#moot collab

[switchthedragon]

Collab with @italic-doing-random-shit!!!

Happy summer everyone!

(Without text under cut)

[gingernut1314]

The Luck Child - Chapter 3: Discussions of Pain and Chaos

Buggy x F!Reader

Summary: Buggy throws a temper tantrum and you are less than happy to sit around and wait for him than his senior officers. Especially when your position on his crew has yet to be decided.

Warnings: spoilers for the anime (Marineford Arc and onward), canon divergence, canon typical violence

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: This is done in collaboration with the wonderful @fanaticsnail and her Sapsorrow series--go read it if you haven't already!!! And thank you @i-am-vita for creating the beautiful banner and storyteller collab masterlist!!

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Buggy had been a snapping firecracker of chop-chopped limbs, screeching and screaming, angered tears, and cruses upon Red-Haired Shanks’ name. A firecracker that burned bright and fast, flying off to bar himself within his large, red and white striped tent, now very crinkled map in hand. 

There had been throwing and the sound of crashing and then--silence. Utter silence that had lasted for longer than you could have ever believed the clown could stay as such. 

So long, you were beginning to convince yourself he had died. There was no other logical option, really. Because the Buggy you knew could not physically keep his mouth shut even if it was to save his life.

But firecrackers were, if anything else, short-lived things.

His senior officers seemed utterly unphased by Buggy’s temper tantrum. 

Cabaji had walked off to shout commands and insults at his subordinates fixing their Captian’s ship, the Big Top, while the rest sat just before Buggy’s tent in chairs made of wax. 

You paced. Had been pacing since Buggy had locked himself in his tent and continued to pace as Galdino came back over to the assembled group with a silver tray in hand. Intricately designed porcelain tea cups full of steaming dark-amber liquid sat on top of it, a matching teapot in the middle. 

You watched, turning back around to pace before the tent flaps, as Galdino handed Alvida one of the cups. Watched her, from her spot on a wax-made couch she lounged out upon, take the tea from him, an all-too-pleasant thank you leaving her red painted lips. Lips that pulled up in the smallest of smiles for the man. Galdino nodded his head, a near-matching smile on his face. 

You turned on your heels once more, after making it to the other end of the tent, and headed back for the other side as Galdino handed Mohji a cup as well. The fur-covered first mate nodded his thanks and took a sip of tea, a pleased hum on his lips. His larger-than-normal lion, whose name you remembered was Richie, napped at his feet like some overgrown cat.

Galdino turned towards you and your pacing body, his lips thinning. 

“Would you like a cup? It’s earl grey--made the bled myself just yesterday.” He spoke, pride welling in his voice at such a fact. 

You paused in your pacing. Paused and stood perfectly still as he came up to you, taking your settledness as welcome. 

You lifted a hand to take the delicate cup from his, Galdino grinning at you. 

“See? Isn’t the simple pleasure of a nice cup of tea much better than such--” You grinned a wolfishly wicked thing in his face as you sharply threw the cup away, it shattering into little pieces against the hard surface of a nearby rock, which grew damp from the spilled, homemade tea. “...brutish nonsense.” The former Mr. 3 finished, a deep frown cutting down his face. “That was a part of a set.” He snapped.

“Boo. Hoo.” You answered, starting up your pace once more. 

“It’s not worth trying to tame such a savage beast.” Alvida’s silky smooth voice spoke as she raised the porcelain to her lips, sharp eyes tracking Galdino as he started for his own wax-made chair next to her couch. “It’s best to either give them a wide berth or hunt them down for sport.” 

“You might be right. And she does have such a nice bounty on her head.” Galdino mused, sitting down all prim and properly in his chair. Alvida took a sip of her tea, turning her head so she could continue to glance his way.

“Then why vogue for her in such a way? We would do best to get rid of her. Stray animals should stay as such.” She said with a smirk and another sip of tea.

“Because, dear, what a nice asset she would be to us if she were domesticated.” Galdino took a sip from his own cup, turning his gaze onto Alvida with a growing smirk of his own. “Maybe we would do best to invest in a shock collar. That would keep her from causing too much mayhem.” Alvida gave a luscious chuckle. 

“If we are to keep her, dear, then we best invest now.” You ignored their taunting, finding it not worth your time. Especially when your time was already being wasted waiting around for that pathetic excuse of a man still hiding away in his tent.

“How much longer does he expect us to wait around for him to sulk?” You snapped, turning sharply on your heels once more to march back over the white sand you had been leaving a consistent trail of boot marks in.

“We find it best to…leave the captain be when he gets like this,” Mohji spoke, taking a sip of tea. “He’ll come around…soon enough.” 

“Soon enough is not good enough. He should be out here discussing a play of action.” Mohji winched at your words.

“I would not push him.” You snarled at the fur-covered man who all but sunk into his chair as if to get away from your wrath. His lion stirred, seemingly sensing his master's unease. 

“Galdino, dear, make a note to also purchase a muzzle.” Alvida’s voice hummed. 

“Yes. Our budget definitely would allow for that as well.” You turned your snarl onto them. 

You would only take so many slights against your name.

“You best remember Galdino that I will take no such disrespect from you or anyone.” You hissed, making the man pale. Alvida only laughed, its ambrosian ring floating over the soft breeze, not understanding the true meaning behind your words. 

Galdino was best to remember that you still held power over him. Best to remember you held his daughter’s life in your hands and that one simple call would send her into the pits of hell. 

“And what will you do, wild woman? You are trying to join our crew and you have been doing very little to earn your place.” What you would do to that woman had her words not rang true. What utter carnage you would have wrought against her and this crew she belonged to if you didn’t have this mission to complete.

You snarled at her for a moment longer, a moment long enough for her to take yet another sip of her tea and swallow before you barged into the tent you had been pacing before. 

You would drag that fool from his den before you sat there any longer and allowed that woman to insult you. 

Darkness enveloped you. A darkness only broken up by the round hole in the apex of the tent, which allowed the smoke from the fire at the center to escape through. The fire flickered and swayed at the sudden rush of wind you had created in your rush. 

Its swaying light illuminated more of the space. Illuminated a broken desk, shattered mugs, and torn papers. Brightly colored clothes lay sprawled over the floor, causing the fire’s light to reflect off the sparkles and gems on them to shine like a sea of diamonds. Glass beer bottles rattled together as you slowly made your way through the large space towards a pile of pillows that looked like some strange birds nest.

And in that nest, laying on his front, body parts chop-chopped apart, and flowing blue hair splayed around his head, was Buggy the Clown. 

He was quiet. 

Too quiet. 

You’re earlier thought crossed your mind in a flash.

He looked dead. 

Maybe he was--died of his red-hot dramatics. 

What an easy mission that would make, but you knew your luck wasn’t that great. Knew Buggy’s “prophesied” luck was stronger than your own and he was still alive under that sea of blue hair and fluffy blankets. 

“...Buggy?” You questioned, coming to a stop just before his bed space began. 

He didn’t answer. He didn’t move. 

It pissed you off. 

Submission. You had to be--supportive of your new captain's antics. 

Gods--it almost made you want to gag. 

You made your way into his bed space, stepping over pillows and blankets to come to a stop next to him. 

“Buggy?” You tried again, but once more he remained silent as the grave. It was almost eerily how silent he was being. 

With a huff and a manhandling of your will and pride, you sat down next to him and---

Pffffffrrrrrfffttttt. 

The tent grew still once more.

A--a fart…that had been a release of gas-made air. 

Had he--no--that ghastly sound had come from under you, but you knew good and well that you had done no such thing. 

Buggy moved then. 

A small shake of his shoulder that grew so powerful that it began to rock his whole body up and down. 

Buggy was laughing at you. A laugh so intense it was utterly quiet. 

You reached under you and grabbed up the deflated pink, rubber cushion beneath you. 

A whoopee cushion. 

Of course Buggy had planted a whoopee cushion for you to fall for. 

Buggy gave a deep inhale of breath before belting out the loudest, funkiest laugh you’ve ever heard him produce. One that had your anger stifling, if just for a moment, to listen to the utter joy your personal embarrassment had brought him.

“Good one.” You grit, throwing the whoopee cushion at him. Buggy hardly seemed to feel it or care as he turned his head to look up at you, his blue hair cascading over his face and blocking some of his smudged and running make-up. He looked--almost too beautiful in that moment. 

It made you want to chop-chop his head off and punt it into the sea.

“Holy shit! I’m--I’m--BWAHAHAH!!” Another fit of laughter overtook his words, tears brimming at the corners of his cyan eyes. “I’m--I’m sorry but holy shit! You’ve gotta admit I gotcha good!” You clenched your fists tightly in your lap to keep from beating the absolute shit out of the clown laying next to you.

“...you got me.” You said, teeth hardly even letting you get the words out. It only threw Buggy into yet another laughing fit, one accompanied by the slamming of his fist on the ground and feet kicking. 

“I did! I really did!” You let him continue his hysterics, knowing you would prefer to deal with a teasing, happy Buggy, than a Buggy who wouldn’t speak. 

But that silence that had lived in the tent before his prank filtered back in, stealing his laughter and smile and filling those bright eyes with those haunting shadows he had almost convinced you had ceased to exist. You watched him as he let his head fall into his awaiting hands, the heels of his plam digging into his eyes in a rough manner that would further smudge his clown-like make-up. 

It made your skin crawl. Mabe your anger roll in your chest, your fist begging to hit something. 

You forced your fingers to uncoil from their pale knuckled hold on themselves. Forced yourself to think your re-sparked anger was because he had laughed in your face…not because his quiet was making you feel--strange. Not because whoever had put that hauntingly hurt look in his eyes was pissing you off just for daring to make his brightest fall away. A hurt you were carefully piecing together must have something to do with Red-Hair. 

People didn’t just have that kind of reaction to a Jolly Rodger they hadn’t memorized--hadn’t let burn into the forefront of their mind and rage shimmer in their veins at its mere sight. 

No. Nope. Your anger had nothing to do with any of that. 

“I didn’t know the map had anything to do with that Emperor.” You spoke low and slow as if you were approaching some sort of wild beast. Buggy scoffed at you, rolling his head in his head to look back up at you. 

“Of course, you didn’t know. You didn’t even think to smell the damn map.” Buggy said like it was utterly ridiculous that you hadn’t thought of that. 

“Who smells a fucking map?”

“Any pirate who has a true heart for the hunt. Obviously.” You rolled your eyes as you pulled one of your legs out from its crossed position so that you could rest your forearm on your knee, leaning down closer to the clown. 

“Obviously the map wasn’t for me. I care more for the wildness of the adventure than any treasure at its end.” That spark of brightness began to filter back into his eyes as a teasing smirk tugged at his lips. 

“That makes us perfect together then, huh? I like the shininess of gold and silver and you like the shininess of blood and marrow.” You couldn’t help that wolfish grin of yours from pulling to your lips at his words. 

“That I do. Which is why I make such a wondrous addition to your crew.” Those cyan eyes scanned over your face, lingering on your lips for far longer than you liked. Your fists were clenched into fists at the rising beat of your heart, ready to strike him in his far too loud mouth. 

“I still can’t wrap my head ‘round that, Minnow. You don’t like me. You don’t like my crew. You were once a part of a crew whose membership I hear is very difficult to earn. I know your nature well enough to know you wouldn’t just give that up without a true reason.” You watched Buggy who watched you with those eyes of his. Eyes you would never admit had found their way into the shadows of your dreams. Eyes that had your fluttering heart turned blazing in red-hot anger. 

“I’ve already told you. I saw you fight at Marineford and--”

“Cut the crap!” He shouted, rushing to sit up on his knees. To tower over you, grabbing hold of your shirt so that he could yank you closer to his bared teeth. 

Close. How close he had grown. And that anger. Oh, that utterly wild anger had your toes curling in your boots.

Your muscles and temper wanted to grab him and break his hand for ever thinking of touching you, but your brain sharply reminded you once more to submit. 

“You ain’t tryin’ to join me 'cause you saw some fuckin’ broadcast. You ain’t tryin’ to join me 'cause you think I’m powerful. There’s somethin’ you want. What is it?” Buggy hissed in your face. 

Submit, submit, submit.

You grinned up at him, pulling yourself onto your own knees so you could press your breasts into his chest and run a hand over the warm skin of his exposed arm, which was flexed from the hold he had over you. Buggy watched you in pure shock as his face grew redder and redder with each passing moment.

“What I want,” You purred, letting your eyes greedily drink in the thin curve of his lips beneath the smudged paint. “Is to serve you. I want to be your weapon. I want you to wield me however you choose against whomever you choose. I want to see you achieve greatness.” Those eyes of his, so wide and full of disbelief, fluttered to your own lips. 

“But--but you hate me.” His voice grew soft, near whispering along with the loosening of his fingers around your shirt.

“The past is in the past.” You saw that hurt flash in his eyes. That haunting darkness. “Shall I kill off that Red-Haired Emperor for you to prove my loyalty?” Buggy blinked, snapping himself out of whatever haunting pasts had started to invade his mind.

Good.

“W-what? No. You wouldn’t last a second against that guy.” You shrugged on an agreeing nod.

“Yes…but his crew isn’t as unbeatable. I could select one of his senior officers, hum…let’s say their Doctor, to wipe off the chess board. It would be an assassination of stealth--of shadows. It would leave them scrambling to figure out how it had happened. Who had done it. Leave them distracted--hurting.” Buggy’s breath hitched as you continued to speak, bringing your voice low and filling it with honey-thick and sultry tones. 

“I would then go for his chef, then his sharpshooter, and on and on until I get to that pesky first mate of his. Now he would be tougher to kill. I would have to catch him off guard, and on guard he would be after such a massacre of his men. Get him at his weakest state--in his blind spot and strike. Your crew could handle the rest of his underlings and then poor Red-Haired Shanks would be left to wallow in his mourning. He would be weak and utterly alone.” You brought your lips ever closer to his, which parted on a stuttering inhale of air. 

“And then, if you commanded it, I would go for Red-Hair himself. A little poison in the drink he would no doubt be drowning himself in would weaken him enough to make it ever so easy to,” You ghosted your fingers over his neck, feeling Buggy’s rapidly beating pulse and the bob of his Adams Apple on a sharp swallow, “take his head.” 

Buggy watched you for a long moment, tongue wetting his lips and pupils growing with each passing moment he stayed within such close proximity of you. And for a few of those moments, you thought he might try to close that distance. And you might have let him that close again, especially after getting yourself all worked up on such discussions of pain and chaos. 

“Fuck--” Buggy cursed on a huff of air, those eyes of his narrowing as he tried to refocus himself. “I forgot how fuckin’ crazy you are.” You hummed in agreement, fingers continuing to touch his skin. Skin that was all too warm and inviting. 

“And all my instantly is yours now, captain.” Buggy gave that funky laugh of his, a smile pulling at the edge of his lips.

“You’re truly persistent, ain’t ya?” You nodded, thumb brushing over the stumble of his jaw. Buggy shook his head in amusement, finally letting go of your shirt as he flopped back amongst the various pillows that made up his bed space to rub at his face.

“Fine.” He said, voice muffled by his gloved hands. You huffed a smirk, crawling your way over so that you could peer down at him and his sea of blue hair sprawled out around him. 

“Fine…what?” You lulled, peeling one of his hands away from his face so he could look at you. That blush you had pulled from him moments ago dusted over his skin upon finding you kneeling over top of him.

“Alvida is gonna kill me.” He groaned, brows furrowing. 

“And is she your captain?” Buggy gave a huffing chuckle at your question.

“Technically she’s my co-captain. We have this alliance goin’.” You narrowed your eyes down at him, making that blush only deepen. “B-But ya know that’s--she kinda just does her own thing--follows me around. I’m the captain.” You nodded, leaning ever the more closer as your grin yanked at your lips once more.

“Good. I will not serve under her. I will only serve under you.” Buggy swallowed, those alluring eyes of his scanning over your face rapidly. 

“Heh--yeah. Und-under me.” He cleared his drying throat, that blush continuing to bloom. “Yep. On my crew--serving me.” You boredly blinked at his ramblings. 

“What shall your first command be, captain?” You asked, making the clown clear his throat once more.

“Right. Command. Well--if we’re gonna find this treasure, we’re gonna need to find Shanks.” Buggy said, bitting the name of the red-haired emperor out, that anger you so enjoyed seeing flashing through his eyes. 

“And like I said before, I am exceptional at gathering hard-to-get information. I will find him for you.” You said, pulling yourself up and away from the man who you now officially called captain. 

A gloved hand shot out to grab your wrist before you could stand, pulling your blistering hot attention back onto him. 

Submit. Your brain screamed, but your body wanted to punch him right in that rounded nose of his for continuing to touch you.

“No grand assassination attempts--though very flashy indeed.” You nodded, your head, going once more to stand but his hand held firm. “How are you going to find him?” 

“There is a large town on one of the islands bordering this one I will go to ask around. Maybe find a Marine--”

“Minnow, you ain’t gonna find any Marines here.” You blinked down at him, calming your raging anger. “This island is home to one of the biggest pirate havens around. Hidden away from the watchful eye of the World Government. It’s why I came here. Needed to get off the Marine’s radar for a little while.” You almost scoffed at him.

If only he knew he’d let one right into his confidence. 

“Oh?” You said in your stifled angered state. It was all you could say without lashing out at him. 

You hadn’t heard of any pirate haven on this island. The people of the town you had talked to said nothing of it, even after your bribes of knowing more about this island. All they had said it was full of was sand and forest and the Buggy Pirates who had washed ashore the night prior. 

Luck child. Your brain purred back at you. A purr you shoved down to keep your anger from spiking any further. 

“Oh?” Buggy said, a smirk growing on his painted lips as he pulled himself to sit up once more. “You don’t know? And here I thought you were exceptional at gathering hard-to-find information.”

Oh, how you wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. To beat him into a pulp before he ever thought to question your skills again. 

Submit, submit, submit. It made your weakly caged anger rile in its chains. 

“I am. But I was not in need of finding any pirate heaven here. I was in need of finding you.” That blush was back in seconds, his mouth falling open and shut like a suffocating fish. 

“Heh--right.” He chuckled awkwardly, letting you go and allowing you to stand. 

“I’ll find this pirate heaven and I will find that emperor for you by the time your ship is ready to set sail tonight.” You said, bowing your head in show of respect before turning on your heels to leave. 

“Uh--wait!” Buggy called the sounds of him scrambling to get up sounding behind you. 

“Yes, captain?” You asked, clenching your fists as you faced the disheveled man.

“I’ll come with you.” Your anger rolled in its cage once more. “I don’t think I trust ya to get there without gettin��� lost.” He said on another chuckle meant to tell you he was only teasing. It did nothing but heat your anger further.

“Of course. Your knowledge of this heaven will be useful.” You said through slightly grit teeth as the clown came sauntering up to you. 

“Exactly what I was thinkin’, Minnow.” He said, that wide grin of his pulling to his face as he leaned close into you again. You allowed it, your attention being stolen by those damn eyes on his once more. “And hey, maybe we’ll have a little bit of fun together.”

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Tag List: @lostfirefly , @mydearlybeloathed , @sordidmusings , @fanshavegottensotoxic , @khaleesihavilliard, @sukilovesyou

[fanaticsnail]

Okay, I haven't read chapter 6 of Sapsorrow yet, I have a big day ahead so I know it will distract me too much and I like the incentive of something to treat myself at the end of the day, so my actual thoughts on the chapter are yet incoming

HOWEVER

Your thoughts for Buggy and/or Law having a ring have inspired me.

Ive been working on an idea for a series of interconnected one piece one shots using fairy tales (which got set back once I got COVID bc I had three days of writing planned out which ended up being three days of delirious fever sleep). And I haven't really set anything in stone yet but I have several stories that I think would work for each character and several extra stories I haven't yet decided characters for. So allow me to regurgitate some of those stories that I think could be thematically appropriate for Law/Buggy stories in the Sapsorrow AU:

Hans who made the princess laugh/The Princess who never smiled/the lad with the goat skin (there are a lot of variants of the story of a boy making the princess laugh/smile for her hand in marriage) - I was thinking of using this concept for a Koby or Luffy story, but it also really suits Buggy. If the condition placed upon marriage is him finally making his betrothed laugh it makes room for lots of hijinks that would inevitably lead to her getting to know him and fall in love.

A Thousand and One Nights - I planned this for Usopp (obviously) but I feel like Buggy managing to entertain someone with tricks and jokes so they allow him to keep wooing them the next night and so on until they agree to marry him because he's entertained them successfully for however many days and nights as was his task

Princess and the frog/beauty and the beast/Prince Lindworm esque story - hear me out, Reader as the scary beast bc Buggy's task was to prove he loved them truly for more than just superficial reasons. I feel like, thematically, I could see Buggy learning to not judge others and consequentially therefore learning not to be so harsh on himself (learning that he deserves kindness by extending kindness to others?) (And then there is the opportunity to flip the script with Buggy being the one wearing the ring and Reader being the one owning it.)

Hades and Persephone - I like how Buggy consistently fails upwards and I can definitely see the bumbling clown somehow getting lucky enough to snag the favour of someone super dangerous and powerful despite tripping over himself repeatedly. I imagine someone only ever feared might enjoy him speaking his mind bluntly. Also could have Reader owning the ring. (The comedic potential for a story of Buggy somehow failing forwards into the arms of a Morticia-esque partner. The angst/drama potential of someone learning they are not only capable but deserving of love and loving and are allowed to have some light and fun in their dark life.)

For Law I feel like his task could be something associated with him being a doctor. Either his betrothed promises to marry whoever manages to cure her loved one (or her) of a sickness/curse. Maybe his betrothed has sworn off marriage because she is sick and expects to die and doesn't want to leave anyone heart broken, which is why she objects to marrying him, which leads to a lot of secret keeping and angst on both sides.

OR, something that is the other side of the coin, his betrothed wants to kill/poison someone and needs his help. Oooooh~ dramatic crime story

SNAIL AGAIN! I should've seen this one first. My dear, you spoil me!

The way I have been struggling with Buggy's Sapsorrow. I want to write a little snippet so desperately, but he is thus far eluding me. I am LOVING these thoughts.

I do have an idea for Law, but I am wanting to write for him last due to not desiring to reveal all of the lore involving the spectre of Sapsorrow just yet. Of all of the rings to be given, I will say that Law will be the only one to offer it to someone freely: using it for its intended purpose. It is going to devastate me, but I am very much looking forward to his the most. Main theme: Angst.

NOW THAT THAT HAS BEEN SAID.

........are you saying you would like to join in on the storyteller au collab? Because if you are!!! Usopp with "a story short" and Luffy with "Fearnot" would be perfect for you: considering it sounds like you already have many a similar idea regarding them, and I would LOVE to have you involved!!!

[simbasomba]

Character board of Angiepocalypse and Gold & Violet by @knightbobblecat

[gingernut1314]

YES YES YESSSSSS!!!

Another amazingly crafted chapter!!!

And all I have to say is: CROCODILE TOUCHING READERS FACE WITHH HIS HANDDDDDDD!!!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Loved, love, loveeeeeed this, Cinna!! Can’t wait for more!! 🩷🩷🩷

The Heartless Giant Pt. 3

Pairing: Crocodile x GN! Royal! Reader

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~3.9k

Summary: You try to get the cigar for the giant, and uncover a few tidbits from the past that leave you with more questions than answers....

Notes: Smoking. Uhhhhh don't smoke if you don't want to I know I made it sound cool here but do recognize they're not that cool and also that you don't need to smoke. Reader is kinda convinced to try it once.

Part 1 Part 2 AO3

Taglist: @gingernut1314 @fanaticsnail @leafyturtle @pookiesnatcher @lolom

Procuring a cigar would not be difficult to achieve. Procuring a cigar that your father would enjoy, however,  was a different matter. You had heard your brothers discussing the outrageous costs of them before- they were so expensive and special that other royal or noble families had presented them as gifts or tributes to your father. He rarely ever smoked, but on the few occasions he did, it was always with those expensive cigars. 

You knew where he kept them, in a small, cedar humidor in his study on the third shelf. That was the easy part but taking them from the box would be difficult. The humidor was locked with a tiny key, a fact you knew after your brothers attempted to steal from his stash when they were young teenagers. Considering your father was almost always in his study, it would be hard to sneak in and look for the key.

For a moment, you thought about just giving the man in the cell a cheap cigar to stave him off. Surely, he wouldn’t know better, would he?  

You sighed and shook your head at your own foolishness. The man was in the lowest cells and could kill you without flinching. Why were you going to test his patience by giving him an obvious fraud? You walked past the door to the study, contemplating what to do next when your father stepped out of the office with a raised brow. 

“Ah, (Y/n), good afternoon,” he smiled as his eyes met yours. 

“Father, good afternoon,” you smile back, before the gears in your mind start spinning as an idea forms in your head. “What are you doing?” 

“Oh, I was just thinking of taking a stroll around the gardens. Care to join me?” He asked politely. 

“Sorry, I have to decline today. I was going to read,” you fib to throw him off. “May I see one of your diplomacy books?” 

Your father shrugged and motioned toward the door. “Feel free to, the books are always for you to enjoy.” 

You grin and thank him, waving him off as he begins to descend to the gardens. You close the door to his study and breathe a sigh in relief. What good fortune you had to have gotten the study clear so easily. You wait a brief moment to make sure your father doesn’t come back before you grab the humidor from the shelf and then rummage through his desk. On top is a bunch of files and reports talking about budgets and possible forecasts- rain should be expected soon as well as a bountiful harvest- and his “lucky” pen he adores so much. 

In the drawers is nothing but mementos of you and your brothers. Stationary. More pens. Clips, stamps, ink, folders, and old papers. No key. 

You sigh and get frustrated as you open the last drawer, gasping as you see only a flintlock pistol inside. The pistol is shiny, obviously well-kept and maintained. You’ve been into this office many times, yet you never knew such a weapon would be kept here. 

It made sense, you tried to assure yourself, but the fact your father always had this pistol and maintained it made a shiver run down your spine. You closed the drawer without a second thought, not wanting to think of the implications of such a thing being in there. 

Still, no key. You frantically looked at the shelves for any sign or hint of a key. Nothing. You glanced at the humidor and angrily tried to pry it open with force. Barbaric? Perhaps. It was similar to something your brothers would do, but you knew you didn’t have much time to waste if you wanted to get the answers your mind was screaming for. 

Damn that man and his need for expensive cigars!

As you were continuing to scuffle with a box, the door to the study opened wide as your father stood at the door. 

You gasped and flung yourself back, accidentally bumping into an armored statue that he had near his desk. You knew you had been caught, your hands were all over the crime scene and the guilty look on your face did nothing to give you even a semblance of plausible deniability. You nervously raised your eyes from the ground to look at your father, but instead of an angry or accusatory expression, he seems quite amused. 

“My, my, I didn’t expect you would be so bold as to snoop through my office like that,” he said with a low chuckle. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, knowing your cover has been blown. He hadn’t been gone long at all, barely even a few minutes, yet the way he snorted seemed to confirm everything he needed to know. 

“You were that desperate to smoke?” He asked. 

“No…” you begin. 

“Ah. Were you attempting to get them for your brothers?” Your father questions. Your eyes widen when you realize you couldn’t deny it, since he’d get more suspicious of your intentions. 

“Maybe,” you lie. 

“I didn’t take you for someone who wanted to smoke,” he rubbed his chin. “Then again, I guess it would be silly for me to assume you would remain the same as when you were a young child. Although, lying to me to sneak in did hurt me a bit.” 

“How did you know?” You ask. Your father chuckles again. 

“You and your brothers have been acting suspicious all day. I figured something must have been going on. I also know that you have plenty of books on diplomacy, many of which I already own here. You would not gain anything new, so I wanted to see what you were really planning.” 

You sigh, forgetting that your father- although a noble and gentle man- could be so observant and calculating in his plans. “Well, you weren’t called the ‘Hero King’ for nothing, I suppose.” 

“Now, now, I may be your father, but even when I was a young lad, I too liked to indulge in some bad behavior,” your father says, walking over to his shelf. “If you would have looked a bit closer…” 

He pulls out a red book titled A Key to Diplomacy and hands it to you. The book is rather light despite its size. 

“I don’t really need this-” 

“Just open it,” he sagely nods. You’re confused by what he’s trying to do before you open the book and find the inside of it is hollow. In the hollowed book, there is a small key. You pull it out and your father nudges his heads towards the humidor. 

“I had it hidden in there since I doubted your brothers would ever try to open a book like that.” 

You laugh at the absurdity of this situation as you open the humidor. Your father leans over to grab two cigars and a cigar cutter. 

“Two?” You comment, while your father begins to light one up. 

“I figured since you were so curious, I could allow you the chance to try one. Lord knows I need one.” 

He brings the cigar to his mouth while he hands you the other one. You watch as he inhales the tobacco and exhales a large puff of smoke. The smell is strong, wafting and covering the room in a short amount of time. It’s a bit intimidating, but you continue to watch. 

“Do you really feel better after smoking one?” You ask curiously. 

“I think I do. Maybe it’s the fact I’m doing something else besides paperwork that eases me. Or maybe I put it in my head that it does. I can’t be certain, but I can assure you that a nice cigar does relax me when times are tough,” your father admits, tapping the cigar against the ashtray. 

You look down at the cigar in your hands as your thoughts drift to the man in the cellar. Is that why he was desperate for a cigar of all things? Does it really ease his mind? 

“You’re off thinking again,” your father comments. 

“What?” You ask, focusing back on your father. 

“You’ve had a dazed look on you since the morning. Are you troubled by something?” He asked with a gentle and sympathetic look in his eyes. 

“Oh… no, I just was thinking of… things,” you try to say. 

“Do you wish to speak of these ‘things’?” “No, father. I’m sorry. I’ll get over it soon,” you reply. After all, once you get the man’s name then… perhaps you can rid him in your mind. Your father shrugs casually and smiles. 

“I understand. Do know that I’ll always be there to help you, dear. You are my precious child, a gifted one that I am lucky to have,” his face softens. The compliment makes your cheek flush and your lips curve upwards. 

“Thank you, father. I appreciate it.” 

“Anytime, my child. Now, since we have a few moments to spare, why not catch up with me?” 

The talk with your father lasts for a while, with you two discussing random topics of interest. He muses on his rebellious youth, admitting he was a troublemaker. He says he once enjoyed fighting anything and everything, a habit he was lucky to have grown from. 

“It might seem strange to admit, even whilst I charge headfirst to battle, but the best weapons one can wield… it is your mind and your heart.” 

“Mind and heart?” You say, unconvinced. You do value your mind, but something about the way he said that makes you curious. 

“Yes. If I had no conviction or love for my people and kingdom, there would be no kingdom left standing. If I was simply a violent tyrant who enjoyed blood for the sake of blood, there would be no happiness or joy in here. That is what separates humans from beasts. I love with all my heart, proudly and without fear.” 

You let his words sink in and mull over them. 

The giant below… does he count? Is he worthy of love? Can he love? 

“Do you think everyone is worthy of love?” 

“Now that’s a good question,” your father hums, looking less like the wise king and more like a regular man with every second of this conversation. “Perhaps they do. Perhaps they don’t. As the king, I make tough choices every day. I would love to be able to forgive and pardon everyone. I would love to have no enemies, no strife, no war- I would love for my position to simply cease from existence as we explore what the world has to offer.” 

Your eyes widen as you hear your father’s admission. “You don’t wish to be king?” 

“It is a heavy burden, my dear child. It weighs down on you constantly. And deep down, no matter how much I dream of being the ideal king, the best ruler, the kindest and noblest man in the world…” he stands up, pushing his cigar into the ashtray as he has his back face you while he looks out the large window behind his desk. The shadow of his figure covers you, shielding you from the bright light of the evening sun. He reaches his hand out to caress the suit of armor. 

“But you are that king, father. You are that- to the people, to me-,” 

“You do not understand, my child… once in a while, I think back to those battles, to those wars I’ve fought. I’ve slain and nearly been slain countless times,” he sighs. “I think of the way I was near death, near exhaustion, bleeding, bruised, broken. Sometimes…” 

He glances back to you, with a somber smile and blank eyes that sends a chill down your spine. “I miss it.” 

You gasp as your father’s eyes return to the warmth it once had as he sits back down. 

“I am not the perfect man. That has always been true. But I can do good, and as such, I choose to do so, no matter how the monster within me screams. I am a father, a king, and a leader- I no longer work for myself. I work for my people. And that means I must be stricter with myself.” 

Your hands tremble as you grip the cigar and look down at your lap. You don’t know what to think of what your father just said, admitting to the fact that deep down, he enjoyed battles and killing. The gun in his desk, was it for protection, or was it possibly for his desire to return to the days of his old glory? You try to exhale. Your father wasn’t so careless and bloodthirsty. Even though he admitted this, he had also said he restrained himself for his duty. 

And yet… why did the thought of his true nature repeat over and over in your mind? 

“(Y/n), are you alright?” Your father asks sweetly. 

“Y-yes. I am. I asked a question and you answered,” you try and force a smile on your face. “I never knew you thought that way.” 

“It does run through my mind on rare occasions. But I do not let it stop me from doing my duty. I truly do love what I do and my life. That is why I fight for it.” 

You nod along, eager to take a break from here. “Thank you, father. I think I’ll be leaving, now. I’ve taken up enough of your time.” 

“Oh, dear, you’ve made my day better. I enjoy talking with you and listening to you. It makes me feel I’ve done right as a father,” he grins. You feel guilt inside your heart as you glance at the cigar in your hand, knowing you only talked to your father in order to give this to his sworn enemy. 

“Father, here,” you give the cigar back to him, not feeling worthy of the smile he has given you. After what he discussed with you, perhaps it was best to drop the subject entirely. Your father, however, pushes your hand back to you and shakes his head. 

“I’ve no need for all of these cigars. Please, keep it, whether you intend to light it or not. At least as a memento of my trust for you.” 

Your heart clenches in your chest as you nod feebly. 

“Thank you. I’m happy you trust me.” 

Your father chuckles and hands you a cigar cutter and lighter. “For whenever and whatever you decide to do. I will always support you.” 

You grip the items in your hand and thank your father again before leaving to your room. 

Guilt, guilt, guilt- it eats away at your heart while your mind screams for you to not continue with your plan. There is no point, no worth, no use to seeing that man. Oh, but your heart… but what if he is different than what once was assumed? What if he was simply in need of love? What if all he ever needed was just one more chance? 

Do it. No, don’t. We don’t need to be in more trouble. 

But can’t we? Why would we? 

Oh, damn you! Don’t you see this is difficult? 

The two sides of you disagree and argue, until you huff in frustration and grab the items. 

Forget it, we’re going. 

You sneak back into the dungeons, not even noticing the chills due to your anger at your torn feelings. 

You’re an idiot, (Y/n). What good is this? Father said he trusted us, and now look what we’re doing!

“You think too loud,” a voice cuts through your inner thoughts as you look up to come face to face with the giant. He’s smiling, eyeing the things in your hands. 

“What do you mean?” You ask in an accusing tone. 

“You look as if you’re in a fight, dear. Are you always this lost in thought, your highness?” He mocks you. 

“Oh, quiet you, you’ve put me in a rather big bind. You should be thankful I’m even giving them to you,” you frown, holding the singular cigar and cigar cutter to him. He waves his hook dismissively while his one hand expertly cuts the cigar. 

“Yes, yes, thank you very much. My… your father really must have an eye for quality. These are perhaps the best cigars out there,” he says as he examines the cigar. He curls two fingers in a repeating motion. “Lighter,” he commands. 

You fumble with the lighter in your pocket and shakily try to ignite it. The man rolls his eyes at your incompetence and guides your hand with his hook to the cigar. The flame slowly roasts the cigar as he takes a deep inhale of it. He immediately throws his shoulders back and lets out a pleasured sigh. 

“Ah… oh how I missed this,” he mumbles, his body relaxing. 

“Well, are you going to keep your end of the bargain?” You fold your arms. 

“Patience. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were desperate to get to know me,” he teases, the smell of tobacco invading your nose. You grimace at the scent while the man revels in your disgust. His hook reaches through the bars again and tilts your chin up. He gazes down at you with half-lidded eyes and a wide smirk. “You look so stressed, your highness. Why don’t you relax?” “I’m not worried about that right now. Besides, I’m fine,” you huff. 

“Nonsense. Here, let me help,” he twirls the cigar around to you and holds it in front of you. You glance between it and him while he hums. “What? Never smoked before?” “No,” you admit to him. 

“What a shame,” he bemoans, going back to take a puff of his cigar. “And here I thought we were bonding something special. Although, perhaps it’s good you haven’t taken up such bad habits.” 

“Really?” “Yes,” he eyes you. “I wouldn’t want you of all people to end up like me.” 

“True. Why do you like to smoke so much? You could’ve asked me for anything, yet you chose a cigar of all things.” 

“It’s a hard vice to let go of. I once was free to do as I could. Forcefully being unable to pick up one whenever I chose drove me a bit… mad,” he laughs humourlessly. “I find it clears my mind. You look as if you desperately need that.” 

He faces the cigar to you once more. You feel your previous conviction falter when he gives you that eager look and nods his head for you to try it. 

“I guess once could not hurt…” you begin as you grab the cigar and put it to your mouth. You inhale a large amount of the smoke before you feel your lungs screaming. You remove the cigar quickly and cough out puffs of smoke, wheezing while the man pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“You really are too much, sometimes. You don’t breathe it in to your lungs,” he chastizes you, grabbing the cigar from you. “You breathe it in, hold it in your mouth, let the taste settle on you for a few seconds, then exhale. This is expensive stuff, not a cheap joint.” 

He shows you the motions and hands it back to you. You cough once more before trying it again, just the way he did it. You exhale some smoke, thankfully not choking, but not enjoying the taste. 

“I don’t get it. It tastes like crap.” 

“It’s an acquired taste. Maybe you should bring me another, and we could try again.” 

“Absolutely not, I’m not going to do all that again to try and smoke some lousy cigar. You still haven’t told me your name.” 

“Crocodile,” he casually states. “Hah, hah, how funny. Be serious,” you frown. He shrugs and continues to smoke. 

“Oh well. You don’t believe me.” 

“There’s no way you are named Crocodile. That’s a ridiculous name. Not to mention, that was once from the hero of-” 

“Alabasta?” 

“Yes! Alabasta! And that…” your eyes widen as you see his shoulders bounce due to his laughter. “You can’t be serious.” 

“I am. It’s not my fault you don’t take my word.” 

“Then why is a hero in this jail?” 

“Reasons. Reasons you will not know or understand,” his voice evens out, looking down at the floor. 

“What, am I supposed to give you something, then you’ll tell me?” “I’m afraid my motivations can’t be bought, my dear,” Crocodile admits. “Entice me with something, though, and I may change my mind.” 

“I don’t think I have anything ‘enticing’ to offer.” 

“Oh, that’s where you are wrong…” he leans in closer to you and eyes you up and down. “Perhaps another time.” 

“What? What are you-” 

“Mmm, nothing. It’s just a thought came to mind.” 

You roll your eyes at his vague words. “Never mind, I can see how someone as cruel as you ended up here.” “And yet you keep coming down to talk to me, dear. Why don’t you give me your name as well, since it’s obvious you are interested in me.” 

“I am not. I am just repaying the favor from before,” you quickly correct him. 

“My mistake, yes, that’s what’s going on.” 

“I don’t like your attitude!” Your face flushes as you fan yourself. “It’s (Y/n).” 

“(Y/n)...” Crocodile repeats, like a prayer. “I will admit, it is definitely a beautiful name. Far better than Crocodile, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“You think so?” 

“Mhm. (Y/n), it sounds like royalty. It fits you well, your highness.” 

“Thank you,” you mumble, unsure of why your heart is elated he was complimenting your name. 

“Would you look at the time, your highness,” Crocodile states after a few quiet moments. “You should be getting back upstairs. I’m sure your father would be wondering where you are. He wouldn’t want to find you messing around down here, now would he?” 

“Right,” you shake your head, pushing aside all the strange feelings inside you. However, despite him saying you should go, you find yourself reluctant to move from your spot in front of him. Crocodile chuckles and this time, reaches to you with his right hand. He strokes your cheek with his thumb and looks down at you. 

“You don’t need an excuse to visit me, your highness.” “Who said I wanted to?” you lie. 

“Perhaps I’ve mistaken your feelings again,” he plays along. “Although, you could always keep me company. It’s very lonely down here.” “No. You have nothing else you wish to share with me,” you retort. 

“I did say if you entice me, I might change my mind. And what is more enticing to a prisoner trapped here for life than a companion?” 

You shouldn’t do this. But then you see those dark eyes and you feel tempted to try and learn. 

“I can see that…” “You’re very kind, (Y/n),” Crocodile says as he removes his hand from your face. “Now run along. But don’t keep me waiting too long, dear.”

[number1jeonginstan]

Part of my Valentine's Day Collab!

A/N: My second installment!!! I wrote this one in one sitting, hopefully, y'all like it, please give me feedback because I love to read it <333

Pairing: FWB!Hyunin x Reader

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: Unprotected sex (obvi, it's me, Ju...), sex dice, foot job (m! receiving), fingering, cumming inside, fluffy sex but also not??!

Hyunjin, your best friend from high school, the man you had been sleeping with for the last 5 months because neither of you could find anyone to work around your schedules to sleep with, the person who you were getting drunk off of the expensive wine he was gifted, was begging you to roll a sex dice. 

It all started with the two of you deciding to spend Valentine’s Day together, instead of falling into cheap marketing tricks of spending upwards of hundreds of dollars on your significant others, you decided to spend it with your fuck buddy.

You had come to his apartment at around 7 at night, holding a box of chocolates that your co-worker had given you as well as takeout food for the two of you. 

The two of you sat down, watching a random show while munching on the Chinese food you had brought. 

“They definitely fucked after the episode was shot” Hyunjin giggled, taking a bite of the egg roll that was in your hand causing you to let out a quick “hey!” 

“I believe it” you replied back, taking note of their on-screen chemistry. “Their chemistry is just a bit too good” 

“Kind of like ours?” he giggled, stealing another piece of your food even though he had his own on the plate in front of him. 

“I aspire to be as delusional as you” you giggled, stealing a bite of his noodles as a way to get back at him. “Hey! Stop stealing my food!” he shouted, wrapping his arms around his plate to try and hide it from you. 

“So when you do it, it’s okay, but when I do it hell freezes over? That’s not very kind of you Mr.World Renound Model”  

“Exactly!” he grinned, kissing your lips before going back to the show in front of the two of you. 

Your brain short-circuited for a second, he had just kissed you, on the lips, when the two of you weren’t having sex. This is the first time he’s ever done that, maybe it was on accident you thought to yourself, trying to distract yourself, you quickly asked him if he had anything to drink. 

Maybe that’s what you had to do, loosen up, maybe you were just being a bit too up-tight because it was Valentine’s Day and you had vowed to never do couple-shit, but here you were with Hyunjin, but the two of you were just friends with benefits, right?

That’s what you kept telling yourself as you watched him open the bottle of wine for the two of you. You watched as his muscles flexed, his body ridden in only a black wife beater and grey sweatpants, the outline of his dick could be easily seen. 

You could feel yourself getting wet at the sight of him, no wonder he was so famous, he’s fucking beautiful. 

“I don’t have glasses anymore” he groaned taking out two mugs from his cabinet. One was littered with cats and the other with Minho’s face. 

You looked at the mugs gobsmacked as it took you a second to process them, and as soon as you did, you busted out laughing. “Holy shit, are these the only things you have?” you giggled, watching him pour the contents of the bottle into the mugs. 

“Hey, they were a gift from the cat lover himself” he replied, an offended look on his face. 

“I’m just kidding, this will do just fine” you grinned, taking the cup with Minho’s face from him only to be stopped. “I don’t want you drinking out of this one” he quickly stated, handing it back to him only to grab the one with Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. 

Little did you know the reason was because Hyunjin felt possessive over you, he didn’t want you drinking out a cup with another man’s face, an attractive one at that. 

He watched as you took a sip of the drink in your hands, the way the red liquor stained your lips, the slight blush on your cheeks as the two of you drank out of your designated cups. He could feel his cock slowly stir in his pants, the sight of you was enough to get him hard, but it wasn’t just that.

He wanted to kiss you for hours, go on dates, and cuddle with you, but he was too scared. Too scared to ask, too scared that you wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings. He sighed as you ate one of the chocolates you brought, watching the way you licked the caramel sauce off your fingers, grinning at the sight of your childish ways.

The two of you reminisced as you drank backs pressed against his couch, each sip of the fruity smooth liquid causing more and more of your secrets to slip, your laughs overlapping one another. It was peaceful, the sound of his laughter sounded like home, and for him vice versa. 

As more secrets spilled from both of your lips, he stated something that caught your attention. “Hannie actually gifted me sex die for Christmas as a joke” he chuckled, reminiscing on how he glared at him as he saw what was in the velvet box. 

“I thought they were the earrings I really wanted, but nope sex die. He did actually give me the earrings too, so not all was lost” he giggled, pouring more wine into his mug. 

“Want to try them out?” you shrugged watching as he almost gagged on his drink. 

“You really want to?” he stuttered, wiping the bit of wine that dribbled out of his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“I mean, why not? We can put that gag gift to use!” you grinned, crawling over to him, and straddling his lap. “Come on Jinnie, do you not want to?” 

You looked up at him with the doe eyes he was a sucker for. He couldn’t say no to you, especially when you had asked ever so kindly.

He picked you up, your legs wrapped around his hips arms around his neck as he walked you to his room, gently laying you on his bed as he rummaged through his desk for the die. 

You were on your back, hair splayed around you as you watched him, his eyebrows becoming unknit as he finally found them in the back of a drawer. 

“Here” he giggled, giving you the die to roll. “Let’s see” you whispered, looking at what it landed on. 

Right there, clear as day, the body part had landed on foot, the act was job. “Guess I’m giving you a foot job!” you giggled, watching his face go from one of worry to one of perplexity. 

“A what!” he shouted a bit too loud, causing you to laugh. “Come on, don’t tell me you are scared. Plus, aren’t you the one who wanted to and I quote “eat my feet”?”

“I was, but this might be uncomfortable for you” he whined, not wanting you to do something you weren’t one hundred percent sure about. 

“I’m not uncomfortable, plus I want to try it. If I don’t like it, or you don’t we don’t have to do it again” you explained to him, getting up on your knees to be face to face with him, your lips kissing his in reassurance. 

“I mean if you aren’t opposed to it–” 

“I knew it, Seungmin owes me 100 bucks” 

“You bet on me having a foot fetish?” he stuttered out. 

“Yes, now lay back” you stated, dragging him onto his bed, his back against the headboard as your foot brushed against his cock. He let out a groan at the contact, his dick already hard as soon as you brought up the die.

You slowly rubbed your foot against his sweatpants, watching the way his head was thrown back, slight moans leaving his lips as he pulled down his joggers. His already erect cock slapping against his stomach. 

You slowly brushed your pedicured foot along the underside of his cock, watching the way he bit his lip as your toes ran along his tip. “Fuck baby, just like that” he groaned, a hand slapping over his mouth as your toes curled along his length. 

Each pump of your foot around his cock made him closer and closer. “If you keep going like that, I’m going to cum” he whined. You slowly got up from your position across from him, straddling him as you kissed his lips. 

His lips formed a pout as you pulled away, your hands gravitating towards his head, brushing his hair behind his ear. “Has anyone told you how pretty you are” he whispered out loud, taking in the rise and fall of your chest.

He slowly pulled your shirt off your body, groaning at the sight of your tits, a black lacy bra adorning your breasts. “Fuck, these are so beautiful too” he whispered against your collarbones, kissing and biting them as he slowly traveled to your breasts.

He reached behind your back, unclipping your bra only to hear your breath catch in the air as he slowly pinched one of your nipples, sucking on the other one. 

“Jinnie” you whined, your hand running through his hair once again as he continued to abuse your chest.

“Such a whiney baby for me, I love it” he groaned as he left marks all over your chest, cupping your breasts. 

“Need you” you whined feeling your pussy drip at every passing moment that he wasn’t inside of you. 

“My baby needs me?” he chuckled, kissing your lips before slowly pulling down your own sweats, and throwing them somewhere in your room, along with your underwear. 

Before you could even do anything, he flipped you over, your body underneath him as he took sight of you. Your chest is littered with hickies, and your lips plump from kissing him over and over again. 

You were heaving as your hair surrounded your face. You were art and he wanted to stare at you forever. He took sight of your leaking pussy, his fingers trailing across it, catching the juices.

“You are so wet for me sweetheart, can’t believe you were trying to help me without taking care of yourself, such a selfless little girl” he whispered before slowly pushing his fingers into your cunt, stretching you out on his long fingers. 

“Just for you Jinnie, want to be such a good girl for you” you whimpered, your walls clenching around his fingers. 

“Yeah, you are a good girl for me, such a good girl, the best” he chuckled, kissing your lips as his fingers continued to abuse your cunt. He wanted to find that spot inside of you that made you go crazy. 

“You want to cum baby? Want to cum for me?” 

“Want to cum on your cock” you whined as you felt your high get closer as he slowly brought one of his fingers down to your clit. 

“My poor baby wants me to cum inside her, is that what’s it?” 

“Yes, want your cum Jinnie, please want it deep inside of me” 

“Who am I to deny such a sweet girl?” 

He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, eyes blown out at the sight of you whining at the loss of contact. He slowly ran the tip of his cock along your folds, watching as your poor little hole clenched around nothing but the air.

He gently slapped the tip against your clit, eliciting a quiet moan from your lips before dragging it down and slowly pressing his cock into your cunt, watching you as your eyes rolled behind your head as he sheathed the entirety of his cock into your tight little cunt. 

“Take my big cock” he groaned, slowly thrusting inside of you, your back arching slightly off the bed as he thrusts into you harder, lifting your hips up so he could hit the spot he had with his fingers minutes prior.

“Is it good baby?” 

“So good, such a good cock, only cock I want” you whimpered as his thrusts began to get faster, a finger trailing down to your clit giving you the extra stimulation you needed. 

“There we go baby, come on, cum on my cock. You can do it, cum on Jinnie’s cock” he groaned into your ear, feeling the way your cunt was wrapped around him, sucking his cock in as he fucked you. 

“Ah– too deep” you whined, you could feel him hit your cervix, the tip of his cock thrusting against it, but he didn’t stop. 

“There we go baby, good girls cum on my cock” he groaned, he could tell that your high was nearby the noises that escaped your lips, and the way your thighs were wrapped around his torso. 

It only took one more particularly deep thrust for your cunt to spasm around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

“So good!” you screamed, your head lolling to the side as he continued to pound into as he chased his own high. 

“Fuck, gonna cum into this tight little pussy” he whined into your neck, his thrusts getting more sporadic as he came deep inside of you, your walls drinking up every ounce of his cum. 

He fell on his back as you wrapped your arms around him, his cock softening inside of you. 

He looked at you, brushing the hair off your face. 

“I should get going” you whispered to no one but yourself. Before you could even get up, he stopped you. “Don’t please” he whined, his hand wrapped around your wrists. 

“Please baby, I want to spend every Valentine’s Day with you. I want to take you on dates, I want to make you breakfast in bed. I want to do every sappy thing we said we hated about couples with you. Please, let me do this for you, with you” he pleaded, kissing your cheeks and then your lips.

He pulled away, waiting for your response, his eyes pleading for you to say yes. 

“As long as you don’t poison me with your terrible cooking, I would love to go out with you” you giggled, kissing his lips.

“This isn’t a dream is it?” he whispered out loud, thinking to himself. 

“It isn’t” you giggled, cuddling him closer to your body, your head laying against his chest. Maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t as bad as you thought. 

[sootandpepper]

magma with the gang! this was very fun 10/10 would like to do again :))

blue is @loopeyfluff

pink is @asyisnotok

green is @mangogreent

red is me!

[glitchyko]

A finished inkypages collab that I did with the super talented @tohot4u!! They did the sketch and lineart, and I did the coloring and rendering-

[gingernut1314]

Sobbbssssss

omgggggggggggg 😭😭😭

Thank youuu!! Your kind words mean the world to me!!!

I hope to get some more chapters out soon! I've just been trying to plan it out a little so I can do my best on it!!

I know there are a few others, such as the wonderful @sordidmusings, who are brewing up their own The Storyteller x One Piece series, so definitely be on the lookout for those cause I know they will be amazing!!

Thank you for taking the time to read and enjoy! 🩷

Y'all need to read @fanaticsnail and @gingernut1314 stories, especially Sapsorrow & The Luck child. The writing is so beautifully done and transports into the world of the story.

[evanwevand]

Collab with @pantheraviva !!! ^__^

I THINK THIS IS MY FIRST COLLAB WITH SOMEONE AND IT'S SO COOL AHWHWJAJ TY DO MUCH

Og pic!!

[gingernut1314]

The Luck Child Masterlist

Buggy x F!Reader

Summary: Gold D. Rodger once spoke of a luck child. A child whose luck would one day grant him greatness. But when that child grows into a man and begins to threaten the World Government with his growing power, they begin to plot. Either this man, whose luck keeps propelling him forward in life, wins the golden feather from a great beast and is granted the title of Warlord of the Sea, or that great beast kills him, ending his threat forever.

You are a Marine who, for the past five years, has gone undercover as a pirate. But when you are recalled back to Headquarters, you are assigned your next mission: join the Star Clown's crew and make sure he dies if he fails in his challenge.

But will the Star Clown's luck work against you?

Themes: enemies to lovers, grumpy sunshine trope, goofy x serious, slowwwww burn, hidden identity, forbidden love??, wild reader, wild marine reader, canon divergence (anime and live-action), canon typical violence

A/N: This is done in collaboration with @fanaticsnail and her Sapsorrow series!! She was the wonderful mind behind the creation of this whole little universe sprung from The Storyteller and the amazing mood board below!! Go read Sapsorrow if you haven't already cause it's ✨magical✨!! And the wonderful @i-am-vita created the beautiful banner above as well as the storyteller collab masterlist below!!!!

↞ to Buggy the Clown Masterlist | The Storyteller Collab Masterlist | One Piece Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

Guide:

⏳ = Coming Soon 🖋️= Ongoing ✔️ = Competed 🧨 = NSFW

The Storyteller - The Luck Child

"A luck child. Poor as penance, rich as snow, a great captain of a great captain. Wise men prophesied this child would one day achieve greatness."

Setlist: (Full Luck Child Playlist)

Running with the Wolves

False Confidence

Push My Luck

Chokehold Cherry Python

When You Say My Name

War of Hearts (Violin)

Chaotic Theme

The Luck Child: 🖋️

Chapter 1: Superstitions of a Dying Age Chapter 2: A Quick Chit-Chat Between Good Ol' Friends Chapter 3: Discussions of Pain and Chaos Chapter 4: ⏳ Chapter 5: ⏳ Chapter 6: ⏳ Chapter 7: ⏳ Chapter 8: ⏳ Chapter....

[allyheart707]

1 Year Comic Collab - PART 1

Part two ->

Credits from top to bottom: @friskebits, @shellrazor, @katzstar5, @dluebirb , @donatellokinnersinner, @appleyesssss , @nights-flying-fox , @orangepawn39 , @intotheelliwoods , @theartofeverything , @theredponcho , @drowning-soda , @peoplepersonoaktree , @banana-pancake5 , @jadetheblueartist , @glitter-alienz , @burritello3000 , @exhaustedwriterartist , @troubleshade , and finally @purple-the-turtle

[ID: Panel 1- Carol, Mikey and Donnie relaxing and sitting on Donnies bed, Carol reading an unlabeled book with Mikey and Donnie on either side of her, laying on her. Image watermarked by Friskyeee.

Panel 2- Carol closes the book with her eyes closed and says “...The end.” The image is watermarked by shellrazor.

Panel 3- Carol sets the book down on the bed next to her and says "Alright, boys-" Watermarked by Katzstars.

Panel 4- Mikey interrupts her, clutching the blanket in his hands and looking upset. He says "Wait! No! But- But-" Watermarked by dluebirb.

Panel 5- Carol takes a grey blanket and pulls it up to her hips, smiling. She says "It's time for bed." Image is marked in the bottom corner by Donatellokinnersinner.

Panel 6- Donnie lies in his bed while Carol covers him with a blanket. He looks at her with pleading eyes, not wanting her to leave. The image is marked by appleyesssss.

Panel 7- Carol turns to leave, and the boys sadly watch her from the bed.

Panel 8- GIF. Mikey tugs on Carol's labcoat. He says "Wait, don't go!" in a black dialogue bar above his head.

Panel 9- GIF of Donnie sitting on the edge of his bed kicking his feet back and forth. With a serious look on his face he is saying "Just one more story! Then we will go to bed, promise!" Image is watermarked by intotheelliwoods.

Panel 10- Animated gif. Mikey and Donnie glance to each other with a neutral expression, then smile and nod as they look back towards the viewer. Watermarked with x/1. in the bottom right.

Panel 11- Carol stands with her back to the door of the room, holding a book under her left arm, a nervous expression on her face. Carol is glancing off to the left, saying "I shouldn't..." Watermarked by theredponcho in the bottom right.

Panel 12- Mikey and Donnie sit on the bed, each with round, watery puppy eyes. Mikey has his hands clasped, begging. Donnie has a pillow pulled up to his chin. Watermarked by Soda in the bottom right.

Panel 13- Animated gif. Carol holds her empty hand and the book out in protest, eyebrows raised, saying "...I don't even have another book-" She deflates, slightly lowering her hands and looking to the right as her eyebrows lower. Watermarked by Peoplepersonoaktree in the bottom left.

Panel 14- Mikey and Donnie looking up, begging with large puppy dog eyes. Mikey has tears in his eyes and Donnie is clutching a blanket. Water marked with M3b in the top left.

Panel 15- Carol stands, looking deflated with one hand on her hip as she says, “Alright. Fine… I’ll just have to come up with something.

Panel 16- Mikey sitting on the bed clapping his hands, wagging his tail, and looking overjoyed. Carol sitting next to him looks tired and sighs. Donnie sitting with his legs curled under him, his hands stiming, and his tail wagging. Water marked with GLITTER ALIENZ on the top right.

Panel 17- Carol sits on Donnie's bed, looking contemplative. Mikey leans against her on the left, holding George, his pink stuffed rabbit, while Donnie sits cross-legged on the right. Coral is saying "Hmmm..." Watermarked Burritello3000 with a little paw print.

Panel 18- Carol sitting on the bunk bed, looking excited with one hand waving around and the other placed on her chest says, "Oh! I could tell you about this story my daughter has been obsessed with lately!" Image is marked at the bottom left with ExhaustedWriterArtist's signature EWA/MAC.

Panel 19- Mikey and Donnie sitting on the bed, looking both at Carol excitedly. Mikey exclaims: “Oh mi gosh! Tell us! Tell us!” The image is marked on the bottom right by TroubleShade.

Panel 20- Carol sitting on the bunk beds. Laughing looking happy saying, "Alright, alright." Water marked with Purple-the-turtle on the bottom left.

Panel 21- Carol sitting in the middle of a bunk bed, Mikey cuddled up close arms and legs wrapped around Carol. Donnie sitting to the side getting head pats from Carol. She is saying, "once upon a time...". Both boys' tails are wagging.

Panel 22- Huginn hovering in the air saying, "there was a great warrior." Leo tucked in looking so excited he's sparkling. Muninn floats nearby also looking exited.

Panel 23- Heishi lying in his bed. He is so excited that his eyes are shining stars and his mouth is agape. Hugin off screen says "He could beat anyone or anything with just his hands!!"

Panel 24- A digital drawing of Huginn with his arms and wings spread, though part of his body isn't in the frame. He has a happy expression on his face and his mouth is widely opened. His text bubble says "And every time he won, he would give the crowd a big smile and shout-". The drawing is watermarked by flour-consumer.

Panel 25- Hugin and Munin fly behind Heishi, the three are throwing their fists to the air cheering "Hot Soup!" image watermarked by dianagj-art.

Panel 26- Transitions to Raph bedroom which is decorated with glow in the dark stars and movie posters. On a red bed sits Raph who is excitedly listening to his father tell him the story off screen "But more importantly, he was very good looking."

Panel 27- Raph, sitting on his bed, looks disappointed. Splinter is off screen but a speach bubble with his face in it shows that he is laughing at his sons reaction.

Panel 28- Splinter’s ears drop and his face falls into a frown, sitting on the rug beside Raphael’s bed. Raphael, laying on the bed, looks confused and concerned. The room is colorful, with childish toys and posters, and the blanket and rug are red, his color. It is watermarked with “irequirealobotomy” in purple text.

Panel 29- Splinter looking away with a sad expression saying "Then one day... they dissapearred without a trace". The background is a gradient from orange to purple.

Panel 30- Mikey, Carol and Donnie sit on Donnie’s bed. Mikey holds his stuffed bunny George and Carol’s arm as his tail wags. Donnie throws his arms in the air. “What? But… where did he go?! You can’t just disappear…” He squints in deep thought his hand now at his face. “Can you? Maybe…” He points his finger as his eyes light up with ideas. “Maybe he is being hidden, like us! Or-” Watermarked risebabyx2 in the bottom corner.

Panel 31- Mikey and Donnie, sitting on Donnie’s bed. Donnie with a worried expression, mumbling until interrupted by Mikey who excitedly asks; “Do you think we will ever meet him!?” The image is watermarked by clown-froggi.

Panel 32- Carol looking away from Mikey and Donnie somberly, fiddling with her hands. Image is marked on the top left with RiseLeon.

Panel 33- Mikey sitting hugging his legs on the bed. His pink rabbit, George, hugged close. Carol sitting next to him, putting his head, saying "one day, I hope you can do anything you put your mind to." Donnie sitting on her other side looking slightly sullen. Water marked with purpleviolet at the top middle.

Panel 34- Carol tucking in Donnie while Mikey sits beside her. All are smiling. Image is watermarked by Karonkar.

Panel 35- Carol tucking in Mikey on the top bunk bed. Mikey is smiling as he snuggles his stuffed bunny. Carol smiles and pulls the cover over him. Image is watermarked by brightonstudios.

Panel 36- Carol stands in the doorway, facing the dark hall outside. Her hand rests against the edge of the frame. She is looking back over her shoulder, smiling fondly. She is saying "Goodnight, boys." Image is marked at the bottom right by CupKatWarrior9

Panel 37- Mikey sleeps on his stomach, George next to his hand. His blanket mostly covers his legs and the bottom of his shell, with one foot sticking out. Watermarked Bambiraptorx.

Panel 38- Donnie sleeping peacefully in his bed, mouth slightly open.

Panel 39- Heishi asleep in his bed, blankets tightly wrapped around him with a smile on his face. Signed MD in the bottom right.

Panel 20- Carol sitting on the bunk beds. Laughing looking happy saying, "Alright, alright." Water marked with Purple-the-turtle on the bottom left. End ID.]

[gingernut1314]

OMGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!

I am lovinggggg these so, so much!!! They really do pull the whole collab together!!

@i-am-vita you are so beautiful and magnificent!!

A Coronary Tale - Chapter 1 (Sanji x Reader)

Chapter Summary: You have been hiding away in The Wood, biding your time with the company of your three dear ravens. Fearing those who could find you should you leave your new home, you settled yourself deeply in with the trees and rocks and river, building a quiet routine. Unfortunately, you were wrong to expect no one else to enter the abandoned woods.

Themes and tropes: slow burn for her/lit fuze for him, hidden identities, witchcraft, curses, political pit of vipers, lost royalty, witch hunts, nonverbal gestures of love

A/N: Howdy doodie I finally done did this 😩 My addition to @fanaticsnail's Storyteller collab with the tale of The Three Ravens! I am shuffling stuff around quite a bit and I really hope that you all enjoy my changes and additions! What we have here is an absolute train wreck of a meet cute so that's a start lol The title is a reference to one of the songs I had in mind writing this and definitely the main one with lyrics, A Coronary Tale by Dana Sipos

@fanaticsnail also gifted me the mood board and much much cheering on (Love you sweetheart 🖤🖤🖤)

Wordcount: ~5.2k

Warnings: fem!reader, bit of blood, descriptions of injury but no gore, you're like a little feral maybe, Sanji's kinda into that too at least

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Another twig snapped and your breathing stopped. Every nerve threading through your body pulled your mind from one place to the next: under the skin of your palms, scraping against rough bark; in the balls of your feet, throbbing from their recent pounding at the ground; in the  depths of your lungs, burning for oxygen but turned still as stone in fear. Mostly, though, your mind lived in your ears, desperately sifting through the forest ambience and calling ravens for clues of your hunter.

Enough moments passed to release your lungs from their stalling and you began planning your next steps. Your burrow was far but that was good; you had more time to make sure he couldn’t track you there. You had been leading him East, away from your home, since he’d chased you across the river. The last you’d heard of him was due Northeast of you. If you headed exactly opposite him, you’d be back at your river, able to follow it down to your stuff and scramble back to your hide.

The weight of the risk settled down on you and kept your body from following through with your plan. What if he circled back to find your trail again? What if he was waiting for you at the river, knowing you’d likely collect your things?

You shoved your forehead into the scabbed bark of the great oak that hid you. The calming breath you hissed out held the hint of a whine and you cursed yourself further for the noise. Each moment he was more likely to turn back. Each moment he was closer to finding you. 

Scrunching your face in a snarl towards your fear, you shoved yourself off the tree and ran westward.

Traversing the Wood was second nature to you by now, but you’d only flown through it with such great speed one time before. You moved much more like a fleeing elk than the panicked rabbit you were then, even with your fright measuring close to that of your memory. Your eyes and body knew the trappings of the woods before your mind could even name them; thorny vines were ducked, wayward branches were parried, felled trees were vaulted. Even your long dress wasn’t a hindrance; you simply gathered the skirts high and tight to free your legs and keep the cloth from stretching branches. The only thing slowing your race home was your adrenaline beginning to weaken beneath the force of your exhaustion.

You burst forth from the Wood’s edge, scattering leaves and dirt and noise in your bid for speed over stealth. You could see the river close now, only a stretch of stony shore between you and safety. Not a single stride shortened despite the shrieking of your muscles or the begging of your lungs. You were beginning to boil in the heat of your blood pumping in your hands, feet, and head, but you would not slow, not even with the new glare of the sun making the air feel even more hostile. Your flight would continue as long as the flutters and caws of the ravens urged you on. 

“Wait!”

You shrieked in response and slid right into the swirling current before you. Still furious and frigid with late spring melt, the river overwhelmed you, forcing a gasp from you at the shock to your system. Water flooded into your open mouth and nose, choking you as you spun until up was left, down, and sideways. Despite flailing for a chance at breath and life, your mind kept screaming, West, west, that came from the west!

Your saturated dress sunk you deeper in the toiling water. It gave the chaotic current more purchase to rip and tug you in every direction, bouncing your limbs off all the river’s hidden weapons. Rocks tripped your sandaled feet at every attempt to find footing and thudded against your shins and arms with each turn in the water. Skeletal branches from long submerged trees scraped at you and grabbed at your skirts. Each new hold on the cloth only ended with another old seam ripping and releasing you back to the whims of the river.

Reigning in your sense, you curled into a ball to keep your feet from shoving beneath a rock, trapping you, and to protect your head from smashing in on any of the great boulders that lurked under the water's surface. Just when your world was fuzzing away at the edges, one of those boulders found you and punched the last bubbles of air straight from your lungs.

Before the current could take you further, you used the last of your strength to spin and scrabble at the rough stone’s surface. The moment you got a grip you summoned every ounce of life in you and heaved. 

With a crouping cough you broke the surface of the water. Great lungfuls of cold water scraped their way out of you. Through your heaving and gasping you drug your upper body to splay across the sun baked stone. It burned into your cheek and you couldn’t help but be thankful for the distraction from your raw throat and skinned fingertips. Everything but that sensation began to swirl and drift away into a distant fog.

Within that fog was a warm embrace. It wormed around your chest and lifted you away from the grounding heat under your cheek. You whimpered, agitating your tender throat, but couldn’t bring yourself to do anything further to protest. Sweet shushing soothed your mind, quickly replacing the comfort of your stone and covering the distant cawing. As you floated away, the steady rhythm of each hush set your sore lungs to breathe in soft waves.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

The afternoon sun pierced right through your eyes the moment you opened them. Wincing them back shut, you changed your goal to taking stock of your injuries. Your whole body was throbbing, muddling the deeper hurts in a constant protest that sounded with each beat of your heart. Through the cacophony, you heard your right ribs screaming, your throat moaning, and your fingers sobbing. 

You flexed your hands slowly to test them. They trembled and ached at your orders but followed through with no great spike in pain. Next, you shifted your torso in a minute rock from side to side. Your ribs punished you spitefully for the motion, but there was no telltale crackle of bone and you were able to keep breathing throughout your shimmying. Lastly, you began sucking in a deep breath to attend to your throat and lungs. You began hacking halfway through, earning more ire from your battered side.

“You’re awake!,” a relieved voice chimed. Gentle fingers traced your face, continually brushing from your skin into your hair. “Thank goodness. You haven’t been out long; it's only been a minute since I pulled you from the river.”

Your heart kick-started again, not caring the least bit about the man’s attempts to seem non-threatening. His claim as your savior did little too; wishing you death and wishing you harm were two separate things. Your pain quieted to a whisper as your awareness shifted to scouring the space around you for information. The ground under you was solid and your palms felt warm stone. The constant swish and rumble of rapids filled the air. I’m still on the riverside. Calm breathing sounded quietly from your left, only a foot beyond the fingers still caressing your face. He’s already recovered.

“You gave me quite the scare there, Bichette. I thought the river took you,” he whispered to you. “I’m so glad I ran back to the river instead of continuing in the woods.” The genuine care and worry in his tone only made your distrust grow. You instead trusted the continued caws from the treeline. His touch disappeared and you heard the grind of his shoes against the rocky ground as he stood up.

“Keep resting, Mademoiselle, I’m just going a short way down the river’s edge to see if I can spot us an easy way back.”

You counted each step he took away from you, every crackle on stone ramping your anticipation higher and higher. The roaring of your blood in your ears grew to match that of the river but his footsteps still cut through. You slowly bent your knees up to remove your sandals and plant your feet on the ground. Despite their exhaustion, your muscles listened when you tensed them. Your count was nearly there. Thirty! You flung yourself onto hands and knees then bolted.

“Stop! Please!”

You were much slower than before, having to drag the weight of your water-logged clothes, half-drowned body and freshly abused skeleton with you. Your lungs couldn’t keep up with even the diminished speed of your strides and you had to fight with each breath not to cough, yet the urgent calls of the ravens circling you pushed you on. The man’s thumping steps were quickly catching up, but you were almost at the treeline.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, chérie, please stop,” he tried again, begging through panting breaths.

One raven sped ahead of you and landed on a large branch with another loud call. You zeroed in on his choice - an old maple spreading high over its neighbors. Its branches started far above the ground, but that was no problem for you, even now. Your switch from sprint to climb was seamless; one step launching you from between the maple's snaking roots and the next propelling you just that much higher with a bare foot catching deeply against its sturdy bark. Ignored the warnings from your hands, you used knots and lumps for handholds, hauling yourself higher and letting your feet follow the same path. You didn’t let yourself slow until you were well mingled in the smaller branches of the tree, nearly forty-five feet in the air. The way the distance shrunk your pursuer gave you a small bit of comfort.

“I’d climb up there but you’d just jump out, wouldn’t you?” he called up to you.

As if to prove his point, you widened your stance and bent low, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. The three ravens flapped their wings in threat of flight. It was all mostly for show; your body was at the end of its rope.

“Ah, Bichette, what has you so scared?” he asked, voice and eyes mourning.

You bared your teeth at him and hoped that he was too far to see your watery eyes. The aches of your body were becoming too much; your bruised ribs stunted every breath, your flayed hands trembled and bled, your scraped toes weren’t far behind their damaged state, your abused throat burned at every scrape of air in and out, and your shaken head, as well as all below it, thudded with pain. The worst of your worries though was the wooziness creeping in on the edges of your mind in the wake of your adrenaline rush. Also the man below you, wrapped in his absurdly expensive clothes, which were just as soaked as your torn rags.

“You’re a strong one, I’ll give you that.” 

You held your shaky snarl. The ravens flapped and cried.

“But even you need food, water, and rest after a chase like that. You nearly drowned,” he pressed, desperately trying to make you see reason. “I’m not going to hurt you, Mademoiselle, I promise.”

You continued to stare down at him with all the ferocity of a caged animal, and he sighed.

“You’re also going to want to get out of those wet clothes. Your laundry on the shore should be dried by now and I dropped my food there as well. There’s plenty to share. I can help you back to go get it,” he persuaded. “I’d go get it myself, but I don’t want you to disappear.”

You’d hold my clothes hostage to find me again, you grumbled internally. The three ravens stilled and took their time looking down at the man. After their analyzing, they took off, leaving you feeling truly cornered and alone. The man saw your face crumble as you watched them go and he ached for your sorrow.

“Well, neither of us are going anywhere, so-” he blew out a long breath and looked down at the tree’s base “-might as well get to know each other.” He found a spot he deemed worthy and settled into the cradle between two large swells of roots. He craned his head back to check on you and found you still staring down at him. He couldn’t decide if he preferred your teary glare to the lost look you sent the birds; both had him wounded.

“I’ll start,” he offered patiently, looking down to his hands fidgeting with his gold rings between his bent knees. “My name’s Sanji.”

He waited a good twenty seconds but received no response. He looked back up and you stared down.

“Can I have your name, chérie?” he pleaded gently.

He was met with more silence.

“Okay,” Sanji relented. “Okay, Mademoiselle, that’s fine. I’ll talk for both of us for now.”

He settled in deeper against the tree, continued his fidgeting, and wished he had his cigarettes.

“I’m a chef; feeding people is my greatest joy,” he started earnestly. “I was sailing the seas, feeding a patchwork crew. Our captain managed to find trouble everywhere he went, dragging us along with him toward his ridiculous dream.”

Sanji paused. You watched as he raked a hand through his shiny blonde hair and attentively took in the way his face softened into a fond smile. Craning further for a better look, you managed to see the sad scrunch in his brows conflicting with the upturn of his lips.

“He was dragging us towards our own foolish dreams, too, though. I want to find the All Blue,” he admitted. He looked up in time to see your incredulous look and the curious tilt of your head. They made him burst out in bright laughter at the dramatic shift in expression from you. You hated how pretty he looked like that.

“Yeah, that’s what I expected; most people think it's a fairytale.” He calmed his chuckles and asserted delicately, as much to himself as to you, “I know it’s out there though. It has to be.”

You fought hard against this man’s charms chipping away at your suspicions. Your complaining injuries helped keep you cautious, even through the strong pull of his placating eyes.

“Our captain would like you. Anyone with your tenacity catches his eye. He’d probably want to add you to his collection,” Sanji joked lightly. “You would fit right in; our navigator and decipherer always respect a strong woman like themselves. Our musician and engineer are welcoming to new company. Our sniper and doctor might fear you a bit though.” He took a moment to think before looking down and grumbling, “And that damn mosshead would complain, but when isn’t he.”

You were about to start tuning him out, needing to defend yourself from being endeared, when his next words cemented your curiosity to the forefront of your mind.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now. I’m stuck here.”

He sounded so heartbroken. You knew that sound; had heard it leaking from your father and brothers - from your own lips.

“My family-” he spit the word with potent vitriol “-found a use for me. Pulled me back here with a threat against my real family.”

You diligently tried to see the emotions in his face, but he kept it firmly turned from you, hiding away. You cursed him for adding a sad ache to your chest as if you didn’t already have enough pains. Looking again at his fine clothes, you began to wonder if they felt more like a trap than a trophy to him. Sanji turned back up to you and his heart stuttered at the first glimpses of compassion on your face. It made you even more beautiful.

“I-I’m sorry, chérie, I didn’t mean to make this a therapy session.” He chuckled awkwardly at his own foible, frustrated with himself for dumping his emotions on you but happy with the result. You decided with great conflict that his unsure smile was just as pretty as his laugh-scrunched face. He let that smile slide off of him, meeting you instead with a vulnerably relaxed face that looked so intrinsically forlorn. Seeing his bare humanity, you needed no further prompting.

Sanji watched in bewildered awe as you pursed your lips at him and sent him a warbling whistle. Your imitation was perfect; it sounded exactly like a robin greeting the sun.

“What…” he trailed off, still taken aback by the strange but sweet turn. “What does that mean?”

You finally allowed yourself to relax your posture and settled your beaten body to splay across the tree’s limbs. Your legs dangled around a few branches, allowing them some much needed relief, and you laid on your front, making it easier to keep your watchful eyes on the man below you. Bedding your forehead into your forearm, you offered a miniscule smile from tight lips before repeating the birdsong.

“It’s beautiful,” Sanji complimented. “Fitting for such a striking lady.”

You scrunched your nose disapprovingly at him and whistled out a piercing warning call.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed. “I just can’t help myself with-”

Avian shrieks split the air and you shot up to find their source. You easily ignored the whimper the action forced from you, but Sanji struggled to do the same.

“Ma chérie, please be careful-”

You spotted six flapping wings and laughed in bright joy, fully distracting Sanji from his worries. The flying forms looked odd; one had a bulbous blob by its head and the other two had billowing streams of color falling from them. You recognized the streams as cloth as they grew closer, but the final item remained a mystery. That raven landed the easiest, having nothing that would snag on leaves or branches. The other two were having much more trouble.

You giggled again at their hijinx, fully amused by their frustrated crying and hopping and flapping at the edge of the tree. To help them, you began weaving your way out towards them until you were at the limits of the branches’ strength to hold your weight. You reached your arm out as far as it would go, feeling the straining stretch in each joint, but still fell short of bridging the gap between you. The whole time, Sanji was calling up fretful and concerned warnings, which you easily ignored. 

Despite your attempts to help, the two raven still just fretted about and progressed no closer to a solution. A shrill whistle cut their actions short and captured their attention. You held up two fingers to them then pointed to the smaller garment. They stayed still and you frowned at them with all the practiced disappointment of a school teacher. You repeated the actions with more gusto, this time finishing the display with a hand waving them toward you. Suddenly getting the memo, both ravens began working the same cloth in your direction, repeating the process of free-shift-snag until it was within your reach. 

You grabbed the familiar green cloth and held it in front of you, recognizing an oversized men’s shirt. The ravens continued their work until you were holding a pair of loose beige pants too. You gave the two birds a loving pet and a quick kiss on their bowed heads in thanks. You slinked your way down to about thirty feet from the ground, seeking more open space between the branches to change out of your sopping and torn dress.

Sanji took in the whole exchange with wonder.

“You really are the Witch of the Wood,” he whispered reverently.

Your face twisted with confusion at the title and you rapidly shook your head.

“But your ravens!” he argued. “They all say the Witch has three ravens for familiars - that they help her spy on all who enter this stretch of forest.”

Well… he’s close, you admitted to yourself. You squeezed the excess water out of your ruined skirts (you hoped some would land on his head), removed your freezing underwear, and slid the pants on under your skirts. The top went on next, acting as a cover for you as you squirmed your arms out of the sleeves of your dress. Once that was accomplished, you began shoving the heavy material through the neck of the shirt. The process was frustrating; the wet material clung to you with every move, forcing you to make more and more and agitate your wounds further and further. When you finally managed to get it all out of the shirt, you shoved your arms through their holes and pulled the dress over your head.

Luckily, your quick work left a minimal transfer of moisture from your old outfit to your new one. The relief of mostly dry clothes felt even greater than you imagined, and you took great pleasure in balling the ruined fabric up and tossing it to ricochet its way down the tree, landing next to Sanji with a great plop. Staring at him again, you turned bitter at the reminder of the title he gave you. I am no witch. You wished you aimed for his head.

The deep crimson smears and fingerprints Sanji spotted on your discarded clothes refreshed his worry. He had gotten far too distracted trying to charm you and even more distracted once he saw your smile. Sometimes he regretted his overwhelming soft spot for women. Then he would see another woman and have that thought overwhelmed. C’est la vie.

“Bichette,” he cooed, hoping again to win you by charm, “ma chérie, please let me take you back. We need to get those wounds looked at.”

You looked down your nose at him then pointedly turned away, looking instead to the final raven bearing a gift for you. He was still holding tight to a cloth knot at the top of a parcel, but he had adjusted to rest its weight on the branch below him while he waited for your attention. You grabbed the parcel from him, immediately noting the intricate weave of the fabric beneath your fingers, matching well with the delicate patterns unfolding throughout it. This must belong to the expensive man at the foot of the tree. A shame to get bloody fingerprints on his fineries, you thought with sadistic glee. Serves him right for chasing me through my woods.

Untying the cloth proved easier on your fingers than your wardrobe change, they had turned to a monotonous pounding instead of the sharp alerts of pain sometime during your first challenge. Opening the wrapping revealed two containers of food, a smaller one sat atop the larger. First popping the top option open, you found two perfectly prepared pieces of meat on the bone. They were seared to perfection, browned just so, and smelled of gentle spices, just enough to enhance the natural flavor of the meat. You snapped the container back closed so you could check in the other. This one contained the most mouth-watering curry you’d ever seen or smelled, nestled in a thick pool next to fluffy white rice. You looked back and forth between the food and the man below with a raised brow.

“A quick lunch I whipped up,” Sanji responded to your unspoken question. You rolled your eyes at him, doubtful that anything in this meal could be made quickly. Maybe the rice. You wrote his dismissal off as showboating in a further attempt to woo you. 

Having no silverware, you prepped your fingers as best as you could by dabbing them on the rich cloth, licking them to wet any dried blood or dirt, and repeating the process until only the barely there leak of fresh blood remained on your raw fingertips and broken nails. The process had them stinging angrily at you again, leaving you biting desperately on your tongue to hold back whimpers that still pushed through. Thankfully, it didn’t take very long. The river water had rinsed them mostly clean, leaving only the layered mess of blood and the dirt from your climb.

Taking a clump of sticky rice, you scooped up a bit of the fragrant orange curry. The taste was just as divine as the smell and you moaned at the best food you’d had in years. You bit into a piece of the scrumptiously tender meat next, recognizing sea king, and you were yet again reminded of Sanji’s opulence. You had to admit to his good taste though; the meat from this variety of sea king leaned much more towards chicken than fish in both texture and flavor, absorbing the bold mix of spices in the curry perfectly. Judging by the vibrant tint to the meat, he set it in a well-crafted marinade as well. Had he not told you he was a chef before you got the food, you would have never believed this was the work of his own hands.

“At least I know you’re getting a good meal,” Sanji said. You were angered and endeared by his honesty. “I came to The Wood for a break. Before the rumors of the Wretched Witch of the Wood, this land and its river were known for their beauty. I can see why now.” He looked up to you with warm eyes and an affectionate smile. You snubbed your nose at him.

“Before I found you, my plan was to find the calm stretch of river, wade around, then sit and eat where absolutely nothing and no one needs me. I chose the food to bring the memory of some of my friends with me.”

You slowed your ravenous shoveling to stare at what was left of the curry with guilt twisting your gut. If it were just food you were taking, you’d happily rob this rich stranger blind, but memories were a different story. Your gaze roamed your three ravens, earning inquisitive coos from them with your misty eyes. You centered your gaze back on the massacred curry, feeling hot shame smother over you. A gentle beak nudged at your cheek.

Sanji let himself sit in the quiet following his confession. He was glad you slowed down, fearing you’d upset your stomach with a quick and filling meal, but he did have to admit, it warmed his heart how much the messy display reminded him of his captain. 

While he had no great time to appreciate the beauty of the scenery before, he found the time now. Trees old and new clustered lovingly around each other in a long stretch, interwoven with blooming hedges of mountain laurel and patches of lacy ferns. Moss hugged the damp places of The Wood, keeping them warm and alive. The earth here was not soft; it was made of packed dirt, rock falls, giant boulders, and wrestling roots, but sweeps of dead leaves did their best to cushion the path of each resident.

The river that had previously felt so threatening and cruel now soothed him with its endlessly running waters. He was mesmerized as his eyes followed the shifts from a shrouding deep blue to frothing white and back again. The cycle felt endless and inevitable, stable and sure, outside the reach of time or the shortfalls of consciousness. It made him small, it made his problems small, and he found peace.

The whisper of rustling feathers broke him from his blissful mindlessness. Sanji turned to see one of your ravens nudging the mound of his tied cloth toward him. The reminder of you made him realize he hadn’t heard a peep from you since he started his zoning. He found you had fully turned your back to him and you were staying statue-still. Now slightly concerned, he reached for the cloth only to stop with a surprised yelp when the raven pecked his hand. It cawed mockingly at him before flying right back to your side.

Reaching cautiously despite the raven’s distance, Sanji grasped his cloth. Again, he looked at your bloodied fingerprints with a clenching heart, but he brushed past it as best as he could and untied the limp fabric. Laying out the cloth, he saw that it held the smaller of his food containers. Opening that, he found the two pieces of meat on the bone untouched. His cheeks ached with the force of his new smile.

“Thank you, ma chérie, you’re very kind,” he called up to you. He shook his head at your lack of response and began munching happily.

Hearing that he had begun his own meal, you were able to stomach the rest of your food.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

The sun had long since bruised the sky, its wounds showing the end of their healing in purples and blues instead of oranges and pinks. Sanji still sat stubbornly and dutifully at his post under your tree. You had succumbed to sleep a while ago, your body much too ravaged and worn to fight the need for rest any longer.  

Seeing you’d fallen under, Sanji tried to scale the tree to bring you down and carry you back to get help, but each attempt was swiftly thwarted by stabbing beaks and talons. They first started as more of a threat, tugging at his clothes, but as he got bolder in his attempts so did the ravens. They found their courage to fight him and would not back down. Instead, Sanji backed off fully after a beak opened his hand for first blood and the other two readied their screeching weapons at each of his eyes.

Retreating from them, Sanji took his time to collect you some fresh water from a fast-flowing piece of the river in his rinsed container. He used the clean inside of his cloth to dry the excess from the outside of the sealed container before laying it carefully on the expensive fabric at the base of your tree like an offering. He stood before it and looked at you through the time passing around his frozen stance, wishing he could just decide what was best for you. Your ravens seemed to think it was not him, nor his wishes to take you away. They were adamant that you were best left to rest as the tree cradled you. He supposed this forest was your home, it fit for its pieces to care for you.

Then again, it was the very river of these woods that so readily snatched you up to steal you from the living.

Sanji waited until the sky had grown much darker than the deep blue of his eyes in the waning light to leave you. He feared more for your future than finding his way across the river and out of The Wood in the dark. Before he could tear himself away though, he had to take you in one more time, hoping the vision will last him until the next time he lays eyes on you. He grieved for the state of you; not just your new hurts but your patchy clothes, your frayed hair, your callused hands. He felt especially for the prominent ribs that greeted him when he wrapped his arms around you to free you from the river. His mind toiled with worries and indecision his whole trek back to the castle.

“Oh, Bichette, how am I going to help you?”

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

End Notes: Robins can symbolize renewal, new beginnings, and finding joy as they are one of the first signs of spring. They are also part of the dawn chorus, announcing the sun each morning.

[dont-offend-the-bees]

’Cause You Cut Through All the Noise

Happy Painland Week! Day one is LOVE LANGUAGES! I could've picked touch or gifts or quality time or whatever as my love language but you know what? No. Life-affirming therapeutic domination. Edwin's love language is ordering Charles around. Fight me. Anyway, no smut here, but some steaminess/flirtation/allusions to sex. Some light angst bc Charles starts off in a bit of a spiral, bless his heart. Don't worry, Edwin'll put him right <3 (Quick translation note for any Americans reading: I'm referring to Charles' suspenders in British English, i.e. as braces rather than suspenders. Suspenders for us are generally the little sexy straps for stockings and would instantly up the kinkiness of the scene at least 70% (which I am in favour of, it's just not the fic I'm writing right now lmao)) 5.3k, M-rated, also available on Ao3. Thank you @painlandweek for putting this all together! Enjoy! 💛

Sometimes it seemed that the more Edwin learned, the less he knew. Or rather the more he thought he knew, the more he had left to learn.

Acquiring knowledge on any particular topic, it seemed, was only building the groundwork to question it further. Perhaps that's what an expert was, in the end: not a vast repository of facts, but one skilled in the art of digging for more. Not a pursuer of answers, but a pursuer of more interesting questions. Edwin had found it to be much the same across fields, across all his broad areas of interest and study.

Charles Rowland was one such area of interest.

It was quite astonishing; but thirty years into their partnership, Charles still managed to elude Edwin's understanding. Frequently. He was a lively, complex butterfly who simply would not be pinned (metaphorically, that is. In the more literal sense, he was most certainly not opposed to being pinned by Edwin. But he digressed.) They must have exhausted every conversational avenue two dead boys could traverse by now. How, then, could they persist in finding new things to say to one another? How, despite a mere sixteen years apiece of life before death, could they still find anecdotes unshared, secrets unspoken? Despite knowing Charles better than Edwin knew himself there was always, always more to learn.

And a great deal of learning had been done over the last eighteen months or so, indeed. Since the chaotic inciting incident: the now infamous milestone Case of Crystal Palace. Crystal, in all her messy human glory, had taken a battering ram to their comfortable routine. She'd rather shaken things up in the process — and thus, shaken a fresh slew of secrets from Charles and Edwin both.

Edwin's biggest secret was no longer a secret, of course. It was now common knowledge — though Charles, loyal to the last, hadn't shared it with another soul. He hadn't told anyone of Edwin's confession, nor had any official announcements been made by either of them as the 'situation' developed. But develop it had, in ways difficult to overlook. In touches, in kisses, in soft words and flagrant flirtations. Edwin imagined their friends and colleagues must have put two and two together by now, vis-a-vis Edwin and his feelings for Charles. And if they hadn't... well, it would certainly raise some concerns about the quality of their detective work.

Charles, likewise, had revealed a secret or two. Far less pleasant ones. Secrets that, in his more cynical moments, Edwin wondered if Charles would ever have told him without external pressure. Without Crystal's well-meaning badgering, or the Night Nurse's former villainy. Secrets about his family, his father, himself — or at least his own perception of himself. Harrowing they may be, but Edwin had filed each secret away carefully. Each bitter truth was a new supporting fact, a new data point. A fresh insight that peeled away Charles' brave face, and shone an interrogating light upon decades of behaviour.

Edwin had always known, of course, that Charles was not merely the plucky optimist he purported himself to be. Glimpses under the mask were rare, but inevitable. He'd have been foolish not to notice. But Edwin was not inclined to go picking at scabs. So what if Charles wished to maintain an image of himself? Image was everything; or so Edwin had been raised to believe. How a man chose to present himself to the world spoke volumes. Charles wished to be seen as a positive force, and Edwin had always respected him for that. Loved him, even, though he hadn't known it at the time. Charles' insistence on being a stubborn idealist had awed, amused and frustrated Edwin in almost equal measure. He wouldn't have changed it for the world.

But it was one thing to know that the chipper, animated, relentlessly positive Charles he'd come to know was a crafted image. Finding what lay behind the mask was another. It was a new level of understanding, of intimacy, to finally know the bedrock that lay beneath every too-bright word or action.

Charles Rowland was an inveterate people-pleaser.

In retrospect, of course, it made perfect sense. Edwin had sat with it, applied his new knowledge to a thousand interactions, and found it fitting. It had been a relatively easy fact to accept into his broader understanding of Charles.

The bitterer pill to swallow had been in realising just how often Edwin was, himself, a person Charles felt the need to please at all costs.

Edwin liked to think that their relationship had improved since those various revelations. It had certainly changed in notable ways. Especially since last November. Bonfire night. The night Charles had kissed him under the fireworks and thanked him, sheepishly, for 'waiting for him to get his head out of his arse'.

But the kissing and... other activities weren't the only new additions to their relationship. Moreso than ever before, there were repeat and regular attempts to open the lines of communication. They did not always succeed in those attempts. Charles' fear of rocking the boat and Edwin's discomfort with emotional outpourings were at odds with one another, and often left them at an impasse.

Nevertheless, Edwin was determined to try. Charles deserved nothing less; there had never been a person, alive or dead, more deserving of Edwin's trust. And it was the dearest wish of Edwin's afterlife that he could be the same for Charles. That he could be a person Charles need not perform for, or hide from. That he could be allowed to know Charles, to learn him, inside and out.

And while there was still, undeniably, work to be done, Edwin truly believed progress had been made. Through trial and a considerable amount of error, they had come to... understand certain things about one another. About what they each wanted, what they needed. Edwin was making leaps and bounds in the highly specialised field of Charles Studies.

So when Crystal stormed out of the office after another of her and Edwin's (admittedly rather petty) spats, he knew Charles needed attention before her footsteps had even faded.

"Charles?" Edwin prompted, with caution. He was not always an expert at 'reading the room', but in reading Charles he was growing more fluent by the day.

His dear friend's eyes snapped to him with a hunted look. Just as Edwin had thought they might.

Edwin cleared his throat. "Are you... alright?" he asked.

Charles, in that practised manner of his, plastered on a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, mate." He couldn't seem to look Edwin in the eye. "I'm brills."

Hm. A likely story.

He should have suspected this might happen, in the wake of such a heated disagreement. The very air in the office still seemed to ring with the reverberating slam of the door. An overreaction, really. Even mere minutes later, the whole altercation seemed rather silly. But such things were bound to happen on occasion. Edwin had certain opinions, and no qualms about arguing in their favour — and in Crystal Palace, he'd met his match. The two of them often wound up in the unfortunate scenario of a minor dispute devolving into a full-blown tiff. Such squabbles generally didn't end until someone (Charles) laughed and broke the tension, or someone else stormed off.

Edwin didn't doubt that all would be well shortly enough. If their pattern held, Crystal would come slinking back in a few hours. She and Edwin would exchange either sincere regrets or stilted half-apologies (depending on the severity of the argument). Then they would smooth over any remaining awkwardness by finding something minor to agree on (usually something Charles-related), and go swiftly back to normal.

But that resolution was some time away, yet. And in the meantime the air hung heavy; saturated with ire and discontent. Charles, emotional sponge that he was, was clearly bearing the brunt of it — and, as usual, trying his utmost to 'laugh it off'.

Edwin responded to the blatant fib with a single raised, questioning eyebrow.

Charles flinched as if struck.

Oh, dear. The situation was more dire than Edwin had thought.

“Charles,” said Edwin again, softer this time. It was important not to go on the offensive; in his current condition, Charles was liable to take any careless word as keenly as a knife in the back. “Please tell me what’s on your mind.” After a moment’s consideration, he added: “I promise I won’t be angry.”

It felt like utter nonsense to say out loud, a patronising placation as one might give to a child. But Charles, in Edwin’s experience, responded well to directness. His panic thrived in the mires of ambiguity.

Releasing a ragged breath, Charles rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. “Just… dunno what to do sometimes. When you two go off at each other.” He peered at Edwin with his uncovered eye, and tried for a smirk. It fell short of the carefree, playful expression it was aiming for. “Dunno what side to pick, do I?”

He voiced it like a joke; but Edwin was listening well, and he knew an incomplete sentence when he heard it. He stepped closer and, slowly, giving him time to retreat, took Charles’ free hand and squeezed it.

Charles closed his eyes, dragging his hand down his face. “Can’t keep you both happy,” he admitted on a low mumble, like it was a shameful secret.

Guilt curdled sour and heavy in Edwin’s stomach, but he kept it from his face. Any indication that Charles had made him feel bad was bound to make him shut down further. “It should not be your duty to keep the peace,” he said, choosing his words with care. “I will speak to Crystal later, clear the air.”

Charles nodded, but remained hunched unhappily in on himself. Propped against the edge of the desk as if he needed the support. Edwin could see his brain turning itself over and over in miserable little spirals; wondering if he should have stepped in earlier, said something else. Wondering what he could have done differently to make everything better. To make everyone happy.

Edwin swallowed tightly, and placed his hand upon Charles’ shoulder. “Charles. Look at me, please.”

He did so, without question or hesitation. Responding with ease to the polite command as if it had come from his own subconscious. Quick, and keen. Already Edwin had a strong suspicion of what was needed to calm him; but it was always important to test the waters, first.

Edwin, with great care, hooked a finger through the gold chain around Charles’ neck, and tugged.

The effect was instantaneous. Charles’ wide, fraught eyes softened, slackened, his lined eyelids drooping. His lips parted around a quiet sigh, smoother than his last ragged exhalation. His shoulders slumped as if a great weight had been released from them.

Charles may be an ever-unfolding and expanding area of study. But to Edwin’s expert eye, on occasion, his needs were remarkably simple to interpret.

Meeting his now somewhat unfocused gaze, Edwin leaned in. “Put Crystal out of your mind for now,” he said, a quiet command. “In fact, put everything out of your mind.”

“She’s upset,” Charles mumbled in half-hearted protest.

“Yes — and she will continue to be so for a while longer, regardless of what you or I might say.” Edwin smoothed the collar of Charles’ polo shirt. “When the dust has settled, I will find her and smooth things over. I promise. For the time being, you’ll do none of us any good with your overthinking.”

Charles snorted. “Overthinking? Me?” he joked.

With another gentle, but recriminating tug of the chain, Charles gasped and quieted. Already, his bright eyes were taking on a dreamlike haze.

Edwin sighed and leaned close, ‘til his nose grazed across Charles’ cheekbone. “Granted, your tendency to underthink before making dangerous choices borders on the pathological,” he teased. “But I suspect you’re thinking a lot of very unkind thoughts about yourself right now, and I’d like for you to stop. Please.”

Breath shuddering, Charles’ hands lifted, fisting in the front of Edwin’s waistcoat.

“That what you want?” He asked, his voice a small and broken thing. For all his strength of body and character, he felt as vulnerable in Edwin’s hands as a baby bird.

“How about I tell you exactly what I want for a while,” Edwin offered. “And then all you have to do is listen.“

He delivered a swift, dry kiss to Charles’ cheekbone. "No detective work required.”

It was a very simple solution, albeit one Edwin tried not to employ too often. He and Crystal had a sort of pact in place to discourage Charles' need to please others, rather than lean into it. Within reason, of course — Edwin had no wish to change Charles fundamentally as a person (or to discourage him from doing what felt good to him in intimate settings. If it made Charles feel good to make others feel good, who was Edwin to begrudge him the pleasure?). But they'd agreed that it was probably the healthier option, in the long term. To steer Charles away from hingeing his self-worth on what he could do for others.

But sometimes, the damage was already done. Sometimes Charles was simply too vulnerable to rejection, too stuck in his own head. And on those occasions, Edwin had learned the kindest thing to do was to take him by the hand, and take the guesswork out of the equation.

Charles sniffed. His soft curls tickled Edwin's forehead as he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, alright."

"Good." Edwin gave him another kiss, pressing this one to his temple. Charles melted under his touch, leaning into him, his hands tight and hot on Edwin's chest. "Thank you, dearheart," said Edwin.

Charles shivered. "Fuck me..." he swore, a dazed mumble.

"Hmmm... No, not tonight, I don't think," Edwin quipped — gratified when Charles managed a snort of mirth. Edwin thumbed up under Charles' jaw, finding where the tension still lingered and soothing it out with firm strokes. "I have something better in mind," he said. He released his hold on Charles to roll up in his own shirtsleeves in brisk, meticulous folds.

Charles watched his every motion with a hungry gaze. "Yeah?" he breathed, somewhat stunned; eyes devouring each newly exposed inch of Edwin's skin up to the elbow. He did have a fascination with Edwin's arms; it was a tried and true method of holding his attention.

"Yes." Edwin glanced over Charles' shoulder with a hum, and settled his hands upon Charles' slender waist. "First things first; let's get you sitting comfortably, shall we?"

He braced himself and, with careful exertion, lifted Charles to deposit him in his usual spot on the desk. Charles went without struggle, and with a gasp that morphed swiftly into a groan. His legs flopped open at once, one ankle hooking around Edwin's thigh in invitation. He tugged on Edwin's waistcoat with a soft whine of his name.

Edwin, maintaining his composure admirably, shushed him. He removed Charles' hands from his own chest — though he pressed quick, apologetic kisses to the heels of each. "Later, my love. Now. Where did I put it..."

He patted down his trouser pockets. When that yielded nothing, he sifted through the stationary cup on the desk. He suspected the object he desired might still be in his coat pocket, but he was loathe to step too far from Charles. Luck, however, was on his side. He recovered the coil of string from a box of spellcasting odds and ends with a small sound of triumph.

Charles watched Edwin's hands unwind the string; rapt despite the slight glaze of his eyes. "You gonna tie me up, then?"

Edwin tsk'd. "What a one-track mind you have this evening," he teased. It wasn't a scold. Having Charles focused and fixated on trying to get Edwin into bed was vastly preferable to the jumble of insecurity. "Hold out your hands."

"Sure you're not tying me up?" said Charles, brow furrowing as he lifted his hands — palms up, beautifully willing.

"I suppose that depends on your definition," said Edwin, as he tied the ends of the string together to form a wide loop. He nudged Charles' hands into place, about a foot apart with palms turned inwards, and draped the loop over them.

Charles, through the haze, finally twigged. "Cat's cradle?" he said, with a slight chuckle.

"Do you object?" asked Edwin.

"Why'd you wanna do this?"

"Because I like playing games with you." Edwin directed Charles to rotate his wrists, winding the string into loops around his hands. He indulged in a gentle touch as he did so, tracing his thumbs along the creases of Charles' skin. The smooth stretch where once a 'life line' would have resided. Edwin had not set much stock by the art of palmistry, until he'd discovered that little commonality between he and Charles. "Again, please. One more loop."

Charles didn't argue — of course he didn't. Edwin doubted he currently had the capacity to argue; so deep had he already descended into that quiet space in his head. The one he occupied only in their moments of deepest intimacy, when Edwin took charge, took him in hand. His eyes, such quick and clever things, now gazed down at Edwin hooded and glassy. Perfect, still pools of pleasantly addled warmth. He'd sunk so readily, so splendidly, all but curled up in the palm of Edwin's hand.

Edwin watched him a moment before proceeding, soothing the ragged edges of his own Hell-torn soul. Whatever he'd done in life to earn the trust Charles placed in him, it must have be something very good indeed.

In next to no time, they had the string pulled taut between Charles' hands, forming the neat double cross of the eponymous Cat's Cradle. Edwin hummed in approval. "Well done," he praised, as he pinched the crossed strands and pulled them outwards. "And now to me. Soldier's Bed, please."

Though Charles appeared to be away with the fairies, he was attuned to Edwin's voice and acquiesced to his command with ease. This was a game they had played many times, on long and quiet nights. When they'd had nothing to hand but an old bootlace, and nothing they wished to do but keep each other's company. Charles didn't need to strain to recall how to release the strings into Edwin's hold. Or how to begin forming the next shape after that, his confident fingers pinching and tugging the relevant strands.

Peaceful and methodical, they worked together, shape by shape, hand to hand. When Charles was pulling the strings for Edwin he was focused, intent, a little wrinkle in his brow. Once or twice his tongue darted out, bitten between his teeth in concentration, and Edwin resisted the impulse to distract him with a kiss. When Charles was merely holding the strings he subsided into utter relaxation. Breathing slow, eyes closed or halfway there, watching Edwin's face and hands with hazy satisfaction. Occasionally he dropped a thread, but it was never a serious blunder, and Edwin got them back on track with a polite command to pick it up. In a customary game they'd have to restart, but this was no customary game. Now was not the time to dwell upon harmless mistakes.

The game served as Edwin had hoped it would. After a few rounds of he and Charles working in perfect tandem, he could feel the air had settled and Charles with it. The grounding touches of their fingers and the face-to-face contact couldn't have hurt. Edwin had fallen into a rhythm, politely requesting each new shape by name and praising the end result. Charles had likewise fallen into a rhythm of mellow compliance. As the rounds wore on he even offered the odd cheeky verbal acknowledgement of Edwin's commands. A 'comin' right up' here, an 'on it, boss' there. His voice was thick and sweet, his tongue succumbing to the same submissive, slumberous spell as his mind. But a little of his bright, energetic spark was creeping back beneath the haze.

By the time they'd worked through the established shapes, and exhausted their own catalogue of invented ones, Edwin was satisfied. He felt they'd left the storm behind and sailed into calmer waters.

"Good game, Charles," he said, as he took their last custom shape — the aptly named Nail in the Coffin — into his own hands, and unraveled it. "Thank you."

Charles hummed, drowsy, swaying a little where he sat. "What'chu wanna do now?" he asked, dark, glassy eyes intent on Edwin's face. Like it was the most important question in the world.

He looked so lovely like this. Of course he always looked lovely, as handsome a boy as Edwin had ever seen. But like this especially, so far gone in his peace and pleasure, there was nothing to compare. Warm and golden, soft and tousled; his eyes black and bottomless and only for Edwin. Gazing at him as if he'd hung the moon and the stars.

Edwin faltered, a small gasp catching in his throat. He remained adamant that he wouldn't take more than Charles should give, at this moment. But... perhaps a small indulgence.

"Kiss me," he said, tucking a finger beneath Charles' chin. "Please."

Charles nodded — a hasty gesture compared to his otherwise lethargic motions — and swayed forward. He crashed his lips against Edwin's in an artless kiss, his hands finding Edwin's waist and gripping tight. Like he couldn't get him close enough.

Edwin sighed into it, stepping into Charles. Into the comfortable vee of his sprawled legs, where he'd come to spend many a peaceful night of late. He tilted his head, guiding Charles into a gentler kiss. Leading him as he would in a dance and letting him fall, gratefully, into step. Edwin explored the curve of Charles' jaw with his fingers, the charmingly pointed shell of his ear. He thumbed across his sparkly earring, and Charles huffed a little laugh into his mouth.

"Magpie," he mumbled.

Edwin chuckled as well, a natural release of the warmth suffusing him. He broke the kiss to dust smaller, feather-light ones across Charles' cheeks. "Well," he said, a thumb pressed to Charles' plush lower lip. "I do seem to collect the most beautiful things..."

Breath hitching, Charles wrapped his arms around Edwin's shoulders and squeezed. Edwin returned the embrace without hesitation. Never before Charles had he felt at ease with this sort of thing — this effusive, uncurbed physical affection. With anyone else it was still a struggle. He had little desire to touch, or be touched. But inviting Charles into his embrace was never a hardship; it was simply his proper place. It was a fact of the universe: Charles belonged with Edwin. In his arms, on his desk, in his bed, on his nerves.

Charles belonged with Edwin, as Edwin belonged with Charles; holding his hand, steering him true. And, where necessary, using a firm word and a firmer hold to put those wretched doubts in his head to rest.

Edwin pulled away with a parting kiss to Charles' temple. Charles felt warm, in that strange, prickly way. Ghostly body heat wasn't so much a thrum of blood as an excitation of atoms. To Edwin's mind, he felt warmer than usual at present. "Are you hot?" he asked.

"Dunno," said Charles with a lax, flirtatious smile. "Am I?"

Edwin rolled his eyes. "In the non-figurative sense, please, Charles."

"Mm. Yeah, bit hot." The smile widened into an impish grin. "Or maybe that's just you."

"You're incorrigible," Edwin muttered — but there was a smile in his voice and likely on his face, as well. His own cheeks were beginning to feel rather warm. He cleared his throat and tugged, meaningfully, on one of Charles' braces. There was a tantalising give and take to the elastic as his fingers slipped behind it. He was half tempted to release it, let it ping back, see what sound Charles made at the slight shock. But now wasn't the time for that sort of play.

"You may remove a layer, if you like," Edwin offered magnanimously — no ulterior motive whatsoever. "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."

Charles didn't need telling twice. He slid the braces off his shoulders and grabbed his polo shirt at the back of the neck, dragging it off over his head. It was altogether a clumsier attempt than his usual so-called 'strip teases', but his hooded eyes burned on Edwin's face throughout. Afterwards he was left in just his sinfully tight white vest — and, of course, the enticing glimmer of his golden chain on top. But he remained pleasantly flushed and glowing, with not a hint of cold or discomfort. Charles was prone to chills in times of stress; a morbid sense memory of his last night alive. But he always seemed to warm in Edwin's presence.

Edwin, with an exhale that was just a tad on the ragged side, bowed his head and grazed a kiss across Charles' exposed collarbone. "Better?"

He could feel Charles' soft groan ruffling his hair. "Yeah. Yeah, feels good." He pulled on the hem of Edwin's waistcoat. "Bet you're hot too, yeah?"

Increasingly so, yes. Edwin was clinging to his composure by a thread. "It is a touch close in here," he agreed. He could feel Charles' restless fingers tugging, so he took them in his own hands, and guided them to the top button of the waistcoat. It was only fair he restore the balance. "Would you be so kind?"

Charles groaned again, this time so close to Edwin's ear it sent a ripple down his spine, and obeyed. His hands, as was often the case when disrobing Edwin, tripped over the buttons, rendered all fingers and thumbs in his eagerness. But they were in no hurry. Edwin closed his eyes and waited, tucked into the crook of Charles' neck and perfectly satisfied to be so.

When the final button surrendered the fight, Charles made haste to shove the garment off Edwin's shoulders. Edwin corrected him with a polite "Gently, please," and Charles took it in more careful hands, mindful of causing wrinkles. It made no difference, of course — Edwin could will his clothes to look as pristine or rumpled as he pleased. But Charles shuddered sweetly at the direction, and Edwin so enjoyed directing him. Besides, there was never any harm in promoting good habits.

"Fold it, please," said Edwin — stepping back to give Charles space. He watched Charles take the waistcoat in hand and, inexpertly, fold it in half twice. Lengthwise first, then the opposite. Hardly proper protocol, but Edwin didn't much care. He just took the haphazardly folded garment with gratitude and set it aside on the desk. "Thank you."

"Anything else?" Charles mumbled — his fingers teasing Edwin's shirt, itching to tug it free of his waistband.

Edwin sighed, and stilled Charles' hands. Perhaps he was letting the situation get away from them a bit. Charles was quite the difficult temptation to resist. "Perhaps later," he said. At Charles' disappointed pout, he made an amendment. "Definitely later."

Charles snorted, and let his head flop against Edwin's chest. "Alright," he mumbled. He sounded tired. Overwhelmed. It was a lot for him, this complete surrender, and Edwin well knew it. "Whatever you say, love."

"I say it's time for a rest." Edwin took Charles' face in both his hands, holding him still as he bestowed one more kiss upon his forehead. "Go and sit down, please. Comfortably, on the sofa. I'll join you momentarily."

Charles grumbled, but nevertheless did as he was told. He hopped off the desk, hand trailing across Edwin's chest as he passed him by. Edwin caught it for the barest second, just to give his fingers a parting squeeze. An altogether impossible urge to resist; and the loving way Charles' eyes found him over his shoulder affirmed his decision.

Tearing his attention from Charles and his smiles and his soft, trusting eyes, he turned it to the bookcase instead. He knew exactly what he wished to do with Charles, now. Something they'd had neither the space nor quiet for in quite some time. He scanned the shelves, deep in thought.

"Charles," he called out, careful not to cut too sharply through the peace of the room. "Douglas Adams, or Sir Arthur?"

It was a gentle prompt, and a simple choice. The stakes couldn't be lower. He waited to see if Charles would hand it back to him, anyway — still unwilling and unable to bear the thought of making an incorrect decision.

"Mmm... Doug," Charles mumbled.

Edwin smiled to himself. On the mend, then. "Excellent choice," he said; sliding their well-loved second edition of Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency from the shelf.

He turned on his heel to find Charles, folded onto the sofa in a loose tangle of limbs, chin on his fist. He bore sleepy, squinting eyes and a dopey smile, both directed at Edwin and warming him through like late afternoon sunlight.

"Like how it sounds in your voice," said Charles, nestling in further. The very picture of contentment. Seemed he could scarcely keep his eyes open; but he must not have wanted to look away from Edwin just yet.

Edwin could sympathise entirely; he rarely wished to look away from Charles, either.

Edwin smiled as he stepped in close, a hand on Charles' knee; a smiling kiss dropped to his head of rampant curls. "Quiet, now, darling boy," he softly commanded, tugging on Charles' knee to make room. "And enjoy yourself."

~

“How long did the Monk believe these things? Well, as far as the Monk was concerned, forever,” Edwin read, his thumb tracing circles on Charles’ wrist. “The faith which moves mountains, or at least believes them against all the available evidence to be pink, was a solid and abiding faith, a great rock against which the world could hurl whatever it would, yet it would not be shaken. In practice, the horse knew, twenty-four hours was usually about its lot.”

They were a scant few pages into the book, and yet Edwin suspected that Charles had drifted into a doze. It was hard to tell without facing him. They'd settled on the sofa with Charles tucked up against the arm and back, and Edwin reclining between his sprawled legs. Edwin's back pillowed on Charles' torso; Charles' arms wrapped around Edwin, like a large teddy bear. Edwin could feel Charles' chin propped atop his head. On occasion, he nuzzled into Edwin's hair with soft hums as he listened to the story. But the hums and nuzzles both had grown less frequent already, subsiding to near silence.

Edwin read on regardless. Charles, like all ghosts, rarely if ever actually slept, and was likely still listening. Even if his mind was wondering elsewhere for the time being, he'd find his way back. He always did. And Edwin would be waiting for him.

A few chapters later, as Edwin recounted the thrilling mystery of the horse in the water closet, he felt Charles stirring. Soon, Charles' wrist was slipping free from Edwin's grasp, the hand coming to rest instead atop Edwin's hand in a gentle hold.

"Thank you," Charles mumbled, nuzzling into Edwin's hair.

Edwin smiled. "There's no need to thank me for reading to you," he said. "I enjoy it."

"I meant, like..." Charles sighed, squeezing Edwin's hand. "Thanks for, y'know. Bossing me around a bit," he said, sincerity threaded through the lighthearted tease. "Seriously. It proper helps."

Edwin laced their fingers, and brought Charles' hand to his lips. "Charles," he said, simple and serious. He kissed him on the knuckles. "I shall always be here to boss you around when needed."

Charles laughed. Quiet, unobtrusive. It seemed neither one of them was quite ready to break the spell just yet. "Love you," he murmured.

Marking his page with a finger, Edwin leaned back onto Charles' shoulder. He tilted his head back, all the better to look his beloved in the eye. "I love you, too."

He only had to lift his lips, a silent prompt.

Charles needed no further instructions.

~~

Thanks for reading! Consider dropping us a comment/reblog, they do so make my day/week/month 💛 Might not manage every day of this week but I will defo see you tomorrow for a fic/collab I'm SUPER excited about!!! Painland Week Prompt List

[number1jeonginstan]

Hi guys! @singsangseung decided to collab this Valentine's Day to post some interesting stories to help celebrate the holiday with the SKZ members!

February 6th - Chan: Hard Launch Relationship - Nessa

February 7th - Lee Know: Exhibitionism - Ju

February 8th - Changbin: Food Play - Nessa

February 9th - Hyunjin: Sex Dice - Ju

February 10th - Han: Free Use - Ju

February 11th - Felix: Cooking - Nessa

February 12th - Seungmin: Photobooth - Nessa

February 13th - I.N: Lingerie - Ju

February 14th - Surprise!!!

the dividers were created by @cafekitsune (the top one) and @reveriesources (the bottom divider)

[gingernut1314]

I LOVEEEEE seeing them all together!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Thank you so, sooooo much @i-am-vita for putting so much time and effort into these!! I am in love with every last banner!!! 🩷🩷🩷

The Storyteller Club Masterlist

Welcome to my One Piece fanfic recommendation list, specifically the Storyteller Prompts Fic List started by the most talented @fanaticsnail!

Since I have a graphic design degree to abuse and fairy tale retellings are my absolute delight, I decided to make gifts to all the amazing writers who donate their time to take a prompt.

Writers may use the logos at their respective fanfics. Whoever wants to post them on their own blogs must give credit and tag me and the respective author.

Sapsorrow by @fanaticsnail MihawkxGovernessFemReader, AU with some canon

The Luck Child by @gingernut1314 BuggyxWildMarineFemReader, Canon Divergence

A Coronary Tale (The Three Ravens) by @sordidmusings Chapters: 1 SanjixFeralFemReader (I have corrected the tree thing, why nobody told me ToT)

The Heartless Giant by @cinnbar-bun Chapters: 1 2 SirCrocodilexRoyalGNReader