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lee-lucius · 5 months

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Fatherly Love

Summary: Zeff isn't used to dealing with kids, especially not one like Sanji.

Word Count: 5,630

Warning: Mild spoilers for Sanji and Zeff's backstory (The Baratie Arc)

There is nowhere near enough content for Sanji and Zeff, and I had to do something about. I've only seen the live action and started reading the manga (hopefully it isn't too ooc 😅), but I'm already unreasonably attached to these two. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 💙

Zeff never saw it as anything complicated. When they finally did get off that godforsaken rock, Sanji had nowhere to go. And, well, he'd already given up a leg for the boy; he didn't see why he shouldn't give up piracy as well.

So they started over. Neither of them were ready to give up the sea, not until they found the All Blue, and Zeff always enjoyed sharing a meal. So they opened Baratie.

Maybe it wasn't the best place for a kid to grow up, on a ship full of angry brutes, but the little eggplant got on well enough with the crew—Zeff made sure of that—and he seemed content enough. At least, better than he had been after their rescue. It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't horrible, either.

But there were still moments that shattered their illusion of peace, like right now. Sighing, Zeff pulled off his sheets, slowly sitting up and slipping his legs off the bed, taking a moment to steady himself. It wasn't as easy as it'd been in his younger years. He didn't think he'd ever get used to the wooden leg, or the little eggplant's muffled cries that kept him up almost every night.

It was odd, considering what a deep sleeper Zeff had been when he was younger, but it was almost as if he had a sixth sense for when Sanji needed him; when he'd wake up, shivering and sobbing over his latest nightmare, Zeff woke up as well, lumbering over to his room to provide what little comfort he could for a boy who'd been through far too much.

Knocking lightly, he waited for Sanji's muffled consent before entering and closing the door softly behind him. He didn't know why he'd bothered giving Sanji his own room when Zeff spent the night there more often than not. Something about a growing boy needing his privacy; how simple he thought it'd be.

"Just me," Zeff said, as if they both weren't already used to this routine. It still made something stir uncomfortably in his chest every time, seeing Sanji's small figure curled up in his bed, blankets huddled around him like a faulty shield, head tucked into his chest to hide his tear-stained face, though Zeff still saw the way his shoulders trembled and heard the pained, hiccuping gasps Sanji tried to hide.

Zeff didn't say anything else. There was no reason to bombard the boy with pointless questions, especially when it only seemed to send him slipping further into a panic.

He never knew what he was supposed to do in situations like this. He liked to think his presence helped; after all, he was the only who'd been there with Sanji, though Zeff thought his issues began with something long before the shipwreck, and Sanji never stopped letting him in. But he'd never quite been a smooth talker, save for with women, and always found himself tongue-tied in situations like these. Zeff wasn't one for emotions, and Sanji was perhaps the most emotional boy he'd ever known.

There wasn't much to do besides perch on his bed, sitting as far away from Sanji as possible to give him space, and frown, trying to act as if his heart wasn't ripping in two at each muffled cry.

It must have been an especially bad night. Zeff realized that as his cries slowly quieted and his small, trembling frame steadily inched closer. Finally, Sanji's knee, barely a fraction of the size, touched his own. He was tense, more than before, and skittish, as if any wrong move from Zeff could send him running. It probably would. So Zeff did nothing, allowing Sanji his own time to decide.

They'd never been affectionate with each other. Zeff had never been affectionate with anyone, really, except for in the brief way that sailors met with women, something as intimate as these moments with Sanji but in an entirely different way.

Zeff had only ever used his body for that and fighting, which only made this harder. It wasn't like the other times Samji had reached out for him, right after the rock, or even in the midst of it, when he threw himself at Zeff in a moment of reckless grief, while Zeff wrapped his arms around him, trying to offer comfort in a way he didn't know how.

This was different. Slower. Intentional. Calculated, even.

It wasn't a helpless boy blindly reaching out to soothe the ache in his heart, but it was a helpless boy reaching out to him.

Sanji wanted him.

Zeff waited. Sanji continued to creep closer until he leaned into Zeff's side, and finally, slowly, gently, slower and gentler than he ever thought he could be, Zeff wrapped his arm around him, pulling Sanji into a hug.

Sanji buried his face in his chest, his own clumsy arms wrapping around Zeff, clutching handfuls of his shirt as if he was afraid to let go, afraid this would end.

"You're alright now," he said, voice gruffer, and a bit more emotional, than he intended. He lifted one hand, stroking his hair, the other rubbing his back, trying to remember what soothed him all those long years ago when he was a boy. "That's over. You're alright."

Sanji held onto him all night, crying until he finally slipped back into sleep, and Zeff stayed there, awake and cursing the growing ache in his back, until it was time for morning prep, when he shook Sanji awake, squeezing his shoulder one last time before leaving him to get ready for the day.

Neither of them spoke about what happened.

They barely spoke at all, save for a mini-screaming match when Zeff tried to drown Sanji's dish in oregano before it was sent out to his patrons.

It was a busy day, but at least they had had a functioning waitstaff for once—thank god for small mercies. Zeff didn't have the time to babysit Sanji, not anymore than usual, when he had to try and keep the rest of his rowdy crew in line, though he figured the reason at least half of their customers were there was in hopes of seeing the rumored fighting pirates.

There was hardly even a moment for him to sit down, rest his leg and back, and get some shut eye, though the sips of alcohol he savored between the lunch and dinner rushes helped.

But at the end of the day, he was more drunk on exhaustion than anything else, practically stumbling over his feet as he stalked through the kitchen, ensuring every surface and every dish was up to his standards. On days like these, the last day before they hauled up their anchor and moved on, his men tended to get lazy, a problem he could never solve no matter how many times he yelled at them. Except for one, who shared his dutiful dedication to maintaining a clean kitchen.

"Shouldn't you be heading off?" Zeff asked, glancing at Sanji as he silently swept the floors. "A growing boy needs his rest."

"I could say the same. Doesn't a shitty old man need his beauty sleep?"

He grunted. They both knew why he was so tired, and they both knew why Sanji didn't want to go to sleep, but they both said nothing. Didn't matter much tonight, anyway. They could both sleep in, supposing Sanji managed to stay asleep for once. Zeff put a kettle on the stove. Tea usually helped Sanji get through the night.

"Come here, kid," he called, after the tea was brewed. Sanji always preferred it sweeter, so he added a dollop of sugar and spoonful of honey, while he added something a little stronger to his.

Zeff kicked a stool in his direction, and he sat down, gratefully taking the mug that came along with it and enjoying a long sip.

"Not as shit as usual," he said, which was about as good a compliment as any, coming from him.

Leaning against the counter next to him, Zeff took a much needed drink of his own, glaring down at him. "You don't need to help me down here every night. Not that you're much help."

"'Not much help'? I'm the only reason people come to this shithole!"

"Mm. Are you then?" He didn't have the energy for this now. Damn kid.

"I'm the only half-decent chef you have!"

Zeff would never understand where his arrogance came from, not that it was entirely unwarranted. He had made Sanji his sous-chef for a reason, and it wasn't just his fondness for him.

"And who's the one that taught how to make those fancy little dishes, eggplant?"

"It doesn't matter when you drown everything in oregano."

"It's a delicacy!"

"It's for savages!" He slammed his empty mug on the counter, his one visible eye glaring daggers at Zeff, who had to resist the urge to laugh. It'd be a good few years before Sanji got anywhere close to intimidating him.

"You're too young. Palate hasn't developed yet," he waved him off, collecting his glass to wash it in the sink. No need making the kid do it, not when he was practically about to fall off his stool.

"No, you're too old. Can't taste shit anymore."

Zeff rolled his eyes. He didn't know why he always started a fight. Just his attitude, he supposed. He had to take in a kid with the worst personality imaginable. And it didn't help that he was eerily similar to how Zeff had been at that age.

"I can still see well enough, and you're done for the night."

Sanji stumbled to his feet, knowing he was right but not wanting to agree with him. "You look worse than I do."

"Mhm. Then let's both get to bed," he said, because Sanji was right too, and he couldn't bother to keep up with any more banter.

Nudging him in the back, Zeff wasn't prepared for Sanji's violent flinch that almost sent him toppling over. He resisted his instinct to reach out and steady him, figuring that would only make things worse. Instead, Sanji's fingers dug into the countertop, clutching it so hard his knuckles paled, and he turned towards Zeff, eyeing him wearily.

They stared at each other for a moment, silent, before Zeff sighed.

"Go on. Up to bed."

Sanji only nodded and trudged along. Zeff supposed they hadn't made as much progress as he thought. He'd have to be more careful next time.

Zeff always preferred days when Baratie was sailing. As much as he enjoyed the regular hustle and bustle, serving whatever customers had washed up that day, he enjoyed these quiet moments more.

It was good, standing on deck and watching the ship bob in the water, breathing in the sea breeze that was never the same when they were stagnant. He craved the movement, the sailing. And the quiet. Which made him feel like the old man Sanji always insisted he was. As if he was coaxing into retirement and savoring easy days on the sea.

But there was never anything easy on Baratie.

After he'd assembled his men to yell at them about their lazy behavior yesterday and lack of respect, they were dismissed and shuffled out of the kitchen, grumbling among each other but knowing better than to stand up to Zeff.

They'd be really punished later, but a light scalding was enough for now. Especially when he had other plans.

Sanji crept into the kitchen, eagerly buzzing around with a frantic energy Zeff rarely saw. That was another good thing about it. On days like these, Sanji was more excited than Zeff had ever seen him.

It was like there was finally life in the kid. His cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and joy palpable. He couldn't shut up either. The whole time he was rambling, trying to spew out his mess of ideas all at once that had been building up in his head since the last time they did this.

It really wasn't anything that special, and it always led to more than one argument between them, but Sanji liked to offer his input to these menu changes, even when most of his ideas consisted of trite, over-inspired pieces of shit. Though Sanji felt the same way about most of Zeff's dishes.

After gathering up all of his ingredients and managing to form his ramblings into something coherent, Sanji prepared his sample dishes with Zeff watching closely, correcting his mistakes or suggesting alternate techniques. Sanji was always surprisingly receptive to his advice, though he was always an enthusiastic student, and Zeff thought he preferred it when they were alone like this. Even if he still protested oregano coming anywhere near his food. Damn rebellious kid.

It took the entire day and only two fights that escalated so far Zeff worried Sanji would grab the knife on the cutting board and stab him, which was better than usual. They'd sampled enough dishes that neither of them were hungry, nor the rest of the crew, not when they called in a member or two for a third opinion, or a witness when their fights got especially heated.

The kitchen was a mess, but it wasn't their problem. Zeff wanted to head in early, and his crew had to be punished for their mess yesterday, so making them deal with disaster was only fair. With all of them working together, it wouldn't take too long anyway, unless they got into a fight—no, until they got into a fight, forcing Zeff to straighten them out again.

But until then, he pulled Sanji with him above deck to relax for a change.

The sun was already beginning to set; the sky fading into a pinkish-reddish color as Zeff sat down to watch it. Now he really was acting like an old man. Maybe he should start thinking about retirement.

He glanced at Sanji, but he seemed to be enjoying himself as well, even with something as simple as this. It seemed they both savored these little, simple moments.

Now would be a good time to continue their other training. Zeff had been teaching the boy to fight, only simple moves so far, though their progress was slowed by Zeff's own efforts to adjust to his new leg. But it was late, and they were both tired, even if yesterday was one of Sanji's better nights. He'd put it off for another day.

Zeff was so absorbed by his thoughts that he almost didn't register the movement in the corner of his eye. Not until Sanji was noticeably closer to him.

It was different this time. Maybe it was because of his excitable attitude today, or maybe he was starting to feel just a bit more at ease around him, but Sanji, in one quick, casual motion, pressed into Zeff's side, leaning against him.

His body was stiff, no matter how nonchalant he tried to act, and when Zeff looked at him closely enough, he could see the slight shake in his hands. It took a few minutes before Sanji began to relax, his tense muscles easing into the touch, and in another act of courage, he leaned his head against Zeff's shoulder.

He was warm. That was the first thing Zeff noticed. He wasn't used to being touched like this. Besides Sanji's fits after his nightmares and consoling his men who managed to survive the battle but not much afterwards, he hadn't been this close to someone since he was a child. Even then, no one ever reached out to him, curling up beside him the way Sanji did.

It was oddly comfortable, and Zeff found himself enjoying the affection more than he should. This was something he never could've imagined, not at his age.

While he never disliked children, he'd never been particularly fond of them either. And as much as he respected women, he never found one that interested him; no men either, so he never imagined settling down with someone, starting a family, not when his first love was cooking. But here he was, with Sanji. And he couldn't deny his growing affection for the boy, even if he was as rude and shitty as most of the grown men Zeff knew and more traumatized and disturbed than any child should be. He couldn't be sure—it was something he'd never experienced before—but Zeff thought his affection must have been something like that a father felt for his child.

It was a troubling thought that was becoming more persistent, and he had no clue if Sanji felt the same, but that was a problem for another time.

Now, it didn't matter. He simply shifted, leaning his own head against Sanji's to reciprocate the touch and imagined the nervous smile on the kid's face that he must've been fighting so hard to hide.

Maybe this had gone too far, Zeff realized, far, far too late to do anything about it.

It started simple enough.

Sanji had always been a fidgety kid, a fact that Zeff and practically anyone who knew him more than an hour could realize. He was never still, always moving, always squirming. And clumsy, too. He was prone to tripping over his own feet, something that their training had made marginally better so far, but Zeff still held onto the hope that he'd fall out of it with age when the rest of his body grew into his long legs.

Zeff didn't mind; truly, he found it more entertaining than anything else to see the boy bounce around the kitchen. It never interfered with his work, Sanji was far too professional for that, but there were times when Sanji's body moved and fidgeted around so quickly Zeff swore his limbs would fly off, and Sanji swore that he'd die of boredom if something didn't change.

So Zeff came up with a solution. A rather practical one, he liked to think. Instead of twiddling with his fingers or tugging at the strings of his apron or furiously flapping his hands, Zeff, like a practical seaman, taught him how to tie knots. Figured it'd pay off, considering how much of his life the boy spent on a ship.

He'd bring him up to the deck, show him the ropes and give a brief explanation, then show him how to tie every knot just right and send him off with a smaller scrap to practice.

It seemed to help, though they never talked about such things. Sanji simply practiced his knots, asking Zeff when he wasn't sure if he'd gotten it right, and he'd whip it out and practice anytime he got bored, during lulls between the dinner and lunch rush or at night, in bed, when he was trying to fall asleep.

Zeff didn't know how it ended up like this. He'd noticed Sanji's habit, how he'd begun to unconsciously twist strands into his complicated knots, like his apron or the loose fibers on his cheap blanket. It'd escalated fast.

Sanji must've known it would be another bad night, because he didn't bother going to his own room, instead silently teetering after Zeff to stay with him. He didn't like to be alone on bad nights.

There hadn't even been any sign of it, any indication; he simply leveled a heavy stare at Zeff and not asked, ordered him.

"Stay still. I need to try something."

"What are you planning?" He asked warily, recognizing that glint in Sanji's eye that was only there when he got up to mischief, an occasion that was becoming less and less rare.

"Quiet. I need to focus."

Then Sanji was sitting cross-legged in front of him as Zeff sat, back pressed against the headboard. He had to lean down an uncomfortable amount for Sanji to, much to his horror, reach his mustache as he began working on whatever convoluted idea he had.

Zeff wasn't sure what he was doing, as his eyes were firmly closed—and Sanji began yelling at him anytime he so much as tried to peak them open—but it seemed as if Sanji was styling his hair, hands working with a surprising gentleness and expected hurriedness, though it seemed as if his rush ruined his work, judging his heaving sigh every few minutes as he straightened out Zeff's mustache to start over. Always a perfectionist.

It was annoying, like Sanji always was, but Zeff found he didn't mind the intrusion as much as he thought he should. Not that or the tedious ache once again spreading through his back or the feeling of pins-and-needles in his legs that had fallen asleep under Sanji's weight, who sat precariously on top of them.

Perhaps he couldn't complain because he knew what Sanji had been like mere weeks and months before, and that boy never would've afforded Zeff with this casual closeness, one that made an unsettling happiness grow in him, because he knew that they were getting somewhere, that this makeshift ship was becoming closer and closer to the little eggplant's home, and that did, ashamedly, make Zeff happy.

"Okay, I'm done," Sanji finally announced, and Zeff let out a sigh, of relief or disappointment he wasn't sure.

"On with it then," he opened his eyes, this time without any urgent protest from Sanji, and shifted his good leg with a smile too fond for his liking. "Up so I can look."

Something resembling a scowl appeared on Sanji's face, but it was gone just as quickly as he scrambled off of him, rolling onto the side of the bed. Zeff took his time, ignoring Sanji's protests, to stand up, letting feeling come back into his limbs as he stretched before trudging over to his drawers, accompanied with a small mirror hanging above it.

It was about what he'd expected. Zeff's mustache was styled into two somewhat unkempt braids, tied up with his usual blue ribbons. It wasn't half bad, not for the eggplant's first try, and Zeff didn't recall teaching him any braids. He wondered where he'd learned how to do that, but now wasn't the time for questions.

"Right. We done here?"

Sanji's cheeks puffed out slightly, tinged red as his face morphed into a pout. He always did wear his emotions on his sleeve, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Reluctantly, he nodded and stood from the bed.

Zeff turned out the lamp, settling back down into his bed and sparing a glance at Sanji. "You layin' down or not?"

There was a moment of awkward shuffling, Sanji's head darting back and forth between Zeff's bed and the door, looking as if he wished he had that rope on him to give his body something to do and soothe his mind.

After an uncomfortable amount of time passed, Sanji perched himself at the edge of the bed, slowly laying down, as if he was scared Zeff would change his mind and yell at him to scram.

He didn't. He had an extra blanket and pillow, so he didn't mind at all, though if he had to, he knew he would've given his own to Sanji to make him comfortable—the kid hardly got enough sleep as it was.

"Night," he grunted, then added, far too impulsively, "Didn't do half bad with the hair."

For a moment, he thought he imagined Sanji's muffled sounds of joy, but then he only laughed quietly to himself, thinking about all the trouble this dumb kid brought with him.

Zeff was going soft, and he couldn't bring himself to care.

Morning was quiet. Zeff woke up first, squinting at his window, watching the faint rays of light trickle in.

It was early, but he wasn't ready to go back to sleep. Instead, he carefully shifted in the bed, turning on his side to face Sanji. He was still sleeping, lying curled up on his stomach. Zeff didn't realize how much he moved in his sleep, not until Sanji woke him up more than once in the night with a flying limb.

He'd seen him sleeping before. After Sanji had crossed to his side of the rock and discovered Zeff's secret, there was less distance between them. Less reason to hide. And Sanji seemed to, for whatever reason, like the company of bitter old men, apparently as much as Zeff like the company of snarky young kids. But there were some nights when Sanji fell asleep there, with Zeff. He'd moved around too then, violently, thrashing so much Zeff feared he'd fall right into the ocean. He was prone to nightmares then too, but he didn't have any more tears to cry by then, just hiccuping gasps that sounded so painful coming from his dry, aching throat.

He wasn't having a nightmare now. His face was relaxed, not curled up in an aching knot of dread like it usually was. His chest rose and fell with calm, steady breaths. Zeff couldn't see it clearly, not in the dim light, but he heard it, and the noise was a comfort.

Another impulse. That's what Zeff wanted to blame it on. Say that his arm had a mind of its own; that he acted without thinking. He didn't know if that was better or worse than the truth.

But he did know what he was doing. And he wanted to. That was the reason.

That was the reason he reached his hand out, with a touch lighter and gentler than he ever thought he was capable of, combing through Sanji's hair to fix the disheveled mess.

It was soft and void of any obnoxious clumps, both traits he attributed to Sanji's fixation with his appearance. Just had to look good for the ladies, apparently. Not that any took interest in him. The little eggplant had about as much charm as one.

Hair straightened, his hand trailed further down, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into the back of his neck. It was something he normally only did after a nightmare, when Sanji cried and clung to him, but it seemed appropriate now too. He thought it was good for Sanji. He always slept better when Zeff held him.

Except now. Sanji twitched, and Zeff worried he'd wake him, so he lightened his touch, fingers barely grazing the skin, and that's when he heard it.

A giggle.

The noise was muffled by the pillows, but it was unmistakable in the quiet of his room. Something high-pitched and boyish and utterly unexpected.

Zeff's hand stilled, staring intently at Sanji. His body was still and breathing steady. He'd heard Sanji talk before in his sleep, but laugh? That seemed odd. Unless it was something else.

Curiously, he continued his light movement, holding back a laugh of his own when he noticed Sanji squirm, twisting back and forth but trying so hard to hide it.

So he was awake. And Zeff didn't see why he shouldn't have his fun.

He changed tactics, switching to scratching at Sanji's neck, touch still light, using just his blunt nails.

There was another noise; this one was more like a muffled whine, low in his throat and barely contained. One of his arms shifted, trying for a subtly he had never been gifted with, and pushed the pillow further into his face, hiding his wide smile.

How stupid did Sanji think he was? He wasn't sure he actually wanted to know after this. And if Zeff said something, he knew it'd ruin the moment. He didn't want to.

He didn't, so he continued tickling the boy who he'd become uncomfortably fond of.

His hand drifted, grazing across the side of his neck in a way that made Sanji's shoulders scrunch up. He couldn't contain himself anymore, and soft giggles poured out of him. The kid was oddly cute like this, and that fond feeling he had for Sanji only grew.

Zeff was careful. They'd never done anything like this—he doubted Sanji'd ever even been tickled before—and they were still in a somewhat precarious position surrounding the kid's tolerance for any touch at all. He wasn't one to be playful, but Zeff figured this was the closest he'd ever get as he moved to new spots.

Sanji chortled when he scratched under his chin, and seeming to have given up the act of pretending to be asleep, kicked his legs when Zeff's fingers prodded at his ears. The strongest reaction came when he scribbled at his back—Zeff hadn't even known backs could be ticklish—making an alarmed high-pitched sound that Zeff could only call a squeal, grip around the pillow tightening, trying to hide his embarrassment or laugh or something, Zeff figured.

After a few more moments, Zeff stopped, pulling his hand away and waiting for Sanji to collect himself. It took a long time for his laughter to calm down, but Zeff only watched, unable to help his own amused smile.

Finally, Sanji removed his face from the pillow, looking up at Zeff. His face was completely flushed, and he had a large, dopey smile on his face that Zeff had only ever seen when he was talking to a girl. Dumb kid.

"Um…" Sanji brought the pillow to his chest, hugging it tightly and partially obscuring his face. "What was that?"

"Tickling. Ever happened to you before?"

He shook his head, eyes flitting away from Zeff with a sad look. He was quiet, seemingly lost in thought, and Zeff watched him, waiting for Sanji to gather himself.

It took a few minutes before he dropped the pillow, propping himself up. There was still a trace of sadness, but there was something else, something Zeff couldn't quite place.

His eyes were big and droopy, fatigue weighing down his lashes and a smile, albeit faint, dragged across his lips. In the quiet of these late nights and early mornings, there was something different about Sanji, more tender. Like the darkness of the sky cloaked them in a veil of security, wrapping around his shoulders and tucking him in with the same comfort of a loving parent.

Leaning closer, a yawn breezing past his lips, Sanji shifted further towards Zeff, mumbling, "'t's nice."

"Guess so," he grunted and, seeing the expectant look on his face, reached back out, curling his fingers into Sanji's side until he burst into another fit of giggles.

Zeff supposed it was quite nice.

Sanji, by some miracle, had actually managed to fall back asleep after crying for mercy.

Zeff wasn't tired, but he stayed, figuring Sanji wouldn't like waking up alone, and there wasn't much work to be done today anyway; he could let him sleep in. He grabbed a book at random from his shelf, biding the time by staring absentmindedly at the pages, his attention always somehow drifting back to Sanji. It was almost annoying, the grip that the kid had on him.

When he did wake up, scolding Zeff for letting them stay in that late and wasting so much of the day as if Sanji was actually the adult. It was stupidly endearing.

Zeff, like always, brushed away his concerns. "Then stop complaining and help me get ready."

"Help?" Sanji asked, indignant, and Zeff sorrowfully remembered what an attitude he had on him. "What do you need now, old man? A diaper change?"

Sighing, he only gestured to his face, watching the confusion spread across Sanji's face and sighing again.

"The braids," he huffed, untying the ribbons. "They need to be redone."

Sometime during the night, or perhaps during his horseplay with Sanji, the hair had become wildly unruly, strands unwinding and sticking out at odd angles.

Sanji stared at him for a long moment like he was stupid. Then asked, in an oddly anxious voice, "What?"

"You heard me. Get on with it."

He couldn't bite back his smile. His whole face lit up, and no matter how hard he always tried to hide it, Sanji still always wore his heart on his sleeve, and his joy was infectious. Shuffling closer, he carefully reworked Zeff's mustache, hair now slightly curled, into a neat braid, redoing them both a few times until he was satisfied with his work, staring at Zeff proudly.

It was better than the ones yesterday; Zeff had to give him credit for that.

"Good work, little eggplant," he said, staring at himself in the mirror. "Now you go get ready. It's late."

Sanji, ever the dutiful worker, hurried out, but Zeff caught the blinding smile on his face before he left.

It was worth the odd stares he got from the rest of his crew, and none of them had the courage to say anything after Zeff stared down the first person who'd so much as uttered a word about it.

Unless it was a compliment, which he tolerated in silence only because it brought that bright smile back to Sanji's face, and the kid deserved the praise.

The day was slow and calmer than Baratie had any right to be.

There was an odd lightness in Sanji; Zeff didn't know if it was because of him, but he was glad.

And he was even happier when it seemed to persist into the next day and the next.

They still bickered, of course—the kid—his kid—just had to bitch about every little thing. They spent long days cooking together, sweating and struggling in their somehow always understaffed restaurant. They trained together on those off days, splitting time between cooking and fighting. And in those early mornings, late nights, and all the time in between, they regarded each other with a new softness, with the playful and affectionate touches Sanji had become accustomed to, the ones he craved.

And Zeff, forever worn out by the rude, annoying kid he'd ended up with, always indulged him, his little eggplant.

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lenathekiller · 7 months

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Unrequited

Buggy x Reader Angst

A/N: I just wanted to write something moody, it's not the best honestly but I might continue it sometime. I took inspiration from the song "DYWTYLM" by Sleep Token and a bit of dialogue makes it very clear.

You'd been left behind in some shitty run down town. The ship you had sailed on for the past decade had drifted out to sea along with the crew that's been like family to you. Your life had basically disappeared right infront of you.

You knew none of them meant to leave you behind, but you also knew it'd be far too late for them to come back for you when they do finally notice your absence. They'd all been so excited to Finally see the Grand line, practically buzzing as they had loaded the final crates of supplies they needed for the trip, far too distracted with thoughts of what they would see out there that no one had noticed you weren't back from running the final errand you'd been tasked with.

By the time you'd returned to the dock the massive ship was already far enough away that it looked no bigger than your hand. Shouting or swimming were far beyond the possibilities of working out in your favor. You fell to your knees heartbroken at the sight, watching everything and everyone you'd ever known shrink into the sunset never to be seen by you again.

You'd still been there when Buggy's ship pulled into the harbor late that night. The Clown's men had whooped and hollered in delight of finally being on land again as they past you. The crowd of them seemed to move around you as if you'd been a rock and they were a river flowing around you. None of them seemed to pay you any mind, too concerned with the prospect of getting drunk at the few bars the town had.

It was only Buggy who'd stopped, he stood there staring at your form now sitting with your knees to your chest as your eyes stared unfocused and empty out at the sea at the exact spot your ship had finally disappeared from view. He could tell from the state of your face that you'd cried, maybe even sobbed and we're now left shivering from the chill of being soaked in a mix of your tears as well as the water that had occasionally splashed up onto you from the waves of the sea.

Silently he had placed his coat over your shoulders, sitting down beside you to look out at the water as well. He knew what was wrong, he could tell exactly what happened to you. You had that undeniable look of someone who knew they'd lost everything, he'd seen it multiple times before on people whose lives the Buggy pirates had destroyed, and more importantly had seen it first hand on himself when Shanks betrayed and abandoned him.

"You'll catch cold if you stay out here any longer, especially with the state your in." Finally he'd broken the silence, broken you from your trance of despair, bringing you back to reality and the pain it brought with it.

"They're gone. They left me behind. I'll never see them again. My whole life was practically on that ship, I know nothing but life on that ship... and now it's just... Gone." Your voice was weak, throat hoarse from the lump that'd formed in it hours ago when you'd first began crying.

Buggy wasn't entirely sure what to say now, his initial comment was just to bring you out of that dark mindset he knew you'd been stuck in for what was practically all day. He wasn't use to comforting people, just threatening them or leaving them for one of his crew to take care of. All he could muster up in his head was generic bullshit. "I'm sorry, I've been in your shoes honestly but I don't know what to say."

"What am I supposed to do now? I have nothing left and no where to go." Finally you'd turned your eyes from the sea, looking over to the man sitting next you.

Buggy kept his eyes on the sea thinking for a moment, before turning to meet your gaze. "I don't know, but you're more than welcome to join my crew and I. Even if it's only till you figure out what you'd like to do next."

God were his eyes beautiful, the moonlight was making them practically glow, infact all of him seemed to glow in the silver light as if he were an angel. You gave a weak nod to him, a small seed of happiness planting itself deep within your hallowed heart.

He stood lending a hand to help you up as well, leading you onto his ship. He'd fed you, given you a change of clothes, told you all about his crew, all their flashy acts and adventures. He seemingly fixed you that night, taking you in as one of his own and taking care of you.

You knew it was due to the emotional mess you'd faced that day but when Buggy had tucked you in and bid you goodnight, your heart couldn't help falling for him.

A year had passed now since Buggy took you in and in that time you'd grown to become one of his most faithful crew members. You'd always assist him with all preparations for his performances, standing by during his shows with anything and everything he'd need. By now your dedication to the man could not be questioned, and no one dared to anyways, they could see you loved the man they all looked up to.

Everyone except the man himself could see how you adored Buggy since that fateful night, and some of them even tried to protect those feelings you held. Cabaji or Mohji would always distract you somehow when they knew the captain was 'entertaining' himself with someone, making sure you were too far away to hear any moans that would surely spill out of the Captain's room.

The pair often felt guilty for sheltering you but they couldn't stand to see their newest friend get hurt and deep down they were hoping the captain would eventually fall for you too. Sure your feelings had started out unhealthy, you initially falling for Buggy because you were broken and he was the one that had picked up your pieces, but by now you'd actually grown to hold a healthy love for the man and the both of you deserved to feel that love.

Things changed when Alvida was added to your crew. Buggy was often too absorbed with scheming up plans with the beautiful new co-captian, that he seemed to not have much time to spend with you or any of his crew anymore frankly. It was affecting a good chunk of his crew, especially you, and no matter how much Cabaji or Mohji tried to distract you from the hurt, the pair knew they couldn't fix the problem entirely.

Cabaji was stood out on the upper deck with you currently, looking out at the stars and holding mindless conversation about how to better his act for the next performance.

"Maybe I could teach you how to unicycle, then we could figure out some flashy synchronized thing to do as a pair." He placed his fist to his chin in thought.

You chuckled at the thought of you on a unicycle, swerving around the circus ring with a spotlight on you. Knowing your luck and coordination you'd probably wipe out midway through and end up somehow run over by your own unicycle or Cabaji's. "I'll let you teach me but I don't think I'd ever become as good as you are."

"That's bull, your good at just about everything!" Buggy's voice called out, interrupting your conversation.

Cabaji saw the way you froze and placed a hand on your shoulder whispering his next words to you. "It's just capt, she's not with him don't worry." He gave your shoulder a little squeeze and you a friendly smile before turning to face the Clown.

"I'm gonna let you two talk, I've gotta go practice my routine anyways." Cabaji excused himself, heading below deck to give you two privacy.

"Long time to see it feels like!" Buggy joked coming to lean against the railing beside you.

"It's your own fault you know." Your tone was cold and your eyes remained fixed on the night sky.

"Yea, I guess it is." He felt a little guilty now that'd you'd pointed it out. "Sorry bout that."

"Whatever. Why aren't you spending your night with her like usual? Did her beauty become too much for you, so you came to see me instead?." Your words were laced with hurt.

He glanced at you for a moment, confused at what you were trying to imply. "She's got some things of her own to do tonight is all. What does her appearance have to do with me talking to you?"

"What doesn't it have to do with it? She far more attractive than me, it's no wonder you abandoned me for her." Your gaze shifted downward to the sea below you, watching the waves shimmer in the lights of the night sky.

"I didn't abandoned you, what the hell are you talking about?!" Buggy turned to face you fully, trying to desperately read your body language or what little of your face he could see. "I spend time with her because she's a co-captian and we have to plan out how the hell to accomplish the things we need to!" You stayed silent, not moving at all from you spot, and just when Buggy was about to storm off you had spoken.

"I regret joining your crew." A few tears rolled down your cheeks.

"What do you mean?" The clown honestly couldn't believe your words. How could you regret being one of his crew? You had given no signs of ever being unhappy until now, you'd grown close to his 2 right hand men almost immediately and always seemed to eager to help him with his shows. So why are you just now telling him you'd regretted your decision?! Did he do something upset you? Were you silently hurting as a result of him never having time to spend with you lately?

"I regret everything that's happened since that night you found me. I regret agreeing to let you take care of me that night. I regret agreeing to join your crew and befriending some of them. I regret being by your side ready to help you with everything and anything. I regret letting the others distract me when you'd sleep with a captive or crew mate. I regret letting them try to mend me when Alvida joined and you'd grown distant. I regret feeling at home here. I regret you finding me that night at all. But most of all.." You paused, finally turning to face Buggy with tears in your eyes.

God did it break your heart to see him lit up like an angel just as he had looked on that faithful night. And Man did it break Buggy's heart to see your eyes were filled with that hurt of betrayal and abandonment like they'd been when he first saw you. You were both back to the same state of being you'd been in when you had first met.

You sighed, closing your eyes finally ready to say what you needed to. "Most of all I regret falling for you, letting not only myself but also the crew believe you could ever grow to love me back."

He felt like he'd been hit by one of his famed giant explosive Buggy balls. Every single thought that had been in his brain was gone with the only thing remaining was you admitting you fell for him, replaying over and over again. He knew you were deticated to him but it was normal for a crew member to be deticated to the captain. How had he missed the fact your looks and actions towards him were filled with far more adoration, than those of the rest of his more faithful members. He hadn't let himself see you in the same light as you did him, only letting you remain as someone who's pain he could relate to. He stopped making time for you, distancing himself without even realizing it. Somehow he had managed to push you from his thoughts entirely to the point he had grown to see as just another member of his crew.

"I- I didn't- I don't-" He was stuttering, desperately fighting for his mind to say something, ANYTHING at all.

"Save your breath, I know you didn't know my feelings for you were so deep." Your eyes opened finally, seeing Buggy fighting to get ahold of his own thoughts.

You watched him flounder his mouth open and closed a few times for a moment before taking a few steps away to lean on the railing to watch the stars again. "I'll be leaving ship tomorrow when we dock in Loguetown."

Finally his mind seemed to snap into place, allowing him to speak and think clearly again. "Why?! No one wants you gone."

"You told me that I could stay with you and the crew till I figured out what I wanted to do next." Your voice was soft and smooth, any hurting you felt was undetectable in your tone.

"So you decided what you want to do?" He moved a step closer to you.

"Not really, I only have a small idea of what I could do." You shrugged.

Buggy grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around to face him, his eyes searched yours intensely. "Then why the hell are you leaving?"

"Buggy do you love me?" You had ignored his question, asking one of you own and when he didn't reply you decided to ask a different one. "Do you wish that you loved me?"

He was silent still, causing you to sigh and push his hand off your shoulder begining to walk away. Though his hand quickly flew to stop you, he finally spoke. "I don't know how I feel honestly. I try to tuck away my own emotions so I don't have to deal with them."

"Maybe it's not that you conceal your feelings, they just don't exist. At least none for me anyway." It was a harsh reality that you knew he also knew but was trying to fight. "How ironic isn't, that you're so desperate to be loved by someone, but now that I do you can't bring yourself to love me back. You can't force feelings Buggy, no matter how viciously you try to and we both know that."

His hand released you coming back to rejoin the rest of him. "You're right, I cannot hope to give you what I cannot give myself."

With that you walked off going to pack your things, leaving the clown to think as endlessly as the stars above him. A hollow feeling formed in his chest, not because he was losing someone he loved or cared deeply for, but because he wasn't and it made him feel extremely guilty for not feeling that way.

By the time you'd docked in LogueTown the next day the whole crew had heard of your leaving them. Many wanted to try to convince you to stay, especially Cabaji and Mohji but they all knew you leaving was for the best after hearing of your talk with Buggy last night. Both Buggy and you had not spoken or even seen each other since said talk, a mutual feeling that there was nothing left to say between the pair of you.

The purpose of the ship docking here was to find the straw hats and reclaim the map of the Grand line from them. The two captains, your two friends and about half of the crew went off to complete the mission, so you really didn't have anyone there to see you off. You'd just grabbed your belongings, saying a few goodbyes to crew that was left on the ship, then left to go into town. Maybe you'd join the Marines now, or find some fishermen and offer to help them out, you honestly had no real idea of what to do now.

Due to the commotion in town caused by the mix of Buggy's crew, the Marines, and the straw hats, you'd somehow ended up on board with the latter. Setting sail for the Grand line with the band of misfit pirates Buggy and your friends had failed to capture.

"So what were you doing in a town like that?" One of the crew asked.

"Nothing really, just saying goodbye to my heart I guess you could say." You answered, a sad smile on your face as for the 2nd time in your life you watched the life you'd grown to know, shrink till it was out of view.

Though this time it was you onboard leaving someone behind to watch helplessly from the docks.

#op buggy #buggy the clown #buggy x reader #angst

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starker-raving-mads · 2 months

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For You: Part I

This is for @spiderlinging who decided this level of angst needed to exist.

Have thoughts on a follow up, unsure if I'll do it.

Edit: decided to make this multi-parted.

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It had been a week since the last battle with Thanos. A week since the Blipped had returned everyone, a week since Peter awoke to Dr. Strange leading him through a portal straight into battle.

A week since Tony died.

It's all Peter can think about. The only thing he can think about. Not how traumatizing two battles back to back was, not the chaos and insanity of war, not even of how happy he should be that May and Ned and MJ are actually okay.

Instead, it's Tony, Tony, Tony. His thoughts had revolved around the older man for years now, so it wasn't new. But normally it was excitement, arousal, anticipation, joy. Now, though, it's hugging him as he felt like he was being ripped apart by the Blip. The joy of finding him and being dragged to him in a fierce hug, mid-battle, the billionaire's hands running through his hair. His voice, soft and full of this sort of grieving happiness.

"Peter," he'd said, "oh god, Peter."

And finally it was Mr. Stark's face as he sat dazed against a piece of wreckage amidst the chaos. How blank his eyes were, how little of the man was left, barely hanging on.

That face haunted his dreams, the emptiness filling up his nightmares.

And now here he was, at a lake house he could've never seen Tony living in, with people around him crying and mournful. Like they'd lost a friend when Peter felt like he'd lost a limb. Like his whole heart was being shoved out onto that lake with the last part of Tony Stark he'd ever get to see. Behind him, Happy was talking quietly to Morgan, Tony's kid - Peter's goddaughter, apparently.

He never knew you could make a dead person a godparent before, but there's a lot of things Peter never knew.

Like the thing is - Peter thought he knew grief, knew loss. His parents when he was a kid, Uncle Ben just after he'd gotten his powers. These were huge, space-taking people in his soul but losing Tony? Losing Tony was worse than anything he'd ever experienced before. He felt bad about it, sometimes. Because shouldn't his family have been the ones that meant the most, hurt the most? But then again, Tony had been everything. He'd always sort of thought he loved Tony in the way someone might love an idol, like his feelings were somehow offset by hero worship and being a teenager but it was so much more than that.

It might've started off that way, but after years of knowing him, being his friend through tough times and glad ones - it morphed along the way without him really noticing it. Got deeper, got more meaningful with every lab session and every time Tony said, "Just stay the night kid, you know where your room is. Aunt Hottie doesn't need to be woken up at 3AM with you coming home anyway."

The teen thought he'd cried every ounce of pain from him in the week since the battle, but as his eyes misted up again, he turned and headed around the back of the cabin. It was empty of people on this side and he slid down in the corner where the porch extruded out of the building. Hands covering his face, barely aware of the rotting, damp leaves under him. He just needed a minute to get it together. Just one minute and he'd -

A sound of footsteps approaching, light ones, made him stand back up again and wipe his face free of tears. He knew from experience that his eyes would be a horrible red against how pale his skin was, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Around the corner came Pepper in her funeral clothes, looking at him blankly. It was clear she'd been looking for him but he couldn't figure out why. They just stared at each other for a second, neither moving, and as the moments ticked on he got increasingly uncomfortable and awkward around this powerhouse of a woman he'd never really spent time with.

"Sorry, I just needed to step away for a - "

"He did it because of you, you know," she said, voice as neutral as her face. He blinked at her.

"I'm sorry, what - ?"

"He did it for you." And there was the anger. Her face transformed with it, skin flushing a red that clashed with her hair in a way that was still, somehow, beautiful. It was easy to see why Tony picked her out of everyone. Before he could say anything, she continued. "He told me," she said, tears clouding her voice, nose stuffing up with emotion, "that he'd figured it out. Figured out how to save everyone."

She laughed and it was the most hateful sound he'd ever heard. Shaking her head, smiling in a way that said 'fed up', she said, "But I knew. I knew he didn't do it to be the savior of humanity. His ego was always big, and he was always willing to sacrifice if he thought the price was worth it." She stopped again and stared at him, face contorting.

"He saved a lot of people," Peter agreed, spidey-sense screaming at him and he didn't know why. Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he felt like he was being bombarded. It was nauseating.

"He didn't save people, Peter," she screeched, stomping toward him, hand fisted around a cloth handkerchief, finger pointing at his face. "Tony's ego was always enough to think he could save the world," she continued, voice as mad as a wolf's growl, "but he didn't do it for them. He did it for you." She hissed out, "He kept your picture in the kitchen and just stared at it - all the time! Stared at it like you were some missing part of him and if he just looked long enough you'd reappear." She laughed again, rolling her eyes.

Behind her, a crowd was appearing. Sam and Bucky first, eyes scoping out the situation like the heroes they were. Then Happy, peaking around. The other teenager - Harley, Peter remembered - was further back, near the trees, watching with a ducked face, riveted.

"Tony saved the universe," she agreed, voice even more watery. "But he didn't do it for them - he did it for you." She had moved forward enough now to jab her finger into his chest. "He could've killed everyone with his stupid time travel bullshit," she spat, jabbing harder. "He could've undone reality with it, he could've made it to where Morgan never existed." She sobbed and the anger started to drain from her, head bending. "But it didn't matter as long as he got you back." She sobbed again and as much as his heart was rending itself atom by atom by what she was saying, he couldn't fault her anger, her rage, her sadness.

He stepped forward and she dropped onto him, letting him hold her weight up as she continued to sob.

"He did it for you."

And Peter had never heard anything worse in his entire, fucked up existence.

How was he ever going to live with himself now, knowing this.

How?

#ironspider #peter parker x tony stark #starker #tony stark x peter parker #iron man #peter x tony #peter parker #spiderman #tony stark #pepper potts #tony stark x pepper potts #angst #no beta we die like men #for you fic

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mochinomnoms · 3 months

Text

francesca (1K Follower Special Event)

art: “hold me, dear” by raiain

“Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I” — Hozier, Francesca from “Unreal Unearth” Their love for you is so overwhelming, so profuse, their hunger for love is worse than their hunger for food, water, or sleep. They yearn for you and your affections, like a baby yearns for the embrace of their parents. From the gods above, to the demons below, there is no where that can house or comprehend the love you share with them. spotify playlist

A song fic event to celebrate over 1,000 followers!

Requests are closed

Rules

Anyone can use this event and prompts on their own blog! Tag me in so I can read all your stories!

This event will be for TWST on my end, others are free to use for whatever they'd like!

All request will be up to 500 words, with a max of 3 characters per request

Chose one prompt for each request with one song (randomly selected line will be used for the request), and indicate if you want romantic or platonic. You can also indicate if you want fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive, nsfw etc.

Reader will default to gender-neutral unless asked otherwise

Dialogue Prompts (@mcflymemes: 1/2/3)

“It's funny. Sometimes I think I've already fallen in love with you as much as possible… and then we share a night like this.”

“I'm falling more and more in love with you every day.”

“Do you feel connected to me when we're together like that?”

“You made a few sounds I've never heard before.”

“Can I get you anything? Do you need me to do anything?”

“Touch me like that again.”

“You look so good like this.”

“Tell me when I can move.”

“It's like your body was built for mine.”

“You like that, don't you.”

“You don't know what that does to me.”

“Kiss me again, and don't stop this time.”

“I can't bear the thought of living without you.”

“You complete me.”

“I want all of you. Every piece of you.”

“I won't lose you again.”

“You're the most important person I have ever known.”

“The universe gave you to me.”

“Can I kiss you again? I promise I won't get carried away.”

“Where you go, I follow.”

Song Selection

Hozier, “Unreal Unearth”; “Wasteland, Baby!”; “Nina Cried Power — EP”

De Selby (Part 1)

De Selby (Part 2)

Francesca

Eat Your Young

First Light

Movement

Talk

Sunlight

NFWMB

Moment's Silence (Common Tongue)

Rio Romero, “Good God!”

Inarticulation

Nothing's New

Twice

Eyedress, “Let's Skip to the Wedding”

Romantic Lover

Jealous

Kiss Me Like It's the First Time

Ricky Montgomery, “Montgomery Ricky”

Line Without a Hook

My Heart Is Buried in Venice

Mr. Loverman

Kali Uchis, “Sin Miedo (del Amor y Otros Demonios)”

la luna enamorada

telepatía

Misc. Artists

See You Again (Tyler, The Creator, “Flower Boy”)

Me Gustas Tu (Manu Chao, “Próxima Estación: Esperanza”)

Die For You (The Weeknd, “Starboy”)

🎶 francesca masterlist 🎶

“It ain’t workin’ ‘cause you’re perfect”: jamil viper x gn!reader — #19

“And flew like a moth to you, sunlight, oh, sunlight”: azul ashengrotto x gn!reader — #15

“Be like the love that discovered the sin”; “And I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice”; “If I could hold you for a minute/I'd go through it again”: jade leech, trey clover, ace trappola (separate) x gn!reader — #16

“Y al contemplarla en su mirada”: azul ashengrotto x gn!reader — #4

“I always want your love”: ruggie bucchi x gn!reader — #19

“Oh, was it something I said to make you feel like you're a burden”; “All my emotions feel like explosions when you are around”: leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto (separate) x gn!reader — #15 [PENDING]

“Si te tuviera de frente, la mente te la volaría”; “You know that I can see right through you”: deuce spade, lilia vanrouge (separate) x gn!reader — #9 [QUEUED]

“'Cause we've found ourselves in quite a situation”: silver x gn!reader — #9

“The sky set to burst, the gold and the rust”; “But after this, I'm never gonna be the same”: jade leech, floyd leech (separate) x gn!reader — #3

“It's got nothing to do with us”: divus crewel x gn!reader — #16

“One look is all it takes”: floyd leech x afab gn!reader — #15

“I'm not always right”; “It's gonna happen sometimes”; “I don't think of giving up”: azul ashengrotto, riddle rosehearts, kalim al-asim (separate) x f!reader — #14

“You know I'm just a flight away”: floyd leech x gn!reader — #7

“I can hear your thoughts like a melody”: kalim al-asim x gn!reader — #19

“I wish I could fall in love with you again”; “I know I can fall in love”; “I can only hope that’s what you are craving too”: jack howl, sebek zigvolt, silver (separate) x gn!reader — #19

“Que se podría hacer el amor por telepatía”: jade leech x gn!reader — #4

“And are you pretty or handsome? My words are on ransom”; “With you by my side is where I wanna stand”: trey clover, ruggie bucchi (separate) x gn!reader — #11

“Honey, I'm put in awe of somethin' so flawed and free”: silver x gn!reader — #15

“La venganza es dulce, ¿sabes? (Dulce, dulce, dulce, dulce, dulce)”: ace trappola, deuce space (poly) x gn!reader — #1

“I am just a line without a—”; “And if I've lost my charm / Apologies due, no harm”; “Forgive me, I'm not naïve”: floyd leech, azul ashengrotto, jade leech (separate) x gn!reader — #19 & #16

“Me gusta volver, me gustas tú”: jack howl x gn!reader — #13

“Nothing fucks with my baby”; “I'd wanna be felled by you”: leona kingscholar, vil schoenheit (separate) x gn!reader — #16

“And I've found hope in a heart attack”: jack howl x gn!reader — #13

Bonus:

“Heaven is not fit to hold a love like you and I”: ace trappola, deuce spade (poly) x gn!reader — #1

“¿Qué horas son, mi corazón?”: grim (platonic) x gn!reader — #20

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst prompts #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #francesca (1K event)#writing prompts #mochi masterlist #song fic

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crushedsweets · 4 months

Note

Hey! I love your artwork! I think it’s beautiful!!!

I just wanted to ask, what would Toby and Natalie’s relationship be like if they were able to start dating? I’m genuinely curious.

P.S. LONG LIVE TICCIWORK AND NINAKATE!!!!!

HIIII OK I LIKE THIS OMG i cant believe i hadnt thought about it before. ok i spoke a lot more than i thought i would...all under the cut LOL omg..

okay so, like i mentioned, they would probably have some random drunk kiss one night. maybe a christmas party and nina brings in mistle toe and its stupid. maybe new years party and the clock strikes 12 and they were like 'fuck it why not'.

natalie would have to initiate a lot of the starting conversations and touches. toby grew up with people thinking he was some gross virus roaming around, with boys pushing him around and girls sneering at him, so he's really hesitant. and natalie does get upset pretty easily if toby tries doing things without her permission, even if its something like doing her laundry - he has to ask. and he always does

it would start off pretty awkward too... neither of them know what to say, and both of them are so stubborn with egos the size of the moon - their pride knows no bounds. but at times, toby's ego can morph into something more cocky and he'll say stupid shit. 'you wanna kiss me so bad i know it' 'oh should i get nina to buy some mistle toe again' 'if you wanted to spend the night you couldve just asked'. at first clocky would get mad and pissy, and toby would laugh at her, and they'd move on. but eventually instead of moving on, one of them would say something like 'well.... do you actually want to' and they would. awkwardly, of course. a kiss, laying in bed together, brushing eachothers hair, etc.

their most intimate moments probably happen in the kitchen. that's always been quite the place of love for toby, so to lean against a counter and bring natalie close and give her a kiss in the warmest room of the house while something good is cooking in the oven ... probably means a lot to him

i think they'd love hikes. theres a waterfall in my au that they'd go to often, strip down to their underwear, and sit under. they'd wrestle and splash water and laugh and eat some fruit they packed and fall asleep under the sun after hours of just fucking around. kisses constantly swap between sudden acts of passion and excitement, to a quiet, lazy, quick kiss while throwing a towel over their shoulder.

but of course, they are still difficult. toby's reckless and natalie is picky, so theres a lot of arguments that spring up from nothing. this would be a constant thing until one of them eventually cries - something neither of them are used to. that would probably be a tipping point for them to start really looking into being a better person for eachother. but that is not easy by any means and neither of them are capable of being perfect. at fucking all

their biggest issue would be close to their canon shit.. toby wants to stay, clocky wants to leave. run away from all the bullshit she got trapped in. clocky is more likely to truly just fuck off and leave toby behind, and that scares the everliving shit out of toby every day - he'd swap between 'i have to be so good she'll never leave' and 'you fucking asshole just leave already its inevitable theres nothing i can do to change it'. but clocky just wants to live a normal normal normal life. she wants to grow old with kids and a career and a nice dog and to make dinner every night. she wants her biggest problem to be the dog tracking in mud.

eventually toby settles down, and while he cant just walk away from slenderman, they figure something out. a shared apartment, toby gets closer to the farm owners and he starts working more often. clocky gets into tattooing. toby is the first person she ever tattoos on. they both have to compromise a lot, but they can't imagine doing this for (or with) anybody else

#ticciwork #creepypasta #ticci toby #clockwork #im embarrassed anytime i get mushy about characters omfg

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wickedwitchofthesouth · 3 months

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Listen I know the whole "do you Journal Dean?" "Ever since I was a little girl" joke makes it look like Dean does not unfact journal BUT WHAT IF!!! what if he DOES journal because John journaled because let's be honest other than drinking and breaking things that's the only other (non-violent) way he knows how to cope.

Okay maybe he doesn't have a little diary where he writes all his deepest darkest little secrets but I like to think that maybe when he moved in with Lisa and Ben, he also started going to therapy? Obviously it was impossiblely hard to convince him and sure he only agreed to go once a month and to be honest, now that he looks back on it didn't really do shit but the one thing that seemed to help him the most was writing. He does not journal! but maybe he writes letters to everyone. Letters he'll never send, letters filled to the brim with words he'll never say

In the beginning most of his letters were addressed to Sammy, is baby brother, the only reason he even wanted to hunt. To protect his brother, to allow him to live in a world where nothing goes bump in the night.

And after Sammys first death, nothing was easy, but the letters helped. more than Ben and Lisa more than the few and far between calls he'd pick up from bobby. The letters were the only place where he didn't feel the need to pretend.

But after Sammy came back the letters stopped. Dean convinced himself that Sam was the only reason he felt this empty pit in his heart and once he came back he didn't need the letters anymore. Even if he wanted to write, where would he even get the time or privacy.

They'd stopped, but Dean still carried them around like stolen momentous that he constantly told himself he needed to get rid of (and conveniently forget to)

The second time the letters start is when he loses Cas to the leviathan. He's angry, he hates what Cas did to them... what he did to himself. 'Fuck this! fuck you and fuck every other prissy angel out there! I shouldve never trusted you i hate you. i hate you for leaving us more fucked over than the last 2 apocalypses, i hate you for leaving with your tail tucked between your legs. I hate you just for leaving at all, so come back so i can yell at you to your face, you coward! Just come back'

Every thought in his head that he can't bring himself to yell out loud, he tells the parchment with his pen as the vessel.

'Shit is getting fucking harder, we need you cas we cant do this without you' 'I can't do this without you"

When Cas comes back the letters stopped again. Dean finds a place to hide them so well that half the time he forgets they're even there

And thats just how the cycle goes, he writes when talking takes more energy than he has left to give. One for each person he's ever lost. 10 for Sam, 20 for Cas.

Sometimes he just writes when he's angry at someone. 20 for Sam, 30 for Cas

Sometimes he just writes for the sake of it, unspoken words he's too scared to confess out loud. 50 for Cas, 100 for Cas, all for Cas

When Dean dies, Sam finds the stash of letters stowed away in a dusty old shoebox on the roof of Dean's cupboard. He sees the letters addressed to him. Something in him is begging him not to read them, but his curiosity gets the better of him.

He should've listened to that something because for the rest of the day after that Sam finds himself reading through letter after letter that was written to him but never sent. He cries like a baby, the kind of sob that Dean would've made fun of him for when they were kids. Gosh what he'd give just to hear Dean give him a snarky remark now.

Sam doesn't read the letters addressed to other people, he doesn't have the heart too anymore. So the next day he makes it a mission to take the letters to everyone Dean has ever written too

Two letters left where they'd spread Charlie's Ashes, One at Kevin's, four for Dad, four for mom, one for crowley, three for Jack, and on it goes

Until the only things left are the unread letters addressed to Castiel. Even after taking out all the other ones it still feels like the box is over flowing, but cas is the only one left.

He leaves them in the flower feild where Dean had spread Cas' ashes. Sam knew that it wasn't where Cas was layed to rest, because truth be told Sam had no idea what had even happened to Cas. Dean refused to talk about it and Sam was too distraught by the awful expression on Dean's face every time Cas became a topic to bring it up over and over again.

So he let the letters go in a place where he thought Cas would appreciate. Wherever he was, Sam hoped that it would bring him peace - the thought that Dean would have wanted him to rest in a place as beautiful as the flower field over looking the mountains.

#i was listening to ever more and when the line #“writing letters addressed to the fire”#came up it was like an inspiration lightbulb moment #dean writes i know does trust me im the pen #swiftie dean winchester #swiftnatural #supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn #destiel #evermore #taylor swift #spn headcanon

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sardonic-the-writer · 1 year

Note

Hey Sard! I just had an oral surgery and was hoping to get an imagine/headcannon to help me cope! I was thinking a Charlie and Ted poly (or just one of them will work haha!) Where the reader (preferably he/They or amab they/them) just had their wisdom teeth removed and are saying the most random and silly shit ever (example- I was convinced I was d_@d in the car home). And Charlie is trying to calm them down, while Ted is just provoking the Reader's drugged state 😂 Anyway, thanks! Love ya :D

this is such a fucking hilarious idea. one problem. im not taking requests so stop sending them please unless you're mutuals. im only doing this for comfort right now since my nights not doing so well

"Okay, say that one more time again for me (Y/n)."

Ted's grin was poorly contained, eyes filled with amusement as he leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Th' fffucken seagulls. Coming to kill us all with their baby carrying beaks!"

"Storks carry the babies. Not seagulls."

"What!? Noooooooo."

You were currently laying on your back on Ted's couch, mouth swollen and brain essentially mush.

It was expected of course. You had just gotten done with getting your wisdom teeth removed after a few months of pain, something that was long overdue.

You had known you would be coming out of the dentist's office drugged and high as a kite, so you'd asked—read: forced—your friends Ted and Charlie to take you home afterwards, making sure that you didn't talk too much so you could heal.

Yeah. Only one of those things happened.

"Leave them alone, Ted." Charlie's words were serious as he awkwardly maneuvered his limbs to keep the ice pack in his hands on your face, but Ted knew he was just as entertained by your lunatic ramblings as he was. "They trusted us to make sure they would heal afterward. And I personally don't want to explain that the reason their mouth is bleeding again was because you wanted to hear about how seagulls are coming to kill us."

"Come on, you know they'd do the same to us if we were the delusional ones." He responded with a chuckle. Charlie rolled his eyes but silently laughed all the same, knowing he was right.

"Charles." You suddenly gasped, knocking the mans hand away feom your jaw and scrambling up to grab his arm woozily. "We're in grave danger. You must hide."

"..what?" He sputtered, halfway between laughing and scolding you for rushing up so quickly.

"Seaaagullsssss."

"Sit down (Y/n)."

"But the sky demons!" You cried, dramatically throwing yourself into him. He just caught you before pushing you back and looking at Ted, as if to signal for help.

The other man sighed, realizing that Charlie was right, and you probably did need to rest. And as much as he wanted to keep picking apart your brain in this state; he opted for getting up to walk over to the couch you were still on.

"Listen. If the seagulls come, I'll—" Ted paused a moment before continuing, remembering something he would say to Schlatt as a joke sometimes. "—I'll get the big fist to shoot them out of the sky."

You stopped mindlessly rambling at that, peaking open one eye to look at him skeptically. He nearly cracked a smile at your silly expression, knowing full well he would never let you live this down.

"Are you sure that will work" You slightly glared at him, dragging out the sure in suspicion.

"Very sure."

You didn't say anything for a moment. Ted's brows furrowed together as he waited for you to respond to him. It took the soft snores drifting out of your mouth for either of the boys hovering over you to realize that you had fallen dead asleep right in front of them.

"Oh thank god." Charlie sighed deeply before falling backward onto the floor with his arms and legs out. Clearly very happy that you had gone to sleep. "I thought I would have had to tie them down and force them to stop talking."

"Now that would've been funny."

"Shut the fuck up Ted and let me have this moment."

He just laughed.

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agirlwithdemonblood · 11 months

Text

The Broken Fan - Chapter 1

Pairings: Jensen Ackles & Reader (Read as first person!)

Series Summary: Always a nobody, always invisible, will this convention change things?

Chapter Summary: Growing up was never easy for me, but finally I may have found some light in my very dark world.

Warnings: Mentions of death, parents death, mentions of abuse, homelessness, anxiety, ect

Series Masterlist here! Main masterlist here!

Do you ever feel like if you disappeared today, nobody would notice? The world wouldn't stop, your disappearance wouldn't be plastered on milk cartons or across news channels, nobody would even know or care. That was my life. Nobody knew me, or cared for me. Nobody noticed me, not really. I was a ghost, an invisible presence left alone, all alone.

My parents died when I was a baby, I was too young to remember who they were or what happened really. I know what my Aunt told me, they wanted a night to themselves, so she babysat me. Around 4 in the morning she received a phone call saying that they passed away, asleep in their beds when the fire took their lives.

I don't even remember having parents, I have photographs of us together, but their faces are unknown to me. I didn't know them, I didn't get the chance.

After the fire, I stayed with my Aunt. Things were weird there. She'd look at me with such heartbreak and disgust and I had no idea why. I was just a kid, what did I do?

But I must have done something wrong, because when I turned 6 she told me she couldn't take care of me anymore, and the next morning two kind people packed me in their car and drove me away. I never saw my Aunt again.

My first foster home was alright, I was happy for a little bit. There were a lot of kids in the house, various ages, both sexes. I didn't like the kids too much. They were loud and annoying, and hyper. They always wanted to play stupid games like hide and seek, or tag. I didn't want to play dumb games, I wanted something real. I wanted to connect, to have somebody next to me.

And eventually, I did.

Henry, my foster dad, was always there for me. He actually cared about me, noticed me, heard me. He would spend hours at night reading me fairy tales until I fell asleep, and during the day he'd teach me things like how to ride a bike or read.

I had an actual connection with him, he was the closest thing to a father I ever had, and I loved him more than anybody. I thought I finally had somebody permeant in my life, but I was wrong.

My foster mom Sandy didn't like me. She hated the fact that her husband had his attention on me, and she thought it was strange for a six year old to bond with an older man rather than the children all around me. She said it wasn't healthy.

So he was taken away from me. After many tears shed and heartbreaking hugs, I said goodbye to the only person who's ever seen me for me, and moved to a new foster home.

The new home was horrible. The parents weren't friendly, and I was the only child in their care. I was forced to follow their schedule which consisted of three boring things, every day.

Cleaning, school, homework, food, bed. No reading fairy tales, no riding my bike, no playing with toys.

I hated it there. I felt so alone, so invisible. So I left. I ran away thinking I'd be better off somewhere else. But as a 7 year old girl, I didn't get very far and as soon as I returned, things got bad.

At first, it was the belt. My foster dad would smack my arms hard, than my legs, sometimes my face if I was a bad enough kid. If I cried or continued to disobey, the belt was replaced with his palms. This happened for years, non stop torture.

I didn't stop trying to run away, every few months I'd take off, praying that nobody would find me, they'd leave me alone but everytime I was brought back and beaten worse.

Finally, the parent's gave up on me and I went to another home. But I was so angry, so filled with anxiety and rage that I drove away anybody who could possibly care for me.

By the time I was 18, I had been in 13 Foster homes. My last one wasn't too bad, but I didn't talk, I barely ate, I didn't connect. I didn't want another Henry situation. I didn't want to care about others because I knew they'd leave me.

And I was right.

On my 18th Birthday, my present was a knock at my door from my parents telling me I've aged out and I need to leave. I received a check to get me started, a bag of food, and a cell phone, than I was left alone.

The money wasn't much, definetly not enough to get an apartment so I decided to get a car instead. I ended up using all my money to buy a crappy little Honda Civic and I've called it my home ever since.

Sleeping in my car wasn't half bad, I had my own space, I didn't need to listen to anybody or share it with anybody, it was all mine.

One night I parked beside a motel that had free Wifi, and I was bored so I decided to find something to watch, I never really watched TV or movies, but tonight I wanted to.

The first show I found was something called Supernatural, and for some reason I felt a connection, like something was telling me to watch it.

God, am I happy that I did.

The show felt like home, it gave me something to look forward to, something to provide me comfort on the hardest of days. I felt connected, like I knew the characters and I was living their life.

And one of the characters, Dean.. He awoke something inside of me that I never knew was there. He made me feel like I wasn't crazy, that life was hard but I needed to keep going.

The more I watched, the more I started to feel like I belonged somewhere. The show pulled me out of the darkness slowly, convincing me that life was better if I was here to live it. It gave me hope. It allowed me to breathe again.

Today is my 25th birthday, and I was celebrating like I always did, drinking beer in my car and listening to music while mindlessly scrolling through a page for Supernatural fans.

I froze when I glanced about an article about Supernatural's newest convention, which happened to be a few hours from where I lived. Normally, I wouldn't think twice about going, people like me don't go to shows or events like this, but I needed this. I really needed it.

I checked my bank account and nearly leaped with joy when I realized I had enough for a ticket, living in my car finally payed off.

Without hesitation, I bought a ticket for the convention and for the first time, I felt excited. I felt hope beaming inside of me. I could finally be surrounded with people with similar interests, and feel normal for once. Hopefully.

The next morning, I walked into the office building I worked at, and made my boss Brad a coffee, like he always expected. Knocking on his door, I took a deep breath before entering, walking towards his marble desk and placing the coffee on the table.

He nodded before taking the cup in his hand and sipping it, like he always did. His eyes flickered up towards me when he noticed I haven't left yet.

"Do you need something?" He asked.

I swallowed hard and stepped closer to the desk, "I just wanted to ask you something if you had a moment."

He nodded for me to go on and I shook off the anxiety nearly suffocating me. Confidence, I need to have confidence.

"I was wondering if I could take a week off starting Friday evening, there's somewhere I need to go out of town."

He stared back at me, the silence was suffocating, the tension high. He shook his head and looked back down to the papers scattered across his desk.

"No, sorry that won't work."

It felt like a punch to my gut, I haven't taken one day off, I constantly worked overtime, I did everything and anything for this ass, and I can't take some time off?

I swallowed down the nerves and sat in the chair in front of his desk, noting the way he stared at me confused. "Sir, all due respect I have been working non stop for the past 7 months and I have never asked for a day off, I've never taken a sick day and I always have my work done, all I need is-"

Before I could finish my sentence, his hand was raised, eyes locked on mine. "I said no Y/N, is that all?"

I could feel tears welling in my eyes as I stood from my spot, making my way towards the door. Anger was bubbling through my system and I felt like I couldn't breath.

I turned quickly and sighed, "Actually, there's one more thing."

He scoffed and looked up towards me, awaiting my response. I swallowed hard and frowned, "I am not going to be back tomorrow, I quit."

His mouth dropped open and he stared back in shock, but I didn't stay long to hear whatever response he was going to throw at me. I rushed as fast as I could out of the building back to my car. I slammed the door as the tears rushed down my face.

What did I do? Why did I quit my job for a convention? What the hell was so special about this damn show.

I finally let go of all the feelings I was holding onto, bursting into sobs of pain and frustration. Life was harsh and unforgiving, every moment of hope was washed away.

The only thing I had left was the convention, and even than I was clearly going to be the outcast, the weird girl who looks like she's never showered or slept a day in her life.

Maybe it would be okay. Maybe things would be different here, the fans seem nice enough online, why wouldn't they be in person?

And if Dean Winchester was still inside Jensen, I knew he wouldn't look at me like I was garbage, if he ever even noticed me.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 2 coming soon stay tuned!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

#supernatural one shot #jensenxyou #spn fic #jensen x reader #dean x reader #jensen's smile #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean

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sassenach77yle · 2 months

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"What are you doing?" he asked. His hands rested gently on my shoulders.

"Looking for that plant," I answered, sticking a finger between the pages to mind my place. "The one I saw in the stone circle. See…" I flipped the book open.

"It could be in the Campanulaceae, or the Gentianaceae, the Polemoniaceae, the Boraginaceae—that's most likely, I think, forget-me-nots—but it could even be a variant of this one, the Anemone patens."

I pointed out a full color illustration of a pasqueflower. "I don't think it was a gentian of any kind; the petals weren't really rounded, but—"

"Well, why not go back and get it?" he suggested. "Mr. Crook would lend you his old banger, perhaps, or—no, I've a better idea. Borrow Mrs. Baird's car, it's safer. It's a short walk from the road to the foot of the hill.""And then about a thousand yards, straight up," I said. "Why are you so interested in that plant?" I swiveled around to look up at him. The parlor lamp outlined his head with a thin gold line, like a medieval engraving of a saint."It's not the plant I care about. But if you're going up there anyway, I wish you'd have a quick look around the outside of the stone circle.""All right," I said obligingly.

"What for?""Traces of fire," he said. "In all the things I've been able to read about Beltane, fire is always mentioned in the rituals, yet the women we saw this morning weren't using any. I wondered if perhaps they'd set the Beltane fire the night before, then come back in the morning for the dance. Though historically it's the cow herds who were supposed to set the fire. There wasn't any trace of fire inside the circle," he added "But we left before I thought of checking the outside."

"All right," I said again, and yawned. Two early risings in two days were taking their toll. I shut the book and stood up. "Provided I don't have to get up before nine."It was in fact nearly eleven before I reached the stone circle. It was drizzling, and I was soaked through, not having thought to bring a mac. I made a cursory examination of the outside of the circle, but if there had ever been a fire there, someone had taken pains to remove its traces.

The plant was easier to find. It was where I remembered it, near the foot of the tallest stone. I took several clippings of the vine and stowed them temporarily in my handkerchief, meaning to deal with them properly when I got back to Mrs. Baird's tiny car, where I had left the heavy plant presses.The tallest stone of the circle was cleft, with a vertical split dividing the two massive pieces. Oddly, the pieces had been drawn apart by some means. Though you could see that the facing surfaces matched, they were separated by a gap of two or three feet.There was a deep humming noise coming from somewhere near at hand. I thought there might be a beehive lodged in some crevice of the rock, and placed a hand on the stone in order to lean into the cleft.The stone screamed.I backed away as fast as I could, moving so quickly that I tripped on the short turf and sat down hard. I stared at the stone, sweating.I had never heard such a sound from anything living. There is no way to describe it, except to say that it was the sort of scream you might expect from a stone. It was horrible.The other stones began to shout. There was a noise of battle, and the cries of dying men and shattered horses.I shook my head violently to clear it, but the noise went on. I stumbled to my feet and staggered toward the edge of the circle. The sounds were all around me, making my teeth ache and my head spin. My vision began to blur.I do not know now whether I went toward the cleft in the main stone, or whether it was accidental, a blind drifting through the fog of noise.Once, traveling at night, I fell asleep in the passenger seat of a moving car, lulled by the noise and motion into an illusion of serene weightlessness. The driver of the car took a bridge too fast and lost control, and I woke from my floating dream straight into the glare of headlights and the sickening sensation of falling at high speed. That abrupt transition is as close as I can come to describing the feeling I experienced, but it falls woefully short.I could say that my field of vision contracted to a single dark spot, then disappeared altogether, leaving not darkness, but a bright void. I could say that I felt as though I were spinning, or as though I were being pulled inside out. All these things are true, yet none of them conveys the sense I had of complete disruption, of being slammed very hard against something that wasn't there.The truth is that nothing moved, nothing changed, nothing whatever appeared to happen and yet I experienced a feeling of elemental terror so great that I lost all sense of who, or what, or where I was. I was in the heart of chaos, and no power of mind or body was of use against it.I cannot really say I lost consciousness, but I was certainly not aware of myself for some time. I "woke," if that's the word, when I stumbled on a rock near the bottom of the hill. I half slid the remaining few feet and fetched up on the thick tufted grass at the foot.I felt sick and dizzy. I crawled toward a stand of oak saplings and leaned against one to steady myself. There was a confused noise of shouting nearby, which reminded me of the sounds I had heard, and felt, in the stone circle. The ring of inhuman violence was lacking, though; this was the normal sound of human conflict, and I turned toward it.

Cap 2 Standing Stones~ Outlander

#outlander #outlanderedit #the frasers #jamie fraser #outlander starz #outlander series #outlander fanart #jamie&claire #jamie and claire #claire fraser #claire beauchamp #dr claire randall #caitrionabalfe #outlander books #outlander book #outlander season 1 #outlander 1x01

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halogalopaghost · 1 year

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The Height of Comedy

Read on AO3

During a weekend getaway at the Jones family farm, the turtles (and Casey) get into a friendly spat around the kitchen table, that makes Leo feel a little self-conscious.

Cheering erupted around the table as Donnie bravely stuffed one more marshmallow into his mouth. He threw his hands over his head with a choked sort of mouth-full-of-mallow cry of victory.

April walked into the kitchen at that very moment and stopped dead in the doorway to stare.

The cheering, from both Donnie’s brothers and Casey, stopped as all heads turned to April. Don tried to close his mouth and found that he actually could not, so he grinned guiltily instead.

“Donatello,” she said with the full force of her big-sister voice, “spit those out before you choke.

He brought his hand up to his mouth and turned out the sticky mess.

“Into the trash!” she cried. They had never seen her move so fast as she dove for the bin and brought it to Donnie’s side.

The laughter started anew as Donnie, face purple with flushed embarrassment, was dragged over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. Mikey and Raph clung to each other, tears gathering in their eyes while their stomachs ached with the sheer force of their laughter.

The group was spending a week at the farm to get away from it all for a while. Raph and Mike, resident sweet tooth committee, came prepared with multiple bags of marshmallows and chocolate. Maybe tooprepared. Three days in, they had yet to be able to consume any s’mores. They were drowning in cold autumn rain.

Donnie was returned to the table with freshly de-stickied hands. April paused in the doorway to give them all a narrow, calculating look, then snatched the open bag of marshmallows off the table. It went with her to the living room, where she and Splinter were marathoning ‘I Love Lucy’.

They dutifully groaned and complained as she walked away with the bag. As soon as she was out of earshot, Mikey reached into a tote bag under the table and withdrew a brand-new package.

“I wiped the floor with your measly fourteen marshmallows!” Donnie declared to Mikey. “I had seventeen.”

Mikey turned his snout up, eyes closed. “You forget, dear brother, that if you cannot close your mouth, it doesn’t count.”

The chaos began anew.

“You never closed your mouth!” Don cried.

“To be fair,” Raph muttered, “I don’t think he ever can.”

“But I coulda!”

Leo sat back with a smile, watching it all unfold like one of Sensei’s television stories. Raph met his eyes briefly, and they both suppressed a smirk.

What Mike, Casey, and Don didn’t know is that over the summer, Leo and Raph had a wild hair in the middle of the night and ended up in the kitchen, roasting marshmallows over the open flame of the propane stovetop. They'd laughed as they burned their fingers getting too close or touching the scorching hot fork after pulling it away from the flame, and before long they were goofing off more than making a snack. He couldn't even remember how or why it happened, but he crammed 20 uncooked marshmallows in his mouth before he had to stop, only because Raphael was laughing so hard he almost passed out, and waking the household became a real concern. Raph knew what he was doing when he looked at Mikey and said, 'bet you can't fit ten in your mouth'.

The squabbling around the table died down as Don explained his theories about the turtles' disproportionately large mouths. Casey, who had only managed to fit a mere six mallows in his average-size human mouth, nodded along.

"—honestly, I'm just glad we ended up with teeth," he finished.

Casey nodded. "Mhm, mhm, 'n that's also why I should be declared winner. You all cheated!"

Raph preempted the following shouts from Mike and Don. "Ya got it all wrong," he said, propping a foot on the leg of the table and tipping his chair back. "Leo's the winner."

All eyes turned to Leo, then back to Raph.

"For being most boring?" Mikey asked. Leo stuck his tongue out at him, and the younger brother happily returned the favor.

“Fer getting’ twenty marshmallows in that smug little face ‘a his.”

Mikey and Don’s jaws dropped right away. Casey just threw up his hands in defeat—seemed like that big mouth of his was strictly metaphorical.

Mike whirled on Raph. “You’re fibbing!”

“I swear to turtle-god!”

He slammed his hand down on the table. “Swear on our mother’s grave!”

“We don’t have a mother,” Donnie deadpanned.

Mike whirled again to face Don, mask tails trailing behind him. He gasped theatrically and pressed a hand to his plastron like he was clutching his pearls or something. “We did too! She’s probably in turtle-heaven now, turtle-god rest her turtle-soul.” He turned on Raph again. “Swear on Chuck E. Cheesus!”

Raph slapped a hand on the table and raised the other one as if he were swearing on an invisible bible. Turtle-bible? “I swear! Guy’s got a black hole in there or somethin’.”

“Ooh, so that’s where it all went. Instead of getting taller, Leo just got a big mouth,” Donnie teased.

Leo felt his face get hot and ducked his head instinctively to hide it. “It’s not like I’m gonna be this height forever.” He purposefully avoided the s-word. “I’ve got time for another growth spurt.”

The table went silent.

He looked up to find everyone else already staring at him.

“What!?” he demanded.

“Oh you sweet summer child,” Mike muttered, shaking his head.

“Human males tend to stop growing height-wise around sixteen or seventeen,” Don said matter-of-factly.

Mikey broke the silence, leaping out of his chair to throw his arms around Leo’s neck. “Aww! It’s Leo’s turn to be the littlest brother!”

He tried (with no success) to shove Mikey off. “I’m still taller than you!”

“Pff, that ship sailed a long time ago, baby bro.”

“Does this mean I’m in charge now?” Don asked.

No one acknowledged him except Raphael, who flatly said, “No.” And added for good measure, “Beanpole.”

“Butt face,” he fired back.

“You are not taller than me!” Leo insisted again. Mikey continued to hang off his neck, cooing at him.

“Fellas, fellas,” Casey said, standing into a stretch. He placed a hand on Mike and Leo’s shoulders and leaned down. “Yer both short.”

Casey was promptly boo’d out of the room, getting jeers even from 5’10 Donatello, but he left with a laugh.

“You’re not taller,” Leo grumbled again.

“There’s a way to prove that y’know,” Mikey said, singsong.

Donnie grabbed his staff from where it leaned against the table and used it to hook the strap on his ever-present duffle bag and drag it over. From within its depths, he withdrew a tape measure and grinned.

Mikey shoved away from Leo to bolt upright. “Me first!” He smacked his shell against the drywall beside the kitchen door.

Leo groaned.

Raph clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, getting closer to properly spectate. “What’sa matter, Fearless? Scared you’re wrong?”

Leo only gave him a withering glare and, knowing that meant Leo knew he was wrong, Raphael let out one of his deep-chested laughs.

Donnie marked the wall with a pencil and Mikey stepped out of the way so he could measure. “Looks like the height to beat is five-five.”

Despite knowing that it ultimately didn’t matter at all, Leo’s stomach twisted. He was the leader—the appointed oldest son! He didn’t want to be the short one. But his brothers started jeering at him, with Raph making scarily accurate chicken sounds, so he sighed with the weight of nineteen years spent as the eldest of four brothers and shuffled over to bonk his shell against the wall.

Don rested the pencil against the crown of his head and made the mark behind him. He drew his mouth into a thin, grim line.

“What? Am I taller or not?”

Donnie handed the pencil to Raph and stepped aside. “Corroborate my findings, please.”

Raph grinned. Mikey bounced on his toes impatiently.

“No cheatin’,” Raph mumbled, making a show of bending over to make sure the pencil was level. Suddenly, he barked a laugh right in Leo’s face.

Leo jumped away and shoved him, still cackling, backward into Mike.

Donnie measured the mark while Mike and Raph quickly devolved into wrestling on the kitchen floor. They paused as Donnie drew back with the results.

He sighed. “Sorry Leo—”

He didn’t get out any more than that before Mikey exploded with excitement. He attacked Leo from the side, wrapping his arms around his chest and shoulders and squeezing tight, damn near lifting him off the ground. “Yeah BOY! Who’s the baby now, huh?” He pinched Leo’s cheek. “Who’s your daddy? Who’s the tall one? M—!”

Leo’s elbow dashed away from his side and right into Mikey’s solar plexus, just hard enough to make him release a breathless oof. He doubled over with a hand on his leathery plastron. Raph grabbed Donnie for support as he started laughing.

Leo looked down at him and shrugged. “Looks like I am.”

Mikey coughed. “Okay,” he croaked out, despite his apparent lack of oxygen, “I had that coming.”

Donnie put his hand on Leo’s shoulder. “My condolences, heightless leader.”

Raph wheezed.

----------------------

Later that evening, Leo found himself without much of anything to do. He was too wired to sleep, but he had been coerced into meditating and training only once a day on their little vacation. He tried reading in bed and letting the sound of the rain on the tin roof coax him to sleep, but he couldn’t focus on the words. For once, the philosophy and war tactics weren’t interesting to him. He stood and stretched, then went down the stairs and straight out the front door.

The stars, usually so brilliant and comforting out here, were buried deep beneath a blanket of dark clouds. Leo watched the horizon anyway, hoping to catch sight of a star through the rain.

He sat in the old wooden porch swing, realizing with a little bit of a grumble to himself that his feet didn’t touch the ground. He pointed his toes to reach out and push off the ground every so often, gently swinging himself. The rhythmic creaking of the chains above was relaxing to him—this place was one of the few things in his life that brought back only happy memories.

He was fully relaxed into the swing, just starting to get chilly in the humid autumn air, when the front door opened. He made eye contact with Don as he stuck his head out, then retreated and closed the door behind him.

Leo blinked after him, confused, but not confused enough to leave his comfy seat. He didn’t have to wonder long anyway; the door opened again and his brother returned with a quilt bundled in his arms. He sat in the space Leo made for him and spread the blanket across their legs. Leo scooted just a little closer—Donnie was nice and warm from being inside.

“Am I bothering you?” Don whispered.

Leo breathed out a laugh. “No.”

He turned back to the horizon to keep his star-vigil. Lightning flashed in the distance. Nearly a minute passed before the rumble of thunder reached them.

“Aristotle popularized the myth that cloud collisions cause thunder and lightning,” Donnie said in a hushed tone. “Thunder is actually a sort of sonic boom that occurs when the air around the lightning is superheated suddenly." He fell silent for a moment, watching lightning play in the distance. "Lightning is roughly five times hotter than the surface of the sun.”

Leo nodded along. He thought cloud collisions caused thunder too, maybe he read it in a book somewhere once.

“What’re you thinking about?” Don continued to keep his voice low, and Leo appreciated it.

A smile curved his mouth without reaching his eyes. He considered lying to spare his empathetic brother the angsty nature of his idle thoughts, but Donnie would know if he did, then set Raph on him.

He took a deep breath as lightning flashed again. “Do you think I’d have been taller if it weren’t for…” he touched the place where his shell was still split at the shoulder. The utrom had been able to save more of his shell than Donnie would have been, with their scant supplies, but they still had their limitations. The broken and damaged scutes were only just starting to grow back, misshapen though they were. “If it weren’t for the Foot?”

He felt Don turn to look at him. He deliberately stayed focused on the creak of the swing and the patter of rain in the mud.

“Probably,” Don said finally. His voice came out hoarse. “You and Mikey did suffer the brunt of the injuries that could have damaged your growth plates. Your shell, Mike’s knees…”

Suffered. Hm.

“Stress, lack of sleep, improper nutrition, it all contributes to growth in human children. I imagine we aren’t much different.”

Leo’s mouth felt dry. “Well, on that list, I’m four out of four.”

He wanted to laugh about it. It was all over anyway—they had a warm, safe, above-ground home; all their enemies were dead, in hiding, or turned to allies. They were well-fed on marshmallows straight from the factory-sealed bag, rather than from a container of gooey marshmallow fluff that hadn’t been scraped entirely clean before being discarded. His height didn’t matter in comparison to those things, not even a little. But it still bothered him.

Growing up. Another key part of childhood that was taken right out from under him.

He realized he’d been silent too long when Donnie began shifting uncomfortably. They both drew a breath to speak at the same time, then laughed. Leo waved for him to go ahead.

“I was just thinking…maybe you would have been short anyway. Raph and I grew up in the same conditions and—” He gestured broadly at himself. “I’m five-ten. Raph’s five-eight.”

Suddenly Leo’s ten years old again, casually declaring he was stuffed before handing off most of his portion to whichever brother was hungriest—usually Raphael as he rapidly put on weight and muscle, or Donnie as he constantly shot upward. He smiled and decided to keep that one to himself.

The door creaked open and Mikey, much like Donnie had earlier, stuck his head out to look for his missing brothers. On seeing them, he started toward the swing with a grin.

“Still nursing your wounds, baby brother?”

Donnie glared as Mike lifted the quilt and inserted himself between the two of them. “Actually, we were talking about how you were probably destined to be short, but Leo’s growth might have been stunted by carrying your sorry shell around for years.”

“Donnie,” Leo laughed out.

Mikey snuggled against Leo’s chest and closed his eyes. “It's okay, I get to be big brother now. I’m gonna protect youuu, and lecture you about honooor, and wake you up early in the morniiing…” He tilted his face up, eyes suddenly serious. “If it bothers you, I’ll stop.”

Leo wrapped an arm around his neck to trap him in for a noogie. “No more than you usually bother me, shell-for-brains. Besides, you need something new to brag about after how hard you lost the Battle Nexus last year.”

Mike smacked his plastron. “Hey! Sensitive topic!”

The front door of the farmhouse swung open suddenly, the outer screen door thrown open with so much force that it bounced off the wall. Raphael came barreling out and stopped just short of them, threw his head back, and opened his mouth.

“RHENNTY-RHU AYEEY!” he shouted. The mass of marshmallows in his mouth moved as he tried so very hard to speak intelligibly.

“That was Raphael-With-His-Mouth-Full for ‘twenty-two, baby’,” Mikey helpfully noted.

Leo managed to shake off the stunned silence first, laughing a little before he said, “Congrats, Raph. You got the biggest mouth of us all.”

Raph spit marshmallows at him.

#turtleposting #the ghost writes #tmnt #tmnt 03 #tmnt 2003 #fanfic #crosspost

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yandere-fics · 1 month

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Outside of omegaverse I'd like to imagine if Runa was being stalked by her darling she'd be super oblivious. Characters like Kassien and Abigail seem like they'd be aware of their darling's stalker tendencies, and would almost be luring them in, doing stuff like changing by the window so their darling tries getting a closer look. Runa however. I can't see her being anything but painfully oblivious. She's probably stalking you too, ever since you came in and stared out the window in the coffee shop she worked at. However what she doesn't know, is every time she's watching you from afar, every time you appear on the same street as her, every single time you walk into her coffee shop at the quietest time of the day so she can ask your order just a little bit slower - it's all been part of your plan. You've been watching her for months, you can't sleep without thinking of her, your mild crush has boiled into fullblown obsession. And she has no idea.

Maybe stalker darling is a freak, like a major freak. Sneaking in through windows behind Runa, pulling your phone out to record her slashing a man to death. The way she laughs at the sound of his cries for help coming out as nothing more than a gurgle through the gash in his throat. The blood staining her pale skin. The pleasure she takes in decorating the floor with his organs. It's. So fucking hot. You can't help but slide your free hand under your waistband, Runa's bloodlust stimulating you in a way you never thought possible. Perhaps for a second his eyes lock onto yours, he gurgles for help with the last of his strength, the light leaving his eyes as he goes limp, bringing you over the edge to climax. Maybe the post nut clarity hits and you think about the fact you just came to watching someone die, but he deserved it, no harm no foul. You shrug and run on home with your new footage, making sure no one saw you leave. Especially not Runa.

Perhaps one night when Runa decides to take you, she breaks into your apartment and stands over you, watching you sleep peacefully. She observes you for a while, noticing a familiar smell. A real familiar smell. She leans in a little closer, noticing you're wearing the shirt she's been searching all over for. Even several pairs of her underwear are bunched up in your hand, held tightly to your nose like a perverted bouquet. Her confusion spikes, suddenly starting to process she's not the real stalker here, before she sees a blue light coming from the other room. She quietly approaches your computer, clicking open the only running tab, it'a a camera feed, live of her apartment. There's one in her room, one in her shower, one in the hall. There are dozens of files saved to your harddrive of her changing, showering, crying, masturbating, just about every little intimate moment captured on camera. Her face goes red, she doesn't know if she's terrified or ecstatic. She wanders back into your room, pulling out a needle and softly injecting you.

You wake up to the sensation, seeing Runa standing in the corner of your room. 'These were always the best dreams' you thought to yourself before realising... shit. This isn't a dream. You look back at her grinning face and you panic - getting up and trying to run. She doesn't even chase you, your body weighs a million tons, you stumble and hit the floor hard. She kneels beside you, wrapping a nice soft rope around your wrists as you fight to stay awake, the world is spinning, your eyes feel like they're about to roll out of your head. She begins dragging you out the front door, your eyes shutting as you leave your apartment behind forever.

"Let's go home, you little creep."

(I once again got too carried away with Runa thoughts)

-girlfailure

Def fucking the moment she gets you back home, she has to properly enjoy her little creep.

#girlfailure anon

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ochako-deserves-better · 5 months

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It would be weird- Kacchako (romantic) [Past IzuOcha]

Inspired by this post

Ochako found the better part of her class sitting in a circle on the floor in the common room. Maybe it was nostalgia that compelled them to relive their first bonding night in the dorms, maybe it was sadness at the countdown on their days together. Unlike their first year, however, a slightly-less-grumpy-but-still-grumpy Bakugo joined the festivities (at least mostly) by his own choice. He settled himself diagonal from her, with Kirishima and Mina separating the two.

They joked about the "Dekusquad" and the "Bakusquad," and how the groups blended seamlessly about a third of the way through their second year together. Couples emerged and ended with no animosity. The deep-rooted platonic bond between every member of the group seemed to be indestructible.

...It wasn't like Ochako hadn't thought about it. She's had crushes on a few of her classmates, but was too afraid to risk the fallout should their relationship go sour... even though, as she had mentioned, there hasn't been a nasty break up... ever.

Her current crush has tortured her for nearly a year, her mind consistently plagued with scarlet eyes and the crackle of firecrackers. His passion and drive has always drawn Ochako in, but as their friendship grew, she had seen an endearing side to the boy that had completely captured her heart.

But this was it. In less than a month they'd all be going to their new agencies, potentially never working together again. In less than a month, that secretly sweet smile would no longer live across the hall.

"Girl, are you good?" Mina shook Ochako's shoulder, chasing away the thought.

"Wha-? Oh, yeah, sorry! Just, lost in thought I guess," she trailed off with a laugh.

"So? Truth or dare?" Mina asked, a devious grin on her face.

Ochako swore under her breath. Izuku or Jirou would've given her something low-risk, but Mina was evil in these games. What she chose didn't matter--she was going to reveal something. "Ugh, Mina why me?" she whined. "Fine. Uh, truth? I guess? Please be nice to me."

Mina laughed, "No way. Hmmm," she tapped her index finger to her chin as she thought, glancing at Bakugo before turning back to her.

Shit. Why did she tell Mina she had a thing for Bakugo??

"Why haven't you dated anyone since your two dates with Midoriya? And I know for a fact it's not that you still like him," she teased. Ochako and Midoriya decided together that they loved each other in a strictly platonic way after a catastrophic attempt at kissing each other.

"Mina, please," Ochako cried, her face blooming in red as her friends laughed. She knew that all eyes were on her, but Bakugo's gaze burned into the side of her face, forcing her to look at the floor to avoid making eye contact.

"Wait! Mina, do you know who she likes?!" Hagakure called out, gloved hands flying up to cover her mouth [assumedly].

Ochako whined, admitting to the whole group that yes, she had feelings for someone, and yes, Mina knew their identity.

"I am sworn to secrecy," Mina shook her head, "So, O.cha.ko.chan?" she sang sweetly. "Why are you still single?"

Ochako buried her head in her hands, "I dunno," she admitted after collecting herself, "We've gotten really close as friends and... it'd be weird."

"How do you know?" a new voice spoke up, making Ochako's heart stutter. She snapped her head up, staring at Bakugo with wild eyes. "You're running out of time, Cheeks. You really okay with never knowing if they feel the same way?"

Oh God. Oh no. He knew. He definitely knew. "I don't. uh. I don't think it's mutual so."

"But you don't know?" Bakugo countered. Ochako swore everyone else disappeared, suddenly it was just Bakugo and Ochako, face to face.

"I guess not?" Ochako stammered out, "um. I-- I need to get a drink or uh. I'll be right back, someone else take my turn for me." She rose from her spot, half skipping out of the room to try to play off her panic.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mina scoot around Kirishima.

In the kitchen, Ochako grabbed two ice packs and all but slammed them against her face. The cold sensation made her gasp, but she needed something, anything to think about except what just happened. She needed to calm down, and quickly.

She startled when the kitchen door slammed open. She felt two hands clap on her shoulder and spin her around. "What did Mina mean by--" Bakugo started to snap, before his eyes focused on the icepacks "What the fuck are you doing."

Ochako stared at him, mouth agape. "What did she tell you?" she forced herself to speak.

"Just that I needed to go after you. I fucked up, didn't I? I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that."

"It's not that." She set the icepacks down. Now or never. "It wasn't what was said. It was the fact that it was you that said it." She squared her shoulders, embarrassment evolving into frustration. "Bakugo, if you knew I liked you, why would you embarrass me like that?!"

"I-!" Bakugo faltered. He dropped his hands from her shoulders, dumbly pointing at himself with his left hand. "Me?"

Ochako blinked owlishly at the boy. "Are you saying... you didn't know?"

Bakugo screwed up his face, "No?! Because if I knew, we wouldn't be having this conversation, dumbass! I-" He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath. Ochako was too distracted by her own heart pounding in her ears to notice the crimson blush radiating from his ears.

"You were going to let us graduate without telling me?" he said after a while, his voice wavering as he tried to rein in his emotions.

"I mean, yeah. I don't want to lose you, and.."

"You thought you'd lose me what, if we broke up?"

"yeah? Or if you were weirded out that I liked you, or--"

"Stop. Stop. I," his hands found her shoulders again. "I was going to tell you on Graduation Day. That way if you rejected me I wouldn't have to think about you being across the fuckin' hall." She felt his hands tug on her shoulders, coaxing her toward him. Ochako beamed, throwing herself against him and wrapping her arms around him.

They held each other for a beat, before the rest of the situation reentered their minds. "We should go back, I don't want to miss our last real hangout as a group," Ochako lamented as she stepped out of his grasp. Bakugo nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way.

As they entered back into the room, the game was still in full swing. Kirishima was upside-down, doing handstand pushups in the center of the circle. Laughing at their friend's antics, the two settled back into the circle opting this time to sit side by side.

Kirishima flipped back to his feet, giving a dramatic bow to the cheers from the circle. "Bakubro! Did you see that?" Kirishima beamed at his best friend. "Bet you can't beat my record!" he teased, leaning down to be closer to eye level without sitting.

Bakugo scoffed, leaning back on his arms, "Shut the fuck up, you know I can kick your ass at anything." Ochako rolled her eyes, laughing lightly at his showboating. He glanced at her, the right side of his mouth curling up at her reaction.

"Okay, Fine. Bakugo. Truth or dare?" Kirishima asked, a challenge in his grin.

"Bring it on. Dare. And make it a good one, none of that baby shit."

"I dare you to climb up th--" Kirishima started, before Mina leaped to her feet and slapped her hand over his mouth.

"No! Physical challenges aren't a dare to Bakugo!" Mina interrupted. "We need to hit him where it hurt. Emotions."

The entire group crowed with laughter. Izuku laughed so hard his eyes began to water. "Shut up," Bakugo groaned. He shot an icy glare toward Izuku, "especially you, shithead." He shifted his gaze back to Mina. "Go ahead."

Mina's eyes met Ochako's quickly before returning to the blonde. "I dare you to confess to your crush." She smirks.

Bakugo deadpanned. "Nah. Can't do that. Gimme another one."

Mina put her hands on her hips, a smug look on her face. "What's the matter? Scared?"

"Nah. It's not that. It's just--" Reaching out, Bakugo hooked Ochako's farther shoulder with his hand, yanking her toward him. She not-so-gracefully thunked into him, her heart threatening to leap out of her chest. Ochako craned her neck to look at him, wide-eyed. Swiftly, Bakugo leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Ochako's temple. Looking back to Mina with a toothy grin on his face, Bakugo smugly finished the thought, "I already did."

How many different ways can I write about Uraraka and Bakugo confessing to each other? When I made this side blog, I figured I'd be writing for other ships too, but once I started writing Kacchako, they have completely taken over my brain. I love them so much 😭 Feel free to request other ships if you want. Or if you have other Kacchako requests, I'd be happy to give it a shot! (I also might be working on a bigger fic, Actress/Bodyguard Quirkless AU 👀 But that one will probably be the first fic on my new, second AO3 account lol)

#bnha #bnha drabble #bnha writing #kacchako #mha #mha drabble #mha writing #dynamight x uravity #bakugo x uraraka #oops another kacchako confession fic #their dynamic is just so good #hope you aren't sick of these yet because I have SO many more ideas lmfao

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