#Ace's drawing his luck | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cinnbar-bun · 8 months

Text

Straw Hats- Reversed AU HCs

AU: In which YOU are the character of a very famous franchise, and they are regular people who are fans of your series.

Note: GN!Reader, crack, very unserious

Luffy

Thinks you’re neat! Super cool!

People think he doesn’t really “get” you and just likes you for your awesome powers and/or cool appearance, but he drops like an innocent yet profound tidbit about you that shows he really is thinking of you.

Honestly probably only has a bootleg figure of you courtesy of Ace. It’s goofy as hell but he adores it.

Maybe has one of those printed graphic tees.

Ace and Sabo joke about his love for you but then Luffy throws his slippers at them.

If he sees anything with you on it, he’s just gushing over it.

Loves finding funny comics with you online.

Zoro

Guy who likes you for your powers.

The same guy who is also a weeb in front of the mirror and tries to replicate your awesome moves.

Help his roommates caught him-

I think he’d get those compression shirts/shorts with you or a symbol of yours for when he works out.

Also the guy who’s working out to your voice like those ASMR videos so he can pretend you’re praising him and congratulating him.

Gets into fights with Sanji about who’s the bigger fan.

I don’t see Zoro as the type to “collect” things, but he’d probably have a keychain of you around his belt or something as a good luck charm.

Might even have an action and poseable figure of you like a Figma.

Nami

Likes you lots, but also recognizes your merch potential.

Works alongside Usopp to produce fan merch or zines for you to make money.

Has a unique piece of jewelry with your symbol/iconography to wear.

She’s not wearing “obvious” for merch, because she just isn’t about that.

Probably has a few very expensive figures of yours that are special edition or anniversary editions that she managed to get at a steep discount.

Reads a bit of fanfic but tends to mostly peruse fanart of you.

Tends to have multiple ships for you- she doesn’t really favor one over the other she just thinks they’re interesting.

Likes to do cosplays of your fits, though. She’s gotten very popular for her lovely cosplays. She tends to handmake most of her cosplays, but Usopp and Franky add to the amazing accessories.

Plays the gacha game for your series, and her amazing luck means she gets practically all your units easily.

Usopp

The artist of the group who has seen and had to do heinous things for a commission.

Unlike the others, he IS making a self insert and HE IS DOING ART AND COMICS WITH YOU AND HIM AS THE MAIN COUPLE!

Has made a name for himself of making doujins and art for you. His store has seen lots of purchases for his doujins.

Nami basically is his account manager and has made him raise commission prices many times in order to pay their rent and so he can realize how valued his work is.

He mostly just posts his work but does like answering questions from fans and posting about how awesome you looked in the new episode.

Always making art and stories from you.

Has done fanfiction for you but it’s mostly with his OC/SI and his artwork tends to be more well-known.

Always does special drawings for your birthday and various holidays.

Plays the gacha and has bad luck so he has to whale for your unit. He insists he prefers just regular console or PC gaming instead of gacha.

Sanji

Number one fan, he WILL get into arguments about you and inject you into everything.

All your figures, all your merch, all of it in one specific room dedicated to you. Sanji even has a lifesize figure of you in a cool/cute pose he religiously cleans (and prays to ngl) every day because AINT NO WAY HIS LOVE IS GOING TO GET A SPECK OF DUST ON THEM!!

His work as a chef makes him busy, but he likes to wear small things of you like a brooch or something on his uniform to cheer him up through the day.

Makes videos cooking things you cooked or dishes you liked within the series.

He sometimes shows off his collection and Zoro calls him a loser and they get into fights in the comments.

Commissions art of you (probably Usopp) to hang up in the (Y/n) room.

I feel like he would do a persona/self-insert but also I feel like he’d be like no!!!! I cannot sully my beloved like that!!! So he focuses on just you.

Blocks people who are fans of you and does not like shipping anyone with you, hell no his mellorine is HIS!!!

Has done fanfic, mostly self-insert, and that’s pretty much all he reads. No ships.

Robin

“Oh, (Y/n)? Yes, they are an interesting character. I like them.”

[1 Million word count fic series, tagged: slow burn, character exploration, heavy angst, found family, Book 4 of 7]

“I just think they’re neat.”

Probably the mother fic writer for you and/or one of your ships.

Doesn’t socialize much online, just tends to post and scroll through the fics for you and answers comments under her fic.

Likes to support her fellow creators so she does look into the art and projects other fans have made.

Does try to create her own aesthetics for her blog and fics, but sometimes she just commissions Usopp to make her things for her fics to fit her vision.

Is really into unique and often abstract or “dark” art of you.

Yes you’re her favorite character, yes she will still make you suffer in her fics and art for the ~development~.

It’s a running gag with her peers where they ask her how she will torture them next.

She finds the Nendoroids of you are quite cute, so she bought one to go on her desk.

Franky

Franky likes making garage set figures of you.

He’s also a bit of a dork, so he will often make you pose with a super sentai outfit or large gundam robots (since they’re also a part of his crafting hobby).

Makes videos showing off the new figures he made of you.

He loves you cuz you’re his hero, you just amaze him!

Printed a photo of the art your creator did where you guys were all dressed like super heroes or something- suuuuppper up his alley and he loved seeing it.

He likes collecting the manga/comics for your series and keeps them on his personal shelf.

Franky also helps Nami/others with specific cosplay accessories. Franky is known for his craftsmanship, so he’s made plenty of cosplay gear for others that are above and beyond.

Him and Usopp have collabed to create the original figures of you that Franky adores.

Does those videos where he takes cheaper/smaller figures of you and adds to the base and design to make it more “epic”.

What the hell is “fanfiction”?

Brook

Goes by the username “Soul King” and uploads his covers of your franchise’s music.

He really loves you though so he’s often rocking your shirts while he’s recording the music.

He does a lot of different genres for your theme covers- jazz, heavy metal, lofi, piano, music box- he’s done em all.

Whenever he’s not recording covers of his music and does streams, he very proudly shows his figure of you and a poster he has hanging up on his wall.

Also plays the gacha game, has pretty good luck but never with your units.

“Wow! 5 Sugo-rares! Who are they- GOD DAMN IT IT’S JUST THE OTHERS!!! RATE UP IS A LIE!!!”

Brook is a menace though and I’m gonna keep that under wraps for various reasons.

Maybe in the future I might explain further.

Jinbei

Jinbei is classy, unlike many of the others here (we will not name names).

He’s more likely to “make” his own merchandise for you.

Handmade doll with a lovingly sewn kimono, for example.

Fancy tea set that is painted with your symbols but it’s so subtle and chic that some of his viewers don’t even realize it’s from some random franchise he likes.

He prides himself on his traditional and handmade crafts and you’re just an avenue to experiment with them.

He likes to design the kimonos and outfits with you in mind and the season. He shows the process of creating it in these calm and quiet BTS videos.

Really they are beautiful and the amount of love and skillmanship put into the work he does is fantastic, it’s awe inspiring.

Does not know what a fanfic, a gacha, or what a “fan edit” is. He’s an old man he’s got things to do, man.

458 notes · View notes

del-thetiredwriter · 1 year

Text

Mafia au/ Good Luck while running away from the mafia part 1

Intro , part 0.5 , part 2 , part 3

Notes: Guess what I’m back . To be honest I didn’t quite like it but anyway I’m posting it and I can’t write fight scenes (￣▽￣;). It’s so exhausting.

Tags: @loivre , @randomlyappearingartist , @serenity-loves-red , @hasty-desert , @moonlight-nightwing , @hrhqueenfox , @oceanside-pixie

Warning: cursing, fighting, blood, shooting, Yandere stuff…

“Riddle-san, what are you doing, sir?”

At the question, Riddle briefly lifted his eyes from the documents and looked at you.

“I was just wondering about a thing.” He replied.

You looked around at the files arranged in order. All of them had one thing in common: betrayal, crime, wrong, etc. against the organizations punishments .

“I was really curious about what caught Riddle-san's attention. What could possibly make you go through even the files from the old manager Trein-sensei's time?"

Riddle smiled.

"Don't worry, you'll find out soon." said Riddle.

You were suddenly startled by the sound of footsteps. Apparently you fell asleep. You're not normally someone who sleeps a lot, but for the past two weeks you haven't been able to sleep properly.

After leaving the organization or rather escaping, you temporarily settled in a remote coastal city where you hoped they'd find you a little late. With a little help, you changed your identity, your phone line, everything. You've removed everything that indicates Y/n L/n.

Life here was calmer compared to your old life. You wished you could stay here forever. But you knew they would find you eventually. You lived ,one night in your sleep afraid that they would find you at your most vulnerable moment.

You were currently working in a cafe. Although it may seem a little illogical, working at the cafe, which was open until midnight, was actually a little better for you. The more people around you, the easier it is to avoid them.

"Yo!" You turned the way you came. Your colleague Alex was glaring at you with his arms folded.

“Yuu, what are you doing in the camera room again, are you skipping work again?”

'Yuu' is your new identity that you created to make it harder for them to find you while running away. You still had a hard time getting used to the name.

“No, Alex. I just- "

"Anyway, I'm going downstairs. You have the upstairs okay?"

You nodded and Alex left the room. You looked at the clock, it was 10:00 pm. You stretched yourself and yawned. Two more hours until the end of the shift.

As you were about to get up, your eyes were caught by the cameras. Your eyes widened in panic at what you saw. You watched three people enter the cafe. You'll recognize those red hair, those grins, those faces wherever you see them. Heartslabyul found you. No, they all found you. You clenched your teeth, your time was limited.

The reason you spent most of your time in the camera room was because you could see everything from here. You quickly grabbed your gun from the locked drawer and loaded it. Deuce and Cater took a table downstairs near the front exit. Ace was walking up the stairs.

You took a deep breath. You should have thought fast. You should have gotten out of here . But for that you had to go down the stairs first.

You went behind the door and waited. You waited for Ace to find you.

Look at the cameras. It was approaching. You gripped your gun tightly. And the door opened. You punched the poor boy in the face as the door opened.

“Agh-“ A bitter moan broke out from Ace.

Before he could draw his gun, you kicked him in the stomach and dropped it to the ground.

“Agh- it's been a long time and the first thing you do when you see me is attack me? Really Y/n.” Ace grinned . Clutching his nose, which was bleeding from your punch.

You muttered, "Bastard."

“Come on Y/n didn't you miss me? I missed you so much." He tried to punch you, but you avoided him. You both started to struggle. Ace might have been strong, but you were more experienced and stronger than him. You grabbed him by the head and knocked him to the ground. Before he could regain his balance, you took his tie and tied him with it.

“What am I going to miss about you, you sadistic bastard!”

You picked up the gun on the ground.

“What? Are you going to shoot me ?” Ace said in a tone you didn't like.

“You have to stop asking questions you know the answer to.”

At 11:00 pm, screams broke out in a cafe with the sound of 'bang' gunfire. Everyone in the cafe began to flee desperately, except for two people. The two men, one with red hair and the other with black hair, started to make their way to the upper floor of the cafe.

“Do you think who shot whom, hmm~” Cater asked the younger one.

As the two of them went upstairs, the power went out suddenly and the whole cafe was plunged into darkness.

“Looks like Y/n-chan won.” said Cater to himself.

“Let's separate . You stay here, Y/n has to use the stairs before they can get out of the cafe.” Cater instructed.

“Okay, sir.” said Deuce.

You held your breath under the table. You waited for Cater's footsteps to go away. You were the one who cut the electricity. Five minutes later the generator would start working . You should have gotten out of here by then. Finally, making sure that Cater was far enough away, you slowly came out from under the table. No matter how hard you tried not to make a sound, Deuce heard you.

“Y/n? Is this you ?"

Now that his eyes were accustomed to the dark, he could barely make out your silhouette. Everything happened so abruptly. You took a chair and hit Deuce with it. While he was stunned by the blow, you ran downstairs with your names and the electricity came back. Your five minutes were up.

When the lights were turned on, an unexpected sight was in front of you.

Riddle was sitting at a table eating strawberry pie as if nothing had happened.

“Ah, Y/n you finally came down. I was getting really bored waiting for you.” He said while taking a slice of the pie.

You pointed your gun at him. "Get out of my way if you don't-"

"It's been a long time since we've seen each other, Y/n, but will you put that gun down?" A familiar voice said as you turned around and saw Trey pointing his gun at you. As always, even in this state, he was smiling gently at you.

“Tch. What do you want ? Why are you here?" You asked questions that you know very well the answer to.

Riddle smiled.

“Y/n L/n you are posing a great danger to the organization right now. You also have cases of injuring my men. You understand what I'm trying to say, right?"

"Get out of my way or I'll shoot you."

Riddle laughed.

“You won’t t kill me, you can't. Just like we can't do to you. Now if you drop that gun, I'll do my best to mitigate your sentence."

This was clearly a lie. You grit your teeth. You smiled calmly and did as he said. You slowly put your gun down and raised your hands in the air.

“Well done, here it is. I wish you would always listen to my words like this. Now let's go back." said Riddle.

“Sorry Riddle but I won't be back!” You said and detonated the smoke bomb you were hiding. The area was suddenly covered with fog. You quickly walked out the front door through that mess and got into your car.

“Get them quick!” Riddle shouted.

You quickly drove away. There was no turning back anymore. The Game has started.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland mafia au #yandere heartslabyul #riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #deuce spade #cater diamond #trey clover #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere cater diamond #yandere trey clover #yandere ace trappola #yandere deuce spade #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader

1K notes · View notes

ofoceansandtombsanew · 20 days

Text

it flows and it flows and it flows

cw. selfship-coded, f!reader (no specified anatomy), pre-canon, pre-relationship, childhood friend au, reader eats a defined devil fruit, love as sacrifice, denial of feelings + mutual pining, vulture culture mention

pairing. portgas d. ace x reader

synopsis. as a hydrophiliac, eating a devil fruit is a horrifying thought. as a pirate, eating a devil fruit is an incredibly dumb decision. you'll gladly embrace the horrors and stupidity to keep your loved ones safe.

notes. the way i planned on writing something else for my next childhood friend au installment but this decided it would be making a cameo first whoops. cover comes from monet's impression, sunrise (1872) it just reminds me of ace.

For its moniker of Faerie Faerie Fruit, it isn’t pretty to look at.

The name itself invokes the imagery of translucent wings, tinkling laughter and pixie dust at your fingertips. The fruit in your hands invokes anything but the aforementioned. No, this fruit seems more akin to invoking something out of your nightmares with its gray and pruny peel. All the more damning is the way the face of the fruit is caved in, like a woman in mourning.

According to the encyclopedia you’d skimmed through, once upon a time, this isn’t even the ugliest the Faerie Faerie Fruit can achieve. That has been allocated to the sickly green Goblin model. Knowing this does nothing to quell how unsettling the fruit in your hands is to look at. A fitting feeling for Model Banshee, the variant of the Faerie Faerie Fruit that had fallen in your hands on this most recent adventure across the Moss Isles.

“You should eat it!” Wallace insisted at dinner with a sharp-toothed grin, holding his keg of beer in your direction. “Then the Spades'll finally have a power holder besides the captain!”

Ace squinted at the good-natured fishman with an offended pout, leaning over as best as he could with Kotatsu on his lap. “So I’m not good enough now, Wallace?” The gray lynx mewed, disgruntled at the movement and Ace settled down. “It’s nice to know how you really feel!” In spite of his words, Ace’s lips were curled into a smile as he snickered. He blended perfectly against the Grand Line’s reddening sky, carmine and vermillion painted against the clouds.

“Won’t it be confusing to have two banshees on the ship though,” you asked with a half-smile in return, nodding in the direction of the strawberry blonde. At the mention of her name, the woman grinned at you impishly.

“Maybe you should sell it to me then,” the ginger nodded in satisfaction at the thought. “Then I really would be a banshee!”

“You want it?” You leaned over with intrigued.

As quickly as she brought it up, Banshee shot it down, “no offense to Ace, but if I’m gonna be a pirate,” she gestured beyond the borders of the Spadille, to the sea itself. “I want the security of knowing I won’t drown if I fall into the ocean.” A chorus of laughter followed as Ace whined that his eating the Flame Flame Fruit had only been an accident. A very unforeseen accident.

In one exchange, you were brought back to square one.

You sigh, unable to help a few chuckles. It’s only luck your time on Sixis Island didn’t result in you losing your ability to swim then when you unknowingly bit into the Flame Flame Fruit. Being the first to bite into it, only Ace received any abilities from it. As much as he hadn’t been prepared to eat the thing, however, you can admit it is an ability that suits him.

Ace is like a flame that draws in anyone lucky enough to notice its glow. You want more and more people to see it and relish the warmth of your friend as much as you do.

That doesn’t mean you want to necessarily join him in the ranks of being cursed to drown should you fall into a body of water. Eat, sell or toss it back into the depths for someone else to discover. Those are the only options for a person who finds a devil fruit.

“You shouldn’t eat it anyway,” Ace told you softly when the conversation moved on to a different topic. “You love swimming.”

You love water as easily as you breathe. It has been one of your best friends since your childhood on Dawn Island.

You remember jumping into crocodile infested rivers.

You can hear Luffy’s sniffles as he clung to you desperately. How Sabo sighed, “Can’t you become one with the water in a way that doesn’t look like you drowned?” How Ace, whose face donned more scowls than smiles at 10, rasped a fist against your head in agreement and ranting all the while.

You recall the cool of the returning tide as you looked for seashells on the beach. Then you’d take each one back to Dadan’s, resting them beside your growing collection of unconventional treasures of mummified paws, empty turtle shells and dissected owl pellets. Seashells and stones were the bones of the sea and earth respectively, your grandfather had told you once, so they belonged with your treasure trove as much as any of your other finds.

I wonder if Dadan’s tossed all that out by now, you wonder vaguely. Well if she does, I hope she doesn’t touch my eggs. Protect ‘em for me, Luffy. You remember the beaming haul of large anaconda eggs you’d painted over after Dadan cracked them open for breakfast. There had been four for each of you.

A yellow egg for Luffy, a red egg for Ace and blue for Sabo before you finally painted one over in your own favorite color. You think Sabo’s egg is the collective favorite of the members of your quartet that remain.

It’s only been 7 months or so since you left your life on Dawn Island but it feels like it has been years. Yet throughout it all, the ocean had been a steady companion.

You love it as an extension of your very being.

And yet…

Sloppily drawn eggs and raucous laughter filling the air when you should have been sleeping flood your mind. Your eyes rest on the creepy fruit resting in your hand once again. You don’t necessarily desire joining Ace and Luffy in the ranks of incurring the disdain of the sea, truly. But-

“Flameo, Hotman,” you say suddenly at the approaching heat and footsteps that announce Ace’s presence before his words can.

Ace grins as he rests his arms on the edge of the Spadille, “how’d you know it was me,” he asks unnecessarily, sea breeze running its invisible fingers through his wavy locks. Your eyes crinkle from how you smile at the sight.

You nudge him carefully, fingers tightening slightly over the fruit in your hands, “I felt the furnace getting closer and closer.”

Ace snorts, signature grin on his face. It should feel stranger, seeing him smile so much when he tended to frown and furrow his brow constantly when you were children, but it doesn’t. Smiles suit Ace more than any other expression you’ve seen him have in the past. “What are you over here thinking about?” His eyes dart to the fruit in your hands. “Are you gonna throw it back?”

“It certainly crossed my mind,” you admit with a shrug. Maybe if you hadn’t stopped to think about the past, you would have. The fact you hesitated is more than enough of a sign that your heart hadn’t been into the idea. “I changed my mind, though.”

“What does it do anyway?” Ace poked the wrinkly face with a curious finger.

“Banshees are supposed to be some kind of faerie of death,” you think back to your base information you know about the beings the fruit derives its name. “When someone is gonna die soon, they scream and keen to let people know. But that’s about all that’s really known about ‘em. When you think about it, it kinda suits me, huh?” He hums thoughtfully, looking at the thing deeply and you continue on. “Remember when you gave me my first turtle shell?”

The freckled man’s face softens with a nostalgic smile, “Dadan said boys are supposed to give girls flowers not corpses.” You can hear the cranky woman’s voice even now, exasperated at how you excitedly twirled with the item in your hand. She never quite understood your interest in vulture culture but beside the odd complaint, she never discouraged it.

“I thought it was pretty cool,” you snicker in return. “But you probably should default to flowers whenever you find someone you like. I don’t know if they’d be as appreciative as me.” Whoever that person is, they’ll be lucky. You disregard the strange itch in your chest and thoughts of sky blue hair as Ace rolls his eyes with a chuckle. He may think the idea of someone loving him is ludicrous but he’s an idiot when it comes to such notions.

Portgas D. Ace is special and deserves to be loved in a special way. He will be, someday.

With a sigh, you turn so your back is facing the edge of the ship rather than your front. “Anyways,” you divert the topic back to the former. “I have to admit that it’s pretty useful, objectively thinking. There’s a lot of people out there who wanna avoid death like the plague.” Your heart clenches uncomfortably once more, albeit for a reason you can discern.

Ace nods at your words, “it’ll definitely go for a lot when we get to the next island. So try not to accidentally drop it now that you’ve decided you won’t be doing it intentionally.”

“Oh shut up,” you snort but not unkindly.

But he’s right, this would probably go for a shit ton, not that you know how many berries most devil fruit go for on the market. A devil fruit that grants its user the ability to sense death, however, certainly is above the average.

A smile missing a tooth comes to mind and you have to stop yourself from squeezing additional indents into the Faerie Faerie Fruit. The rough hands of your grandfather covering your own as he shows you how hook a worm follows.

Sabo and Grandpa are gone, there’s no bringing them back.

There are people you love who are still here though, your thumb brushes against the face of the fruit. Indented in anguish as it silently screams for the imminent loss of life. You glance at Ace who is content to stare out at the waves carrying the crew to its next destination. You feel yourself smiling again before you can stop yourself, wistful.

You love the water, it’s as easy as breathing. It’s been your best friend for as long as you could remember.

You remember listening with giddy awe to your grandfather recounting how taking you out the bath as a baby was nigh impossible unless the tub was empty first.

You can hear Makino’s panic as you groggily wake up, realizing you fell asleep in the midst of your floating. Your head hung sheepishly as she scolded you, voice uncharacteristically sharp about the dangers of falling asleep in the ocean. “Heaven forbid the sea king was around!”

You recall the shared panic of Luffy falling underneath a lake’s surface, you, Ace and Sabo diving after him in unison.

If you could become the ocean itself, you’d gladly do so and let your limbs dissolve into it and feel the pulse of every living creature residing within.

Another sigh slips from your lips as you look over your shoulder at the sunset-stained gem the Piece of Spadille sails across. I’m really going to miss being in it. You don’t necessarily want the curse eating a devil fruit will bring, but even if you can’t swim in it anymore you will find ways to still enjoy it.

With solidified determination, you bite into the ominous fruit resting in your hands without a second thought.

At your movement, Ace looks in your direction.

His eyes go from inquisitive to as wide as dinner plates in the span of seconds, calling out your name in frantic surprise. “What are you doing?!” Large, freckled hands reach for you and you side step him immediately before breaking into a run. “Spit it out!”

God this tastes awful, you nearly gag but you force yourself to swallow the piece anyway. Hearing heavy boots chasing after you, you bite into the wrinkled fruit once more. Just in case the first bite doesn’t take.

“Um, [First]?” You barely hear Deuce’s confused reaction. “Ace?”

“Can you stop Ace for me? Thanks!” You call back to the masked man.

“Stop her from being an idiot!” Ace shouts after you.

The Masked Deuce smartly decides being neutral is his only course of action. “You guys figure it out! We’ll, uh, we’ll be over here!”

You could squeal from how close he is but you manage to bite into the foul-tasting flesh a final time before warm arms wrap around your waist, preventing further escape. You swallow instinctively.

“[First]!” You pull against how he tries to grapple your possession from your hands. Try as you might, you aren’t able to get a fourth bite in. You squeeze your eyes shut, not that it does much but it does prevent you from seeing what is undoubtedly an Ace with a frown.

“Can’t spit out anything,” you cry before Ace can start that up once again. It is far too late for the man to do anything about your consuming the Faerie Faerie Fruit. “I already bit into the shit three times!”

“But why?!” Ace asks incredulously.

“Because it’s useful! I’m not giving this sort of ability up!” You stop wriggling, knowing it is redundant when you’ve already done what you’ve set out to do. “I just,” you open your eyes, downcast. “I don’t want to lose anyone else I care about.”

If you were to ever sense Ace or Luffy’s deaths, it will break you. At least you know in those moments, you’ll be able to do something about it. There doesn’t have to be anymore Grandpas or Sabos, not for you. Not if you can stop it. You’ll gladly eat a dozen more Faerie Faerie Fruits if it gives you any ability to keep them safe.

There’s a pause then a groan of resignation as your feet touch the deck again. I guess there’s no point in eating anymore of this, you look at what remains of the fruit. You aren’t sure exactly how it will change you in ways beyond a newly acquired death ping. You resign yourself to eating the rest regardless.

The silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable but it isn’t comfortable either, it just is. There’s nothing else that can be done about your decision.

“You can’t ever take this back, you know,” his voice is soft.

“I know,” you murmur after the last of the devil fruit has been eaten. “I don’t need the ocean like that anyway.” You will find new ways to enjoy it. Finally you turn to look at the man who has been your closest friend since you were 10. You were practically family. Family, that’s right. Family looks out for each other. You are going to look out for Portgas D. Ace whether he likes it or not, you promised yourself this after you met Old Man Naguri.

Even as Ace looks at you with equal parts acceptance and sorrow on your behalf, you think the sacrifice is worth it. It’s bitter but the sweet in your chest outweighs it.

“That’s one more thing we have in common,” you try to lighten the mood. “Paramecia and Logia differences aside.”

Ace sighs but he gives you a snicker of courtesy, “I would have been fine with us not having this in common.”

“Eeeh, you’ll get over it.” I’ll get over it, you chuckle, turning back to face the horizon. The sun’s almost been swallowed entirely by the sea and there are more things dotting the sky than you remember there being a few minutes ago. Your eyes widen at the ghastly image of whales swimming through the skies as if unaware their time has passed many moons ago.

Whales, stingrays, sharks and unidentifiable fish as far as you can see.

A silent procession across the Grand Line only for your newly acquired eyes. It almost makes you want to cry.

“Is everything alright,” Ace draws you back in, eyebrows knit in concern.

You wonder if Grandpa and Sabo’s ghosts are gallivanting about Dawn Island.

“Yeah.”

#look she's writing #one piece x reader #op x reader #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #one piece #portgas d ace #i just have been brainrotting a lot about this man #him his freckles his large hands his warm skin #look it's self shipping hours #sea otters #flaming pearls #one piece imagines #op imagines

70 notes · View notes

itsgameofthronesimagines · 2 years

Text

The Good Queen (Part 3)

(Gif not mine)

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing(s): Viserys Targaryen x Fem!Reader, Alicent Hightower x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Harwin Strong x Alicent Hightower, Harwin Strong x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Alicent Hightower, Daemon Targaryen x Harwin Strong (I won’t apologize for everyone being gay for each other)

Tag: hotd the good queen

Warning: Fluff. Angst. Time-skip. Happy ending. Age gaps. No feud. No greens or blacks. Blood & Gore. Grusome death.

Word Count: 7,011

Taglist: @gruffle1

Summary: A look into Queen Y/n Hightower’s life is busy and full of love and family. But something else lingers in the dark, waiting for her.

Author’s Note: Laena still dies but under different circumstances and Aemond claims Vhagar honorably. Rhaena and Baela do not exist so everyone is proud of Aemond by his accomplishment and he doesn’t steal the right to Vhagar from anyone.

Part One - Part Two

(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)

130 AC

So much to do with so little time to enjoy the beautiful day, Queen Y/n Hightower makes her rounds about the castle after breaking her fast. As usual, she walks gracefully down the long hallways and winding staircases, entering the throne room to extend her greetings to her husband before starting her day. She climbs the stairs to the Iron Throne and leaves a kiss on Viserys lips before briefly exchanging their morning agendas. As usual, they speak mostly of their children. The Queen speaks of the planned events for Helaena's upcoming name day while the King mentions the many lords who have reached out to him to ask for Helaena's hand. Y/n appeared hesitant but further asked her husband to send these letters up to her chambers when he has the chance so she might look into these suitors as well.

"They may try to woo her during the celebration," he warns her lightheartedly, "Best to warn her so she is not overwhelmed."

"I shall," Y/n stands from her seat on Viserys' knee, cupping his face in her hand before she makes her departure, "I'll see you at supper."

"Hm. I'm afraid I have to take supper in the Small Council meeting tonight," the King smiles apologetically, "But you are welcome to join. I could use your sharp eyes on the matter of the meeting."

"Not tonight," Y/n sighs at the idea of another council meeting. They appear to be more crucial than naught these days, "If it would please you, my love, allow me to rummage through all the letters of liege lords addressing Helaena's hand. I'll invite Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Alicent for supper tonight in my apartments and use their opinions to narrow down the pool of suitors."

"Excellent idea," Viserys beamed, quickly grasping her hand and kissing her knuckles before she could turn away, "I wish you luck."

She descends the Iron Throne and exits the throne room, nodding to her ladies-in-waiting when she found them still in the spot where she had left them. They dutifully follow her as she expertly navigates through the long hallways of the castle, bowing her head and smiling whenever someone stopped and bowed to her in greeting. She stops in the training yard before all else and immediately spots Ser Criston Cole overseeing a training session between Aegon the Elder and his cousin, Jacaerys Strong. She glides down the steps and makes her way to the sworn shield, "What shall they be learning today, Ser Criston?"

"Mostly defensive maneuvers, Your Grace," Cole bows, but is unable to draw his eyes away from the fight in case he missed something, "Aegon has improved since his return from Oldtown. Do give your lord father my compliments. Whoever he had training the boy during his stay must have been quite exceptional."

"I shall," she finds herself repeating a second time, to her inner amusement. Her shoulders began to feel tight with the reminder of Otto Hightower.

When he first started writing letters to his eldest daughter, it was to reach out and learn about his grandchildren. Y/n should have felt relief to learn that her father was wanting to mend their relationship. Instead, she only felt this cold dread in her heart when she learned that he had only written to her and not to Alicent, who was also his daughter and had given him an equal number of grandchildren. Y/n tried to be courteous and kind to her father in any returning letter she sent, and yet each one he replied with felt more like a stone crushing her against the sea bed, despite feeling the light weight of the paper in her hands. Eventually, Lord Otto requested to host his oldest grandchild, Aegon, in Oldtown. His reasoning was for personal reasons only; to make up for lost time and congratulate Aegon on becoming a man. Otto also stated that perhaps it would be good for both Aegon and Daeron to reunite again as brothers. Y/n had hesitated before finally agreeing, despite the memories she had of her father when Aegon was first born. She remembered Lord Otto trying to force her hand, telling her how to raise her sweet, innocent son into becoming a king.

She gave her father the benefit of the doubt. That had been years ago and she agreed that Aegon deserved to see his little brother again, her own ache to see Daeron the deciding factor on this arrangement. She sent Aegon to Oldtown, promising him that it would only be for the season. Her inner demons wished to demand her eldest child to steal Daeron away as well, but forced the words down and bury them as she hugged Aegon tightly. Now Aegon has finally returned -and not with Daeron- just before Helaena's name day. The Queen watched her son easily defend himself against Lord Jacaerys' advances, feeling proud and yet in turmoil over how mature he's become. Her children really were growing up before her eyes.

She nods to Ser Criston, "I'm sure he would be proud to hear you say that, ser knight. Excuse me."

"Your Grace."

Next, she makes her way to the gardens, taking a moment to stand in the warm sunlight with the soft breeze brushing through her hair like a loving touch. The Queen takes her time winding through the maze of flowers and trimmed hedges until she comes across the gazebo stationed at the center of all the plants. Her sister, Lady Alicent Strong, is seated under the shade of the gazebo, Little Aegon in her lap while Little Viserys crawls around at her feet, her hand gently grazing the woman sitting beside her.

Princess Rhaenyra, heavily pregnant with her third child, is the first to notice Y/n when she neared the gazebo, and smiles at her stepmother, "Good morning, Your Grace."

Alicent looks up and immediately finds Y/n, only pulling her hand away from Rhaenyra when she noticed the Queen's handmaidens trailing behind her. Y/n nods as she approached the two women, "It certainly is, Princess," her fingers briefly push a strand of Alicent's hair out of her face before leaning down and kissing her cheek in greeting, "Ali. Jacaerys is faring well in his training, I see."

"If only he was doing well in his studies," Alicent quips with a gentle smile as she stares up at her elder sister, who takes Aegon from her arms and rests him on her hip, "What brings you here?"

"I am here to invite the two of you to a private supper tonight," Y/n tickles Aegon the Younger under his chin, smiling as he squealed with laughter, though it doesn't reach her eyes as she spoke of her troubles, "I have letters from various lords of the realm who wish to wed Helaena and I could use your help reading through them all, as well as getting a second and third opinion."

"Of course," Alicent beams, although Rhaenyra doesn't seem as thrilled.

"Helaena is still too young to be thinking about marriage," she immediately replies, a frown cutting through her beautiful Valyrian features. She is distracted by her thoughts, however, when Little Viserys pulls himself up onto his chubby feet using her skirts. Her hand brushes his silver hair back, the toddler cooing under her attention.

"She's near one-and-twenty, Rhaenyra," Y/n appeared downcast, even as she smiled down at her stepdaughter and squeezed her shoulder in comfort, "You were even younger. We all were. We've been holding this back for long enough. We can't keep her forever."

The Queen knelt down to the princess' round stomach, peering up at Rhaenyra with an encouraging twinkle in her eye, "Besides, pretty soon you'll have a daughter of your own to fret over."

Rhaenyra faintly smiled, running a hand over her stomach even as clouds formed in her eyes. She had always wanted a sister and finally got what she wanted when her father married Y/n and they bore Helaena. Rhaenyra was always so protective of her little half-sister, even more so than the brothers, "You speak in confidence. And yet Alicent believes I'm having a boy."

"You look no different than when you carried Little Aegon and Viserys," Alicent comments in defense of her opinion when Y/n glanced over to her.

"We'll make wages tonight then, at dinner," Y/n smirked at her sister, briefly glancing back at Rhaenyra and winking. The Queen sets Aegon down next to his brother and stands up straight again, nodding to the other two, "Until then, my sweets."

"Good day, Your Grace," Rhaenyra chimes while Y/n disappears from the gazebo, her ladies keeping their heads low as they follow her.

She trails through the gardens with her usual company in tow, wishing to waste a little time if it meant she could enjoy the lovely, quiet day. That is until the peace is suddenly interrupted by the loud, high-pitched laughter of a small child. Looking around, Her Grace tried pinpointing the laughter, which now followed shouts of disapproval, until she discovers Little Joffrey Strong, the small boy running through the gardens while being chased by his septa, dark curls bouncing as he sprinted. Y/n laughs under her breath and decides not to intervene, knowing that not even she could save her little nephew from his strict teacher. The Queen shushes her handmaids when they all began to giggle at the sight, and with a smile, directs them to exit the gardens quietly until they are out of sight of the poor, winded, septa. The ladies all bow to their queen and go on about their day, leaving Y/n alone to her thoughts as she walks back into the castle.

The library is the next stop on her to-do list, allowing the guards to open the heavy doors for her before entering the grand room, full of books from top to ceiling. However, she didn't find herself alone as she originally thought. At the nearest table were none other than her son, Aemond and Lucerys Strong, playing a competitive game of cyvasse. Both young men look up at the sound of the library doors opening and stand to greet her when they recognized her face.

"Mother," Aemond thinly smiles, his eye lowering in respect.

"Who is winning?" She smirks as she glides across the floor to join them, her fingers pinching the sleeve of Aemond's tunic as she practically stood in the shadow of his tall form.

"Currently me, Your Grace," Luke's eyes sparkle mischievously, his smile only broadening when Aemond directs a small glare at him.

Y/n rolls her lips to try to retain the growing smile of amusement before crossing over to the board game, peering over either side of the divider so she can see both sides of their placements. Turning and walking away, she calls over her shoulder, "Careful, nephew. If he's smart, Aemond can defeat you in two moves."

She hears scuffling and squawks of surprise from behind her as she disappeared beyond the bookcases, smiling to herself. She travels through the small aisles between shelves until she finds what she's looking for, picking up a book to her liking and dusting off the worn cover. Tucking the leather book under her arm, she makes her way back through the maze of books until she stumbles across her son and nephew again. Y/n ruffles Luke's hair, earning another squawk of indignant from him and causing Aemond to hum in amusement under his breath, much similar to his mother. Y/n beams and walks out of the library and onto her next destination.

Walking back up the winding stairs to reach the floor of her daughter's chambers was an easy feat, having gone the same way for years since Helaena's birth. Today, however, Y/n's feet felt heavy as she inched closer to the princess' room. Her steps felt like lead by the time she reached her daughter's door, knocking and announcing herself before entering.

"My heart?" Y/n called into the room as she shut the door behind her.

Helaena had her knees up to her chest, lounging over her couch by the window, heavily focused on the embroidery in her hands. Y/n walked closer and recognized the pattern to be a dragonfly. The mother smiled as she goes to sit in the open space of her daughter's couch, relaxing her regal posture as she leaned back against the cushions, sighing in exhaustion as she watches Helaena work.

Their days together are often spent like this, in silence but in comfort. Helaena isn't fond of loud noises, touches, or even conversation, so Y/n respects her boundaries and tends not to force her daughter into such situations unless absolutely necessary. This is why guilt and shame settled uncomfortably in the Queen's gut, the weight of letters regarding a future husband for her lovely daughter heavy before Y/n could even read them herself. Even though she had not seen the letters in person yet, they still lingered in the back of her mind, dreading the conversation that will have to happen, and the celebrations of her name day that Helaena will have to attend.

"Has your uncle stopped by for your lessons?" Y/n suddenly asked, realizing that she had not seen Daemon at all this morning.

Helaena paused in her ministrations but continues to stare at her embroidery as she answered, "He left early. Kostōba vali emagon kostōba ondos." [Strong men have strong hands]

Though the Queen herself was not fluent in High Valyrian, she has spent enough time in the company of Daemon and Rhaenyra to catch a few words. Y/n tilts her head, suspicious, "Does 'kostōba' mean 'strong?'"

Helaena only nods as she continues her work, unaware of the playful roll of her eyes her mother presents. Y/n sinks further into the lounge chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. One of these days, she'll have to reprimand her brother-in-law for leaving his niece and depriving her of Valyrian lessons only so he could sneak off with Ser "Breakbones" Strong.

"My daughter's mother tongue should be more important than the need to stick your tongue down Ser Harwin's throat," Y/n could already hear her own lecture in her head, to which she can imagine Daemon's sly smirk gleaming down at her in response.

"Have you seen Ser Harwin's throat, dear sister?"

Y/n scoffs out loud and had the decency to appear bashful when she realized that Helaena had heard her. She flashed her daughter an apologetic smile when the princess looked up, but it slowly faded once Helaena looked back down, the Queen was sorely reminded of the main topic of today's events. Sighing, Y/n reached a hand out to Helaena, "My dear, may I touch you?"

Helaena immediately went stiff as a board, to which Y/n retracted her hand, "Okay, I'm sorry," she whispered, guilt now evident in her eyes, not that Helaena had noticed as she continues with her embroidery. It only made her mother feel worse, the woman who once loved her innocence but now felt saddened by it. Helaena is a woman grown now, and it was still hard for Y/n to wrap her head around. How can something so pure grow up so fast? Just trying to picture her daughter in the care of a man whom she has never met frightened her; haunted her even. Y/n, as Queen, understands that this is the way of things and no matter how hard she tried, there are just some things far beyond her control, like her daughter's impending marriage. It will happen eventually, whether Y/n Hightower likes it or not.

Originally, she came to Helaena to talk about these matters but decided she wanted her child to remain innocent just a little bit longer. Instead, Y/n set the book from the library down on the table across from the couch and slid it over to Helaena, "This was a book that I read years ago... before I married your father. It's about these rare butterflies native to the islands of Naath. They carry a disease that is deadly to anyone who isn't born and bred from their natural habitats," Y/n huffs in mirth, mostly to herself, "I remember that imagery kept me awake at night, but I thought this would be more to your liking."

Helaena had paused her embroidery upon her mother's explanation. The princess peers over to the book with faint interest and reaches out to caress the symbol of the butterfly engraved into the front cover, "Thank you, Mother."

Y/n beams, feeling her heart skip a beat at the sound of her most proud title. Even as her children grow into adults, she still feels her heart melt every time they call her by her true name. Aegon says it as if he mocks it, but in a playful way. Aemond says it with respect and admiration and with a hint of a smile. Helaena says it softly, like a butterfly's wing. And Daeron...

The Queen quickly shuts her thoughts down and rises from the couch, patting the cushion closest to Helaena's foot, "I'll leave you to it then. If you miss dinner, I'll make sure a meal is sent up to you."

She moves around the furniture and heads toward the door.

"Mother."

Y/n looks back, smiling patiently as she waits for Helaena to continue.

The young princess doesn't look up from her new book, speaking in riddles as she often does. But today, her riddle felt haunting, almost like a warning, "A sire wishes to breathe fire. Fire burns to skin, and his eldest breeds it."

Puzzled as she often is by Helaena's riddles, Y/n tries not to let it bother her. Over the years, she had learned to stop asking Helaena what she means and has stopped trying to understand her. Sometimes, even Helaena appears confused by what her own words mean. When she started saying these riddles, Viserys took it as a sign that she was a dragon dreamer, much like himself. Daemon had rolled his eyes and had started an argument with his brother for the sake of an argument, so Y/n never try to investigate further what her husband meant.

Instead of asking her to reiterate, Y/n only nods to Helaena before leaving the room, taking a longer route toward her own apartments so that she might have a little more to walk and think alone. The time it takes for her to get to her chambers is peaceful and the hallways are empty except for the occasional maid walking in or out of rooms to fetch or retrieve clothes or food. Ser Harrold Westerling is waiting outside of Y/n's room when she arrives, and after he opens the door for her, the Queen turns back to him, "You may leave, Ser Harrold. Please see to it that no one bothers the Princess Helaena while she reads."

"At once, Your Grace," Harrold bows and marches down the hall, and Y/n closes the door behind her.

A late afternoon nap was in order, but Y/n knew better than to try when she still had so much to do. Looking around, she found the stacks of letters she had asked the King for and crossed the room to the table. She picks up one of the letters, inspected the contents, and made out the name Prince Qoren Martell.

"Absolutely not," Y/n found herself talking out loud, laughing at the gall of House Martell. She decided that all suitors she didn't approve of will have their letters burned immediately so her husband would not see them, lest he tried to marry their daughter off without her knowledge. She sauntered over to the hearth and watched the letter burn in the small flames, still amused but faintly disgusted at the idea of Helaena being sent to Dorne. The embers of the hearth appeared to mock her, the andirons; the two tall bracket spikes supporting the logs from falling into the room were shaped suspiciously like a Sunspeare. Y/n doesn't try to think about how her andirons were probably forged in Dorne and instead focused on watching the letter burn.

She hears rustling behind her and turned to face the maid she expected to find. Instead, a knife is pressed into her neck, and a hand grips tightly onto her arm. Y/n lets out a squeak of shock, reflexes kicking in as her free hand tries to push the knife away from her. The attacker is male, close to her own height, and reeked of filth. He doesn't demand or restrain her, instead, he speaks in grunts and growls as he fights with every intention of killing her.

"HELP! GUARDS!" Y/n screams at the top of her lungs once her brain had caught up with her body, still trying to push the dagger out of the way. He pushed back with equal strength and determination, with Y/n's own adrenaline turning quickly into fear and causing her arms to tremble. Her breaths quicken as she can feel herself slowly go into shock, limbs heavy and slowly giving into the weight of the knife. At one point, she tried to pull away and run when her legs began to feel like jelly, but her attacker had a hold of one of her arms, so she had no choice but to continue to fight for her life. As they both spun in this twisted dance, Y/n quickly realized that the hearth now stood directly behind her attacker. Sucking in a deep breath with every bit of strength she had left, she shoved the man hard, even trying to place her foot behind his to trip him for added measure.

The man falls, knife sliding like butter down Y/n's forearm in the descent. Before the assassin could place his hands behind him to stop his fall, his head hits the mantle above the hearth and he crumbles in pain, forgetting to fight against gravity as his body drops into the hearth. His neck, unfortunately, lands right on top of one of the andiron spikes, spearing through flesh and bone. He spits out blood, gurgling, choking on the red liquid as he slowly realizes he was trapped with his head sticking directly into the flames. As he spat out blood, his whole body convulsed and writhed in response to his entire head beginning to catch fire, unable to escape with his neck completely skewered onto the spike. His eyebrows turned to ash, and his skin began to blister and melt, his body twitched and kicked for freedom, even as the heat of the flames forced his skin to sizzle and pop like a boar on a spit. The smell was unbearable as Y/n quickly steps away, only to fall to her knees on the floor when she found no strength left, tears uncontrollably rolling down her face. All she could do was cling to her injured arm and watch, horrified, as her attacker's body slowly stopped fighting, going limp as the fire somehow burned brighter. The Queen tried gasping for air, her entire body shaking out of fear and pain just as the doors burst open to reveal the Kingsguard.

"My Queen!" Harrold Westerling had returned, immediately running to Y/n's side while his men inspect the scene before them. Ser Harrold guides her to the nearest furniture and inspects Her Majesty's injuries while a maester was called forward. Between the bustling of the guards and the shouting involved, other residents of the castle began to stir with all this commotion.

The first to arrive was Alicent, with Rhaenyra slowly following her in her condition. Alicent looked around the room, horrified by the man lying dead in the fireplace before she scanned the apartments and quickly found her sister, "Y/n!"

She rushed over to the Queen, gathering her up in her arms as they both wept in fright and relief. Rhaenyra excused Ser Harrold from attending Y/n so that she may sit on the other side of her stepmother and hold her close. The Grand Maester finally arrived and quickly made good, efficient work on the Queen's arm as Daemon marched into the room, sneering at the scene of the crime. He looked as though he wished to spit onto the dead body before releasing his anger elsewhere.

"Who was meant to be on watch here?! Who failed to protect the Queen?!"

"It was me, Prince Daemon," Ser Harrold bowed his head in shame.

Daemon only takes two steps towards the knight before Y/n finally found her words, even as she stumbles over them, "N-No, Daemon! It was not his fault! I... I... I ordered him to go tend to Helaena. I made him leave his station."

Her brother-in-law relents after a while of the two of them staring down one another, stepping away from Ser Harrold and moving to stand behind the three women on the couch, "Has my brother been informed? Is someone with him?"

"Ser Criston is guarding the King, my prince. He's on his way."

"Mother?" Aegon calls out from the doorway, only walking into the room when the sea of knights part for him to see the Queen alive and well. Jace also walks in with him, leading his father, Ser Harwin, to inspect the scene for himself.

"I did not realize I was hosting in my chambers," Y/n muttered under her breath, wincing when the maester added yet another stitch to the cut. However, her irritation melts away when her eldest son approached her, reaching out to him with her free hand, "I'm alright, my sweet. Have you seen your brother and sister?"

"Your daughter is safe in her room, Your Grace," Ser Harrold cut in, "I left a guard with her."

"And Aemond? Last I saw, he was in the library with Lucerys."

"I'll go get them," Harwin volunteered after a pleading gaze from his lady-wife Alicent. He quickly heads towards the door only to stop short and bow as Viserys finally enters, his cane trembling in support of him.

"What is the meaning of this?" The King demands as everyone bows in his presence, all except his family members sitting on or surrounding the couch. Viserys turns to his family, inspecting each of their expressions before settling on his queen, "And why is my wife bleeding?"

"There was an assassination attempt, Your Grace," Ser Harrold quickly reports with a ramrod back. Ser Harwin finally leaves the room after nodding to his father and Ser Criston when they entered the Queen's chambers. Hand of the King, Lord Lyonel Strong, steps up to stand beside the King, appalled and worried.

"An assassin? How is this possible?" He questions.

"I did not recognize his face," Y/n answers, her voice now stronger with her family surrounding her. Her back straightens and she now looks onto Lord Lyonel with the fierceness of a queen once more, "I pride myself in knowing every staff member in my employment, and I have never seen that man before in my life."

"It will be hard to identify him now, Your Grace," Ser Harrold continues to address Viserys while also moving aside to show the King the horrifying sight of the death. Viserys' eyes widen at the body stuck in the hearth from the neck up. He looks at his wife and then back to the body, affronted and speechless. In this time of the King taking it all in, Ser Harwin returns with Prince Aemond and Lord Lucerys, both young men striding across the room to join their respective family members. Aemond stands beside his older brother, standing over their mother as he inspects her appearance with only his single eye. He didn't speak a word, and yet confessed he was afraid by looks alone.

Alicent felt the need to stand and pace, and by doing so, caught a glimpse of the dead body and noticed, to her horror, his attire, "He wears our house colors," turning back to her older sister, Alicent recognized the equal shock spreading over Y/n's face, "Could this man be from Oldtown?"

Y/n's shoulders fall, a faint look of acceptance written in her sad eyes, "If so... then there could only be one prime suspect who resides there."

The room is filled with mutters of both surprise and indifference, depending on who you talk to. Some, like the Kingsguard, are appalled by this revelation, some, like Daemon, know it to be true and their eyes darken. Others, like Lord Lyonel and Lady Alicent, are in a state of disbelief.

Alicent even voices her disbelief as she shakes her head, "Father would never do something like this. Why would he want you dead if you're married to the King?"

"Because Father's wish wasn't for me to marry the King, it was for his blood to one day sit on the Iron Throne," Y/n stated boldly, loudly, to make sure everyone in the room heard it and accept it, "When I pledged my loyalty to Rhaenyra's right as Viserys' heir, Father's plans were ruined."

Rhaenyra squeezed Y/n's knee in comfort and the room stirred with this bit of information. Viserys grinds his teeth while glaring at the floor, enraged by the gall of his former Hand.

"A sire wishes to breathe fire. Fire burns to skin, and his eldest breeds it."

All eyes turn to the door of the room, where Princess Helaena now stood, half hiding away as all eyes turn to her. Y/n's worries all float away as her face softens at the sight of her daughter, smiling in encouragement, "Yes... that's what you meant, my heart. You tried to warn me."

"If Father is responsible for this attack, then he risks himself becoming a traitor to the crown," Alicent interrupts, her voice low in anger, "He should be punished immediately."

Viserys huffs out a large, enraged sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Maester. Once you are done attending to the Queen, please inspect the body. I will have the Kingsguard bring the corpse down to the dungeons and you may meet them there."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"Ser Harrold," Viserys broadens his voice, the man in question straightening to attention at the power of it, "I demand the arrest of Lord Otto Hightower. Send out a regiment to Oldtown to obtain him and bring him back to King's Landing."

"Your Grace," Ser Harrold bows and vacates the room.

"Ser Criston," Viserys turns to the younger knight, "Remain outside the Queen's room tonight."

"At once, Your Grace."

"Half of you bring the body down to the dungeons," the old man orders the remaining Kingsguard, "The rest of you follow me. I will summon the court and address the crime at hand."

"You mean to warn them of your interrogation into their treachery?" Daemon questions with a sly glare, appalled.

"Treachery?" Viserys appeared affronted at his younger brother, scoffing in disbelief.

"Someone inside the castle must have helped, my love," Y/n decided to cut in before another spat between brothers could begin within her chambers, "I do not believe my father acted alone in this attack. I believe he had help from someone on the inside. Only someone with the proper knowledge of the castle and my whereabouts could have instructed the assassin on where to go and when to strike. No doubt whoever this traitor is had hired the attacker using Lord Otto's coin."

The maester had finished Y/n's stitches and stood to instruct the Kingsguard on how to remove the body without tampering with it. Roughly five Kingsguard managed to lift the corpse off the sharp andiron and pull it out of the fire without distressing the skull from its shoulders. The Queen keeps her eyes fixed on her husband, refusing to even glimpse at the body of her attacker. Viserys former dismissal relents, his shoulders slouching as he nods in agreement. The body is removed from Y/n's chambers and with it follows a parade of Kingsguard along with the Grand Maester. Viserys waited for them all to leave before also exiting with Lord Lyonel, mentioning under his breath of a secret council meeting.

The room grows silent, the rest of the royal family sitting uncomfortably, unnerved by the situation. Y/n's mind is buzzing, her thoughts running from her attacker... to Oldtown, to her father, and then to Daeron. Dread freezes in her chest, worry for her youngest child taking place.

"Daemon," Y/n stands up, feeling the strength of her legs again as she rounds the couch in a flurry of skirts, stepping up to her good brother. She makes sure to stare directly up into his eyes, unwavering, as she carefully spoke her next words, "I wonder if you would be so kind as to take your dragon to Oldtown and bring me back my son?"

Mischief sparkled dimly in Daemon's war-aged eyes, a corner of his lips slowly turned up as he feigns innocence with the tilt of his head, "Not by horse, Your Grace? Surely, you wouldn't want your lord father to feel insulted by the mere threat of a dragon."

A playful taunt that she would normally meet, but the Queen's mind remains fixed on her baby boy. Her words are blunt and powerful compared to the stutter she had possessed earlier, "Perhaps I would like him to feel insulted by the mere presence of your company."

She leans into her brother-in-law's space, taking both of her hands and gripping onto one of his forearms. She lowers her voice so that only he could hear the rest, "Go. I don't care what you do, or how you do it, just bring me back my son alive."

He schooled his features, emotions neutral while firmly nodding once down to her, "Yes, Your Grace."

Daemon breaks from her hold on him and cross to the door before Aemond began to follow him, "I'll accompany you, Uncle."

Y/n quickly steps towards her second son, reaching for him, "I do not wish that, Aemond--

"It's alright, dear sister," she turns to Daemon's voice, "Vhagar and Caraxes will definitely be a sight your father will remember for the rest of his miserable years... or whatever time he has left."

The grave promise in his tone may have felt intimidating to some, but it was strangely a comfort to the Queen. Aemond grasps her elbow in comfort, forcing her to look up at him. Glancing between her son and Daemon, she eventually surrenders with a stern expression as she narrows her gaze onto Aemond, "Fine. But you do what Daemon says and you do not fight. Promise me."

"I promise, Mother," Aemond whispers gently to her, "I'll bring Daeron home for you."

He pulls out of his mother's grip and saunters over to join his uncle at the door. Daemon nods to Rhaenyra before exiting from her sight. Aemond takes one look back at his family, narrowing his sight onto his older brother. He tilts his head in question and Aegon only shakes his head in rejection. He will not join the hunt. Aemond nods with understanding, a silent conversation only two brothers can share, before he, too, leaves. Aegon turns back to his mother, dutifully placing himself at her side, "What would you have me do, Mother?"

"Stay with Helaena in her chambers tonight," she instructs him with a warm smile, cupping his face in her hands, meeting his eyes as they stood the same height, "I would feel comforted knowing neither of you would be left alone for the time being."

"We can all stay together, Aunt," Jace mentions with a smile of reassurance, "All the children. We'll have the wet nurses bring Little Aegon and Viserys to Princess Helaena's room and we can keep each other company until we know everything is safe again."

"I'll go find Joffrey," Luke volunteers, springing up and disappearing from the room.

"Very well," Y/n laughs under her breath, amused by Luke's lack of courtesy before gently patting the side of Aegon's face, "Will that please you, my dear? Will you and Jace watch over your siblings and cousins until we apprehend the people involved in this attack?"

"We'll make it a celebration, Mother," Aegon comforts her, "As to not worry the smaller ones."

"Thank you, my sweet child," Y/n whispers, feeling lighter when she watches the remainder of the children leave, though it was getting harder and harder to recognize them as children when the older ones are nearly fully grown and so responsible.

The room remains occupied by Y/n, Alicent, Rhaenyra, and Ser Harwin, the latter noticing the way the Queen chewed on her bottom lip while in thought as she began pacing the room, "What is it?"

"I wish to know who among our court would want me dead, and if their intentions have any motive behind hiring my attacker."

"If the assassin had lived, we could have questioned him," Harwin had commented.

"Not likely," Queen Y/n shook her head, "The maester may confirm this, but I believe the attacker's tongue might have been cut out prior to assaulting me. I remember he never spoke a word, only making pained noises and grunting. Whoever helped him into the castle was more careful than my father. Whoever they are, they covered their tracks."

~~~~~~~~~

It was well into the next day and yet none of them left Y/n's side. They had all stayed up the entire night, debating on what to do next as the Queen anxiously waited for news from Oldtown. To try and distract her, both Alicent and Rhaenyra offered to assist in looking through the letters asking for Helaena's hand in marriage. The three women had done so until morning, with Harwin standing guard inside the room and Ser Criston guarding outside of it.

Ser Criston had yet to be informed of Daemon and Aemond's return when they all heard the familiar roars of Caraxes and Vhagar flying overhead, even shaking the floor of Y/n's chambers. The Queen abruptly stood from her chair, running to her balcony to spot the two dragons for herself. However, they had flown directly to the Dragonpit and they were now too far for Y/n to see who sat on top of their mounts. Anxious to see the riders with her own two eyes, the Queen sprinted out of her chambers, barely acknowledging the others shouting her name behind her. She knew for a fact that Ser Harwin and Criston were running after her, but Alicent and Rhaenyra's voices faded away, not following Y/n, most likely because of the princess' round stomach.

Y/n paid no mind to courtesy or manners as she ran through the halls of the castle, not even nodding her head whenever a servant or lord stopped to bow in greeting her. She even kicked off her shoes, grace be damned, so that she may pick up her skirts and take two steps at a time down the winding staircases.

By the time she ordered guards to open the doors of the Red Keep, the front gates were slowly rising. Y/n bounded down the steps of the courtyard, finally stopping to catch her breath as she anxiously waits for whoever to come through. Daemon entered first, followed by his nephew. Aemond, however, was occupied with another silver-haired individual, the older brother playfully shoving a younger boy forward.

Although upon looking at him, Y/n could hardly describe him as a boy. Daeron, and the age of six and ten, was technically a man grown, though he could never possibly reach the same height as Aemond or Daemon. He always kept his traditional Targaryen hair short, at least to his shoulders, and Y/n's eyes briefly squinted at the green-colored apparel her youngest son wore before quickly forgetting about it, her smile uncomfortably stretching as her eyesight began to blur.

Daeron had kept his gaze on the Queen, even as the front gates closed behind them. The courtyard was still until the young prince stepped forward, his own smile smaller than Y/n's but it was one of relief and shyness, "Hello, Mother."

She broke after that, huffs of laughter under her breath as joyful tears ran down her face. Y/n opened up her arms and Daeron dutifully fell into them, hiding into her shoulder as his mother hugged him tightly, shaking with relief.

~~~~~~~~~

"Has Daeron comfortably moved back in?" Viserys asked his wife that following night, both of them sitting at the corner of the Small Council table, alone.

"Yes. Although I wouldn't be surprised if we found him in one of his sibling's rooms the next morning," Y/n smiled fondly behind the lip of her wine glass, "Aemond said that he was thrilled to be coming home. Apparently, he hated Oldtown."

"And your father? What has become of him?"

Y/n's smile falls, immediately avoiding her husband's gaze as she carefully swirls the wine in her goblet, watching the small whirlpool instead of the King's reaction, "I don't know. I didn't bother to ask."

Viserys sighed, all too well acquainted with Daemon's temper and his opinion of Lord Otto, "Well, my men will be there in a few days and they will make do with what is left of Otto Hightower."

The Queen sets her goblet on the table and leaned back in her chair, drumming her fingers against the arms, "Perhaps Daemon chose mercy. Perhaps he wished to surprise us and soon the Kingsguard will bring my father back alive and whole."

It was a comforting thought, but Viserys only huffed in amusement, "Knowing my brother, I wouldn't get your hopes up, my dear."

They both laugh from their chests, even if there wasn't much mirth behind it. They settle back into a comfortable silence again, while a thought comes to Viserys' mind. It pleases him, and he outwardly shows with the broad, toothless smile he gifts his wife, "You know... even though you're kind and caring, you're also fierce and harsh. Those are tremendous qualities, my love, that not many can possess. Did you know what the smallfolk call you? The Good Queen. My grandmother, Queen Alysanne, was also nicknamed the Good Queen."

Her curious expression slowly melts into a fond smile, allowing Viserys to continue as he sets down his own wine goblet, "It's an honorable title, perhaps more honorable than just being a King or Queen. It goes to show that you are well-loved and you are good at what you do... I often wonder what would happen to this kingdom and this family without you, especially after nearly losing you last night."

Y/n's heart squeezes in her chest, touched by her husband's words. Eyebrows furrowed and lips turned up, the Queen looked over at Viserys with sympathy as she reached her hand over to grasp his, holding it tight, "Best not to dwell on it, my King."

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: It took me an embarrassing long time to realize I was spelling ‘Jacaerys’ wrong. I blame Rhaenyra for giving her son such a difficult name.

I hope you’ve enjoyed! This will likely be the last part of ‘The Good Queen’ since I don’t think it really needs to be a series. It’s bad enough that I have three other series that need updating. Please leave a request in my pm or ask box!

Inspiration for this chapter HERE

1K notes · View notes

rose-tea-and-strawberries · 1 year

Text

Needy!Deuce Headcanons

Deuce Spade being needy is literally everything:

Masterlist

Warning: I write the reader as female

Never going a second without having your hand in his, whether you’re walking side by side or sitting beside each other in class, meal times and unbirthday parties.

You two would always be touching each other: cuddling, him resting his head on your shoulder, engulfing himself in your scent.

When he’s back in Heartslabyul, he’d stay up texting you even though he only just dropped you off at Ramshackle five minutes ago. When you point this out during a phone call, he’d pout and say that he misses your voice.

He loves you so much that he can still see your smile even when he closes his eyes.

He always keeps a protective arm around your waist, half so that he could shield you from any possible danger and half so that he can sate that need to have you as close to him as possible.

He’s never more than three feet away from you at any time.

He is literally: This is Y/N, Y/N loves her personal space. This is Deuce, Deuce also loves Y/N’s personal space

Just to be clear, he will always respect your boundaries. If you want space or alone time by yourself or don’t want to be touched or held - he’ll do whatever you want no question.

LIVES FOR PDA! If you’re not into it then he understands but if you are then hell yeah, go for it. For the first week of you dating, he was shy because he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but after you have that ✨ healthy communication that we all love ✨ he’ll be living on cloud nine for the rest of his life: secretive pecks in the corners and shadows of the hallways, good luck kisses before a test, long drawn out hugs when he has to leave for Track and Field Club when he gives you a wide-eyed teary look of a soldier being stripped from his home and to go to war and not of a teenage boy just leaving your side for about an hour…

He doesn’t even react when Ace gags and demands that the two of you get a room because 1) he’s just jealous and 2) why would he want to move his head from your shoulder whilst you’re still petting it?

He loves giving you piggyback rides during your dates

His favourite thing to do with you is going on his Magical Wheel because he lives for that feeling of your head resting against his shoulder blades as your torso presses against his back and your arms are wrapped around his waist.

Have fun trying to get out of his hold during cuddle sessions. If his overpowering strength isn’t enough to keep you there then his pleading puppy eyes and sweet little whines begging you to not leave will.

But imagine Deuce getting kiss drunk: eyes glazed and half lidded, body moving out of his control as he wants more and more

It would start off soft and sweet. The two of you would be snuggling in your bedroom in Ramshackle, a calm and quiet reprieve from the hecticness of daily life.

And you’d spontaneously have the excellent idea of kissing him so you do exactly that.

Cupping his face, you’d pull him towards you with and press your lips against his, letting them linger for a few seconds as your thumb strokes patterns onto his cheek, before pulling away, laughing internally at how his face immediately chases yours.

“More,” Deuce murmured, cheeks a rosy pink and pupils blown wide, looking at you so preciously, so captivated by your presence that you had no choice but to indulge him. So you draw him in again, physically feeling him melt into you, letting your mouths press against each other until your reeling head forces you not to.

Once you had parted for air yet again, he fisted the fabric of your blouse and brought you in for a third time, drinking in your yelp of surprise like a man starved. One of his arms wrap around you, bringing you so close to him it’s hard to tell where you stopped and he started. He could feel himself getting bolder, more confident, as adrenaline mixed into his ex-delinquent blood. The triumph he used to feel winning a fight is absolutely nothing to the pure euphoric exhilaration that fills every vessel, that rushes past his ears so loudly that he can’t hear anything else, his brain turns to mush and all he can think about is the complete and utter devotion he feels for you. His life, his love, his light, his salvation.

He couldn’t stop kissing you - it’s an endless vicious cycle; the more he fed that need to have you the hungrier and hungrier it became. When his treacherous lungs start to scream for oxygen he only allows you a second of reprieve before he dives back in and, with both hands on either side of your face, he begins kissing every inch of skin he can find - your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your forehead - all in a flurry of quick succession.

You drive him insane. All thoughts of reform, of becoming a good little honours student that keeps his nose clean and head down, turn to ash as he feels that already unstable fiddly little delinquent switch teetering dangerously inside him. He makes himself at home on the curve of your neck, trailing kisses down that smooth slope. He interlocks his fingers with yours and feels rejuvenated when your hand squeezes his.

Usually, he’d never let himself lose control in such a way, finding that intense, savage side too shameful, too deplorable to let out - especially to someone so ethereal, so perfect it’s no wonder they’re otherworldly. But here - hidden away in the privacy of your bedroom, the old, weary walls of Ramshackle stationed around you like guards, concealing the both of you from the prying eyes of daily life - he with you in his arms, he felt invincible. He could do anything, be anything. He could let out those secret sides of himself without a care or worry because he knows that you’ll be there to hold him. You’re always there to give even when he’s scared to take.

Even now, you lift his hand and place a gentle kiss on his wrist, all whilst looking him in the eye and giving him such a loving smile he feels his breath hitch.

And when he gathers you into his arms, hugging you close, he knows that he could be with you for eternity and it still wouldn’t be enough

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #deuce spade x reader #deuce spade #fem reader

407 notes · View notes

pandora-writes-one-piece · 2 months

Text

Memento Amoris Aeterni

Source for Pic

Word Count: 7155

Tags: Fem!Reader, NSFW - Oral - you receiving, reader is VERY inexperienced (it's medieval times and you're a princess. You know nothing), Angst without happy ending (!), some fluff, Protective Ace, Caring Ace, some gore, blood, cutting of limbs, medieval times AU. MDNI!!! 🔞

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You are a princess, the sole heir to the kingdom and a prized possession for your father, until he can sell you to the highest bidder. Because of your value, you have a personal guard, Sir Portgas, who seems bored to death with the task of watching over you. However, you realise that he's just hiding his feelings behind a mask. Yet perhaps now it is too late?

Notes: So I saw this post, and I just had to... I was going to do something very short, I swear, but it escalated! Hope you enjoy!

The meadow looks beautiful this time of year. The vibrant reds from the poppies, the purples from the lavenders, the whites from the daisies, and scattered here and there, some yellows from the sweet buttercups and blues from cornflowers.

It feels like pure freedom.

Your dainty fingers caress the grass as you run, hoisting your long dress over one arm, ignoring the way your white stockings are showing and laughing nervously at the way you almost lose a slipper.

Freedom.

Except not quite. The very ground shakes beneath the thunderous hooves of the galloping horse and you curse beneath your breath, running a little faster, with much more carelessness. Almost there, you almost made it across the meadow this time!

Your hastened breaths leave your parted lips in short puffs while you overexert your tired lungs. You already know freedom is not ahead of you, but you'll be damned if you're going to give him the satisfaction of your surrender.

Two more strides are all you get before an armoured arm circles your waist and effortlessly pulls you on top of the brown steed. You are now trapped between two arms while your legs dangle on the side of the horse. Still fighting to catch your breath, you grunt, curse and frown while clenching your hands into tight fists.

“Curses upon you Sir Portgas!” Akin to a child in the midst of a fiery tantrum, you cross your arms over your chest and point your nose to the clear sky. “I was almost out!”

The horse steadies its pace into a trot while a deep chuckle graces your ears. “You were nowhere near ‘out’, Princess.” He tsks and you can almost feel his dark gaze upon your face. “Of all the jobs in the guard, I had to draw the short stick and land this one…”

Another grunt emerges from your gritted teeth. “Some knights would die for the honour of guarding the princess!”

“Those knights are idiots.”

“At least they're not insufferable!”

Another rumble of laughter is all you get and just as well because you are not willing to give anything more.

You are the sole heir of the Kingdom and the most prized possession your father holds. As an heiress and a princess, he will get to pick and choose of any noble to be your husband. And he will pick either the wealthiest or the one who can bring him more advantages, be they military, political or financial. You are sure that whoever he picks, will either be hideous, decrepit or disgusting.

With your luck, all three combined.

As you are of utter importance, the King has assigned a permanent guard to you, Sir Portgas D. Ace. The best knight of the Guard, known to possess some mystical fire abilities, though you are sure that is just mere hearsay, and a known heartbreaker. Of that, you don't doubt.

He is as handsome as he is unbearable. And that is saying a lot.

“Your father the king will be utterly displeased at, yet another attempt to escape.” He says dryly.

You grunt in response, busy plucking tiny burdocks from the hem of your dress and throwing them at Sir Portgas’s cape, unbeknownst to him. “Then don't tell him.”

“When I took this job, I thought I would be fighting brigands, thieves or assassins.” He scoffs. “Instead, I'm stuck as a milk nanny of a brat.”

“The job suits you. Takes a brat to recognize another one.” You mumble and hiss, a particularly nasty spike from the burdock protruding from your bleeding thumb.

“Oh, heavens. The Princess is bleeding. Call the priest.” He guffaws and you scowl, your eyes turning into slits.

“Amusing jest. Perhaps you should try your fortune as a court jester? Mayhaps you wouldn't be so bored?” Using your nails, you try to pick the spike, but it just breaks with the force and you curse, stifling a low whine.

Sir Portgas removes his steel glove, settling it on his lap, and grabs your delicate hand with his. Your hiss this time has nothing to do with the pain, but with the electric feeling that courses through your body, leaving a tingling sensation on your extremities.

His dark gaze bores into yours as he presses your thumb into his mouth and sucks. The day is not even hot, yet you feel as if your skin has set ablaze. He uses his tongue on your digit, procuring the spike and, once he finds it, he nibbles and sucks again.

If you thought his hand on yours had caused a tingling feeling, his tongue has somehow made that tingling seem insignificant. You are aching and burning in places you shouldn't be.

Your teeth clamp hard against your lower lip to stifle some weird sound that means to get out, yet your breath comes out in heaves through your nose and your peculiar mind says you must look like a tired horse: nostrils flaring, sweat dampening your mane and hot, flushed skin.

Sir Portgas removes your thumb from his mouth after what resembles an eternity, and he spits towards the ground, gracing you with a smug smile. “There. No more vile thorn can harm you, my lady. I took care of your foe, as I was hired to do.”

Yet, for once, you are speechless.

There is no counter jest, there is no witty remark. You cradle your hand against your lap and remain silent the rest of the way to the castle, your eyes never leaving the safety of the horse’s head.

If Sir Portgas finds it peculiar, he does not say so.

-*-

“I do not understand this need to escape, child! Do you not have all you wish for here in the castle? I give you all the gowns you desire, the pretty jewels, the fancy shoes! If you get bored I send for jesters, for animals, for dancers or plays! If you wish to meet new people, I host tournaments and gatherings! What is it you wish for that I cannot grant you? Pray, tell!”

You face the floor, your hands clasped in the front of your ruined and tattered gown. Your shoes look as if they had been through war and your hair has never been in a more dishevelled state.

Sir Portgas stands at attention behind you, to your right. His gaze facing forward, his gloved hand on the hilt of his sword. He doesn’t even flinch. You know he didn’t tell your father anything, he was with you the whole time. It was the guards by the gate that relayed that information.

Now you are being scolded for yet another botched escape attempt. You had already lost count of how many there were. You had nineteen springs to your name, now. And your time must be near.

“I do not hear your words! Speak up! What do you want that I have not given you?”

A single tear escapes your eye and runs freely down your cheek.

“Freedom.”

You catch a slight movement from Sir Portgas from the corner of your eye. His gaze meets yours, even if only for a second, as his jawline tightens and clenches. An almost soundless clank from the armour as his hand grips the handle harder.

“Preposterous. You will never be free. You belong to me now, child, and soon you will belong to your husband. That is the way of things. Begone!”

You hold your head high and your shoulders square as you exit the throne room and pass through an entire contingent of guards. Yet, as soon as the door closes behind you, your hands lift your skirts once more and you flee to your room as fast as your tired feet can take you. It does not matter that you are half-blinded by tears as you know the way around the castle as if it were the back of your hand.

You do not hear Sir Portgas following you, yet, he will find you. He always does.

Curse him.

-*-

The rain hits the carriage roof with extreme intensity. There’s mud on the road and the horses are dragging the vehicle to the best of their abilities, but the rain is cold and harsh and you can see smoke emerging from their flared nostrils from where you’re standing.

You’re returning from a visit to a cousin, in the next kingdom. You have been away for three weeks and nothing has changed. Your life is dull and you are still trapped in it like a hare in a string trap, just waiting for the hit on the head so you’re fed to the hunter.

Sighing you let out a loud huff. Your handmaiden keeps staring out the window with dreamy eyes and she ahhs and ohhs as if she has an affliction. You have half a mind to ask her if she’s constipated or in pain when you realise she’s staring at Sir Portgas, who rides next to the carriage.

He has removed his helmet because of the rain and his dark locks cling to his face and forehead with the heavy rain. His eyes are steely and dart from one side to the other, ever alert to any danger. Handsome as ever.

You roll your eyes at yet another insufferable sigh from the woman across from you. “Enough!” You bite. “I cannot stand another moan from your mouth. What is so interesting?”

“He is, my lady.” She giggles like a little girl and you feel your chest clench and contract as anger boils within you. What is this feeling?

“Are you jesting?”

“I would never! He is so gallant and valiant. And his freckles? His smile? The way he fights?” Another sigh. You have had enough.

You’re about to order the carriage to stop because you wish to feel the rain on your face at the back of a horse. Instead, you hear dry thuds followed by screams and then, the tip of a spear protruding the carriage door and opening your maid’s skull with a sickening sound.

Your scream gets trapped in your throat, but your lips tremble incessantly. There are tears running from your eyes and you start to pant fast as your eyes never leave the gory image in front of you.

She still has her eyes open, her mouth shaped like an ‘o’ as blood and grey matter are splattered around her. Did the blood get on you as well? You dare not look. She was just laughing and now she’s so still.

You’re trembling. The screams and shouts outside increase in volume and proximity and the carriage halts to a full stop as you hear a pained neigh of a horse. The thuds of your heart grow louder and louder, as if it's beating right in your ears and your pants come in shortened gasps as your head gets lighter.

The plush of the seat you are on gives in as your fingernails dig and scratch to ground yourself. There is so much blood.

So much screaming.

Suddenly the door to the carriage jolts open and you turn in terror, barely having time to scream, and even if you meant to scream, you wouldn’t be able to. A wet, clammy hand finds its way to your mouth to keep you quiet and you’re inundated with the nauseating smell of metal.

Blood.

Another hand grabs you by the arm and yanks hard to pull you out of the carriage. You’re sure it will bruise. Yet, you couldn’t care less. As soon as you’re out of the carriage and you clumsily find your footing, before the man - whose appearance you are yet to perceive - manages to take you away, you bite his fingers with all the strength you possess.

Blood. Again.

This time it fills your mouth and you spit it on the floor as soon as the man drops you, with surprise. Your knees scrape against the rocks and mud below you and you claw your way forward until you find the strength to be on your feet, preparing to run.

All around you men clash swords. There’s agonised screams and blood everywhere. You need to go!

Yet you barely get one step in before a bloody hand clasps around your neck and squeezes. “Going somewhere, you little princess whore.” The man lifts you easily off the ground and your throat aches and your lungs burn. You try to gasp for air but nothing but wheezes leave your parted lips.

Your fingernails scratch relentlessly against his hand but he does not relent. Around you the sounds of battle seem to fade into the distance. Legs dangling, your feet try to kick the man holding you, but strength fails you and you are sure this is the way you die. “Just pass out, little whore.” He whispers in your ear as his wet tongue swipes your neck and ear.

You can’t squirm away. You can’t fight back. You’re useless.

You feel your eyelids drooping as your chest trembles and your arms fall limply beside you. But just as you’re about to dive into sweet oblivion, a sword swings and cuts right through the man’s arm, making you fall and stumble forward, right into the arms of your knight. Your guard, your protector.

Sir Portgas.

He holds you against him effortlessly as you gasp for air and cough. A pressure on your throat that burns and hurts. But you’re safe.

“Breathe, Princess. I won’t let anything happen to you.” The man that was holding you mutters incoherently. Begging for his life, pleading for mercy, asking for aid from the gods. Yet you know that all is in vain. Your knight was made to protect you. He will kill anyone or anything that attempts to take your life.

Still holding you he moves his blade effortlessly and you hear a blood-curdling scream. Trying to normalise your breath, you turn your face to look back, but Ace holds your head against him with a gloved hand. “It’s best if you don’t look.” You nod against him, feeling your legs faint from fear.

“We are going to run. Close your eyes and hold my hand. I will guide you. Do you trust me?” You lift your head to look into his eyes and there is tenderness, determination, courage and something else you can’t quite place, as he looks down at you.

“With my life.” Your whisper comes in shaky gasps and he nods, holding your hand in his.

“Run.” He orders and you do. Your eyes clenched shut as you still hear screams and the sound of colliding blades.

Something whooshes past you and you hear a roar of sorts, at the same time as Sir Portgas mutters something under his breath. There is another scream - close, too close! - and the stench of burning flesh.

“I’m going to pick you up. Keep your eyes closed, Princess.” He doesn’t need to tell you twice. And as he hoists you over his shoulder by the waist, you clamp your hands against your ears to keep the sounds away.

But the screaming doesn’t stop.

It never stops.

-*-

You feel yourself being set down on the ground but it’s as if the shock has left you in a rigid state. Your hands remain on your ears and your eyes shut tightly. There’s someone calling your name and shaking you but you have retreated so far into your mind that you can’t come back easily.

“..ss… Princess!”

Your eyes snap open as you gasp and a loud sob leaves your parted lips. Tears flood down and you try to release yourself from the firm hands that are holding you down.

“It’s me, it’s me! Ace! Everything is fine! Princess, calm down!” He whispers your name. “Please calm down. Look at me.”

Still panting and gasping for air, your nails digging into his bloodied armour, you lock eyes with his dark gaze. He looks worried and pained, and you focus on his freckles instead, counting them to ground yourself.

One, two…

“It’s over, we escaped, we are fine.”

Three, four…

“I’m not sure anyone else survived. We have no horses, no food, no clothes or shelter.”

Five, six…

“The rain has given us some truce for the time being, but it won’t let up the whole night. We will rest for a bit, and then we have to go.”

Seven, eight…

“Princess, are you with me?” You don’t know when he took the gloves off, but his warm hand makes contact with your cheek and you gasp, your eyes focusing back on his. “There is nothing to fear. I won’t let anyone or anything harm you. You have my promise.”

You nod and gulp. Another tear escapes your eyes and he wipes it with his thumb.

“It could have been me.” You whisper and your voice is rasp. Your throat is sore and raw and you realise you are quite thirsty. “The spear… it just… her head… she was… she…”

He nods and mumbles some soothing words. “You’re alive. You’re fine. Try not to think of what you saw. I’ll take you home.”

You nod as your hand scratches your throat. Sir Portgas reaches and hands you a leather pouch. “Drink. It’s water.”

He sits on the floor for a moment as he sheds his steel armour.

“Should you be taking that off? What if there are more enemies?” You ask, concerned.

“I am faster without it, anyway. And all the noise will just give our location away to those listening.”

Makes sense.

He gives you another moment to rest and then extends his hand to help you up. Your eyes fall on your dress and you frown. It is splattered with blood, mud and all kinds of stains. Not to mention that it is soaked through.

“Come, we need to find shelter. It’s almost nightfall.”

You are surrounded by forest, you have no idea what kind of shelter he means to find, but you trust him completely. He was assigned to you two years ago, when you were presented to society and your father started entertaining nobles who wanted a claim on your hand.

Luckily, none suited his fancy enough to tempt him.

Sir Portgas has never left your side once. He sleeps when you sleep, eats when you eat, gets up when you get up. His duty to you is never-ending. He knows all there is to know about you. And you only know what he wanted to share with you. Next to nothing, because he always found the job boring.

As both of you walk through the woods, feeling the gentle pitter-patter of the slow rain, you feel as if you have calmed down enough. There is still adrenaline rushing through your veins, and you release it by holding a long, thick stick and swiping leaves with it, as if it were a sword.

“Who attacked us?”

He keeps his eyes ahead, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword so tight, his knuckles are white.

“I’m not sure. There were no banners.”

“Brigands, you think? They saw the coach and decided we might have treasures to steal?”

“Most likely.” He grunts.

“But you don’t think that was the case?”

He stops and you bump into his hard back, as you were staring at your stick. You mumble an apology and feel your cheeks warm up. Never had you noticed how taut and defined he was, beneath the steel armour.

Looking at you, his eyes now permanently creased with concern, he sighs. “They were too organised to be simple brigands or thieves. They had military precision so they had to belong to an army. An enemy army, perhaps. I need to take you back home.”

He tugs at your arms and starts walking again.

“No.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back home.” You whisper, but you keep walking alongside him. He divides his attention with your surroundings and your face.

“I can understand that, but it is far too dangerous. We need to know if the King received some sort of ransom note or-...”

“I don’t care! You can leave me wherever and go back to my father saying they killed me! I cannot return home to be sold like cattle to the highest bidder!”

You refuse to let tears leave your eyes this time. He stops again and stares at you. You can’t read him.

At all.

“There.” He points behind you and you turn. It’s a small cave. “It will have to do. Come.” And just like that he decides the argument is over and drags you to the entrance, collecting some random sticks along the way. It is actually a rather large cave and Sir Portgas takes the wood from your hand, rips a piece of his tunic and ties it to the end of the wood.

Muttering a few words, a flame shoots out of his fingers and he lights the cloth easily. You look at him, flabbergasted and awestruck. So it is true. He has fire powers.

“Fascinating.” You can’t help but exclaim under your breath.

“Thank you, Princess.” He replies with a smirk and tells you to follow him as he delves into the bowels of the cave.

Deeming you far enough not to be spotted, he drops the sticks he collected in a neat pile, adds some more wood that’s scattered inside the cave, and lights it with the flame he’s already holding.

“Undress, Princess, you don’t want to catch a cold.”

“Pardon?” You should really stop blushing. It is embarrassing.

He is already removing his tunic and breeches, leaving only his undergarments on for some modesty and you look away.

“If you worry about modesty today, you will be dead of pneumonia tomorrow. Undress your gown and set it to dry.” He says as he drapes his clothes on a large rock near the place he built the fire. “I promise I won’t bite.”

You take a moment to consider, but you know he’s right. You’re already feeling tremors for staying out in the rain for so long. So you do know you will get sick if you don’t get out of the wet clothes.

With a heavy sigh you try to remove the ribbons that hold your dress together, but you can’t reach them.

“Sir Portgas…” You start, your voice a mere whisper.

“It’s Ace.”

“Ace.” The name rolls off your tongue like something sinful and you lower your gaze. “I require your assistance, please.”

As he raises his head towards you, he immediately understands your predicament. He gets up and approaches your back with slow steps. Catching your breath, you lower your neck a bit.

His fingers are soft against the bare skin of your neck as he moves your hair from your nape to the side, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. The shiver that crawls up your spine has nothing to do with the cold.

His face draws near as he untangles the ribbons and you can feel his breath against your neck and upper back. The tingling sensations return to your body, leaving you breathless and panting. There is a need deep within you that you don’t quite understand or know how to fulfil.

Yet, you have an inkling that Ace could very well fulfil it. And he would certainly know how.

He removes the last ribbon and steps back a pace. “There.” Ace's voice sounds deeper than before and, when you turn, his eyes are all pupil as he stares at you. Your heartbeat accelerates as you lock eyes with him, silently begging him not to look away as your fingers gently tug at the gown, undressing.

Your chest heaves and you see his eyes fall to your chemise-covered bosom as the muscle in his jaw twitches.

The need for something intensifies and you reach forward, touching him through the fabric of his linen shirt, feeling the firmness of his chest.

“Princess…” He whispers.

“Ace…”

You take a step forward and hold his hand. It's big and calloused from the swords but it's so warm.

“Touch me.” You plead. You could order him, though you're not sure he would follow that order.

“I…” He seems torn. You know he's a loyal knight. He serves valiantly and believes in the kingdom he protects. Touching you would be treasonous and could lead to execution.

You decide to be honest. “I feel… I don't quite know how to explain it, but when you touch me, like when you did with the thorn I had on my finger, or when you lift me up to place me in your horse there's…” You exhale deeply. “A warmth, a fire within me that I don't know how to handle.” Lowering your gaze and swallowing a lump in your throat, you make a final plea. “Teach me how to handle it, Ace.”

He groans but doesn't take his hand away from yours. So you brazenly place it above your chest. Watching him closely, you see his eyes darken as his hand twitches and he grits his teeth.

“Princess, I…”

“I have been told that men lie with women to procreate. I wasn’t informed of all the details, but I've heard the maids whisper about things that can be done that do not get a woman with child.” Could you be burning up more? Are you seriously asking this of Ace?

He remains frozen in place, his hand still on your chest and you feel like a fool.

Sighing you swat his hand away and turn. “Forget I said anything.” Yet his strong arm envelops your waist and he pulls your body against his, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling.

“Gods above and below…” He mutters against your skin and you tremble. “Is this really happening?” You feel something hard against your lower back and flush. You know what it is. But you've never seen one. You don't know what to expect. “Princess… You are correct, there are things we can do that do not get you with child and assure you remain intact until your wedding night.” His voice seems pained. “Are you certain that-...”

“Yes!” You moan, No longer able to contain the need inside you. Not when his hot breath is fanning against your neck, not when his hand is squeezing your waist nor when his hardness presses against your back. Your need is him! You're sure of it.

“I have dreamed of this for so long…” He whispers. You want to ask what he means by that, but then his tongue draws circles on your neck and around your earlobe and you gasp, all thoughts dissolving into nothingness. His hands fall on your shoulders and he hooks his fingers on the sleeves of your chemise. “Princess…”

“Take it off.” You command.

He tugs at the fabric and the garment crumples on the floor, leaving you with nothing but your white stockings. You blink as you focus your eyes on your body. You're not cold, yet your nipples are erect and there are goosebumps all over your skin. It's a reaction to his touch.

You turn slowly, cheeks ablaze as you seek his eyes. Ace gulps as he takes you in. “Can I kiss you?” He starts but then shakes his head and groans. “No, forget it, that should be reserved for your husband.”

Yet you don't care about a possible husband in a future you can’t yet forsee. You want Ace's lips. And you want them now.

So you grab his face and pull him down, clumsily pressing your lips to his and bumping your teeth together. After a moment he chuckles into your mouth and you flush and pull back, embarrassed.

“Don't get mad at me, Princess.” He says, a glimmer in his eyes and a softness you’ve never seen before. His hand grips your hip as he pulls you towards him. A thumb gently stroking the bone of your hip, sending a warm wave of heat towards your centre. Lowering his head, he gently pulls your face to him by putting a hand on your nape. This time, when your lips collide, it's with softness. He moves them and you moan involuntarily. His sinful tongue licks and teases and you open your mouth, gasping as he takes your tongue in his and swirls.

The sensation is divine.

You had no idea a kiss could be like this. None of the books mentioned it! It’s making your heart flutter against your chest and causing an ache and a burn between your legs. You still don’t know how to handle it.

But Ace does.

His hand finds its way to your breast and he slowly teases the nipple, flicking it softly with his thumb. You pull away from the kiss and gasp again. “Oh, my!”

“Did that feel good?” You nod vigorously. “That's good, Princess. I'm going to make you feel even better.”

He lowers you down so you sit on top of your dress. “If you don't like something, tell me.” You nod.

“Can you take this off?” You grab his shirt and he smirks, pulling the linen garment over his head. His muscles are very defined and you take your time pressing your fingers against his chest and abs. There is a dark trail of hair that leads to the inside of his underwear but as your fingers trace it, he grasps your hand in his and kisses your fingers.

“Let us take care of that warmth you feel first, shall we?” You nod and lie back, nervous.

He starts slowly, his gentle fingers tracing patterns on your skin, lingering on the nipples, watching the rise and fall of your breasts as he finds what feels particularly good. And then he devours you.

His eager mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking and teasing with his tongue.

“What?” You arch your back against his touch and the fire keeps spreading. Fiery tendrils climbing all over you. He's just building the fire higher and higher. When does it stop?

And do you want it to stop? Because this feeling burns marvellously.

His tongue licks towards your belly button and then your mound. “Wait!” You gasp and he raises his head.

“I can stop if you want, but I promise you it will feel good.”

You don't know if he's telling the truth, but you trust him completely. So you nod. “Don't stop.”

He uses his hands to raise your legs and place them over his shoulders and when he stares, you feel yourself shrinking with embarrassment.

“So beautiful…” You hear him murmur before he leans in and you feel his tongue swiping a hot streak across your folds.

“Oh!” Throwing your head back, you immediately arch your back against his touch. “Oh, my!”

He stops for a moment and meets your gaze. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” You almost plead.

“Make all the sounds you want, Princess. Please.”

You're not quite sure what he means by that but you still agree. And then his tongue repeats the same movement and you smile. Dear Gods, this can't be true. His hand disappears beneath you and you feel his finger inside you touching a spot that makes you want to scream with pleasure. So you do.

He mumbles against you and the vibration of his lips on your sensitive nub makes you roll your eyes.

“Oh, Gods! Ace!”

Your hips buckle against his face involuntarily and you want to feel ashamed but you can't because it feels too good! His tongue is hot and slippery and he laps at you with such vigour that it makes you writhe beneath him. His fingers - yes, more than one - move inside and out with ease continually touching a spot that feels so, so good.

“Oh, my! Oh, my!” You can't stop a string of curses from escaping your lips. The warmth builds up, spreading to your legs and toes, and to your belly, until suddenly it snaps!

You see bright lights as your head falls back, moaning loudly and incessantly while you pant and scream his name. It feels good, it feels so good!

Ace continues lapping at your core and it feels like it's very sensitive now, so you whine and he stops. “You did so well, Princess. You taste so good.” His lips are glistening and he looks dazed. You are smiling as you pant but you pull him to you, eager to taste what you’ve left on his lips. He gives you exactly what you want - lips, tongue, taste - and you mewl against him, lost in pleasure and dizziness from your previous orgasm.

As you break apart you lock eyes with Ace, an exhilarating feeling coursing through you. “That was…” You laugh.

“I know.” He says cheekily as he caresses your cheek. “You're so beautiful.”

You feel yourself flush again, he’s never spoken to you like this. He was always arrogant and insufferable. Acting as if watching over you was the most boring task he’d ever had to do. Yet, now it seems he’s ready to write you love poems.

“What else can we do?” You touch him again, where his hair starts to disappear below his underwear. He clenches his jaw as your hand traces the shape of his cock. “Does that go… inside me?” You ask, biting your lip. It seems big. Will it fit?

“It does. But that's for the wedding night, Princess.” He says, his tone sad.

“What if I don't want to get married?” You frown. “I told you I don't want to go back. I shouldn’t have to marry some old lord I don't care about.” You hold his hand, entwining your fingers with his. “Maybe we can be together.”

He looks downcast as his forehead meets yours and lets out a deep sigh. “Don't tempt me, Princess.” He says, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. “I've been in love with you since we met. The constant fear of losing you to another man keeps me awake most nights. I cannot bear the thought of never being able to have you. So don't tempt me, please.” His fervour leaves you breathless.

Love?

You thought he abhorred you! You believed he only put up with you because it was his job. Nothing more. Love?

Cupping his face in your hands, you stare deeply into his eyes. “Let's run away. You and me. Away from my father's kingdom, from duties, from everything. He will think we're dead, anyway!”

“No, Princess. I have a duty to my king and my kingdom. I cannot do it.” He says as your eyes fill with tears. “And you have a duty to your father as well. Don’t forget that.”

“Ace… Please…”

“No. I can't.” His eyes squeeze shut as he presses his forehead against yours once more. “Don't ask me this. Please.”

Torn between love and duty. And you wish he would simply choose love. You pull away from him, covering your face as you shed more tears.

Ace sighs and picks up your chemise, gently helping you dress even though you don’t look at him. Then he pulls you against his chest as he settles against a rock. “Sleep, Princess. I will keep watch.”

And you do.

By morning, even the air feels bleaker. There is no more rain, but dark clouds hover above the sky. You can’t change his mind. He’s set to bring you back to the castle.

Back to your prison.

“My father will marry me off…” You whisper, feeling your face crackle with dried tears. Your clothes are stiff from caked mud and blood and you’re pretty sure your heart stayed behind in that dark cave.

Ace’s eyes remain fixed on the road ahead, but you notice him swallowing a lump before he speaks.

“It is your duty, Princess. You have yours, I have mine.” He sighs. “I never meant to burden you with my feelings. A knight is not worthy of a princess’s love.”

“Clearly you have not read the same novels as I have.” You scoff and your response elicits a small chuckle from him, your easy banter slowly returning to normal.

Ace continues his slow walk and you follow, feeling as if you’re walking towards the gallows and every step brings your demise a bit closer. “Ace, please…” You beg once more. “Please…!”

Yet he does not stop.

You see him struggle as his face hardens and his eyes grow blurry, but he does not stop. And the noose tightens around your neck.

-*-

You’re received with cheers and ovations. A joyous celebration for you and for your valiant knight. Ace is offered a promotion. Finally a way for him to leave your side, to stop nannying you as he always complained.

He does not accept it.

Your heart warms for a moment, though you find it very hard to fall back into a routine of entrapment when you were free, albeit for a few hours.

Yet doom envelops you and the noose tightens and elevates you once your father makes the announcement. He has found you a husband. You’re to be married in a fortnight.

Breath catches in your throat and it’s hard to seek air. But your eyes search and find his. A reflection of your own, you’re sure, for they seem pained and drained of life. Yet the moment passes and your father keeps telling you all about how delightfully rich and important your future husband is.

And how you have a duty to him and to your kingdom, as their princess. It all comes down to duty.

That awful word.

-*-

The guests are arriving and the groom has been presented to you just in the morning. He is not old or decrepit. In fact, he seems quite polite and is rather handsome.

But he is not Ace.

And you realised that the warmth he made you feel, and the anger you felt when your late maid spoke of him with desire, were all because of one thing alone: love. You love him back. And he needs to know it before you leave.

Because you will not bring him with you. You cannot forget him, nor allow him to forget you if he is to remain forever by your side.

-*-

The day of the wedding dawns cold and grey, a reflection of your own thoughts. An array of maids dresses you in the best finery you possess and you are a beacon of elegance and beauty. Though the veil you wear over your face might as well be a shroud.

Ace stands in the shadows, his face masked and sombre. You have not spoken more than two words to each other since you returned. But you have to let him know how you feel before it’s too late.

“Everyone out, now.” Your voice is cold and commanding and the servants scurry and hurry out of your chambers. Ace is last, but you stop him. “Not you.”

He closes the door with a soft thud and turns towards you. Hands folded behind his back and eyes fixed somewhere behind you. As you approach, however, you notice him blinking and clenching his jaw and it takes nothing more than one touch of your soft fingers on his cheek for him to let his knightly countenance crumble into pieces.

Holding your fingers to his lips, he kisses them with fervour. “Princess…”

“Ace…” Your whisper brings sorrow and despair, and he feels it. “I need to tell you something before the wedding, though it changes nothing. You were right. This is my duty, and you have yours, escaping it was nothing but a fleeting dream.”

A sigh parts your lips and he uses his knuckles to caress your cheek.

“I love you.” Your eyes bore into his and your lips curl into a tight smile when a flicker of surprise crosses his eyes. “I didn’t know it was love and it took me a while to realise. But it’s true.” You take both his hands in yours and tears start to stream down your face because you can’t contain them any longer.

“This is breaking me apart, but it is for the best. You will stay in the castle and accept the promotion you were offered upon our return.” Ignoring his protests you continue. “I will leave to fulfil my duty and live my new life.”

His head falls forward, shoulders slumping and a string of curses leaves his pursed lips. Though it pains you more than he can ever imagine, you force a smile, using your hand to lift his face so he can look at you. “You’ll always be in my heart. That will never change.”

Ace’s voice is barely a whisper, strained with emotion and effort to keep his tears at bay. “You’re asking me to stand and watch as you walk away? To stay here and live a life without your presence?”

“Yes.” You sob back.

“How can I do that?!” A heave rocks his shoulders as he leans his forehead against yours. “It’s like asking me to live without a beating heart.”

“I pray you forget me soon, Ace, because if you were to come with me, we would never be able to move on. And we would be miserable.”

“I am already miserable.”

Tears stream down both your faces, and you stand on your toes to kiss his tears away. Cupping your face with tenderness, Ace’s thumb crosses your lower lip and you nod, giving him all the permission he needs to lower his head to yours and take your warm lips with his.

This time, the kiss you share is desperate. He claims your mouth with his tongue, his arms embracing you and pulling you against him. You return the gesture with equal devotion, your tongue begging for more as you embrace and melt into each other, knowing you’ll have no other chance to do so.

A rapid knock on the door breaks you apart. “Princess! It is time!”

Panting and wiping away tears, you answer with a shaky voice. “I’m almost ready.” Ace helps you fix your dress and veil, his eyes cast downward, sorrow filling them with shadows.

With trembling hands you remove a ring from your finger. A ring your mother gave you on her deathbed. Setting it in his palm, you close his fingers around it and kiss them tenderly. “A memento to remember me by, my love.”

He doesn’t want to let you go and you don’t want to leave him. It would have been so much simpler if you had run away in that forest. No one would know. And you would have been happy.

Perhaps…

You drop his hands, take a deep breath and square your shoulders, opening the door and leaving your childhood home and your one true love.

Ready to face a new life, an old duty, and an eternity of sorrow.

#one piece #one piece x reader #op #x reader #ace x reader #ace x you #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace #knight ace #portgas d ace knight #medieval times au #angst without a happy ending #Spotify

98 notes · View notes

thatbennybee · 4 months

Note

I Love the way you draw trolls!! But I have to ask, whats up with the gems that you give them in place of their bellybutton? Is it based on canon or sum? I'm not well versed in trolls lore hehe

Prepare for a deep dive... 😅 In short, it's KIND OF canonical? But not really? It's honestly just a long-standing headcanon of mine! A design choice just like tails and paws for me!

Some trolls do have them in canon like DJ Suki (and I think a few background trolls), and they are incorporated into the Netflix show in one of the episodes (Gem Day!) but the shows are not canon.

Though, the Trolls Facebook page also brings them up for their Troll of the Month posts and I personally choose to view these as canonical since they use the movie renders.

They do mention belly gems in Trolls Holiday as well but my incorporation was purely coincidence because I've been giving them belly gems far before any of that was established because of the Trollz TV show I grew up with!

The Trolls in that iteration of the franchise had magical belly gems linked to their magical abilities and bracelets. The main character, Amethyst, had a heart shaped amethyst in her belly.

Amethyst actually has some visual hair similarities to Poppy! Poppy also has a pink heart shaped gem according to DreamWorks!

I kind of just gave Branch and Poppy those gem shapes simply because it just felt right, but DreamWorks seems to agree! 😆 For me, Poppy and Viva both have heart shaped gems. (Viva's is yellow tho) Branch and his brothers all have the same diamond/rhombus shape too :] they usually match the color of their hair.

I give the gems a magical and emotional connection to trolls, as based on the Gem Day episode, their gems are formed by joy throughout the troll's life after planting their first hair. (Branch's gem is cracked due to his greyness but that's a rare instance.)

For me, they're born with one in their belly and then they can grow a separate one in the same way as the Gem Day episode, but the ones in their belly cannot be replaced nor removed. Whatever happens to it is permanent, they must be careful! :]

These gems can be planted together with a partner's or apart (single or ace trolls) in order to wish for/manifest a baby. There's other methods of how eggs can be formed for trolls, but I love the idea of it always being a magical process for them! :] Kind of a nod back to the Good Luck Trolls/Wish Trolls toys where trolls all began! 💖💖💖

Hope my headcanons were interesting to you! I love explaining my gem theories for them :] I've loved trolls long before these movies so my love for trolls runs deep 💖 I was too young (or not born) when the OG trolls were at their peak but I love these little guys!!

#trolls headcanons some sad some random #rof!asks #askbee #trolls #gem theory

61 notes · View notes

jeankluv · 5 months

Text

Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 05

Words: 4k

Summary: You didn’t like him, at all. But due to your bad luck you would have to be forced to work with him and different circumstances end up leading you to the fact that perhaps the word dislike is not the one you use to describe him.

Warnings for this chapter: panic attacks

Ac: _3aem

Tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

Authors notes: thank you for still supporting this story and for always like and leaving feedback and lovely messages ❤️

Materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

Fic playlist

Haibara's words hit you like a bucket of cold water.

“You also play on the basketball team?” You said with surprise.

Haibara laughed. “Yeah, I´m not as good as my seniors, Gojo and Geto, but I’m also on the team.”

“So obviously…” You sighed. “It’s impossible for us to change our shifts that day right?”

“I’m afraid so.” You looked down, you were really sad. “You have something important that day?”

You shook your head. “I got invited to the match and I wanted to go, but it’s okay! It doesn’t matter if we can’t change shifts.” You smiled.

“You got invited to the match?” He exclaimed and you nobbed in surprise. “I will talk with my grandma, I don't think she will mind if we close the store for one afternoon. Or maybe my sister can come…” He mentioned.

“Please Haibara, there is no need.” You said with worry.

It wasn't necessary for him to do that, there would be other chances to attend a game. Although you were feeling a bit sad for missing out, it wasn't catastrophic. Whether or not you attended didn't hold significant weight. Haibara had gone through the trouble of arranging it all for you, solely because you harbored a desire to fulfill Gojo's request. Goodness, you felt foolish.

“My grandma won’t mind, don’t worry. She adores you and she adores me.” He joked. “Besides it’s just a day, nothing will happen. Once she finds out that is to go to her dear grandson’s basketball match, she might even show up there herself.” He laughed. “Although I know you won’t be watching me.”

“I will also cheer for you Haibara.” You planted your hands on the table and looked at him seriously. “You’re my friend after all, right?”

“You consider me your friend?”

“Of course!”

Haibara shouted your name and hugged you tightly. “You are my friend too. I will present to you my friends from the team, although you already know a few of them.”

“Alright.” You grinned.

Haibara bid you farewell and exited the grocery store. Now you understood why he was always in a hurry; it was for his basketball practices. Retrieving your cell phone from your pocket, you messaged Kyoko that it were most likely going to the match too. The match was scheduled for Friday, and today being Wednesday, you wished you had discussed it with Haibara earlier, but time had been scarce for a calm conversation.

Despite the usual midweek routine, Gojo remained his typical self, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that he was concealing something behind his playful smile. Though hesitant to inquire, you continued studying, occasionally seeking clarification from him on various matters that crossed your mind during your free moments together.

You spent the afternoon attending to customers until Kyoko arrived; that day, she had promised to pick you up to go home together. You closed the shop, and Kyoko took hold of your arm to draw you closer as you walked towards home.

“You won't believe this.” She smiled, showing her teeth and squinting her eyes. You turned your head to look at her. “Suguru gave me his jersey; he wants me to wear it in the game.” She said with excitement.

“Really?” You said in amazement, to which she nodded eagerly. “Wow, Kyoko, are you two not officially dating yet?”

Kyoko shook her head. “Not yet, but I think we're heading in the right direction.” She sighed and whispered your name. “Do you think it can work out this time?”

“Yes.” You said firmly. “Suguru is not like the jerk…” You left the sentence hanging, recalling how Kyoko felt talking about that. “You know. The times I see you both, you seem genuinely happy, and Kyoko, believe me, the way Suguru looks at you is like the gaze of a romantic movie protagonist.”

When you met Kyoko, she was dating a guy whose name filled you with disgust. They had been together before entering high school. Kyoko was truly in love, while he was a complete jerk who was capable of cheating on her with more than five girls in just one month.

You still remember Kyoko's inconsolable crying when she found out, lamenting whether she wasn't enough for that pig. You recall seeing her light dim and her confidence shattered. That's why when you saw him on campus, you couldn't help but beat him up; at that moment, you didn't care about the possibility of being expelled or reprimanded, you were tired of seeing your best friend cry in corners because of that pig.

Fortunately, Kyoko moved forward, and that jerk transferred to another college. Since then, Kyoko had regained her confidence and her radiance; you only hoped and wished that Suguru Geto wouldn't do anything like that to her, not even close, or else you would do what you did back then all over again.

Both of you arrived at Kyoko’s home and greeted her parents, who were waiting for you to eat dinner. At that moment, you felt the need to cry but hold it back all together, you didn’t like crying in front of people.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

In the blink of an eye, game day arrived, and Kyoko and you headed to where it would be held. There were quite a few university students, including professors. But it wasn't surprising after all, your basketball team was quite famous.

You sat next to Kyoko on the bench, positioned not too far from the playground, offering an optimal view of the players. It seemed likely they could spot you too. Kyoko brimmed with excitement for the match, donning the t-shirt Suguru had gifted her, emblazoned with his name and number. To an outsider, it might seem as though they were already a couple, but Kyoko insisted they were merely in the process of getting to know each other.

You glanced around, taking in the scene. It was your first attendance at one of the college basketball team's games. Yet, you were keenly aware that almost the entire college turned out for these matches due to their exceptional prowess. They rarely suffered defeat.

Apparently the team they would face that day was from Kyoto college, the only thing you knew was what Kyoko had told you and it seemed last year they faced each other in a final or something like that, the truth is you had not understood very well. Nonetheless, your team won, although with some difficulty.

You noticed how Kyoko grabbed your hand and rested his head on your shoulder, while she raised and lowered her leg nervously.

“Kyoko, relax.” You tried to calm her down. “They will probably win.”

“I’m not nervous for the match. Suguru said he wanted to talk with me after the match.”

You slightly opened your mouth in surprise. “Oh… maybe it’s the day Kyoko!”

“Maybe!” She smiled. “But still I’m really nervous.”

“It will be fine.” You tried to calm her.

The whistle signaling the start of the game brought you back to where you were. Kyoko squeezed your hand tightly, her eyes fixed on Suguru Geto. On the other hand, you watched the game, paying attention to most players. Haibara was among them, visibly happy to be there. There was also the blond guy you had seen with Haibara outside the store that time – what was his name? Nanamin? Yes, that might be it.

But without a doubt, you were consciously avoiding fixing your eyes on a white-haired guy. Though it was relatively impossible as he stood out on his own, and the entire venue went crazy whenever he touched the ball.

He was good, or so you thought, considering your limited knowledge of basketball. Yet, the way he moved, handled the ball, and shot was exquisite to watch.

Oh God! What are you thinking?

You shook your head to dispel those thoughts, trying to avoid looking at him. Your foolish mind led you to think things you shouldn't.

You shifted your gaze to the scoreboard – 34-27 in favor of Tokyo. You were winning.

The game continued, intensifying with each passing moment, causing the crowd to become even more excited in the action.

During one of the timeouts, as Kyoko commented on how handsome Suguru looked in his uniform and sighed, your eyes drifted across the team, catching the direct gaze of Gojo's blue eyes.

A pang in your heart made you immediately turn your head away. His gaze had been soft and warm, causing you to feel nervous, even from five meters away.

Feeling flustered by the unexpected encounter, you tried to focus on Kyoko's words, but the image of Gojo's penetrating gaze lingered in your mind. The intensity of his eyes seemed to convey a message you couldn't decipher, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within you.

As the timeout ended and the game resumed, you found it difficult to shake off the lingering effect of Gojo's gaze.

With just a few minutes left for the game to end, both teams were tied. You and Kyoko gripped each other's hands, eagerly awaiting a decisive move.

The ball moved swiftly between players. Eventually, it landed in Suguru's hands. Realizing the dwindling time, he swiftly passed it to Gojo. Could he make the shot from that distance?

The court fell into silence as Gojo launched the ball towards the basket. Your breath caught as you followed the ball's trajectory – one spin, then another. When the buzzer sounded, the ball found its mark.

The arena erupted in cheers and applause, celebrating the victory of the University of Tokyo. You and Kyoko embraced, jumping with joy.

Your university had won.

“Can you believe we won? Suguru was incredible out there!” Kyoko screamed, jumping on her place.

You nodded, but your gaze involuntarily wandered towards Gojo, who was now surrounded by his teammates.

“What's on your mind? You seem a bit distracted.”

You hesitated before replying, “I... noticed something during the game.”

Kyoko raised an eyebrow. “What? The handsome players?”

You chuckled nervously, “No, it's just... Nothing, it doesn’t matter.” You shook your head.

“You sure?”

You nodded, trying to brush it off, but the memory of Gojo's gaze lingered, leaving you with a sense of intrigue amid the celebration.

Both of you stood up and headed outside; Kyoko needed to talk to Suguru before you went home. You walked to the exit where the players were leaving and waited. A smile spread across your face as you saw Suguru approaching you both.

“There is your man.” You gave her a light elbow nudge, and she blushed. “Go on. Then you have to fill me in on everything.” You warned her.

Kyoko started walking and smiled at you. “You know I will.”

You watched as your best friend approached Suguru and congratulated him on the victory. If it weren't for the fact that it was real life, you'd think you were watching a romantic movie from the '90s, the way Suguru had taken your best friend's hand and led them away from the crowd. You could almost vomit rainbows at that moment.

You pulled out your phone from your bag and checked the time, 21:45. It was still early.

“You came.” You heard a voice behind you. You knew whose voice it was; you could recognize it almost anywhere.

The voice of the person you had been trying to avoid making eye contact with all night, and the same voice that had now caused your heart to beat a little faster. Would it beat even faster if you looked into his eyes?

“Well…” You turned to face him; he still had his uniform on, and his hair was wet. Damn. “You invited me to the game, didn't you? It was the least I could do for my private tutor and project partner.”

Gojo simply smiled at you. “We have some soda if you want.” He pointed to where the rest of the players were.

You shook your head. “I'm good, but thanks.” You played with your hands and looked at the ground; for the first time, you felt embarrassed about what you were about to say. “You played really well, Gojo. It was very... very good. You were good, I guess.”

“Birdie…” You lifted your gaze and realized he was incredibly close to you again. “Are you free now?”

“Um…” You hesitated. You were, but... “I'm waiting for Kyoko.”

Gojo cleared his throat and grinned. “Then you're free. Those two lovebirds will take a while.” Gojo stood next to you and took hold of your arm. “Come on, I want to take you somewhere.”

“Wait, Gojo.” You tried to free yourself from his grip. “Are you going like this?” You looked him up and down.

“Yes, why?” He checked himself. “This is my other uniform, and I've showered.”

“Oh.” You nodded. "I thought..."

"You thought I'd take you around all sweaty?" You averted your gaze, avoiding his. "You can see me sweaty under different circumstances..."

You pulled away from his grip and looked at him with a furrowed brow. “No, thanks.”

“I meant during basketball practice.” He teased you. “You thought wrong.” And you couldn't help but blush.

Gojo grabbed your arm and practically dragged you to the parking lot. You could feel people's gaze on you, which wasn't hard considering Gojo drew too much attention, much to your dismay. Most looks were curious, although many would have buried you alive if they could.

Gojo stopped in front of the black car he had taken you in before. You didn't know much about cars, but you were sure it was expensive. He let go of your arm and opened the trunk, searching for something. Then he pulled out a hoodie and handed it to you, and you frowned at him.

“You've been shivering since we left the venue.” He said, offering it again. “It might be colder where we're going.”

“Thanks... I guess.” You whispered as you took the hoodie. “But I don't understand why you want to take me somewhere. Kyoko will be looking for me.” You protested.

“I already told Suguru, I'm sure he's told Kyoko. So relax.” He shrugged.

“I still don't understand why you want to take me somewhere.” You sighed.

“Simply because I want to, birdie.” He put his hands on his hips. “I… I'd like to show you something.”

“Gojo, if you try anything, even the slightest thing, I won't hesitate with you.” You looked him in the eyes.

“I know, and I won't do anything you don't want.” He smiled. “Shall we go now?”

“Yeah…” You looked carefully at his face, noticing how the wounds were almost gone. “Your wounds… you treated them?” Gojo nodded, touching his face a little bit. “That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Oh birdie, is worried about me.” Gojo teased you.

You rolled your eyes and said nothing. Because in fact a part of you was worried about him but saying it out loud didn’t feel right.

You put on the hoodie he gave you, it was warm, and Gojo's scent filled your nostrils. It was too big for you, but it covered your thighs a bit. You got into Gojo's car and fastened your seatbelt.

Before Gojo got in too, you quickly sent a message to Kyoko.

You to Kyoko ☀️

If anything happens to me, it was Gojo.

I love you

Gojo hopped into the driver's seat, starting the car with a confident grin. As he drove away, Gojo seemed oddly focused on the road, a stark contrast to his usual carefree demeanor.

You watched outside the window and observed the city lights were starting to fade, distancing yourselves from the bustling Tokyo and entering a quieter place. That was the feeling as you looked through the window of Gojo's car.

The soft lights of fireflies illuminated the road. Gojo kept his eyes on the road, and the silence in the car wasn't awkward. In fact, you didn't feel uncomfortable being with him. It's true that he annoyed you, and often you couldn't stand him, but discomfort wasn't present.

Admitting it aloud was a challenge, but slowly, Satoru Gojo was earning your appreciation, even though you always proceeded with caution, carefully observing his actions.

It had been 30 minutes since you got into Gojo's car when the speed began to decrease; it seemed you had arrived at the place. A strange sensation took hold of you; you didn't know what it was, but it was there.

You got out of the car, just like Gojo, and waited for him to reach your side.

“We have to walk a bit, but I swear it'll be worth it.” He smiled and started walking ahead of you.

You didn't say anything and simply followed him; Gojo walked with determination and confidence in every step he took, regardless of the fact that the only light available was from the flashlights on your phones.

“I used to come here when I was little.” He broke the silence. “And then when I got older too, it helped me clear my mind and relax.” He looked over his shoulder at you and smiled.

You continued walking until you finally reached the place. The moon was reflected in the crystal-clear water of the lake, displaying a beautiful view.

“Tara!” Gojo sang, spreading his arms and smiling. “It's incredible that a place like this exists near Tokyo; it's wonderful.”

You wanted to say yes, it was, but that feeling in your stomach was back, and your head was throbbing.

“Birdie…?” You noticed Gojo looking at you with a concerned expression on his face.

“I’m tired…” You said. “Sorry…”

“No, don't be…” He shook his head. “Why don’t we go and sit over there?” He pointed at a bench near the lake.

You nodded and started walking towards the bench. You didn’t quite know what got into you but it was an uncomfortable sensation that wanted to break out.

Gojo sat next to you and you noticed how he started to play with his fingers. Was he nervous?

“Gojo…” You broke the silence.

“I’m sorry.” He cut you. “I’m sorry, you told me you didn’t feel like coming and still I brought you here, without caring. You probably wanted to get home and rest. Shit…” He held his head between his hands. “You are always working so hard and already came to see the match although you had to work and here I’m bringing you here when you are tired.”

You looked at him attentively; it wasn't necessary for him to react like this. He didn't need to worry so much about you.

“Gojo.” You whispered, gently touching his shoulder. “It's okay, don't worry. I just started getting a headache.”

He removed his hands from his head and looked at you before returning his gaze to the lake.

“I always come here when I need to clear my head.” He whispered. “When classes get too much or after training.”

Who would've thought, the great Satoru Gojo would be overwhelmed. You never would've been able to tell.

“Lately, I've been coming here too often, to be honest.” He whispered.

“Are classes getting to you?” You asked out of curiosity.

“Not exactly, it's more family problems.”

“Oh... I understand.”

“You know, when I was a kid, I used to sneak out and come here.” He smiled and looked at you. “When my parents scolded me or we argued, I'd grab my bike and come here.”

“You came here as a child alone?" You said in surprise, the place was a bit far away for a kid to come on their own.

“Yeah, they didn't care.” He said with a sad smile.

“Gojo…” You said concern, Gojo was opening to you in a way you wouldn’t have thought he would.

“But it's okay, I could relax here, and one day, I met someone.” He turned to look at you with a smile.

Gojo continued talking but you struggled to maintain focus, the intensity of the memories threatening to overwhelm you. His lips moved, forming words you couldn't decipher over the deafening roar in your ears.

A sharp pain shot through your head, causing you to wince and clutch at your temples. It felt like your skull was being crushed in a vice, the pressure unbearable. Breathing became a struggle, each inhale feeling like a futile attempt to fill your lungs with air.

The memories flooded back with relentless force, each fragment adding to the torment. You remembered the bright sunshine glinting off the surface of the lake, the sound of your mother's voice calling your name.

And then, the screech of tires, the sickening crunch of metal, the scream of terror that ripped through the air. You remembered the impact, the sensation of being thrown, the blinding pain as your body collided with something hard and unforgiving.

But amidst the chaos and confusion, one image stood out with stark clarity: your mother, her arms wrapped around you, shielding you from harm with her last breath.

Tears blurred your vision as you struggled to make sense of it all, the weight of grief and loss crushing you with its unbearable heaviness. You felt like you were drowning in a sea of sorrow, unable to find solid ground to anchor yourself.

“Birdie…” You could hear Gojo calling your nickname and your name.

You were having a panic attack?

“Are you okay?” Gojo's concerned voice broke through the haze, his hand reaching out to steady you.

You blinked, trying to focus on his face through the blur of tears and agony. It was all too much to bear, the weight of the past pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

“I... I…” Your words came out as a choked whisper, your voice trembling with the effort to contain the overwhelming pain.

Without another word, Gojo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a comforting embrace. In that moment, his presence was a lifeline amidst the storm of your shattered memories.

Gojo's arms held you warmly and tightly, as if he wanted to remove the pain you were currently feeling from your body and mind.

That's when you realized how shitty you had been. Satoru Gojo had cried hugging you and at that moment you had not been able to do anything for him, instead you stayed silent like the coward you were.

Gojo was the opposite of you, he was what you wanted to be, open, positive, energetic, sympathetic but you were far from it.

“Birdie?” His voice was gentle, filled with concern, as he steadied you.

You blinked back tears, not wanting Gojo to see you cry, and trying to find the words to express the turmoil inside. “I... I need…”

“It’s okay…” He whispered, still embracing you. “I think the best is to leave.”

You simply nodded. Gojo separated from you and stood up first, feeling the warmth you had felt previously disappear.

As you looked up, you saw Gojo's hand extended towards you. On another occasion, you would have rejected it and said something to him, but in that moment you just wanted to feel the calm and warmth you had experienced next to his body.

You grabbed Gojo's hand and walked in silence to the car. In a way, you were anxious and felt that if you got into the car after remembering what you had remembered, you might have another panic attack. But if you stayed at the lake, you didn't think you could be calm. Anyway, all you wanted at that moment was to get away from there.

“Birdie…” Gojo's gentle voice brought you out of your thoughts.

You looked at him and saw the sadness and concern in his face.

“I'm fine.” You forced a smile, knowing he didn't buy it when he held your gaze. “Really, how about you invite me to dinner?” You tried to change the subject. “I'm starving.” You touched your stomach.

Gojo's features relaxed for a moment and he nodded. “Okay…” He opened the car door. “Pick any place you want, it doesn't matter. I'll take you.”

You nodded with a smile.

The drive was quiet, the only sound was the hum of the radio. You stole glances at Gojo, noting the tension in his posture and the furrow of his brow. Despite your attempts to lighten the mood, you could tell that he was still worried about you.

You wanted to assure him that he didn’t have to worry about you.

Notes: if you want to be tagged, just comment below 🤗

Tagged: @lavender-hvze, @crybabytoru, @sanriosatoru, @norvacaine, @sadmonke, @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic, @gojoful