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bonny-kookoo · 4 months

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Yoongi

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Business Decisions

He's not who people might think he is.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Yoongi, Human!Reader, Unstable AU, set prior/during the Jungkook storyline, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, strangers to lovers, Angst, Violence, Drama, romance, adult, eventual smut

Length: 3k Words

-Masterlist

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Min Yoongi is, despite his looks and quiet nature, a very kind person. Or at least, that's what some very selected people will tell, if one was to ask them.

His tail softly sways behind him as he keeps an eye on the main operational panel in front of him, while you watch. His cat-like ear snaps a bit irritated at something- when his eyes turn towards you, glaring. “can you.. stop staring?” He requests, and you nod, instead turning to look out the large window of the spaceship instead. You’re quiet, but not mute- having talked to him quite a bit before. Maybe you simply don’t speak much, or don’t put much value in.. smalltalk.

That’s fine by him. He doesn’t either.

He's found you- or rather, you found him- just hours earlier at an outpost, asking him to take you along to another location in exchange for a small amount of money. Where he went next you didn't care- you only needed a ride to get around, most likely used to this kind of life, since you'd obviously chosen him very specifically amongst all the other options at the bustling restaurant.

In hindsight, it made sense that you approached him despite his grim appearance- he was the shortest and least threatening looking species in that restaurant at the time, and was also one of the only one's there without any company at all. You're clearly smart about this whole process of finding a ride from one place to another-

otherwise, you wouldn't have lived like this for so long, having done this for years, according to you.

“There is.. Food over there. If you’re hungry.” He tells you, and you look over to spot the metal trunk in a corner, before you nod at him, not moving at all however.

“I’m not.” You answer, though your stomach growls as if to disagree, making you clearly a bit ashamed of it, eyes widening at being betrayed by your own body like this.

“Just eat. I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t want to give it to you.” He mumbles to himself, resuming his task of checking the ship’s systems again while you stay seated where he’d last told you to sit. You still won’t move, and he’s unsure why not- but he’s also aware that he shouldn’t get too invested in you. You’re gonna be dropped off next stop, and that’s gonna be it- which is for the best, because getting involved with humans is never a very good idea.

And he’s also still on a mission to get his revenge- and secure his place in the foodchain, to be no longer seen as nothing but a docile little pet. A mission that might as well kill him- and if he can avoid pulling anyone down with him, he surely will.

When he notices your eyes blinking longer and longer, he walks to fetch a sleeping bag from one of the other metal trunk in the corner, to offer it to you. “Sleep. It’ll still be a few more hours until we’ve reached the next outpost.” He says, and you take the sleeping bag from him with a thankful nod, before you spread it out right on the floor where you sit, to crawl into it and lay down. He has a suspicion what your way of earning money had been until now, but with your behavior so obvious, it’s very clear to him now.

It makes him upset. The fact that you’ve been driven so far just to somehow survive.

Either way, he stays awake to both keep himself safe just incase he’s misjudged you and your intentions, and to make sure the old and very small spaceship keeps it’s course as it sometimes tends to deviate over time due to the old navigation system. And yeah, maybe he also can’t help his instincts as well-

Unintentionally guarding you while you sleep, eyes always checking up on you any time you move in your sleep.

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Min Yoongi was born on Zoldos- a small, cold and relatively poor planet, which had been industrialized for ages. He remembers his father making toys out of junk he found while working at the metal factory each day, turning trash into small spaceships for Yoongi to play with.

Most of his time however was spent with his mother, and the many children she’d foster over the years of his childhood- many of them he’d see as his sisters, as all of them would be girls given up by their families, since in his culture, they’re said to just be expensive and too much work to raise. Maybe this way of growing up, helping his mother with the young kids every day while she taught him everything he needed for his future, made him into the man he is today.

His father had always been described as ‘unusually soft’ compared to what is usually expected and seen in his kind- Xaqal people tending to be combative, easily irritated, and quick to escalate situations into physical violence to defend themselves from others. But his father was already uninterested in any of the usual past-time activities his coworkers would indulge in, like underground fighting, or gambling- rather spending his free time home with his son, foster children and partner, which was unusual in itself. Usually, partners of his kind don’t stay together after their children learn how to walk- but Yoongi remembers that even when his mother passed, his father would continue to live at the same house, to find new homes for the remaining children, before he moved away as well once Yoongi decided to leave the planet.

Yoongi is still in contact with his father, and doesn’t believe that he should’ve been raised any different than how he was.

But his now rather soft and kind character comes with a price to pay- with most people on other planets not taking too kindly to him and his friendly nature at first. Friendships don’t pay your bills after all, so the first lesson the young man had to learn back then, was to toughen up, and start thinking of only yourself first and foremost. Getting attached to others was a risk to take, and would most likely end in a burden one might think of unnecessary.

Even so, Yoongi has made friends along the way. From a very, very charismatic guy named Seokjin and his mother on Cryon, or the stoic and self-admitted younger ‘Asshole’ human-Bolku hybrid going by the name of Jungkook. But other than that, he keeps himself independent- away from others.

However, for some reason, he’s now sitting with you on a bench on the outpost while his spaceship is being refueled, having bought you some warm food to eat, despite your active arguments against that. Maybe because you’re obviously in need of protection, or because you’re not a threat whatsoever- but he feels like he should at least make sure you’ll be okay on this outpost, before he’ll leave you here.

Deep down, he knows it’s not the question if you end up getting into a situation where you’ll be killed- but more so, when.

“What are... your capabilities?” Yoongi asks after a moment, watching your hands as they tear apart a piece of bread to dip it into your hot soup he bought. A warm and filling meal was a good idea to him, since it’ll keep you energized for longer than just a snack or fast food.

You look up at him, caught off guard, as you swallow down, thinking.

“Hm..” You hum as you think. “I.. Can read maps pretty well. And I’m good at cleaning.” You say. “But I could probably learn other things pretty quickly, if needed. It depends on the job I could get.” You explain, and Yoongi nods.

“So if you had to learn about another species’ health and how to care for it, you could learn quickly?” He asks, and you nod.

“If.. Given enough recourses to teach myself.” You mumble, continuing to eat. He’s getting the feeling you’ve not had a filling meal in a while with how eager you are to finish all of it.

“I will not offer you monetary compensation.” He says, and at that, you look up again. “But instead a place to sleep, regular food, and.. Basic protection.” Yoongi explains to you, and at that, you instantly nod.

“I can do anything!” You chirp, desperate- and he carefully pushes you back down by your shoulder, calming you down again. “Really-”

“I believe you.” He nods. “But Be aware that I am not just some traveler.” He remarks, and you nod.

“I understand.” You say.

“Hm. If that’s the case-” He starts, looking over to a small shop that sells different electronics. “-I’ll get the necessary equipment to finalize our agreement. Stay here- and don’t talk to anyone.” He commands, and you nod, continuing to eat while he gets up to walk into the shop.

Many of the people inside this shop are wearing the distinctive blinking tiny tracker around their necks- either from a simple leather collar, something more sleek like a silver hoop, or even one with a chain. It’s to be expected, as most of what is sold here is equipment for ‘personnel’, as it’s called across the galaxy, after the term ‘slave’ had been outlawed and categorized as a slur.

Yoongi can feel the eyes on him, since the tall, green-skinned lady at the counter most likely waiting just like the rest of them for another person to follow him to buy equipment for him, as it’s normal for his kind- but the second he picks out a combination of a tracker, and EID tag, and a simple, silver collar that wouldn’t stain or sit too tight around your neck, people become interested.

“Size is a bit small for you, kitty.” The alien woman giggles, scanning the items to add the price of everything together. “You know how to set the EID up?” She says, clicking at the end of her sentences a foreign tone, similar to an insect.

“I know how it works.” He tells her, voice stable and monotone, something he taught himself to never give away any sign of his actual emotions. Because showing them will show weakness- and Yoongi needs to keep up an appearance of indifference at all times, just so people can never quite figure him out.

People naturally fear the unknown, down the line, no matter the species.

“Alright. Just out of curiosity though..” She says, clicking sounding again as she narrows her dark eyes at him while he pays. “...who the hell wants to be under the command of a Xaqal?” She says, some people in the small store giggling to themselves as if a joke had been told.

“Someone who will live a fairly comfortable life from now on.” He simply answers, payment confirmed by her system, before he takes the bag of items, and leaves- gazes following him long after he exited the store.

He’s relieved to still find you right where he left you, no one seemingly having tried to take you away, or worse yet- so he taps your shoulder to gain your attention, nodding towards his ship in the distance. “Let’s go. I need to set up your EID after we take off.” He says, and you nod, getting up to follow him.

“Are- are you sure I’m a good choice?” You ask, walking after him like some lost pet, eager to keep up with his rather fast pace. For a Xaqal, he’s surprisingly tall- not quite as tall as some of the other human’s you’ve met, which normally are considered a shorter species, but also not as short as some of the Xaqals you’ve seen in the past.

“Are you trying to sway my mind?” He wonders, opening the cargo door to his spaceship, before he climbs in- noticing how you don’t follow. So he walks back, and has to swallow down a laugh- because you clearly struggle to somehow pull yourself up on the iron steps, which are too high off the ground for you to properly reach with your legs. “...well, at least you won’t take up too much space on the ship.” He mumbles to himself, before he holds onto one of the metal handles on the sides, before he pulls you up by your arm so that you can make it onto the steps, able to finally climb inside.

He’ll adjust the steps in the future. Maybe add one. Or rather three.

Back in the main navigation center of the ship, where your sleeping bag is still laying in front of the front windows, you sit down right there, as if you’ve accepted this spot as your place to exist.

The ship calms after it breaks orbit, softly flying through the empty space while Yoongi sets up the EID tag for you. The electronic identification device opens a new window on his control panel as he places it on the scanner he has, asking for him to input the necessary information- and he looks over at you, where you sit, looking out the window.

“Once I set this up, it can’t just be undone.” He tells you, and you snap your head towards him, before you nod. “Alright.” He mumbles putting in his own information and ID number as your set ‘Employer’- scanning the chip placed onto the bone of his forearm, before he waves you over. “Put your arm here.” He tells you, and you do- though nothing is scanned at all, no matter how you twist or turn your arm. Yoongi’s brows furrow. “Where’s your ID-chip?” He asks, and you perk up, before you turn around, pointing somewhat to a spot on your back.

“My spine- it should be between my shoulders.” You say.

“Spine?” He mumbles, unsure. The spine is not a good spot to place an ID chip, no matter how small it is- it could still dislodge and get in between important nerves or even the vertabrae, causing damage that would be potentially fatal. “Why is it there?” He asks, picking up the scanner to run it over your back- a beep signalling that the chip had been found, and sucessfully read by the device.

“As far as I know, most humans and Yon get it there, because its harder to get out.” You explain, having turned around to curiously watch Yoongi tap away all the info into your future identification. “Because, you know, Humans and Yon are popular Personnel. People would just chop their arms off and exchange it for a prosthetic later after they'd take them and put them up for sale. So to combat that, we get the chip on the spine instead.” You say, and Yoongi cringes to himself, realizing now why he sees so many humans and Yon people with a prosthetic.

“I’ll research any risks to make sure you’re not doing any tasks that might end up immobilizing you.” He mumbles as he finishes up the settings, the red blinking light on the EID tag turning a steady green, signalling that it’s ready to be worn.

“Oh, don’t worry. The chip is attached to the bone, so it doesn’t move.” You inform him, and that reassures him quite a bit, as he nods, and uses quite a lot of force to clip the tag onto the silver collar- metal snapping into place, making it hard to get it off again.

“Alright. Come here.” He tells you, and you almost proudly stand straight, offering your neck to him as he clips the collar around you- electronic lock clicking shut, never to open again for anyone else but him. “Is that alright?” He asks, and you nod, while he tests- slipping two fingers between the metal and your neck, just to make sure it’s not too tight. “Alright.”

“Alright.” You mirror, getting only a mild reaction from him.

“I’ll order some books and electronic information devices for you to study. We’ll pick them up at the next outpost.” He informs you, and you nod, taking this as a signal that you’ve been dismissed- so you walk back to the sleeping bag, sitting down on it to look out the window again.

“Can I.. sleep a bit?” You wonder, and Yoongi nods.

“I don’t need you right now, so you can rest.” He accepts, and at that, you eagerly crawl into the sleeping bag again to sleep once more, giving him a moment to think about what he’d just done.

He blames his instincts, the fact that his kind lives in groups and usually prefers company at all times. Maybe it’s the fact that he actually does need someone to be able to help take care of his health if a job went south. Or maybe, he just can’t shed the way he’s been raised, even though he’s not that kind person anymore. Even still, he feels odd, looking at you asleep in front of those large windows.

Like he just got himself entangled into something a lot more complicated than he believes right now.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #hybrid imagine #yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagines #yoongi imagines #yoongi x reader #bts yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi x reader

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wood-white-writer · 8 months

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"Didn't mean to make your heart Blue" || [3/...]

- OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

"And I am the idiot with the painted face, in the corner taking up space. But when he walks in, I am loved."

— Mitski, "Me and My Husband"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstances.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, LA!Verse, Buggy is a lonely asshole, flashbacks, semi-canon divergence, Reader is strong AF,

A/N: I forgot to mention this before, but I guess this technically does hold some spoilers from the manga/anime. Keep in mind, I've not seen/read either piece, so it's merely used to give their stories some background.

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku (If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or comment :))

Fuck, fuck, fuck, where the fuck are you?

After some time of searching, Buggy finds you sitting by the docks, your feet gently swaying with the waves, almost free of any earthbound weight. He’d join you if he could, but he’s not brave enough to get too close to the waters yet.

However, he’s content enough to just watch you from a safe distance. The sky is free of clouds and the moon is full, which illuminates your shape like a bright lantern in the night.

Beautiful, that's what he thinks you are. In fact, that's what he's been thinking for a while now, not that he's ever told you that to your face. He wonders when he stopped looking at you like something more than a friend.

Maybe it was when he caught you smiling at him after you'd successfully managed to steal a bottle of fine rum from the local bar, and you both ended up getting blackout drunk on the ship deck?

Maybe it was when he saw you win a round of arm-wrestling against one of your other crewmates, despite being significantly younger than the opponent.

Maybe it was when you beat a guy black and blue for making fun of his nose in public, with both him and Shanks cheering you on from a safe distance?

It doesn’t matter when it was. What matters is that, for a while, he has found it difficult to take his eyes off you. Even if it’s just a peek, it usually takes him a while to force his attention on something else.

The rest of the crew are on the Oro Jackson, celebrating their recent endeavors, yet here you are, celebrating on your own. He finds it odd; you’re usually happy to participate in any celebrations with the crew, but you’ve decided to be here instead. It was your absence on deck that prompted Buggy to go looking for you.

The wind picks up and he can feel goosebumps spread across his skin like wildfire. He shivers and tugs his jacket tighter around himself, and that’s when he notices that you’re not wearing any additional clothing to stave off the cold in the night.

He finally calls out to you, a little throaty for reasons he refuses to disclose aloud. “You’re gonna get a cold like that, dumbass! You wanna get pneumonia and die or something?”

You subsequently turn around to face him, and his breath gets caught in his throat. Your sharp eyes, when caught in the moonlight, sparkle like a thousand treasures — compiled of gold, diamonds, and millions and millions of berries — holed up in two caves.

Smiling in the way that makes his pulse quicken, you proceed to wave your feet in the water. A few drops land on your arms, sparkling in the air before landing on the skin of your arms. “I don’t think so? If we get to the South Pole, maybe there’s a higher risk?”

He frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. “The North Pole is colder!”

“Ah, well,” you snicker. “In that case, then I’m not likely to get pneumonia unless we’re there.”

“You can still get cold! What are you, a moron?”

For someone who can’t keep his eyes off you for extended periods, that doesn’t keep him from being rather crass in terms of vocabulary with you. That’s alright. You’ve never been one to appreciate honeyed words if your frequent bickering with both him and Shanks says something.

With another swing of your legs, you reestablish contact with with wooden platform and make your way over to him. That’s when he finally realises that you haven’t brought your shoes with you, but you don’t seem bothered by it. “By the way, what’re you doing here, Buggy?“

He considers telling you a simple lie that won’t clash with what he knows to be the truth. He was coincidentally going for a walk, he needed some air, he was purposefully looking for you…

“Noticed you weren’t on the ship,” he finally settles on with a hmph. “Had to make sure you hadn’t accidentally up and drowned or something. You’re a shitty swimmer,”

“Not as shitty as you,” you counter and blow him a raspberry.

He’s about to tell you to fuck off or something when, again, he finds himself pausing.

You’re smiling at him, so softly, and it feels so warm that the wind no longer has any effect on him. He can feel his cheeks scorch up and his heart is pounding so hard that it feels on the verge of breaking his ribs.

He hastily looks away and coughs a couple of times, trying to maintain what little dignity he has left.

“Are you alright?” You ask with faux concern. “Did you just catch pneumonia or something?”

“S-Screw you!”

You laugh, and it’s like music to his ears. Your laughs are usually raspy and hardly appropriate, but he finds that it’s the prettiest sound in the world. Your smile, your laugh, they are so warm that he hopes that you’ll never stop making them.

Out of the blue, you wrap an arm around his shoulder and begin tugging him on the path to the ship. “Come on, before they leave us behind.”

“Y-Yeah, let’s.” He doesn’t move to tug your arm away, and no power on this earth will make him.

------

Now that he's closer to the kid, Buggy realizes the stupidity of asking if he was yours. The two of you are nothing alike, but the truly defining factor lies in your eyes. Rubber Boy's eyes are too bright, too round. Whereas yours are knives ready to strike, his' are simple spoons.

He begrudgingly has to hand it to the kid; he's a fearless one. Even stretching his limbs beyond human capabilities does not diminish his spirit. Buggy doesn't know whether to applaud or reject the determination the boy has.

"I want you to think of this, like an artistic exercise," he explains. "Because pain leads to art, and art reveals truth."

He can't hear any commotion from the backrooms where he keeps you contained. Truth be told, he never expected it to keep you for long, only detain you for a limited amount of time. If he wants to both get the map and keep his life in one go, he is going to have to try and get it without necessarily ruining the kid too much.

Still, it doesn't keep him from testing the lines. He tries to pry the answers out with a needle, but no matter what he does, the kid remains infuriatingly mute.

So, he decides to dig a little deeper.

"Now, what makes a boy want to grow up to be King of the Pirates? Who are you trying to impress?" He tilts his head with inquisitiveness. "A lost love?"

On cue, he can vaguely make out a gnarling sound coming from the back rooms. The sound of chains rattling, which he perceives as you probably moving in the enclosure. He thinks about sending someone to check on you and find out what you're up to, but he does not want the number of supporting casts to reduce.

"An absent parent?" He continues, ignoring the noises as he closes in on the boy. "Or was it someone that you worshipped? A false idol."

Try as he might, the boy fails to feign any indifference to him. A master of performance himself, Buggy knows when he's hit his target "That's it."

He yanks the dumb straw hat off his head, and the boy's protests against it further dig a nail into the coffin. "Give me back my hat!"

"I used to know a pirate that wore a hat just like this." Buggy's grip on the feeble thing drastically tightens as memories of the past resurface. "Red-Haired Shanks."

"You knew Shanks?"

"Ginger? Three scars, left eye?" Of course, how could he not know of the bastard? "We served together on a pirate crew when we were about your age. In fact," he glances at the boy from over his shoulder. "Your friend, Cross-Hairs over there, was with us at the time."

The kid blinks in confusion, clearly not aware of this little piece of information. "I knew she served with Shanks, but she never mentioned you."

In all honesty, it doesn't surprise him, yet he still perceives this as a slight against him from your side. The underlying hypocriticism in that doesn't evade his notice, but he elects not to address it.

Buggy can feel the straws under his digits lightly crack beneath the pressure of his grip. "She did, but before then, it was the three of us. For a time, I even thought we were friends." His nail pierces a hole through the inside of the hat. "Until they betrayed me, like all the others. He wanted to keep me out of the spotlight! He wanted to keep my star from shining too brightly!"

"They wouldn't do that," Rubber Boy is quick to protest, rather vehemently too as if Buggy just insulted his entire lineage. "You don't know her, and you don't know Shanks. Don't talk about them that way."

"I bet I know her far better than you do, Rubber Boy." He smirks and raises a knowing eyebrow at the kid. "Does she still snatch specifically red apples off vendors when you're in town? Does she still tend to store her knives in her boots when she thinks no one's looking?"

The kid doesn't have to answer. His silence is all the confirmation he needs, and it makes him feel victorious in some sense.

"Let me ask you something else, then. How'd the famous Captain of the Cross-Haired Pirates get stuck with a simple-minded nobody like you? What did you do that was so special that she decided to stick around until now?"

The damn brat doesn't answer.

He presses on. "Apparently, she made a promise to someone, and though I have a sneaking suspicion as to whom, I don't want to jump the gun." He grasps harshly at the kid's face, no longer smiling. "You know, and if you tell me, I might be convinced to lessen the restraints."

The damn brat still doesn't fucking answer, and it vexes him greatly. Even so, if there's one thing he's learned, it's that the kid's silence can be substituted for an answer.

So, he finally asks the billion-berry question:

"Was it Shanks?"

Rubber Boy does not answer. He doesn't fucking answer, and Buggy's patience snaps like a twig.

You would be willing to go through all of this trouble, to keep the kid safe and help him achieve his dream, just because you made a silly promise to what was once your mutual friend. You would give up your career as one of the most successful pirates in the modern age, just for that?

Just for him?

Deep down, he feels something carve at him. Carve at the boyish version of him he left behind the same day he left you. Would you have been just as loyal to him as you were to Shanks, if only he stayed?

He does not voice these thoughts aloud. Instead, he can't help but beam, because everything he's theorized up until this point has just been verified. It aches, and it hurts, and it cuts, but even so, he can only smile down at the boy.

"Stretch him until he breaks."

------

Although you hear a commotion coming from the stage room, and despite the urge you have to just break out and be done with this all, you deliberately remain in your cage. One leg pulled up to your chin whereas the other one rests uncomfortably on the stale ground boards, you do nothing more than let your temper simmer down.

Honestly, what a mess.

You made one thing perfectly clear to Shanks the day you agreed to disband your crew and keep watch on the boy. It had not even been a week after he returned to the docks of Fooshia Village, one arm short and the boy by his side.

------

"I am not his parent. I will not be held responsible for the mistakes he makes when he decided to leave land. I will only keep him alive until I decide he can do that himself; after he's earned his first bounty. After that, I'm off."

"And what will you do after?" he had asked, genuinely curious.

You didn't answer, because you didn't know.

"Look after the lad for me, will you? Help him achieve his dream." He had taken your shoulder under his warm remaining hand and said:

"Maybe one day, you'll find your own."

------

If you'd known that Luffy's dream would one day lead you back to him, you would've been more reluctant to make that promise. At the time, you had little interest in picking up the shattered pieces of your childhood dream, yet it seems that now it has decided to search you out instead.

Or rather, he has.

Your head hurts.

This is not the time for heartfelt reunions if there ever was one. Buggy has only one goal in mind, and that is to get his hands on that damn map. Harming Luffy will serve as a means to an end in achieving that, which happens to clash with your goal. You're not Luffy's parent, you tell yourself, but you're willing to extend the promise to Shanks just this once.

And so, after some careful deliberation, you make your escape.

You hit the metal once, and it bends significantly. Then twice, and on the third strikes, they bend and crack, finally granting you access to direct contact with the ground. It's never felt so relieving to be earthbound, and you even go as far as to tap your feet a few times to enrich that feeling.

Having most likely heard the noise, two troupe members march through the curtains to see what's going on. The first one barely has the time to register your escape before you lunge.

You're quick to subdue them, knocking the first one out with an easy choke-hold whereas the other mysteriously ends up with half his body stuck in what remains of your previous confinement. His ass hangs out in a rather humiliating position, but the point is, he's out of the way.

The adrenaline is the one part of piracy you've missed. The surge of energy that flows through your veins, feeling the air brush your face as you make your move, the warmth in your heart that substitutes any pain or hurt you've ever felt if only for a moment.

You relish it.

You happen to find your weapons in the room, hidden in some crates. Your knives and your pistol, are both unscathed and fully functional, but you know that you'll end up relying on your hands for this. After all, it's personal, and personal matters are handled in a personal way.

When you're certain the two troupe members are of no concern to you, you exit the back rooms and find yourself in the opening between the audience rows shortly after. The lights have been killed and there's an ominous silence stretching in the atmosphere.

You look up at the terrified audience, and though you're almost in clear view of them, none dares stray away from the view up ahead.

Said view in question being of Luffy halfway submerged by seawater in a tank, already struggling to keep himself afloat.

Fuck this. Fuck him.

You don't even stop to coordinate your next move as, as you would've done under ordinary circumstances. No, the moment you spot Buggy standing there, trying to reason with the kid with the promise of belonging and having a place on his crew, you lunge for the kill.

------

All Buggy sees just as you make your move is a flash of sharp eyes that seem to glow in the dim room. There's no word upon your entrance, no sound, not a single warning at all. A shriek resonates through the air, shattering the silence that had unknowingly settled over them, and it's his own.

The air gets knocked out of his lungs as you shove your fist straight into his stomach. Ordinarily, that specific portion of his would've just straight up dislodged itself from his body, but it doesn't this time. He remains intact, a contradiction to what you had threatened to do, and he falls back several good feet on his back like a kicked dog.

A raspy groan is all the noise he manages to get out, heaving his chest in search of the air that was stolen from him. He throws one arm to the ground and gets his upper body up.

When he finally manages to somewhat stabilize his line of sight, all he sees as the world remains blurred around him is you standing over him with a dangerous glimmer in your eyes. One he's already familiar with.

This is not his old friend or his old flame crew member. This is Cross-Hairs, the feared captain of the vicious Cross-Haired Pirates. The Beast of the East. The one whose aim never misses, and if it does, she'll hunt her target down to the ends of the earth.

And now, he's officially become your target. No longer a passive one at that, but the only one your eyes are set on. He doesn't know if he's content or unnerved by this.

There are no palpable emotions on your face, but he can read your eyes well enough to know that you're angry. No, angry doesn't even begin to cover it; you're absolutely, positively, completely pissed.

"What?" He forces out, still aching from the punch to his abdomen. "Going to make good on your promise? Going to finally kill me after all this time? If so, then just get on with it!"

You don't answer, and he hates it even more than he would've had you responded. A part of him wants you to kill him; wants you to show that you care enough about him to just fucking do it.

No, instead, all you give him is a glare. That same glare that's never left your face since he first laid his eyes on you. You turn your full attention to the tank and, with one simple hit, you break the glass to try and free Rubber Boy. You free him, without even a moment to hesitate, and it feels so much more painful than if you’d just ended him on the spot.

He wants to scream. Buggy wants to scream until his lungs give in. Scream at your inability to fully look at him. Scream at your apparent concern for a boy who is no more a pirate than he is a banker.

Scream, because even after all this time, you still refuse to choose him.

Never him.

#buggy the clown x reader #buggy one piece #buggy the clown #buggy x reader #one piece live action #one piece x reader #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy x you #buggy x female reader #one piece #buggy #buggy live action #captain buggy #one piece buggy #one piece fanfiction #one piece netflix

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entomjinx · 1 month

Text

ONE PIECE CHAPTER 1113 SPOILERS!!!

It's tagged, it's in bold, if you didn't see it that's on you, but I'm sorry. (I'm also a little sick so sorry for how this starts to turn a little insane at the end.)

The reveal makes perfect sense. I've seen a few people struggle to figure out where it came from, so I'm gonna explain why it makes perfect sense and then pop off with some silly theory.

The first hint at the fact that the One Piece world is sinking exists all the way back in Long Ring Long Island.

That seems like an odd place to start, but it's the first time we're shown how drastic the tides of the ocean in the One Piece world can change. It's enough to separate entire parts of an island, causing it to appear as separate islands, once every year.

This implies that the tides change drastically over the course of much longer periods than it does in the real world.

After that, we get to Water Seven and discover that it's sinking, and that the Aqua Laguna is getting worse every year. We also know that it's caused by the water receding at Long Ring Long island. We're also outright told that they want to make the city float to stop the sinking problem.

We also, much later, see just how high Wano is in altitude.

Knowing that the Redline is so tall that it cannot be passed by any ship, cannot be broken through, and that Mariejois is sat right on top of it only adds to why it makes sense.

The world isn't "sinking," those some islands technically are(Water Seven, modeled after Venice), the tides are going to rise exponentially, and fast.

The force of the water would instantly drown most people, and those who survived would be those who could get to higher altitude islands, the sky islands, Fishman Island, or the Redline.

And because I know someone will try to point this out: land bound plant life can temporarily survive underwater, so Ohara's 5000 year old library tree would be fine for a a bit while submerged. There's lots of places with high tides who's plant life is just fine. (This also could explain why they'd be so willing to throw the books into the water. Not only was it to save them from the fire, but many of them had likely been submerged for long periods of time before. They knew the books would be find in the end because they had record of it. And well, it's mentioned in the chapter that Vegapunk means to finish what Ohara started.)

This would also explain how thorough the government was able to be with wiping out information from the void century. If only a few places can survive, then few things that tell the truth will survive, and even fewer people.

Do I think I'm 100% correct about any of this? Or course not, it's Oda. It's One Piece. Things are pretty much never predicted with 100% accuracy. But that's my thoughts on why it makes sense. Now we get into theory:

I have several points to make, so I'm going to write out the shortest ones first.

-This would, completely unironically, explain some of the centuries long racism campaign against fishman. They have no reason to fear the high tides. They will survive no matter what happens on the surface, and that scares the humans who cannot.

-I think that the extreme tide is a part of why the bridge is being built in Tequila Wolf. I believe the bridges purposes is to connect all the highest points of the world so there's no need for ships to carry them. This way, the Celestial Dragons will still have access to more slaves, produce, and anything they can't get within Mariejois on their own during the time period when everyone drowns.

-and now we get to the big one:

I think that the reason the 20 kings and their people destroyed the ancient kingdom is because the ancient kingdom had a way to survive the high tide while keeping the maximum number of people safe in the process, and while being able to save many more people. They refused to ask for help, and were instead afraid of the power the ancient kingdom held, so they sought to destroy it.

I think that the ancient "weapons" were instead a means of survival, and the reason they were hidden is because the 20 kings would have used them as weapons instead. We don't know much about the ancient kingdom, so much of this is speculation.

I think Pluton was a large enough ship that it could carry the entire kingdom. We've already seen some massive ships in One Piece, and Iceburg intends to turn the entirety of Water Seven into a ship, so the idea of an island sized ship isn't all that odd.

If you continue to think about it, why did none of the Beast Pirates manage to find Pluton while searching for the poneglyph in Wano? I have two theories for this based on the fact that we're told Wano would have to open it's borders in order to get Pluton. If the walls would need to be torn down, then we can continue to assume that Pluton is massive.

Theory one is that Pluton is is hidden within the mountain itself, and that the mountain was man-made to hide the ship. Not only would the walls need to come down, but the mountain itself would have to be destroyed. They would also need a way to survive the high tide without it, so creating a mountain that is high enough in altitude to keep them safe would have been a necessity. I think this is the more believable of the two theories.

Theory Two is that Pluton is Wano. The entire island is the ship, and many of Wano's people descended from the people of the ancient kingdom or those they rescued. This one is much less likely, but it's still a possibility in my mind.

We know that Poseidon was the former mermaid princess, and that the current one is Shirahoshi. She can control the sea kings. Why would this be important? Because if everywhere floods, then the sea kings, who are already very large creatures, suddenly have an influx of room to move, food to eat, and places to lay eggs. It would cause a population spike. *However,* that would cause an ecological disaster within the food chain. The sudden influx of sea kings would be desperate for any food they can get their hands on, and many would likely die of starvation. This means they need some way to repel them from the large ship.

We don't know anything about Uranus yet, so I've nothing for you.

Another thing we know about the ancient kingdom is that they seemed to be friendly with everyone, or at least it's implied via how many friends Joy Boy made.

Fishman: Along with the bonus of having Poseidon, the fishman also have access to the tree resin from Sabaody. Should the ship(Puton) or the ancient kingdom ever need to submerge in order to keep people safe or to have a temporary air bubble, They'd be safe.

Lunarians: The people who originally lived on top of the redline. Sinee the redline is high enough to not sink, it would have made sense for them to be trade partners.

Skypians and Shandians: Another race with wings. if the tides really got too high, then they could join them in the sky sea for a time. They could also trade with them.

Minks: Zunesha was a friend of Joyboy's. We don't know much else about that situation, but it's likely that Zunesha is plenty tall enough to keep the minks from drowning, and they could have traded often as well. Maybe Zunesha was even able to do something similar to the giants.

The Giants: This feels like the most important one to me, and not just because of recent chapters. Obviously the giants think very highly of Nika/Joyboy, but it's also very likely that Elbaf is tall enough to survive the high tide, and if not, the the giants themselves are. If you look at what's known about current giants, some of them are tall enough to walk along the sea floor, and the ancient giants were so large that it's said they pulled and moved continents.

Why is that bit important? Because a ship the size of an entire island would likely need a lot more than sails buoyancy to move quickly. The ancient kingdom was pulled by the giants. They moved to different areas to rescue people and to trade so that life continued while the tide was at it's highest point.

Another random thing that supports this is the giant's vehement hatred towards Charlotte Linlin. She has Totto Land, which is supposed to be a place where all races live in harmony, but it would be a mockery of what the ancient kingdom was like, and for giants, who live about 300 years, that's only a few generations back. They would still have stories about the ancient kingdom and remember the truth.

Again, I don't think anything I predict will ever be 100% accurate, but I hope you enjoyed my rambling nonetheless.

#one piece #one piece chapter 1113 #one piece spoilers #one piece theory #nika #joyboy #one piece ancient kingdom #this kinda turned into stream of consciousness at the end #so I hope it makes some sense.#if you read all of it #thank you #I love and appreciate you #drink something eat something and take your meds today

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saphushia · 5 months

Note

do you have any fic recs for dp/dc? ive been interested in reading good ones but its kinda hard to shuffle thru them all.

oh fuck yeah you know i do. i'm just gonna make a list of good ones until i get bored or tired lets see how long this gets lmao

also personal preference wise i'm not big on the danny-gets-adopted fics so u gotta ask someone else if u want recs of those ones lmao

⭐= my absolute favorites all fics are gen unless a ship is listed make sure u check fic tags for CWs b4 reading 👍

=ONESHOTS=

⭐It all Started at a Convention tim meets danny at a tech convention and they have a surprisingly nice afternoon together. and then tim comes to a realization about some things danny said...

A Monsterous Kind of Love [tim/danny] tim's a vampire. danny's a full ghost. tim gets to kill a few hunters in a frenzied rage to keep danny safe. as a treat <3

You've Got My Heart (I've Got Your Soul) [tim/tucker] congrats tim! you met your soulmate! why's he trying to kill you. hm. maybe you fucked up, buddy

Of loss, longing and long duration. [danny/bruce] of danny falling in love with bruce, breaking up with bruce, and proceeding to still be adored by all bruce's kids, past and present.

You Are a Monster (But So Am I) [danny/duke] duke's not a monster fucker- he's not! he swears! it's just this one, specific, really pretty eldritch snow monster-

If I had a nickel for every billionaire that tried to kidnap me, I’d have two nickels- which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice bruce is very tired. it's not his fault he accidentally kidnapped some teenager. aka danny's very bad wierd and stressful afternoon.

=ONGOING=

If You Give a Bat a Burger danny's just trying to lay low while keeping gotham's spirit infestation under control- of course nothing ever is simple for him. meanwhile, the bats all have their hands full with what seem to be unconnected cases, but nothing's ever simple for them either.

Rooftop Express [danny/jason] danny is bored and starts his own version of doordash in gotham. red hood keeps putting in orders so he can see the cute delivery boy <3 what do you mean he's a halfa

⭐Bus to Nowhere danny's adventures being a homeless teen in gotham on the run from his parents and the GIW. he's called dumpster tommy now, and he can't seem to stop befriending criminal and attracting vigilantes desperate to help him

An Interesting Family Tree [danny/tim] danny left the league of assassins years ago, but he can't seem to keep his nose out of it when he finds out red robin's being targeted by them. (canon divergence of tim's search for bruce in the red robin comics, where danny joins him. don't need to read the comic to read the fic)

⭐Grave Promises after an identity reveal gone wrong, danny has no one to turn to. no one, except, maybe, the hero who got stuck in the ghost zone years ago, who became danny's friend, danny's mentor, before they finally got him returned to his timeline. nightwing.

Our Empty Graves [jason/danny] danny, mute, injured, and on the run, is saved from a tight spot by red hood. he quickly becomes jason's problem, and jason makes the mistake of becoming endeared to this snarky shit.

Night Circus [dick/danny] dick hits it off with danny, a circus performer who just came to gotham. dick's thrilled- aside from the fact that circus gothica seems to be connected to the string of robberies that's suddenly hit gotham, and the bizarre thief dressed like the grim reaper...

Secretary Danny danny accidentally gets himself hired as the personal secretary of tim drake, wayne industries CEO. he's surprisingly ok with this, actually. and he's scarily good at it.

ok it's late i need to go eepies now have funnnn <3

#fic rec #answers #dcdp #anonymous #i have too much time to trawl thru fics lmao #<- guy who regularly just. goes thru every single page of fics when they get into a new fandom

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runningfrom2am · 7 months

Note

Can we get a blurb where an accident happens on set and drew has to do cpr on reader who he’s been secretly dating for a while?

thank you for this request omg!! and i thought this was so perfect to post for drews birthday :') i miss him

wrong place, right time - d.s.

pairing: drew x fem!reader

wc: 1.5k

tags/warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, injury but not violence, idk no one dies and its not very descript so its p safe

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)

nav/masterlists

Drew is watching from behind the cameras as you film a scene he's not meant to be in just yet, sitting against a wall on the top deck of what will eventually be known to the audience as The Coastal Venture.

It's been a fun day as far as filming goes, but very long. He's tired, and he can see that you are tired too. He sips on his third cup of coffee, watching you film your scene. Right now, you're helping Cleo pull the cross which is hanging from the crane.

You're looking over your shoulder, camera's zoomed in close on you while you're supposed to be keeping an eye out for Rafe. Standing guard for who is meant to be your on-screen boyfriend, anxious about the act of betraying him. If Drew didn't know better, he'd believe your expressions. You're incredibly talented, and every chance he gets he'll watch you film your scenes. He can only do that so often, though, without it drawing any suspicion. After all, your relationship was kept only between the two of you for now.

Drew watches as you're given your queue that Rafe will enter, and you turn fully. He'll be filming that scene after his break, so he starts to pack up his snack and downs the rest of his coffee. He's distracted when he hears a loud crack, followed by gasps and a loud thump. His head quickly turns, and you're laying on the ground, the cross on its crane swinging above you as chaos breaks out on the ship.

The fake cross wasn't particularly heavy, but with the wind picking up and it's height dropping due to someone in the crane messing with the controls at just the wrong moment, it ended up swinging right into the back of your head.

"Y/N!" Drew can't hear a single other thing anyone is shouting as he's shoving past crew members to get to you laying on the deck. "Y/N? Hey! Talk to me!" He calls out, turning you onto your back and grabbing your face in his hands. You're out cold, that's clear.

"Shit... shit! Okay, uhm..." He's talking to himself now, leaning down to press his ear to your chest. Listening desperately through the commotion to try and hear a heartbeat but he can't make one out, and he has no hope of finding a pulse on your neck or wrist with such shaky hands.

"Okay, come on Baby, wake up." Drew mutters, consequences be damned as he's quickly rolling up his sleeves. He places his hands on your chest, taking a breath before pumping as much of his strength as he can into you, over and over again, hoping to bring you back to life.

He pauses, leaning down again to try and hear if you're breathing with his ear to your lips. Again, nothing. "Come on, Love, you've got to wake up." He mumbles, going back to compressing your chest. Just a few seconds at a time, before leaning over again and pressing his lips to yours, blocking your nose to try and breathe the life back into your lungs. Just a few times. Just four times and then back to your chest.

The cast is ushered away from reach of the swinging cross which is now being hoisted up and out of reach, leaving them all huddled together behind the commotion. "Is she okay?" Madelyn asks, hands clasped to her chest.

"She's gonna be fine." Chase replies, chewing the inside of his cheek. "She's fine."

"Did you guys hear it? I could hear it." Rudy whispers, voice shaking as he's wrapped in a towel from the plunge he just took into the ocean filming his own scene. "It was like... this awful crack. No way she hasn't broken something."

"Dude, shut up." JD says, shaking his head as they all try and see what's happening. More than a few tears have fallen between them, shock wearing off as they realize the gravity of the situation. You still haven't woken up.

People are yelling at Drew but it all sounds so different- his tunnel vision is on you, ignoring even the tears rolling down his own cheeks as he keeps repeating the cycle. Ten pushes on your chest, five breaths. Is he doing it right? He doesn't even know.

"Baby, come on, wake up... You have to wake up..." He says, hoping by some miracle that you'll hear him. Where the hell are the paramedics?

Just as the panic is fully starting to set in, exhaustion nowhere in sight, you gasp, lifting your arm slightly to try and grab your boyfriends attention. The stabbing pain coming from seemingly everywhere in your head was keeping you from speaking, just allowing you to squint your eyes shut as your hand hits his forearm.

"Y/N/N? Hey, you're okay... I'm right here." Drew says, finally being able to breathe as he gently pushes your hair out of your forehead.

Just then, since it didn't take them long enough, the on-site paramedics reach your side, joining Drew as he kneels next to you.

You can't even open your eyes as they're wrapping your head, putting something in your arm, and moving you over to what you assume is some kind of body board. Drew holds your hand the whole way, and by now, realization has dawned on not only the rest of the cast, but the crew as well.

"Are they together?" Carlacia asks, watching as Drew clings to your hand on the stretcher as you're moved. "Did I miss something?"

"No." Madison answers, shaking her head. "You didn't miss anything. I didn't think they were, I knew they hooked up once ages ago but that's not really how you treat a hookup, is it?"

"They hooked up?" Chase chimes in, tearing his gaze from you as this new information dawns on him.

"How is that relevant right now? She's dying!" Madelyn spits, eyes blotchy and red. "If you didn't know you weren't meant to know so don't talk."

"Good girl, you're doing so well..." Drew mutters to you, pressing a hand to your cheek as they move you. "You've gotta stay with me here. Can you open your eyes? Can you try?" You just groan, the light from the sun beating down on you too intense to open them more than a sliver before you black out again.

You wake up in the hospital, head pounding. Your whole body aches, you only know where you are because of the bright fluorescents and the sterile smell. Blinking your eyes open slowly, trying to adjust to your new environment.

"Y/N/N? Hey, are you waking up?" Drew is there. Of course he's there, and he's quickly standing up and once again pushing your hair away from your face. It really wasn't in your face anyways, he's spent the last six hours being so finicky with everything in your room that there was no chance of a limb remaining untucked or a hair being out of place. He had nothing better to do than distract himself, waiting for you to wake.

"Hi." You mumble, trying to sit up.

"Woah, wait, lay down. Just relax, okay Love? I'll get the doctor. I'll be back." He promises, dropping your hand to leave.

"Wait, wait..." You call out weakly. He's quick to stop and look at you again. "I'm okay. Just, can you stay for a minute?"

Drew nods, returning to your side. You just need a minute before you're bombarded with doctors, and possibly people with questions. You didn't want to face the world, for now, you just wanted to face him.

"What happened..?" You ask after a moment of him staring at you like you were about to evaporate into dust.

"Uh..." Drew clears his throat, giving a slight shake of his head as he rubs his chin. "There was an accident. You got hit in the head, it wasn't your fault."

"Where are we?"

"Duke."

"Am I... Am I okay?" Hesitation is dropping from your voice and he nods, squeezing your hand in between his before lifting it gently to kiss your knuckles.

"Just a concussion, bruised ribs. Luckily no breaks. The concussion is serious, though, from what they can tell. They're gonna keep you, I think. The doctor will have more answers than me." Drew explains. "Can I grab them for you?"

You shake your head slowly, weary of the pain already pulsing through your skull. "No. I just want another minute with you. Before everything is real again."

Drew nods again. "Of course. I just-" He sighs, dropping his head. "Thank god you're okay. You scared me so bad." He laughs slightly. "I just about passed out over you."

You smile, avoiding the urge to laugh. "Must've been a sight. Wish I could have seen it."

"I wish no one had to." Drew chuckles, rubbing his eyes. "By the way, bad time to tell you this, but I may have outed us; at least to the cast and crew. Legal will probably be calling."

"God, Drew. I'm so disappointed." You tease before quickly reassuring him. "It's fine, it doesn't matter."

"As long as you're alive," He agrees. "I couldn't care about anything else less."

taglist: @bookishbabyyy, @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury, @fullfledgedemo, @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @rafeoccasionally, @ietss, @maybankslover, @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta, @rafegirly, @thelomlisrafecameron, @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles, @flonkertn, @whtvrrafe, @r1vrsefx, @frxcless, @ari-nicole, @@urmooniee,

#drew's birthday bash !#obx fanfic #outer banks #obx #rafe obx #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey

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agendabymooner · 9 months

Text

line without a hook ! yuki t. x ofc (filo!indie singer!ofc)

“do you like it when i’m away?”

summary: pia ellis misses the boyfriend that everyone thought she made up in her head, and when she vented about it to her fans — who designated themselves as her therapists — and twitter, they begin to wonder who he really is. OR she spiralled a little bit when yuki tsunoda posted photos of his ‘boyfriend’ pierre gasly, but it’s safe to say that he misses her too.

content warning: use of explicit language, ofc and yuki calling each other ‘asshole’ but they love each other, a fairly short one (both of them and the smau fic), short gf 🤝 short bf, yuki and ofc have false user to stalk each other (secret relationship)

note: my first yuki fic but it’s beabadoobee because they lowkey would vibe

masterlist

liked by yukino22, girlinred, taiverdes

taiverdes i think the second one calls for grass touching pia 😭😭 liked by papayapia

papayapia (gr)ass touching*

girlinred have you been drawing him again p? liked by papayapia

papayapia he doesn’t look as good as he does irl 😮‍💨

user1 NOT THE SECOND PIC STAWP

user2 lowk don’t know if i should believe you about the whole bf thing

papayapia i live on my own small world anyways 😔

yukino22 such a dirty mind you have smh

tagged pierregasly

liked by pizzapia, pierregasly, zhouguanyu

user1 my fave couple ever 😮‍💨❤️

user2 i wanna be one of them idc

pierregasly you’re gonna get me in trouble with all of these posts and photos you make of me yuki 😭🤣 liked by yukitsunoda0511

user3 pierre??? what does that mean?

user4 yuki??? our baby??? has a partner???

pizzapia don’t mind me, i’m just waiting for your call here or something 🙍‍♀️

pizzapia u two look cute together. just together tho bc he’d be ugly without you

pizzapia i ship ❤️

tagged papayapia

liked by pizzapia, pierregasly, landonorris

user1 NAW MANS HARD LAUNCHED HIS GF 😭😭 my baby boy is grown up

user2 she’s literally hot and you’d post pierre over her???? bad move tsunoda 🙄

user3 him: ❤️ her: 👍

oscarpiastri god i was ready to scream at you for keeping her a damn secret 🤬

user4 god love oscar piastri and his love for everyone’s gfs 😭😭

pierregasly i’m finally off the hook 😮‍💨😮‍💨

papayapia says who ? 😊🤔 you’re literally on top of my hitlist

papayapia eheh

papayapia i love u yukinooooo ❤️ liked by yukitsunoda0511

yukitsunoda0511 i love u too but answer my facetime calls pls

papayapia on it best friend 🤭🫡

user5 girl weren’t you just tweeting about him? papayapia

papayapia that ain’t me, that’s philomena 😨

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strawberryradiodemon · 4 months

Note

Even if you do add asexual, ace or aromantic to the search there's gonna be those "no fictional thing should ever have to present anything accurately or respectfully ever" people like "as an asexual you have my permission to do whatever you want with alastor's asexuality!" like... who tf asked them? they have an agenda they're trying to push, they do not speak for the ace community as a whole 🙄

Yeahh, even with the aro and / or ace tags we're not entirely safe unfortunately.

Such things do annoy me, I'm not gonna lie. I can understand that romance positive aros, sex positive aces or those who still have sex / are in relationships/ etc use the "aro/ace people can still date / have sex" or remind people that it's a spectrum and some still feel these type of attraction because yes, that's true.

But what annoys me is that saying that to people annoyed about the constant sexualisation/ shipping of Alastor is basically siding with the non aroace spectrum people using that "aroace people can still feel that/ do these things!" who saw that and ran with it purely to be able to continue with what they want to do.

Yes, asexuality and aromanticism are spectrums. Yes, some feel the attraction. Yes, some don't but still engage in these activities. And if you're on the aroace spectrum and it's your case obviously I'm not going to shame you for putting alastor in such scenarii because you're using a character like you to relate, and still acknowledging his aroace identity. The problem is that most people putting him in these situations totally disregard his aroaceness. And when as an aroace (spectrum) person, you say "people can still ship him, I do! Aroace people can feel these things or do them!"... You're basically enabling their erasure of his identity. Deep down you're right, but non aroace people don't care about that, and don't do these things the same way you do.

That's why, to non aroace people shipping alastor, I will remind them that he's aroace. And clearly not on the part of the spectrum where he still feels those things, nor is he interested in pursuing them.

And to the people on the aroace spectrum, I will just say, please, don't mistaken their words for a reel need to showcase the variety of our identity, because most of the time that's not what they want. You don't forget his aroaceness in the way your ship him, they do. Ship him all you want, because I know your heart is in the right place. But please don't defend the others.

As a loveless aroace, it pains me to see him constantly shipped and sexualised by everyone (even though that's clearly not what he'd want), and these things being defended.

I thought I had found a character I could relate to, that I could search stuff about him peacefully without seeing all kind of romantic and sexual stuff. I've been proven wrong, and it hurts. And the excuse they use hurt even more, because it feels like we're only palatable or interesting if we can still feel these attractions sometimes or engage in those things. As if alastor being a loveless aroace is a disappointment, that they *need* to ship him to be satisfied, for him to be enough.

Sorry for the rant, I definitely repeated myself, but I wanted to take the opportunity this ask gave me to give a bit of my opinion on this.

Tldr: I have no problem with aroace spectrum shipping him because I know they keep his aroaceness in mind. I have, however, a problem with non aroace spectrum people doing that because they erase his aroace identity completely AND use the diversity of it as an excuse to continue doing so. And it pains me to see fellow aroace people defending that, because I feel like they don't realise how those people ship him.

#rambles #love to all my aroace spectrum peeps #hazbin hotel #alastor #Hazbin hotel alastor #Asexual #aromantic #aroace #aroace alastor #asexual alastor #aromantic alastor #aro #Ace

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maria-scribbles · 1 year

Text

meet me at midnight

summary: new year's eve, 1983. a rooftop, an epiphany, and a kiss that changes everything

wc: 5k

ship: eddie munson x f!henderson!reader

warnings: underage drinking, mentions of drugs and smoking, mention of barb's death (rip queen), stancy (eugh), kissing, the reader being jealous and insecure and also kinda stupid.

a/n: writing stancy made me physically ill. i really do love nancy but i'm afraid i wrote her terribly ooc in this ugh. also, do i headcannon eddie as a saxophone player? yes, yes i do. why? no fucking clue. robin's favorite band is named 'blush' after maya hawke's first album.

meet me at midnight

December 31st, 1983

"Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree?"

You were inclined to, that's for sure.

Annie Lennox's voice booms throughout the house as you tuck yourself further into the corner you've managed to claim, a lukewarm cup of punch in hand. It feels like the entire student body of Hawkins High is here at Tina's party, bodies jostling each other on the makeshift dance floor and spilling down the hallway like an overflowing sink, even trickling outside onto the deck to smoke despite the frosty air.

You shift your weight from one heeled boot to the other and choke down a sip of your drink, wincing at the alcohol burning its way down your throat. Leave it to some thickheaded jock to make a punch that's almost entirely rum, you think as you abandon the solo cup on the nearest shelf and pull your sweater sleeve down to check the time.

It's not nearly as late as you'd hoped, the glowing green numbers reading ten-thirty, and you drop your arm with a sigh. An hour and a half before midnight and an hour and a half way too long in your opinion.

"Having fun?" Nancy's face is flushed as she squeezes her way through the dancing crowd to you, dragging Steve by the hand.

Absolutely not.

"Oh, totally!" Your smile feels so forced you're sure she'll notice and call you out but it never comes, both to your relief and disappointment; once upon a time you'd been thick as thieves, the best of friends just like your little brother and hers, before she'd ditched you for Barb and left you behind in the dust.

Barb, whose body lies in another dimension, frozen forever at sixteen.

Yeah, you're still processing that last part and you were there, standing beside Dustin as Eleven confirmed Nancy's worst fear, heart breaking for your former best friend as she cried into Jonathan's arms.

(Later that night, when everything was said and done and you were safe in bed with your little brother sleeping soundly across the hall was when you cried for Barb, too, a girl who was kind and innocent and undeserving of her terrible fate.)

Your relationship's been on the mend ever since but as much as it hurts to admit, you'll never be as close as you once were and Nancy's inability -or unwillingness, you think bitterly- to pick up on your unhappiness is only further proof.

"Wanna come dance with us?" She asks, oblivious, and you shake your head, crossing your arms to keep her from grabbing your hand because as bored as you are, being a third wheel would be even worse. You already feel bad for crashing their date by tagging along for the drive here, even though they both insisted on giving you a ride.

"Trust me, that wouldn't be pretty. Dusty says I dance like a school chaperone."

Steve bursts out laughing at that and it makes your heart do a little flip in your chest, even as Nancy fondly shakes her head. "Come on, you're not that bad."

"Oh no, I am." You wrap your arms tighter around yourself as someone opens the front door and lets in a freezing blast of air. "Seriously, I'm good. I think I'm gonna go grab some snacks."

"Try the snickerdoodles! I ate, like ten of them." Steve admits that last part pretty sheepishly and the way Nancy stares up at him with the most adoring look in her eyes makes you feel like you're intruding on something private.

You offer an awkward smile in thanks and with a tiny wave from Nancy, they melt back into the mess of bodies dancing along to Cyndi Lauper, leaving you alone once again.

For no less than the fifth time tonight, you wish Robin was here, not halfway across the state visiting her grandparents. While you might've lost Nancy as your best friend in middle school, you gained another: Robin had also been dropped by Barb and so it was only fitting that the two of you became fast friends, not just acquaintances that sat beside each other in the band's trumpet section.

(You miss Nancy honestly, you really do, but sometimes you think being ditched was one of the best things that's ever happened. You and Robin just click, two peas in a pod, and to you, she feels like the sister you always wish Nancy would've been.)

If Robin was here, she would've already made some quip about Steve and his coiffed hair, or Carol and the permanent expression on her face that made her look like she smelled something bad, or Jason and his attempts to impress Chrissy with his awful dance moves, and it would've had you doubled over in laughter.

She wouldn't let you wallow in the corner by yourself, an outsider looking in, both unwilling and unable to throw caution to the wind and just let go. But she's not here, so wallowing it is.

Being kind to yourself has never been your strong suit.

As if the universe is listening, mocking, a gap in the crowd grows just enough to give you a perfect view of Steve and Nancy swaying in each other's arms and you hate the bitter taste that suddenly floods your mouth.

You have no right to be jealous.

You've never admitted your little crush on Steve to yourself, let alone Nancy: how was she supposed to know? You're not even sure if it's all about him in the first place because sure, you think he's cute -you always have- but you get the same gnawing feeling watching Bradley spin Tina around the room in a playful waltz or Nate stealing a kiss from Georgina under the mistletoe still hanging in the doorway and you can barely tolerate either of those idiots.

It's all so terribly confusing.

Steve twirls Nancy under his arm and then dips her low to the ground, her delighted laughter reaching your ears even over the pounding music and something ugly blooms in your chest. You make your escape before you can do something stupid like cry, weaving your way across the living room and down the hall toward the kitchen with your head down.

…Which is precisely how you end up head butting one of your classmates directly in the chest when you turn the corner.

They give a soft 'oof' of surprise and you're absolutely mortified when you realize it's a boy, not just from the tone of his voice but from the toes of his white Reeboks bumping into your boots.

The same shoes you've heard keeping time in band every day since seventh grade, tapping along to the beat on the riser behind you with the rest of the saxophone players. The same shoes you see at the desk in front of you in third period English, still tapping along to the music that's always running through his mind, accompanied by the furious scribbling of a pencil across paper as he jots down lyrics for a new song.

You wince and keep your head down, hoping he'll just act like nothing happened and go on his merry way and just when you're about to think you're in the clear-

"Ow. You have a hard head, Henderson."

Shit, you think. Of course you had to literally run into the one person you feel like you can't speak two words to without making a complete fool of yourself; something about Eddie just makes you flustered beyond belief and you really wish you knew why 'cause it's, to put it frankly, annoying.

Really fucking annoying.

"Shit." You say out loud, quickly looking up to meet his big brown eyes before glancing away and staring at the zombie adorning the front of his Iron Maiden shirt instead. "Sorry, wasn't paying attention."

"No shit, Sherlock." He teases but there's no trace of malice in his voice, just amusement, even as his ringed hand comes into view and rubs the spot where your forehead crashed into his chest. "You okay?"

Embarrassment burns your face and you cross your arms defensively, firing back with a weak insult you're sure he can see right through 'cause if there's one thing you're good at, it's looking like an idiot all day, every day.

"I'm fine. You're not looking very festive, Munson."

He snorts in laughter and you finally gather the courage to meet his eyes again, only to find him already looking down at you with something behind his gaze that you can't quite figure out.

"I think you're festive enough for the both of us." He gestures to your deep navy sweater dotted with bursts of silver thread that give the illusion of stars. "You look really pretty, by the way."

Your brain short circuits.

Pretty? You're wearing your mom's sweater and Eddie thinks you look pretty?

You're too busy trying to get your mouth to work as the silence stretches on -you'll take a 'huh?' at this point, or maybe even an unintelligible squeak, just say something, you moron- to notice the pink blooming high in his cheeks and the way he speaks in a rush, the words all jumbling together so fast it's hard for your frazzled mind to understand what he's saying.

"-your help, so keep watch, okay?"

Keep watch?

He turns and strides into the kitchen without another word and you end up following a few seconds later, after you've finally recovered enough to get your legs working, at least.

You find him standing by the big bowl of punch, rummaging around the array of bottles littering the island, every so often picking one up to inspect before putting it back in its place with a shake of his head. To your surprise, it's not more alcohol he finally picks up but a two-liter of Sprite and at last you get your mouth to work as you blurt out, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Fixing this shitty ass punch." He's not even phased by your sudden question, save for the quick smile he sends your way as he pours the entire bottle in. "Have you tried it? Jesus, Jan would be disgusted."

You cross your arms and lean your hip against the counter, keeping an eye on the door just like he'd asked. "I have, unfortunately. Who's Jan?"

"Bartender at the Hideout." Eddie throws a reply over his shoulder as he digs around in the fridge, yelling triumphantly when he finds whatever he's looking for. It turns out to be a can of pineapple juice and he dumps that in, too, turning the blue punch a pretty shade of green. "My band plays there on-"

"-Tuesdays, I know." You interrupt without thinking and rush to explain yourself, almost tripping over your words when he turns his curious gaze on you.

"Um, there's this all-girl band Robin loves, Blush. We go see them sometimes and end up staying to watch you guys, too, because you're really good-" You pause at the smile slowly growing wider on his face and shake your head. "-but you already knew that, didn't you?"

He shrugs, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he stirs some cherries into the punch, then dishes out two cups and pushes one across the island to you.

"Yeah, I see you there a lot. You're kind of hard to miss when the rest of the audience is just five old drunk dudes."

Your laugh rings in the cavernous kitchen as you push off the counter to grab your drink, tapping it against his when he holds it out toward you.

"Cheers."

You're not sure what to expect when you take that tentative first sip but it's definitely not something sweet and smooth with just the right amount of fizz, the burn of the rum still present but not as overpowering as it was before.

"Okay, so I don't know how you managed to make this shit taste good but you did."

Eddie sweeps into a low bow and you hide a smile behind your cup at his theatrics. "Thank you, thank you. I do accept tips, you know, and all proceeds go directly to Jan so she can buy herself a car."

You smile wider and take another sip. "I'd love to donate but I left my purse at home, I'm afraid."

He clicks his tongue in mock disappointment before leaning forward across the island and waving you closer, dropping his voice to such a low whisper you would've had to move in anyway to even hear him.

"How about I make you a deal, Henderson? Come watch us next Tuesday, slip Jan a twenty, and I'll play a song -any song- just for you."

"Ooh, tempting." You whisper back just as quietly, tapping a finger against your chin even as a weird feeling takes hold in your stomach at his offer. "Any song I want? How about-"

"Hold on, I take that back. Any song but 'September.'"

Your jaw drops. "How'd you know-"

"Because I hear you humming it every day in band, that's how."

"Oh." How the hell does he know you hum that song when half the time you don't even realize you're doing it? You've annoyed Dustin enough to know it's true, after he told you in no uncertain words. "How about I make you a deal? I give Jan thirty dollars and Corroded Coffin covers Earth, Wind & Fire."

He stares at you for a beat longer before slowly breaking out into a smile. "…I'll think about it."

You've always know he has a pretty smile, catching glimpses of it across the cafeteria from where you sat with Robin and the rest of the marching band or in crowded hallways as you rushed to make it to your locker in between classes, but having its full force directed right at you knocks the very breath right out of your lungs.

"it's not a no, so…works for me." You say, propping your chin in one hand and swirling your cup in the other, watching the opaque green liquid spin around like the center of a hurricane. "Why'd you have me guard the door, anyway? I wouldn't call making this sludge drinkable very deviant of you."

"Please," Eddie scoffs, mirroring you exactly. "'Resident metalhead spotted adding mixers to the jungle juice?' I can't trash my reputation like that."

"No, never." You huff a laugh under your breath. "You'd be ruined."

He laughs, too, and you're not sure when it became so warm in here but it's making you want to roll your sweater sleeves up to your elbows.

"See! I knew you'd have my back, Henderson."

The more you think about it, the more you realize you always have. Every time the rumor mill paints him in a bad light, you're there to put it all to rest with nothing more than a perfectly directed scowl because you like Dio, too and wear black nail polish and occasionally play DnD with Dustin and his friends when they need a sub and no one's ever accused you of worshiping Satan for fuck's sake.

If any of them would bother to look deeper than the surface, they'll see what you do, that he's kind and sweet and caring and you know because you've seen him prove it with your own eyes: driving the rest of the Hellfire Club home if they didn't have rides, sticking up for the freshmen when the seniors decide to be cruel, and even now, witnessing him first hand try to raise money for a coworker to buy a car (granted that method might be called borderline manipulation but still, at least it's for a good cause).

"'Course I do." It's both too simple a statement and more than you ever wanted to admit and the way he's staring at you feels different, somehow, different and yet not unwelcome as you stare right back…

(Has he always had that dusting of freckles across his nose?)

…which is why you end up putting your foot in your mouth without even realizing it. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"Right, yeah."

Something flickers behind his brown eyes but it's gone before you can put your finger on it and he's smiling that smile again, pointed canines on full display as he hastily nods and straightens, downing the rest of his drink in one go.

"Do you have the time?" He sheepishly holds up his bare wrist. "Forgot my watch."

"Oh, sure." The sudden change of subject nearly gives you whiplash as you push your sleeve up to check. "Almost eleven fifteen."

"No time to lose, let's go." He grabs a napkin and swipes a few cookies from the counter, tucking them away into the pocket of his leather jacket.

"Go where?"

"You'll see." Eddie nods his head toward the doorway and holds out a hand, silver rings catching the harsh kitchen lights. "C'mon, you trust me?"

"Against my better judgement." You tease and his laugh is downright devilish when you take his hand anyway, letting him lead you out into the hall.

You're not prepared for the warmth of his palm or the rough, calloused touch of his fingers or how your hand looks so small in his as he expertly weaves through your classmates milling about until you reach the bottom of the stairs, pausing just long enough to make sure the coast is clear before dashing up to the second floor.

"Are we even allowed up here?" You whisper and while the little conspiratorial grin on his face doesn't do much to ease your mind, the quick squeeze he gives your hand somehow does.

"Nope!" He leads you down the dark hallway with practiced ease, opening the last door on the left before pulling you inside and softly shutting it behind you both.

"I feel like a delinquent." Your quiet voice echoes in the large room, clearly Tina's from the Hawkins High cheer uniform hanging on the closet door and the over abundance of pink, and he snickers as he drops your hand to grab a blanket draped over the desk chair.

"Live a little, Henderson!" He opens another door, this one leading out onto a moonlit balcony -Jesus, you knew Tina's family was rich but come on- and holds it for you as you step outside. It's just beginning to snow, specks of white drifting down silently and forming a barely there dusting on the railing and you hold out your hand to catch one, watching as the tiny flake instantly disappears from the heat of your palm.

"C'mon, I'll give you a boost." Eddie says, tossing the blanket up onto the section of roof that's just a bit lower than the others.

"Don't tell me you shoot webs from your wrists." You joke, warily eyeing the spot even as you step forward and stand in front of him, grabbing the edge with both hands.

"Nah, I couldn't handle the responsibility of being Spider-Man." He moves closer and hovers his hands over your sides. "Still trust me?"

You nod.

"Can I touch you?" His voice is a low whisper in your ear and when a shiver runs down your spine, you blame it on the sudden gust of wind, nothing more.

You nod again.

His hands are big and oh so warm as he places them on your waist and before you know it, you're lifted onto the roof without so much as a warning, the rough shingles cold against your knees even through the thick denim of your jeans.

Holy shit, he's strong.

You don't even get the chance to offer your hand as he pulls himself up with an almost casual grace and spreads the blanket out, each step he takes so confident and sure, like he's done it time and time again.

"So, you sure know your way around Tina Williamson's roof." You carefully crawl closer and take a seat beside him, close enough that the length of your body is pressed right up against his to ward off the cold.

To be fair, you're also the slightest bit terrified of somehow falling right off the edge and it's like he reads your mind when he shuffles even closer and rests his arm along the curve of your back, not quite touching but near enough that you just know he'll catch you.

"Found out I could climb up here two years ago and-" He explains, pointing off somewhere beyond the back yard in the vague direction of town. "-it's got a killer view of the fireworks."

"It's peaceful." The sounds of the festivities have faded to nothing more than a faint thumping of bass and the occasional burst of laughter floating up from the smokers on the back deck. "So for the last two years, every party Tina's thrown, you've just been hiding up here?"

"More like escaping." Eddie shrugs and stares ahead at the snow-covered trees. "I don't even want to come to these things and I'm only invited 'cause I deal. Once these rich kids get their stuff and I get paid…no one really cares where I go so I just do what I want."

You care.

"All by yourself?"

He nudges you with his shoulder and when you turn to face him, that same look from earlier is behind his eyes, the one from the hallway and the kitchen that you still can't quite figure out. "You're the only person I've ever brought up here."

"Really?"

It's cold, the snow starting to fall a little bit heaver now, and yet you're so, so warm under his gaze as he nods, the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly in the softest smile you've ever seen from him.

It's like hot chocolate on a snowy day or a cozy blanket on a cold night, safe and warm and feeling more than a little like home.

"I'm trusting you with this, Henderson. Don't abuse your power."

You smile and duck your head, pulling your sweater sleeves down further over your cold fingers. "Wouldn't dream of it, Munson."

You'd nearly forgotten all about the cookies hidden in his jacket pocket until he nudges your arm and hands you two, one of his own hanging out of his mouth and you realize they're the snickerdoodles Steve had told you to try.

For the first time, the thought of him doesn't make your stomach twist or your chest hurt. Honestly? You don't really feel anything in particular, other than the fact that he has damn good taste in desserts as you take a bite of your cookie, perfectly baked and covered in just the right amount of cinnamon and sugar.

No wonder he ate ten of them.

You finish eating in silence but you don't feel the need to fill it with anything other than the sound of your breathing; Eddie doesn't either and for who knows how long you sit side by side, watching tiny snowflakes lazily fall from the sky. They dot his dark hair with spots of white and a laugh slips from your mouth before you can stop it.

"What?" He turns your way and you just shake your head as you reach over and brush some flakes from the ends of his curls.

"The snow in your hair, it kinda looks like powdered sugar."

"Oh, so you think I'm sweet?" He waggles his eyebrows and you laugh so hard you have to lean on his shoulder to keep from falling over. The arm he has resting behind you's now fully pressed against your back and it feels like a live wire running along your spine.

"I never said that!"

"But you implied it." Your breath catches as he gently brushes some snow from your hair as well, the warm, calloused pads of his fingers glancing along your face. "And good thing 'cause I think you're sweet, too."

You suddenly get the feeling you've missed something very very important as you scoot away just far enough to turn and face Eddie fully. Down below, your classmates flood out onto the back deck to wait for the fireworks as the new year approaches but you could care less, all of your focus right in front of you on big brown eyes and tiny freckles and a beautifully devastating smile.

"Me?" You speak quietly into the cold air, the question forming swirling white wisps that float above your heads for a fleeting second before disappearing into the night.

You could elaborate but you don't have to because you know he knows exactly what you mean as his hand hovers in the air between you for a long moment before he finally reaches forward and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I thought I was being obvious." He says, a red hue coloring his cheeks that you know now is definitely not from the cold.

"Why?"

"Why did I think I was being obvious? Henderson, I'm gonna play Earth, Wind & Fire for you!"

"No, why do you…why me?"

It makes him pause, a gentle furrow to his brow, and the way he says your name so softly makes your heart skip a beat.

"Because you're you."

A minute to midnight is a pretty fucking weird time to have an epiphany but you've never had good timing.

"Oh."

It's like something just clicks, the last piece of the puzzle you didn't even know you were trying to solve slotting into place and it all makes such perfect sense you're not sure how you didn't see it before.

"I know you're into Harrington," Eddie says hastily, eyes darting away from yours for just a second before they come right back, wide and honest in the dark. "And I get it if you never want to speak to me again 'cause I just made things super weird but-"

"I'm not into Steve."

You don't know how he makes confusion look so cute but he does, eyebrows knit together and making a little wrinkle in his forehead that's just visible under his bangs. "You're not?"

"I thought I was but…" You trail off as more and more people flood outside, their voices loud and full of excitement as the countdown begins. "Turns out I'm falling for someone else and I finally figured out who."

"Ten, nine, eight."

You scoot closer, sitting on your knees so your face is level with his when you reach out to brush some more snow from his hair, letting your fingers graze over his cheek like the ghost of a kiss. "Sorry it took me so long to catch up."

"Seven, six, five."

"Oh. It's okay." He sputters, a brilliant red flush slowly crawling up his neck like ivy. "I mean, I've liked you for a while now, ever since you joined the band when I was in eighth grade-"

"Four."

"-and you sat in front of me with your trumpet, wearing a Judas Priest shirt and I-"

"Eddie?" You interrupt because as much as you want to hear the rest of his story, you've got a more important thing on your mind.

"Three."

"Yeah?"

"Two."

"Please stop talking."

His jaw snaps shut almost comically and he watches with those wide eyes of his as you slowly cup his face in your hands.

"One."

The clock strikes midnight. The first firework shoots off from downtown and explodes in a brilliant flash of shimmering gold in the inky black sky. And you lean forward and kiss Eddie Munson.

The fireworks overhead are nothing compared to the ones you feel when he responds to your kiss with one of his own, his lips soft and sure under yours as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

He tastes like cinnamon sugar, spicy and sweet, and you can't get enough of him, of his warmth and his fingers sliding into your hair and the noise he makes low in his throat when you part your lips under his.

Kissing him is addicting, intoxicating. It's all you've ever wanted.

He's all you ever wanted.

You were just too blind to see it.

He's all you can see now when you finally part, all swollen lips and flushed cheeks and a smile that would've taken your breath if you had any left to give. The fireworks are long over but you don't even care that you missed the whole show as you lean forward to press your forehead against his.

"So, eighth grade, huh?" You ask and Eddie nods, rolling a strand of your hair between his thumb and pointer finger.

"You were humming 'Highway to Hell' and had holes in your jeans. And when I heard you talking about learning to play DnD for your little brother? That was it for me."

"I was nervous when I first joined band 'cause I had trouble staying on beat. I was so scared they were gonna kick me out." You say and when a snowflake lands on his cheek, you wipe it away with your thumb. "But I heard you tapping your foot behind me and you helped me keep time. Without you, I don't even know if I'd still be playing."

He tucks your hair behind your ear before taking your cold hands in his and bringing them to his mouth to kiss your knuckles, his touch so soft and sweet it makes your head spin.

"Your hands are freezing."

"I don't want to go home yet."

You could stay like this forever with him and when he leans forward to press his lips to yours, you know he feels the same.

"Where to then?"

He's never looked more beautiful to you, his pretty brown eyes blown wide and full of affection and reflecting the shimmer of the stars overhead and a slow smile creeps onto your lips when you weave your fingers between his.

"Surprise me. I'm all yours."

An adorable pink blush sweeps across his nose as he pulls you in for another kiss and you know without a doubt you're speaking the truth.

You know you mean every word.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #my writing #tag check

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midgardian-witch · 1 year

Note

the lyrics of lilies by ethel cain are so moon boys im gonna die

After almost a month I finally got around to your ask(s), anon! I listend to the song and read through the lyrics (because I didn't know that song before) and I have to agree. It's very moon boys flavored 👀

So here we go: a little drabble inspired by that song. I have never done a songfic or something soley inspired by a song before so this was a new experience. I did have fun tho 😄

This is also not a linear story in any way, shape or form. This is really more vibes than anything else. Also almost kind of poetry-like in a way? 🤔 Idk but i kinda like the style for this.

A Wondrous Thing

tags: friends to lovers (hinted) | established relationship (hinted) | angst-y fluff | mentions of blood | gn!reader

ships: Steven Grant/Reader, Marc Spector/Reader, Jake Lockley/Reader

AO3

Edit: added AO3 link

It's the way you smile.

Steven loves the way the whole room seems to suddenly look brighter, how he feels warmer, how every sound rings sweeter when you smile at him.

The way you tilt your head encouragingly when he catches himself in yet another rant about Ancient Egypt. He stops himself just looking at you silently asking him to go on with a soft smile on your face.

The way your eyes shine when you're laughing about one of his more-or-less unintentional jokes.

His fingers twitch every time with the urge to pull you close and hold you tight. He wants to embrace you and never let go.

But he can't. You're his friend and he can’t risk this.

But you know. You see every twitch, hear every sigh, feel his eyes on you when Steven thinks you're distracted.

So when you lean in, close the gap between the two of you for the first time, his heart is all but beating out of his chest with joy.

It's the way you carefully treat the wounds the suit couldn’t heal in time.

Marc loves the way your fingers run over his skin so softly, like he was made of glass or porcelain, ready to crack with the slightest pressure. Like he was something precious to be kept safe.

It's the way your eyes grow soft when Marc returns to your apartment through the open window in the middle of the night. He can feel you checking him for injuries, checking if you would need to get the medkit stashed in the bathroom.

It's the way you hold him after a long night, making sure he is safe and real and alive. You lay your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, your hands holding onto any part of his body you can reach as you pull him into your embrace. Marc can feel your tears soak through his shirt.

He knows he is going to hurt you in the long run. For how much longer would you be able to deal with him and all his bullshit? Marc knows he should let you go, save you from the constant fear and worry. But he can't. He is weak.

But you know. You know how much Marc worries about being too much, about hurting you, about being a bad person.

So you tell him "I trust you," and you feel him melt under your hands. "I'm here for you," and his breath catches in his throat. "You're safe with me," and you hear him sob. "I love you," and you see the tears running down his cheeks.

It's the way you always know it's him.

Jake loves the way notice even the little things. A soft kiss to his jaw when he cut himself shaving. A new pair of leather gloves that is placed wordlessly next to his things when his old gloves start to fall apart from use.

It's the way you treat him as his own person. You never compare the three of them even if they themselves do it quite often. They want to be the best for you. You're their angel and you deserve everything.

It's the way he would do anything to keep you safe. Jake is glad you don't see the blood on his hands, the violence he is capable of. You can never see that. He would kill for you, he would die for you, and you could never know.

But you know. You know what Jake is capable of. You know the pain and guilt he carries, that they all carry. And when you see Jake sit by the window, a cigarette dangling between his fingers and his eyes staring into nothingness, you hold his hand. And you don't care what he has done because you know who he is. You know that he would never hurt anyone innocent, never kill anyone out of malice. You know he would never hurt you. And you would always hold his hand, blood stains and all.

It's the way they look at you like you are their one and only. Like you are their salvation. Like you are everything they could ever need.

It's the way you never want to be apart from them; how you want to be with them until the very end.

It's the way your heart skips a beat when they smile at you, when they kiss you, when they undress you.

It's the way you can't believe how lucky you are.

What a wondrous thing to be in love.

#moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #moon knight/reader #steven grant #steven grant/reader #marc spector #marc spector/reader #jake lockley #jake lockley/reader #moon knight fanfic

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versegm · 1 year

Text

Ao3 tutorial: properly reading a fic's metatext

Fics on ao3 are presented as such:

Which! Whoa! That's a lot of colors and words here! How do I parse out if this fic is meant for me?

Well, fear not! I will walk you through this.

First of all, let's focus on that square on the top left.

There is a lot of info here, but to keep this short, let's focus on the letter on the top left corner: that's the rating of the fic. Aka, the audience.

Here are the different ratings in existence:

G, for Gen. The general rating. Anyone can read this.

T, for Teens and Up. Might be a few swear words, some light violence, some allusion to sex here. Nothing out of place in a YA novel though.

M, for Mature. Now we're getting into adult audiences. There might be heavy violence, or onscreen sex, or generally things you don't want teens to read.

E, for Explicit. Same as M, but we're getting graphic about it. If there's sex, you better believe we're gonna tell you exactly who touched what where. If there's torture, you're gonna read in great details about every organ outside the body.

Not Rated. The author chose not to rate their fic. While there are many reasons why an author might not rate their fic, I strongly suggest you take that as an "enter at your own risk" sign.

Now, for the tags proper.

The shit in bold are the major archive warnings. Ao3 requires you to say if there are any of them before you publish your fic. Here are the major archive warnings:

No archive warnings apply. (Meaning you're probably safe this is a vanilla fic.)

Major character death.

Graphic depiction of violence.

Rape/Noncon.

Underage.

Chooses not to use archive warnings. Be careful with this one. It's like the "not rated" above; it's a big "enter at your own risk" sign, and while it might just mean the author didn't know how to tag their fic and just shrugged, there's also a nonzero chance of you walking right into cannibalism central.

The shit in grey are the pairings the fic is focused on, if any. Generally, people use "blorbo/poglo" to indicate it's a romantic ship, and "blorbo&poglo" to indicate it's familial or platonic.

Everything else is extra information. Usually you will find the characters present in the fic, info on the setting (here "werewolf au,") additional warnings (here "bory horror" and "gore") and generally anything else the author might want you to know.

If you read a fic and find a trope you like- I advise checking the tags see if it was tagged! That way you can look up fics with that same tag later, and get more of what you like. Likewise, if you read a fic and run into a trope you absolutely hate, I advise you to look at the tags, so you can filter out any fic with these later on.

There you go! Happy reading!

#ao3 #ao3 tutorial #fanfic #fanfiction

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

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Okay I have just binged your Favours ettore works and 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 I love the way you write so much, it just— idek how to explain it, but it’s just so elegant and fluid, does that make sense????

Anyway, I have not been able to get it out of my mind no matter how much I try, but I keep wondering how ettore would react if he were ever to get jealous?? Bc I def see him as controlling/dominant still like how u were explaining in the first kiss Drabble and the fact he is jealous over the box ! It just sends my mind in a frenzy to think what would he do if he were actually jealous of someone!! If u don’t want to take this request, no worries, I just wanted to voice the idea!!

Again, I am so in love with ur works and appreciate them beyond belief, thanks for writing all these fantasies out for us 💕💕 I hope ur doing well and staying safe

Hello! Sorry for the long wait for this. I hope you enjoy it.

Warnings: Language, violence, choking, smut. Word count: ~1500

Main series masterlist

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

The ship has been in sleep mode for less than an hour when she feels the weight of her bunk dip beside her and the lean hardness of Ettore’s body press against her back.

“Did anyone see you?” She whispers.

“No.” Comes his curt reply, his fingertips biting into the swell of her hip.

She exhales a shaky sigh, heat pooling between her legs as he grinds against the curve of her backside. Parting her thighs on instinct, as his hand snakes between them to drag her underwear to the side, she bites her lip to stifle the wanton moan that almost escapes her as Ettore pushes inside of her.

She clutches the pillow beside her head, her grip vice like at the pleasurable hurt of the initial stretch to accommodate his size. Once fully sheathed within her, he wraps a hand around her throat, pulling her flush to his chest as he sets a relentless pace, his hips snapping rapidly against her.

This is no gentle lovemaking, merely a means for both of them to get off, as per their agreed arrangement.

They remain in the same position for a few moments afterwards, both silently getting their breath back.

“Same time tomorrow, yeah?” He murmurs against the shell of her ear.

She nods. “I’m on daytime work duty with Monte this week, so yeah.”

He tenses up behind her, but with how swiftly he pulls out and leaves the cell, she is sure she must have imagined it. Closing her eyes, she allows sleep to take her, lulled by the satisfying ache between her thighs.

The next day she stands in the galley, her nose wrinkling in disgust as she sniffs the open packet of powder she’s about to dump into the vat of boiling water to prepare the crew’s afternoon meal.

“The food is definitely more edible when you don’t have to see how it’s prepared.” Monte says with a smirk.

She laughs. She likes Monte, he’s easy to talk to and far less intense than most of the others on board the ship. If he suspects anything is going on between her and Ettore, he hasn’t said anything, even after hearing Ettore call him a cockblock, and she is hugely appreciative of his silence.

“Not excited for…” She lifts the packet to read what’s been stamped on the silver foil. “...beef chilli?”

Monte scoffs, taking the package from her and upending it into the boiling water. Both of them watch as it fizzes and expands, looking completely unappetising.

“I’m gonna go sort things out in the scullery.” She tells him. “You okay to finish that off?”

He fires her a mock two fingered salute as she steps backwards. Her arms reach behind her head as she moves away, eager to fix her rapidly loosening ponytail.

“Fuck!” She mutters as she feels the elastic snap around her fingers.

“You good?” Monte calls to her from over his shoulder.

“Yeah, hair tie snapped is all.” She sighs, holding her hair away from her face.

He wipes his hands on his trouser legs, and turns to face her. “Here, let me.” He offers, beckoning her closer.

He takes the snapped elastic from her and she allows him to spin her around as his fingers work deftly to pull her hair back and knot the broken elastic around it. “That should hold until you can replace it.”

“Thanks.” She says with a smile.

She’s about to continue towards the back of the galley, where the scullery is located, when she hears the door crash against the wall with the force of which it’s been thrown open.

There is barely time for her to register the blur of movement as Ettore throws himself towards Monte, knocking him to the ground and punching him.

A sickening crack causes her to gasp and she crouches beside the pair as they scuffle, attempting to pull Ettore off of Monte, who has now managed to land a blow of his own to Ettore’s face.

“Get the fuck off him!” She cries out to Ettore, tugging desperately at his shoulder.

He throws his elbow back, attempting to shake her off, and it connects with her jaw, sending her reeling backwards with a cry of pain.

It’s only then that Ettore stops, looking back at her, and for the briefest of moments she sees panic in his eyes. He is quick to climb to his feet and leave, while Monte remains on the floor holding his face.

She crawls towards him, her eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Prick broke my nose.” He utters. “I need to go to the med bay.”

She winces as she watches Dibs reset Monte’s nose, which is in fact broken. Her heart constricts when Dibs inquires as to how this happened.

“A pan fell from a shelf in the galley.” He tells her. “Caught it with my face.”

Her jaw drops in disbelief. He’d lied. She cannot understand why Monte would do such a thing, but the relief she feels is immeasurable.

Dibs doesn’t seem like she quite believes Monte’s explanation, but doesn’t push any further, allowing them both to return to their work duty.

She seeks out Ettore after lunch, finding him skulking in the laundry room, a bright red split now decorates his lower lip.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” She hisses angrily.

Ettore grunts in response, slamming the door to a washer closed.

“Answer me!” She shouts in frustration after a few moments.

He rounds on her with such rapidity that she takes a fearful step back, until he is crowding her space. He reaches up a hand to trace his fingertips over the side of her face.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks softly. “I haven’t hit you since we started…you know…I know I’m not supposed to.”

She has to bite back a laugh at the absurdity of it, it’s like listening to a child explain why they ought to look both ways before crossing the street.

“You didn’t.” She tells him. “But you broke Monte’s nose. Why?”

Ettore pulls back with an offhand shrug. “He was touching you.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “Are you for real?! We were on work duty together. My hair tie snapped!”

“You could’ve been put on work duty with Mink or Boyse.” He scowls. “Don’t see why it has to be him.”

“Oh my god, you’re jealous!” She rolls her eyes.

Ettore’s jaw ticks, he exhales in irritation. “Do you have any idea what the blokes on this fucking ship would do to you, given half the chance?”

“You are jealous. Fucking hell, that’s pathetic.” She says in disbelief with a shake of her head.

He crowds into her space once more, backing her against the wall as he stares into her eyes, cold and predatory. “You’re mine.”

The words send a shiver of arousal through her and she makes no attempt to stop him as he yanks at the waistband of her scrubs, tugging them down her legs along with her underwear, before pulling down his own.

She cries out as he sinks his teeth into the juncture between her neck and shoulder, the pain serving to further ignite the heat building in her lower belly. She knows she should fight him off, be angry with him for attacking another crew member, but his possessiveness of her fuels her desire for him. She needs this.

Their movements are hurried and desperate, his grip rough as he tugs her leg over his hip, the force with which he thrusts inside of her causing her head to tip backwards as it takes her breath away.

He fucks her against the wall as though he is trying to push her through it. His grip on her will surely leave bruises in its wake, his head is kept buried into the crook of her neck, where he had bitten just moments before. The only sounds are the soft hum of the washers and dryers, intermingled with the lewd wet noise emanating from where their bodies meet and their quiet pants and sighs.

It doesn’t take long for Ettore to reach his end, spending inside of her with a full body shudder. She doesn’t mind that she hasn’t been brought to peak, there is something so primal and urgent about allowing him to claim her like this that makes her feel as though all of her nerve endings are tingling with electricity.

Slowly he pulls away from her neck, breathing heavily as he rests his forehead against hers.

The moment is short lived, however, as the scuffle of shoes on the linoleum alert them to the presence of Boyse, who stands staring wide eyed with shock before hurrying back the way she’d come.

They’d been caught.

Post script author's note: I have one further request to fill for this series, which will serve as a follow on from this part, so please do not pester for a part two. I am currently accepting requests for Ettore, but no further requests which relate to this series. The next instalment will serve as its final part.

#ettore #high life #ettore x reader #ettore smut #ewan mitchell #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfiction #ettore fan fic #ettore fanfic

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