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hannahbarberra162 · 4 days ago

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Under the Microscope (Yandere Sabo x Reader) Part 8

on Ao3 18+ MDNI

All the other chapters

This particular chapter is fluffy. I promise Sabo's coming back to the island soon. And that he's just as focused as he was before :)

Remember I don’t know anything about science! If you do, just pretend you don’t either!

Your POV

“Make a Logia fruit? Um, that’s kind of the opposite of what I’ve been working on,” you explained, wiggling your toes in your wet socks. Your butt, feet, and sleeves were wet from the sea water lapping gently at you as you sat on the beach. The temperature was dropping steadily and you felt the chill of the night starting to bother you as you splashed. “I’ve been trying to reverse engineer the fruits and find a way to nullify their powers. I was thinking that maybe, um, Sabo…or someone..could um..I’m not sure really. But I can’t - those fruits shouldn’t exist and it’s all my - all my f-fault…S-Sabo tried to tell um tell me -” Your heart started racing again, beating faster and faster as your thoughts returned to the collateral damage you’d caused.

You felt Ace’s hand on the back of your neck. He was probably trying to bring you comfort but right now it felt more like the weight of a guillotine. You shook him off, wanting to wallow in the feelings you deserved in spades. You hugged your knees and rested your head on top as you ran your hands along the parts of your pant legs that were still dry. You realized your hands were stinging from salt water that had entered the open wounds left from biting your fingers.

“I caused a lot of pain and suffering, too. I get it,” Ace said, stretching out his legs. You hummed, you couldn’t imagine any one person had unintentionally brought so much devastation to the world as you had.

“Did you watch Marineford? The Paramount Wars?” Ace asked while observing the sunset.

You took a deep breath, held it in for a moment, then exhaled. “Um, no, Sabo already asked. I was supposed to watch it live but I was too busy and then I never got caught up. I had just started getting assignments from the higher ups at that time and -”

“That was me. I caused all those Marines to die, my friends to die. Brought my brother into my mess, almost killed him too. Even killed my own father.” Ace said with no emotion in his voice.

“You - you didn’t kill your father. Are you playing with me? I’m sorry, it’s hard for me to tell sometimes,” you said, wiping your running nose on your sleeve. You hoped he was joking but the stiffness of his shoulders belied his calm tone.

“No. I’m Portgas D. Ace, Gol D. Roger’s son. I was sentenced to execution but Luffy came to save me. Whitebeard and the crew too.” You tried to take in all the information Ace was telling you but it had your head swimming.

“Is Luffy your other brother? The one in the picture with you and Sabo?” you asked an obvious question to avoid the awkwardness of his statement. Helping others with their emotions was never your strong suit.

“Yeah. Strawhat Luffy. Me n’ him n’ Sabo aren’t related by blood. Roger was my biological father but Whitebeard was my dad. Died trying to save me. Buncha my crew siblings died too. Good men.”

“Oh.” You wanted to support him like he’d supported you but you were afraid to say the wrong thing in case he started crying or got angry. “That explains a lot of your lineage factors,” you added quietly. “If your dad was Gol D. Roger, it makes sense you’d have Conqueror’s Haki.”

“Didn’t help me much,” Ace lamented. “Luffy even got me free and all I did was waste the opportunity by taking bait from Akainu. Fucker tried to kill Luffy and punched me through the chest. The only reason I was revived is Law brought me to his sub.”

You blinked rapidly. “Law? Trafalgar Law? Dr. Trafalgar D. Water Law?” Ace grunted.

“Yeah, Trafalgar Law. How come you know him but not me’r Luffy? I’m more famous than him,” Ace said in a half hearted joke.

“Oh, I’m familiar with Dr. Trafalgar from his articles, not his piracy. He’s brilliant, his articles are always so intriguing. I pay for a subscription out of my own pocket to the journals that publish him, actually. His last article was about heart replacement complications, I wonder if that was from you,” you mused. You cringed as you realized that was not an appropriate statement to make, considering it was likely Ace’s heart he detailed in the article.

“Probably. He said it was difficult, but I didn’t ask about the details,” Ace said unbothered.

“How did he save your life?” You were curious about the intricacies of Dr. Trafalgar’s devil fruit power and how he used it in conjunction with his medical knowledge and skills. You’d hoped to be invited to a Warlord meeting and catch a glimpse of him but it had never happened.

“I dunno, I was dead for that part,” Ace stated, flicking his long hair over his shoulder.

“Right,” you said, wishing you could bury your head in the sand much like your toes were. If Sabo were here he’d know what to say, you thought. Unlike your own awkward nature, Sabo was suave and charming and would know how to soothe his brother.

“Are you still healing? Is that why you still have all those bandages?” you asked. Ace raised his eyebrows and looked down at his own chest.

“Oh, no. I’m healed, there’s just a huge scar I don’t like seeing and the yukata doesn’t cover it.” he explained.

“Why don’t you wear a shirt then?” Ace frowned like you’d asked him to eat sand off the beach.

“Nah, not my style. Besides, all the shirts here are Sabo’s and uh…they’re a little too frilly for me,” Ace said. Shirts weren’t his style? What on earth did that even mean? And why didn’t Sabo bring him any? Maybe Sabo was keeping Ace on the island too, not letting him leave. You decided to gently press for information while Ace was in a sharing mood.

“So how long has Sabo kept you on the island?” you asked, hoping Ace would reveal some negative feelings towards Sabo. If Ace wanted off the island, maybe the two of you could work together and figure something out.

“Hm? He doesn’t keep me here. Actually, he’s been trying to get me to leave for a while. Wants me to “reintegrate back into society.” Ace said, using air quotes and mimicking Sabo’s voice, your hopes of escaping dashed. Still, you stifled a laugh at Ace’s impression, trying to keep your composure for the serious conversation. Ace gave you a small smile. “It’s OK, you can’t say anything to me I haven’t said to myself already.” The sun had set, leaving the two of you in the chill of the dusk. “C’mon, it’s cold and I’m sure the water’s making you feel shitty. Let’s go back to the house, get changed. If you get sick, Sabo’s gonna yell at me even more than he’s already gonna.”

Ace stood up and offered you a hand, pulling you to your feet as well. The two of you walked in companionable silence for a minute before he spoke again.

‘But just hypothetically speaking, could you make a Logia fruit? From a scientific standpoint?” Ace asked curiously.

Ace’s POV

Ace knew you fell for his bait when you slowed your stroll and began chewing your lip. He could practically see the cogs turning in your head as you thought through the possibilities, your wet socks squelching on the path to the house.

“Well….the other fruits were made in advanced scientific labs. I don’t have the equipment needed to engineer something like that…” you trailed off.

“No, no. Not to actually make it here. But could you make an artificial Logia fruit?”

“I could use the- well, it depends which one,” you said, starting to gesticulate. “The fruit I’d have the most success in creating would be the Mera Mera that you and Sabo ate. You still have the lineage factor which provides a large part of the genetic material needed to make an artificial fruit. Oh, and a strand or two of Sabo’s hair, that’s definitely here. Oh, and maybe part of my own lineage factor? Even though mine is paramecia it might help with some of the active components… And I could probably use any fruit, but for a Logia I would probably want something with a similar quality, maybe some kind of spicy - no that wouldn’t really make a difference, I think Vegapunk used apples? But there aren’t any here so maybe from a common fr- no, no…” you were off in thought, talking to yourself about how the fruit could be made. Reaching the deck of the house, you stopped before you went up the stairs. You stared off in the distance in silence, giving Ace pause.

“Hey, are you alright in there? Didn’t mean to start anything, I was -”

“The flame flower,” you stated.

“Right.” Ace nodded knowingly, but had no idea what you were referring to.

“I could use the flame flower as the base and the genetic material provided by your and Sabo’s lineage factor. That’s how I could make it work,” you said, nodding slowly. Ace’s mouth dropped open as he watched you staring off into the darkness, Sabo hadn’t exaggerated. Your genius was on par with Vegapunk and other top scientists of the world. You looked at Ace and tilted your head. “But again, I can’t actually do anything without a lab. And a lot of money. So, hypothetically probably. In reality, no.” You nodded to yourself and entered the house, going up the stairs to change your clothes. Ace trailed behind you, pulling on your sleeve to get your attention.

“But can’t you like….” Ace trailed off, using his fingers to pantomime pulling marionette strings.

“What? I don’t follow,” you replied, looking worn out. He should really leave you alone and let you sleep but Ace couldn’t drop the idea, not after you said it was possible.

“I’m not - I don't know how to say it, but like, can’t you like change stuff? Like move the molecules around or cells or whatever?” You blinked rapidly while frowning.

“Say more,” you commanded, your brow furrowed. You looked like how he’d found you in Sabo’s office, completely focused on one thought. The intensity of your stare almost rivaled Luffy’s when he was serious.

“Like, um, y’know, like change stuff when you magnify it. Like move the stuff around to make other things? Aren’t molecules the building blocks of life? So move the blocks around?” Ace finished with something Sabo had taught him, trying to get his idea across to you. He wasn’t a scientist but he knew devil fruits could be awakened, he’d tried to do it on his own but ran out of time before his death. Maybe this could be the key to your own fruit awakening and to him getting his powers back.

You stopped walking and stared past him, blinking rapidly. Ace waved his hand in front of your face after a moment. You were on the stairs, he didn’t want you to fall and get hurt when you finally surfaced again. You moved your head away from his hand but didn’t resume walking. Sighing, Ace picked you up, disrupting your thought process.

“H-hey! Put me down! I’m not a child,” you protested while making no movement to get out of his arms.

“Go do your big thinking after you change your clothes. Like you said, none of this is possible here and if you get hypothermia Sabo’s gonna kill me for real this time,” Ace joked. Depositing you in Sabo’s room, you smiled at Ace.

“Thanks Ace. Good night,” you said, holding the door to shut it.

“Good night, kid,” Ace replied, smiling. He turned and walked away to his own room, getting inside before he heard you yell.

“I’m not a kid! I think I’m older than you!” Ace chuckled lightly, reaching to unwind his bandages.

Your POV

You were exhausted from the panic attack and the subsequent heart to heart with Ace. But you couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said to you. You were turning the thoughts over and over in your mind, thinking about artificial devil fruits and the implications of changing the molecular structure during magnification. Like you’d told Sabo, you could get to the sub-atomic level but it took a lot of concentration and effort. You closed your eyes to rest but you were fixated on Ace’s idea. You tossed and turned for what felt like hours until your stomach rumbled. Oh yeah, you remembered, you hadn’t eaten since earlier that day. It was going to be a long night for you anyway so you might as well eat some food while you thought through the creation of artificial Logia devil fruits.

Heading down to the darkened kitchen, you took out a bowl and some rice. You’d made jambalaya a few days prior so now you’d give your stir-fried rice a shot. There still wasn’t any fish in the house but it would taste ok without it. You were able to make the dish on autopilot, washing the rice and vegetables while thinking about molecular changes. As you thought, you noticed the droplets of water that had landed near the colander.

You could probably… try what Ace suggested. Changing h2o to h2o2 wouldn’t cause a huge reaction or anything, it would just be hydrogen peroxide. And only one molecule… If you changed the wrong elements or made too many molecules unstable, you could cause a huge chain reaction but that would take so many molecules and this was just one…this was just water…After starting the rice and starting the vegetables sauteing, you magnified a water droplet on the table. Getting down to the molecular level took a few moments but shortly there were two h2o molecules in front of your eyes. Careful not to erase the image, you used your thumb and forefinger to try and pluck one of the oxygens from a molecule and put it into the other. Picking it up felt like static electricity and your heart was racing as you tried to move the oxygen from its current molecule. It almost felt sticky, like it didn’t want to move, but it didn’t take much effort to disrupt its bonds.

You held your breath as you placed it within the bonds of the other molecule. If it didn’t work, at least you tried. You let go.

It worked.

You were now looking at a molecule of hydrogen peroxide and an hydroperoxyl radical left over. “Holy fuck,” you said softly, looking at the newly formed molecule. You rotated it under your magnification and it looked identical to every other hydrogen peroxide molecule you’d ever seen. The implications were….

“Boo,” a voice said from behind you.

You shrieked like a banshee, jumping in fright. Ace laughed loudly and you swatted him with the spatula you were holding while cursing at him.

“Ace!! What the fuck?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Why would you do that?!”

“Hey! Ow. Stop hitting me! Ow, that hurts! It was just a joke!” You huffed but you weren’t really mad as Ace dodged your well aimed spatula strikes.

“Why are you awake?” you asked, looking at the clock. It was the middle of the night, surely he had been sleeping like you should have been.

“Smelled good food cooking and I’m hungry,” he shrugged. You noticed he was wearing his yukata but no bandages underneath. The scarred skin on his chest was a deep red and in a circular pattern, blazing out from where his heart was. It was large and raised and had likely taken months to heal. You knew you were staring but the scar was so large and harrowing, you couldn’t stop looking at it.

“Stop undressing me with your eyes. You’re not my type,” Ace teased, sitting at the bar to wait for the food to be done.

“Oh? And who is?” you asked, genuinely curious. You weren’t offended. Besides Sabo, you’d never been anyone’s type. And even Sabo was just pretending.

“Men,” Ace said offhandedly. Ah. Well, that made things between you a little easier since you didn’t have to worry about any sexual tension between the two of you.

“Nice,” you replied, stirring the dish on the stove.

“Whatcha cookin’?” Ace asked, standing on the rungs of the bar stool to look over the counter and into the frying pan.

“Stir-fried rice. It’s one of the three dishes I can make, you’ve had the other two. Usually I put seafood in there too but we don’t have any,” you said, giving Ace a pointed look.

“Well, there is a boat on the island,” Ace began, scratching his cheek. Your interest was immediately piqued - maybe you could use it to escape at some point. “But it’s my old one, Striker. It’s powered by fire and since I don’t have my devil fruit anymore, I can’t use it. There’s a sail but that’s not to propel it, just to direct it.”

You sighed, another plan to escape the island foiled. You thought in silence for a few moments, adding in the rice to the dish.

“What were ya lookin’ at?” Ace asked, watching you cook. You bit your lip, unsure if you should tell Ace about your experiment. You couldn’t think of a reason that the information could be used against you, and it was his idea anyway.

“Um. Well, it’s um. Not that big of a deal and I didn’t think it would work but um. I did kind of do what you said and, ah, changed the structure of a molecule - only one! Just one, it’s fine, don’t worry. And um it. It did work. I changed it by hand, so to speak. So I - that’s what I was looking at.” Ace waited patiently while you stumbled over your words.

“That’s amazing! So what does that mean? Does that mean you can make the devil fruit? The Mera Mera?” He exclaimed, his face breaking into a huge smile and eyes alight.

“Um, yes, I suppose hypothetically speaking, I could potentially make a Mera Mera artificial fruit. It would be a huge undertaking but again, hypothetically, I could do it. Um, there’s enough genetic and lineage factor material here and I probably could if I worked on it enough but I don’t think -”

“This is wonderful! Oh my god I can’t wait, I’m gonna blow up Sabo when he comes back,” Ace exclaimed. He was off the chair and on his feet, pacing in front of the kitchen. “He’ll be fine, it can’t hurt him. Ooh, maybe we can finally fight each other! That little fucker has been using my moves, I know it. Gonna teach him who’s the real boss, ha! And I can finally make my way back to Wano! Maybe see Luff? I know his bounty is way higher -”

“Ace -”

“But before all that I need to find Marco and the crew. And Deuce, oh my god, Deuce. I miss that man so much, gonna kiss him first thing, did you know he was my first mate? I wonder -”

“Ace!”

“He might be doing better off without me, he wasn’t really a pirate, more of an intellectual type. You’d like him a lot. But I also need to go thank Traflagar and hug Bepo, there’s so much to do -”

“ACE!”

Ace finally stopped pacing and chattering and looked at you. “Ace, I said I might be able to do it. I just made one molecule , do you know how much work it would take to engineer something like that?” Ace shrugged and waved off your concern, continuing to pace behind the counter.

“So what? You’re a genius, you’ll figure it out. Besides, it’s not like you have anything else to work on right now,” he said, unbothered by your hesitation.

“No,” you stated, crossing your arms. Ace turned on his heel to face you immediately.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” he asked worriedly, racing to the counter.

“No. I’ve been working on ways to undo the damage my research has caused, not increase the damage. It’s unethical to bring yet another artificial devil fruit into the world, no matter who it goes to.”

Ace held you in his gaze for a moment, staring into your eyes. Even though he wasn’t related by blood to Sabo some of their mannerisms were eerily similar. He plopped back down on the bar stool with a sigh and ran his hand through his tangled black hair. “You can’t undo what you’ve done. Trust me, I’m the first one to wish things were different, that I could change what I did. But it’s not possible. Doflamingo already made the money, Kaido got the soldiers, Vegapunk made the Seralinas or whatever. You can’t undo it. What were you going to do? Make a new fruit for them to eat? It won’t work, what’s done is done.” Ace got up and walked to where you were turning off the heat on the stove and put his hands on your shoulders. You looked up into his freckled face.

“The only thing to do now is to help the good side win, help people like me ‘n Sabo. Y’know, fight fire with fire,” he said seriously.

“I don’t know, Ace….I don’t know if that’s something I want to do,” you hesitated. Ace hummed.

“It could be a one time thing, make the Mera Mera and be done with it,” Ace pleaded, shaking your shoulders lightly.

“Ace, even if this works, you’ll still be you. You’ll be the same person, with or without the fruit. It’s not going to solve all your problems. You need to work on your emotional healing, not just your body. You can’t even show your chest most of the time,” you said quietly. Ace didn’t respond, looking away to avoid your eyes.

Ace took his hands off your shoulders and went over to the cabinet, pulling out two bowls. His face was impassive but his departed enthusiasm spoke volumes. You plated the food and set the bowls side by side on the counter, Ace bringing you a fork. You ate in silence for a few minutes, Ace mostly pushing the food around his plate. You thought about what he’d said about Striker and getting off the island. If Sabo found out you could manipulate matter, you didn’t think he’d ever let you go. Your only window of escaping closed once Sabo came back to the island. Steeling yourself against your better judgment, you faced Ace.

“I’ll do it. On one condition,” you said, looking at him. Ace’s cheeks were puffed out wide with food.

“Hwaf cuhdihun?” Ace asked, not bothering to chew or swallow.

“You have to take me off the island. Away from here,” you stated. You knew Sabo and Ace were brothers but maybe the desired reward would offset his loyalty to Sabo.

“Hmm,” Ace mumbled as he chewed. You watched him closely to see his reaction, this would make or break your escape from Sabo.

“Sure, why not?” Ace said, quirking his eyebrow with a small smile.

“You’re sure? You know I mean you need to take me away from Sabo, right?”

“Yeah, I got it. I can get you off the island if the fruit works. It won’t help you,” Ace said, scooping the last of his food into his mouth. His careless attitude made you worry that you’d fallen into a trap you set yourself.

“What do you mean, it won’t help me?” you asked, frowning.

“Sabo’ll just chase you. And he’ll find you, no matter where I take you,” Ace shrugged, literally licking his bowl clean.

You chewed on the skin next to your nail for a moment. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m not -”

“I’m sure. He’d follow you to the South Pole if he had to. So I’ll take you out, but you won’t get far. He really likes you.” Ace replied, patting his belly.

“He doesn’t, it’s all an act. He’s just using me for - well, for this. To have me finish Project Seraphim for the Revolutionary Army. I heard him tell Dragon,” you protested. Ace stared at you, eyes softening with an unknown emotion.

“Whatever you say,” Ace said lightly, getting up and plugging the sink to begin washing the dishes. You tasted blood as you bit too hard on your already chewed thumb.

Sabo’s POV

Sabo wasn’t sure exactly what set off his internal warning signal. He and Ace had been calling back and forth every few days over the weeks, exchanging information and pleasantries. Ace had been in an elated mood, which he chalked up to becoming better friends with Sunny. Sabo noted Ace hadn’t been wearing the bandages around his chest anymore which was an interesting development. According to Ace, you worked in the morning and took a short walk with Ace before lunch. After eating, you’d work again until the evening when you and Ace would eat dinner and go stargazing or hang out in the house. You’d spoken on the snail a few times, you sounded happy and refreshed. But Ace was up to something and had dragged Sunny into it, Sabo was sure of it. The end of his trip was approaching and Sabo was eager to sail back home and see Sunny. And Ace, of course.

Narrowing his eyes, Sabo wanted to catch Ace in whatever dumbass idea he’d concocted. Sabo was between meetings and ducked into an empty storage room to call. It was nearly lunch, not his normal time to connect with Ace. With luck, Sabo would be able to detect what was going on.

Puru puru puru puru puru puru

“Hey Babo, what’s up?” Ace said, using a childhood nickname Luffy had given him.

“My ‘Ace is doing something stupid’ alarm is going off. Are you doing something stupid?” Sabo asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Almost always. But right now I’m making lunch. Potato salad,” the Ace snail said.

“And where’s Sunny? What’s she up to?” Sunny was an incredibly poor liar, even worse than Ace. With only a little pressure, Sabo would get the truth out of her.

“She’s working in your office, wanna say hi?” Ace asked, the snail throwing a kitchen towel over its shoulder.

“Inna minute. How are you guys doing? How’s she feeling?” Sabo asked, trying to keep from projecting his worries into his voice.

“Good, good. She’s working right now, like always. Sleeping enough, I make sure of it. Eats food, drinks coffee and water ,” Ace said proudly.

“Alright, put her on.”

“Gimme a sec,” Ace said, the sounds of boots on the wood floor coming through the receiver. Ace pounded on the door three times.

“Yo, Sunny! Wanna -”

“Fuck off Portgas, I’m busy!” you yelled through the door. Sabo’s gut twisted with the ease and familiarity in your voice you used for his brother. He’d been feeling jealous for a few days now even though the jealousy made him feel guilty. He had brought you to the island partially for just this reason - to befriend his brother. And now that the two of you were friendly he was seeing green. Sabo wished you were just as comfortable with him , telling him to fuck off or spending all your meals together voluntarily. Sabo tried to rein his feelings in but it was difficult when he saw that you’d given Ace a haircut, or you were wearing Ace’s old clothes, or saw how well rested you were looking. During the calls between the three of you, it was difficult to contain himself from making snarky comments. Sabo was homesick for you and Ace, his meetings felt endless and the two of you were up to something. He could feel it in his bones.

“Nah, it’s Sabo, c’mon.” Ace urged you. Sabo heard a huff and the door open.

“Fine, but you know the penalty for disturbing me when I’m working,” you said cheerfully as the snail changed its visage to your bright smile. Sabo had never made that smile appear before, he thought.

“Ow! Owww ! That hurts! Stop pinching!” Ace whined in the background as you laughed.

“No, you get five pinches for disrupting my flow. I was moving the mol- er -” you looked at Sabo, afraid you’d almost said something.

“Moving what?” Sabo asked brightly.

“Uh, nothing! Nothing, um just moving the, um, mol- um…mole. The mole,” you finished lamely. Sabo quirked an eyebrow.

“The mole?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah, um the mole. It’s um, gotten into the office and um Ace and I have been trying to catch it and I um, oh lunch is ready! I have to go!” you stammered. The snail turned back to Ace, who was laughing into his palm.

“I know you’re up to something dumb and I’m gonna find out what it is. If Sunny gets in trouble because of you…” Sabo trailed off menacingly.

“Ok, love you, see you sooooon!” Ace chirped happily and hung up the snail.

The call ending quickly gave greater credence to Sabo’s theory that some Ace-derived foolishness was afoot. He sighed and leaned back against the nearest crate. He was leaving for the island in a few short days and it couldn’t come quickly enough.

Your POV

You and Portgas D. Ace stared at the flower-turned-fruit held in the palm of your hand as you sat side by side on the beach. You’d experimented and developed it for the past few weeks almost constantly. You’d worked harder than you ever had in your life, racing to complete the project before Sabo returned in the next few days. True to his word, Ace had locked you out of Sabo’s office at 8 every night but that alone didn’t turn off your brain. For the first few weeks after your discovery, you stayed up late in the night in the darkness of your room, rearranging molecules and perfecting your craft. Ace had figured out you weren’t resting enough and started sleeping on the floor of Sabo’s room to get you to go to sleep. Eventually, you’d invited him into the bed because you were tired of seeing him toss and turn on the hard floor. You enjoyed having a warm body next to you but it wasn’t the same as Sabo’s heat and pleasant aroma.

You weren’t sure if you missed Sabo or not. Ace was fun, dynamic, engaging, and easy to talk to. He made you laugh, either intentionally or from his antics, and he had interesting insight to share. Ace was an endless talker, providing you with background noise to listen to while you walked together. He told you stories about Whitebeard, the Spade pirates, his brothers, anything he could think of. Ace enjoyed your company and would watch you work in Sabo’s office, sometimes falling asleep and snoring to your amusement. You thought you and Ace were friends and you’d miss him when you left the island.

But a little part of you missed Sabo, too. He treated you like you were worth the world, not just what you could make or produce for him. Ace claimed repeatedly that Sabo was romantically interested in you, which always made you flush. You found Sabo attractive and charming, unlike Ace who felt more like a sibling. He was smart and intelligent and enjoyed the same intellectual pursuits that you did. He had kidnapped you but through his actions you’d realized how drained you were from the Marines, subsisting on coffee and loneliness. You had been miserable, sick, and stuck, even if you didn’t see it yourself at the time.

“Hey, your hand’s shaking,” Ace noted, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah.”

“Haven’t seen that in a while,” Ace mused. You didn’t answer, too nervous about the outcome of your experiment. There was no way to test anything and make sure you’d gotten everything right. You used parts of your other research, Sabo’s hair, Ace’s saliva, and sheer willpower to craft the hideous looking fruit in front of you. It didn’t look like the Mera Mera no Mi, it looked like a sad black sea urchin covered in molten red spots. Your lips were bloody and Ace had bandaged all your fingertips after you bit them too much.

“This is a bad idea,” you said.

“Yeah,” Ace replied.

“It might not work. You might not get any power and you won’t be able to swim.”

“Yeah.”

“It might kill you.”

“Maybe.”

“Sabo will be mad.”

“Furious.”

“You gonna try it?”

“Yeah,” Ace said, taking the fruit from your sweaty palm. You had the urge to reach out to take the fruit and fling it into the sea, to let life stay the way it was. But Ace’s brow was furrowed and his jaw set, you knew he wasn’t going to hesitate. You held your breath and covered your eyes with your hands as Ace bit into the fruit, scowling as he chewed.

“You got the taste right. Not something you forget,” he joked, trying to lighten your mood. You took a little peek and he hadn’t exploded or projectile vomited. That was a good sign.

“Did it - did it work?” you whispered. Ace ate the fruit in a few bites, one of the advantages to his eating habits, you supposed. He wiped his hands on his yukata and stood up.

“One way to find out,” he grinned, pointing his index and ring finger like the barrel of a gun.

Fire bullets shot out of his hand rapidly, making you scuttle backwards on the beach. He whooped loudly and beat his chest with his fists, screaming at the top of his lungs. Turning and running full force at you, you squealed as he picked you up under your arms and spun you around in circles. His arms were too warm, almost burning you as he laughed wildly and spun.

“Ace! Ace! Too hot!” you yelled into his ear, trying to get him to put you down.

“Ah! Sorry, kinda forgot about that,” Ace said, grinning from ear to ear. He set you down only to give you a huge kiss on your cheek. You couldn’t help but share in his happiness and laughed along with him. He looked so much younger, his face radiating pure joy as he raised his arm to continue testing his strength.

“Hiken!” he yelled, his arm outstretched. A column of flame burst forth from his fist, the raw destructive power it posed sending a shiver down your spine. He turned and winked at you, finger still made of flame.

“And that’s why they call me Fire Fist Ace.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff

#yandere sabo #sabo x you #sabo x reader #revolutionary sabo #one piece sabo #fire fist ace #ace op #under the microscope au #life on idiot island #they're both idiots #just in different ways #bffaeae #op x y/n #artificial devil fruit #mera mera no mi #babo #jealous Sabo

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albatris · 3 months ago

Text

hewwo

I deleted the opening of rentalcar from tumblr months ago when all the ai nonsense happened but now it's back again because I'm me. it's fresh and edited! and shorter

here's the new chapter one for your viewing pleasure. enjoy! or don't. don't let me tell you how to live your life I'm not your mum

hi taglist hello - some of you have already read this! I hope you're having a nice day though 😎

@transmasc-wizard @saturn-iidae @polyaubergine @tracle0 @goosemixtapes @valence-positive @the-one-who-makes-negative-noise @ambiguousfiction @afoolandathief @silverwarewolf @mecharose @vellichor-virgo @plasticseaslug @jetstargenderfuckery @multi-lefaiye @writeouswriter @junoshusband @writing-is-a-martial-art @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @sleepycaprine @cream-and-tea @gailynovelry @lefttigerobservation @indecentpause @writingsfromspace @carnivalls @violetfoxsketches @approximately20eggs @mohluskiepedard @desastreus @kk7-rbs @cee-grice @northwyrm @xylophonicsynapse @careful-pyromancer @recapitulation @incandescent-creativity @whole-buncha-snakess @mysticalalleycat @thatonecrowguy @va-nila-bean @televisionjester @excessive-vampires @walkman-cat @davycoquette @xenascribbles

tw for paranoia, anxiety, hallucinations, swearing, general feelings of unease

Nat Finch blinked awake.

He was slumped forward in the driver’s seat of his rental car, his forehead pressed to the steering wheel, his body aching like he hadn’t moved in centuries. His feet were bare. His throat burned. His head throbbed. Curled over his shoulders was the familiar softness of the blanket from his back seat, the one he’d been meaning to give to the Larsons for two weeks now. A deep night breeze leaked through the slightly-open window to his right, the cold gnawing at the dampness that clung to his clothes, to his face and hair. He felt filthy, filmy, disgusting—more so than usual.

A muddle of memories and flickers and voices fought for space in his brain, bumping up against each other and overlapping, threads escaping every time he thought he’d grasped one. He was overcome, for a single surreal moment, by the sense he had just awoken from an exceedingly peculiar dream.

Nat Finch sat up, groaning.

Disturbed by the motion, plastic crinkled in his lap. A collection of granola bars was scattered over him, a few of them having tumbled down onto the seat next to him and the floor below. Like someone had dumped them unceremoniously over his head and just… left him like that.

He recognised the brand, vaguely—something hoity-toity and ridiculous he’d seen at the supermarket, fifteen dollars a goddamn box—but they weren’t something that had any business being anywhere near him. His bank balance barely scraped double digits at the moment.

“Who the fuck…” Nat paused, not sure what question he was even supposed to be asking. “Why the fuck…”

His attention edged upwards, to a scrap of cardboard folded neatly in two and perched atop his dashboard.

DO YOUR BEST! it read in a childlike handwritten scrawl.

Nat squinted harder. “What the fuck.”

He tried to think. His brain, sluggish and laden with fog and aching, refused to provide any context for the mystery shower of nutrition. Or the note.

Or… anything else, for that matter. He didn’t remember falling asleep; he didn’t remember stopping his car. He remembered leaving work, but it had barely been dusk when he’d left work and the trip from Stop ‘N’ Go to his apartment was fifteen minutes, tops.

It was not dusk anymore. The black outside was the pure solitude of the witching hour and the world beyond his window was silent, save for the buzz and pop of a single faulty streetlight a few metres ahead and the chittering gossip of crickets. No people. No cars. No movement.

Nat’s dread climbed. He craned his neck and strained to decipher his whereabouts. The lonely light offered only flimsy, spluttering illumination—some of it splashing into his car, some of it into dry grass and mesh fence lining the side of the road, most of it merely into the rumble of gravel directly beneath it. He had no idea where he was. He had no idea why he was where he was.

The disco ball hanging from his rear-view mirror glittered at him, blinking urgently.

He shoved the granola bars off himself, suddenly feeling contaminated. A strident, pulsating pain forked through every inch of his body at the movement—he gritted his teeth, letting out a hiss and a wince. The blanket went next, ripped from his shoulders and hurled at the opposing window in a multicoloured flurry. It crumpled to the passenger seat and Nat stared at it, prickling all over with the suspicion someone else had placed it on him. Someone else had been here. Watching. Leaning. Looming. Touching. His hand flew to the window winder and wound it, sealing the opening. Sealing himself in and the outside out.

And then he sat still, mind reeling, chest tight. Panic twisting in his stomach. He waited for his brain to kick over, for his memory to rush back, for the moment he shook free the dregs of post-sleep disorientation and went, Oh, that’s right! That’s why I’m here! That’s what’s going on! How could I have forgotten?

A minute passed.

And another.

Frozen.

Rigid.

Nat swallowed, hard. Nothing clicked into place. Nothing clicked and nothing clicked and nothing clicked. Why not? He’d left work and turned left down Rake Street like he always did. He’d done nothing out of the ordinary.

The night outside was alive. With every flicker-out of the streetlight, the dark whined at his window, still trying to reach him. A tapping, a whistling, a whispering in its own made-up language. Nat. Nat. Nat. Something’s wrong. Nathaniel. Something’s wrong. The dark that should not have been there. The dark that should have been dusk.

He'd lost hours. Hours. What the hell had happened to him? The note on his dashboard sat there, smirking. It knew things he didn’t.

Nat fought to breathe in.

Nat fought to breathe out.

Nat breathed in.

Nat breathed out.

Five things he could see were that gaudy leopard-print steering wheel cover, the smeared windscreen from too-old wipers, the radio, the hazard switch, his own hands, crusted in cracked, dried mud.

Four things he could feel were the press of the seat under him, the press of his work uniform over him, the sting of the cold on his feet, pain, pain, pain.

Three things he could hear were crickets and streetlights and dark.

Two things he could smell were the dull citrus hum of the vent-clip air freshener and the fact it was doing nothing to hide the fact he hadn’t showered in a while.

One thing he could taste was—

Okay, okay, alright. Okay. That would do it. Nat breathed in. Nat breathed out. Calm. Calm. Calm.

He reached gingerly for the ignition, exhaling in relief when he grasped the key still inside. He had that, at least. He hesitated, perched on an agonising threshold between hopeful anticipation and whatever reality was about to find him.

He turned the key.

Nothing.

He turned again.

Nothing. The car stuttered and clicked uselessly, refusing to start. Relief left him as quickly as it had arrived. Flat battery.

Nat breathed, “Ah, fuck.”

Nat breathed in.

Nat breathed out.

He twisted towards the back seat, feeling along the faux leather for his work backpack. He hauled it to himself and rammed an arm inside to seek his phone, shoving through a jumble of familiar shapes—notebook, hoodie, empty soft drink can for recycling, empty soft drink can for recycling, gum, nametag—ah, there it was.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Nat whined, his finger colliding with the power button. “Please, please, please—”

Nothing. Flat battery.

Nat breathed in.

Nat plonked his forehead back down on the steering wheel and released a long, agonised wail.

Simmering anxiety climbed into roiling terror. Terror branched sideways into paranoia. Paranoia bloomed up through his chest and into his throat, where it squeezed tight and threatened to choke him. He’d lost hours. Anything could have happened to him. Anything could have been done to him.

The dark outside mocked and laughed. The disco ball blinked its rhythmic little warnings. He could feel it all, even when he wasn’t looking.

Nathaniel. Something’s wrong. Nathaniel.

“No shit,” he muttered back.

What next?

He lifted his head and flipped the sun visor down to look at himself in the mirror. With no phone screen and no overhead light to guide him, it was hard to get a full picture. He tilted his head, twisted his neck, attempted to catch himself on some jittering streetlight. He snagged a few glimpses—a dribble of blood from a presumably cracked lip here, a smudge of dirt on a cheekbone there. The collar of his shirt looked bloody, too. His hair wasn’t sitting right, tangled black all caked together and hanging in thick clumps. Two trembling hands lifted, the quiver partially from weakness and partially from fear, and Nat gripped at his face. Tugging along those familiar edges and curves and juts, finding them not so familiar. Finding them wrong. Hollow. Caved in. His fingertips wandered down towards his jaw—

—and along the thick, uneven mumbling of stubble that hadn’t been there when he’d left the apartment that morning.

Nat’s heartbeat tripped up. He hadn’t lost hours.

He’d lost days.

Nat breathed in. And in. And in. Not enough. Too fast. His chest heaved. His lungs refused to fill.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t have lost days. He couldn’t have lost days. Jesus Christ, Nat had never been the shining poster child of mental health, but he’d never lost days. He’d been God knew where for God knew how long. He’d been—his feet were bare, his hands and face were streaked with mud, someone had clearly been messing around in his car—he’d been taken. Drugged. Kidnapped. That scribbled note? Do your best? He was being toyed with, probably by some deranged serial killer. And what was with the granola bars? Some kind of clue? A message?

He had to go. Run. Get help. Something close to a whimper climbed up his throat and fell from his lips. His hand crept to the door handle and stopped.

He’d seen horror movies. Not many, but enough. The chase, the hunt, the twisted mind games before the inevitable kill… these were part of the fun. There was probably someone watching him right now, folded into the shadows and out of sight, waiting for him to panic. Waiting for him to make his first mistake and step outside.

Waiting for him to start the game.

He couldn’t leave.

He couldn’t stay.

Could he stay? Could he just wait it out? Someone would find him. Someone would look for him. Someone would look for him, right?

No, no one would look for him. No one would care enough that he was gone.

No, there was no way they’d let him wait this out, whoever they were. They would find some way to lure him out, drive him out, force him into the waiting hands of the night air. Unprotected. Alone. All at once Nat felt a million eyes boring into him, leering from beyond the black, drinking in his every move. He shoved himself lower in his seat, clutching his dead phone to his chest.

Nat fought to breathe in.

Nat fought to breathe out.

He tried a final time to reason with himself.

When he’d worked twelve hour shifts four days straight, he’d started being dogged by the idea that someone had snuck a microscopic tracking device into his takeaway pizza, which he had subsequently consumed. When he’d been behind on rent for the third fortnight in a row, he’d become fixated on the idea that other customers in the supermarket were reading his thoughts and laughing at him. Look at this fucking loser. Grimy hair and track pants. Can’t even afford instant ramen.

Panic and stress tended to climb on top of him bit by bit. Panic and stress tended to twist all kinds of everyday events into all kinds of unnatural, terrifying shapes. It was normal. Even the tiny, audible hints of speech pushing through the dark, giving voice to his anxiety, those were normal under the right circumstances. It was all… no, not normal. It was a pattern. Tomorrow, he’d be fine. Tomorrow, he’d understand he’d never been in any danger.

So even though he was here now, helpless and stranded in the empty night, barefoot and filthy, abandoned by his memories and surrounded by leering scrawled words and fucking rich-people granola bars—he had to take this moment of clarity and hold it tight.

Tomorrow, this would all make sense.

DO YOUR BEST! the dark around him sang.

“Go to hell,” Nat spat.

And with that, he wrenched the door open.

#a rental car takes a left down rake street and disappears

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