#let Marco go take a nice long nap

[pippin-pippout]

WINGS! OF! THE! PIRATE! KING!

Once they are in the fight together, everyone’s fucked.

I also love that Zoro got to fight both with the Worst Generation and with Sanji in this arc.

Edit: the comedy of these two bickering while King and Queen’s red eyes light up in the background

[cyborg-franky]

Kinktober Day 9 - Getting Caught

I finally got back on the wagon!

Prompt: Getting caught masturbating/ sniffing underwear Ace, Marco, Sanji and Zoro.

Ace

It wasn't exactly if you would catch him jerking off but when. He had a high sex drive and he also needed to get one out when he’d had a bad day, something good to focus on.

You just never expected him to need one halfway through the day.

So when you’d finished your duties and wanted to go back to your shared room for a nap you didn't think Ace would be back in the room already, he was a commander, after all, his duties always seemed endless.

But you opened the door and saw him with his shorts down by his ankles and his cock in his hand.

And your underwear balled up in his hand and pressed to his nose.

You blinked and felt heat rise to your cheeks and decided what the fuck should I do? It wasn’t like it was gross or strange you were in a relationship after all, you’d just hadn’t ever walked in on him during his private time before.

You closed the door hoping the clatter would at least alert him to your presence.

He gripped his cock harder and his movements got faster as he iynhaled your scent.

The door did alert him and his attention was soon focused on you, his eyes widened and he threw your underwear across the room.

But he couldn’t stop himself, he was too deep, he at least gave you a mumbled apology that was mixed with a moan as he came.

Cum spurted out and dribbled down his closed fist as he took a breath.

“I, ah, had a rough day?” Ace managed to get out as he chuckled awkwardly.

You smiled and walked over, sitting on the bed and reaching for his softened cock, starting to play with it. “Well then, let me make your day better..”

The grin that appeared on his freckled face at the offer.

Marco

Marco was someone who could take or leave a little self-session. 

He was good at managing stress in other ways, laid back and often on top of things but sometimes as he worked alone in his office little dirty thoughts would pop up, and scenarios would play out as he followed the rabbit down the hole getting more and more lost in his sinful little fantasies, involving you.

He hummed and looked down at his crotch, seeing his cock hard and pressed against the fabric.

Seemed his thoughts had taken him on a real adventure this time.

It was late evening, he didn’t expect anyone to visit him.

He undid the sash at his waist, letting his belt clink to the floor as he discarded it.

His long member throbbed in his hand as he gave it a few lazy strokes, picturing it was your hand not his.

Closing his eyes and leaning back in his seat, soft mumbled moans escaping Marco as he thought of you once more, his grip tightened as he started to thrust into his palm.

You pushed open the office door with your ass, cups of drink in both hands, and a smile on your face.

“Marco I brought yo- Oh.” You let the door close behind you, bumping your behind and pushing you forward, eyes widened at what you could see.

Your brain shorted out at the sight of his cock, just as nice as you’d always pictured it and your hands decided they’d rather be holding something else and dropped the cups.

Marco couldn’t help but chuckle when that happened, the mugs not breaking, rolling across the floor, making a mess instead.

“Oh little bird, I know you like what you see, why don’t you lock the door and give your commander a hand yoi.” He looked at you with a smirk, half-lidded expression, and the confidence in his tone was sending you spinning.

You locked the door and headed over to where he was sitting, getting on your knees between his thighs and licking your lips.

You both wished you'd caught him at this sooner.

Sanji

This little shit.

You’d gone for a shower and dropped your underwear on the way back to your room.

He knew those were yours when he saw them laying on the ground, looking all innocent and all too tempting.

He felt his fingers itch as he licked his lips, he knew it wasn’t very gentlemanly of him but he just couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this.

Sanji glanced left and right seeing no sign of you so he plucked them off the ground and snuck into the bathroom.

He ignored the steam that still lingered and clung in the air, not thinking that someone had just been in there.

He sat down, your underwear pressed to his face as he took in the deepest breath, taking in your scent as sordid thoughts flew through his mind.

It didn’t take long for him to get an erection, delighted in the prize he’d found.

He pulled out his erect cock and started to jerk himself off, stuck between wanting to hurry up, knowing time was borrowed but also wanting to savor it.

You’d noticed when you got back to your room your underwear was missing and you rushed back to the showers, you didn’t want someone to accidentally find them.

That would have been hugely embarrassing and you weren't sure you could handle that.

You burst back into the room, desperately looking for the offending underwear.

Well, you found them, clutched in Sanji’s hand as he jerked off, moaning your name into the dewy air.

“Y-yeah?” You didn’t know why you replied to his moaned outcry of your name.

Oh, you'd never seen Sanji go so red… He blushed, he stammered, he dropped your underwear and his hand left his cock.

“Please, don’t stop on my account.” You said with a chuckle seeing his cock throb.

“Oh?” Sanji said a smile on his face at your reply, you locked the door and leaned back on it, nodding for him to carry on.

Which he gladly did.

Zoro

It’s rare he decides he could do with some personal time.

Sometimes the naps are all the better and deeper after he’s gotten to cum.

So looking around the empty deck, he just gets it out there and then, knowing everyone else is in bed and he has another fifteen minutes before you showed up for your watch duty.

Accept he gets abit carried away, he sits there with his dick in his hand, not the most creative person as he just thinks about what turns him on, flashes of you fill his mind.

Just you, your legs, ass, chest, how your mouth would feel on his dick.

Not to say he didn’t like what was inside but right now his mind was full of flashes of you and all the psychical things he adores and wants to touch and to see.

His eyes snap open when he hears footsteps and something hit the floor.

Your book is on the floor, open wide, as wide as your mouth as you gawk at Zoro and what he is currently doing.

“I..”

He can’t help smirk, a shadow of one on his lips as he watches you stand there and stare at his cock.

Impressed by its sheer size and hot it fits in his large hand.

“You can either give me another ten minutes or help.” He said, humor in his tone as he doesn't slow.

You debate for a moment if you wanted to also be caught jerking him off.

And throwing out all reasonable thinking you step over your forgotten book and take over…

[dragon-queen21]

hello!!!! its been so long i apologize so ☹️ ive been fighting demons and going through story book worthy horrors, but its all okay!!!!

but for 📷 anons surprising comeback,

hear me out, its one piece time woah, little ace with the whitebeards. that kid would totally hid his regression for as long as he could, especially during the time before ace joined the crew. only to be found out either via a meltdown, or very shortly after he officially joined due to a slip up.

real nap time kid. a nap time is always inevitable with ace, whether it be because his narcolepsy or marco trying to push one because ace is getting wayy to fussy for this busy crew.

i also have the headcanon that his devil fruit is just out of control this boy is setting everything on fire, unlucky for the crew because, yknow, they live on a wooden ship.

i feel like hes has a pretty large range of ages he can regress too but normally stays pretty small. 1-3 maybe? definitely kinda kid to insist he can do everything by himself but then melts and gives up the moment hes shown some positive affection. give him a pacifier when its clear he wants one? so over for him. one of the chefs giving him a spill proof cup? knockout. pick him up when hes too small to properly walk himself? hes ran out of lives.

ouh the imagery of someone like marco or thatch holding a very very sleepy ace and ace having his fingers in his mouth and just the other person taking them out of his mouth and replacing them with a pacifier and everyones like woah! howd u do that without him having a tantrum and the person holding him is just like oh im just that good ig IM CRYING INYO MY PILLOW hes actually just a baby i cant even handle it

THE CREW CALLING BABY ACE LITTLE FLAME EVERY BODY SHUT UP AND LET ME COOK

i feel like ace id definitely a fussy baby though especially when he regresses older, ace has a lot of childhood trauma its bound to reflect in his behavior while regressed☹️☹️

okay im done brfore i make this longer than it already is, i hope you enjoy!! ive missed doin this so much omg☹️

📷

I was actually just thinking of you recently! It’s nice to hear from you. Though it’s not so nice to hear that you have been going through such a hard time. As someone who just got over a very hard couple of months I understand completely. Sending you a hug and I will pray in the name of Jesus for your strength and peace. If you ever want to reach out and dm me to vent or talk you can. No pressure of course <3

~~~

Okay one piece time hehe :3

~My vote is 100% for being found out due to a meltdown. Mostly because I like angst hehe >:3

“You need a nap!” “I do not.” “Well just come lay down for a moment. If you don’t fall asleep then you can get back up… Ace?” (Ace meanwhile already asleep)

“because, yknow, they live on a wooden ship.”

<- Pfft okay that made me laugh

~It’s like letting a child play with matches only you can’t take them away.

~Coping mechanism for Ace/ anxiety inducing for everyone else on board

~Oh no but why did I just think of the saddest thing ever is getting really frustrated and one of his stuffed animals or toys catches on fire. He would be devastated and probably hate himself for a long while.

“insist he can do everything by himself but then melts and gives up the moment hes shown some positive affection”

<- Awww that’s so cute!!

~Grumpiest affection starved baby. Insisting that he’s a lot older than he really is and it only takes a time bit of patience and coddling to get him to regress super small.

Marco: Yup I’m just the best caregiver ever isn’t that right bud? Ace meanwhile: (sleepy baby babbles)

~Sometimes he’s super small and he just cries and no one know how to comfort him because nothing seems to be wrong he’s just fussy and flinches away from people and overall is just miserable

Read these first while regressed and this absolutely made little me giddy. Thank you for sharing beloved I’ve missed getting to read all your thoughts <3

[goldfishontheceiling]

TEAM E-SCOPE (+ Owen) BEACH HEADCANONS!!

Pronouns for these HCs:

Izzy: She/They/Xe (Izzy uses neoprounouns it's canon I'm Fresh TV /j)

Eva: She/He

Owen: He/Him

Noah: He/They

Izzy:

- insists on driving (do NOT let her drive!!)

- loves sitting in the front

- stares out the window or sings along to the radio most of the car ride

- begs Eva to stop at the gas station

- xe always gets sour gummy worms

- no sour gummy worms? sour patch kids

- no sour patch kids? sweedish fish

- no sweedish fish? RIOT

- absolutely LOVES the water

- they go out super deep and scare the shit out of everyone

- chases the icecream truck until xe gets the whole group icecream

- *borrows bridgette's surboard* *tries to surf* *fails miserably*

- 100% brings googles

- likes catching fish with their bare hands (or teeth)

-she splashed Eva once (and got thrown headfirst into Owen's sandcastle as a result)

- collects seashells

- tries to take home crabs as pets

- a little more chill on the ride home but this is Izzy we're talking about xe's never chill

Eva:

- designated driver (has road rage)

- *aggressively honks horn* "DRIVE FASTER BITCH"

- always gets some chocolate and a coffee at the gas station

- hates the radio but plays it for Izzy (she keeps the mp3 player on standby incase it gets too bad)

- mostly swims with Izzy or plays volleyball

- *plays volleyball with some strangers* *gets mad and chucks the ball at one of their faces*

- tries to relax (emphasis on the tries)

- she knows cpr!!

- he gets salt water and/or sand in her eyes everytime

- will yell at you (lovingly) if you forget to put on sunscreen

- he makes sure everyone drinks water (no Izzy ocean water doesn't count) and stays hydrated!!

- wears sunglasses pretty much the entire time

- will make sure nobody tracks sand into the car

Owen:

- sits in the back with Noah

- he gets everyone to play "I spy" with him (Izzy can't focus, Noah's half asleep, and Eva's more focused on trying not to scream then things that are the color yellow)

- if the others are busy/don't want to play he usually whips out the DVD player

- did I mention that he collects DVDs? his favorite movies are cloudy with a chance of meatballs, toy story, and ratatouille

- always gets gummy sharks or jolly ranchers

- Owen packs the best snacks and brings things they all like (strawberries, veggie straws, goldfish, cheez its, etc)

- he even made sandwiches and fruit salads!!

- the water's nice and all, but the SAND!!

- he makes the best sand castles

- since Owen canonically has 3 brothers, he knows a lot of games (sand castle building contest, marco polo, "who can dig the deepest hole in 5 minutes," etc)

- gives the seashells he finds to Izzy

- speaking of Izzy, xe burries Owen in the sand atleast once everytine they go

Noah:

- he ususally drives for shorter trips, but long car rides make him tired

- you can not convince me that this man doesn't latch on to Owen like a koala when he naps

- Owen angles the DVD player somewhere they could both see incase Noah wakes up

- at first, Noah just reads a book (or stares out the window when he gets carsick) but he always ends up falling asleep at some point

- whenever they stop at the gas station, Owen always makes sure to get something for Noah

- they always bring their book with them to the beach

- he protects that book like a lifeline

- once he either finishes the book or the others bug him enough, THEN he does stuff

- Izzy always tries to convince them to get in the water

- 9 times out of 10 he says no

- but on the occasional times they say yes, they almost drown

- Owen carries Noah pretty much everywhere lmao

- he doesn't really like water (and no I won't be making an IOTS refrence no matter how tempting it is)

- they help Owen with his sand castle!!

- Noah isn't much of a beach person but that doesn't mean he can't have fun

- and ofc he falls back asleep on the ride back

[sabo-has-my-heart]

hi! I’ve just found this blog! I’m getting back to one piece after a long time and was wondering if I could please ask for an Izou, Ace and Marco HC’s?

So you know how Luffy idolised shanks a the red hair pirates as a kid? How about the mentioned three with a little girl who’s maybe the daughter/granddaughter of the bar owner and sees them quite often (maybe the island belongs to whiteboard) and is always excitedly following them around when they visit. How about her saying she’ll become a big brave pirate and wants to marry them once she’s old enough? Like a little girl crush maybe?

If you’re not comfortable with the crush then her being a big fan of them is fine! Thank you!

This is so cute! Just this adorable little girl with her little girl crush like kids do sometimes (I know I had one). As a note, just because she has a childish crush, does not mean that this is romantic in any way nor do I condone such things!

Warnings: slight Wano spoilers, little girl crushes

Word Count: 690

     Every time you saw their ship on the horizon, you couldn’t help but become giddy. He was coming, he was almost here, you’d get to see him again! Your ‘first crush’ as everyone called him. You were insistent that you were going to marry him though! You weren’t just a stupid kid! You were going to be one of the biggest, bravest pirates out there. You were going to become so great that Whitebeard would have no choice but to change his ‘only guys’ rule and allow you to be on his crew! Then once you were on his ship you were going to marry your love! Until then, you’d greet them at the docks, running towards their ship as fast as your little 10-year-old legs would allow.

Izou

100% thinks of you as a kid sister.

He thinks you’re the most adorable little girl ever.

Just so sweet and cute.

If he were the kind of person who ruffles hair, he’d totally ruffle your hair.

Instead he dresses you up in nice kimonos. 

You’d wanted to dress like him so you’d tried wrapping a bed sheet around yourself.

He’d chuckled and helped you out, saying that next time he’d bring you a real kimono. 

Said you looked like a little doll once you were dressed up and in make-up. 

When you’re not around, he asks if there’s any little boys interested in you. 

Partially to protect you and partially so you become interested in somebody your own age (seriously, he’s 43 pre Marineford!)

Still encourages you to follow your dreams, whether that’s becoming a pirate or simply protecting those you love. 

Tells you all sorts of stories about Wano, his sister, Oden, and the other samurai.

Also tells you a lot of Wano fairytales.

Has taught you how to shoot. 

Seriously, he cares about you, you’re like family to him.

Marco

Tries, repeatedly, to tell you you’re too young for marriage (and too young for him, cough cough) or to be thinking about marriage.

Lots of head pats.

Indulges you and lets you play nurse.

You do actually help him when they dock.

You help him with organizing things, restocking, and ‘bandaid duty’.

You literally just hand out bandaids to people who ‘need’ them. 

Being the adorable little girl who follows him around, he’s noticed a lot more people needing bandaids while they’re at your island. 

Has let you curl up for a nap while he was in phoenix form. 

Niece-uncle vibes. 

Always sighs in exasperation when you say you’re going to marry him no matter what.

He doesn’t want to crush you, but he doesn’t want to indulge that either.

Tells you that being a pirate is hard work and tries to encourage other things while not crushing your dream to become a pirate. 

He wouldn’t mind if you became a pirate, but for safety reasons, he’d rather you take over your mother’s bar.

Because of his phoenix form, people call you his ‘duckling’.

Ace

Omg, ALL the big brother vibes!

Calls you his little sister, ruffles your hair, just so much big brother shit!

It makes you pout. He’s treating you like a kid!

You’re his future wife, how dare he treat you like a child!

You claiming to be a big, brave pirate reminds him of Luffy.

He absolutely encourages it and says that you’ll totally be accepted onto Whitebeard's crew

Knows you likely won’t

Plays pirates with you so long as you don’t pretend he’s your ‘pirate husband’. 

Defends his decision to play with you by saying that he doesn’t want to crush your dreams

Which is kind of true, but he also loves being a big brother to you. 

Is the least strange of the three to say you want to marry him. (he’s 20, not 40)

Still doesn’t want to indulge the idea of getting married though.

For so many reasons.

Tells you so many stories about Luffy.

Calls Luffy your ‘other big brother’.

Treats you kind of like how he treated Tama.

Teaches you all sorts of things like tying knots, navigation, etc. things you’ll need to become a pirate. 

[kevotsuka]

I need to hear your detailed thoughts on pregnant bezz lol. It's clear it's going to be like a single dad situation bc he has no clue who the dad is. He's a Lil nervous but the academy is very nice about it. Pecco just wordlessly starts accompanying him to every doctor's appointment. Luca is making sure he gets his prenatal vitamins on time and resting his feet and cele is a little distant at first which makes bezz feel a little sad and he doesn't know what to do about it and Luca comes over to cele and tells him to not hurt bezz when he's expecting and cele feels soo guilty he would never do anything to hurt bezz or the baby but he feels insane about the whole situation and also is a little bit obsessed with bezz and his teeny growing bump anyway they make up and cele never leaves his side like they sleep together and he rubs Bezz's feet and let's Bezz hug his cold post shower body because he's burning up due to the baby. Just my silly thoughts I want your preg bezz thoughtsssssssssss

Anon you're sooo smart because all what you say IS TRUE. Cele is so weird about preg!bezz and luca need to talk with him “how you can make our pregbez being sad?” Jail for celin. Personally I am more into bez/pecco for this AU, but bezz has a harem who cares about him and his lil babybug :)

SO THANKS for waiting for my little silly thoughts about preg!bezz, he’s very important to me lmao.

I'm writing a fic (in spanish) about this snip, i don't think i wanna post it, but preg bezz is a 9k gdocs and tried to kill me 

A thing about Bezz is how PRIVATE he wants to be (he fails). Like, he tried to separate his work and his personal life.

So in my timeline bezz was pregnant in Aus, and at first he had a very asymptomatic preg. Maybe he confuses the symptoms with the consequences of his broken collarbone, idk.

anyways, he don't ride out of weekend, don’t go to the ranch, barely training and lives stressed, sad and high in FEELINGS

It's not until before Valencia (Friday maybe) that he realize “oh, I might be pregnant” and then he DON'T CARE because it's the end of the season and all he want to do is go take a nap with his dog.  He will deal with the bug when the tests are over.

He rides on Saturday and he doesn't do too bad but he hates himself because he could be better, but it is Sunday when he FALLS because Marquez HIT HIM and he realizes that with that blow he could have lost the bug and suddenly it is unacceptable. He drinks beers on an empty stomach, goes to yell at Marc at his truck, drinks some more, goes to SKY and says “Did you know Marquez hit US?”  to anyone who wants to listen to him (people think he's talking about him and Martín, so they don't pay much attention to him)

He goes, picks up his prize completely done and thinking about his bug and how maybe he lost it because of Marquez and cries a little because of the alcohol and hormones, but do you remember that he is a private person?  DON'T TELL ANYONE.  Not his family who is there for him.  Not even Valentino.

pass the valence tests (and Bezz is irresponsible and gets back on the motorcycle) and is wednesday and Marco is at home, with his dog and looking for the number of a former schoolmate who he is sure became a gynecologist and deal with his bug that he may have lost (and he touches his belly and silently begins to pray to a god he hasn't believed in a long time).

 the bug is okay :) But beez need to stop riding rn, avoid the levels of stress that he have subjected his body and mind to in recent weeks.  That is if he want to take the baby to term, if not there is also an abortion clinic quite close there.

THEN he have the dilemma of “have the baby or continue your life as if nothing had happened?”  And the answer is that he will have that baby because he is a selfish man who feels lonely.

THEN, only after the first visit to the gynecologist post valencia test he calls Valentino and says “haha boss sorry I need to terminate my contract due to health problems :(“ and “don't you need a sexy pregnant secretary? I really can't stay without a work rn”

Valentino just lost TWO drivers in less than a month and is, of course, mad as shit, but he's also a father and tells Marco (once he hears that apparently he's going to be GRANDPA because bez is also his son) that it's okay, the academy will help you and support you in everything etc etc if you decide to return.

Marco doesn't want to tell to the boys of the academy.  Like, not at all.  He prefers to go hide in the hills before telling his friends that he chose to be a 'father' instead of chasing everyone's dream and becoming a motogp world champion etc etc

So he doesn't tell them anything (yet, he will eventually).

It is made public that he will leave the category to focus on his health and this is how the boys at the academy find out that Marco will not compete in the following season.  and Bezz practically vanished from the face of the earth.

 It is not until January, on Pecco's birthday, that he asks to meet when Bezz sends him a message to congratulate him.

Bezz says “Well, meet me at the hospital” and Pecco is clearly panicking and running to the address Bezz gave him.

 Then he sees Bezz in the parking lot, beaming and wearing those horrible oversized clothes that he likes so much and he can finally breathe easy.  He tries to ask Marco how he's been and why he disappeared, but Bezz asks him about the academy, about his family, about Pecco's grandmother??  as they walk through the hospital, towards the maternity section and Pecco begins to suspect

Then they arrive at reception, the secretary tells them that they are on time and Pecco is panicking while Marco drags him to the gynecologist, who only raises an eyebrow when she sees the MotoGP world champion there but greets him easily.

Then it's a haze for Pecco, Bezz talks about the changes in his body and the gynecologist tells Marco that they are normal things, that he has been very good and that his baby, whom Bezz insists on calling bug, has no health problems visible and developing very well for being 15 weeks old.  She then turns to Pecco and asks him to remind Marco to take his supplements because he tends to get very forgetful sometimes and that he is glad to finally meet the father.  And have him sign some documents that he has overdue :)

Pecco comes out with ink stains on his hands, lots of questions, and a strip of ultrasounds while Marco laughs at him and his expression.  Then bezz explains that he needed a companion who can come sign the papers.  That does not link Pecco to the child, only to Marco in case his family cannot come look for him in an emergency related to his baby.

Pecco: what.

[dehydration-stati0n]

Hi! How are you? Would it be okay if I request a platonic headcanon where Zoro, Marco, and Sanji (separately, you also don't have to do all three if you don't want to! Wasn't sure if you had a character limit) reaction to them overhearing the reader and the readers s/o fighting and the readers s/o slaps the reader? Thank you in advance!

Zoro, Marco, and Sanji when your S/O hits you during an argument

Hope you enjoy this anon! Sorry about confusing you with the character limit, I usually don't mind how many characters you request as long as it's not a ridiculous amount :)

Rules Word Count: 0.7k Spoilers: None

Zoro

He doesn't pay any attention to you both when you start arguing

He finds it slightly annoying since he's probably trying to take a nap

You guys decided to start fighting right in the middle of the deck

everyone else on the crew had left to get supplies for the next island, leaving you three alone

Zoro's in between you two the second he hears you get hit

He doesn't say anything to you s/o, just glares at them with one hand on his swords

He and you are pretty close so you can bet he's pissed

He thought of cutting their hand off, and if you weren't standing right there, he probably would've

He isn't all too good at comforting people so all you're really gonna get is an awkward pat on the back and questionable advice

He'll sit with you for as long as you need though

If you break up with them, he'll threaten them

full on like "I'll kill you"

He takes his friend's well-being seriously, and if this really seemed to put you off, then he'd be more than willing to go the extra mile

If you stay together then he'll just be REALLY passive aggressive

Might trip them randomly, but if it didn't seem to affect you too much, he'll leave it be

ridiculously petty about it all so be ready for that

Marco

Starts eavesdropping the second he hears you two arguing

I imagine him to be such a sucker for drama

He feels like he's gotta play the 'older brother' role with you as well, so technically he's obligated to stick around to make sure everything's alright

The second your s/o hits you, he's in the middle of you both restraining their arms

pretty easily at that, Marco is absolutely overpowering them

He might accidentally burn their wrists depending on how mad he is

he's pretty calm, so I don't imagine it would be too bad of a burn, but it'd be enough to get the point across

Snitches to Whitebeard

Marco makes sure you're good once the heat of the moment kinda dies out

If you stay with them, he probably asks how you're doing almost every day to make sure you're not getting abused

He'll be a little less petty than Zoro but still very passive towards them

If he ever hears they hit you again, you're s/o is getting kicked off the ship

If you break up, then Whitebeard's kicking him off

Or they'll kick themselves off by how cold Marco acts towards them

Sanji

He's in the middle of it before they hit you

He's already trying to deescalate the fight before it can reach that stage

But when he turns his back for a second and they hit you, bro will start beating them

absolutely knocks your s/o out

Although, if your s/o is a girl he'll push her back a little, stopping her from getting anywhere close to you

when he sees you shaking on the ground in shock and in tears he stops what he's doing and immediately kneels down beside you

he'll gently guide you to the kitchen, where he'll lock the door to prevent your s/o from getting in and make you some sort of tea

Like one of those teas meant for relaxing

comforts you

He'll get a blanket and ask if you're ok

He's probably apologizing for letting his guard down and letting them hit you

If you stay with them, he'll constantly start fights

like the fights, he starts with Zoro but 10x worse

If your s/o is a girl he'll act a little stand-offish

He isn't flirting or being overly nice, just polite

Either gender I could see him "accidentally" making food they don't like

If you break up with them he's making sure they feel like shit

How dare they hit you? someone so close to him?

He's acting the same as before if your s/o is a girl, with side comments here and there about the incident

would internally feel so relieved if/when they leave

[the-witch-of-one-piece]

Activities OP Men Do with Their Kids

Hello lovely spirits!!! I created some more dad HC's that made my heart just jump out of my chest!!!! This will include Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ussop, Sanji, Ace, Marco, Thatch, Izou, Law, Kid, Killer, and Rosinante. I have part two already finished I will post it in a few hours!!! I hope you all enjoy!!!

TW: Kids

Luffy The fun dad is always up for taking his little one on an adventure! He would like to have a partner in crime when it comes to raiding the fridge late at night. Exploring all the different islands and different parts of the sea. The child would most likely inherit his ‘shishishi’ laugh and Luffy would find it so cool! Luffy would let his child stretch his arms  out like a Stretch Armstrong figure.

Zoro

Both Zoro and his youngster would enjoy a nap anytime of the day. They both are out like logs, nothing can wake them up. The child would take interest in Zoro’s swordsman skills and would love to learn from their dad. When his child would learn a new skill they are so eager to show him, and when they show him Zoro does feel proud to see the determination on their little face. 

Sanji

Little chef in training and also the taste tester. Sanji would teach his kids the value of food and no matter the amount of food left shouldn’t go to waste. They would help with measurements of ingredients needed for a recipe and would help pour them into the bowl.  Both of them would like to make small treats and decorate  their own, then they give them to one another so they can eat it!

Usopp 

His child would inherit that artistry style he has. Always creating something with one another. Usopp would help guide his young son on certain techniques of drawing and using different shades to give the art some nice effects. His child would love to hear all his father's stories, even though they are a bit dramatic. Seeing the child’s eyes light up with excitement along with a smile  would make his heart swell up. 

Ace 

He would give his little one piggy back rides all the time. When Ace does get his episode of narcolepsy  using a washable marker drawing a mustache on him. Ace would walk around all day with the painted mustache without him noticing. And just like Uncle Luffy, Ace and his child would eat anything in front of them with a bottomless stomach.

Marco

Marco would love to tell stories of his younger pirate days and all the things he has encountered in his lifetime. He would enjoy flying with his child hearing them tell him what they see and how amazing the view looks. Letting them use his stethoscope so they could hear his heart beat when they are able to hear it they would proudly go around the ship and would ask them if they could hear their heartbeat. Marco would have a smile following them around.

Thatch

Thatch would have a small little kitchen set for his child and the child would be able to cook on it. Thatch would give them a recipe to follow and they would be able to do it by themselves. Thatch would make it almost like a cooking show atmosphere and do a commentary on his childs cooking and seeing all the ingredients they are using and say “I wonder  what they are making this time?!? Find out after this commercial break!’

Izou

Something Izou always wanted to teach his child was the Kabuki dance he was taught as a kid. Applying there lipstick on and even letting them practice on him while putting the lipstick on. The more they practice the better they do. The child would like to have their hair brushed by their father because he does have more of a gentle touch and Izou is a perfectionist when it comes to fixing hair. 

Law

He would share his comics with his child one of his favorites would be Sora, Warrior of the Sea. When stopping off at an island he and his child would go on a long walk and get origini while walking. If they are in the sub  he would be up for a game of hide and seek. He may know their favorite hiding places but he would just walk around first ‘trying to look for them’ he might catch a giggle coming from his child thinking he would never find them but he would. He would think it is so cute.

Kid

 Kid would make his child their own workbench and make sure they have their own tools as well. He would watch his child sketch out a toy or device they will be making. If he sees they are having a bit of a hard time he would help them out and explain on how to properly assemble or repair the item. Kid wouldn’t buy his child toys, he would simply make them and he would make sure they are the coolest toys they will ever have than any other kid. 

Killer 

 He would let his child play with his hair, often his child grabbing the end of his hair pretending they have a mustache. He would teach his child how to make all sorts of different kinds of noodles then enjoy it together. He would lay out instruments for the child to see what they are drawn to and if the child is drawn to playing the drums he would teach them how to start off and he would show them his moves on what he can do.

Rosinante 

He would happily dance with his child anytime of the day. Let them hang on to his coat like a little koala. Using his devil fruit he would have their own little private talks and come up with little stories they would create with one another. Rosi would start off the story and then his child would pick up and continue the story. He would also let his child put on his lipstick and eyeliner.

Tagging: @undercoverweeeb @kristaline2dmensimp @fireflykaizoku @simpforroses @tsunderedoctor @athena-portgas @iloveportgasdace @vemuabhi @p0chy @kerokerogecko

[cvtqr]

we only have 15 minutes, sugar

pairings; eren jaeger x reader

content warning; mentions of past jean x reader, oral sex, masturbation, recording, manhandling?

february 19th

you always found eren jaeger attractive, especially tonight at this party. his long hair thrown up into a messy bun, his white shirt with water split on it - making it see through. god you were about to start counting his abs. but who you were really here for? jean. you guys weren’t in a relationship or anything, just friends who liked to help eachother. it started off when you guys would go to eachother for advice or he would find himself in your dorm room ranting to you. just helping eachother with little problems of course. that doesn’t mean sucking his dick was that much of a stretch from it, right?

anyways jean was in a frat house, along side eren. they were throwing a party, and somehow jean convinced you to stop by. you didn’t know if you were regretting it or not. jean was no where to be seen so you just sat yourself on the kitchen counter drinking some punch you found in a bowl. you were admiring eren from a far, remembering all the bad things jean had said about him. how he just annoys the living shit out of him. but god, how attractive he was. you could’ve sworn you looked down at your phone for not even a minute when you heard someone clear their voice right in front of you. you looked up to be met with eren.

“uh hi?”

“hey hey! erm- y/n. we had physics last semester together. eren, eren yeager.”

yeah, i already know your name

“oh hi!”

“my friend reiner over there says he knows ‘ya too. wanna come play truth or dare with us in the backyard hm?”

slipping your phone into the pocket of your shorts, you jumped off the counter, centimeters away from eren.

he let out a low chuckle, placing his hands on the counter, trapping you inbetween the granite and himself. he looked you right in the eye before reaching one of his hands back to grab a chip in the bowl behind where you were sitting. your breathing shakened a bit and you rolled your eyes at him, looking down.

he let out another chuckle before grabbing your chin and tilting it up, forcing you to look at him. “no need to roll your eyes sugar. if you were expectin-wanting something else, just say it. i’m not a mind reader baby.” he gave you a little wink before letting you go and backing up.

“i erm- i gotta pee i’ll meet you guys outside.”

he gave you a small head pat before running towards the back door.

right when you turned around to head to the bathroom you crashed right into jean, stumbling back a bit.

“oh hey jean!”

he sent you a blunt hey and started walking to the back door with an annoyed look on his face.

tch, what’s his problem.

your little bathroom excuse wasn’t actually an exuse, the amount of punch you were drinking finally caught up to you. right after you sat down your two best friends since birth, sasha and connie came bursting through the door, hysterically cracking up.

“YOO IM TRYING TO PISS.”

ignoring your comment they both collapsed onto the counter laughing their asses off.

you lightly smacked sasha on the back of her head, since she was the laughing the closest to you. “i swear if one of you idiots don’t tell me what the problem is-”

“YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE OUTSITE FIGHTING OVER YOU-” connie said between laughs practically screaming.

“my who?”

“JEAN AND EREN. I-I ASKED FLOCH WHY THEY WERE FIGHTING AND THEY SAID IT WAS BECAUSE OF YOU AND HOW JEAN IS ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT HOW YOU ARE SO GOOD AT SU-”

“GOD SASHA YOU DONT HAVE TO TELL HER THAT PART”

“CAN YOU GUYS STOP SCREAMING!”

“SORRY, sorry y/n. apparently jean saw you and eren in the kitchen and well, tried beating eren up.”

letting out a sigh you pulled up your pants and ran out of the bathroom.

running outside you found jean knocked out in the arms of marco and eren standing up, wiping some blood out of the corner of his mouth while winking at you. walking right up to him you slapped him right across the face.

he let out a deep, long chuckle.

“i need to talk to you.”

“lead the way sugar.”

you grabbed his arm and pulled him inside while feeling every single pair of eyes on you.

“where’s your room.”

“if you wanted to get me in bed you could’ve just asked baby.”

god can anyone be that full of themselves

“no - no. i don-”

“i’m just joking sugar. follow me.”

he grabbed your hand and led you up into his room, closing the door behind him.

“what the hell was that all about.”

“for the record he started it. he got jealous for no reason and i wasn’t going to let him use me and his rag doll. and you shouldn’t be with someone like jean anyway. you should hear the way he brags about you being his bitch whenever the house is hanging out.” eren plopped down onto his bed

with that you didn’t know who to be mad at this point. he patted his lap signaling you to come over and sit on it. ignoring him you rolled your eyes and sat down next to him, causing him to chuckle again.

“you should clean your wounds that looks pretty deep on your cheek. and take a shower you smell like dirt and grass.”

he got up and headed over to his bathroom door. leaning on the door frame he turned back around.

“only if you stay.”

“hmph, i’ll think about it.”

15 minutes later eren walked out of the bathroom. you were no where to be found. he did know that he’d get back to you one day, considering you left your phone number on a gum wrapper in place of where you were sitting.

february 26

friday strolled around as quick as ever. this week you talked to eren a few times. he texted you on sunday night to have a good week. sicne he was being nice you replied with a “you too:’)”

after that he texted you yesterday afternoon asking if you wanted to come to another party. you never responded, and now it’s friday, 2:05. you just finished all your classes, and you’d be lying if you said you had anything else to do. well except for the pile of homework you usually wait until sunday to do.

sighing you texted him back saying you already had plans and wouldn’t be able to make it. after that you decided to take a short nap. what you thought would be a short nap turned into you sleeping until 6:30. you figured you should get up and get some dinner. you decided to grub hub some taco bell and eat it in the dinning hall. after getting your food you sat down in the corner of the room. it was pretty empty since it was pretty late for dinner.

“ouch, i’m offended.”

you turned around at the familiar voice

“even jean could convince you to come out but i get some lame exuse.”

“it, it wasn’t an exuse. i do have plans.”

“yeah with yourself.” he pulled over a nearby chair and sat next to you.

“i ditched the party, it was pretty boring.”

“so you came to bother me?” you said while still stuffing your face with your food

“yeah pretty much, you wanna hangout?”

“i mean do i really have a choice?”

he leaned over and grabbed one of your nachos, shoving it in his face.

“no not really sugar.”

rolling your eyes you threw out your garbage and led him to your dorm room. since it wasn't that far of a walk, neither of you said anything on the way there. he just simply followed you. 

once you got into your room you shut the door behind you. 

“if you’re sitting on my bed then shoes off.”

“demanding” he said while slipping his shoes off and plopping onto your bed

“soo..” he said as you sat down next to him.

“wanna watch a movie or something? i see you have a tv in here.”

“sure, let me just fix my blankets so get up.”

he nodded and chuckled, getting up. you pulled down your comforter so there was room to get in, and threw all your blankets into the corner before grabbing your remote and slipping into your bed.

“is this an invitation to come lay with you under your blankets.”

“shut the light.” you said while pressing power on the remote. 

the last thing you remember from that night was cracking up with eren over some stupid movie the two of you put on. before you knew it you woke up with a tight grip around your waist. you look over to see eren, still sound asleep. he was so pretty. you figured the two of you just fell asleep while watching movies yesterday. moments like these you were grateful your roommate was on back at home for family issues.

you tried slipping out of his grip before he pulled you back in and groaned. he was still sleeping so you figured you weren't getting up anytime soon, so you closed your eyes and drifted off back to sleep. you woke up about two hours later to find no eren, but a note.

forgot i have to work on a project with floch. i had fun last night, lets do it again soon :)

you were in a good mood the rest of the day. 

may 15 

its almost been four months since you've met eren. you also cut off your contact with jean. he was a good fuck while it lasted. over the last four months you and eren got closer than ever. hanging out almost everyday, going to parties together, falling asleep cuddling every weekend, you name it. yet again, friday came around. instead of cuddling, you and eren decided to go to a party at some sorority house. 

three hours later you were sitting in a circle with a bunch of people you recognized / were friends with. you were all playing a game of truth or dare, cracking up at each other. everyone’s secrets were coming out and people were doing some crazy things. and the list of things we had to do on campus was piling up. for example, connie has to pull a prank on professor ackerman during class on monday. until it was sasha’s time to ask you.

“hmmm. OH Y?N! truth or dare babes!”

you really had to think this one over. sasha had the power of exposing every single one of your secrets if you picked truth, but she's also kind of crazy so who knows what she would dare you to do. after a small debate in your head you went with dare.

“i pick dare.”

“alright! hmmMMM. i dare you to go into an empty room with eren for 15 minutes.”

you felt the heat rush up to your cheeks when you stood up and stretched your arm out for eren to grab. 

you both left the living room and headed up to a room while hearing the small, faint giggles from your friends.

entering the room eren shut and locked the door behind the two of you.

“so.. what do you wanna do?”

“hmm. we only have 15 minutes, sugar.”

this is it. the moment you've been waiting for. you had eren right in front of you. just go up and kiss him already! 

as you slowly walked up closer to him. he flipped the both of you, pinning you up against the wall. 

“let me see if you taste as sweet as I've imagined, sugar. pleaseee you don't even want to know the amount of times I've fisted myself to the mere thought of it.”

you gave him a nod and that was all he needed to pull you off the wall and push you down onto the bed. pulling up your skirt and pulling down your panties, he grimly smirked. 

“don't you dare cum without my permission.” was all he said before going between your legs and flicking his tongue onto your clit. your breathing quickly became heavy and irregular before he shoved two fingers, palm deep into your cunt. 

“ahh~ f-fuck eren-” you blurted out while starting to move under his touch, slightly bucking your hips up. 

that was until you felt a strong pair of hands hold your hips down. 

“stop moving or i’ll stop.” he hissed out before going back down on you, eating you out more forcefully than before, brining you right to your climax.

“f-fuck eren i need to cum- please let me cum. pleaseee~”

“no.” he said while pulling his fingers out of you.

“the only place you’re cummin’ is on my cock. you hear me?”

you wiped away the slight tears forming in the corners of your eye while nodding.

“that's a good little girl.” eren said while smirking

he swiftly grabbed you and flipped you over onto all fours, while shoving your face into the mattress. your first reaction was to perk your ass up for him.

“well someones eager aren't they.” was all he said before pulling down his pants just enough for his fully hard cock to spring out. he could've came just to the feeling of eating you out. 

he leaned down into your ear while whispering, “as sweet as sugar.” he started jacking off while still leaning down, before quickly cumming all over your ass. 

did he just?

he pulled up his pants before getting up and heading up towards the door. 

“well sugar, looks like our time is almost up. we should get back to the ga-” he was cut off by you running up to him and clinging right onto his shirt. practically crying you were blurting out small no’s.

“f-fuck the game, er - eren please just fuck me.” you were so desperate to the point where you were choking on your words. 

“aw, i’m sorry baby i didn't mean to make you cry.” he said while stroking your hair and patting your head. “come suck me off in my car and maybe if you do a good job i'll take ya home and fuck you, yeah?

may 18

sitting in your first class of the morning you were bored out of your mind. getting some lecture from professor ackerman after connie drew all over his desk.

that was until you got a snapchat notification from eren. opening it you were oh so grateful you had your headphones in. it was a video of eren cumming all over his laptop with a video of him shoving his cock oh so deep into your pretty little cunt. 

with the caption of missin’ the taste, sugar :’(

you’d be sure to pay him a visit during your lunch break.

[shoutokozume]

Prompt list #2

Main Navi Prompt list #1

(Includes - Demon slayer, Iwatobi Swim Club, Jujutsu Kaisen, Assassination Classroom, & Hunter x Hunter)

-

Prompts for Demon Slayer

I don't trust you, so don't get my way.

Slice the boulder and I'll go out with you.

No, you hold the sword like this sweetie.

ARE YOU CRAZY!? YOU COULD'VE BEEN DEAD RIGHT NOW!

Nezuko is the only demon I want you around, got it?

I-I didn't know your family is... I'm sorry.

Which guy do you find the cutest, be honest.

If I got here faster you wouldn't be so hurt.

I can't help but blame myself y/n.

Just because you're a demon, doesn't mean you don't have a heart.

If you wanted to eat me you would've by now.

How does Tanjiro know your scent? Hmph.

You like me? Out of everyone? Me?

Behind you're mask... Show me.

I wish I could take you on nighttime dates

Here, come cuddle me I'll warm you up.

How'd you get that new scar? Tell me.

You look so cute in you're kimono

I just made a demon blush... Nice.

Give me everything you've got.

You have to keep pushing yourself y/n.

... I'm sorry... I said I'm sorry!

You-how... You beat me?!

Let's go kill some Demons together

Why won't you trust us? We won't hurt you.

A small taste goes a long way.

Don't call me pretty, I know you're lying.

If you die, than I have to die too.

It's blood... Y/n!!

You're royalty? Sure, and I'm loving life.

You can't lie to me, I know you too well.

Just stay here for the night, it's dangerous out there.

I didn't know you could cook, I like you more now.

Nap time, c'mon y/n let's go.

Listen here half bit, I'm not letting you go.

-

Prompts for Iwatobi Swim Club

Let me teach you how to swim!

Y'know... It's much warmer in the water.

Are you... Naked? Oh my God you are!

Baby you're staring again.

You look adorable in a swim suit darling.

Let's go to the hot tub and warm up.

If I just adjust our swimwear, no one will notice what we're doing.

Marco! You're suppose to say polo!

So you're a lifeguard now... Huh.

Just because you're related to him, doesn't mean I can't kiss you.

Welcome to Iwatobi Swim club y/n!

I haven't seen you in years! How are you?

Puberty was generous to you... Jesus.

I saw you in the crowd, thank you.

Let's go skinny dipping~

I didn't know you were scared of water.

Stop staring, you're making me blush.

Can you watch my time, I need to beat my record.

Want to join me?

You're like a beautiful mermaid.

I do not have raisin fingers! How dare you!

Let's have a bath together, it'll be nice.

You're prettier than those lilypads.

My swim cap isn't that derpy... Why are you laughing?

Wear sunscreen! I don't want you to be burnt.

You want sex on the beach, the drink or.....

The water is too cold, we are not swimming in that.

Cannonball!

The jump isn't too high, you can do it!

Are you doggy paddling right now?

You beat my time, that's kinda hot.

You did not just splash me, oh it's on now.

I can see you watching me... Lil pervert.

Pshhh, I don't have a c-crush on you.

I'm not blushing, I'm just warm.

-

Prompts for Assassination Classroom

I don't want to be a virgin when the world ends.

Why do sympathize with that thing?!

Give me back my gun~

Koro-sensei says he wants to see us.

Happy Valentine's day... I brought you this.

Why won't you try to kill him?!

You hold a gun like this.

You're not weak, you just have a good heart.

I'll be your friend, you're good company.

We're fake dating, so our parents don't keep pestering us to date.

Shh, Koro-sensei could find us.

I love you, I thought you should know that.

Don't look at me with that look.

Did I give you that hickey? Aw, you're blushing~

Koro-sensei y/n is hurt!

I am the one writing you those notes...

I am so madly in love with you it hurts.

Let's practice, throw your knife at me!

The moon is kind of pretty in an odd way.

I thought you were dead, don't ever ignore me again please.

I know you love me, no need to hide it.

Do you by chance like him... Y/n?

I have photo evidence!

The world may end, but at least I have you.

Give me a kiss goodnight, please darling.

Can I stay here tonight? I hate my parents.

I don't feel alone anymore, thanks to you.

You always have knives with you, is it your kink or some shit like that?

I will only shut my mouth with a kiss.

I may or may not have read your diary.

Don't kill me! I'm sorry! Ahhh!

I won't bite, I promise. Unlike what many have said.

The chairs are taken, so sit on my lap.

If you die, then I won't live long after you.

Let's get married... I always wanted to get married to you anyways.

-

Prompts for Jujutsu Kaisen

Stop pushing yourself so hard

I'll protect you

Y/n, do you have a crush?

Mahito hurt you, so I'll hurt him...

Top of the class, yet you're still bitter?

C-can I pet the panda?

What does salmon mean?

You didn't listen to a word I said did you...

What did I say about fighting curses alone?!

If Gojo sensei wasn't there, I could've lost you... Why would you be so selfish?

You're bleeding, let me help you.

How come you ever told me how strong you were?

Jealousy doesn't look good on you.

So, you're the infamous y/n~

Cup my cheeks.

I.. Love... You.

I want your thighs around my face. Now.

Don't get your hopes up.

Your family hates me, your friends hate me, so why don't you?

I'm only good for you.

Lay down, spread your legs, and be good.

You look gorgeous tonight. And everynight

I missed you so much, I know it's only been a weekend but still.

I don't hate you, rather the opposite actually.

I never knew you tasted this good babe.

Happy birthday lovely, want some cake?

Your butt is my personal set of bongos.

You don't want to date me, trust me I'm a mess.

You could've died! That would've hurt me more than if I died!

I know I'm your best friend of 6 years, but I love you way more than a friend should.

Your his sister? But you're so different...

I didn't know they hired such hot substitutes.

You can hang around me if you want, I know you're new and lost right now.

I'm never letting you go ever again.

I overheard you... Is it true that you love me?

-

Prompts for Hunter x Hunter

Huh... I didn't think you could fight.

Hisoka will die if he ever does that again.

Grab my hand, I can tell you're scared.

Gon looks up to you a lot y/n, you should continue on for his sake at least.

I know I'm a rookie, but I'm not stupid.

Kurapika! Y/n hit mee~

Why do you want to be a hunter anyway? You don't seem like the hunter type.

Another Kurta clan survivor?!

You could've died you idiot! Do you crave death or something?!

Wow... A stable Zoldyck, that's new.

You traitor! How could you do this!?

We're all alone now y/n, we have half an hour before everyone comes back.

Are you seriously pouting at me right now?

Go make yourself useful, go kick someone out or get some food.

Drop your weapon, we're on your side. We aren't like the others... We swear.

Oh my God what happened to you? You're bleeding all over the place.

I've never baked before, sorry if I'm bad at it.

Just tell him about your feelings, I'm sure he likes you back.

That was so cool! You destroyed that beast!

Why do I have to give you the piggyback ride?

There's room for two, come snuggle in with me.

I wanna cup a feel, pleeeaassee.~

I know we could die on this journey, so before we risk anything can I kiss you?

If you die, I die. Got it?

No one will hear us if your shut your mouth.

Here, take my jacket. You look cold, the last thing we need is someone to get sick.

So... A lust plant kinda intoxicated me... And uh. I need you really bad now.

I love you, I know this is bad timing. But I love you so much.

You're drunk baby, let's get you sobered up before you tell me anything.

Touch me... Please for the love of God touch me.

You're very tense, here I'll give you a massage.

There's a free seat right here. It's called my lap.

Are you scared of me? I wouldn't blame you if you were.

Why don't you hate me, everyone else does, why do you waste your time with me??

I've missed you so much, I didn't think it was possible to miss someone this much.

[jadelynlace]

Hvitserk’s First Tattoo / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!reader]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @quantumlocked310 ♡

author’s note: thanks to this post, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests. here is the visual reference for the tattoo Hvitserk gets (image isn’t mine and all credit goes to it’s original owner). mentions of brotherly bickering, Hvitserk being scared and Ivar tattooing.

synopsis: You finally talk Hvitserk into getting some ink.

✎

“Did I miss it?” You say, nearly falling in through the main door of the shop. “I almost took the ambulance over here just because it has lights and sirens,” Hvitserk offers you an estranged look, one mixed with him being mortified and slightly impressed with your timing after the over night shift.

“I’ve never seen you this excited,” Sigurd calls from his spot, pulling a record from the shelf as he goes about lining it up, pulling the needle over so the music can fill the room.

“She doesn’t even get this excited when she sees my dick,” Ivar teases from his spot and you offer him a less than kind finger gesture. 

“Can you blame me?” You remark back and Ivar only returns your original hand motion. “Did you pick yet?” You the ask as Hvitserk studies Ivar’s portfolio, as if he will be quizzed on it at the end of the session.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” He groans, another turn of the laminated pages.

“All of our best talks happen when it’s in the ambulance cabin at four in the morning,” You laugh, patting his back as you round the small counter. Ivar’s hands are quick to seat you on his lap, wrapping around you almost instantly and you both breathe in relief.

“Long night?” Ivar asks softly in your ear.

“Routine bullshit,” You grumble back, his hands tracing up your back and you could almost fall asleep in the very spot. One hand leaves your spine, reaching along the counter to grasp the tall can of his energy drink, offering it to you but you only shake your head. “That crap tastes like cough syrup,” You add as Ivar downs another gulp.

“Hurry up Hvitserk, we’re here after hours for this,” Ivar calls before he pulls the can back to his mouth.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to pop your cherry,” You say and Ivar looses some of the energy drink through a spray from his lips.

“You can get her name on your ass,” Sigurd says, walking past Hvitserk and tapping his uniform clad back. 

“Why? So Ivar and I can match?” Hvitserk grumbles back and you laugh against Ivar’s chest. 

“How do they know about that?” Ivar asks you quietly, through a teasing voice and you raise slightly, giggling against his mouth as your catch his lips with yours.

“Oh, for fucks sake—Hvitserk here, do that one,” Sigurd says, tapping his fingers against the page. “Paramedic Ragnarsson gets an anatomical tattoo,” 

“Nice choice,” Ivar hums, standing to his full height with you latched still around him and he sets you to sit along the counter.

“Is it nap time for the baby?” Sigurd says, voice taking on a toddler’s tone as he sits back at the front desk, and at the receiving end of the pen that flies from Ivar’s grasp. Leather combat boots stalk along the dark wooden floors, pulling the design from its laminated home before Ivar sends the image through the printer in the far corner. Your eyes catch sight of his back, the muscles in his biceps, the veins on his forearms as he programs the machine to spit out the stencil. Looming your eyes up the gray fabric of the old band tee, over the locks that he’s starting to comb into a bun, and then down the dark wash jeans and over how they end in the tops of his shoes. More thoughts swirl about how you couldn’t wait to undress him when you two would go to your apartment.

As Hvitserk makes himself comfortable in the black leather chair, he rolls up the uniform sleeve, a quick unbutton and folding of the blue material, already deciding on where he deemed the appropriate placement. The curl of his sleeve stops above his elbow and you could see the faint burn mark on his wrist from when he tried to eat a marshmallow that was still on fire. You watched Ivar position himself at his station, a meticulous arrangement of his tools, setting everything in a straight line to connect. There was a squirt of the ink into the containers, a pull of gloves onto his hands, wiggling his fingers into their spots and cracking his knuckles. You bit down on your own tongue to stop that moan that tried so hard to escape. Taking the razor to shave off the blond fuzz, he gingerly laid the stencil on his brother’s inner arm, pressing it gently before pulling it back.

“Double check in the mirror that you like the placement,” Ivar says, tossing his head towards the back wall with the mirror surrounded by an intense wooded frame Floki had built. Hvitserk stands, and you see the slight tremor in his hands, never a fan of any sort of pain—intentional or not. You’ve seen this man cry at the sensation of a paper cut, and all but sob when he jerked his shin against the metal grate on the ambulance’s bumper. But, he was also the man who would tell the patients that it was going to hurt—the realignment, or when he set up the hare for an isolated femur fracture—it was going to hurt and they had his full permission to break his hand if need be. You laugh every time there’s an active labor call, and Hvitserk reassures the mother that he has two hands, and if she needs to break one to push her child out, he’s willing to suffer. It calms the hysteria, even on the worst calls you two had walked into, Hvitserk always knew how to calm any of the demons that danced in the ambulance. Ivar turns to you as Hvitserk gazes, probably far longer than other client has to date, and slides himself over to where you’re perched. There’s a removal of one glove, an index finger and thumb on your chin as he kisses you once, twice, and third time. 

“I already know what I want to eat for dinner,” He whispers against your ear, just loudly enough so you’re the only one to hear his words. “But make sure you leave the polo on, baby girl,” He adds, kissing your temple and nudging the badge that’s on your chest, as a slow blush roses over your cheeks while he turns back around. “Alright brother, ready?” He calls, tapping the seat of the chair and Hvitserk takes a final look before plopping both himself down and his arm against the cushion. 

“Is it going to hurt?” Hvitserk asks, trying to bite the smile he’s showing while both Ivar and Sigurd are preparing to throw whatever they can reach. “I’m sorry I couldn’t resist,” Ivar offers him another lethal glare, nearly plucking the smile from his lips as he begins to spread a thin layer of the ointment across the purple ink. There’s a buzz from the needle gun and Hvitserk whimpers not unlike a puppy. Ivar’s glove-clad fingers stretch to pull the skin taunt, taking the gun down the first line and wiping it with a paper towel.

“Still alright, sir?” You say to Hvitserk as if he’s a patient in your ambulance and you’re watching an IV start. 

“Can you hold my hand?” He whines in a faked voice of concern.

“No,” You say back and there’s a snicker from Sigurd on the far side of the shop. The room dulls to only the noise of the record, the vibration of the needle and you watch Ivar so effortlessly in his element. Eyes watching, concentrating on what he’s doing yet singing lowly to the lyrics of the song that floods your ears alike. He rolls his chair slightly, maneuvering Hvitserk’s arm to his liking as he holds it down with his own. Strength unmatched because his least favorite thing is when the client fidgets, since it sends his work to become sloppy, and he’s grown accustomed to a way to hold the body part down to his liking. And that sight makes you think about him over you, body weight pressing against you like a weighted blanket, one with a smart mouth and curved lip who melts at the sheer stroke of your nails on his skin. Your thoughts rolls from the shift you worked prior, reanalyzing what you had done, gone through, pulling it to part like thread. They roll like waves but crash with thoughts of Ivar, his small comment earlier and then they shift. From work to pleasure and you’re squeezing your thighs before you realize it. Ivar’s voice comes through your ears to halt the dissection, and you move your head to see Hvitserk admiring the piece now forever on his skin and you smile back. Another layer of ointment and then it’s wrapped tightly with Ivar’s instructions to leave it on for an hour. 

“See? No need to be a little baby about it,” You tease him and he laughs.

“That’s his default setting,” Sigurd’s voice calls as he stands up. “Ivar you’re closing up tonight, right?” And Ivar just nods. “I will see your smiling face tomorrow morning then,” He adds sarcastically, and with a wave and check of his pockets he’s out the shops front door.

“Wasn’t as terrible as I thought,” Hvitserk jokes. “Maybe I will get your name on my ass after all,” You offer him a faked smile and forged laugh. “I’m going to head out too, I got the over time for tomorrow,” And he’s gone with a salute through his hand and the hundred dollar bill on the desk, leaving you and Ivar alone in the shop.

“I like seeing you in here,” You say softly as you watch him clear his materials, place everything in their homes and he smiles while he works. “You’re so relaxed,”

“I can say the same thing when I see you in that ambulance, baby,” He replies as he casts a look back to you and then he’s standing, arm grabbing you to come into his side. “Now let’s get going, I’m really looking forward to my dinner…”

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[trekkie-in-space]

Request : Berlin flirt with OC/Reader and Marsella/Marseille is jealous - La Casa de Papel / Money Heist

Title : To envy the sun

Author :JackB

Resume : Berlin flirt with OC/Reader and Marsella is displeased/hates it.

Requested by : @ahsxual

Warning : Some violence against women (mild), slur

Word : 4929

____

For how perceptive and clever Andrès is, he can be terribly oblivious to some things which can make it very frustrating. It’s not intentional on his part, Marsella knows, it’s just how Andrès is. He is one to take a lot of places in a room, to take the center like a sun, and he does that with such a natural that few people can compete with him. His confidence radiates around and sometimes it feels like you can exist only because he has more than proper manners or because he wants something from you. Most of the time at least. He never knew Andrès to be beyond or shy to go dirty if he feels it’s required in one way or another. But it’s not the case here.

“How are things going with Tatiana ?” He asks as Andrès serve him coffee.

The morning is warm with a gentle sunbeam that promise to become something to endure later that day. If their meeting around breakfast today is supposed to be to talk about some details for their current ‘business’ partnership, Marsella know Andrès likes to initiate the matter himself. So, in the meantime, it’s just friendly conversation or debate.

“Fabulous !” He answers with a warm smile. “She is amazing, things are going above and beyond. Why ?” His question is asked with this peculiar tone Marsella know to be careful around.

“Just thought, you’ve been flirting quite obviously with Athena last night, I believe Tatiana is not one to appreciate such gesture.” Andrès breaks into a laugh.

“I was hardly flirting.”

“Would you ask anybody at that party, they would say you were flirting.”

“Okay, maybe I was flirting.” He admits he bit too proud of himself. Marsella is thankful to takes a sip of his coffee at this moment, hiding any expression he could be making hearing that. “But it’s all in good friendliness. Tatiana knows I’m all for her, she has nothing to be afraid of. Plus, there is nothing more ugly and weak than a man who cheats. Unsatisfied bastard who don’t deserve what they are given. And women love when we give their friends’ attention. Athena was extraordinary last night, my compliments were genuine and I thought she could relax a bit too.”

Marsella nod.

“Why ? Does it bother you ?” Andrès has this peculiar smile on his face which let Marsella know just how much he is screwed.

_____

“May I present you Athena Clementelli, La Prima of the Ballet de La Scala, in Milan.” Tatiana says, the woman at her side smile shyly and bow to him. He return the gesture with a nod. She seems intimidated, and he guesses he is pretty tall and broad compared to her small size, without necessarily looking overly worrying, he knows he is not very inviting at first glance.

The presentations are cut short as Tatiana takes the arm of her friend and they walk away, immediately launching in what seems an interesting conversation. Andrès give him a tap on the shoulder and gently push to invite him to walk behind the two women with him. Even if the private jet will wait for them, passing too much time in a busy and loud airport is never pleasurable.

“She is amazing on a scene, a brilliant dancer and a very good friend of my love.”

“And since you said we were going to Milan, I suppose Tatiana gives a representation there.”

“Exactly, it’s a partnership. Tatiana will play, and Athena will dance. And us, we will steal. But first, Venice, we have ten days before the representation, we want to make the most of it.”

That’s one of the advantages to work with Andrès, beautiful city, fancy places and good times are always of the party at some point or another.

This private plane is quite nicely sized. There’s a lot of room and the two women quickly take up the front side, close to the cabin and continue their chatting.

“It’s been a long time, they have a lot to tell each other.” Andrès says as he sits closer to the back, leaving the girls some privacy.

He sat near him, the crew that will take care of them during the trip prevent them from talking about the heist they are planning, so after a bit of small talk Andrés decide to take a nap.

Marsella find himself dragged to the jovial conversation ahead the plane, the current article he found to occupy his time is too uninteresting to keep his attention. And at this point ear dropping anything and everything has become a habit, an instinct he doesn’t even intentionally think about.

The conversation contains nothing capital in itself. Athena just explain to an overly please Tatiana how she ousted her competitors for the place of Prima and secured her position. She might not look like it, but if what he hears is true, she is ferocious when she wants something or when someone pissed her off. Her tale is brutal and for a second he wonder how he expected less of a friend of Tatiana and Andrès.

Times passes and Tatiana joins them in the back. Or rather join Andrès. He knows it’s time to head out and leave the couple be extravagant together as only them know how and dare to be. So he joins Athena in the front, he smiles at her as he sits on the other side of the corridor to her, and she answer with a small smile, quickly returning to her occupation.

He notices her without observing, if he is to work with her, potentially, he is not sure of all the details yet, he needs to know more about her.

For what he can see, she keeps to herself, she is kind and polite with the staff and tends to be more reserved with the man than with the woman that she easily chats up with.

When he gets up to relax his legs and take a few steps he accidentally let the magazine he had hardly been reading fall, as he bends to pick it up he is outpaced by Athena, picking it up for him.

“Oh, let me.” She says in Italian. She hands him the magazine quickly.

“Thank you.” He answers back in her tongue.

She is pleasantly surprised.

“You speak Italian ?”

“I do.”

“Is it just a few words every tourist knows or.. ”

“Or am I able to hold a specific conversation ? Feel free to try me.” He continues while stretching a bit. “But apologize my regionalism, it is a bit poor.”

She smiles and invites him to sit in front of her.

“Where did you learn Italian ?”

“I’ve studied over in Naples, I was terrible, but I couldn’t afford to be in the army.”

“You’re a soldier ?”

“Was.”

“Did you ever kill someone ?” He gives a nervous laugh.

“Going straight for the delicate question I see.”

“Just curious I suppose.”

“Be careful, next she will ask you miliary secret.” Tatiana says as she passes beside them to go talk to the pilot.

Athena blush slightly, her eyes lower. Tatiana is not long to come back, and in the back Andrès call for her loudly with loving and erotic suggestions that she answer positively to, which only make Athena blush further.

“Don’t worry, there is noise canceling headphone if they can’t wait to arrive at the hotel.”

“We don’t have that luxury in our training studio, but maybe I should require it.”

“As a prima I’m sure you could.”

“Definitely.”

“How did you meet Tatiana ?”

“In a gala representation in Moscow, it was one of the most terrible and chaotic nights I ever had, ask Tatiana she tells the tale better than me. And let’s says it didn’t go well at all with her at first, but that night or rather morning, we found ourselves outside, drinking vodka to keep us warm and we made friends over the chaos of that night.”

“Found you had more in common ?”

“Absolutely. I wasn’t a Prima at that time, took me a lot of work to achieve it, that world is harsh and unforgiving. I found the same determination in Tatiana.”

They can hear the couple get more excited in the back.

“I think I’m going to take those noise canceling headphone and takes a nap.”

Marsella open the drawer on the side for her. She thanks him in a tone that seems too grateful for such a small and inconsequential gesture. He regains the other side of the plane, giving her space and privacy.

____

Upon arriving in the Marco Polo airport they are approached by a small group, Athena walk slightly faster to meet with the older woman that seems to be the one in charge. It just strikes him upon seeing them smiling, that they must be dancers too. Their stance and physics similar to how he saw Athena be.

Tatiana and Andrès present themselves easily and himself feel a bit clumsy around, though it goes unnoticed.

“Thank you so much Madame Bartolotti for letting me train.. ”

“Nonsense, you know you’re always welcome here. Though I do have a favor to ask of you.” She asks as she takes Athena arm in hers and start walking, leaning the way for their little group.

“Of course, anything.”

“The city receives conservators from all around the country for a conference on the Italian renaissance, I would like you to give a representation for them at the opening party.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Of course your friends are invited.”

“It’s more than appreciated Madame Bartolotti, if I may, my cherished wife is an extraordinary pianist.” Andrès says, holding his hand in the air for Tatiana to take, he brings her so naturally on the scene, letting her use her charm.

“It would be my pleasure to offer you my service for this party.” She says. “As a way to thank you for your hospitality.”

“Tatiana and I have been working several times together, she is talented.” Athena adds. “More so than Regazzi.”

“I see no reason not to accept, I will speak with the orchestra of your participation. I’m very curious to discover your performance, not many people can compete with Regazzi, but I know Athena never hand out such compliment on a whim.”

“Oh I know she is never one to brush an ego just to be kind.” Tatiana confirms.

“Exactly. It will take place in the Palazzo Ducale in four days, I hope it’s enough time for you to rest and prepare.”

“Of course. More than enough.” Athena affirms.

“Good, may I present you to Nicolo, Manfredi and Cirillo, you will work with them, they are at your disposition and you will be the one to choose who come with you for the duet at the party.”

She nods at the three men, slightly in retreat, careful as they all present themselves to her once more.

“It would be to pleasure to work with you. The trip has been long it will have to wait tomorrow morning for repetition, but I would like to see how you dance today. If you don’t mind.”

That being set, they all embark in a boat to join the main city. Athena and Tatiana head for the theater La Fenice with Bartolotti and the dancers, while him and Andrès head for their hotel. They have a lot of things to discuss for the Heist in Milan and details to sort out. He is not even surprised to see how luxurious the Monaco & Grand Canal hotel is, nor to be paid a room for the time of his stay. Andrès love luxe and always treat his trusted collaborators well.

____

Athena is quick to leave in the morning, the sun is only peaking in the horizon and the air is fresh from the breeze. She does not notice him as she passes beside the terrace, her brilliant brown hair flow with her movement and she tie them in a near perfect chignon without thinking. The way from the hotel to the theater is not long but her pace is dynamic. Though, she is stopped when a woman comes toward her with an even quicker pace and a palpable determination.

He focus back on his coffee and the news in the journal. But his ears are sharp as he listens to what he can.

“ … mistake, you can perform to that party only because I don’t have time for it. You are no more than a convenience for Madame Bartolotti.”

“Not my fault if you can’t assume multiple project at the same time Olivia.”

“Keep low, I lend you my theater by respect but don’t come strutting on my field.”

“Madame Bartolotti is the one to lend me La Fenice.. ”

Marsella can feel the tension between the two women, it wouldn’t take much for it to escalate.

“..But thank you for lending me your dancers, they are talented.” Athena softens, calming the electric heat between Olivia and her.

“That conference is important, the representation need to be perfect, I wouldn’t risk it with a low tier dancer, now it’s up to you not to screw it up.”

“I never do and you know that. Personally even. I will make sure to address how generous you were though.” Olivia nod.

“If we’re clear.”

“We are.”

The woman leaves promptly, not without a dry glare that Athena return with more restrain. Once out of sight she relaxes and breath out before storming back toward the hotel. It’s at this moment she notices him. He salutes her and invite her to his table.

She takes on the offers and sit carefully in front of him, nervous.

“You seems pissed off.” He comments.

“One coffee please, and add a bit of whiskey in it please.” She asks a passing waiter who nods to her request. “Yah.” She answers him, untying her hair who fall back on her shoulder.

“Whiskey right in the morning ?”

“Just to take the edge off. She’s.. ” She starts but stops herself to calm a bit. “She’s the Prima of La Fenice, and in my world a Prima hates other Prima. We are in constant concurrence. And it’s without counting ex-Prima who are bitter to be on the bench and those who wish to take our place.”

“Coexistence is hard I see.”

“It is. She is even more bitter because I was supposed to be the Prima of La Fenice, she was the backup option in case I didn’t take the position.”

The waiter arrives with her coffee and she takes a sip or two of it.

“I’m not here to take her place, she doesn’t need to freak out and put pressure on me.”

“If she does it’s because you still represent a threat to her. You’re the one putting pressure on her just by being here.”

“True.” She smiles and gets up. “I’m sorry, I have to leave if I don’t want to be late. Thank you for the talk, I needed to calm down.”

“My pleasure. Any good place I wouldn’t dare to miss while I’m here ?” He asks.

“Try the Castello District and try to find the garden. It’s beautiful.” She says after a bit of reflexion.

“I will. Thank you.”

She quickly leaves. He knows he has a few hours to kill before he meets Andrès again, plenty of time to visit some places, the last time he came in Venice was for a contract and he didn’t have the leisure to enjoy the city. So be the Castello District then.

____

That evening, as he is about to leave the hotel Marsella see Athena in the lounge, a nearly empty drink in hand and a bored expression on her face. He goes to salute her and she smile at him.

He quickly learn the reason for her poor mood. Tatiana and her were supposed to go out tonight, but she canceled their plan in favor of her husband, which in itself is understandable.

“I’m going out to eat, care to join me ?” He offers. He is used to being alone but wouldn’t say no to the bright company of Athena.

She hesitates an instant but accept.

“The garden was indeed beautiful.” He says.

“I’m glad you found it, it’s a sight to see. Especially since green space are rare and private most of the time in Venice.”

On their way for a restaurant they cross paths with a dog, Athena is quick to go to pet it, forgetting what is around her and Marsella himself. Only remembering his company when he lower down to pet the animal too.

“Dogs are the best.” He comments, memories coming back to him.

“Do you have one ?”

“Had.” She nods, he can see in her eyes that she is curious but restrain from asking. “Do you ?” He asks back.

“I wish I had, but I’m traveling too much, I would never see it and my heart would break.”

“You always have time later.”

“When someone takes my place, sure. I may have more time then, but I don’t want to think of it. The sooner you think it will end the sooner it end.” She refocus on the dog who is more than happy to be getting attention. “I don’t know much about you, so tell me a bit about your dog.” She finally asks. He laughs,

“Alright, she was called.. ”

The evening goes well, their dinner is passed to talk about their past animals for the most part and in those tales are woven some details about their life.

Back at the hotel, they are about to split back in their respecting room when she proposes :

“If you like, come to see me rehearse tomorrow. La Fenice is a sight to see from inside and I like to have a public.”

“I will come.”

“Good. Only if you want, of course, and you don’t have to stay for long if you do come.” She adds quickly.

“It’s fine.” He reassures. “I’m curious.”

“Good then. Just says your name when you arrive, I will warn them to let you enter.”

“Noted. Good night.”

“Good night.”

____

As he enters the theater, he is humbled by the beauty of the place. He is not really used to that kind of environment, it’s not his primary point of gravitation, though he learned how to blend in most places.

He is guided in a few corridors then shown directions to the backstage by an obviously bored receptionist. He apparently arrived at the moment where they took a break as nobody had been on the scene when he was guided there at first.

It’s not a problem for him, he makes his ways in a few steps and follow the sound of voices.

It’s unclear at first, but he quickly recognizes the tone of a conflict. If he speed up, he does so as quietly he can. Listening carefully.

He easily recognize Athena voice and what must be one of the dancers that were at the airport.

“.. Picked Manfredi, my decision is final, stop arguing.”

“I’m a better dancer.”

“You can keep repeating that it’s not going to make me change.”

“You’re just an entitled bitch, Manfredi will drop you tomorrow.. ”

“You’re the one who nearly dropped me yesterday.” She snaps back.

“I need that position, what don’t you get about that ?”

“I don’t car.. ”

“I need the money, I need the publicity for my career, some recognition, it’s simple. What you don’t get about that ?”

Something is thrown on the wall and break loudly on the floor. Marsella is getting closer, but still out of sight, and can pick up Athena fearful gasp.

“Leave. I didn’t pick you. Give it up.” She tries again with force yet her tone is full of anguish.

“I’m a good dancer, I was Olivia’s main.. ”

“Yeah ? Well, I get why she dropped you.”

“You.. ”

Athena back up to find herself cornered on a table as he raises his hand against her. He finds himself firmly stopped right in the air. She raise her eyes toward Marsella and let out a relieved breath. The man tries to free himself, but he is firmly held and any attempts drop flat.

“I believe she told you to leave !” He says firmly.

“Who the fuck are you ?” He tries to free himself again, in vain. Marsella place himself between him and Athena. Making him back up.

“You can think of me I some sort of guard dog if you want.” The other man snort.

“Who the fuck he is ?” He asks Athena directly.

Marsella snap his fingers near his ears, his grip tighten on his arm.

“It’s with me you’re dealing now boy. Better calm down, it would be unfortunate for you to get injured, don’t you think ?”

“What ? You’re a psycho.”

“You can’t dance with a damaged knee I believe, or I’m thinking, maybe an ankle.”

“What do you want ?”

“For you to leave just like Athena asked.”

“Fine.” He tries to free himself but Marsella still don’t let go. “I’m leaving.”

“And if something were to happen to Athena or hm.. Manfr.. ” He turns toward Athena.

“Manfredi.” She answers.

“Manfredi.” He repeats. “I will hold you personally responsible, and well, let’s says you don’t want that. Are we clear ?”

“Clear.” The man has a smaller voice now as he takes in the threat.

Marsella let go of him and the man leave promptly, cursing lowly.

“You’re alright ?” He asks Athena.

“Ye.. ”

“Where is this bastard ?” Andrès exclaimed as he enters the backstage, Tatiana following him closely. Marsella point out a direction he immediately follows.

“You’re okay ?” Tatiana asks her.

“Yes, it’s fine, it just got a bit heated.”

“More than heated, he was getting violent.” Marsella correct.

“Did he touch you ?” Tatiana asks.

“Was about. Thank you for your help. I’m glad you came.” She directs at Marsella.

“He’s always there when you need him, that is true.” Andrès says as he comes back.

They all, but Athena, exchange a knowing glare, that man will get some repercussion.

“Do you want to go out, relax ?”

“No, I’m waiting for Manfredi.”

“We can leave a note and he can join us when he arrives.” Athena thinks an instant.

“Okay, yeah, taking some air will do me good.”

On their way out Athena turn to Marsella. He is already way bigger and taller than her but at this moment, she seems so small as she looks up.

“You wouldn’t have hurt him do you ?”

“Only if necessary.” He answers and his tone comes out a bit too coldly.

In a second he had passed from a helpful friend to a scary stranger. Feeling her sudden unease Tatiana grabs her arm and they take the front.

“Don’t worry.. ” He hears her says.

“It’s good you were here to help her.” Andrès tell him.

“You want to do something about the boy ?”

“Nicolo Virona, and yes, I believe he deserves a bit more than a threat.”

They end up taking a small walk on the street, before having a coffee on a terrace. The mood lightens up and earlier worries are forgotten. Manfredi do join them and conversation come to turn around dance and the many interesting stories that come with working within a ballet of worldwide fame.

“We should go back and rehearse.” Manfredi says after a bit of time. “You can both come to watch us if you want.” He directs at him and Andrès.

“I would like that.” Athena says, any worries she had, had disappeared from her sharp brown eyes which reassure him in accepting the proposition.

____

The party is grandiose. The Doge’s Palace is extraordinary, beautiful painting recovers the walls and ceiling, ornated with golden moldings and wood, it’s a masterpiece like you rarely see one. A superb white piano awaits for Tatiana to start playing. Place has been made in the center of the room for the arrivals of the dancers and a grounding choir of whisper can be heard, all eager and curious to see what will follow. It calm down as light focus on the scene, plunging everyone in a gentle darkness.

“Look at her.” Andrès tell him, watching Tatiana as she starts playing. Full of admiration and love.

Everybody goes quiet as notes rise in the room.

Manfredi come, his steps are fluid and elegant and give an impression of languor and sadness. Slow and yearning. They’ve seen him do those steps in training but it hit different tonight. The note of the piano follow the mood, and when it accelerates they know Athena will make her entry soon.

She doesn’t come from where Manfredi emerged but from the crowd around where she squeezes her way with smooth movements.

She jumps and her partner catch her easily, like it’s nothing. He holds her high and turn and when she goes down he embraces her as if they were lovers finding each other again. Lowering her down nearly to the floor. In a quiet and peaceful move. There’s a reverence to it.

Then she finds herself on her feet and they separate for a few moves to find each other again. Every movement is fluid, elegant, and with a natural and a sensuality that is mesmerizing.

It’s beautiful.

The room goes dark when they finish and all light lighten up back for the final salute, applause raise high in the room and many are coming to congrats them on their performance and exchange a few words. He stays in retreat until he can himself go and present his admiration.

“Athena, you were.. ”

“MAGNIFICENT.” Andrès cuts him and pass in front of him catching all of Athena attention. She can barely glance at him before Andrès catch her attention by a flow of beautifully worded compliments. His would be pale in comparison. Not that his feeling and intention would be less, but the form would be poor compared to Andrès.

Sublime, grandiose, opulent, splendid, elegant, sumptuous, majestic.. Andrès spare no compliment. He makes her laugh and manages to eclipse everything around them.

“Do you want a drink ?”

“A flute of champagne would be perfect.” Andrès turn toward him and he knows the task to go pick one fall on him.

“You were resplendent, I’m humbled by such beauty.” He tells her as he hand her the flute when he comes back.

“Thank you.”

“I agree, nobody could look away from you.” Andrès takes her hand and kiss the top of it which make Athena giggle.

In a second, Marsella is forgotten again. He looks at Andrès in disbelief, annoyed by his lack of tact.

“I hope you will grant me the pleasure of a dance tonight.” Andrès asks.

“It would be my pleasure. But I need to change first.”

“Of course.”

Marsella doesn’t manage to offers more than a few words to Athena, her attention caught by the effervescence of the party. After a time he doesn’t really try anymore. It’s not his place, not his world. He doesn’t have Andrès talent and charm and he can’t help but feel a bit bitter about it. Andrès know how to stand out while he is an expert in blending in the crowd to never be seen. A bit too much to his tastes. It doesn’t really matter, Athena seems like she enjoys herself, his presence or not wouldn’t change anything.

____

“Why ? Does it bother you ?” Andrès has this peculiar smile on his face which let Marsella know just how much he is screwed.

“No.” Andrès laugh gently.

“Yes, it does.” He seems very pleased with himself. “It does. You like her.”

He doesn’t answer, this is escalating to a way he doesn’t like.

“Difficult not to, she is brilliant, intelligent, beautiful. Everybody had her eyes on her last night.” Marsella raise his cup to this. “But you could have stood out. Invite her, catch her attention for yourself.”

Difficult when you’re already on the scene. He thinks.

Andrès catch the hint in his eyes. “Oh, because of me ?” He laughs, and Marsella hates it, he feels like being mocked.

“I’m hardly going to compete with you, it’s your field.” He answers calmly.

“I’m taking your envy as a compliment, but you need to be more outstanding, a bit more.. ” He searches his words, a hand on his shoulder. “A bit more.. A bit less proper and a bit more confident.”

Andrès touch bother him and he moves slightly, thankfully his working partner take the hint and removes his hand.

“You’re giving me advice now ?” He can’t help but feel bitter and slightly humiliated.

“Look at me, I get everything I want, I take everything I want. I can help you.” Marsella snort. Andrès come to sit at his side. “No, it’s true. Athena appreciates you. You, the one who came to her rescue. Make a grand gesture, she will appreciate it.”

“She’s not like Tatiana.”

“Exactly, I’m a bit too much for her, she needs someone a bit more subtle. Here what I think.. ”

The preparation for the heist in Milan is forgotten as Andrès expose his idea.. Marsella previous bitterness fade in favor of amusement. Alright, maybe he can learn a thing or two.

End.

[emospritelet]

Twisted Fate - chapter 26

Last time, Gold started to suspect that Neal might be his long-lost son. Here's what happened next

[AO3]

-

Belle left hospital the next day, Gideon strapped to her chest in a sling while Gold wheeled the suitcase beside her. The day was pleasantly warm, sun on her face as she walked to the car, and it felt good to be out in the fresh air and away from the hospital, with its hurrying staff and constant noise. She was still in pain, and far more tired than she had expected to be, but she stopped off in the lobby of the apartment building to let Marco coo over Gideon and comment on how much he looked like his father. Gold had a tiny smile on his face all the way up in the elevator.

It was a relief to sleep in what she now thought of as their bed, Gold spooned around her and his scent in her nose. Gideon woke them in the night, but Gold kissed her shoulder and whispered that she should rest. She still lay awake listening anxiously until he got back into bed and assured her that Gideon was fed, changed and sleeping again. There was an urge to go and check on him herself, but she told herself firmly to trust Gold to take care of his son, and her body was tired and sore enough that she soon drifted off.

Gold woke early, just as dawn was greying the sky, and tiptoed from the room to make a pot of coffee and check in on Gideon. Quiet as he was, Belle was stirring when he put his head around the bedroom door, and so he handed Gideon to her to feed before returning to the kitchen to pour out the coffee and make a hearty breakfast.

The first few days were hectic as they tried to adjust to their new life, establishing as much of a routine for Gideon as they could. Gold was enjoying being a father again, and fully intended to do the best job he could. Belle was clearly exhausted, and so he tried to ease the burden as much as possible, letting her nap with Gideon while he cleaned up, made dinner and baked. In between his chores, he dealt with work matters, giving instructions to Mr Dove in relation to rent or enforcement matters, assessing collateral for loans over video calls and countersigning a new tenancy agreement. He got up to feed and change Gideon in the middle of the night, hoping that Belle would get some much-needed rest. A small voice at the back of his mind told him that he, too, needed to rest, but sleep was elusive and his mind far too preoccupied to notice his building exhaustion.

He had been a ball of nervous energy ever since he and Belle had had the conversation about Neal. Getting his family settled into their home held his attention for the daylight hours, but once he was lying in bed, his mind was let loose to agonise over every possible worst case scenario it could dream up. The day after their return he was alert to every noise outside the apartment, every suggestion that a knock might sound and the Cassidys be outside. The knock never came, and over dinner the following evening, Belle mentioned that she had received a text from Emma. Henry had developed a bad cold, and Neal and Emma thought it best that they not visit and run the risk of passing it on to Gideon.

“I’m sorry he’s not well,” said Gold, an odd mixture of despair and relief rippling through him and pricking at his skin. “I’m sure they’ll come over soon. I’ll make a carrot cake this weekend. Maybe some chocolate cupcakes. Just in case they show up.”

Belle gave him a level look, as though she wasn’t fooled by his easy tone. She probably wasn’t.

“This must be hard for you,” she said quietly, and Gold put down his fork, abandoning his pretence at equilibrium.

“I still don’t know what the hell I’m gonna say to him,” he admitted. “How do I even raise the subject? Cupcake, Neal? Oh, by the way, did your mother ever mention that your father was Scottish? Kind of short? Me?”

He grimaced, running his hands over his face, and stilled at the warm pressure of Belle’s hand on his arm. He spread his fingers to gaze out through them into calm blue eyes.

“There isn’t going to be an easy way to do this,” she said gently. “But you could always try talking about your past, see if anything resonates with him.”

The fingers snapped shut, hiding her from his sight, and Gold sighed heavily before dropping his hands back to the table and sitting back.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That seems - more natural, I suppose.”

“You could always ask Archie for advice,” she suggested, and he nodded.

“That’s true. Although we don’t know whether there’s anything there to ask advice about yet.”

“I suppose.”

“If there is…” Gold sat forwards again, threading his fingers together nervously. “If there is, if Neal really is my son, I have a feeling Dr Hopper will be seeing a lot more of my money.”

Belle smiled, squeezing his arm again.

“A worthy investment, wouldn’t you say?”

“If it gets me a good relationship with my family, absolutely.” He gave her a tiny smile, and she beamed, her eyes gleaming.

“It’s already doing that,” she said softly. “I’m proud of you. Facing your pain, your past, your fears… it’s a brave thing to do.”

He smiled, her words making his heart swell with love, even as he endured the discomfort of unexpected praise.

“Well, I have many years of cowardice to make up for,” he said, with an awkward smile.

Belle gave him a somewhat sad smile in return before sitting back, and there was a moment of silence. He picked up his fork again, cutting into the slice of almond cake and spearing it with the tines.

“What about you?” he asked. “Did your father say when he’d be visiting?”

Belle nodded as she cut a piece of her own cake.

“He said next Monday,” she said. “It’s usually a slow day in the shop, so he’s gonna close up at noon after he’s dealt with the flower delivery, and drive down. We’re planning to meet at four-thirty.”

“Ah.” Gold popped the piece of cake into his mouth, enjoying the soft sweetness of ground almonds and the tang of orange zest. “Well, he’s welcome to stay, of course.”

Belle eyed him over her fork, but shook her head.

“He’s only coming down for the day, and to be honest I think that’s a good idea,” she said. “I said I’d meet him at the diner by the park, and I think it’s best if it’s just me and Gideon. I thought we could go for a walk and get something to eat. That’s probably enough contact for both of us at this stage.”

“As you wish,” he said, secretly relieved at not having to play nice with Moe French.

“Depending on how this first visit goes, he might be staying over in future, though,” she added.

“Of course.”

“And you never know,” she said, spearing another piece of cake. “Maybe one day we’ll move back to Storybrooke. You, me, Gid, and - well, we’ll see how things go.”

She gave him a secretive little smile, and for a moment he envisioned entering the pink house with several small children racing past him to fill the place with life and love and laughter. He smiled back.

“That sounds wonderful.”

-

Belle was enjoying motherhood, but she wondered how single mothers coped alone. Gold had been amazing, racing around the house keeping it clean and tidy, cooking delicious meals for the two of them and helping to feed and change Gideon. He insisted on being the one to get up during the night, even as she said they should take it in turns, but she had to admit that it was a relief to get some rest as her body recovered. He made cakes and cookies and brought her breakfast in bed while she fed Gideon, and made sure she wanted for nothing.

She was worried that he was doing too much; she caught him napping on the couch one afternoon with a pile of laundry in his lap, hands buried in Gideon’s sleep suits and head back against the cushions. She had let him sleep, tiptoeing through to the kitchen to make some tea, and made the dinner herself that evening.

As the time drew nearer for her father’s visit, she found herself getting nervous, and Gideon seemed to pick up on it, growing fractious as she dressed him for the trip outside.

“You sure you don’t want me to come?” asked Gold, helping her get him into the stroller, and Belle shook her head.

“It’s fine, really,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll be okay once we’re out and he’s got something new to look at.”

“In that case,” he said. “I’ll make something nice for when you get back.”

“You always do.”

“Well, something special, then,” he said. “What would you like?”

Belle pursed her lips.

“A full night’s sleep and a foot rub?”

He grinned.

“Consider it done.”

“I’ll be eating about five-thirty,” she added. “So I won’t want anything for dinner, but I’ll probably feel like curling up with a glass of wine and something stodgy.”

“I’m sure I can think of something.”

He finished tucking Gideon in, and kissed his cheek before straightening up to kiss Belle. She clung to him a little longer than usual, and he squeezed her tight.

“It’ll be okay,” he said softly. “And I’m only a phone call away if you need me.”

She nodded, taking a deep, fortifying breath, and set her hands to the stroller, pushing it towards the elevator. Glancing back over her shoulder, she could see Gold watching her from the doorway, and she gave him a reassuring smile as she pressed the elevator call button, hoping for a positive outcome.

-

The apartment was eerily silent without either Belle or Gideon, and Gold didn’t like it. He busied himself cleaning up, folding a freshly-washed pile of laundry and vacuuming the floors. He also made up a pan of chicken casserole, adding a generous glass of red wine, and set it to a low simmer while he pondered what else to cook. He made some bread, pummelling the dough briskly before setting it aside to rise, and wiped flour-covered hands on his apron before poking through the store cupboard again. Belle had mentioned wanting something stodgy to eat, so he decided to make a pan of brownies.

By the time he had finished mixing the batter and put the tin in the oven, it was a quarter to six. He poured himself a glass of the wine and took a large gulp, one toe tapping on the floor as he wondered how Belle’s dinner with her father was going. He hadn’t received a distressed phone call, so he had to assume she was fine. She was more than capable of standing up to her father, but he hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. Surely not even Moe French could maintain his bad attitude when he got to hold Gideon.

A knock at the apartment door made him start, and he set down his glass, wiping his hands on his apron and grasping his cane to head for the door. Looking out through the spy hole, he paused as Neal’s face glanced up, his figure distorted by the curve of the lens. Gold’s heart started thumping high in his throat, blood pounding, and he swallowed, his throat dry, the handle gripped tight. His hand shook as he opened the door, and he licked his lips nervously as Neal grinned at him, hefting what looked like a leather laptop bag up a little further on his shoulder.

“Hello, Neal,” said Gold, unsure where his calm tone had come from, but relieved that he sounded normal.

“Hey,” said Neal, patting the bag. “Belle asked Emma to pick her up a couple of books from the university library. I said I’d drop ‘em off on my way home, since I was in the area.”

Gold made a decision.

“Please, come on in,” he said, stepping back and holding open the door. “Belle’s out at the moment, but you’re welcome to wait. I could make some coffee. Or I’ve opened the wine, if you’d prefer a glass of that.”

Neal’s eyes brightened.

“Really? Wouldn’t say no, it’s been a hell of a day.”

He stepped into the apartment, and Gold closed the door behind him, following him into the kitchen and trying to calm his racing heart. Neal shrugged off the strap of his bag, putting it on the table with a heavy thump of books and wriggling his shoulder.

“Belle should try e-books,” he said. “Less chance of a dislocated shoulder.”

Gold chuckled at that.

“I offered to get her one, but she prefers the feel and smell of real books,” he said, getting a second glass from the cupboard and pouring a measure of wine. “Not that she’s had all that much time to read lately.”

“No, I guess not. Thanks.” Neal took the wine. “You say she’ll be back soon?”

“She took Gideon to go and meet her father, but I’m expecting her back in the next half hour or so.”

“You didn’t go too?” asked Neal, and Gold pulled a face.

“Let’s just say that the peace between the two of them is new and fragile, and my presence really wouldn’t help that.”

“Yeah, I pretty much heard her dad’s a tool,” said Neal, making Gold grin.

“My opinion of him is fairly low, but I have to say the feeling’s mutual.”

“Guess you can’t choose your family,” said Neal, and took a drink. “Wow! That’s nice!”

“A favourite of mine.” Gold hesitated, turning the glass between his fingers. “How’s Henry?”

“Yeah, he’s a lot better,” said Neal. “Totally snot-free, happy to say. We thought we might come over Friday, if you’re up for having visitors.”

“I’m sure we’d love that.”

Another pause. Gold took a mouthful of wine, feeling his pulse thud in his throat, his skin tingling. He almost choked as he swallowed, and blinked rapidly, his eyes watering.

“You okay?” asked Neal. “Went down the wrong way?”

“Yes. Uh - shall we go through to the lounge?”

Gold gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen door, and Neal wandered off, leaving him to follow on feet that felt as though they were made of steel plates. It was a relief to sit down, and he had to stop himself from tapping his feet restlessly as he turned the glass between his hands and tried to think of something to say. Neal was good enough to break the heavy silence.

“How’s life with Gideon?” he asked, and Gold smiled.

“He doesn’t give us a lot of time to sit and take a breath, that’s for certain,” he said, “But it’s wonderful. I’m incredibly lucky.”

“You’re enjoying being a dad again, huh?”

“Very much.”

“Is it like you remember?” asked Neal, and Gold hesitated. Here, at last, was an opening. An opportunity.

“With my first son,” he said. “I wasn’t there for the first eighteen months of his life. A little like you and Henry.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” Gold looked down at his wine, deep red rippling catching tiny specks of light. “It wasn’t by choice, I might add.”

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you weren’t in jail,” said Neal, and he smiled.

“No, not jail. Unless of course you count the one of my own making.”

“Deep.”

“Pompous. Sorry.”

Neal chuckled, and Gold took a drink of wine.

“His mother and I weren’t suited,” he said then. “We were never in a proper relationship, and I wasn’t surprised when she left town. But then she came back two years later, with a child. My child, so she said.”

“You think she was lying?”

“No,” he said immediately. “No, I knew he was mine. At least - at least I thought that I knew. I could - I could feel it.”

He tapped his closed fist against his heart, and Neal watched him silently. Gold gave a tiny shrug.

“Of course I wanted to give him everything I hadn’t - that is - I wanted to do the best for my son as I could,” he said, floundering a little. “I worked hard, earned a good wage - unfortunately, that meant spending more time at work, and less time at home. Milah didn’t appreciate being, in her words: ‘stuck indoors all day with a screaming brat’.”

Neal had gone very still.

“Did you say Milah?” he asked neutrally.

“My ex,” said Gold, wishing his heart would stop thumping so hard. “Anyway, I came home one day, and she’d gone. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised at that, but I never thought she’d take him. I never thought…” He cut off, ducking his head. “I never thought I’d lose him.”

Neal took a swallow of wine, and Gold squeezed his glass in an attempt to still his trembling hands.

“What happened?” asked Neal.

“Well, I found out that without being named as his father, I had no right to find out what had happened to him,” he said wearily. “So I had to search alone. She moved around a lot: from Scotland to England, and eventually, to the US. The last place I could trace them to was Social Services in Phoenix. She’d left him there. Said she’d come back and never did.”

Neal shook his head, looking stunned.

“So - so what happened?” he asked. “Did you find him?”

“No.” Gold eyed him steadily. “No, he’d gone. Run away. I was three months too late. I kept searching, but there were no more leads. He knew how to hide, it seemed.”

Neal swallowed hard, and set down his glass.

“You said you weren’t named as the father,” he said. “So his name wasn’t Gold, right?”

“No,” said Gold. “His last name was Bonny, after his mother.”

Neal pushed to his feet in a rush, agitation making his nostrils flare.

“Who told you my mother was called that?” he demanded. “Was it Emma? What did she say? How did you know that?”

“What?” Gold shook his head, an invisible hand squeezing at his heart and leaving him breathless. “I don’t - Emma didn’t tell me anything, I just - well, I remember Milah’s name, of course I do. And - and your name is Cassidy.”

“Because I changed it!” Neal began to pace, running a hand through his hair and looking shattered. “I don’t - I can’t…”

He shook his head, stomping towards the door.

“No, please!” said Gold desperately, pushing to his feet. “Please, don’t go, I just - I need you to listen for a moment.”

“I can’t!”

“Please!” he urged. “Please, my son’s name is Bailey. Bailey Stephen Bonny. He was born on the first of May, twenty-nine years ago, and - and I’ve been searching for him ever since he disappeared, ever since his mother took him from me.”

“This is - this isn’t possible.” Neal shook his head, looking devastated. “This can’t be real. I have to - I have to go, I have to think.”

“No, wait!”

His hand was on the door handle, and Gold had reached out, wanting to touch him, desperate to touch him. He drew back at the last minute, pain clawing at his chest, as though his heart was trying to tear its way out. Neal’s knuckles were white on the handle, his body shaking with tension, and Gold blinked tears from his eyes.

“Is it you, Bae?” he whispered, his voice breaking a little. “Is it really you?”

The name on his tongue seemed to break whatever spell had fallen over them, and Neal wrenched at the door, barging out into the corridor and slamming it shut behind him. Gold sagged, shoulders slumping as he gripped the cane handle to hold himself upright. It’s him. It’s my son. My Bae.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

The gang on their wedding days

[Been meaning to post this one for a while — since I’m applying to get married today, now seems like the time.]

Jake steps into the room like a child wandering into his parents’ dinner party.  His bow tie is askew, seams of his jacket misaligned for all that it’s a custom-tailored tuxedo.  If the buttons of his shirt aren’t one hole off from their intended placement, they still manage to convey that impression from across the room.

Rachel feels a rush of affection for him, her first best friend.  The boy who’d run and fought and splashed through mud with her, back before adults started telling her to be careful of her dress and him to be careful of her.  Only he could show up to his own wedding looking like he’s ready to be expelled at any moment.  Only Jake.

And yes, she gets mushy at weddings.  Sue her.

Tom steps up next to Jake, far more elegant in an off-the-rack suit.  Some people actually got the fashionable genes in this family.

Rachel surges across the room.  Tom gets a quick hug, and then she turns all her attention on Jake.

“You only have to look nice for the next three hours,” she tells him briskly.

“Three.  Hours,” Jake repeats.

With expert motions she realigns his… everything, until at the very least the clothes are sitting the way the tailor intended.  She tries to finger-comb his hair, thankful for the heels that put her at an inch above his height, but it’s obvious that he has also been running his hands through it and the style is hopelessly deformed.

“You can survive anything for three hours,” Rachel says as she does all this.  “I’ve seen you do it.”

“But if I mess it up—”

“Then stop, go back, and do whatever it is over.  We’re not exactly on a time pressure, here.  Nobody’s gonna die if you trip at the altar or forget your lines.”

“Okay.”  He stuffs his hands in his pockets, deforming his jacket again.  “Okay.”

She can see him starting to relax as he glances around, shoulders coming down.  Cassie’s place isn’t quite like they remember — it’s been repaired since the war, the Wildlife Rehabilitation Clinic expanded to nearly five times its original size — but it still feels as close to home as any place does.

“Have a glass of water,” Rachel says.

“But what if I have to pee during the ceremony?”

She rolls her eyes.  “Babysit him,” she mouths at Tom.

Tom gives her a gesture in response that approximates What do you think I’ve BEEN doing?  Whether he means the last four hours or the last twenty-six years is, really, a moot point.

Rachel leaves him to it, and charges off to go check on the others.

************

Marco leans against a tent pole, trying to roll one of the rings across his fingers the way Vegas poker players do with chips.  So far it’s not going well.

“Canapé,” Ax is saying carefully.  He attempts to lean next to Marco, nearly going all the way over.  “Can-nap-peee?”

“Uh, no.”  Marco catches the ring as it makes its third or fourth bid for freedom, stuffing it back into his pocket.  “That…”  He tilts his champagne flute to point.  “…is a canopy.  Or a chuppah, I guess.  Canopee.  Canapay is the little pastry thing you’ve already filched in bulk, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Ah,” Ax says.  And then, “This temperature and rate of precipitation is within optimal survival parameters for humans, is it not?”

“Nuh-uh, Ax-Man, I will not be pulled in by your smooth small-talk skills.”

“Did you not wish to make conversation?”  Ax frowns.  And then he stuffs another canapé in his mouth.  “This is making conversation,” he adds through the mouthful.

Marco squints.  “Is it, though?”

“It is indeed.  Did you know that the rotating-wheel can opener was patented in 1870?”

Marco’s response to that one gets cut off when Rachel comes charging across the open tent space like a small freight train.  Tobias is balanced on her shoulder, flaring slightly as she runs.  She yanks the champagne flute out of his hand.  Marco makes a squeak of protest, but Rachel just sets it firmly on a bussing tray and turns back to glare at him.

“What did we agree?” she asks sternly.

Marco rolls his eyes.  “That I’d stay sober-ish for the toast, and not do anything too embarrassing.”

“You’re the best man.  You have one job, Marco.”

“Excuse you, the best man’s one job was that banger of a bachelor-slash-ette party we did Wednesday night.  Did you like the part where we all dived out of a helicopter and flew clear through the lower atmosphere to that rooftop bar?  Because—”

“So you got the drinking out of your system.  You promised.”

“Sober-ish, come on, it’s just one wine-spritzer-thing!”

Rachel turns away from him, looking Ax over.  “You realize you’re going to have to demorph and remorph at some point before the ceremony, right?” she asks.  “And that when you do, someone’s going to have to go through the whole kit and caboodle of getting you into that tux all over again?”

“Yes,” Ax says.  “Yes, I do.”

She stares at him.  He stares back, looking as innocent as it is possible to look while also chewing three jalapeño pastries at the same time.

«You should probably just listen to her,» Tobias suggests.  «By the way, where’s your date?  Not that I quake in fear for the wedding cake or anything, but, uh…»

“Menderash has been instructed not to eat anything on a human plate without seeking my opinion first,” Ax says, somewhat stiffly.

“Yeah,” Marco says.  “So far he’s only eaten two earthworms, a candle, some decorative sand, and part of Collette’s bouquet.  You two have nothing to worry about.”

“Part of Collette’s bouquet?” Rachel demands.  “We can’t send a bridesmaid up the aisle without—”

“Already replaced it, I am on top of this.”  Marco flips his hair back from his face.  “I am a flower master.”

«So where is Menderash now?» Tobias asks.

“Helping Cassie’s mom,” Marco explains.

«And Cassie’s mom is…?»

“Delivering a baby cow.”

Rachel makes a noise like she’s choking on air.  “Doesn’t Michelle have vet techs for that kind of thing?  She’s supposed to be getting ready, not, not…”

“It’s cool,” Marco says.  “She’s got her makeup on, her hair is done perfectly, she’s got an apron-thing to keep her dress nice and gloves over her nails, it was a breech birth so they needed a real doctor and Walter was busy supervising the caterers, she’s got Menderash and Steve helping her out—”

“She kidnapped Jake’s dad?” Rachel demands overtop the continuing babble.

“He said he had never delivered an offspring outside of his own species before, and expressed deep curiosity on the subject,” Ax offers.  “Menderash is a certified medic with andalite training, so they should be well-equipped to assist.”

Marco makes jazz hands in the air.  “It’s a free pre-dinner show!  Cow birth.  Better than icebreakers.”

There’s a very long pause.  Rather than dignify that with a response, Rachel turns and stalks away.

Marco watches her go, halfway awed at her ability to navigate an open yard so well while not only wearing six-inch heels and a multi-layer floor-length dress, but also balancing an enormous updo on top of her head and a red-tailed hawk on her left shoulder.

“Is it just me, or did Jake and Cassie make a monster when they asked her to be maid of honor?” Marco says.

«You wanna take over her responsibilities, then?»

Of course Tobias heard that.  Stupid hawk hearing.

“No thank you!” Marco yells after them.

Cassie, meanwhile, is currently picking her way across the open space under the tent, bunches of dress hiked up to above her knees.  This last is, of course, the source of Rachel’s consternation.

“Here.”  Rachel attempts to pull the wads of skirt out of Cassie’s hands and drop them back to the ground.  “You’re going to wrinkle it.”

Cassie stubbornly refuses to let go.  “You told me not to let it drag on the ground.  If I let it down, it’ll drag.”

“Cassie, Cassie.  That is a hand-tailored Christian Dior gown that I commissioned to be custom-fitted to your measurements.  There is no way that it is too long if you let it…”

Cassie drops the bunches of tulle.  The end of the skirt falls all the way down, where the bottom two inches rest, unmistakably, on the muddy ground.

Rachel somehow manages to wince with her entire body while also not moving at all.

«It’s a look,» Tobias suggests, by way of consolation.  «Kind of.»

“How…?”  Rachel peers closer at Cassie.  “Wait, where are your shoes?”

Cassie shrugs, embarrassed.  “Uh, inside somewhere.  I was having trouble balancing in them.”

“Well that’s why!”  Rachel’s emphatic gesture almost dislodges Tobias.  With years’ experience, he dodges her waving arm and retains his perch.  “The dress was tailored to fit you with shoes on.”

“They were getting stuck in the grass—”

“They’re kitten heels!”

“Yeah, and they’re still heels.”  Cassie looks stuck somewhere between amusement and embarrassment.  “I don’t really do heels.  Sorry.”

“Hey Tobias?” Rachel says, as if to thin air.

«Nuh-uh, leave me out, I want no part in—»

“Remember me telling Cassie that we should really try the whole outfit on before the wedding?”

«Uh.  Yes?»

“Do you also remember Cassie agreeing to it, and then the day of, haring off to go try and save a bunch of vultures instead?  Remember how we tried to reschedule, and there was that ALF mission on the same day so she never showed?  Remember that?”

Cassie clears her throat loudly.  “I think it’s a very nice dress.  It’s fluffy and also comfortable, and look!”  She tucks her hands away.  “It has pockets.”

«Vultures are actually fundamental for waste disposal in ecosystems all over the world, and the poisons used on livestock—»

“Do you think you could at least wear the shoes long enough to go up the aisle?” Rachel asks.  “And maybe even for a few photos as well?”

 “Uh.  I’ll try.”  Cassie hikes her skirt back up (Rachel full-body winces again) and starts picking her way across the lawn back toward the house.

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to un-wrinkle it in time,” Rachel mutters.

«Yep.  So you’re just going to have to live with it.»

“I hate living with it.”

«Wanna go check on whatever monstrosity of a replacement bouquet Marco probably inflicted on Collette?»

“Fine, fine.”

**************

Cassie walks up the aisle in a custom-tailored gown, an edelweiss and valerian flower crown, and slightly muddy Timberland work boots.  The sole on the boots is apparently tall enough that the skirt does, not, in fact, drag on the ground or get tangled in her feet.

«Somewhere out there,» Tobias comments, «Christian Dior is crying into an overpriced silk handkerchief and doesn’t even know why.»

Marco has never more deeply felt the utter unfairness of Tobias being able to use thought-speak while human, because they’re currently standing at the front of the aisle and he can’t even respond.

But Rachel should still count this one as a win.  The gown looks stunning on Cassie, lacy and princess-ruffled while also having the kind of practical cut that allows her freedom of movement.  And, Marco notes with a smirk, freedom to wear her morphing leotard underneath; the purple spandex is just visible peeking out from underneath the white silk neckline.  He’s got morphing clothes under his own tux — never leaves home without ‘em — so really, he can’t judge.

Plus, Michelle’s got her dress and just her dress on by now, and her locs are still tucked into their silver-beaded updo.  Really, the cow birth was just a momentary inconvenience.

“Hi,” Jake whispers, when Cassie reaches him.

She grabs his hand.  Then she stuffs her bouquet into one of his jacket pockets, and grabs his other hand.  “Hi,” she whispers back.

“This is pretty exciting, huh?”

“Yep.”

Ax clears his throat delicately, and they stop talking.

“There is an Earth tradition,” Ax says to the entire assembly, “that the captain of any ship may perform a wedding ceremony at will.”

In the front row of seats, Michelle laces her fingers through Walter’s.

“Although there is no legal precedent for this custom,” Ax continues, “it is nevertheless possible to become ordained as a wedding officiant if one just completes the proper applications.”

One of Jake’s great-aunts mutters something loudly about the lack of rabbi.  Sarah leans over and kicks her in the ankle.  Rachel beams her approval.

“Therefore, I am here to make official through human custom that which has already been forged through affection and respect.”  Ax looks from Jake to Cassie and back.  “The bond between warriors who have fought and faced death together can be neither lessened nor improved upon by mere ceremony.  The honor shared between two such beings who have chosen to risk loving each other in spite of knowing the reality of loss is one that we recognize today.  We can recognize it, but not sanctify it beyond the sanctity of what these two humans have already shared.”

Rachel lets out an audible sniffle.  Marco does his best not to smirk at her.  It’s not that sappy a speech.

“I have been assured that the bond between two humans who like each other far exceeds the bond between those who merely enjoy each other’s company,” Ax says.

And now Marco has to fight the urge to bang his head against the nearest support pole.

“I have witnessed this myself.”  Ax stares around the room.  “I have witnessed compromise and forgiveness, compassion and challenge between these two.  I therefore believe it is correct and proper that this bond be formally recognized by the State of California.  Is there anything you would wish to add?” he says to Jake and Cassie.

Cassie leans up on tip-toe.  Jake bends to meet her.

She whispers her vows into his ear, not bothering to share with the rest of the gathering.  After a moment, tears on his face, he leans in and whispers back.

Recognizing his cue, Marco grabs the rings and passes them over.  They’re boring-looking, in his opinion, plain silicon bands without anything shiny.  But they’re also easy to morph, easy to shovel manure while wearing, easy to wear without catching on anything.  Very Cassie.  Very Jake.

Speaking of which, the Timberlands prove to be a good call.  When the time comes, Cassie stomps the shit out of that ceremonial glass.

**********

In a slight break with tradition, Rachel and Tobias are actually the first ones to go back down the aisle.  Then Marco wheels Collette out, followed by Tom and Melissa, then Jake and Cassie go.  That way, Rachel’s got time to sprint back over to the main tent and check on the banquet.

Most of the tables are arranged correctly, the centerpieces in place and the cards arrayed.  Rachel does a mad sprint of the room, straightening decorations and confirming with the caterers that they got all the instructions about who needs what in their diet.  Between the number of kosher eaters on Jake’s side and the number of vegetarians on Cassie’s, Rachel made the call to go all the way to a fully vegan buffet.  That’s probably going to get some of the relatives complaining about kids these days and rabbit food, but there’s no pleasing everyone.

Rachel deftly switches a few of the placecards, thereby putting Jordan on point to deal with their great-aunt and grandmother who have both already overindulged at the open bar, muttering an apology as she does.  She puts Tobias to work making sure the bows on the backs of chairs are straight, and rushes up to the long table at the front to confirm that the armless chair meant to accommodate Cassie’s bulky skirt is in the correct place.

D.J. is here, playlist at the ready.  Dance floor is clear of grass.  Weather’s holding, but tent covers are on standby.

Slightly sweaty, she rushes back out with a chair under each arm just in time to catch the guests coming across the lawn.

“Everyone except the parents, head off to the cocktail hour!” she calls.  “Jake, Cassie, moms and dads, with me.”

While Marco’s date (a photographer named Dakota) sets up the camera, Rachel goes into a flurry of motion straightening bowties, adjusting hairdos, and touching up makeup.  Steve’s got a spot of cow blood on his forehead, she discovers to her horror, and by the time she’s done scrubbing that off Jake’s managed to get his tuxedo jacket misaligned again.  Finally she steps back, breathing hard, and nods to Dakota.

Everyone smiles.  The camera goes off.

“Okay.”  Rachel claps her hands loudly, because Jake and Cassie are looking ready to stand up and go join the reception.  “That’s one down, just twenty-three to go.”

********

Rather than tossing her whole bouquet all at once, Cassie picks it apart and gives a single flower to every single guest she can find.  When the bouquet itself runs out, she disassembles her flower crown and hands that out piece by piece until everyone’s got at least one blossom.  It just seems fairer that way, she says when Rachel asks.

Several of the traditions, Rachel reflects, seem to be lost on Jake and Cassie.  They cut the first piece of cake… and immediately hand it to Ax.  And then they cut the second piece, and the third piece, and keep right on cutting slices of cake and handing them out to people until Rachel has to step in and wrest the knife away.  She’s grateful that they refrain from any of the food-fighting nonsense, since both their wedding outfits are headed to a charity auction first thing tomorrow morning, but honestly.  They’re supposed to eat the first two slices, not drop half a tier of cake into the black hole of hungry andalite.

Cake served, Marco clinks a fork against a glass.  “Ladies, gentlemen, and proletariats!”

There’s a general murmur as people look around, trying to spot who’s speaking.

With a hand from Jake, Marco climbs bodily onto the banquet table.  “Everyone!” he shouts, and now they’re all looking at him.  At him, and at the champagne flute in his hand.  “Jake and Cassie!”

It gets a polite round of applause.

“Gotta start at the beginning, right?”  Marco looks around the room, grinning.  “So there I am, some snot-nosed three-year-old, minding my own business.  And this chubby, dorky-looking little white kid comes running up to me and is like…”  He leans in.  “‘You wanna be my best friend?’”

He grins at Jake, who is flushing bright red.

“I shit you not, that was his opening line.  ‘You wanna be my best friend?’  So I’m like…”  Marco pantomimes reeling back in shock.  “I dunno man, seems like a lot of commitment to make to a total stranger.  You want explore our options first, maybe get a prenup, see if we’re compatible?  I mean, for all I know five years from now you’re gonna find some younger, hotter best friend and then there I’ll be out on my ear with nothing to show for it.”

There’s a smattering of laughter throughout the room.  Marco visibly draws strength from it.

“But you know what?”  Marco leans down to look around, smiling like he’s got a secret.  “Little dork kept right on showing up to my house and letting me use his television and getting his mom to give me fluffer nutters, and next thing I know it turns out he really is my best friend.  I think he was onto something.

“Anyway, you think that one was bad…”  He raises his eyebrows.  “Couple years later, there we are in first grade, and this girl in teeny-tiny first-grader overalls comes into the room like…”  

Marco claps one hand over the top of his champagne flute and clamps the other under the base, and actually walks a few steps down the table with the determined air of a very small and klutzy version of Cassie.

“And her opening line is…”  Marco raises the flute to his mouth like it’s a microphone, dropping his voice.  “‘You wanna see my moth?’”

Again, there’s a smattering of laughter.  Cassie has a hand over her mouth, halfway doubled over in giggles at the memory.

“Now, us being minuscule and all, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure that there was no double entendre going on here,” Marco says.  “And I have to admit, no one has used that line on me since.  So I say ‘sure,’ because I’m like six years old and this seems like a reasonable question.  She lifts her hand up…”

Marco accompanies this with a pantomime of peering through his own fingers into his champagne.

He looks up.  “And it’s not even a freaking moth!” he cries out.  “Turns out, it’s just some little worm thing.  So I tell her.”  He puts on a snotty voice, mocking his younger self.  “‘That’s not a moth, that’s just some little worm thing.’”

There’s a pause.  Marco glances around the room.  “See if you can tell where this story’s going.”

Marco and Cassie glance at each other.  Cassie’s grinning smugly.

“She puts it in the classroom’s terrarium,” Marco drawls.  “It turns into a rock.  Two weeks later, rock cracks open and out pops a moth.”

The room cracks up again.

“So fast forward another few years, and she’s standing there holding this eight-eyed, venom-fanged thing.  And she’s all like ‘just touch the spider, Marco.  Don’t you want to be a spider, Marco?  Isn’t it cute and fuzzy?’  As if she is completely unaware that she’s holding a giant-ass eight-legged freak.”  Marco takes a sip for strength.  “And right then, I look at Jake.  And I’m thinking Jake, don’t ever let this girl go.  Because if she doesn’t even think wolf spiders are ugly, then she’s got no idea about you.  So here’s to Jake and Cassie.  Made for each other, because no one else will have ‘em.”

Jake pokes Marco in the ankle, but he’s laughing as he does it.

“All right,” Marco says, “brace yourselves, and someone get some more tissues for my second mama, because I’m about to get sappy.  I love you, Jean!” he calls.  “I know we all gotta cry it out sometimes.”

She laughs and flaps a dismissive hand at him, but she’s also misty-eyed already.

“Dudes, I gotta be honest.”  Marco is looking at Jake and Cassie.  “I didn’t think we’d get here.  I honestly did not believe, for a good long while there, that there were gonna be any weddings or graduations or driver’s licenses in any of our futures.  Just seemed like a good idea not to bet on any of us having any futures, you know?  Seemed like it might be the surest option.”

Cassie laces her fingers through Jake’s.  Silently, her mouth pressed into a line, she nods.

“So, uh.”  Marco sniffs, spinning back around and thrusting his champagne flute into the air.  “Here’s to me being wrong, yeah?”

“To Marco being wrong!” Jake echoes, and tosses back his glass.

“To Marco being wrong!” the entire room calls back.

Marco jumps back down, Cassie and Jake catching him as he lands.

**********

After everyone but Menderash and Ax has finished eating, it’s Tom who becomes the next one to tink a fork against a glass for attention.

“In the spirit of full disclosure,” he tells the room, strolling slowly toward the head table.  “I promised my brother there wouldn’t be a horah.”  Tom stops, directly next to Cassie.  “But what he didn’t know is that I’d already made a promise to my new sister-in-law that there would be.  So what’s a guy to do?”

He snaps his fingers.

At this cue, several things happen at once.  The DJ switches to “Hava Nagila.”  Several people mob Jake at once.  Tom grabs Cassie and lifts her bodily over his head, carrying her chair and all to the middle of the dance floor.

With a squeak of laughter, Cassie grabs the top of Tom’s head for balance.  Jake is being hauled out next to her on a chair of his own, supported by Tobias and Menderash and Rachel and James.  Marco and Ax are herding the rest of the gathering, shoving people into a circle and linking arms together as they go.

“I hate you!” Jake calls over the sound of the music and his own fit of giggles.

“Gotta keep the in-laws happy!” Tom yells back, unrepentant.

*********

“You sure you’ve got everything you need?” Rachel asks.

Cheyenne, the head caterer, gives her a double thumbs-up.  The staff are tipped and most are ready to go, having divvied up the several extra schaeffers’ worth of falafel and butternut squash puree and other entrees that Rachel’d set aside for them.  Melissa is set to take over tending bar from here, as planned, and she’s going to keep the groomsmen after for a few minutes for cleanup duty.

“Okay.”  Rachel glances around at where the last of the countertops are getting a quick once-over with disinfectant.  “Okay.  If anything comes up…”

“I have your number.”  Cheyenne smiles and nods.

Pushing back out of the room, Rachel heads for the gift table.  Everything looks like it’s in good order, but she wants to make sure it all gets packed up properly and that none of the cards get lost in the kerfuffle.  It’s mostly donation receipts, at Jake and Cassie’s request, but some of the traditionalists on both sides came with soup tureens or the like —

“Hey.”  Jake catches her by the arm.

Rachel turns to look at him.  “What’s wrong?  Is it the great-aunts?”

“Nothing’s wrong.  It’s all perfect.”  He’s smiling shyly.  “Thanks.”

“I need to check on the gifts,” Rachel says, because she’s a coward who doesn’t know how to do mushy conversations, especially not with Jake.

“The gifts are fine,” he says.  “It’s all fine.  Because you made it that way.  So… thanks.”

When he pulls her into a hug, Rachel can’t resist straightening his hair one last time even as she returns the embrace.  “You realize I do this for fun, right?” she asks, holding him at arm’s length and looking him in the eye.  “Like, I could’ve hired a wedding planner, but honestly why bother?”

He shrugs.  “Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate everything.  All of it.  Without you, Cassie and I wouldn’t even…”

Then, because this is all getting too honest, Rachel links her arm through his and drags him onto the dance floor for, he’s about to realize, their middle school gym class’s favorite godawful square dance.

*********

When she has do-si-doed Jake within an inch of his life, Rachel tosses him at Cassie.  She pivots around and gives Tobias a flourishing courtesy; he returns it with an equally ridiculous bow.

“It is marvelous, how well they have adapted their balance to compensate for their lack of legs,” Menderash comments to Ax.

“Very true.”  Ax leans next to him against the bar.  They are currently sharing a delicious beverage Melissa has made for them, simply by unscrewing the lid from a nearly-empty jar of olives and handing over the remaining liquid.

It is true, some of the dancers are more talented than others.  Michelle and Walter are synchronized with each other and the beat of the music, even if their choice of moves is not nearly as audacious as the spinning thing Marco and Dakota are doing.  The bride and groom, meanwhile, are looking at their own feet and keep bumping into each other as they move.  Between their relative unconcern with anyone but each other and the broad hem of Cassie’s dress, the other couples are giving them a wide berth.

“Do you wish to attempt such feats?” Ax asks, glancing at Menderash.

Menderash gives a full-body shudder.  He flaps one hand in an andalite gesture that, if translated to English, would approximate fuck that.

Ax grins, drinking more olive juice.

“Have you done such a thing?” Menderash asks.

“Never for very long,” Ax says.

Jake and Cassie have given up on dancing entirely, descending into a giggle fit in the middle of the dance floor as they both attempt to disentangle Jake’s cuff link from the lace of Cassie’s hem.  Rachel swirls by, briefly blocking their view.  She’s switched partners.  Dakota is doing their best to teach Tobias how to waltz while Marco and Rachel are now swing-dancing their way across the dance floor.

As both andalites watch in awe, Rachel spins Marco in a circle, swinging him out and then drawing him back close to her body.  Marco pirouettes, throwing his head back so that his hair flares around his face, and then throws himself backwards.  Rachel catches him neatly around the waist, dipping him nearly to the floor.  Marco braces on her shoulders and she flings him upward with her whole body so that she actually lifts him off the floor for a second before gracefully sweeping him back down.  They separate until just the tips of their fingers are touching, and then spin back together until Marco suddenly swoops under Rachel’s arm, coming up on the far side as she pivots around in time fro him to fall back against her.

Ax is reminded of the way they fight.  There’s something almost joyful in their ferocity on the battlefield.  There’s something almost frightening in their enthusiasm on the dancefloor.  Neither of them seems to know how to do anything by half measure.

One by one the other clusters of dancers have stopped to watch as well.  Jake and Cassie, now sitting hopelessly tangled up in each other, seem quite happy to have the spotlight stolen.

Rachel swoops an arm around Marco’s waist and slides into a back-and-forth tango step.  Within two beats he’s caught on, falling into the same rhythm as her.  When the tempo of the song changes he grabs her shoulder and nudges her into a circular waltz.  They’re unrehearsed, and inexpert, but moving with such force and communicating so rapidly that it doesn’t really matter.

“Yes,” Menderash says softly, “I very much do not wish to attempt to dance.”

Ax smiles at him over the rim of the olive jar.  It’s empty, and in the time it takes him to set it back on the bar and catch her eye, Melissa has replaced it with maraschino cherry liquid.

The song crescendos; Marco leans his full weight back as Rachel flings him into a long spiraling turn that ends with him sliding on his knees clear between her legs, popping up behind her just in time to brace as she tips backward into him.  She spins once, twice, four times, then swings him into a dip so low that his hair brushes the floor.

As the song ends they freeze like that, chests heaving, hair damp with sweat.

They both seem to become aware at once that the whole room’s watching them.  Marco opens his mouth to say something, when Rachel’s smile turns wicked.  That’s the only warning he gets before she opens her arms and lets him drop.  Marco squawks indignantly, throwing out both elbows to catch himself.  He gets ahold of Rachel’s arm and tries to yank her down as well, but ends up pulling himself to his feet as well.

The whole room breaks out into clapping.  Marco sweeps into a low bow.  Rachel visibly considers pushing him over again before deciding against it.  Instead she runs to try and rescue Cassie’s hand-sewn lace hem and Jake’s antique silver cufflinks from their respective owners’ incompetence.

*********

“Hey Tobias?” Rachel says around a yawn.

«Uh-huh?»

Idly they watch as Tom waltzes Cassie’s grandmother around the dance floor.  She’s 4’11” to his 6’4”, so it’s pretty hilarious to witness.  But at least they’re not totally mismatched: each has a single sprig of valerian from Cassie’s bouquet tucked behind one ear.

She and Tobias are sitting on the ground at one corner of the dance floor.  Rachel’s got her shoes off to massage her aching ankles, and Tobias is perched back on her shoulder.  With clever motions of his beak he’s fishing the pins out of her hair one by one, dropping them into her hand as he slowly disassembles her updo.

“How do you feel about never, ever getting married?” Rachel asks.

Tobias drops another bobby pin into her hand.  «Best idea you’ve had all year.»

[yukipri]

On the Baratie, Part 5 Epilogue - a One Piece Mermaid AU Text Story

Here’s the final part of the Baratie series!

Includes my personal headcanons for Thatch’s backstory in this AU (and possibly canon, as I doubt we’ll learn much more about him sigh).

WARNINGS (actual warnings this time):

＊Trigger warnings for non-graphic violence, gore, unwilling self-harm, mention of thoughts of suicide, and body horror. Canon-typical dark backstory.

Slight ship warnings for: minor Sanji x Luffy, Thatch x Luffy, hint of bg Sabo x Luffy, but not ship-focused.

Continues off of past parts!

👒🐟On the Baratie, Part 1

👒🐟On the Baratie, Prologue

👒🐟On the Baratie, Part 2

👒🐟On the Baratie, Part 3

👒🐟On the Baratie, Part 4

~~

They've been traveling together for a while now. With more additions to the crew, Sanji's no longer the newest member. They leave East Blue, crossing over to the Grand Line. Their voyage continues onward.

Fitting into his role as the second cook of the ASL Pirates was easier than Sanji could have ever hoped, and he knows it's largely due to Thatch. Thatch, who, for all his incredible skill and titles and history, turns out to be...a remarkably normal person. It takes less than an hour for Sanji's awe over Thatch being his childhood idol to turn into pure indignation when the other cook professes his love for Luffy, and now their daily proposals to Luffy with food are just part of routine on the Merry.

(Sanji still knows his cooking is amateur in comparison to Thatch's, but none of their crew seems to realize, and Luffy eats all their food with equal gusto. Even Thatch himself only ever compliments Sanji, often with ridiculous faux outrage that Sanji's cooking looks better, which is absolutely false, Sanji would know. But even so, the man sounds so genuinely offended that Sanji can't help but appreciate the lengths the older man will go to in order to keep Sanji from feeling inferior.)

It's during a rare moment of calm, when the skies are clear and Deuce and Nami seem relaxed about their progress, when Sanji decides there's never going to be a better time to ask. He finishes washing the last of the pastry plates from the desserts the crew had just finished devouring (his hands momentarily pause on a plate that Ace had to pull out of Luffy's throat when she swallowed it whole along with the pastry, and Sanji allows himself a moment of imagining that the plate with her slobber is somewhat like an indirect kiss...), before he exits the kitchen to go to his locker.

From the locker, buried beneath gravure magazines of buxom ladies whose beauty will never compare to Luffy's, he pulls out a magazine far more valuable to him, the only one of its kind that he'd brought with him from the Baratie.

Back up on the main deck, Sanji finds Thatch sitting by the mast while watching Luffy and Usopp play with some new contraption the latter made. He looks up when he senses Sanji's approach, grimacing when the movement makes the wind blow his now loose hair into his mouth.

"I need a hair tie if Marco's not going to send me my damn hair wax," Thatch complains, even as he pats the ground next to him for Sanji to sit.

"You could always ask our lovely navigator," Sanji grunts as he drops down, careful not to fold the magazine, which Thatch has yet to notice.

"Ah, beautiful Miss Nami might have one, but her hair's pretty short...honestly more likely Deuce'll have one." Thatch sulks, because he'd really rather get a hair tie from a pretty lady, but as it is, Thatch probably has the longest hair on the crew at the moment, followed by their first mate. "If only our ladies had longer hair...ah, my darling Seastar with long hair..."

Sanji lets himself get drawn into imagining their most dazzling Lady Captain leaning against the rail of the Merry, sunlight sparkling off the waves in the background paling in comparison to her radiance. Her face is shadowed by her trademark straw hat, before she raises her head, causing long, silky strands to ripple around her like dark angel wings, glittering threads of black diamond dancing across her cheeks before she tucks them behind her ear with a small smile--

Both cooks sigh dreamily in perfect unison.

"Hey Luffy, they're thinking somethin' pervy about you again!" Usopp shouts in the background.

Both cooks ignore him, likewise in perfect synch.

Thatch regretfully pulls out of his Luffy Vision first. "So, you got something to talk to me about?" He knows it can't be about dinner, because they'd already started prepping for that.

Sanji blinks, and oh, there's Luffy, with her short hair, still just as lovely, probably doing something incredibly stupid and dangerous, but that's okay because Sabo's stepping in, and the Revolutionary may be batshit crazy but he won't let Luffy hurt herself--and right, he wanted to talk to Thatch.

He carefully brings the magazine out in front of him, and Thatch leans over curiously. The pages easily fall open to the column, remembering the page Sanji poured over countless times. Sanji hears Thatch's breath hitch.

"This you?" Sanji asks, looking at the faded photo of the smiling boy, before his eyes flick to Thatch.

The older man's eyes are wide, glued to the page. Sanji wordlessly offers him the magazine, and Thatch slowly takes it, his hands handling the paper carefully as though worried it'll crack.

"Yeah, that's me alright," Thatch murmurs, eyes scanning the column before his lips twist into a wry smile. "How the hell did you get your hands on this fossil?"

"Found it while we were looking for stuff for the Baratie's collection, some old second hand shop," Sanji says, and it's not a lie, but it's not like he can admit he was obsessed with them and actually hunted for them after obtaining the first ones.

Thatch makes a low sound of understanding, before he starts flipping through the rest of the magazine, pages that Sanji honestly doesn't even remember. "I wonder if this magazine's still even going..."

"It is," Sanji informs him. "It's changed a lot, but we still get it delivered."

Thatch laughs then, shaking his head as he closes the magazine and hands it back to Sanji with the same care. "I'm sure it has changed, after what happened, oh man..."

Sanji frowns. So something did happen.

"So how did the kid in this end up a Whitebeard pirate?" he asks, but he means, How did the boy's adventure end?

"Mm, you sure you wanna know? It's not a particularly nice story, though I suppose it has a happy end." Thatch leans back heavily against the mast, his hand subconsciously reaching up to brush hair away from his face, lingering on the deep, if old scar around his left eye. Sanji wonders if it's related.

"If it's something you don't mind sharing. I'm sure I can handle it."

They're interrupted by a crash, and look up to see Sabo heaving Luffy up back over the rail by the end of her tail. She'd clearly almost fallen overboard, again, but is laughing as carefree as ever, even as Usopp wrings his hands apologetically behind them. Sabo doesn't look mad though, and is stroking Luffy's hair now that she's safely back on deck and in his arms, his face disgustingly besotted.

Deuce and Nami come out of the cabin at the noise, and Ace and Zoro startle awake from their respective naps as well. Deuce takes one look at what's going on, and launches into a full blown scolding session for all three of the members involved, clearly dissatisfied with the way Sabo handled it. It had only taken the first mate a few days in his company before Deuce had determined that no matter how sensible Sabo may seem at times, he's still Another Stupid Brother, and therefore gets the same treatment.

The rest of the crew listening in winces when Deuce hurls a, "Luffy being stupid is one thing, but you're WAY too lenient with her, you foolish Revolutionary!" Nami and Koala cheer him on in the background.

("Told you," Ace mouths, before hastily looking away when Deuce's gaze snaps to him.)

Usopp looks thoroughly chastised and sincerely sorry, Sabo looks weirdly pleased as though being told he's lenient is a compliment, and Luffy looks bored and is searching for an escape when her gaze lands on the two cooks.

"Thatch! Story time?!" is all the warning they get, before Luffy's arms grab onto the mast behind them and the mermaid torpedoes head-first into Thatch's chest. It's a testament to the Whitebeard Commander's sturdiness that all he does is grunt at the considerable impact, even as Sanji winces in sympathy. That'll definitely bruise.

"Alright, yeah story time, if anyone wants to hear my boring old past," Thatch agrees, and Luffy cheers, turning herself sideways and flopping down on Thatch's crossed legs to look up at him with eyes sparkling with expectation. Sanji isn't even jealous, because in her new position, Luffy's thrown her tail across Sanji's lap, and he begins reverently rubbing circles into her soft scales, heat creeping up his cheeks when her flukes flick with pleasure.

Deuce sighs, giving up on his scolding as everyone gathers around the cooks. But he doesn't seem too disappointed, and pulls out his notebook as he joins them, as though he intends on recording whatever Thatch's going to say. Ace plops himself down on Thatch's other side, ruffling Luffy's hair distractedly and hiding his curiosity poorly. Sanji gets the feeling that despite knowing him for much longer, Ace hasn't heard much about Thatch's past either.

"Well, so..."

~~

Thatch was born to a middle class family in a relatively active port town on the Grand Line. His parents ran a modest diner, certainly nothing high class, but popular enough among the locals to almost always have full seats.

Thatch was what they called a "child prodigy." He'd started helping in the kitchen simply because he wanted to do the same things as his parents, but by the time he was seven, he'd already surpassed both of them in skill. His parents decided to leave the kitchen to him, while they focussed on management.

With Thatch behind the menu, the restaurant's popularity grew, drawing more traffic. Among their visitors were occasional food critics, who spread their business's reputation and made it something of a cult tourist spot.

When Thatch was nine, his father came up with the idea that it might be good publicity, for people to know that a literal child was behind their now famous restaurant's food. And in the name of said publicity, he also decided to have the restaurant officially under Thatch's name, although is parents still managed it.

"Child prodigy chef owns his own restaurant," was definitely a headline that journalists latched onto. The berries were rolling in.

Thatch himself, he didn't really care about that. He rarely ever left the kitchen now, constantly cooking, constantly coming up with new menu items, constantly training new chefs as their once small family diner expanded into a chain. He didn't really mind it, he loved cooking after all, but he often wished he still had time to talk to patrons, or explore town. While there weren't any child labor laws in their country, he couldn't go to school or make friends or do anything a normal child might otherwise enjoy.

So when the largest, most prominent cooking magazine sent a representative to talk about a potential column centered around him, Thatch was hopeful. He'd always dreamed of leaving the island, and it'd never seemed like an achievable dream. He wanted to exposure to new things to expand his cooking repertoire, and he wanted to be able to challenge himself as a cook--but more than anything, he also just wanted go and see what might be out there, outside of his diner's kitchen.

His parents reluctantly agreed. At this point, Thatch had trained enough experienced cooks, and their reputation was established enough that Thatch's temporary absence wouldn't damage them. And Thatch knew his parents were drawn by the potential for greater publicity from the column, and Thatch (and their restaurant) possibly becoming a household name not just on the Grand Line, but across the world.

(Thatch never thought his parents were bad people, or even bad parents. He hadn't wanted for anything, and they let him pursue and nurture his passion. That they were business-minded, and had also come to see Thatch as an asset and publicity tool was something he understood. They still loved him, in their own way.)

His parents' only condition was that Thatch return in a few years, before he was fifteen. A "child prodigy" becomes less interesting with age, and eventually becomes "a normal adult." They wanted Thatch back before that, to reestablish his connection to their diner, before he inevitably faded out of public interest, or had to re-establish his identity as an adult cook.

And so at eleven years old, what seemed like the entire town saw off Thatch, who set sail on a small ship manned by experienced sailors, and chaperoned by the journalist who would be documenting his voyage.

For the first two years, the journey was everything Thatch had ever wanted. They would go to new islands, information provided to him by the journalist, and then he would be given free reign to do whatever he wanted, so long as it included food and cooking, which is what Thatch would have been drawn to do anyway. That there were always a handful of adults a few paces behind him, documenting everything he did and forcing him to voice his thoughts out loud, all eventually faded into the background. Thatch got used to voicing his inner thoughts for their benefit. It was hardly a chore, and Thatch was having the time of his life.

But all things eventually change. Due to the success of the column, Thatch's journalist was given a promotion, and the last stretch of his journey before Thatch was to return to his home island was assigned to a new journalist. Thatch had always known that their relationship was strictly professional, and was used to changing traveling companions at this point. It felt a bit lonely that the first journalist, the only person who had remained a constant, was leaving...but he understood.

It's just business, after all.

The new journalist replaced the old one, and their journey continued--or at least, it was supposed to.

Child!Thatch, adult Thatch would later think, was remarkably naive and sheltered for all that he was a veteran cook. He was used to having things being laid out in front of him on a neat platter, for the adults in his life to control all aspects of his life, conveniently convincing himself that it's what he wanted anyway. He was used to the adults taking care of all the details, because all Thatch had to do to make everyone happy was cook. He not once doubted those responsible for his life, and blindly trusted that they would keep everything smooth and safe for him.

Because when one day, thirteen-year old Thatch woke up to see red staining the walls of the cabin, and then looked around to find the corpses of everyone else on the ship strewn around him, it took a remarkably long time for him to process that this definitely wasn't what was supposed to happen.

He was disoriented, too numb to even feel panic or put up a fight when the new journalist came in and tied him up to pass him to the pirates who had decimated the crew.

Pirates. It wasn't the Golden Age of Piracy yet, and although the Roger Pirates and other famous names were often whispered about, most sailors didn't expect to personally run into pirates. Thatch had been warned of their existence, but hadn't really thought much on them, as they had seemed irrelevant to his own peaceful civilian adventures.

The pirates and the journalist had a deal, he gathered. The pirates had wanted to get their hands on the famous child prodigy cook, and were willing to pay good money. The journalist had agreed, and had summoned the pirates to their location. Everyone but Thatch and the journalist had been killed to erase witnesses.

Before handing Thatch off to them, the journalist demanded payment first. Thatch remembers wondering why the journalist hadn't demanded anything before agreeing to the deal--it seemed a bad business tactic.

Thatch was standing right next to the journalist when the pirate captain drew his sword. Thatch wasn't scared, because he knew he wouldn't be hurt. He was an asset. And he probably knew what would happen before the journalist did.

He still remembers feeling the whoosh of air as the sword came, the sound of it hitting flesh, the dull thunk, the loosening of the arms gripping the rope that held Thatch bound.

Thatch thought ah, so human heads can be severed just as easily as fish heads.

Thatch didn't put up a fuss, going with the pirates. It was clear he couldn't have stayed on the ransacked ship, because even if he did, he had no way of manning the ship alone, even if he even knew how. And so he wordlessly followed, and continued to do what he'd done his whole life: obey adults.

And at first it wasn't bad. A kitchen was a kitchen, no matter how dirty, and Thatch knew how to please people with food. The pirates seemed overjoyed with Thatch's skill.

But some part of Thatch really wondered if that's all they wanted from him, and that bad feeling manifested itself as reality soon.

Hey brat, the captain said one day, and dumped a sack of ingredients Thatch had never used before into the kitchen. Turn this into something good. We need to get rid of an entire rival crew, and they're gluttons.

Thatch may never have used them before, but he recognized the things in the bag. They were all things he knew to avoid.

The pirate captain was asking him to make poison.

Thatch was a cook. No matter the reasons why people wanted him to cook, no matter who benefited and what money was passed around, and no matter how terrible the conditions--Thatch was alright so long as he could cook. Thatch cooked so that he could make delicious things that would in the end, contribute to nourishing people. He polished his skills to make that experience better, to make his patrons happier, to make himself feel more accomplished as a result.

Poison...that wasn't something that a cook could make.

Thatch, for the first time, spoke back to an adult. He felt that numb feeling again, over any fear.

I'm a cook, I can't make anything that can harm people. Please let me start preparing dinner. Thatch stated it as fact, and to him, it was.

The pirate struck Thatch. It was the first time he'd ever been hit, because as a child prodigy, as an asset, he'd always been too valuable to damage. But now...

You'll make it, or we have no need for you.

Bars were added to the kitchen, making it Thatch's cell. All edible ingredients were confiscated. And every day, the pirates came in with more ingredients, more demands.

Make an aphrodisiac. Make a date rape drug. Make something that'll make someone lose feeling in their limbs. Make something that'll cause loss of senses. Make something that'll cause crazy hallucinations. Make something deadly, but undetectable in water. Make something that can dissolve guts from the inside out. Make something that won't kill, but cause excruciating pain. Make something that WILL kill, but only after several days.

The pirates didn't want a cook. They wanted a master poisons brewer. Which, Thatch was not.

Every time Thatch refused, they beat him. They threatened to cut off his legs, because why would he need them, when all he needed were his hands? They threatened to carve out his eyes, and the captain stabbed a knife close to his left eye to show how serious he was. They left Thatch with running water, but didn't give him anything to eat, other than the deadly, horrible ingredients they'd left inside the kitchen for him to turn into even worse poisons.

Thatch sorted the ingredients by those least harmful, and kept himself alive by reluctantly eating those first, but knew that the longer this continued, the more permanent and fatal the damage those ingredients would cause.

(He tried to come up with ways to use what he had to nullify effects, but he was just a kid, and it was his first time trying to make actual medicine. His experiments were risky, and often failed.)

Thatch didn't know how long he was in there, his sense of time and self muddled as he survived off of numbing agents and aphrodisiacs and hallucinogens. They barely kept him alive, and made him feel horrible. He tried to remember why it was so important he kept eating them, and rationing them like they were valuable.

In the corner of the kitchen was an ever growing pile of bright, beautiful fruits that he knew would cause immediate agonizing death...but they looked so lusciously juicy and ripe, and it was getting harder to remember why he couldn't eat them.

Perhaps it was the hallucinogens, perhaps it was everything wrong with his body that Thatch had unwillingly caused himself by eating, but one day, Thatch realized he was going through the movements of peeling those fruits, chopping them, squeezing the juices and watching with fascination as they sizzled into the bubbling pot he was brewing. He was too entranced by the concoction to even notice that his hands were burning and blistering, or perhaps they were just too numb.

He added spices, adjusted heat, and hummed. It had been too long, since he had cooked.

Except he wasn't cooking, because this wasn't food.

It smelled quite delicious, Thatch thought, mildly impressed with himself. Something tropical and fruity, mellowed by mushrooms and a great many other herbs. And it looked aesthetically pleasing, with its dancing, hypnotic colors. If he hadn't known what had gone into it, he'd consider it presentable to critics as his next seasonal special.

But now that it was done, and ready to be served, Thatch had no clue what to do with it.

He hadn't thought that far (he wasn't thinking at all), and didn't know how to think about the thing he made, when it wasn't edible.

He supposed he could possibly see if it could melt through the bars of his cell, though he wasn't sure where he'd even go if he could escape. The cell didn't have any windows, and Thatch wasn't even sure they were at an island, they could still be on open water. Thatch might be able to throw it on a pirate, as a weapon. But there were dozens of pirates on board, and not nearly enough for all of them.

He could drink it himself. It would be an escape of sorts, he supposed.

It never crossed Thatch's mind to offer the concoction to the pirates, as a creation to be used.

He stood in the kitchen for hours, aimlessly stirring the pot, watching the brew get darker and darker, its magical colors turning into murky brown. Eventually, it became a thick, black tar-like substance that reflected no light, that looked like a void as Thatch stared into it.

A thin gray haze gradually began filling the room, and Thatch was well aware of it. He was already starting to feel noticeably worse than before. He supposed that was one way of giving himself a time limit: he'd either decide what to do with the brew, or succumb to the fumes first.

He distantly heard muted sounds overhead, and he realized the pirates may be fighting someone. It happened once in a while. But it was usually with other pirates, and he doubted it was the marines, and no civilian vessel would dare get close to such an obvious pirate ship. And well, if it was pirates...that's just more of the same, wasn't it?

Thatch eventually heard footsteps approaching the room, and someone coughing as they inhaled the fumes, now dense enough to be a dark smog that made it hard to see his own hands (or maybe that was the effect of the poison in him).

A creak--the cell doors were opening.

Thatch could barely think anymore, but made a split second decision. He didn't know what the consequences would be, but had a hunch he wouldn't survive long enough to find out anyway, so what did it matter.

He picked up the pot, and hurled all of its contents at the approaching figure.

There was a FUCK! and then--

Thatch won't ever forget what happened when that brew hit a human body.

But as he fell, the last of his strength gone, wondering if he should feel horrible or proud that he killed someone on his way out, Thatch saw the room light up, the black haze vanishing into searing, brilliant turquoise flames.

~~

"And so that's how I met Marco!" Thatch says, voice surprisingly chipper, even though Sanji feels like retching.

"You melted him," Ace says flatly, voice a mix of horror and awe.

"Sure did, if he had been anyone else they probably woulda been a puddle of human goo, and even he got halfway there," Thatch agrees, his hands stroking Luffy's hair harder, as they'd been doing all throughout his story telling. "Though lucky me, to have thrown poison at possibly one of the only people in the world with instant self-regeneration and possibly immortality."

"Was he mad? Pineapple bird-man. Melting doesn't sound very fun," Luffy frowns. She'd admittedly fallen asleep for most of the story, but woke up again when Thatch's hands in her hair got more tense, more urgent. She contentedly nuzzles into his thigh, more interested in making sure that Thatch's alright than in his answer, and she purrs when he crooks his fingers to scritch her reassuringly.

"Oh sure, he was mad for a little bit, but he's a nice guy and was a worry-wort even back then, so he brought me to Pops. And well, it took a while, but we're best buddies now and have been for years! Fancy that."

Deuce was shaking his head. "I still can't believe that stupid crew wanted to take down Pops with poison of all things, and were stupid enough to enter his territory without it even being ready."

"Well, it's not like they could have won in direct combat, and to be fair, back then the Four Emperors weren't that established, and territories in the New World were a lot looser than they are now." Thatch shrugged. "If nothing else, it was a creative angle, if a poorly thought out one, unlike some people's way of challenging Pops." Ace fidgets uncomfortably here, and Deuce snorts.

"You..." Sanji's finally recovering from his queasiness, because fuck Thatch's tale really wasn't pretty, especially from a cook's perspective. "You don't mind fighting, and killing people now?" He glances at the swords strapped to Thatch's belt, and thinks about his own insistence to never use his hands in combat.

"Well, I'd prefer not to do it, same as anyone else. But I don't mind fighting in general, and once Pops adopted me, I wanted to be able to defend myself." Thatch laughs here, and it sounds bitter, making Luffy look up. "Haruta actually suggested I use poison, if I knew how to make one that could almost take down the Phoenix, and, well...that's a no. May have thrown him overboard for that, but he deserved it. I told them I was good with knives, and Vista helped me develop my own style."

The conversation moves on then, the other crew members chipping in with questions, but Sanji sort of tunes it all out. He thought he was over his queasiness, but it's back again. Being forced to brew poison, and being offered nothing but harmful things to eat...fuck. Even Judge hadn't done that...

He feels something wrap around him then, and Sanji looks down, and realizes that Luffy's looped her tail so that her flukes curl behind his back, securely holding him, even as she continues to nuzzle Thatch's leg for attention.

How weak he must be, Sanji thinks, to need his captain's comfort now. But it helps, and he gradually relaxes.

Eventually the others realize that the story's over, and disperse back to their usual tasks, leaving Thatch and Sanji and a snoozing Luffy curled around both of their laps.

"Well, I guess that explains how the boy prodigy's journey ended," Sanji says, reaching over to Thatch's side to run his hand through Luffy's hair, smiling when she hums happily.

Thatch makes a soft sound, that sounds like possibly disagreement. "Well, sure, I ended up joining the Whitebeard pirates, and never ended up going back to my hometown. Everyone thought I was dead anyway, and being on the Moby was better than any restaurant for me, because I got to feed my brothers and travel, at least wherever the Moby goes, and that's still a fine adventure in its own way. But I guess you're right in that with a territory and a literal army backing me up...it's not quite the same kind of adventure, without the trill of the unknown."

Thatch looks up then, and when his eyes sweep across their little ship, and the small crew strewn about it, he looks fond. "But I guess in a way, that's what I'm doing now, isn't it? I may no longer be a 'boy prodigy,' but me traveling with you guys, going back up the Grand Line...it's sorta like that journey again."

Sanji blinks.

"The end of that journey...maybe you're on it with me, right now." Thatch winks.

Sanji snorts. "That's so cheesy," he says, but he doesn't meant it, not really, because he can't deny the giddiness that begins welling up in him at the thought.

Because what adult doesn't still have a child inside them, buried underneath layers of years, still craving those wishful dreams from long ago?

There's a moment of silence, before both cooks break out into laughter, carefree and boyish.

And so their journey continues onward.

~~

~~

Aaand that's a wrap! For this lil story series within this ever growing AU at least!

It may be a cheesy ending, but it still feels like an ending of sorts? which, is something I usually never actually manage to write to, everything I write is usually either short or abandoned....so I Feel Accomplished ^ ^;;

If you managed to get through it all, thanks so much for reading and sticking with this!!!! ;A; I’m definitely extremely curious to know if you have any thoughts regarding my take on Thatch's past, or anything else, because as always any comments are HUGELY appreciated!

Thanks again!

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

[lo-55]

Broken Wings

By all rights, the scars shouldn’t have existed in the first place. Ace x Marco   

 By all rights, the scars shouldn’t have existed in the first place. Ace x Marco

Ace first noticed the mark before he was Whitebeard’s son. Or, more accurately, before he knew he was one of his sons. Back when everyone who was not named Portgas D. Ace had already accepted that he was a part of the family, and was just being difficult at this point.

Ace had a lot of hiding places on the ship. He’d found at least a dozen in the week he’d been their captive, small slates that could be safely removed and revealed enough space for a young man to squeeze in, storage rooms that were barely used, and one particular closet that housed the spare sails. He could hide away all day, until his stomach demanded that he steal food or he had a new plan to try and take the old man’s head.

Frustratingly, no matter where he went, Marco could always find him. Was he a phoenix or a freaking bloodhound?

Ace had hoped that his latest hiding place would remedy that.

After all, who would look in their own window seat for a captive?

Ace muffled a snicker at his own cleverness and settled against the wood, safe behind the curtains that Marco kept drawn. Ace wasn’t sure why Marco had the box with the window in it, which gave the best view of the seas. The window’s even had a latch, unlike anything Ace had seen on a ship before. Most rooms only had a porthole, if that, and they definitely didn’t open.

The young man was very smug, settled in and waiting. Let Marco find him now!

Ace woke up from that thought sometimes around sunset, the narcoleptic attack ending as quick as it came. He looked out, watching the sun burn across the horizon as it sank into the waves. Orange melted down in the water, molten fire. Ace breathed in the dying warmth, drawing it into his veins.

The door opened with a soft clock, so minute Ace almost missed it. He stiffened, barely daring breath. Had Marco found him?

Even if he had, it wasn’t like Ace had gone snooping through his things. He’d just sat himself in the window and taken an unwilling nap. He hadn’t gone through the carefully stacked manila folders, or pulled open the drawers in the desk. He hadn’t gone riffling through the closet, or even touched his sheets.

Ace waited a few minutes before he carefully parted the curtains, just enough to peak out.

Marco was facing away from him, dropping his lilac shirt into a hamper. He reached for the blue one he had already laid out, stretching the scar on his back.

It was bad, ugly, stretching from beneath the sash at his hips up to his shoulder blades and back. The cut that had made it was too jagged for it to have been done cleanly, or with any skill, and it was clearly done with the intent to hurt, mock.

Ace pulled his face back, suddenly sick with the feeling of intruding. He waited until Marco had left the room to sneak out, running off to hide somewhere else. He didn’t go back to the window box. He had already seen more than he was meant to.

~                                                 ~                                ~

The second time Ace saw it was at an onsen on a winter island that was under their protection. They had gone to celebrate Ace finally becoming Whitebeard’s son. It was a lavish affair, and after the party wound down everyone parted ways. Some went back to the ship, some went to see what the local girls thought of pirate boys. Ace decided to try the water out.

Now, he may not have always been the most strategic of thinkers, but Ace was, by no means, stupid. Impulsive, reckless, bullheaded even, but not stupid. So when he decided he wanted to soak in the hot water, he grabbed the nearest person to him, who happened to be Marco, and declared,

“Take a bath with me.”

To which he received a slightly more open eyed stare than usual. Marco went back to his sleepy expression a second later.

“No,” he said blandly. Ace frowned, about to argue, when he remembered the macabre decoration carved into his new brother’s back.

“Then watch me take one,” he countered instead. Marco stared at him again, until Ace realized his mistake. Face heating, he smacked the bird. “Not like that! If I fall asleep in the water, I’ll drown.”

“Then stay out of the water, yoi,” Marco reasoned. He hadn’t even flinched for Ace’s blow.

Ace made a face at the older pirate, face scrunched up like a bulldog trying to get a biscuit.

Marco snorted at him and the lines of his face eased into a softness that made Ace’s stomach curl delightfully around itself. He swallowed back a lump trying to form in his throat, eyes wider.

“Alright, alright,” Marco waved his hand. “I’ll make sure you don’t drown.”

Ace positively beamed at him. He threw an arm around his brother, dragging the taller man into him. To his credit Marco didn’t stumble, just leaned down at little to make up for the different in their height.

“You’re the best!” he told the phoenix, handing him the praise a few inches from his face. Marco, lackadaisy as ever, poked Ace’s hat a few inches higher.

“Just start walking, yoi.”

Ace did, his arm migrating from being looped around Marco’s neck to his arm. If Marco thought anything about how childish Ace was, he didn’t mention it.

Both of them had a room to themselves, but Ace went to his for the sake of actually knowing where that was. The rooms were already impressive enough, especially to someone who’d grown up the way Ace had, but more than the wide space or the fine paintings on the wall, more than the well stuffed cushions around the small table or the silk sheets over the mats, the baths were grand.

A hot spring, each expensive suite accompanied by one, bubble up from the ground with water that bordered on scalding. Rich minerals rolled through the stone with the water that filled the bath, big enough to hold five men, let alone two. A tree swung it’s low branches down near the water, causing ripples where it brushed. The whole thing was bordered with a powdery snow fall that hadn’t quite melted yet.

Ace stripped, shameless in front of another man, and tossed his clothes carelessly into the corner before he slipped into the water.

On anyone else it would have been too hot to simply jump into. For a man made out of fire, it was just warm enough to sink into his skin and feel pleasantly warm.

A soft, contented sigh escaped him. He hadn’t realized until then the kind of pressure he’d been under, constantly anxious, waiting for someone to get sick of him and attack. Constantly weary of where he was, who was around and what was in his food. Always truing to come up with a way to kill Whitebeard, even surrounded by a ship of people who kill and die for him.

Ace’s head lolled back. His chest caved in with the built up stress finally being released.

Long fingers slid into his hair, drawing dark eyes open to look up at Marco’s droopy eyed stare. A small tug and a soft ‘thump’ sounded behind his head.

“You still have your hat on,” he explained. Ace hummed and leaned into the fingers. It felt nice, being touched like that. Luffy had been all about physical contact, but there was something different between his little brother clinging to him at every opportunity and Marco taking the time to make sure he didn’t hurt his most valuable possession, some foreign in the gentle way his fingertips touched Ace’s scalp.

“Thanks,” he remembered his manners, at least. When Marco’s touched wandered from his head to his shoulders, to one of the arms Ace had stretched out on either side of him, he did nothing to stop it. Not even when his fingers found the familiar crossbones over the extra letter in his name.

Ace looked at Marco’s face, waiting for the inevitable question. A question that never came.

Marco pulled his hand back to himself, to Ace’s disappointment. On impulse, Ace grabbed it before it was out of reach.

Marco glanced at him.

“Yes? He prompted.

Ace paused. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Are you sure you don’t want in?” he asked again, fully expecting denial.

When Marco sighed and pulled his hand back to take off his shirt, Ace was stunned. He hadn’t actually expected for Marco to join him, but here he was, stripping down. Ace would be lying of he said he didn’t watch him, letting his eyes wander down the man's legs, up over his chest, and higher until he met a smug smile and dark eyes.

Ace’s face heated quickly and he looked away, sinking down in the water. Shit.

“Like what you see?” Marco teased, easing himself in across from Ace. The younger man didn’t miss the way he kept his back to him.

“Eat me,” Ace replied, eloquence personified.

Marco snorted and sunk in to his shoulders, tilting his head back and letting out a groan that had to be intentional. Ace decided then that Marco was a dick.

“I didn’t say it before, yoi,” Marco said some minute later, “But welcome home, brother. We’re glad you found us.”

Ace flushed warmly, a goofy smile spreading across his face. That same warmth curled in his stomach once more, Marco met his smile with a half one of his own.

“I’m glad I didn’t get a lucky shot in and kill the old- and kill Pops,” he tested the word, rolling it around in his mouth. His father. Ace hadn’t known how much he needed one until he had one, and now he didn’t think he could ever let go of the feeling of being someone’s son. Someone other that him.

Marco laughed, long and hard. Ace’s face only got hotter.

“You were never going to kill him, you know,” he said, without the mocking bite that Ace expected for trying to murder the strongest man in the world, on at least twenty seven different occasions. He sighed heavily.

“I do now!” Ace tilted his head back against the stone, slightly cooler than the water, and closed his eyes.

He woke up when he found himself being jostled, picked up out of the water and slung over Marco’s shoulder like he weighed nothing at all.

Dark eyes blinked a few times before they focussed on his butt, then quickly migrated to the scars mutilating his back. Ace swallowed a sudden wave of nausea and anger. They were even worse close up, horribly detailed in their depiction. It made his stomach roil with the desire to burn whoever had done it to ashes.

He pressed his face into Marco’s back, so he wouldn’t have to see, and wrapped his arms around his chest and an awkward hug. It drew a soft laugh from the man carrying him.

“Go back to sleep,” he advised for the first time, “I won’t let you drown.”

Ace had no doubt about that. He obeyed and closed his eyes.

~                                           ~                                       ~    

Ace saw it again weeks later, though he didn’t ask about it.

When he ran his hands down Marco’s ribs and lay his lips across his chest, Marco let him push the shirt off. The fire in his veins roared to life and he tumbled into the bed, letting Marco roll them until he was hovering above Ace, kissing his hard. Ace thought he could drown like that, kissing Marco, grasping at his shoulders, sinking his nails into his arms.

They tumbled, pressed against each other, kicking up a ruckus that settled more than a few bets.

Ace found himself laid out of his back, grinning like mad at the ceiling. His head was hazy, his skin was steadily cooling even as Marco ran his palm across Ace’s stomach, reaching a small scar that slid between his ribs, barely an inch across.

Ace didn’t have to look to know the one his fingers had paused on.

“They took me by surprise, before I ate the fruit,” he said without prompting. “Probably the closest I’ve ever come to dying. And it’s tiny!”  

“Right into your lung,” Marco agreed. His fingers moved on, to a slightly larger mark, much more faded, on his chest. He tapped it, drumming his fingers over the three slashes. “Feline?”

“Giant tiger,” Ace confirmed. “I was like, eleven? It looked smaller from in the tree…”

Marco laughed at him and leaned down to look him in the eyes. “How don’t you have more scars?”

“Luck? Stubbornness? I don’t have your healing factor,” he elbowed Marco playfully. Still, Marco had scars of his own. Worse than any of the ones Ace had ever seen before, and he’d seen some shit.

His thoughts must have showed on his face for some of the calm bliss Marco had been exuding dissipated. His smile faded, his sleepy eyes dimmed and he rolled, snatching his shirt off of the floor. Ace watched him, letting the horrible image on Marco’s back burn into his retina.

Ace could still picture it even after he’d dressed and walked out the door.

~                                             ~                                              ~

The fourth time, Ace couldn’t help it.

Marco had, for once, slept in. Ace had volunteered to go get him. He didn’t see anything wrong with it. He even knocked, softly, before he poked his head inside. There wasn’t much room for shame on a pirate ship. So Ace walked in, paused at the doorway, and stared.

Marco had fallen face first onto his bed and was out cold, his shoulders moving steadily with each breath. Up, down, up, down. His lilac shirt lay crumpled under his arms, his pants hung uselessly over the edge of the bed, leaving him in nothing save his boxers.

Green, Ace noted idly as he approached on soft feet.

He stood at Marco’s side, looking down his long body. As strong as he was, the man was light enough for most of them to lift with one hand. A side effect of being part bird, Ace figured.

The scars stretched across his back, before Ace’s eyes. It made him sick. His fingers itched, drawing to lay feather-light across the horrible fresco painted into Marco’s skin. He followed the curve that wrapped across his shoulder blades, down his ribs, to his lower back.

“Who hurt you?” he breath the question to the air.

“I haven’t always been Whitebeards son, you know.”

Ace snatched his hand back like he’d been burned, head snapping down to look at Marco’s face. Even though his smile was amused it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You’re awake,” he wanted to smack himself for such a stupid statement. Marco just smiled at him, indulgent.

“Hand me my pants,” he pointed, “And I’ll tell you a story.”

Ace grabbed them and handed them over, stomach clenching in a way that nothing to do with the way the ocean rolled under their feet. Marco sat up and pulled his pants on, threading his favorite sash through them when Ace gave it over without needing to be asked.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Ace warned him.

“I know,” Marco assured. He didn’t reach for his shirt quite yet. Ace watched his face, not his back or his shoulders. Focused on the lines of his face instead of the marring on his back.

Ace waited in silence for Marco to do on. When he did, it was a credit to his skills that he sounded exactly the same way he always did. Unbothered by anything.

“Not all pirate’s work the way we do. Not all crews are a family, or even a group of friends. Some of them are cobbled together by desperate people, or bound as one by force and fear,” Marco looked at the window, not at Ace. “We were formed before Gol D. Roger started this age of piracy. It was a dark time, for the world and for me. The captain found use for me, for my abilities and my adaptation. I made a good shield in a fight, and I was too young to understand what he was doing to be wrong. What boy wouldn’t do anything to protect their ‘father’?”

Ace swallowed a lump in his throat. He didn’t dare say anything.  

“Someone shot through me once, though, and hit him in the leg. He found a fitting punishment. He made sure I couldn’t forget my failure. If I didn’t know what seastone did before, I certainly did after.”

“Marco…” Ace didn’t know what to say. So he kissed him, long a slow. Trying to explain what he didn’t have the words to say. That his father was a piece of shit. That that wasn’t his father, Whitebeard was. That Ace was glad he was here and would fight anyone who tried to hurt him again.

Marco kissed him back, smiling against his lips. Ace wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. He let his hands slide up, across the mangled skin. A heat burned in his chest, fury at the man who had done that, love for the man it was laid upon.

Ace let Marco push him back onto the bed, fingers ghosting across his back. A fire ignited around them, blue and red warring as the two pirates grasped at each other desperately, feelings burning into skin.

As blue flames wrapped around him, Ace chased away the memory of the wings on Marco’s back.

He let himself be consumed by the fire.