two thousand times."

"i've known you for a very short period of time, but something tells me that's the worst thing you've ever said."

for someone in a very persistent and terrible bout of pain, your laugh, and your smile, were incredibly bright. five couldn't really say that he was expecting this when first appearing in the umbre—ahem. in the sparrow academy building, but he wasn't exactly complaining. this could be nice. he really hoped it would be, anyway.

silence fell on you two for a while. the overbearing static was starting to edge back in now that you had nothing more to say. the pain was ebbing.

"... something's wrong." you sounded deadly serious, it was horrifying.

"s—sorry?" five felt like he had whiplash after such an extreme diversion from the topic.

you seemed to be fighting that urge to space out a whole lot more. this was important, you needed to stay on track, and yet your stress was doing exactly the opposite of tunnel vision. shit.

five noticed; and he kind of needed you to talk, as fast as possible, so reached out and pinched your neck, successfully getting you to tense and wake up, in some sense of the words. offense was replaced with gratitude in your eyes. "i don't know exactly what. no other universe has figured it out. but you aren't supposed to be here, this isn't your timeline, that's—a very big problem. it could potentially 'rip a hole in space and time.'" five muttered along with you, cussing and hanging his head.

"why didn't you say this first?" he hissed.

"i'm sorry!" you sounded very genuine and he felt rather bad. "i-i—the interrogation and then the pain and then the... getting along with you, i forgot." it was another world, some utterance of 'not normal yet' that brought the thought back to you.

your voice was cracking. you felt far worse than five could ever make you feel.

"... it's fine. it's fine."

"it very much isn't. you know that."

five knew it all too well. he groaned, pinched the bridge of his nose, and downed the rest of his coffee. "fantastic."

"i mean, it may be a problem we can solve." you shot him a smile, a tired and weak little thing, but it did comfort him a bit.

"the universe will really mind if seven dumbasses stick around?" his humor had soured, but it was still there. you felt very guilty, unable to look him in his eyes, shoulders slouched as if defeated in some great thing.

"she's a stickler for rules."

"hmph." he scowled a full-face scowl. "no retirement yet, i guess."

out of all the things you could ever have seen, heard, felt, and known, one thing seemed... important. emotionally, anyway. "if it's, uhm, any consolation... retirement did look good on you, by the way."

he couldn't help but smile a bit. somewhere out there was a world where you and five were friends well into his retirement, be that at his confusing age or his chronological age from 1989, where he was happily retired with no time-threatening anomalous issues to draw him out. even if he was bound to die in this timeline, there was some comfort in knowing many other timelines saw him content. "i'll take your word for it."

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universallychaoticpan · 1 year

Note

Fyodor x black winged reader, but s/o is very protective of him? A literal guardian angel. Even Dazai realize that it's very dangerous to attack Fyodor with s/o around.

oooo scary reader- it's giving quiet intimidating guardian and I love it. Heehehehe so fun; Im delighted with this idea and I hope I did it justice. Please enjoy and come back any time <333

The wind loved Fyodor; it clung to him, it's scent on his skin, sending his cape flying open behind him until it looked like he might fly away. He didn't have to try to look dangerous; a deadly appearance was innate, bespoke to him. And with the rising moon's white face showing through the decaying walls and open rafters, the wind running through the once grand place, his sighs felt like a great, volatile beast. Dazai was wary of letting his eyes leave the madman; at any other time, even he wouldn't enjoy letting him leave his sight. That was, if there wasn't another force, another being, perhaps just as deadly and only half as restrained.

The wind loved Fyodor. In the same way, it adored you.

Your legs hung down from where you sat, perched lightly on a rafter, sitting so prettily while you stared disdainfully down towards the two men. Quite a scene, really, a priest of destruction and a devotee to chaos; though the black wings sitting around your shoulders made you less of a worshiping devotee and more a vengeful god the more Dazai looked at you.

"I see you've spotted my dearest companion," Fyodor purred. "Quite a stunning thing, aren't they- that perfect mix of beautiful and deadly."

"You always did have an eye for beautiful things," Dazai replied. His eyes were still firmly on you, his relaxed expression not doing much to hide the set of his jaw or the way every flicker of movement in your body drew his attention. For your part, you didn't look away either- your gaze felt like a blade dragging over his skin, ready to draw blood if you so chose to.

"As did you; that at least I respect about you. However I must advise you not to get attached in any way. They do very much belong to me."

Dazai chuckled. "So you've found yourself a pretty songbird, then? How sweet."

Your laugh cut off any words either men could further utter. "How rich," you sighed gleefully. Standing, you swung yourself around a beam before letting go, your body dropping like a black comet before your wings stopped your fall. "The very notion alone is more than amusing." Your smile was unnervingly polite, like the three of you were chatting in a cafe and not very ready to kill each other. "However," you continued, stepping smoothly towards the two men, "I think you'll find he belongs to me just as much as I do him."

And the horrible thing was, Dazai could see it was true. Fyodor respected your power, that much was clear; you stood at his side, not behind him, but as an equal. But he also picked up on something much more subtle: the way Fydor's gaze softened the smallest amount when you crossed in front of him, the familiar way with which you spoke of one another.

This was no simple alliance of power; the two of you loved each other in some strange twisted way.

"You know," you murmured, stepping closer to Dazai, "I am well aware he has no need of another's protection. He wouldn't have come so far had he needed anyone. But," you paused, tracing a knife tipped nail gently around the dip of his throat, "rest assured if you dare try and lay a hand on him, there is nowhere you will be safe from me."

"I think you'll find I'm not someone who is easily frightened by idle threats," Dazai growled.

"Oh but that's just it," Fyodor chuckled lowly as you returned to his side. "They aren't idle at all. Unlike me, you haven't seen just how well the color of blood decorates them so nicely. Truly a wonderful sight."

Dazai scoffed and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "You're fucking insane, both of you. You deserve each other."

"Perhaps," you replied. "But insanity and passion go well together.

That's why you haven't laid a hand on either of us!" Your cheerful smile chilled him, Fyodor's hand on the small of your back giving the two of you an eerily domestic look.

"You won't touch us because even you know nothing begets power quite like obsession."

#fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor bungou stray dogs #bsd fyodor #bsd fyodor x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader

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itstimetotheorize · 1 year

Text

Melinda’s struggle

As the Hostage situation of chapter “69” is finally drawn to a close, we see Yor appear after relentlessly searching for her all throughout the town on foot. However, to our surprise, and to the surprise of Damian, Melinda also shows up to the scene not long after Yor arrived.

When Anya reads Melinda’s mind, she states Melinda's thoughts are on the same level as Yuri whenever he thinks about Yor, which is oftentimes an head flooded with an overwhelming amount of concern, love and admiration for Yor. Within Melinda’s mind, we see she loves Damian and genuinely did feel terrified over the hostage situation which had occurred, because had it not been resolved, Damian would have likely died.

However, the moment Damian shifts to the topic of his father, something bizarre happens. Damian, though happy to see his mother so worried about him and actually make effort to come and see him, asks she not tell his father (Donovan) that he cried as he does not wish to worry him, but the moment he does... Melinda’s mind begins to shift back and forth between loving and hating Damien to an extreme degree.

Of all the questions we have about Melinda, why would she have such mixed feelings about Damian? Then again... it's not the first time we've seen her act this way. Back in chapter 66, as Yor tries to apologize for Anya punching Damian, Melinda's behavior shifts the moment she explains how Donovan only saw it as a pointless matter between two kids.

The other women say the Desmonds have a more hands off parenting philosophy...and yet...what if it had nothing to do with parenting?...what if...it had everything to do with Melinda’s relationship with Donovan?.

We don't know much about the relationship between Donovan and Melinda, but given she spends much of her time out and about with others doing various activities, then could it be Melinda wasn't just hanging out with friends for the fun of it? ...but rather... to purposely avoid her family by doing as much as possible throughout the day?...maybe. As we know from the WISE reports, she never did anything that could provide insight to the Desmond family, the only thing they knew was that she was estranged from her husband and sons, but perhaps this estranged relationship she had with them was never the result of her being a bad parent and wife, no, what if maybe...just maybe...it was always her attempts to distance herself from a family and marriage she never wanted.

Looking back, there was always one thing many of us had forgotten to consider until we remembered the circumstances surrounding Yor and Loid. Although Yor and Loid both agreed to marry each other for convenience, they actually gradually began to realize they liked being with each other... and yet... all the while we watched their growing bond, many of us had forgotten one very crucial, very obvious detail... which is that marriages like theirs...might have never been the only ones, even more so...they may not all be happy ones. Where am I going with this? Well... what if maybe...just maybe....that’s exactly what happened to Melinda. Melinda married Donovan and yet...could it be Melinda ...never wanted to be married to Donovan?,... could it be she never wanted to be a Desmond?...maybe.

The Desmond family is highly sought after by other families, but with such a pristine family like theirs, odds are, they made sure to only marry their children to others of equal status. After all, being a Desmond meant you had a reputation anyone would find impressive, but it was also a reputation you had to be careful in how to uphold. All throughout the series, we see many children are motivated to befriend Damian so their parents could enter his fathers social circle.

If Melinda’s family was among the masses who wanted to be involved with the Desmond’s simply because of their family name, then could it be Melinda and Donovan married, not out of love, and not necessarily out of convenience for each other... but for the convenience of both their families?...in other words...was Melinda forced into a marriage to Donovan in order to uphold her families expectations of being connected to the Desmond Family, just as so many others have tried to do?...honestly who's to say.

When Melinda talked to Damian in chapter 75, she didn't refer to Donovan as her husband, let alone as Damian's father, no, to Melinda, Donovan was simply “That Man”, indicating that despite being married to Donovan, Melinda never saw him as a loving husband, just someone in her life she had to learn to avoid. Now, if Melinda had truly been thrown into a loveless marriage with Donovan, then odds are...her life with him was a painful one to live as it now revolved around his word and never her own...and maybe...just maybe.. it became even worse the day she gave birth to his children... children she was quick to resent as she saw Donovan and the struggles of her life in them.

In chapter 75, Melinda’s mind began to fill with mixed feelings of both loving and hating Damian, the moment Damian brought up his father and showed concern for him over the hostage situation he was just in. Of course, Damian only assumed if his mother was worried about him, it meant his father was to. Sadly, given Melinda was the only one to show up...he likely wasn’t. Based on Melinda’s complex thought’s, its as if part of Melinda wants to be free to love Damian, but the other part can’t help but also resent him. So then...why did Melinda show up to comfort and worry about the child she resented?

Up to now, Melinda had never revealed herself to show her support and care for Damian. She didn’t show up to his school orientation, she never called him over the phone and she did not appear at the school grounds during the imperial scholars mixer when Damian wanted to talk about how he achieved his first Stella star, regardless if Donovan met him or not. Of all the times Melinda did not show herself for Damian's sake, why did she now choose to appear and comfort Damian in chapter 75? Well, the only change we know of which happened to Melinda recently....was that she met Yor.

In chapter 66, when Melinda questioned Yor about Damian, Yor’s response in confirming what Melinda’s staff had told her, may not have just caused her to feel relieved in knowing her son was happy, rather...what if it was more than that? If Donovan is as truly heartless and unsympathetic as Loid says he is, and if Melinda had truly held her children in the same regards as their father, then could it be hearing Yor talk about Damian, was enough to leave her wondering if perhaps Damian... was not at all like her husband?.

If what we theorize is true, then this would mean meeting Yor made Melinda see Damian in a new light the moment she began to hear about how happy his life is at Eden academy, and how he befriended a young girl who, according to Damian himself back in chapter 9, was considered a commoner and not at all within the standards of the Desmond’s to befriend as he alone was entitled to be above all others and never be considered someone others should defy. A complete contrast to how Damian is now after having interacted with Anya for so long

And so, in chapter 75, when Melinda met Damian after the hostage situation was resolved, for a moment, it was as if Melinda didn’t just look at Damian as her son...but a boy who was not affiliated with Donovan and the Desmond legacy.

However, as Melinda heard Damian show concern for his father, it was as if Melinda realized she had forgotten a very cruel and painful truth. Damian is her son, but... he is also proof of the ongoing misery in her life, and so long as Damian sees his father as someone he should strive to become and do whatever it takes to uphold the Desmond Legacy, Melinda will continue to see him not just as her son, but the son of Donovan, a son who will inevitably one day grow up to be just like his father.

And if she feels this way about Damian, then how does she feel about Demetrius? Demetrius is much older, but given his phone conversation with Damian in chapter 37, Demetrius also had a tendency to be cold and distant towards others, including his little brother.

Although this does beg the question, if Melinda views both of her children as nothing more than a curse and a reminder of her painful life as a Desmond, then...what will it take for Melinda to stop viewing Damian(and possibly Demetrius) as a curse and instead as just her son?... well...the answer to this may have always been presented to us from the start...Damian... must realize his father is not the man he envisioned him to be, and no matter what he does, let alone what happens to him, Donovan will never become the father he dreamed he would become if he were to uphold the Desmond name by becoming a scholar, all things which he came close to realizing back in chapter 37 but quickly let go the moment Donovan gave him an fraction of praise.

If Damian were to truly realize his father was just as much of a monster Loid grew to understand, then perhaps his choice to separate himself from his fathers shadow and the entire Desmond legacy, may become the driving factor in Melinda not only shedding her resentment towards her children over a marriage she never wanted,...but also become her reason for possibly betraying Donovan when the time comes for WISE and Loid to face Donovan.But hey...its just a theory...a SpyxFamily theory.

#spy x family #sxf #loid forger #Yor Forger #anya forger #melinda desmond #donovan desmond #damian desmond #Spy x Family Theory #spy x family theories #sxf theory #sxf spoilers #spy x family analysis

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