#[ and he hoped it would make it easier for his crew to accept it as well

[pirateborn-a]

will i Ever be normal about my muses No

[libraryofgage]

Meddling Kids

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One | Two | Three 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two Scooby Gang One (you're here!) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One | Two Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two | Three Leverage Crew One

From the girl that brought you that silly little Spicy Six Scooby Movie post (I've been thinking of making that post into one of those social media series things on Tumblr but imma let that cook a little longer actually lmao) is a brand new Stranger Things and Scooby Doo crossover

Anyway, we're here for good vibes and fluffy Scooby gang, so definitely don't point out any typos hfjkds

Have fun reading!

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People coming.

Steve freezes, looking at the possum that's scurried into the room and sidled up next to him. He takes a deep breath and forces his shoulders to relax. People have come to explore the abandoned lab before; usually, it's just older kids daring each other to stand inside for a few minutes. There's been that lady recently who likes dressing up as a weird rat-thing, but she hasn't bothered Steve or his friends. Actually, she may not even realize Steve is here.

"Is it the lady again?" he asks, his voice low as he places a hand on the possum's head. He feels its nerves flow through his palm, and it pushes its head against him, snout nuzzling against the 004 on his arm.

No. Four big ones and a beast.

Four adults and a dog, probably. Steve frowns slightly and gets up, carefully making his way across the dirty floor toward the window. He lifts the corner of the curtain and stares at the bright blue, green, and orange van parked in front of the building. Four adults are standing around with a big dog, which isn't looking too happy about being near the place. Steve can't blame it.

He slowly pushes the window open a crack, straining his ears to hear one of the adults say, "Okay, gang. Daphne, Velma, and I will look around downstairs. Shag, you and Scooby will take the second floor. We'll meet back in the lobby in an hour."

"Can't we just, like, not explore the creepy abandoned lab for once?"

Steve assumes this is the one called Shag, and he hopes the other man agrees to just leave. That would make his life so much easier. He hears the dog, Scooby, agree with the sentiment and hopes the other people can understand him, too.

Unfortunately, one of the women says, "C'mon, guys, the monster isn't real. Here, I'll give you some Scooby Snacks for the road."

And that seems to be the end of that. The man and dog accept the snacks, the people enter the building, and Steve resigns himself to hiding for however long they stick around.

He bunkers down, leaning against the wall beneath the window, and goes back to coloring the floor with markers. This entire room is covered in drawings that reach only a few feet up the wall. Steve isn't tall enough to go any higher.

Right now, he's drawing all the animals in the building. There are the ones that were there to begin with (mostly rats and rabbits) and the ones that moved in after the bad people left (possums and raccoons and cats and more rats). He doodles them marching across the floor, a relaxed smile tugging at his lips as he colors a cat purple.

He's putting the finishing touches on the final animal in the line (the very same possum that came to warn him about the people) when he hears a scream from down the hall. Steve blinks, looking up just in time to see Shag and Scooby throw open the door, slide into the room, and slam it behind them.

They lean against it, sinking to the ground, and finally notice Steve sitting against the opposite wall. "Like, Scooby, please tell me I'm imagining that kid over there," Shag says, his voice wavering and cracking near the end.

Scooby starts out looking as scared as Shag, but then he tilts his head. He hesitates for a few seconds before dropping low to the floor and slowly moving toward Steve. "Scoob, what are you doing?" Shag asks.

Not a ghost, Shaggy!

"Not a rhost, Raggy!"

Steve blinks, frowning in confusion. Scooby talked. Like, actually talked. He talked out loud and Shaggy (it makes as little sense as Shag in Steve's opinion) understood him. "There, like, can't be a kid here!"

By the time he says this, Scooby has reached Steve, looking up at him from the floor with hopeful eyes and an eagerly wagging tail. Steve holds himself back for all of two seconds before reaching out and scratching behind Scooby's ear.

The dog lights up and tries to squeeze into Steve's lap, licking his cheeks and covering him in slobber. Steve laughs, trying to evade Scooby's tongue and utterly failing. "Stop, stop!" he shouts breathlessly, still giggling even when Scooby finally gives him a break.

"Oh, man," Shaggy says, slowly moving from the door to approach Steve. When he's a few steps away, he stops and crouches. "What are you doing here, little guy?"

Steve blinks, glancing at Shaggy before turning his attention back to Scooby. He reaches up, scratching under Scooby's chin and trying to ignore his nerves about talking to another human after being alone for so long. "This is my home," he says.

Your home?

"Your rome?"

"Like, man, this is not a good home," Shaggy says, looking around at the dust and the cobwebs and the possum in the corner of the room. "Don't you have, like, parents or something?"

"Not really."

Can we keep him, Shaggy?

"Can re keep him, Raggy?" Scooby asks, his tail wagging hopefully as he looks at Shaggy over his shoulder.

"Gee, Scoob, I don't know," Shaggy says, frowning slightly as he finally sits down on the floor and hunches over. "A kid's a lotta responsibility, man. We gotta feed him and clothe him and, like, make sure he doesn't get sick."

Steve looks between the two and can't help a slight smile. Shaggy is nice, and Scooby is a dog, which automatically makes him good to Steve. He doesn't mind helping them out a little. "You're here about that lady, right?" he asks.

Lady?

"Rady?"

"Like, what do you mean lady?" Shaggy asks.

"The one dressing like a rat," Steve says, wondering how they didn't make that connection themselves. Haven't they already realized it's not a real rat-thing?

"Oh, man, I guess Velma was right," Shaggy says, a relieved laugh bubbling out of him as he slumps even more. "We gotta tell the gang, right, Scoob?"

Yeah, yeah!

"Reah, reah!"

"Are you trying to catch her?" Steve asks, looking between the two once more.

"Well, like, the rest of the gang's gonna want to."

"I can help with that," Steve offers, smiling reassuringly at the concerned looks that Shaggy and Scooby give him in return.

------------------------------------

Hawkins is supposed to be a vacation. Sort of. There's a possible mystery in the town, but even Velma couldn't confirm for sure, and Daphne had encouraged them to just relax.

Steve is inclined to agree with her, especially when she buys them a house with a pool that Scooby immediately launched himself into.

Still, he can tell that Velma won't relax unless she gets a chance to look around, so he finds her to go on a grocery run. "Oh, you're right," she says when he points out the lack of food in the house. "We'd better get something before Shaggy and Scooby start chewing on the walls."

"We'll set up the bedrooms while you get groceries," Fred says, grinning at them from across the living room. He digs in his pocket and pulls out the keys to the Mystery Machine. After making sure Steve is ready, he tosses them over.

"Please just don't put me in that plaid room," Steve tells him, catching the keys and passing them to Velma.

"I think that would count as cruel and unusual punishment, Steve," Daphne calls, her voice coming from down the hall where she's no doubt started setting up her room. She pokes her head into the hall, smiles at him, and adds, "Don't worry. We'll put Shaggy and Scooby in that one."

"Knowing them, they'd like it," Velma says.

As if he was just waiting for his queue, Shaggy leans over the second-floor railing and shouts, "Dibs on the plaid room! It looks groovy!"

Steve snorts as Velma rolls her eyes with an amused smile. "Come on, Steve, let's get going."

The drive to the grocery store is quiet, with Steve paying more attention to the town around him and Velma focusing on driving. He notes anything that looks weird, like the lack of people walking around. They pass other cars, of course, but even when they drive past what could be called Downtown Hawkins, he doesn't see anyone walking around.

He tucks that away for later, seeing nothing else of note until they park near a pile of bikes at the grocery store. "They're not locked," he says, nodding to them.

"It's a small town, Steve," Velma says, unbuckling as she turns the radio down so their ears aren't blasted when they get back. "They probably don't feel the need to."

"I guess," Steve mumbles, hopping out of the van and waiting for Velma to round the front. He walks next to her and holds the door open when they reach it. "Maybe we can get sandwich stuff."

"We'll have to wipe out their entire deli section," Velma says, sighing as she grabs a cart and pushes it towards the produce aisle. "At least we never have to worry about food waste."

Steve hums in agreement, easily falling into their normal routine of Velma calling out items and him grabbing at least five of them if there's enough in stock. "What do you think about that mystery?" he asks, placing a bag of apples in the cart.

"I think that forest out there is prime real estate," she replies, leaning on the cart's push bar. "Get a watermelon, too, Steve. Anyway, demon dogs aren't the weirdest we've run across."

"They were demodogs. Not demon dogs."

"I still think that was just a typo. Either way, I'm sure we can walk around the forest later and, you know, learn what the squirrels have seen."

Steve crinkles his nose, glancing at her as they make their way towards the deli. "You know the squirrels are too flighty. We're better off with the raccoons. Or, like, the sparrows."

He looks over to see her smirking and realizes she was just teasing him. Steve huffs and grabs as many sandwich meats as he can, getting everything but ham since Velma can't eat it and it gives Daphne migraines.

"Well, whichever animals you interrogate, I'm sure they'll clear up this mystery in no time."

Steve hums in agreement, follows Velma into the cereal aisle, and is about to say they should consider focusing on field mice when a voice from the other side of the shelf says, "Dude, spray cheese isn't gonna help us against the demodogs."

He blinks, pauses, and looks at Velma. She tilts her head, holds a finger up to her lips, and waves off the smirk he gives her at being right about demodogs not being a typo. "Yeah, I know," another voice says, followed by the clatter of grabbing a few cans, "but I want Cheez-Whiz."

"That stuff is gross," a girl's voice says, her tone flat in a way that Steve almost recognizes. He frowns slightly, tilting his head as he silently places a few cereal boxes in the cart. "It tastes fake."

"That's the point, El."

"Shouldn't we focus on lighters and hairspray?"

"I mean, this is technically a spray, right?"

Steve glances at Velma, raising an eyebrow before gesturing to the end of the aisle. She nods once and starts pushing the cart in that direction, huffing in amusement when Steve drops in a few more boxes along the way. "You'd think we're feeding an army," she says, tone dry.

"We might as well be," Steve replies, feelings his shoulders relax at the routine exchange.

They round the corner to see three kids down the aisle, two boys and one girl. One of the boys has curly hair and a baseball cap while the other is wearing a basketball jersey, and the girl has short hair that falls to her shoulders. They're all looking at the shelf, but the girl glances over when Velma and Steve enter the aisle.

She meets Steve's eyes, and he wonders if he's met her before. Her eyes narrow slightly, more in confusion than anything else, and her gaze travels down. He feels it on his arm as she lands on the 004, and her eyes widen as she steps away from the shelf.

Steve glances down at her arm in turn, sees the 011, and feels like his breath has been punched out of him. "Eleven," he whispers.

Next to him, Velma shifts closer, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder. "I'm here," she says, her voice low and more reassuring than she'll ever know.

"Four," Eleven says, walking up to him without another glance at her companions. "Are you here to hurt me or my friends?"

Steve blinks. "What?"

"Are you violent? Kali, Eight, was violent. And angry. Are you angry?"

As she talks, the two boys move to flank her, looking between Steve and Velma with something between suspicion and confusion. "Is this one of your siblings, El?" Basketball Jersey asks.

"Yes. Four. He was...transferred a year before the Upside Down. Four, these are my friends Dustin and Lucas"

"I go by Steve now. And, uh, no, not violent. We're grocery shopping," Steve says, awkwardly gesturing to their cart.

"Steve? You can name yourself and you choose Steve?" Dustin asks.

Steve blinks and frowns. "I didn't name myself. I asked the smartest rat I knew to name me."

The two boys blink as El nods in understanding. "The rat chose well," she says.

"Dude, how many people are you feeding?" Lucas asks, seeming to finally notice the shopping cart.

"Well, one of them is a Great Dane," Velma says. "Hello, El. I'm Velma, one of Steve's...guardians, I suppose. How would you like to come by for dinner? El and Steve can catch up, and you can tell us about those demodogs you mentioned."

"Were you spying on us?" Lucas asks.

"You weren't exactly being quiet," Velma tells them.

Before Lucas or Dustin can start arguing, El cuts them off, "We will come by for dinner. I am glad we met again, Steve."

"Yeah. Me, too," Steve replies, smiling at El and wondering if they'll have to explain how Scooby can talk.

----------

Tag List (please let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@romanticdestruction,

[froggiewrites]

Picture You (1/4)

Pairing: Sanji x Reader, Zoro x Reader

NSFW

Summary: The crew is celebrating their latest victory when they find you on their laps, drunk and clingy and affectionate, begging for attention. Sanji and Zoro both deal with a clingy drunk, and have deal with the unwanted feelings it brings from deep within them. Warnings: Masturbation, Self Loathing, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Sanji has a praise kink, Hurt/Comfort (comfort in future chapters) Word Count: ~2k Notes: This chapter is just Sanji, next chapter will be Zoro's. Also this is in third person, which I know is kind of uncommon for reader inserts, but it felt right for this one! Crossposted from Ao3 Next Chapter

Sanji is in hell.

He thought this was heaven, this deck with these people, surrounded by warmth and love and women, as they drank and sang. It felt real and right in a way the rest of the world never had. Nami was laughing as she and Usopp swapped stories, and his angel...she had graced him with a smile that he swore stopped his heart. She was normally reserved, meek, so worried to draw attention, like she was afraid to live in the sun. He had always wondered what she would be like without fear, with reckless abandon, and now, a few drinks in, he has gotten to see it. She's giggly, overjoyed, and, most importantly, touchy.

He had brought her another drink, hoping to receive nothing more than a gentle smile and a quiet thank you, and she instead gifted him with something he couldn't even have imagined: her chest brushing against him, her hands on his chest, her face so close to his he could feel her breath as she whispered, “Thank you, Sanji.” 

She lingered, and he was frozen, face flushed, before slightly adjusting his hips back out of precaution. He didn't want to risk scaring her away, as her eyelids drooped and she gave him a pouty look he had often dreamed about. 

“You're so wonderful, Sanji, y'know that? So wonderful. And caring. And nice. And good.”

Her words were a little slurred. She didn't know what she was saying, but that was okay. Just to hear it, to feel her sincerity, even when misguided, was enough to bring a tightness to his chest. She thinks he's good. It cuts somewhere deep, somewhere he doesn't like to dwell, and he narrowly avoids his insides pouring out, a confessional to his goddess of all his sins, his wrongs, and his wish for acceptance. 

But he doesn't fall to his knees quite yet. He stays on his feet, and instead focuses on a different thought, wrong and dirty and surely a disappointment to her but one much easier to swallow: her voice, low and warm as it is now, whispering about what else he is. One phrase comes out above the rest, and he pulls his hips back a little further.

Good boy, her voice in his head whispers. You're doing so good, Sanji, you're making me feel so wonderful.

He swallows, tries to screw his head on right, but he subtly presses their chests together anyway. He can't help it. Her hands slide upwards, reaching to rest behind his neck. 

“I've missed you, y'know. You haven't come and sat with me all night!” Her smile is goofy and toothy, entirely unconcerned with how it might look. She doesn't smile like that often; he's privileged to see it.

Her mouth is doing something else in his mind.

He allows his hands to rest on her hips. He can repent later. 

“Oh yeah? You missed me?” His voice is deeper, and he prays it sounds cool and purposeful and not like he's trying to hide how unbearably horny he is right now.

“I did,” she chirps, leaning closer. He can feel every inch of her breasts, the ones he has tried so hard not to familiarize himself with despite how often his eyes would drift to them. His hands twitch, but he manages to resist the urge to grab them, to roll the nipples he can feel through her shirt through his fingers like he's imagining.

“I’ve missed you too, angel.” He leans closer, and he can see her pupils dilate as she bites her lip. In his head she continues to whisper such lovely things, more and faster and I love you, Sanji!, but he pushes them down. She's in front of him now, asking so nicely for his attention, and to wish for more is a sin he could never repent enough for.

“Will you stay? I want you to stay.” Her voice is nothing more than a whine, and the sound cuts right through him. She pulls him closer, their noses brushing, and if he didn't know better he would think she was about to kiss him.

“Anything you ask, angel.” She doesn't know how much he means it. She doesn't know how much he wants to be here, with her, against her, in her. She is everything, and he is nothing, but still she asks him to stay, as horrible and twisted and unworthy as he is. Even now, as his hands slowly slide down to her ass, she's asking him to stay. Does she not understand? Is she simply too good to understand how unworthy he is, they all are, to stand beside her?

He sits on the deck, pulling her down with him, long legs on either side of her. She begins to shift forward, and he feels his stomach drop with both fear and excitement. On the one hand, he's hard as a rock and she's about to feel it. On the other, he's hard as a rock and he's about to feel her. He's frozen, unable to figure out if he should stop her or not, and by the time his brain catches up she's already straddling him. Her chest rubs his, her plush thighs wrap around his hips, and her warmth rests so very close to his crotch.

Sanji quickly realizes this problem is going to be much worse than initially expected.

Her cold nose nuzzles his neck, and she whispers to him, “This is just as good as I thought it would be.”

She thought about him.

She thought about wrapping herself around him, sitting on his lap, not caring about the rest of the crew watching. She couldn't know the implications of this, his angel, his pure, sweet goddess. She can't understand what she's doing to him. She can't be thinking about how he can feel her nipples through her shirt, about how he can see right down it, about how her lips feel resting against his neck. She certainly can't be thinking about how his cock feels pressed against her inner thigh.

She shifts, and he can't repress the moan he lets out, quiet enough he thinks he might be lucky enough for her not to have heard.

“What a pretty sound.” Her voice is a purr, and he feels her lips brush against his neck.

Jesus Christ.

Her head shifts from his neck, and they're looking each other in the eye now. 

“You're so beautiful, Sanji, y'know? So pretty.” Her lips get closer. her thigh moves again, and he bites the inside of his cheek so hard it might bleed. She doesn't know, he insists to himself. She's just drunk, and innocent, and he's an evil and vile man for allowing it to get so far.

His hips jerk upward.

In his head, she's on a bed, pressed against silk sheets. Their hands are intertwined. Her face is twisted with pleasure, and he’s the one giving it to her. She's so lost in it she's near tears, little moans eking out of her mouth, and he is too much a gentleman to tease her, so they're growing louder with each and every thrust. She is around him, tight and warm and wet, holding him in because she wants him. She wants him there, with her and inside her, and he is there because he will give her anything she wants.

In reality, she is still obstructed by clothing, but he can almost feel a wetness against him. His imagination, surely. She's staring him in the eyes, her pupils blown wide from the alcohol, and she is near unblinking. She is doing the same in his head. She is looking at him. By god, she is looking at him, and she does not find him lacking. She is looking at him and she wants him.

Her thigh shifts again.

She whispers to him, “Y'know, Sanji, I really care about you. I don't think I say that enough. I really, really care about you.”

He manages to mostly choke down the sound, but he can't keep his hips still as they jerk into her clothed core. He feels the stickiness fill his pants, the warmth, the shame, but he keeps staring in her eyes all the same. She leans closer. He can feel her breath on his lips. He can feel her hands begin to slide down his body, as they very deliberately grab at his chest. And lower. And–

“I need to go.” He shoots up, practically shoving her off of his lap. He can still feel it, and worse, he's getting hard again just looking at her, as his brain continues to use her voice to say the most terrible, wonderful things. As it whispers again and again, 

I care about you, Sanji. 

Please stay, Sanji. 

I love you, Sanji. 

Sanji, Sanji, Sanji!

“But I–” He doesn't let her finish before he sprints below deck. God forbid she sees. God forbid anyone see. The rest of the crew were feet away. They could have seen, could have heard. Could know what a horrible, vile pervert he is.

He ignores how his pants tighten even further at the thought.

He slams into the bathroom, barely remembering to lock it behind him, before ripping his pants off. He looks down as his cock springs out, and he just barely remembers to feel shame before bringing his hand to wrap around it, still sticky. 

What a horrible man he is. How awful. How evil.

You're such a good boy, Sanji.

Maybe he is horrible. Maybe he really is a monster.

You're so good for me. So right.

No one would care for him, twisted as he is. Not if they knew better.

I love you, Sanji.

He cums again, tears running down his face, imagining a world where he deserves it. Where he is better. Where he is whole. Where she looks at him like she did on the deck, like she did in his dreams, and he feels no shame or bitterness for it.

He's quiet as he cleans himself up. He makes sure he gets it all, and he doesn't allow the thought of her tongue cleaning it up instead to take root. Instead he shoves himself back into his pants, filthy as they are, and makes his way above deck again, drinks in hand. He has to make up for this, for himself, for it all.

His eyes search for her, as they always do, and he nearly screams at the sight.

She's curled in Zoro's lap, face pressed into his chest, arms wrapped around his midsection. That wretched, bastard swordsman isn't even looking at her as he takes another drink, one arm wrapped around her protectively. It turns his stomach. It makes him want to cry. It makes the little voice in his head just a bit louder.

At least he isn't a monster.

At least he isn't using her for his own satisfaction.

His hands shake as he hands her her next drink, but she smiles at him anyway, unaware of what happened below deck. Unaware of the turmoil she's putting him through. Innocent, innocent, innocent.

She smiles at him, warm and kind and a little sleepy. “Thank you, Sanji. I can always count on you.”

And she can. No matter his sins, no matter what other horrible sickness plagues his mind, she can count on him. That has to count for something.

That night, he dreams of her thighs, her breasts, her lips. her voice.

I love you, Sanji.

He wakes up alone.

[mvrtaiswriting]

Hello 🤗 can I request no6 from the drunk prompts for your event with ace?

Portgas D. Ace x prompt 6 (drunk prompts) - “okay, i think that’s enough for tonight.”

ofc you can, tysm for participating!! hope this is okay :) i love writing for ace eheh - I hope this is okay and that it meets your expectations! enjoy and lmk what you think <333

gender neutral reader | mention of alcohol / drunken behaviour | 808 words.

reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated ♡ if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee. -> from this event.

A familiar warmth rapidly spread across your cheeks as you chucked down yet another drink, Thatch swiftly preparing one pint after the other. The whole ship echoed with laughter, loud music playing in the background as a bunch of crew members tunelessly sang their usual chants.

"To us!"

The clicking sound of two glasses followed your words as you cheered with Marco. His usual seriousness was now replaced by the boldness only a good drink can give, and for once, Marco was having fun with all of you - drinking more than he could handle, playing stupid games and blurting out embarrassing things he would regret in the morning. After all, you deserved it - you had just escaped a real-life nightmare, obtaining yet another Poneglyph and surviving a clash with one of the four emperors, continuing Whitebeard's legacy and honouring his name. For the first night in weeks, you could finally let your guard down.

When Izou took your hand, letting you get up from your seat just to swing you around and luring you into a dance with him, you couldn't help but laugh, following his movements. His body felt warm against yours, his experienced hands resting on your hips as he swayed you from one direction to another. Regardless of your goofy movements, everyone was cheering on the two of you - everyone but Ace.

The fire fist remained silent, sitting on the bench you were just sharing with him, sipping on his drink and keeping his eyes locked on you. His pupils kept scanning your figure, the way your stumbled during your dance and the places Izou's hands wondered around your body. The slightest sparkle of jealousy started in his heart as he saw the love of his life in the arms of another man - someone he could never compete with. Ace wondered whether the attentions you were giving to his fellow comrade were out of affection, or love, or alcohol. Sure - every time you drank you often grew cuddlier, gifting hugs and snuggling with him and Marco; but this time it was different. This time, your body was pressed against one of the strongest commanders among the Whitebeard's crew, and you seemed to look at him the way you should have looked at Ace.

Ace was brought back to reality when you slammed your hands on the table, a loud laugh escaping your lips as you tried to keep yourself from falling.

"Hi fire boi." you called, poking his nose.

Smiling in response, Ace lightly tapped his hand on the bench, inviting you to take place next to him. Accepting his invitation, you were quick to snuggle against him, your head now resting on his shoulder.

"Had fun?"

Ace asked, his words sounding more bitter than intended. Only nodding in response, you snatched his drink off his hands and took a sip, the stinging taste of rum making you scrunch your nose. Attempting to put the glass down, you clumsily smashed it against the table, knocking down a few other drinks that were now spilling all over and soaking all of your clothes.

“Okay, i think that’s enough for tonight.”

Ace said, taking what was left of the glasses off your hand and helping you get up. You couldn't help but chuckle at the mess you made, worsening your staggering and only making it easier for you to fall. Ace's arm was quick to wrap around your waist, holding you tightly and gently helping you make your way to your room. The path to your bedroom was not without obstacles, and when you finally made it to bed Ace could finally relax again.

"Take this."

Ace said, taking off his shirt. Ironically, earlier that night he had spent hours searching through his wardrobe, trying to find a shirt that would suit him perfectly - he wanted to look nice, and he wanted you to notice. Yet, here he was again - standing shirtless in front of you. A giggle escaped your lips as you appreciated the sight in front of you - regardless of how many times you had seen his abs or lazily traced the freckles on his chest, Ace was still doing it for you. Mumbling a weak thank you, you changed into his clothes.

"Don't need to turn around." you teased, seeing Ace flustered reaction.

The mere act of your fingers reaching the hems of your own shirt made painted Ace's cheeks of a crimson red, quickly turning around to give you some privacy.

"You clearly had enough drinks." Ace remarked.

"Not enough to regret this in the morning."

Getting up from your bed, you walked towards him. Wrapping your arms around his torso, you rested your head against his muscular back.

"Sleep here tonight, mh?" you whispered against his skin, leaving a kiss on his shoulder blade.

[alohamoramylove]

whatever you do dont think about the hunger games from gales perspective

dont think about gale as a twelve year old boy when his father dies, learning to hitch snares and catch food, knowing his three siblings will starve without him. dont think about him finding katniss in the woods, and beginning to hope for the first time that he wont have to be alone, that he can have a friend and a partner in staying alive. dont think about how he spent years learning her (and himself through her), about the solace and the peace he finds in hunting with her, about the way that no one in his entire life has ever known him in the way she does, about how it is easier to stay alive with her. dont think about him as a 17 year old boy trying to survive, making due as he always has, and waiting out his reaping years. for the love of god dont think about the reaping day from his perspective. about him hearing prim's name and knowing instantly, probably even before katniss herself, that she will be going into the games. do not think about him swallowing his grief and rage and terror, the knowledge that he is about to lose the person most important to him. he knows what he has do to. he watches katniss move toward the stage. he bites his tongue and moves forward too. he grabs prim and holds her tightly, clenching his jaw against her thrashing and screaming. dont think about his visit with her, the sharpness of his hope, the depth of the promises he will now uphold.

dont think about him going into the woods alone for the first time in years, all of the pain and rage and sorrow and grief and despair rushing up at him in the hollow of the trees. how he still has to hunt, how he still has mouths to feed. about his weekly visits to the everdeen house to drop off game, how their house is empty of her, how alone he is now, how the loneliness has returned more viciously than it ever has been because now he knows what companionship means, how the task of surviving becomes less burdensome in the presence of love. and the whole time, he is watching the games. he is staring at her face, noticing every change with the capitol's makeup and waxing, watching her play the game before shes even in the arena. holding out hope, and watching her be traumatized in real time. eventually, watching her pretend to fall in love with another man, and maybe knowing it isnt true but knowing that it doesnt matter anyway, that she will be bound to those lies even if she survives. watching her kill and watching people try to kill her, watching her hunt and be hunted. he watches her notch her arrows in teh swift and familiar motion he has seen countless times, and he resents the eyes he knows are boring into her all across the country. because their relationship, the sacredness of their survival, will never be their own again. knowing that even if she comes back, nothing will ever be the same. and then she makes it, and shes home, and everything is different. watching her move away, and change, and process, seeing her have more money than he has ever seen in his life, knowing that she would provide enough for him that he would never have to hunt again, but she never offers because he would never accept it. working in the mines, where his father's remains still sit, where he was always headed. watching the capitol freaks visit her, dress her up and strip her down, watching the camera crews roll into town and steal her away and she is so distant now, so distant and never comign back. and still he loves her. still he knows her better and more deeply than anyone in the world. they still hunt together, but infrequently and she doesnt do it out of necessity anymore. snow threatens her and him, and she has to marry peeta and he knows she has to and still his mouth is soured at the thought. and then the announcement of the quarter quell strikes. she's going back in. he'd be a fool to think she will ever return. he readies himself for grief again, but this time it's different. shes married, and distant, and things havent been the same since the reaping anyway. and still, he prepares to watch his best friend die. the games progress, and she has allies now. people hes never met, could never trust. she used to be his ally, and him hers. and then the allies turn on her, and hes watching her bleed out on screen, and then shes fumbling with her arrow, and she is about to die. then the screen is black.

then the hovercrafts come in, and he saves the people he can but the ones he cant he watches burn, hears them scream. his entire home obliterated, his best friend likely dead but undoubtedly unreachable. three hundred mouths to feed and no foreseeable end. an eventual rescue and they let him see her, and he looks at her battered body and knows he has to tell her, and knows too that she will know her arrow sent the hovercrafts. but now his people are fed, and katniss is safe. or at least here with him. and he is trying so hard to connect with her but she is distant and scared and angry and there are parts of her now that he will never understand. and she is being used as a pawn again, just like she was in the capitol. but he is a soldier now, and he is fighting the war he has always wanted to. and he knows that she needs peeta out of the capitol, so he volunteers to save him. not because he cares for peeta, but because he knows its what she needs. and the decision wasnt even hard. and now peeta is rescued but it was a trap and peeta is a weapon and now he knows that he will never compete with peeta, that she will never look at him how he wants her to ever again. but he still has a war to fight, and so they do. he works on designing weapons, he films propos, he stays by katniss' side because thats what he does and it was never even a question. the war progresses and he watches her die a thousand times, sees that coin is trying to kill her. he fights beside the mockingjay and remembers a time when they were children in the woods together. they have never stopped trying to survive together. and the war is nearing a close and they are separated and katniss cant or doesnt shoot him. the war is over and someone is telling him that prim is dead. someone is telling him about the bombs that killed her and he recognizes it as his own trap. he is sick to his stomach and being torn apart. he spent his entire life trying to keep her alive. he can hardly face katniss. he is so riddled with rage and grief and trauma and guilt and he cant even fathom how it got to this point. he has lost everything. he has nothing left, everyone who loves him has died or stopped loving him. so he moves to 2, hears stories about katniss and peeta, about her children that she swore she'd never have. and maybe katniss was right, and war and death wasnt the answer, adn he gets that now, he really does. and its too late, and his understanding is worthless now. but he remembers that girl in the woods. the soft spoken, beautiful girl with wit and grit and incredible aim. he remembers the girl that taught him about love, and how to make a bow. he remembers that girl, and how they were each others survival, and he lives the rest of his life tremendously sorry.

[jennaimmortal]

I absolutely love seeing Ed being super protective of Stede! I think one of the fears that assaulted Ed about Stede’s newfound fame is a fear that Stede won’t need him anymore if he’s not “Blackbeard.” Ed & Stede both struggle with trying to be who others want them to be, even with each other.

WE know that they love each other just as they are, warts and all, but neither of them can accept that possibility. Ed is very likely afraid that of the main reasons Stede left him was because he had changed too much and wasn’t being “Blackbeard,” considering how Stede reacted to Ed shaving his beard off.

Ed doesn’t understand that Stede was actually blaming himself, feeling as though it was his fault that Ed was turning away from his Blackbeard persona. Stede doesn’t understand that Ed genuinely WANTS to get away from that side of himself. That’s the most important conversation that they needed to have, but in the week or two (maybe not even that long) since their reunion, they have both been focusing on everything EXCEPT for the important conversations they need to be having.

Ed also has a bad habit of trying to completely run away from the parts of him that frighten him. When Izzy confronted him about becoming “Edward” in 1x10, it made Ed feel like his softer side was wrong & problematic.

So what did he do? He ran so far in the opposition direction that he became The Kraken. Now, being faced with all the guilt & trauma of his time as The Kraken, he feels like he has to once again to a total 180 and leave behind all of his darkness. He doesn’t understand that he can accommodate the darker and lighter sides of his personality without going to extremes.

After seeing Stede leaning into his newfound popularity, Ed’s fear of Stede leaving him again flared into a full blown panic attack. He likely believes that Stede won’t be able to fully accept him if he leaves “Blackbeard” behind and embracing being “Edward.”

The last time he told Stede that he wanted to do just that, Stede left him. Ed’s trauma from those months without him is SO fresh! That terror of once again letting himself go all-in is all too relatable. It’s easier to run away than to once again be left behind, especially now that they have taken their relationship so much further.

My greatest hope is that Ed realized ON HIS OWN that he had panicked, and that he doesn’t actually want to be a fisherman. I really want this scene to be Ed returning to Stede & the Crew on his own, without knowledge of the attack.

Realizing that Stede is in danger, or possibly even dead, would certainly be more than enough of a catalyst to make him go dive for his leathers, preparing to go to his beloved’s rescue. I hope that will be the moment that he also finds Stede’s letter(s), which will make it very clear that Stede loves Edward, not Blackbeard.

It’s going to be such a long week waiting for them to be back on my screen!

[dharmasharks]

I read so many neat fics this summer thanks to the @ficreadingchallenge and managed to black out my bingo card! Not only did I finally get to stories that had been languishing in my TBR for literal years, but I discovered tons of delightful fics in genres I wouldn't have sought out otherwise.

Thank you mods for organizing this, I’m already itching to do it again. Bingo card below the cut, plus my unhinged ramblings about the 24 fics I got to read. (Mostly Stucky, but also a smattering of Sambucky, MattFoggy, a Winterhawk, a Captive Prince, and a Catwin.) 

WIP: on the shore of the wild world by verger_de_pommiers

MCU | Steve x Bucky | M | 19k | Civil War AU

In which a fierce little Steve shelters wounded union soldier Bucky in his remote cabin. Gorgeous prose, immersive historical detail, and tender protectiveness. I lucked into finding this as it was posting (it’s now complete!) and felt like the author had been reading my dream fic journal because it ticked so many of my very specific boxes!

No powers AU: Broken But Mending by Lissadiane

MCU | Bucky x Clint | M | 15k | Modern AU

Bucky is a recovering war vet who starts rebuilding his life one instagram post, coffee, and plant at a time with some motivation from Clint Barton’s weekly sex advice column. Spoiler: the advice isn’t so much about sex as it is about trying again, and accepting that we’re all scared and scarred and worthy of love anyway. Read this on a day where your heart needs a big hug of happiness. 

Secret relationship: Don't Ask by AnnaFugazzi

MCU | Steve x Bucky | M | 21k | WW2 

I’ve seen this fic recced a lot for wartime stucky but was admittedly apprehensive because it’s canon-compliant and we all know where that train gets off, ya know? This is not a lighthearted premise either: Steve and Bucky get outed and because they’re a propaganda machine, the Howlies are ordered to keep their relationship a secret, despite their intense discomfort—all told in a devastatingly effective outsider perspective from Gabe. I appreciate that the author didn’t shy away from depicting unflattering (and hard to read!) period-typical attitudes, including those Gabe and Morita would have faced in the service.

Newest fic in the tag of your choice: Cabin Fever by missbeizy

MCU | Steve x Bucky | E | 5k | Cabin PWP

Missbeizy never fails to deliver on beautifully written stucky smut that caters to my tastes, so when I got that notification you better believe I jumped on it stat. Even in their shorter fics, they always build up a lovely setting and tension, which makes the eventual hot, hot sexy times feel even sexier. (All their stucky fics are *chefs kiss* — Foothold and Number of Years are my favorites.)

Mission fic: (With eyes shut) it's you I'm thinking of by Yavannie

MCU | Sam x Bucky | E | 3k | Partners with Benefits

Gosh only knows I enjoy a dynamic where it’s easier for two closed-off people to communicate physically than to actually talk! About their feelings! Good stuff!

Found family: Only the Good Die Young by ZenaidaMacroura / @zenaidamacrouras1

MCU | Steve x Bucky | M | 23K | Shrunkyclunks

There’s banter both awkward and charming, sweet sweet crushing, and a whole cast of wonderful characters who care so much (even when it’s hard). I love the dynamics between everyone in paramedic!Bucky’s crew and the way they look out for each other.

Pets: no years of silence in the shadow of regret by Ginny_Potter / @hipsterdiva

MCU | Steve x Bucky | G | 9k | De-serumed Steve

I don’t usually have the strength for post-EG fic, but look at me now, I read three this summer! Here, Steve is irrevocably changed by everything he’s endured, and he suffers for it in the most perfectly Steve-ish way: very, very quietly. Such a satisfying balance of grief and hope as Bucky tries to bridge the distance Steve’s put between them (and his acquired pet, The Dog) in order to protect himself from the possibility of loss. 

Mythical creature AU: all this and heaven too by spinawren

Captive Prince | Laurent x Damen | M | 15k | Selkie AU

I may never get over how perfect a Lighthouse keeper / selkie AU is for these characters. There’s Laurent, whose sense of self-preservation is so integral to his sense of self that giving love feels like giving a part of himself away��because it means giving up your armor. And Damon: unwaveringly devoted, who knows that love isn’t taken, it’s a choice you both keep making. I want to live in the lush world of this fic forever. 

Oldest fic in the fandom: Genie In A Bottle bykupcake_goddess

Dead Boy Detectives | Cat King x Edwin | E | 2K | Missing Scene

Edwin was hot for that hot cat guy and they should have kissed about it. Fanfic is great.

Fake dating: The Constellation of Touch by what_alchemy

Daredevil | Matt x Foggy | E | 19k | Pretend Relationship

What’s juicier than fake dating your best friend? Fake dating your best friend while actually going through a messy (law partnership) divorce! Featuring: wonderful Nelson family dynamics, a singular bed, and the intimacy of getting to know the person you thought you knew best all over again. I’ve read a lot of gorgeous depictions of the way Matt experiences the world, but these might be some of my favorites. 

Author’s oldest fic: the wrote and the writ by stewyonmolly

MCU | Steve x Bucky | G | 10k | everybody lives, nobody gets serumed

You know when you read the first paragraph of a fic and go, “yes ha ha ha YES,” like a sicko, but what you’re really sick over is the author’s style? That’s how I feel about this fic. I would eat the dialogue if I could! While it includes one of my favorite soft premises (everyone home safe in post-war Brooklyn, the end), Bucky doesn’t come back unscathed. But Steve–and this is a wonderful, wonderful Steve–never dances around Bucky’s amputation and Bucky never coddles him back.

Parallel universe: Except it Abide in the Vine by spitandvinegar

MCU | Steve x Bucky x Sam | M | 27k | Multiverse Shenanigans 

If you’re afraid of the summary just know that there is a place for every Steve and every Steve in its place, which is with a Bucky (and/or a Sam)!!! And by golly are there a lot of Buckys to love in this one, including a scrappy 616!bucky with the most pockets and everyone’s favorite cannibal, Sweetpea. There are plenty of melty exchanges (and breathtaking art!) but my favorite multiverse moments are always when a WS!bucky gets to see a small Steve again. I could read it a million times and it would never be enough. 

Free space: When I Put Away Childish Things by hansbekhart

MCU | Steve x Bucky | M | 14k | Prewar

One of the most vivid and immersive prewar settings I’ve had the pleasure of reading, which is saying something, because I have read a [redacted] quantity of prewar stucky. The narrative structure is so powerful and effective, even if you already know what we’re building toward. The author also has my new favorite take on Bucky’s enlistment status, which felt nicely refreshing (and this is a 10 year old fic!) given the otherwise ubiquitous fanon.

Space AU: We'll meet again in Brooklyn by Gfawkes / @gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes

MCU | Steve x Bucky | E | 33k | Scifi AU

Amazing dystopian premise and world building featuring the bravest small nurse Steve and a devoted and self-sacrificing soldier Bucky. They’re both so loyal to each other but also to their separate friends and teammates.

Werewolf AU: you touch me within and so i (know i could be human once again) by notcaycepollard

MCU | Sam x Bucky | E | 12k | werewolf!bucky

In this canon-adjacent-verse, Bucky is freed from Hydra’s clutches, but they turned him into a (very soft and sweet) werewolf who just needs to be cuddled and petted and maybe bossed around a little bit. Sam is understandably beside himself…and also up to the task. 

Vampire AU: the blood is the life by obsessivereader

MCU | Steve x Bucky | M | 3K | vampire!bucky

When Bucky keeps sneaking off to bite a lot of strange young men, Steve’s biggest concern is, “Why not me????” I love the trope that the super soldier healing factor makes them great vampire companions.

Short fic: give up on trying to save us by returnsandreturns

Daredevil | Matt x Foggy | E | <1000 | Hate Sex

They’re rival lawyers, they banter, they are not going to have sex with each other again except that oh no, yes they are! What’s not to love!?

Slow burn: Steve Rogers, PA by sparkagrace / @sparkagrace

MCU | Steve x Bucky | T | WIP | Hunkyclinks

Hopefully you all are reading this one already because it’s a freakin delight all around. The premise is incredible and very funny, but there is also action and wound tending and my favorite thing ever, which is Steve and Bucky always managing to know each other better than anyone.

Holiday fic: Teshuva by JHSC

MCU | Steve x Bucky | T | 6K | Recovering Bucky

I could not find it in me to read a holiday (lbr: Christmas) fic over the summer, but ‘tis the season for atonement, y’all! That’s right, Yom Kippur is upon us, and this was a really lovely read on Bucky coming to terms with his memories, his relationship to his mother, and what it means to seek forgiveness. 

Medieval AU: The Tale of the Silver-Armed Knight by BeaArthurPendragon

MCU | Steve x Bucky | E | 5K | medieval AU

I had never come across a medieval fic in my journeys before, so this was a fun scavenger hunt. I managed to stumble my way into some sexy, sexy treasure by way of smithy!Steve measuring knight!Bucky for a special suit of armor. Amazing historical detail including—and I am very serious—D/S dynamics that felt so period appropriate. 

Video edit: Evidence by @bromcommie / vivelarevolution

MCU | Bucky Barnes

Why are you reading this rec list (or whatever this is) when you could be watching and reblogging this fucking edit! Are you watching it yet? Are you??? OP’s perfectly matched dialogue, parallels, and transitions will destroy you and you WILL thank them for it. (Thank you, Max.) The build up from the quiet of Bucky’s therapy session to the blurred violence between Bucky, the Soldier, and everyone he’s been in between is beautifully gutting.

Inspired by another fanwork: [Podfic] If They Haven't Learned Your Name by quietnight

MCU | Steve x Bucky | M | Post-CATWS

I’m far from the first to praise quietnight’s incredible voicework and podfic production, but holy heck, I’ll do it anyway. I have a hard time getting into audiobooks, and have never had a problem feeling fully immersed in their works. Silentwalrus’s story deserves all the praise it gets, too. A lovely balance of humor and heart, action and character work. 

Fluff: Invisible Ink by ctimene

Daredevil | Matt x Foggy | E | 16K | Tattoo Parlor AU

Hard to write a rec that isn’t just keysmashing and squealing sounds but OKAY FINE I’ll try. This ‘verse manages to parallel canon in ways that are both delightful and heart twisting, with all of Foggy’s heart, kindness, and snark translated to tattooing instead of lawyering. And they were still avocados! And also: sexy. Really, extremely sexy.

Time travel: Some legends are told by chaosmanor, rufferto

MCU | Steve x Bucky | E | 26K | Neolithic Wanderings 

In which Steve will go to any length to find Bucky, including 4 thousand years into the past (while wearing a very short tunic). I absolutely devoured this and was beside myself with delight over its uniqueness and all around nerdery—so many amazing and specific historical details.

Domestic: t'aimer sur les bords du lac by burning_brighter / @burnin-brighter

MCU | Steve x Bucky | M | 17k | Post-EG

Lovely and soft wish fulfillment: put those boys in a cabin until they can get the rest they deserve…and also talk about their feelings! I loved how careful they were with each other until they slowly found their footing again.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Nother idea: 8 years later, Tommy & Carol apologizing to Steve for their behavior. & for immediately abandoning him when they knew he needed them most.

But Steve has people now who have shown him love, family, true friendship. And while he forgives them its not the same. He doesn't trust them. He is thriving without them.

But Carol realizes that the reason it isn't the same is bc Steve genuinely believes that they don't mean their apology. So she & Tommy actually discuss it and find a way to clear up any misunderstanding & ensure he knows they mean their apology. It works, it takes time & effort but they are once again his friends.

MY LOVE!!! STEVE REALIZING HE'S LOVED AND DOESN'T NEED HIS SHITTY EX FRIENDS CREW STAND UP!!!! I had the opportunity to really give Steve his shining moment and yell at them, but I decided that Steve would just be kind of over it, like they aren't really worth yelling at. Steve didn't do all this personal growth just to let them back in so easily, but luckily he isn't the only one who changed. You know I had to involve Eddie, of course! - Mickala ❤️

-----------------------------------------------

It was too fucking early on a Saturday morning to be woken up by the buzzer of his apartment.

Whoever it was was lucky that Eddie had to go into work today or he would be committing murder at their door.

He glanced at the clock on the microwave, 10:47, okay, so not that early.

They’d had a late night, okay?

If he had a limp to show what they were up to, that was his business.

“You can leave the package in the box, I’ll grab it soon!” Steve said into the mic, hoping it was just a delivery.

“Steve? Is that you?”

He recognized the voice, though he wished he didn’t.

Eight years was a long time to go without talking to someone who used to be your best friend, but when you’d been best friends for so long, certain things couldn’t be forgotten.

“Tommy?”

“Uh yeah, man. I’m here with Carol. We actually were hoping to talk to you?”

He looked down at his almost naked body, only Eddie’s boxers covering him.

“Sure.”

He buzzed them in, not giving them any clue where he was so they would take their time getting to his door. He had to throw on clothes, brush his hair, and try to look like he hadn’t just been asleep.

He rushed to the bedroom, throwing on the first pair of jeans he saw and a t-shirt from the floor. He heard voices down the hall as he was heading to the bathroom, his hands shaking with nerves as he tried to rush to brush through his hair.

“It can’t be that Munson, though, right? Even Steve wasn’t a fan of him in school.”

Steve grimaced at Carol’s voice.

Technically, Eddie worked a half shift when he had to work Saturdays, which meant unless they were only stopping by for a few minutes, he would probably be home while they were still here.

Tommy had always hated Eddie. No one could really figure out why. Sure, a lot of people said nasty things about and to Eddie in high school, but no one else really put their hands on him the way Tommy did.

Eddie joked it must have been because he liked him, but Steve thought maybe he just had a lot of displaced anger.

At least that’s what he thought when he became a counselor and understood a lot of psychology behind why people did things.

Eddie laughed and said, “don’t overthink it, some people are just bullies.”

But Steve liked to think maybe Tommy was more complicated than that, liked to explain away his worst qualities so it made it easier to accept that he was once best friends with him.

Eddie laughed about that too, and said, “kids are stupid, and sometimes we find friends in people who make us feel better about ourselves, but you grew up.”

Steve shook his head, not wanting to think more about it.

He opened the front door, the ghosts of his past standing there, hardly aged, hardly any different at all.

“Come in, guys. Um. Sorry, I wasn’t really expecting anyone.”

They all awkwardly laughed as Tommy and Carol made their way inside.

The apartment was small, cheap rent kept them there so they could save up to buy a house outside of town in the next few years, maybe work on starting a family if they could.

They’d talked about it over the last couple of years, once Steve was settled in his job at the school, once Eddie got promoted to general manager at the shop, they’d save for a few years, have a decent down payment, start looking for a house with three or four bedrooms. Start looking into adopting. Maybe get a cat.

But to do that, their apartment was cozy, as Eddie liked to say. One bedroom, one bathroom, kitchen and living room area all one room, a tiny storage closet. They didn’t even have their own washer and dryer, which reminded Steve that he had to take their laundry downstairs and get it started soon.

Tommy and Carol looked around, but hid any emotion on their faces.

He gestured for them to have a seat on the couch, which was a hand-me-down from Wayne when they moved in. It was “too much” for his space when Eddie moved out.

They sat, though they didn’t look very comfortable.

Steve sat in the rocking chair Eddie bought, the first thing he bought for their “eventual home”, but didn’t rock as he took them in.

He originally didn’t see any proof of them aging, but now that he was looking closer, he could see Tommy’s already-receding hairline, Carol’s wrinkled by her eyes, both of them just a little softer in the face and stomach.

They looked incredibly human like this, like they weren’t some high school king and queen who only cared about how they look and what parties they could go to every weekend.

It helped Steve relax a bit.

“Not to be rude, but uh, how did you guys find me?” Steve asked, not sure he even really cared.

“We moved here to Chicago about six months ago, Tommy’s gonna run his dad’s office here starting next year, so he wanted to ease into it. I started job searching a few weeks ago for a teaching position and I noticed you worked at the school I interviewed at. We looked you up and decided we wanted to come talk,” Carol always was a bit of a rambler, always annoyed Steve when she started in on something that really didn’t matter much.

Carol nudged Tommy, who had been staring wide-eyed at Steve since he sat down.

He cleared his throat and nodded.

“We actually came here to make things right. We were best friends for years, and then one bad thing happened and we weren’t anymore. I know I fucked up with everything. We shouldn’t have treated Nancy like that, or you like that, and we’re hoping you could maybe accept our apology.”

Steve stared at them.

“We were kids. We did stupid shit. We’ve all grown. I mean, look at you! Your own apartment in the big city!”

As if he had been waiting for a cue, Eddie walked in the front door, his oil-covered coveralls already coming off. Steve made the rule after he came home one day to see oil stains on the bed sheets where Eddie had fallen asleep after working from open to close: coveralls come off as soon as he’s in the door and they go straight to the laundry room.

“Jesus, sweetheart, this is the last Saturday I cover in the shop. At least until I hire some competent mechanics. I think I did most of the work all morning. And after doing most of the work last night, I-”

“Eds! We have company!” Steve rushed out, his face bright red at what Eddie was implying.

It’s not that he really cared about what Tommy and Carol thought; Once they realized Eddie lived here, it wouldn’t be difficult to come to the conclusion that they shared a one bedroom apartment because they were together. He didn’t even care if Tommy and Carol were disgusted by him for it.

But he’d be damned if Eddie felt uncomfortable in his own home, especially if they started saying shit to him reminiscent of their high school days.

He watched Eddie turn around, recognize the people on the couch, and turn to Steve with a questioning look.

“Tommy, Carol, you remember Eddie,” Steve said, not breaking eye contact with Eddie.

They were having an entire conversation with their eyes, Steve begging Eddie to just go get cleaned up, Eddie begging Steve to explain what was going on.

Tommy’s eyes narrowed as he looked between them, Carol’s eyes stayed pointed at Eddie.

“Munson?”

“The one and only!” Eddie said, his voice pitching just a bit higher, naturally going to his over the top self to protect himself from whatever they would say.

Steve loved every version of Eddie: the performer on stage, the performer with friends, the soft version of himself that only Steve got to see, the protective version that would fight the world to make sure his loved ones were safe.

He was lucky to have every part of Eddie, even the parts that may not always be the best.

But his least favorite thing was seeing Eddie go into this mode, the one that kept him safe during school, when kids were mean, adults were mean, life was hard.

He didn’t want that for Eddie anymore.

“You guys…live together?” Tommy asked, looking back to Steve for confirmation.

Steve rolled his eyes. Tommy apparently didn’t gain any intelligence over the years.

“Yes. We’re together.”

From the look on Eddie’s face, he hadn’t expected Steve to say that.

That was fair; it took Steve nearly a year just to come out to anyone who wasn’t Robin, scared that somehow everyone would hate him, hate Eddie, hate them together.

But it went perfectly, and Steve rode the high a bit too much. He came out to his parents a few months after, and that went quite a lot less than perfectly.

He was lucky he didn’t have more head trauma from it, actually.

So he kept it quiet, didn’t come out to any new friends he met in college, even after one of them came out to him. Didn’t come out to coworkers while he worked at a cafe throughout college to pay the bills. Didn’t even come out to the bartender at their favorite bar despite the rainbow flag that was hidden behind the bar in silent support.

It was only recently that he started to feel comfortable being more open, and only in the city, only select areas where he knew they wouldn’t end up hurt.

Eddie was patient, maybe more than he deserved.

So saying it outright to the two people who suspected and bullied Eddie for being gay in high school, despite it not even being confirmed then, clearly threw Eddie for a loop.

“Oh, like…”

“Yes, exactly like that.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for any response that would give him permission to kick them out of his apartment, their apartment.

But he saw Carol nudge Tommy again, pasting a smile on her face. It wasn’t completely natural, but it also didn’t seem fake.

“That’s nice, Steve. Have you been together a while?”

“Since ‘86.”

“Wow! Since the quakes!”

Steve nodded.

“Steve, can you help me with something in the kitchen for a second?” Eddie asked, his voice unreadable.

Steve hated it, hated that all of a sudden he couldn’t get a grasp of what Eddie was feeling.

It had been so long since he’d experienced this.

And a small part of him blamed Tommy and Carol.

He got up, wordlessly following Eddie into the kitchen area that wasn’t even separated from the living room.

“Not that I don’t love that you’re comfortable telling them, but um. What’s. What’s happening currently?” Eddie whispered as he tried to appear busy, grabbing a glass from the cabinet to fill with water.

“They came to apologize to me. For high school.”

When he said it out loud, it sounded a bit ridiculous.

“And are you accepting it?”

“I don’t think so. I think they’re only doing it to help themselves feel better. I’m not interested in whatever game they’re playing.”

Eddie looked over Steve’s shoulder at the pair sitting on the couch.

“Need me to get rid of them? Just say so, sweetheart. I’ll kick them both to the curb.”

Steve leaned in and kissed him quickly on the lips, smiling as he pulled away.

“I got it, baby. Get cleaned up so I can hug you.”

“Just hug?”

Steve laughed as he walked back towards his spot.

“Or more!”

He focused back on Tommy and Carol, who were graciously pretending that they didn’t hear the conversation that happened less than 20 feet from them.

“So, we were wondering if you wanted to meet up for dinner, catch up? You could bring Eddie, of course!”

Of course, she said. Like they didn’t outwardly despise Eddie eight years ago. Like they were perfectly fine with him now, and fine with Steve, and fine with them.

“I think we’ll pass. Good luck to you guys in Chicago, though.”

He ignored the pang of guilt when he saw Carol’s face fall and Tommy’s eyes darted to where Eddie was closing the bedroom door and back to Steve.

“Oh. Um. Well, it would be our treat, if you’re worried about money.”

“I wasn’t.”

Tommy and Carol hadn’t expected to be shut down like this, but Steve knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t accept their apologies, and he wouldn’t expect Eddie to suddenly be friendly to people who tormented him for years.

“Okay. Well. I guess we’ll go, then.”

“Thanks for stopping by.”

He stood as they stood, walked them out the door, then closed and locked it behind them.

Steve made it to the bedroom before he felt the tears spring to his eyes.

Eddie was in the bathroom showering, so he hoped he could get it out quickly. He didn’t want Eddie to worry.

But unfortunately, once a few tears fell, it seemed like they wouldn’t stop.

He got back in bed, burying his face in the pillow so he could hopefully pretend to be asleep, but didn’t quite manage it before Eddie was walking back into the room.

He got in bed and silently pulled Steve against his chest, running his hands up and down his back to soothe him, not trying to use any comforting words.

“I don’t know why I’m upset about a stupid fake apology from people I don’t care about.”

“Stevie, it’s okay to be upset. They were your friends for a long time, and you still have a lot of hurt leftover from them.”

“I just wish things had been different then.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head, and as they lay there together, Steve realized this hurt would never quite go away.

—------------------

“T, I don’t think he believed us,” Carol said from the passenger seat.

“I can’t believe Steve’s with Eddie. Of all the people,” Tommy replied, not even acknowledging Carol’s words.

“They seem good together.”

“I guess.”

Carol knew Tommy had a crush on Steve in high school, they’d talked about it years ago when she found an old picture of Steve with a heart drawn on the back while they were moving the first time around.

She’d been caught off guard, but understood, and was fine with it when he explained it was definitely in the past.

And it was.

But a part of him was wondering how long Steve had realized he liked guys, and what might have happened if he’d just been brave enough to do something about his feelings before things went to shit.

He loved Carol, was happy to be married to her, and wouldn’t want Steve now, but still. The what-ifs plagued his mind on the drive back to their home.

“Are you jealous of Eddie?”

Carol sounded hesitant to ask, like she wasn’t sure which answer she would prefer because she knew either way, Tommy would be upset she asked at all.

“No. I’m not jealous. Steve and I would never have worked out.”

Which may not have been a great answer for his wife, but it was the truth, and they were always honest with each other if nothing else.

“Since I got the job at the school, maybe I’ll have more chances to convince him we meant it.”

Carol was good. Deep down she had always been good. But Tommy always managed to drag her down when they were young, convinced her she needed to be a mean girl to fit in with their group, kept it up through most of college before they finally realized life was better if you just weren’t awful to people.

“Yeah, maybe.”

—---------------------

So, a month later, when school started up, Carol began the task of showing Steve that they were truly sorry.

She would often leave notes in his mailbox in the office, usually just a “have a great day!” with a smiley face, or “let me know if you want to catch up over lunch!”

He never responded, but she knew he got them.

Tommy had issues with his car and took it to the shop Eddie worked at, nodding along to what he said and admitted he didn’t really know much about cars so he trusted Eddie to fix it.

It was entirely professional, but a small part of Tommy was satisfied when Eddie gave him a genuine smile.

—--------------------------

“Is it weird that they keep trying?” Steve asked one night while they were lying in bed.

“I don’t think it’s weird. I think maybe they just mean it.”

Steve pondered it.

Yeah, they must mean it. The old Tommy and Carol would have given up after he sent them out of their apartment the first time.

“Would you wanna go to dinner with them? Just give them a chance? It’s okay if you don’t want to. You don’t have to forgive them.”

Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve’s slowly, softly.

“If you want to, then I want to support you. We’re all different now. Maybe we can look at who they are now instead of who they were, as long as they can look at who we are and respect us.”

“Yeah.” Steve kissed Eddie’s cheek. “Yeah.”

—-------------------

Steve left a note for Carol the following Monday: “Dinner at ours? Friday at 7. Bring a red wine and beer.”

She wrote back that same day with a bunch of smiley faces and a response that they would be there.

When Friday came, Steve was nervous.

He’d planned to leave work right when school got out instead of leaving at five so he could make sure everything was clean and the food would be ready on time.

Eddie promised to be home by six in case he needed help.

And when six arrived, Eddie walked through the door with flowers and a smile, and Steve relaxed.

Nothing would go wrong.

Even if something did, they would be in it together, and they would support each other.

They didn’t have to do this alone like they did all those years ago.

—-------------------

It became a thing: dinner every Friday evening, sometimes at Steve and Eddie’s, sometimes at Tommy and Carol’s, sometimes at a new restaurant in the city.

The first few dinners were stilted, full of apologies and awkward catch-ups.

Then it got easier.

They got closer.

Eddie and Tommy actually became closer than Steve and Tommy ever were. Eddie showed him how to change his own oil so he could “stop bothering him at work just so he could look at his sexy coveralls.” Tommy rolled his eyes, but was grateful to learn.

Carol and Steve would often bake dessert together, catching up on school gossip, the latest who was dating who always entertaining them just as it did when they were in high school.

There were still the occasional moments where Steve thought about how much they hurt him, and Eddie thought about how they might be teasing him behind his back.

But it was rare, and they usually talked themselves out of it.

They were the first people to find out when Carol was pregnant, and the first people to learn it was twins. Carol and Tommy were the first (okay, first after Robin) people to find out when their offer on a house was accepted.

Tommy ended up cutting ties with his father when he found out that Steve and Eddie were together and threatened to cut him off. Tommy had a degree, and now had years of experience under his belt, and wasn’t worried about finding another job, one where he knew he earned his position because of his work and not being the boss’ son.

And when Steve and Eddie were able to finally adopt a little girl in 2002, Tommy and Carol were at the courthouse taking pictures of the new family, their own kids already best friends with her.

[l-in-the-light]

How would Law react to so who pampers him alot? Maybe brings him some coffee and snacks when he's working or takes care, that he gets some rest 🍙☕😋

Disclaimer: this is another post answering multiple different asks in one post. Scroll lower for different questions answered :3

To answer the first ask: do you perhaps mean this guy? :D

Because your description fits him perfectly! Sanji is such a good guy, he would pamper Law a lot, especially by bringing food, snacks and drinks (prepared ONLY for Law) while at the same time denying that he does that kind of service to any dudes. He would also definitely kick Law to bed when he catches him lurking around the deck at night or working on something too much, or literally just not getting enough rest. Sanji's denial gives him even extra advantage: Law wouldn't feel so embarrassed by it, because Sanji would make it seem like he doesn't do it especially for him. Law could accept the care without feeling like he gets special treatment. After all Sanji does it for everyone, right?

But if someone pampered him very publicly, Law would definitely comment that he doesn't need it. I don't think he likes very open displays of affection. Like yeah, he tolerates it from the Hearts crew, but I think they are also not allowed to spoil him all the time, especially because he's their captain and he thinks he has a reputation to uphold and all that extra care doesn't help to keep the tough image. If the pampering happens all the time, he would comment on that and tell them to stop doing it. But if they never stop despite that, there's no way Law would be able to do anything about it besides complaining. He doesn't have it in him to refuse genuine care, after all. He would just throw empty complains while accepting them spoiling him every single time anyway.

He might start hiding himself at night, just so he won't receive the extra attention though. If it's on Polar Tang and he can't sleep, he will simply stay in his own captain's quarters, just so no one scolds him and tells him to go back to sleep.

That's why Sanji's approach would be easier to deal with. Law won't have to hide, he would allow himself to openly banter with Sanji, but at the same time Sanji would be like impossible to hide from or avoid, that guy is too observant and once he worries for you, you're doomed. I guess the end result would be this: Law would be more rested, well-fed and spoiled, and overall taken good care of. He would realize that and secretly appreciate it, but he would also never stop complaining. Sanji would get back on him for that by sneaking sour plums into his onigiris hehe. But one evening or night, when everyone else is busy or asleep, and Sanji catches Law again spending the night on the deck and tells him to go to sleep, and Law refuses, but moments later he gets hot tea and a snack, Law will finally thank him for all the care, out of blue.

Because there's no way Law would be an ungrateful brat forever. He might not say any greetings or say the magical word "please", but he knows what "thank you" and "sorry" are. He would use the combo of both, "sorry for making you worry" and "thank you". Sanji would be stunned of course, but I think it would mean a lot to him to hear that from Law of all people, especially because that guy in general really doesn't take care of himself all that much. After that there's no going back, because there's no way Sanji would ever stop giving him all that care after hearing that rare expression of gratitude.

So, that's my take on it, I hope you liked the answer :) you can replace Sanji with some OC or any other character that has a caring personality, and I think Law's dynamics with them would be very similar :D

Not really. He would definitely have some issues and be a very worrying parent, because anything the child does that puts their life in danger would send Law's brain into overdrive and into internal panic. But outside of that, I can't picture him limiting his child. Whatever the child's dream is, whatever they like to do as a hobby, whoever they spend their time with, Law wouldn't limit their freedom about any of that. Also he would definitely be caring, helping them with their school assignments and preparing with them for tests, he would teach the child some responsibility, and some skills like cooking etc.

He would allow them to go to parties, but he would definitely give them a lecture what not to do, when to return home etc. And he would always want to know where they are, that's for sure. If the child comes home late, he would scold them and maybe even do some punishment (the punishment might end up being negotiable though lol). He might secretly follow them around incognito if he's very worried (but since he sucks at disguises it would be super obvious lol), just so he can rescue them in case the situation gets icky.

Besides the fact that Law is responsible and caring, he's also a bit of a bum, so he would be a terrible rolemodel who lazes around a lot when he has nothing to do. Or maybe is that considered being a good rolemodel? After all, who teaches their child that you also need to know how to rest and relax? No one, I tell you, no one, but Law might as well be that kind of parent.

If he ever gets kids apprentices on his crew, he would definitely act this way towards them as well. He would also suck at pretending he doesn't worry all the time for them. He would be overprotective about them any time they do some pirate-y stuff or someone attacks their ship. His Hearts Pirates would be so tired of his attitude and try to lecture him about it, but he wouldn't listen. He just can't help himself, because whenever he sees children he thinks of Flevance and his little sister, it's stronger than him.

So yeah, I guess his trauma would affect how Law behaves as a parent, but he wouldn't be your usual helicopter parent. He would become overprotective only in certain scenarios, and in other ones he would be the complete opposite. It would take him a lot of mental effort to witness his child (or child apprentice) in dangerous situation and trust them to handle it, but I think he would eventually reach that point. After all, he would train them himself and also arrange for his crew to train them as well :)

I mean... you can imagine him any way you want, you know? But since you send this ask to me I assume you actually expect me to like, analyze the possibility? I could do that. Short answer is: no, I still don't think he will be a flirt and hook up with any female (or male) who gets interested in him. Some minor spoilers for light novel ahead!

Let's take a look at how Law's daily life looks like in the light novel. He wakes up, they take turns preparing meals, then they each go to their respective work, and right after it they come back home (sometimes together, sometimes seperately), prepare a meal, train every single day, help Wolfe with testing his inventions... considering the fact that Wolfe's house is secluded and completely outside the town, it actually takes quite some time to walk to it, so I wouldn't expect Law to like go partying with Penguin and Shachi and Bepo in the evenings. Penguin and Shachi would defnitely like that when they hit puberty (and they're a bit older than Law so they would hit it sooner than him!), but I feel like Law would rather tell them to go alone while he stays with Bepo (Bepo's not interested in human girlfriends, after all. He wants a female bear and he won't meet those in a bar). Considering the town is described as small, I think there isn't many people around their age to choose from and it probably has like one or two bars, no more.

Law would definitely not seek anyone on his own. Whenever he has a bit of free time in the novel, he either spends it waiting for his friends to finish their work or by buying food for dinner. Law literally spends time only with Penguin, Shachi, Bepo, Wolfe and the doctor at his workplace. He is never seen speaking to anyone else. It's even mentioned that Law isn't that great at interacting with his patients. It shouldn't surprise us, the first time he appeared in the town he had a huge triggering situation that hit him so badly he spent the whole night in the cave, as far away from any humans as possible. Even after Wolfe took him in, it takes Law a lot of time and courage to go into town and find a job. He's terrified by the thought alone. He only gets braver because he wants to be strong to support his friends who are also as terrified as he is. Yes, Law gets more used to the town and even claims people in it are very nice and yet we never see him interact with anyone else. I think he would actually want to, but his trauma is very fresh and it must be difficult for him to reach out.

But let's entertain the thought that Penguin and Shachi finally manage to take Law to a bar with them, when Law is like 15 or 16 (Heart Pirates leave Wolfe and go to the sea when Law is apparently 16 btw). I honestly can't imagine him, the way he is described in that novel, as someone who would bravely go and talk to someone he doesn't know, because his bad memories would emerge and he would also react very badly at people trying to touch him. He would just sit and drink and worry for his friends not to get too drunk. If someone approaches him and tries to flirt he might not realize what's going on till Penguin and Shachi point it out to him. I think he would also never go back to the bar again, unless only as a support for Penguin and Shachi, who I believe would be prone to get easily drunk.

If one day someone is really persistently hitting on him, he might deal with his trauma by overdrinking and then Penguin and Shachi would have to come to his rescue (which they totally would do unprompted) and deliver him to home safely. That would be probably the first and last time he overdrinks, because he wants to be a better person and he already learned to be responsible for his friends, he shouldn't let them take care of him instead like that. Also there's no way he can deal with enough physical contact so soon after Flevance and Doflamingo's family that he wouldn't just freeze up completely. No sexy times for him, sorry. And if a kiss would happen, it would be forced on him, and I would rather not want to imagine him being even more abused, ya know? So I would rather say that didn't happen either :) or if it did, it would leave him with very mixed feelings in his guts, partially happy, partially feeling bad.

But would libido hit him hard? That could happen indeed, but in Wolfe's house he has like no privacy, right? They all share a bedroom (besides Wolfe) if I remember correctly, so all he could do would be to escape to the bathroom, especially when he can't sleep. That could indeed slghtly encourage him to go to bar with Penguin and Shachi, but then once he is in one he is completely overwhelmed and it all ends with nothing, besides him feeling very pathetic about himself. He would definitely try to train himself out of the triggering reactions, but things don't go away so easily, especially if he's still in early recovering state of his trauma. Healing really can't be rushed and if it is, it tends to only worsen the trauma in the end.

I hope you liked my answer, even if it wasn't what you expected. I tried to be as realistic about it as possible, I guess. Besides my wishful thinking that Law isn't just forcing himself to re-experience his trauma over and over again till he becomes hypersexual to deal with it. Thankfully, I don't think canon material supports that angle, his triggers are not that difficult to spot, he clearly isn't used to force himself to touch others (the way he touched Luffy for the first time speaks volumes, and he's freaking 26 years old then!), and even though he is quite detached and probably prone to dissociation, it's not on the level of selfharming behaviour. He simply stays away from people or keeps them at a distance, it's his way of copying.

Definitely! He probably made a whole educational speech (maybe even did a powerpoint presentation? lol) to them about various diseases, forms of contraceptions etc. He was so professional and unsexy about it everyone probably couldn't think of sex for a month afterward. He's a doctor, after all, he takes this stuff seriously ;)

If he catches someone bringing in a fling to the ship for the night, like for example he notices a stranger in the morning, he will give his crewmate a look till they confess "yes, we did have safe sex", and only afterwards he would leave them to their own devices, without even a comment on that. He would be the annoying daddy doctor for his crew in this regard haha.

I think he could enjoy just lying in the same bed with someone more than actual physical affection which might be kinda difficult to accept at times for him, no matter how much time and healing process he gets done. Meawhile lying in the same bed could be the consistent intimacy he could always get. It will probably take a while for him to reach that point with anyone else than Bepo or Chopper though (because you know, they're not humans, and interacting with animals is often reccommend for healing and trauma). It's kinda easy to say "after he gets used to that after a while", but when would he even reach that level? Will it be with just anyone or only a certain type of person he can accept the thought of trying it with?

Would he even be able to fall asleep or will the stress of it and the closeness or possiblity of them touching by accident be too much? Who knows, maybe "sleeping in one room on seperate beds" would be his limit. His partner would have to be very creative about it. Maybe if they cover the whole bed in thick layer of feathers it would let Law relax and fall asleep fast and sooth his nightmares, because it would remind him of the times he felt safe when Cora-san was carrying or holding him? Maybe they could use his devil fruit powers so his partner gets his body exchanged with some animal (or some hybrid form) for a night so they can sleep next to each other in same bed. Maybe Law wouldn't mind a hug then? The only thing that limits us is our imagination, after all :D

I think after a nightmare he would rather escape to the deck, to get some fresh air, instead of wanting some cuddles or any sort of proximity with someone even just lying there on same bed with him, because it might only reinforce his bad feelings. But would he really feel better if he's just alone? Maybe what would help him instead would be getting a calming, hot drink served with lots of care and love. Sanji would totally be the guy who would deliver on that. And his love expressed through the food would do miracles to make Law feel better. Damn, if Luffy notices Law is awake he might wake up everyone and they just go for a board or card game, to take Law's mind out of the nigthmare. Sometimes, to deal with a trauma, instead of a romantic partner, he would need instead a whole crew of people caring for him. (I'm sure Heart Pirates would do the same for him, if Law opened up a bit more to them!)

I really like to imagine Law being cuddled after a nightmare, but reality of trauma isn't really like that, from what I know. Cuddling can't just fix someone's trauma (especially not one related to touching in the first place), not even love and affection can. It's not a magic spell. Sometimes good intentions, no matter how much you love someone, don't really help. And it's okay, really. There are other ways to show support than offering cuddles!

[theknightmarket]

"We've made it this far."

In which the Engineer and the captain are released from the effects of the wormhole, as they've always wanted. TW: cursing, angst, slight reference to gore Pages: 26 - Words: 9,500

[Requests: OPEN]

“Please, just hold on.” 

After dying so many times, it was weird to be on the edge of it. You’d tossed yourself off the cliff enough to memorize the feeling of falling, of becoming weightless and letting everything go – like a kind of acceptance, even if you were going not of your own volition. It had always been okay, though, because you’d come back seconds later, spat back up from a raging ocean with salt and spray into the arms of that cryo-pod. 

“I can get you out of here, don’t worry, I can do it.” 

But this time, you were looking down, your feet on the ground and the water seeming so far away. You had to make the choice now, of staying on that crumbling cliff, battled by the wind, and forced to stare straight at the fate you were faced with, or letting your feet shift and lose traction. 

“Come on, please, I know you can do it.” 

In theory, it was an easy decision, but you didn’t want to have to work for it anymore. You had done the hard part, the surviving at the peak, and now, you knew that this would be the last time. It wasn’t as though you could take a step back; you would always be watching the tips of the waves snap at you. You didn’t want to watch anymore.

You croaked out a simple, “Mark…” 

Your faithful engineer, kneeled at your side, likely for the last time. He wasn’t going to fall. He couldn’t. 

“No, no, please, don’t do that, just a little longer,” his pleads reached your ears well, but you forced yourself to ignore them, “our medics will be here, just wait.”

“Mark, I can’t.”

“No, you can, you have to!” Guilt tapped at the edge of your mind, you didn’t let it in, and it stayed right where it was. “Please.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. You were. You really were. 

“Come on, the- the colony haven’t said goodbye, the crew…” His thought went unfinished, but you understood him. You always did, even when he didn’t understand himself. You were half sure he didn’t know what he was saying, the panic and dread overwhelming him in a fight for majority. 

You assured him, “They’ll be fine.”

“Not without you.” 

“Mark, look,” a cough wracked your upper body like an earthquake, “look at it all, we’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

You were so damn proud of him, of the whole ship, of everything. You never told him directly, so you could only hope he knew. It would make this whole thing easier if he knew that you were proud of him, that you trusted him. He’d be easier on himself.

“Not far enough! We still have more to do, we- we can’t do it without you. You’re our captain.” A distant memory from just a few days before floated to the forefront of your mind. It was hazy, corrupted by the pain, but it was there. “You’re my captain.”

A deep breath in, as far as the pressure would allow you, before you whispered, “You built the ship, you hired the crew, you fixed the warp-core.” 

And suddenly you wished that you hadn’t been able to take that breath – that you had stayed silent and let the moment envelop you. The spark of realisation that you cherished in Mark’s eyes dug a pit in your stomach. 

“No,” was all you could say with what little energy you had left.

“But—”

“Uh-uh. Not this time.” 

You couldn’t, he couldn’t, neither of you would be able to handle another round of what you went through together. That quality of stubbornness you both possessed would surely fail you, abandoning you to the madness of eternity, worse if you failed.

“Why not!? I know how to do it, and we know how to fix it.”

“We got off on chance, you’re not trying that again, Mark, I can’t—”

Shit. That little energy was becoming smaller and smaller, but neither did you have it in you to let Mark create another wormhole. You couldn’t live with yourself if he gave you a second chance. 

“I’m not losing you,” you muttered, “and, yeah, I know how ironic that is.” 

You wanted to laugh, but all that burning the candle at both ends was catching up to you. The numbness that had crept up on your legs hours ago was lurching onto your torso. It wouldn’t be long before it was biting through your arms and neck, and you wouldn’t be aware of it when it reached your temple. 

“So, hey, just… just give me this. Please?”

The look in his eyes washed away. Leaving Mark like this was not your plan, but when had the universe ever listened to you? You could be thankful that you hadn’t gone insane in a place lightyears from your home, that Mark was not leaving you. You admitted that it was a selfish thought, but you didn’t think you could keep going if you lost him. You’d fought hard, but now you were done fighting. You knew he could do it for you.

And so did he. It was a cold admittance that he wouldn’t be the one to save you, this time. It felt all too much like giving up on the person who had sacrificed themself time and time again for him. Although it left a poor taste in his mouth – bitter, unwelcome, downright painful – you had proven to be steadfast in your decisions. There was going to be no convincing you.

“I love you.” If Mark was given a do-over, no strings attached, that would not be the first time he was saying it to you, aloud, just the two of you, and it wouldn’t be the last. 

And maybe he would have gotten to hear it from you just once. 

Your final breath cascaded against his knees, a waterfall that seemed eons from growing dry but dripped slowly into the grave it dug for itself. There was no sound, no last rites read, except for the heartbroken sob that broke free from Mark’s chest, echoing around the cavern walls.

Seeing the sun after so long in space was strange. Of course, you could look out of one of the many windows that Mark had installed and see a sun, but to stand in the rays of light from the sun of this galaxy? It made you want to brush off your duties, it made you want to throw your jacket off and run into the forest, it…

It made you miss Earth.

After exploring space for so long, you were always surprised that, wherever you landed, you felt homesick in the bottom of your stomach. The feeling slept when you were in transit and reared its head when you started to set up a colony, but it never truly disappeared after that. Hell, not even the visits back to your birth planet fixed the issue. The best thing you came up with was bringing little pieces along for the ride. 

But you didn’t have the time to reminisce. Just as you’d mentioned earlier, you had a colony to establish, and it was well on its way already. A dozen sectors sketched out, concrete paths linking each one to the other. There were still a majority of people left in their cryo-chambers, those that weren’t necessary for building or planning, who were being looked after by Celci. Gunther was on observation for threats – a duty he often groaned about – and Bert was waxing poetic while the rudimentary power generators were being built. So far, everything was looking good. As in, nothing was going to blow up immediately and force you back on that ship.

No, instead, there you were. Standing in front of your growing colony, the sun glinting off the metal of the parked ship, your feet on the ground of a healthy, new planet. How could you not let a prideful smile work its way onto your face underneath the helmet you had yet to take off? You had made it, and, if you squinted, you could practically see the bustling city this place would become. Stores on one end of the street, restaurants on the other, further down would be a sector of houses with a public park and a fountain. Young families would walk to their parents’ house, the group of teenagers would have no problem just talking to each other during dark nights, old lovers would duck from the rain into shaded alleyways to share one last kiss before heading home for a warm bath.

You caught the eye of your head engineer leaning against the head of the ship. 

And not that you knew it, you had also caught his eye, only that was a gross underestimation. Mark had been with you every step of the way on the ship, he’d seen what you could do, what you had done to save the crew and colonists. You’d long ago seized his admiration, and, soon after that, his affection, leading to where he stood in that moment; watching you as you ordered everything that needed to be done to be done, waiting for his own set of instructions that he would carry out perfectly.

Until you made eye contact with him, smiled, and then began to walk away. Mark’s feet were moving before he could process what was happening, and if he started to jog after a few steps, that was between him and the ship wall that he pushed off from. He slid to a stop when he was close enough to you, an unsure half-grin on his face.

“Hey, Captain,” he said as he fell into step beside you.

“Is everything alright, Mark?” was the only reply he got, though that was likely because of his expression more than any doubt you held.

To ease your concern, he tried not to make it too obvious that he was nervous. 

“Yeah!” The barely hidden voice crack did not help, but he continued anyway, “Yeah, it is, I mean- is there anything you want me to do?” 

Requesting work was difficult for him. Not because he naturally took things easy, but because he had been on his feet for the last he-didn’t-know-how-long. Hours, days, he hoped not weeks. It didn’t feel right to not do anything. 

“Why don’t you take the day off?” 

Panic struck him like a physical force. He didn’t remember doing anything wrong, you could have still been angry about the whole incident, but he thought everything had been cleared up on the ship’s bridge. Had you already given him a job and he hadn’t been paying attention? Well, could you blame him if he wasn’t? 

It was in this train of thought that he realized you were waiting for a response. So, you weren’t mad. That was good. 

“Is now the best time?” he asked, “It’s your decision, of course, I just think—”

You stopped short of the next sector, some grid for farming, “Look, you’ve been to hell and back—” and hell and back and hell and back and hell and back, as you were both well aware, “—I think you deserve some time to yourself.” 

‘Time to yourself’. He didn’t want time to himself, he wanted… well, he wanted a lot of things and, to put it bluntly, he wanted some time with you, but you weren’t about to take a rest anytime soon, so neither was he.

“And while I appreciate the offer, Captain, there’s a lot to be done that I think is more important than having a break.”

You watched his face for a second, looked up and down as he started to sweat underneath the layers of his uniform. “Repeat that for me.”

“And while I appreciate the offer, Cap...”

His trailing off made clear the realization he came to. You sent him a knowing look, as he groaned like a kid told he couldn’t have another cookie. Of course, it made you smile, too. His dramatics were the highlight of your day when it wasn’t his stubbornness and jokes.

Today, he was vastly leaning into the former. “Only five minutes!” he demanded, scrolling through his arm-piece to set a timer.

“Ten.”

He scrolled slightly further. “Seven.”

“Fifteen.”

And slightly further. “Twelve.”

Your bout of laughter echoed through the trees around you. “You aren’t getting this, are you?” Mark’s arm was tugged away from him as you swiped through the timer yourself. He might have argued about it more if he weren’t so preoccupied with being close enough to kiss you right now if he had the gall to lean that slight bit towards you.

And, you were his captain, obviously, who was he to challenge your authority?

“Take the day off, Mark, and that’s an order from your captain.” You left him with a pat to his shoulder, luckily not noticing the vibrant blush spreading on his face that was too strong to blame the sun for.

He muttered to himself when you were a few steps away, “Pulling rank isn’t fair.” And he was certain that it wasn’t. It was a trump card, some ex-machina that you had no right to use on him. 

But he had his own little trick up his sleeve, or, rather, on his belt. You insisted on using some of the old-world commodities, even by Earth standards. The communicator on his hip with the antennae and grating would be his ace in the whole for your dumb day off punishment—

“And no using your walkie!”

“Damn it.” 

You were tired. Really tired. You’d slept a day and a half after the whole wormhole incident, and yet here you were, looking at every slightly level surface with literal bedroom eyes. You constantly had to remind yourself to pay attention, but that just made you think about paying attention and not listen to the person you were talking to – who, in this case, was Celci. As such, you were half sure it was important to the whole colony, relying on her reputation, mostly, because again, you weren’t paying attention, and you were actually imagining lying down on that rock you’d seen half an hour ago with the moss and grooves.

You weren’t listening, again.

“Or I could send you the report for you to look over later?”

When you snapped back to reality, you were none the wiser as to what that report was about, but it gave you time to figure it out. “Oh, yeah, that’d be great, Celci, thanks.”

She gave you one look and then asked, “Captain, is everything alright?” 

The half grin took most of your energy, so you promptly dropped it when you remembered that she couldn’t see your face. “Am I that obvious?”

“If you need a break, I can go and check the excavation site and one of the techs can do the propane levels. I’m sure I could get Mark—”

You immediately rushed to cut her off, “No, no, I’m fine. I appreciate the thought but I-I’m fine, really.” Jostling your body and comically widening your eyes, you made yourself as presentable as you could with a quarter of your fuel in the tank. You dusted off your suit and cleared the screen of your helmet, extremely thankful for the metal that made it a one-way mirror. “See?”

Celci hummed at you. Not a good sign. She was arguably the most responsible on the ship, and if she thought you were putting yourself through the ringer, she would do everything in her power to get you to relax. The only problem she faced was ranking, and it was the only thing protecting you from being forced into a nap. You had to get away before she could figure out how to circumvent your title.

“C’mon, Celci, don’t you think I know my limits?”

Disapproving silence. Even starting to walk away from her, you knew how little she believed you. 

“We only have to get through another three hours of work, and then everyone’ll be able to finish up; myself included.”

“Well, Captain…” And there was the crack you needed. Hesitation. 

“Besides, if we get the thermos running, we’ll be able to house some of the colonists and you can focus your efforts on the desert habitation.” That was her little pet project. When you’d scanned the surface, you found two nearby biomes that would barely receive any rain but stayed in the negative fifties for your entire surveillance period. It was backhanded to bait her with the idea, you knew that, but if it got you out of a glorified grounding, you were willing to do it.

Especially since it seemed to work, if Celci’s sigh and hands on her hips were anything to go by.

“Alright, Captain, as long as you finish as soon as the day ends.”

You exchanged a nod with varying degrees of satisfaction with that encounter, before going your separate ways. In fact, you did get a little jolt of energy out of it, as you waltzed along the concrete path. Any thoughts of taking a break were washed out of your mind by the torrent of work you still had left to do; all the sites to check out, all the staff to organize, all the paperwork to send back to the headquarters. The latter was always the worst part, but it was the price you paid for independence on the planet. Free reign was only yours if you played by your boss’ rules.

“Captain!”

Speaking of boss’ rules, as if on cue, Mark jogged to your side from wherever he was before, falling into step quickly next to you. You wouldn’t deny that seeing him gave you another boost of energy, which you immediately used to pat him on the back.

“How’s your break going?”

“I’d rather be doing actual work, but it’s fine. I appreciate it.”

“Good.”

And it was. You were glad he was taking it slow today. He was important to you, and the colony, and you didn’t need your head engineer passing out in the middle of an important task. Or passing out in general. Or doing anything else bad for his health that you could readily prevent.

He appeared alright, for now, although that wasn’t going to get him back on a job just yet. “Actually, I was wondering if—” he started to say, but a crew member cut him off with the crunch of their boots as they rushed towards you from out the surrounding woods.

Their report was normal enough, a few more pieces of information about the excavation site. They’d found another source of aluminum in the caves, which you noted down in case your supplies ran low. Mark waited at your side while you spoke to the person, half-way between listening and grumbling to himself. You couldn’t help but laugh quietly as you dismissed the crew member.

“Sorry, go on,” you said. The pair of you continued to walk, heading nowhere in particular aside from in the vague direction of the housing project.

He did as you prompted, getting out, “Well, I wanted to know—” before someone else called for your attention. Given you were nearing the first constructions of houses, it made sense that a builder caught up to you – despite that, you noticed Mark’s pout as he averted his eyes from the conversation you’d been drawn into. Just a material substitution you needed to sign off on, it was nothing to get worried about, but it was obvious that wasn’t what he was annoyed by.

You gestured with a grin for Mark to continue. Mouth only somewhat open, he paused and looked around, then rounded to your other side to cut you off from the majority of the workers. It was a futile effort, given that you were fast approaching the mass of houses, but it amused you either way. A combination of that drama and humor you were so fond of.

“I think, considering what we went through—” There was barely a crack of a twig in your ten-foot radius when Mark grabbed you by the hand and ran off the path. He didn’t know where he was going, and you definitely didn’t, but you were going regardless. His boots carved a line from the housing district all the way back to the ship. Hardly anyone was there anymore, only a few cryo-techs were loitering around to survey the colonists, so it was his best bet to get you alone, however creepy that made him sound. 

You weren’t given time to question him when you eventually skidded to a stop in a quiet area behind the ship itself. Mark was talking even before you caught your breath.

“I think that you should take some time off too because you went through the same things that I did, and, yes, I know you’re the captain, but having some time to recover from it all would be just as good as me taking some time, even better, because you made all the decisions back there, so you should just relax and I have some suggestions for how you can do that.” 

By the end of his little speech, neither of you were breathing at a steady rate. You both sucked in as much air as you could handle and then let it go again, minds catching up with the situation. For you, it was processing his words and what he wanted from you – for Mark, it was realizing just what he’d spouted and how utterly unconvincing he was.

It was another challenge to understand that you accepted. “I’m listening,” you said, simply, as if you couldn’t say anything else.

Mark spluttered, not thinking he’d get so far but being so far that he had to continue.

“I say we should take some food packs from storage, find an empty room, and have a proper lunch. We won’t talk about work or duties to be done, or anything else, and we’ll lock the door so nobody will interrupt us.” That last bit came from the depths of his soul, Mark grimacing as he spoke. “The colony will be there when we get back. And, if you think about it, getting some rest will help you make better decisions in the long run.”

“Okay.”

Okay. You’d said okay. You’d okayed it. You were going with his plan. Pride overwhelmed him against his mind’s efforts to keep up with his heart and stomach’s backflips. His body froze in response, giving you the concerning impression that you’d broken him with a single word. Lucky for you, he rebooted himself in a few seconds, though he was still unable to curb his enthusiasm.

“Yes. Yes! Alright, let’s go.”

Mark went to reach for your hand but quickly noticed that he was still holding it from when he’d dragged you with him. Instead, sheepishly, he smiled at you and started to walk towards the ship’s entrance, you chuckling to yourself in tow.

If you were going to take a break, you might as well be taking it with your favorite person. What did you have to lose?

“I’m hoping for cool fish.”

“Nope.”

Within half an hour, the both of you were settled on beanbags, eating soup out of Styrofoam bowls, and drinking the champagne you had left over from the salute at the start of the trip. To you, it was the height of luxury, especially now that you were out of your stuffy uniforms and into more casual clothes. The only ones you owned were your workout gear and nightwear, but you opted for the less sweaty version of a tank top and shorts. You didn’t think it was so bad, but Mark had spent the first ten minutes of the lunch break looking anywhere but you. It didn’t help when you went to get your helmet and jacket because he immediately jumped to push you back down into your seat. Not that you – or, though you were unaware, Mark – was complaining.

Still, you kept the outer layers of your uniform close by in case of an emergency, the chances of you being notified as minimal as they were with both your walkie-talkies having been switched off. It was you who pushed for them to be present, but the compromise made them pretty much useless.

Yet not even the potential of a natural disaster pulled you out of the relaxed state you had entered. Slipped down halfway into the beanbag, spread out as far as you could get, you felt calmer than you’d ever been before. Mark would say the same, had he not been seeing your face for the first time.

By the sun, moon, and stars, you were… downright gorgeous. He never liked relying on rumors, so he had taken the stories of you being handsome and/or beautiful to be one weird game of telephone. Now, though? He was regretting not asking to see your face sooner, but you were still in front of him, and he was going to relish the view for as long as he could, emergency be damned.

“First chance I get, I’m throwing you in an ocean,” you promised, taking a sip from your champagne flute.

“I’m taking you with me.”

“I want to see it. Maybe we’ll find a fifty-foot-long eel with three sets of teeth and mandibles on its face.” 

“You’ll find some cool rocks and suffocate before you could even see the thing.”

Dammit. Just like that, with one sentence, Mark smothered the banter you had going. His jaw clenched, your shoulders heightened, the mood was thrown out the window – poor choice of words, again. He had meant it to be playful, but certain recent events tainted the very concept of losing oxygen, of holding your breath for longer than a minute. Gallows humor had yet to set in, and, based on the glazed-over look in your eyes, he couldn’t help but think it never would.

But you were the one to break the silence. “So, what now?” you asked as you placed the flute gently on the floor, glass clinking even as it stood straight.

“Cap,” was the only mumbled answer you received, though it didn’t deter you.

“I know, it’s just…” you sighed, “we can’t not talk about it?”

“Why not?”

Your gaze shot to meet Mark’s eyes, ready and raring to argue, to question how he can deny it. The flame died the second you saw the look. The watery film that threatened tears dumped dirt over your fury. It made sense that he would want to leave it behind. You had the colony to think of now, instead of the death after death after death you’d both faced in the wormhole. You understood that want to ignore it all, but you couldn’t fall into the trap. You couldn’t face another night with it hanging over your head. The bags underneath those wet eyes of his told you he couldn’t either.

Shakily, you whispered, careful not to set him off, “Because it happened. And it was a serious moment in our lives that we can’t ignore. And- and what if it all goes wrong again and we need to prepare to deal with it?”

“Then we’ll do what we did last time.”

“Get stuck?”

“Get through it.” Distantly, you wondered why you were the one to make that first speech. You were the captain, sure, but Mark made you believe him with just one incomplete sentence. He made you trust him in three words, no matter how much your mind fought to tell you otherwise, your heart did indeed trust him. “I mean, we’ve come this far, how hard can it be?” A weak chuckle. “I’d wager getting Gunther to not shoot the first thing he saw when he got off the ship was a lot harder than what we did.”

You didn’t feel like laughing. Instead, talking about the crew, it made you feel… something else. An intangible well of guilt and shame. You could get through another wormhole, but everyone else? What if they got caught? What if they started to remember all the death and fire and pain? You wouldn’t be able to help them, not like last time. If they remembered, they’d be at the edge with you, staring over the side. How many of them could take it? The crew or the colonists themselves? You would have failed them all. You might not have killed them, but they’d be casualties, nonetheless.

“Hey.” Your head snapped up to see Mark at eye level with you, leaning over to bring a hand to your upper arm. “We’d get through it. I know we would.”

But you still looked forward, unblinking, and it only took a second for Mark to realise he was wrong. If he wanted to be scientific about it, he would have just called it trauma bonding – if he wanted to be emotional about it, which he didn’t but he was going to be, he would have thought that all your time together brought you closer, not only because of the danger you experienced, but the comradery. Seeing you in action, seeing you take care of everyone, seeing you be the captain you were meant to be; Mark was sure he understood you. That meant he could see that guilt and shame as clear as day in your eyes.

He let himself fall forward to flop down next to you in your beanbag. Even though he was slightly uncomfortable, pressed against the strangely stiff surface, he stayed right where he was. Nestled against your side. He couldn’t think of a better place to be.

“I don’t understand why you do this.”

“It’s one of my charming quirks.”

You still didn’t feel like laughing, not even at your own poor joke, so you dropped your gaze to Mark. “What are you talking about?” you asked.

“You pretend like you aren’t the captain.”

“Do I?” Plead the fifth or whatever it was people said, and you didn’t care about the irony of you being the one to deny now.

He narrowed his eyes, barely shifting closer but shifting closer regardless. You felt your breath catch in your throat. “Yeah, you do,” he pushed as the hand that was on your arm circled around to the other shoulder. You resisted the voice in your mind that told you to bury your head in his neck, whether that was to avoid hearing him or to relish in his closeness that you never had the chance for.

You didn’t though, head remaining held high, so you were forced to listen when he continued, “You tried to get a smaller crew, you go in on the explorations yourself, you ignore the medics who try to help you.”

Another voice in the back of your mind perked up to rebuke it all, but you silenced it. What would be the point of lying? Mark knew you, you knew he knew you, there was no reason to fight it.

You sighed. “Well, I don’t know.” Your voice was small, smaller than you or Mark had ever heard it, but the admittance felt like it was enough to send a shockwave through the cabin. The jacket that showcased your title to everyone on the planet seemed to blaze in your mind. “Am I really their captain yet?”

“’Yet’?” Mark parroted you, and that was the go-ahead you needed to spill your thoughts.

“I missed the construction of the ship and the selection of the crew. The hour that I got onto the thing, everything went to shit, so many things went wrong. I- I don’t know if I deserve this, being the captain, when I didn’t spend any time with the people running the ship. Hell, even without the whole wormhole thing, we were going to be in cryo-sleep for the entire journey. I wasn’t needed.” The flood of words tumbled out with reckless abandon and then stopped like crashing into a wall like a bike going eighty. You didn’t think you would go through with it otherwise. Inner voices or a sense of decorum threatened to overtake you.

And yet, even though you got to the end of your rant, red-faced and breathless, you were knocked more off-balance by Mark’s question. “How many times did you die?”

“What?”

His eyes were trained on you. “How many times did you die?”

“I don’t remember, maybe thirty?”

“So, you died thirty times for yourself?”

Indignation sparked within your heart. “No, I did it for the ship,” you stated bluntly, “the crew and the colonists.” You weren’t certain what his point was, but if you had to use your authority-voice on him, you were going to.

“Repeat that for me.”

“I did it for…”

That was his point, then. Your shoulders relaxed, though you didn’t notice that you’d raised them, and your eyebrows unfurrowed. In return, Mark’s smile brightened, like he’d caught the canary. Caught you, more like. 

You stared deadpan down at him but brought a hand up to card through his hair. Without his beret, it was looser, more befitting of him as a person instead of the head engineer. The corners of his mouth perked up even more. “See, I don’t like it when you use my own tactics on me.”

His laugh reverberated through your own bones, especially when he dropped his head to your collarbone. It wasn’t awkward, in fact, you were soon chuckling along with him at his happiness more than your joke – it felt natural, but you were still aware that this was the closest you had ever been. Relaxed into the beanbag the two of you now shared, trying to avoid knocking over your flutes of champagne, practically cradling each other in your arms. If the wormhole had been like this, maybe you would have appreciated it more.

“Someone who doesn’t deserve to be captain would have left the ship to explode and taken an emergency pod back to the nearest planet.” His speech, like his trailing off giggles, shook your muscles as sparks of electricity. “They wouldn’t have died for them, and you did. You are their captain.”

Hesitation. You saw it as bright at the sun of your new home in the sky. You saw it rise in Mark’s eyes, you saw it crescendo, and you saw it dip into the horizon.

“You’re my captain.”

Whatever thought ran through his mind, it was gone by the time he pushed through the final inch between you, leaving barely a breath in the interim. You could feel the puffs of hot air bat against your jaw, nose and lips. The role he gave you meant more than the legislation, the rule, the empty title. Now, it was trust. Him in you, and you in him.

For a moment, you thought he might bridge the gap, but his mouth opened before anything could progress. That didn’t mean either of your minds had strayed from the idea. He whispered under his breath, as if it would escape the room had he spoken any louder, “Do you want to have dinner tomorrow night?”

“As in a date?”

“Yeah. A date.”

Mark could feel his heart beating faster. He could have denied it and represented it something like the scenario you were in now. There was a part of him that thought he should have; it shied away from the very possibility of rejection and cowered in the clasp of regulations and human resources. But he had already taken the leap, the words hovering in the air. It would be a proper date – with candles and music and something better to eat than soup in a Styrofoam bowl. You’d talk about whatever came to mind, plans for the future instead of the past, and you’d share a bottle of wine as you spoke. The flicker of flame would highlight you from below and he would see exactly what he was describing in your eyes. His future. If the night went well, you’d clear the table together, strangely domestic against the memories of the journey over, and then, with the candlelight still dancing on the table before the fire was snuffed out, he hoped to share a kiss together. He could almost feel it already.

While his imagination was a thing to behold, it could not take credit for that sensation, but while Mark was so lost in his prospects, he failed to notice that the future was coming to pass. Or some of it, anyway.

You weren’t sitting at a table, a glass of wine and wax dripping onto the table; you were closer than before, with your lips pressed against his and your eyes closed.

Mark was knocked breathless. The sensation was nothing he could have predicted; the pressure was soft, gentle, like a silk ribbon, but the texture exposed how you would bite the same places when you were worried. Worried? What reason did you have to be worried? You were the greatest captain he had ever heard of, let alone known. He wanted to tell you just that, but he was preoccupied, for obvious reasons, with pushing you down against the hill of the beanbag. Maybe he was bias – your groan reverberated through his skin – but he didn’t really have a choice – your fingertips skimmed across his hair – and he was sure that you were objectively the best anyway – your teeth grazed over his lips – so it didn’t really matter. He brought one of his own hands to hover over your jaw, barely making contact until a particular hum had him brushing his thumb across your cheek. You leaned into it, as if it were a military ration, and he supposed it must have felt like that. Roles like yours didn’t tend to come with company.

Inwardly, he pledged that he would never let you feel alone again.

Outwardly, in an ill-fated scuffle to reposition himself, a dull thunk and something spilling onto the floor caused the two of you to slowly, begrudgingly, part. A few puffs of air settled between you as you turned to see Mark’s semi-full glass that had fallen over.

With a laugh, you settled your head against Mark’s shoulder, both to stabilize yourself and spare him the embarrassment of a steadily reddening face.

“So, that date tomorrow?” Despite the last five minutes, Mark couldn’t help but be shaky in asking. Either that, or it was aftereffects of his heart going 210 instead of the normal 60 beats per minute.

“As long as,” you whispered before grabbing your own champagne for another sip, “we get to find a large body of water tomorrow.”

“That sounds a lot like an ocean, Cap.”

“Well, if you insist, we can find an ocean.”

With your final poke at his expense, enough to wave away the remaining fog of tension no matter the nature, you downed the last of your champagne and settled further into your beanbag. For once, you didn’t regret taking a break, and you were sure you would need another breather after the excavation the following day.

“It’s my project, it has my name signed on the documents.”

So far, the day had proven successful. Three more biomes were scouted out, one of them being a potentially perfect site for farming, and the first real town had been built. At the beginning, it had looked like one of those places built to test nuclear weapons – but then, just two hours ago, they had moved the first colonists into their houses. You had been there to greet them, shake their hands and pass them the keys, but you had to leave before they could get fully settled. Besides, that was Celci’s job. The whole transfer from cryo operation was under her jurisdiction.

However, now that the residents were all making beds and organizing cupboards, Mark had to deal with her. And by deal with her, he meant argue, because there wasn’t another way the situation could ever turn out.

Presently, the pair were standing outside a section of the colony, Mark’s section, with blueprints in hands and scowls on faces. A slap against the paper was followed by Celci’s gesture towards the energy source.

“That means you were the one who started to involve cryo-tech, and that means I need to have some input.”

Mark scoffed, even though he knew full well that she was, technically, just barely, if you looked at it a certain way, correct. Just the word cold was her full job description, but he assumed he would get away with it if she were busy with other things. How wrong he was. Ever the eye for detail, Celci had searched through all the project applications, filtering for anything below 30 degrees, and then promptly set up meetings with all the leads. She wasn’t aware that it was Mark heading this one until she walked up the concrete path. Mark wasn’t aware that it was Celci he was meeting with until he heard her groan.

Go figure, they had made no progress.

“You know, I would love to prove you wrong on this,” Mark hissed, “but, unlike you, I can’t spend all day arguing about this.”

Was it backhanded to boast about your date and use it to get away from an argument, which he totally wasn’t losing, in one sentence? Probably. Was he doing it anyway? Yes.

However, Celci wasn’t one to give up that easily. Mark barely got two steps backwards before she took one toward him in return. “No, you know I’m right, so you’re running away.”

“Actually, I have a date tonight.” The pride and amazement took over the scowl on his face. For a moment, he forgot he was talking to someone and that he wasn’t just staring into his mirror, trying to convince himself it wasn’t a dream while he picked out an outfit.

“Who with? Your Roomba?”

In any other situation, he would have leaned into the mockery, tried harder to think of a better comeback, but the truth worked well enough. With a grin, Mark corrected, “The Captain.”

A flurry of emotions danced over Celci’s face that Mark was so glad he was able to see. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her confused before, much less shocked, though there were plenty of times she looked at him with endless doubt. They rolled over and over like a broken projector before she finally landed on a stranger expression – bemusement.

“Finally.”

It was his turn to look confused.

She tutted and looked him dead in the eye. “You can’t think that nobody’s seen the love-sick puppy look you give them when they’re nearby.”

The splutter was hard to contain, despite it being very obviously undignified, but it was harder to get back on his feet. So many questions swirled around his mind, most of them trying to preserve whatever image he thought he presented, but he came up blank. It was, annoyingly, likely that she was once again right. But it wasn’t his fault, not when you were, well, you. Of course, he wouldn’t call it love-sick, though that didn’t stop it from being accurate. 

Mark’s lack of response was enough for Celci to know she’d caught him red-handed. Just typical. With the upper hand, she continued, “But I happen to know that your dinner isn’t until seven, so that gives us five hours for you to see reason.” He tried to protest, opening his mouth to ask how she actually found that information out, before she held up a hand. “Or, what, does it take that long to get your hair like that?”

Inwardly, Mark cursed her. He lost his way out of the conversation, and, in doing so, was welcomed by the colony’s rumor mill. What a prize. At least things weren’t spun out of proportion, but he would have preferred the date to be private at first. He could only hope that the crew had enough sense to leave them alone for the night.

Right now, however, he still had to prove to Celci that he didn’t need her supervision.

“I just don’t understand why you want to get involved with this!” he groaned.

“Because it’s a safety issue if I don’t.”

“It’s not gonna explode.”

“You’ll find a way.”

“I’m not doing anything outside of regulations, it—”

A crackle. Something like a fire burning. His heart rate piped up. Celci started to spin, but Mark was quick to grab at his belt. The walkie-talkie was stirring from its sleep in one of the pouches. He preferred the tech they’d designed for the mission, but he wouldn’t deny you your pieces of Earth. Plus, the stickers were always a bonus.

He drew Celci’s attention as he pressed the button down. Silently, he waved away her own smug grin – the one that told him he looked exactly like a love-sick puppy.

“Hey, Cap, everything alright?”

You never stuck with the whole over and out thing. It was the compromise given they had replaced it with a light to show when the other side’s button was pressed down. To Mark, it made more sense and improved efficiency. What was concerning, though, was that the light was on, red and blazing, but you weren’t talking.

He pressed it closer to his ear. 

Just breathing.

“Cap? Captain, are you okay?”

He was struggling to keep his smile.

Especially when your voice whispered through the machine, gravelly and choked, as if there were hands wrapped around your neck.

“Hey, Mark.”

“Captain.”

“I’m, uh—” You were broken apart by a cough, “—prob’ly gonna be late to dinner—” Another cough, “—tonight.”

It sounded like your lungs were being ripped at the tubes and emptied. Mark’s heart felt like it was shattering.

“Where are you?”

Radio silence. The shards cracked further and refracted the light into searing flames through his veins. Just as sharp, he brought his gaze up to Celci.

“Where is the Captain right now?”

“Didn’t make a copy of their schedule?”

It was meant to be banter, a little poke at their relationship, something to get a deadpan look and an eye roll.

Mark looked more scared than she had ever seen him.

“Third excavation site. North.”

And, at the final word, he was gone, sprinting down the concrete path. The wind carried him in subtle support while some of the crew watched the storm rush past them. They had no clue what was happening, but neither did Mark. He only knew that he had to get to you, no matter what. He had to be there for you.

The walkie felt like it was burning in his grip. An omen and a promise at the same time. He pulled it to his mouth, as though just hearing his voice clearer would let him understand everything. “Cap, Cap, come on, what happened?”

Nothing. Silence outside of his body, which itself sounded like a zoo set loose. It was the eeriness of a broken submarine. He could hear the crunching of the water against the sides as it threatened to ball the metal up with the ease of a wad of paper, but there was still a dismal quiet in the meantime.

“Captain!”

And he couldn’t do a damn thing to help.

Some of the pressure released when he heard your whisper, “Cave in.” It was decorated with crackles and pops, but he heard it crystal clear, every single one of your words its own speech. “Do-don’t come, Mark, don’t.”

His footsteps picked up impossibly faster to match his heart rate.

“I swear, I will,” you choked for a second before you were saved with a cough, “I will pull rank on you.”

“You can do that later. When you’re not crushed under rocks. You can do it at dinner.”

“Mark, I’m not…”

“Yes, you are!”

He swept round a corner. The danger signs for the excavation site came into view. Just a little longer. He didn’t know if you had a little longer. Your breathing was already ragged when you called, and it was getting worse. He knew he should have been pouring all of his energy into getting to you – for once, he admitted it would be better for him to shut up and focus – but he couldn’t handle the silence.

“Okay, okay, pull rank on me,” he pleaded, “just keep talking. Please.” You yielded to his request with a smile that he couldn’t see. “You named the colony yet?” His job. Technically, it was supposed to be the captain who named the colony, but you had given that duty to him. You’d argued that he was the one to choose the planet, so he should have been the one to name it. Just the thought of it made him sick to his stomach. It was too early for delegation, you didn’t need to do it yet, and there would be no reason to later because you would be alive and well. You’d do your job and he’d do his. There would be no exchange because a role couldn’t be filled.

But the declaration was fueled by doubt even in his own mind. 

“No, I was waiting for you,” Mark answered.

“You should name it.”

“I’m waiting for you.”

Another cough, as if your own body was working to supply your point. “Can’t wait forever.”

“I won’t be.”

The lack of response stirred something horrible in his gut when he slid into the entrance to the rock site. He pushed past the gates and tape, snagged protective gear from its place hanging off the fence, and immediately rushed to the directors. They were shambling about with checklists in hand and smiles on faces. Mark wanted to laugh, cry, freeze still in his boots. Everything looked so optimistic. This was advancement for a colony of a size like this.

Days later, when the clock would strike midnight and Mark would lay in his bed with the sheets askew and pillows scattered, he wouldn’t remember what he said to the workers he spoke to. Whether he interacted with them, or they interacted with him, it didn’t matter. His words were lost to him in the haze of overwhelming urgency and underwhelming panic. Medics arrived and excavators were called over. He only knew that because a few of them went in with him to the mouth of the cave – if some kind of legal body was contacted, he wasn’t aware of it because they never showed in front of him, and they weren’t helping him find you.

One detail he did recognize though was the tug at the walkie from one of the directors that caused Mark to pull back like a feral cat. They seemingly decided not to risk it, and simply slipped another walkie in his belt. Of course, you’d given the rest of the crew those things, instead of the highly modernized tech that would have stopped this entire thing from happening in the first place – but he couldn’t be mad at you. It wouldn’t have been you otherwise. 

They backed off quickly when they were done, and he held the original close to his chest until he was well within the tomb- not tomb, cave. A normal cave.

He had to find you.

The team he entered with was small. You always liked close-knit things, he supposed that was why you went in by yourself. Something about comradery. You were too old-fashioned for your own good.

He would tell you that at dinner, give you a light smack on the wrist and a kiss on the cheek.

“Mark, are you still there?” Your voice through the walkie reminded him of where he was. Where you were. You sounded terrible, considerably worse than last you spoke, but that was to be expected. 

Focus.

“Of course. I’m not leaving.”

“Thank you."

His heart would have melted had he not been so hyped up on the rush of adrenaline and intangible fear.

“Can you describe what you can see?”

“Lotta rocks.” Your laugh turned into a gravelly groan. “I see a light.”

“Don’t go towards it.”

“I don’t have much choice.” Mark was blissfully unaware of your joke because he was also blissfully unaware that your legs had been mangled by rocks splitting apart your bones and muscles, pulverized like the aftermath of an old blender fed with sticks and banana. You were glad he was.

He was able to, instead, drop down off a ledge deeper into the cave, which was very quickly becoming more of a cavern. It had the distinct feeling of being trapped in an ant hill, with some spaces widening and then others trailing off into sharp points. Wherever you were, getting out would be a problem, too, but seeing a light meant that you were either incredibly deep or just by the surface. He was hoping for the latter.

The next drop down was not promising.

Neither was the walkie startling to life again with your voice. “You know,” you croaked, “when we were in the wormhole, I didn’t think it would end like this.”

“It’s not ending like this.”

You let the words sink into metal grating of the machine before you spoke again, “I thought I’d be shot in that noir place or stay frozen in a cryo-chamber for centuries, I didn’t think I’d just be, uh, crushed.”

The way you phrased it was so inelegant that Mark nearly snorted. However, the reality didn’t let it breach neo-daedism territory.

“Seems a bit boring, in comparison.” He couldn’t tell whether you were mumbling for comedic effect, or your lungs were giving up on you. Uncertainty impaled him like a spear through the chest.

Swallowing, he sighed. “But at least it’s not in the wormhole.”

“At least it’s not in the wormhole.”

It felt too much like a goodbye. A final salute to the ship that sailed off into the distance. Firing the arrow onto the raft. It shouldn’t have given him hope.

But it did; the cavern was bathed with the sunshine from a hole in the ceiling, and the light on the walkie was off.

It didn’t take long to spot you, upper half sticking out from the rubble of a dozen large boulders and even more smaller rocks dusting your back. Frantically, he rushed to your side, barely dodging standing on the discarded walkie a few feet in front of you. You held another to your cheek. Mark wished he had more time to tease you about keeping a whole communicator just for him, then you’d tease him about his own, and then you’d win the argument when he decided to just look at you all alive and active and not steadily dying in a cave. He did not have more time.

He hooked the walkie for the director out of his belt and called for assistance, giving a description of the route he took and then turning it off to pay attention to you.

Your grin was bright but shaky. “You come here often?” 

“Captain…”

“Sorry, bad timing.”

“No, perfect timing.” The chuckle that dripped out from his mouth was tainted by tears brimming in his eyes. He took your hand and tried to ignore how cold it already was. If he had come sooner, would you have more of a chance? Would you have survived? Oh, but you were going to survive anyway, you had to. You were the captain. You were his captain.

“Mark, don’t- don’t get yourself worked up.”

“Or what?”

“Oh, you know.”

He wanted to beg for you to continue the joke. His grip tightened as he brought your hand to his lips. He held it there, waiting, not breathing a single puff of air. The fear of disturbing the scene and being the little bit of wind that a rock needed to jut further into your back was buried deep in his bones.

“Please, just hold on.”

“Mark…”

No.

“Mark, I can’t.”

No, no, no, no.

“I’m sorry.”

Was he saying words?

“They’ll be fine.”

Just a little longer.

“Mark, look… look around, we’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

His mouth was moving, he was sure of it, but the crackle of the walkie filled his ears in place of his own words.

“You built the ship, you hired the crew, you fixed the warp-core.”

The warp-core. He had done it once before. What’s to say he couldn’t do it again?

“No.”

All that pain, all those deaths, he would do it again.

“Uh-uh. Not this time.”

He would do it for you.

“We got off on chance, you’re not trying that again, Mark, I can’t—”

If you would just let him, he could get you back. He didn’t understand why you were resisting. It would be so easy. You would get to live and lead the colony and be the captain that you always wanted to be.

But he couldn’t deny that it was a lot of woulds. And he couldn’t go through with it without your support. The tears in your eyes were not from pain but from fear, and not even for yourself. You were scared for him. Your head engineer.

“I’m not losing you—” Mark snapped back to the present, “—And, yeah, I know how ironic that is.”

It was ironic, wasn’t it? Not only this situation, but that the two of you, as a pair, had gone through so much together, only to get separated when things had finally calmed down. It was as though you had grown so used to danger that you couldn’t survive without it. Domesticity was not for you, nor was it for Mark. In this lifetime, you would never get a break. And that was one of the two certainties he found.

“So, hey, just- just give me this. Please?”

The other certainty?

“I love you.”

Mark kneeled on the dusty ground of the cave with your hand in his. It was just as cold as the air around you, your breath visible as you sighed a single, “I-…” that trailed off before you could get anything out. The words died in your lungs as your eyes dropped shut.

Mark’s sobs echoed throughout your tomb.

[Did you know this started out as straight fluff? Also, I will forever be scared of the leviathan from Subnautica]

[catarufermecat]

FEAST

"Let's eat. Let's survive," Jimmy whispered with an aura that reminded Curly of his greatest sin: his pride. Jimmy was too proud to accept his wrongdoings. He was too proud to apologize to those he had hurt. He was too proud to care about what anyone had to say. He was too proud to take responsibility. But now, it didn't matter anymore. It was just him, some corpses, and an incapacitated Curly that could only weep and shake. Nobody would call Jimmy out anymore. It was just him and his pride surrounded by his victims. But he was too blind to see.

or,

that one scene where Jimmy cuts Curly's leg and feeds it to him

Curly found himself lying on the table, his co-workers' corpses beside him.

Curly could only pray. He was never a religious person, but in such situations, he couldn't care less. His morals, his motivations, his dreams, his meaning, his hope - all gone. So he prayed. He prayed Jimmy would kill him. He prayed it would be fast. He prayed and he prayed and he prayed some more. Was he heard? It didn't matter. Not anymore. He just wanted to be freed from all the pain he had been enduring for so, so long.

Then, there was Jimmy. He was standing proudly at the table, smiling. He seemed happy, celebrating his little party, and Curly was the cake. What's a party with no guests? He had gathered his friends too. They all wore birthday hats and all. Was he insane? Perhaps. Perhaps he had always been insane. His gaze alternated between the crew members as if they were speaking to him, however he was completely ignoring Curly, although he was the only living one. Quite ironic.

He gave one last smile before he took the knife that sat at Curly's head. He got up with a proud nod, chuckling while looking at his co-workers. He took a seat closer to Curly's legs (if you can even call them that anymore), and put the blade on his flesh. And then he did it.

Jimmy started to slice through Curly's leg, the dull blade cutting painfully slow through the exposed muscle. Curly couldn't bear it anymore. He screamed and screamed and screamed until his vocal cords gave up and he just made some sore, dry noises that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Not to Jimmy, though. To him, Curly's screams were like music. They sounded like a beautiful orchestra, making Jimmy smile as Curly cried out in pain.

Curly only wished everything would stop. As Jimmy started to cut through his bone, he couldn't help but shake and hit and attempt to get away, but to no avail. If only Jimmy had chosen to cut into his knee, then it would've been easier. The cartilage would've given out. But here he was, slicing through Curly's thigh, smiling as he screamed in agony. And then the knife finally hit the table, and Curly could only cry silently.

Jimmy didn't seem distressed at all. He started cutting the flesh into smaller pieces. "A lot of people struggle to put food on their plates, but that wasn't enough," he stated as he started putting the bits of flesh onto the crew's plates, as if he was serving his guests some cake. "Right, Captain?" He asked mockingly, looking into Curly's single eye with a big smile.

"The lowest rung of your ladder is our highest. Until it was all swept from under your feet." Jimmy punched the table in frustration, feeling belittled. Even now that Curly was barely holding on, just a corpse of a man, Jimmy was still jealous, like he always was. He could never take responsibility.

"Life isn't even worth living at the same level as us. But I forgive you. All of us do." That sold it for Curly. Jimmy was clearly gone. But what could he do except lay down and stare and pray to be killed? If Jimmy really cared about Curly, he would kill him. Free him from all this pain.

But he doesn't. He just continued his monologue.

"I won't give up on you, even like this. I believe in you. We're going to make it through this." He put all the plates down and sat back in his seat, putting a plate next to Curly's head."Sometimes we thrive, travel the endless reaches of space. But other times we just have to accept days like these. You taught me that, Curly." Jimmy smiled again, proud of himself for learning such a great lesson from his friend. Although, that didn't really apply here. He wasn't even sure if it was actually Curly that Taught him that, or if it was another one of his episodes, but he didn't care.

"Let's eat. Let's survive," Jimmy whispered with an aura that reminded Curly of his greatest sin: his pride. Jimmy was too proud to accept his wrongdoings. He was too proud to apologize to those he had hurt. He was too proud to care about what anyone had to say. He was too proud to take responsibility. But now, it didn't matter anymore. It was just him, some corpses, and an incapacitated Curly that could only weep and shake. Nobody would call Jimmy out anymore. It was just him and his pride surrounded by his victims. But he was too blind to see.

Jimmy started eating. It made Curly sick to his stomach. He could only watch as Jimmy tore the tender flesh from the bone and chewed away at its hard, burnt exterior. Curly wanted to look away, to ignore what was happening, to not see his own blood run down his friend's chin as he fed on his body. But he couldn't. If you asked Curly a few months ago if he could picture his best friend eating his flesh raw and talking to corpses, he would've called you insane. Yet here he was, watching it unfold before his very eye.

After Jimmy had finished eating, he got up and looked at Curly with a menacing smile. He took the fork in his hand and separated the flesh from the bone and took the meat in his hand and laughed manically. He grabbed Curly's mouth, prying it open before putting the flesh in his mouth. Curly tried his best to keep still so that he wouldn't choke, but that didn't really matter since Jimmy decided to "help" Curly by forcing the meat down his throat with his fingers. Curly choked and cried and shook and prayed some more, but Jimmy didn't care. He just started laughing and let his head fall on the table, crying hysterically.

"I'm sorry, Curly."

Wanna leave some Kudos on ao3, maybe?

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: Retirement

You've been waiting for this day

"Happy 20th Birthday!"

Gun had mentioned he would retire at this milestone.

When you raise the question, all you get is a noncommittal answer. He still has unfinished plans, and despite the increase in danger and punishment of getting caught, he isn't ready to wrap up this life.

You're under no illusion as to the kind of man he is, but had pinned your hopes on a passing phrase.

.

.

The months and years fly past.

"Happy 21st Birthday!"

"Happy 22nd!"

"It's your 23rd... Happy Birthday Gun."

You've been waiting faithfully for him.

You counted down the years by his side, but there's no end in sight. Truthfully, you could be content if he gave you an actual deadline but it seems the target is forever moving.

The sleepless nights wear you down. Grinds at your patience. Each time Gun is away, you fear your phone buzzing. You worry about someone telling you that he is injured or arrested, or even worse - dead.

This year, the timing is unfortunate but you think this is the best gift you can give him. Releasing the shackles that weigh him down, one less weakness for enemies to target.

You tell him it is over.

His response surprises you, "We have something good. Have patience and wait for me."

You don't give him an answer. You can't even bring yourself to respond to the request for more patience, the only indication of emotion are the narrowing of your eyes and threat of angry tears.

You tell him it's better if you both separate.

.

.

"I'm out," Gun announces.

There's a finality about this conversation. Charles knew this day was coming, each year borrowed time. He tells Gun that it's not easy to wash the blood off his hands, but he seems different today.

Like there's a renewed spark, something which has gradually fizzled out over the last few years with no real successor or foreseeable endgame.

"If it's for Y/N, then you're making a mistake."

Taking a drag of his cigarette, Gun considers this. "Funny. I thought the same about you if you dared to say no."

Charles isn't the young man he once was, didn't hold the power he once did. Maybe in his youth he would have killed Gun to keep him quiet. Perhaps it's old age that has softened him. But the elephant in the room is that rejecting Gun would just cause further headaches.

Instead, he negotiates the terms of Gun's exit.

He doesn't make it easy, and he doesn't make it quick. This agreement needs to benefit Charles Choi as much as Gun Park. Besides, Gun can put in the effort if this is truly what he wants.

.

.

Dismantling everything Gun has built with his own two hands comes easier than he expects.

There's hardly any anger or resentment with this outcome, just acceptance. On the worse days, he carries on his warpath by thinking of you.

He is violent and merciless, destroying all lingering evidence of the crews and any underhanded dealings of HNH Group.

A final death rattle for the Shiro Oni in exchange for a clean slate for Elite.

Isn't it peculiar where life takes you. What was once the mission given to his potential successors is now the lifeline for Gun and a new beginning.

At the end of it, Gun has no legacy. He erases all trace of his empire.

Charles finally lets him go. It's an anticlimax. Dismissed like a normal employee, handing back your credentials to your boss.

But it's done.

.

.

You wake up tangled in bed together. You give him a sleepy smile, and he finds you radiant.

For his 24th birthday, Gun has his closure and he has you.

[thepepsislvt]

What if we had another Barto fic because were so starved for his content esp in writing if the reader was like a strawhat that luffy picked up in like skypiea maybe..like a shandorian with the little wings 👀.. just a thought..

I WIN yes i will write more of Barto bc i love him and im glad so many other people love him too!

this one seemed rushed and i apologize i wrote this before my second shift of work :(

Bartolomeo x Winged! Gn Reader

warnings: all fluff, some cursing, mention of doflamingo

you were born on Skypiea and thats all you’ve known

you were always so curious as a child but nobody would tell you what the rest of the world was like

So when you hit your teenage years you decide that one day you're going to leave the floating island

You had wings so you could easily fly away but you couldn't navigate the ocean by yourself

Most nights you would hope and pray that someday, someone would save you.

That's when a certain pirate with a straw hat came and fucked shit up on your island

At the age of 19, you knew this was your getaway, a savior you had spent all of these years praying for

After he won the battle he was fighting you came up to him and his crew as they were about to depart

“Strawhat! You must take me with you! I will prove myself worthy to join your crew-”

“Ok”

“-and I won't take no for an answer! Wait did you say okay? That fast?” you looked at the pirate captain with confusion and shock

All he did was smile and nod

So it was easier than you thought

It didn't take very long to get along with the rest of the crew members

You would give Usopp, Chopper, and Luffy rides through the air

Zoro taught you how to use a sword

Naomi taught you to pickpockets even though you probably won't use that skill

The Entire crew loved you

When Frankly and Brook joined the Straw hats you easily got along with them as well

When you got separated for two years on Sabaody you couldn't have been happier to see them

Your wings had fully grown and you could now use them to their full potential

You guys may have changed a lot physically over the past two years but nothing has changed between your friendship

During the events of Dressrosa, you decided to follow Luffy to the Colosseum to make sure he doesnt give away his identity and draw unwanted attention towards him

While you and Luffy were watching the fight, a certain green haired rooster head had caught your eye

he was hated by the crowd for being vulgar but thats what you liked about him

after his victory in Block B you knew you had to go and greet him

what you were not expecting was him to start crying and saying how much he wasn’t good enough to be in your presence

how can such a scary looking man with the title “Cannibal” fall to his knees over someone like you?

you were flattered by his kind (?) response and had to console him

he asked you to sign your wanted poster he kept

after the defeat of Doflamingo, you hung around Bartolomeo more, falling more and more for him and his wild personality

he had finally accepted that you were actually his friend and took his fanboying down a notch (he still has his moments though)

you had asked him out since you know damn well he wouldnt have the balls to ask you

when you did he just about died on the spot

but y’all had the best time on your date

Sanji and Nami had helped you dress nicely for the event

at the end of the night Barto and you were just star gazing as you told him all about each constellation

Barto knew he had to something he just didnt know how

“you see those six stars up there forming a ‘W’? they call that one the King of Pirates in honor of Gol Roger himself! isnt that cool?” you had explained while pointing to the sky

after you didnt get a response from him you looked over to see if he was alright only to be met with his face close to yours

“Barto? are you alright?” you whispered to him

He just stared into your eyes before kissing your cheek, leaving you flustered and your wings spread out in suprise

“was that okay? should i not have done it?” Bartolomeo started to panic and think of every possible negative outcome before you kissed his lips gently

“more than alright”

he Smiled and started giggling all giddy

“I GOT KISSED BY MY FAVORITE STRAWHAT!!” he yelled out into the sky

you only laughed and kissed him again

[bumblingbabooshka]

I really wish Tuvok & Harry's relationship had been explored more. (The moments they have together are funny, they're both people who have more personality than others might think) Even if the writers would have rather choked on their own tongues than have two non-white characters on screen developing a relationship that didn't have to do with a white character - I can accommodate that to some extent. Their relationships to Janeway are interesting to think about! Harry is a Gold Standard Ensign who Janeway is shown to favor a lot. She outright states that she cares about him more deeply than she does the rest of the crew and views him almost symbolically as a ray of light and hope. A shining example of a bright-eyed (ever obedient) Starfleet officer who can do no wrong.

Thinking about this compared to her reaction to Tuvok going against her orders in 'Prime Factors'. She is again extremely surprised and uniquely hurt by this betrayal. She's upset with B'Elanna as well but then dismisses her and talks to Tuvok alone.

Again, she positions Tuvok as different from the rest of the crew and almost as a symbolic presence or a tool more than a person. That isn't to say I think she doesn't think of Harry or Tuvok as people but more about how having a working relationship as well as a personal one within the system they're in is difficult and blurs some strange lines. To Janeway, Harry & Tuvok are her friends and people she cares about/cares for but their obedience and usefulness to her is part of what makes them so valuable. She needs them to listen to her orders and put their own personal feelings aside if she's going to command as captain which is more difficult to do the closer you feel to somebody. (As captain you might feel less inclined to put them in danger or more inclined to give leeway. As an officer you might feel more inclined to speak up, be insubordinate, or less likely to challenge the captain when it is expected you do so.) I imagine that for Tuvok it's easier to deal with these boundaries and hard lines which might be difficult to walk for others. He's Vulcan for one, for another he's been in Starfleet and known Janeway for several decades and lastly, he just has a personality which seems to do well with rules and hard lines. He also seems to have a unique devotion to Janeway herself which we can see in episodes like 'Prime Factors' and 'Equinox' which goes further than the typical obligation to a captain. Also, in certain episodes you can see that Tuvok is used to being listened to by Janeway in a way that puts him above other crewmen. When Chakotay chooses not to listen to him in 'Twisted' he goes so far as to argue with him about it. It's interesting to compare Harry's Not Listening to Orders here to him doing something similar in 'Resolutions'. In 'Resolutions' it's against Tuvok and for the captain - though he's going against her explicit orders. For these reasons, his near mutiny is not treated as flagrant insubordination and instead more heartwarming by both the narrative and, most notably, Janeway herself. She doesn't have a harsh word to say against Tuvok or Harry in the end. I like that Harry's a passionate person. I like that he has trouble sitting still and accepting things if he thinks there's another less devastating road to take. I would say that besides Janeway herself he's the one most dogged about his attempts to get everyone home and he, like her, means everyone. Perhaps even more idealistically than she herself.

It can be argued that they're following two different philosophies, both centered on the captain. Tuvok is following Janeway's order that they not contact the Vidiians while Harry is following her determination to do everything possible to get every member of their crew back home. To Tuvok, Harry is grossly insubordinate and disobeying Janeway's order and to Harry, Tuvok's cruel obstinance goes against her spirit. Going back to their relationship, I think it would be interesting to explore how they both deal with feeling so close and so special to someone that they will always (as long as they're working together) be at a distance from. In some ways, their dynamic with Janeway will never be truly equal. How do you deal with a relationship that's stated by the captain herself to be special and which you view as important, different, but still necessitates you pushing your own individuality aside whenever it goes against her? In addition to all this it's notable that both Harry & Tuvok have the strongest connection to Family Back Home. Even Janeway doesn't bring up Mark as a driving force as often as Harry does his parents or the expansive concept of the crews' families back home. It's an interesting similarity between them, they're both so firmly tethered to the alpha quadrant. They're the ones who have people waiting eagerly for them - in the end even Janeway doesn't have Mark anymore but Harry's parents and Tuvok's family will always be waiting for them to return. Also, I just think that Harry and Tuvok have the potential to be so funny together and so unintentionally destructive. They could get away with so much shit that no one else could in a million years and they don't even have troublemaking intentions. So yeah, I wish their relationship had been explored more. Harry is who I perceive to be Tuvok's first friend on Voyager. Tom declares himself a friend of Tuvok's but there's no indication Tuvok reciprocates that, He and Neelix are more frenemies, He and Kes are more mentor-mentee, He and Janeway were friends before all this and with the others he's mostly shown to have a somewhat to outright tense professional dynamic. Harry's the first and only person I can remember at this moment who he seems to have a non-adversarial and fully reciprocal friendship with, though it's not focused on. Harry is the first person who's able to slip past Tuvok's barriers and form a friendship with him (-points to a sign labeled 'Janeway parallels, Harry for captain'-). They both have people in the alpha quadrant they miss terribly and who're missing them. They both doubtlessly feel that drive to return to them (unique on Voyager, to have people rather than just the general familiarity of home to return to). They both have special relationship with Janeway and they both have more to them than being obedient and good. They're funny, they have bite and pride and hidden passions. They've both had trouble with love. Scene where Harry and Tuvok are working on something late at night. There's a radio present, conspicuously, but it's off. Harry begins to complain about how he's missing sleep and subtly making digs about how he hasn't been promoted despite how much he does and Tuvok reprimands him. Harry is apologetic. Silence. Tuvok brings up however the captain's decision making can be difficult to parse at times... and then makes a subtle dig about how Chakotay as the first officer instead of him is an interesting choice. Harry grins and makes a comment about how Chakotay would have let him play music while they worked. Tuvok makes an exasperated face like 'this again?' and says it's exactly that sort of thing which makes Chakotay- and then Chakotay comes in and Harry has to struggle not to laugh as Tuvok Vulcanspeaks his way perfectly through not answering his 'What were you talking about?' question.

[likealittleheartbeat]

“We didn’t have this whole idea of Love back then—not the way everyone goes about it now” Curled into his own lap in the grass, Aang plucked away at the tallest grass strands as he explained then paused.

Zuko slid a leather strap across his left blade and responded with what he felt to be a pragmatic defense. “What do you mean? Love...well, it’s just a fact. People feel what they feel.”

“Yeah. I guess,” Aang offered. He almost let the distant whistles and hollerings of construction crews carrying up from the valley overtake the conversation. “But feeling and decision. They’re different. To love someone, to hold their hands in yours across the stone altar. I wouldn’t look into your eyes and feel. I’d look at the robes you wore, your family on the rim of witnesses that were dire for the stability our communion might provide. I'd think about my sangha in a similar kind of need, hopeful for my diplomacy. I’d choose you and make something of it. That's the way it worked back then."

Zuko held his blades still, blushing and wide-eyed as if the 'you' Aang had mentioned was really him and not simply a universal 'you,' a placeholder for anyone.

"Or it would be someone chosen for you," added Aang as his fingers began twisting the grass and blooms into braids. "If your sangha had an ounce of sense about you, they did their best to choose an easier fit among the options. But, really, it could be anyone, and you just got to work on figuring out how you would best get along so you could dedicate yourself to finding ways to love them."

"Do you think," Zuko tested, "you could dedicate yourself?" Aang's incredulity forced him to elaborate. "Do you think you could learn to love anyone, like you said, even if--i don't know--if they were a bad person?" He looked at his own reflection in the bevel of his blades. "What if it just wasn't in your nature to love them?"

Aang's focus remained on his braiding while his brow furrowed and a pensive pause stretched out. Zuko's apprehension that his questions were dumb transformed into concern that they were overly intense. Then his closest friend turned, smile renewed, and placed a crown of grass and clover on his head. "Love back then," he said, "wasn't natural, I guess." His tattooed forehead arrow tilted to the side as he took in Zuko, slightly confused beneath his new halo and back-grounded by a bright blue spring sky. "You just took what you got, out of the good and bad, and made something out of it."

"How stupid do I look?" asked Zuko. He started to slide the gift off, but Aang caught one of his wrists.

"No, wait!" Aang pouted. "I made it just for you." Zuko held back his laughter, rolled his eyes, then met the gaze of his admirer, accepting his fate.

[raparopa]

Omgg could you write about nikolai lanstov and how he has known reader his whole life and they are together but not oficially and then alina comes and yk what happens and reader thought that they could handle it because it's a political marriage but then they end things and then nikolai one night can't take it anymore and so he goes to her room and begs her, quite literally on his knees to get back together, and maybe end it with some smut or fluff however you feel like doing but I just need him begging 😭

a/n: Crap! I really liked the idea of your request, so I thought about it and decided to make some changes. First, I thought about it and decided that I would most likely make a mini-series (big story) of several parts. Secondly, I realized that it is easier for me to fulfill your request with an !Original Character! not marked "reader" or "Y/N" And thirdly, of course, I had to change some details of the canon in order to somehow structurally introduce the hero into the story. Hope you enjoy what I do! let me know if you like it?(!)

warnings: Language, Squaller!OC (idk)

pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x OC!Dasha Romanov

summary: There is clearly an understatement between Nikolai and his childhood friend. But who knew that things could get even worse when the sun shines on the horizon?

gold and silver

prologue.

I knew Nikolai, without exaggeration, all my conscious life. We met when we were just children, when I was brought to serve in the palace (sensible squaller are needed everywhere, especially when the queen wants the sun on a cloudy day). He was the most restless boy I have ever seen in my whole life: he caused trouble for his whole family, nannies and tutors, but he was a fun guy, with an adventurous spirit and a good heart. Therefore, the fact that we found a common language did not take long. We would run away from classes together, I would show him tricks with the wind and clouds, and he would teach me how to shoot and even show me a couple of tricks so that I could protect myself with more than just my abilities.

And then the service began. His and mine. Nikolai and Dominic signed up for the First Army, while I was accepted into the Second Army, where my hard and fun life began. At first, Nikolai and I kept in touch, tried to keep in touch, but time passed, everything changed, we grew up and over the course of our destinies we changed a lot. Our communication slowly faded away. Of course, I heard rumors about what happened to the prince, and I'm sure he also heard rumors about me. I have long lost the habit of having Lantsov around, but still my heart ached every time I heard the news about him.

But in one moment everything changed. More time passed when Nikolai himself found me. True, now he was no longer Nikolai, but asked everyone to call himself Sturmhond. He was a privateer, with his own ship and crew, and kindly invited me to join the crew of the "Hummingbird".

How long did I think? Yes. It would be strange to immediately agree to such an adventurous proposal from someone whom I had not seen for several years. But Saints!

No matter how many years, centuries, centuries have passed; no matter what happens to me, I will always continue to adore Nikolai.

He still managed to convince me to join his crew. And I climbed the "Hummingbird", starting a new page in my life, but again next to Nikolai.