ILoveFanfics

[everythingfox]

Fuzzy slipper with zoomies

[februairy]

hi are there any acesabo favorite pixiv novels you love? 💓

UGH I HAVE PLENTY... i have like.... (checking) 137 bookmarks on pixiv novels 😭😭

sorting it to 5 titles... (it's very hard, there are sooo many that i love to reread). also beware, if you are reading a rated novel on pixiv, there's going to be.... a mature advertisement at the bottom of your screen. so you might want to be careful when reading in public 😂

okay here we go (i'm translating the title with google automatic translate, so maybe there are some mistranslation~)

1. no matter what, i'll be there for you (modern-setting, hurt/comfort, completed, 7 chapters, r18): link

always be my favorite, i loooove their characterization here. sabo had two personalities. the other personality (lucy) appeared most of the time just to take care of sabo's own physical body (esp. eating) bcs the real sabo currently not in a condition where he could do it due to his mental state. ace took care of sabo in this story. and lucy knew that ace had feelings for the real sabo so lucy often teased ace and even pretending to be the 'real' sabo haha. also slight shansabo.

2. you don't know how much i love you (canon setting, ace alive au, hurt/comfort, completed, 3 chapters, r18): part 1, part 2, part 3

MY FAV. I EVEN DREW THE SCENE FROM THIS STORY!!! acesabo boyfriends ❤️ until one day ace lost his memories but only about sabo. but not only that, he is very hostile towards sabo. UGH. happy ending i swear, i really love the ending.

3. my secret love (modern setting, mafia ace/novice spy sabo, oneshot, completed, romcom action i guess? hurt/comfort also, r18): link

the sexual tension is very heavy from the start lol. clumsy novice spy sabo is cute and charismatic tease mafia ace is deliciousSss 😋 if you like this setting, you might also like mafia ace/model sabo here: link

4. wave, don't take me away (modern setting reincarnation, ace with memories/sabo without memories of past life, hurt/comfort, oneshot, completed, pg): link

sabo always felt the ocean calling him, while ace preventing him to come closer to the sea. always love it when ace took care of sabo.

5. my thought process is loose (modern setting, romcom, slightly dubious consent (whoops), 6 chapters, r18): link

though there are 6 chapters, my favorite are chapter 1~3. sabo doesn't like to wear underwear at home bcs it is a hassle, he makes it hard for ace lmao. just a funny story that i read if i need something light :3

and many more, you can just check my bookmarks on pixiv haha here: link

pssttt if you have read some of them, pls knock on my inbox again! i would love to know your thoughts on these :3

[writing-prompt-s]

Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.

[sadoeuphemist]

Arepo built a temple in his field, a humble thing, some stones stacked up to make a cairn, and two days later a god moved in.

“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But - I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”

The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.

“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”

“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”

“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”

The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”

Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”

“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”

Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.

“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”

“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?” 

The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.

A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer. 

“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”

“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”

“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”

The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.

And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.

Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.

“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”

“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”

“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.

“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.

“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”

“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”

And as the fields burned and the smoke blotted out the sun, as men were trodden in the press and bloody War raged on, as the heavens let loose their wrath upon the earth, Arepo the sower lay down in his humble temple, his head sheltered by the stones, and returned home to his god.

[sameenbyhat]

Sora found the temple with the bones within it, the roof falling in upon them.

“Oh, poor god,” she said, “With no-one to bury your last priest.” Then she paused, because she was from far away. “Or is this how the dead are honored here?” The god roused from its contemplation.

“His name was Arepo,” it said, “He was a sower.”

Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. “How can I honor him?” She asked.

“Bury him,” the god said, “Beneath my altar.”

“All right,” Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.

“Wait,” the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. “Wait,” the god said, “I cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.”

Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.

“When the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,” the god said, “When the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,” the god’s voice faltered. “When War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.” Sora looked down again at the bones.

“I think you are the god of something very useful,” she said.

“What?” the god asked.

Sora carefully lifted the skull onto the cloth. “You are the god of Arepo.”

[stu-pot]

Generations passed. The village recovered from its tragedies—homes rebuilt, gardens re-planted, wounds healed. The old man who once lived on the hill and spoke to stone and rubble had long since been forgotten, but the temple stood in his name. Most believed it to be empty, as the god who resided there long ago had fallen silent. Yet, any who passed the decaying shrine felt an ache in their hearts, as though mourning for a lost friend. The cold that seeped from the temple entrance laid their spirits low, and warded off any potential visitors, save for the rare and especially oblivious children who would leave tiny clusters of pink and white flowers that they picked from the surrounding meadow.

The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.

He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.

So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god’s work on his dying breath.

“Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,” called a familiar voice.

The squinting corners of the god’s eyes wept down onto curled lips. “Arepo,” he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.

“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,” Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.

“That’s wonderful, Arepo,” he responded between tears, “I’m so happy for you—such a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? You’ll be adored by all.”

“No,” Arepo smiled.

“Farther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.”

“No, I will not go there, either,” Arepo shook his head and chuckled.

“Farther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,” the elder god continued.

“Actually,” interrupted Arepo, “I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”

The other god was struck speechless. “…. Why would you want to live here?”

“I am the god of unbreakable bonds and everlasting friendships. And you are the god of Arepo.”

[xamaxenta]

Haha silly mas comic w ace and sabo peering over marcos shoulders to see what hes writing and theyre bickering about the contents and eventually marco puts his pen down and addresses them both like hey if youre going to be like this please actually give constructive criticism or make yourselves useful

Twin sparkle in their nefarious little eyes and ace is like useful huh. Okay kisses marco like mm. Huh wait i just remembered i need to go do something important

Leaves

Sabo grins like what no sassy quip? Here let me help also kisses marco

Sleight of hand

Walks off whistling

Marcos like hhhbebehueygg,??? Well. Free kisses never hurt nobody

Realises sabos stolen his pen

And ace has stolen the fucking belt around his waist

The boogers Theyre gonna git it

Stands up loudly and hears Ace laugh down the hallway the soft clink jingle of the stolen belt

[xamaxenta]

The first time Marco realises Sabo truly trusts him is when he appears without his cravat

It means alot, sabo doesnt willingly show his throat to just anyone, certainly not a thousand strong crew as big as whitebeards family

Hes seen glimpses with Ace, the tuck of the fabric starched and high in the hollow of his throat hiding the welts from a hot hungry mouth searching to claim the seams of the man that slipped through his fingers at such a tender age

Never been allowed to touch for himself, Sabo is always taking great care to give people a good look, but never enough information to make do with, perfectly pleasant, perfectly willing to do his fair share of anything that will give him what he needs to know.

But here he is now, standing mid deck, below deck near the second division bunk rooms, collar laid out wilted like the petals of a fully blooming lily, the long muscular expanse of his neck exposed to all, one bite faded matching the teeth pattern of Ace’s (Marco would know, he has all their dental records with only Ace having such protruding canines, not that those marks would belong to anyone else)

He approaches with intent, not because he thinks Sabo needs to hear him but because he seems deep in thought and giving him time to wrap up would yield a better response than if he didnt

“Hot isnt it?” Sabo says in lieu of a greeting, turning to look at Marco in that sincere way of his, curved smile, blinded eye squinting to match

“Youd think it gets easier with time, but now that youve mentioned it, its been a while since we last made port at a summer island.” Marco agrees, hes decided on shorts today, his longer trousers fitting a colder climate would be uncomfortable and sticky in the humid weather, he doesnt know how Sabo can stand his heavy double lined vest in this heat

Marcos gaze strays to where Sabos collarbones shine with sweat from within the open flower of his shirt, his scar looks darker with the heat, more red more angry, the tight musculature of his chest mesmerising him briefly, another treat, considering Sabo usually kept his shirt on during intimacy

He meets Sabos gaze, mirth glowing in those deep eyes, humour looks very good on the chief of staff. In the same way calculating deep thought does too, the same way laughter and fury looks good on Ace.

“I was going to head out and check if the local library had anything useful.” Its not an outright invitation, Sabo never asks Marco to do anything or for anything, but its the most open of a request that he will ever be privy, the phoenix agrees

“Wheres Ace?” They match each other step for step, an uncanny ability of Sabos that Marco alikens to how felines step in their own pawprints to mask tracks.

“Dunno, he’ll make it known if he misses us.” Sabo shrugs, rolling up his sleeves and Marco has to thank the seas, the sun the stars for this beautiful sunny gorgeous day because Sabos forearms are self made weapons of pure strength and beauty. If he were a better artist Marco would’ve liked to draw him, though life drawing was better in Ace’s hands on the rare occasion he was able to stay put long enough to finish something

Its true though, Ace would sniff them out one way or another if he wanted their company, Marco’s delighted to have Sabos sole attention for once personally and selfishly speaking

They depart the Moby and wander into a town enthralled with colour, burnished copper and gold with grains of sand streaming silkily around their ankles and feet as they walked through a well trodden street

“Youre unusually quiet.” Sabo observes, in the way Marco never notices because hes still looking down the back of Sabos nape, at the dark golden curls of his hair where sweat soaks into the shirt, along his skin, in the crevices of his scar and turns the tip of his nose and ears pink

“Am i?” Marco glances down, to the side, back to meet sabo’s tilted gaze, sunlight turns deep blue and the opaque white of his eyes to something like the innerglow of a glass marble. that same smile curves Sabos lips. Marco doesnt feel caught though

Flustered yes, but because theres a feeling in his stomach, warm swooping and aches in his joints, like his phoenix when promised the joy of the open skies, tampers down on those flames that plumage threatening to burst free from his breast

“Compared to your usual self, id say so.” Sabo agrees and Marco couldve sworn, hes not completely sure, that the belt around Sabos waist is gold. Segmented, square golden links, the one he lost a few weeks ago—no because it was stolen.

Crowding Sabo closer to a side street enveloped in shade the shape of dancing palm fronds, Marco reaches out to snag the belt, his eyebrows raising in silent question.

Sabo doesnt even play demure, his coyness is always an act and never the truth. He loves this game, Marco’s seen them play it, Ace without a favoured accessory and, Sabo, soon after with his prize flaunted at every opportunity

“Do you like it?” Sabo asks, a wiry tangle of blonde hair falls over his good eye

Marco slowly brushes it away with a gentle hand, tucking the lock of unruly hair back in place, Sabo blinks and inhales when Marcos hand hovers and with the same slow intent, rests the outside, wrist twisting to brush knuckles down the swoop of his exposed neck.

“Yeah.” Marco unglues his tongue, voice syrupy and his teeth humming at the sweetness.

“Thanks, got it from a friend.” Sabo licks his lips, he never looks away, he is bold. Its one of the many things Marco admires (loves, adores)

“A friend?”

“My mistake, an acquaintance.”

“Do i happen to know this acquaintance of yours?” Marco guides Sabo up, back into a sand scoured brick wall, hot to Sabos back from the sun saturating it to the core

“Pretty sure you do.” Sabo shifts to hook a booted foot around one of Marcos bare calves, the unmistakable metallic clinking of the belt between them and the press of muscle to muscle

“I dunno, gonna need a name.” Marco thumbs along the pristine white of Sabos collar, unfurling the cotton, presses out the shape of the starch, leaving his mark

“Mm, he had a really forgettable name.”

Cheeky.

“I’m sure you can remember if you gave it some thought.” Marco feels the vertigo in his chest again, the same kind he always feels when he transforms fully.

“Started with an M.” Sabo leans in after a long moment of faux thought, tongue peeking out between his lips, smiling teeth.

“Mhm.”

“Cant say i remember any more than that.” Sabo has the theatrics in him to sigh loudly, his posture saturated with disappointment, as if this truthfully eating away at him. Marco curls his fingers into the collar of Sabos shirt, tugs him in

“Perhaps this will jog your memory.”

Kisses him

Beneath the fronds of dancing palm and flowers the colour Ace favours the most above all.

Sabo kisses him too

And when they separate, Sabo looks at him, gaze zigzagging over Marco’s features and Marco eases up on the space between them, its too hot for this, damn the library—

“Damn the library.” Sabo says hotly

Metallic clinking, mismatched eyes flicker down to see—

The belt— stolen back

“Damn you too,” Sabo laughs, but Marco is already two paces ahead, wings sprouting from his arms morphing wrist to shoulder blazing feathers and Sabo’s claws clip his ankle and Marco somersaults out of reach, challenge simmering between them both

Sabo tilts his head, a new smile emerging, same kind that Ace wears when he hunts, when he has something to chase

When he has something to win

Marco isnt a sore loser, but seas below will he let Sabo get the best of him right now

[hkdoodless]

(ongoing)

combining everything I’ve drawn for this au so far, I’ll use the tag (# hkdoodles wb au) for future posts!

I had the thought that what if Sabo was saved by the Whitebeards instead of the Revolutionaries? and this little comic was the result.

I have no experience at all in story telling but I hope it’s understandable. feel free to ask if anything is confusing!

[rasplejax]

Marco the Plushie KS Campaign has Launched!

Graphic design is not my passion, but this plush is my passion project… and the kickstarter campaign has officially launched! The campaign will run from 1/16/26 through 2/20/26! Shares are greatly appreciated!

Marco the Phoenix Plushie

A One Piece fan plush doll.

[februairy]

Ace surprising sabo into his work with food and Sabo is so cute and giggly about it because he never had ace over it’s always him coming over to his studio

not that it’s a bother for him 👀🏡au

CUTE IDEA!!!

[stuck-in-reincarnationcycle]

GUYS! I've been reading this random CN novel I picked on an absolute Whim and I haven't slept for 2 days because tell me why the MC and the ML are giving reincarnated Shen Jiu and Yue Qingyuan vibes!! The novel is sooooo freaking good too!!

Excuse my rant but I HAVE TO SHARE THIS.

The story is about this very famous modern world actor that gets into an accident and accepts a deal from the System to finish a couple of worlds -transmigration style- in order to go back to his original world (because he doesn't want to leave his best friend's grave unattended and all alone for too long 🥺)

The mission worlds are considered finished when the targets regret level reaches 100 points. BUT BUT....! here is when it gets super interesting. at the end of arc 1 mini spoiler ahead :)

.

.

.

we quickly and shockingly discover that the OG body owners ARE STILL ALIVE!!! They're still inside the body but unable to communicate when the MC Transmigrates into their bodies. The MC is Shen Jiu coded but has to act like Shen Yuan to accomplish his mission (so it's like reverse SVSSS)

-Also guess who the ML is... hehehe-

Anyway, The Novel is: Don't pick up boyfriends from the trash bin.

It's rated 4.7 out of 5 and it's crazy good I tell you. We have a big Villain as well as plot twists every arc and wholesome slow burn, power couple and Hua Cheng's Style DEEP DEVOTION. so please go give it a try if you ran out of Shen Jiu’s fanfics like I have lol

[marcoacesabo]

Fairy Tale Sunday: Robin hood

Sabo Outlook hated his parents.

They demanded perfection in everything he did.

He was to be the smartest, the fastest, and the perfect choice for being married to the royal family compared to other children. If he failed to reach their standards there would be cruel and painful punishments.

Once Sabo was not fed for three days straight until he finished his studies despite his pleas because some other noble child had beaten him in that subject. He still feels the sting of his mother’s hands on his face for defending himself against a royal who rushed at him with a knife.

He is terrified of the dark because his father had him locked in a dark room for a full week after he had his accident so others wouldn’t “see those disgusting wounds” and ruin his image.

The man had raved for hours when he learned Sabo would live with burn scars. He hadn’t given the shivering and scared ten years old a single thought pass a roll of his eyes whenever Sabo woke from fire-induced nightmares. His trauma meant nothing to those two all that mattered was that he didn’t have a panic attack in front of others’- that would make the Outlook family look like fools.

Keep reading

[marcoacesabo]

Random things Mas has done since entering a relationship together.

My* Sabo consistently referring to himself as the only adult while hanging out with Marco and Ace who he dubs as children. “We’re the same age!”   “I’m older than you yoi.”

*Ace having to make fire hearts in the sky when his boyfriends are pissed off at him to be let back onto the ship. Depending on what he did, he sometimes adds fireworks

*Marco being mildly confused on why Ace and Sabo insist that sleeping on the floor/ somewhere high up is comfortable. He refuses to sleep middle when he learns both battle in their sleep.  “I don’t care that I can heal, I’m not being punched in the face anymore!”

*Marco and Ace spending the night and day in the communications room on the Moby Dick because Sabo promise to call that day/night.  They don’t want to miss it since it’s rare their spy bf can.

* Ace accidentally blowing Sabo’s cover multiple times because he can’t tell the difference between Sabo on a mission and Sabo on vacation. Most times they cross paths by accident and have to fight their way out. 

*Marco waking up to Sabo standing over the bed after sneaking in through the window and throwing him through a wall. Ace always sleeps through Marco’s screams and Sabo’s apologizing.

*Ace and Sabo placing colored eggs under Marco’s pillow.  They start crying about Marco killing their children if he accidentally squishes them and are more emotionally attached then, Marco. 

*Sitting for hours in a store while Sabo tries on every heal boat he can find. Then not buying any of them because they don’t fit his aesthetics, they are just fun to put on. 

* Marco spending days wondering if his two boyfriends are worth having to move all his comfy pillows. He collects them for a reason.

*Sometimes strongarm new reporters into printing each other love messages in the New Coos since they don’t know where the other is. The rest of the world don’t know what these wanted men want to be quoted saying things like  “ My lovely pineapple”   “Sir Fluffy hair I adore you”   “You warm my heart flame brain” 

There is probably more so feel free to add!

[marcoacesabo]

The Drunken Gentlemen

“I’ll have you know, you little harlot, I am able and willing to remove your breasts from your body. Do not tempt my patience”  

Ace let out a snort of laughter next to Marco leading his own flushed face onto the man’s arm.   “He just said “I’ll rip your tiddies off slut, don’t fuck with me”   

His lover let loose a long and loud chain of wheeze chuckles as the blond across the bar, snifted. He raised his glass at the man speaking to him, politely nodding his head as he “bid him a good day” and join the crowd only to come to an empty table a few steps away and slump on it. 

Marco’s lips twitched as the man picked up his napkin, folding it with graceful and great dignity, across his lap. The stranger then takes a tiny sip of his glass, eyeing the crowd.  He looks so out of place among the ruddy and sleazy bar, with his formal dressing and way of speaking.

They had the pleasure of meeting him at the door after he had held it for a baffled Ace, going as far as bowing and announcing the freckled man to the room at large  “Presenting Sir Shirtless!” before he had given them a nod and glided away.

It took them a while to figure out the man was drunk out of his mind, seeing as he spoke clearly and walked perfectly. The only indication to his intoxication was his flushed cheeks. 

The bartender and owner- a good friend to the Whitebeards- had informed them that he was a new regular. Here nearly every other day, starting out like any kind of customer but then morphing into a high-class man with more cups he had.  

“The other day, he was yelling at a group of men to avert their eyes and cease barbaric actions towards the female staff.” Jim laughed, voicing deeping in an obvious attempt to mimic the man they were watching. He cleans the bar top with a rag nodding his head in the general direction of the blond  “They demanded they take it outside after the man had thrown coins at them, trying to bribe the savages into doing as he said. I honestly thought it was a snobby noble getting way in over his head until he came back inside covered in blood. Not his own mind you.” 

The man raised his nose at a spot on the table. He rearranges the tableware until it looked like it belongs more in a fancy restaurant, covering the spot with a plate stacked underneath a smaller bowl usually containing nuts but was emptied on the ground. 

Jim swore  “He keeps doing that. Are my nuts not good enough for him?”

Ace open his mouth, eyes dancing with wicked intent, but before he could speak Jim throw his rag at the fire man with a sharp “Don’t you even start”

The laugh of pearls almost has Marco looking away from the odd little blond to watch his lover light up like he always does when he laughs. Almost. He can’t quite look away as the blond picks up a bottle reading the label and nodding to himself, like a little kid presenting at show and tell.  

By the sea he’s adorable. 

He pours his bottle into the bowl, then before Marco’s amused eyes took off his gloves to dip his fingers into the alcohol.

“What’s he doing?” Ace asks watching the man whip his hands clean on a napkin.  

“He washing his hands”

“Why?”

Before Marco could answer the bowl was brought up to very plump lips and drank in one long gulp. He had to applaud him for it, that was about the same amount as three or four shots and he took it like a champ. 

“Why don’t we go ask him ourselves yoi?” If there was one thing Marco loved to do, it was picked up strangers at bars. It was, after all, how he met Ace. Sure at that time, he wasn’t aware Ace was a pirate after Pops’ head but that was not the point. 

His lover gives him a look, eyes wild and grin mischevious before they are moving across the bar ignoring Jim’s warning.  “I wouldn’t if I were you. He doesn’t like people flirting with him.”

It’s not like they can’t handle themselves. They are Whitebeard Commanders. Honestly, if anyone should be worried about their safety its the other man- not that they would do anything to him. It’s more about the principle of the matter.

They arrive at his table, Ace smiling down at the blinking pair of hazy blue eyes. He has a handsome face, and the slight smother makes even Marco a little hot under the collar.  

The blond, however, is not impressed.  He gives them an even look almost like he is inspecting a bug.  

“Hello again.” Ace starts smother increasing.

The other man nods  “Sir Shirtless. How are you enjoying the evening?” 

“Very well. I don’t believe I have the pleasure of exchanging names before. My name is Portgas D. Ace. Who might you be?”  

The blond man raised his chin  “My dance card is full”

Marco doesn’t blame Ace for dropping his smother because even he was confused. “Dance card yoi?”

The blond picked up a cardboard card, obviously from a box with no writing on it to wave around. “Full. Perhaps you can find another who has not enough dance partners sirs. Good day.” 

Dismissed so simply.

That was…not something they were used to.   

“Sabo!” A woman shouts from the door, eyes scanning the crowd. Everyone turns to her seeing as she sort of kicked open the door, leaving it hanging. Jim swore “not again” but was ignored as she stomps over to the blond.

Who was holding his Dance Card like a shield against her wrath “What are you doing!?”

“My lady, please allow me to explain myself-”

“Don’t you even start! You stupid drunk we have a job to do! And you just left in the middle of the briefing!”

“I was simply-”

“OUT”

With strength that was surprising, she hauled him to his feet, swinging him over her shoulder with a grunt and slam him on the floor. Wheezing the man did not protest as she literally dragged him out, one hand claps tightly on his left ankle. 

Marco watch them go with a confused look on his face no one speaking even after the odd pair were long gone. That was until Ace picked up a top hat left forgotten on the chair. 

His voice was filled with wonder and disbelief, uttering only one word  “Sabo?”

[kalissen]

One Piece Episode of Sabo - The Three Brothers Bond

[marcoacesabo]

Ok, first of all, I wanted to say that your blog is absolutely amazing. Not gonna lie I wasn't a big fan of this OT3, but when you write I love it very very much ^^ I'm really happy to have discovered your tumblr My favorites are definitely your NSFW and you reversed roles AU (if you ever wanna write another scene in it, anything, I'll read it very gladly X) ). Thank you very much for sharing your writing with us, I really appreciate it, you're awesome ❤️

Ace had changed.

Sabo could tell by the way he carried himself that the Ace he knew really was gone…but in his place was someone so much more.

More confident. More comfortable with himself. More alive. 

This Ace was…softer. 

Somehow more willing to let others in even when he teased them restless. He was a leader but unlike when they were kids didn’t expect others to keep up with him like he used to do with Luffy. He was a younger brother, content with letting others fuss over him and even doing the same to his younger brothers.

Sabo didn’t know what to do with this new Ace. All the tricks that used to work when interacting with the angry ball of freckles no longer applied- because there was no longer an angry ball. 

Every time he looked into those black sparkling eyes he was met with a stranger. A kind well-meaning stranger who wanted to know answers to his question who am I.

Who looked at Sabo like he had all the answers in the world.

Damn, but did that not hurt. It was great that this Ace was here…but this Ace wasn’t his Ace. 

It was selfish of him, but Sabo wanted his Ace. The one he grew to love for being the first person to look at him and care that he existed.  This Ace…had so many people to care about that some days Sabo felt like he didn’t care about him anymore.

He wanted to get off this stupid ship.

Sabo sighed rolling over to bury his face into his pillow. He was a horrible person, wasn’t he? Jealous that the man without his memories treated him like a stranger while he treated the people he grew up with like family instead of him. 

 Next to him, Marco mumbled in his sleep, shifting around a bit before resettling.

Sabo lifted his head a little to look at him, worried he woke him. 

 How in the world did the older man convince him to rest in his bed, the revolutionary may never know but it was much nicer than laying in the dark by himself overthinking everything.

Far better than having sleepless nights where his brain just wouldn’t stop. Marco had noticed the bags under his eyes, quickly which surprised him. Not even Koala is that fast.

By the end of that same day, all of Sabo’s possessions had been moved to the First Commander’s room. Of course, they told no one of this. Not even Whitebeard knew.

Sabo didn’t want Ace to think it was his fault. The guy was already feeling guilty for forgetting him, there was no need to make that guilt worse.

He liked sneaking into Marco’s room. 

His thoughts didn’t have the chance to run wild like they normally did. Usually, Marco would be able to distract him. He would step in when Ace got overly excited and ask too many questions, call him over to play cards some nights and even just sit with him at night hearing him talk about his feelings.

It was nice.

Now if only he could figure out what to do with the arm wrapped around his waist. 

“Go to sleep Sabo. It’s going to be alright yoi.” 

With a sleepy demand like that, how could he refuse?

“Marco!” 

The voice stared him awake a few hours later, the younger blond didn’t have time to react before the door was thrown open. He shot up like a rigid board, locking gazes with an equally surprised Thatch.

The two men said nothing, observing each other for what felt like an eternity to the blond. He didn’t miss the way the grinder’s eyes glanced down at his bare chest.

A slow smirk began to form on his lips which barred bad news for the younger man.

“I-It’s not what you think!  I can explain!” Sabo blurted before his brain could think better of it.  He winces because that phrasing along with the delivery was the exact opposite of what he wanted to convey. 

“Oh no. Don’t mind me. I just wanted to let Birdie over there know that the report he wanted is finished. Please go back to what you were doing.” The man says, placing a light stack of papers on Marco’s desk. He gives the horrified young man a large smirk before taking a great bow.  “Do come to breakfast when you’re done.” 

Then he was gone with a cheerful laugh.

Sabo is left gaping at the doorway. He isn’t sure how long he sits there, with the bed sheets pooling around his pajama covered waist and a man’s arm half slung off him.

He no doubt had horrible bed hair- he always does first thing in the morning- with a bit of drool on one cheek. 

How that whole image must look like…

“Mh. Goodmorning yoi.”  Marco’s voice snaps him out of his daze. He glances down just in time to watch sleep fall from the other’s man eyes. They focus on his face before Marco straightens “Are you okay?”

“Thatch…was here. He left you…a report.” The words come out slower because he’s still trying to process what this all means. 

“Oh? He finally got off his ass. Thank the Sea yoi.” The older man says relaxing. Sabo thinks he’s way too calm but maybe he doesn’t understand what this means yet.

“He saw me.”

“I see. Don’t worry he won’t say anything as long as you told him not to.” Marco pushes himself up, raising a brow as Sabo stays silent. “You did tell him not to say anything…right?”

“Um…about that-”

“Marco get you filthy hands off of Sabo!”  The scream is followed by the sound of flames enlightening and Sabo jumps.  Was that…Ace?

“Oh great.”  The older man sighs just as the cabin door is blasted off its hinges. A figure of a man made of fire is on the other side. “Ace calm down. We’re just sleeping yoi.”

“I will defend Sabo’s honor! Prepare yourself!” The raven hair man shouts completely ignoring what Marco said, before jumping towards the bed. He drops kicks the First commander, rolling with him on the floor as the Phoniex raises his hands with a look of long suffering going willingly. 

Sabo is stunned.  Ace..still cared about him?

He peeks over the bed side to watch Ace bite Marco’s hand- which heals instantly as the older man lays on his back impassively. The young man didn’t get dishearted as he tries slapping the other’s face while flames burst from his shoulders hissing like a wet cat.

Or a toddler throwing a tantrum. Marco was certainly reacting like that was the case.

A bubbling laugh stops the “fight”.

They both look up to see the first real smile on Sabo’s face since they picked him up all those weeks ago. The image isn’t ruined by the tears ruling down his face in the slightest. 

“Thanks for defending me Ace but it’s not needed.” He says between gasps. It feels like a huge weight was just lifted off his shoulders as he whips some of the tears away. He throws the stunned men a dazzling smile. “It’s nice to know that you care”

It was really nice to know.

[crispypenguinanchor-blog]

god, this fanfic, I swear

[marcoacesabo]

@crispypenguinanchor  THANK YOU SO MUCH. I SQUEALED WHEN I SAW THIS AND LIKE JUMPED AROUND EVEN WHILE SICK I WAS SO HAPPY.

 YOU DID IT SO FAST TOO! YOU’RE SO SKILLED OMG, I’M IN AWE! LOOK AT SABO, THIS IS HOW I PICTURED THIS SCENE EXACTLY. 

I’M SO HAPPY THANK YOU!!

[authenticaussie]

For the arranged marriage meme: "Did you learn about this today too?" for mas?

Commissions || Ko-Fi || [Requests are closed!]

I’m AlsoTM a peanut, and wrote two versions of this; the sad version can be found here!!

Ace is panicking when Marco returns to his room. Tiny flickers of fire on his shoulders have made the room stiflingly hot, and there’s a line of scorched carpet unnoticed beneath his feet, turning blacker as he paces, words falling beneath his breath as fast as his thoughts. 

“Ace?” he calls, and watches as Ace jumps, spinning around to see him. Relief comes to Ace’s expression, but then worry draws his face tight again, and his fingers lace themselves together into a mess of white knuckles and shaking hands.

“What are-” Ace starts, then shakes his head, his hand flying to his forehead and a line of sparks following his fingers, “I don’t understand what’s going on. Why would your father-?”  

“You just learnt about it, too?”

“Who the hell are we getting married too?”

Keep reading

[doodleoo]

what you learn from hobbies:

consistent practice opens up whole worlds of skill that you couldn't imagine

making mistakes in the process of learning is not only natural, it is also essential

activities that you enjoy can give you more energy back than you spent on them

wow everything is so expensive

[doodleoo]

my hands hurt

[authenticaussie]

"and if you say this makes you happy then I'm not the only one lying" (hello nice person, I hope you're having a good day)

I am having a good day! Thank you! ;u; I hope you have a good day too sweet pea~ : 3

“You still like him, don’t you?” Sabo said flatly, resting his chin on his hand and cutting Marco off when he stammered out an excuse. “Like him, I mean.” 

Marco froze, his muscles tense, and Sabo could see his eyes widen in fear. A million thoughts likely ran through his head, and Sabo could guess at least half of them; what do I say? Should I admit it? Sabo hated me because of it before-

“Like who?” Marco went with, trying to cover up his momentary panic with a weak smile, and Sabo felt his shoulders drop infinitesimally, knowing that his suspicions had been confirmed. 

He tilted his head slightly, posing Marco a silent, challenging question, daring Marco to lie to him, and watched as Marco sighed, his smile dropping. Before he could open his mouth, however, Sabo had interrupted.

“Look, Marco-” his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, briefly, “Ace- with everything that happened- I was scared. Of losing my brother, yeah, but everything was out of control then, and no-one had time to think. And now…Well, now that I know you…I think you’d be good for each other. Who knows. You may even deserve him.”

God knows I don’t. Not either of you.

Marco stared at him, lips parted, and Sabo watched him blink uselessly, almost trying to process what Sabo had said. Then, his body language shifted, chin dropping slightly as though he were resiting the urge to curl in on himself. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, yoi,” he said, before offering Sabo a glass-shard grin, one that didn’t reach his eyes, “but I’m happy just being his friend, okay?”

“Whatever Marco.”  Sabo said, dropping his hand to the table and standing up with the screech of chair legs on linoleum, “I don’t care if you’re going to lie to me, but at least promise you won’t lie to yourself. There’ll be to many pieces to pick up if you do.”

And even if you don’t care that they’re there, I do. And I’ll pick them all up for you, even if you didn’t want me to. Even if the edges are to sharp to hold I promise I’ll try my best, Marco.

And maybe you wouldn’t notice if I got away with a piece.

But as Sabo walked out the door, Marco didn’t make a promise. He didn’t make a single sound, and Sabo bitterly almost hopes it’s because Marco’s heart is breaking.

At least then he’d have a chance to slip into the cracks. 

[rockingthegraveyard]

marcosabo for the ship ask please!!!

who is more likely to hurt the other?Sabo, albeit unintentionally.

who is emotionally stronger?Marco’s has spent a lot of time with his crew and had more time to work through is issues. 

who is physically stronger?Physically they’re a more equal, Marco being a smidge stronger. His leg game is too damn strong.

who is more likely to break a bone? Marco. Being able to recover almost instantaneously, if it give him an advantage he won’t think twice about letting it happen. 

who knows best what to say to upset the other? Marco but neither of them use words for comfort much. 

who is most likely to apologize first after an argument? Sabo is a bit prideful so Marco usually is the one to step forward first. Unless Marco had no real part then he’ll be patient until Sabo comes around. 

who treats who’s wounds more often? Despite never being the one who needs treating, Marco makes an effort to know at leas the basics of medical treatment. 

who is in constant need of comfort? Sabo.

who gets more jealous?Marco, he’ll pretend like he isn’t, will deny it till his dying day but it’s Marco.  

who’s most likely to walk out on the other? Sabo, especially if the revolution calls. Marco understands then but it still hurts.

who will propose? Marco! He has the ring long before he actually gets to it.

who has the most difficult parents?Sabo.

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public? Generally whoever is in a touchy mood. But Sabo purposely will grab Marco’s hand all lovely dovey in front of Marco’s brothers when they’re in a teasing mood.

who comes up for the other all the time? (I’m just gonna assume this means who will travel to see the other more) Sabo, he’s traveling about all the time anyways.

who hogs the blankets? Marco has to hog them, other wise Sabo just kicks them off.

who gets more sad? Sabo but he usually pretends otherwise.

who is better at cheering the other up? Sabo seems to know just how to make Marco laugh but Marco is better and giving physical comfort.

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?Neither of them, Sabo is more likely to just bump shoulders.

who is more streetwise?Sabo, he did spend a good portion of his time on them.

who is more wise?Marco.

who’s the shyest? Marco isn’t particularly shy but will get a little embarrassed with some physical displays of affection.

who boasts about the other more? Koala is so tired of hearing Sabo blab about his love life.

who sits on who’s lap? When tired, Sabo likes to seek out comfortable places to curl up in. Marco’s lap happens to be comfy.