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chibieggplant · 7 days

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Law ~ Allies

Angy Law | Fluffy

Inspired by @mariistyping fic Allies? No

You had initially gone to the medical bay to seek out Law and review the plans for the upcoming mission. Although only a few weeks had passed since meeting each other, the bond between the two of you had grown significantly, resulting in a unique connection that was hard to ignore. You found yourself sitting intimately next to him, with your legs casually draped over his lap. As Law's fingers traced along your jaw, you inched your face closer to his, and the conversation about plans became irrelevant and faded away. It would be an understatement to say you both were startled when Nami waltzed into the room, talking about how Chopper needed more medical supplies.

Nami's sudden appearance surprised you both, breaking the spell that had fallen over you. Looking over to see her expression, which could only be described as shock, you quickly got off of his lap and hid away the feelings of embarrassment that started to creep up on you. The two of you had decided to keep your feelings for each other a secret for now, so Nami's suspicion as she narrowed her eyes, trying to process the situation was well warranted.

You discreetly cleared your throat, trying your best to appear nonchalant. While Law got up from his seat with a noticeable blush on his face, avoiding eye contact with anyone. “N-nami, we were just discussing the plans for the upcoming missions and reviewing the erm…” You could tell by the look in her eyes and her slightly amused expression that she knew exactly what was happening. Looking back at you, she smirked and responded. "Oh, is that right? I'm sure you two were...discussing everything."

“W-well, we’re allies, so naturally, staying prepared is crucial. And uh, hence why we were…we were making sure we are ready for…” you trail off and shift your gaze to Law, who is now looking at you with narrowed eyes. “Anyway...I think the plans are pretty much sorted, yeah, so…” you briskly walk past Nami, making a beeline to your room to dodge any potential questions and further humiliation.

Nami's smirk didn't fade as you hurried out of the room, leaving behind an awkward and tense atmosphere between her and Law. As soon as you were out of the room, the two of them started staring at each other in silence. Law was both annoyed at your haste and frustrated at himself for being so reckless, but more than that, he was pissed at your choice of words. “Allies?" He muttered under his breath. That was a mistake. Your choice of wording profoundly impacted him, stirring something deep inside him which led him to question who you saw him as. He acknowledged that he had no right to be upset with you, but the word you chose left him feeling angry nonetheless. “Excuse me” Without sparing even a passing glance towards Nami, he strode hastily towards your room.

Your attempt to dodge Nami seemed to have been a catalyst to kickstart Law’s need to confront you. His steps were quick and heavy as he walked through the halls of the Thousand Sunny. He stormed in your room without knocking. He was clearly pissed off, and it showed. "y/n-ya..." His voice was soft, yet firm.

You were lying on your bed with your head buried in your arms, lost in a sea of self-pity and embarrassment when Law burst into your room. As he stood there, staring at you, his eyes were filled with frustration and annoyance. As your gaze met his, an almost palpable tension filled the silence that ensued.

“Allies?..." There was a slight tinge of hurt when he asked the question. He glared at you for a few moments before speaking again. "Was that the best you could come up with? Allies? Is that how you see me? An ally?" his tone was laced with a hint of sarcasm and bitterness. He let out a small snort and crossed his arms, looking away with an agitated expression.

“We said we weren't going to tell anyone!” you protested as you stood up from the bed. “I didn't expect Nami to come waltzing in. That was the best I could come up with on the spot…” you uttered with a slight pout.

Your statement had done little to appease Law's agitation. Instead, it only fueled it further. His expression only hardened. "That's not the point, y/n-ya! You could have come up with any other word besides allies!" He spoke harsher than he intended, his voice slightly rising.

“Well…well, what would you have referred to us as?” You crossed your arms in a huff. He was taken back by your counterquestion. His expression softened slightly as he realized you had a point. His stance stiffened, and he looked down slightly, his voice losing some of its sternness. "I-i don't know…Friends? Or..." he stopped speaking, his voice fading away as he let out a deep sigh of frustration “But definitely not allies.." he mumbled under his breath, clearly annoyed with himself for becoming so annoyed at the situation. There was a short moment of silence before he sighed again and his expression softened once more. Instead of speaking, he simply stepped towards you and pulled you into a warm embrace. “We’re not allies” He murmured softly as he nestled his face in the nape of your neck.

The suddenness of his embrace caught you off-guard, but you welcomed it willingly as you wrapped your arms around him, too. He was so warm, and the comforting pressure of his body against yours made it easy to bury your worries. You were both silent for a while, with only the sound of his heart beating strongly against your chest. Finally, you broke the silence by whispering. "Just so you know, you're much more than an ally."

When you spoke, he could feel your soft breath on his neck. A warm smile spread across his lips as he let out a small chuckle. You could feel his tension slowly subsiding as he pressed a kiss firmly to your neck “Good," He said simply. His embrace slowly loosened slightly, but he still maintained a firm grip, refusing to let go just yet. There was a pause before he finally spoke again. "You know I don't like all the mushy stuff, right?" He mumbled, his voice low and quiet.

Though his tone didn't quite capture it, you knew there was a slight smile on his face as he made his comment. It made you grin faintly as you nuzzled your face into him. He was right, though. He was terrible at mushy stuff; but it was cute when he tried. “Yeah, I know” As you nestled into his arms, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. The warmth of his embrace made you feel secure, and you knew that he cared for you sincerely.

"But…I'll make an exception just for you, okay?" He drew back a bit, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. This all was still a new experience for him, but he was making an effort for you. You could feel his heartbeat quickening as he tried to hold on tight to his cool and stoical exterior. He didn't want to be the type to get too sappy, but he couldn't help himself from time to time. His hand rose to gently stroke the side of your face as his gaze locked with yours. "Besides…now I have a girlfriend. I guess I better get used to it." As he spoke, his voice grew softer, and his hands gently moved to run through your hair. Your heart skipped a beat as he called you his girlfriend for the first time. “Girlfriend?” you whispered softly.

"Girlfriend." He said once again, this time firmly and clearly. "Now when someone asks you about our relationship, you can say boyfriend, not ally” Although he intended to say this playfully, it was evident that he was expressing his thoughts seriously.

You let out a quiet chuckle, finding yourself smiling as he held you. Him calling you his girlfriend was a pleasant surprise. Though not quite the romantic gesture you expected, it was comforting and endearing in its own way. He may not yet feel comfortable being all cutesy and sappy, but this was more than enough to make you happy. You felt his eyes fix onto yours as he smiled, his gaze filled with warmth. “So, does this mean we can finally tell everyone about us?” you grinned with anticipation, hoping that he'd give a positive response.

Unable to resist a smirk, he returned your grin and gave you a quick nod. "I think we can. Maybe it's a good thing Nami caught us. Now everyone can know that I'm your boyfriend.” His smirk grew as he whispered that last part, his voice tinged with a subtle note of possessiveness. He hadn't intended to come out like that, but he found himself wanting to make it known that he was your significant other.

Your smile widened at the response. You were happy to be able to announce your relationship openly finally and have confirmation on the relationship between you. As he continued to grin, his hand rose to brush the strands of hair out of your face, and he leaned forward slightly to whisper another few words. “Just to clarify, I'm yours, and you're mine, alright? And no one gets to touch what's mine.” He had a subtle tone of voice, seemingly humorous, but in reality, he meant every word.

The tone of his voice and the hint of seriousness he conveyed left you in no doubt that he meant what he said. Although the sentiment may have seemingly been playful, it was evident that he fully meant it, albeit in his own way. You smirked once again before leaning towards him, your fingers reaching up to grab his hand. "I can't decide which is cuter. Your mushy moments or the possessive side of you." You giggled before adding, “But I think I like both.”

He smirked and shook his head, his face now a deep shade of pink as he realised how mushy he had just been. After a moment, he sighed and let out an amused chuckle as he squeezed your hand. "Oh, shut up. I know I don't give off a romantic vibe." He replied with a flicker of irritation, although he knew he was anything but irritated right now as he continued to gaze into your eyes.

You feigned a scowl as he expressed his irritation, and you responded playfully. "And yet here you are being adorable and mushy…you could have fooled me." With that said, you gave a soft chuckle as you squeezed his hand once again. In a moment of impulse, you drew close to him until you faces were only a few inches apart. Your movements were enough to catch his attention, and he noted the distance between you. He let out an amused sigh and raised a brow. You could have sworn by the quick flash of his grin that he was enjoying this, even if he wouldn't admit it. You were about to speak, but you were cut off by Law suddenly leaning in and locking his lips with yours. Your breath hitched as his hand tightened around yours, pulling you closer to him. His lips were warm and welcoming as he embraced you passionately.

As you wrapped your arms around him, your lips seamlessly blended with his in a heated kiss that felt natural and effortless. The embrace of his arms around you made you feel safe and secure as if nothing else in the world mattered. As his hand reached up, he gently caressed the back of your head while his lips pressed against yours, deepening the kiss with a firm yet tender touch. He drew you in, his lips parting as his tongue flicked across your lower lip. He let out a soft hum, his tone filled with intensity as he pulled back a bit, caught up in the moment. He uttered just one word -”Mine”- but it carried a weight that left no room for doubt. He leaned in to kiss you once more, your mouths meeting in a tender embrace. His hands smoothly glided down the curves of your body, firmly grasping the sides of your waist, bringing you even closer to him.

When your mouths met again, you could feel his intensity as your bodies pressed together. As if driven by sheer passion, he placed one hand on your lower back and pushed tightly against you, his other hand reaching up and wrapping around the back of your neck. His touch radiated heat as the heat of the moment filled the air. Your breath hitched with each movement, and your lips parted in a soft gasp. You could barely catch your breath in moments, the passion filling every corner of your being. His kiss was vigorous and consuming but filled with tender affection as he parted his lips to speak.

"Always remember, you belong to me, and I belong to you" his voice was soft and smooth, although you could sense the undercurrent of possessive intent creeping into his tone. The hand on the back of your neck tightened ever so slightly, his grip firm but gentle as he pulled you back into another kiss. He made sure to express all his intentions clearly, and he did so successfully. He wanted you to understand that you were his.

#trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #anime

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letsgetrowdy43 · 7 months

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Was it awkward for the Hughes family to deal with Luke and Sunny’s fight about Sunny dating Adam?

Hughes family arguments—

Au Masterlist!!

It's so awkward!!

The entire Hughes family (minus Sunny) are in Jim and Ellen’s hotel trying to pick one last place to go out for family dinner before they all have to head back to their separate lives.

Luke stormed in, with a frown on his face and collapsed down in the edge of the bed

Ellen’s brows furrowed as she waited for her daughter to walk through the door behind him, but she didn't walk in, “Luke where's your sister?” “probably with her boyfriend,” he snaps as he angrily propped himself on his elbow to see his family. All the Hughes’ in the room sat with knowing looks is in their faces, looking anywhere else in the room than the angry boy. “You all knew, what the fuck!” “Luke, did you leave your sister at the rink?” Jim raises his voice as Luke just shrugs and ignores the question.

To be truthful the entire Hughes family loved Adam, he had the sweetest family, and he himself was very respectful towards Sunny and that’s all they could ask for.

Luke's attitude didn't drop, for the rest of the evening, even after a pitiful and teary-eyed sunny walked in to finish packing her bags.

Jack definitely ripped into him a bit right before they headed to the airport, “It's a stupid rule” “you had the same rule for her when were were kids!” “yeah luke, when we were kids!”

Quinn also gave him a lecture, less yelling at him and more of warning him that if something were to happen to Sunny all because Luke was being petty Quinn would fly home and smack some sense into him.

Jim and Ellen are in that stage of their lives now where if their kids are having issues they are leaving it up to themselves to fix it. So although they are pretty visibly upset with their son they don't vocalize it for their sanity.

Anyways, as the argument and fight progresses between the two of them the entire family is practically waking on eggshells around the two of them. Until Ellen snaps after asking Luke if he'd talked to his sister too which he scoffs and says no. “She's your sister, Luke, she would never purposefully hurt you! Drop the bullshit and fix your mistakes!”

Quinn is trying to keep the lines of communication open to both of his siblings, trying to be understanding with Luke and more reassuring to Sunny

Whereas Jack just goes hellfire on Luke for being such an idiot, and mean to their little sister. He feels a lot for sunny, he knows how sensitive she is and wants all the best for her so he absolutely doesn't tolerate Lukes fuckery

When they are all finally on good terms everyone can take a deep breath for the first time in a little over a month. And all is well

#tinydancerau!!#adam fantilli #adam fantilli x reader #adam fantilli blurb #adam fantilli insta edit #adam fantilli imagine #quinn hughes #luke hughes #jack hughes #umich hockey #umich imagine

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invidiia · 10 months

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❐ - yandere!dazai comforting his darling who's afraid of thunderstorms

note ; hey florida weather, what the fuck?? what happened to our sunny summer?? anyway, it's thundering here pretty badly and scaring my dog and i, so let's do this!! short cause my brain went sooo blank, i think i'll do a chuuya version sometime soon thoughh

warning ; soft-ish!yandere!!! implied kidnapped reader 🥹 so sorry to anyone who was hoping for normal hcs about this LOL!! i condone NONE of this irl.

masterlist - rules - previous

dazai often kept you home while he worked late. it was unusual, actually - he normally came home as soon as possible, even trying to get off work early because he has something else to do.. but he really just wants to see your face.

it was a bad night, really, he was kept inside the agency building while rain poured down roughly on the sidewalks. with just an umbrella, dazai tried to get to his place the fastest he could while you were curled up in a blanket waiting for the loud thunder to subside.

the thunderstorms in yokohama weren't terrible, but this one in particular made you just want to crawl under the tables and not come out until it was over.

so when dazai unlocked the door and opened it, he half expected you to run to him because he knew that the loud, inconvenient noises of the thunder bothered you, which was why he always tried not to make loud noises when he was with you.

he understood, too - he wasn't the biggest fan of thunder, but he didn't mind it. the only other reason he didn't like it was because it scared you. dazai would do something about the weather if he could, he'd do it in a heartbeat - but he couldn't, so he could try to console you instead.

dazai entered his home slowly, closing the door quickly behind him and locking it, just to be safe. he didn't full trust you, after all.

but he was quick to notice how instead of doing anything, you were on the sofa in the corner, curled in a blanket while covering your ears. usually, you'd hear when dazai came home, but this time, you only realized he was there because the door opened next to you.

"my dear, what's wrong? i'm here, the thunder can't hurt you.. what? don't look at me like that. nothing can possibly stain your beauty.. but i can't stand to see you upset, belladonna. i just love you!"

dazai was right, thunder couldn't harm you.. i mean, lightning could, but that wasn't really the issue at hand. the taller man bent down, grabbing your chin and pinching your face with his other hand. he thought you were just so cute when you were scared.

you did try to evade his touch - but lightning struck again, and seconds later, you heard a loud bang. dazai took his hands off your face and reached to hug you, but the thunder had shaken you up, causing you to jerk forward and into his arms. correction.. his chest, since he was taller, and standing up.

"ah, you're hugging me, darling, i thought this day would never come-!" dazai laughed, wrapping his arms around your frame and holding you closer, even while you tried to pull back after realizing that you were hugging him.

you wanted to yell at him to shut up - but another lightning bolt had struck, creating another loud noise. maybe it was nice, being held like this. it caused you to just hug him tighter. dazai just laughed at you, kissing the top of your head before sitting down next to you, pulling you down a bit so you could lay in his lap. he hadn't bothered taking his coat off, but it wasn't an issue.

he didn't do anything else.. he just sat there. his touch wasn't awful. maybe it wasn't that bad.

you and dazai sat there in silence. he would have commented on how you didn't do anything to get out of his hold, but he didn't want to spoil the moment. he didn't, and neither did you. it was somewhat comforting.

a/n: my mind went sooo blank after this, please forgive mee

#tw yandere #tw kidnapping #klya..writes #bsd x reader #yandere bsd x reader #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere dazai #yandere dazai x reader #yandere osamu dazai #dazai x reader

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h4amarch · 2 years

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Hi I’m on my OMORI (read: Kel) brainrot bullshit again so here we go.

Goes without saying, but SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRETY OF OMORI.

Nothing in the game is directly about Kel. The main plot revolves around resolving the misunderstanding between Aubrey and Basil, and every heavy moment regarding the effects of Mari’s death we see revolves around Hero (the nighttime piano scene, bringing Hero to the graveyard for his first ever visit, etc).

You know that scene where Kel talks to Sunny at the graveyard when they’re by themselves? When he talks about that fight between Hero and him, that’s the only in-game, overtly-stated evidence we get regarding how Kel grappled with the loss. As a result, a lot of fan-created content that deals with Kel’s grief mainly focuses on that fight, because it’s the only thing we’re given without digging under the plainly stated or shown. And you know what?

It’s still not about Kel. That entire scene, Kel is talking about how Hero became despondent, and how Hero reacted, and how Hero lashed out, and how Hero cried afterwards and apologized. Kel’s mention of himself in the equation, the part about his parents ignoring him in favor of comforting his older brother... that’s added almost as an unintentional afterthought. Immediately after it, Kel re-directs the topic back to Hero by saying he hugged and apologized to him, and talking about how he got back to school.

So in light of that, here’s some other evidence that people might miss, because Kel doesn’t talk about it.

Kel’s birthday: A lot of people have caught onto this one; the recital (and therefore Mari’s death) was in October, and Kel’s birthday, not shown in-game, is November. OMOCAT’s official art showing present-day Kel forcing past-Kel into a smile, both wearing party hats in front of a birthday cake, is most likely a reference to this.

Kel’s new friends: This one is a bit subjective, but; when Kel introduces Sunny to a few of his friends from school that he knows (Jay and Cris; Jay being a fellow sports kid and Cris being a swimmer), there’s a visible disconnect between them. For instance, Cris has been away to a different school for a while... and one of Jay’s first words to Kel is that he didn’t know he lived around here. This doesn’t mean they aren’t friends, of course! But from my experience of high school, you may not know where all your friends live... but you usually know where your close friends live.

Kel’s visits to Mari: Kel visits Mari’s grave a few times, as stated while the group goes to see her. But every time we visit her, whether it’s with Sunny or with the group, he’s always visibly uncomfortable or upset. He’s still grieving, still disheartened by it, just like everyone else. He probably isn’t any happier in the times he visits alone.

“Mari wouldn’t want this” + variants: Here’s a big one.

Kel says this to Hero, and also to Aubrey when he sees her bullying Basil. But the thing is... what about him? Sure, if Mari were around, she would probably hate to see Hero trapped in his bed, or Aubrey hurting Basil... but in the end, it’s Kel who’s around to see these things happening, and it’s Kel who finds issue with them. Instead of saying that he doesn’t want Hero to rot away, or that it hurts him to see his friends fighting, he brings up Mari. Why not just say what he feels? Well... it’s probably because it’s never worked before.

Think about it; I’m sure Kel has talked about how much he wants Hero to get out of bed, and how much he doesn’t want Aubrey to go down her destructive path. But we see evidence of this not working, in the form of Hero staying in bed for almost a year anyway, and in the form of Aubrey brushing him off. Talking about Mari gets an emotional reaction out of them; talking about himself doesn’t. And I don’t know if he consciously knows this, but he’s definitely internalized it.

I just think that’s really depressing.

#omori kel #kel omori #omori #omori game #the box files #kel angst

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anonymous-dentist · 7 days

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It's been a couple of days since the last QSMP lore stream and merch drop, and there have been two DRASTICALLY different responses from the fandom:

What the fuck oh my god why did they do this what the fuck >:( I'm very angry >:( I'm on twitter btw

Yayyy omg the Lore is back!!! :D :D :D Fuck twitter btw

I've seen SO MANY passive-aggressive posts coming from users on this website that are all saying something along the lines of, "I'm happy that the server is getting back on its feet! The eggs aren't in a coma btw, they're just out of service (looks at angry twitter users who can't get over the fact that things aren't being solved immediately)."

And, really, I think almost everybody on this website has missed the reasons why other fans are upset over the recent lore stream and the merch drop. They think it's all just whining about how things haven't been solved immediately, but it's really actually all about how things don't seem to have been solved at all.

See, the thing with the Egg Lore Stream was that, uh. None of the admins currently on hold know whether or not they have a job, including known egg admin Ryan. You might know them as Sunny's Actor, and they were pretty taken aback when Egg Lore was revealed to be happening last Saturday... without Ryan, or seemingly any other known admins whatsoever, knowing. And Ryan isn't a former employee, they're a current employee. They haven't been let go.

Ryan, and other current employees, have all been stating that communication between the QSMP higher-ups and the other admins hasn't gotten better at all. Nobody knows if they even still have jobs because the only way they find that out? Through livestreams.

Ryan, and any other suspended egg admins sticking around, only found out that they aren't, like, fired because of a goddamn lore stream.

And for former admins? It's interesting how the admin team put Pomme and Dapper in the little coma machine despite Pomme's actor, Lumi, and the French all saying that they'd rather Pomme die than get replaced, and Lumi isn't going back to the server. And Dapper's admin, Shade, isn't going back without Lumi.

So imagine being them and finding out through this stream that, oh, wow, you're just going to be replaced. An entire language group is quite possibly going to be lost, but it's fine! Actors can just be replaced, right?

Just like how Twitter admins can be replaced by a bot after being fired in the middle of the night with no warning.

Oh, and shall we mention how it seems that the whole Money Thing isn't going anywhere? How we had a paid writer admin come out and say that even after the changes were starting to be made internally that the higher-ups changed the writer's description of the Pomme figure to be as soulless as possible, because if there's one thing the QSMP admin team seems to have, it's a grudge against the French. But then, remember? The writer said that, despite being paid for February and being promised to get paid for March, that they haven't been paid? And they don't think they ever will be?

And how they thought they would be fired for speaking to their friends, aka former admins?

I think that quite legitimately every admin that has come out after leaving the company, or who is still part of the company but who still made a statement anyway, has said that they hope that the QSMP can continue because they believe in the project, but they don't know if it will because nothing seems to be changing behind the scenes.

But, yeah, sure, okay, say it's all just people whining about how change hasn't been immediate. It's people just complaining about the lore! They need to grow up, right? They need to touch grass? Right?

But, well. Being critical is absolutely vital. Does that mean people should harass the admins? Absolutely not. But that does mean that people should be like, "Hey, so why is the admin team still being so shady?"

Things can't be fixed immediately, but it's been over a month. The problems with communication are still continuing! They haven't stopped! It's just that nobody on this website is listening to the admins anymore.

Trusting ccs is fine and all, but keep in mind that they didn't know what was going on before, either. With the general lack of transparency still going on behind the scenes, how would they know if it's all been fixed now?

#i'm losing my MIND with all the people in the tag #attacking people who are concerned about the project #like. there's stuff to be concerned about!#why did you all stop caring the second it turned april

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soullesserror · 4 months

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I bring you more thoughts because why not! These are all angst because that's what's been on the mind, so like, fair warning, I don't think it's anyhing too bad, just some mildly upsetting thoughts

Kinda a theory, more like an AU or just a cool thought, but like, what if qTubbo and Sunny manage to go back however long, but the Fed finds out, and Tubbo is locked up somewhere that's not the ice prison, or he's turned into a Fed worker, and Sunny is also brainwashed and it turns Sunny is Egg A1, or worse, Hope, left alone with an idea of what a family is but purposefully left behind to never find their father or a new family?

Anyways :)

Something happens to Sunny because of the Fed and qTubbo decides he has to destroy them, because, duh, so he manages to run away because this Fed doesn't have as much experience with him, and he gets to Egg Island, hoping to find the breakfast trio (and maybe the other eggs) early, but he can't for whatever reason (maybe he's just too early), so he decides he'll set up shop there as he tests and theory-crafts ways to stop the Fed, forming a new entity/organisation/group composed of only him, and he uses the Eye symbol from Ordo Theoritas, and he makes little guys who are kinda like the eggs to cope, and before he knows it, he's become the Watcher and is starting the first Purgatory, kidnapping these test subjects the Fed has in order to make them stronger but also for his own entertainment?

But wait! I can make this hurt worse!

What if the Fed captured Sunny but kept her around, alive, still growing, and eventually they hatch! And they live pretty well for a while, as a dragon, flying around what used to be their old home in a different future, and eventually this Sunny that's already grown lays eggs, when a loud rumbling sound, a huge explosion, scares her off, and she leaves her eggs, only for the Federation to swoop in and steal them for experiments? What if this Sunny is the dragon all the islanders' eggs came from?

ouugghhh angst is not something i think about a lot but the concept of people going back in time to try and fix something only to end up being the ones hurting the people in their future is so fun and so interesting

i think sunny being the dragon that laid the first eggs particularly is interesting to think about, but especially with tubbo being the eye watcher because maybe sunny flew back there and idk. they reunite? a father lost to time but recognising his daughter even after she’s so grown, or, if people want it even more angsty Tubbo kills the dragon because he has no clue who it is!

i do think that whatever they do, whatever they TRY to do, Tubbo always ends up frozen in a prison of his own making. He chose to go back in time and mess with it, and he has to face the consequences

#time traveler tubbo au #qsmp #qsmp tubbo #sunnysideup the egg #tw death #tw character death #egg death #kind of?

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rorywritesjunk · 4 days

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There's no race, no ending in sight

r rating. title comes from "two of us on the run" by lucius

(i don't know how long this will be, eight parts? ten parts? who knows. There's a lizard mentioned in this btw, not just Crocodile)

Taglist: @hey-august

pt 1 + pt 2 + p3 + p4 + pt 5 + pt 6 + pt 7 +Pt 8 + Pt 9 + Pt 10 + Pt 11

Pt 6

Sunny kept her distance from Buggy after the dinner. How dare he question her happiness with her marriage, it wasn't any of his business. Why did it matter to him? She hated that he asked, hated that he touched her, kissed the back of her hand, and she wished she did slap him for it.

If Crocodile found out then the clown would have been killed that night for sure.

She stopped going by the tent. She didn't want to be alone with him in case he asked those questions again.

No, she wasn't happy in her marriage but Buggy had no reason to know that. It didn't matter if she was anyway. She was stuck married to Crocodile if he had anything to say about it. He wouldn't let her go no matter how much she begged and fought him. She was stuck.

Sunny put on some comfortable clothes, deciding she wanted to go for a walk on the island. It would be safe. She knew she had to tell Crocodile or he would go looking for her. She didn't want to see him upset so she went to his office and knocked on the door.

"Come in." She heard him say, amusement in his voice. She opened the door and stepped in, making her way to his desk. "You knock so quietly, I always know it's you."

"Well, I don't want to interrupt you." Sunny told him with a shrug. "But I wanted to tell you I was going to go for a walk. You can come with me if you want?"

He reached for her hand and she let him take it, being pulled into his lap. She made herself comfortable, looking up at him as he reached up to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. She tried not to think of Buggy that night, how he kissed her hand, looked into her eyes, but it was hard. These two men were so different, but only one loved her. Buggy was a clown trying to play some dumb mind game with her.

"Is something on your mind, darling?" Crocodile asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"Oh, nothing, really." Sunny shrugged as she let her head rest against his chest. He was so much taller than her that even sitting she still felt so small in his arms. "Did you want to come along with me?"

"I would but I'm afraid I have a meeting soon." He told her, taking the cigar from his mouth and setting it aside. She nodded, figuring that would be the answer. He barely made himself available at night, it was dumb to think he would want to come along with her. Part of her was glad, though, because she wanted to be alone. She only asked so he wouldn't be upset. "I don't want you walking by yourself, however. Get the clown to go with you."

"The clown... what, why?" Sunny hoped he didn't notice how fast she responded. He hated Buggy. Why would he want him to tag along?

"Because if something happened to you, I could have a reason to kill him." Crocodile told her. It was so calm and casual Sunny almost didn't catch what he said. She sat up straighter and looked at him with a frown.

"If there's trouble I'll just push him towards it and run." She replied as he stroked her cheek gently, chuckling at her response.

"That's my girl."

Sunny stood in front of Buggy's tent and sighed. She didn't want to do this but she needed to get over the dinner. Buggy and Crocodile worked together, there was no doubt they would be interacting again and frequently. Grumbling to herself she stepped inside. Buggy was barking orders to his men as Richie lounged nearby, perking up when he saw Sunny enter.

The lion got up and hurried over to her, purring and yowling for attention which Sunny was happy to give. Buggy turned to see what had Richie agitated, only to swear under his breath when he saw Sunny.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded as Richie rolled onto his back. Sunny smiled and knelt down to rub his belly. Buggy had to look away. He didn't want to see her smile like that.

"I wanted to go for a walk and Crocodile wants you to come with me in case of trouble." She told him as she continued petting Richie. Buggy looked surprised by that.

"Really? Well, can you blame him? I am strong and a fierce fighter." He replied rather proudly, stroking his chin as he looked smug.

"Oh, no, it's just so he can kill you if something happens to me." She said, shattering his mood. She stood up and looked at Buggy, ignoring him crouched on the floor, looking defeated by her words. "Come on, clown. I need to stretch my legs."

Buggy kept several steps back as Sunny and Richie explored. The cat insisted on tagging along, having taken a liking to Sunny. Buggy couldn't stand that. The damn cat was bouncing around like he was some kitten and Sunny kept laughing at his antics. He even pounced on a dandelion, the flood exploding into his face and getting stuck in his fur. He let out a pathetic whine and looked at her.

"You're such a baby." She giggled as she picked the seeds from his fur as Buggy watched with a frown.

"He's vicious, you know! He might bite you!" Buggy warned her. "I'm not pulling your arm out of his gut when he decides to take a chunk outta ya."

"Oh hush, he wouldn't hurt me." Sunny shot back as she finished cleaning Richie's face. "He's a big sweetie."

"Yea? Your husband the same way?" Buggy grumbled. Sunny looked at him and he stopped; they were staring at each other, Buggy wondering if he should have kept his mouth shut while Sunny debated on arguing with him again. She sighed and looked back at Richie.

"Shut up, Buggy."

"What?! I'm just saying, geez!" Buggy rolled his eyes as Sunny stood up and started walking again. Richie got up to follow after her, giving Buggy a look that had the clown wondering if maybe Richie would turn on him and not Sunny. He didn't want to find out. What he wanted to know was why Sunny married someone as vicious as Crocodile when she didn't seem to care about the man at all. "So, your marriage-"

He didn't get a chance to ask because Sunny stopped and let out a horrific scream. Buggy could still see her, she was standing upright, but why would she make such a noise? He rushed over to her and she ducked behind him, covering her face as she squealed in fear.

"What, what's wrong?!" Buggy demanded, frantically looking for any oncoming threat. He couldn't see anything. "Answer me, Sunny!"

She grabbed the back of his shirt with one hand while pointing shakily towards a small boulder. Buggy looked to where she was pointing. He couldn't believe it.

"It's a tiny little lizard!" He snapped at her as she kept her face hidden. A tiny pink lizard was basking in the sun peacefully, unbothered by Sunny's distress. "For crying out loud, I thought you were about to be killed!"

"I-I'm scared of lizards, Buggy!" She cried as Richie went over to sniff at it. It stuck its tongue out at him, startling the lion.

"You're married to one, geez!" Buggy went to shoo the lizard away. It didn't budge.

"I never wanted to be!"

Buggy turned to look at her. That just caused him to want to ask more questions. She didn't seem to realize what she said, sniffing loudly as she kept back from the lizard.

"You don't want to be married to him?" Buggy asked. "Then why the hell are you?!"

"What?" She looked up at him, wiping her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"You just said you never wanted to marry Crocodile." Buggy reminded her, watching Sunny's eyes grow wide. "Why are you married to him then if you don't want to be?!"

She stared at him, brain trying to think of how to tell Buggy he misheard her. No, no, the clown didn't need to know anything about her marriage, but she was tired of pretending after all this time.

She sniffed, straightening up as he handed her a handkerchief from his pocket. She took it and wiped her face.

"You know how dangerous he is, Buggy." Sunny sighed. "You try saying no to him. He gets what he wants."

"You married him because you didn't want to say no?" He seemed confused by that. "Why marry someone you didn't want to be with?!"

"You're a damn idiot." Sunny told him. "You know, forget it." She tried to hand the handkerchief back to him but he couldn't take it so she stuck it in her pocket. "Just... Ignore what I said. I was distressed and not thinking."

"Why don't you just leave him then?" Buggy asked. He didn't want to drop it. He wanted to understand this situation because it was confusing for him, not to mention it could be useful to have dirt on Crocodile.

"I tried that, clown, when he was in prison!" She huffed in frustration and crossed her arms. "He still found me, okay, there's no leaving him. I'm married to him until either of us dies and that isn't happening any time soon." She looked over at Richie, the lion was sniffing the boulder. "Just... Forget it, Buggy. You don't understand so forget I said anything, please?"

He wanted to keep asking, he wanted answers, but the way she said please, turning to look at him with dull eyes, the brightness gone from them had him keeping his mouth shut.

For a moment.

"If you weren't with him then you could have a choice who you wanted to be with." Buggy told her as he clenched his fists. "There's others out there who would want to be with you!"

"That so?" Sunny chuckled softly. "You got someone lined up for me, Buggy? You're desperate to get rid of me, aren't you?"

"What if it was me?!" He asked. "What if I was with you?!"

Sunny froze, staring at him in surprise. He seemed to realize what he said, ready to make excuses, but she just started laughing.

"You're funny, Buggy." She smiled. "Thank you for making me laugh."

That wasn't his intention but he kept his mouth shut.

#mini fic #sunny x buggy #sunny x crocodile #buggy the clown #sir crocodile #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #sir crocodile x oc #crocodile x oc

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americasass81 · 1 month

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Vibranium Knight

Warnings:- Mild Kidnapping, Use of Pet Names, Cockwarming, P in V Smut. 18+ only. Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting. Feedback is welcomed.

By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Author’s Note 1:- @targaryenvampireslayer just a little something I wrote for you Suz to hopefully make your working day a little brighter. Sorry it took so long but I hope it’s worth the wait being that this is my first time writing for this character I know you adore..

Author’s Note 2:- As always, all images have been found through google search.

Synopsis:- Enjoying a beautiful Spring day was not supposed to introduce you to a whole new world of possibilities but that’s exactly what happens when your distracted state intersects with an Avenger on a totally personal mission.

Pairings:- dark-ish!Sam Wilson x Female Reader.

Word Total:- 4,836

The office was quiet as you sat down at your desk and turned on the monitor, but the silence didn't really help. The truth was nothing did. ‘Why did it have to be this way?’ you thought as you now stood back up and headed for the nearest coffee machine while your computer flickered to life and the pinging of the elevator told you that soon your colleagues would be filing out of it to join you in another monotonous day of being totally undervalued while you scrimped and saved to hopefully retire before the humdrum working existence stole all semblance of joy from your life.

Sitting back down now and stealing a quick, generous amount of the caffeine infused beverage designed to see you through the day, you nodded kindly at your colleagues and exchanged pleasantries about your weekend activities before throwing yourself headlong into your work and counting down the seconds until lunch brought a much needed and welcome relief. Or at least that's what it usually did.

Powering down your computer at the 1 o'clock mark and picking up your jacket while rising from your chair, a brisk walk to the elevator past the fire alarm that you'd dreamed so often of pulling just to add some excitement to the boring office routine, a smooth, uninterrupted trip down to the ground floor and your were free. At least temporarily anyway.

Stepping outside the door then and taking in a few delightful breaths of the sweet spring air, you contemplated getting in your car, letting the top down and just spending your hour's break cruising around the city. After all, it wasn't very often you got weather like this that let you feel the wind in your face or the sun shining down on you in a manner that wouldn't leave you burning up from the inside out afterwards. No, this was exactly the type of weather you relished.

Not too hot, not too cold, you took one last delightful lungful and agreed instead that this was far too glorious a day to waste even a second of it sitting around in smog-fueled traffic. Walking instead now to your favorite restaurant and collecting your usual order to go, you next headed to the local park and finding one of the easily accessible benches beside the river, sat down and tucked into the mouthwatering ramen noodle dish that only David managed to prepare just the way you liked it.

Although to be fair you thought as you took that first delicious bite and savored every single flavor that assaulted your taste buds, the other staff members never really screwed up this dish and it was the main reason you loved their food so much, but there was just something extra that seemed to make it taste a whole lot nicer when David made it. Maybe he added something the others didn't. Maybe it was his infectious smile and sunny disposition. And then just maybe, it was the fact that he always had it hot and prepared for you the second you walked in as if he somehow accepted how excruciatingly tedious and demanding your work environment was and how precious this lunchtime break was for you.

A good deed in a weary world. And yet something so small that made a world of difference to you.

Finishing up your meal now and dumping the rubbish in the nearest bin provided, you then decided that a bit of exploration was due you before you headed back to the grind of daily life necessary to pay your bills and afford you some small pleasure away from the hustle and bustle of trying to get a leg up in the corporate world. And perhaps it was this very ruminating that found you off the beaten track in an area of the park you had never ventured before as a cloth came up to cover your mouth while the world went black all around you.

Coming back to the waking world some time later with absolutely no idea of what had happened in between or how much time had passed exactly, two things at least were perfectly clear .... and only one of them brought you any semblance of relief. Looking around the room now while simultaneously focusing your gaze on the outside world that greeted you through a nearby window, you knew beyond all doubt now that this was not your apartment while the vegetation blooming back at you confirmed this too was no longer the city you knew and worked in. As for the second thing? Well, the pounding in your head told you you were well and truly alive, but whether or not that was a good thing or a bad thing remained to be seen.

Rising slowly from the bed now and thankful from your head to your toes that every stitch of clothing you had last put on was at least in place, you still needed to know exactly what was going on. Walking then from the side of the huge bed over to the double doors that clearly opened on the outside world, you placed your palms on the handles and sent up a silent plea before quietly as possible pushing down and releasing a breath as the latches gave way and an exit appeared. Giving one last look behind you then to make sure you hadn't alerted whomever it was that brought you here against your will, you next stepped forwards into the unknown and faced what lay ahead. And what an experience that was.

Gazing around you now at wide open fields in every direction set against the backdrop of a picturesque mountain and river, it would have taken your breath away if not for the truth of what it revealed .... you were totally and utterly cut off from civilized society. Taking an extra few moments still to just stand there and soak in the peace and tranquility so evident in every rock and blade of grass before you, you then pulled yourself away from the quiet and headed back towards the house. It was time to figure out where you went from here.

Turning around then and walking back through the double doors that just moments ago had offered you freedom and then stolen it away just as easily, you stopped up short however when a man appeared through another door in the bedroom covered in only a towel as water droplets running down his exposed upper half told you he had just returned from a shower. Which actually explained why your absence had gone unnoticed .... at least until now.

"Well hello there chicklet, am I to assume by your return that you're not yet ready to try and make a run for it?" he asked while you simply stared blankly back at him as a thousand questions exploded in your mind like fireworks on the 4th of July. Yet nothing came out. So it seemed he would have to try again. "You don't remember me, do you chicklet?" he now asked as he walked fully into the room, closed the doors you had neglected in your shock and then sat down on the seat situated at the foot of the bed to await your response. A response that came rather quickly this time.

"Remember you? When the hell did I ever meet you?" you asked, but any answer from him was unnecessary as flashes of memory answered your own question for you. For you see you had met him.

Oh sure it was now a lifetime ago and he went by The Falcon back then, but there was no mistaking that beautiful smile, those soft eyes or the fact that you haven't lived your life under a rock. No, the whole world knew of Sam Wilson. Formerly known as the heroic Falcon, now carrying the mantle of Captain America, the whole world had witnessed his strength and character when The Flagsmashers had sought to create even more chaos out of the tragedy that was the Blip and the resulting return of all those people that had been snapped away. You on the other hand knew him personally. Kind of.

Sitting by the catwalk many years back at a New York Fashion Week event your friend Alice had somehow managed to get both of you tickets for, your memory of lying beneath the strapping superhero when guns began blasting and bullets started flying might have remained more prominent in your mind if it wasn't for well .... said gunfight. As it was, you remembered being tackled to the ground, moved this way and that to a safe place before the winged superhero told you to stay put upon rising from your position and heading off to help The Black Widow deal with whatever skirmish was wreaking havoc on the spectacular event.

No, that was definitely an encounter you were only too happy to forget. Even if it did include a run-in with an actual Avenger. But wait, if Sam Wilson was still an Avenger and he was now currently occupying a house in the middle of absolutely nowhere with you, then what exactly did that mean for your current location? After all, you had woken up that morning in England just like you did every other morning and Sam Wilson, as far as you could recall, was everything good that the United States of America had to offer. But they were oceans apart. Literally. So where the hell were you now?

In the time you had lost had you somehow been transported across the Atlantic to the good old U. S. of A.? Or was Captain America himself currently shacked up in the most idyllic of settings deep in the heart of the English countryside? Looking out the double doors once more and realizing now that you could in no way place this location in either country, you were about to give up and ask him where both of you were when a glance through the door he had just entered brought a whole new set of questions and distractions flooding through your mind.

Walking into that room while completely ignoring the half naked Adonis and staring in awe now at the rows of fabric that had caught your attention, one half of what appeared to be a gigantic closet filled with fabulous dresses, comfy casual wear and shoes that would have made Miranda Priestly swoon told you that you were in far more serious trouble than you had previously imagined. For this situation was not something that had just sprung up overnight. No, every little detail here had been meticulously planned. So turning back to the bedroom now and facing the man you suspected to be your abductor, you took a deep breath before asking that very same man what the fuck was going on.

"Aw come on now chicklet, isn't it obvious?" he asked with a smirk before continuing as you sat down on the chair nestled in the corner of the room. "I built this place for you. For us. This beautiful, isolated spot where you can live a life of pampered luxury without that tedious job sapping your joy and killing your creativity. I've read some of your work, you know. Who says fantasies don't come true?"

Staring at him blankly now as your mind began spinning with what he had just told you, your anxiety spiked to the point where if you weren't sitting down you would most possibly pass out yet again. As it was, you now had no alternative but to tell your brain to shut up and think. For what he was saying couldn't possibly be real. Right?

Oh sure, you were far from stupid or naïve. Anyone these days could find anything on the internet with enough savvy if they looked hard enough and of course you were well aware that one or two celebrities at least poked their virtual heads on Tumblr from time to time. BUT THIS? Had Sam Wilson really found your blog and read your fics? Had he truly discovered your secret desire to feel his powerful, naked body pressed against yours after he rescued you from a job that treated you no better than a mechanical robot tapping away at a keyboard and answering questions for people who couldn't even be bothered to thank you afterwards? Worse yet, how had he managed to put all the pieces together and actually track you down?

No, this couldn't seriously be what was happening here.

Looking up at him now however and seeing the truth etched quite plainly on his handsome face, you quickly got up from your chair and began frantically pacing back and forth before him as your anxiety spiked once more to levels you barely remembered previously experiencing. "No, no, no. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. This. Can't. Be. Happening," you now repeated like a manta in the hopes that saying it enough times, with enough conviction, might make it so. But that didn't happen as was evidenced when the man whose presence you now tried desperately to ignore reached out, pulled you onto his lap and stopped your ranting the only way he knew was guaranteed to shock you out of your current state.

He kissed you. And what a kiss it was.

Slow and deep. Soft and with nothing but luscious lips well versed in the art of seduction, the humming that left your throat as his lips first massaged your top one and then your bottom before alternating back and forth would have been a sound he could happily listen to all day if he didn't have other plans. For he wanted to hear you scream. Continuing to gently devour your lips without seeking entry, his hands now moved to cup your ass and massage here too as your brain began the process of slowing down the panic currently controlling your system. After all he did want you to agree to this and for that he needed you to be calm and thinking clearly. Well as clearly as his kisses would allow anyway.

Switching from a humming to a purring now as his ministrations continued to calm you while a warm feeling slowly made itself known between your thighs, you were finally relaxed enough to ask Sam what the plan was next, but it seemed he asked that question for you first. "So chicklet, can I interest you in a life of pleasure and debauchery after all?" he asked as his lips finally left yours and he pulled back from your face just long enough for you to look into his eyes as he continued, "What do you say? You willing to live here and let your creativity flourish while I spend my days saving the world and my nights ravishing every inch of this .... divine specimen," he finished as his palms squeezed your ass cheeks while his eyes roamed over your clothed form as if it was the most glorious sight he had ever seen.

And maybe it was, but you rarely thought so.

Looking back at him now in return as if he had completely lost his mind and wanting to tell him so, you opened your mouth to turn down his proposal but his lips now buried against your neck brought a whole different response. One you never consciously planned on making. "Yes. Yes. Oh my god, yes," you moaned out continuously as Sam now nibbled on your neck and shoulders before soothing the harsher nips with his tongue while his hands still caressed your ass and made you wonder if you could actually orgasm from this situation alone. Which was actually a frightening concept when you thought about it.

Coming to your senses long enough now as a result of this stray thought however, you pushed back slightly from the man beneath you to fully take in the position you were in. Sitting atop the thighs of Captain America, who was currently wearing nothing but a towel as he set the embers burning in your loins, you wanted to tell him to slow things down but he wasn't having any of it. You had accepted his offer and he now intended to show you exactly what that meant. "May I chicklet?" he asked and before your mouth could raise any objections, your head gave an imperceptible nod and that was all the consent he needed.

Returning to kiss your lips now as his tongue this time sought to invade your mouth and distract you from what his hands were doing, you might have been shocked by the strength he displayed in standing up with you in his arms and letting the towel fall from his waist if he wasn't so good with his damn mouth. As it was, he was very good. Kissing you endlessly, while twisting his tongue with yours as well as biting it gently every few swirls, you only now noticed the changes taking place when his face disappeared from before you, your back now rested against his chest and the closet door appeared in your vision once more. He had completely turned you around without ever letting you go.

But that wasn't even the most remarkable feat.

Sitting on his lap still as his lips now returned to tasting any bit of skin they came in contact with, your brain tried to figure out not how he had done what he'd done, but how your jeans and panties now lay lodged around your ankles as his hands began to make themselves acquainted with your most private region. Roaming along your thighs, squeezing here and there as well as opening you up as wide as was possible atop his powerful legs, the warmth now spreading outwards from your core just ached for him to quench it but he just wanted to have some fun. And all at your expense it seemed.

Running his fingers back and forth along your slit now as his other hand slid up your top to rest against your stomach, you whined and pleaded for him to make you come but that it seemed was not yet in his immediate plans. Circling your clit extremely slowly instead to the point where your hips began to move against him, he stopped and slapped your pussy once before chuckling into your neck at the yelp that left your tender lips. "Patience chicklet, we're a long ways off from making you squirt all over my sheets but .... maybe I can give you something to take the edge off," he offered and with that he once again defied the laws of man by somehow using a foot to finish removing your lower garments before lifting you up and slotting his shaft into your warm, wet and waiting pussy.

And what a feeling it was .... for both of you. Long and hard and thick enough to split your lower regions apart, you were by no means an innocent virgin, but you suddenly doubted you would ever be satisfied with any rod other than the one currently making its presence known to your fluttering walls. Not that Sam had any intention of allowing another man or his equipment anywhere near you.

Making you comfortable then as your perfect flower held him snugly in place and his weeping tip just kissed your cervix, his hands now removing your top clothes while his lips by your ear whispered not to move told you his plan was a simple one .... to pleasure you with everything he had except what you really, really wanted. In other words, he planned to torture you.

Verbally railing against him now as his hands began massaging your breasts while his lips now became acquainted with every bump and dip along your spine, your hands moving down to tend to the ache between your legs brought a murderous slew of profanities streaming from your mouth as his teeth made themselves known to the soft juncture of your neck and your shoulder.

"Chicklet no," he reprimanded now as he pulled his teeth back and he ran his lips over the spot that was sure to sport a lovely mark come morning, "you'll get your release when I give it to you and not a second sooner," he continued as his hands now moved further upwards to allow his fingers dance against your shoulder blades. Pressing here and kissing there now as you held onto his thighs to keep from toppling forwards, the moans you soon started releasing as his skillful talents worked out knots you never knew existed were matched only by the devious chuckles coming from the man behind you when the odd thrust upwards added a growl from you every now and then.

The bastard wasn't playing fair.

Continuing to run his fingers over every inch of your glorious body as his hands moved down to finally rest atop yours, you hoped now you might finally get some release, but Sam it seemed still wasn't cooperating. Taking your left hand in his now and linking your fingers together, he next took your hand and moved it to his sac before speaking. "You feel that chicklet? What you do to me? You have no idea the number of nights I've gotten myself off to your writing wishing we could make it real. Who knows, now that I have you we might even give your back door the attention it so desperately craves," he added and realizing what he was now referencing, your body produced a burst of strength you never knew you possessed and hurled you back across the room as horror dawned on your face while surprise clearly settled on Sam's.

"Please tell me you've taken one too many blows to the head and taken leave of your senses?" you now asked as you reached for the throw resting on the chair and wrapping it around you while waiting for the superhero to prove your suspicions wrong. For he couldn't possibly be suggesting that.

Unfortunately for you however that's exactly where his mind was headed. Reiterating once more that he wanted to experience everything with you, both sexual and otherwise, he now joined you on the floor before promising that any and all adventures would only take place when you were ready and with your complete and unwavering consent.

Content at least with the sincerity you found in his eyes and voice, you agreed in principle to give him a chance as he then stood up, offered his hand and pulled you gently from the floor when you easily obliged. Walking you to the bed then before tipping up back onto it, a few kisses later and his shaft was buried deep inside your pussy as his eyes stared into yours and fingers once more laced with your own just inches from the headboard.

Pulling out slowly then before plunging back in at the same leisurely pace so your quivering walls felt every ridge, vein and twitch his impressive phallus possessed, it was nothing compared to the magic his lips were working. Feasting on your breasts with just enough pressure to dull the lines between pleasure and pain, his tongue soothing the skin felt like utter bliss. As were his words.

Dripping with honey and whispered out between bites and moans, the professions of love, praise and plans for your future together did far more in this moment to turn you on really than anything his physical form was capable of. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Continuing to gaze into his eyes now as you felt your body moving ever closer to that elusive release you thought would never come, Sam stalled his hips just long enough to whisper those three little words that sent a flutter straight to your heart as your walls contracted and tried to pull him deeper.

"I offer freedom," and with that he kissed you deeper than he had before, brought your interlocked hands closer together and pounded into you with such abandon now that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. And yet you still didn't feel pain. There was nothing but love and pleasure and as both of you finally reached the precipice and leapt forwards together there was a strange sense of completeness. Of being whole.

Continuing then to kiss you through your orgasms as wave after wave of warm cum flooded your insides and reached the sheets as Sam had earlier promised, your eyes closing on this liberating experience shut out any words he murmured as sleep dragged you into its welcoming embrace.

Opening your eyes on the world again and almost crying out from the loss of the dream that was both bizarrely weird yet oddly satisfying, you snuggled deeper into the soft sheets to hold onto the memory a little while longer. For you didn't want it to disappear. Someone had wanted to worship you. To love you, provide for you and show you that their world began and ended with you. But of course that only proved it had to vanish. Work wouldn't wait, wouldn't give you what you most craved.

Groaning in frustration now as you resigned yourself to heading back to the daily grind, a hand appearing from behind you and resting across your stomach brought your focus squarely and securely on the other half of the bed however. For it seemed you weren't alone. Frantically wondering what to do now in regards to fight, flight or simply screaming your lungs out like the damsel did in every single horror movie you had ever watched, turning slowly now to assess the situation brought a whole new shocking and wondrous revelation to your unbelieving eyes. The dream it seemed was real.

Laying beside you now, his hand still resting where it had just landed, his naked form clothed in fabric and sleep, Sam Wilson looked a vision if such a thing could be said about a man. But what then did this mean for you? Was the dream actually real and not a dream at all? Had this real life, honest to goodness superhero been serious when he offered to pamper and pleasure you every second his presence wasn't required to save the world? Did this really mean you never had to work in that deplorable, dead end job again where you were less valued than the office chair you sat on?

Contemplating all these questions now while reaching out to touch the man beside you simply to further confirm his existence was real, you were just about to place your palm gently upon his cheek when you thought better of it. This was nuts. Total, complete and utter bonkers. Your life wasn't meant to be this easy and carefree. Writing stories and having your every sexual desire catered to by your very own superhero. Never again having to worry about bills, unappreciative bosses or rude customers whom it seemed had never been taught terms like kindness or common decency.

No, things like this never happened to you and so as you resigned yourself to the fact that all of this was simply wishful thinking, you turned away from the god before you and prepared to exit the bed and return to the reality that was your life. But it seemed this trip was only ever meant to be one way.

Joining you now away from the peaceful embrace of slumber that previously held all of his attention, Sam opened his eyes, reached out his other hand and pulled you tighter towards him. "Now, now chicklet, I hope you don't plan on sneaking out of our bed to run off somewhere at this god awful early hour. It's too warm and cozy here for me to have to chase you down and fuck you where I catch you," he murmured between still sleepy breaths.

Gulping down your shock now as images of his glorious erection splitting you apart the previous night sprang forth before your eyes, his knowing smirk told you he had you right where he wanted you. You weren't yet ready for another round. Still unsure of where he got his stamina from and how you were meant to keep up, the throbbing still present in your pussy and his intense gaze raking over your equally naked form quickly and easily made up your mind.

Now was the time to be his good girl.

Finally admitting defeat and turning back onto your side, you silently allowed Sam Wilson to spoon your bodies together and pull the covers back over both of you before closing your eyes and drifting back to sleep with the promise that when you woke again you would try employing reason and common sense to regain control over your future. Even if the grip around your midsection solidly confirmed your plan was doomed to failure and the future he promised was now yours for the taking.

#dark-ish!Sam Wilson x Female Reader #Sam Wilson

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analogwriting · 5 months

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It Comes in Waves

Chapter 11: Refracted Waves

Trafalgar Law x gn!reader word count: 1.7k a/n: oh my fuck, sorry this took so long. work has been absolutely hellacious lmfao. it also didn't help that i rewrote parts of these next few chapters a million times and i eventually just rolled with it ope first|next

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The next couple of days, you strategically avoid being around Law for too long. You were too embarrassed to be around him for long. The scene just replaying in your head every time you saw him. Nami’s teasing didn’t help either. The little comments she was always making were flustering you even more.

However, if you did end up around him, you both acted like nothing happened. As it should be. Not that you gave him much time to say much anything else anyway before you made an excuse to leave. The longest interaction you’ve had was giving his jacket back and thanking him for it. Though, it had taken you a few hours to be able to face him again.

Eventually, there was talk of Dressrosa. Plans were being made - sort of. Luffy hated plans so he didn’t really pay attention, but everyone else was making a plan to try to have some kind of idea of what they were doing when they arrived. Chopper was insistent on you staying on the boat despite your protests. He wanted to run some more tests and make sure you were at full capacity again. He also didn’t want you to hurt yourself again so soon.

You ended up agreeing with him, not wanting to upset the tiny doctor yet again.

After everyone left, you were laying on a hammock on the deck. You were so bored. People were risking their lives and trying to take down a warlord and you were stuck here. Sure, it was supposed to just be a simple recon mission. Return Caesar in exchange for Doflamingo stepping down from being a warlord but…something didn’t sit right with you. It almost seemed too easy.

A terrible feeling sunk into your bones. You sat up, looking around. It seemed like a sunny and calm day. It was too peaceful. Too quiet. It put you on edge.

‘He needs your help.’

Your head whipped around. Who was that? Who needed your help? Did something go wrong? It was like a whisper in the wind. Maybe you imagined it. You were so bored your mind was making up excuses to make you leave.

You looked out to the ocean again, thinking hard. It wouldn’t hurt to check, right? Quick travel over and quick travel back. There and back. You could possibly be back before Chopper even noticed you were gone. You weighed your options and that bad feeling washed over you again. Something bad was happening and you needed to find them now. You were glad you listened in on their planning even after you had agreed to stay or this would be more difficult.

You scribbled a quick apology on a note for Chopper, sticking it to the mast before taking out your Navis and heading towards the island. You remembered the layout of the map, so it should be fine. You headed to your destination quickly. You could sense some giant fish around, but they left you alone for the most part. Maybe coming to sniff you, but they swam off. You silently thanked the ocean for her help.

When you arrived at Greenbit, you put the Navis back into your necklace. You honestly had no idea where to even begin to look. You thought for a moment before walking into the ocean a bit. “Help me, please,” you whispered to the waves that were now at your waist. You felt a funnel form around you and you shot into the air. Much like the columns that appear in the ocean from time to time in extreme weather.

It held you in the air and you looked about, spotting Law currently in battle. “There!” Then a wave began to form and head towards his location. You were heading towards them at a rapid pace. Ah, shit. This wasn’t what you planned. “Look out!”

Law looked up, away from his current fight with Doflamingo and his eyes widened as he saw you riding on a large wave. Oh man. You were really in trouble.

The water crashed to the ground, washing everything away from each other. When the water dispersed, you were next to Law, who was sputtering on the ground. “What the hell are you doing here?” he finally barked. You ignored him, noticing that at least the water had pushed away the danger that Law was currently facing.

“We don’t have much time.” You had an idea. You weren’t even sure if it would work, but you had to try. You could already feel yourself feeling drained. Maybe Chopper was right. You weren’t quite at full capacity, but you couldn’t give up now.

“What do you mean?” he asked, standing up. You walked over to him, looking him in the eye. “Trafalgar Law.” He blinked, making a face as you said his name. You were sure he was confused. “Do you trust me?” He looked at you for a moment, but nodded. “Without a doubt.” You nodded. “Good. Whatever you do, do not use your ability. Not until I give you the clear, got it?”

He looked at you, even more confused than he was a few seconds ago. You took your necklace off and looked at him. He leaned down so that you could throw it over his head. You settled it and looked at him. “Trust me.”

“What is your plan?”

Right. The man who always needs the plan. You looked at him as water came rushing to the both of you. You answered in a way that hinted that it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“We’re going to trick the ocean.”

Law felt as the water crashed into him and the next thing he knew, he was in the ocean. Was this your plan? To drag him out into the ocean? You couldn’t lug him and swim! He was going to sink to the bottom before you were able to swim to him.

When everything settled down, he noticed that he could still move. He looked down at the necklace, noticing the dull glow. He was also able to move despite being in the middle of the ocean. He was able to flail around enough to bring himself above water. He also noticed that he was pretty sure he could still use his ability but just before he was about to, your voice rang in his head.

How the hell did you pull this off? Trick the ocean? That was insane. It was even more insane that it worked. He looked around. Where were you? Did you get washed away too? Did you use too much of your own ability and pass out? Then he thought more about it. How were you able to do so much with the ocean without a devil fruit ability? He didn’t know of any fruits that dealt with the ocean, plus that seemed to go against the whole ocean hates devil fruit users.

What were you?

He didn’t think long as he realized that he didn’t know how to swim and trying to stay afloat was harder than it looked.

You were a bit more turned around than you meant to be and it took you longer to find Law than intended. You spotted him some odd yards away and it seemed that he had listened to you. He hadn’t used his ability. Good. That would’ve complicated things and surely the ocean would’ve been angry at you, which you didn’t need that right now.

You swam over to him, grabbing him before he went under and supporting him. He looked at you, completely shocked. “Y/n…” You looked at him. “Looks like it worked.”

“What the fuck?” He shook his head. “How the hell did we just fool the entire ocean?” You shook your head. “No idea, I definitely just took a shot in the dark.” He stared at you in disbelief.

“Alright, hold on,” you said. You used what little energy you had left to push the two of you out of the water. Only it somewhat just…spit you out and you two flew through the air before crashing onto land somewhere on Dressrosa.

You coughed, sitting up and holding your head. The world was spinning again and you tried your best to collect your thoughts. Law was sputtering and made his way over to you. “After this is over,” he panted, placing your necklace back on you. “You’re explaining to me how the hell you did that.” You nodded. “Deal.” You were both panting and catching your breath.

Black started to build up on the edges of your vision. “Shit,” you mumbled. “Traffy? Y/n?” You blinked. Luffy? You looked over, everything in a haze. Where was he at? You narrowed your eyes, barely making out what looked like a building. Was he in some kind of jail?

Everything started to sound really far away and you were overwhelmed with all the commotion. Then you suddenly heard gunshots. You whipped your head towards the noise and your eyes widened as you screamed Law’s name at the same time Luffy screamed. You were frozen, unable to move. You were already incredibly weak.

You watched as Doflamingo picked up Law like he was nothing more than a ragdoll. You watched as his eyes fell on you. “What’s this?” Panic set in. What did he want with you? You looked to Law who looked very dead at this moment. He couldn’t be or the large man wouldn’t have bothered with him. You looked up at him as he walked over to you.

You moved back, wincing. Seems like you might’ve cracked another rib. He grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and lifted you into the air to get a closer look at you. “MINGO PUT Y/N DOWN NOW!” You heard Luffy yell - the panic in his voice evident, but you couldn’t stop looking at the tall man before you. He looked familiar now that you thought about it and that he was up close but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“It is you. What a pleasant surprise,” the warlord said, his smile widening. Huh? Did he know you? Panic filled your chest again and you squirmed, trying to get away from him. Unfortunately, you didn’t exactly have a lot of strength.

“Who-?” Your words were cut off as you felt something hard hit the back of your head - the world going dark.

#one piece #law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #trafalgar d law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #iciw #am fics

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creative-type · 4 months

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@pokeharvest I was your Secret Santa. Merry belated Christmas, and happy New Year

Dark came earlier than expected, but Zoro didn’t care. He powered through his workout as the sky went from blue to gold to black, appreciating the cooler air but otherwise unconcerned. He knew the Sunny’s crow’s nest like the back of his hand, had long-since memorized where each of his weights lay. Grounded in the familiar rhythm of routine, he didn’t even bother to turn on a light. It wasn’t worth the break in concentration.

He was nearly finished when the door pounded open. Zoro didn’t stop his set as he felt Nami’s Presence…and her irritation. Nami was always irritated about something, and trying to figure out why usually ended up with his pockets lighter and his debts doubled.

“What are you doing?” she exclaimed while fumbling for the light. A moment later they were both blinking away the brightness, and at the sight of him the line between her eyebrows deepened.

Zoro knew better than to mention that either. She’d just think he was trying to say she was getting wrinkles.

“What in the—Why are you doing squats? Everyone’s waiting for you.”

At this Zoro paused. It was tricky because he was in the deepest part of his squat, legs burning from the thousand reps he’d already done, but the training was worth it. “What do you mean they’re waiting for me? I’m on watch.”

“The party, you imbecile,” Nami said.

“Oh, we’re doing Chopper’s birthday today? A little bit early, isn’t it?” Zoro said. With a grunt of effort he stood and racked the weights before grabbing a towel. “Yeah, give me a minute and I’ll be down. Franky knows where his present is, so you can go ahead and add it to the pile.”

Nami stared at him, a throbbing vein in her temple joining her furrowed brow. “Please don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Forgot what?” Zoro asked incredulously. “It’s Chopper’s birthday, of course I didn’t forget.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you,” Nami said. “Chopper heard on the last island we were at that the people give presents to everyone around this time. Some kind of holiday for the solstice, Robin said, since it was a winter island.”

“And…?” Zoro said.

“And Chopper really liked the idea, so for his birthday he wanted to go local so to speak and celebrate, with everyone giving gifts to everyone. He was weirdly gung-ho about the whole thing, but that’s Chopper for you.”

“What? When was this?” Zoro asked.

“Right after departing, remember? He made a big announcement over dinner and everything,” Nami said.

Zoro flung his arms into the air. “And I was still out of it. It took me a full three days to regain consciousness after our last fight, remember?”

A look of shocked realization came over her. “I could have sworn someone told you.”

“And I know for a fact no one did.”

They stood at an impasse. It wasn’t the first time Zoro had missed out on inter-crew discussions, whether it be the aftermath of fights, or naps, or training, and ordinarily he didn’t care. Most of the time it was just bickering over stupid stuff anyway, and Luffy wasn’t exactly the subtle type who kept his big plans secret. As long as Zoro knew who he was supposed to cut it didn’t matter.

Other times, he missed out on the plans for Chopper’s birthday, and would end up looking like a complete ass.

Zoro shrugged, half to himself. “Well, at least I got something for Chopper. Lemme get changed, and I’ll be down.”

“Oh no no no nonono,” Nami said. Some of the bravado had left her voice, and she sounded…almost panicky? Zoro would have laughed if he didn’t think she wouldn’t throw lightning at him.. “Surely there’s something you can throw together for the rest of us.”

“Of course I don’t; quit being stupid. Chopper will understand if I explain what happened, and if he’s that upset, I’ll figure out something the next time we land,” Zoro said.

“You don’t get it, I’m the one who was supposed to tell you,” Nami said. “I promised I would.”

“So it’s your fault. That’s even better,” Zoro said, unable to keep a smirk off his face.

“Shut up,” Nami snapped. “Look, I can help you out, but you’ll owe me.”

Zoro crossed his arms. “Seems like you’re the one who should owe me.”

“Don’t be silly. Even if that were true, your debt is so ridiculously high that this would hardly put a dent into it.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“Pfft, do you want me to send you a list? First, remember that loan I gave in Loguetown for your old swords?”

“That was literally two years ago,” Zoro said.

“Yeah, and I’m still waiting for you to pay up,” Nami said. That sly smile came creeping back, that look that said she had him right where she wanted him, and they both knew it. Zoro should have been mad, but it was almost impressive how she was able to twist the situation into her favor.

“Fine. But you realize I’m just doing this because it’s Chopper, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” Nami said. A mutual understanding passed between them, the sort of thing that came after living on the same ship with the same people for years. The presents didn’t really matter, or the solstice, or the debt that Zoro never seemed to be able to work off. He didn’t give two shits about any of that, but there were precious few things Zoro wouldn’t do for the Straw Hat’s youngest member..

“So long as we’re on the same page. Can you buy me thirty minutes?” Zoro asked.

“You sure you don’t need my help?” Nami asked sweetly. “Considering the circumstances, I’ll keep my interest rates reasonable. How’s 100% sound?”

“Fuck you,” Zoro said, but he was smiling, and a moment later she was laughing, and they both knew that they’d do whatever it took for Chopper’s birthday to go off without a hitch.

Xxx

Ten minutes later, and that smile was gone. While Nami kept the rest of the crew busy with party games, Zoro tore through the Sunny like a man possessed. Chopper’s present was already taken care of, but that left eight people unaccounted for. And if that wasn’t enough, Zoro didn’t have much that he could gift. The little space he did lay claim to on the Sunny was spartan compared to much of the crew, and as much as he wanted to, it wasn’t like he could wrap up a few of his weight plates and call it a day.

But there was a small part of him, nearly smothered by his greater annoyance with the situation, that reveled in the challenge. Zoro wasn’t a gift-giver by nature—in his mind, a person’s actions were more important—but there was something deeply satisfying in finding the perfect gift.

Nami and Franky were easy. From his personal stash he grabbed a bottle of rum that would pair perfectly with Franky’s cola and some old wine he’d never gotten around to opening. The latter was nicer than Nami deserved, but he made up for it by writing To the witch on the label. Zoro figured that when she saw it there was a fifty-fifty chance of her chucking it back at him, in which case, he’d get his wine back.

Jinbe rounded out his alcohol-related presents with a nice sake set he’d been given on Wano. The box and the cups that came inside were artisan and hand-made, the sort of thing that was meant to be appreciated more than drank out of. While he’d miss the booze, he figured it was something Jinbe would appreciate more than he ever could, and maybe he’d be nice enough to share a cup while reminiscing over old times. Plus, since it was already in a box he would be the easiest thing to wrap so far.

The minutes ticked on, and Zoro scrounged up the old weight lifting manual he’d once seen Usopp peeking through and his spare sword care kit. Brook’s cane sword might have been sharpened by the icy winds of hell, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t use the occasional polish. While digging around looking for his kit, he found the tiny cross necklace Perona had given him as a cruel joke. She’d claimed at the time that Mihawk had dozens of the things and there’s no way he’d miss the one she’d taken, and Zoro had always wondered if hidden inside was the same knife that’d stabbed him all those years ago.

It turned out later she’d had the damn thing special made just to mess with him, because if there was anything in his life he had too much of, it was women who liked to make him miserable. Zoro tucked it away for Robin, because at least she knew how useful a hidden knife could be.

Last but not least, while Nami shooed the crew away to the top deck to continue the festivities, Zoro snuck to the fish tank and scraped out a little bit of algae and shoved it in a box. For the love-cook, since it was the closest thing they had to marimo.

Zoro ran back to the men’s quarters, his gifts splayed out on his hammock. He managed to be pleased with himself for exactly two seconds before a second round of panic started to set in. Looking around the room, he searched for paper, or scissors, or tape. Chopper’s gift had been easy to just slip in a bag, but now he didn’t even see that.

There was probably stuff in the woman’s quarters, but he didn’t dare go there on pain of death. Zoro rubbed his hand over his head and swore. He was running out of time. Hell, Zoro wasn’t sure he’d know how to wrap all this even if he had paper. It was the sort of thing that Usopp usually did for him. Not because Zoro cared what his wrapping jobs looked like, but because when Usopp saw how bad he did he got embarrassed on his behalf.

“Screw it,” Zoro said under his breath and gathered everything up in his arms. If Nami didn’t like it, she could just deal. He turned around to finally join the others, and swore again, almost dropping his hastily-gotten gifts.

A line of arms had made its way into the room, holding rolls of colorful wrapping paper, bags doused with glitter, and bright sheets of tissue paper. One of the arms held up a pair of scissors in silent question, and Zoro let out a sigh of relief.

“Yes, please.”

In the distance he thought he heard Robin chuckle, and more arms sprouted to relieve him of his burden. Minutes later he was rushing up to the rest of the crew, and at the sight of him the Straw Hats let out a burst of applause.

“There he is! We thought you’d never make it!” Usopp yelled as Zoro dropped his—very nicely—wrapped gifts onto the pile. The love-sick love cook shoved a mug of spiced mead into his arms and muttered something about making the beloved ladies of the crew wait, but a well-timed word from Nami kept him from going to blows.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zoro grumbled as he scanned the crew. He couldn’t help but smile a little as Chopper came running toward him and launched himself into the biggest hug he could manage while in Brain Point. “Happy birthday.”

“Happy solstice! Not that it makes me happy, you asshole!” Chopper corrected, wiggling with pleasure.

“That too.”

“Zoro! Zoro, you gotta try out this meat Sanji made,” Luffy shouted from across the room, and at the sight of him Zoro’s stomach sank.

In his mad rush, he’d forgotten to bring something for his captain.

There was no chance to run back to his room to find something. Without waiting for Zoro to respond, Luffy stretched an arm across the room and grabbed a fist full of Zoro’s shirt, dragging him over to the table laden with food. Brook already had his violin out and was playing carols with Franky accompanying on the guitar and Jinbe singing along in his surprisingly resonant baritone. As he flung past, Robin gave a knowing smile and asked Chopper if he wished to start.

And of course he did, and it was with a whoop and a holler that the gift giving began.

xxx

It was a Straw Hat party through and through. By the end of it there wasn’t a clean surface left on the Sunny, and even the curly brow was exhausted enough to leave the dishes for another time. Both pirates and presents were strewn about the ship in complete disarray. The rest of the crew was in no state to keep watch, so it was Zoro who clambered back into the crow’s nest to complete his watch, pleasantly buzzed from the sake Jinbe had indeed shared but nevertheless alert.

He had just racked his weights when for the second time that day he felt a Presence coming up to join him. It was more timid than Nami’s ever was, and Zoro opened the latch before Chopper could find himself hiding in the doorway.

“I thought you were sleeping,” Zoro said.

“I was,” Chopper said, with a yawn for emphasis. “But I wanted to say thank you.”

“What for?”

“You didn’t have to do all that.”

Zoro paused. “What do you mean? It’s what you said you wanted, isn’t it?”

“I heard,” Chopper said, scuffing one hoof on the ground. “You and Nami earlier. I heard it all.”

“Tch, those ears of yours,” Zoro said. “Besides, it’s not your fault Nami forgot to tell me.”

“But it is!” Chopper exclaimed, suddenly distraught. “Nami lied, I was the one who was supposed to tell you after you regained consciousness. When I realized today I forgot, Nami promised me that she made sure you knew.”

“That witch,” Zoro said. But there was no venom in his voice; after all, he couldn’t fault her for trying to make his birthday special. “Besides, I screwed it up anyway by forgetting Luffy.”

“I don’t think he noticed,” Chopper said.

Zoro grunted. “Probably not. I’ll still have to get him something next time we land. That’s the whole point of the solstice, isn’t it? According to what the last island said?”

“I think it’s more about being together.” Chopper looked up at him and grinned. “And it was fun, wasn’t it?”

Zoro returned his smile, remembering how Sanji had turned purple with rage upon opening his gift. “Yeah, it was.”

Outside the crow’s nest, snow began to fall. The pair fell silent, enjoying the moment together. Chopper once again hugged Zoro’s leg, and Zoro’s hand found the top of Chopper’s head.

“I at least did good with yours, right?” Zoro asked. “Since it was the only present I actually got to plan for.”

“Oh, that was the other thing I came up here for.” Fishing in his pocket, Chopper pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to Zoro. “You literally just got better from almost dying. Again. You really shouldn’t be lifting weights.”

“You’re cashing in now?” Zoro asked. He took the paper, which was a signed, one time promise to do whatever Chopper asked of him.

“Doctor’s orders,” Chopper said, and with one final squeeze added, “Happy solstice.”

Zoro couldn’t help but laugh as he put his weights away. “Happy solstice.”

#op secret santa 2023 #one piece #one piece fanfiction #roronoa zoro #straw hat pirates #sorry for the delay I was sick then got crazy busy at work 💀

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total-drama-takes-takes-2 · 10 months

Text

tti episode 23

“Last time, on Total Takes Island: those lazy, ungrateful maggots got swept up in a flash flood caused by Chris’ weather-making machine and were left on a deserted island to die. The skinny one got lost at sea until he paddled back, accompanied by a crayon drawing with the same IQ as him. The other three ended up together in a treehouse after glasses and sarcasm central got themselves spooked by a fake dinosaur skeleton, even though the green one knew it wasn’t real. Eventually, they all found production camp and the drawing took the walk of shame. Yeah, it’s me doing the recap again. Got a problem with that?!” Chef shouts. “Chris is off on his paid vacation so I’m hosting today’s episode… again.”

The rain has finally cleared (or Chris’ machine just ran out of oil) and the sun is finally shining again over Wawanakwa. It’s a bright and sunny morning, the day before the next challenge, though no one seems exactly enthused about it.

McLovin is hidden away in the craft tent, making macrame owls (which he’s been producing in droves, filling his cabin with), Ass locked everyone else out of the communal bathrooms so they could take a long shower, and Michael and Julia are glaring daggers at each other across the mess hall.

The breakfast today was left out on the counters- a cold, chili-like substance with just enough spices to completely cancel out the flavor altogether- and Chef is nowhere to be seen. Julia mixes the reddish-brown slop with her spoon before forcing herself to take another hesitant bite. The silence hangs heavy over the room.

Finally, Michael speaks. “Where’s your boss at?”

“They are not-” Julia pauses, seething. She takes a deep breath and calms down. “Showers.”

“And you’re not there to wash their feet like a good disciple?” she asks, smiling at her own joke. Julia glares.

“Absolutely not. I’m not their employee, we’re allies,”

Michael rolls her eyes. “Oh, right, just like how I was your friend?”

A deep silence falls once more. Julia stands and scrapes the rest of her plate into the garbage before sitting next to Michael.

She sighs. “I really am sorry, you know. I didn’t think you’d get so upset. I guess I didn’t start thinking about other people until-”

“Scruffy?” Michael raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Julia says, balancing her chin in her palm. “It’s so stupid. They’re totally smart enough to know that they were being played, and they helped me anyway.”

“Have you considered the idea that they actually liked you?”

Julia bites her lip. “Maybe. But that… and what happened with Ass made me realize how bad I screwed things up between us, even though we were never really friends,”

“Well,” Michael pauses and then smiles. “We could always start.”

Julia smiles back, and the two shake hands before the intercom screeches to life.

“Attention, campers! Report outside your cabins at 0900 hours- and that means now!”

---

McLovin is already out, sitting on the grass and making a macrame owl as Chef watches and shakes his head sadly. There’s a large, boxy TV set on a cart sitting out on the grass besides the two.

Ass fluffs their newly shampooed and dried hair as Julia stands next to them. She takes a breath for a second before turning to them. “Is that my shampoo?”

They shrug. “I ran out,”

“I only had enough left for-”

Ass holds a finger to her lips to shush her as Chef begins speaking. Michael rolls her eyes from nearby.

“As you may have heard, I am in charge of tomorrow’s challenge. But before that, Chris left these instructions for me,” Chef says, holding up a piece of paper. “He wanted to give you all some… extra motivation.”

McLovin stands, holding his owl. The remaining campers glance at each other nervously.

“So, here’s a few encouraging words from your fellow campers,” he steps back, turning the TV on. Footage from the confessionals begins to play.

---

BONNIE: “What do I think of Julia? Well, besides the fact that she’s a backstabbing little witch who loves to insert herself in everyone else’s business, she’s rude, scheming, passive-aggressive, and downright annoying. But at least she’s not Ass,”

---

COURTNEY: McLovin and I have been best friends since the very beginning. I’m not surprised this dumb drama show is trying to tear us apart,”

---

MICHAEL: “Julia’s not exactly the nicest person on the island, but at least with Ass here, she isn’t the meanest,”

---

ASS: “McLovin? Please. He’s the exact opposite of a threat,”

---

SCRUFFY: “Listen, I know Julia’s sucking up to me extra hard to get my vote when it comes to the next few elimination ceremonies, but, I’ll admit: I kinda like the attention,” they pause to smile. “Plus, when we’re not in the game, she can be pretty cool to hang out with.”

---

The screen goes static and everyone turns to Julia, who’s just beaming. Chef rolls his eyes and thwacks the top of the TV to get it working again.

---

SHA-MOD: “McLovin?! McLovin is my best homie on the island, possibly in the whole world! I hope one of us wins so we can move in together in a massive dream mansion and open an oil rig or whatever rich people do!”

---

The screen goes static once more. McLovin wipes a tear from his eye. Chef sighs. “Most of the confessionals people gave about you, we can’t air due to profanity,” he says, squinting at Ass. “But we still got some left.”

---

MAX: “Don’t air this, but… I think Michael might like me. And, honestly, I… don’t hate that. I can’t take any chances, but maybe when I win I’ll have the guts to ask her out. She’s just so… you know?”

---

Michael smiles, her face tinted pink as the screen goes static again before turning to Julia.

---

JULIA: “Do I really believe that? No. But I need an ally and, well, to be frank, Michael has always come off as kinda desperate.”

---

JULIA: “Okay, how is that little twig still here? I totally miscalculated, I should’ve picked his pathetic ass off way earlier!”

---

JULIA: “I guess I should keep her on my side for the merge, but still… all that drama for what? A chick who can’t do anything but whine and argue? Um, yeah, I’ll take my chances with the egghead.”

---

JULIA: “Natalie- and yes, I’m not using that stupid name for her- is easily one of the most contrived, self-absorbed players we have. I cannot believe they’re still here.”

---

JULIA: “Me? Scared of Michael? Can you imagine?”

---

Chef turns off the television set. “That one had a lot to say,” he grumbles, wheeling away the cart. “I’ll see you all tomorrow for your next challenge!”

Everyone turns and glares at Julia, who smiles nervously. Ass flips their hair over their shoulder and walks off as McLovin hangs his head and holds his macrame owl close.

Michael just glares. “So much for new friends, huh?”

----

The sound of birds chirping and squirrels chittering seems louder this morning. That’s the first thought Julia has as she wakes up, sitting on the furthest bunk from everyone else (where she’d been banished to last night).

She rubs her eyes, scanning her surroundings. As her eyes adjust, she gasps.

“We’re in the woods!”

“Genius observation. We’re at summer camp, Einstein,” Ass grumbles, pulling their pillow around their ears.

“No, I mean we’re outside! We’re literally in the woods!”

Ass sighs and sits up, taking off their sleeping mask and scanning the clearing they’d been dropped into.

“Oh. I guess we are,”

They hop out of bed and put their hands on their hips, looking for some kind of instruction for their next challenge. When nothing happens, they sigh and walk over to Michael, shaking her awake.

“Hey, what the hell!” she says, sitting up suddenly and bumping her head on the upper bunk.

“Get up,” Ass snaps, looking off to where McLovin’s bunk is across the clearing. “Can someone wake that noodle up? We’re obviously starting our next challenge!”

“That is correct!” Chef yells through Chris’ megaphone as a helicopter hovers over the clearing. He hops off the drop-down ladder as it approaches. “Your challenge is to find your way out of the forest without starving, freezing, or otherwise dying!”

“You cannot be serious!” Ass yells. “We just did this!”

“Not quite. That time, you didn’t have teams,” Chef chuckles. “Each of you will get a partner- first ones back to camp win immunity. Now choose, and fast!”

Julia looks at the three other players, who glare at her sharply.

Michael steps next to Ass. “Yeah, I’ll take my chances with the pretentious one,”

“Hey, you can’t do that! Natalie is my ally!” she snaps. “Tell her!”

Ass rolls their eyes. “Um, maybe you would’ve been useful if this was a computer-nerd challenge, but this is wilderness survival. I’ll take my chances with the circus freak,”

“Thank you,”

Julia glares. “You can not just double cross me like that! That’s so unfair!”

“Don’t like the taste of your own medicine, huh?” Michael says as Chef tosses them a duffel bag of supplies. “Choose a side.”

Julia scoffs as the two get the go-ahead to start off from Chef. McLovin catches the next duffel bag and its weight immediately pulls him to the ground. She groans.

“Better hope you get back before sundown!” Chef yells as the helicopter swings back around and lowers the ladder. “It gets real dark out here!”

---

McLovin and Julia step through the woods as she digs through the pack. He’s been plucking long grass as they walk and using it to craft yet another small macramé owl.

“Compass, good. Water, some granola bars…” Julia says before looking up to see the creation he’s holding up to her with a big smile. “What is that?”

“It’s macramé!”

“Oh, God,” she sighs. “If we get attacked by bears, you’re going first.”

---

“Okay, so, what’s the plan?” Ass asks, slinging the bag over their shoulder as the two walk down the river.

“Well, camp is north, right? The sun is just risen over those hills, so that’s east, so camp is that way,” Michael says, pointing ahead. “As long as we don’t get turned astray, we should be there before night.”

“Good!” Ass says merrily before suddenly shoving Michael into the river current. “See you!”

“Hey!” she yells as she’s swept down south. “That’s so not cool!”

“Deal with it!” they shout back, chuckling to themselves as they begin walking north, supplies in hand.

---

Julia looks up at the sun and sighs. “It’s almost noon, and I still have no idea where we are,”

McLovin is busy with yet another miniature owl. He’s humming to himself as Julia grumbles about not the compass being cheap and crappy, weaving in and out.

She turns to him, getting slightly more annoyed with every passing second. “Could you please do something useful for once?” she snaps. “I am carrying this entire team on my back right now!”

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job,” McLovin says. “We’ve passed that tree three times now.”

“What?! How would you know?!”

He looks up and points- hanging from a branch is a grass-woven macrame owl. Julia blinks, then begins looking around the trail- various owls are hanging from the trees they already passed. “Oh, my God. You’re making a trail!”

He shrugs. “Lots of weaving material out here,”

“Okay, so, if we already tried this path,” Julia thinks to herself, looking up ahead to where a fork in the trail leads to another, owl-less road. “Let’s go this way!”

---

Michael pulls herself onto the muddy bank of a downstream beach. She coughs up some water and steps onto dry land, caked in mud and river weeds.

She pulls off her parka and wrings it out, frowning angrily.

---

MICHAEL: “Is there anyone on this island who isn’t a completely selfish whack-job?”

---

Michael walks through the woods, carrying her parka over her shoulder. The sun indicates that it’s a little after noon, meaning she only has a few hours left to run upriver, completely without supplies or any help.

---

Ass walks merrily through the woods, humming. They stop to enjoy the entire supply of granola bars and half of the water, not concerned about having to share, and then continue on their way.

After a few more hours of walking, they get hungry again. They check the bag and find it empty.

“Great! Just great! Thanks for the provisions, Chef!” they shout at a nearby camera.

Ass sighs, putting their hands on their hips and looking around before spotting a blueberry bush just off to the side of the river. They smile and begin collecting berries in the bag from that bush, then the next, then the one after that.

“There! That should be enough to last me the rest of the walk,” they smile triumphantly, popping a berry in their mouth. “Now back to… wait… where’d the river go?”

They look around and notice they’re completely isolated in the woods.

---

“So, what’s the deal?” Julia asks, munching on a bag of chips from the supplies. “You some kind of artist?”

McLovin looks around. “Who, me?”

“Um. Yes. Who else would I be talking to?”

They stare at each other for a moment. Julia sighs. “I mean, you’re always drawing and making stuff. That’s like, art things, right?”

“Um… maybe. I just like crafts,” he says, holding up another owl. “And baking. And gardening. Back home, I make lots of stuff for my friends, and my classmates, my teachers, my mom, my dentist…”

Julia looks at him. “How do you manage to do anything for yourself?”

He blinks. “For… myself?”

---

JULIA: “I’ve been asking myself for a while how McLovin keeps evading the vote, and I think I finally found out. He’s a doormat. He’s like clay, he’s easily impressionable and bends whichever way you want him to. Not a great player, but a great pawn,”

---

“Yeah, I mean, don’t you ever do things just for you?”

“Um… not really. You do?”

Julia laughs. “Everything I do is for myself!”

There’s a brief pause as McLovin finishes up his latest macramé piece and looks down at it. “That’s kind of sad,”

---

The sun begins the set in the distance as Michael trudges along the river, now mostly dry. She’s made good progress, but it’s becoming apparent she’s not getting any closer to camp before dark.

She sighs, sitting on a nearby rock.

---

MICHAEL: “Maybe this is it. Maybe this is where the road ends for me. I had a good run, right?”

---

Michael closes her eyes for a moment, letting the spirit of giving up compel her to relax. She eventually stretches, and then sits back, casually waiting for someone to come get her.

“I give up!” she yells into the treeline, looking for cameras. “You can come get me now, I quit!”

Nothing happens. She waits for a bit longer, and still no one comes to get her. Michael sighs and kicks a rock at her feet before picking up a long stick nearby and doodling in the mud.

She draws a heart, scribbling M + M in the center, and then stares at it for a few minutes, thinking to herself. She rises to her feet and holding up the stick, a new look of determination on her face.

She shouts back into the treeline. “Never mind!” and then takes off along the river again, mumbling to herself. “I want to win! I want to win!”

---

Ass grumbles as they attempt to make a fire for the eighth time, hands all scratched up and sore from the half-hour of rubbing against a very uncomfortable stick.

To their delight, a small spark lights up a tiny section of wood before being blown out in the breeze. They groan, standing and throwing their sticks to the side and crossing their arms.

---

ASS: “Okay, maybe I didn’t think getting rid of Michael all the way through,”

---

They scale a tree (only slipping a few times) and sit on a branch, leaning against the trunk before closing their eyes and forcing themselves to sleep.

---

McLovin and Julia sit around a hastily-made fire from a matchbox included in their supplies. McLovin is sketching a portrait of Julia in the dirt while she holds still.

“Okay, just one more… and done!” he says, stepping back. Julia comes over to his side of the fire to look.

“Ooh, it’s good!” she comments, studying the realistic sketch. “You’ve got some talent hidden in there after all.”

“Um… thank you, I think?” he says, tossing the stick he used as a tool into the fire. “Wish I had some paper, though. Then you could take the drawing with you.”

“Eh, that’s okay. I’m kind of sick of looking at myself anyway,”

Julia takes her seat back on the other side of the fire and uses it to warm her hands. “How far do you think we are from camp?”

“Um… maybe a few hours, I’m not sure. But I stopped seeing my owls a while ago, so-”

A sudden violent rustling from within the dark of the woods catches their attention and they fall silent, looking at each other. The two stand and begin backing away, just for Michael to stumble out of the forest.

“What the-” Julia starts, squinting at the mud-covered camper. “Michael?”

She groans, sitting up and coughing. “Oh. I thought you were Ass,” she says, looking between the two.

“You got separated?” McLovin asks.

“Against my will, yes,” Michael mutters, holding up a sharpened spear she made. She looks at the ground, seeing the Julia portrait and raises an eyebrow. “I was going to attack and steal my supplies back, but obviously you two have your own thing going on.”

Julia rolls her eyes. “Um… yeah. Wouldn’t expect you to stick around anyway, since I’m such a backstabbing traitor,”

“You and Ass really are a match made in heaven,” Michael grumbles, pushing between McLovin and Julia and walking back into the dark of the woods.

---

The sun rises over the island. Ass snores as they sit on their branch, breathing heavily as a spider crawls from the canopy onto their nose. Their eyes slowly open and they blink before screaming, slapping their own face and falling out of the tree.

“God damnit!” they shout, standing and groaning. “Stupid forest!”

---

McLovin and Julia continue down the trail at an even pace, chatting merrily while taking turns holding the duffel bag.

----

MCLOVIN: “You know, I used to think Julia was kind of scary, but she’s actually pretty okay once she doesn’t see you as a threat or an expendable team member!”

---

JULIA: “I don't know why McLovin even needs the money. He could make millions hosting seminars on how to make friends”

---

Ass runs down the path to camp, catching sight of the end of the treeline they shout in victory as they reach the cabins, cheering while Chef rolls his eyes.

“I win! I win invincibility, suckers!”

Julia and McLovin walk out of the woods, casually strolling down to camp. They sigh as they see Ass cheer.

“Not so fast,” Chef says. “You need both members of your team to be present to win, and I don't see no green haired girl. Blondie and string bean the winners.”

“Oh, what, Michael? I’m pretty sure she got eaten by bears,” Ass rolls their eyes. “A shame, really. So I win by default!”

“In your dreams, you freak!” Michael says, bounding out of the woods with her spear. “You tried to kill me!”

“No, I tried to drown you. Whether or not you died was on you, I'm the winner!” Ass snaps. “Julia, tell them!”

Julia glares. “Um, no,”

Ass turns, a look of pure malice on their face. “If your sorry ass wants to keep your cushy ride to the finale with me, you better-”

“Oh, please!” Julia yells, dropping the bag to throw her arms out. “All you’ve done is whine and complain and carry around those big books, which, by the way, I know you only pretend to read because you can’t admit you find them boring! I have been carrying you from the second you got here because I was gullible enough to believe you were somehow a competent player! All you know how to do is read and then pretend you have any stakes in this game just because you’re mean! I voted out the only person on this island that actually cared about me because of you! And all you’ve done is treated me and everyone else like garbage even though, let’s be honest, without us you would’ve been dead in the woods by now! So you can get someone else to be your slave, because I’m done! Enjoy your boat ride home, you airheaded bimbo!”

Julia storms off, McLovin and Michael watching with wide eyes before turning back to Ass, who looks mortified.

---

“Well, you all survived,” Chef rolls his eyes. “Now one of you is going home. You two are safe,” he says, chucking the marshmallows at Julia and McLovin (who have to duck to avoid the high speeds they’re flying at).

Michael and Ass look at each other, both frowning deeply.

“Green one- no one likes you. And mean one- no one likes you even more!” Chef shouts. “But, and thank God, you maggots finally came to your senses and voted someone worthwhile off!” He throws the final marshmallow to Michael.

Julia smirks as Ass gasps, then glares, standing and kicking their log. “Fine! I hate all of you anyway! This island doesn’t deserve me!”

“Damn right,” Michael grins.

Ass groans and storms off.

“Whatever!” Chef shouts, walking off. “Congratulations to the final three! Chris will be seeing you all shortly for your next challenge!”

McLovin, Julia, and Michael look between each other.

#tti #total takes island

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emersonfreepress · 2 years

Text

Team Murder does Adoption Day

What: Team Murder at a pet adoption event When: 12th grade Words: 2.9k

commissioned by and written for @liquorcanthropy

“Please just — Just repeat it back to me.”

Kile sucks his teeth and you roll your eyes.

“Dude, come on,” Kile groans.

“Gabe,” you snap. “We draw twice as much attention the longer you make us stand around like this.”

“What she said.”

“Just–” Gabe sighs, hard. “Fine. Manny, I saw someone with shirts that way. Kile, don’t disappear. We’ll need you in case she–”

Kile’s already off, long strides taking him in the direction of the dog tents. Gabe exhales tightly before facing you, a mild frown on his face. You don’t bother holding back a snicker.

“We both knew that would happen.”

Kile ditching you for the dogs was inevitable and you guys shouldn’t even need him if things go perfectly. Maybe that’s why Gabe doesn’t look as mad as he could. It should help that your mission today is in Emerson's town square on a bright, sunny afternoon instead of someone’s creepy basement or public property in the dead of night. Gabe surveys the square, posture still but his eyes darting with observation.

Then he catches you watching him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You raise your hands up. “Just wondering what bug crawled up your butt this fine morning.” Gabe’s arms cross and his eyes narrow but you answer his scowl with a smile.

“We’re not here for fun,” Gabe reminds you, finally getting a move on. You walk beside him.

“Well sure, but that’s not really the purpose of this sort of thing anyway.”

“You say that but ninety percent of these people are here to gawk at animals, not adopt.”

“I’m sure it’s less than ninety.”

“And I’m sure it isn’t unless they’re hiding the purebreds somewhere. It doesn’t matter.” He’s probably right about this cadre of pups not being a ‘dignified’ enough bunch for the locals to go crazy over. But surely this many people wouldn’t come down if none of them intended to adopt, right? “Why are you following me anyway?” Gabe stops abruptly, eyeing you with suspicion. “You’re supposed to be–”

“I know, I know. Finding a shirt. I have my methods, don’t worry.”

“Fine. I'm just…” He sighs, then runs a hand through his hair. “On edge."

“You don’t say,” you snicker, amused that he said it like it isn't obvious. Before he gets upset at that, you add, “Don’t sweat it, Gabe — you do your thing and I’ll go bamboozle a shirt out of these suckers. It’ll be perfect, you’ll love it.”

“You sound completely unreliable right now,” Gabe grumbles, mostly to himself, before his attention is diverted. “There.” It takes you a moment to catch on to what he means, but you see him watching a girl around your age headed to one of the tents.

“That her?" Gabe said he knew a girl who helped organize this event.

It must be from the way Gabe relaxes his shoulders. He confirms your question with a nod, then hooks a thumb in his pocket while the other rakes through his hair again. “Alright, see ya.”

And just like that, Gabe is off to talk to his target. It baffles you a little, how focused on work he is even on a sunny day surrounded by precious, furry distractions on all sides. You figured he'd at least be a cat person or something… Oh, well. Gabe's working that volunteer and Kile is on stand-by.

Time to play your part.

Mere minutes later, the white t-shirt in your hands feels like premium-grade cotton and reads SAVE A LIFE, CHANGE A LIFE in cheerful, blue lettering. You nabbed it during a rather rewarding session of playing with the cats up for adoption; their tent's proximity to the volunteers' break station made that child’s play. You aren’t sure yet how you feel about your rapidly improving theft skills. Your sigh is something akin to exasperation as you pull the simple disguise over your head in the relative privacy of the space between a tent and a portapotty, but there is no denying how comfortable it is. Damn. Maybe you’ll keep it.

You step back out into the main plaza and survey the area. Gabe is still chatting up the organizer near the steps, leaning against the concrete railing in that classic wow-that’s-interesting pose of his. The organizer, for her part, has a pleasant smile on and looks relaxed. Your eyes scan for your next stop: the sign-out booth. Sure enough, the person sitting there looks antsy, annoyed, and impatient — and is staring daggers at the organizer chatting with Gabe.

The perfect time for you to step in, then.

“Hi!” Your cheeriness causes the guy at the sign-in to jump in his seat, but he recovers quickly enough and plasters on a smile for you.

“Hi there! I’m — oh. You’re a volunteer?”

“Yep!”

The real volunteer eyes you with skepticism, clearly aware that you weren’t around for any of the preparation. You raise a hand and wave the suspicion away with a bashful grin.

“Overslept, missed the whole set up. Michael’s so mad.”

The volunteer’s demeanor calms down at the mention of some name you’d randomly heard a couple of volunteers bad-mouthing while you waited for your moment to nab a shirt.

"Oh." He winces, sympathetic. “So rough morning, then.”

"The roughest." You sigh dramatically, shoulders slumping for a moment before perking up again. "But don’t sweat it — that’s just what I get for trusting the snooze button.”

Polite laughter follows. How quaint! Time to strike.

“Anyway, sure looks like she’s preoccupied…” You make a show out of raising your brows in vague judgment, then pointedly looking in the direction of Gabe and his mark. The volunteer (Adam, according to the sticker on his t-shirt) lets out a groan of frustration.

“Seriously. Kara's over there flirting while I'm just meant to wait for her to be ready to work, I guess.”

Ah, righteous indignation. Perfect. You huff out a sigh of sympathy as the two of you continue observing for a moment. Then you turn to Adam, feigning serious thought.

“How long have you been on sign-out duty?”

“Since opening…”

“Yikes. Well… I could take over? Until Kara remembers to take over, anyway.”

Adam looks skeptical again. “I don't know… Don’t you have…” He’s right on the verge of realizing he doesn’t know what you’re meant to be doing here, so you nip that thought process right in the bud with another dismissive wave.

“Please. When the alternative is you missing lunch so Kara can get some action? Over my dead body." You gently gesture for him to get up.

“Are you sure?” Adam looks around anxiously, possibly for another organizer to deem this okay. “I don’t want–”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you say, continuously shooing him with your hands until he finally rises from his seat. Victory. “Kara will come to her senses and take over soon enough, so don’t worry.”

Adam does get up, but eyes you questioningly. Maybe wondering what you are supposed to be doing, but luckily he doesn’t resist any further.

“Fine, but… this wasn’t my idea.”

“Absolutely not!” you chirp, butt firmly settled in the seat of an actual volunteer. You officially look like the real deal. And it wasn’t even hard! You shrug and add, “Besides, if Kara wasn’t so distracted…”

Adam sighs and that seems to be the last push he needed. “True. Alright, I’ll see you around. Thanks…” His eyes search for a name tag and come up short.

“Jennifer!” You pat at a non-existent sticker, then feign surprise. “Oh — I think my sticker fell off…”

Adam grins, amused. “I’ll make sure to find you a new one.”

Ugh. Don’t do that.

“Thanks, Adam!” You hope he’s just being polite about that offer as he walks away.

…Alright, then. You’re exactly where you need to be. Now you get to… sit and wait.

Or that’s what you think until a tired woman and two bouncing, smiling children stop in front of your booth with their new forever friend in tow. You look down at the forms and other supplies at your desk and then up at the woman's impatient face.

Oh, crap. This is actual work…

This is bullshit. Gabe gets to flirt, Kile gets to play with dogs (you’re sure, even if you haven’t visually confirmed it yet), and you get to collect names and signatures — for FREE. Utter bullshit.

Why do you always get stuck with the most boring job?

Just when your mood is threatening to sour for real, you notice that Gabe now faces you for the first time since you've split up. Is he trying to get your attention? You can’t tell what it is he wants to convey but… you get the feeling you should be on alert. Why?

Your question is answered by the next guest that approaches your table — the guest of honor, of sorts.

“Hello… there,” greets an unassuming woman in a pair of jeans and sweater that blends into event's the casual atmosphere. What stands out about her is the rigid, dignified way she carries herself. You spot a relaxed Pomeranian-mix by her side on a lead. “Eileen Weber.”

Oh. Oh! This is her! The whole reason you're sat here collecting signatures in the first place. You quickly put on your best smile — you’ll need it for how much you’re about to inconvenience her.

In the end, you somehow managed to wrangle three signatures out of the Weber woman. One on the ‘wrong’ sign-out sheet, a second on the actual sign-out sheet, and another on a spare slip of paper when the pen ran out of ink between fiascos. That one especially felt like a stroke of good luck.

You’ve already taken off your volunteer disguise but can’t help but feel a little bad at the line beginning to form at your abandoned station. Hopefully you’ll be out of here before Adam returns from his break. For now, you’ve decided to hide out in the dog tent — where you easily, immediately, spot Kile.

Well, first you spot the exasperated volunteers working the station. Then you spot Kile, blatantly sat on the ground, pampering no less than four giant canines. A volunteer eyes you, tired.

“Is that your friend?”

"Yeah..." You shrug, a helpless grin making your answer obvious.

He sighs. “Could you get him out of there, please? This isn’t a petting zoo and he’s been hanging out for an hour.”

Part of you feels oddly defensive, to the point where you have to stop yourself from asking why no one working here can just tell him themselves. It's a silly question; you know from experience that most people avoid telling Kile what to do. You assure the guy that you’re on your way to do just that before entering the dog pen yourself.

A bunch of good boys and girls greet you, causing Kile to notice your arrival. You coo at the puppies for a bit as you make your way over, then give the sociable dogs proper greetings. You really wish you could stay, but it's only a matter of time before Adam spots you or Kara finally gets back to work. Then you’re over by Kile — two of the dogs by his side acknowledge you while the other two seem too absorbed in the pets they’re receiving to notice you yet. Big hands have perks, if these dogs' lazy smiles are any indication.

You wave the papers you've acquired at Kile.

“Got it?”

“Yep. It was easy.”

“You need me to copy it now?”

“Nope! I’m as competent as ever.”

Kile smirks, looking about to say something before his attention is drawn back to the dogs at his lap.

“You've really been here the whole time?”

Kile shrugs and hums a non-answer, intently focused on the old mutt getting a scalp massage. It pants happily, tongue lolling. “Spent a minute with the puppies, but yeah.” Ignoring the glare from the volunteer who wants Kile gone, you sit on the ground beside him and join in with the rubs, quickly gaining all of the dogs’ attention.

“Puppies too much energy for ya?”

Kile smirks again, his laughs little more than a huff as he shakes his head.

“They’re just gonna get adopted. These guys probably won’t.”

Confused, you're about to ask why — but all at once, it's obvious. These dogs that Kile has ingratiated himself to are... well, old. Greying fur, slow on their feet, heavy on their flanks when they sit down. You spot a the profile for one of them and your thoughts are confirmed.

“You sought out the old, sick ones?”

The look Kile sends you seems borderline offended, though you doubt he's feeling that strongly.

“I didn’t seek 'em out. This just happened.”

“Sure, it did...” As unconvincing as that sounds, you leave it alone. You almost end up glaring back at the guy who wants to kick Kile out — if no one else is giving the old dogs love, what does it matter if he does?

Alright, maybe you do throw that volunteer a glare.

"Well… we got what we came for, so as much as I'd love to keep petting dogs with you..."

"I know. Just one more minute."

Can you spare a minute? Maybe? You've got a bad feeling that you're liable to get caught out if you hang around much longer. As if on cue, your third partner arrives. Kile grunts unhappily as soon as Gabe is in sight, causing you to snicker.

"Hey." Gabe greets you from outside of the tent, standing close to the barrier. His eyes fall to the papers in your hand. "Did you..."

"You know," you interrupt. "'Hey' is way too casual to sound natural coming from you." Kile huffs another laugh and Gabe gives you a dirty look; exactly the reactions you wanted. Gabe ignores the comment and continues, leaning over the short wall.

"Did you get everything?"

"Yes, Dad," you whine. He rolls his eyes at the sarcasm.

"Everything? We don't need to make a copy and—"

"No," Kile grumbles. Uh-oh, he's annoyed. Even the dogs notice and — are you imagining them crowding around him in support? What?

Luckily, your competence seems to have left Gabe mostly speechless.

"Oh. Huh." He stares at the paper again, then at you. "Nice work." You only get about two seconds to bask in the moment before Gabe is right back to killing vibes. "Let's go, then."

Kile sighs loud and hard in response... but doesn't budge. You can see that one volunteer getting antsy. Gabe slumps over the fence at his reaction.

"Kile, come on…"

"I heard you the first fuckin' time."

"Hey..." you chide, bumping lightly against Kile's arm. You'll never get out of here without extra attention if they start fighting. Kile rolls his eyes at you and pulls away.

"I'm coming."

Gabe sighs, on the verge of complaining, before he just says, "Okay." Then he shoots you a pleading look. This is becoming more of a thing lately: Gabe turning to you to get Kile to do… well, not the impossible. But it's pretty undeniable at this point that sometimes Kile won't do things just because Gabe's annoyed him.

So fine. You can't help but chuckle to yourself at how hopeless the two of them can be, though. You finish petting the old dog that had just settled its head in your lap, then get to your feet. Kile barely reacts, but you don't miss him shifting again. Just barely getting more comfortable.

Worse than a stubborn old dog.

"Come on. Time to say bye to your new friends." When he ignores you, pretending that it takes all of one's attention to scratch floppy ears, you look around for some sort of motivation.

A-ha.

"Look. You're scaring off the kids." That does get Kile's attention, in the form of an irritated stare. Why the hell would I care about that, is what you're reading in it. So you point at, indeed, the one little kid in the dog tent whose eyes are glued to one of the old friends at your feet. Their gaze only breaks to nervously dart over you and Kile as they clutch their mom's skirt. Kile sees where you're pointing.

…And finally stands up.

"Gracias, Señor," Gabe sighs out, relieved.

"Thank you, Kile," you sing.

"Whatever, Manny. Let's go." Before either of you can stop him, he's pushed a barrier aside to leave right then and there, either to avoid the volunteers on the way out or just to make the quickest exit. You slip through the space provided and Kile follows — but stops abruptly.

"What are you—" You turn back, but your heart sinks and your eyes go wide at the sight before you.

All four senior dogs, on their feet, tails swaying and ready to follow you both home.

"Oh, no," you whimper.

"Stay."

A couple of the dogs heed Kile's command and sit, while the other two remain clueless. You might imagine it, but the sigh Kile makes as he closes the barrier back up sounds forlorn.

Gabe sighs and mutters something to himself. You shoot him a dirty look.

"I know you're lacking in a heart, but can the grumbling wait?"

"I have a heart. I also have a cat allergy, so give me a break." He runs a hand through his hair. "I swear you're just as bad as each other."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," you reply, half-paying attention. You're a little more interested in the prolonged farewell Kile appears to be having with the senior dogs. What could he possibly be saying to them? You miss Gabe scoffing.

"I never said it was a bad thing."

#cie commissions #look don't look at me just forget i exist pls #cie snippets #i don't know if there's much else to say...#bababooey bababooey #kile's prob giving those dogs a pep talk or something #pls forgive any typos i have covid brain i probably missed someeee #i'm real bad at titles y'all lol

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nutteu · 7 months

Text

a sunny day to remember you by

[AO3] [Tiếng Việt translation] [moonsea series]

At fifteen, Jake Lockley fell in love, for the first and the last time.

[Jake/Steven; au; published 2022-06-16; word count: 7,665]

When Jake was twelve, he found two boys who looked a lot like him. One was always soft with sleep, and the other stubborn and violent. The older of the two was sick a lot, and could only play for a little time before he had to rest. He would bring a hippo stuffed toy everywhere, as his younger brother held his hand and led him to wherever their short adventure would bring them to. Jake would watch them from the monkey bars and wondered the odds of finding two completely unrelated people who could look so unnervingly similar to him.

He wasn’t really interested in making friends, though. Jake and his mother would always move around because of her job. He was pretty sure that he’d just stay here for several months, top. There was no use in making friends that he’d just leave behind, never to see again. It had happened far too often that he just stopped his efforts altogether.

Besides, he had learned way too early that kids could be very cruel. He kept being asked about his skin color, about his mismatched eyes, about the texture of his hair, about why he always moved around, about why he didn’t have a father, about his mother’s actual job. They asked and then they mocked, they were curious and then they were condescending. Jake punched someone for the first time when he was five, and he hadn’t stopped ever since then. He distrusted kids who tried to befriend him, who tried asking him about his life. He could survive without friends anyway.

But these two boys, they looked like him, so at least they wouldn’t ask what other kids did. The most they’d ask was probably about the similarities of their appearance. If Jake actually stayed long enough to convince himself to talk to them. He honestly didn’t have the slightest intention to approach the two kids.

So, he watched them instead. The older, sickly one was Steven; the younger, short-tempered one was Marc. They were of the Spector family, and they lived a few houses away from Jake’s. Sometimes, there’d be another boy with them, a small kid they called RoRo. He supposed it was the youngest one. This one behaved almost similar to Steven, but he was more hesitant than shy, stumbling on stubby legs, cheeks ruddy as he chased after his brothers.

Jake didn’t miss the way Marc forgot that RoRo was even there, most of the time, too focused on keeping his older brother safe from his own illness and the other kids. It was Steven who would laugh and play with RoRo, sometimes pretending that they were in an adventure like that shitty movie called Tomb Buster. Jake had watched it, and hated it. But, maybe, Steven liked it because the main character had the same name as him. He didn’t know, never bothered to ask.

He watched as some kids would jeer and try to get a rise out of Steven, because that kid never got mad. Always so relenting, always so gentle. He was a dumbass, Jake decided. Because if you wanted to survive in this world, you had to be brave enough to take what you wanted, had to understand that you had to be selfish sometimes. Steven always shared what he had, always let RoRo decide what they wanted to play, always pulled Marc back from throwing his punches.

Sometimes, it worked, him persuading Marc to calm down, to just go back home so they could read stories. Most of the time, Marc would drag the kids to the ground and punched them until they cried. They never apologized, because they didn’t feel like they were wrong. So, when the parents came and scolded Marc, throwing him utterly disgusted look, Marc never apologized either. It was Steven who did, explaining that his brother was only trying to protect him. On times that Marc looked particularly upset, he’d slap a hand on Steven’s mouth to prevent him from talking, and pulled him back to their house, RoRo trailing behind.

They were weird, Jake decided. A careful balance of a relationship where it was dominated by Marc’s devotion towards Steven, and Steven’s gentleness encompassing the three brothers. There was a certain wall that Marc erected between them and the world. It prevented anyone from getting in, and the ones on the inside from reaching out. Jake had seen the way Steven bit his lip and looking like he wanted to invite the other kids to come play with them, but he couldn’t. Perhaps, because he also understood that it’d just be resulted in him getting hurt and Marc going on another rampage.

The kids talked about them, and it was some sort of a blessing to Jake. They whispered about how he looked like the Spector brothers, and some of them tried to approach him. But it didn’t last long, because Jake knew that he looked intimidating with his scowl and scars on his hands. So, they went back to the brothers. Stupid little kids who hated things that they couldn’t understand; wanting to peek into the walls that Marc built, only to destroy what was inside. It was futile, however. The walls were too strong, perfected over the time.

A few months since he moved in, however, that wall crumbled down. Steven was the one who destroyed it by approaching Jake, all shy smiles and an invitation to join the tea party. Marc was standing anxiously behind him, feet shuffling, fists tight. He was ready to fight in case Jake reacted badly, and, honestly, he didn’t mind. He could hold himself in a fight.

He had wanted to refuse, to flat out reject the invitation. He didn’t even like tea parties. He had seen kids doing them, and he couldn’t understand the point of doing so. But then, Steven reached out to hold his hand, looking determined for once, and Jake paused, because even if they looked alike, he didn’t think he could quite imitate the pleading look Steven sent his way. His eyes were beautiful, and Jake was mortified from this thought alone. But they were—framed by long lashes and hue of darkness on the skin underneath. His voice was soft, but it was firm in the repetition of the request. Jake didn’t know what made him nod his head dumbly and follow the Spector brothers into their stupid tea party, and years to come, he still didn’t know either. It could be Steven, it could be Jake’s curiosity, it could be the kid who had gone on for too long without friends finally acknowledging that he was lonely, and a soft-spoken kid who looked at him with nothing but kindness finally made him relent.

At twelve, a few months after he settled in the town, Jake found out that Steven’s eyes crinkled into half-moons when he smiled and laughed; that his hands were incredibly soft; that he would look so pale if he pushed himself too far; that his voice sounded so nice when he read to his brothers and Jake; that he churned out the most imaginative ideas for make-belief adventures; that he wore his heart on his sleeves and Marc was the one who kept it safe; that he adored Jake because he thought that Jake was cool and smart and funny.

He found out that Steven Spector was someone who latched onto someone so fast because he didn’t have that many people in his life to begin with. Jake could understand that, and maybe, that was what made him stay, disregarding his own beliefs and advices about making short-term friends. He didn’t know how to tell Steven that he shouldn’t get too attached, because Jake would be gone before he knew it.

But they didn’t move away like they usually did, and his mother looked terribly pleased, if tired all over, when she relayed the news. She adored Steven, and when the brothers played at Jake’s house, she’d caress Steven’s curls until the boy fell asleep on the couch. Marc softened his attitude towards Jake because he mistakenly thought that Jake would protect his brother, too. Steven was a nice kid, but he was still wary of getting attached himself.

But then, some idiot decided to ruin one of their weekly tea parties, and Steven had looked so upset, so close to tears, and Jake felt anger building up inside him. It felt a lot like giving up on his own walls, and he’d be vulnerable without them. And yet, he still tackled the kid to the ground before Marc could, when Steven started crying. They went back to Jake’s house and resumed the tea party there, with Jake holding his empty cup in one hand, the other held tightly by Steven.

“I’m glad that you’re making friends,” his mother said with a gentle smile. “They’re good kids, and you look happy when you’re with them. I’m sorry that I couldn’t give you this sooner. But we can stay now, yeah? You don’t have to say goodbye to Steven.”

He didn’t know why his mother chose to single Steven out, but then again, it was probably because Steven had developed a habit of holding Jake’s hand. Or maybe because Jake was less rough and cold when he was around Steven. Or maybe because he had become like Marc, always relenting and giving whatever Steven wanted because it was near impossible to trounce the pleading eyes. Or maybe it was the myriad of things that had changed ever since he decided to join the stupid tea party for the first time. He couldn’t tell.

Instead, he said, “I’m glad, too.”

When he was thirteen, he witnessed Steven collapsing in front of him for the first time. He remembered feeling blood drain from his face, his legs suddenly boneless as Steven lay on the floor, unmoving and frighteningly pale, blood dripping from his nose and the sides of his lips. Marc was the one who took care of the situation, calling his parents and holding Steven in his arms, until the ambulance arrived and the family went inside, to be carried away to the hospital.

He remembered his mother stroking his back gently as he sat on the couch, refusing to move until he was reassured that Steven wasn’t going to die. He understood, then, why Marc was near feral whenever someone else touched Steven, why he was so devoted to his brother, why he was willing to give up his own time for Steven, why RoRo didn’t even register on his radar, why he looked like he was ready to do almost anything to keep his brother happy.

Because Steven didn’t have the same luxury as they all did. He wasn’t strong enough keep up with Jake and Marc running around, play fighting. He couldn’t go to school because he got tired and overwhelmed easily. He had to swallow pills after pills just to keep himself upright for the rest of the week. He couldn’t lift things too heavy before he’d break out in cold sweat from exhaustion. He couldn’t explore the world the way his brothers could, the way Jake could, because he had to stay back and made sure that he wouldn’t collapse. He spent his life knowing that he wouldn’t live long enough to see the day when his brothers made it in the world.

Marc definitely had a brother complex, but it wasn’t out of nowhere. He sacrificed his chance to live his own life, to seek experiences and find out who he was other than an overprotective brother, to play with other kids and see the world beyond their own house and the Lockley residence. It was all because he wanted to give Steven enough happiness in his numbered days, and he had understood this even before he knew anything else.

He was called late into the night, Marc sounding so tired and close to tears on the other end of the line. Steven had to be hospitalized, again, he said. Jake knew that the brothers kept a lot of things from him, and it was understandable. But the news that this was something that occurred so often still made something in his chest ache. Marc said, that Steven was hospitalized for nearly all his life, that the past two years were the time when he was healthy enough to stay at home, to actually go out and play, without relapsing too often. He said that they thought that Steven was getting better, but you really couldn’t run away from fate. The illness wasn’t dormant, after all. It ate away every inch of him without a pause or care of a boy’s life, ruined even before there could be any hope.

Marc picked him up three days later, dark circles underneath his eyes, and took him to the hospital. Steven grinned brightly at him when they arrived, hand already outstretched and Jake took it without much complain. There were stacks of books on the bedside table, the hippo stuffed toy next to Steven’s pillow, the myriad of needles attached to the boy’s arms. He had a lot of needle scars, and Jake never noticed them before because Steven always wore clothes with long sleeves, hiding them from plain view. He didn’t look bothered about them, and Jake felt another pinch in his chest when he realized that he must have been so used to these things to the point of not minding them anymore.

“I was waiting for you,” Steven said, ever so earnest. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for movie night. But we can still read some more of Alexander the Great, if you want?”

Fuck the movie night, Jake thought, but he nodded anyway. This time, it was Jake who read to him, with Steven correcting some of his pronunciation of words he didn’t recognize, and Marc sleeping on the other side of the bed. Steven’s free hand that wasn’t holding Jake’s ran through Marc’s curls, occasionally patting the boy’s head.

“He stayed here until I woke up,” Steven explained. “I told him long ago that he should just get home and rest when I’m hospitalized, but he’s so stubborn.”

He chuckled, and flipped the page. “Says the one who keeps insisting on playing another round of Kart when he keeps losing. It’s in the family.”

“Oi!”

Jake laughed, feeling a little bit of the twinge ease up. Steven still looked so pale, and Jake had seen the small basin with wet towel in it, stained with red. But he was crinkling his eyes whenever Jake stumbled over his words, and his hand was so soft and warm between his fingers. He read until his voice was hoarse, and found that Steven had followed Marc into the land of slumber. He closed the book and looked at the boy, looking so small and fragile on the hospital bed, with machines beeping on the side and too many drips injected into his veins.

He stroked his thumb on the back of Steven’s palm, and thought that his mother was wrong, after all. He might have to say goodbye to Steven, but not in the way that she imagined it to be.

(When he was thirteen, Jake stayed on Steven’s bedside and learned that he wanted to be an archaeologist one day, or a historian at the very least; that he didn’t feel good about eating meat because he felt sorry for the animals; that he loved his brothers with everything that he had; that he wanted to travel the world someday; that he wanted to have a library of his own, filled with collection of books and perhaps some artefacts; that he adored Steven Grant for his bravery, but Marc would probably kill him if he dared having a different last name, and he was very aware of his little brother’s possessiveness.

He learned that Steven knew very well that he didn’t have much time, and that he had accepted death after too long of being afraid of it. Thirteen, and instead of thinking about his future, Steven thought about his inevitable end, and how to best cope with it. He just hoped that he could make his brothers happy before he had to go. Jake learned that Steven was really amazed by how great Jake was at tinkering with cars and electronic, how cool it was that he remembered so much facts and trivia, how he won every round of darts they played because he had unerring accuracy, how Steven always liked when Jake spoke in Spanish with his mother because he looked far more relaxed, how he was willing to pretend to have a tea party with a sickly kid a year ago.

When he was thirteen, Steven Spector told him that even if his life was short, he was glad that Jake could be a part of it.

When he was thirteen, Jake Lockley promised himself he’d stay by Steven’s side for however long he was allowed to.)

“Therapy and treatments don’t work anymore,” Marc told him when they were fourteen, just a few months shy from fifteen. “Steven has chosen to be treated at home.”

“What?” Jake stared at the boy, uncomprehending. “Shouldn’t he stay at the hospital? It might—”

Marc stopped him with a warm, heavy palm on Jake’s shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, and he looked heartbroken. Jake felt rigid with pain and realization that Marc had gone through it all for far longer. “You thought that he might have a chance, that it might be prolonged if he were to be treated intensively. But Steven has spent more time in the hospital than he did out of it. There isn’t delaying to what is inevitable, Jake.”

He didn’t know how painful it was for Marc to accept the bitter truth, to swallow down his rage and disappointment and sheer agony of losing someone he dearly cared about. He was Steven’s brother, who had protected him since he was old enough to understand it. His pain was on a different magnitude than Jake’s.

He understood what Marc was trying to say, what Steven was trying to do. If death was inevitable, then the least they could do was to make the best out of the little time they had left. He looked away from Marc when he nodded, feeling more defeated than he had ever felt in his life.

On his fifteenth birthday, Steven came home and celebrated the small party Jake’s mother had made. It was only the two of them, with the Spector family. Steven was on a wheelchair, and Marc refused to let anyone else hold the handles. His parents were exasperated, but they looked like they were used to this behavior. Jake had to literally fight him for the honor while Steven laughed at them.

“Where are you taking me?” Steven asked as they went out of the kitchen door. “Are you going to kill me and dump me in a ditch?”

“I see that you’ve wasted your time by watching too many criminal shows,” Jake sneered, lips curled in distaste. He wheeled them to the apple tree on the backyard, and knelt in front of Steven. “Let’s make a list, of the things you wanted to do with me.”

“Oh, I have too many,” the boy answered with a sweet laughter.

“We can go through them all,” he said, and his voice caught in a broken syllable.

Steven looked at him, soft and understanding. He didn’t say anything about how impossible this task was. “I want to drive a car with you around the neighborhood,” he said, reaching down to hold Jake’s hand. “Or maybe the town, but I doubt Marc would let me. I want to go to a museum so I can bore you with the history of each artefact. I want you to bake me apple pies because you’re a disaster in the kitchen and your mom will be mad as hell. I want to see you in Steven Grant’s costume for Halloween. I want to see the stars with you, want you to tell me about the constellations you see. I want—I want to spend the rest of my time with you.”

“Okay,” Jake said, leaning up to press his forehead against Steven’s. “We can do them all, little dove.”

“That’s a new one,” Steven chuckled. It sounded suspiciously wet and trembling. “You usually call me tonto.”

“That’s because you are one,” he quipped back.

“I suppose I am,” came the whispered reply, and Jake closed his eyes, let the silence envelop them, feeling settled and resigned in the embrace of the cold fate.

Like this, just the two of them, holding each other’s hand, so close he could feel the warmth emanating from Steven’s pale body, he savored the moment, despite the pain. Because he refused to look away from the truth, now. For every breath, every second, every touch, they all were the countdown to the looming end on the horizon.

So, Jake went through the list.

He bought the cheap ass Steven Grant costume even if it wasn’t Halloween, and spent the night criticizing the movie while Marc and Steven razed him to the ground with their complains. He begged his mother to borrow her car so he could drive the brothers around the town. Steven took the shotgun and Marc was steadily looking sicker by the second each time they swerved on a turn. It was hilarious because Steven, sick and running on multiple medications, looked like he was enjoying the ride, while Marc was running himself into an early cardiac arrest every time Jake stepped on the pedal.

He piled blanket upon blanket on Steven until he looked like a curly burrito when they had a slumber party on the backyard, so they could stargaze, and then complained about the light pollution. So, he told them the constellations that he had seen, each history of it, while Marc mocked him about being a nerd, and Steven paying rapt attention, holding Jake’s hand and pressing up so close to him Jake could count his lashes.

He broke his mother’s mixer and made a mess out of the kitchen, until his mother sighed and baked the apple pie instead. They munched the pie as they listened to Mama Lockley chewing their ears off, except for RoRo, because he was just caught in the crossfire. Steven coughed up blood but he gave two thumbs up for the pie. It was two weeks of Jake sleeping at the Spector residence before Steven was strong enough to go out again.

His mother took a day off and drove them to the nearest museum. Steven looked close to tears from gratitude and Marc once again had won in the longstanding battle of ‘who got to push Steven’s wheelchair’. Jake scowled and bantered with the twins, but he thought that he couldn’t quite hide how endeared he was by Steven’s rambling. His mother looked at him with a knowing look, and Jake averted his eyes, feeling the back of his neck heating from embarrassment. They ended the visit with a stop to a burger joint, and Steven finally swore off meat for good after witnessing Marc and Jake abolishing their burgers with great gusto.

Jake was now very adept in carrying Steven with hurried steps, decisive and certain of what he should do after one too many times having the boy fainted in his arms. He remembered all the injections Steven should take, which medication he should take first, how long it’d take for Steven to wake up from a severe relapse, what he needed after he woke up. His mother sighed and hugged him tight after he came back from spending another two nights by Steven’s bedside. Jake didn’t want to admit that he clung to her for dear life, his heart aching and tired. He didn’t know how Marc had done this for nearly all his life.

He learned how to read French, because Steven’s favorite poet just fucking had to write a book in that language. Marc keeled over, red in the face, breathless from laughter the first time Jake tried. Steven had enough grace to only let his lips quiver. Jake flipped them both the middle finger and continued torturing them with absolutely devastating French. He got better over the time, and he was quite proud of the accomplishment.

“You have a really nice voice when you read,” Steven said. “Even if you sound like you’re angry all the time.”

“What a marvelous compliment,” Jake replied dryly, and looked down when Steven crinkled a smile at him. It had become more and more often, the familiar heat traveling from his cheeks to his neck, whenever he saw Steven’s smiles.

He wasn’t stupid. He had spent the last four years of his life devoting his time for this person, knowing his dreams and plight, taking care of him without even pausing for a moment to realize that he didn’t have to, spending more time by Steven’s side than he did at his own house, counting down with Marc in their head for each second that had passed.

But he didn’t want to admit this, didn’t want to put a name to this feeling, because then, it’d be real and he couldn’t run away from the inevitable grief. He might have accepted Steven’s death, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t wrecked to the core by it. Steven with his sweaters and grubby fingers, with his ridiculous made-up adventures and love too big for the world, with his sincere smile and his genuine adoration for Jake. How could Jake ever hope to escape it? He was doomed since the moment Steven held his hand for the first time.

“How did you deal with it?” Jake asked one time, smoking with Marc in the kitchen because his mother wasn’t home and it wasn’t like she didn’t know he had been smoking secretly anyway.

He didn’t need to explain for Marc to understand what he was talking about. He took a long drag and let it out with a sigh. He glanced to where Steven was sleeping on the couch. “I didn’t,” he admitted. “It’s not acceptance as much as it’s resignation.”

“Huh,” Jake said, staring blankly at the coffee pot. His mother forgot to fill her tumbler with it, the coffee was now cold. “Makes more sense, I guess.”

“What are you going to do, after he’s gone?” Marc then asked, startling Jake with his bluntness.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Lockley, I’ve seen the way you look at my brother.”

He was kind miffed that he felt embarrassed, because this was Marc, for fuck’s sake. They argued all the time, most of it about Steven, competed on everything, and insulted each other in lieu of greeting. He didn’t know why he felt shy all of the sudden.

“I don’t know,” he then said after glaring at Marc’s smug face for a minute straight. “Try the GED, maybe. Mama don’t really mind me not getting into education, but I just wanna try. Last time I went to school was the second grade in New York. We moved around too much.”

Marc nodded. “I might try for it, too. Never really thought about going to school. My dad taught us enough about what we should know in classes. I couldn’t leave Steven, anyway.” I don’t want to, was heard despite not being said. “But that still doesn’t answer my question.”

Jake was silent. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to answer to that question. But when Marc looked at him, there was no pity in it. There was just understanding and kinship. Two boys doomed for loss and grief, trying their best to prepare for something they could never be ready for.

A month before his sixteenth birthday, Steven broke his heart.

He had been writing something, and he absolutely refused to show it to anyone, even to Marc. Jake found out about it when the boy slept at his place. They were huddled under the blanket, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stickers that Steven had made Jake put on the ceiling. Steven was holding his hand, and Jake didn’t want to admit that he liked the way the boy did it without a second thought. It was comforting, to feel the press of warm skin, to press his thumb on Steven’s wrist and feel the beat loud and clear, a sign that he was still here, right by Jake’s side.

“I brought something for you,” Steven then said, pulling his hand away from Jake’s so he could rummage in his backpack. He usually didn’t bring anything because half of his wardrobe was in Jake’s closet. It turned out that he brought two books, and a small journal. The first book, Jake was familiar with it because of how often he had read it to Steven. It was the poetry book, with the fucking French. The second one was a thick hardcover of the astronomy book Jake had mentioned once that he wanted to have. “Your early birthday gifts.”

Jake swallowed around the lump in his throat and took the books, carefully depositing them on the nightstand. Steven looked hopeful, curls strewn about and eyes sparkling. Jake wanted to punch him, wanted to hold him close and never let go. “You want to torture me with more French for my birthday?”

Steven’s laughter was clear and full of delight. “You’re a dumbass,” he said, and still didn’t hold Jake’s hand. He reached for the journal, looking cautious and apprehensive, though his eyes were determined. “I made this, too.”

Jake took it, curious as to what was inside. When he opened the first page, his breath caught in his throat. Written in Steven’s neat penmanship, lifelong wishes of Steven Spector, for Jake Lockley. The small pages were full of lists, things from wanting to go to Mars, to mundane wishes like eating minty chocolate chip ice cream; things like wanting to see the beach, to sleeping in Jake’s arms; things like wanting to have Grant as a last name, to I wish I can have more time to spend with you, to I want to spend a lifetime with you.

It was a journal full of Steven’s wishes for himself, for Jake, for the two of them, and Jake’s heart ached in an agonizing pain that he had never experienced before. He was too young to ever feel this kind of lasting heartbreak, he thought.

“I’m sorry,” Steven said, speaking so softly as he reached for Jake’s hand at last. “I don’t know whether I have enough time to tell you all of this. And I guess, I’m not brave enough to say them out loud. So, I wrote them down. I hope—Jake? Are you alright?”

“Shut up,” Jake said, pulling Steven into a tight, crushing embrace. He knew he was hurting Steven, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go, to lose this boy. “Just- just shut up, Steven.”

There was a small sigh, before Steven wrapped his arms around Jake’s trembling shoulders. They didn’t say anything, just holding onto each other for what felt like an eternity; the journal lay on the sheets, opened on a page where Steven had written I want to grow up with you, and spend each day having you by my side. I want to grow into this love, and see the day when I can finally be brave enough to say it out loud, when I can ask you to spend forever with me.

When he was fifteen, Jake Lockley fell in love, and got his heart broken for the first time.

(When he was fifteen, he promised himself that he would never love anyone else the way he loved Steven.)

When he was sixteen, Steven died in his arms.

It was bright outside; clear blue sky, the sunflowers that his mother had painstakingly nurtured bloomed beautifully. The lunch spread out on the lush grass, a picnic for a sunny day. The astronomy book was opened to the page of Canis Major next to Jake. The sweet scent of apple pies wafted into the air. The ghost of laughter ringing in his ears. It was such a beautiful day to die.

Jake didn’t move for a long time, even when he felt the tears falling down, even when he felt like his heart had been torn apart into shatters, even when he felt so numb that he couldn’t think, even when he felt the warmth from Steven’s lifeless body gradually left him. He just held Steven close, thinking hysterically that of course someone like this boy would part from the world on a day like this. Of fucking course.

It was Marc who coaxed him into letting go, eyes as lifeless as his brother. Steven’s mother was hysteric, his father holding her down with pain lining his face, Jake’s mother held RoRo’s hand as he kept asking about why they didn’t bring Steven back to get treated.

The funeral was short and solemn, attended only by religious figures and close friends and families. Jake stood next to Marc as they lowered the coffin, a torn black ribbon pinned on his suit. Baruch dayan emet, they said, but Jake felt like whatever God that Steven believed in, they didn’t do a good enough judgment for this sweet boy. He should have been here, by Jake’s side, watching dumb old movies instead of standing on a funeral. He should have been able to live his life until he way grey and weak, should have been able to achieve his wishes and dreams instead of being taken away far too early.

In a way, Jake thought that it was hilarious, how Jewish religion understood that it wasn’t the death that was the worst, it was the day after—when everything came crashing down and they realized that it wasn’t just a nightmare, when they were left alone with the knowledge that someone they held dear wouldn’t come back, when they spent the day knowing that they’d sleep and wake up and go on while their loved one was buried six feet under. He attended the Shiva, and sat on Marc’s bed when he couldn’t handle the mourning faces around him.

He shouldn’t feel like this. He wasn’t a family; wasn’t a brother, wasn’t a father, wasn’t a mother, who had to live knowing that they’d lose someone that they had spent their life with. But Jake was tired enough to admit that he had loved Steven, that he felt a mind-numbing pain that spread throughout his body until he felt hollow and fragile. His grief was as deep as these people, his loss just as profound.

Marc hadn’t spoken to anyone since Steven died. He just went along with everything, movements stiff and automatic. When they attended the funeral, Jake had thought that Marc would jump into the grave so he could follow where his brother had gone to. But this wasn’t the park, wasn’t Jake’s house, wasn’t the museum. Steven had gone into a place where neither of them could follow.

“What should I do after this?” Marc finally spoke, voice hoarse and rough. His eyes were red-rimmed, his curls messy and limp. RoRo had told Jake that Marc spent the night before the funeral locking himself up in his room, crying and screaming himself hoarse before it dwindled down to pained whimpers.

Jake didn’t know. The wound felt too raw, still too fresh, for him to ever think about moving on. But Marc had lost his brother, the one he was born with, the one he had spent his life protecting futilely from fate, the one he would give the world for. They grieved for the same person, were as lost in the storm, unable to see the light on the faraway horizon.

He heaved Marc up, and held his hand, pulled him away from the mass of people clad in black, away from the Spector residence. He pushed Marc into his room, and opened the drawer to the nightstand, where he kept the poetry book and the journal. He told the boy to sit on the bed, before sitting next to him, and took a deep breath, before he opened the journal.

Marc was crying again, silent and spoke so loudly of his misery, but Jake didn’t say anything about it. He just held the boy’s hand tight, as they flipped page after page, reading through Steven’s many wishes for the future that he didn’t get to have. There were wishes for Marc, too—for him to have a lot of friends, to find someone who would love him with their whole heart, to see the world at last, to find himself and his own path, to know that Steven loved him more than he could ever know.

They spent the night reading the journal, over and over again until their eyes blurred. Marc slept at his place that night, sniffling in his sleep, holding onto Jake’s hand so tightly, as if he was afraid that he’d be lost to the storm if he ever let go. Jake stared at the ceiling, and felt the pinprick of tears when he saw the stupid glow-in-the-dark stickers.

Four years and he let himself break his heart despite knowing how it’d end. Four years and he met someone he would give his heart for. Four years and he lived his life on a place he didn’t leave behind. Four years and too many important memories to ever be forgotten.

When he was sixteen, Jake Lockley lost Steven and carried a heartache for years to come, for all his life.

When he was seventeen, he and Marc got their GED and they celebrated it with apple pies and terrible reading of French poetry. In the months following Steven’s death, they cried and they screamed, they fought and they made up, they visited the grave far too often to be healthy, they studied their ass off and slept with their hands tangled because they still felt like they were lost without a boy with sweet smile and gentle eyes. They walked on broken legs and shattered heart, but they lived, nonetheless.

When he was eighteen, he and Marc saved up for a trip to Cairo and brought Steven’s hippo stuffed toy—that now Jake knew was the goddess Taweret—and took pictures of the toy on places Steven would like to visit. They met a girl with crazy hair who punched Marc after he accidentally spilled juice all over her precious archaeology tomb. Jake cheered, and then Marc punched him.

The girl, Layla, softened a little after she found out the reason for their visit to Egypt. Jake knew that Marc was trying his hardest to not look like he was falling apart when Layla talked about the sites and the history, the way Steven did, because he felt the same way. God fucking dammit, they even had the same favorite poet. Steven would be thrilled to meet Layla, and she’d probably dote on him because he wasn’t like the rough, barbaric, idiot boys she had the pleasure of meeting. They left Cairo with Layla’s home numbers and e-mails with promises of exchanging texts soon.

When he was nineteen, he finally got around to get his driver license, with Marc following behind and commenting snidely about his driving skills. Jake would like to digress, and to strangle the living shit out of that mouthy boy, because his driving skills were flawless. Steven would think so.

Thinking about Steven still made him want to throw everything away just to see the boy again. But then the journal, with its pages wrinkled and tear-stained from how often Jake had read it, kept him going. He still had a lot of things to cross from that gigantic list. Steven really didn’t think with logic when he made this, Jake supposed.

When he was twenty-two, he got his ID and a position as a driver in a taxi company. Marc decided to train himself and try for a bodyguard job. He figured he could nanny some big baby after protecting Steven for so long. They met, sometimes, always greeting each other with insults and banter. When they had the day off, they’d watch Tomb Buster and fought about it, claiming that Steven would defend their personal opinion—Jake was clearly losing in this fight, but he shamelessly used the special treatment card. Steven would always make Jake feel better about himself, even if he loved Tomb Buster more than Jake, probably.

Every year, on a sunny day of summer, they’d have a picnic with the Lockley and Spector family, before visiting Steven’s grave. Each year, Jake would take a day off to read the stupid poetry book, and stared at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom, still lined with glow-in-the-dark stickers that he replaced regularly. He kept things that reminded him of Steven, and though he knew that it’d just make the pain unbearable on some days, it also helped him in knowing that Steven could still live through some parts of Jake’s life, through Jake’s determination in granting the wishes in the journal.

When he was twenty-eight, he visited Steven’s grave and stayed there for a while, telling Steven about all the things he had accomplished in life, the things he had crossed off the list. He would take Taweret along with him, and said that his colleagues thought that it was such a cute gap, that rough, intimidating Jake Lockley brought a hippo stuffed toy, put it on such a special place on the dashboard of the taxi.

When he was thirty-five, he attended RoRo’s wedding and sneered at Marc. He looked like a knob in his suit. Marc threw back at him that Jake looked like a serial killer with his getup. Jake’s mother just sighed and prayed for patience because she certainly had enough strength to throw them both out to the curb. None of the family asked Marc about having his own family. They all looked at him with sad eyes, and Marc stood tall and strong through the whispers that he still couldn’t move on from Steven’s death, that he couldn’t stand having his own happy life because his brother didn’t get to have it.

Because they were wrong. Marc had done everything Steven wished of him. He had friends, he had people who loved him and were willing to move hell and heaven for him—Jake would deny that he was one of those people under the threat of death. Marc had travelled the world through his job, had chosen his own path and found who he truly was through his experience. The matter of his devotion for his brother wasn’t meant to overshadow these achievements.

Jake’s mother never asked, either. It should be ridiculous, that Jake still loved the same person for years after that sunny day. But Jake had fallen in love for the first and the last time, and honestly, loving Steven was more than enough for him. It could get lonely, sometimes, but the wishes and the memories kept him warm, kept him walking through the blunders and obstacles of life. It wasn’t just the matter of his promises that he made when he was a teenager, it was the sincerity of his promises.

Marc knew this, and Jake understood Marc’s reasons, but it didn’t stop them from mocking each other about being dumb idiots. That was okay, Steven loved them even if they were dumb idiots who would likely kill each other before they were forty.

When he was forty-two, with nearly all of the things on the list crossed off, he visited Steven’s grave and told him that he was very much fluent in French now. He had gone to the beach, didn’t quite go to Mars but he went to a NASA exhibition, he learned how to make flower crowns so he could put them on Steven’s tomb, he finally could make an apple pie without destroying the kitchen, he was living healthily because his Mama insisted that just because Steven wasn’t here anymore to remind him to eat vegetables, didn’t mean that he could go off on a strict meat-only diet.

When he was sixty-eight, retired from his job and content with his life, he told Steven that he finally crossed everything off from the list. Jake told him of his life, of what he had experienced, places he had been, people he had met, and how, even after everything, Steven was still the best memory he had ever had in his life—that the promises he had made when he was thirteen, when he was fifteen, were carried even when he had let himself to fully experience life without being chained by the past.

Because there was no one quite like Steven, who smiled with his whole being, who held Jake’s hand as if he’d take him to the end of the universe, who held him close and cherished him even in his numbered days, who was gentle and fucking dumb and strong enough to live his life to the fullest even with death looming on his back. There was no one like him, and no love ever felt the way it had for Jake when he fell for Steven.

The list might be done, his life journey reaching a point where he was happy for what he had made in this world, but he would carry the last wish until it was time for him to greet Steven in the afterlife, going on made-up adventures that they couldn’t have in this world, together.

Live your life happily, Jake. Love yourself as much as I love you. I’ll wait here, until the day we meet again.

#moon knight #shiki writes #from ao3 #moonsea #jakesteven #jake lockley #steven grant #marc spector #alternate universe #major character death

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