#let's not talk about my penmanship

[yankasmiles]

happy yamatsuki day!

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part four

1,321 words

one two three

Eddie the hobbit, huh? i haven’t read that one (which isn’t saying much cause i've only read books from class) it’s probably good i’d love to hear you talk about it i’d love to hear you talk about anything, though, so maybe i’m biased p.s. i know it makes me sound like an inconsiderate asshole and maybe i am but i’m only now realizing that i don't know if you want me to stop with these i’m sorry if you do promise i’ll figure out a way to ask -H

Eddie finding a way to reply to him about the book gives Steve peace of mind that he doesn’t want him to stop with the notes, but he still feels sort of weird about it. His thoughts go round and round all day and by the time the dismissal bell rings, he has a bit of a headache. 

After checking that he has enough cash on him, Steve goes out to the picnic table behind the school where Mark Jones sells pot most days. 

He makes his way into the clearing only to see someone who is certainly not Mark Jones perched on top of the table. 

Steve stops dead in his tracks.

Eddie grins sharply and holds his arms out wide. “What have I done to be blessed with his highness’ presence?”

Steve wants to talk to him. Wants to tell him to just call him Steve, wants to ask about his book, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “What are you doing here?”

Eddie’s arms drop to his sides, and he raises his eyebrows in question.

“Where’s Jones?” Steve clarifies, taking slow steps forward.

“Ah, I see. You’re here for my wares.” Eddie abruptly jumps from his seat and stretches with a groan that has Steve’s cheeks heating up. Eddie meanders over to the other side of the table before looking back at Steve and tilting his head in amusement. “Unfortunately, Mark has been let go. He had a nasty pilfering habit.” 

Whatever the fuck that means.

Steve can’t help the small smile that grows on his face, but he lifts his hand up to wipe it off inconspicuously. He’s never talked to Eddie before. 

Eddie drops onto the bench and gestures for Steve to sit across from him. As he does, Eddie opens his lunchbox and begins to rifle through it. Steve lets his eyes trail to Eddie’s hands while his focus is elsewhere. This close, Steve can finally see what shape the chunky silver ring is. A skull with fangs. Of course, it’s a skull. He should’ve known. 

Steve thinks about complimenting it but decides it would only make Eddie suspicious, and he doesn’t wanna be found out (yet, he thinks then immediately backtracks. He can’t let anyone know that he’s writing love notes to a boy. Especially not the boy himself. Who knows how Eddie would react. Even though Steve hasn’t been trying to come off as a girl through the notes, and even though no one could possibly mistake his chicken scratch penmanship for that of a girl’s, still. No one can know).

“So.” Eddie claps his hands and Steve’s eyes snap to his face. “What’ll it be, my liege?”

Steve clears his throat. “Uh, I usually just go for a couple of pre-rolls.”

“Mhm, great choice. Prepared these myself.” Eddie swipes a baggie with two in it and holds it out. When Steve goes to grab it, though, Eddie pulls it out of his reach. “Ah ah ah, Harrington, no freebies.”

Steve rolls his eyes and huffs a laugh. “Yeah, alright, man.” He pulls his wallet out and hands him what he usually pays.

Eddie takes the money and counts it leisurely. “You’re five bucks short.”

Steve stares at him deadpan. 

“Birthday fee,” Eddie offers in explanation, shrugging like 'what can you do?’ “Can’t a guy make some extra change for his special day?” Eddie bats his eyelashes.

This boy is trying to kill him. Steve looks heavenward for strength. He counts down from five in his head and only then does he risk looking back at Eddie. “It’s your birthday?”

Eddie grins. “Yup,” he says, popping the p, “Tomorrow. The big one eight.”

Steve stands and tosses a ten onto the table. Eddie passes him the baggie and starts shuffling through his lunchbox. He pulls out a five and holds it out.

Steve waves him off and Eddie peers up at him suspiciously before shrugging and returning the bill to his stash. Steve turns on his heel and begins his journey back to the parking lot. “Happy birthday to me, I guess,” Eddie mutters and Steve smiles to himself. He shoves his hands in his pockets and pivots to walk backwards. 

“Happy birthday, Munson,” he calls, and Eddie’s head snaps up.

Steve grins before turning back around and breaking into a jog. 

It’s not often that Steve finds himself in the thrift store. Not ever, actually, but with all that Eddie complains about capitalism and The Man (who the fuck is the man) and whatnot, he supposes this is his best bet. 

Steve wanders around, not even really knowing what he’s looking for. He’s idly skimming over the women’s jewelry section when he finds it. A silver ring with a blackish blueish stone in the center. It’s not that far off from the one Eddie already has, is it?

Steve tries it on and it’s a bit snug. He’ll admit that he spent far too much time earlier looking at Eddie’s hands and he thinks they were about the same size as his own, if not a bit thinner. 

It’s perfect. 

…He hopes it’s perfect. 

Eddie heard through the grapevine today’s someone’s b-day i left a gift for you under the dealer’s table p.s. it didn’t fit in the locker p.s.s sorry if this is weird but you’ll understand once you see it -H

He jogs to plant the present in its place. He’d rolled the second note up and slipped the ring onto it. It kinda looks like a scroll.

happy birthday eddie i don’t know if you want me to keep writing or if you think it’s weird or what if you want me to stop just don’t wear the ring and i’ll back off i hope you have a good day and that you like the ring <3 p.s. you’re older than me now

Steve is so anxious that he feels nauseous by the time he makes his way back to practice and it must show because coach tells him to take the bench. Tommy shoots him a worried glance but Steve just waves him off.  

By lunchtime, Steve doesn’t think he can look. He doesn’t know why it feels like this. Like Eddie not wearing the ring would be the end of the world. 

He manages to avoid looking for the first ten minutes and is seriously worried that he won’t have the guts to do it. Just as he’s resigned himself to his fate, Tommy groans from where he’s sitting in Steve’s usual seat (he hadn’t questioned the change) and then he cups his hands around his mouth and shouts.

“Get down, freak!”

Steve only just manages to not flinch. Slowly, he turns in his seat. Eddie pays no mind to Tommy other than flipping him off without even looking in his direction or pausing in his speech.

Eddie is currently using a lunch table as a stage as his friends grin up at him, egging him on. He’s passionate about whatever it is he’s talking about. Steve can tell from the way he begins gesturing wildly as he speaks. 

Steve can't tear his eyes away. He feels like he's finally been given permission to look since half of the cafeteria has their attention on him. 

It’s then that Steve glimpses the ring on Eddie's right hand. His ring.

five

tag list (closed)

@sofadofax @noodle-shenaniganery @queenie-ofthe-void @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @devondespresso

@dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie

@dreamy-jeans137 @justdrugsformethanks @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething @sleepy-steve

@wheneverfeasible @bisexual-and-broke @lil-gremlin-things @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx

@tinyplanet95

sorry if i missed anyone!!

[bluerosefox]

GHOSTS WITH HEARTBEATS

When Jason had been going to Gotham Academy, he had (for a good reputation for the media and to help him catch up on his penmanship, remember he had been on the streets and dropped out of school before getting picked up by Bruce for a while) signed up for a penpal project for 'less privileged people' to write to.

(Although Jason was annoyed the penpal project stayed within the states and only selected a middle of nowhere town, he knew the Richie Rich Elites would never subjugate their 'Heirs' to actual kids in need of learning how to read and write)

But Jason didn't mind his penpal.

Danny Fenton was a riot to talk, err write to in all honestly.

From his dry punny humor (and boy can he give even Dick a run for his money in the pun department but hey using some of them actually got Dick to warm up to him a few missions ago) and death jokes so many death jokes, to his nerdy love for space Jason enjoyed writing to Danny.

Even the short stories he would write about a ghost kid protecting a small town from other ghosts was interesting to read. He really liked the different kinds of ghosts there could be. Granted some seemed very OP like that Clockwork dude.

Jason liked writing to Danny, and even after the penpal project was over they had plans to keep sending letters, maybe even exchange numbers soon...

But then he died by the hands of the Joker.

The letters leaving Wayne Manor may had decreased but the letters being sent never did or at least until a few years ago.

Then Jason somehow returned to the land of the living.

Got taken by the LoA, tossed in the green waters and turned into their Pit Raged weapon for a while before leaving them behind and setting out for his revenge against the Joker and to force B's hand.

And becoming a Crime Boss for a while too. Can't forget that.

Point being with all this going on, the old warm memories of exchanging letters with Danny Fenton was pushed into the back of his mind and forgotten about for a while.

It isn't until one afternoon at Wayne Manor that while roughhousing with Dick, who had Jason in a brotherly headlock as they walked down a hall to one of the sitting rooms, that while Jason had slipped out of Dick's hold had stumbled into a hallway desk that had a few things on the top of it, one of the things being a small box that tumbled off when Jason hit it.

The box lid opened and out of it spilled out a good number of letters.

"Shiii-p, dang it Dick!" Jason said when he looked at the mess he accidentally made and stopped himself from swearing, the place might be named Wayne Manor but everyone knew this was Alfie's domain and no swearing was a rule within his halls.

Dick only laughed and teased only in a way a sibling can do "Hey not my fault your as big as a tank Jaybird! We should get you some caution signals if you keep bumping into things!"

Jason flipped him his favorite finger, thankfully Alfred only knew when they swore thus it did not summon him, and bent down to the letters.

His hands froze when he recognized the hand writing and the address it was sent from.

"From: Danny Fent Nightingale

Amity Park, IL"

To: Jason Todd-Wayne

Gotham City, NJ.

Wayne Manor"

And when Jason opened the letter. He really wasn't expecting what was written inside.

"Jason.

I'm finally leaving Amity Park. I can't be there anymore, not after everything. I'm too tired, and emotionally hurt. Everything is just to much. And I can't keep doing this to myself. My parents still can’t understand there is nothing ‘wrong’ with me or why I refuse to let them take care of Ellie, I refuse to let her live the way Jazz and I did, Jazz has to much on her plate already with her own life and college but she’s been hounding me to reach out to mom and dad, Sam refuses to listen to me when I tell her I want to be more than ‘Phantom’ in Amity Park, and Tucker is so busy trying to get into a good college and job we barely have time to talk nowadays. And don’t get me started on Vlad, that fruitloop’s been breathing down my neck since Ellie’s deaging.

Despite how much of a hellhole you like to call it, I think Gotham might be my, no mine and Ellie’s best bet of living some kind of life, especially now since the whole deaging she had to go through, she needs an ectoplasm rich city as well and since she has no actual papers because she was my clone and I remember you saying Gotham has people who can create new identities and-

I’m rambling again, to letter you again. I really need to stop it.

I can’t keep pretending you’re going to read these.

I know you’ll never read these. You’re gone. I can’t even find you in the Realms no matter where I look.

I’m sorry. For using you as, well, a way to vent my life for last couple of years. I shouldn’t had done it but it helped me.

Believing my friend was still alive and getting my letters I mean.

Again I’m sorry.

This will be my last letter to your ghost, pun unintended.

Goodbye Jason. Wish us luck in your city.

-Danny Fen-Nightingale...."

The sent date on the letter was roughly eight years ago.

[rosenclaws]

Hi love, I hope you’re doing well! I’ve been a fan of (stalking but let’s not talk about it) your blog for a little while, but this is the first time I’ve sent in a request for you! Your writing for Leopold is literally the sweetest ever and you’re the only writer I know of that actively writes for him, it’s so dry out here!! I was wondering if I could request something fluffy with Leopold x fem!reader where is like the most tooth-rotting fluff you can think of. I’m talking him trying to court the reader even though it’s the modern day and that’s not really a thing anymore and shes a bit confused but loves it, a super touchy reader that loves to shower Leo with her affection, literally anything. Those are just ideas, feel free to be as creative as you’d like (and don’t be shy if you wanna make it a longer fic, I’ll take what I can get). This fandom (if I can even call it that) is such a barren wasteland for fanfics and you are such an amazing writer for him and just in general!!

Much love 💕

Courting || Leopold Mountbatten x Reader

a/n: Hi!! Okay I kinda took this in a slightly different direction so if its not what you wanted then plz feel free to send in another request (ik they're closed but I will make an exception) ALSO FUCK HES SO HANDSOME IM GONNA SCREAM

wc: 1.2k

warning: reader wears lipstick

The last thing you expected was to find a neatly written letter waiting for you when you got home. Pinned neatly to the door with a small rose attached to it. You recognized Leopold's handwriting immediately, no one else you know has such beautiful penmanship.

There’s a flutter of butterflies in your stomach as you open the letter. You and Leopold have gotten very close to each other. He’s unbelievably charming and so sweet and he’s just everything. The way he looks at you, it makes you feel like the only one in the world.

Hello my love,

I am writing to ask if you would do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner and a show this Friday night. I have found myself completely captured by your beauty, you live in my every thought. Every breath I breathe for you and every beat of my heart calls your name. I wish to court you and have the honor of calling you mine.

Your dearest Leopold

You read the letter once, and then again and again. Your fingers trace each letter. Never have you had anyone say something so precious to you before. The rose smells fresh and sweet, he must have gotten it this morning. You hurry to write him a reply, accepting his offer with great enthusiasm.

Folding the letter you press your lips the corner of the paper leaving a lipstick mark. Leopold lives just down the hall so you walk over. Just as you’re about to slip the letter under the door it swings open.

“Leo!” You squeak out as stand back up, almost knocking your head into his chest.

"Hello darling." He's dressed in casual clothes and my god you need to thank whoever introduced him to sweatpants. Anyways.

"I see you received my letter." You bite your lip as you hand over your letter. His name written as fancy as you can.

"Yeah, it was really sweet Leo." He takes the letter and you swear he blushes a little when he sees the lipstick mark. He stares at you for a while, with that perfect smile and gorgeous eyes.

"I uh, I'll see you Friday." His eyes light up at your words.

"I'll see you Friday my love." He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles.

You manage to keep it together as he shuts the door but once you make it back to your apartment you're melting. A giddy feeling you haven't felt in years. You have to wonder how he will attempt to court you in modern day. People don't really court anymore but all you care about is that you have a date with Leopold. Friday couldn't come fast enough.

You had never felt this nervous before. Spending way too long getting ready just to be done an hour early. It's just Leopold, you know Leopold. There's no reason to be nervous but you can't stop the tornado of worry brewing inside of you.

What if something goes wrong? Or the date goes horrible? What if he decides he doesn't like you anymore? What if this ruins your friendship. You shake your head and try to dispel any bad thoughts.

Tonight was going to be great. It has to be. There's a knock at the door and you quickly double check everything before opening it. Any worry still residing in your mind disappears. A beautiful bouquet of flowers is handed to you as Leopold is dressed to the nines. A crisp white shirt and black pants.

"They're beautiful." You say admiring the flowers. Fresh and absolutely gorgeous.

"Not as beautiful as you." Leopold says, barely at a whisper. Like he can't believe that you've even agreed to a date with him. He can't help but admire everything about you. To your smile, your beauty, your laugh, your voice. You're perfect.

You place the flowers in a vase and then the two of you are off. He rests his hand on your back as you walk through the city. His thumb draws circles in your back as you approach the restaurant. He's planned everything himself and he can't help but hope it's enough for you.

Dinner is lovely and the conversation flows without any awkwardness. You're talking to your friend Leopold but you know there's something more as you slowly get closer to each other as the night goes on. Hidden away in the corner booth you are free to get lost in each others eyes. Though you wish you could stay here all night he promised a show. Leopold loved the theater and he promised one day to take you and tonight was the night.

"How did you get such good seats?" You ask as he waits for you to sit before he does.

"I have my ways darling." You're hyper aware of just how close the two of you had gotten at dinner and how close you are now.

The show is interesting yes but Leopold was a very distracting man. Your hands inch closer together. Glancing over at Leopold you find him already looking at you. He waits for your silent approval, not wanting to cross an boundaries. So you take the leap. Intertwining your hands together.

A faint blush on his face and a big smile on yours. His hands are so warm and they fit so perfectly with your hand. When the show ends you reluctantly head back home. You don't want this night to end. Your hands swing together as you gush about the play.

"I had a wonderful night Leopold," You're leaning against your door, wanting so badly to keep the night going. His hair swoops perfectly in front of his forehead and he's got this pretty smile that you can't stop staring at.

"So did I, Thank you for accompanying me tonight." His eyes drift to your lips.

It's adorable seeing just how old school he really is. You know he's from 1876 but still. Modern boys pale in comparison to Leopold.

"You know you don't have to be so nervous Leo, I want to kiss you too." You say boldly.

He chuckles, ducking his head as bites his lip softly. He cups your face gently and you close eyes as he gently captures your lips in a kiss. He's gentle and sweet and you crave more. Still he pulls away much too soon. You pout slightly and he laughs.

"I know I'm much more traditional than you're used to." He traces your lips with his thumb. Admiring every little detail of your face.

"But someone as wonderful as you deserves to be treated with the upmost respect." He kisses your forehead gently.

"You deserve to be loved," Another kiss.

"To be cherished," Another.

"And to be worshiped." Words fail you completely. Leopold has rendered you utterly speechless.

"Did I overstep?" He asks, worried about you silence.

You shake your head. practically jumping into him as you kiss him. Passionately running your hands through his hair. He groans slightly as you tug on his hair. He pushes you against the wall, bracing your head with his hand as he kisses back.

"I'm falling in love with you." He whispers. A hopeful glint in his eyes.

"I'm already in love with you." You admit.

You become lost in his lips as he kisses you again. He just can't get enough. You blindly reach for the door handle and without argument pull him inside of your apartment.

Soft kisses and laughter are shared quietly between the two of you. Time ticks by but you have lost all sense of care in the world. All that matters to you is this moment. Your fairytale come to life. And it was just perfect.

[tarjapearce]

Lips anon! I must have the royal au version of it just imagine 😩

Our King deserves a treat 🤭

So far your stance at the Arachne's Kingdom had been a breeze. You'd spend your days painting, embroidering, writing letters, knowing more of Arachne's kingdom. Your relationship with the king of course was still strained.

It had been just a couple of times you had sat and ate together, or did anything together really. One of your fond memories with him was you taking a stroll with him through the castle. Talking about meaningless things, giving bashful smiles, trying to get closer to him.

Little moments of him being gentle with you, gave you hope. Of. course you wouldn't expect things to just click suddenly. You knew with patience you could get there.

Your paintings had improved significantly, and the little conversation among the court only sparked a new idea for you.

"Did you hear?"

"Captain Reilly received one of those portraits"

The hushed voices reverberated through the ample stony halls. You stood there, eavesdropping.

A gasp

"Really? Oh my lord! Is he courting someone?!"

"No, not that I know off, but I just caught a glimpse of it. It's... scandalous!"

"By your majesty, don't spare the details!"

"Heard that famous painter did it. Leona Visqué. It's really hard to get a commission from her. This woman must be desperate if she wants Captain Reilly."

The voices just kept fading as they ventured further within the halls.

You'd visit Miss Visqué yourself.

-----

"If I should've known that the future queen of Arachne, I would've fix the place a bit. Apologies for the mess, your majesty."

"Worry not dear. I know that oil. paintings can be quite hard to remove."

Leona stared with a smile.

"May I know what is it you will commission?"

Your cheeks flushed softly.

"I... overheard a small conversation in the palace, and-"

"Oh?" She smirked, "Glad to hear my art is being the talk among nobility"

You chuckled as your fingers fiddled nervously.

"I would like one of... your famous portraits." You mumbled.

"Oh..." Leona couldn't help but beam.

"For the king?" You nodded with a bubbly and antsy feeling in your stomach. Eyes still cast down.

"Well, seems my other comissions can wait. Let's make something he'll never forget."

----

The king had noticed how you'd take small trips to the city, only to return until noon. And no matter how much he asked, Jessica wouldn't tell him.

"I gave my word to not say a word." She'd dismiss him with a little smile. If it wasn't for a mutiny in the jails, he'd send his own spies to see what your sudden secrecy was about.

----

The wait was over. Leona had finally finished your portrait. Your cheeks burned brightly as you admired yourself in the canvas. Even though, she had insisted that it was a gift, you still payed her.

The canvas was tucked in a velvety pouch. And when you made sure he wasn't in his chambers, you put the little gift in his bed. A bed you would one day share.

The thought made you flee with a heated face.

-----

He removed his armor and striped himself into nakedness. The servants already had his bath ready. Hot steamy water to sooth his aching muscles. He was only a king in his mid thirties yet felt like someone of fifty. his stubble seemed more prominent. He'd need to shave again soon.

Once done, he dried himself and walked over his bed. The fire inside his dim lit room, only casted it's reflection on his moist skin. His eyebrows grimaced upon the velvety package awaiting in his bed.

Damp strands fell on his face, nimble hands undid the small knot ontop. Your penmanship impeccable as usual.

For your eyes only

He blinked as the canvas was slowly revealed to him.

His mouth gaped, a soft sharp inhale it did when his eyes marveled at what laid in his hands.

Your naked form, laid down, a hand above your head as the other one rested near your mouth, a subtle invitation.

His eyes unavoidably wandered to your hips and thighs, the smooth curves of your flesh were traced by one of his fingers, silently hoping that one day he'd be lost between them. You were laid in a bed of flowers, your hair slowly melding with them as some were placed strategically on your your upper strands.

Pouty lips he once fantasized in touching, pried open in a delicate yet alluring way. His groin twitched. Soft mounds that were often caged under fancy dresses, were now freed for him to see. No longer having to imagine them. Supple, generous, and perfect for his hands to maneuver.

How could he had been so blind?

Divine. Perfect, and soon to be his.

Oh, the last one. He had been too busy to actually dwell into thoughts of his own wedding. A day that seemed closer than he anticipated. But now, he had a reason to look forward to it. And for him to be your first was both thrilling yet endearing, but of course his dark mind offered a little twist.

He'd have you as many times as he wished.

A satisfied smirk nested in his meaty mouth.

Oh he would.

[coconutdays]

emotion

s. you get stuck in your crush/study buddy's room during a freak storm.

w.c. 1.8k

w. gn! reader (I thought a fem reader when writing this, but then I noticed that I didn't really make it gender coded! so I figured it was a plus it came out this way!) , suna! x reader , fluff! suggestive! bc there is some steamy kissing and of the making out

a/n: Earth spun a wheel between Rin, Osamu, and Atsumu for me to write for and it so conveniently picked Suna Rin

Ending up in the same room as your classmate/crush during a storm, at night, with no electricity had never been on your bingo card for the year. Yet, here you were, blinking back into reality seconds after the lights just went out.

"Shit" Suna sighs. You can hear him start to move, making out the shadow of his body standing up and moving towards his beside drawer.

"I have a candle in here." He mutters, the obvious rummaging being heard before it ceases after you somewhat see a cylindrical shape in his left hand. The smell of paraffin going up into flames accompanies the slight bit of light coming from the match he just lit, it fades away the moment he blows out the match after getting the candle to light.

It isn't much, the light coming from the medium sized candle, but it lets you fawn over his face, his entire being. It's a flattering light and it sets a mood you wish you could do something about.

"You think the Professor will cancel the test?" He shivers a little when he sits down across from you again, rubbing his hands together.

That's the reason you were here in the first place, to study for that damn test.

Suna had sat next to you at the beginning the semester after getting there at the last minute and the last open seat had been the one next to yours. Ever since then, you had exchanged small talk and numbers with each other. It happened frequently, befriending the people sitting next to you in class, some days it was a great help to ask each other if the other had done the homework, understood yesterday's lecture, or if they had notes because one of you couldn't go to class that day.

But you only got excited when Suna asked you for your version of the notes from the previous lecture. Everyone always complimented your penmanship, but the first time he got your notes for reference against his, he sent a text:

lol you write really pretty

You smiled to yourself at it when he sent it and could only send a thank you back.

He didn't really befriend anyone else in the class and neither did you because of it. You didn't have the chance to when any free time in the class where the professor hadn't started lecture yet was taken up by conversation he tried striking up with you. It automatically made you study buddies by the time this first test came around.

"Well if it looks like the rest of the campus, or at least half of us lost electricity too, then it might be a no brainer to save it for another time."

He lets out a puff of air as a sarcastic laugh at the situation, "It's like that shit you say. Being delulu is the--"

"Solulu." You finish for him, giggling.

He lets out a 'heh' and leans forward while hugging himself even tighter, "Sorry you got stuck here. The storm really came out of nowhere."

"I'm sorry I got stuck here." You counter, your body starting to shiver at the increasingly cold air filling up the room with harsh cold rain storming just a window away and no heater to protect against it. "I'm in your room after all."

"It's fine," He says, his eyes acting a bit more fox-like than usual as he stares you down before he adds, "Let me give you one of my hoodies, it's getting cold."

And before you can interject and say that won't be necessary, which it really won't--you don't need Suna's hoodie, you're fine freezing to death if it means you don't have to breathe in his intoxicating scent clinging to your skin--he's getting up and walking to his closet.

As quickly as he gets up, he's coming back and handing you a hoodie, the specifics of it like the color or design not something your eyes couldn't register at the moment.

"Thanks." You meep out, basking in the moment your head first slips through it and you feel the hoodie envelop you. You didn't know what was keeping you warm now, the actual material draped over your body or the fact that it was Suna's and he had worn it before, it was his.

When you look back at him and squint a little, you can tell he's wearing one of his own too. One he rarely wore--yes you noted how frequently he wore his hoodies, you couldn't help but make the observation.

"Well if we think tomorrow's test is gonna be cancelled..." Suna drags on, "We can play Mario Kart on my switch?"

You weren't one to frequently come across the opportunity to play on a switch, so you asked, "It can work without wifi?"

"Yea, " He nods, "it's the only I can think of to keep us occupied while we wait to see if the electricity comes back any time soon."

You can think of something else.

And so does he, but he won't tell you that either.

While he gets up to get his console from his desk, you nervously near his bed.

"Hey, Suna, can I play on your bed?"

A shiver runs up his spine and his eyes go wide as he's disconnecting any unnecessary wires from his switch. Time stands still for him and-

"Suna?"

"Yea!" He manages to blurt out like it's not big deal as he comes back to you with the console in hand. When he joins you in sitting on his bed, next to you, propping up the little screen across from both of you, he says, "And you can call me Rintaro. If you want."

You lean over a bit to look at him curiously, noticing a slight change in his demeanor, as if he had something else busying his mind. His eyes seemed caught up in a thought.

"Sure."

That small observation of yours became a thing of the past soon after you had finished playing two matches against him.

He had become your worst enemy.

"You do not let me catch a break!" You laugh and yell at the same time, shoving him with your shoulder.

"Just because you don't play it often, doesn't mean I have to go easy on you." He defends himself, smirking as he looks at you from the corner of his eye while he picks a new map to play on.

You toss your controller to his side of the bed to throw an over exaggerated fit.

"Well now I don't wanna play if I'm gonna keep getting bullied like this." You haughtily huff and cross your arms

Suna jokingly rolls his eyes and is about to ridicule you when you're both suddenly enveloped in darkness again.

The candle must've gone out.

And for some reason, the lack of light made for a lack of noise in the space between the both of you. The rumbles coming from the storm outside filled the void between the both of you and eventually closed the space between you two when a monstrous crack of thunder and lightning made you yelp and grab onto whatever was near.

The shock of the sudden noise had you breathing a bit quick and with your arms around Suna's torso, who instinctively put his arms around you too.

It was quiet, yet not at the same time.

The roaring storm outside was noisy enough,

but you and your study buddy weren't saying anything.

Your hands can feel how sturdy he is underneath the layers of his shirt and hoodie. He's big, an obvious fact considering he is tall and a volleyball player for the school, but it seems so much more prominent when your hand feels so small compared to his huge back.

His breath tickles your ear and you move your head back when you shiver because of it.

His face is now in front of yours because of it. And now you're both in a position to kiss. You can feel his body and mind contemplating it, by the way his head moves a little and how his breath starts to sound. You don't doubt that you're probably doing the same.

When you feel his hand squeeze around your hip, you give him a small peck on the lips. It took all of your courage and some of the intensity from the moment to do it.

You have no opportunity to berate yourself for doing it when he chases after your mouth immediately when you're about to pull away.

And now you're making out with...

"Suna." You sigh, feeling him manhandle you onto his lap

"Rin." He breathes quickly before he reaches for your mouth again.

You can't help the mewl you let out from savoring the moment like the repeated relief of taking off your shoes after a long day of walking.

"Rin." You repeat after him.

Rintaro, Rin, is breathing just as heavily against you as you are. He's going as far as you are, whatever you do, he does in return. When you swipe your tongue against his lips, he does the same, except you open your mouth to him when he does.

And now you're both kissing with tongue.

You moan particularly loud and he juts his hips up into you right before he pulls away from you, the look in his eyes something you so agonizingly wish you could see right now.

"I like you a lot." He confesses, moving his hands down to slither across your thighs and hold them there.

"I like you a lot too." You say back, gripping onto the hem of his hoodie.

"Yea?" Rin breathes against you, going back in to kiss you

"Mhm." You sigh in relief.

"Fuck, "He can't help but push up into you, "You're so fucking pretty."

"You think so?"

"Know so." He groans and heads towards your neck for an assault, holding you in place by the back of your neck. "I want you so bad."

You grind your hips against him, turned on by the confession, "I want you bad too."

BOOM!

And you get scared shitless by the bitchy thunder again, dragging you away from the intensity of your increasingly intense makeout session with Rintaro and into a breathless heap of laughter with him. He had fallen back onto the bed, dragging you down with him and into his arms, snuggled into the crook of his neck.

"Does this mean I can finally follow you on Instagram?"

"Huh?" You're still dazed from the oxygen sucking of a makeout you just shared with him

"I found it a long time ago, but you never gave it to me so I didn't wanna seem like a stalker. You looked really pretty in your post last week though. I like pink on you."

"Stalker!"

[gyllenhaalstories]

ALIBI — RUSTY SABICH

summary: rusty seeks comfort in someone from his past to hide from both the present and the future.

warnings: mentions of cheating & the murder, mostly angst, smut (pussy eating, penetration, marking & hickeys, accidental creampie, some elements of noncon). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 4075

gif credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i was going off the vibes from the trailers but there are spoilers from the first two episodes. this was supposed to be all smut but then i didn't feel like writing smut so it was all angst but then i remembered i'm bad at writing angst so now it's... a mess. sorry? 👓 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

The doorbell rang. The noise was so loud that it startled you.

You had been on the edge all day, ever since you received a mysterious letter in your mailbox. The enveloppe was bare, the paper did not look much better. It could have been a bad prank for all you knew, it was not addressed to anyone specifically nor did it have the information required to return it. If it had not been of the familiar penmanship that wrote the words I'll be here at midnight, you would have believed that the letter was completely anonymous.

Rusty stood on the other side of the door, his body completely frozen while his mind and his heart raced faster than ever before. It was a bad idea, one of the worst ideas. He tried to make sure that nobody had followed him, but how could he know? How could he completely be sure there was not a car parked in the darkness of the night?

You ripped the metaphorical bandaid off. "What are you doing here?" You gripped on the door knob tightly, fighting the urge to slam the door back in his face.

He looked down at his feet. "You got my letter."

You were not having any of his misplaced timidity. He reached out, he needed to face the consequences. He needed to face you. So, you stepped out of the way and let him make a decision. Whether he walked away before it was too late, or whether he...

Rusty's shoulder bumped against yours while he made his way into your home. Memories flooded his mind. Memories of the two of you talking, laughing, kissing and...

"What are you doing here?" You repeated, this time with more annoyance in your voice.

He stopped reminiscing the past you shared. "I had nowhere else to go. I have no one else, but..."

"You don't have me either. You made that very clear when you disappeared. It's been so long, I started to believe you forgot I even existed. When was the last time we talked?"

When Carolyn started working. "It's been a long time, I know."

"You know everything, don't you?" You stated and closed the door. Rusty stood there, almost as clueless as you about his presence. You eyed him from head to toes and scoffed.

He flinched, expecting you to go on with another lecture about how he was such a horrible man. You did not, you knew he would like that too much.

You walked towards the living room and crashed on couch, as far as you could be from him. The distance made you feel safer. Only this safety was ephemeral and fragile.

"I, huh... I just," he stuttered and clenched his jaw while trying to compose himself. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I needed you."

You scoffed again at the use of past tense. Before you could talk back, he continued.

"I need you."

That confession weighted heavy in the air for several long, agonizing minutes. He came to you. He would have to work hard to get whatever he wanted from you.

Rusty fidgeted with his ring finger. Muscle memory.

You crossed your arms against your chest. You had showed this man more patience than he deserved. "Do you want a hug? Do you want me to tell you everything's gonna be okay?

He glanced in your direction, just long enough for you to notice the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"I'm not the lawyer who's gonna defend your fake alibi, I'm not the detective who's gonna scrap pieces of evidence for you. I'm not the one who's going to get you out of trouble." You bombarded him with all of these options that he had once considered, crossing them off his list one after the other. "I'm not what you need."

"Yes, you are!" He raised his voice and you lifted a brow at his outburst. He hated being cornered, he hated being on the receiving hand of a tactic he had used one too many times in court. "I need you!" He shouted, he surprised himself.

You blinked and suddenly he was in front of you. He stood, tall but not strong. The louder he yelled, the weaker he felt.

"I need you to help me." You locked eyes with him, daring him to go on. "I need you to help me forget." He did not need to speak her name for you to figure out he was talking about Carolyn.

You laughed at him, as if you were hit with a sudden case of hysteria.

Your reaction made him walk away with his tail between his legs. He sat on the opposite side of the couch.

"You think you're so brave. Huh?" You smiled at him, in complete disbelief. "You were talking shit about how you wanted to leave your wife for me. The worst part is... I believed you." He seemed surprised once again. "Then you left me for another woman who died because of you. And now..." Your smile faded and your arms fell to your sides. "You're crawling back to me because you feel lonely?"

This was a mistake. He thought, he hoped, you would be different. He had enough of people berating him. He sprung to his feet and paced around your living room, planning his next move... His next words.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek while he behaved like an animal in cage. "Rusty..." You sighed, slowly giving in without your own consent. You opened the door of the cage.

"I know you feel lonely too." Rusty clenched his jaw. He stood firm in his word. Suddenly he remembered a conversation he had, not too long ago, about taking responsibility. "And I know I'm asking for a lot." His upper lip curled, his body reacting strangely to this rare case of acknowledgement and awareness. Perhaps it could have been... Guilt.

It was your turn to be surprised. This was uncommon, unnatural. You could not quite decipher if he was genuine or not. The longer you stared at him, studying and scrutinizing him, the harder it became to figure out what was going on inside his head. However, you noticed a shift.

Rusty knew he was getting to you. You no longer had the entire control over this conversation. He reentered your house and your life. While you told him you did not want him back, your body was saying something completely different. You expected him to visit, yet you dressed up so lightly in a shirt that hugged your curves and pants he could easily rip open. You never missed an occasion to drink him in, to appreciate the countless hours he spent at the pool to swim through his thoughts. The tough version of you that opened the door with an anger-filled soul softened up faster than he had imagined.

You eyed him up and down again. "This isn't going to end well." You spoke mostly to yourself. He heard you, but did not acknowledge the bad omen.

Rusty knelt before you. Not once did he break eye contact while he crawled, bringing your words into reality. He leaned back when he reached your legs and waited. He waited for you to tell him no, knowing it would only make him crave it more. Rusty rarely took no for an answer anyway.

You reached your hand to stroke his hair. You waited, too. You waited for him to realize he was taking the wrong decision. You waited to gather enough courage, although you were not too sure what to used that courage for.

He leaned into your hand that slid down to his cheek. You reminded him that the chase of thrills and butterflies could hardly compete with someone who had the magical power of calming him down, of making the whole world disappear.

You leaned forward and reached for his glasses that you gently removed. You took a moment to admire the sight of him: the muscles of his thighs almost bursting through his jeans, his chest heaving as if his hoodie made him so hot that he was melting, his eyes begging for your permission.

He watched you set his glasses away on the couch, safe and sound. He turned his head back to you while you lifted yourself off the couch to take off your sleeping pants. Rusty helped you pull them off, he threw them as far away as he could. He decided for you that there was no turning back. He then placed his hands on your knees, ready to part your legs open.

"I'm gonna regret this." You would, but Rusty would not. You locked eyes with him again and drowned into his darkened gaze. "You better make sure it's worth it."

Rusty faced a dilemma: he was unsure whether he wanted to take his time and savour the moment or dive into it head first. The throb of his cock, confined under his clothes, decided for him.

Your body showed no resistance to his touch, your legs opened easily with the light pressure he applied. His tongue licked a long stripe on your inner thigh while he made his way to your core.

You adjusted your position, sitting more lazily on the couch while he pulled you closer to the edge of the seat. He peppered kisses on your pussy before he used his thumbs to spread it open for him. At the first taste, he was addicted. More so, he was reminded of the addiction that had him sneaking out day and night just to eat you out.

Your back arched, pressing yourself against his mouth when he sucked on your clit. You fought back your moans, but, once again, your body betrayed you.

"Missed you so much," Rusty spoke against your skin. He spat on your pussy and caught the drops that dripped down with his tongue. He made a mess, not that he had to try very hard for it. You were already wet for him, he liked to think it was just a reflex you had failed to break since the day he left. "I missed you so fucking much."

You placed a hand on his head, pulling on his short hair. You refused to believe his words, but they sounded so nice. Almost honest.

Rusty began to lap at your folds, making his nose bump against your clit. He swallowed the juices that leaked from your entrance, but he was still left craving more.

You gasped loudly when his tongue teased your hole. You pressed his face against you, as if he could get even closer than he already was.

Rusty palmed at his rock hard cock, moaning into your pussy as he did that. He touched himself over his clothes while he finally focused on your aching clit, flicking his tongue on it to make you squirm. He tried to fight against the movements of your hips, making sure his mouth never left you.

Your legs started to close around Rusty's face, which did not bother him in the slightest. You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch him while he brought you closer to the edge. He just looked so beautiful.

The vein on his temple was bulging, almost pulsating to match his heart beat. He let go of his crotch and helped you to put your thighs on his broad shoulders, encourage you to let go, to give in.

You were not ready to satisfy him just yet. You wanted this moment to last, you wanted it to be worth the guilt and regret you would experience the moment he would walk out the door.

That only made him hungrier. He devoured you like it was the last time, he shared the mutual feeling that it could very well be. He pulled away from you just long enough to catch his breath one last time. He was determined to get what he wanted from you.

In a matter of seconds, your vision got blurry and your toes started to curl.

Rusty's moans only made the sensations greater while his tongue worked you over and had your entire body shaking for him.

You did not need to speak, to tell him to keep going, he knew what to do. He knew how to make you feel better than anyone else ever could. That remained one of his biggest problems, he was a heartless cheater but he was just so fucking good at it.

He slowed down until your thighs relaxed around him and he helped to set them down, still wide open for him to admire the mess he made between your thighs. You were dripping of your own wetness and of his spit. He could have kept going all night, but he had a more urgent need to take care of. He scrambled back on his feet and, without a word, he took off the rest of his clothes.

You did the same, not without admiring his body and especially the throbbing and leaking cock that he stroked.

He admired you too: the way your clit throbbed for him, how your forehead was covered with a layer of sweat despite just sitting there and doing nothing besides screaming while you were cumming.

He surprised you with a rough kiss, all tongue and teeth. You did not want to reciprocate, you wanted to pull away and to protect yourself from falling harder for this man. It was simply pointless. You kissed him back with the same passion that left you both gasping for air.

Rusty helped you to change positions so that you turned around and you were kneeling on the couch and you leaned on the back of the furniture. He leaned forward to kiss your shoulder and all the way down your back. He wanted to print the memory of you in his mind.

Neither of you felt brave enough to speak. You let your bodies do the talking with moans and grunts that blended into a melody while Rusty pressed the tip of his cock to your entrance. His tongue failed to prepare you for the delicious stretch of his cock.

He squeezed your ass cheeks open, trying to catch a glimpse of your pussy gripping on him. That was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He helped you arch your back, taking in the perfect position for him to use your pussy to get off. You felt so fucking good, so tight and wet around him. How could he have waited so long to feel you again? How did he manage to wait all this time?

You bit on your lip so hard that it tasted faintly of blood when he bottomed out. He stopped moving for a few moments, letting you adjust to him.

He pressed his toned chest against your back, cooing at you. When he felt your walls relax around his length, he started moving. The small but deep thrusts made tears pool into your eyes.

You held on the back of the couch for dear life when he fucked you harder, when he let you feel every inch of him nice and deep.

Rusty grunted louder and louder. The noises echoed in your apartment, filling the silence alongside the sound of your skin slapping against his. He was getting closer than he wanted to to admit it, so he stalled again.

You felt his hands on your skin, gliding down your arms. He held your hands in his, making the cushion of the couch cave in under the pressure. You looked down at his left hand, but your eyes closed blissfully before you could notice whether he was wearing his wedding ring or not. Your skin was so hot too, you could not even feel it the metal.

You could not feel anything else than Rusty's cock that was balls deep inside of you or his lips that sucked a few marks on your shoulder.

He kissed his way to your neck, where he nibbled and licked. He was buying time and you could feel it. You could hear it too, with the whimpers that came out of his mouth. He murmured at your ear while he marked you. "I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum."

"Pull out, just, fuck," your voice sounded hoarse from the moans. "Just pull out!"

Rusty cursed under his breath, his thrusts felt more like twitches than anything. His left hand moved down to squeeze on your hip, a rough and bruising grip. "I can’t," his body pressed down on yours. You could barely stay up on your knees. "You feel too fucking good on me."

"No! No, no…" You wanted to get him to move, or even to get off him. Anything really, but your pussy clenched on him with vice-like grip. It was already too late.

Rusty held your hip and your hand tight, giving you no room to escape. He grunted at your ear while he emptied himself in you. Multiple ropes of cum coated your walls and made both yours and his eyes roll to the back of your heads. It felt so good, so wrong yet so right. He should not have done it, he should have pulled out and avoid another situation. He never learned his lessons. This was forbidden. He loved it even more.

"Rusty! That was so fucking stupid." You shouted, there was more shock than anger in your voice. Your poor attempts at squirming out of his embrace failed. Your pussy milked him to his last drop.

The room went painfully silent. No moans, no skin slapping, no couch squeaking. Nothing. There was nothing but erratic breaths and the gears turning silently in your minds. What did he do? He did what he needed to do. He did what he knew you wanted him to do. Even if you told him otherwise, even if you tried to convince yourself of the opposite. "I'm sorry."

It was crystal clear that his apology was empty. As if the lack of conviction in his voice was not enough to prove it, the slow thrusts of his hips sealed the deal.

Languid strokes that made him appreciate the warmth he had craved for so long. "I know, this was wrong." He pressed his clean shaven cheek against yours. Slowly, he picked up the pace until he properly fucked you against the couch. "I'm so fucking sorry." He punctuated each word with a thrust that made you moan louder and louder. He was not going to stop anytime soon. He fucked his cum so deep inside of you until he was ready for a second load.

Only Rusty could fuck you this good. He made sure you learned that lesson, rewarding you with orgasms the more you surrendered to the pleasure he shamelessly gave you.

*~*~*

You felt Rusty's arm slide away from your body, goosebumps spreading on your skin from the sudden lack of warmth. You tried to stay immobile, although your eyes fluttered from struggling to stay closed. You knew he would leave. He always did.

He knew he would leave. He could not stay. He could not stay and drag you down with him once more. Rusty had hurt enough people for the time being, he needed to learn to be careful. To calculate the risks. The risks were too high when they involved you.

A part of you had hoped it would be different this time. Maybe he would stay for breakfast. Maybe he would offer to shower together and go at it again. Maybe he would make another promise he would inevitably break.

Rusty surprised you with a kiss to your cheek, one that lingered and communicated more than words could convey in the moment. He stood up on his tired legs and he stepped over your body to search for his clothes.

You opened your eyes a bit, squinting to catch a glimpse of his naked body roaming around your place. He looked so beautiful, so irresistible. His large back, his muscular legs, his toned ass that he quickly covered with his boxers. You could admire him for days on end. He would never grant you so much time in his presence.

He turned around, guilt and regret stabbed him in the stomach. Unfamiliar feelings. You looked so beautiful, so tempting. The delicate features of your face, the curves of your body, your steady breathing that he'd love to fall asleep to again. He wished he could stay with you and forget about the rest of the world.

You felt his eyes on you. You felt him stare and linger on the marks he left on your body, on the other places he'd love to bruise for his own pleasure.

Before he got riled up and, most importantly, before he failed once more to think with his brain, he finished dressing up in a hurry. If he made it back home before sunrise, no one would know about his escapade.

"Wait." Your mouth spoke despite your mind yelling at you to stay quiet and to pretend to sleep a little longer.

Rusty froze in place. He refused to turn around and look at you. Unless you asked him to.

You sat up, wrapping the blanket around your body that he had seen one too many times; your body that he could not even see in the moment. You used the blanket as a shield. An armour to brace for the upcoming impact. "Is she," you cut yourself off. "Was she special?"

You watched his torso rise and fall from the several deep breaths he took before answering. "Very." He did not need one more interrogation, one more trial.

You nodded slowly. "Am I special?"

You watched him experience a myriad of emotions, just by the change in his breathing and how his body tensed up while he searched for an honest answer. This question was a trap.

"Very." He repeated in a whisper. "The most special."

You snickered. His answer felt like just as much of a trap as the question you asked. If you had been the most special to him, why did he pursue Carolyn? Why did he have this grand affair with her and not with you? Why did he risk everything for her and not for you?

As if he could hear the questions running through your mind, he spoke again. "You're the only person I've tried my hardest to protect." He referred to his children that he hurt and sacrificed, to his wife that he lied to and cheated on... To his mistress who died because of his insatiable lust.

It was only then that you finally accepted to face the truth: nobody knew who you were, in relation to Rozat Sabich. He kept you in the shadows, he locked you in a cage. He protected you in this bubble of stolen kisses and broken promises.

If nobody knew that you two shared a long and complex history, he would never have to involve you in this situation more than he already did the night before. He would not need yet another alibi to cover up the messy trail he left behind.

You held your head in your hands. You hated to see him leave, each time felt like it got closer to being the last time he would walk out of your life for good.

Rusty put on his hoodie and fixed his glasses. He was now facing you, but it was his turn to need an armour so he maintained the distance between the two of you. He stared at you, time felt like it had stopped. His lips parted open to speak, but no sound came out of his mouth.

However, you turned to look at him just in time to catch him mouth the dangerous words I love you. You smiled sadly at him with a tear falling down the same cheek he kissed. It was your way to say I love you too.

And just like that, Rusty opened the door and left without another glance in your direction. The wall between the two of you built itself back up in an instant. That way, he protected you from the world. Most importantly, he protected you from himself. All the history between the two of you would remain a secret.

You were his best kept secret.

[dfortrafalgar]

Special Delivery

(Sanji x Fem!Reader- Offscreen)

Sanji reaches out to Zeff for the first time in years.

I wrote this many, many months ago now, and it was the first fic i posted anonymously on AO3. I got a few requests after it was originally posted to write a second part, which I eventually did!

You can read Part 2 here! Original AO3 link

(I figured I should let my blog breathe a little in between the really heavy and emotional Law fic im writing, and what better way to cool down than some sanji fluff <3)

A sharp squawk awoke Red-Leg Zeff from his daze. With a grumpy expression and a low grunt, he peered towards the direction of the sound.

A messenger coo was seated on the railing of the Baratie's upper deck next to where Zeff stood slouched over with his forearms leaning against the wooden support. It cocked its head to the side as if it was deconstructing Zeff's appearance before reaching into its pouch and procuring a parchment envelope. Zeff found it strange. Messenger coos only usually delivered the newspapers or the latest bounty reports, very rarely were they put in charge of personalized letters. It must have been paid off by whoever wanted this delivered.

The gruff man took the parchment from the beak of the bird and watched as it took back off into the air, leaving a few molted white feathers behind in its wake. He looked at the envelope.

All it said on the front, in very elegant handwriting, was "Captain Zeff." He flipped the paper around, revealing a wax stamp holding the opening down, which he peeled off with a calloused thumb.

Tucked neatly inside the envelope was a white piece of paper, tri-folded over itself. Zeff slipped the paper out, unfolding it to reveal the written contents of the letter. The penmanship was impeccable, and the ink was very sleek. He knew immediately it was from Sanji, not many other pirates had handwriting as good as his. He had completely lost track of how many years it had been since the curly-browed boy left with that ragtag group of pirates to sail to the Grand Line, but Zeff had every single one of his bounty posters. He'd never admit it, but they were tacked up on the wall of his sleeping quarters. Every time Sanji's bounty increased, Zeff felt pride swell in his heart.

"How are you doing, you old geezer. It's been a little too long since we've had any contact, so I thought I'd write to you just to see how you've been. You're no slouch, I'm sure you've been keeping up with the world's events over the past however-many years. Do the Marines even bother to keep sending our bounty posters to the Baratie anymore? Well, regardless, I'm sure you can read right through me. I can't deny it, I miss you, old man. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life, and such a huge part of that is thanks to you and the guys back on that old cruiser. Every recipe I try to make, I imagine you screaming in my ear and telling me that it tastes like shit. Some days I really wish I could be back there, but most of the time I'm joyful. Life has been really, really good. A few years ago, I met someone. Last year, we got married, and soon after our lives changed so drastically. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and she's as sweet as an angel. I mean it, too. I know you'd probably think something along the lines of me playing up my affections again just because she's a pretty woman, but I mean it. You'd love her, Zeff. Living as a pirate is the most stressful thing anyone could ever do, but she makes every day worth it. The crew was discussing the possibility of returning to the East Blue a bit ago, and when we do, I'm going to introduce you to her. I've spent the last years talking all about you, how you taught me everything I know about cooking, and I can tell she's just as excited as I am to finally see you. This letter's gone on long enough and I don't want to use up all of Nami's paper.

-- Sanji"

Zeff felt a lump in the back of his throat. Sanji had grown into such a fine young man, eloquent with his words and his feelings. He knew how big of a deal it was for the boy to be so honest and open. But one thing in the letter caught him off guard. What did he mean by, "Soon after our lives changed drastically."?

Zeff peered into the envelope, where another, smaller envelope was tucked inside. He almost didn't see it. Pulling it out, he held the letter and original envelope in between his fingers while he opened the second. Sanji was thorough with his packaging, that's for sure.

Inside, there were three photographs printed on thin, matted paper. The first was of Sanji and you, the wife he wrote about in his letter, taken by someone else holding the camera. Sanji had his arm around you, holding you against him, and you had your face nuzzled into his neck. His other hand held a cigarette away from the two of you, like he was in the middle of telling a story. The two of you were smiling brighter than the sun, Sanji's eyes completely closed with the motion of laughter, and yours creased, your irises looking up towards him.

The second photo made Zeff's eyes water. A photo of you and Sanji on the deck of the Sunny, exchanging rings. Sanji was wearing a sleek navy blue tuxedo, while you were wearing a gorgeous white ballgown. For pirates, you cleaned up phenomenally. He could just make out tears in Sanji's eyes as the photo displayed you sliding a band onto his finger. A skeleton with poofy hair stood between the two of you, which Zeff found a little odd, but he chuckled at the absurdity of it all.

Zeff flipped to the last photo.

The tears that were welling in his eyes from the previous image finally slid down his cheeks in heavy, salty droplets. His lip quivered.

Sanji sat in a chair, beaming down at a bundle of cloth held gently in his arm. He was crying in this photo as well, and was reaching a finger over the top of the bundle, where a smaller hand was reaching outwards to grab onto it. A small glimpse of blonde hair could be made out from under the cloth securing the baby tightly. On the back of the film, Sanji wrote the birth date and the name of the baby.

Zeff used a sleeve to wipe his blubbering eyes. His lips quivered, but he couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face.

Was he allowed to call himself a grandfather now? He figured it was only appropriate.

[hannahbarberra162]

Under the Microscope, Part 7 (Yandere Sabo x Reader)

18+ MDNI on Ao3

All the other parts

@orioncipher said that Sabo is basically getting a second cat to keep his first cat company when he travels....and that's exactly right! Two meow meows on a deserted island! Let's see how they do together :3

SPOILERS FOR EGGHEAD

~~~

Your POV

Maybe it would have been better if Sabo had killed you after all. That would have been a less humiliating circumstance than Sabo kissing you in front of Ace and practically skipping out the door, leaving you alone with his brother for who knows how long. Your face burned with embarrassment as Ace looked you over with a smirk.

“So, you and Sabo, huh?” he said, talking with his mouth full. Yep, Sabo should have killed you.

“Uh, it’s not really like that -” you said, trying to get your blush to recede. Your statement only made Ace look more smug as his smile widened.

“I think it’s exactly like that,” he replied, “I’m sure Sabo’ll fill you in eventually.” You frowned, you didn’t like the implication that they knew things you didn’t. You didn’t answer, but also didn’t resume eating. Between Sabo leaving suddenly and the kiss you still felt lingering on your lips, your appetite was gone. You took your cup to drink some water but your hand was shaking so hard you were spilling. Waiting a moment, you took a deep breath and were able to calm down enough to hold your cup and drink.

“What’s with the shaking?” Ace asked, pointing towards your hand with his fork.

“Nothing,” you said tersely, getting up from the table. You weren’t in the mood to deal with Ace’s rude behavior. 

“You gonna finish that?” Ace said, gesturing towards your plate. You pushed your nearly full plate of food onto his, dumping it into the sink when you were done. You’d get to the dishes later, you thought, you didn’t want to be around Ace and his teasing right now.

Sabo had told you to stay in the house until the ship was gone, so even though you wanted to be alone, you still didn’t feel safe ignoring his rule. Walking up the stairs, you went to your room to calm down until the coast was clear. Shutting the door behind you, you went to lay on the bed, and saw a note had been left for you on your pillow case. Turning it over in your hands, you saw Sabo had written his nickname for you on the front, as if there would be anyone else in the room.

One thing was for certain - Sabo had the most beautiful penmanship you’d ever seen. He must have spent hours and hours practicing to achieve handwriting like that. The only time you’d seen anything of a similar caliber was when you’d gotten a letter asking a few follow up questions to an article you’d published. The article itself hadn’t garnered a lot of interest from the scientific community, so you were especially surprised to receive queries from a Warlord. It had been a very esoteric article about the overlap of lineage factors and hereditary conditions and their effect on idiopathic diseases. The letter had been professional and the Warlord had clearly understood your research, so you answered the questions to the best of your abilities. Shortly thereafter, you’d been transferred and begun working on sequencing new Lineage factors unlike any you’d seen before. 

You opened Sabo’s letter, quickly reading through the brief contents.

Dearest Sunny,

I am loath to leave you so soon after our arrival to the island, but I am unable to be absent from the Revolutionary Army any longer. I know this is yet another abrupt change for you, but you will have to be the strong and brave woman I know you are. You have nothing to fear on the island and Ace will help you with anything you may need. He has a baby Den Den that can be used to contact me. Please call at any time of day or night, I would delight in hearing your voice.

There are warmer clothes in the trunk at the foot of the bed, use them in my stead. 

I look forward to seeing more of your pressed flowers, talking together about your findings, and spending our evenings under the stars together. I will be back as soon as I am able.

Love,

Sabo 

Reading through the letter a few times in a row, you had to set it down before you shredded it to pieces. The information Sabo provided was helpful but made you feel worse than you did when Ace was making fun of you. Sabo’s letter was obviously romantic and made your life sound idyllic. Flower picking, dates under the stars, cuddling together for warmth…your face regained its reddened hue you’d worked to lose. You had to take a few deep breaths to keep from screaming in frustration. Not for the first time, you wished that your Devil Fruit was destructive, explosive, powerful, anything that you could channel your rage. But no, all you had was making small things larger. Flopping back on the bed with a huff, you balled your hands and covered your eyes.

When had you accepted that Sabo had kidnapped you? Why were you allowing him to manipulate you into complacency? Sure, the first few days had been fun, especially after you were so seasick. But now you could see things as they really were. You had to get off the island, get away from Sabo, and get back to the Marines, no matter what. You weren’t sure how you’d do it yet, but you’d overcome a lot in your life and you weren’t going to let Sabo lure you into contentment with fake love. Yes, you’d had a good vacation but now it was time to get back to work.

You stayed in the room for hours, trying to think of ways to escape the island and its fraternal inhabitants. Based on the angle of the sun you thought a large enough amount of time had passed, so you went back downstairs to find out if the boat had left. Ace was sitting on the front porch of the house, leaning back against the siding, eating sunflower seeds and spitting out the shells.

“Ace, is the boat gone?” you asked from the nearest window, still inside the house. You hoped he would clean the shells but didn’t have high hopes.

“Oh. Yeah. Like a few hours ago. Thought you were sleeping or something,” Ace said, shrugging. Your lips pressed into a thin line as you fought the urge to say something snarky to him. Irritating the only other person on the island - especially one with a Den Den - would not work in your favor to escape. 

“Thanks,” was all you said, moving away from the window to get your shoes. Getting your sweatshirt and your notebook, you set out for some nature time. Maybe looking at plants and walking around would clear your mind and help you think of new ideas.

A few hours later and you were no closer to an idea of escape than you were before. Sabo had trapped you quite well, you had to hand it to him. It seemed like the only way you were going to get off the island was if Sabo came back and took you with him. You’d have to work on convincing him to let you off the island, to take you to the RA Headquarters. Which raised another problem - you were a bad actress and a worse liar. You sighed as you headed back to the house to make some dinner, your stomach rumbling. You hadn’t eaten since the failed breakfast this morning, you’d forgotten in your anguish.

Looking through the pantry, you saw a lot of ingredients but were unsure what to make. You were good at cooking three dishes, one of which was the buns and eggs you ate for breakfast. The other two were spicy seafood fried rice and gumbo, both of which involved fresh caught fish. Maybe Ace would be helpful and catch some fish for the next day, because you certainly couldn’t catch anything. You decided to make gumbo and leave out the fish for today. When Ace resurfaced, you’d ask him about fishing gear. You hauled out a big pot for the gumbo, you were hoping to make enough for a few days so you didn’t have to keep cooking.

After the gumbo was finally completed, you plated yourself a bowl and sat down at the table. Stirring the stew with your spoon, you tried to make yourself eat a few bites. Even though you hadn’t eaten all day, your stomach felt like it was completely full of your overwhelming anxiety. Still, it wasn’t half bad, so you forced yourself to eat a little bit. You laughed a little to yourself as you got up to get a glass of water to drink. While Sabo was there you hadn’t had to get yourself anything during mealtime, he was as attentive to you as a waiter. Sitting back down and resuming eating, the door banged open, revealing a sleepy looking and sunburnt Ace. 

“Whatcha make?” Ace yelled while walking towards the table. 

“Gumbo, want some?” you asked. You wondered if he was a Zoan bloodhound the way he found food.

“Sure, smells good,” Ace replied, already rummaging in the kitchen for a plate and eating utensil. As he kept piling his bowl higher and higher, your eyes widened. You thought you made enough food for a few days, but you’d forgotten Ace’s appetite. He sat down at the bar, one stool in between you, and started shoveling it in. “S’no fish?” Ace said, while showing you his full mouth. Grimacing, you looked down at your plate trying to ignore his messy eating habits.

“This dish needs seafood. Can you go fishing and get some? I’m not really a good fisherwoman,” you explained. You didn’t mind eating the dish with only meat in it, but it really did taste better with shrimp or some kind of crustacean. Ace hummed but neither agreed nor disagreed. Things became quiet between you two as Ace ate and you resumed your thoughts. Sighing again, you dumped the remainder of your plate on Ace’s as you had earlier in the day. Ace grunted a thanks. You hoped this wasn’t going to be a recurring theme of your stay you didn’t want Sabo bothering you about losing weight again. You went up to your room, hopefully to fall asleep fairly soon as you had the previous few days.

Except, you didn’t. Dusk had come and gone, and you laid in the bed tossing and turning. Sabo had left and so had your habit of falling easily to sleep. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but curling into Sabo’s warmth was so pleasant, and it had such a calming effect on you that it put you right to sleep every night. But now he wasn’t here and even with the extra clothes from the foot of the bed you were cold. More than that, your mind was still whirling with thoughts on how to get back to where you belonged. Your hands were shaking and you kept turning your pillow over again and again. Eventually, you gave up and decided to do what you always did when you couldn’t sleep- read anything scientific.

Covering yourself with a blanket, you went downstairs to read on the couch. You forgot to bring a book from Sabo’s room upstairs, so you went into the office. You knew there were books there, you’d seen them during the one time you’d gone in. Sabo had left many papers and books on his desk and you quickly scanned them to see if there was anything of interest. The pile of papers were academic articles, you discovered after picking one up and reading the title. They all seemed to be about lineage factors, genetic sequencing, and devil fruits, you realized after fanning them out on the desk. You sat down on his chair, spreading the articles out further to read them. At least you’d found your reading for the night. And it was all in your area of expertise.

Sabo POV

Sabo hadn’t heard from Ace since he set sail, which wasn’t anything new. Sabo often didn’t hear from Ace at all when he left the island, no matter how long he was gone. Occasionally Ace would call with shopping requests, mostly related to food, but that was about it. His brother was content to wallow in his feelings day in and day out with no interruptions from Sabo. Sabo for his part didn’t often call Ace, wanting to respect his privacy and his wishes. But now things were different, you were there. Sabo was nervous that you would be anxious without him there to smooth things over, that maybe you were as tightly wound as when he found you. So, in the early evening on the fourth day he was gone, Sabo called Ace. 

He was laying on the bed in his cabin, the very same one you had once slept on, holding your old bandana in his hand. He didn’t exactly lie to you, he burned most of your old uniform, but he’d kept the bandana as a reminder of the first time he’d seen you out of code in that warm jail cell. The memory of sweat dripping down your chest with your opened shirt had made him hard even though he knew you didn’t mean for the scene to be erotic. He’d already made notes of clothes he wanted to buy for you now that he was off the island, including a new belt. He saw you had been wearing Ace’s, and even though Ace was his brother, it still made Sabo jealous to see it slung on your hips. 

Puru puru puru puru puru puru puru puru puru

“Yo,” Ace said, picking up the phone.

“Hi, Ace. I was just calling -” the snail now had Ace’s smug smile stretched across its features. Sabo wanted to punch it but knew it wouldn’t deliver the feeling to his brother.

“ - to ask about your girlfriend,” Ace said, finishing Sabo’s sentence. Sabo blinked slowly, he really couldn’t kill his brother. Well, shouldn’t.

“Yes, to ask about Sunny. How is she? I haven’t heard from you,” Sabo replied coolly. He wasn’t going to give Ace the satisfaction of knowing he was getting under Sabo’s skin.

“I dunno, I haven’t seen her,” Ace said while shrugging, making Sabo sit up on the bed.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen her? How? There’s only two of you there. Where is she?” Sabo was trying to keep himself from yelling. He was worried but maybe you were just avoiding Ace. That wouldn’t be out of character for either of you.

“Chill, she’s in your office. She’s been there for like, three days straight. Hasn’t made me more food or anything. I can hear her muttering in there, but I haven’t seen her,” Ace said with a shrug. Sabo was already off the bed and pacing the floor.

“Go to the office. Now.” Sabo demanded, picking up the snail in his hand. Sabo was worried you were working on Project Angel. He was planning on telling you everything he’d gathered, but he hadn’t expected you to put everything together before he got back. He wanted to get copies of a few more documents to show you before he asked you about your work. He kicked himself for not locking up his research in the cabinet. 

“Ugh, why? She’s an adult, she’s fine,” Ace complained. 

“Get off your ass, stop sleeping on the beach, and go to my office. Bring the snail,” Sabo snapped. He was in no mood for Ace’s pity parties.

“Fine. Gimme a minute,” Ace declared, rolling his eyes. Sabo nervously paced, holding the snail in his gloved hand. He waited until he heard the sounds of Ace slamming open the door to the house, then slamming open the door to the office.

“Look, here she is, whoa, what’s all this shit on the floor, she’s uh…..maybe not fine?” Ace said, tone rising at the end of the sentence, eyes darting around.

“What do you mean ‘not fine’?” Sabo demanded as Ace continued moving.

“Don’t step on those papers, I need them,” you said absently. Sabo couldn’t see you but the snail would pick up anyone in the immediate vicinity of the call. Sabo could hear the croak in your voice. It made him wonder the last time you had a cup of water, or went to sleep.

“Well, there’s nowhere else to step, there’s papers covering every inch of the floor,” Ace complained, the snail looking around at Sabo’s hand. “What’s with all the stuff everywhere? It kinda looks like Marco’s office when he would be researching.. And what’s with your fingers?” Ace asked. You mumbled some response but neither Sabo nor Ace understood it. “Uh, I’m not sure what’s going on here ‘Bo. She looks like she hasn’t slept in a week,” Ace said hesitantly. Sabo swore under his breath.

“Put her on the call,” Sabo requested, trying to keep calm for your sake. Once the snail shifted to your appearance, Sabo cursed again softly. You had huge bags under your eyes, you were reading something rapidly, and the snail’s little hands looked like they were bleeding. “Hi Sunny!” Sabo tried to interrupt you cheerfully, maybe you’d be receptive.

“Hi,” you replied, not taking your eyes off whatever you were reading. You were also furiously writing something down, he guessed in your notebook.

“It’s Sabo,” he continued, “how are you doing?” 

“Okay.”

“What have you been up to?”

“Okay.” 

“I missed you,” Sabo said, trying to get a reaction out of you.

“Okay,” you replied, not even listening to what he was saying. Sabo switched tactics, trying to get you to actually interact with him, not run on auto-pilot.

“I joined the Marines,” Sabo said nonchalantly.

“Okay.”

“They made me Fleet Admiral,” Sabo continued.

“Okay.” In all that time, you hadn’t stopped reading or writing notes for a second.

“Ace, take the notebook away from her,” Sabo said. He heard a short scuffle before you finally looked up from your work.

“Hey!! Give that back right now! It’s not a joke!” you yelled at Ace, with true anger in your voice. For the first time, Sabo heard you voice your frustration and anger. Though he was proud of you, he needed you to stop working.

“Listen to Sabo, then I’ll give it back,” Ace said, the snail holding its arm up in the air. Sabo had seen Ace take things away from Luffy and hold them over his head many times, that probably was what he was doing to you now.

“Fine. What, Sabo?” you said angrily, the snail’s eyes snapping to him. 

“When was the last time you ate?” Sabo asked evenly.

You scrunched your face in thought, bringing a finger to your mouth to chew. “I don’t remember. I think…yesterday? Maybe the day before?”

“And the last time you drank water?”

“Before that. I’ve been drinking -”

“- coffee,” Sabo said with a sigh, finishing your sentence for you. “Have you slept at all?”

“Um, I think I passed out for a few hours…at some point. I don’t really remember and it isn’t important. Sabo, I need my work. Give it Ace, NOW.” Sabo had never heard you this upset before, not even when you were being dressed down by other Marines. 

“Ace is going to give it back to you and you’re going to drink the water he brings, OK? You want to keep being able to work, right? If you drink water and eat, you’ll be able to work longer,” Sabo reasoned with you. You blinked a few times, breaking out of your anger. You nodded slowly, almost trancelike. “Ace, give her back her work,” Sabo requested. The snail snatched the air and resumed reading and writing rapidly.

“I’m not a waiter, I’m not bringing -” Ace started to complain again.

“Ace, got to the kitchen. Please,” Sabo practically begged. He wished he was there in person so he could do it all himself but for now he needed to rely on his brother. Something in his tone must have alerted Ace, because the door slammed again, signaling that Ace had left the office.

“What? She’s bitten her fingernails down to the nub but her hands aren’t broken, she can get water by-” 

“Ace, shut up. I need you to reach behind the spice rack, there’s an unlabeled vial. Do it now.” Ace grumbled but Sabo heard the sound of rummaging. “Put five drops into a cup of water and make sure Sunny drinks it,” Sabo continued. 

“What is this shit?” Ace asked, the snail examining something in its hand. “If it’s good drugs, I’m gonna be sad you held out on me,” Ace said with a raised eyebrow. Sabo sighed, at least Ace was consistent in his irritating nature.

“It’s to help her sleep. I was…giving her some when I was on the island. I think that because she suddenly stopped getting it, her sleep cycle is messed up -” The Ace snail’s face grimaced.

“Sabo, that’s fucked. I can’t believe you were drugging her, what else were you doing to her when she was asleep -”

“Nothing! It’s not like that! This is how she is if I don’t help her sleep. Can you blame me? I bet you she’s been working non-stop since the last time you saw her. Just make sure she drinks the water and then leave her alone. Come back in half an hour and she’ll be asleep. Transfer her to the bed and don’t wake her up.”

“Fine, fine. But only this once. You can’t just keep drugging her forever, you know,” Ace stated, crossing his arms over the bandages on his chest.

“Just this once, I promise. Please.” Ace sighed but Sabo heard the sound of running water and footsteps a few moments later.

“Here, Sunny, drink this,” Ace said, the snail holding out its hand.

“Okay,” you replied automatically.

“Ok, she drank it,” Ace confirmed to Sabo. “I’ll be back in half an hour,” Ace said to you.

“Okay,” you said again. Snail Ace rolled its eyes. 

“That’s all she says ‘okay, okay, okay,’ geez. It’s annoying,” Ace muttered. Sabo finally stopped pacing and sat back down on his bed.

“Thank you, Ace.” Sabo said, grateful for Ace’s presence on the island.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it now, she’s even more self destructive than I am. And that’s saying something,” Ace said while yawning. “I’ll get her soon, don’t worry. I won’t forget. Talk to ya later, ‘Bo.” Ace hung up the call without waiting for Sabo to say goodbye. Typical.

Sabo rubbed his forehead as he imagined you passed out on his large desk. How could you argue that you needed his help now? He’d left you alone for less than a week and you’d already worked yourself back into a state worse than the one he’d found you in. He was nervous about your emotional and mental state if you made all the connections Sabo had. He’d call in the morning, make sure you were OK. For now, all he could do was worry as he wrapped your old Marine uniform tightly around his gloved hands.

Ace POV

Grumbling to himself, Ace entered Sabo’s office half an hour later, like he said he would. Sure enough, you were drooling onto a pile of papers you’d been making notes on. Sighing, he picked you up like a child and started carrying you out of the office with your head on his shoulder. He couldn’t believe Sabo would drug you without your knowledge. Well, he could, but he didn’t condone it. You shifted in your sleep, drooling now onto Ace’s shoulder. He smiled lightly to himself, it reminded him of all those times with Luffy, carrying him around the forest after a long day of hunting.

Climbing the stairs slowly so as not to jostle you, Ace made the short walk to your room. He hadn’t been in Sabo’s room in months, there wasn’t any reason to go in there. Ace deposited you gently in the middle of the bed, covering you with the thin quilt Bepo had made for him. It wouldn’t be enough to keep you warm in the night, Ace thought to himself. If he still had his devil fruit…well, a lot of things would be different. For now, he went to his own room and brought a spare blanket he had in his closet and set it over you. 

Ace went out to enjoy the sunset and clear his mind. He’d done a lot of meditation over the past year, but it didn’t help. He was plagued by nightmares when he tried to sleep and deep shame when he was awake. Ace knew Sabo wanted him to leave the island, maybe go find his former crew or their brother, but Ace…just couldn’t. He couldn’t stand to see the disappointment, the rage, the bitter faces of those he had once stood next to, now glaring at him with hatred. A part of him thought that it would have been better if he died at Marineford, so that the death of his Father wouldn’t have been in vain. But, he hadn’t. Ace couldn’t even die right. And he couldn’t imagine the grief Sabo would feel if he left again. So Ace stayed in the limbo of living and dying, eking out a small, isolated life on the deserted island. 

Until Sabo brought you. Ace was smarter than people gave him credit for, he knew what Sabo was up to. He was trying to win you over, to get you to like being with him and on the island. In reality, you had Sabo wrapped around your finger, but you couldn’t see it. Ace clocked Sabo watching you, preparing food and drinks for you, gaining your trust day by day. It was clear that you were an unmitigated genius, the conversations you and Sabo shared were far beyond Ace’s understanding. But you were also sweet and shy, kind and reserved, qualities that Sabo preferred in his partners. Some might think Sabo would want someone who could fight alongside him, but Ace thought Sabo needed someone to take care of, someone to protect. If it wasn’t Ace, it was Luffy. And now Luffy didn’t need them, he had a crew and was more powerful than either one of them, even if he was still an idiot. 

Which only further cemented in Ace’s mind his decision to stay on the island. He was weak now, no Devil Fruit power. Yes, he still could use haki, yes he could still fight, but he felt like a piece of him was missing now that he didn’t have the Mera Mera no Mi. Not only was he a complete failure, he was also the first person to ever lose the ability to use his devil fruit. Sabo wouldn’t fight him using the fruit which defeated the point of sparring, in Ace’s mind. Who would want to see him now? Scarred, depressed, weak, useless. It was better that the world thought he was dead, that he stayed on the island in obscurity and faded into the nothingness that he deserved. 

Your POV

You blinked awake, your mind and mouth felt like they were filled with cotton. Looking around, you were in your bed, covered by a much warmer blanket than your usual quilt. The last thing you remembered was thinking you needed a quick power nap in Sabo’s office…but looking out the window, it must have been at least early afternoon. Stretching in the bed, you saw you were still in your clothes from three days ago. It was gross, but you were glad Ace hadn’t changed you like Sabo had on the boat. You tried swallowing a few times to get the taste of old shoes out of your mouth but it didn’t work. After a quick stretch, you climbed out of bed. Your marathon of working had done a number on you, but you were feeling refreshed.

Descending the staircase, you yawned your way over to the kitchen to make another pot of coffee. You had a lot of research to go through and work on, it was going to be another long day. And night. You started thinking about the next steps in reverse engineering the research while unlatching the coffee canister. You prepared to scoop the grounds but found it empty, which was odd. You distinctly remember there being more coffee, you would have remembered something like that missing, even in your sleep deprived state.

“Looking for something?” Ace asked. You squeaked, you hadn’t seen him waiting for you on the couch.

“Yeah, eh, sorry for yelling,” you apologized. You hoped things weren’t awkward between you and Ace, it would make things a drag if the only other person on the island was mad at you. “Do you, um, know where the coffee went?” you asked hesitatingly.

“I have it, and I’ll give it back on two conditions,” he said, drawing out the tension between you.

“Um…what’re the conditions?” you replied, sitting down on a bar stool to continue the conversation. Even though you thought Ace didn’t want anything nefarious with you, not knowing anything about him made you nervous. You absently brought your finger to your face to chew on your nail, but put it back down when you saw the state they were in. Damn, you’d really bitten them down to the nub, you’d have to bandage them later. 

“I think they’re pretty reasonable. One, we need to call Sabo. He’s been calling me like, every hour to see if you’re awake and it’s annoying,” Ace said, counting off his fingers. You swallowed, your throat dry.

“Alright. What’s the second one?” you agreed, chewing on your lip and tasting blood. Ugh, you had done a number on yourself.

“Two, you have to explain to me what you’re working on. I’m not as smart as you or Sabo, but I wanna know what’s going on. Sabo’s stressed out and so’re you, and I wanna know why,” Ace finished, crossing his arms over his chest. You blinked a few times, surprised at Ace’s demands. They were far more sensible than you expected them to be.

“Ok. I can do both of those things. But can we make some coffee before we call Sabo? I have a feeling he’s not going to be happy with me,” you said with a grimace. You weren’t particularly happy with yourself either, truth be told. Ace hopped off the couch and meandered over to the kitchen. Reaching up to the highest cabinet, he pulled a canister of coffee you hadn’t seen off the shelf.

“It’s convenient you’re short, me’n Sabo can keep stuff away from you up there,” Ace said with a smile. You raised an eyebrow.

“What is Sabo keeping away from me?” you asked, curious.

“Uh…n-nothing! Nothing at all, just saying! Let’s call Sabo!” Ace stammered, a blush rising to his cheeks. You hummed but didn’t say anything. Ace pulled the Den Den out of his kimono and dialed Sabo.

Puru…

Sabo picked up on the first ring.  “Ace, is she -” 

“She’s here,” you replied, interrupting before either one of them had the chance to, grabbing the snail from Ace. 

“Sunny! Thank goodness, you had me worried, how are you feeling? Do you remember talking to me yesterday?” You squinted, trying to think of the past few days. Physically, you felt OK, you’d actually pulled worse stunts. Emotionally…

“I remember you called, but I don’t remember the conversation we had, I’m sorry,” you said. “Listen, Sabo, I’m sorry I worked myself too hard, but -”

“ Worked yourself too hard ? Sunny, you stayed up for three days with no sleep, or food, or water. That’s worse than you were before, I know that -”

“Sabo,” you interrupted quietly, “did you know about my research being used for the Seraphim?” The line went silent for a moment.

“I suspected, but I didn’t have enough proof. I was going to show you my findings when I came back and see if you made the same connections that I did,” Sabo said. “That’s part of the reason I was sent to retrieve you from the base, it wasn’t just the Will of D. -”

“-but you weren’t sent to retrieve me, right? You were sent to kill me,” you continued, setting the snail down on the bar counter. You didn’t know where your courage to speak your mind came from. Maybe it was because Sabo was far away and couldn’t physically see you, maybe it was from his confirmation about your research, maybe it was because you were tired of being left in the dark, maybe it was your conscience talking. All you knew is you needed to hear the truth, even if your hands were shaking too much to hold the snail.

“That’s true,” Sabo said quietly, “but I couldn’t. I just…couldn’t. Please,” Sabo begged into the phone, “please don’t be afraid. I won’t allow anything to happen to you. You’re mine to protect.” You didn’t reply, your courage deflating after Sabo’s intense statement.

“Ok,” was all you said. You handed the snail back to Ace and went to the kitchen to make another pot of coffee. You could still hear the conversation, you just needed a break. You didn’t deserve protection, not after what you’d done.

“See? She’s up and making more coffee, she’s all good -” 

“One last thing, Sunny,” Sabo said in a stern tone. Your eyes flicked to the snail in Ace’s hand. “You can’t work like that. Not anymore. I’ll always protect you - even from yourself. Ace is going to lock you out of the office every night after 8 PM,” Sabo said while you balked. You’d already started thinking about which documents you’d take to your room when he continued. “And no working outside the office. I’ll know,” he said, his intense stare piercing you even though it was coming from a snail. 

“I don’t need you or Ace looking after me, I can set my own limits, I -” you balked at Sabo, ready to defend yourself.

“Are you sure?” Sabo asked, voice low. “Look at your fingers. Look at your lips. You were practically in kidney failure when we last talked. You would work yourself to death if no one stopped you.” You flushed, Sabo’s words stinging your ego. He didn’t understand, you had to figure out what to do, the consequences were too dire otherwise.

“Please, I - I like taking care of you. Let me help you,” Sabo crooned to you. “I don’t want to embarrass or upset you. Please, Sunny? Will you do this for me? Let me help you?” 

You nodded, silently agreeing with Sabo’s plan. You’d figure out a way to get everything sorted in the time he gave you. You didn’t deserve anyone’s kindness, not anymore, but you couldn’t refuse Sabo’s offer.

“Ok, that’s enough. We’ll talk again some other time, Sabo,” Ace said, hanging up the call. “Whew, glad that’s over,” Ace said, relaxing against the couch. “Now that you’ve started the coffee, what are the Seraphim? And how are you connected to them?”

Grabbing a mug and filling it with coffee, you shuffled over and sat across from Ace on the couch. “It’s a long story, get comfortable. OK, do you know anything about lineage factors?” you asked. Ace shook his head.

“Alright, not a problem. Lineage factors are the building blocks of life, every single living thing in the world has a lineage factor. It’s how we all turn out the way we do, from our strengths to the way we look to the diseases we get. Your genetic makeup, the traits you get from your parents, can affect it, your environment can affect it, and eating a devil fruit can affect it. With me so far?” you asked. Ace nodded.

“So, I’ve been researching lineage factors for a long time, at the molecular level. I was given different assignments by the Marines over the years, but they all were about how to replicate, create, or delete different elements from Lineage Factors. So, for example, I could have been working on how to cure West Blue Nerve Depletion. It’s a fatal disease you can get if both of your parents are from a certain part of the West Blue. With my work, if I successfully identified the right Lineage Factor, you could hypothetically erase it and no one would get it any more. That’s really simplified, but you get the point.”

Your face soured as you thought through the next part you had to explain. You gripped the edge of the cushion you were sitting on, pushing on it to relieve your budding anxiety “So. Um. A long time ago, Vegapunk figured out a way to make fake Zoan Devil Fruits using Lineage factors. It was before my time,” you supplied. “The first time around it wasn’t considered a success and the project was abandoned. But a few years ago the project got renewed interest. Sabo - I…we think that Vegapunk used some of my research to make the new generation of artificial Zoan fruits. They’re called SMILE fruits. They…it’s…there’s a lot going on with them. A lot of horrible, horrible…um…” you stammered as you felt yourself starting to clam up. You put your hand on your chest and rubbed as you continued.

“Um, Sabo’s documents show Donquixote Doflamingo was selling these fruits to Kaido and um…it’s…dangerous and they’ve hurt a lot of people. Killed a lot of people. He m-made a lot of m-money, well, the fruit users didn’t….Doflamingo..it’s not…I’m not…” you kept trying to talk but it was getting harder to take full breaths. 

“Hey, it’s OK,” Ace said, leaning forward on the couch, getting up quickly. He moved to sit next to you, putting a hand on your back. You let him, the touch grounding you in reality.

“It’s not OK, um, I thought - I thought I was helping, um people and I was, ah….Doflamingo and Kaido…the Beast Pirates…” you couldn’t get anything in or out, either breaths or thoughts. Ace started rubbing his hand on your back in circles, trying to soothe you. You didn’t know why he was being nice to you, you didn’t deserve it with all the blood on your hands. Your work had resulted in the deaths of hundreds of people, injured thousands more, led to the consolidation of Doflamingo’s power, Kaido’s army growing exponentially and plenty more. You were directly responsible for the suffering of thousands and thousands of innocent lives.

“You don’t have to keep explaining if you don’t want to,” Ace said softly. You stopped talking for a few minutes, letting the anxiety flow through you. But you needed to tell someone, you needed someone else to know the terrible things you’d done. A part of you hoped Ace would find you repugnant after you told him everything, that he would yell at you. You wanted someone to make you feel as awful as you deserved.

“Th-there’s more,” you stammered. “Vegapunk was only able to make Zoan fruits at first, but documents from the RA show that they’re using pieces of my research to kind of make fake paramecia fruits. I worked on this blood a long time ago, I’m not sure exactly what it was, but I think - they’re…ah…making Seraphim. Or made them already, I’m not sure. They’re kind of clones of the Warlords with paramecia powers. Destructive, but completely controlled, it was all done using parts of my…my…uh…my…” you couldn’t talk any longer as your throat closed and your world narrowed. 

Everything was too tight, too small, too constricting. You pushed Ace’s hand off you and ran out of the house, the screen door slamming with a bang. You needed to be away, away from Ace, away from the house, away from the words, away from the guilt, away from the shame…You didn’t know where you were going, you were just blindly running running running running…your socks hit water and you sank to your knees, palms touching the shore. The rocky pebbles of the beach pierced your hands and knees and the cold water lapped at your skin as you took half a breath, trying to calm down, trying to relax, trying to breathe, trying to forget, trying to breathe trying to breathe breathe breathe breathe

“-after you. Holy shit, you’re fast when you run,” Ace said, finally catching up to you, long hair fluttering around his face. “You alright?” he asked, hand hovering near you as if unsure whether to touch you. You tried to nod but weren’t sure if you were successful or not.

“C’mon, let’s breathe with the waves. In and out. Look, here comes a wave. In…….and out, look the wave is going……in……..and out……” You were on all fours, taking in ragged breaths to the sounds of the waves with Ace’s voice, your hands in the water up to your wrists. You didn’t know how long you were doing it, but eventually your breath evened out and you were able to take in a full lungful of air, making your chest hurt with the effort. Finally, you were able to sit down, though you longed to be back in bed. Your adrenaline rush had left you drained, probably still tired from the three days you didn’t sleep. You sat where you were, lower body drenched in sea water from the waves.

“T-thanks,” you said in a halting tone, unsure if your ability to speak would last.

“No problem. I used to do this all the time, it’s a..um, breathing box technique? I think that’s what Sabo called it,” Ace said, scratching his head. “Box breathing, that’s it.”

Everything was quiet for a few minutes as the two of you sat side by side, watching the deep blue sea. As the last of your adrenaline faded, you noticed your hands were stinging from the salt water on your open wounds.

“You explained lineage factors really good. Sabo’s tried before, but I was too dumb to understand when he did,” Ace said, breaking the silence.

“You’re not dumb, it’s pretty complicated. Most scientists don’t really understand it either, that’s why there’s not that many of us who study it in depth,” you replied. You didn’t think Ace was stupid, formal education on a lot of islands left a lot to be desired. You’d met a lot of highly intelligent people over the years who simply hadn’t had educational opportunities. Ace hummed.

“Can you look at my lineage factor?” Ace asked. His tone was casual but his back was stiff.

“Sure, gimme your hand,” you requested. You’d looked at so many lineage factors, most were the same outside of devil fruit users. Ace gave you his hand palm up, you took it like you were going to read his fortune. In a way, you were. Magnifying again and again, you reached his lineage factor. Ace leaned over to watch you study it.

“Oh, that’s - that’s really interesting actually. Are you a devil fruit user? Your lineage factor suggests you are,” you said, poring over his genetic structures. “But also, there are some anomalies, and wow, that’s unique, is that Conqueror’s…? ” you continued, magnifying it even more, “Ace, this is fascinating. I’d love to research you more,” you said. You were lost in thought, moving the magnification around to see more of his factors. You’d never seen anything like it, he had so many factors you studied, but you’d never seen them all in one person before.

“I was a user, but not any more.”

“I’m sorry?” you’d missed what he said, you were busy looking at the latent power held within the man.

“I used to have a devil fruit, but not any more,” Ace repeated.

“Uh, what do you mean, not any more? I thought they only regenerate if you die,” you questioned, dropping the magnification.

“I did,” Ace deadpanned. “I died at Marineford. I was completely dead for…maybe 3 minutes. That’s all it took for the fruit to regenerate. Sabo went and found the fruit when he wasn’t sure I would pull through and… it’s his now. I’m the first person in history to lose devil fruit powers,” Ace said, laughing bitterly.

“Isn’t it better that you lived? You can always -”

“Hey Sunny -” Ace interrupted. You’d gotten used to his bad habit by now and just cocked your head at Ace’s upcoming question. “Since your research was used to make paramecia and zoan fruits, could you make a Logia fruit?”

Your eyes widened. 

[somber-sapphic]

hi it was me who sent in the request it was a emily x reader and the prompt was i am not sick i think , it was the reader who is sick thank you 🫶

A Call For Rest

〖Summary: After an exhausting week Emily convinces you to go home and rest.〗

〖Word Count: 900〗

〖Pairing: Emily x sick R〗

〖Notes: I'm so glad that reached you! And so so sorry about my accidental deletion, I truly don't know what happened there. I sincerely hope this makes up for it <3〗

“Hey love,” Emily murmured, appearing in the doorway as if she’d teleported there. You hadn’t heard her walk up, though you couldn't hear much through your clogged ears. You set your pen down and wiped your nose on your sleeve, too tired to care about how gross it was. The world was sort of hazy, your mind cloudy. 

Writing up case reports was probably not the best idea considering your current mental state but you remembered enough to feel confident that you could go over notes with JJ to get the full story. 

The media liaison would likely be okay if you just dropped the papers on her desk, she had already checked in on you twice and tried to force you to take some medicine. When you refused she’d settled for leaving a cup of tea on your desk. You drank a little bit but forgot and let it get cold, cold tea wasn’t appetizing. 

“Hi Em.” You croaked, the words grating across your throat. Swallowing was already painful enough but talking seemed impossible. Emily walked into your office and leaned against the side of your desk, looking down at the papers that you were scribbling on. She frowned at the illegible writing, trying to make out even the simplest words. You typically had great penmanship, rivaling even Hotch’s, but this was bad.

“Is it safe to assume you aren’t feeling very well?” She put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently, concerned that she could feel the heat through your shit. It was a light shirt, but still, she shouldn’t be able to feel your fever through a layer of fabric. 

“I’m fine, just tired. Long week.” You were trying to use as few words as possible while still speaking somewhat normally but with the way your voice sounded, it didn’t matter. Nothing could save you from the reality that you weren’t going to win this fight. The last thing you wanted to do was leave work unfinished to pile up, but Emily didn't look like she was letting you get away that easily.

“Hmm, long weeks don’t usually make me sound like I gargled knives for fun. And you feel pretty warm. And your nose is running.” If she kept listing off things you were doomed. You wiped your nose on your sleeve again and sniffled, not removing your eyes from the papers. It was getting harder and harder to focus, everything was so blurry, and your head felt so groggy. 

“I‘m not sick.” You protested, swiping a hand across your eyes in a useless attempt to clear your vision. You refused to accept that you were just lightheaded and no amount of blinking or rubbing your eyes could fix that. Emily sighed and laid her palm on your forehead, making a face at what she felt. 

“I think your fever would beg to differ. You aren’t getting much done here anyway. I can’t read any of that.” She gestured to your sloppily written paperwork, not bothering to sugarcoat it. She’d had enough experience trying to reason with you that she knew you responded better to directness than to dancing around a subject.

You frowned down at your desk and coughed into your fist, your lungs protesting the extra effort they were being forced to use. Emily put a steadying hand on your back, providing support as you choked on whatever your body decided it needed to hack up. 

 When you were finally finished you looked up at her to find dark brown eyes staring back, filled with concern. 

 “Please, you need to rest. You’re so pale, you look like a ghost. I don’t want you to pass out here.” She caressed your cheek, leaving her palm there as an extra show of her love for you. She wasn’t always the best at offering comfort, she had trouble figuring out how to, but this she could handle. There was an easy fix to being sick and she was more than willing to take care of you through it. 

 “What about-” 

 “I’ll take care of it. Let Emily take you home, I’ve seen corpses that look more alive than you.” JJ’s voice startled you, making you jump a little in your seat. God everyone was just popping up out of nowhere, maybe you were worse off than you thought. Emily smiled at the media liaison and wrapped an arm around your shoulders in a loose hug. 

 “Come on love. Let’s go home. I’ll help you walk.” 

 “I don’t need help walking.” You protested as she lifted you from your chair, proving that you not only needed help walking but you couldn't stand on your own. After taking a few wobbly steps under the concerned gaze of JJ, Emily picked you up deciding that it would be the easiest way to get you to the car in a timely manner. 

 You whined but settled into her arms, relieved by the warmth of her touch. She was warm and soft and strong enough to carry you easily. You pressed your face into the crook of her neck and closed your eyes to protect against the harsh light of the bullpen. 

 “Feel better hun,” JJ said softly, squeezing your arm on your way out. You tried to nod but your head was too heavy. You were practically asleep by the time Emily reached the parking lot, but you didn’t mind. Though you would never admit it you were eternally glad that Emily had shown up when she did, any longer and you were confident you would’ve fallen asleep at your desk. 

[gynandromorph]

another little nofna style emulation comic i drew a bit ago that was primarily about why something can "look like words" when it isn't... it is possibly Legend's first time considering the involuntary nature of reading words. she can rationally know that she isn't looking at writing, but her mind continues to see words that she must try to decipher.

the comic ended up getting side-tracked, but i kind of just let these comics go where they go. it is the nofna spirit.

PS and Legend have probably only spoken several times at this point, as classmates. in my head, this is their first season of classes, and they have only just recently proceeded from practicing handwriting and making letters to writing out spoken word.

i imagine that letters and writing are not intuitive at all to people who haven't grown up with it. Legend knew how to read well before entering school. PS has not really internalized that letters represent sounds. she has seen her teacher or classmates speak words as they're writing lines, and later, other people can tell the words that were spoken while writing the lines. her penmanship is naturally excellent, and prior to this module, she was praised by her teacher lavishly.

i imagine that because MOST RODENTS become markscrafts, and rodents tend to be rather... prolific... in number. that classes for this profession would be fucking huge.

the teacher cannot individually dedicate attention to every struggling student, so the first practice is to pair two struggling students together who seem like they compensate each others' shortcomings and see if they can rehabilitate their grades together.

if students continue to fail despite peer review, that is probably the time where a teacher would talk to them privately or recommend a tutor, etc.

the classes also function by a "revise and resubmit" principle over an "extra credit" principle as it is the most direct way for students to figure out what they did wrong and the least amount of extra work for the professor.

their professor is a mouse; a tried to write the grade print small (called "mouseprint" in the canon).

PS's language here is very rough and strange; i imagine she has, at the VERY most, been exposed to common for only a year. she is maybe ~15-16 in age, psychologically. ever since i made her as a character, i assumed one of her core traits was a low drive to do work. she became a markscraft SPECIFICALLY because she did not want to put in the work to earn prestige or more credit. she picked the easiest possible career for her.

as a younger mind, and only recently introduced to the idea that she has to perform labor or GTFO society, her dislike of work is very obvious and she is not reserved about sharing it. she came from a life where she could volunteer to do small tricks for high value treats if she felt like it, and this life is comparatively brutal and demanding in her mind.

Legend's corsage is red star (Rhodohypoxis baurii) and PS's Leaf is a leaf from a large pineapple lily.

Legend is, conversely, probably 18-20 psychologically. idk, the ages are very weird with these animals. i've imagined her parents as highly Civilized people like XX's mother, but a little less strict. while many citizens of society hate wild people (presumably because many of them are serial killers who might serial kill them), not all of them do (example: nutsedge, who sympathizes with a Wild Hawk killing her classmates), and i imagined Legend's parents impressing into her rather strongly that she did not earn being born into a well-off family and physically gifted species.

of course, this didn't stop her from forming a superiority complex towards rodents anyway-- but, i think she's tolerating a significant amount of Weirdness from PS here that she extremely would not tolerate from someone she didn't assume was wild-integrating-into-society, from the constant touching, to the rude openness, the disdain for work ethic, the odd language usage, and the outfit that's essentially showing up to the study session in pasties and booty shorts.

it seems that in these stories, the animals attain a "fluent" level of speech in common relatively quickly (emancipation, secretary), somewhat influenced by natural talent; i think PS has a brute force spaghetti-against-the-wall approach that lets her just mimic as many phrases that she thinks are novel as possible. usually this is an option only available to toddlers who lack the self-awareness to feel embarrassment about constant awkward linguistic mistakes, but PS also has no cultural priming to be embarrassed of the behavior. you can see her parroting various things she's heard, such as "sooo much" as an emphasis phrase, and even "essentially" after Legend says it in passing. other more abstract phrases such as "with credit" or "okay" i imagine she knows simply by being exposed to them over and over again.

when the two get into deeper levels of literacy and markscraft classes, i imagine that Legend's knowledge of grammar and Big Words in general, combined with an ability to verbally express usually unwritten rules in the language, helped propel PS to a level of fluency that has her speaking like she was raised with it 99% of the time.

[eastwindmlk]

A @jilymicrofics for the prompt Retire, Jan 14th

Word count: 838

It was strange, after more than half a century, to be cleaning up her office for the final time. To carefully wrap her trusty tea set in yesterday’s Prophet, sift through the boxes of paperwork in search of what to archive, what to keep and what to finally bin. 

As she sorted through an assortment of old assignments and Christmas cards from a bygone age, Minerva finds herself reminiscing. Once familiar faces and voices curled from the depths of her mind, a fond smile on her face. 

The corners of her lips trembled like her aged hands when her fingers brushed along a script that gave her pause. Because even after all these years, all these hundreds of students, she could still tell whose penmanship this was. 

The large letters crammed onto the parchment, like he knew he was going to run out of space for his sweeping t’s and large loops. The words slanting upwards as if wanting to escape from the paper. 

She did not doubt that, at the time, that was precisely what he’d had on his mind, while stuck doing a detention assignment for her. It was supposed to be an essay, but in true James Potter fashion, he’d ignored the explicit instruction and instead composed a letter. 

Dearest Minerva, 

As we sit across from each other in your office, a pot of lapsang souchong between us, I am aware you are pretending to be cross with me. For the sake of posterity, I will pretend with you. Though we both know that they deserved every miserable second. 

In the future, however, I will strive for a more creative solution. Even if I think turning their belts into snakes was quite a nifty piece of transfiguration. I will let you be the judge of that. Being the expert and all that. 

Speaking of the future, I am supposed to write an essay about where I see myself next year. Which I could have answered effortlessly a fortnight ago. But things changed. Every paper is full of it now. And I refuse to sit idle just because I happened to have been born into a family that fits into their narrow view of our world. 

One year from now, I will be as restless as ever. Using the privilege that comes with my name to help those who cannot help themselves. However, unlike before, I will not humour myself with the delusion that this can be achieved by mere words. 

I will gladly put my wand with my conviction and face whatever is in store beyond the safety of these walls. Together with my friends, we will make a difference. 

My friends and I are talking about getting a place together, somewhere nice and lively. We were hoping to travel, see some of the world. Those plans are on hold, at least for now. Though none of us will say it aloud, we hope that the four of us will be around for it.

So, we spend evenings talking about this trip, imagining places to go and things to do in the hopes that the four of us will get to go.

Hopefully, I will be dating Lily Evans. (Please don’t tell her I said that.) I think she is finally coming round to me. She no longer glares in my direction, though I can still feel her eyes on me sometimes.

Maybe I am crazy, but I can tell it is her just from the way it feels. Her watching me is special somehow. Often I itch to turn to her, to catch her looking. To catch a glimpse of her smile or her fluster. Just the fraction of a moment where I can believe she might actually feel the same way. 

Or maybe not the same way. I would not wish this complete and utter agony on her. If she does come to fall for me, I hope she falls softer. I hope that I am not too blind to see and catch her before the rough landing. 

That is only if I will ever be lucky enough to be enough for her. To have grown into a person, she can depend on rather than the childish prick (I am so sorry, did not mean to curse.) I used to be. 

I am afraid I am running out of space. I could fill several more rolls of parchment (Which is not me asking for more) with hopes and wishes for the year ahead. Some more achievable (Pass my N.E.W.T. s) and some more hopeful (Snog Lily Evans. Again, please don’t tell her I wrote any of this.)

Your favourite student, 

James Potter 

Her fingers crumpled the paper where she gripped it tight, a lump rising in her throat. Her eyes scanned the content of the letter once more before pressing it briefly to her heart before placing it atop her pile of keepsakes. 

Minerva pushed herself to her feet, in dire need of a break and craving a cup of lapsang souchong. 

[podcastenthusiast]

Lucien: So, um. Gore, is it? That's...

Gore: Got a problem, mage?

Lucien: Not at all! It's very...colorful. Apt, I'm sure, for a man of your, uh, particular talents.

Gore: Are you...flirting with me?

Lucien: What? No! Not that you're-- Ugh! Divines, why does this always happen?!

Gore: (laughs)

--

Gore: You remind me of someone, scholar.

Lucien: I do?

Gore: A lordling once hired the Ravens to escort him to Valenwood. Nice guy. He was from Skingrad but Bosmer by blood. Wanted to "find his roots" I guess. He'd read every book about the place. All he ever talked about.

Lucien: I see... Did he find what he was seeking?

Gore: I doubt it. One night he left camp for a piss or something. Will-o-the-Wisp got him before we knew it. Poor sod never even made it to the border.

Lucien: Oh.

Lucien: Why are you telling me this? Not a cheerful comparison, I must say.

Gore: Don't know. I think it's brave, what you're doing. Seeing the world. Just remember this isn't one of your stories, okay?

Lucien: I'm still not quite certain I understand.

Gore: You've got a big brain. I'm in no hurry to see it in pieces crushed out of your skull.

Lucien: Ah.

--

Lucien: Gore, do let me know if you would like any assistance with your academic pursuits.

Gore: My what now?

Lucien: I know Remiel has been helping with your reading. I have all manner of books to share as well, of course. And writing! We must work on improving your penmanship.

Gore: Ugh. I'll pass. You write enough for all of us.

Lucien: But it'll be fun!

--

Lucien: These mercenaries who raised you...they're--

Gore: Dead. You can say it.

Lucien: I'm so sorry.

Gore: Not yours to apologize for, scholar.

Lucien: I understand they were quite cruel?

Gore: Yeah. Was all they knew. Now they're gone.

Lucien: Here I've been going on and on about my parents and missing the comforts of home whilst you--

Gore: Hey, no shame in being loved.

Gore: Besides, they were my family, whatever else. I miss 'em too. You're alright, Lucien.

[the-marigold-reception]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do Mordecai writing a love letter confessing his feelings to his love interest. I believe he wouldn’t be as poetic as Rocky, but since he is so into reading and talking with big words I do think it would be a little dramatic letter. Just a paroxysm of everything he may feel.

If you don’t like that idea, how about him as a secret admirer? (As you may have noticed, I am quite a big fan of love letters, lmao). How he would struggle to leave his letters without being seen and the way he would try to get his crush to say anything about it while not looking suspiciously involved.

Thank you very much. Your page is my favourite, so I hope you don’t mind taking one of my ideas.

To Whom It May Concern,

I have admired you for some time now, and I must confess my feelings. Your presence captivates me, and I find myself thinking of you incessantly. I harbor a deep affection for you that cannot remain unspoken any longer.

Yours Truly,

A Secret Admirer

It takes him a while to actually place the letter somewhere you’ll find it

He’s so nervous to be this vulnerable about his emotions

When he finally posts the letter into your letterbox, in the dead of night, fully decked out in black so no one- not even you would be unable to spot him

The next night he’ll come back and see the letter is gone- now he knows the waiting game is afoot

He won’t have to ask you if you’ve received any weird mail because you’ll come straight to him

(He’s very happy that you depend on him for help with simple things)

“Mordecai! I got this letter and I realllllly want to know who it is- can you help me draw up a systematic chart of likely to unlikely?”

The strong urge to tell you it’s him starts there

But he is flattered when you write his name down first out of anyone-

If you don’t figure it out after the first letter, he’ll send you another

To Whom It May Concern

It is with a trembling hand and an eager heart that I pen these words to you. The world around us is a tempest of change and noise, yet in your presence, I find a sanctuary of calm. The bustle of the city, the clamor of the jazz bands, all fade into a distant murmur when I am with you. It is as if time itself pauses, granting us a stolen moment of eternity.

How I wish I could express these feelings openly, but alas, the constraints of our world bind me to the shadows.

Yet, let this letter serve as a beacon of my affection, a silent testimony to the depths of my devotion. Until the day we can walk freely under the sun, I shall remain, faithfully and fervently,

Yours, in silence and in longing.

He’s a bit worried about what your reaction will be when you figure out it’s him

If you figure out it’s him-

You definitely know

You snuck into his office and checked the penmanship, the speech pattern was the same as Mordecai’s and he’d started to get increasingly nervous around you

One day a letter is slid under Mordecai’s office door whilst he’s working

To my Longing Admirer

Your letter found its way to my heart as surely as a sunbeam pierces through the morning mist. Your words, so tender and earnest, have stirred within me a curiosity and a longing I can scarcely describe.

It is with a blend of trepidation and exhilaration that I respond to your heartfelt confession. The sentiments you have shared resonate deeply with my own unspoken dreams and desires. Though the world may impose its boundaries upon us, I find myself yearning to transcend them, if only for a moment.

Might we dare to meet, and allow our hearts the luxury of true connection? If it pleases you, let us rendezvous at the Serendipity Tearoom on the corner of Elm and Rose, this Saturday at three o'clock. There, amidst the soft murmur of whispered secrets and the delicate clink of teacups, we may find solace in each other's company.

I shall be the one with a single gardenia, tucked gently in the folds of my dress. Until then, I remain,

Yours in hopeful anticipation,

An Enchanted Soul

[should I do a Part 2?]

[einsatzzz]

Ein 🥺 is it possible for you to talk about Tsunayoshi x Kurumi ship. I wanna know loreee about them, what is their relationship like? how did it all go down, if it does!!!! 😭 i need the tea

OCtober Day 9: Relationships - TsunaRumi 🐟🎀

Hi Jojo! Thank you for sending this ask and sorry it took a while, I thought of using it for today's prompt "Relationships" 😆💖✨Here's a ship chart of the cutest pairing among the three otps that we have! 🫡

Here's a song that really fits them too (mostly Kurumi POV XD)!

Ship Chart Notes

How It Happens - A bit unsure for Kurumi on this one. Because for her it's crush at first sight but the deeper feelings only set in a bit later.

Handling Conflict - Lowkey the same and are quick to forgive & apologize to each other when they realize their mistake.

First to Confess/Propose - Kurumi's #1 problem is that she has difficulties expressing her feelings, especially more to people outside her Family and especially more if it involves deep feelings. Her dressing up as she pleases and trying to be friendly with people is just her steps to fixing that problem but she still has a long way to go. So in this case, Tsuna will have to be the one who steps up.

Cooking & Penmanship - Kurumi is extremely shit at cooking and her penmanship isn't that readable. Tsuna wins by default.

Housework - Tsuna would never let her do too much housework, unless he wants the house to blow up. He'd rather do it all himself. If she insists, he'd give her the safest ones like folding clothes. Ah yes, Tsuna...Vongola boss? No! Kurumi's housewife.

Most of the Speaking - "Excuse me, miss! Tsuna-kun asked for no pickles for his order! 😄"

They are my beloved Idiots to Lovers ✨💕

Daily Life Stuff

When they first met, she kinda challenged him to a fight with similar rules to Tsuna's fight with Mochida (if you hit me one time then you win!). She beat him up real good initially but Tsuna won the battle in the end (thank you Dying Will bullet). But why did Kurumi even challenge him in the first place? Ask Kana.

Despite the fight, Kurumi thought of Tsuna as someone very cute right from the start, she just held herself back (it was so hard for her to do this). Then, Kurumi thinks Kyoko is super cute too! So she thought Tsuna and Kyoko would make a very cute couple together. Because of this, she offered to help Tsuna in setting them up, except they keep failing since (it turns out) Kurumi's romance knowledge is limited to shoujo manga. Her first love also ended in failure.

They both bonded over the fact that they'll be mafia/yakuza bosses in the future despite wanting to live a normal life. Only thing is that, they're both raised differently. Tsuna was raised as a normal kid, but was recently overwhelmed by the revelation that he's gonna become a mafia boss. On the other hand, Kurumi was raised/trained to become a yakuza boss from childhood, but she still secretly yearned for a normal life.

Other things they bonded over: Bad grades, history of getting bullied/ignored, being idiots in romance, cherishing their friends/family

Romance stuff aside, they're really just good friends that can rely on each other. Though it was the Oniyanagi side's mission to assist in Tsuna's training, Kurumi may or may not have forgotten about that at some point. She just helps him out as much as she can as his friend (even though sometimes she accidentally makes it worse dsjbfvfdsvf a non-issue, considering the problems Tsuna runs into daily with&because of his family/friends).

[notjuststardust]

Trellises Lawxchronic pain reader

Reader is having a low spoons and high pain day and doctor Law comes to the rescue! Pure fluff. This is self-indulgent, specifically catered toward those with scoliosis but I thought it was cute so I wanted to share! Just Law and reader being good friends who have eyes for eachother is all.

TW: None

The minute you started scribbling with your non dominant hand Law knew something was wrong. You’d been quiet, a trait normally foreign to your bubbly soft natured self. Your silence could mean an array of things but he had a list of possibilities. 

 He saw your sunken lids, how they dragged the life from your plump cheekbones all the way down to the blank stare you have the work in front of you. If you were menstruating you’d be snacking and there was nothing in your mouth other than the kiss of teeth.

 Propping chin in hand Law tilts his head in your direction, eyes lasered in on your shoulder at rest. A shoulder you had constant trouble with due to surgeries as a kid. “I didn’t know you were left handed.” He comments, not even trying to feign the sarcasm dripping from his tongue. Slowly, you looked up at him through lowered lashes (y/e/c) eyes void of mischief.

 “I’m not.” He puffs out a dwarfed scoff, standing from his chair to ease over to your end. 

 “Have you been sleeping?” He furthers, stalking over to face you, brows propped but you back away from his nearing inquisition. These conversations were never fun.

 “Yes.” You answer, evading his eyes to deter his advance but your Captain isn’t allowing that, at least not today and you could tell by the annoyed jut of his lip when he reigned to continue. “6 hours. Yes, I’m drinking water. No, I have not pooped. I took 600 mg’s of ibuprofen and the pain level is an 8 out of 10.” You decide to relent and Law is forced to shut his gaping mouth.

 You’d definitely prepared that beforehand. His shoulders slack, drawing toward the medicine cabinet in the far corner. He knows better than to ask why you hadn’t brought it up earlier, you just didn’t want to ‘bother’ him. He could argue but you were past the point of reason and teetering on the edge of crying out.

 Now wasn’t the time for one of his ‘talks’.

 Propping open the medicine cabinet he searches, body turned to watch in case there was something else you’d been hiding. He flicks through your prescriptions once, twice, three times before he concludes the prescription you needed wasn’t here.

 Great.

 “Did you put in a refill request?” Your captain drags a hand over his face, pinching the square of his jaw when he peers over at you hunched at his desk. You just stare at him before flitting your gaze toward the door, heaving a sigh and shaking your head. 

 “I can’t work if I’m on the muscle relaxers. I just wanted pain meds.” You mutter as Law barely restrains an annoyed growl. Even so his teeth grind making you turn away just enough to inform him you were appeasing him instead of advocating.

 “That’s the whole point of them. It calms the muscle to make the inflammation go down,” he explains despite your medical knowledge on this matter, after all you had this conversation over a year ago but you were stubborn as a mule when it came to making yourself useful. “I need my scribe in working condition.” He grumbles, pulling a tube of pain reliever from your cubby. 

 You quiet as he approaches, aware that he’s never referred to you as ‘his scribe’ in his entire life, it was silent endearment to persuade you to be honest. Yet you weren’t sure if you had the heart to be right now.

 “I am working though.” You twirl your pen in your non dominant hand, trying and failing to demonstrate the lovely penmanship he so admired you for. Letting out a frustrated sigh Law plucks the utensil from your hand and pops it down into his pen jar, gloving up as if he’s about ready for surgery as he cautiously eyes you over.

 You were delicate now. Robbed of good rest and swollen with inflammation however if he didn’t step into his role you’d give until your altar was empty of offerings.

 He wasn’t your God but you had always served him and everyone else around you as greater than yourself. This was no different and he couldn’t bare to do nothing about it this time

 “Consider yourself on temporary leave then.” He fails to break eye contact in time, but he catches the heartbreak in his peripherals, raw and dependent on him taking it back.

 “Law, that’s not fair and you know it-“ you lunge to a stand before your hand shields your shoulder, breaking that confidence. 

 “And you think working yourself to death is?” He forwards you, body pressuring you back into an appeasing sit in your chair. You don’t answer but your eyes glass and lets his fingers brush your hair over the opposing shoulder and tease your shirt so he can further inspect. “How long?” He asks though he doesn’t have to. It’s swollen like a balloon, redness spreading up the blade of your shoulder to the edge of your neck. He wants you to say it. To admit you’ve been purposefully neglecting yourself to care for everyone else but instead you give a pathetic sniffle before you quiver and break into sobs. Tears trickle down your cheeks and his irritants dissipates into a pool of sympathy only reserved for you.

 He tries to get out something, anything that would salve the emotional strain you had been burdened over but no amount of empathy can. He does not have the gift of easing your worries like you do him. If anything his words tend to be a blade to an already festering wound whilst yours carry a melodic ease to even his most persistent emotional aches. You could spin corpses back to life with your words, mold graves into gardens but he only had his hands.

So instead he rolls the numbing cream into the ball of your shoulder with soft thumbs, allowing you the courtesy of a moment to yourself despite the exposition of feelings you’d much rather keep locked up.

 It wasn’t your fault that a life saving surgery had left you on the verge of crippling and selfishly, he’d much rather this than your corpse. You’d only been 12 when your spine had started easing further and further into your heart, putting tension against the much needed organ. Metal had been fused into the bones of your spine to keep it straight and that pressure left a considerable strain on your lumbar. Not only that but there was no saving the oblong shift of your shoulders and hips due to the scoliosis.

 With that considered you still wanted to be involved, helpful to Law and the crew when your pain had started in the following years. You were a writer and you refused to live your life only in the pages of stories spun with sweet words. You wanted to experience life and even your captain, persistent and logistic as he was, hadn't been able to deter you from your quest.

 You quiet at his silent affection, thinking it nothing more than something he has to do for his job but Law knows its more than that. He could have just tossed you the gloves and allowed you to apply the ointment yourself but he wanted to be of service as more then a doctor if even for a moment. He wanted to be of comfort and it must have worked because your tears quieted and you relaxed into his touch.

 After all if he voiced that he could have made you do it you would have because you don’t accept outside help.

 Hence why any accommodations he had strung for you in the Polar Tang went among the unsaids in the submarine. Normal chairs bothered you yet you had one so Law had instructed Bepo to test it. The thing shattered into broken splintered in minutes and Law hiding behind the guise of a safety check had promised to get you another. What came in the mail though was not a normal chair though. The thing was practically a throne, spun together by chiropractic plush to nurture your back when you used it. When the complexities were mentioned Law had just said it was on sale. You hadn’t questioned it further. After that he had allowed Shachi and Penguin access to your bathroom where they practically made the shower go up in smoke, since it now needed repairs. Law had a sit down shower with a sneaky call button in case you may ever need it. The subtleties did not go so unnoticed with that one and Law had to then install special buttons to all bathrooms from the suggestion of Penguin and Shachi.

 You had always had suspicions but never proof and you were smarter then to question your captain based on pure assumption.

 “I’ll call in your refill. The earliest it will be here is tomorrow-” Your stillness hushes him, the weight of your cheek just a little too heavy against his knuckles as a little snore slips between your lips. He blinks, leaning up and over to see your mouth wide open and teary eyes slid shut. An impressed ‘hmm’ whisps between his teeth, a grin imperceptible etching into his lips. That's until he realizes if he moves an inch yu’ll wake. He ponders the notion of moving anyway and getting you comfortable on a cot but decides otherwise when he realizes the peace settled on your face.In the end he stays. 1 hour. Then 2 and footsteps explode down the hallway like thunder, the office door squealing open with Shachi in its mirror.

 “Captain come on! Dinners read-” He pales like a corpse when Law glares death his way, nervously playing with his fingers as Penguin clops in behind him laughing obnoxiously about God knows what until he too mutes. They both stare at your compromising position, looking to eachother in silent laughter. Well, it wouldn’t have been compromising if it wasn’t you.

 There's drool all over Law’s hand, he’s shimmying like some old man trying to get his back ache to go away. Nonetheless he's frozen, steely eyes set in a glacial glare as he quiets out an annoyed sigh. His crewmmates nonsense quiets.”Oh, so she finally told you.” Shachi hums, quarreling with a grin but the intonation gives away his cheekiness.

 “Not necessarily,” Law groans, swallowing a blush. “You all knew?” He quirks a curious brow.

 “Wild guess.” Penguin hums with an easy shrug, forcing an awkward smile.

 “You know that probably even worse for her back, right?” Shachi comments, pointing a finger in his sleeping crewmates direction. Law just gawks, he hadn’t thought your crumple of sleep would leave you feeling worse upon wakeness then none at all. Clearing his throat he scoops his fingers under and up your armpits trying to scoop you safely into his arms. 

 “Of course I knew that-” Law quiets his rambling when you spurt out a snort. You release a gargantuan yawn. He points and shooes his crewmates that scramble into the hallway but its too late. Your lids are shot open as you smack your lips like a child. Shachi and Penguin make a break for it.

 “Know what?” You babble out, eyes alight with the familiar childlike mischief. Sleep had refreshed you well. He threads a rough hand through his hair, a heavy sigh slipping.

 “You were sleeping in a position that could compromise your back. I was trying to move you.” He removes the hand resting upon your cheek, trying to discard the soaked glove without your notice. “You really need to be more careful, he scolds when he sees you give him a dopey grin, ignoring his feign of casuality. You look more than stupid, like there are no thoughts behind your eyes, only joy at the mere prospect that his hunchback was caused by holding you up. You’re satisfied as a cat that's knocked over a glass and usually that’d only egg him on but it only forced him to sigh.

 At least you weren’t crying anymore. Your smugness couldn’t taint that.

“Did I drool?” 

 “Immensely.” He rolls his eyes, tossing the glove into the trash as you cackle.

 “You been standing there long?” You further, chaos winding you into a smile of all teeth, dimples peeking out like the sun through a rainy storm.

 “Long enough.” He groans lightly, a hint of a smirk on his face as he returns your prescription to the medicine cabinet. Then you look toward the clock and realize its been 2 hours. You bark out a laugh, nearly falling out of the office chair.

 “You didn’t move for 2 hours?” You snicker wildly and Law plops back into his chair, fingers caging away the blush pelting his cheeks as he looks away to mask embarrassment. “I have slept through raids before, Law.”

 “Shut up.” He grumbles, distracting himself with undone paperwork on his desk. “I moved my legs.”

 “You’re such a liar.” You shout with glee, lunging into a stand without help as you sniff the air. “Dinner time!” You lean over his desk just to spite him, sticking your tongue out before you hobble toward the door.

 “You’re still on temporary leave.” He reminds you with a stern glare, laced with affection at your silliness. He loathes becoming permeable but its far too comfortable when it's with you. You turn to look back at him as if contemplating taking his statement as a personal bullet but don’t, readjusting your back.

 “Uh-huh, doesn’t matter. I’ll never let you live it down!” You tease, skipping down the hallway as if you weren’t just in excruciating pain. You’re definitely about to tattle like some little kid and he is going to tolerate it until you inevitably find some other thing he does more strange.

 In summary, unless he told you otherwise (or you grew less dense), his little bits of affection would be the running joke of the dinner table.