#modern themes

[canisalbus]

The anon ask reading Machete as Versace and your mention of his subtly elegant style resting along the lines of YSL got me thinking the lad would honestly devour Loro Piana. In stark contrast, it feels like Vasco would be happy to roll with UNIQLO and other lighter fashion, for a more casual, slightly whimsical, less severe look. Either way, you know the boys will be so pretty in their littol outfits :3

Gifting him a 1300€ Loro Piana cashmere sweater just so I can pit him against the forces of static electricity.

[furiosophie]

i think it's good to remember sometimes that at their core they're all fucking idiots

[just-null]

[modern au] pjs movie night w these idiots

[bunny-jpeg]

retired!price never thought that he'd ever become father. it honestly was only a passing glance throughout most of his life. like if he saw a kid at the grocery store or a colleague had a child. but, that all changed when you met him. there was something about you that got him going. he thought he had too much respect for women, but he felt almost chauvinistic towards you. you were younger, smaller, frailer. you should be at home cooking him dinner and putting the kids to bed instead of working the dreadful customer service job you were at. wouldn't life be better?

think about it, it's okay love. price would take care of everything. anything his angel needed, she got. that included a pretty ring and a round middle full of price brats. when price left where you work with purchases in hand, there was more than one occasion where he'd go back to his car and pleasure himself in the driver's seat. his car parked in the furthest part of the parking lot. alone with his thoughts of you. one baby on your hip and the other in your womb, price coming home to the scent of a warm-cooked meals. nights spent battering your poor soft, spongy womb, keeping it nice and full. you'd be in such contrast with your gruff husband. he stood so much taller than you, he could bruise you with ease. but he only wanted to love you, to feel you take him every night. to see you raise his children. he aiming for a minimum of three, close together in age. he was already looking at places that would be perfect. away from the hustle and bustle of london and somewhere quiet, where his wife would live a comfortable life. in his mind he always thought you were a virgin, pure for him to take apart and make to his liking. you'd be the perfect mrs. price, a phrase that went through his head as he came all over his hand. pearly cum even stained his blue jeans.

doesn't the life that price laid out for you feel perfect? a loving husband, kids, a big piece of land. you weren't going anywhere with this job, wouldn't it be more fulfilling to be married to price? he was retired and would raise your children alongside you. you'd be perfect for him. he wished that you'd see what he saw. something nicer for such a lovely woman.

it took a lot of courage for him to ask you out. it was the first time he felt nervous in a while. you simply giggled, a voice delicate like glass, you broke his head, "oh, sorry sir. i already have a boyfriend!" price just smiled and nodded, he wasn't going to cause a scene. he took his purchases and wished you a great day. but it was hard to pull the man that price was prior to retirement. the man needed a mission like a bloodhound needed prey.

oh, you had a boyfriend. what was his name? where did he live? what did he do for work? when price got his answers he didn't think your boyfriend was good enough. you needed a man, not a little boy who still used his old university i.d. to get discounts. he wasn't going to provide for you. he was weak. so why don't you take out your phone and text him goodbye because price always joked to his former team that he could fit a body in the trunk of his car. while he'd laugh it off, that and the neatly winded rope tucked in the corner were there for a reason.

please, his angel. come with him, he'll always keep you safe.

xoxo, bunny

[sualne]

first meeting and now

[bookhouseboy1980-blog]

Succession S4X07: Tailgate Party (Review) 

Sub to my channel for more: https://www.youtube.com/@borednow5838/videos

[lemoonmers]

It's hurt to yearn for you

thinking about Catholic Soap and his guilt...

[irl-simon-riley]

tw: sexual assault mention (not really explicit but just in case)

not enough people talk about Ghost being a victim of SA and it makes me so sad. IT'S LITERALLY SHOWN ON PAGE IN THE COMICS YOU CANNOT DENY THAT IT HAPPENED!!!!!!!!!

the comics were published 2009 when most media wouldn't even touch on male SA victims unless it was to make fun of them. we don't even get many empathetic portrayals of it in recent years!!! (whether the perpetrator is a man or woman). Ghost is quite literally the first good male ID'd SA victim rep I've seen in a piece of media that I enjoy.

it also shows disassociation (not dissociation) by having Ghost literally separate Simon Riley from himself. He tells his backstory by pretending it happened to someone else and calling Simon Riley an "old friend" of his that died.

he is so special and important to me

[cheeseatlantic]

yabadabadoooooo

!serialkillerghost x !ballerinareader

cws: graphic depictions of violence, severed body parts, protective/obsessive behaviour, dark themes (stalking, revenge) and mentions of blood and injury

Soft Hands, Sharp Teeth

The apartment was quiet when you stepped inside, the only sound your soft, unsteady breathing. The day had been long, exhausting in a way you couldn’t quite name, but it wasn’t the dancing that had left you drained—it was him.

Your dance partner.

His hands had been too much, too firm, fingers brushing where they shouldn’t. A lingering touch on your waist, an unwelcome slide of his palm against your ribs. You hadn’t said anything, too stunned, too unsure if you were overreacting. But the sick feeling in your stomach told you otherwise.

You sniffled, toeing off your ballet flats, and it was then that you noticed him.

Simon sat on the couch, one arm draped over the back, his large frame relaxed in the dim glow of the lamp. His mask was off, but the black compression shirt stretched over his broad chest, his military dog tags resting against the fabric. He was watching you, eyes sharp, assessing.

“Rough day, birdie?” His voice was low, smooth, always laced with that warmth he reserved just for you.

Your lip wobbled.

That was all it took.

He was on his feet in an instant, crossing the space between you, his hands coming up to cup your face. His palms were rough, calloused, but his touch was so gentle. Like he thought you might break.

“Tell me.”

Your fingers curled into his sleeves, seeking comfort. “It’s stupid,” you mumbled.

His brows drew together. “Not if it upset you.”

You swallowed, looking down. “My dance partner… I didn’t like how he touched me.”

Silence.

It stretched long enough that you finally glanced up at him, only to find his expression completely blank. No anger, no frustration—just nothing.

“Where?” His voice was too calm.

You hesitated, then lifted a hand, touching your waist. “Here. And… here.” You traced a spot over your ribs. “I don’t think he meant anything by it, but—”

“You don’t have to defend him.” His fingers curled slightly against your skin. “You didn’t like it. That’s enough.”

You exhaled shakily, nodding. Simon had always made you feel safe, even if you didn’t fully understand why. He was a soldier, a protector—your protector.

His thumb brushed over your cheek. “You’re tired,” he murmured. “Go to bed, yeah?”

“But—”

“Shh.” His lips quirked, something almost amused in his expression. “That’s an order, little ballerina.”

You huffed but let him lead you to bed, tucking you beneath the soft covers. He sat beside you for a long moment, stroking your hair, waiting until your breathing evened out.

You didn’t hear him leave.

SIMON’S POV

It wasn’t hard to find the bastard.

He was a predictable little shit—smug, unassuming, the type of man who thought he was untouchable because no one had ever given him a reason to believe otherwise. Simon followed him from the studio, let him drink with his mates at the bar, let him laugh like he hadn’t laid hands on her.

Then he cornered him in the alley behind the building.

The man barely had time to react before Simon shoved him up against the damp brick, gloved fingers pressing against his windpipe just enough to scare. Not enough to kill.

Yet.

“You like putting your hands where they don’t belong?” His voice was smooth, almost amused.

The man choked, grasping at Simon’s wrist. “W-what the fuck—”

Simon didn’t let him finish. He slammed his head back against the wall with a satisfying crack and watched as the fight drained out of him.

“You don’t touch her.” His voice dropped lower, dangerous. “Not her waist. Not her ribs. Not her fucking shadow. You understand?”

The man whimpered, nodding weakly.

Simon smiled. “Good.”

Then he pulled the knife.

The screams didn’t last long.

A soft knock at your door roused you from sleep. You stretched, blinking blearily as you padded across the apartment. Outside, resting on the doorstep, was a pristine white box, wrapped in a delicate pink ribbon.

Your lips curled into a sleepy smile. Simon always gave you little gifts—things he thought you’d like, trinkets and sweets, small tokens of affection. You carried the box inside, settling at the table as you untied the ribbon and lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled in layers of delicate white tissue paper, were two severed hands.

Familiar hands.

Hands that forced themselves onto you.

Your stomach twisted, a sharp inhale catching in your throat, but before you could process it, a note slipped free from the tissue, fluttering onto the table.

Won’t be touching you again, birdie.

Your heartbeat pounded against your ribs.

You should have screamed. You should have been horrified.

Instead, warmth crept up your neck, something dark curling low in your belly. Because deep down, beneath all the innocence, all the softness—

You knew exactly who had left you this gift.

And you knew he was only protecting what was his.

[zevrra]

[priest!jayce x fem!reader / nsfw / mdni]

priest!jayce has always been a good little student. a faithful man to his church and his god. always the soft and the kind man he has been taught to be…until he meets you.

when he used to pray for times of peace; he now only prays for forgiveness of his own sin.

and at first, it was lighthearted thoughts and the occasional flush seeing you across the church hall. the soft thought of how pretty you looked in morning light or the perfect way you recited prayers; the heavenly perfume you wore that he smelled constantly, even if you weren’t in the room. but these little thoughts slowly transformed into something…unholy.

he, the more he desired you, the worse his mind crumbled. his thoughts of how pretty the dress you wore turned into thoughts of him taking you out of the dress. watching as the fabric crumbled under his hands—so tenderly—as he removed the dress from your body. thoughts of kissing your cheek in passing or in greeting, soft and light, turned into his desire to taste your mouth on his.

and it only got worse. no matter how many trips to the confession booth he took, or the amount of praying, the distancing, the pleas…it all just got worse. he desired—no yearned—for you. his sleepless nights of you haunting him while his trembling hands roamed over his body, pretending they were yours; a ghost in his room to whisper sweet nothings into his ear as he committed sin. biting his lip hard enough to bleed at the thought of him making you his. kissing you, kissing your skin, tasting every inch of your exposed skin as his fingers delved between your thighs while you utter his name like a prayer—

god forgive him if he ever got to taste that sweet cunt of yours.

[mentalmeles]

You're my Coney Island baby, you mean so much to me You're my pretty little lady, I love you tenderly You're my lucky star, that's what you are

The thought of Steve and Bucky dancing holds a special place in my heart 💕

[lxvvie]

Making out with Simon Riley but he’s the one straddling you.

[liyazaki]

bathroom makeover: retro lesbian edition 💕

art (in small frames) by creative powerhouse @jeniferprince (I’m ordering prints, but could I wait for them to arrive? lol)

[bunny-jpeg]

retired!price needed a mission. he had been in the military since the day he could enlist, he was molded by the structure of it all. early riser and late evenings, whisky and cigars. the feeling of a gun in his hands was second nature. debriefings and helicopter rides. that was his life, that was what he was good at. one mission after another, even when his body wanted to quit, he mentally couldn't.

now, at the age of forty-seven, he was retired. he had no mission, no objective. it made him almost pace around his flat. that was until you moved in next door.

you gave price purpose, even if you didn't mean to. there was something about you that captivated him. you pulled him in like a siren's song. price could imagine himself curled up next to you in the evenings, listening to your quiet breathing as you fell asleep. breakfast in the mornings and dinner in the evenings. falling asleep in front of the television. the problem was, you were painfully younger than him. still an adult. you had just graduated university, but still younger than him. that and you had a boyfriend. price couldn't care to remember his name, he had to go. now.

price hated seeing his hands all over you. your boyfriend, it felt so juvenile for a woman as amazing as you. you needed a man, not a boy. price thought you shouldn't be waiting around for him to finish (fail) med school. you needed a real man, someone who'll provide. and price could provide for you in spades. "does the boyfriend help with any of the finances?" price asked as he helped you bring your groceries inside one afternoon. you looked at him with a curious expression and replied, "no." and price just smiled as he patted you on the shoulder, "well, he isn't much of a man then? if he can't take care of his girl." the smile was friendly and it slowly coaxed you into his arms. but not before price took care of your boyfriend. he remembered when you came to his apartment in tears because they found a body near the river. wrapped in plastic and with no suspects in custody, price lingered when the police talked to you. and then reassured you when the police left.

after that price knew that he had to take better care of you. you were hurting, you needed price. so while you were out, price let himself in and got to work. it wasn't hard to replicate your key, he had swiped the spare from the bowl by the door when he came to visit you one day, only for the key to returned the next afternoon. a few cameras installed around the apartment to keep you safe. this was about your safety. price couldn't have you getting hurt, not when your boyfriend went and got himself killed! (you worried his killer was still out there). "do you ever feel like someone's watching?" you asked over morning tea before you went to work. price was leaned back on the couch enjoying his own cup with his other hand on your thigh. price replied, "sometimes, but it might be anxiety overactin' in your brain. maybe you need to take a vacation." "hmm, maybe." price liked his mission now, to protect you. keep you safe from whatever or whoever killed your boyfriend. did he have mob connections, were you in danger? it was alright, price could protect you. but it would be hard to when he lived so far away from you. why don't you move in? it wasn't like he was using the spare bedroom. but the spare bedroom wasn't used for long, soon you found comfort in price's bed. you had become a little more paranoid, there were still no leads on your boyfriend's murder case, but price was a comforting presence.

even his smell managed to calm your mind. you often wore an article of his clothing out to feel protected. it was even better when those clothes were on the hefty, strong, hairy body of your friend. price preferred the term husband when referring to him. but you'd get there eventually. it was easier to catch a wife with honey than vinegar, so he'd let you play those cute games. the will they-won't they as if price hadn't killed your boyfriend to get with you. you were made for him, every atom in your being was meant for price. you were his mission! his sanity! he needed to keep you safe, so don't blame him when he slipped an air tag in your work bag and another in your weekend purse. he always knew where you were, you just thought it was luck when he perfectly had dinner ready for as soon as you came home. the home cooked meals made you much more agreeable with price. the savoury sauces, meats and vegetables. all to add a little more fat to your hips, price liked his women soft. easy to take care of but with enough chub to carry a healthy baby. he knew your hips were wide and your chest was big. you had the body of a goddess that price yearned to worship. to fuck.

so while, price had never believed in god. rather he believed that it was better to stay out of religion given what he had done in his past. but when his worn, calloused hands gripped your soft hips and sank himself into your pussy. it was heaven. the skies opened up and the angels sang their choir. price already imagined the ring on your finger and the baby at your hips. out of this flat and into a bigger home outside the city. price would provide, as he always did. when his cock nudged against your gummy walls, it only egged his fantasy on further. your pathetic boyfriend didn't know what he had, but price did. so that was why your boyfriend had to get out of the picture. price knew every inch of skin better than he did. he knew every curve and mole. the scar on your side from an childhood accident to your stretchmarks at your hips. a divine being was what you were and when price fucked you it was a religious experience. your moans were music to price's ears and you made him yearn for you more. it was a taste of heaven that would drive a mortal man insane. his hairy stomach up against you as he fucked you with heavy strokes. he was so much bigger compared to you. he could bruise you, crush you, if he so desired. but the only bruising would be at your cervix, but don't worry price will soften the pain with his cum. the bed creaked under the both of you. he made promises that the would kill you safe from anything that could harm you. he was a man, not a boy, exactly what you needed. he'll take care of everything, just keep loving him. being with him. and you, with squeaky moans, promised that you'd love him. that made something in price's bed click and he fucked you without much hold-back. when he finished inside of you, he planted a kiss on your lips, a passion that would only be matched when you got married.

"my baby girl." he said softly as he rubbed your back afterwards.

price found that your anxiety lessened as time went by. planning a wedding with a baby on the way kept your brain occupied. there was nothing to worry about, love. no one would hurt a hair on your head. price's mission would forever be you. you and the babies. a proper price family. just don't look in his safe. you might not like what you find. in particular the pistol with the missing bullet. <3

[cheswirls]

short asl thing based on @where-does-the-heart-lie's modern au :) i started this over a year ago but the beginning is all dialogue and felt more like a script to me i suppose??? which deflated my desire to work on it. anyway i checked it over recently and it's completely fine lmfao, self-confidence restored here we go !

-

"Yo. Aren't you usually in the middle of your shift by now?"

"I've been banned from the hospital."

"Like, for life?"

"No. For the next, uh.. Twenty-two hours."

"That's oddly specific."

"It was twenty-four, but I fell asleep after leaving the building."

"That wouldn't have to do with why they kicked you out, at all?"

"Hmmm. I'm too sleep-deprived, apparently."

"Ah. And, um, you called me because...?"

"I pressed a random number in my call log after waking up. Lucky you, I guess."

"Yeah. Right. Lucky me. And your car keys are...?"

"Confiscated."

"Ah, right, of course."

A beat of silence. Two. Three, then "Look, if you're busy, then–"

"No, no.  You called me, so I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes."

"Alright. Thank–"

"Thank someone else. Also, if you fall asleep in my car, I'm taking it as express permission to drive you around wherever I want."

"Ugh, go die. I don't even know why I bothered."

"LUCKY YOU, I guess," sounds off way too loudly in his ear. "No take backs. See you in ten."

"I thought you said–" Sabo breaks off as the call ends, leaving him staring blankly at his phone's too-dim screen. He squints, turns the brightness all the way up, and still squints as the sunlight proves too strong for the display.

Ace shows up in more than ten but decidedly less than twenty minutes. Sabo doesn't waste much brain power on it, only climbing into the passenger seat and yawning into his palm while his other hand fixes the seatbelt into the buckle. Not a second too soon, too, as Ace roars the engine to life and peels away from the curb at record speed.

Ace fiddles with the radio. He turns the music up, then dial it back down to inaudible. They hit the expressway and he leans over the steering wheel, frowning with his eyes fixed on the road far ahead. Sabo yawns again and this appears to be the limit to his patience. 

"Hey, so, I had a thought after you hung up on me."

Sabo grimaces. "You mean you–"

"Today's Wednesday."

He doesn't elaborate. Sabo is too tired to process. "Yes," he follows, after a second. He glances at the sky out the front window. "What time is it?"

"Oh, uh." Ace fumbles with hand placement so he can lift his watch to his face. "Nine forty."

Sabo takes a couple beats to try and process this, moves his eyes away from the skyline, and sighs as he pulls his phone out. 2:47 is what the display reads, which sounds much more believable.

"How did the minute hand get off?" he mutters to himself, chancing a look at Ace's busted wristwatch. Ace raises a brow, taking his gaze off the road to scrutinize Sabo. "No, it doesn't matter," he mutters to himself once more, sliding his phone away back on his person and out of his hands.

"My point is," Ace continues, like he hasn't just been interrupted by a whole thing. "Your timeout will be done midday Thursday. Did they switch your days off?"

"No." Sabo sighs. "They technically gave me the next thirty-six hours. Technically closer to forty. Something like that. I go back in on Friday. Sometime.” He tries to smile and it turns out very lopsided, from that he can make out in the rearview mirror. “Can you tell I’m tired?”

“I don’t think ‘tired’ is an accurate description,” Ace quips. “When did you eat a proper meal last?”

“Uh, yesterday. Maybe.”

“Maybe??”

“A ‘proper meal’ means different things to the two of us,” Sabo huffs. “On my account it was yesterday. I’ve had food since then, of course.”

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Ace announces before absolutely whipping it around a curve. Sabo is his passenger in the passenger seat and had fully prepared to be so when he got in the vehicle, but he’d been vastly underprepared for this sudden course of action, which is how he ends up halfway out of his seat with his cheek slammed into the cold window. Ace doesn’t quite notice his brother’s terminal velocity until the car is once again on the straight and narrow, and only then it’s because of the audible thunk Sabo’s face makes when it collides with the glass.

“Aw shit. You good bro?”

“Ow,” Sabo mutters. “If I have broken bones I’m suing your ass.”

“Well, if you’re good enough to make jokes, I think you’re better than you’re letting on.” Ace keeps the wheel steady with one knee while he takes both hands away to crack his fingers. When he glances over at Sabo again, he looks even more pathetic – like he’s becoming one with the glass. “Anyway, as I was saying.

“I’m taking your ass home. You’re going straight to sleep and while you crash, I’ll make you something decent to eat and stick it in the fridge for you to heat up later. I’ll even make you two servings to eat two different times, since you clearly can’t be trusted to take care of yourself correctly.”

“Ouch.”

“I want you to conk out for as long as your body allows. We can reset your sleep schedule tomorrow, alright? Put your phone on silent; do not answer any calls. In fact, you know what, just give it to me.

Sabo glances over to see Ace’s hand held out to him, palm up. Fingers wiggling expectantly. His lips pull up into a grimace. “I’m not doing that.”

“Fine.” Ace takes his hand back. “But you will comply with everything else.”

“Wow! It’s so funny, I didn’t realize you turned into my mother overnight! Really tapped into your mom potential, huh? Anything exciting happen in your life that would cause that? I guess I wouldn’t know, since I’ve been a zombie for the past two days.”

“There’s nothing wrong with acting like your older brother, you dipshit, especially if you keep putting yourself through the wringer like this. You go home. You sleep. You wake up and eat. You go back to sleep. Then we do laundry. Does that sound agreeable?”

“That’s negotiable, at the least,” Sabo mumbles. “I will accept good food as a form of bribery.”

“Oh, nice, because I’m flat broke at the moment.”

Sabo makes a mental note of that, and then they’re pulling into the driveway. Ace lets him exit the vehicle by himself and then promptly manhandles him all the way onto the couch where it will be easier to force his body to relax than in a real bed. Ace knows this, so he calls him weird before chucking a loose blanket at his head. Sabo is almost too tired to function at this point, so he lets Ace have the last laugh in favor of finally closing his eyes.

Coming to is a surreal experience, especially since the sun is still out. He must make a noise because Ace is suddenly within view. His limbs are tangled in the blanket and still so heavy that he doesn’t bother moving. “Thought you would be gone,” he half-groans, eyes slipping shut again for a moment.

“I did leave,” Ace confirms. “I had to go pilfer some stuff to make stew with. It’s almost done, so I’ll hang here until then.”

Pilfer. That could mean any number of things. Sabo chooses to believe in the option where Ace is an upstanding citizen, and then remembers Ace saying earlier that he had no money. He frowns and squirms on the cushions enough to where it looks like he’s checking his pockets. “Where’s my wallet, Ace?” he bluffs.

“Somewhere around here,” Ace pipes up. “Your stomach will thank you for your contributions to the Portgas Household’s pantry!”

“Ugh, I got robbed,” he complains. “This sucks. ‘m going back to sleep.” He rolls over so his back is to Ace.

“Yeah, you do you, bro. Stew will still be here later. I’ll see you when you’re back in the world of the living.”

—

Luffy comes in late that night and slams the front door shut as loud as humanly possible. When he appears in the main room, he doesn’t seem to be upset, so Ace writes it off as a Luffyism. Sabo hasn’t stirred at the noise, so it’s all good.

Realizing this, Luffy pads closer to Ace’s side and looks at Sabo’s unmoving body warily. “Why is Sabo passed out like a corpse? Is he sick?”

“No, he’s not sick, he just can’t take care of himself. Which is why we are going to let him sleep for as long as possible.”

Luffy just nods to this, but it’s the uncomprehending Luffy-nod that means he’s just going to end up doing whatever he wants to regardless. Ace sighs, then jerks his head towards the kitchen. “He ate a little earlier, but I want him to eat again when he wakes up. There’s stew in the fridge if you want it – just leave him a little. Got it, Monkey D. Luffy?”

Luffy throws him a salute and then runs off in his socks. “Yippee! Ace made stew!”

“Think of your brother, Luffy, and make good choices!” Ace calls after him. “He’s a pathetic man who needs food to feel better or he’ll end up sleeping through Laundry Day!”

—

Sabo does not sleep through laundry day, but he does sleep for sixteen whole hours, so it’s just around noon when he forces himself up off the couch and into a warm shower.

Ace is around, which is mildly unexpected. But he’s still half-asleep, so everything is at least a little unexpected. He glances up from playing video games with Luffy to see Sabo leaving the steam-filled bathroom with his hair hanging around his shoulders. “You look like a wet cat,” he calls.

“Sabo’s awake!” Luffy cheers. “Ace thought you died at one point.”

Ace elbows Luffy in the gut, making him hunch over. “I did not!”

“He totally checked to see if your heart was still beating!”

“I’m undead, actually,” Sabo says completely seriously.

“Does that mean you don’t need to eat anymore?” Luffy questions. “Because I ate all the stew last night.”

“I saw that coming and made extra.” Ace finger-guns in Sabo’s general direction. “That’s why I bought two sets of ingredients. With your money!”

“With my money,” Sabo echoes, because it’s such a wild statement to have to deal with this early in the day. Well, early for him. “Fuck you.”

“I mean, I can tell Luffy where I hid–”

“Thank you, Ace, for agreeing to share your quarters with both of your brothers so we can all do laundry today on your dime!” Sabo raises his pitch so his voice is mockingly squeaky when he says this. He starts moving down the hall before Ace can start to argue, letting his and Luffy’s voices bleed into the background.

When he comes back out, now dressed, it smells significantly better than before. “I reheated the stew,” Ace announces, gesturing for Sabo to take a seat at the kitchen counter. “Let’s all have lunch before we head out.”

“You have to drink this too,” Luffy tells Sabo, sliding a Gatorade across the counter so it sets in front of him when he finally does take a seat. “Ace’s orders.”

“Gotta get those nutrients back somehow.”

“Aren’t we so considerate, Sabo?”

“Do you even know what ‘considerate’ means?” Sabo asks, lips quirking up into a half-smile. At Luffy’s shrug, it turns into a real smile. “Well, thanks anyway. Both of you.”

“No sweat. And look!” Ace brandishes a five dollar bill for both to see. “I found this baby for us to use on coins! It’s all on me today–”

“Where’s my wallet, Ace?!”

[gzeidraws]

Commission done for Issac of a FredRobin vacation at Disney World 🏰!