⭑.ᐟ i’m grieving and i need to redirect it into writing. its been a very, very hard month. i’m sorry for being so inactive.
ᯓ★ THE LITTLE THINGS
⭑.ᐟ characters: portgas d ace x afab!reader
ᯓ★ cw: death. grief. dealing with grief. loosing a loved one. angst.
⭑.ᐟ main page ⭑ masterlist ⭑ op masterlist
the sun hung low and golden over the shoreline, turning the waves golden. you were knee-deep in the water, laughing as you tried to steady the small, uneven raft the two of you had definitely not built properly.
“i told you it’d float,” ace said, arms crossed, grin wide and shameless as ever.
“it’s sinking.”
“nu uh.”
“ace, it’s—”
the raft dipped sharply under your weight, one side slipping beneath the surface. you yelped as water soaked your clothes, grabbing onto him instinctively as the sea ebbed away at his strength
“see?” he said, holding onto you. “works perfectly.”
“ your impossible. “
“and you love me anyway.”
you tried to roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips gave you away.
he leaned in, nudging his forehead against yours, freckled cheeks lit gold by the setting sun. for a moment, everything else—pirates, danger, the vast, unpredictable sea—felt far away.
it was just you and him.
“stay,” you murmured quietly, not really meaning to say it out loud.
his expression softened, something almost apologetic flickering behind his eyes.
“you know i can’t,” he said gently. “not yet.”
you nodded, because of course you knew. because he was Portgas D. Ace, and piracy was written into his soul.
still, he squeezed your hand like he didn’t want to let go either.
“i’ll come back,” he promised. “ once i find him. “
and you believed him.
the newspaper slipped from your hands. you didn’t remember picking it up. didn’t remember opening it, but the headline burned itself into your vision anyway.
PUBLIC EXECUTION OF FIRE FIST ACE
your breath caught, sharp and wrong, like your lungs had forgotten how to work.
no. no, that didn’t make sense.
he said he’d come back. he promised—
your fingers trembled as you grabbed the paper again, eyes scanning frantically, desperately, like if you read it differently it might change.
marineford.
execution.
death.
the words blurred together, meaningless and yet crushing all at once.
“no…” you whispered, voice barely there. “no, that’s not— that’s not right…” but the ink didn’t change. the world didn’t correct itself. and just like that—
he was gone.
the island felt strange. it was stupid, really. nothing had changed.
the waves still rolled in at the same rhythm. the wind still carried salt and warmth. the villagers still laughed, still lived, still moved forward like nothing had shattered.
but everywhere you looked—
it was him.
the shore where the raft had sunk still held the faint outline of your footsteps. the trees where he’d napped in the shade, hat tipped low over his face. the small food stand where he’d complained endlessly about being hungry—then ate him out of buisness.
you caught yourself turning sometimes, half-expecting to see him walking toward you, hands behind his head, grin already forming.
but it was never him. just empty space. just silence. nights were worse.
you’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything—his voice, his laugh, the warmth of his hand in yours.
that promise.
“i’ll come back.”
your chest ached with it, something heavy and unmoving settling there. for a while, you stayed because leaving felt impossible.
because staying felt like holding onto what little of him remained.
but grief has a way of changing shape. of turning into something sharper. something that pushes instead of weighs down.
you found the newspaper again days later, crumpled and worn from how many times you’d read it. this time, your eyes didn’t stop at his name. they moved further.
another name. another person tied to him. his brother—the one he couldn’t stop gushing about.
Monkey D. Luffy
you stared at it for a long time. then slowly—you stood.
the dock creaked softly under your weight as you stepped onto it, a small bag slung over your shoulder.
the sea stretched endlessly before you, vast and uncertain. just like it always had. just like he had loved.
you hesitated for only a second. then exhaled, steadying yourself.
“you said you couldn’t stay,” you murmured, looking out at the horizon. “so… i won’t either.” your grip tightened on the strap of your bag.
you stepped onto the small boat, hands moving with quiet determination as you prepared it to sail. the wind picked uo gently, almost like encouragement.
“i’ll find him,” you said, voice firmer now. “ luffy…”
the sail caught the wind and the boat shifted forward. with one last glance at the island that held all your memories— you set sail. toward the sea he loved to death.
last month. i was told my aunt is on her death bed. she went onto palliative and just last night went into hospice. the same day i was told my grandma has fluid built up around her lungs and heart and has the big old luekemia. i feel like im autopilot!! and whats even crazier?? a chihuaha showed up on our doorstep which turned out to be the dog my uncle ‘ rehomed ‘ that somehow founds its way into my garden?
last month. i was told my aunt is on her death bed. she went onto palliative and just last night went into hospice. the same day i was told my grandma has fluid built up around her lungs and heart and has the big old luekemia. i feel like im autopilot!! and whats even crazier?? a chihuaha showed up on our doorstep which turned out to be the dog my uncle ‘ rehomed ‘ that somehow founds its way into my garden?
last month. i was told my aunt is on her death bed. she went onto palliative and just last night went into hospice. the same day i was told my grandma has fluid built up around her lungs and heart and has the big old luekemia. i feel like im autopilot!! and whats even crazier?? a chihuaha showed up on our doorstep which turned out to be the dog my uncle ‘ rehomed ‘ that somehow founds its way into my garden?
Sinopse : Luffy losing his virginity to you. Unfortunately he doesn’t last very long but you don’t care, right?
visuals.
Warnings : smut, virginity loss (virgin Luffy), overstimulation(m), creampie, premature ejaculation, multiple orgasms(m), female reader (F/M), established relationship, gentle sex turning rougher, dacryphylia, Luffy is whiny, riding, short one shot.
Ever since your relationship with Luffy began to develop, you knew you had to take things slowly. Luffy had never been romantically involved with anyone before, and being his first came with the responsibility of setting the right standards.
The most important standard was sex. Luffy was incredibly eager to take things further with you. He would often make small, casual comments about being ready for the next step, flashing that carefree smile of his as if the thought alone wasn’t enough to make your heart race with nervous excitement — far more than when you had lost your own virginity.
So when you finally decided the time was right for the two of you to have sex, Luffy was overjoyed.
Now, you were on top of him, his cock buried deep inside you.
“D-Don’t move yet… Please…” he muttered, his voice cracking as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to adjust to the overwhelming new pleasure. Luffy’s hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you completely still while he familiarized himself with the sensation.
Your boyfriend had always been the prettiest person in your eyes, no matter the moment, but you could swear he had never looked more beautiful than right now. His cheeks were flushed a deep red, sweat making his dark hair stick to his forehead. His lips were parted slightly, ragged breaths escaping between them. The marks and hickeys you had left on his neck stood out beautifully against his skin — your marks.
You knew he had started getting used to the feeling when his grip on your hips began to weaken. Taking that as your sign, you slowly dragged your hips upward, then sank back down onto him in one smooth motion.
His hands immediately tightened on your hips again as a needy whine slipped from his lips. You couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the sight. You had never seen your confident captain look so vulnerable before.
Leaning down, you captured his lips in a soothing kiss. “You okay?” you asked sweetly, though a wicked little smile played on your face as you pulled back just enough to see his expression.
He nodded, that familiar boyish grin tugging at his lips despite everything. “M’gonna start moving now, okay?” you whispered.
He closed his eyes and nodded again.
You lifted your weight and began rolling your hips slowly at first, sliding up and down his length with careful, deliberate movements. It was difficult to keep the slow pace when you felt so desperately horny, but you tried. Still, the ache between your legs soon won out, and you gradually sped up.
“Oh— Fuck!” you moaned, planting your hands firmly on his chest for balance. Your gummy walls clenched tightly around his aching cock as Luffy whimpered beneath you from the increased pace.
“Stop— Ngh… I think I’m gonna cum soon if you keep up…” he cried out, his voice strained. He tried to steady your hips again, but his strength faltered.
“You want me to slow down?” you asked gently, though the mocking edge in your tone was unmistakable.
Instead of slowing, you let out a soft giggle and moved even faster, riding him with more urgency. “No… You’re— Ngh! You’re not slowing down…” he whined, squirming helplessly underneath you.
“I am!” you lied playfully, feeling his fingers dig almost painfully into your hips as you chased your own high. “Please… gonna cum…” His voice cracked beautifully, his hips starting to buck up instinctively to meet your rhythm.
Your cunt fluttered around him, his raw desperation only turning you on more. He moaned pathetically loud, twitching hard inside you one last time before thick spurts of cum flooded your pussy.
That didn’t stop you.
It was your duty to teach your clueless boyfriend about sex, after all — and he needed to learn that the girl had to finish too.
You kept riding him through his orgasm, your movements relentless. His voice climbed higher in pitch as the overstimulation hit him. “No— can’t—” he mumbled, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.
“I’m sure you can, Captain,” you replied breathlessly, tilting your head back in pleasure as you chased your own release. “You’re doing so good for me… Fuck—”
The heat in your stomach built rapidly. Watching your beautiful boyfriend cry out from the overwhelming pleasure only pushed you closer to the edge.
“Haah! ‘M cumming—!”
With a sudden, desperate move, Luffy pulled you down into a tight hug, burying himself as deep as possible while he spilled inside you once more. At the same moment, your own orgasm crashed over you, your walls pulsing around him as you came together.
You both collapsed back onto the bed, breathless. Luffy’s face was completely flushed, a few pretty tears still slipping down his cheeks. “You were so good, Captain,” you whispered tenderly, kissing him gently while one hand cupped his cheek.
He just smiled softly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, clearly exhausted but content.
You could bet this had been a very memorable first time.
Hey guys! First of all, sorry for any grammatical errors and the short fic, english isn’t my first language and i’m a flawed human S/2. Second of all, divider credits to @uzmacchiato !!
steel clashed and gunfire cracked through the air, sharp and relentless, tearing through sails and splintering wood as the enemy ship pressed in too close. the deck lurched beneath your feet with every impact, the scent of smoke thick in your lungs.
“stay focused!” someone shouted. you couldn’t tell who. you were focused. you had to be as three pirates rushed you at once.
you ducked the first strike, the blade slicing past your head. the second came from your left, fast enough to make your arms shake when you blocked it. the force rattled through your grip, nearly knocking your weapon loose.
the third one you didn’t see.
pain burst across your side as something slammed into you, knocking the air from your lungs. you staggered, boots skidding across the deck as the world tilted.
more came. too many.
you straightened anyway, breathing hard and forcing your stance back into place.
“why me?” you muttered. but they were already closing in.
twelve now. maybe more behind them. the chaos had pulled you too far from the others, left you alone in the worst possible spot.
one lunged and you blocked, another swung from behind but you twisted just in time, but it threw you off balance, leaving your guard wide open as a hand grabbed your shoulder, yanking you back. your heart slammed against your ribs.
“got you now—”
they didn’t finish as a blur of black cut through the space between you—so fast you barely saw it.
“hanauta sancho: yahazu giri.”
and everything stilled. for half a second, the noise of battle seemed to drop away whike the men around you froze, their weapons slipping from their hands as they fall, one by one.
you stared, breath coming in sharp bursts, trying to catch up with what just happened. a tall figure stood in front of you, cane sword angled slightly to the side.
“…ah,” he said lightly, like nothing had happened. “ i made it in time.”
“brook—” relief hit so hard it almost made your knees give out. you barely got his name out before you noticed movement behind him and your stomach dropped.
“ brook! behind you—“
he turned, but not fast enough as a massive pirate came out of the smoke, weapon raised high, a spiked club big enough to crush bone and when the swing came down, it came down hard.
it hit brook. the sound made your chest tighten, sharp and fast “brook!”
he was thrown across the deck, his body hitting the wood with a heavy crack before skidding to a stop. his sword slipped from his hand, clattering uselessly away.
something in you snapped.
you moved before thinking, intercepting the attacker before they could swing again. your weapon collided with theirs, forcing them back just enough. you didn’t stay to fight.
you turned and ran to him instead, dropping to your knees beside him. “…brook?”
no response. your chest tightened. “hey. come on. don’t—don’t do this.” there was a faint shift.
“…ah…” his voice was weak, thinner than usual. “my apologies… it seems i have taken quite the blow…”
you let out a shaky breath.
“idiot,” you muttered, hands hovering before finally settling against him, careful, too careful.
he was damaged. badly.
cracks ran through his ribs, uneven and jagged. one arm bent wrong, the joint barely holding. even his skull had a visible crack along the side.
your stomach twisted.
“…you could’ve—” you couldn’t finish it.
“…but i did not,” he said softly.
“barely,” you shot back. footsteps approached again. you didn’t even look up this time.
“don’t.” something in your voice made them hesitate, that was enough. you moved fast, striking clean and precise, disarming them before sending them crashing down.
then it was quiet again, at least around you. the rest of the battle felt far away. all you could focus on was him.
“…we need to get you inside,” you said quickly, already shifting to help him up.
“ah… how forward,” he murmured faintly. “taking me away like this…”
“brook.”
“Yes?”
“not the time.”
“…yohoho. my apologies.”
but he didn’t joke again after that.
the infirmary felt too still after the chaos outside.
you eased him onto the bed carefully, every small movement making something in him shift in a way that made your chest tighten.
“stay awake.”
“i shall try.”
you turned to grab what you needed, hands moving faster than your thoughts. when you looked back, he was still watching you. or it felt like he was.
“…why did you do that?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. a short pause followed.
“you didn’t have to step in,” you added, already kneeling beside him, preparing the bonding compound. “i could’ve handled it.”
“…perhaps,” he said. you glanced up. “but i did not wish to take that chance.”
your hands stilled. “…what?”
“i saw you surrounded,” he said simply. “outnumbered. and though i have faith in you…” he hesitated. “…i could not stand by.”
your chest tightened, something warm and painful all at once.
“that doesn’t mean you let yourself get smashed like that.”
“ah… that was not my intention.”
“still happened.”
“…yes. it did.”
you exhaled sharply, shaking your head as you took his arm. “hold still.”
“i am entirely still—”
“brook.”
“…yes.”
you lined the bone up carefully, pressing it back into place. a faint click followed and you froze. “…did that hurt?”
there was a small pause. “…a little.”
your throat tightened. “…sorry.”
“please do not apologize,” he said softly. “you are helping me.”
you nodded, even if he couldn’t see it. you worked through the rest in silence. rib. shoulder. leg. each one took longer than it should have because your mind wouldn’t stop replaying it.
the sound.
the impact.
the way he fell.
“…you were frightened.”
your hands paused. “…yeah,” no point lying. “i thought i lost you.”
“…i am already dead,” he said gently, without the usual tome of humour behind it.
“i don’t care,” you snapped, sharper than you meant. your grip tightened before you forced it to relax. “you can still—still—” you didn’t finish it.
“…i see,” he said quietly. you swallowed hard, finishing the wrap around his ribs.
“just don’t do that again.” then were was a long pause.
“…i will try.”
you leaned back slightly, checking over your work. it would hold, for now.
“…there,” you murmured. “that’s the worst of it.”
“ah… how fortunate i am,” he said. “to receive such care.” you rolled your eyes a little.
“yeah, yeah.” you helped him settle more comfortably “rest.”
“and you?”
“i’m staying.” a quiet pause.
“…good.”
you didn’t move from your spot. not even a little. because the image of him on that deck was still stuck in your head. too clear. too real. “…hey, brook?”
“Yes?”
“…next time, let me help you first.”
he was quiet for a moment. then, softer than before, “…i believe we are meant to do that for each other.”
your chest tightened. “…yeah.”
you stayed there long after the noise outside faded, just watching. just making sure he was still there, with you.
Not a request, was just wondering how you are, how your life is, and if you're still writing? 💙
hii thank you for your concern! i’ve been in a little creative slump lately, my health isn’t the best right now and ive got a few other personal issues that have been keeping me busy. i hope to continue writing soon though!!
⭑.ᐟ this might be a little self indulgent, but sanji x T1D reader.
ᯓ★ SUGARS
⭑.ᐟ characters: sanji x gn!diabetic!reader
⭑.ᐟ a/n: i was diagnosed with t1d when i was a wee baby (3y/o) and now i’m nearly 21, yet i’ve only ever seen 1 fanfic where the reader has diabetes and it was so grossly inaccurate it actually pmo a little!
ᯓ★ cw: talks of chronic illness (type 1 diabetes). medical themes. implied smut at the end.
⭑.ᐟ main page ⭑ masterlist
⭑.ᐟ i think sanji would be a good partner to have if you were diabetic. he’d help you carb count, remind you to check your blood levels and to do your insulin diligently, as if he had a built in alarm.
⭑.ᐟ he’d make you balanced meals and work out how many units of insulin you will need before you even sit down to eat. (he takes your blood levels into account too)
⭑.ᐟ sanji is a little reluctant to make you desserts unless your bloods are on the lower side, he just doesnt want to risk making your bloods spike.
⭑.ᐟ if you were in a hypo (hypoglycaemia) he’d whip you up something sweet and fast acting, he’d wait on hand and foot, even if your hypos don’t affect you much.
⭑.ᐟ if your hypos are bad—like struggling to move and speak type bad— he’d keep talking to you as he hand feeds you some fancy glucose treat so you don’t fall asleep (i usually have dextrose)
⭑.ᐟ if your bloods are high though, sanji is fretting. he’s forcing so much water down your throat that he’s lowk waterboarding you, lol.
⭑.ᐟ but seriously, he’s making sure you’re drinking your water and checking your levels and ketones constantly, he doesnt want you to go into dka (diabetic ketoacidosis) again.
⭑.ᐟ sanji frowns everytime you wince/flinch while injecting. he’s made it a routine to kiss your injection spots everytime—your tighs, your belly and even your arms.
⭑.ᐟ sanji had asked chopper to teach him everything about your chronic illness, he wanted to know everything about it and almost cried a river when he realised the amount of complications that could occur if you didn’t take care of yourself and swore he’d never let any of that happen.
⭑.ᐟ when sanji found out the weather affects your bloods, he was even more worried. he acts like a mother bear sometimes, always making sure you’re not too cold or not too hot, it gets real tiring, real fast.
⭑.ᐟ if someone makes a diabetic joke around you and he hears it? he gets more offended than you. you’ve learned to take the jokes on the chin, they stopped bothering you—you even make some yourself and it breaks sanji’s overdramatic little heart.
⭑.ᐟ after you get down and dirty, the aftercare includes a little snack and a sugary drink (usually one of franky’s cola bottles) because your blood sugar levels usually drop after extensive exercise ;)
ᯓ★ cw: imprisonment, emotional vulnerability, implied past violence/abuse by guards, crying, impel down setting, mild starvation mention, comfort + intimacy.
⭑.ᐟ main page ⭑ masterlist
impel down had a way of swallowing colour whole.
the walls were gray, the floors were gray, the bars were gray. even the screams seemed gray, as if the prison itself wrung all brightness out of them before letting them echo down the corridors. nothing survived here except cruelty and the kind of hope that refused to die out of sheer spite.
bon clay embodied that kind of hope. and somehow, so did you.
you didn’t know when exactly you and bon had become… this. friends? comrades? something warmer, something small and glowing and stubborn between the cracks of despair? it had happened piece by piece, the way he’d talk to you through the bars, the way he’d dance even when his ankle was twisted, the way he’d joke even when bleeding from a guard’s baton. and you— you’d patch him up, sit with him, sing with him, stay awake when he couldn’t sleep.
he always said you made even impel down feel like a stage light was shining. today, though… today he didn’t look bright at all.
he sat cross-legged on the cold floor of your cell, shoulders slumped, eyes dim and bruised around the edges. he’d put on a confident smile when he walked in, but you could see right through it.you always did.
“rough day?” you murmured.
“oh, you know, my swanling,” bon declared dramatically, holding the back of his hand to his forehead. “the usual trials and tribulations of a prisoner of justice! but nothing the magnificent bon clay cannot handle!”
you arched an eyebrow. he wilted instantly.
“okay…” he whispered, voice small. “maybe a little rough.”
you slid down beside him until your knees touched. he let out a shaky breath and leaned into it, just enough to show he needed the contact.
you brushed a thumb across his cheek. “want to talk about it?”
bon gave a tiny, embarrassed shake of his head. “no… because then i will cry, and crying makes my eyeliner run and then i look like a tragic clown.”
a beat. then his lips twitched.
“not that i do not look fabulous as a tragic clown buggy, of course.”
you snorted. “of course.”
but the moment of humour faded quickly. his makeup was smudged—badly. mascara streaked down his cheeks, glitter stuck to dried tear tracks. he had cried, and cried hard. it hurt to see.
“bon,” you said gently, “let me fix it.”
he blinked. “fix…?”
“your makeup. come here. sit with me.”
he hesitated, eyes widening as if you’d offered him the sun. “you… you want to?”
“i want to,” you repeated, tugging him closer until he knelt between your legs. “i like taking care of you.” his breath caught.
slowly, carefully, he sat still, folding his arms in his lap. his long lashes fluttered downward, hiding the emotion trembling in them.
“then… please,” he said softly. “i would be honoured.”
you opened the little bundle of makeup you’d smuggled together from scraps—charcoal dust wrapped in paper, a bit of pigment you traded from another inmate, a rag of soft cloth you tore from the bottom of your shirt. bon clay treated these things like treasure. you treated them like medicine.
“tilt your head up a little,” you murmured.
bon obeyed immediately, eyes fluttering half shut. he really did trust you—with his face, his pride, his softness. the thought made your heart ache.
you lifted the cloth and began cleaning the tear tracks. slowly. gently. tracing the curve of his cheekbone, wiping beneath his eye, brushing away the gray ache from his expression.
bon inhaled shakily. “your hands… they’re warm.”
“yours are cold,” you whispered, pressing your thumb against his jaw. “you haven’t eaten properly today, have you?”
“…maybe.” he avoided your eyes.
“bon.”
“fine, fine. i gave half of my portion to the man in the next cell. he looked hungry!” he huffed. “besides, a true diva must always be generous!”
you rolled your eyes, though fondly. “you need to take care of yourself too.”
“i am taking care of myself,” he protested weakly. “right now. by letting you pamper me.” you had to bite back a smile.
you dipped your finger into the bit of charcoal dust, rubbing it between your fingertips until it darkened. then you leaned in, close enough to feel his breath warm your chin.
“look at me.”
bon opened his eyes and stilled completely.
you were so close your noses almost brushed. his gaze darted to your lips before he dragged it back up, cheeks blooming pink under his foundation.
“s-swanling,” he whispered, “you’ll make my heart flutter…”
“good,” you murmured, and began lining his eyes.
he went utterly motionless, every muscle relaxing except the ones that trembled with suppressed emotion. his breathing slowed as if he didn’t want to disrupt your touch.
stroke by stroke, you shaped the familiar winged look he loved. dramatic, bold, unmistakably bon clay. you added a small flick at the corner, something softer, something that felt like you. he noticed immediately.
“that’s new,” he said quietly.
“i thought it suited you.”
“does it?”
you brushed the pad of your thumb over his cheek again, smudging the pigment just a bit to blend it.
“yeah,” you whispered. “it does.”
bon swallowed. “you’re very good at this, you know.”
“maybe i just like your face.”
his breath hitched so visibly you almost laughed, but you softened instead, cupping his jaw.
“close your eyes again,” you said.
he obeyed with a tiny, shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips—the kind he only ever let you see.
you moved on to the blush, mixing pigment with the faintest dab of water until it became color again. you brushed it over the apples of his cheeks, and his skin warmed beneath your touch, the faintest tremble running through him.
“you always make me beautiful,” he whispered.
“you already are.”
he froze. you didn’t take it back.
“bon,” you said softly, “you’re beautiful even without makeup.”
his lashes fluttered. “do you really think so…?”
“i know so.”
he looked away, voice cracking. “no one has ever said that to me without a stage between us.”
you touched his chin and guided his gaze back. “then i’ll say it every day.”
bon covered his mouth with one hand, shoulders shaking with the force of holding in a sob.
“don’t cry,” you whispered, brushing his hand away gently. “not until i’m done.”
he sniffed hard, laughing through the tears. “you are terrible,” he wheezed. “using my vanity against me.”
“works every time.”
you moved to fix the glitter next, dusting it lightly over his eyelids. his eyes caught the faint lamplight and became stars against the gloom.
finally, you dipped your finger into the last bit of red pigment. “lips?”
his eyes widened again. he licked his lips subconscious. a small, nervous movement.
“…yes,” he breathed.
you leaned in close. closer. the prison air was cold, but he felt warm, fever warm. you painted the pigment across his mouth with slow, precise strokes. his breath tickled your fingertips. every time your skin brushed his, he shivered.
and when you were done, you didn’t pull away immediately. neither did he.
his voice was barely above a whisper. “how do i look…?”
you finally leaned back enough to see his full face in the lantern glow.
and now— he looked like himself again. a piece of colour in the middle of hell. a ribbon of hope wrapped around bones and bruises.
you smiled softly. “perfect.”
bon pressed both hands dramatically to his chest. “oh! my heart! my poor, delicate heart!”
you flicked his forehead. “idiot.”
“your idiot.” he corrected instantly.
the words slipped out so quickly he gasped, slapping both hands over his mouth again.
you blinked. he blinked.
“…you don’t have to take that back,” you said quietly. bon’s eyes widened.
“if you want to be,” you continued, “you can be.”
a trembling smile bloomed across his face. “i… i do.”
you reached out, taking one of his hands in yours. his fingers curled around yours desperately, like he’d been waiting for permission to hold on.
the air around you softened, warmed, brightened despite the damp stone walls.
“then stay close,” you whispered.
bon leaned forward until his forehead rested against yours, his breath unsteady but his smile real.
“i will,” he promised. “through the storms, through the seas, through the very fires of impel down!”
a beat.
“…as long as you will have me.”
you squeezed his hand. “i’m not letting you go.”
he laughed, teary and bright. “then neither will i, my beloved swanling.”
you sat together like that—knees touching, foreheads pressed close, fingers intertwined. his makeup perfect, his smile soft, his heart loud enough to drown out the screams echoing from the lower floors.
in a place designed to break people, bon clay looked whole again and if he was colour in hell…then maybe you were, too.
Not a request i just wanted to stop and say i LOVE how you write for brook <3 as a big brook fan it just makes me so happy to see :3
AWE you’re so sweet! i love writing for brook too, i actually want to weite for more under appreciated characters. bartolomeo is one of my favs actually!
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