#ship: fire and gasoline

[belladonna-blackswan]

Thank you @binary-star-love for sending me this 🤧💚

[pinklotushere]

Dick Grayson and Dan Fenton are two sides of the same coin

drawn together by the overwhelming force of their shared anger, yet tempered by their differing ways of dealing with it.

Their personalities mirror each other, with subtle but significant differences in how they react to their emotions and the world around them.

Dick Grayson is a person who, despite carrying an intense inner rage, has spent years learning how to mask it, constantly suppressing his feelings because of the responsibility he feels toward those who rely on him.

His anger is like a volatile storm beneath the surface, always simmering, always ready to boil over.

But Dick keeps that storm contained, partly out of a sense of duty and partly because he cannot afford to lose control—not when there are people depending on him, especially after everything he’s experienced.

When Dick does snap, it’s explosive, a red-hot fury that consumes him and everyone around him.

His anger comes from a deep sense of betrayal, loss, and frustration, emotions that are often triggered by his inability to fully heal from past wounds. His guilt over not being there when others need him can push him to the edge, and when he finally lets go, it's intense and uncontrollable.

Dan Fenton, on the other hand, carries his anger like a weapon—he doesn't mask it, doesn't suppress it, and most importantly, doesn't care who sees it.

His rage is a direct expression of his complete disillusionment with the world around him. Dan feels trapped in a cycle of pain and self-loathing, and his anger is a response to that helplessness. His anger is his shield, his way of saying, "I'm not going to be ignored. I'm not going to pretend anymore."

When Dan snaps, it's not just explosive—it's total annihilation. There’s no restraint, no second thoughts, just a primal need to destroy whatever is in his way, whether it's physical or emotional.

Dan’s rage isn't a mere outburst; it's a reaction to everything he sees as wrong in the world, and he doesn't try to control it because, for him, the control is gone.

He feels like he's drowning, but instead of letting others help, he isolates himself, pushing away anyone who might try to get too close, afraid that he’ll drag them down with him.

The bond between Dick and Dan is magnetic because they see themselves in each other.

Dick wants to help Dan because he sees his own unresolved rage mirrored in him. He recognizes that same fire, that same inability to fully trust the world around him, and he can’t help but want to pull Dan out of the abyss that he himself struggles to stay out of.

However, Dick's optimism—his belief that things can get better—clashes with Dan's complete loss of hope.

Dick can't help himself, but he tries anyway because, deep down, he’s terrified of losing someone else.

The fear of someone dying while he wasn’t there for them is something Dick struggles with every day.

This fear pushes him to try to “save” Dan, not just because of his own guilt but because he can’t bear the thought of letting another person slip away, consumed by their anger and pain.

Dan feels the weight of his anger and self-isolation.

He recognizes Dick’s attempt to help, but he feels unworthy of that help. He fears that anyone who gets too close to him will be consumed by his darkness.

Dan feels like he’s already too far gone, that any attempt to fix himself will only result in dragging others into the chaos.

In that way, he isolates himself, pushing away anyone who might care, even if they’re offering a lifeline.

They are drawn to each other because they are two halves of the same broken whole.

Their anger is the bridge that connects them, even as it drives them apart.

Dick’s attempts to help Dan are ultimately a reflection of his own inner turmoil and his fear of being alone in his anger.

Meanwhile, Dan's response to Dick is a reminder of the path Dick could go down if he allows his rage to consume him fully.

They are both fueled by bitterness and anger, but where Dick’s anger is tempered by a relentless hope, Dan’s is an all-consuming darkness.

The fundamental difference is that Dick still believes in the possibility of change, while Dan is resigned to his own destruction.

In many ways, Dick and Dan are forced into a complicated, tense dance. Dick wants to fix Dan, but Dan resists, unsure if he even deserves the help.

But, beneath the resistance, there’s a quiet understanding between them, a recognition of the same pain, the same anger that keeps them from moving forward. They see themselves in each other, and that’s what makes their connection so powerful—and so so difficult.

But Despite the pain, despite the anger, despite the near-constant push and pull between them, Dick Grayson and Dan Fenton would still end up drawn into something deeper. They would love because of the pain as much as despite it.

Because see, most people see what Dick and Dan project—Dick as the golden boy who has everything under control, Dan as an unstoppable force of destruction.

But they both recognize the truth beneath the masks. Dick sees Dan’s pain, the raw vulnerability buried under all that rage, and Dan sees the exhaustion behind Dick’s carefully maintained control. There’s no need to pretend with each other, and that honesty is intoxicating.

And Both of them are angry—but with each other, they don’t need to justify it.

Dick doesn’t have to hold back his frustration and grief, and Dan doesn’t have to pretend he doesn’t care. They understand that part of each other instinctively, without having to put it into words. They can be angry together, and instead of it being destructive, it’s relieving—like finally having someone who just gets it.

Neither of them is built for something soft and easy.

They could have quiet, peaceful relationships with people who don’t challenge them—but they don’t want that. They’re both drawn to the fight, to the sharp edges, to the constant tension between destruction and salvation. With each other, love isn’t calm—it’s a storm. But it’s their storm, and they can’t walk away from it.

Even in a room full of people, both Dick and Dan carry a deep, persistent loneliness.

Dick is surrounded by people who love him, yet he always feels responsible for everything, always afraid of letting someone down.

Dan isolates himself because he’s convinced his presence is a threat. But with each other, that loneliness eases, misery loves company, they say

When emotions run too deep for words, physicality becomes their outlet. Whether it’s a fight, a touch, or just sitting next to each other, their connection is tangible.

Dan, who keeps everyone at arm’s length, finds himself unwilling to let go of the warmth Dick offers.

Dick, who usually holds himself back, allows himself to hold on.

Their relationship is a mess of passion, fights, comfort, and raw honesty.

They crash into each other like fire meeting gasoline, but somehow, they don’t consume each other completely. Instead, they ignite something new—something neither of them fully understands, but neither of them can walk away from.

They love in spite of the pain because they are the only ones who can truly see each other, the only ones who can hold on through the worst of it. And even if they hurt, even if they struggle, being together is still better than being apart.

[orbch]

i think every remus ship is going to be insane and messy. like at least a little. but dukexiety and intruality are just so on another level

[missyblogs]

If I had a nickel for every time these two appeared in a meme together I would have two nickels and that is why I'm dirt poor in this economy, in this essay I will /j /j og by Sweepswoop_

Been seeing this meme floating around and even tho it's been used mainly on romantic self ships, I can't NOT think of Robbie here. Context behind this is that as he grows increasingly desperate to "preserve" Lazytown, Robbie grows increasingly unhinged- even going as far as to use Sophia as bait. After all no one makes the hero come running quicker and surely she wouldn't mind doing her buddy ol pal a solid, right? It doesn't even occur to him that now he's starting to cross boundaries and bridges are about to burn.

There's only one person she'd call a "good boy" anyway

[rilakkatie]

[youthchronical]

Oil Tanker and Container Ship Collide in the North Sea

An oil tanker and a container ship collided off the northeastern coast of England, according to emergency responders, who scrambled to the scene on Monday morning. Initial images shared by the BBC showed fire and thick black smoke rising from the ships. The British coast guard said it was “coordinating the emergency response to reports of a collision between a tanker and cargo vessel off the…

[yanderefarm]

slasher!reader x fanboy!yandere

cw;; gore, blood, cannibalism, murder, animal violence mentioned

can u tell i love slashers... i wanna be a hot slasher monster thats the gender goal.

you're a local legend in the area, a modern myth to scare people away from the old slaughter house. most people don't actually believe you exist but there isn't an insignificant amount of people who never make it back from that "haunted" location.

you're no ghost, no you're very real. you live in the slaughter house where you do your "work". you actually ship out a decent amount of actual meat but only to specific customers who don't ask questions. some of them buy your premium meats but mostly you're just butchering cows and pigs. it's tedious work, nothing is as satisfying as cutting into a screaming crying human body.

you're so excited when another group of young adults come to visit. they're doing a test of courage. you're gonna make them really prove themselves tonight. there's only about 6 of them and from that you can only see 3 who's meat will actually sell. you silently plan to keep two as livestock to plump up and leave the 6th to go back and spread your myth farther.

it's a long night. humans don't like dying, they fight and scratch every step of the process. you've gotten two of the ones with the best meat and you've put them in your meat locker. one of the worthless ones is bleeding out with your hand in their hair. the remaining meats have given you a pretty nasty wound in your side and the pain is pissing you off. you don't even get to throw this worthless meat in the freezer before it's dead. annoying. you let go of its hair, your foot crushing it's arm as you drag yourself further.

you smell gasoline when your body finally gives against one of the walls. you can guess that those stupid meat bags are going to set fire to all your hard work. if only they hadn't gotten the drop on you. you hold your hand over the cut as you accept your fiery fate. but it doesn't come.

you hear footsteps, timid footsteps. you lull your head in the direction of them and you see the last premium meat standing there in front of you.

"...you... you're hurt." he drops next to you and tepidly reaches his hand towards your wound. you remove your hand letting it fall limp next to you. he immediately pulls out a small sewing kit.

"this is going to be uncomfortable but please bear with it." he threaded a needle and began the painful process of sewing up the gash.

you watched his hands move in silence, only flinching a few times from the pain. the boy in front of you had his brows furrowed and his tongue slightly out as he focused intensely on patching you up. it was so curious you couldn't stop staring at him. he tied it off and cut the excess string.

"i should kill you now." you picked your weapon off the ground next to you. the meat swallowed hard.

"if.. if you want... but can I make a request?" his face was red.

"i don't usually take requests.. but i suppose since you helped me out."

he swallowed again before looking up into your eyes. "i.. i don't want you to sell me. please eat me yourself!"

[woradat]

just wonder.. will you write for rodimus? 🥺 I mean, that jump-to-your-soul pic of him have to mean something right??

also do you take any req?

Done with your ex

SUMMARY – just an ego through the roof captain and his ex on the same ship, long trip together

PAIRING – rodimus x reader

NOTE – you take a hint huh. What are you, a government spy? I'm already working on him for a while now. And yes, I do a requests. You can see the rules/details in the pinned post. I just added+edit about few day ago

The loading ramp of the Lost Light hissed open like the universe itself was trying to be dramatic

Rodimus barely glanced up. He was in the middle of arguing with Swerve about whether installing retractable flame decals on the hull would count as 'atmospheric augmentation" or just "unnecessary and definitely going to kill us"

Then he saw movement out of the corner of his optic—and everything in his CPU short-circuited

There you were

Striding up the ramp like you owned it. Like you hadn’t ghosted out of his life with nothing but a pointed sentence and that half-smile that always meant checkmate. Like you hadn’t once told him—flatly, and with clinical precision—that loving him felt like "trying to put a fire out with gasoline"

And dammit if you didn’t look exactly the same. Polished. Poised. Primed for war and polite company. Elegant as ever. Calm as a sunset before a Category Five energon storm

You weren’t flash, never were—but you had that aura. That smooth, coiled presence like a vibroblade sheathed in silk. Oh the look—that faint, unreadable smile like you knew something he didn’t and were gracious enough to let him flounder in ignorance. That same neutral expression you used when pretending not to judge the tactical decisions of people clearly beneath your IQ range. That same stride that said “I’ve already calculated the probability of this going sideways and I brought snacks"

Rodimus froze, his spark dropped so hard it might’ve left a dent in his internals ‘No. Nope. Absolutely not!’

It couldn’t be you

Except, of course, it was. Because the universe loved poetic suffering and apparently it was his turn to monologue through one. He stared. You stared back. Unbothered. Professional. Radiating the exact same emotional energy as someone walking past their ex at a high-society gala—with better posture and zero regrets

Rodimus blinked so hard his optic lens recalibrates “What— what are you doing here?”

You didn’t even flinch. Just turned to him with a look that was one part serene and two parts smug, tilted your helm slightly. That little angle that always meant “I heard that. I’m just choosing violence later” Your voice, when it came, was like silk over sharpened steel

“Captain. How lovely to see you again”

“You’ve got to be—this is—no. Nope. Absolutely not”

Ultra Magnus appeared like a summoned ghost behind you, arms crossed, expression stiffer than a rusted gear “As I explained in my three prior reports, they’ve been appointed to the crew as strategic analyst”

Rodimus blinked "Three reports?"

“High-level pattern recognition. Crisis forecasting, multi-factional battle simulations, inter-faction negotiation” Magnus went on, tone flatter than the C.I.C. floor “They’ve been correct approximately 91.3% of the time. Statistically, that qualifies them as one of the best. They will be a valuable addition”

You gave a modest nod. Like someone who totally didn’t memorize those numbers already “Besides” you added smoothly

“I’m here for work. Nothing more. You can unclench now, Captain”

Rodimus looked like someone had just served him a steaming mug of his own poor life choices “Right. Work. Of course. Just work. Nothing else weird about this at all. Nope. Totally chill"

You stepped closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that your electromagnetic field skimmed his. Cool, clean, unreadable. Like an encrypted data packet wrapped in charm and sarcasm

“You always did have trouble being chill” you murmured “Still trying to solve everything by flying straight into it?”

“But don’t worry, captain. I’m not here to relive the past”

Rodimus sputtered. Behind him, Swerve audibly choked on a laugh “Oh, Primus, it is the ex. The one who called him ‘reckless with delusions of grandeur' I thought that was a metaphor”

You didn’t dignify that with a response. Just tilted your helm, optics flicked to him—neutral. But your smirk said “I win”

And with that, you turned and start walking down the hall—measured, composed, calculating—like a battlefield was unfolding beneath your pedes and you’d already chosen where all the pieces would fall – Rodimus stared after you like he’d just watched his worst mistake reappear in haute couture and get a standing ovation, as if to twist the energon dagger in his spark just a little further, you said—without turning back

“And for the record… I liked you better before you started trying to be respectable

Rodimus stood frozen, expression somewhere between awe, horror, and very mild arousal

“This is fine” he said out loud “This is great.. This is the best worst day I’ve ever had”

“Wanna talk about it?” Swerve offered

“Wanna be spaced through an airlock?”

“You’ve been out here for twenty minutes” Drift said, suddenly beside him. Rodimus jumped like he’d been caught digging through a black ops file “I’m not spying..!” “Sure” Drift glanced pointedly at the window “Just… monitoring morale with your face pressed against the glass?” Rodimus shoved a blank datapad into his hands "I’m checking their reassignment logs! That’s normal. Curiosity is normal” "You could just ask” “I can’t just ask! What if they think I still care?” “Rodimus, you’re literally stalking them through a wall" Rodimus made a noise somewhere between static and a dying turbo-ratchet “Okay, fine. Then you ask”

“Me?” “Yeah. You’ve got that wise monk aura. People think your invasive questions are… philosophical" Drift gave him a look so dry it might’ve been illegal in five star systems “If they throw something at me” he said, turning to leave “I’m blaming you”

Rodimus was not asking

He was simply conducting a targeted data acquisition exercise. Command-level intel. Tactical morale assessment. Strategic background audit on one of his newest officers. Perfectly normal captain things. Not weird. Not personal. Absolutely not fueled by the gnawing ache of unresolved emotional abandonment

“So” he began, too casually, sidling up to the corner of Swerve’s bar where Drift was trying to enjoy a moment of monk-like silence and absolutely not entertain any of Rodimus’s mid-spark crises “hypothetically—if someone used to date someone, and that someone got assigned to their ship without, say, any warning whatsoever, that would be… strange, right?”

“Strange. Uncomfortable. Emotionally volatile” Drift didn’t even look up from his cup “So yes. Very you”

Rodimus scoffed. Loudly. Overcompensating “This isn’t about me”

“Of course not” Drift said blandly “We’re speaking in totally neutral hypotheticals about your insanely sharp, tactically brilliant, emotionally impenetrable ex who now occupies a front-row seat in every strategy meeting like an elegantly silent death sentence”

Rodimus’s scowl could have curdled energon “They’re not that elegant”

“They once ended a meeting by folding a datachip in half. With one hand. While smiling”

Rodimus muttered something under his breath about “intimidation tactics” and “showoffs”. Drift, clearly bored of the deflection game, pulled up a datapad with a flick of the wrist—graceful, like a librarian about to ruin your life “Alright. Let’s see what your not at all relevant ex has been up to post-breakup…”

Rodimus leaned in. But not like he cared. More like he was... intellectually engaged. Professionally intrigued. Possibly a little nauseous

“They worked under Prowl"

“PROWL?! You mean—rules incarnate? Mister ‘Let’s Commit War Crimes But Quietly’ !?”

“The one and only” Drift confirmed smoothly “High-level strategy corps. Joint command ops. Dozens of successful missions. Commendations for tactical elegance, command precision—”

“Okay, okay, you can stop reading their résumé, this isn’t a talent show” Rodimus began to pace, movements sharp and erratic like a hovercraft trying to salsa “They worked with me and said I was reckless, but then they go partner up with Prowl? That sentient flowchart? Seriously?”

Drift was already sipping again “Maybe they like the quiet, measured type now. The kind who doesn’t detonate their own escape pod just to spell ‘hello’ in midair”

“That happened one time”

“And it was somehow still in the mission report”

Rodimus groaned into his hands. He imagined you and Prowl standing next to each other, talking shop, making flawless tactical adjustments while not even blinking at each other — It was horrible. It was clinical. It was worse than anything he could’ve imagined

“What else?” he asked, in the voice of someone about to regret every answer

Drift’s optics flicked “They turned down a permanent command position. Said they wanted a ‘change of pace' ”

“—So… they chose this ship. My ship”

“Seems that way”

“Knowing I was the captain”

“Still seems that way”

Rodimus blinked. Then frowned. Then blinked again, slower. Like it would change the data “So what you’re telling me is: either they’ve secretly forgiven me and came to rekindle the flame—”

“Highly unlikely”

“—or they came here to watch me fail up close, with popcorn in hand and a tactical spreadsheet”

“That one sounds more plausible”

Rodimus placed both hands dramatically on the bartop and huffed. Dramatically. Theatrically. The only way he could before he declared, straightening up “I’m fine.. I’m a professional. This is my ship. I am not threatened by my ex working with a glorified calculator"

...

..

“…Do you think they ever kissed?”

“Please go to therapy”

—

The outpost was still burning behind you

Fires licked at twisted steel frames and shattered windowpanes, the heat rippling off slagged ground like a second atmosphere. The smoke stung your optics, even with the filters on, but you didn’t blink. Hot Rod stood a few paces away, armor scorched and mouth set in that stubborn line that always came right before he said something reckless. You didn’t give him the chance

“What were you thinking?” Your voice was level. Too level. The kind of calm that meant someone was furious. Hot Rod flinched. Not visibly—but you knew the twitch at the corner of his mouth, the flicker in his EM field when he was caught “I saved them”

He said “I had to”

“You disobeyed a coordinated strategy, blew through our cover, and almost got yourself killed—again”

He looked at you now. Really looked. Heat still clung to him like a second skin, optics burning, frame vibrating with leftover adrenaline. And somewhere underneath all that fire was a flicker of… confusion. As if he still didn’t understand why you weren’t proud of him

“But it worked”

“That’s not the point”

You turned to face him fully, field tightening, anger settling into your shoulders like weight “You’re not a one-mech army, Hot Rod. You’re not invincible. You can’t keep throwing yourself into every explosion and expecting everyone else to clean up after you”

He stepped forward, hands half-raised “I did it to protect other”

“No. You did it because you wanted to be seen protecting other”

There it was. The silence after a sharp cut. His optics widened, and for a moment you saw it, that bare, wounded flicker of a spark hit too close to the truth. But he covered it with bravado—because that’s what he did. That’s what he always did “So that’s it? You think I’m just some attention seeking show off?”

“I think you’re brave. I think you’re passionate. I think you’ll make a great hero one day–”

“..But I also think you’ll never learn how to lead, if you can’t learn how to listen” That hit deeper than the last shot he’d taken in the field

He turned away, jaw locked, fists clenched “So what, then?” he said, voice tight

“You’re walking away? Just like that?”

You hesitated—but only for a moment “I don’t want to. But I can’t spend my life patching up the aftermath of every decision you make on impulse –You always dive first and ask questions later. And I.. I want to build something that lasts. Not chase something that burns” you admitted softly

The silence between you was long and cruel —without another word—you stepped back. Hot Rod didn’t stop you. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what hurt the most

After the breakup with Hot Rod, you took a high-ranking strategic position under Prowl—not romantically, but deeply professionally and intellectually tense

Prowl respected your mindset but hated your moral flexibility and tendency to “go rogue if the math is prettier that way” You – in turn, found Prowl’s rigid morality fascinating and enjoyed poking holes in his logic — Their relationship was legendary among staff—half strategy meetings, half philosophy battles. You both made an unstoppable duo on paper. But behind closed doors?

“That is not regulation protocol”

“Neither is surviving half the war. I’ll take my odds”

Eventually, you left when the war ended, saying something like: “If I stay any longer, I’ll either become you or throw you out an airlock. Neither’s ideal”

The medbay lights flickered once before steadying again. Outside, the sky over the outpost glowed red with the aftermath of an explosion. You stood at the outside, arms crossed, helm tilted just enough to convey “I’m not mad, but I’m seconds away from strangling you with my own field”

The door hissed open with a battered flair, and there he was—Hot Rod in all his half-scorched, grinning, chaos-stained glory. One arm was covered in carbon scoring. His left shoulder was leaking a thin trickle of energon. There was what looked like a thruster casing lodged in his hip plate

And he was still smiling. Of course he was

“You should’ve seen it” Hot Rod said, voice bouncing with adrenaline “I looped around the ridge, came in low—boom! Took out the flank in one go. Didn’t even need backup”

You didn’t look up from your datapad “You told me you’d follow the plan”

“Technically, I did. For the first ten seconds”

“And after that?”

“...It got boring?”

You set the datapad down. Slowly

Hot Rod’s grin twitched “It worked, didn’t it?” he said, stepping closer “Mission success. I’m standing. The ridge is rubble. Everyone’s cheering”

“You nearly didn’t come back”

You stared at him—really stared. All that molten gold, still burning in his optics. His armor still warm from the blast. That stupid, crooked grin he wore like a shield

“You know I hate improvising. Not because it’s reckless. But because it’s you. You gamble like your life isn’t worth anything”

“Hey, come on—”

“Rod”

That landed. His grin faltered for real now

“I’m serious. Every time you run off-script, it’s like you’re testing fate. And I’m the one stuck writing the damage report” You stepped closer, thumb brushing a burn mark near his jaw. The scorch made your spark ache a little. He leaned into your touch without thinking. Like a reflex. Like your hand on his face was the only real thing in the place

“One of these days” you murmured “you’ll pull that stunt and I won’t be there to drag your aft out”

“That’s not true” he said softly

“No?”

“You’d come back for me. Always”

You wanted to argue. But you couldn’t. Not really. Because even now—even furious, even worn out—you were here. And when he leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth his head dipped low down to your jaw, kissing soft like apology, you let him. His hands found your waist. Familiar. Easy. A rhythm you both still remembered

“You love it when I push my luck” he said into your helm

“I love you, Roddy. That doesn’t mean I love watching you destroy yourself”

That hit harder than a mine to the chest. He didn’t pull away. Just held you tighter. You sighed, pressing your faceplate against his shoulder. He still smelled faintly like ozone and energon. Still radiated that wild, sun-hot energy that made you both love and fear him

“Next time” you said into the space between you “you disobey a field order, I’m duct-taping you to Ultra Magnus”

“...Kinky”

You laughed. Just a little. Couldn’t help it “Don’t make me regret loving you”

There was a long silence. No snappy comeback. No flirt. Just a stillness that made your spark ache. His arms tightened around you and for one fleeting, fragile moment—you let yourself believe this would last

—

You are alone in the quiet of the hallway. Staring at the window, the stars wheeling slowly past beyond the glass. It wasn't dramatic solitude—you weren't hiding. Just… decompressing. That was all. Your optics drifted to your own reflection—faint, transparent, caught in the black

And for some damn reason, his voice echoed there instead

“You'd come back for me. Always"

Primus

You let your head fall back with a soft thunk against the reinforced wall. He wasn't wrong

You had come back. Not for him—never that, never openly. But… well. You hadn't exactly gone out of your way to avoid the Lost Light, either. And when Magnus had offered the post? You could've said no. You didn't and now here you were. Sharing meetings. Sharing air. Sharing old ghosts

Your fingers tapped against your datapad in a slow, guilty rhythm

“Stupid charming idiot with fire in his optics and no sense of self-preservation” you muttered under your breath. You knew that smile he gave you in the last meeting. Knew it like a habit you never quite kicked and the worst part? That stupid little ember in your spark still glowed when he looked your way

“Okay. Fine. He was right” You let out a small, strangled sound through your vents

Not quite a groan. Not quite a sigh. Just the noise of someone on the edge of "Why am I like this?" and "I could still jump out the airlock and make it look like strategy” You pressed your head lightly against the cool surface of the wall. Just for a second. Just enough to feel the metal and imagine it was hitting you back. No matter how reckless he was. No matter how much he grinned like the universe owed him forgiveness. No matter how much it still ached when you looked at him and remembered the way things used to be. You stood upright again with a snap of your shoulders and a squint of righteous self-annoyance

“Next time if he opens that mouth" you mumbled “I’m going to verbally gut him. Real clean. Sharp. Professional. Something with bite, doubling the sarcasm. Go for the ego. Aim for the fins. That’ll shut him up" You narrowed your optics at your reflection—your own face looking smug in the glass “He gets one more pass. After that, I’m escalating. He’s going to wish I never came back”

“Stars, I hope he does that thing with his optics again though…” and maybe—maybe—if you kept throwing enough barbs, you could stop remembering how it felt when he held you like that and made you believe the fire wouldn’t burn

You buried your face in your hand

“..I need therapy"

[lover-of-mine]

Okay, so, let's entertain the idea the ryliver stuff is one big distraction and Ryan is leaving for whatever reason that has twitter's panties in a twist. Ryliver did stuff together when Eddie was introduced, which makes sense, since Ryan was just getting to the cast, Eddie was written in to be Buck's partner in the field, but when they realized the people were shipping buddie, the show stopped letting them do stuff together for official purposes. They didn't even allow the 2 of them to stand next to each other after 2a ended. There was NOTHING in an official capacity to promote the show with Oliver and Ryan (tsunami? nothing. well? nothing. shooting? nothing. will reveal? nothing. eddie's breakdown? nothing) until the ET tv spot for s6. They got like 15 seconds of classical ryliver flirting in. Then nothing until the space between 703 and 704. They did a bunch of tv spots talking about the show. Then nothing until now, even though there were a lot of moments where it would make sense, Buck's coming out scene, Chris leaving, Eddie leaving. Why? Because they know queerbaiting is a marketing tactic. And they know that if they don't let Oliver and Ryan out together, they are mostly safe from the accusations. I think they are toeing the line, but for all we know they are terrified of the allegations, to the point that Oliver has fought with people on the internet about it before. Using ryliver will always feel like they are teasing buddie. That's a fact. So they are careful with how they use the two of them together. But using them right now without an actual follow-through in the show would kill the show. Everyone is pissed. They killed Bobby, and not only did they kill him, they leaked Bobby dead and buried alive before it aired and Bobby is still dead. They have 1 (one) trick up their sleeve to retain their current audience and draw in a new type of audience for s9. And that's buddie. Buddie is a one-of-a-kind ship because they would be the first queer slow burn in a procedural where neither of them was introduced as queer. This would be history in the making. Especially because they have an actual foundation with everything that happened to them. BUT this only works if the audience doesn't feel like it's them trying to cover their asses for a bad writing decision. So if they use ryliver as a distraction now without actual explicit follow-through on the show, I don't mean a kiss or getting together, in this case, a feeling realization would be enough since Eddie is still straight for all we know, they are in for a whole summer of people accusing them of queerbaiting to turn down the heat about Bobby's death, and with a reason. Because Oliver and Ryan aren't doing a few tv spots talking about filming in the middle of the ocean, they are doing thirst tweets with Buzzfeed and a 10-minute segment on ET where they interview each other that's marketed as "We're spilling the tea with Hollywood's favorite couples and biggest stars." I'm sorry, Oliver and Ryan are not "biggest stars", they're not even breaking top 3 on the main cast of the show, or an irl couple. Doing what they are doing now if nothing happens for buddie on the show is pouring gasoline into a pr crisis. They're already on fire over the Bobby stuff, using ryliver to be "oh they are brothers hihi" in current climate, will make people not watch s9. And they can't afford that because buddie is the one thing they can pull out of their sleeves to have any hope of a viewing anywhere near the one it had this season. If nothing happens, then s7 and 8 suddenly becomes a masterclass in queerbaiting. They literally can't afford that because this show is expensive as fuck to make for them to shoot themselves in the head twice in a row. So either something is happening or we are watching the show commit suicide.

[leffee]

Judging Scout ships cause I want to and I can (dw, I like them all)

Sniperscout: Heavymedic of Scout ships. The defult ship. I do like it, I do see the appeal, and I happily reblog content for them because there's just so much for it and lots of it I enjoy. Having said that it's not my favourite Scout ship at all. I am however a top Sniper enjoyer in sniperscout (not sexually, don't talk to me about this) and it seems most people are too so yay! Their height difference is everything though but it could be better and so,

Heavyscout: aishiaosaop. Now that's the ship for height/size difference enjoyers and yours truly is just that. 10/10, needs more content and shippers in general cause if not I will make shit for it. Also part of my ot3 that is heavymediscout. And for God's sake, if you see them as brothers or anything familial good for you, but don't tell me that here when I very clearly see them romantically. Anyway, this is my favourite Scout ship, and just favourite tf2 ship in general. Heavy calls Scout "leetle Scout" and picks him up and he can carry him around all day and Scout worms himself under Heavy's shirt and hugs his tummy. Grah!

Mediscout: second favourite Scout ship :D. Not many people ship them because they're afraid how sickeningly sweet they would be together (and also cause heavymedic exists) while causing mischief. No, I don't like this ship with Scout being afraid of Medic etc, I do however like them being maniacs together and Scout would be fascinated by Medic's experiments and then they eat organs together <3. They yap together. Also height difference.

Pyroscout: by far the most adorable ship by default and I love them. They'd be so so playful together and Pyro would 100% be so so affectionate with Scout who would be flustered but actually really happy and he would kiss Pyro's mask and Pyro would nuzzle it against Scout's face as kisses and- agh! So good. Scout carries gasoline and then they cause biggest fire in history. Pyro happily listens to Scout's yapping and treats him so so good. If they see Scout's having a bad day or something they bury him under blankets with plushies and pet him like a cat and-

Soldierscout: underrated as all hell (then again you can say that about any Scout ship aside from Sniperscout). Soldier would be kinda rough with Scout cause you know, but if anyone can take it it's Scout indeed, he'd like being thrown around and the chaos and stuff. Scout's adorableness would make even Soldier be soft sometimes and he would initiate soft kisses and cuddles. Ugh, I love them.

Demoscout: they'd be sooo playful together and so comfortable with each other too. Demo would carry Scout around and steal his hat and throw him around. Hell, they're already cuddle buddies (I saw it in a dream) so Demo knows how to treat Scout right. They drink together, of course, and then they are even more playful and affectionate. Good height difference also.

Engiescout: they sit by Engie's dispenser and kiss! They cuddle behind a sentry and cuddle. Scout takes a nap after yapping while Engie works and finds sleeping Scout adorable. Scout helps too with handing him tools and stuff. Scout's happy that he's the taller one in this relationship which causes Engie to smirk and pick him up and Scout dies. And and Engie calls him sugar and darling in that drawl of his and Scout dies again.

This is all basically the same but aaaaaaaaaaaah. I keep saying it, all Scout ships good and cute.

ThE meRcS aRE ScoUt'S faThEr fIgUreS my ass, they're all his lover figures actually

[belladonna-blackswan]

[anniflamma]

Dude I LOVE you LGBTQ+ Bible art. It reminds me of when I was bored in Sunday school at my church so I came up with lgbtq headcannons for each of the archangels and ended up with a whole universe and story for my OCs 😭

My Bible headcanons and ships come in waves, and each time they return in different variations. I remember when I went to Sunday school and found The Manga Bible Messiah. That manga poured gasoline on the fire!

I absolutely shipped Jesus with Peter because of it. Why? Cuz there’s this scene where a half-naked Jesus washes Peter’s feet, and Peter gets all flustered and blushy. 14-year-old me was deeply suspicious.

Then, of course, I shipped Archangel Michael with Satan. Why? Angel × demon dynamic! Tbh no one in the bible were safe from my headcanons.

[hannahbarberra162]

Under the Microscope, Part 15 (Yan Sabo x Reader)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

The other chapters

Thank you to @tryingandfailingtowrite for your editing and beta-ing!! If you don't like paragraph long sentences, you have them to thank :)

Sunny POV

“Not exactly, though you’re on the right track Ace. It’s not combustion - that happens more slowly, like when wood burns in a fire. It’s um…” you trailed off as your mind drew a blank right when you needed it. It was right there, on the tip of your tongue, a word you had learned in elementary school. You came up empty as you wracked your muddled thoughts for it.. You furrowed your brow and tried to concentrate on the image in your mind — it was right there — but you growled as it evaded you once again. You were about to howl in frustration when you felt Ace’s large warm hand on your shoulder, stopping your cycle of thought.

“Sunny the Sunflower-”

“Don’t call me that-”

“What do we do when we get angry?” Ace said in an even tone, like he was giving you sage wisdom.

“We blow stuff up,” you responded with a nod of your head. It hadn’t been on your list of pastimes before but blowing stuff up with Ace was cathartic. You liked seeing the cannonballs engulfed in flames and the accompanying blast satisfied your urge for destruction. 

You’d started explaining to Ace why certain things blew up better than others but had been confounded by the missing word.. He kind of got what you were telling him but you knew if you’d been better there wouldn’t have been any confusion. You had always been told you were good at explaining things in layman’s terms. That ability was now added to the list of things that had taken from you.

“Exactly. We blow stuff up. Wanna try another cannonball?” he asked, hefting the cannonball up easily with one hand. “Put more piclic-”

“Picric-”

“Picric acid in it? Or some butane in a bottle?” he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows. The two of you had been blowing things up for a while and you’d made a few highly flammable compounds for Ace to use his fire on. You chewed on your lip as you weighed your options. At one point you’d been very interested in oxidation and had a small pet project on incendiary materials. But that had been when you were a kid, long before you were in the Marines.

“You know, I was once working on another compound - it was gasoline mixed with a thickening agent - it worked really well in my test trials. We could try putting that on a cannonball-”

“Enough with the cannonballs yoi,” said a dry, familiar tone. You and Ace gave matching sulky looks and turned to face the Phoenix. “The RA needs them in case of another attack,” Marco said, holding out his hand expectantly.

Ace huffed but didn’t hand it over. “They already know the ship is compromised and that Iva, me, Sabo ‘n Sunny are here. They’re not gonna attack, they probably haven’t even figured out who the new fleet admiral is yet-”

“Sengoku took back over temporarily,” Marco said with an expectant wiggle of his finger.. “And there’s no guarantee. You’re still in a vulnerable position, the Marines know this is a small crew defending a large ship.”

“ FINE , we won’t blow up cannonballs anymore. Instead how about-”

“No. That’s enough explosions-”

“Fuck! That was the word,” you said, snapping your fingers. “Combustion differs from explosions-”

“I’ve never heard you swear before, Sunshiney Sunflower,” Ace said with a smile, handing over the cannonball to an unamused Marco. You rolled your eyes and lifted one shoulder. 

“I’m a new woman. Got my little awakened scarf and everything,” you said nonchalantly. 

Ace had been the one to point it out, you’d been too absorbed in your work. He’d noticed it when used your power earlier to show him picric acid, the flowy light yellow clouds fluttering around you. You tried to shoo the clouds away, but they wouldn’t budge. It kind of freaked you out, truth be told. Drawing attention to yourself wasn’t something you liked to do generally and having a banner around you telling the world that you had an awakened Devil Fruit was something out of a nightmare.  

“Well, I won’t tell Sabo-” Ace started to say with a grin before being interrupted.

“Tell Sabo what?” the aforementioned Revolutionary asked, coming up to the top deck. You exhaled and closed your eyes, of course Sabo was here now.

“Sunny awakened her fruit!” Ace said brightly, while he gave you a sly look. You didn’t care if Sabo heard you swear or not, but his face still made you flush. Sabo turned to you, his jaw hanging open.

“Is that true? You awakened it? From Akainu? What new powers have you unlocked?” he asked, his eyes wide as he reached for your hands. Your guilt from your earlier meltdown stalled the urge to jerk your hands away from him as he grabbed them in his own. 

“Ace just noticed the scarf today, I haven't had time to test anything out yet. I can feel there’s something different but I - and I’m not sure what it’s from exactly, but that’s probably something to do with it. That or the Mera Mera. Or maybe the napalm-” you mused, thinking over your recent projects as your mind skipped from thought to thought.

“It’s impressive. I’ve had my fruit longer than you’ve been alive and I haven’t been able to awaken mine yet yoi,” Marco said, still holding onto the cannonball. “Maybe I should fight the fleet admiral next,” he said with a lazy smile.

“I don’t recommend it,” you groused, removing your hands from Sabo’s. Sabo’s arm reached behind you but you side stepped before he could put it on your shoulders - you weren’t in the mood for his insecurity right now.  Marco gave you a placid smile before continuing.

“I pushed you too hard this morning. Ace and I are leaving tomorrow and I wanted to be sure you’re on the right path yoi. I taught the nurses what needs to be done and they’ll continue working with you at a slower pace,” Marco apologized. Marco’s apology made you think of the one that needed to come from you. For the poor books laying splayed open, their pages folded or crushed under the weight of their covers…the mental image made you shudder.

“Hey, Sabo, can I talk to you for a moment?” you asked quietly as Ace turned to try and convince Marco to give back the cannonball. Marco’s palm was covering his amused grin as Ace gave him his best puppy look, but you had other matters to attend to.

“Of course, what’s going on?” Sabo asked, concern etched onto his face. The furrow of his brows and immediate worry only made you feel worse. His arm went behind your back, gently escorting you across the deck as you heard Ace telling Marco about the ball you’d filled with gasoline.

“You can tell me anything,” Sabo said, his tone ringing with sincerity. The two of you were farther down the deck, giving you a bubble of privacy away from Ace, who was still trying to win back the cannonball.

“Well I - I’m sorry, Sabo. I’m sorry I threw your books and papers off your desk, and I’m sorry I yelled at you,” you said at a measured pace, bowing your head to him. Sabo's features flashed with surprise before he stooped to straighten your posture. 

“Sunny, I’m not upset with you,” Sabo said gently, looking into your eyes. “I know this has all been a huge challenge, and frankly, I deserved most of what you said. You’ve made tremendous progress so far-”

“Stop, please-” you begged quietly, not wanting the lecture to continue. It was humiliating enough to be in this position to begin with — that you couldn’t see right, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t work — but  Sabo pitying you would be too much to bear. You hadn’t made any progress at all — you’d forgotten the word for explosion, for crying out loud. Sabo’s hand reached for your own once again, squeezing it gently as he continued talking.

“I’m not going to stop, Sunny. I know it makes you uncomfortable to receive compliments or any positive feedback, but it's important for you to hear. You are making progress, you are doing so well. You worked for so hard, for so long and no one even bothered to tell you how special you are-”

“S-sabo, stop-” you said, feeling your chest tighten and your throat close. He was right - this kind of thing had always made you squirm, and hearing it hadn’t gotten any easier.

 “I’m not special or brave or interesting or any of the things that you think you see in me. I’m just…me,” you said softly, unable to hold his gaze as you focused your eyes on his cravat. You bit your lips together to keep from crying even as your breath hitched. You swiped at your eyes with your sleeve - even though only one was leaking - which only made you want to cry harder.

“Ah, Sunny, come here,” Sabo said softly, opening his arms for a hug.

Sabo POV

Sabo wasn’t sure you’d embrace him but given your mood swings, it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility. Your guilt had been plain as day; you and Ace both had terrible poker faces. He’d known before you’d called to him that you were thinking about the books and papers in his room. You looked asas if he’d caught you stealing from World Nobles red handed, your eyes wide and doleful. Not only that, but your emotions were already so volatile that even Sabo’s mention of your grit and determination reduced you to tears. Sabo opened his arms to you and you took a hesitating step towards him, your lower lip wobbling as you tried to hold yourself together.

“Sunny, you don’t have to pretend to be ok-” was all Sabo had time to say before you launched yourself at him, burying your face in the front of his vest with your nose rubbing against his chest. Sabo had to take a step back to steady himself at the unexpected response. You clung to the front of his vest as you started to cry into his clothes, Sabo’s arms encircling you to provide comfort. A few of the other crew on the deck stepped closer to check on you, concern etched into their faces. Sabo shot them a menacing look, his arms tightening around you as you continued to cry. The crew averted their gazes as your back shook with the sobs wracking your body.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok, it’s alright,” Sabo murmured as you continued to bawl into his chest, his muscles relaxing once more. It was likely a number of factors that had you feeling so distraught — the amount of therapies you’d gotten that day, Ace leaving in the morning, your argument, your own perceived lack of worth — it was all bubbling up to the surface and boiling over. Sabo recognized the same frazzled look he’d seen on your face that afternoon from back when he first met you at your base. Really, it was just a matter of time until you broke apart. Sabo would make sure he was always there to catch the pieces before they fell. 

It was almost funny how uncomfortable you were with being praised or given compliments, even when they were deserved. You hadn’t complained once about your injuries, only noting when something was hurting if you were asked. You didn’t mind when people explained concepts you’d likely learned a decade prior, or talked down to you. 

No, what made you upset was if anyone told you what a good job you were doing or how wonderful you were. Sabo noticed that you never took direct credit for anything that you had done - not for saving Ace, not for making his Mera Mera, not for killing the Fleet Admiral. You deflected with humor and grace, but Sabo wasn’t having it any longer. He was going to work with you until you could see what he saw in you, injured or not.

You had stopped crying but were now sniffling and hiccuping, your face still not visible to him as you wiped your face on his shirt. Sabo would have wiped your tears with his tongue if you had let him; he wanted to stay like this for as long as possible. You were opening yourself up to him, little by little, his patience paying off as you adjusted to his presence in your life. Your acceptance of him was inevitable, but the course would be smoother if you came to the same conclusion yourself. He’d make sure there wouldn’t be anyone for you but him. Sabo lightly kissed the top of your head, your mind on matters other than his romantic inclinations.

“I-I’m s-sorry, S-sabo,” you cried, a few tears slipping out of your red-rimmed eyes. “I d-don’t kn-know why I’m like this,” you stammered as your breath still hitched from your crying jag.

“It’s alright, Sunny,” Sabo replied softly, wiping away your errant tears with his gloves. “Maybe you should rest before dinner. It’s been a long day and-” 

Sabo’s statement was cut off by a loud boom followed by a whoop from Ace. You perked up and gave a weak giggle at the sight of Ace picking up a surprised Marco around the waist and spinning him. Sabo recognized that the moment between you was unfortunately over, but he’d have plenty of time for serious one-on-one conversations with you.

“Marco, you gave it back to him?” Sabo asked incredulously, slightly annoyed that Ace wasted yet another RA cannonball. The ones with Sunny he could excuse as…explosive therapy, but Ace was always lighting things on fire or blowing them up. The Phoenix looked sheepish and gave a half-hearted shrug. “What was it, the freckles?” Sabo teased. 

“This time it was the dimples. What can I say, he can be persuasive,” Marco said with another shrug. “Besides, he told me that he needed enrichment in his enclosure. I wanted to reward him for two new vocabulary words yoi,” Marco said with a sly smile and a glanceat Sunny. You moved away from Sabo to swipe at your eyes, Sabo catching your hand before you rubbed your bad eye.

“Don’t rub,” Sabo and Marco said in unison, making you scowl. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to take a nap. Catch you all at dinner,” you said with a halting breath. 

“I can walk you there if you wish, I have work I need to do in my office,” Sabo offered. You didn’t know he’d turned a patient room into another temporary office in order to stay close by and Sabo didn’t see a reason to tell you. You looked him over and gave him a short nod. Sabo smiled and offered you his arm, but you had already started walking to the door to the decks. One day , he thought.

After Sabo brought you to your room, he walked down the hall to his office in the infirmary. Normally he’d have to work in his office but the Marine ship was meant for a crew of about a thousand so there was plenty of extra space available for a secondary office. He read reports, wrote missives, dealt with internal issues for about thirty minutes until his curiosity got the best of him. Sabo walked down the hall until he reached the door to your room, taking the opportunity to peek through the small window. 

You were curled up in your bed, facing the open window, your chest rising and falling evenly. Your skin was prickled, maybe you were cold. Sabo wished he was beside you to warm you up, but he really did have work to complete. 

Opening the door silently, he reached for the blanket at the foot of your bed and covered your sleeping form. You exhaled with a small sigh, clutching the blanket tightly in your hand. It took all of Sabo’s willpower not to forgo his work and climb into bed behind you to warm you directly. But you were tired and he had work to do. He’d come and wake you in about an hour for dinner. He could hold off on seeing you until then.

Probably.

Two hours later and you were sitting next to Sabo in the mess hall. You were picking at your food, shuffling the meatloaf around on your plate. You weren’t really eating, Sabo noticed, and it wasn’t anything to do with the sight of the eating machine that was Ace.

 Marco and Ace sat across from you both, and Ace was shoveling his food in as fast as he ever had. Ace’s lack of etiquette wasn’t bothering you, though Sabo supposed you’d seen it for weeks on end at the island. He wasn’t sure what was on your mind but he gave your knee a supportive squeeze under the table. You didn’t say anything or shoo his hand away, so he kept it there, giving you something to ground you while your emotions ran wild. 

Since the ship was meant to house thousands of Marines, the food stocks were plentiful. In fact, the kitchen staff were thankful for Ace, who was eating an incredible amount of produce and fresh meat that was going to go bad. Sabo wasn’t so sure — Marco might have to roll Ace off the ship when they left the following day.

“I think it should be an early night for everyone, yoi,” Marco said as he pushed his empty plate away and pulled his mug of tea closer. Leaned back in his chair, Marco was the picture of nonchalance in the chaos that was dining with Ace. Marco hadn’t eaten everything on it, but Ace had finished off his plate, then Marco’s, then yours. “Ace and I are leaving at first light, and we have a long trip ahead of us. Not to mention that once to get to Wano-”

“Well, I’m not gonna. I’m staying up-” Ace interrupted and used his fork in an attempt to steal the remaining meat on Sabo’s plate. Sabo stabbed Ace’s hand with his own fork, Ace’s utensil clattering to the table. Undeterred, Ace went back in for Sabo’s food with his fingers only to get skewered again.

“You should go to bed early, like Marco said, Ace. You need your fire to power the boat, right? Unless Marco’s fire can work it…” you trailed off as you thought about the Phoenix fire and its properties. You turned to the former Commander and set down your cup. “Marco, is your fire combustive? What is the fuel? It can’t just be injuries because it appears even when you’re not healing anyone or even yourself…” 

Marco’s eyes opened a little further in interest as he sat up straighter in his chair. He set down his tea and turned the cup on the table with the tips of his fingers. Sabo was pleased you’d found an outlet for your thoughts and removed his hand from your knee. Not that you noticed, as you thought through the new puzzle in your mind.

“You’re the only person who’s ever asked yoi. I’ve done a lot of thinking, and I believe the fuel is-” 

“Me ‘n Sabo don’t have to listen to you ‘n Marco-” Ace started with a roll of his eyes, kissing the hand Sabo had wounded.

“Oi, why’re you throwing me into this?” Sabo interjected and threw Ace a sour look.

“You do, actually. We outrank you - Marco’s bounty is 1.374 billion, and mine is 1 billion. You and Sabo together are only 1.17 billion.” You paused as if in thought, but the curl to your smile was like a cat flicking its tail. “Well, technically the Marines canceled your bounty when you died - so yours is really 0, while Sabo’s is 620 million,”  you explained primly, patting Sabo’s hand for emphasis. Ace scoffed and put his hand on his chest, feigning offense at your words

“It was high before I died, and that was two years ago! Sabo’s got higher after Dressrosa, that’s not fair! Once I get to Wano and fuck shit up with Luffy they’ll reinstate it, I’ll make them. Coming back from the dead’s gotta be worth something, right?” Ace huffed.

“I don’t think Mr. Zero should talk to Ms. One Billion that way,” you said with a smirk.

“KUAHAHAHAHA,” Ace laughed, his index finger bent into an approximation of Crocodile’s hook before he launched himself at you. Ace’s hands were already reaching for you as you squealed and ran away. You’d never seen Ace and Luffy wrestle, so you weren’t expecting Ace to jump over the mess hall table — you squeaked in happy surprise and tried to get away, only to be grabbed immediately. Ace had you in a headlock before you could wiggle away, giving you a gentle noogie as you pushed on his immovable arm around your neck. Your yelling that his armpit smelled did nothing to stop his playful assault.

Sabo watched, hoping his face hid the jealousy coursing through his veins. He wished it were his arm around you, him who caused you to laugh and scream, him who you asked to blow things up with. Your relationship with Ace had long been a sore spot for Sabo — one that he was embarrassed and ashamed of — but a sore spot nonetheless. He wanted you to be friends with Ace, had encouraged it even, but didn’t think you’d end up so close. Sabo had even caught himself thinking that Ace’s leaving would be a benefit to his efforts to get closer to you, but he quashed those feelings. 

“He’s ticklish yoi,” Marco said dryly as he watched the antics unfold, continuing to sip his after-meal tea. You and Ace locked eyes for a singular moment before your eyes narrowed and your smile widened.

“Don’t even think about-” Ace’s warning was halted by a peal of dark laughter, and he quickly removed his arm from around your shoulders like he’d been burned. Ace had his hands up in surrender as he backed away from you slowly, like you were a predator and he the unlikely prey.

“I’m not thinking about it, I’m doing it,” you said with an evil laugh. “C’mere, Acey-” Ace squeaked and tried to flee, but you jumped on his back, tickling him without abandon. Ace crumpled to the floor as you poked at him, trying to get the advantage over a wiggly pirate trained in grappling. It ended with both of you gasping for breath as you sat on Ace’s chest, your fingers grasped firmly in his fists to prevent further tickling, his hat knocked off and to the side.

“St-stop! I beg for mercy, Ms. One Billion!” You beamed as Ace played up his great defeat at your hands. Sabo hadn’t seen you that happy since the island when you were pinching Ace over the snail phone. His heart broke for you a little more as he regretted his earlier jealousy. He wasn’t sure when you’d see Ace next — tomorrow was never guaranteed, especially for pirates. Still, the brothers agreed that Ace needed to tend to the Luffy situation, and you needed to stay with Sabo. Sabo trusted Luffy’s intuition, but a little brotherly backup wouldn’t hurt. Besides, Luffy needed to have a conversation with Ace face to face. It had been two years of being kept in the dark, two years of grieving for someone who wasn’t dead. You’d all see each other again, Sabo just wasn’t sure when. A part of him almost hoped you didn’t ask.

Your POV

Everyone had said their goodnights, the men all heading off towards their respective rooms. Ace promised he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye so you’d gone back to your own room. Your limbs felt like they were made of lead as you made the final steps down the long hallway. The desire to faceplant on your bed and forget the entire day was strong, but you couldn’t neglect your dental hygiene. Even as you changed into pajamas and brushed your teeth, your mind clouded with exhaustion and your eye threatened to close while you stood at the sink. 

Yet as you crawled into bed and put your head on the thin pillow you found yourself wide awake. Your mind kept replaying moments from the previous days, weeks, months like a film snail. Not only that but you weren’t able to find a comfortable position to rest in. You tried shifting around, flipping your pillow, tossing your blankets on the floor — none of it helped as your mind raced from subject to subject.

Your anxious thoughts were focused on the battle, something you did your best to push to the back of your mind at all times. Ace’s pale, scared face kept flashing before your mind’s eye, his posture hunching in on himself as if he was waiting for another fatal blow from Akainu. It hadn’t happened, you knew that, but your mind kept conjuring images of him in imminent danger. 

You weren’t delusional, despite your earlier teasing you knew Ace was an incredibly strong fighter and a former Yonko’s Commander to boot. He’d be fine, he wasn’t going to get killed facing off against Kaido…unless…what if they were underestimating Kaido? Not much was known about Wano, their complete isolation rendered the country a mystery. They could have secret weapons there. Maybe they were being supported by the Marines. There might even be another devil fruit user just as strong as Kaido who had it out for Ace. Your heart pounded as a cold sweat broke out across your skin as each possibility crept in.. Every muscle in your body coiled tighter with the imagined danger, your body unaware that you were just trying to sleep.

Looking at the moon’s progression across the night sky, it had been a few hours since you’d gone to bed. Sighing, you sat up and grabbed the blanket off your bed, putting it over your shoulders like a shawl. You quietly left your room and went towards the deck to think outside. If you were going to have an anxiety attack, you might as well do it under the clear starry sky. Nights like these had been common for you when you were in the Marines. When slaving over one project or another, you had spent many hours in the cold nights, looking at the stars and planets to try and calm your mind. 

Once you arrived on deck, you took a leaning position against the railing of the ship. Your mind still flitted from subject to subject as you started to magnify various celestial bodies. Maybe you could try and find what abilities you’d awakened, you thought, focusing on the Kuiper belt. Nothing seemed to be different about your power as you magnified the various icy bodies and dwarf planets. Maybe there were books about awakened powers that you could reference at the RA Headquarters once you made it there. But thinking about the RA HQ had you thinking about the woman who told Sabo he should kill you, about Dragon, about Project Seraphim…you spiraled as you watched Uranus spin on its unique axis.

“Don’t bite your nails,” a sleepy voice said behind you as Ace’s hand pulled yours away from your mouth. You jumped, you’d been so engrossed in your thoughts you hadn’t heard Ace approaching or noticed you’d fallen back into old habits. Ace lazily rubbed at the scar on his chest, shirtless but wearing sleep pants on the cold deck.

“Ace, you know I don’t like it when you use haki to find me,” you complained, tightening your bitten fingers into a fist. Maybe you’d figure out a way for Marco to heal them surreptitiously so Sabo wouldn’t see evidence of your anxiety. If he saw your fingers, maybe he’d think you were working too hard, and if he thought you were working too hard, maybe he’d put you under restrictions or in seastone-

“I didn’t use m’haki, just had a feeling. Stop thinking so hard. Come to bed, issa middle of the night,” Ace said with a yawn, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you, and you gave him a half-hearted smile as his devil fruit powered warmth brought you some comfort.

“I can’t sleep, I don’t think going to bed will help. It’s ok, this happens to me all the-”

“Come to bed or I’m carryin’ ya. ‘M tired,” Ace said, his eyes sliding shut. You had no doubt Ace would carry you to bed - he’d done it a few times on the island when you hadn’t heeded his warnings to stop working. Weighing your options, you pushed him off your shoulder.

“Alright, let’s go to your-”

“Sabo’s room. ‘S’a sleepover,” he said with a lazy smile.  He scratched his stomach as he continued, “‘s’ok, he’s dressed.” 

Your stomach twisted at his suggestion — you’d slept in bed with each brother individually, but not the two of them together. Really though, what difference did it make? With a shrug, you followed Ace as he padded off to Sabo’s room, checking to make sure you were still following every thirty seconds or so.

“Stairs. You need help?” Ace asked with another yawn as you reached the door to the lower decks. You hesitated — you could do them, but it took you a while to gauge the height of each step. Ace must have thought you were taking too long to decide because he grabbed your wrists and slung you over his back, carrying you piggyback style down the long flights of stairs. Normally, you would have protested but it was much faster. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he wound his arms under your knees. The two of you fell into an easy silence as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

Soon you reached Sabo’s room, the very one you’d argued in earlier. As you passed the desk, you saw Sabo had restacked everything and organized the books, which eased your guilty conscience r. Ace plodded towards the large bed where Sabo was lying on his back, his robotic hand resting on his bare chest. 

“Ah, I forgot Sabo’s naked,” Ace sighed, “er, he has pants, but hold on, I’mma put his glove back-”

“‘S ok, she’s seen it before,” Sabo remarked, his good eye opening a sliver.

“Ooh la la,” Ace teased as you smacked his chest. He let you off his back and onto the bed, where you promptly crawled to the opposite side from Sabo. Unfortunately, Ace got in on the other side, so you were now sandwiched between the brothers as they both shifted to comfortable positions. You weren’t sure you were going to actually fall asleep, but it was much cozier to be between the warm dozing men than it had been on the deck. The warmth of their bodies against your own was like being swaddled in the pure summer sun. You absolutely should have done this earlier.

“All that’s missing is Luffy,” Sabo hummed. Ace grunted before answering.

“He snores too loud-.”

“Ace, you snore too,” you stated, thinking of the times when he’d fallen asleep face down in his food.

“So do you,” Ace rebutted, wrapping his arms around his pillow and smacking his lips.

“No, I don’t. Sabo, tell him,” you replied with a yawn of your own. Maybe the true Mera Mera power was being a living, breathing, heated blanket.

“Marco says you don’t have sleep apnea so it’s fine,” Sabo murmured, his eyes already shut once more. 

Sabo slung an arm around your waist and pulled you a little closer to him and away from Ace but you didn’t have it in you to protest. You grumbled but your own eyes closed as Ace’s soft snores filled the room.

It felt like you’d barely shut your eyes when you woke to Ace gently shaking you. You opened your eyes, groggily trying to rub at the good one before Ace stopped you. You squinted up at him, barely able to make out his features in the low light of the early morning.

“Don’t r-”

“Shut up,” you retorted. Looking around the messy bed you saw that it was now just you - Sabo was gone, his side of the bed cold, and Ace was dressed and leaving for his trip.

“I gotta go now Sunny,” Ace said, sitting down on the bed. “But I got something for you.” He reached into the pocket of his cargo shorts and pulled out a small rectangle of paper, no bigger than your pinky finger.

“What’s that?” you asked, taking it gingerly as he handed it to you with a broad smile.

“It’s my vivre card. It will always point to me, no matter where I go,” he said excitedly. You rolled your eyes but held on to the slip of paper.

“Ace, these things aren’t real. They don’t work, I read a whole paper about-”

“Yes they do! Now put it somewhere you’ll remember,” Ace said, curling his fingers around yours to keep the paper safe in your hand. You frowned but folded it up and got off the bed to put it in a drawer of Sabo’s desk. Taking out a small item of your own, you headed back towards the bed with it hidden in your fist.

“I, uh, have this for you. It’s just a small vial of water but Amy’s in it,” you said, holding out the tiny ampule you’d sealed off back at the island. 

“Amy?! Amy Meoba?! I didn’t know she survived!” Ace exclaimed while turning the ampule over in his fingers, watching the water flow back and forth in the tube.

“She was in some of Sabo’s stuff that was recovered from the RA ship,” you said with a laugh before turning serious. “Don’t drink-”

“I know, I know! Don’t drink her,” Ace said, already zipping the ampule into a side pocket on his shorts. “Oh, and speaking of vivre cards, I have one of yours too! Check it out, we’ll always be able to find each other!” Ace exclaimed brightly, taking out another piece of paper. You tilted your head and considered the information, your brain finally turning on.

“Hm? Don’t you need toenail clippings for that?” you asked, knowing for certain you’d never given any to Ace.

“Ha! Uhm, I don’t know - I think I hear Marco calling for me,” Ace answered in a rush, rubbing the back of his neck. He carefully folded the paper up and put it back in his pocket before grabbing you in a bear hug.

“Bye, Sunny. Thanks for saving my life,” he said simply as he gave you a tremendous squeeze. 

“Bye, Ace. Don’t make me do it again,” you replied. Ace smiled at you before standing up. You didn’t follow him as he left the room, or track his little boat as it sailed away from the large ship. Everything in you wanted to go with him, to stay alongside the only friend you’d ever made. Instead, you sat in the empty room, the rays of sun now coming up over the horizon pale in comparison to the one that had left.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @epochal-oracle @divinedolliebun @rebeccawinters@extremely-ashtridic@sle3pymarimo@violetmatcha

[scealaiscoite]

.☽༊˚ three hundred one-word prompts

¹⁾ balcony

²⁾ sunlight

³⁾ voicemail

⁴⁾ hillside

⁵⁾ tent

⁶⁾ lavender

⁷⁾ candle

⁸⁾ hipbone

⁹⁾ bandaid

¹⁰⁾ wrinkle

¹¹⁾ scar

¹²⁾ curtains

¹³⁾ armory

¹⁴⁾ shell

¹⁵⁾ bouquet

¹⁶⁾ necklace

¹⁷⁾ shotgun

¹⁸⁾ apricot

¹⁹⁾ cheek

²⁰⁾ floorboards

²¹⁾ jacket

²²⁾ bruise

²³⁾ flight

²⁴⁾ streetlight

²⁵⁾ carafe

²⁶⁾ lipstick

²⁷⁾ scars

²⁸⁾ poolside

²⁹⁾ cockpit

³⁰⁾ petals

³¹⁾ mirror

³²⁾ lawyer

³³⁾ cloudy

³⁴⁾ butcher

³⁶⁾ bleach

³⁷⁾ sawdust

³⁸⁾ crib

³⁹⁾ ribbon

⁴⁰⁾ wallet

⁴¹⁾ pearls

⁴²⁾ steam

⁴³⁾ chain

⁴⁴⁾ deckhand

⁴⁵⁾ whiskey

⁴⁶⁾ frost

⁴⁷⁾ lace

⁴⁸⁾ camping

⁴⁹⁾ bakery

⁵⁰⁾ traitor

⁵¹⁾ cherries

⁵²⁾ lightning

⁵³⁾ hide

⁵⁴⁾ tattoo

⁵⁵⁾ bonfire

⁵⁶⁾ reverse

⁵⁷⁾ passenger

⁵⁸⁾ speedboat

⁵⁹⁾ bare

⁶⁰⁾ concrete

⁶¹⁾ lieutenant

⁶²⁾ chili

⁶³⁾ tiptoe

⁶⁴⁾ office

⁶⁵⁾ skull

⁶⁶⁾ bikini

⁶⁷⁾ cabinet

⁶⁸⁾ lumber

⁶⁹⁾ laboratory

⁷⁰⁾ paint

⁷¹⁾ arch

⁷²⁾ bitter

⁷³⁾ staircase

⁷⁴⁾ priority

⁷⁵⁾ cell

⁷⁶⁾ subordinate

⁷⁷⁾ tapes

⁷⁸⁾ mangoss

⁷⁹⁾ bralette

⁸⁰⁾ whiplash

⁸¹⁾ syringe

⁸²⁾ cinnamon

⁸³⁾ tequila

⁸⁴⁾ garden

⁸⁵⁾ cigarette

⁸⁶⁾ sofa

⁸⁷⁾ rain

⁸⁸⁾ teammate

⁸⁹⁾ oleander

⁹⁰⁾ boss

⁹¹⁾ pillar

⁹²⁾ amethyst

⁹³⁾ footpath

⁹⁴⁾ driver

⁹⁵⁾ massage

⁹⁶⁾ stitches

⁹⁷⁾ jeans

⁹⁸⁾ brand

⁹⁹⁾ blackout

¹⁰⁰⁾ sunglasses

¹⁰¹⁾ lunar

¹⁰²⁾ velvet

¹⁰³⁾ captain

¹⁰⁴⁾ afternoon

¹⁰⁵⁾ ivy

¹⁰⁶⁾ salty

¹⁰⁷⁾ portrait

¹⁰⁸⁾ strawberries

¹⁰⁹⁾ torn

¹¹⁰⁾ cocktails

¹¹¹⁾ roommate

¹¹²⁾ bridge

¹¹³⁾ table

¹¹⁴⁾ hotel

¹¹⁵⁾ jasmine

¹¹⁶⁾ armchair

¹¹⁷⁾ satin

¹¹⁸⁾ bedsheet

¹¹⁹⁾ hedgerow

¹²⁰⁾ thigh

¹²¹⁾ cliff

¹²²⁾ gravel

¹²³⁾ apartment

¹²⁴⁾ keycard

¹²⁵⁾ coffee

¹²⁶⁾ babysitter

¹²⁷⁾ fire

¹²⁸⁾ chalk

¹²⁹⁾ hurricane

¹³⁰⁾ crickets

¹³¹⁾ amber

¹³²⁾ sherriff

¹³³⁾ lamplight

¹³⁴⁾ flag

¹³⁵⁾ airport

¹³⁶⁾ gasoline

¹³⁷⁾ cherub

¹³⁸⁾ clementine

¹³⁹⁾ scalpel

¹⁴⁰⁾ motel

¹⁴¹⁾ parish

¹⁴²⁾ lighter

¹⁴³⁾ highrise

¹⁴⁴⁾ crowbar

¹⁴⁵⁾ sundress

¹⁴⁶⁾ newspaper

¹⁴⁷⁾ screws

¹⁴⁸⁾ uniform

¹⁴⁹⁾ gold

¹⁵⁰⁾ buckshots

¹⁵¹⁾ coast

¹⁵²⁾ handcuffs

¹⁵³⁾ gunpowder

¹⁵⁴⁾ badge

¹⁵⁵⁾ orchids

¹⁵⁶⁾ chef

¹⁵⁷⁾ levee

¹⁵⁸⁾ tea

¹⁵⁹⁾ helicopter

¹⁶⁰⁾ cemetery

¹⁶¹⁾ ice

¹⁶²⁾ heirloom

¹⁶³⁾ tarpaulin

¹⁶⁴⁾ rural

¹⁶⁵⁾ sergeant

¹⁶⁶⁾ tsunami

¹⁶⁷⁾ lemon

¹⁶⁸⁾ debt

¹⁶⁹⁾ skyscraper

¹⁷⁰⁾ caramel

¹⁷¹⁾ hottub

¹⁷²⁾ rum

¹⁷³⁾ pet

¹⁷⁴⁾ tradition

¹⁷⁵⁾ perfume

¹⁷⁶⁾ bracelet

¹⁷⁷⁾ secretary

¹⁷⁸⁾ degree

¹⁷⁹⁾ braids

¹⁸⁰⁾ prescription

¹⁸¹⁾ invitation

¹⁸²⁾ cocoa

¹⁸³⁾ ransom

¹⁸⁴⁾ boxers

¹⁸⁵⁾ theatre

¹⁸⁶⁾ mascara

¹⁸⁷⁾ sand

¹⁸⁸⁾ collar

¹⁸⁹⁾ shoulder

¹⁹⁰⁾ lipgloss

¹⁹¹⁾ membership

¹⁹²⁾ heatwave

¹⁹³⁾ disco

¹⁹⁴⁾ cabin

¹⁹��⁾ popcorn

¹⁹⁶⁾ altar

¹⁹⁷⁾ radio

¹⁹⁸⁾ bayou

¹⁹⁹⁾ bodyguard

²⁰⁰⁾ glitter

²⁰¹⁾ mustache

²⁰²⁾ protector

²⁰³⁾ contacts

²⁰⁴⁾ bullets

²⁰⁵⁾ groceries

²⁰⁶⁾ raspberry

²⁰⁷⁾ microphone

²⁰⁸⁾ coconut

²⁰⁹⁾ villain

²¹⁰⁾ earlobe

²¹¹⁾ purse

²¹²⁾ flood

²¹³⁾ shot

²¹⁴⁾ windbreaker

²¹⁵⁾ granite

²¹⁶⁾ highway

²¹⁷⁾ eggshells

²¹⁸⁾ hoarse

²¹⁹⁾ chocolates

²²⁰⁾ trembling

²²¹⁾ buttercream

²²²⁾ rings

²²³��� holster

²²⁴⁾ briefcase

²²⁵⁾ wrist

²²⁶⁾ piercings

²²⁷⁾ cowboy

²²⁸⁾ ashes

²²⁹⁾ ankle

²³⁰⁾ neroli

²³¹⁾ orchard

²³²⁾ tires

²³³⁾ salmon

²³⁴⁾ peaches

²³⁵⁾ rooftop

²³⁶⁾ toast

²³⁷⁾ gala

²³⁸⁾ sage

²³⁹⁾ graduation

²⁴⁰⁾ reporter

²⁴¹⁾ belt

²⁴²⁾ antidote

²⁴³⁾ ship

²⁴⁴⁾ officer

²⁴⁵⁾ wine

²⁴⁶⁾ corridor

²⁴⁷⁾ cold

²⁴⁸⁾ hangover

²⁴⁹⁾ fingertip

²⁵⁰⁾ vintage

²⁵¹⁾ cupcake

²⁵²⁾ saviour

²⁵³⁾ gentleman

²⁵⁴⁾ loan

²⁵⁵⁾ hostage

²⁵⁶⁾ evergreen

²⁵⁷⁾ denial

²⁵⁸⁾ housewife

²⁵⁹⁾ riverbank

²⁶⁰⁾ marshmallows

²⁶¹⁾ books

²⁶²⁾ hockey

²⁶³⁾ lizard

²⁶⁴⁾ silver

²⁶⁵⁾ dinner

²⁶⁶⁾ pear

²⁶⁷⁾ bound

²⁶⁸⁾ waiter

²⁶⁹⁾ tender

²⁷⁰⁾ fallen

²⁷¹⁾ banquet

²⁷²⁾ announcement

²⁷³⁾ roast

²⁷⁴⁾ sneer

²⁷⁵⁾ exes

²⁷⁶⁾ stovetop

²⁷⁷⁾ brass

²⁷⁸⁾ clay

²⁷⁹⁾ valet

²⁸⁰⁾ schoolbus

²⁸¹⁾ exhausted

²⁸²⁾ field

²⁸³⁾ hoodie

²⁸⁴⁾ sugar

²⁸⁵⁾ palmtree

²⁸⁶⁾ burnt

²⁸⁷⁾ diner

²⁸⁸⁾ snake

²⁸⁹⁾ fever

²⁹⁰⁾ domestic

²⁹¹⁾ plaid

²⁹²⁾ wreck

²⁹³⁾ courtyard

²⁹⁴⁾ dozen

²⁹⁵⁾ earphones

²⁹⁶⁾ blueberry

²⁹⁷⁾ anklet

²⁹⁸⁾ shower

²⁹⁹⁾ venom

³⁰⁰⁾ lover

[hihomeghere]

Right Person, Wrong Time / John Marston x reader

Summary : You and John have constantly been at each other's throats until you left the gang after he chose Abigail over you. When you return you find him gone, leaving Abigail and Jack. You create a relationship with Abigail and Jack, but what will happen when John returns? Warnings/tags : Hate fucking, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it), swearing, slapping, choking, hair pulling, biting breasts, unrequited loveish, John being an awful parent, slight Abigail x John, reader x John, reader becomes a parent figure it Jack, angst, no happy ending Word count : 2.5k

You supposed fate had it out for you. To dangle John in front of you like it did. Two scrappy street kids raised alongside each other. Like two starving dogs fighting for scraps, you were always at each other's throats. Arthur could hardly stand one of you at a time, but the two of you together had him damn near tearing his hair out. 

The old guard had hoped that once the two of you got older, things wouldn’t be so volatile around camp. But the churning hormones inside the two of you only poured gasoline on the fire that was you and John. 

Dutch and Hosea quickly learned that the two of you couldn’t be trusted to work a job together. That job ended in your first wanted poster going up in Armadillo. John tore one down and kept putting it up around camp, much to everyone’s disapproval. 

Hosea said it was because the two of you were too alike. Forced out on your own, fighting to survive in a dog eat dog world. Stuck in this rivalry that you had created. Dutch had seen it before anyone else had, the smoldering fire inside you that yearned for John’s spark. 

But then Abigail came along. You hated her. Hated her pretty eyes, soft lips, more than anything you hated how John couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She was just a working girl, you had seen hundreds of working girls come and go but she… she stayed. She stayed and for some reason John couldn’t stay away from her. 

Always sitting next to her around the campfire, looking at her with that stupid lovesick look. It made you sick. So instead of facing the fact that stupid John Marston was in love with someone who wasn’t you, you ran. 

You packed in the dead of night, like a coward, and ran off. It was harder on your own and as much as you hated to admit it, you missed the gang. More than anything you missed John. But you were stubborn, you wanted to prove to yourself that you didn’t need them, didn’t need him. 

It was fate when Arthur found you running a con on some rich folk. Asked you to come back, just for ‘one night’. You went back with him, knowing that this ‘one night’ would turn into many nights. Dutch and Hosea welcomed you back with open arms, something you hadn’t been expecting after being gone so long. Although your loyalty had never been with the gang, it was always with John. 

Although John was gone, like two ships passing in the night. Had run off about a week earlier from what Arthur had said. Leaving Abigail and his son. His son. 

A tiny boy with brown hair and dark eyes, barely a year old. Poor Abigail, the girl was a wreck. Dealing with her son and his piece of shit father. 

You don’t know why you attached yourself to them, stepping in and acting as a second parent to Jack. Perhaps you felt like you owed it to them, that you had harbored so much hate in you over a foolish man. A foolish man that had everything he could want and threw it away. Deep down you knew that it was for a more selfish reason. You felt close to John in some awful way when you were around Abigail and Jack. You saw so much of John in him, in his gummy smile. When he would laugh, deep in his belly. 

The little boy had captured your heart, just like his father. 

You knew that Abigail knew, knew the feelings you harbored for the father of her son. You supposed that everyone knew why you ran off. Ironic that you returned when the prodigal son had left. 

“I don’t hold it against you.” She said one day, breaking the silence between the two of you as you did your chores.

“Pardon?” You asked, looking up at her.

“John.” She said simply, her blunt words made your mouth run dry. “I don’t hold it against you. If that’s why you’re- you’re bein’ so kind. I don’t need charity.” She pursed her lips, hanging up a shirt on the line. 

“It ain’t charity I-“ You worked your jaw as you looked down, “I care for your son. I care for Jack. Hell I- I consider you a friend. Unless I’m oversteppin’?” You raised your eyes to meet her icy gaze.

“I’d like to be your friend.” She said, although her gaze didn’t soften.

And then one day the bastard returned. You didn’t know who was more mad, you or Arthur. He reached him before you did, slamming him up against a nearby tree. 

“You yellow bellied-“

“The hell you doin’!”

“Boys!” Dutch’s voice cut through their growls, striding over to all three of you. Your jaw was clenched so hard your teeth ached as you stared John down. As much as you hated to admit it, part of you was glad to see him. His hair was longer than the last time you had seen him. His dark raven locks down to his shoulders. Your stomach twisted as his eyes landed on you. You turned, stalking away from the men as Dutch began a speech to ‘calm’ the men down. 

Abigail was seething, bouncing Jack in her arms as she paced. 

“Want me to take him so you can kick his ass?” You asked, glaring at him over your shoulder. 

“Please.” She huffed, handing him off as she stormed over to him. A small bit of satisfaction filling you as her open palm connected to his cheek. You turned your gaze back to Jack, reminding your traitorous heart what really mattered. 

You knew it was only a matter of time before John cornered you. The sun had set and you were getting ready for bed when he stopped by your tent.

“You’re back.” His gravely voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“So are you.” You huffed, keeping your back to him as you set your guns down.

“Why’d you come back?” His words sent liquid fire through your veins.

“Why’d you leave?” You hissed, spinning around to face him. He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “How could you?”

“Don’t give me that.” He scoffed, looking away from him.

“Excuse me? You have a family John.”

“And you didn’t?” He growled, his teeth bared like a wild dog. “You just packed up your shit and walked out on us, on all of us.”

“You don’t get to be mad over this.” You seethed, pointing your finger in his face. “We are not the same.”

“Oh sweetheart we’re the same kind of screwed up.” He sneered, holding his arms out. 

“No we ain’t.” You shoved him backwards, “I was here when it mattered. When your son said his first word, when he walked for the first time. I was there.”

“Oh congratulations, parent of the damn year.” 

“You ran cause you got scared, you damn coward.” You hissed, your emotions bubbling to the surface.

“And what’s your excuse hm? We all know why you ran.” His words made your blood run cold.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I know everything about you.” He said closing the distance between the two of you. “I know you ran cause you couldn’t stand not havin’ me.” You clenched your jaw, swallowing past the lump in your throat.

“You’re a real fucking piece of work John.” He caught your wrist as you turned. 

“Tell me I’m wrong.” He pulled you closer, an iron grip of your wrist. His dark eyes boring into yours. 

“You’re wrong.” You hissed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Really?” He asked, his voice raising in volume. He surged forward, crashing his lips against yours. It took you a minute to respond, your heart and head at war. Your palms pushed against his chest as he stumbled backwards. His lips parted as he stared down at you. You surged forward, pulling him towards you by his collar. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, a fight for dominance. 

You parted, your lips swollen as you tore at his clothes. He got the memo quickly, undoing his gun belt, letting it fall to the floor with a clang. Halfway undressed he pounced on you like a man possessed. His hands were everywhere and yet your body craved more, more, more. 

Your hands threaded through his hair. Grabbing a chunk near the nape of his neck as you pulled his head back. His eyes caught yours in the low light of the lantern, his teeth glinting as his lips pulled back in a wolfish grin. 

“Your bark is a helluva lot worse than your bite.” He huffed, holding your hips in a near bruising grip. You clenched your jaw, liquid fire rushing through your veins. “Tell me you don’t want this, don’t want me.” He taunted, panting as you tighten your grip on his hair. 

“You’re a piece of shit.” You spat.

“And what does that make you, sweetheart?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. You tugged at the base of his skull, a low groan leaving his lips as he laughed. He walked you backwards, your calves hitting your cot. 

“Fuck you.” You hissed, feeling his hot breath waft across your face.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” His mouth was back on yours, his fingers moved with precision as he unbuttoned your shirt. He roughly grabbed your breast, swallowing the low whine he pulled from you. He pushed you down onto your cot, slotting himself between your legs. He made quick work of undressing you, muttering to himself. “All hot and bothered- you think you’re so damn special don’t you?” He hissed through gritted teeth.

“Like you ain’t much better golden boy.” You growled, tugging at his union suit, hoping he’d get the message. He did, pulling his arms out and kicking the fabric off as you finished undressing. 

You had pictured this exchange happening differently in your head more times than you wanted to admit. In your mind, your first time with John was slow. Each of you would take time to worship each other's bodies. Mapping out each scar and blemish, committing them to memory. Soft kisses trailed along your skin, words of affection passing between your lips. 

As he kicked off his union suit, his cock sprang up against his stomach. The tip red and weeping between his legs. His hand closed around your ankle, yanking you down the cot, closer to him. His hand cupped your mound, his finger trailing down your slit. You hated to give him the satisfaction as he found you slick with desire. He ducked his head, biting at your breast. You gasped as he ran his tongue over the teeth marks before wrapping his lips around your nipple.

“Act like such a damn brat,” He said, pulling off with a loud pop, “Now look at ya, just drippin for me.” Your face burned as he ran his finger through your folds. Your open palm connected with his cheek. His head snapping away from you, your own hand stinging as you pulled back. He let out a low chuckle, hanging his head. His hands wrapped around your thighs, pushing them up against your chest. Folding you in half as he lined himself up with your entrance. He drove into you, knocking the air out of your lungs with a squeak.

“Goddamn you’re tight.” He hissed in pain and pleasure as you raked your nails down his back. He ruts into you like some animal, his lips parted and swollen as he huffed. You bite down on your lip, trying to stifle any traitorous moans. The dark patch of hair at the base of his cock rubbed against your clit. Your whole body felt ablaze as he pounded relentlessly into you. The sound of skin on skin echoing through the small tent. His heavy balls hitting your ass with each thrust. Your cunt ached as he carved out a space for himself inside you, reaching places you didn’t think possible. 

Blood roared in your ears as you’re dragged closer and closer to the edge of pleasure. Your eyes rolling back into your head as your body is propelled up the cot with each thrust. His hand closed around your throat, squeezing slightly and you’re gone.

Wave after wave wash over you as you writhe under him. Mewling as your legs shook on either side of his shoulders, your head felt fuzzy as his hips stuttered. 

“Shit don’t-“ He bit his lip, “I can’t-“ He pulled out of you, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. He slammed back into you, his chest sticking to your back with sweat as he laid over you. His arms on either side of your head as he held himself up. 

“Fuck John!” You cried out, biting down on your lip. Your body was ablaze as his hand pressed your face into the cot. 

“God damn-“ He groaned through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips stuttered. Pouring himself into you as he collapsed on top of you. 

Both of your breaths filled the air, your chest heaving as he rolled off of you. He left you empty and leaking onto your cot, although that was the least of your worries.

You just fucked John, well technically he fucked you. But Abigail… Abigail and Jack. God if she found out you’d never be able to earn her trust back. John let out a long sigh, running his hand over his face. A smirk tugging on his lips as he looked over at you. 

You felt sick to your stomach as you felt his cum drip out of you. You got up, grabbing his clothes and throwing them at him. He caught them and held them against his chest, his brows furrowing as he looked up at you. 

“The hell are you doing darlin’?” He asked.

“Don’t call me that.” You huffed, stepping into your bloomers. “This- this was a mistake. You know it, I know it, shit you have a family, John. Abigail, Jack-“

“Is that what this is about?” He scoffed, narrowing his eyes as he sat on the edge of the cot. “They’re in the past.”

“No!” You snapped, “They’re right here in this fucking camp! Waiting for you.”

“Who knows if the boy is even mine-“ He started, throwing up his hand.

“Oh don’t pull that horseshit, we all know he’s your son.” You scoffed, buttoning up your shirt. “God I’m a fool.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Guilt settling over you like a blanket. “Get out.”

“What?” He asked, his eyes finding yours.

“This was a mistake.” You said shaking your head, “You may not have any loyalty but I do. I- This never happened.” His jaw clenched, anger burning in his eyes as he roughly dressed himself. He stopped next to you, staring you down.

“So this is it?” He scoffed, shaking his head as you didn’t respond. Your arms crossed as you hung your head in shame. “Unbelievable.” He muttered as he stormed past you, knocking his shoulder against yours as he left your tent.

You sat down on the edge of your cot, putting your head in your hands. Hating yourself for being so damn weak, hating yourself for enjoying it, hating yourself for your undeniable feelings for him.

What had you done?

Part Two

[biancasaidstfu]

Remember when Nicola said people want her to marry Luke in probably one of the most esteemed articles about her to date? And she gushed about how special their friendship is but didn’t say that they’re only friends or even didn’t say “like cute but that’s never going to happen”, in fact she didn’t even have to mention him because she wasn’t really asked about him?

And remember that Nicola is doing an audiobook about an actress on a regency era show falling in love with her costar after feeling a spark doing their scenes? And it’s coming out the day before Luke’s birthday?

Those are all fun things to remember

Yeah the amount of people that tried to reach to explain why she brought up people wanting her to marry Luke was far too many and the excuses that came with them were very entertaining.

While I may have questions about why that quote was likely added to the online version and not to print (speculation but the paper moon she gave us only had one meaning that week), there's really no explanation that equates to being just friends or only friends.

The fire was simmering on the ship until that point. She poured gasoline on it with mentioning Luke and marriage in the same sentence.

Combine this with the damn audio book she's got coming out?

We almost wouldn't need chaos week - but I'm so thankful we do have it.

I know it gets hard being on the ship when we go long stretches with nothing and everything from everyone else but just remember to have patience. We're all here for a reason and we've all stayed (I feel like I've been put through the fucking ringer man) because of what we've been given.

Hopefully we're getting closer to something.