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““Percy!” Annabeth called. She’d retreated to the edge of the cliff, even though the poison wasn’t after her. She sounded terrified. It took Percy a moment to realize she was terrified of him. “Stop…” she pleaded, her voice hoarse. He didn’t want to stop. He want to choke this goddess. He wanted to watch her drown in her own poison. He wanted to see just how much misery Misery could take. “Percy, please…” Annabeth’s face was still pale and corpse-like, but her eyes were the same as always.The anguish in them made Percy’s anger fade.”

— The House of Hades, Rick Riordan (via percyandheroesquotes)

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no matter who you are, portland row always has a place for you <3 happy pride month locknation!

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๑ LADY MINERVA — sabo

⊱summary: A woman with a pen sharper than any sword allies herself with a revolutionary full of fire and hope. Secrets unravel and trust is tested as their worlds collide, but love grows in the quiet spaces between battles.

⊱warnings: ooc characters. profanities. punctuation and grammar errors. reader is referred to as (Name). FEMALE! reader.

⊱notes: reader is the same age as Sabo pre-timeskip (20). this felt kinda all over this place... but i did my best !

part 1 | part 2

Dearest Reader,

From the bustling ports to the mysterious sky islands, there is no tale too grand, no scandal too small for this author to tell. I trust my services shall become your most cherished source of news and gossip from every corner of our World.

In these harsh waters, where the tides of power shift with fate, it is the Navy and the pirates who often find themselves at the heart of all our stories. The Navy, paragons of justice (or so they would have us believe), seem to spend more time chasing shadows than capturing criminals. One might wonder if their neatly pressed uniforms and impressive titles are merely for show, as they often find themselves outwitted by the very pirates they seek to capture. After all, it takes more than a shiny badge to deal with true justice.

As for our dear pirates, those free-spirited rogues of the seas, a colorful bunch indeed. With their grand dreams and daring personalities, they roam the waters in search of treasure and adventure. Yet, one must question the wisdom of putting one’s trust in a crew whose loyalty often wavers with the promise of gold. It’s a wonder any of them can keep their ships afloat, let alone find the legendary One Piece.

But, dear reader, it is in this very chaos that true epics emerge. The tales of love, bravery, betrayal, and loyalty that define our world. As a humble observer, I shall bring these stories to light, unfolding the layers of secrets that cover the actions of both so-called protectors of justice and the marauders of the seas.

So, as we set sail on this voyage together, keep your eyes sharp and your wits about you. The waters are filled with danger and deception, but abundant with the promise of discovery. Rest assured, this author shall leave no stone unturned, no secret kept, in the pursuit of truth and enlightenment.

Until next time, my dear reader. For in a world where both navy and pirates play their parts, a well-informed mind is the best security against the contagion of folly and evil.

Yours Truly,

Lady Minerva.

———

Thus, was the first-ever issue published by the most popular writer in all of the Blue Sea: Lady Minerva. Despite the Navy’s best efforts; secret investigations, a bounty to this unknown author, and operations by Cipher Pol, no one has been able to uncover any personal information about her. Neither her name, her appearance, nor the location of her mysterious printing services has ever been discovered. The few who claim to have seen her are often dismissed as mere storytellers wanting attention.

Her writings have spared numerous emotions across the seas. In the halls of Navy headquarters, officers furrow their brows as they read over each issue, seething with anger at her bold critiques. There’s even a rumor circulating among the lower ranks that Lady Minerva might be a former Marine who knows the organization too well, a theory that adds to the growing paranoia.

In contrast, the pirates, adventurers who sail the seas in pursuit of their wildest dreams, regard Lady Minerva with a mix of amusement and indifference. On countless ships, her writings are read aloud during gatherings, her wit met with boisterous laughter. To these sea wanderers, Lady Minerva is a source of entertainment, especially her jabs to the Navy.

Yet, not all pirates are so dismissive. There are whispers that Lady Minerva might be more than just a writer; that she could be a pirate herself, using her vast knowledge of the seas to write her paper. Such rumors only add to her sparkle, turning her into a legend among ships.

Despite their varied reactions, there is one unifying thought: none of these pirates took her too seriously. To them, Lady Minerva is an observer, a voice to be enjoyed but not feared. After all, they are the masters of their own destinies, and no writer, however talented, could ever hope to capture the true essence of life on the seas.

As for the rest of the world, they are left in a turmoil, unsure whether to admire her audacity or condemn her impertinence. Nobles are particularly divided; some see her as someone dangerous who must be silenced, while others privately enjoy her biting humor. Common people, who rarely have a voice in this corrupt world, find a strange comfort in her writings, a sense that someone out there sees the world as it is and dares to speak the truth.

However, there is one group that holds a different view: the Revolutionary Army. Her sharp wit and fearless commentary align perfectly with their mission to expose the world’s injustices. In their hidden bases, they eagerly await each new issue, savoring her every word. Among them, the Chief of Staff, Sabo, is particularly obsessed with uncovering her true identity. For Sabo, Lady Minerva represents the voice of the people, a writer in the fight against the corrupt. Yet, deep down, there’s also a personal desire to meet the woman behind the words, to see if she is truly the passionate soul he imagines her to be.

–––

The Revolutionary Army's base was alive with chatter, a rare buzz of excitement coursing through the usually serious camp. Fresh copies of Lady Minerva's latest issue had just arrived, and groups of officers and recruits huddled together, engrossed in her writing of the Alabasta incident.

Koala leaned forward the table in front of her, her wide grin barely contained as she read aloud to (Name), who sat writing in her journal, parallel to Koala. “‘Crocodile, once hailed as a shining example of the Shichibukai’s supposed usefulness, revealed himself to be nothing more than a vulture feasting on the suffering of Alabasta’s people. But should we truly be surprised? The World Government, in its infinite wisdom, gave him the keys to the kingdom and turned a blind eye to his corruption, until it became inconvenient, of course.’” Koala laughed, shaking her head. “She’s not pulling any punches, is she?”

The lady glanced at her and gave a short laugh. “She does have a talent for stabbing with her words.”

Koala flipped to another page, eyes wide with excitement. “Oh, this part is even better! ‘The people of Alabasta were nearly plunged into civil war, not by pirates, but by a warlord the Government trusted to maintain order. Perhaps the true villain here isn’t Crocodile but the system that empowers men like him. How many more kingdoms must suffer before we acknowledge that the Shichibukai are nothing more than pirates dressed in borrowed authority?’

Sabo, who had been leaning against the wall nearby, arms crossed, looked up from his own copy of the paper. “She’s right,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “The Shichibukai system is just a way for the World Government to control the seas without getting their own hands dirty. Crocodile’s actions prove how easily it can backfire.”

(Name) tilted her head slightly, her fingers brushing against the edge of her seat. “It's powerful writing,” she said, her voice even. “But I wonder if Lady Minerva’s words will reach the people who need to hear them most.”

“They’ll reach someone,” Sabo replied, his expression serious. “Her words have a way of cutting through the lies. That’s what makes her so dangerous to the Government and so valuable to us.”

Koala grinned. “If she ever joined us, the World Government wouldn’t stand a chance. Don’t you think, Sabo?”

Sabo’s lips curved into a small smile, though his gaze remained distant. “If I ever got the chance to meet her, I’d tell her she’s doing something incredible. But I’d also tell her she can’t do it alone. The fight she’s picked… it’s bigger than just one person.”

(Name) kept her expression neutral, though her heart raced at his words. “Maybe that’s why she stays in the shadows,” she suggested lightly. “To ensure her voice isn’t silenced before it can make a difference.”

Koala laughed, breaking the tension. “You two are reading too much into it. Let her be the mystery she clearly wants to be. Not everything has to be solved, you know.”

As Koala moved on to another excerpt, (Name) let out a quiet breath, though her mind churned with unease. Writing about Crocodile and Alabasta had been a calculated risk, one she hoped would draw attention to the World Government’s failings.

But as she glanced at Sabo, who was now silently poring over the issue with a furrowed brow, she couldn’t ignore the growing weight of his curiosity. Each word she wrote seemed to pull him closer to the truth and closer to her carefully hidden secret.

–––

By the next morning, people went back to their usual rhythm, when Sabo found himself in his office, scanning over maps and reports. Koala sat on the small lounge in front of his desk, her arms crossed as she relayed Dragon’s latest orders. “We’ve received word of unrest in a kingdom near Alabasta. Apparently, Crocodile’s actions stirred up tensions even in neighboring territories. The people there are rising against the local noble who’s been exploiting them, and Dragon wants us to assess the situation and offer support.”

Sabo nodded, already calculating their approach. “Do we know if the Government is involved?”

“Not directly,” Koala replied. “But it’s only a matter of time before they send reinforcements to protect their interests.”

A knock was heard as (Name) stepped into the room just as Koala finished speaking, her calm demeanor contrasting with the urgency of the situation. “Koala called me, is it a new mission?” she asked, her voice steady.

Koala smiled knowingly. “You always volunteer for missions involving oppressed kingdoms. Dragon thought you’d be the perfect addition to the team. You and Sabo will go together.”

The girl nodded, concealing the flicker of tension she felt at the thought of spending time with Sabo. “Got it. When do we leave?”

Sabo glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “As soon as we gather supplies. This might take a while.”

–––

As they packed their supplies, (Name)’s thoughts churned. Working closely with Sabo always felt like walking a tightrope. His keen mind made him dangerous to her secret, but his idealism and kindness had a way of softening her defenses. She focused on securing the basics; maps, a discreet notebook for notes, and enough supplies to last her the journey.

Sabo, meanwhile, approached with his usual confidence. “Ready?” he asked, hoisting a bag over his shoulder.

“Always,” she replied, managing a small smile as they set off.

The first leg of their journey was quiet but not uncomfortable.

“You seem deep in thought,” Sabo remarked at one point, glancing over at her.

“Just thinking about what we might find,” she replied carefully. “These situations are always complicated. It’s hard to know where the truth lies.”

“True,” Sabo agreed. “But people’s suffering is usually a good indicator of where to start. Lady Minerva’s last piece really hit the mark on that. Crocodile wasn’t the only problem, he was a part of a much larger issue.”

She nodded, her heart beating a little faster at the mention of her pseudonym. “She does have a way of putting things into perspective.”

“She does,” Sabo said, a note of admiration in his voice. “I can’t help but wonder if she’s seen this kind of injustice firsthand. The way she writes… it feels personal.”

The girl quickly changed the subject, steering the conversation back to their mission. “Speaking of personal, we should focus on understanding why the people went into unrest. If the Revolutionary Army is going to get involved, we need to be sure we’re not walking into a trap.”

Sabo gave her a curious look but didn’t press further.

–––

When they reached the village, the tension was palpable. The people eyed them warily, their faces lined with exhaustion and distrust. Sabo stepped forward, his presence calm but commanding. “We’re here to help,” he said simply, his tone reassuring.

An older man hesitated before speaking. “Help how? You don’t look like you’re with the Government, but we’ve had strangers make empty promises before.”

“We’re not with the Government,” the writer interjected, her voice firm but gentle. “We’ve seen what’s happening here, and we want your voices heard. But first, we need to understand the full picture.”

Slowly, the villagers began to open up, sharing stories of excessive taxes, land seizures, and brutal enforcers sent by their so-called king. Sabo listened intently, his jaw tightening with each account. Beside him, (Name) gripped her pen tightly as she wrote in her notebook.

Later that night, as they camped just outside the village, Sabo and (Name) sat by the fire, the weight of the villagers’ stories hanging between them.

“This is why we fight,” Sabo said, breaking the silence. “Not just against the Government, but against every system that allows this kind of suffering to continue.”

She nodded, staring into the flames. “It’s overwhelming sometimes. Knowing how much there is to fix, how many people are counting on us.”

Sabo glanced at her, his gaze soft. “That’s why it’s important to focus on what we can achieve. Even one village, one family; we’re making a difference.”

Her heart ached at his sincerity, the duality of her life suddenly feeling heavier. “You’re right,” she murmured, though her voice carried a hint of weariness.

As the fire crackled between them, Sabo leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “You remind me of her sometimes, you know.”

She tensed. “Her?”

“Lady Minerva,” he clarified, his voice contemplative. “You both have this quiet strength, this determination to uncover the truth. It’s… inspiring.”

She laughed softly, masking her panic with humor. “I think you’re reading too much into it. I’m just doing my part.”

“Maybe,” Sabo replied, his lips curving into a faint smile. “But I have a feeling there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

With a sweat, she changed the subject, but the conversation lingered in her mind long after Sabo had fallen asleep. His words were both a compliment and a warning; a reminder that the truth she was hiding was inching closer to discovery. And as much as she trusted Sabo, the stakes were far too high to let her secret slip now.

this is more of a wip but i'll work on part 2 which has more things going on (hopefully)!! hope you guys enjoyed 🫰

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“If there’s anything worth dying for”

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can they interact foreal

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"I can do it. I can walk without looking back."

You raise an eyebrow. "Really? You’re saying you’d succeed where Orpheus failed? A challenge even Hades himself admits he would've failed to do?” With a smug smile he replies, "Absolutely. I trust you more than he trusted Eurydice."

You burst out laughing at the sudden serious tone, but he's already taking the challenge to heart.

The two of you set up the rules: he will walk ahead, and you’ll follow silently, just like Orpheus and Eurydice. At first, he seemed confident, each step without falter, calling back to you playfully. "Don’t worry! I’ve got this!"

But as the silence stretches on, his steps slow. You could see his shoulders tense slightly as they fight the temptation to turn around.

"You’re still there, right?" He called out, trying to sound casual. "I don’t know, am I?" you reply teasingly.

He laughs nervously but don’t turn around. For a moment, it seems like he might actually pull it off. Then you notice it, the slightest tilt of his head, the quick dart of his eyes to the side, catching your reflection in a shop window.

You grin.

"You looked!"

"No, I didn’t!"

"Yes, you did. I saw that sneaky little glance!"

He stops walking, spinning around fully now, their expression a mix of guilt and amusement. "Okay, maybe I peeked. But only to make sure you weren’t plotting something."

"Like what?" you say, smirking. "I don’t know! Running off to join Hades…maybe..."

After a few more attempts (and even more laughter), he finally admits defeat. "Fine, maybe I’m no better than Orpheus.”

"Actually, I think you’re a little better," you say, stepping closer. "Oh yeah? Why’s that?"

"Because when you turned around, it wasn’t because you doubted me. It was because you cared. You love me!"

He lets out a soft chuckle, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Leave it to you to make my failure sound poetic."

"Hey, we just watched Hadestown. I’m inspired."

As you continue walking, side by side this time, he claims to try again someday. But for now, he's content holding your hand and making sure you’re always in sight.

☆ portgas d ace, sabo, monkey d luffy, sanji, gojo satoru, itadori yuji, okkotsu yuuta, nishinoya yuu, kuroo tetsurou, miya atsumu, oikawa tooru, bokuto koutaro, tendo satori, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, reo mikage, tamaki suoh, hitachiin twins, takami keigo, denki kaminari, aren kuboyasu, kaido shun, natsu dragneel, gray fullbuster, howl pendragon... + your favs!

© kara-records, 2025.

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Not my house, but i'd know my way around <3

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you catch sight of him again at the bus terminal - that cute boy from your tutorial last year who you’d almost been foolish enough to think you had a chance with. that was until you’d realised takashi mitsuya was just that nice to everyone - the soft smiles that crinkled up the corners of his pretty eyes, the quiet concern, the witty conversation.

devastating. 

humiliating, even.

the whole day so far has felt like it’s been leading up to something, and you guess this is it. it’s nearing the turning of the seasons, so the sky is heavy and the air thick with the promise of an oncoming storm. the cold metal of the bench brands ice against the back of your legs as you’re pushed into it by the masses of people waiting for their buses - late, as usual - your view entirely blocked by heads and backs and tote bags. so it almost feels like fate - the way the wind picks up, the crowd momentarily shifts, and your eyes land on him. 

your first thought is, damn, he looks exactly the same. all things considering, it’s not the most intelligent thought given it’s only been seven or so months since your breakup - nota bene, the submission of the group project - but he does have a tendency to reduce your neurological function to near-zero levels. and it’s not like you haven’t seen him in the months between; you’ve faithfully watched his stories with a carefully calculated timing that conveys the utmost nonchalance. and though you now know far too much about the food he likes, his design wips, his friends, cats, and motorcycle (a suzuki gsx400fs currently in for repair), you’ve never worked up the courage to text him, to the dismay of your friends who’ve faithfully put in hours of unpaid labour brainstorming the perfect opening lines with you.

but there’s something different about finally seeing him in person again. cameras really don’t do him justice - they don’t capture the way he holds himself with easy confidence, the elegant messiness of his silver-lilac hair in the wind, the calm set of his pale grey-violet eyes. the way he’s always so well put together, in clothes and action and speech. the silhouette of his sharply cut coat, the light glinting off his earring, the way the clouds seem to part and sunlight forms a crown on his head as a choir of angels descend.

bad. this is really bad, because you’re still down bad, and he’s beautiful in the way the moon is - addictive, dominating your sky, impossible to take your eyes off…

at least, that’s until he senses your gaze on him and glances in your direction. you look away so fast you hear something in your neck crack, feigning a casualness you don’t feel at all. 

this is fine.

you’re panicking; heat’s rushing to your face despite the biting cold. you can’t help it - you peek back at him, just for a second, and lord up above but he’s still looking at you. and then he gives you his perfect smile, the soft one with the crinkled eyes and the little tilt of his head, and you have never been more grateful to see your bus pull up in your entire life as the crowd surges forward and cuts off the tenuous connection your extended eye contact had formed between you.

there’s still a few empty rows near the back of the bus that you make a beeline for, slipping into the seat closest to the window and pulling your bag onto your lap. there’s music playing, just barely loud enough to hear over the rumbling of the engine.

if you like piña coladas / and gettin’ caught in the rain …

you’re lucky you got to sit down; at the rate people are pouring through the doors, there’s going to be a lot of people left standing, and is that takashi mitsuya? getting onto your bus, gaze searching for empty seats, gaze finding you? 

it’s disgraceful how unabashedly you suddenly wish that he’ll take the empty spot next to you as he weaves his way in your direction, your entire body tingling with anticipation - but as he moves towards you and then decidedly past you, you mournfully conclude that’s too much to hope for. at the end of the day, you really don’t know each other that well. he probably doesn’t even remember your name.

the thought makes you a lot sadder than it should.

why’s he on this bus? where does he even live? you’ve never thought about it (lie, you have, you’re just not good enough at stalking to find out - though you assumed it was the student accommodations), but surely he doesn’t take this route. surely he doesn’t need to go to the same station as you. surely there’s not another part of your lives that overlap.

it’s only once the bus starts moving and you rest your head on the rattling window pane that you realise he’s sitting right behind you. after some adjusting - with your chin in your hand and your gaze on the gathering darkness outside - you can clearly make out his reflection in the cool glass if you turn your head the slightest bit. 

how does he manage to look so beautiful in a bus window? and at an ordinarily unflattering angle, too? how insane are you for putting this much effort into catching another glimpse of him? (you’ve probably broken the scale of measurement.) but there’s just something about him that makes you weak - that makes your heart flutter and your knees wobble - that makes you stoop down to levels you have never gone to before. 

takashi fricking mitsuya will be the death of you. 

the bus jerks to a stop, banging your forehead against the window hard enough to leave a bruise and unequivocally bringing an end to your humiliating, down-bad behaviours.

that's it. you’re going to suck it up. you’re going to lock in. you’re not going to pine after a boy who you spent two entire tutorials working with, who doesn’t even remember your—

“sorry, do you mind if i sit here?”

you turn, and the bus accelerates in tandem with your heartbeat. 

i’m the love that you’ve looked for / write to me and escape…

“it’s just my other seat’s directly under the air con,” takashi-fricking-mitsuya says pleasantly, “and it’s already cold enough in here.”

your mouth moves automatically before your brain does, giving you a few extra seconds to catch up. “oh, yeah, of course, no worries.”

perfect delivery. chill, friendly. you should turn off your brain more often.

what the hell.

he drops into the seat beside you with far more elegance than any single person should possess. “yn, right? i remember you from last year.”

“yup, yeah, i - remember you as well.”

as if you could forget him. the seats are small; you can feel the warmth of his body, mere inches away from yours. he’s not crazy tall but his legs look insanely long, even folded up - at least next to yours. you need to say something more.

“um, that was a pretty good unit.”

good. great work. you formed a passable sentence. 

he does his smile again, eyes crinkling. “yeah, definitely. you can really feel the difference when the chief coordinator actually wants to be there - there’s so much more thought that goes into its organisation.”

you find yourself smiling back, an automatic reaction whenever you’re around him. “though the first assignment really shouldn’t have been a hurdle.”

“i didn’t mind that so much as the fact it was a quarter of the grade.”

“that’s the thing with humanities units,” you shrug. “you get fewer assignments, but they have much higher weightings. it’s a lot more spread out in science.”

“i’d much rather make one good video essay than have to memorise - i dunno, layers of the stomach - and have to submit five different things every week.”

“shall we agree to disagree, then?” 

“you probably enjoyed memorising the layers of the stomach,” he accuses.

you laugh. “there’s only four, so it’s really not that bad.”

“what’s your major, anyway?” he asks, tilting his head at you; a lock of hair falls into his eyes. “was last year’s unit your elective?”

you’re doing physiology; he’s doing fashion designing. the conversation continues from there - straying from uni, to interests, to a story about one of his childhood friends involving a near-stolen bike and a case of mistaken identity that’s got you cracking up till you can’t breathe. and to your surprise, it’s all so easy. you’d forgotten how well you get along with him. you almost feel stupid for not reaching out earlier, but as usual, you’d gotten too caught up in your head about it all. takashi-fricking-mitsuya, you realise now, would be a great friend.

there’s so much traffic that it’s another forty-five minutes before the bus finally pulls into the station. you grimace as the doors open, sending a biting blast of cold air and sprinkling rain into your face.

“can we just stay here?”

“you want to loop all the way down to the sea?”

it’s enough motivation for you to grudgingly struggle to your feet and swing your bag over your shoulder, body complaining after having been cramped up for so long. you follow takashi across the platform to the steps leading down to a tunnel that cuts across underneath the railway. he’s walking way too fast; it’s his long ass legs, you’re sure of it. it’s raining lightly outside, but the wind rakes the water across your face like shards of ice no matter which way you bow your head.

“you good?”

he’s slowed down to let you catch up - no, he’s walked back to you - despite the buffeting of the wind and the murderous droplets of water. oh, takashi. even though you’re supposedly now ‘chill’ and ‘just friends’, your stomach still does a little pirouette.

“i’m good,” you grumble. “just this weather.”

he hums in agreement, walking decidedly slower beside you as you pick your way through the crowd and down the slippery steps to the tunnel. you both breathe a simultaneous sigh of relief as you get out of the rain, brushing off the droplets from your clothes. there’s no opportunity for conversation in the crowded space but you stick close together anyway. you’re half expecting him to turn onto another corridor that leads up towards the train, but he doesn’t.

guess we’re both taking a bus again.

most people have cleared off to the trains by the time you struggle the short distance to the end of the tunnel. you take in the set of stairs soaked in rain, the biting air, and the puddles on the winding pathway up towards the road. 

“well, this is great,” you say. your shoes are going to get soaked.

and then it starts bucketing.

out of nowhere, the skies open up, and rain comes tumbling down like the sky’s reuniting with the earth as a long-lost lover. it’s deafening, and so thick you can barely see through it.

takashi elegantly strings together a set of curse words you’ve never heard in that particular order before. “why did you jinx it?”

“i did not!”

“you don’t happen to have an umbrella, do you?”

you roll your eyes. “no, i’ve just been subjecting myself to this for fun.”

“i dunno - some people enjoy that.”

“you seem to think very lowly of me.”

(“i don’t,” he says quietly.)

you eye the curtain of water plummeting from the heavens. it eyes you back. there’s nothing to it.

“well, i guess we’re just gonna have to go for it,” you say, inhaling sharply.

“huh? no, wait—”

you sprint out from under cover, and the rain hits you like a bucket of ice, instantly sticking your shirt to your skin and chilling you to the bone in a way that snatches the breath from your lungs. you tuck your chin to your chest and power up the stairs, limbs trembling. oh my god, i hate this. i’m gonna get sick. i’m literally going to die.

“wait, wait, wait—” takashi calls from behind you, yelling over the rain, and of all things he’s laughing as he catches up to you - and then suddenly the rain stops.

you look up and halt abruptly, your heart missing several beats. takashi’s shrugged his jacket off and is holding it above your heads; water streams off his hair, down his face and the contours of his body, where his white shirt has obligingly turned transparent and clings to the muscles of his torso. 

“i got you,” he says, voice low next to your ear.

his presence, his proximity, his body heat. you’re going insane. you’re going feral, blood rushing through your head and joining the thundering of the rain. thebonly ‘chill’ thing about this is the weather because it feels like the entirety of your body is alight, drowning in fire, and you have never felt so un-chill about something in your life. every nerve ending, every cell, every atom. you’re poised to implode.

“let’s run,” he offers, and you do.

you don’t know what sets you off - maybe it’s the image of how you must look, him holding the coat above your heads, you with your face scrunched up, heads bowed against the rain as you sprint up the slope - but once you start laughing, neither of you can stop, even when you reach the shelter of the bus stop. you collapse into the side of the stop, struggling to catch your breath. 

“it’s really not that funny,” he gasps.

“it kinda is,” you return - but your laughter dissolves fairly rapidly into coughs as the wind suddenly picks up with a passion. you shiver, arms uselessly wrapping around yourself in an attempt to save your dignity (wet, clinging shirt) and possibly your life (freezing to death).

takashi’s positioned between you and the wind - not by design, you’re sure - but it’s not helping much either way. you shudder again and hunch forward, a stray gust blowing rain into your face. as you blink the water from your eyes, you feel a heavy weight drape over your shoulders.

“takashi, i’m fine—”

“you’re obviously not, so just - don’t,” he says amusedly as he pulls his coat tighter around you, and you try not to think about his hands on you, or the way his scent and warmth envelops you.

he’s focused on adjusting the collar around your neck with careful precision, so you have ample time to study the droplets clinging to his eyelashes, the locks of wet hair falling into his eyes, his flushed cheekbones, the slope of his nose and jut of his chin, his lips—

“when’s the next bus?” you blurt, tearing your gaze away. get it together.

he glances up over your shoulder, leaning forward a bit. “um. twelve minutes.”

“what?” you say, hoping you misheard over the rain. 

“twelve minutes.”

oh, good lord.

“i’m going to die,” you say, horrified. “i can’t survive another twelve minutes in this.”

“doesn’t look like we have a choice,” he says grimly.

there’s a moment of quiet dismay. 

“well!” he says, with an attempt at cheeriness. “since we’re captive here, i might as well bounce off a couple of ideas for that project with you, if you don’t mind.” 

“i’d love that,” you say miserably. 

luckily for you, it’s genuinely interesting. takashi’s not the type to stay silent about things that matter to him - something you were quick to realise after working with him last year - and that extends to what he creates. his current project’s focused on sharp cuts, statement pieces, and blaring, accusing colours - red, green, black, white. 

“political fashion,” he tells you. “clothes that really say something.”

unfortunately for takashi, his professors aren’t too pleased with what he does have to say, and he’s ruffled more than a few feathers in his department. characteristically, it only spurs him on to do more. say more. go bigger. he's sweet, but he doesn't take things lying down either. 

“to be honest, i don't even know if they'll let me submit this one,” he says frankly. “but i'm gonna make a fuss either way.”

it certainly helps that he’s a genius with fabrics and cuts and shape language, and after some convincing, he shows you a few of his finished pieces on his phone as you huddle together, unsuccessfully shielding the screen from the rain. 

“you’re going to go big,” you tell him. “you've already won a few competitions, right? it's only a matter of time before people take notice.”

“i hope so,” he says. “i'm definitely going to do my best.”

you don't doubt him for a second. 

the white noise of rain fills the brief silence between you as another load of people trickle in to join you underneath the meagre protection of the shelter. takashi opens his mouth, closes it; considers you for a moment, head tilted, and then the words rush out.

“y'know, i really think you should model for me sometime.”

“oh, of course,” you say sarcastically, laughing it off, until he holds your gaze for a moment and you realise he’s being serious. dead serious. you've never backtracked so fast in your life. “oh, no, i don't think i'll look good in—”

the words spill out of his mouth, one after the other. “that's literally my job. and you'd probably look good in a trash bag so there's nothing to worry about. i have to work on my fashion photography anyway. might as well be with someone pretty.”

your heart stutters, stops, restarts. you must’ve misheard him over the rain - not one, but two compliments.

“what was - huh?”

his ears are flushed, probably from the cold. “i said, might as well be with someone who works pretty good with me.”

“oh. yeah. i’ll consider it.”

you really shouldn’t be getting your hopes up this easily. pretty? really? (though he undeniably did say you'd look good in a trash bag. surely he was just being polite.)

the rain’s lessened a bit over the course of your conversation, but it decides to pick up again with a vengeance, as if it's got something to prove. you've never been out in weather like this. there's no build up; it's coming down so hard and fast that the road in front of you, completely devoid of the bus that should be here soon, starts looking more like a river. the wind buffets the rain along the surface of the asphalt in wild patterns. 

“this is insane,” takashi yells through the downpour.

you pull a face at him in agreement due to lack of faith in your vocal projection skills, feeling goosebumps settle over your skin despite the weight of takashi's jacket over your shoulders. perhaps you should put your arms through it, but that feels a little pretentious, like you’re taking ownership of it. that’s girlfriend behaviour - something, horrifyingly, you’re not.

the train's arrived and a steady stream of people are adding to the crowd already under the shelter, shaking out their umbrellas uselessly amidst muttered curses. you're not usually fazed this easily - but what with the lurking anxiety of the many minutes left for the bus to arrive, the horrific weather, and the crowd inexplicably crushing you, you're slowly losing it. takashi mouths an apology as someone shoulders past and shoves him backwards, his side knocking into your chest, your back hitting the cold glass of the shelter.

his body. solid against yours. for a moment you're sure you've never felt so warm in your life. but the brief giddiness that courses through you is wholly overshadowed by the tight space you've been cornered into, by no fault of takashi's. the frigid air freezes your airways as you struggle to heave in another breath. it's suffocating. agonising. you need oxygen. 

and then takashi's arm lifts up to rest on the glass above your head, forcibly creating a small bubble of space around you, his body acting as a wall against the rush of people. he's got a small tattoo on his hand. a rose and stem. your eyes follow the neatly inked lines before they disappear out of your line of vision.

you exhale. 

“you okay?” 

when you look up at him you realise your faces are mere inches apart.

you can feel his breath fanning on your face, the warmth radiating from his body, count each droplet of rain on his eyelashes. he seems to realise it at the same moment you do, eyes darting up to yours, but for some reason neither of you move.

step away, you think, but he doesn’t. and you don't. like a strange magnetism is holding you in place, gluing his eyes to yours like he can’t look away either. every nerve ending in your body is firing, locking your knees; you're trembling. that stupid song's rotating just one verse around and around in your head—

and gettin' caught in the rain

you're sure he can hear your heartbeat even over the rain with the way it's thundering in your ears. his body frames yours against the shelter, trails of water dripping from his hair to trace his face, from the rise of his brow to the curve of his cheek to his lips, slightly parted as his breath comes out in uneven puffs—

don't goddamn look at his lips, idiot, but your brain's caught up a moment too late. your face burns as you wrench your gaze back up to his eyes. surely he didn't notice, right? but the look on his face steals the air from your lungs all over again. his pupils are dilated; eyes wide, uncertain as they hold yours, flickering, wanting, but even so it feels inevitable when his gaze unmistakably drops to your lips. oh, god help me. it's taking every ounce of self control to not surge forward and close the gap between you and jump his bones, but it feels like you're barrelling towards that anyway. his face and neck are flushed, eyes hooded. the space between you has shrunk even further; your lips part, his head tilts, your lashes flutter, and the bus pulls up at the stop in a shower of puddles.

“oh,” you say stupidly. “the bus.”

“yeah. the bus.” 

it’s a small comfort that he seems even more dazed than you. he’s just - standing there. in the middle of a late summer storm. staring at you like you’re the only thing in the world. and it’s flattering and your heart is still galloping in your chest and once you get home you’re going to half-believe you hallucinated this entire thing (because there is no fricking way you nearly kissed takashi fricking mitsuya in the rain - what is this, a romcom?) but you really do need to actually get home in the first place.

“i should—”

“the bus,” he says again, and comes to his senses enough to move backwards a little - to drop his arm from above your head and twist his torso away, giving you as much space as he can. “you should get on the bus.”

“i will. i am.” you’re focused on maintaining basic dignity as your arm presses firmly against the warmth of his chest in your attempt to squeeze past him. you’re getting on the bus, and then you’re crashing out. 

you blame the delay on your takashi-induced brain freeze, but it’s only once you’re free of the crowd and one step away from boarding the bus that you realise what’s wrong - he’s not behind you.

you twist around, coat swinging on your shoulders. “you coming?”

“oh, no, i’m taking the train to a friend’s house,” he calls back. you open your mouth to protest but he’s already adding, “the next one’s in two minutes; i’ll be okay.”

he’s taking the train. he’s taking the train? so he was waiting with you this whole time just for you? he chose to be outside in this ghastly weather when he could’ve been halfway home by now?

“any reason why yer floodin’ my bus?” the bus driver barks irritably, and you register the unfortunate fact that you’ve been standing stock still in the doorway like a fool as the rain washes rivlets of mud down the steps around your sodden shoes.

takashi looks a bit too amused as you blunder out an apology and stumble onto the bus, head entirely muddled. there’s barely standing space left, let alone any seats, so you’re resigned to being suffocated between a crush of drenched and irritated people. and it’s only after the bus pulls out of the station - after takashi gives you a smile goodbye before ducking back out into the rain again - after you twist your head to watch his figure receding into the distance until he’s inevitably blocked from your view - that you realise his coat still hangs from your shoulders.

[instagram: (4) messages from mitsuya_tkshi]

takashi :) (19:14) home yet? (19:14) warm? (19:14) dry? (19:14) alive?

you (19:22) what level of double texting is this

takashi :)  (19:22) using simple arithmetic id say prob lvl 2

you you reacted :thumbs-down: to ‘using simple arithmeti…’  (19:23) i got home 10 mins ago, hby?

takashi :)  (19:23) still in train 😟

you  (19:23) free u omg  (19:24) also i just realised i still have ur coat im so sorry i didnt give it back 😭 completely slipped my mind (19:24) i was a bit all over the place

takashi :)  (19:24) dw, me too (19:26) i’ll be on campus tmrw we can get lunch too ☺️

you  (19:30) sounds good!

takashi :) (19:32) !!!!!

you  (19:32) !!!!!!!!!!!!!

takashi :) (19:32) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!@#$z5ty

you (19:32) ???

takashi :) (19:33) ?? who knows. (19:34) see u tmrw then :))  (19:34) and u can get back to me about the modelling too if you’ve thought abt it 

you  (19:35) oh nah there’s not much to think about, i’d love to

takashi :)  (19:35) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

you  (19:35) stop. (19:35) (!!!!!!!!!!!!) 

you stare at the screen for a few moments longer until it becomes clear that the conversation’s over, at least for now. you need a hot shower, and you really need to lock in on a lab report, but there’s only one thing on your mind right now. you put down your phone, bury your face in your hands, and - finally - crash out.

takashi fricking mitsuya might certainly be nice to everyone, but something tells you that a near-kiss in the rain is probably a bit more than just friendly - and not only that, but rather than ignoring you for the rest of the semester, he actually wants to see you tomorrow?

maybe you’re not insane. maybe you weren’t hallucinating. maybe you weren’t reading into things.

maybe you do have a chance.

i've got to meet you by tomorrow noon / and cut through all this red tape / [...] you're the lady i've looked for / come with me and escape

in my head they're very chill at lunch very nonchalant the whole jazz, but things get a lil, y'know, when he offers to show you what you'll be modelling for him...

based entirely on very real occurrences in my life

general taglist open - leave a comment or ask !! @revyuu @fushiguruuzzzz

© rfyu. all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, repost, or feed my work into ai.

[kara-records]

When Life Gives You Citrus'

Synopsis: Heavily inspired and based off of the 2025 kdrama, When Life Gives You Tangerines, the story follows the moments that you and Mitsuya Takashi have to endure just to say a simple three word sentence to each other.

I highly recommend watching at least the first episode to understand the atmosphere.

Volume I: winter.

➜ “Don’t you think that’s enough already? Gosh, mom! Why are you always the last one out- Hey! Why are you going back in? Now you’re just doing this on purpose!!”

Although the earliest memories with your mother were always when you were scolding her for diving, you would never trade it for the world. Just for another day, you longed to see her cheeky smile and her sparkling eyes under her goggles whenever you shouted at her.

wc: 1.7k words

Volume II: spring.

➜ “Another one? How has your family not gotten suspicious over the extra food you’re bringing? What about your sisters?” “Hush, they’re fine. Now, show me that rip in your skirt..”

As the spring flowers bloomed, you too welcomed the embrace of your new age. You were ready to make a big name for yourself and to leave the confines of your small island. Mitsuya was ready to make a name for you too, a name that would connect his and yours forever.

wc: 2.6k words

Volume III: summer. On hold.

➜tba...

Volume IV: autumn. On hold.

➜tba...

[kara-records]

[kara-records]

smile!

— saiki kusuo x reader (gn, 2nd pov)

— summary: Helping out Saiki has its perks—example, he smiles for a picture with you on what would look like a date to outsiders.

— notes: this was an old fic i posted from june! edited it a little and finally remembered to reup here :-)

— things: hmmmm i guess the reader's relationship with saiki is kind of romantic? but the overall dialogue and stuff is platonic :-)

— masterlist | request form

When Saiki couldn’t go to Toritsuka for help, he’d approach you.

You weren’t explicitly aware of his powers, but you’ve had your suspicions. Though, it was something you never brought up in conversation with Saiki.

Whenever you do help Saiki out, you assure him that he isn’t in debt to you. This results in Saiki going out of his way to silently pay you back. He knows your words are true, but he wasn’t okay with a good deed going unrewarded.

Additionally, you were okay with doing just about anything. Help him stay away from the sports festival? Sure, you hated it too. Join the Occult club so there’s a not-so-annoying familiar face? Why not? The club seemed like it wouldn’t be too much work.

Talk to a guy from another class for Saiki? Okay.

You weren’t the best at starting a conversation, and neither was Satou Hiroshi. Why Saiki wants to know his interests, you didn’t bother asking. It wasn’t your business.

Opening a conversation with Satou wasn’t hard at all—you figured you could just lie on the spot. “Hi, Satou. Truth be told, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while. I want to make friends from every section, and I thought I’d talk to you.”

Satou looks up at you, surprised. “Me? But, I’m not as interesting as the other guys here... Like Toritsuka–”

You abruptly shake your head. “I’ve interacted enough with him. I’m good. But, you... You just have a calming presence, you know? Puts people at ease.”

Saiki, from afar, listens in on your conversation. You had suggested to be on call with him as you made conversation with Satou.

Listening in on your conversation with Satou was something Saiki could do without the help of technology, but you didn’t know that, so Saiki agreed. This made you one of the really few people in Saiki’s phone contacts.

You pull an empty chair near Satou and sit on it. “So, tell me, what do you like? Any favorite bands, drinks, stuff like that?”

Satou happily answers you. “One OK Rock! I love their songs! Ah, I drink a lot of peach tea, too.”

You smile at Satou. “Oh, that’s nice. Do you have any hobbies?”

“I like to read.”

You nod. Average hobby. I like to read too. Everyone likes reading to a certain degree. You then ask him, “Oh? What kind of stuff do you read?”

Satou hums. “Well, I read all kinds of books. I like to pick up a copy of Weekly Jump on Fridays; kind of a reward for getting through the week.”

“That’s so interesting...! Would you want to walk home with me later? That way, we could talk more.” You put your hand in your pocket, checking to see if your phone was still there. You proceed to stand up from the chair and put it back in its place.

Satou awkwardly laughs in response. “I’m sorry, but I have a few errands to do after school, I wouldn’t want to drag you around with me. Maybe some other time.”

You laugh back. “It’s alright. There’s no need for you to apologize! I’ll be on my way now. Good luck with class, Satou.”

“Thank you, you too.” Satou waves before walking away.

You take out your phone and hold it close to your ear. “So? Is that all?”

Saiki hums. “Yes. Thank you.”

“How are you going to get this week’s Jump? We aren’t allowed to leave schoolgrounds until classes are over.”

Saiki answers you, “I have my ways.”

You furrow your brows. “Alright... Why do you want to hang out with him, anyway? No offense, but he’s kind of... bland.”

“That’s exactly why I want to talk to him. Also, we can stop the call. I can see you walking towards me.”

You sigh and end the call, continuing your conversation with Saiki face-to-face. “Alright... And you’re sure he’ll talk to you?”

Saiki shrugs.

You reply flatly, “That’s reassuring. I’ll be at Café Mami if things go well, or not. The usual booth. I’ll just text you.”

I could use clairvoyance to find you, but that works.

...

You enter Café Mami, alone for the time being, and look for an empty booth. You spot one and head straight to it, setting your bag down. You text Saiki.

You:

Do you want coffee jelly?

Saiki:

👍🏼

You:

How’s it going with Satou?

Saiki:

I’m waiting for him by the gate. I have a copy of this week’s Jump with me, and I bought peach tea from the cafeteria.

You:

Okay. This means you’ll be going to Café Mami though, right?

Saiki:

I’m just going for the coffee jelly.

You smile at his message before closing your phone. Keep telling yourself that, Saiki.

The manager approaches you and takes your order; you order something for yourself, and two cups of coffee jelly for Saiki. One for him to eat here, and...

“The other coffee jelly is to-go, thank you.”

You open your phone again and search up the band Satou mentiond, One OK Rock. You rummage your bag for your earphones, but to your dismay, you couldn’t find it.

You quietly sigh to yourself. I guess... I’ll listen with my phone really close to my ear. God, I hope no one hears.

You choose a song and pleasantly listen to it. This actually isn’t so bad. Might add this to my playlist– the song stops. You check the notification.

Saiki:

Hello. I am on my way there.

You:

Take care. ���

You see Saiki enter Café Mami, and your eyes dart towards the earphones he’s wearing. You point at it. “Those are mine! Where did you get those?”

Saiki sits down as he answers you, “Your bag.”

“You didn’t ask...!”

The manager approaches you two. “Here’s your order. The coffee jelly to-go will be served shortly.”

Saiki looks at you, confused about that last sentence.

“Ah, I ordered a second one for you to enjoy at home.”

Saiki’s eyes sparkle at your words.

You bring your order closer to you. “So, how did things go with Satou?”

Saiki slumps his shoulders and dejectedly hands you back your earphones. “I’ll be taking both coffee jellies to-go, thanks.”

Your voice was riddled with panic, “Huh–?! No, don’t go! Is it that bad?”

“He didn’t talk to me.”

You laugh. “That’s it? Did you even try to talk to him? You’re not the most chatty person I know.”

Saiki nods. “I had everything he liked; Weekly Jump, peach tea, and I was listening to One OK Rock. I even smiled at him.”

You hold back your laughter, you didn’t want Saiki to feel worse than he already did. “Maybe... Maybe he didn’t talk to you because he knew you stole my earphones.”

Irritated, Saiki replies, “That is totally unrelated”

You shrug. “Yeah.” You decide to tease him, “Maybe your smile was weird. Off-putting. I mean, you don’t smile a lot.”

Saiki shakes his head. “My smile wasn’t weird.”

“I’ll have to see for myself.”

“No.”

“You’re no fun.”

Saiki doesn’t reply to your comment, opting to finally eat the coffee jelly in front of him.

“Here’s the coffee jelly to-go. Your order’s complete. Thank you!”

You smile at the waiter and gently push the paper bag with the coffee jelly inside towards Saiki.

Hm... Maybe if he smiled at Satou like that, then they’d be hanging out like this. Ah, then I wouldn’t be able to see Saiki so happy. Perhaps I’ll be selfish, just this once.

Saiki thought to himself as he ate the coffee jelly. For someone who’s had their suspicions about my powers, you sure think rather shamelessly. You’ve done a lot for me, so I’ll let you have this.

Saiki finishes his coffee jelly. “Take out your phone.”

You do as told, although clueless to Saiki’s intentions. “Okay...?”

“I’ll show you the smile I gave to Satou.”

You move over in your seat so Saiki could sit beside you. He takes the hint and walks over to you.

You two smile and you snap a picture, the smile on your face still there as you examine it. Saiki returns to his seat.

You two were smiling, but you were the only one looking at the camera. You look up from your phone, then at Saiki. “Why were you looking at me?”

He’d then respond, “I wasn’t ready.” You looked happy.

[kara-records]

[kara-records]

Heart Pirates

A little doodle of these little silly guys while finishing Wano

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My neighbor Remus. ☔️

[kara-records]

practices 🖊️🖊️

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i love you like a rotten dog, i love you like my canines are falling out of my gums. like a monster, like a beast. like something not worth loving back.

Marie Lu The Young Elites / @/bloodyhellharry (on tumblr) from The Infamous Willow Prank, Part Three / Hélène Cixous excerpt from Love of the Wolf, "Stigmata: Escaping Texts" / @/thymoss (on tumblr) / Virginia Woolf The Waves / Deborah Landau Soft Targets / Tory Adkisson Anecdote of the Pig

i. Marie Lu, The Young Elites

[ "So. Tell me, little wolf. Would you like to punish those who have wronged you?" ]

ii. @/bloodyhellharry

[ Pencil drawing of three panels of a comic strip. The first image is of a closed hatch. The second image shows the hatch being opened slightly. The third imagine is the largest. It shows a wolf with a large shadow, snarling at the cracked hatch. "IF HE'D GOT / AS FAR AS THIS HOUSE, / HE'D HAVE MET A FULLY GROWN / WEREWOLF" ]

iii. Hélène Cixous, Love of the Wolf

[ "The lamb loves its wolf. The wolf turns all white and starts quivering out of love of the lamb. The lamb loves the wolf's fragility, and the wolf loves the frail one's force. The wolf is now the lamb's lamb and the lamb has tamed the wolf. Love blackens the lamb." ]

iv. @/thymoss

[ Messy sketch of the head of an animal with teeth surrounding the outside of it's face, pointing away from it. "I will / remove my teeth, for I / want to remain / kind despite / my anger" ]

v. Virginia Woolf, The Waves

[ "I press you to me. / Come, pain, feed on me. / Bury our fangs into my flesh. Tear me asunder. I sob, I sob." ]

vi. Deborah Landau, Soft Targets

[ "We are animal hungry down to our delicate bones." ]

vii. Tory Adkisson, Anecdote of the Pig

[ "Do you still believe myths / can save you? Foolish creature. / Let me be clear: every version of the story / ends with you being slaughtered." ]

[kara-records]

I CAN SEE TROUGH YOU