#there is a sense of;; calmness; one that he once only felt at the sea

[bookie-bookdust]

When You Were His

Sebastian had this dream—he never told you—of you resting your head on his shoulder in the rain.

CWs: It's sad but not crying sad if that makes sense, but you ain't gonna feel great either?, very minor hint of suicidal thoughts Word count: 875 words Links: read in this post or ao3

Sebastian had this dream—he never told you—of you resting your head on his shoulder in the rain.

It’d happened. Once.

You’d been waiting out the downpour at the mouth of a cave, the cooling mist a comfort against his flushed, damp skin. The edges of both of your robes were drenched, legs kicked out and boots caked in mud.

This wet curl kept bouncing in your eyes, and he made some stupid joke about it that made you laugh so loud your voice echoed into the cave behind you. As if it, too, needed to hold onto the sound and never forget your voice.

He’d learned quickly you had this boisterous laugh, and he worked tirelessly to earn it. You loved puns, the stupidest of them, and he made a mental list of every single one he wanted to tell you.

“Pumpkin pasty?” You fished it from your pocket.

Sebastian blinked, taken by surprise before he snorted. “How many of those do you have stuffed in your pocket right now?”

You sat up, and he instantly regretted the question at the absence of your warmth. But you tugged his hands out, dropping pasty after pasty until six sat in his waiting palms.

“You have a problem.”

“I do not.” You snatched them back, stuffing them away.

He only smirked, but you returned your head to his shoulder as if it was easy, the natural thing to do. And suddenly it felt like he expanded with hundreds of fizzing whizbees. That he floated—as long as he could take you with him.

“I don’t think you should use the relic,” you murmured.

He stilled, his smile dropping. “Where’d that come from?” His shoulders tightened, fists clenching in his lap. “Ominis?”

“No, no.” You sat up to look at him.

The cold rushing in was no longer an absence of warmth. Now it was a warning, a receipt for that which he was owed: cold, quiet solitude. If he couldn’t save Anne there was no saving him either.

“There’s something unsettling about it. I think our ancient magic lead is more promising. Just give it a few days. Let me speak with the Keepers.”

But a few days was the difference between a body warm and a body cold and bloating past expiration. It could—he stopped himself. He couldn’t think about it. He couldn’t think about Anne that way.

“The healers said she’s worse.” He stilled, the words sloshing in his throat.

Your eyes reflected the rain, the flush of your skin, the wet hair clinging to your neck. This no longer felt like running from the rain, laughing all the way for shelter. It was more like clawing out of a drowning storm, bitter and numb.

“They don’t know how much time she has,” he muttered at last.

You didn’t respond, worrying your bottom lip as you studied his face. He wished he knew what you were thinking. He only had the fears he was always trying to emboss on other peoples’ skin.

Surely you thought he’d taken this too far. Like they all did. That the haze was beginning to lift as you understood what they’d been warning you of all along.

Sebastian is just like his father.

Sebastian doesn’t know when to stop.

Sebastian will destroy himself and anyone who comes too close.

“Do you,” he paused, “do you think I’m in over my head?”

You sighed, and the silence that followed made him want to scratch his arms until they bled.

“I think we both are. But do we really have a choice?” You tucked your knees to your chin, staring out at the rain. It still hadn’t let up.

No. There wasn’t a choice.

He thought of that day often. The last moment of calm before everything had shifted. Anne’s letters had stopped. Ominis made his stance clear. But you, you stood by him.

He wished he’d agreed with you. That he’d hurled the relic into the sea. That he’d tucked that wet curl behind your ear. That he’d admitted his feelings instead of swallowing them down as he’d grown used to the taste. It never seemed like the right time. Like he deserved to feel something besides the unsurmountable grief and rage.

Because there had been a choice. There always was.

Even now, he had a choice.

Stay or go. Stay or go.

Stay.

Or go.

“Sallow.” A voice snapped him from his thoughts.

The rain, that moment slipped away, the roaring replaced by waves, angry as they crashed against stone. A different sort of cold crept back into his bones, his damp clothes, his bare feet, under his cracked and dirty nails. The kind of cold that didn’t leave you. Your last true companion.

“Lights out. Unless you want dementors as bedmates.” The guard rattled his cell door before moving on to the next.

It was always the same.

He’d lay down in the cold grimy corner, the blade he’d forged from a scrap of stray metal tucked beneath his mildewed pillow, and he’d have this dream of you resting your head on his shoulder in the rain. That he’d chosen you.

He had this dream of when you were his.

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel's viper eyes looked back at the crimson haired Sorceress closely, gripping her hand tighter, listening carefully as she spoke quietly and leaned against him, so none of the crew could eavesdrop on them. He felt a silent relief at her acquiescence, ready to give up the book at long last. Not adding to their troubles. Even so, with how much time she had spent with the book, he would have to keep an eye on her no less than he did the crew. There was no telling what the cult or Great Old Ones could do, if they had a hold on her of some sort... whatever magic they used. How much exposure to them and their power it took to be possessed by them. It was an ever worsening situation they were in... he would be glad to be back on solid ground again, even on the island of cultists and the lost city below it. Regardless, he had to be ready for a possible fight at sea, now... not that he looked forward to the prospect. They would have to work together, with all of their abilities garnered over the years... magical ones and otherwise. It wouldn't be the first time they'd had to do so against powerful supernatural forces... and he had even done so when she had been stuck in the form of a unicorn. He nodded when Sabrina went silent again, his own deep, calm voice murmuring back to her, eyes looking between the sea and the whalers working around them, some of them watching the pair.

"If they are with the cult, and if they try to kill us, they'll be sleeping with the fishes. Though given the sorts of Gods they worship, they're liable to want that. No matter, I know a thing or two about sailing a ship... but let's just hope we've reached Darkwater Island when they make the attempt. Rather not have to put my limited nautical skills and knowledge to use in the middle of an ocean. Best we remain in sight of each other from now on, red. Not a time to go splitting up, surrounded by enemies and the unknown. We'll watch the crew closely... not much else to be done, as yet."

The Witcher noted, before the rain soaked Sorceress moved away from him to walk carefully elsewhere on the slippery deck, remaining near the railing. His viper eyes watched her and the crew all the while, keeping his heightened senses sharp for any suspicious signs. With their luck, it probably would have been safer to take a small row boat to the island together... but regardless, he had wanted to get a sense of those who spent time on Darkwater Island. See how deeply the corruption there ran... if everyone on the island was in on it with the Great Old Ones, servants of their... and whether they even knew it or not. It could be the hold over them wasn't even known to them. Wouldn't be the first time he'd seen possession or curses, supernatural phenomena do so. Even when things had only begun, he had a bad feeling about this particular contract... likely to be among the most difficult, and certainly the most important where consequences were concerned. He could not afford to fail, here... Cthulhu had to be kept slumbering and trapped in its prison. No matter the cost. The world depended on such. At the very least, once they were on the island they wouldn't have to worry about transportation off it again... with her portals available. And with the location of the island committed to her memory, they would be able to return instantly any time. Though he prayed to Melitele this would be the first and last time they had to go to the island.

@fallesto

Sabrina leaned forward and looked at the crashing waves, the dark water stretching out infinitely, reflecting the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. The spray misted her face, a cold reminder of the reality of their situation. She nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of his words. She did not trust the crew, not at all, she only trusted the witcher, how sad was that then, that once again she has been lumped into a messy situation with him, with no way at all out of it, she was in this right to the very end.

"I know the risks, Eskel, so for once I am going to do something I have never done before, I am going to agree with you, I will destroy the book." She replied, her voice strained yet determined. "We have to do this. The world can't afford to have that book in the wrong hands. I quite like my sanity and do not wish for anyone a god or not, to believe they can hold any sway over me."

She nodded and made sure to lean into him a little bit. "For once then, we have the same plans. Good, very good, we are of one accord then." Her grip tightened slightly as she looks over the edge. "But we must be vigilant, for the Great Old Ones have eyes everywhere, and their reach is vast. Even the air around us whispers their secrets if you know how to listen, which you do, meaning this crew will try and kill you before we arrive." As she looked down again, they would kill him in his sleep and capture her, she could not burn the ship down, she had not intentions of swimming all the way there.

Sabrina moved now, the deck slippery under her feet. She had to lean into the wind to keep from being knocked over. The crewmen worked efficiently around them, seemingly oblivious to their conversation. The rain had soaked through her clothes, leaving her shivering despite her best efforts to remain composed. She looked around, her eyes searching the faces of the sailors. Could any of them be in league with the cultists? The waves grew more intense, the ship groaning as it was tossed by the tumultuous sea. Each time the bow rose and fell, the frothy water seemed to reach out to them, as if the sea itself were alive and hungry. It was eerie, and she couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.

She leaned over the railing on the other side, the salt spray stinging her eyes as she peered into the dark waters. Far below, she thought she saw something move—a shadow, a hint of scales, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She gripped the railing tighter, her heart racing. As she gritted her teeth, why her of all people, what did she do deserve this mess, she should have destroyed that book, years ago when she had the chance, but she could not, knowledge was power, it was a greedy thing within herself, she could do little to fight it at times, as she glanced down for the moment and closed her eyes, feeling the crew around her for the moment and knowing, sooner or later, they would strike.

[darabeatha]

       He has brought you a gift to build together !

[grandline-fics]

Hello! Hope your having a good day today! Can I request mihawk, shanks and buggy with the prompt "sleeping separately after an argument" You can just do one of the characters listed if your busy! Or change them into a different character it's totally fine with me! - 🪼

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Sleeping separately after an argument

WARNINGS: slight angst, arguing couples, ends in comfort 

CHARACTERS: Mihawk, Shanks, Buggy

WORDS: 4,199

A/N: Thank you for this request! It's my first Buggy request and first time writing for him so I hope he's to your liking. I tried to keep things varied with these and are on the long side to include a happy ending.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

MIHAWK

“So what? You were never going to send word to me that you were safe?” You’d demanded glaring at your lover that you hadn’t seen in months. Ordinarily you were used to the time and distance apart but he was always in contact with you in some regard. This time however you had no idea about his whereabouts, not until that stupid poster fluttered out of your morning newspaper and you travelled across the sea to Cross Guild to see him for yourself, otherwise you doubted he’d have ever contacted you. 

“Well you would have known from the poster’s existence that I was perfectly safe.” Mihawk answered coolly. He hated how he was speaking to you but in his clear view of the world, in the long run this would be best. Underneath his calm exterior, seeing you stroll into Cross Guild had both sent a mix of conflicting feelings through him. On the one hand he loved the sight of you and wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you and welcome you properly. On the other he felt unnerved. He hadn’t been expecting you, if he had known perhaps his approach would have been more thought out but you were the only person to ever rattle him.

All he knew was he needed you gone so he could clear his head and he needed you out of Cross Guild before Crocodile came sniffing around. Acting on instinct, he’d abruptly taken your arm and led you out of the room filled with people. He didn’t need them listening in on any private conversation of his. However you’d only let him get as far as the corridor before you pulled out of his grip and began to interrogate him over his actions. Mihawk refused to tell you the truth, he refused to admit his only worry. Now that he no longer had the protection of Warlord, you would have a clearer and larger target on your head if anyone knew you were romantically involved with him. As much as he knew you could look after yourself he didn’t want to bring any added hassle to your life, nor did he want you to change your life by remaining in Cross Guild just to give him the peace of mind you were safe. “You’ve wasted your journey coming here.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Dracule.” You snarled meeting his steady, impassive stare with your own burning in intensity. You knew he was being guarded for a reason but after all this time you were frustrated and hurt that he wasn’t being honest with you. After all you’d handled together and after proving you were strong enough to be considered his equal, he still wanted to push you away. “You don’t get to stand there and throw some generic one-liner at me. I know you better than that and I deserve better than that. Now talk to me properly and explain yourself.”

“Since when have I ever had to explain my movements?” Mihawk asked arching an eyebrow at you while you continued to glare daggers at him. It never ceased to amaze him that you could always meet his stare. “Cross Guild is new and needed my entire focus, you would have just been an unwelcome distraction and a possible liability.” 

As much as his words hurt, they baffled you even more. Hopelessly you stared up at the man in front of you, trying to understand. None of it made sense. You both knew your lives took you in separate directions and you’d never once tried to force yourself into his business just as he respected yours. The only thing you both ensured was contacting the other if something unexpected happened so neither of you worried. Had he just done that, you wouldn’t have come looking for him. You stared at Mihawk and saw he wasn’t going to give in or tell you the truth, whatever his reasons were it was clear he didn’t respect you enough to be honest then was there any point in saying anything more. 

Mihawk watched as something switched in your demeanour and the spark in your eyes seemed to snuff out. He didn’t move as you approached and reached out. When your fingers skimmed against his jaw he had to steel his nerve to not give into the temptation you always brought him. It only got worse when you leant in and pressed your lips against his. Mihawk felt his resolve begin to snap but the kiss was over just as fast as it began. You pulled back and stared at him, no longer with understanding but firm resolve and finality. “I’m glad you’re safe and I wish you the best of luck with Cross Guild.” 

With nothing left to say you left Mihawk, heading for the entrance to let the stubborn man you loved get back to his new focus only to stop abruptly when Crocodile stepped around the corridor and all but blocked your exit. You stopped and looked at the man you knew mostly from newspapers and reputation. You kept your expression even as Crocodile stared down at you, his keen observation taking you in before drifting up to Mihawk who glared warningly at his business partner. “Leaving so soon?” He asked simply, returning his attention back to you. “You just got here.”

“I was never planning on staying.” You answered dryly, stepping around the broader man only to sigh when he called after you.

“It’s too late for sailing though. There’s plenty of rooms for you to stay in if Mihawk’s room isn’t to your liking.”

“Not necessary.”

“Suit yourself, just know there’re undercover Marines camped out at the only inn on this island. I use the term ‘undercover’ lightly. Still better to know now just in case…” Crocodile’s voice floated towards you and you stopped walking. You turned to watch the man light a cigar, completely at ease. Briefly you flickered your gaze towards Mihawk and you bit your tongue. Looked like you were becoming the liability Mihawk had predicted you’d be. 

“Just show me to a room.” You muttered to a smug Crocodile. “I’ll be gone by morning.”

Mihawk couldn’t sleep. In the times he was apart from you he had adopted a talent for forcing his body to rest at least a little and grab naps here and there through necessity. However when you were both in the same vicinity as each other he could never sleep without your body beside his. Knowing you were just a few rooms away was like the cruellest form of torture. Now that he’d had the time to actually think about it all and his actions, he knew he was an idiot and had reacted and let his worries for you direct him when he should have just talked. Mihawk let out a low growl and rose from his bed. Crocodile was a smug, interfering bastard and had made sure to stop by and casually inform him which room you’d be staying in so he found you in no time. Knocking once he waited. 

Slowly you opened the door, your eyes stinging with tiredness. After all the tossing and turning you’d done your body was exhausted and so nearly ready to give in and let you sleep. Then Mihawk had to disturb that by knocking. His golden eyes scanned yours and he frowned to see the dark circles. Another thing for him to apologise for. “The last thing I want is for you to feel forced into stopping living your life how you want to. I was worried that with my Warlord status now being gone you’d be targeted to hurt me were people to find out we’re a couple. I know you can look after yourself but I’d hate to think you ever got hurt because of me. I acted poorly and pushed you away without thinking because had I really thought about it, not having you in my life was the worst thing I could think of.”

“You should have just told me sooner. You get so much more talkative when you’re sleepy, did you know that?” You asked with a small smile. “So I’m not a liability or unwelcome distraction?”

“Never a liability.” Mihawk swore, relieved that you’d stepped away from the door and allowed him to move closer to you. “A distraction most definitely but always a welcome one.”

“So I can stay?” You asked, leaning into his touch as his hand cupped your face and lowered his head so your foreheads touched, finally getting to enjoy the reunion at last. 

“For as long as you want.” 

SHANKS

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Shanks demanded angrily as he stared at you, his eyes zeroed in on the large and painful looking bruise against your cheek and your bandaged leg.  

“What do you mean ‘what the hell was I thinking’ Shanks?!” You snapped back viciously. Why the hell was he blaming you for something that was clearly an accident. “I was thinking about stopping one of the recruits from getting crushed, obviously.” 

“You weren’t even meant to be there in the first place.”

“It’s a good fucking job I was there.” You retorted, holding your ground fiercely and unwaveringly. “If it hadn’t been for me, they could have been severely injured or killed. Why are you berating me for doing the right thing?” Shanks rarely admonished you or anyone on the crew for that matter. Usually looking out for other members was something he praised. This was just so out of character for him. All you wanted was an explanation, to just understand what it was you’d done that was so bad to deserve all of the animosity. “Had Benn or Lucky been in my place would they be getting this tirade?” From outside the room you and Shanks were arguing in, Benn and Lucky shared a nervous look. Why did they have to be brought into this? Everyone on board bustled about, trying to see to their tasks without making too much noise from fear of drawing yours or Shanks’ ire.

“That’s not the point. This is about-”

“No, it very much is the fucking point.” You interrupted, your blood boiling and patience fraying. “Answer the question. Would you be speaking to them like this had they done the exact same as me?”

“They’re my right and left hands. You’re…” Shanks stopped clumsily and stared at you. This was the crux of the matter. You were different, he cared for everyone on his crew but to see you hurt had made him realise just how much he’d loved you and never faced that feeling before. He had been terrified that afternoon when he’d heard the yells, the heavy crashes of cargo falling after the ropes securing them had snapped from the strain and their age, and came across the seen of you lying on the ground. For a moment he’d feared the absolute worst and because of that, he’d reacted badly and still he was too scared to vocally tell you why. “You’re…”

“Right…” You sniffed slightly, nodding as the pieces seemed to fall into place for you. “I’m just the Captain’s current bedwarmer.”

“What? No!” Seeing the hurt in your eyes at your misinterpretation of the relationship you had, managed to jolt him out of his anger. He took a step toward you, reaching out and watched as you flinched and stepped back. “I didn’t-”

“Don’t bother.” You uttered, continuing to the door. “I’ve had enough of this.”

For the rest of the day you stayed as far away from Shanks as you could but no matter where you were you could feel his stare on you. It felt strange to not be so close, to let your presences mix together in a balanced sense of warmth and strength but at the moment you didn’t want to be near him. You didn’t want to listen to the sound of his voice that usually reassured you and made you smile. Exhausted by the events that led to the argument and the argument itself, you retired to bed early when you’d finished your dinner. Shanks said nothing but watched as you walked away, his frown deepening when he saw you walk in the opposite direction of his quarters that had also doubled as yours since you two got involved. With a long sigh Shanks rubbed his face, as much as he wanted to go after you he wanted to respect your wish for distance. 

Despite your desperate need for rest and sleep, it just wouldn’t come. You’d tossed and turned in what had been your old bed that now felt unfamiliar, simply unable to let your mind settle. With that being coupled with being unable to get comfortable in anyway you let out a long sigh and rolled over, staring at the ceiling in frustration. How did it come to the point that without Shanks your body was like a stubborn toddler, refusing the sleep it wanted and clearly needed? Absently your hand settled over your chest and you closed your eyes, trying to think about anything other than the man who you’d fallen for yet had been hurt by. Suddenly from outside your room you heard a muttered curse and dull thud. Dragging yourself out of bed you opened the door and looked down in bewilderment to see Shanks curled up in the corridor with a pillow and blanket. At the sound of the door opening he’d slowly rolled onto his back and looked up at you cautiously. “What are you doing?” You asked tiredly, leaning against the doorframe. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“You didn’t.” Your tone and expression was even but underneath it all you were unsure. “Answer the question, please. What are you doing down there? You could damage your back if you’re not careful.” 

“It’d be the least I deserve for speaking to you the way I did.” Shanks muttered, his shame evident. “I didn’t want to sleep in our bed, not without you. It didn’t feel right and I also wanted to give you space but…I still wanted to be near. This was the only thing I could think of.”

“Our bed?” You repeated with a tilt of your head. 

“Yes our bed, in our quarters.” Shanks insisted as he sat up but remained firmly on the floor. The fact that you were even willing to speak with him and that you hadn’t slammed the door in his face was enough to give him the courage to say what he should have that morning instead of running his mouth without thinking. “You’re more to me than some ‘bedwarmer,’ you always have been and I’d been too much of a coward to admit it. When I saw you hurt I feared the worst and just panicked. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way that I had and I certainly should have told you how much I love you before now. For all of that I’m so sorry and will do what I can to make it up to you, only if you’ll let me that is.”

“Okay, three conditions and I’ll forgive you.” You conceded after a few heavy seconds and you fought to hold back your smile at the sight of Shanks’ face lighting up immediately.

“Name them.” He swore with no hesitation, watching as you knelt down beside him.

“First, I get your favourite pillow for the next month.”

“You can have it forever.” Shanks grinned, his hand sliding over your waist as you inched closer. “Next?”

“You carry me back to our room so we can sleep.” Immediately Shanks had you scooped up and was off the floor in a fluid motion that pulled a surprised yelp from your lips. In no time at all you were both back in what you now knew to be your shared quarters and not just his. Shanks settled you on the mattress, making sure your head was cushioned by the pillow you’d only jokingly wanted before he crawled under the covers and held you close. In unison you both felt peace settle over you both, the sleep that your bodies had refused was now creeping through you now but Shanks refused to fall over just yet. “What’s the third condition?”

“Tell me you love me again.” You murmured, your eyes already closed and body pressed against his chest. Shanks sleepily chuckled and held you tighter, vowing to never risk letting you go again. you were his heart after all. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

BUGGY

Everyone knew Buggy had a short fuse. They knew that a good mood could turn sour without any warning, all it would take would be the wrong thing at the wrong time and he’d implode his fury on the closest thing possible and it wouldn’t matter if it was to blame or not. Today it seemed you were the focus for his anger. You’d walked into the big top merely to tell your lover that he was needed by both Mihawk and Crocodile. “Hey Bug-”

“No!” You stopped mid-step when the clown’s head detached from his body and whirled through the air and glared down at you. Stunned, you could only stare into his angry eyes and listen to his vicious rant. “I have had it with the sheer incompetence of everyone! How hard is it to listen to simple instructions?” You were sure that Buggy didn’t have any idea that it was you that he was shouting at. When he got like this all he really saw was the person’s outline and no discernible features. Still though, you opened your mouth to try and calm him before his face got as red as his nose but he just got lost in his anger that had reached boiling point. “What did I just say?! Get the hell out of my sight before I use you for target practice!”

The idea of Buggy hurting you caused the amused smile and light laughter to appear out of the sheer absurdity of it all. You were the one Buggy loved, he’d never bring you harm. But all Buggy saw and heard was insubordination, mocking his authority and his status. Now that Mihawk and Crocodile were around the big top was the only place he still had any power. For someone to laugh at him here was only adding fuel to the fire. 

His hands detached and grabbed your upper arm, hauling you off your feet so you were now eye level with him. Only now did he blink through his fury and realise who it was he was about to physically punish. But still he was angry and his lack of authority had made him shaken. If he immediately apologised now, he’d seem weak. He needed those who followed him to see he was in charge. You saw the recognition in Buggy’s eyes and thought he'd lessen his hold and set you back on your feet but instead he kept you in the air. “Why do I tolerate you and your lack of respect? Just be grateful for my mercy. Keep out of my way and out of my spotlight! Is that clear?” 

 Ever since the founding of Cross Guild you'd done your best to reassure Buggy that he was still important and still powerful. You’d navigated his low self-esteem and tantrums for years, knowing him longer and better than anyone. You loved him and you knew he loved you but this made your own anger begin to light. His behaviour like this towards you would not be something you'd let him get away with but you also didn’t want him to lose face in front of the crew who were watching with held breaths. “Crystal clear, Captain Buggy.” You responded in an empty monotone. “Thank you for your mercy. The spotlight is yours and yours alone. If you can let me go I’ll keep out of your way, it won’t happen again.”

“G-good.” Buggy quickly uttered and set you on your feet before releasing your arms. His mind was slowly clearing as he watched with uncertainty as you fixed your clothes and headed for the door. Absently he wondered why you’d been in here in the first place. Dread filled his stomach now, had you come in just to visit him and unintentionally been brought into the firing line? You opened the door and refused to look his way. 

“I’ll let Mihawk and Crocodile know you’re busy, Captain.” Your remark made his eyes bug out and he was frozen in place. What did those two want with him now?! Panic filled him as he abruptly dismissed the crew and he hurried for the door you’d left through. When he was in the hallway he saw you were heading for one of the lounge rooms and not Cross Guild’s meeting room, Buggy sighed in relief. He made a mental note to talk to you after and hurried for the meeting. 

As the day wore on, Buggy’s mood lifted significantly and the morning’s incident with you was unfortunately pushed further and further to the back of his mind. It wasn't until the evening time that he realised he hadn’t seen much of you. When he passed Alvida he asked if she’d seen where you’d gone. Alvida regarded him silently, confusion pulling at her features. “On your way to apologise?”

“What does my flashy self have to apologise for?” Buggy asked with a confident grin. 

“Well this morning, remember?” Alvida asked with a smirk as realisation flickered in Buggy’s eyes. “Yelling at nothing subordinates is one thing, but your lover? You need to talk to them. Sadly I haven’t seen them since you told them to keep out of your way. Hope you find them.” Buggy watched hopelessly as the woman continued on her way, not even bothering to assist him in finding you. Grinding his teeth anxiously, Buggy continued his search. He finally found you in your shared room and with a sigh of relief, believing he didn’t need to apologise after all he flopped himself down onto the bed. 

“Been looking everywhere for you. Hey, where’re you going?” He immediately sat up when you moved for the door, watching you turn to look at him with a frown. 

“Keeping out of your way Captain Buggy.” You explained. “As per your orders.”

With a sigh Buggy prepared himself to finally apologise. “You know I didn’t mean it. Not with you.”

“But you don’t make mistakes, Captain.” You shook your head, not allowing him to talk him way out of his actions so soon. “Don’t worry I’ll keep out of your spotlight.”

“There’s no spotlight here-”

“Where you are, the spotlight follows that includes here.” Your eyes moved to the bed he was lying on. The last time you and Buggy had slept separately was when he was in Impel Down and it had been the worst time of your lives but you had to do something. Buggy knew that you’d have to be severely hurt by him to even consider putting yourself through that and he knew he was to blame for it. So he could only numbly let you leave to have some space from him. “Sleep well, Captain.”

For hours Buggy tried to sleep but it just refused to come. Even though he knew your body wasn’t beside him, his hands still searched across the cold mattress in the hopes of finding you and his head always turned towards your pillow, eyes desperate to find your face in the dark. With a sigh, Buggy rose, his lesson well and truly learned. Trudging down the silent hallways he moved to the lounge he’d seen you head towards after he’d yelled at you that morning. Stopping in the doorway he saw you lying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling with heavy eyes that stubbornly wouldn’t close. “Can I come in?”

“It’s your circus, Captain.” You mumbled, still looking at the ceiling and too tired to move. “You don’t need to ask me for permission for anything.”

“Yes I do.” Buggy insisted, slowly walking into the room and stopped at the foot of the sofa. “You’re not some subordinate and the second I realised it was you I was shouting at I should have stopped. I should have apologised. Any orders I have are for those morons, never you. I’m sorry you had to do this to make me see that.”

Finally you dropped your eyes from the ceiling to observe Buggy, seeing he was free from his makeup and flashy outfit. Not Captain or figurehead, just your Buggy. Slowly you moved your blanket aside to wordlessly invite Buggy to join you. Tiredly you smiled when he wasted no time in moving down to lie with you, his arms circling you and his lips pressing lovingly against your cheek. Buggy relished the way you relaxed against him but knew he still had a hell of a lot of making up to do and come the morning he’d do jus that until you were sick of his flashy apology and spoiling you.

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[that-student-that-has-homework]

Pulse - Portgas D. Ace

Portgas D. Ace x Reader

CW: trauma, mentions of death, and slightly suggestive teasing, kinda proofread? I got tired :/ | wc: 15,671 🫠 SPOILERS: Amazon Lily / Marineford / Post Marineford Y'all can thank @captainportgasdace for this. as agreed upon previously, @silentgravesdontexist you're tagged for this piece MasterList (linked at bottom too)

There had always been a somewhat wistful quality to Ace.

It wasn’t always apparent, but it was there, lurking, much like the many sea kings of the Calm Belt. The Calm Belt…you huffed a little, you could liken Ace to that stretch of sea - so much lurking beneath the surface. 

If you looked at him hard enough you’d be able to see the large shadows swimming not too far away. Though today, or rather, following the first anniversary of his very close call with death, the summit war, you couldn’t help but feel those shadows had migrated closer to the surface. Large, dark, intimidating - moments from attacking.

That needn’t be a bad thing. Maybe you could finally take them down. Maybe he’d even let you help.

Or so you hoped.

No mind. You had patience to spare. Especially when it involved your loved ones.

You studied your dear friend from afar, starting from his head - his hair had grown longer over the course of the year or so he’d been recuperating for. A trim was in order - if only to remove the bottoms and promote healthy hair growth. Regardless of your skill with scissors, he’d probably let you trim it for him if you asked him to. Anywho, he sat cross-legged on the sand, his shoulders hunched slightly forward as he hugged his knees. Your eyes were immediately pulled down to the marred skin of his back.

Where his back was once crowned with the mark of the strongest man on the seas, there was now an empty patch of scarred skin: a testament to the void left by the loss of a father. It was still the same back though. The same back that had stood between you and adversaries unthinkingly: raising both morale and wrapping you in security. It was the same back, just…missing a little something.

You couldn’t help the way the sand crunched under your feet, still you tried your best not to disturb his reverie. He did little more than glance over to confirm you weren’t a threat, before silently turning his gaze back to the sea that he would no doubt be taking to soon enough. He would be much like a child returning to the embrace of his parents in a sense…as he was “a child of the sea.”

There really had always been a somewhat wistful quality to Ace.

You had to tear your eyes away from him. Quite the feat when the sun was starting to set, casting a golden glow upon your friend - who was already beautiful enough under the dingy lights of pirate ship cabins, let alone during this golden hour. You knew well enough that you’d give yourself away if you kept staring at him. While it wasn’t wise to wait, you also knew that confessing to a person in the midst of grief was insensitive. And, you had patience to spare. Especially when it involved your loved ones.

You instead took a moment to trace his line of sight, attempting to follow it with your own gaze. You soon took a seat beside him, sitting cross-legged much like he was, only that you opted to hold your hands within your lap, rather than hug your knees.

It had been a while since you’d both come to this island after all that had happened. While walks on the beach were regular, and you did leave the house, it had been a while since you’d really taken the time to admire the vastness of the water. It had been a while since you’d really focused on the way the breeze felt as it tousled your hair tenderly. It had been a while since you’d really dug your feet into the sand and enjoyed the little poking sensations of the sand under your toes.

“Y’think I can get my back tattooed again?” 

You blinked yourself back from your thoughts, turning to look at the man to your side, his brows furrowed as he continued to look out to the sea. In the time it took you to process his question and consider how to respond, he’d already found his answer: “I can’t, can I?”

“I think it would be better not to,” you agreed nodding slowly, “were you considering getting another back tattoo?”

His grip on his arms tightened as he hugged himself tighter, gaze finally moving away from the sea, falling onto the sand instead, taking your heart with it. You leaned back to study his back once again, contemplating.

“There’s always your lower back,” you rocked forward to try and capture his attention, “or your butt.”

The incredulous look he gave you had your eyes crinkling in mirth. Though you did find yourself looking away soon enough, your embarrassment catching up to you. It went down a little bit-kind of…when you heard him give a quiet, but amused chuckle, “nah my butt won’t work!”

You glanced his way, and the instant that he recognized you were looking at him, he continued, “unless you’re suggesting I go around with my ass cheeks out.”

“Ace!” You groaned, your hands immediately going to cover your face, your whole body hunching forward in embarrassment as he erupted into boisterous laughter.

After a moment, and through the scalding heat of your cheeks, you asked, “would you wear a shirt to compensate for having your bottom half exposed?”

When you heard him hum, you braved a peek through your fingers to see his brows raised into a thoughtful expression, brown eyes reflecting the warm pinks and oranges of the sunset. You looked away the moment his eyes met yours, cheeks burning yet again.

“Y’know what?” You looked up again, and he grinned, teeth glistening in the light as he answered you. “Nope! I wouldn’t.”

When you hid your face all over again, you were entreated to even more of his beloved hearty laughter. You could feel the way his shoulders shook beside you, despite not being in contact. Your pride battled against your satisfaction trying to force you to be upset even though you’d invited this kind of teasing, and enjoyed the effect it was having on him.

Though laughter right now was mostly just an anesthesia: it numbs things, but doesn’t really address the cause.

When his laughter died down, he let out a long breath, “I remember pops had it on his back.”

You turned to look at him again, he was more relaxed now, one arm resting on a bent knee, the other behind him as a support with his other leg stretched out in front of him. Looking down at his chest, he placed a hand on it, “guess my chest wouldn’t be a good idea either.”

At his suggestion you found yourself staring at the terrifying mark marring his front. You gulped, seeing the crimson of the past. The crimson that had finally become a warm peach. A warm peach that rose and fell rhythmically with the breaths he took. A closed, covered, mostly healed warm peach.

“Hey! Hey! Breathe!” He poked at you.

You shook your head, blinked violently, and took in a deep gulp of air. Snapping your eyes to his face you were treated to his raised brow and remorsefully awkward grin. You pursed your lips petulantly. Looking away you answered, “I think we should avoid,” you paused, “tender areas.”

“Tender, huh?” He looked back at the great blue.

“I’m so grateful you’re still here,” you let it slip out as you too looked out at the sea.

He chuckled humorlessly, “you say that a lot.”

“It’s because I am,” you stood firmly by your opinion.

“I must’ve given you a real scare,” you hated how guilty he sounded.

“Marco told you, didn’t he?” You mumbled, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Yeah, he told me you wouldn’t stop crying unless you fell asleep,” he huffed out, “something about you not eating well either too.”

“I’m so grateful you’re still here,” you reiterated, looking at him, taking him in.

“You already said that,” he raised a brow at you, a corner of his lips upturning slightly.

“Just let me count my blessings Ace,” you rested your head on your knees.

He didn’t respond, but you could hear him shift a bit beside you. Turning your head you saw that wistful quality of his resurface on his face, the pretty features relaxing once again. You pondered on what he’d said…

“Hey Ace,” you raised your head and he turned to look at you, “what if you got it tattooed on your pulse?”

“Huh?”

You raised your arm up to reveal your wrist, pointing to the area you mentioned, “it’s one of the places you can check for a heartbeat.”

He stared at you, the gears in his head turning, “it’s a little less obvious than your back, and much smaller,” you continued, “but it’s still readily visible,” you looked down, “and it’s got something to do with the heart too.”

He was in your space immediately, “that’s a great idea!” You looked up at him, his eyes glimmering pools of molten chocolate. “You’re so smart! Thanks!”

“Happy to help,” you smiled back at him, and he pulled back a little, staring at you for a moment too long - ah, “what’re you thinking about?”

Much like you had earlier, the pirate blinked himself back to attention with a shake of his head. He looked away for a moment, scratching at the back of his head, a sheepish smile taking his features as his eyes flickered back to you, “‘s nothin’.”

“Fair enough,” you shrugged, “I’ll help you find a tattoo artist and get the design down if you’d like.”

“You would?” He lit up some more, sparks of his old vigor reigniting.

“Of course.”

-_-

It hadn’t taken more than a week or two to find a tattoo artist on the island. There were a couple and Ace found himself liking the older lady artist more, so you went on over to her with Whitebeard’s jolly roger proudly etched on a paper. The fiery man had burst into full-bodied laughter at the offended scolding she’d given the two of you: of course she knew Whitebeard’s jolly roger! The…late…Emperor had come and established a sort of peace over their quaint little island a decade ago or so, even going so far as to chase off some thugs from her little shop.

The former division commander was grinning from ear to ear when the artist sang his father’s praises. She did not withhold any of her opinions about how manly and handsome he appeared to her either. There was a small prickling in the back of your eyes, but you managed to keep it together, especially as a warm hand came to rest its weight between your shoulder blades. Turning to Ace, you were greeted with an equally warm grin as he excitedly told you he had a great feeling about this lady.

Oh! And that you did an amazing job finding her, “leave it to you to find such great people!” He beamed. 

“I’m so grateful I found you too,” you stressed, returning his grin with a smile of your own. 

Your delightful buddy froze momentarily before coming back to his senses, “thank you.”

“I’m happy to help.”

“Not just for finding the lady.”

“No thanks needed.”

“Though if I remember things,” he thought aloud, “didn’t I find you?”

You rolled your eyes, “oh no, a very good person found me.”

He chuckled lightly at your sarcastic tone, before your attention was required by the tattoo artist.

She did a truly spectacular job with the tattoo, and even provided the ointment he’d need to help promote faster healing. Over the course of tattooing the young man she seemed to realize you’d probably remember the aftercare instructions better than he would. 

She wasn’t wrong about that.

Ace felt like his tattoo was mostly healed by the end of the following month. The old lady had mentioned that given the location, it would take a while to heal fully though, so…You were the one worrying most days. Especially as Ace began to make the necessary preparations to embark back out on the seas again - he was healed enough for it, per the instructions and information Marco had left you with. 

It was a great deal of fun though, working on building your small ship together, you were just constantly worried he’d scrape himself and get the tattoo infected or something. He often shrugged it off, reminding you that he was made of fire after all, and could avoid scratches.

“Ah yes,” you nodded, “you’re hot in the literal sense.”

He burst out laughing again. He did seem significantly more lively these days. Especially following the tattoo. Though you weren’t sure if he’d slain some of the beasts within, or if the shadows had simply chosen to recede from the surface.

You got a glimpse of the answer one night as the two of you sat in front of the fire he’d started up, staring at the tattoo on his wrist while waiting for the fish and veggies you’d caught and scavenged earlier to cook. Your dear friend’s wistful quality resurfaced from the unfathomable depths that made him up, though with a tinge of nostalgia this time. There was a very small, very deeply fond, uplift to the line of his mouth.

You marched over to his side, plopping yourself down beside him, a basket of fruit and a knife in hand. He looked up at you, eyes reflecting the warmth of the fire beside him…or perhaps the warmth of the fire within. He was always so warm.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he grinned and you could feel the warmth of domesticity mix in with his naturally warm aura and creep up on you.

Looking back at the basket of fruits in your lap, you picked up a pineapple, “well a little snack before won’t completely ruin our appetites,” you were about to begin cutting into it when he took it out of your hands.

“Here, lemme show you a neat trick,” he proceeded to twist the top of the pineapple off, hit the bottom of it on his knee, and forcefully roll it between his hands, “now you can pull out each piece, no knife needed!” He grinned, pulled a piece out and handed it to you.

You took it, impressed with the new piece of information, “that is neat!”

Silences had become increasingly common between the two of you. Tonight was no different, the two of you sat side by side, snacking on a pineapple, he did have to hand it over to you to switch out fish and vegetable skewers. At which point you decided to poke at the corner of his mouth with a piece of the fruit and he opened to eat it  without thinking twice. Given how your relationship had transformed over the course of his healing period, this level of closeness had also become commonplace between you two.

It didn’t mean anything though. It could be likened to the way you’d feed any of your close friends. 

You were trying not to fault yourself for wanting something more though. It wasn’t as if this feeling was new. Ace always burned so bright, and was so warm-and you weren’t unique in these feelings. What was unique about you, was the situation you were afforded. Again: it didn’t feel right to burden him with your feelings while he was essentially fighting for his life in a whirlpool of turmoil trying to drown him.

“What’cha thinkin’ about there?” He asked as he passed you a skewer of cooked fish.

You shook your head. You were a coward. You’d think almost losing him would push you to reveal just how important he was to you. Verbally reveal it that is. 

“Don’t wanna talk about it?” He nodded, understanding as ever. “Got it.”

“So you’re going to be setting off soon huh?” You chose to change the topic.

He hummed, stoked the fire a bit, and paused. He turned to look at you, brow furrowed.

“I’m going to be setting off soon?” He reiterated, confused. “You’re not coming?”

“Would you want me to?” You looked at him. “I mean, I remember you were upset over me staying with you when you were relegated to bedrest.”

“That was because you had better things to do than take care of me,” he bit back.

“If I wasn’t actively caring for you I might have gone insane though,” you worked to remove the skin from the fish, “it helped me.”

“You,” he tore into his fish with an aggressive bite, chewing in frustration, “you have your own dreams and adventures, and you wasted a whole year here with me though, the least-”

“Time spent with you is never wasted,” you cut in, effectively stopping his mouth from moving, “time spent with you, is never time wasted,” you repeated again meeting his gaze as he stared at you.

He just continued staring at you, with nothing but the crackling of the fire and the soft rolling of the waves filling the space between you.

He remembered to finish chewing and swallow his food soon enough though, blinking himself back to reality as he did so and looking at the fire he confirmed, “you’re coming with me,” his tone was firm with his conviction, “we’re setting sail, together.”

“Okay,” you nodded, nibbling into your fish, “I’m glad.”

He muttered something, or perhaps he whispered it, the words were stolen away by the breeze before you could make out what he said though. “What is it?”

“I wouldn’t leave you here on this island by yourself,” he shook his head, “not after everything you’ve done for me.”

“I did all that because I wanted to,” you drilled into him, “you don’t owe me a thing.”

Your brow pinched, your displeasure making itself evident on your face, “if you’re just going to befriend me out of obligation and guilt,” it was your turn to bite into your fish aggressively, “then leave me here.”

“I never said that!” He shot back. “We were friends before all this, and I’d rather die than lose you.”

“Please don’t talk about dying,” it was a quick, breathless, desperate request.

“Sorry.”

You shook your head, “no no I’m sorry,” your appetite was vanishing rapidly, “what you went - what you’re probably still going through - is worse than,” you swallowed thickly, tears welling up, “than me just watching it happen.”

“Hey,” you tried to wipe away the tears, fish skewer still in hand, “hey, look at me,” you turned to face your dear one - his intensity entrapping you.

He took your skewer from your hand, stabbing it in the sand next to his own. His larger palm enveloped your own as he pulled the appendage towards his chest pressing it right above his heart. You found your face warming inordinately-and it wasn’t because of your proximity to the fire. You felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he took deep breath after deep breath, felt the rhythmic - kind of quick - pounding of his heart.

“I’m alive,” he reminded you, “I’m still here.”

You nodded, bottom lip trembling, “I’m so grateful you are.”

He opened his mouth, about to say something, then looked away with a huff. His brows pushed down on his eyes, “I want to take you off this island with me.”

You nodded at him, hand still held above his chest, where you could feel his heart rapidly pumping blood to the rest of him - intact. Alive.

“I want to leave this island together,” you agreed.

“Then it’s set!” He grinned, and released your hand leaving it to fall limply to your side as he grabbed the skewers and handed you yours again.

That was also when he remembered the food he was still cooking. Seems he’d almost burnt the remaining fish, but they were thankfully saved just in time.

-_- 

Ace clearly loved being at sea again.

It suited him so well. Surrounded by blue on all sides, blazing his own path - own course through the waters. 

A child of the sea come home. 

You could see it in the way light seemed to dance off of him every instant of the day: the ethereal glow of dawn upon his defined features, the halo that the afternoon sun drew on his head, the gleam of the sunset on his back, or even the twinkling of the stars in his eyes. You could see how at home he was out on the restless waters.

Perhaps he was so at home on the restless waters was because he could actually see the restlessness? Maybe that was why when the sea calmed, you would catch him glancing back at his newest tattoo from time to time.

One of the times, he’d been laying down on one of your small sailboat’s little benches, his head resting near your own, as you sat on the floor of the deck beside him. He raised his hand up, staring at his wrist under the blanket of stars in the sky. You couldn’t help but notice, looking away from one beauty to another.

You weren’t too sure what possessed you in that moment, but you reached out a finger and began to trace the iconic crossbones and mustache embedded within your dear friend’s skin. It was as your finger finished dragging along the mustache that he maneuvered his hand so that his fingers could clamp down upon yours.

The first time he’d done this (held your hand) after the…after the war, you’d both been gripping each other’s hands like you were both on the edge of a cliff, afraid the other would fall to their demise if you let go. Though the first time he’d gently held your hand, you’d startled and he’d let go soon after. Of course since then, you’ve held him and been held by him as the grief of it all washed over you in waves. 

So anyway, hand holding didn’t mean anything. 

His thumb pressed down on the vein in your wrist, making you more aware of how fast your heart was beating. It didn’t really mean anything though - what he was doing right now. 

No matter how much you wanted it to.

When he stopped pressing down on your pulse, choosing instead to rub circles into your skin, you turned to look at him and meet his gaze as he gave you yet another of those bright smiles, leaving the heat to crawl up your chest and squeeze it.

-_-

When you arrived at the island the pose was pointing to the following day, Ace once again took your hand - to help you disembark. You spent the day scouring the place for new information, trying out the local dishes (with Ace falling asleep mid bite), and taking in the local sites. It involved a lot of you being dragged from corner to corner, your hand clutched firmly within his own as he led you around. By the time the evening fell, you both found yourselves on a beach front again, your narcoleptic buddy’s head on your shoulder as he snored away.

Hmm…you’d probably camp out somewhere near your Mini Moby tonight. Your brain couldn’t help but wander about as you played with the thick waves of Ace’s hair. You’d decided to do honest work for the time that the former Division Commander was healing. The reality was you’d been thrust into piracy due to your…”scholarly” pursuits, so of course you’d be doing honest work. It hadn’t paid much is all. After all, the island that Marco had left the two of you at was a quaint, quiet place that wasn’t too far from Saobody, and friendly to Whitebeard pirates. 

You had to admire his wisdom in choosing the place. It had both mountain and beach environments and a lot of greenery, so it would be soothing to the mind as well as the body. The local doctor was also very adept, and there was an extremely talented apothecary there as well. Marco had thought of everything.

You could hear your friend’s usual grumble, moan, and whine that he made whenever he woke up from one of his spells. The weight on your shoulder lifted, as his inky tresses slipped past your fingers as he sat up.

“Good morning,” you hummed jokingly.

“Morning?” He yawned, stretching out. “Did I sleep that long?” He was squinting at his surroundings.

“Nope,” you rolled out your shoulders, “I was thinking of setting up camp near the Mini Moby.”

He blinked at you, “food first,” and grabbed your hand to pull you up with him.

How he was so awake already was beyond you. Perhaps it was a consequence of having to deal with this regularly. 

“Usually you ask if the person is hungry first,” you huffed, working to steady yourself on your feet after being sat for a while.

“You aren’t hungry?” He blinked at you.

Truly it was fascinating how this man before you managed to be fierce, fiery, and beautiful one moment, and then absolutely boyishly adorable the next. “I am,” you nodded, your mouth pulling itself up and pushing your eyes into a smile.

Your dear friend stared at you in silence for a bit, before tugging you by your conjoined hands with a loud declaration of, “then let’s eat!”

And eat, you did. On the house too. Thanks to Ace’s battle prowess he managed to stop the restaurant from getting looted at gunpoint. It wasn’t some casual dine and dash, this guy was threatening the cook’s life!

Though Ace  likely cost the owner the same amount as what he’d have lost from the looting with how much the commander ate. The old man didn’t mind though. 

His daughter definitely didn’t either. You noticed her sneaking glances the pirate’s way the whole evening. You couldn’t blame her, even if you didn’t look directly at the sun, it was still impossible to ignore.

It seems that the personified sunshine in question didn’t notice her longing gazes as he, once again, took your hand to lead you out when you were both done. He was talking your ear off about Luffy again, just like he used to before…

…before everything happened.

The only difference was the way he was holding on to you this time. You found yourself squeezing his palm and watched as he stood at attention and turned to you with a curious expression, “what is it?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “I’m just happy.”

You were greeted with a warm silence following your layered confession. Soon enough he was squeezing your hand as well, “me too.”

You didn’t get to see his face as he began pulling you along again.

-_-

On the next island, your friend once again dealt with an issue. Well he dealt with it prior to you even getting there. Due to some Marine’s negligence, there were sea kings terrorizing the locals of said island. Three sea kings to be exact. You found that out when you were greeted with cheers as you docked right after helping Ace take them out so you could arrive safely. Free food, free lodging, among other things were offered to the two of you.

Given you had contributed somewhat, you didn’t mind, the food was going to be made from the Sea King meat anyway. You also didn’t mind much when all the joy resulted in a revelry with your companion at the center of it all. 

You sat, a mug of spicy cocoa in one hand, your cheek pressed into the other as you watched him, arm in arm with other men, children, and the occasional lady: smiling, laughing, celebrating. 

Were the shadows lingering deep within the waters? Or were they on the verge of bursting forth from just beneath the surface you wondered.

There was no denying you loved seeing this side of your beloved friend. Joy suited him well. You just couldn’t help but be concerned that it wasn’t unburdened.

Oh! He was looking at you now. 

He waved you over with an excited smile, to which you raised your mug of cocoa. That made him furrow his brow. Before you knew it he was marching over to you, snatching your hand again, and dragging you to join him. He was kind enough to wait for you to chug your cocoa…well…kinda. He chugged a bunch of it for you when you couldn’t get through it fast enough.

After attempting to do the local dance with him, and laughing along with the crowd at your miserable failure to do so, you were invited to eat some more. In true Ace manner, he fell asleep mid bite, causing everyone to panic. You on the other hand simply chuckled and did your part: lifting his head, wiping his face and his bangs, before gently placing his cleaned head on the table and adjusting his hair a bit. You then unpacked your shawl and transformed it into a makeshift pillow, before sliding it under your unconscious companion’s head. 

It would seem that display resulted in some misunderstandings as the lodging you were offered subsequently was a single room with a bed of a moderate size meant to be shared. You were too embarrassed to ask for a change given they’d given you this room out of their own generosity. The man to your side didn’t seem bothered by it though. Well, it wouldn’t be all that bad really. 

Or so you thought. 

Or so you thought.

Because the former commander was not a peaceful sleeper. You woke up as you’d fallen asleep for the most part. If you’d shifted while sleeping then it wasn’t anything too drastic. Ace on the other hand was a complete starfish. His forearm was on your neck, one of his legs bent over your stomach, with his head off his pillow and a hair’s breadth away from rolling off the bed.

And when his head did inevitably roll off, while you were trying to figure out how and if you even wanted to untangle yourself or not, it took the rest of him with it. As anyone who grew up the way he did would, his instincts kicked in and you found yourself being dragged across the bed while he crashed onto the ground loudly - groaning as he did. You’d ended up tightly tangled in the covers now, with part of Ace’s weight pulling it taut and making it difficult to roll out of the cocoon it had wrapped around you.

When you asked him to get off of your cover, he began apologizing, “ah jeez, did I wake you?” You hated the guilt seeping into every word. “Sorry.”

“Nope,” you shook your head, still tightly bound in the covers, “I woke up right before the disaster struck.”

He didn’t look completely convinced that was the case, so you decided to elaborate: “I was trying to figure out how to get up without disturbing your sleep, when you rolled off.”

He raised a brow at you, and you shot him a pointed look of your own, pursing your lips to further solidify your stance in this staring war. Seems like it paid off because soon enough his shoulders shook with his chuckles. You soon found yourself chuckling along, which of course reminded you that you were still stuck.

“Uh Ace,” you wiggled about, tugging at the cover still under his bottom, “a little help.”

“Oh yeah! Sorry!” He was grinning as he moved aside this time, going so far as to clamber up onto the bed again and help unroll your burrito self. He chuckled at your bedhead when you finally got free, his eyes crinkling and his dimples popping up as he looked at your disheveled appearance. 

It was weird. 

Feeling at ease and self-conscious all at once that is. He’d seen you in worse states, yet you still wanted to look pretty in front of him.

Though as his calloused hands came to pat down the mess your head had gotten itself into to help you get it under control, the emotional pendulum swung more towards being at ease. 

“Y’know,” he hummed as he continued to pat and play with your hair, “I think I like this look on you!”

Just like that you were slung straight back into unease, the heat clambering up your face. You groaned and covered your face, pulling away from him-and receiving a little complaint-as you threw yourself back on the pillows.

“What’s with that reaction?”

You turned away from him, still covering your face. “Oi!” His hand was on your arm turning you back towards him. “Don’t hide from me.”

You decided to peek out from behind your hands, “you know most people don’t say ridiculous bedheads look good.”

“Well yours does!” He grinned, ruffling your hair without any regard for how difficult it may be to style.

You huffed, lips gently curving upwards. You were blanketed by a gentle warmth, and it wasn’t from the sun. No this warmth could only be achieved in the presence of the man beside you. You let yourself look at him as you smiled - and he mirrored your expression. 

-_-

After that first day on the island you started to feel bad about not paying for things, so you decided to offer labor in exchange given the islanders wouldn’t take your berries. At the bath house you fixed a few things around the lady’s home, then bathed. When it came to the food, you washed some dishes in the back including all of the dishes both you and Ace ate out of. He helped of course. 

The rest of your day was spent wandering around, reading newspapers and picking up information from conversations. At one point the two of you separated to explore different areas. You found a cute little shop where you could make things out of wood. When its artisans noticed you staring, they invited you inside. They’d even taught you some basics before leaving you to your own devices with your own small slab of wood.

You became completely absorbed within the atmosphere the shop had to offer, completely losing track of time with the family of artisans as you all worked with gentle conversation flowing. You hadn’t fully realized just how much time had passed until you heard the breathless voice of your traveling companion, frantically inquiring if they’d seen you. Of course he noticed you soon enough, given you’d turned to look at him.

“There you are!” He beamed, relieved to see you,  before his expression flipped into something frustrated.

“Oh my!” The voice of a lady, who’d been patiently teaching you how to whittle, cut into your conversation. “Dear, we had so much fun we didn’t realize we’d worked ourselves well into the evening!”

Sure enough when you turned to the clock it was nearing 10:30 in the evening. The sun had set at least three hours ago. Oh. Looking back to Ace, you paid closer attention to the fact that he was still breathing heavily.

He’d been worried. 

But why? It wasn’t that late. What had he come across during his time wandering on his own?

Hmmm…you could empathize with his concern, though that wasn’t enough to completely appease you. After all it wasn’t like he didn’t go missing for hours on end. You still remember the panic of going about searching the island for him: especially when he was still in bandages!

“Seems like now you know how I feel when you go missing,” you stood up, patting the wood shavings from your project off your lap, and taking off the apron.

“You!” You could almost see the little flickers of flames coming off of his barely clothed shoulders. “I thought something happened to you!”

The father of the little family of artisans began laughing loudly, standing up to give Ace a pat on the shoulder, “now now, I know you’re frustrated,” then he leaned up and whispered something into the former commander’s ear.

Ace’s eyes met yours for an instant before his face and shoulders turned red, his eyes going as wide as saucers, and a little flame flared out from his head. When the older man laughed some more, the pirate tore his gaze away and put on his hat so it covered his face, grumbling, “thanks for the advice.” 

Looking back up at you-face still pink-he announced, “we need to get going.”

“Just a moment, I need to sweep away my wood shavings,” you responded.

“Why don’t the two of you stay for dinner?” It was the elder lady - the grandmother of this quaint family - that offered.

You smiled and shook your head, “I appreciate the offer,” then you jabbed a thumb at your companion, “but this man can eat twice or even three times his weight in food.”

“Hey!”

You turned to him, your smile cheeky, “I’m glad you can.”

That took the wind out of his sails entirely. It was a bit unfair of you, but you really were glad that he could eat like he used to. The whole event was settled and you were promptly shooed out, your shavings left on the floor, as they intended to work some more and there was no point in you sweeping before they finished. 

“Come back tomorrow to finish your work, alright sweetie?” Was the parting they gave you, and you agreed to return the following day.

Ace took your hand the moment you were outside the little family shop, grip tight on yours as he led you through the dimly lit streets. “I got us a room with two beds this time,” he said, eyes forward, “it’s at a different inn though.”

“Oh,” was all you could say, “are you - are you okay?” You squeezed his hand in yours. “I was a little insensitive earlier.”

The action made him halt altogether, his shoulders dropping the tension they were holding as he breathed out. 

“I saw some Marines,” oh. That explained his earlier outrage.

“What’re they here for?” You sped up a little to look at his face. “Do you know?”

“Remember those sea kings we took down?”

“They’re here to finally deal with them?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “now they’re just staying here because the island folk are mad at them for ignoring them for months.”

“Urgh.”

The corruption and hypocrisy of the Marines was something you had always been critical of. Of course this meant you were also privy to the hypocrisy and hegemony of the World Government (more like World’s Ratified Mafia). And of course such knowledge and attitudes were absolutely intolerable under their dictatorship so soon enough you had a humble bounty on your head.

Justice. 

They had gone and assumed themselves infallible deities: justifying all their behavior through the abuse of the word, they’d completely perverted the concept of justice.

Urgh the sheer egotism.

Disgusting. 

“I saw them not too far from the Mini Moby when I went there looking for you,” he broke you out of your angry reverie, “then I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

You squeezed his hand, “thank you for worrying about me.”

He squeezed your hand back, a silent “you’re welcome.”

“Good thing my bounty doesn’t have a photo right?” 

The marines could never get a clear shot of you for some reason…

“The most they had was a really awful looking drawing, like Blackleg from the Straw Hats!”

Ace’s lips pulled into a massive, very amused grin. 

You still remembered the way he’d laughed himself to the ground, little tears forming in the corners of his eyes when he first saw the wanted poster. Even Marco and…Thatch…had gotten a laugh out of it. 

“It looks nothing like you!”

“What do you mean?” You grinned holding the paper up to your face. “You mean my nose doesn’t look like a carrot?”

And they’d laughed some more. Ace’s laugh was especially memorable, his strong shoulders shaking, his freckled face completely consumed by unbridled mirth. You never stood a chance - sweet, with a smile like that?

You never stood a chance.

“They didn’t see you right?” After all, his wanted poster was much clearer than yours. 

“Nope,” he shook his head, “I’m keeping a low profile until we get back to the New World,” he winked at you, “like we agreed.”

“Good!” You squeezed his hand again.

Later, you’d squeeze his shoulder as you shook him awake. 

Nightmares.

You moved out of the way just in time as he gasped himself awake, chest heaving as he panted for air. He looked around frantically as you soothed him. Which was when he finally turned to look at you. You’d barely gotten a sentence out before he’d tugged at you, crushing you into his embrace.

Your nose was essentially being crushed against his right pectoral muscle. It hurt a bit, so you pat his back while squirming to liberate your nose. He loosened his hold for a moment and you quickly adjusted to be in a more comfortable position, before you were once again being crushed into him. 

You held him back of course.

But not before he could readjust his hold so that his head rested on your chest-more specifically his ear.

Oh.

You began tracing your fingers along his scalp as they weaved through his thick locks. Had his nightmare featured you this time? His grip on you only tightened, a shiver wracking through him before you heard a shuddering breath.

“Ace,” you hummed in an attempt to soothe him again, “Ace, I’m okay,” you tried to keep your tone soft, “I’m okay.”

He nodded, but continued clutching you, body trembling under trapped his emotions within it. You on the other hand continued to run your fingers through his hair, with him gradually getting heavier and heavier in your hold. His grip loosened slightly as his consciousness slipped - if you waited a bit you’d be able to slip out and back into your own bed.

Looking at him, you could see the remnants of his tears sparkle on his lashes. You wished he’d just let himself cry more openly, rather than fight to bottle it up. 

A quiet sigh left you as you looked at the man in your hold, people really were as beautiful as their souls. You continued to play with his hair, basking in the relative silence. 

You ought to tell him that to his face really. Your lips softly pulled upwards as you gently brushed his bangs from his face. 

You wouldn’t have dared to even consider doing that when you first met him: back when he’d convinced you his bravado was confidence. You knew better now though.

He’d probably still tease you if you did. His teasing made him just about intolerable to you initially. 

Yeah…your road to friendship hadn’t been the smoothest. You grinned at the memory, tenderly poking at the little furrow in his brow - coaxing him to relax. He’d very much made you regret your efforts to be kind(er) to him initially with his insufferable teasing. You were reconsidering altogether when he showed up and made amends after realizing he’d gone too far. The teasing remarks soon became playful jabs…which soon became thoughtful discussion when no one else was around.

You smiled at your dear-incredibly dear-friend, and readjusted yourself slightly thinking maybe you could go back to your own bed now. Of course no sooner had you started to consider that, than his grip on you tightened. You’d rather wait a little bit longer to make sure he was definitely asleep enough.

-_-

It was warm.

Too warm.

You found yourself regaining consciousness with a strain of agitation at the temperature your body had achieved while you were resting. You tried to kick off the covers in hopes of revealing your feet and cooling down, however you found that they were much heavier than they ought to be. It wasn’t until you heard a very familiar groan echo throughout the bones of your body that your eyes flew open.

Well…you’d figured out why it was warm.

Soon enough your friend’s eyes also opened, an absolutely criminal pout on his lips. You’d curse Ace’s luck with his genes if they weren’t why he suffered so much all his life. Though you didn’t get to admire him for long as he blinked himself back to the conscious realm, slowly realizing the position he was in, the position you were both in. At which point, a similar kind of alarm found its way onto his expression as he looked up at you.

“Good morning?” You tried.

That was all it took for him to hurriedly grant you freedom from his clutches…and some relief from the heat. Once you were both seated a respectable distance apart, though still on the bed, he shot you a sheepish look, “guess we didn’t need that second bed after all.”

You found yourself snickering at his comment, him joining in soon after, and with that any and all tension was cast away. You went back to your bed, slipped under the cool sheets and slept for a little longer too. So there was a use for the bed after all.

-_-

The rest of the day went well after the initial surprise and awkwardness. You went back to the wood whittling shop and Ace…well he went about doing his own thing. He came back to find you around night time, he’d already stocked the ship up, and set up camp as this time you’d be camping around the Mini Moby. The pose would reset as of dawn of the following day after all.

Bidding farewell to the quaint little family, you couldn’t help but think back to your own, way back on your home island. You did your best not to let your emotions choke you up. Though it was particularly difficult to hold them all in while you were hugging the lady who was old enough to be your aunt and then the grandmother. It was a pleasant surprise when the lovely family invited you to spend the night chatting until it would be time to leave.

“Hey! I can go catch us some wild animal,” your companion raised a brow at you with a smug little grin pulling at the corner of his lips, so you don’t have to worry about how much we eat, was the part he left unsaid.

“Would that be okay with everyone?” You turned to the homey family, who had absolutely no qualms with the suggestion.

The evening zoomed by: you had a fun dinner, exchanged stories over tea and biscuits, and even played some fun family games. It was after the elderly had retired, and your companion had, true to his nature, fallen asleep mid-bite again, that the more sensitive questions were brought up. In true auntie nature, the auntie-aged lady asked about your “husband,” especially given your lack of wedding bands.

You smiled at the auntie while heating up. She wasn’t wrong in her assumption. Prior to letting you escape with the then-captain of the Spade Pirates, your parents had you and Ace sign a marriage contract.

You appreciated him deeply for going along with it. That your parents would let you marry a wanted man though, even if it was supposedly just on paper, even if it was just for the sake of preserving your honor and dignity, showed just how dire and desperate a situation it had been. That he’d gone along with it though…and was remaining true to the agreements made with your family too…

For a pirate, he was an honorable and trustworthy man.

Then again…even the fearsome Whitebeard had more honor than the allegedly just marines.

So anyway, you didn’t correct the auntie, instead nodding and saying how you two were currently sailing together. She seemed relieved that you didn’t correct her on your relationship status, but she didn’t need to know that it was just a marriage on paper.

-_-

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” was the greeting you’d gotten when you’d exited the singular cabin on the Mini Moby.

Squinting at the light, you rubbed your eyes and grumbled, “there’s no way it’s still morning.”

“You’re right,” you blinked blearily at your companion as he agreed with you, “it's afternoon.”

Which earned a tired groan from you. Which in turn drew an amused laugh from Ace as he continued adjusting the sails.

“You had fun talking with them didn’t you?”

You hummed in agreement as you shrunk back into the cabin. 

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“Water, I need water,” you croaked, opening the door and re-entering the darker environment. 

It felt nice not needing to squint anymore.

When you made your way back out you were assaulted with another question, “how did they figure out we were ‘married’?” He asked you. 

“I mean if you look at them, they seem marriage oriented and traditional,” you shrugged, “it could be a case of them just getting lucky we were in line with their hopes.”

“No wonder you got along with them so well,” he approached you from the helm, “I had a feeling they reminded you of your family.”

“They did,” you nodded, taking a seat on one of the benches on the small deck.

“I remember your folks giving me a hard time when we just needed to get you off the island before the navy got to you,” he recounted.

“I’m relieved they didn’t arrest any of my family members,” you exhaled deeply.

“You got lucky that it was Smoker that responded to the call,” Ace grinned.

“My mother said the same,” you agreed, “in her letter she said that what Smoker lacked in fashion sense he made up for in reasonability and honor.”

“She’d absolutely hate my sense of fashion then,” he laughed.

“She does,” you deadpanned, earning an even more boisterous laugh from him, “but I think she’d appreciate knowing you kept your promise.”

He raised a brow at you, “you mean the one about not laying a hand on you?” He made a show of taking a moment to think, then, “hmm but I forced you to share a bed with me just the other night.”

“Ace!”

He burst into even more boisterous laughter, “I broke that promise almost immediately while we were on the Spadine!” He was clearly relishing in teasing you, “I was always laying hands on you.”

“You know what they meant by that,” you groaned, “and you only ‘lay hands on me,’” you huffed, “to save me from going overboard and keep me out of trouble! That’s the whole reason we insisted on the contract prior to letting me board the Spadine,” you stoof gesturing to him and then the boat you were currently on, “they knew that you’d need to grab me for my own safety.”

As if to prove your point the ship lurched and you almost went overboard. Luckily Ace had the muscle to pull you onto the deck-or well onto him really, as you came crashing into his chest…which was…still clothed! Seems he’d forgotten to take his shirt off - which was currently to your benefit, so you weren’t complaining.

Looking up at him as he held you to him, you gave him a dry look, “see what I mean?”

“Yeah,” he grinned at you, readjusting his hold on you as another wave rocked the ship, “but, I’ve been pretty handsy this last year,” he cocked an eyebrow up, “wouldn’t you say?”

You found yourself heating up. What was he trying to achieve teasing you like this? You instead sent him your most unimpressed stare and he laughed some more. 

“Everyone needs a hug sometimes,” you grumbled, “I wouldn’t call that being handsy.”

You could feel his chuckles from where he held you, you could hear them loud and clear through his chest. You needed to get some space between you. Though you couldn’t even begin to move away before the waves threw you onto him again.

The sooner the two of you regrouped with Marco, the better. You needed to get yourself under control. Having Marco around would help. Probably. You tried not to touch him any more than necessary as you gingerly removed yourself from his grasp and moved away a bit looking for a way to make yourself helpful.

“I think the island after this is Saobody,” Ace grinned tugging on the ropes for the sail as he deftly maneuvered your small vessel, “after that we can get to the New World.”

“Well we’d have to go to Ryuguu first,” you corrected, “I wonder how Madame Sharly is doing.”

“Madame Sharly?” He glanced away from the waters to raise a brow at you. “I thought you didn’t agree with her fortune telling.”

“I don’t,” you approached him to help where you could, “but there’s no denying she’s gorgeous,” you took a rope, “and soothing to listen to.”

“So I’m competing with a mermaid?” He shook his head.

“Competing how?” Was he trying to be the most soothing presence in your life or something?

Ace looked startled by your question, furthering your confusion. He blinked at you silently once before sheepishly scratching the back of his head, “it’s…nothing.”

“But how would you be competing with a mermai-” you found yourself nearly thrown off again by the ship lurching yet again. Your work on the ropes came undone as you held onto them for dear life. It wasn’t a moment and a large, warm hand helped pull you back up and helped you regain your footing.

You couldn’t help but notice the ink on your friend’s wrist as he gently pried the ropes out of your hands and secured them himself. You stood there for a moment watching as he deftly tied them up before shaking yourself out of your reverie and making your way to the helm instead. 

-_-

You actually ended up at Saobody Archipelago. Which was convenient. Now it was just a process of trying to get your little ship coated. Oh and to avoid marines and all that. 

Unfortunately the “friendly neighborhood ship coater Ray-san” wasn’t available. Only that made sense. He was with Luffy, training him. His partner was manning the joint though. You weren’t sure of their relationship status but, “if I were Mr. Rayleigh I’d make sure to at least attempt to propose to you.”

That earned you a chuckle from the lovely lady, “mmm some men can be cowardly in the romantic arena,” she was grinning.

Which was when you heard choking to your left - it was Ace, thankfully he’d started coughing. You immediately began patting his back, and then turned back to the lady, “So um Ms. Shakky, would you happen to know how to coat a ship?”

“Nope,”  Shakky took a puff of her cigarette, “I run the bar. Rayleigh runs the coating service.”

And he’s the most trustworthy man to coat the ship on the archipelago. Well…

“Can you suggest any other coating services?” You tried.

She hummed as she took a drag off her cigarette, before elegantly tapping out some ashes into an ashtray. Breathing out she grinned at you, “I don’t think you have to bother with looking for anyone else.”

Well that had the potential to be ominous.

“Are you saying he’ll be back soon?” It was Ace who was asking the question through his coughs.

“Oh did he say he’s on his way back?”

“No, just my intuition,” her expression looked fairly amused before it settled into something more cheshire. 

She was humming as she studied you, “I have to say you do have a way of making a woman feel appreciated dear,” she threw a wink your way.

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable,” you sheepishly returned her smile, “my friends and I used to ‘flirt’ with each other all the time to express our love for one another and y’know?” you shrugged. “Boost each other’s confidence, all that.”

Shakky rested her cheek on her palm as she chuckled at you, “it didn’t make me uncomfortable at all, it’s very cute,” she looked over to your side, “wouldn’t you say so Porto-chan?”

He sputtered, almost choking on his drink again, “way to put a guy on the spot huh Shakky?”

She giggled at him,before turning back to you, “I’m sure this was only between you and your girl friends, given Porto-chan’s reaction here.”

“Well I wouldn’t want to give any guys the wrong idea,” you shrugged.

“True,” Shakky tapped out some more ashes, once again glancing to your side. 

-_-

True to what Shakky had said, Rayleigh came back not three days later. When you mentioned that she had really strong intuition he’d let out an amused whistle and, “women’s intuition can be scary,” before regaling you all with the tale of how Shakky’d been on the mark with something else.

The Pirate Empress, The Most Beautiful Woman in the World, Boa Hancock herself, had fallen in love, and fallen pretty hard. You heard the beautiful woman whose presence you were currently in giggle with, “see, I told you Monkey-chan was pretty good looking.” 

“Scary,” Rayleigh grinned as he breathed the word, “you women and your intuition are scary.”

“Eh?!” Ace was the one to vocally react. “She’s in love with Luffy?!”

Somehow his surprise was what had you laughing. “He’s a real charmer that Luffy, isn’t he?” You beamed at his older brother who looked like a mix of surprised, proud, and disbelieving all at once…maybe even a tinge jealous? “He takes after his brother.”

His owlish stare turned to you, and you saw a little lick of fire escape off his shoulders. All the while you simply shot him a lopsided grin given one cheek was smushed into your first. 

You’d briefly met Luffy while with Ace in Arabasta. He reminded you of Ace in some ways: bright, bombastic, straightforward…reckless…and…very loving. There was one thing about Luffy though: you could say he was more honest about his feelings and less prone to prejudice - oh! Though you’d also say that while Luffy was dependable, Ace felt more responsible, which made sense given he was the older one of the two. You wondered what sort of kindness Luffy extended to the Pirate Empress that she fell for him.

“Whatcha thinking about there?” You blinked yourself out of your trance as you felt a warm finger poke at your forehead.

You looked up into your dear (oh so dear) companion’s eyes and felt yourself melt at the warmth they held, “I’m wondering which of Luffy’s traits caused the Pirate Empress to fall.”

He huffed, and you found yourself following the corner of his lip as it curled upwards, “he’s always had a way with people, that kid brother of mine.”

His gaze was distant, as though he was looking at something very far in the past. Or perhaps not that far away really, these descriptors could be relative.

“So how is Luffy?” You turned to Rayleigh. “Is he doing well?”

The old man’s expression could be described in a singular word: proud. “He’s got another six months of training by himself, but I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he turned his gaze to another person in the room, “he’s real excited to see his crew, and his brother again.”

The beaming smile on Ace’s face said more than words ever could.

-_-

The evening before you would depart for Fishman Island, you’d gone to take a stroll alongside your dear friend. The tree canopies got in the way of you being able to see the stars, but the bubbles twinkled in their stead. 

You turned to study your beloved’s form yet again. Your hands squeezed the straps of your pack, soon enough the world would know about him - that he’d survived. They’d be back to hunting him down, only with twice as much zeal. Marines and enemies of his late father alike.

“What?” He glanced at you, raising his eyebrow. “Do I still have salsa on my face or something?”

You shook your head quickly looking away, “I was just thinking about how, soon enough, you’ll be back to being hunted.”

“Are you worried?” You could hear his amusement, and he even had the gall to laugh when you scowled up at him. “Dumb question, of course you are.”

“Very dumb question,” you grumbled and he laughed some more.

“Hey! I’m pretty strong!”

“I still don’t want to see you get hurt,” you let out a long, tired breath, “when you’re back to officially being a wanted man.”

“Wanted huh?” He was again looking out into the distance, mumbling. “Wanted by everyone but the person I want.”

The person he wanted? 

“Who would that be?” You found yourself asking despite yourself. 

Despite the way your heart hammered at you begging you to remain silent. Despite the way your extremities lost heat. Despite the clammy feeling in your palms as they all but squeezed the straps they held. Despite the ringing in your ears. Despite the way your stomach sloshed as though you’d swallowed a sea storm.

It was such a dangerous question to ask. He’d just said with certainty that the person he wants doesn’t want him - that rules you out. For some reason your thoughts jumped to the Pirate Empress. He mentioned getting to see her while he was stuck in Impel Down.

You watched, your head feeling as though it was full of cotton, as his Adam's apple bobbed with a thick swallow. “Can I…” he wasn’t looking at you as he asked, “can I hold your hands?”

Did he know? Was he trying to hold your hands to let you down slowly? Ace was always a little clumsy with these kinds of things…or was he? He was kind regardless. You had to repay this kindness, so you plastered on whatever smile you could.

If Ace had found someone to love, even if it wasn’t you, you’d be happy for him.You could be heartbroken later, but happy for him now.

You nodded, feeling the pain in your joints as you unclenched them. Your hands were slightly trembling and cold as he held them in his own larger, warmer ones - oh this was a horrible idea! Your hands were starting to get sweaty! Instinctively you started pulling away, “wait my hands - sweat - they’re sweaty!”

“I don’t care,” he tightened his hold on your hands, and as he spoke you noticed, “so are mine.”

He looked at you, and he seemed absolutely convinced of something. You kept up your little smile. 

“I,” he swallowed again, bringing your hands closer to his chest, “I don’t think I can keep my promise to your parents,” a little flame escaped his shoulder as he said that, “I-” he pulled your hands even closer to him, “I want to be real.” 

What?

“I mean I want our relationship-er-marriage to be real!” He rushed to correct himself. “I want to be with you! But in a real relationship! Not just on paper! I want you - ah!” More flames escaped his shoulders as he got louder. “No! Not like that! I mean yes like that- but not just like that! I mean I want - can I?”

He threw his head back, a loud groan of frustration leaving him, meanwhile you just stared at him, brain abuzz as it tried to process what he was saying. He looked at you again, determined expression back full force, “can I be your husband? Your real husband? Can I be,” he glanced away before mumbling, “yours?”

Your mouth had opened slightly to let some air in. The world was almost spinning - save for Ace. The warmth that was flooding your body was practically dizzying. Something stuck out to you - well two things as your legs gave out and Ace lunged to soften your landing and crouch in front of you, in that silly way he always did, still holding your hands. 

“You can’t keep your promise to my parents?” You blinked at him.

“That’s what you heard?” He groaned.

“No I heard it all Ace,” your breaths were heavy, “my brain’s struggling to keep up,” you gulped, “give me a minute to catch up.”

“No, I don’t think I can,” he shook his head, cheeks fully flush as he looked away from you, “I want our relationship to be real… and my promise-it wasn’t a problem back then-but now..” 

He trailed off, struggling to make eye contact with you as he admitted, “now, it’s a major problem,” he shook his head at you seriously, “I can’t keep it. I want to have a real relationship - I’d regret not trying to have a real relationship with you.” 

He did not shy away as he concluded his confession, “the promise gets in the way.”

You blinked at him, finding the air suddenly too warm.

“Can,” you gulped, head still full of static and the sound of the heavy thumping of your heart, “can you ask me to be yours?”

He blinked at you confused by the response, so you pressed on, “instead of - instead of,” your bottom lip was trembling and you could feel heat radiate from your cheeks, “asking to be mine,” was this a dream?

Your heart did some kinda fancy somersault at the way Ace straightened at your last word, much like he would whenever he was excited about something.

“Are you asking me to call you mine, like that?” He leaned into your space.

You couldn’t help the way your whole body was zapped to attention at the giddiness that consumed it when the word: “mine,” left Ace’s lips.

He looked at you with an equal amount of giddiness upon comprehending what your question implied, and his bravado seemed to find him again - but more than that, it was hope that pulled his lips into a massive, luminous grin as he asked, “then, will you be mine?”

When your lips wobbled into a smile, he decided to continue on, “y’know be my wife? My real wife?”

Your head was moving up and down in agreement before you were fully aware of it, “yes.”

You barely registered the pure unadulterated joy, and maybe even the glimmer of liquid in your…husband’s eyes before he was pulling you into a tight hug, gurgled chuckles leaving him. You weren’t any better, you were practically clinging to him as you began to sob, the salty blobs washing away the maelstrom of emotions with liquid relief. You might have felt some wetness on your own shirt.

You probably had, with how he sounded wobbly when asking, “did I make you cry, darlin’?”

Which of course made your tears worse, as you gulped and tried to force yourself to be calm, “I’m just happy it was me.”

He chuckled, “who else could it be?”

Who else - well…wait.

“But, are you sure?” You let go to look at him, his brow furrowed and lips pursed in confusion. “Are you sure this isn’t just because of the past year and a half where all we had was each other?”

His frown deepened for a moment before it relaxed into something sheepish, “I think I started feeling this way since,” he paused to think about it, “maybe even before Pops took me in.” 

“You mean when you were still captain of the Spades?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he chuckled some of his nerves out, “you’re a real catch y’know?” He raised a brow at you. “I even had to play the husband card a few times back then.”

“Really?” You paused to think about it. “I remember us arguing most of the time back then.”

“Yeah, I remember I used to complain to Deuce about that,” he let out a hearty laugh, “but remember that time when everyone was celebrating-”

“And I found you sitting by yourself in the crow’s nest when I went up to hide from everyone?”

“Yeah,” it was there - the wistful quality to Ace, “that was probably when this all started.”

“Wasn’t I just talking about why I had a bounty on my head back then?” You tried to remember.

“Yeah,” he sighed out, “you were really passionate about it too,” there was a dopey quality to his smile, “and I couldn’t help it - you reminded me of my brother and I thought you were really smart.”

“Sabo?” You asked tentatively.

He nodded, “in the beginning it was because of that - I just wanted to be by you and hear everything you had to say, it made me feel like my brother was alive again.”

“That explains the way you kept nagging me back then.”

“Nagging?”

“That’s how it felt to me back then.”

He shrugged, “when we were on the Moby Dick though - I stopped thinking of Sabo, I just wanted to know what you had to say.”

“Really?” He chuckled as you lit up. You wondered if he realized how deeply his confession touched you.

“Really!” He grinned at you, and you felt a warmth wrap around you like a warm blanket.

He looked so boyish as he shrugged, “ anyway, Marco tried to push me to confess to you after I woke up,” he grabbed your hand, tracing your knuckles with his thumb, “he told me all about how much I made you worry,” he turned your hand over in his, “but I was too scared to believe it meant anything.”

“Marco knew about it?” You asked when he was done.

“Everyone knew!” He chuckled. “Heck even Pops knew,” he grinned now looking at the tattoo that sat on his pulse, “of course they knew, I pulled out the husband card on some swabbies.”

He burst out laughing, “you should’ve seen their faces!” He calmed down. “It wasn’t so funny when the commanders heard me though-” he grimaced, but smiled soon enough. 

“I’m glad they did though,” he went back to rubbing warm circles into your skin, “forced me to reckon with myself,” he looked into your eyes, “put a name to what I was feeling.”

“Put a name to what you were feeling?” You breathed out - head as light as ever. “What did you come up with?”

You watched his shoulders rise and fall with the deep breath he took, as though steeling himself again. There was a ferocity in his gaze as it locked onto yours, “I was jealous,” he brought the hand he held to his lips letting them carve his answer into your skin, “whenever I saw someone else trying to win you over,” his hand squeezed yours as yet another wave of heat crashed over you, “I felt jealous and gross because it wasn’t like you were really my wife.”

“I’m not good enough for you,” what was he- “but your parents told me to protect you. And I would -will, and not because they asked me to. I just want to.”

“Ace,” you felt the warmth foment into wrath instead, “you’re confusing me,” you frowned, yanking your hand back, “what do you want from me?”

You saw it then, a flicker of the shadows of the monsters beneath the waters.

You loved Ace. You knew this. You knew that it made you lenient towards him at times. But right now…no. You needed clarity.You weren’t about to enter this new stage on shaky foundations. Because you loved him you couldn’t afford to be lenient about this.

“You ask to be mine,” you couldn’t help the way the fear seeped into your words, “then tell me you aren’t good enough for me,” you looked away with a frown, “I know you don’t have the best idea about yourself, but…just…” you were struggling to put words to it, “what are you trying to achieve?”

When you looked at him again, his eyes were wide, his mouth slightly ajar. He probably didn’t expect things to go like this. Especially given you could have said they’d been going well initially, until you ruined things with your overthinking…but still…you didn’t want some kind of accidental or pity romance. You didn’t want Ace to feel indebted to you, or make decisions while confused or vulnerable.

Though as you looked at him, all the shock left his body, his singular brow arching in that unique way it did with him, while his lips curved up. “Hey, can I hold your hand again?”

“O-kay?” Where was he going with this?

He took your hand again, carefully spread out your fingers, and then pressed it to chest, right above his heart, like he had back when you’d started hyperventilating. He held it there and you could feel the rabid, slightly erratic pattern it was taking, “y’feel that?”

You nodded.

“You’re right,” he was sheepish, “telling you I’m jealous, and that I want you to be mine, and that I can’t keep a promise to keep my hands off of you makes it sound like I’m really horny, huh?”

He was laughing as you sputtered in embarrassment, and held your palm firm to his chest, “to be honest with ya, I really like having your hand on my chest here - kinda wish I wasn’t wearing a shirt really.”

“Ace!” You barely garbled out.

“I think you’re amazing,” he continued, holding firm - and you could feel his heart pounding under your palm, “and like you said, I hate the cursed blood I carry.”

“It’s not-”

“But you know how I said I want to live a life without regrets?” You stopped struggling. “I’m not good enough, never will be, not for you,” his hand squeezed yours, pushing it further against his chest, “but, I’d regret not trying to be good enough, I’d regret not shooting my shot.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?” You frowned. “What if I’m not good enough for you?”

“What’s that thing you like to say?” He hummed. “It’s my opinion?”

“I hate your opinion.”

He guffawed. “I’m a coward,” he confessed as he calmed down, “and a selfish bastard,” his smile rivaled the sun, “but I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, even if I’m not worthy.”

“You are,” you glared at him.

His expression went back to that charmingly confused one. “I’ve deemed you worthy,” you huffed - genuinely upset with how he was speaking about himself, “regardless of all this worthy-worthy talk, you’re the one I want to spend my life with too.”

You genuinely could not find it in you to care how cute his grin was right now, “and that’s the worst proposal I could receive!” You were fuming. “I hate it when you insult yourself like that!”

“I’m below you, but please accept me,” you scowled, “well no can do!”

His face fell at your rant. “I want an equal Ace,” you gestured with your free hand, “I want a partner, not an indentured servant! I don’t want to be put on a pedestal! If my husband isn’t willing to be on equal footing with me then-”

“Hey that wasn’t what I meant!” The object of your fury (and affections?) argued. “I’m just saying you’re out of my league!”

“That’s one thing to say,” you were rather animatedly ranting now, “and we’ll have to agree to disagree on that-because hot stuff you’re within a league of your own,” you continued what was likely years worth of frustration with his self-deprecation leaving you, “and for argument’s sake, let’s say you weren’t - that sounds like an excuse not to work hard to become worthy once I accept you!” 

“I didn’t mean that at all!” He cut into your rant. “‘Sides I already said I’m gonna bust my ass trying to be good enough for you!”

“Well that’s all any girl would ask for! You absolute dumbass!” You yelled back at him. “No one wants to hear their loved ones talk smack about themselves the way you do!”

“Just imagine we had kids one day and they hear their father talking about himself in such an awful way!” Seriously, where did this idiot come from? Talking about himself in such a terrible way. “What kind of lessons would you be teaching them? What kind of example are you setting? They’d learn to-”

“Kids?” He blinked owlishly at you - oh.

Ohhh…

Ohhhh nnnoooooo.

If he wasn’t holding your hand to his chest, you’d have put more distance between you two, but for now you’d have to settle for covering your face with one hand while looking away. It was silent for a long minute…was it a minute? You weren’t sure, but you felt Ace’s chest vibrate with a series of chuckles and braced yourself.

“You’re a real difficult woman to please, y’know?” You met his amused stare with your own unamused one.

“I don’t want to start our relationship on anything but a solid foundation,” you muttered, “if you don’t feel worthy, then put in the effort to feel worthy.”

His grin only widened, “y’know I’d take that to mean you want me the same way I want you.”

“I think that fact is pretty well established by this point,” you grumbled.

“If I understood everything,” oh he looked so smug right now, “then if I wanna tell you I love you, I can’t say anything about how you’re out of my league?”

“You think I’m out of your league.”

“Oh that’s right, because I’m hot stuff.”

He laughed some more when you rolled your eyes. His laughs died immediately when you said, “you are hot stuff.”

“Because…I’m made of fire?” He gulped.

“No.”

“I forgot how assertive you could get,” he blushed, stunned, “it’s been a while since I pissed you off huh?”

Your embarrassment was beginning to catch up to you, as you adjusted yourself to be able to rest your cheek on your palm. You were avoiding looking at him, even if he was essentially burning a hole into you with how he was unabashedly looking at you.

“That bit about our future kids…I never wanted any, but I’m starting to like the idea,” he was being such a tease.

“Yeah? Well, I want kids!” You huffed, still not looking at him.

“Mmm, even if they’re mine?”

“Especially if they’re yours!” You huffed. “You and the idiots in the World Government are the only people with such a weird fixation on Gold Roger’s blood.”

“Darlin’ you’re being really bold right now,” he was grinning, “how mad at me are you?”

“I’m livid,” you finally turned to glare at him, “you’ve been saying absolutely awful things about my d-dear darling husband! It’s-it’s unforgivable!”

One corner of his lips curled upwards at the way you stuttered, but the little flickers of flames popping off his shoulders revealed he was just as embarrassed as you were. “Sounds like,” he swallowed thickly, “sounds like you really like this husband of yours.”

You swallowed as you looked him in the eyes, “I love him.”

His eyes widened, then he scowled, “hey! I wanted to say it first!”

“Well, be faster next time!” You stuck your tongue out at him - wait. “You did though.”

“Ah! So you did hear me!” He pointed a finger at you, finally releasing your hand, letting it drop from his chest.

“Yeah,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest, “but you were being mean to yourself, so I had more important things to deal with.”

“More important than me telling you I love you?” He looked at you incredulously. “For the first time?”

“Well maybe if you didn’t put yourself down right after,” you poked his nose with your index finger, “I would have focused on the ‘I love you’ part more!”

His eye twitched for all but a moment, expression indignant, “you’re really hot when you’re assertive y’know?” 

You sputtered at that and looked away to maintain some semblance of composure. You didn’t see that coming. He called for you and you looked at him again, “you asked me if I was sure about this.”

You nodded at him, frustration finally cooling down.

“I’ve never been so certain about anything in my life,” he declared, “I want you by my side, I want to be by yours, I want to spend the rest of our lives together until we’re nothing but skeletons in a grave.”

“I love you,” he stated it like it was as factual as the sea being blue, “even when you’re mad and yelling at me for confessing to you badly,” his grin settled for something more solemn as he asked, “what about you? Are you sure?”

“I am,” you nodded, “I want to build a life together. With you.”

“I love you,” he breathed it out like a prayer then, and you couldn’t help but describe his expression as reverent.

“I love you too,” you responded firmly as though it were an irrefutable fact, and you could feel your smile threaten to split your face in two.

“Satisfied?” He asked. “Is this ground solid enough for us?”

“I think so,” you nodded, “I want nothing but success for our relationship.”

“Me too,” he grinned as he ruffled through his pockets, from which he pulled out two velvet boxes. “I got these with-what did you call it again?” He grinned. “Honest money?”

You simply stared at the boxes in shock, then back up at your husband, then back down at the boxes. “What?” There was an amused lilt to his speech. “Y’didn’t think I would confess to you unprepared now did ya?”

You guessed you did, with the surprise you were feeling, as you tentatively reached for one of the boxes and opened it up. To your greatest fortune the silver band was clearly meant for a groom. Your eyes widened when you looked over and saw the ring he’d picked out for you, raising a brow at him you couldn’t help but wonder, “how did you get the funds for this?”

“I did some work around that island we were on,” he beamed, “and sold some of the gifts they gave us when we beat those sea kings.”

“It’s so pretty,” you admired what was going to be your ring, it reminded you a little of fire, the ruby red gem was cut in a teardrop shape however the surrounding gems were arranged in such a way that it looked like a flame, you giggled your shoulders relaxing, “it reminds me of you.”

“That right?” He smiled, removed the ring and packed the box up in his pocket, as he took your left hand in his, “I kinda wanted it to,” he admitted as he slid the ring on your finger.

While you were admiring your finger, Ace tried to grab the other box from you, however you pulled it out of his grasp, “ah ah ahh,” you tutted, “I’ll be the one to do the honors!”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I really like it when you’re assertive.”

He laughed at you as you pointedly avoided his waggling brows until you had the ring ready. He already had his hand out for you to slide the ring into, seemingly more than happy to wear that symbol that seemed so silly to him…until now, you supposed as you slid the band onto his finger. 

“Should we say vows?” You asked. “Wait, didn’t they say the vows before the rings?”

Ace hooked his pinky with yours, “I promise - er - vow, to…” he gulped and you could feel him heat up, “love…you…uh until I die - for as long as I live?” He slacked. “I’m not great at this poetic stuff.”

“Then don’t be poetic,” you smiled at him, “just say what you want to say.”

“Then,” he tightened his pinky, “I’m gonna work hard every day to be a man worthy of being by your side,” he looked you dead in the eyes, “it’s true that it’s due to pure luck I even got the chance to get to know you, but I won’t ever let this opportunity go. I’ll love you to the day I die, and even beyond that if I can.”

“You already said that,” you smiled at him, “maybe we didn’t need to do vows.”

“I’ll say it every day if you want me to.”

Somehow…somehow…now that you had a ring on your finger, and with your pinky linked to his, and with him reiterating how strongly he felt…somehow…

All you could do was blink at him. 

This was really happening. 

The last remnants of indignation flickered away into the breeze that toyed with the waves of your beloved’s hair.

Oh.

This was…you were…Ace was…you blinked up at him, “is this real life, or am I dreaming right now?”

His determined expression was wiped off with one that was very unamused, “I’m out here pouring my heart to you - wait you dream about me?”

“Maybe once or twice?” You continued to gape at him. Noticing his own surprised expression, you shook yourself out of your trance, and pulled at your joined pinkies. “Oh-yeah, my-my turn.”

His gaze carried that same softness you’d seen for a while now as he waited to hear your vows, “I know it won’t always be easy, the same way painting a masterpiece isn’t easy, but,” you paused your joy teasing your lips, “I am determined to spend the rest of my life here with you,” you looked him straight in the eyes, “you’re worth every bit of love I have to give, and I’ll prove it through my efforts and commitment, I’ll work hard so you’ll never regret choosing me.”

“Never,” he affirmed.

“Using a negative term…feels rather…negative, don’t you think?” You thought aloud.

“Then,” he shook your pinky-linked hands, “I’m going to work hard every day to make sure you’re always happy you married me.”

“And I’m going to make sure you’re always happy you chose me.”

“Always,” he affirmed again, the two of you laughing at the repetition of the pattern.

“Pops was right,” he let go of your pinky.

“About?”

“He kept telling everyone to calm down and stop meddling because our relationship would happen in its own time,” he sheepishly scratched at the back of his neck, “though he did tell me not to wait forever after a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“A few months?”

“Oh pops,” you chuckled as you reached for his tattooed wrist tracing the mark of your late captain, “Marco found out about my feelings for you from Thatch.”

“From Thatch?” He looked surprised. “Marco knew?”

There was betrayal written all over his expression.

“That’s probably why he was pushing you to confess after the war,” you continued to trace his tattoo even as he shuddered, “Marco tried to get me to confess too.”

“He did?”

“It felt wrong,” you shook your head, looking up at him, “you’d nearly died, pops had died, I was a mess mentally, I figured you’d be a mess mentally,” you continued to shake your head as your breathing shallowed, “I told him as much, and he stopped trying to convince me.”

“How’d Thatch find out?”

“Teased me about hosting a wedding banquet given we didn’t have one because y’know?” Your smile was gentle as you remembered the late Fourth Division Commander, your finger resuming its path along the inked mustache. “I told him not to joke about that - and he figured it out immediately.”

“Then he went and told Marco?” Ace guessed. “Wait, I remember there being a day when you were chasing after Thatch on the deck, looking really desperate about something.”

“Yepp,” you nodded, taking in a deep inhale you traced the crossbones on your husband’s skin again, “got him to promise not to tell anyone else after I found out he’d told Marco.”

“Y’know, at that point I was already a goner for you,” he confessed, “and the crew already knew about me.”

A silence passed over the two of you, as you continued to play with the mark on his skin.

“To think…you liked me too?” He scratched the back of his head with the hand not currently in your clutches. “I mean back then!”

“Is it really that surprising?” You pressed down on his pulse a little.

“It’s just,” you looked up at him, “darlin’,” there was that sweet, sweet adage again, “you ended up on my ship due to pure dumb luck,” his hand moved to grab your own that was still tracing his tattoo, “you’re practically a princess in comparison to a pirate like me.”

You scoffed at that, “please, I am far from being a princess.”

“To me you are,” this might be the softest you’ve ever seen your friend, “and this isn’t me talking down about myself,” he poked you in the forehead, “you’re smart, you’ve got a family that wouldn’t hesitate to shoot me dead if I ever tried anything funny-”

You laughed at that bit, “my cousin especially.”

“She was more than ready to have my head and I hadn’t even done anything yet,” he laughed alongside you, “‘the only reason I’m letting you take her is because I have to! Who knows what they’ll do to her in the marine prisons.’ was what she said before threatening to hunt me down.”

You both laughed at that, “if she sees you keep me safe and make me happy she’ll love you, you know?”

“Love me like that?” He raised a brow at you.

“Maybe!” You shrugged.

“You see?” He gently poked your cheek with his knuckle, “you’re royalty. Way out of my league.”

“Technically you’re royalty,” you flicked his forehead.

“How?” His confused expression was absolutely adorable.

“Pops was an Emperor!” You beamed. “You’re a pirate prince.”

The two of you shared a laugh, the ridiculousness of the notion amusing both of you until, “oh that’s right!”

“What is?” Ace startled as you suddenly straightened up, shoving your hand into your own pocket, and pulling out a small wooden plaque attached to an adjustable black cable.

Upon further inspection it became apparent that it was a bracelet - one you’d whittled back at the little family’s shop. On the main plaque there was Whitebeard’s jolly roger, and it was surrounded by two wooden “beads” - could you call them that? One was a flame shape and the other a spade, you’d had to make sure they were thick enough that you could put a hole through either one.

“This is for you!” You beamed at him as you offered it to him.

“Did you make this?” He stared between you and the bracelet.

“Yeah!” You grinned. “I tried making your happy and sad faces, but it didn’t work out, so I made a spade and little flame instead!”

“You sure know how to make a man feel loved,” he gently traced at the jolly roger etched in the wood.

“I hope you always feel loved in my presence,” you beamed.

“I do,” he grinned at you, “so much it’s almost scary,” he held out the bracelet to you, “will you do the honors?”

“With pleasure,” you took the trinket out of his hands and slid it onto his bare, right wrist.

He barked out a laugh, when you went straight back to playing with the tattoo on his pulse. “What’s so funny?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, “I’m just thinking about how we could have been real years ago.”

“In that case weren’t we technically a real couple at that point? If everybody knew?” You rubbed your thumb along his tattooed pulse point. “Except for us, that is.”

“Mmm but I wanted to do, coupley things with you,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, relishing in how that seemed to make you shy.

Though, it seemed like you weren’t one to simply let him have the last say. You weren’t looking at him as you took his tattooed pulse and brought it to your lips. He jolted at the sensation, heart leaping. Little flames flickering out of his shoulders as you made eye contact with him afterwards, “how’s that for coupley things?”

He was quick to grab and tug you into him, relishing in your mild surprise, “don’t you know better than to play with fire?” He grinned at you as he readjusted the hand that had found its way to your waist. 

“I remember being told I have to ask a lady for permission to kiss her,” he nodded his chin at your lips, “may I?”

You were too embarrassed to say yes, instead choosing to cover your face with your hands. “Ace!” You whined. “Have mercy on me.”

“I didn’t realize you were this shy,” he was chuckling, “where’d your bold attitude go?”

He guffawed when you let out an embarrassed screech at the reminder, “I was absolutely shameless earlier, don’t remind me!”

“I didn’t think so,” oh you could hear the smug grin on his face, “you felt more fierce to me,” he sounded closer, “it’s a real turn on, y’know?”

“Ace!” You garbled out.

He chose to press a little kiss to your forehead instead, “I’m not gonna push you, just teasing you a little is all.”

True to his word, he readjusted his hold, and repositioned the two of you so that he could hug you from behind. He was kinda like a koala bear in that regard.

“Hey Ace?” He gave a small hum in response. “Can I see your tattoo again?”

“You sure like playing with it huh?” He asked as he handed his hand over to you and you turned slightly in his hold.

You could feel his eyes on you as you pressed your thumbs into it, feeling the steady thrum of his heart. Once again, you brought his wrist to gently brush your lips against it, and felt him jolt. Finally you brought his pulse to your forehead, “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

When you turned to face him again, his cheeks were bright, dusted in those freckles you adored, as he smiled, not a shadow in sight, “me too.”

As always I am OPEN TO CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM, and would like to know if anyone seemed out of character. Please and thank you! Reblogs and comments appreciated!

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[antoncore]

a thousand poems | l.at

word count: 1k

contains: (almost) tooth-rotting fluff, reader is a bit of a valentines hater, university au, literature student!anton

synopsis: you never saw the point in valentines, dreading it every year. that was until anton, a sweet literature student came along and changed your perspective…

anton lee was genuinely one of the sweetest boys you’d ever met if not the sweetest. he was a literature student that you started talking to on one of your regular library trips. the two of you had gotten so close that he’d shown you his “secret spot” — an empty hallway hidden in the corner of the top floor of the building. he offered a sense of calm between all your stressful deadlines and overwhelming classes. whenever you’d have your hangouts, he’d either have a snack that you mentioned you liked, a song to recommend you, a book that reminded him of things you’d talked about or a new poem he’d scribbled down before leaving for classes that morning.

it was now a few days before valentines and it was all that consumed your campus life — heart decorations in the student union, posters for speed dating events plastered on every noticeboard you laid your eyes upon and an overwhelming amount of emails from various societies advertising themed events. you hadn’t given much thought to the day, being too preoccupied with upcoming deadlines. you walked up the stairs, your bag heavy with the books you needed for one of your upcoming assignments.

as you turned the corner, you saw anton already waiting, cross-legged on the floor with an open book on his lap. his glasses had slid slightly down his nose, and he tapped his pen against the page, deep in thought about what to annotate it with next. “you’re here,” he teased, looking up to smile at you. his smile was soft and warm, making your heart race and settle all at once — something that nobody else had been able to do. “of course,” you replied, dropping your bag beside him with a sigh. “although i had to battle my way through a sea of valentines decorations to get here.” he laughed at your dramatic tone, shaking his head as he put his pen down.

“looks like i’ll be your escape,” he said with a grin, making space for you to sit. “i can tell you need a break.” you flopped down beside him, your exhaustion from the day’s classes suddenly feeling a bit lighter. anton’s smile softened as he spoke gently, “come on, let me read something to distract you.” “you always know exactly how to comfort me,” you said, your voice quieter than usual. he started to read from the book in his lap, his voice gentler than ever. you recognised the words from one of his favourite books, a romance novel he’d spoken about often. you rested your head on his broad shoulder as you continued to listen to him read.

the way he read every word felt intentional, like they held a deeper meaning that only he could understand. anton paused to look at you and smiled softly, only for your eyes to unintentionally meet his for a brief moment. if either of you were unsure of your feelings before, that brief moment made everything clear. there was a tenderness in the way he acted now and it spoke volumes, unspoken yet understood.

“i-i umm… actually wanted to read something else to you. i know you’re tired of everything to do with valentine’s but… i’ve been working on a poem for a while now, and… i wanted your opinion,” anton admitted, trying his best to avoid eye contact. “a poem?” you repeated, your head tilting to look at him. he nodded, fiddling with the corner of the page. “yeah, it’s… nothing special, honestly,” he whispered, but the way his fingers trembled slightly as he unfolded the piece of paper told you otherwise. you waited patiently, just like he always had for you.

finally, he cleared his throat and began reading the poem, his voice a little shaky at first. as his voice grew steadier at each line, the words sank deeper into your heart, realising every word resonated with the connection you’d come to share. you could feel the warmheartedness behind them, the vulnerability in how he expressed what was so often left unsaid. before you knew it, he had finished the poem and looked up, his cheeks flushed, unsure as to how you’d respond. you stayed silent, reflecting on what he’d said, unsure whether you could find the words to express how you felt. you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper.

“anton… that was so… beautiful,” you breathed out, the weight of the words still sinking in, your cheeks just as flushed as his. “it was perfect.” his lips parted slightly, as if he were about to say something but instead he gently traced the edge of the paper with his fingers, his eyes searching yours. “you really think so?” he questioned, his confidence lacking in the moment. “i was so nervous to read that to you.” you smiled reassuringly as you studied his face fondly. “why? you know i love everything that you share with me.” “because this was different, y/n,” he admitted, lifting his head up fully. “this was… for you.”

the air between you shifted as you swallowed, your fingers slightly shaky. “anton…” he hesitated for a second before reaching for your hand, his touch warm and grounding. “i meant every word,” he confessed, his thumb softly brushing your knuckles. “every single one.” your breath caught in your throat. the touch of his gentle hands, his sound of his calm voice along with the way he was looking at you — like you were something precious, irreplaceable — was almost overwhelming.

you were speechless and it was impossible to deny that everything inside you pulled you towards him, as if you were connected. slowly, you leaned in, closing the space between the two of you. anton’s breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly before they fluttered shut. your lips met in a soft kiss, one filled with all the words you couldn’t say right now. his hand moved to cup your cheek, his touch featherlight, as if he were afraid this moment would end too soon. the way you melted into each other felt natural, as if this was always meant to happen. his fingers held you for just a second longer before you both pulled away breathless, his glasses slightly askew and his cheeks even more flushed than before, matching your own.

“so y/n… can i—” he paused, his eyes asking for your reassurance. “can i be your valentine?” his question hung in the air, soft yet filled with so much meaning. you smiled, heart fluttering at the sincerity in his eyes. you cupped his face gently, bringing him closer as you whispered, “of course.” anton’s eyes brightened and before you knew it, he was kissing you again, more tenderly than before.

“i’d write a thousand poems just to show you how much you mean to me.”

cee’s taglist ☾⋆�� : @sshwaa @seokiebin @gacktsa @nlovesbjh @atzhrts @yuzuksi

[j-k-writes]

The Bronze Targaryen - 8

Summary - (Y/N) and his family travel to Driftmark for the funeral of his stepmother, Laena Velayron, but her loss is not the only one his family mourns.

Warnings - canon character death(s), general HOTD warnings, violence and maiming

It seemed mother nature had sensed the sober mood of the day's events. Gray clouds blocked any sunlight that might have warmed (Y/N), and cold winds cut deep into his bones despite his clothing. (Y/N) watched as ropes were tied to his stepmother’s casket, and Vaemond Velaryon began to speak. 

“We join today at the Seat of the Sea to commit the Lady Laena of the House Velaryon to the eternal waters.” 

Although (Y/N) mourned the loss of Laena, more for his father and young sisters than himself, she was not the only loss plaguing the prince. Both Ser Harwin and his father Lyonel had perished just days ago at Harrenhal, the very night the two had arrived. Though his children had wished to attend the funeral, (Y/N) and Rhaenyra had agreed it would only add more fuel to the rumors that haunted them. 

As he continued to speak Vaemond’s gaze settled on Daemon, eyes narrowed and voice tense. “As she sets to sea for her final voyage the Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the shore. Though their mother will not return from her voyage, they will all remain bound together in blood. Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin.” 

Daemon laughed to him, and (Y/N) whispered under his breath as the Velaryons glared at the man. “Father, please.” 

The knights began to tug on the ropes dragging the casket slowly off the cliff and toward the sea. “My gentle niece may the winds be as strong as your back, your seas as calm as your spirit, and your nets be as full as your heart. From the sea we came. To the sea we shall return.” 

As Vaemond finished, Laena's casket plunged into the ocean, leaving his father widowed once again. The crowd began their ascent back up to the balcony, (Y/N) followed his father and sisters, Rhaenyra and the boys following close behind. The guests dispersed, Viserys taking a seat in the middle of the balcony, getting drinks and food while they spoke with one another. 

(Y/N) lingered by his father, watching as Baela and Rhaena sat alone. He made eye contact with Rhaenyra across the yard, nodding in the direction of the young girls and she nodded walking over to where Jace was standing. 

“How are you?” (Y/N) asked. 

His father turned his body toward him, an effort to keep their conversation as private as it could be with the onlookers on the balcony, “I could ask you the same question. I understand Ser Harwin was as devoted to you as he was to your wife.” 

“Yes he was.” (Y/N) sighed, “We should have forbidden Harwin from returning to the Riverlands. They say Harren’s curse is as strong now as it was after the Conquest.” 

Daemon scoffed, “Do you truly believe that?” 

“No.” (Y/N) looked over the balcony as the dark waves crashed against the rocks below. “It’s a ghost story the queen and her father gladly exploit to hide their depravity.” 

His father gave a pleased hum at the same time (Y/N) felt a small body collide with him. (Y/N) looked over his shoulder chuckling softly at the mop of brown hair pressed into his back. He turned, prying Luke’s hands from his cloak. He ran his hands through his son's hair, positioning him between him and Daemon. 

“Are you alright?” (Y/N) asked, and Luke nodded silently. He placed his small wooden hawk that (Y/N) had gifted him on the bannister of his balcony, and (Y/N) gently rubbed his hand in soothing circles down the boy's back. “Why don’t you say hello to grandfather, Luke.” 

Luke shyly looked up at Daemon, “Hello.” 

Daemon laughed, “How is your training with Arrax going, Luke?” 

(Y/N) smiled at his father, delighted that he had remembered what (Y/N) had written about his sons and their dragons in his many letters. (Y/N) watched as his father and son conversed, Luke rambling on about his many lessons with the Dragonkeepers. Distracted by the scene in front of him, (Y/N) didn’t notice his uncle’s approach 

At the sight of his uncle, (Y/N) grabbed Luke’s shoulder, steering him away, “Let us go find your mother.” 

(Y/N) nodded to his uncle and father before walking away. He found Rhaenyra standing toward the back of the crowd with Jace, his sisters, and Rhaenys. (Y/N) approached his sisters, and they watched him warily, they had not seen each other since their presentation at court, and then they’d been barely a year old. 

(Y/N) kneeled next to Rhaenys, “Do you know who I am?” Baela nodded, and (Y/N) smiled. “Then you know I too lost my mother. I know that no amount of condolences will make up for what you have lost, and it never will. This loss may hurt, but the pain will lessen as you grow.” 

(Y/N) stood, pressing soft kisses to his sisters’ hair. “If you two ever need anything, all you need to do is ask and I will provide it for you. Do you understand?” 

Baela and Rhaena looked up at him, and nodded, silent tears streaming down their faces. (Y/N) turned to look at Rhaenys who just gave him a grateful nod. A commotion in the crowd startled the small group of royals, and they all turned to look at the source of the noises. 

Lord Corlys had a knight by the front of his tunic, whispering harsh words that (Y/N) could not make out to the knight before shoving him through the crowd. Rhaenys sighed, standing up and brushing off her dress. 

Rhaenyra turned to their boys, “Go to bed.” 

“But mother-” 

“Go.” (Y/N) said, and Jace and Luke frowned but walked off anyway. 

As Rhaenys ushered the girls after the boys, Rhaenyra grasped (Y/N)’s hand tugging him toward the stairs. They faltered only slightly on their path at the sight of Aegon unconscious in the corner of the stairs, and (Y/N) could not stop the laugh that escaped him at the sight. Rhaenyra just rolled her eyes and continued pulling him along. 

“Rhaenyra,” (Y/N) said as they walked along the beach. “Why are-” 

“Can I place my faith in you, (Y/N)?” 

(Y/N) paused, turning to face his wife. “What?” 

Rhaenyra swallowed, continuing on ahead of (Y/N) as she spoke. “I know better than anyone our marriage was not born of love, yes we have found love within ourselves over the years but that does not change the fact that you abandoned me when I needed you most.” 

“Abandoned you?” (Y/N) scoffed, “Rhaenyra I thought we were past this.” 

“How can we be?” 

(Y/N) grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her path, and turning her to face him. He cupped her cheek forcing her to look at him. “I did not abandon you, I spared you from the infighting that plagued my family. Did you wish to be on Runestone as I fought to keep my seat?” 

“I wished to be with my husband.” Rhaenyra spat. 

“I am sorry,” (Y/N) said. “How many times do I have to say that? I made a mistake, I was a child-” 

“So was I!” Rhaenyra released herself from (Y/N)’s hold, walking away from him at a speed that forced him to break into a small jog to catch up with her. She was shaking her head when she stopped, cheeks wet with tears and (Y/N)’s heart fell at the sight. “I do not wish to fight with you. We have lost too much to turn on each other, but I need to know that when the time comes you will stand with our family.” 

(Y/N) thought of Harwin, separated from them as he burned alive at Harrenhal. Did he think of the Prince and Princess as he died, did he think that if he had stayed away from them perhaps his life would have been spared, or did he think of how they loved each other as he took his final breath? Perhaps if (Y/N) had insisted more that he stay in Kingslanding, if he had taken him on as his Sworn Shield, a role the man had basically already held, he’d still be alive. He’d abandoned them both, Harwin and Rhaenyra, when he left and although he had won his place at Runestone it seemed he lost more in doing so than the seat itself was worth. 

“I hold no loyalty to anyone capable of taking the life of a man whose only crime was loving us.” (Y/N) said. “My loyalty lies with you and our family, Nyra. It always has.” 

“Do you believe Alicent capable of such a thing?” Rhaenyra asked, and (Y/N) scoffed. 

“She has certainly benefited the most from the ordeal.” 

Rhaenyra stopped in front of (Y/N), placing her hand on his chest. “We are not children anymore, (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) placed his hand atop Rhaenyra’s, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “I will stand by you, whatever you choose to do I am there, I swear by the old gods and the new.” 

Rhaenyra captured his lips in hers, her free hand snaking its way up his shoulder into his hair. (Y/N) groaned as she desperately grabbed at his hair, and his hands moved down to her dress but a distant roar startled them apart before he could undo its laces. 

“Vhagar?” (Y/N) asked, watching the dragon as it soared in circles around Driftmark. 

“It seems your sister has finally claimed a dragon.” Rhaenyra smiled at him, but it soon fell at the look upon her husband’s face. 

“Rhaena is in bed.” (Y/N) frowned, eyes narrowing. He grabbed Rhaenyra’s hand, “Something is wrong.” 

He and Rhaenyra hurried to High Tide, (Y/N) taking the stairs to the castle two at a time. Rhaenyra and (Y/N) rushed through the halls of the castle, only the sound of raised voices guiding their way. When they reached the throne room (Y/N) threw open the doors scanning the crowded room until his eyes landed on his sons. Jace and Luke stood by Rhaena and Baela, all four children covered in dirt, bruises, and blood. 

“Jace? Luke!” Rhaenyra rushed over to their sons, (Y/N) close behind her. Rhaenyra crouched in front of Luke, carefully taking his hand away from his face to reveal his injured nose. 

(Y/N) looked between his sons and his sisters, “Who did this?” 

“They attacked me!” Aemond shouted from behind Mathos, and he turned, giving (Y/N) a clear view of his cousin’s injuries. His eye was sewn shut, red, bloodied, and swollen. The cut trailed down from the middle of his forehead down to his jaw line, and (Y/N) frowned at the sight of it. The boy would no doubt lose his eye. 

“He attacked Baela!” Jace yelled out behind (Y/N). 

“He broke Luke’s nose!” 

The children began to shout overtop of each other, having to be held back by their parents as they got progressively more aggressive as the argument continued on. (Y/N) managed to catch the reason of the fight, it was Aemond who had claimed Vhagar not Rhaena. Viserys tried to silence the argument, as his wife joined in with her own shouting. (Y/N) ignored the shouting around him, turning Luke to look at him and taking his own look at the boy's nose. 

“Silence!” Viserys yelled, causing everyone in the room to quiet. 

“He called us bastards.” Jace whispered to his parents, and both (Y/N) and Rhaenyra tensed. Rhaenyra shot (Y/N) a pointed look, and he sighed, turning to face the rest of the room. 

“Aemond I will have the truth of what happened.” Viserys approached his son. “Now.” 

“What else is there to hear your son has been maimed, her son is responsible.” Alicent said, and (Y/N)’s tensed further, hand subconsciously reaching for the blades kept in his belt. 

“It was a regrettable accident.” Rhaenyra’s eyes caught her husband's movement, and stepped in front of him and their children. 

“Accident?” Alicent asked. “The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush. He meant to kill my son.” 

(Y/N) opened his mouth to speak, but Rhaenyra cut him off before he had the chance. “It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves. Vile insults were levied against them.” 

“What insults?” Viserys asked, and Alicent paled. 

“The legitimacy of my son's birth was put loudly to question.” 

“What?” Viserys’ said. 

“He called us bastards.” Jace yelled out, and (Y/N) placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“My sons are in line to inherit the iron throne, your grace. This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.” 

“Over an insult?” Alicent scoffed. “My son has lost an eye.” 

“You tell me boy. Where did you hear this lie?” Viserys approached Aemond. 

“The insult was training yard bluster.” Alicent pleaded behind her husband. “The lot of boys, it was nothing.” 

“Aemond, I asked you a question.” Viserys ignored his wife, continuing to question the injured boy. “Aemond, look at me. Your king demands an answer who spoke these lies to you?” 

(Y/N) could not get a look at his cousin, the large chair he was sitting in blocking his view. But he saw his uncle shoot a dirty look at his wife as Aemond delayed his response. Finally the boy spoke. “It was Aegon.” 

“Me?” 

Viserys rounded on Aegon, “And you boy? Where did you hear such calumnies?” 

Aegon was silent. 

“Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!” 

“Just look at them.” Aegon said under his breath, and Rhaenyra stepped further in front of her husband and children. Viserys looked back at his wife, who at least had some decency to look ashamed. 

“This interminable infighting must cease!” Viserys yelled, glaring daggers at his family members. “All of you! We are family! Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your gransire, your king demands it.” 

Viserys slammed his cane down at the end of his speech, the sound of wood meeting stone echoing through the room. He looked more defeated than (Y/N) had ever seen him as he turned around to make his departure. 

“That is insufficient.” Alicent begged, eyes wet with tears. “Aemond has been damaged permanently, my King. Goodwill cannot make him whole.” 

“I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye.”  

“I know because it has been taken.” 

“What would you have me do?” Viserys was obviously exhausted, and his wife’s protests were doing nothing to help the sickly king. 

“There is a debt to be paid.” Alicent stated, and (Y/N) tensed at her next sentence. “I shall have one of her son's eyes in return.” 

“My dear wife.” 

“He is your son, Viserys.” Alicent cut him off with a whimper, and if she was someone else (Y/N) may have pitied her, but he could not bring himself to feel bad for the Queen after all she had done to damage his family. “Your blood.” 

“Do not allow your temper to guide your judgment” He spoke, and it was clear by the tone of his voice that that was the end of it. He walked away once again, and (Y/N) allowed himself to relax, sighing softly. 

Alicent was not satisfied with her husband’s action though, “If the King will not seek justice the Queen will. Ser Criston.” She turned to face Criston, all of the desperation of her previous expression gone. “Bring me the eye of Lucerys Royce. He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son.” 

“You will do no such thing.” (Y/N) said, stepping next to his wife and placing both of their sons behind him. 

“Stay your hand.” Viserys ordered Criston. 

“No you are sworn to me!” Alicent yelled, glaring at the knight when he still made no move. Criston looked around the room, shifting in his spot, before he looked back at Alicent. 

“As your protector my Queen.” 

Alicent scoffed, arm falling to her side in defeat, she looked at her husband in disbelief. Luke buried his face in (Y/N)’s side, and (Y/N) brought an arm up to wrap around his son’s side. Jace looked up at him, and (Y/N) reached his free hand out for Jace to grab as he brought his eldest into his side as well. 

“Alicent.” Viserys said, anger clear across his face. “This matter is finished, do you understand?” Viserys turned away from his wife, obviously not caring about the glare she sent his way, and faced the crowded room. “And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons should have it removed.” 

“Thank you father.” 

As Viserys turned away, (Y/N) let his sons go, ready to send them to their chambers so they could be looked after properly before he sent them back to bed. With his back turned to the crowd he did not see as Alicent grabbed the knife from Viserys the chaos and yelling that erupted throughout the room was the only indication to the Royce Prince that anything had happened. (Y/N) turned as Luke looked at the scene behind him and screamed. At the sight of Alicent approaching Rhaenyra with the knife held high in her hand, (Y/N) grabbed the hilt of his sword, stepping toward his wife. Ser Harrold grabbed the Prince before he could reach Rhaenyra and Alicent, grabbing him from behind and taking his wrist in hand. Ser Harrold dragged him back from the two women, grunting as (Y/N) struggled against his grip. 

“Let me go.” (Y/N) spat, but Ser Harrold just tightened his grip. 

“You’ve gone too far.” Rhaenyra said in the circle, her hands the only thing preventing Alicent from bringing the Valyrian steel knife down into her chest. 

“I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please.” Alicent spat, ignoring both his husband and her father’s commands to stop as she continued, tears streaming down her face. “Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again. And now you take my son’s eye, and to even that you feel entitled.” 

“Exhausting, wasn’t it?” Rhaenyra sneered at the woman she had once called a friend. “Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are.” 

Rhaenyra pushed Alicent away, but it was too late. Alicent brought the blade down onto Rhaenyra’s arm as both women were caught. A harsh silence fell over the crowd as (Y/N) finally freed himself from Ser Harrold’s grip. He grabbed Rhaenyra’s arm, hearing gasps as blood dripped down her arm and onto the floor. (Y/N) heard the dagger drop to the floor, and he reeled on Alicent. 

“If you raise a blade to my wife again-” (Y/N) spat, but Rhaenyra grabbed him, interrupting his threat. 

“I am fine.” Rhaenyra lowered her voice, “Do not escalate this further.” 

“She attacked you.” 

Rhaenyra did not respond, simply shaking her head at her husband. 

“Do not mourn me, Mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye but I gained a dragon.” Aemond spoke, and the look he gave (Y/N)’s family made his throat tighten. 

“This proceeding is at an end.” Viserys said, turning and finally exiting the throne room. Alicent followed soon after, flanked by Ser Criston and followed by her children. Corlys and Rhaenys escorted their granddaughters back to bed, followed closely by Daemon. (Y/N) turned to his wife, still bleeding, gently grabbing her arm and guiding her out of the room. Jace and Luke followed silently as (Y/N) and Rhaenyra walked to their chambers, the maester had also followed the group out of the room immediately tending to Rhaenyra as soon as (Y/N) sat her down in a chair. 

There would be consequences to the night’s mess, that was the only thing (Y/N) was sure of. The strained relationship between the Queen and Rhaenyra was no secret, but a couple petty insults over the years were easy to brush off, the violent quarrel in the throne room of Driftmark surrounded by Lords, Ladies, and Knights of the realm was not. 

(Y/N) watched silently as Rhaenyra’s arm was stitched up, Rhaenyra stood as soon as the maester had finished and turned his attention to Jace and Luke. (Y/N) followed his wife as she walked over to the balcony, watching silently as Rhaenyra looked down at the ocean. She cleared her throat before speaking. 

“If I am to be Queen I need strong allies.” She said, “I cannot afford to fight for my seat as you did. The greens have proved their intent tonight, we cannot be caught off guard when they decide to make a move.” 

“You have the power of House Royce behind you.” 

Rhaenyra smiled, giving a thankful nod to her husband. “And your father? I know you two have not seen each other in years but-” She paused, taking a deep breath. “We need Daemon on our side, and with Daemon comes your sisters, which comes the Velaryon fleet.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “I will speak with him.”

He found Daemon on a balcony not thirty minutes later. 

“I’m sure you have heard your fair share of condolences,” (Y/N) said, and his father looked up from where he was staring off into the distance, turning to look at his son. “But I am sorry.” 

Daemon gave him a soft smile, “Don’t be. I am at least allowed to mourn my losses.” Daemon reached his hand out, and (Y/N) took it relaxing as his father brought him into his side. He felt Daemon press a soft kiss into his hair, and smiled to himself. “I have missed you, zaldrītsos” 

(Y/N) laughed, “I am a grown man, father. You cannot call me that.” 

“I will call you what I like.” 

“I have missed you too, kepa.” 

He had not seen his father in person since Baela and Rhaena’s presentation at court. Although the two wrote to each other as often as they could, words on a page could not fill the gap of his father’s absence. They’d only just mended the hole in their relationship when his father married Laena, running off to Pentos to avoid Viserys wrath. Afterwards (Y/N) wanted to hate his father for abandoning him again, but he found he could not bring himself to. 

“Come back to Dragonstone with us.” (Y/N) said, and Daemon stiffened, pulling away from his son to look at him with an eyebrow raised. “I miss you, and I wish to know my sisters.” 

Daemon smiled, “That is not the only reason. Is it?” 

“No.” (Y/N) looked out to the sea of Driftmark, he could just barely make out the shape of Dragonstone across the waters. “If Rhaenyra is to be Queen her subjects must love her, yes, but they must fear her as well. I have spent this last decade fighting to secure my seat, but the throne of Runestone is not the Iron Throne. I can only help Rhaenyra so much, but with you-” (Y/N) paused, unable to tell where his rant was going. He frowned, rubbing his brow. “We need you, father.” 

Daemon smiled, he cupped (Y/N)’s cheek, “Anything you need, I will provide.”

---

Translations -

Zaldrītsos - little dragon

Kepa - Father

[theonottsbxtch]

AMNESIA | OP81

a/n: y'all i am so sorry. i've been sitting on this baddie for ages and i just couldn't be bothered to edit it, this is top level oscar angst. it's based off of amnesia by 5sos. SORRY.

summary: one night oscar let himself think about the one who got away

wc: 4.6k

Oscar gazed out over Monaco's glittering lights, the city sprawled before him like a velvet tapestry studded with jewels. The night lay in deceptive calm; the sea mirrored the stars in a still, silken sheet, but inside him, a tempest churned. All the luxury, all the glamour that gilded his world now felt hollow—empty without her presence. His fingers brushed the cool glass of the window, tracing the outline of a city that seemed distant, belonging to another man, untroubled and free, unburdened by memories.

The places they once roamed together, the routines they’d crafted, played like a mournful melody on endless repeat. He’d passed by their café today—the quiet refuge hidden from the world’s demands, where they’d while away hours, lost in each other’s gaze. He could still catch the faint scent of fresh coffee, could almost see her across the table, her smile as warm as the dawn. Yet now, the café was just another reminder, another ghost in the shadowed gallery of what they’d been.

The memory of their last kiss lingered, a phantom warmth on his lips he couldn’t shake. He had been the one to walk away, thinking it was right, believing he needed to chase ambition. But the choice had hollowed him. Each race, each practice, each night spent alone in this lofty apartment felt empty, robbed of meaning in her absence.

Even his team had begun to notice the change—the sharpness, the fire that once defined him, had dulled, blunted by the ache lodged deep within his chest. But how could he explain it? How could he tell them it wasn’t distraction, but a haunting? That he saw her everywhere—in the empty passenger seat of his car, in the fleeting reflections of strangers, in the vast, cold expanse of a bed that was now too wide without her beside him.

Oscar clenched his eyes shut, hoping to block out the onslaught of images, the merciless surge of memories. He should have been fixed on the next race, on reclaiming his rightful place, yet his mind clung only to her—how she’d felt in his arms, how her laughter had once been the melody of his days, how he’d let it all slip away.

They’d said she was fine, her friends—moving on, happy with someone new. But the thought of her wrapped in another man's embrace twisted like a blade in his chest. Did she ever think of him? Did she lie awake at night, swallowed by the same hollow ache that now gnawed at him? Or had she truly found happiness, leaving him behind in the shadows?

He opened his eyes, gazing into the darkness beyond the window, his breath misting the glass. The city slumbered, but for Oscar, the night stretched on—a sleepless expanse, each hour chafing like a missing piece of himself. He wondered if she felt it too, this void, this yearning.

Pressing his forehead to the cold glass, he tried to silence the storm of thoughts that would not leave him be. His reflection stared back, but all he saw were the ruins of their love—cracked, scattered, yet searingly vivid in his mind. He’d tried to move forward, to focus on what lay ahead, but it was impossible when the past clung to him like a shadow he could not shake.

Sometimes, in the small hours, on nights like these when sleep eluded him, he found himself wondering if it was all some quiet fiction. If it had ever been real—how could she be at ease now? How could she smile, laugh, and carry on while he lay adrift, lost in the wreckage they’d left behind? He was the one who ended it, yes, but it made no sense—how could she be whole when he was anything but?

The memory of her leaving was burnt into his mind, sharp as a fresh wound. He could still see the tears tracing lines down her cheeks, smudging the makeup she’d so carefully applied that morning. She’d looked at him with those eyes—eyes that once overflowed with love—and told him she loved him, one last time, before stepping through the door. Her words had broken him, though he’d tried to hold steady, to let her go, thinking it was the right thing to do, for her, for himself. Only now did he realise, with an ache that sat heavy in his chest, how terribly wrong he was.

Now, he couldn’t help but feel that something precious had been left behind—something beyond recall. The dreams they’d woven together, the fragile plans they’d made for a shared tomorrow—all vanished, tossed aside as if they held no weight. But they mattered—to him, they meant everything. Every wish whispered in the dead of night, every quiet promise wrapped in the dark—they’d been the scaffolding of his life, and without them, he felt himself unravelling, thread by thread.

There were days he wished he could simply wake up with amnesia, that he could shed these small, lingering ghosts. The way it felt to drift off beside her, her warmth curled into him, the ease of knowing she was near. He longed to erase the moments that had become his prison, holding him captive in a past that no longer existed. But try as he might, he could not outrun them; they were carved deep into his soul, and the pain of them remained unyielding.

He wasn’t fine. He was far from fine. Each day was a struggle, a battle waged against the crushing weight of what he’d lost. And as much as he tried to tell himself it was for the best, that she was better off without him, the truth haunted him: he couldn’t stop thinking of her. He couldn’t stop wishing he’d done things differently, that he’d fought harder to keep his career alongside his life with her, instead of letting it all slip so easily through his fingers.

Now, all he had were memories—memories that lingered no matter how fiercely he wanted to leave them behind. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face, the sadness in her gaze as she walked away, the dreams they’d once shared now scattered fragments of a life that might have been. And the hardest part was knowing it had been his own undoing. He’d unravelled the best thing in his life, and now he was left alone, gathering up the broken pieces in silence.

Beside him, his phone began to buzz on the floor, its screen lighting up with a familiar name and picture: Mum. The ringing seemed louder in the stillness of the apartment, an unwelcome noise that echoed off the walls, rattling something deep inside his chest. He knew why she was calling—she’d fallen into the habit of phoning him at this hour because she knew he’d be awake. For him, it was the dead of night; for her, the garden back home would be bathed in sunlight. He loved talking to his mother, but tonight, the thought of words felt heavy, too much to bear.

He watched the phone vibrate, his thumb hovering over the screen, torn between the urge to answer and the weight of guilt that kept him frozen. It wasn’t just any call—it was his mother, the one who had stood by him through every triumph and every heartbreak, who had supported him in ways no one else ever could. But answering meant facing the truth he’d been desperately avoiding, the truth that gnawed at him in the quiet moments when he was alone with his thoughts.

A minute slipped by before he finally chose to call her back.

He leaned forward, his face buried in his hands, the cool press of the bracelet she’d given him once biting into his brow. He’d turned everything into a mess, and now he sat alone, left to sort through the pieces with only his guilt and the hollow ache of knowing he’d hurt the one person who mattered most. With a trembling breath, he lifted his phone and dialled her, listening to the ring on the other end, each sound stretching the seconds to a taut and silent ache.

"Hello?" Her voice came softly through the line—gentle, patient, as if she'd been waiting, as if she knew he would find his way back. A quiet relief coloured her tone, and it twisted something deep within him.

"Hey, Mum," he managed, his voice barely a murmur. "Sorry I missed your call."

"It’s alright, love." She paused, and he could almost see her there, sitting with a slight crease of worry between her brows, waiting for him to speak, to let her in. "I just... wanted to check on you."

He forced a laugh, aiming for something light, but it fell flat, hollow. "I’m fine, really. Just… thinking, I suppose."

But she sensed it immediately—the weight in his voice, the heaviness he hadn’t managed to hide. "It’s alright if you’re not, Osc. You don’t have to pretend with me."

He swallowed, his eyes pressing shut against the sudden sting of tears. She’d always been able to see through him, to know when his heart was shadowed. "I know, Mum," he whispered, feeling his walls begin to crack. "It’s just… I- I don’t know." He stopped, the words tangling and tightening.

Her voice was soft, urging him gently. "What is it, darling?"

He opened his mouth, but the confession he’d been burying for so long felt like a lead weight on his tongue. Finally, he managed, “She seems to be doing well, Mum,” he murmured, forcing a fragile smile, one that remained unseen. “I saw some photos on her Instagram… she’s smiling, with a new lad. It appears she’s finally moved on.”

A long pause unfurled, stretching until it became almost unbearable. Oscar shifted on the floor, the weight of silence gnawing at his insides.

When his mother finally spoke, her voice, soft yet sharp, sliced through the stillness like a knife. “No, sweetheart, she’s not doing well.”

Her words struck him like a punch to the gut. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe, the air trapped within him as if his lungs had lost their way. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against the tide of emotion threatening to engulf him.

“What do you mean?” he whispered, his voice barely escaping his lips.

A sigh escaped the line, heavy with a lilt of disappointment. “She’s just… she’s not the same anymore, Osc. She wears a brave facade, but when I look into her eyes… I see the hurt. She’s been suffering for far too long.”

Guilt, which he had desperately tried to bury for months, clawed its way to the surface, tightening around his heart like a vice. His hand trembled as it pressed to his forehead, battling to hold himself together, but the truth was a burden too great to bear.

“It’s my fault,” he choked, voice cracking. “I hurt her, Mum… I did this to her.”

Tears began to cascade down his cheeks, unbidden, and he made no move to wipe them away. Deep within, he knew that no amount of regret or self-loathing could alter the past. The girl he had loved, the one who had given him everything, lay shattered because of him. And nothing, ever, would set that right.

His breath hitched as he fought to control the tremors coursing through his body. Tears streamed down his cheeks, hot and relentless, and he made no effort to hide them. “I messed up, Mum. I thought I could manage it all—balance my racing and us. But I was wrong. I didn’t realise how deeply I’d hurt her until it was too late.”

His mother’s voice broke through the haze of his despair, filled with a blend of concern and compassion. “Oh, Oscar… you were so focused on your dreams. You believed that if you succeeded, everything else would fall into place. But in your pursuit, you lost sight of what truly mattered. It’s okay.”

He winced at the truth in her words, the painful reality sinking in deeper. “I thought I could make it up to her later, that she’d understand. I convinced myself it was just temporary… but now she’s gone, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

The guilt twisted in his gut, a constant reminder of his choices. “I pushed her away. I didn’t see how much she was struggling, how lonely she felt while I was out there chasing trophies and glory. And now?” His voice cracked under the weight of his regret. “I can’t stop thinking about her. Every time I step into the car, all I see is her face, and it breaks me.”

“She was proud of you, Osc. She wanted you to chase your dreams, but she needed you too. You can’t forget that,” his mother said gently, offering solace amidst his turmoil.

“I should have been there for her,” he sobbed, shaking his head violently, as if trying to rid himself of the haunting memories. “Instead, I just kept pushing her further away. I thought I was doing the right thing, focusing on my career. I didn’t realise that she was suffering… that I was breaking her heart.”

His mother’s voice softened, filled with empathy. “It’s okay to make mistakes, sweetheart. What matters now is what you do next. You can’t change the past, but you can strive to make things right.”

He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, frustration boiling beneath the surface. “But how? How do I even begin to make it right? She deserves better than what I gave her. I don’t know if she’ll even want to talk to me.”

“She might need time, but that doesn’t mean it’s over,” she replied, her tone reassuring. “If you truly care about her, you need to show her that you’re ready to listen, to support her, and to be there. It won’t be easy, but it’s worth it.”

Oscar looked up at the ceiling, wiping the remnants of tears from his cheeks. “I’ll talk to her, Mum. “

His mother’s voice came through the phone, steady and reassuring. “That’s a brave decision, Osc. But remember, you can’t expect it to go your way. She’s been hurt, and it’ll take time for her to process everything.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice steadier now, but tinged with uncertainty. “But I want her to see that I’m serious about changing, about being there for her this time. I just… I don’t know how to start.”

“Just be honest with her,” she advised, her tone gentle yet firm. “Let her share her feelings without interruption. If she needs to vent or express her pain, listen to her. Don��t try to fix everything in that moment. Just let her feel heard and understood.”

Oscar nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “You’re right. I’ve spent so long focused on what I wanted to say that I forgot about what she needs to hear. She deserves that.”

“Exactly. And keep in mind, this conversation might not go the way you hope. She may still be angry or hurt, and that’s okay. It’s part of the healing process. You have to be ready for any response,” she cautioned, her voice steady and comforting.

“What if she doesn’t want to talk to me at all?” The thought knotted his stomach again, a fear he couldn’t shake. “What if she’s moved on for good?”

“Then you respect her decision,” his mother replied, her tone still calm. “You can’t control how she feels or what she chooses to do. All you can do is be honest about your feelings and show her that you’re committed to making things right. If it’s meant to be, it will find a way.”

He took a deep breath, the reality of the situation washing over him. “I just want her to know that I’ve changed. That I see now what really matters. I won’t let her down again.”

“Show her, don’t just tell her,” she emphasised softly. “Actions speak louder than words, darling. If she sees that you’re genuinely trying to be better, it may help rebuild that trust. But remember, trust takes time to restore.”

“I understand,” he murmured, feeling a mix of hope and trepidation. “I just wish I could fast forward to the part where everything’s okay again.”

His mother sighed, a sound heavy with experience. “Life doesn’t work that way, my love. But taking this first step, reaching out to her, is where it all begins. Just be patient with yourself and with her.”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Okay. I’ll reach out to her today. No more waiting.”

“That’s the spirit,” she said, pride shining through her voice. “And whatever happens, remember that you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you every step of the way.”

Oscar took a deep breath. “Thanks, Mum. I love you.”

“Just keep your heart open, Osc. You’re strong enough to handle whatever comes next.”

When he hung up, he looked at his phone, looking for her familiar contact. He’d never removed the heart from her name.

His thumb hovered over the text button and before he could second guess himself, he texted her.

Are you up?

He’d seen that she was in England on holiday, it was two in the morning, she probably wasn’t awake.

Then his phone buzzed.

Yes.

A surge of adrenaline rushed through him, and without thinking, he pressed the call button, the sound of the dial tone echoing in the quiet of the night. Each ring felt like an eternity, his heart racing with anticipation and anxiety. Finally, her sleepy voice broke through the silence.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and filled with unacknowledged tension. “Hey,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “How are you doing?”

There was a pause, a rustling on the other end as she shifted, likely pulling the blankets tighter around her. “Why are you calling, Osc? It’s three in the morning.”

His heart warmed at the sound of the nickname, a reminder of their intimacy, but it quickly sank as he realised what was happening. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to articulate his thoughts. “I just… I wanted to hear your voice. I miss you.”

The words hung in the air, vulnerable and raw. There was another silence, and his heart skipped a beat, fearing her response. She then spoke, her voice trembling slightly. “You can’t do that to me, Osc.”

“I know,” he rushed to say, desperation creeping into his tone. “I messed up. I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I just… I can’t shake the feeling that I need to talk to you. That I need you to know I care.”

Her voice cracked. “You can’t just call me out of the blue and expect everything to be fine. It’s not fair.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, the weight of regret settling heavily in his chest. “I thought focusing on my racing would help us, but I see how selfish I was. I should have fought harder for us.”

There was a long silence, and he could hear her breathing unsteadily on the other end. “I’ve moved on, Oscar,” she finally said, her voice steady but laced with a hint of pain. He knew she had, but he wouldn’t tell her that. “I’m in a relationship now.”

He felt like the air had been sucked from his lungs, those words seemed like there was a finality to them. “Are you happy?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“I think I am,” she replied, her words soft yet resolute. “It’s been a while since you left, and I’ve built a life for myself. I’ve found someone who makes me smile.”

Oscar’s heart sank further. “And us? Did I make you happy? Can I still-?”

She took a shaky breath, and he could almost picture her struggling to hold back tears. “You don’t get to decide that now. You can’t just call me and ask me to forget everything that happened between us.”

“I know,” he said, his voice filled with desperation. “But I didn’t call to erase the past. I just wanted you to know that I care, and I’m sorry for what I did. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I can’t keep going back and forth,” she said, her voice trembling. “You can’t just pull me back in when it’s convenient for you. It’s not fair to either of us.”

“I know it’s not fair, but please—” He stopped, the reality crashing down around him. “I just want you to be happy.”

He heard her wipe her tears through the phone, and he could hear the anguish in her voice as she spoke. “It hurts too much to think about us, Osc. I thought I could just move on, but then you call, and it all comes rushing back. You can’t do this to me.”

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his heart breaking for her. “I never meant to hurt you like this.”

“Do you even understand what it feels like to be in love with someone and then have them walk away?” she asked, her voice choked with emotion. “I had to put myself back together. I can’t just let you waltz back into my life and expect everything to be okay.”

“I don’t want to disrupt your life,” he said, anguish threading through his words. “I just wanted a chance to make things right.”

“I appreciate that, but it’s too late for us,” she said firmly, though her voice trembled with pain. “I’ve spent too long trying to heal, and I won’t go back to that place.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed, desperation creeping into his tone. “Is there no part of you that wants to try again?”

“I can’t,” she replied, her voice steady despite the tears. “I have to think about myself now. I deserve to be happy, and I’m finally starting to feel that way.”

The finality in her words shattered something deep within him. “I understand,” he said, his heart heavy with defeat. “I just wish things were different.”

“Me too,” she said softly. “But this is where we are now.”

The finality in her words shattered something deep within him. “And what if I quit? Could we try then?”

There was a pause, a moment where he hoped for a glimmer of possibility, but her next words were like a cold splash of water. “Osc, your career wasn’t the only problem. There was more. We were just two kids in love who ignored all the signs.”

He felt the weight of her words press down on him, the truth of their shared past enveloping him like a fog. “I know I was blind to everything else. I thought racing was all that mattered, but it wasn’t. It never was.”

“It was part of it, but not the only thing,” she said softly, the pain evident in her tone. “We had our own issues—communication, trust, the way we handled our dreams. I can’t just pretend those things don’t exist because you’re ready to start over.”

“I wish I could change everything,” he said, feeling the reality of their situation wash over him. “But I can’t undo the past.”

“Exactly,” she replied, her voice heavy with finality. “And I can’t keep holding on to what might have been. I need to let go.”

The ache in his heart deepened, a hollow feeling that filled the silence between them. “I understand,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I just wanted one more chance.”

“Sometimes, Osc, wanting isn’t enough,” she replied gently. “I wish you all the best. Truly. But we can’t go back.”

As the silence settled between them, Oscar felt the gravity of their words hanging heavily in the air. He took a shaky breath, gathering the strength to say what he had been holding back. “I love you,” he finally confessed, the vulnerability of his admission pouring out like a lifeline into the void.

“I hope one day you find someone who loves you the same way you love me now,” she replied softly, her voice tinged with sadness but also warmth. “You deserve it, Osc.”

The sincerity in her words pierced him, both a comfort and a heartache all at once. “I wish it could have been us,” he said, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill over anew.

“Me too,” she whispered. “But sometimes love isn’t enough. Take care of yourself, Osc.”

With that, there was a final, lingering pause before she hung up. The sound of the call ending echoed in his ears, a quiet punctuation mark on the chapter of their story that had abruptly closed.

Oscar sat there on the floor, phone still in hand, the world around him fading into a blur. He let the tears flow freely, each drop a testament to the pain and regret he felt. It was as if all the walls he had built around his heart crumbled at once, leaving him exposed and raw.

He hugged his knees to his chest, letting the sobs escape his throat uncontrollably. The quiet of the night felt suffocating, amplifying the silence left in her absence. Memories of their laughter, their shared dreams, and the warmth of her embrace flooded his mind, each thought a dagger twisting deeper into his chest.

He could still hear her voice, the way it had trembled when she spoke about moving on, and the way she had wished him happiness even as she let go. It felt impossibly cruel that she had found a way to be happy without him, while he remained lost in the wake of his choices.

Hours felt like minutes as he sat there on the floor, surrounded by the darkness of his room and the echo of a love that had once felt invincible. It was hard to imagine a future where he could love someone else the way he had loved her, knowing that part of his heart would always belong to the girl who had slipped through his fingers.

But it was his fault.

And there was nothing he could do now.

the end.

taglist: @iimplicitt @marshmummy @piastrams

[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"…ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ."

Word count: 4,900.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

DISTANCE — 10. Him.

When she left King's Landing, it was as if a black shadow had settled over the entire city, a dark suffocating mist smothering any ray of light despite the sun's bright rays. The Red Keep became cold and hollow. It transformed into a labyrinth of echoes from shared memories, now faded in time, like a persistent lament that could be heard in every corner. 

As the days passed, he sought refuge in a rigorous and emotionless routine. Breakfasts became occasions for his mother's presence, and lunches were spent with his sister, though the conversation lacked the vimness it once had. 

It was a comfort, albeit a fragmented one. Alicent was always attentive, quick to notice every visible need. However, her affection manifested in an attempt to keep him safe, shielding him from any perceived dangers, but not from the stormy sea of his own emotions. She was aware of his pain, but they never spoke openly about what truly troubled him, fearing that stirring those deep waters might overflow them. Instead, she offered practical advice and an outward calm that barely touched the surface of his emotional distress. 

Helaena, with her serene and enigmatic nature, was a peculiar source of comfort. Her visions and whispers, often cryptic, seemed to touch the chords of his deepest thoughts, as if she could see beyond the obvious. In her presence, he found fleeting moments of peace.

The loss of her usual brightness after her marriage to Aegon only accentuated the air of affliction in the castle, revealing a wound in her soul that resonated with his own. It was clear that neither of them had wanted that union, but it was she who had suffered a brutal clash between her ideals and a starkly different reality she faced.

Despite this, she often repeated to him that phrase he had heard for the first time so many years ago, accompanied by a small, wistful smile: "Our wait will be rewarded." 

He found it increasingly difficult to hold onto trust in those words. They had become a thin fragile thread, turning his faith into a dull ache and keeping him anchored to a life that felt increasingly distant and unrecognizable.

Her absence left him with an overwhelming void, a sense of loss so profound that it seemed to consume every corner of his being—worse even than the loss of his eye, as if a part of his soul had departed with her, his best friend, his love. 

He wrote to her many times, pouring into the pages a torrent of emotions he couldn't express aloud. Each one contained a silent plea for a response, a sign that she still thought of him. But her replies never came, and with each day of silence, his misery grew like a storm that besieged him without respite.

He immersed himself in a series of mental scenarios, imagining every possible reason for the lack of response. Had she heard about his indiscretions the night before she left? Or was she angry because he hadn't allowed her to visit when she needed him the most? 

He tried to convince himself that she needed space, that time and distance would heal their wounds, but as the weeks turned into moons, the lack of words became an increasingly heavy burden, leading him to question and finally accept that, perhaps, he deserved the silence.

Sometimes, when fate offered a reprieve and luck favored him, he would see her in his dreams, even if they were tumultuous. In them, she would drift away whenever he tried to reach her, her expression distraught at his sullied touch. The pain of her absence mingled with the fleeting joy of seeing her face again, creating a cut that seemed impossible to heal.

There were moments when he nearly mounted Vhagar, to escape the place where his memories kept him imprisoned, and fly to her. But fear and insecurity held him back. His heart, wounded and fragile, couldn't bear the possibility of meeting a version of her who no longer wished to see him. The thought of facing that rejection was too devastating.

His connection with Vhagar was another of the few true comforts he had left. Flying with her offered a breath from his earthly troubles, a sense of freedom and power that he found nowhere else. However, even this source of relief was restricted. His mother feared the dragon, not just for her size and might, but for what she represented: an unbridled power and independence that she could not control. With maternal concern deeply rooted in her, she limited his opportunities to fly, fearing that something might go wrong.

He and his siblings were now only permitted to fly during royal journeys, which had drastically decreased over the years, along with the king's health. 

These limitations felt like heavy chains pressing down on him more and more. His desire to fly, to feel the wind on his face and Vhagar's roar beneath him, was an essential part of his being—a way to feel free and leave his worries behind if only for a brief moment. Every time it was denied to him, the frustration and resentment grew, adding to the tangled web of conflictions that tormented him.

He threw himself into his studies with an almost obsessive intensity, as if each text and lesson could offer a distraction. This rigorous pursuit of knowledge was more than just a means to an end; it was a way to drown out the loneliness that gnawed at his insides.  Instead of confronting his pain, he buried it under a façade of determination, finding in discipline another means of desertion.

Physical training became another outlet. Every sword strike, every grueling exercise, was a cathartic release, a way to channel his frustration and sadness into something tangible. He often pushed beyond the limits of prudence, driving his body to exhaustion. 

The relentless ache became an inescapable companion, following him even in his busiest moments. Despite his efforts to keep his mind focused on other tasks, the image of her smile and the echo of her laughter lingered like ghosts that refused to be exorcized. 

He found himself wondering, with a knot tightening in his chest, if she had forgotten him, if she had found a new life on the island and no longer thought of him. This uncertainty consumed him inside, like a flame that never went out.

The nights were especially cruel, filled with restless tossing and turning as his mind replayed memories and imagined scenarios. The fear of having lost her forever and the guilt for not having done more intertwined, creating an internal struggle that left him exhausted and unable to find sleep. 

As the months stretched into years, he adapted to an existence where her absence was a constant. Yet, he never stopped missing her, nor did he stop yearning for the joy her presence had once brought into his life. It was a quiet, persistent longing that he learned to live with.

His kind sister continued to bring him fresh roses every week, a simple yet constant gesture that tried to fill some of the emptiness. Sometimes, in his frustration and pain, he rejected them, leaving them to wither untouched. Other times, in a fit of desperation, he would throw them away, as if by doing so he could uproot the feelings that consumed him. But there were moments when, with an almost reverent stillness, he would lean over them, breathing in their fragrance and letting the soft petals brush against his skin, searching for a trace of the connection they once shared.

On one particularly lonely night, he dusted off the gift she had given him, a tangible symbol of their bond. He wore it with pride, like a talisman against the encroaching sadness. Next to the cherished case, on his nightstand, he kept a piece of the sapphire. Each time he looked at it, he imagined her, and clinged to the memory of her with all the strength he could muster. It was a small comfort, a glimmer of the love and friendship that had once been his.

He was sitting at the table, engrossed in conversation with his mother. It was a quiet breakfast, one of those rare moments of peace they could enjoy together lately, as she had been increasingly occupied with court matters. 

She was giving him news about Daeron and the impending arrival of some nobles for the festivities in his father's honor. Everything seemed routine, just a simple update on the day's affairs. 

But then, almost as if it were of no consequence, she mentioned: "A raven has arrived from Dragonstone." Her tone was casual, almost offhand, as if she were talking about the weather or some other minor detail. However, the words fell like lead. "Rhaenyra and her family shall be joining us."

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. He stopped eating, his fork halted midway to his mouth, and he sat motionless. His mind went blank, struggling to process what he had just heard. She, the girl who had filled his thoughts and dreams for all those years, would be returning.

Alicent, keenly aware of her son's reaction, watched his face carefully. Despite her attempts to maintain an air of indifference, her eyes showed a flicker of concern. She knew the significance of the announcement for him, and though she tried to downplay it, she couldn't ignore the palpable tension that hung in the air.

He finally set the fork down, his mind swirling. He tried to maintain his composure, but the lump in his throat and the quickening of his beatings were hard to hide. "When, precisely?" he asked, his voice taut with barely suppressed anxiety.

"A few days before it begins, I suppose" she replied, not taking her eyes off him. "Nothing to be concerned about." But they both knew that was far from the truth. The news was anything but trivial. Her arrival was not just another court event; it was an emotional earthquake threatening to shatter the fragile calm he had painstakingly built over the years.

As the days crept closer to the celebrations, the nights grew longer and more sleepless. He found himself going over every possible encounter, every word he wanted to say to her. Anxiety gripped him, a gnawing fear that she had changed, that the woman he had loved and lost might no longer exist in the form he remembered. The thought that perhaps nothing remained of what they once shared was a weight he couldn't bear, leaving him on edge.

The days passed wrapped in a fog of anticipation. The news loomed over him inevitably and followed him wherever he went. The arrival of servants from Dragonstone only intensified this sense of imminence. 

Among these newcomers was Lyra, the lady-in-waiting who, years ago, had wished him a happy birthday with genuine warmth. Now, however, her gaze was tinged with disapproval, her brows furrowed, and her expression hardened. He felt each of these gestures like a small sign of what was to come, amplifying his own discomfort.

He had set aside the books, as they no longer worked; the words blurred in his mind, and he was unable to concentrate. Instead, he spent those hours wielding the sword, until the skin of his palms became rough and calloused. 

One day, waiting for his sister for lunch, he anxiously eyed the usual vase of roses, which already appeared wilted. Helaena arrived with a smile he hadn't seen in a long time, it was bright, contrasting with the gravity of his own thoughts; however, she did not bring new roses as she usually did. 

She noticed his unease and, in a casual tone, remarked, "you shan’t need them for some time, I believe." 

During lunch, she spoke with overflowing energy, filling the silence of the room. He, though less communicative, felt relieved by her presence and liveliness. 

As they finished, he accompanied her to the door. She bid him farewell with contagious cheerfulness and went to her room, leaving him deep in thought. He lingered in the hallway, contemplating the change in her demeanor, wondering what she had meant.

Just then a roar from Vhagar echoed through the air, strong and clear. It was soon followed by another. The sound, different from usual, carried a tone of joy, almost of celebration. It caught his attention, pulling him from his reverie. 

Nervous and conflicted, he closed the door and sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands. He didn't feel ready for what was coming; the feeling of losing control overwhelmed him, it was a sensation he despised more than any other.

After some period of introspection and as the commotion on the floor of the chambers died down, he decided to head to the yard. There, more crowded than usual, he found the usual scene: guards and nobles training fervently. Criston Cole waiting for him, stood ready, morningstar in hand.

"Are you ready, my prince?" Criston asked, his voice laced with challenge and a slight smile playing on his lips.

He nodded, taking a wooden shield and a sword from the armory table. They both faced each other, taking their positions. With every muscle tense and alert, he began to move his body, eager to release the pent-up nerves consuming him.

Criston was the first to attack, his movements swift and precise. He, instead, chose to maintain a defensive stance, blocking and dodging. He heard each clash, the impact of metal against wood and the crunch of the ground beneath their feet. 

As the fight progressed, Cole increased his aggression, launching more powerful attacks. At one point, he managed to hit his shield, splintering and breaking the wood. He threw the remnants aside, adjusting his grip on the sword. Even without a defense, he kept his composure, with more calculated movements. 

They moved in circles, gauging each other's reactions. It was then that he spotted his nephews among the spectators. The sight of him, whom he had not seen since the attack that cost him an eye, ignited a flare of anger within him. He bitterly remembered the injustice of that day, how Lucerys had emerged unscathed while he bore the scar, a permanent reminder.

Criston, sensing the shift in his energy, redoubled his efforts, but he, driven by a surge of emotion, held his ground. With precision, he found an opening in Cole's defense. With a quick and decisive maneuver, he ended the fight with the sword pressed against his opponent’s neck, securing a clear victory. The yard erupted in applause and murmurs.

Criston, breathing heavily, looked at him with a mix of respect and pride. "Well done, my prince. You’ll be winning tourneys in no time" he said, with a playful smile.

He had little interest in such spectacles. He viewed tournaments as mere displays, insufficient to measure a warrior's true worth. 

Aemond, with heavy breathing, replied firmly with an icy tone: "I don’t give a shit about tourneys." Then, with his gaze fixed on his nephews, he addressed them "Nephews, have you come to train?" The question carried a sharp edge, a latent provocation that resonated with the unresolved hostility between them.

The young men remained silent, their expressions serious. Without waiting for a response, he turned back to the armory table and took another shield, determined to continue.

As he walked behind his mother, his gaze was fixed ahead with his siblings flanking him on either side, all heading towards the hall where breakfast would be served. 

The night before, she had been absent from supper, and while he felt a temporary relief that the encounter had been postponed, it was mixed with the sadness of not having seen her.

As he entered the room, his heart skipped a beat. His gaze instinctively sought her among the others, and when he found her, it felt as though time had stopped. He tried to walk with apparent calm, though inside, a battle was raging. 

She was watching him too, and in that brief moment their eyes met, he felt a jolt course through his body. None of the fantasies he had harbored about this moment could have prepared him for the reality. She was completely different, yet unmistakably the same, her essence unchanged. 

She was more radiant than he had ever imagined. There was an air of dignity, confidence and grace in her bearing that left him breathless. There was a dignity in her presence, a poise that was almost otherworldly, captivating him beyond mere words. Her gaze, filled with a subtle strength, seemed to pierce through his defenses, making him feel as though he were standing on the precipice of an emotional abyss. 

He quickly averted his eye, fearing that his emotions might overflow if he maintained contact any longer. He took his seat, and the ensuing silence was almost palpable, heavy with tension and unspoken feelings.

As breakfast progressed, he tried to maintain his composure, but his mind was in turmoil. Every gesture she made, every word she spoke, was a new wave crashing over him. Seeing her after so long was both a blessing and a torment. His hands clenched together on top of the table as he noticed her eyes following him, her gaze inscrutable.

She was even more enchanting than what he thought was possible. The maturity of her features only served to enhance her natural allure, making her beauty more profound. Her face, framed by the dark cascade of her curls, seemed to shine with an inner light. 

Every detail, from the way her eyes sparkled with hidden depths to the delicate curve of her lips, revealed the woman she had become. Her attire, the deep black fabric draping elegantly over her, accentuated her striking features.

Each glance at her was a painful, bittersweet reminder of the time past and lost. 

His mother’s words echoed in his mind: “Nothing to be concerned about.” Everything in him was concerned, everything in him was engaged.

The mere mention of Dragonstone seemed to light up her face; the joy in her expression and the smile he adored were unmistakable. At that moment, he knew her stay would be temporary. She had found a new home, a new life away from him, and the realization was like a dagger.

Upon learning that she had become a dragonrider, he felt a profound joy for her. He recalled the long nights they had spent talking about dragons, imagining what it would be like to fly. He wished he had been there to see her take flight for the first time.

When the king remarked, “The mount of the Good Queen Alysanne. It suits you well” and Helaena, by his side, nodded slightly, a dark fear settled in his chest. It was a gesture laden with foreboding that he was reluctant to explore.

A few hours later, he found himself having lunch with Helaena in her room. The soft afternoon light filtered through the windows, bathing the space in a warm golden glow. Despite the cozy atmosphere, he was lost in thought, his mind still dwelling on the events of that morrow and the memories they had stirred.

Helaena, ever perceptive, noticed his distraction. “Brother” she said softly, her voice filling the room with calmness. When he looked up, she was watching him with a tender expression. “Are you well?”

He hesitated, the words he had kept buried for so long finally emerging. “Will we be together?” he asked quietly, his uncertainty and longing for answers evident. He trusted that fate had its own path, but he needed to know if there was any possibility of a future for them.

She tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful as she chose her words carefully. “Some things will depend on you; others are already woven into the fabric of destiny. But I have found that after a long winter, summer is appreciated more” she replied with a wisdom that seemed to come from a deep place. His brows furrowed with a hint of concern. “But you must always keep the door open.”

He nodded, caught between optimism and resignation. He bid farewell to Helaena, each step he took feeling heavier under the weight of her words. As he opened the door, he found himself face to face with the person who had been occupying his thoughts. For a moment, he was caught off guard, stunned by the unexpected encounter.

“Niece” he greeted with a courteous gesture, inclining his head

“Uncle” she replied with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, a barrier he recognized immediately. “I was looking for Helaena.”

“Of course” he said, stepping aside to let her pass and holding the door open for her. With another polite gesture, she moved past him, her presence filling the space of the room. Helaena gave him a small knowing smile as the princess entered.

He let out a long weary sigh as he closed the door, feeling a growing sense of unease. 

That night, after a long bath, he once again found himself unable to sleep. Sitting at the edge of his window, he gazed out at the clear sky while idly spinning a sapphire between his fingers. The distant roar of Vhagar echoed, and the restless tides mirrored his own agitation.

With a long sigh and a sudden resolve, he adjusted his patch back in place, rose and walked toward the fire crackling in his room. Lighting a candle, he moved quietly towards the back door, leaving the sapphire behind. 

It had been years since he last opened it; since that night, he had avoided the path, as if keeping it shut could keep that memory at bay. Now, driven by an unknown force, he opened it swiftly and stepped into the hallway.

A light from the other end caught his attention. It was her, holding a candle, walking toward him with a serious and determined face. Upon seeing him, her eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. They both stopped in their tracks, staring at each other. Words crowded in his throat, unable to be spoken.

“I wished to speak with you” she said softly, breaking the silence gently. He nodded, still silent, fearful that his voice would betray him. “Shall we go to your chambers?” she suggested, her tone firm but laden with silent expectation.

He nodded again, feeling foolish for having been paralyzed. He gestured towards the way, even though she knew it by memory. Stepping aside to let her pass, his heart pounded with a frantic, uncontrolled rhythm. She pushed open the door that had remained ajar and entered with the same familiarity of years past.

He closed the door behind them and approached cautiously. She moved to the window, where the moonlight bathed her in a silvery glow. He noticed then how she was dressed, wearing a robe over her nightgown and her curls disheveled, contrasting with the elegance of the breakfast, yet to him, she looked utterly divine.

She faced him. A pang of sorrow struck him at her expression. “Why?” she asked, showing a vulnerability that made him feel even more guilty.

“Why what?” he replied, dreading what was to come.

“Why did you never come to see me?” The question felt like a dagger, striking with precision. He looked at her, feeling a knot in his stomach.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words escaped him. Finally, he found his voice, though weak. “I did not know if you wished for my presence” he murmured, his words sounding hollow even to himself.

She looked at him as if unable to believe what she was hearing. “Is this some jest? I asked you so many times” she said, her tone incredulous. He furrowed his brow. “Did my letters mean so little to you that you did not even take the time to read them?” she added, her bitterness palpable.

He felt as though the world was swaying beneath him. “What letters?” he asked, trying to process everything, his voice softer, trying not to alarm her further.

“The letters!” she said, her words laced with indignation and sadness. “The ones I sent you” she continued. “I thought we had something special. Did I imagine it?” Her tone trembled with emotion. “I waited for so long, I wrote to you so many times, like a fool.” Her voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands. “I hoped… I hoped for a response, a visit, something to let me know you hadn’t forgotten me.”

He took a step forward quickly, his heart pounding against his chest, feeling an urgency he could not ignore. “You wrote me?” he asked, incredulous.

She lowered her hands, her eyes burning with impotent fury. “Do not mock me” she said, turning away, looking out the window again.

He followed her, overwhelmed by a newly discovered helplessness and a fluttering hope of reconciliation. “I wrote to you as well, hundreds of times” he tried to meet her gaze, seeking some glimmer of understanding. “I swear this to you, by all the gods” he pleaded.

“I never received a single letter from you” she replied, finally looking at him with her beautiful eyes shining under the moonlight, her anger softening momentarily with disbelief.

"Nor did I. Not one. Had I received any, I would have come to you at once. You must believe me," he said, “I thought you did not want to hear from me” he whispered desperately, his deepest fears laid bare.

“Why would I not?” she asked, still with a hint of distrust in her eyes from the revelation. Everything seemed so absurd and cruel, yet he felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

She shook her head, her steps carrying her nervously back and forth in the room, her mind working frantically to understand. “It does not make any sense” her voice was a barely audible murmur, more to herself than to him. “Why?” She continued to mutter, her voice filled with a mixture of frustration and anguish, while he merely watched her.

Suddenly, she turned to face him, her eyes searching for an answer he did not have. “Are you not upset about this?” she asked, her voice rising slightly, annoyed.

He continued to watch her, feeling a strange sense of peace amid the chaos. "I cannot find it within myself to be angry at this moment," he replied, "not when you are here before me once more." His voice was filled with a sincerity that surprised even him.

There were so many emotions at play, so many unresolved things, but at that moment, all that mattered was that they were face to face once more.

“I never stopped thinking about you, wondering why I never heard from you, missing you.” He wanted to reach out, touch her, somehow close the distance that had formed between them, but he couldn’t. “I never wanted to lose you.”

“Is that true?” she asked, almost whispering. “Did you truly never stop thinking about me?” She looked at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, and in that shared silence, he understood the magnitude of what they had lost and what they might still recover.

He took another step towards her, his expression sincere. “Never” he said firmly, hoping she could see the truth in his eyes. “Not for a single second.”

She looked at him, her expression softening, and bit her lip, struggling to hold back the flood of emotions.. But the pain and confusion were still present, like a shadow that refused to dissipate. “This is… too much” she murmured, shaking her head slightly.

He nodded, understanding the enormity of what they had just uncovered. “I understand” he said softly. “Take all the time you need.” 

She turned, intending to leave the room, and he followed, prepared to escort her to her door. But just before they could move too far, she suddenly stopped and turned back to him. In an impulsive move, she threw herself at him with force, wrapping her arms around his waist in a desperate embrace. She pressed her face against his chest, her hands clasped tightly on his back, holding him with an intensity that suggested she feared losing him forever if she let go.

He, taken aback by the gesture and despite feeling he didn’t deserve her pure affection, couldn’t help but reciprocate the embrace. He wrapped his arms around her with a tenderness he rarely showed, letting himself be carried away by the moment. He rested his face on the crown of her head, breathing deeply, the sweetest and freshest scent of roses filling his senses, enveloping him in an intoxicating warmth.

It was a silent comfort. He realized how much he had longed for this contact, this closeness, more than he had even admitted to himself.

"I'm sorry" she murmured against his chest. "I'm sorry for everything." Tears began to fall, dampening his shirt. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart against his body.

She lifted her head, her eyes shimmering with something more. He found himself getting lost in that gaze. “What do we do now?”

With a gentle smile, he caressed her cheek with his thumb, wiping away a tear that had escaped. "I won’t let us be separated again" he promised, his voice firm yet tender. “If you will allow me, I wish to mend what has been broken.”

She nodded, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to shrink to the small space between them, where only the two of them existed.

@helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @callsignwidow @squidscottjeans @scarletbedlam @fics-i-love-and-recommend @oh-you-mean-me @fossface @truly-abysmal

[thomamaru]

Left on the Sidelines (Chapter 1)

Synopsis: You walked in the arena, filled with excitement to be watching your boyfriend play a match after sooo many years. The promise of him getting to spend time with you after the match kept you on your feet. Until something flipped in Rin.

Tags: rin itoshi x gn!reader, takes setting in the blue lock VS u20 match, angst, kinda ooc rin i think, inspired by an au i saw on tiktok, cold rin

next chapter

The anticipation was almost unbearable. You had waited weeks, no, months for this.

Ever since Rin was recruited into the Blue Lock program, your relationship had been a series of stolen moments—a few texts here, a hurried call there.

He’d always been laser-focused, but the promise he made about spending time with you after the U-20 match was what kept you going.

The night before the match, his voice had softened in rare reassurance over the phone:

“I’ll make it up to you. Just wait for me after the game.”

Those words stayed with you, adding an extra bounce to your steps as you arrived at the stadium. You made sure to secure a seat close to the field.

The crowd buzzed with energy, a sea of people clad in team colors, waving banners and shouting cheers. The intensity was palpable, but your eyes were only searching for one person.

As the players began to emerge, the applause grew thunderous. Finally, you saw him—the unmistakable figure of Rin Itoshi walking out with his team.

His teal eyes scanned the crowd, and the moment his gaze landed on you, his expression softened just slightly. He raised a hand, a subtle wave accompanied by a small, almost imperceptible smile.

Your heart swelled. It felt like time rewound itself to when you first fell for him—those giddy butterflies fluttering uncontrollably in your chest.

No matter how tough his demeanor, Rin had always had that quiet way of showing you he cared.

The first half of the game was mesmerizing. Rin was a force of nature, orchestrating plays with precision and determination. While the rest of the team moved with frenzied energy, he was a pillar of calm, calculating each step.

But what truly warmed your heart was how his eyes occasionally flickered toward you in the stands. In those fleeting moments, you felt like his anchor, grounding him amidst the chaos of the game.

By the second half, the match transformed into a battlefield. Rin’s demeanor changed—his intensity radiated off him in waves, and the once-composed boy became almost ruthless.

His ability to lead his team while shutting down the opponents was astounding, but the fierceness in his movements unsettled you slightly. Still, as the whistle blew, signaling the end of the game and Blue Lock’s victory, pride swelled within you.

You couldn’t wait to tell him how amazing he’d been.

---

You made your way to the backstage area designated for players' guests, weaving through the lingering crowd. Finding a spot near the entrance, you stood with your phone clutched tightly in your hands.

He’ll be here soon.

A few minutes passed. Then twenty. Thirty.

Your excitement began to dwindle, replaced by a creeping sense of unease. You pulled out your phone and shot him a message:

You: “Great game! I’m waiting backstage. Can’t wait to see you! <3”

No response.

Ten more minutes. You tried again.

You: “Rin, everything okay? I’m still here.”

Still nothing.

You shifted on your feet, anxiety brewing in your chest. The other guests slowly began to disperse, but you stayed rooted in place, glancing at the entrance every few seconds.

As the area grew quieter, you noticed a group of men lingering nearby. Their loud laughter and lingering stares sent a chill down your spine.

“Hey, are you waiting for someone?” one of them called out, stepping closer.

You stiffened, pretending not to hear him, but your silence only emboldened them.

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” another sneered, closing the distance.

“I’m fine,” you said firmly, though your trembling voice betrayed your fear.

“Come on, no need to be like that,” the first man insisted, his tone mockingly sweet.

Panic clawed at your throat. Your mind screamed for Rin, but the cold reality that he wasn’t there sank in like a stone. You tried to stall, desperately hoping someone—anyone—would notice what was happening.

“Back off!” a voice suddenly barked, cutting through the tension.

"Rin?" You mumbled. A part of you was hoping it was Rin. You looked up only to have disappointment rush over you.

A passerby had noticed the commotion and intervened, causing the group to scatter. Relief flooded through you, but it was short-lived. As much as you were grateful for the stranger’s help, all you could think was: Why wasn’t it Rin?

The adrenaline faded, leaving you emotionally drained as you returned to the waiting area. The once-busy stadium was now almost empty, the excitement of the match replaced by eerie silence.

Your heart clenched painfully as you glanced at your phone—no missed calls, no texts. You had clung to his promise, but now, all you felt was hurt and anger.

Finally, you left. By the time you got home, the weight of everything crashed down, and tears spilled freely. How could Rin have left you like that, after all his assurances?

---

The next day, Rin sent a brief text:

Rin: “Sorry. Got caught up. I’ll explain later.”

You stared at the message, the hurt bubbling to the surface. Taking a deep breath, you replied, trying to mask your anger:

You: “Is everything okay? I waited so long for you yesterday…”

No response came. Hours passed, and your phone screen remained blank, the weight of silence heavy in your chest. Still, you convinced yourself he was tired from the game or busy celebrating with his team.

Rin wasn’t always expressive, but he wouldn’t ignore you intentionally... right?

Over the next few days, your messages to Rin became more frequent, a desperate attempt to bridge the growing distance.

You: “Hey, how’s training? I hope you’re not pushing yourself too hard!”

Rin: “I’m fine. Just busy.”

You: “Can we call tonight? I miss you.”

Rin: “Can’t. Long day tomorrow.”

Each reply felt colder, more detached than the last. It was as if he was replying out of obligation, his once thoughtful responses reduced to bare-bones excuses.

You told yourself he was just stressed, that this phase would pass. Yet, every time you initiated contact, you were met with the same wall of indifference.

Determined to salvage what you had, you decided to surprise him. You knew Rin rarely had time off, but you figured bringing him his favorite snacks or even spending a few moments together might make a difference.

You: “I’m heading near your training facility tomorrow. Should I drop by and bring you something?”

His reply came after an hour:

Rin: “Don’t. I won’t be able to meet you.”

You swallowed back the lump forming in your throat.

You: “Oh… okayyyy. Maybe another time?”

No response.

Even when you were apart, you used to find ways to support him. You’d send messages of encouragement, tell him how proud you were, remind him that you were rooting for him every step of the way. But now, it felt like you were shouting into the void.

You: “I know things are hectic right now, but I’m always here for you. Just… don’t forget that, okay?”

When he finally replied, his words stung like ice:

Rin: “You don’t have to check up on me all the time. I’m fine.”

The indifference in his tone hit you like a slap. Tears welled in your eyes, but you forced yourself to type back.

You: “I’m just worried about you, Rin. That’s all.”

His next message made your chest ache:

Rin: “There’s no need. Focus on yourself.”

The following weekend, you tried one last time to bridge the gap. After deliberating for hours, you sent him a long message.

You: “Rin, I know you’re under a lot of pressure, and I don’t want to get in the way of your goals. But it’s hard not hearing from you, not knowing how you’re feeling. I miss the way we used to be. I know I’ve been texting a lot… but it’s just because I care about you so much. I wish we could talk like we used to.”

Minutes turned into hours with no reply. That night, your phone finally buzzed.

Rin: “I can’t give you the attention you want right now. You’re better off focusing on other things.”

His words were like a dagger to your heart.

Note: there's a part 2, don't worry ;)))

[gemissleeping]

Velveteen|Theodore Nott

"He knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else."

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: As the last surviving witch with ties to an ancient form of magic, Dumbledore has you tracking down horcrux hotspots.

Length: 2.2k

Notes: Angst mostly, some fluff. Blood, swearing, smoking. Percy Weasley hate (valid). This is just a little something I had the urge to write. May or may not continue as a series at this stage.

Fuck trees, fuck trolls, and fuck that smug little Weasley auror from the Ministry. He was a rat in y/n's eyes. A scheming, conniving rodent of a man. How he had even tracked her out there was beyond her. She'd made sure to take all of the precautions Snape had given her.

She'd apparated out with Professor Dumbledore. A good fifty kilometres from the point of interest too, might she add. Fifty kilometres she'd had to trek over two days to remain undetected. On foot. All for nothing in the end thanks to Percy.

Bootlicker.

There was no worse feeling than a failed task. Especially when it was one of her most important to date. The map was atrocious really, they clearly had no idea what they were looking for. Just that y/n should be able to sense it. Sniff it out as though she were some kind of blood hound.

Percy she had sensed. Thankfully she had gotten out before he'd seen her face, or the sea cave entrance she'd been eyeing on the cliffs below. She'd have to go back now. Which was absolutely wonderful and definitely did not make her want to tear her hair out.

Merlin, she thought she might hit the next Weasley she came across just for looking like him if she didn't calm down soon. Not Ginny of course, Ginny was lovely. Ronald was fair game though. Fred she would also be impartial to.

To top things off, y/n now found herself fleeing from the edge of the Forbidden Forest towards the castle. She'd missed the welcome dinner, which was a shame. But in all honesty, may have been a small mercy at this point. At least this way most of the students would be asleep, and she could get into the castle undetected.

It wasn't Dumbledore's fault that the end location of the Portkey had seemingly been inhabited by a troll since he had selected it. But how hard was it to check up on, really? Especially knowing she was wandless and unable to cast any regular spells. She'd blasted it to bits, of course. Not before it had gotten one good shot at her though, flinging her into the nearest pine tree.

It was just rather inconsiderate she thought.

The dizziness was setting in as she entered the castle via the Viaduct Bridge, snaking her way down to the dungeons. Making sure to grip every railing or wall available to her. Merlin was on her side that night, not one Professor crossed her path while she had floated through the dim halls. Once the concrete snake had appeared, revealing the door, she almost fell over with relief

The stairs felt so horrifically long, but finally she reached the dim, candle-lit depths of the Slytherin common room. Keeling forward for a moment, y/n placed her hands on her knees as she tried to calm her breathing. Her left palm came away bloodied. There was a tear in her stockings, and a huge gash across her knee.

y/n groaned, making her way around the corner to the couches her friends had claimed in third year. She couldn't wait to fall into one, maybe never wake if she had her way. And she did fall, only into Theodore Nott's eyeline. He looked as though he'd been waiting there for hours from the sweltering anger on his face. She took a deep breath, knowing she was about to get her ass handed to her for a second time that night.

"Nice of you to notify me of your delay."

"Does it look as though I planned on it?" y/n mumbled, sinking into the green velvet couch across from him. She sighed as her tension eased for the first time in days. Head lolling against the couch's back. Her hands shielding her eyes as a headache set in. While Theodore sat deathly still, awaiting further explanation with a burdened gaze. Something told y/n the burden was her.

"Mind if I borrow your wand?" y/n groaned from behind her palms.

There was only silence for a moment, before she heard him shift across from her. When she lifted her head his wand was resting on the table between them. He was pissed, beyond apprehension. But he had softened at her shattered appearance, the blood on her knee. Which she had now unknowingly painted on her cheek.

"Thank you," y/n sighed in relief, half expecting to have to fight for it. She worked quickly, sealing up the gash and cleansing the blood, pine needles, and dirt from her skin. Finishing by stitching her stockings together again. When she finally glanced back up, Theodore was frowning. His eyes sweeping her body up and down as she finished her work. He looked up from the closing threads of her stockings as they meshed around her knee, one eyebrow raised.

"Have something you'd like to say?" y/n grumbled, holding his wand out for him to take. He wasn't a fan of that question, or her attitude. His expression soured once again, all past concern pushed away. y/n brushed more pine needles off of her skirt, too tired and sore to care. She was spent, so completely crushed from the past two days. The knowledge that she had no choice but to continue until she succeeded wasn't helping.

"Have you always behaved like this, or do you just enjoying making me worry insufferably?" Theo leaned forward, and took the wand from her outstretched hand. His fingertips gently brushing her grazed knuckles.

"It's nice to see you too, Teddy," y/n laughed tiredly, shedding more pine needles as she picked them from her stockings. If she shut her eyes now, she worried they were so heavy she might fall asleep sitting up.

"Where have you been? I searched the whole train up and down for you. You missed the Sorting Ceremony," Theo hissed.

"It's a good thing we already know what house I'm in then, isn't it?"

"That's not funny y/n." He scolded, the concern in his voice thinly veiled by the frown he was wearing. She had no idea what it had been like for him, these past few hours especially.

"I need a cigarette before we get into it," y/n sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Everything was aching, she would find solace in a smoke or two. He didn't move. "Please?"

"It's late."

"You're awake," she countered, a hopeful look on her face that he knew he wouldn't be able to dissapoint.

"Because of you," he grumbled, running his hands through his messy curls.

"I'll take that as a yes, be right back," and she was off, disappearing into the dormitories.

"Do as you please, you always do," Theodore huffed under his breath.

He needed one too if he was honest. He felt as though he'd aged a few decades from the fear he'd been wearing all evening while he fretted over her disappearance.

She reappeared a minute or so later, the heavy overcoat he'd brought her for her birthday last year hanging off of her shoulders. The pair took their usual route until they found themselves at the top of the hill just outside the grounds, overlooking Hagrid's hut. y/n stood, overlooking the moonlit valley beneath them. The peace quickly disintegrating into swearing as the wind prevented her from sparking up. Theo had been hanging behind slightly, still not having forgiven her. But upon hearing the quiet curses falling from her lips, he couldn't help but walk over.

"You shield, I'll light it," he instructed, y/n doing as she was told and holding the sides of her coat up.

He closed the open space with his chest in two gentle steps. His thumb running over the flint of the lighter as the wind went quiet and y/n's face grew warm. He brought it to her lips, unable to keep himself from looking as he lit the cigarette between them. She took a relieved drag as the flame took. Theo got out his own cigarette, leaning down to press its tip to hers. He inhaled, spreading the flame between them. The grass was dewey beneath them as they smoked. Theo looked over to y/n, trailing over her body just to make sure.

"You've got pine needles in your hair, by the way," Theo murmured as he took another drag. His eyes flickering from hers, to the ground as he tapped his cigarette.

"Oh for fuck's sake," y/n heaved, tilting her head back in exasperation. She began ripping the hair ties from her two braids and brushing her fingers through them to shake the needles loose. Balancing her cigarette between her lips as she did.

"Still there," Theo mused, studying her with an amused expression as her frustration grew.

She passed him her cigarette wordlessly, which he took. She'd have rather not set herself alight on top of everything today. Then tipped her head forward, carelessly dragging her fingertips through it to rid herself of them. Once she was done, she flung her hair back. Raising an eyebrow in Theo's direction. He only gave her a saccharine smile as he took a drag from her cigarette, keeping it lit.

"Still?" y/n asked in disbelief, taking her cigarette from his lips and placing it between her own.

"Come here, sit," He shook his head, as though she was the most useless creature he'd ever seen. Theo walked over to the steps nearby, sitting on the top one. She followed suit, tucking her coat beneath her and taking a seat two steps down. She dipped her head back, leaning on her elbows. Her head resting between his knees. Theo couldn't help but admire the way her hair fell, even in its current mess.

Pressing the nub of his cigarette into the grass after one final drag, Theo brushed his hands off. His fingers quickly lacing through her hair in gentle streams as he dragged out the remaining pine needles. Christ there were a lot of them. He ran his fingers through it again, carefully to ensure he didn't snag anything. He did it again, and again. The pine needles were long gone. But her breathing had grown steady, and her shoulders relaxed. And that mattered far more to him than some pine needles.

"All clear?" She whispered sleepily, her head falling all the way back to meet his eyes.

"All clear," Theo echoed, the dried blood beneath her eye making him wince. "You missed this though," he reached out, pressing his thumb to his tongue and running it under her eye to brush the blood away.

"Ew," y/n gasped, but if she was honest, she was too tired to care. She swatted his hand away gently. Taking another drag from her cigarette which had been resting beneath her knuckles.

"Need I remind you that you once sneezed in my mouth?" Theo chimed, knowing it was his trump card, and likely would be for eternity.

"That was literally in First Year and it was an accident," she mumbled.

"Still stands." He shrugged.

"You loved it, don't lie." That got a smile out of him, however unwillingly.

"You're foul. Now tell me why you came in several hours late, looking like a troll dragged you through a bush backwards."

y/n's eyes widened slightly at his statement, choking on the dregs of her cigarette in disbelief. His smile vanished, eyes flickering between her own as he gauged her reaction. His jaw clenched as she sat up swiftly.

"Tell me you're joking."

"I think it's bedtime," y/n breathed, going to push herself up and off of the steps. But Theo's hand found her wrist like a vice, pulling her back down before she had a chance. He leant forward as she stumbled closer to him from the force. She just managed to catch herself from falling straight into him.

"I don't think so. What was that?" He said lowly, staring into her eyes. She was eternally fucked now. He could always tell when she lied, and he never tolerated it.

"Just leave it Theo, please," she pleaded, not having the energy.

"I left it all Summer. All of your disappearances, all of your little quests. You promised me it would be done by the end of the Summer. I have it in fucking writing, so don't tell me to leave it. What is going on?" He seethed, and y/n found herself unable to meet his eyes.

"Teddy, you know I can't-"

"God I'm so sick of hearing that." He laughed, a cruel sound, not his usual light-hearted teasing. "The Professors have you off, running around like some toy soldier, but you're not allowed to tell me what for. Then they're not even there to help you when things go wrong?"

"It's-"

"Despicable is what it is."

"Would you listen to me?"

"I would, but it's not like you'd be able to tell me anything, is it?"

The words left y/n silent, because they were true. She wished so terribly that they weren't. That she hadn't done it.

"I've always told you everything, y/n. I don't understand why-"

"I made the unbreakable vow."

The words rushed out of her as though she were going to be sick. The silence that followed her confession only made it more probable. Theo's features had darkened as her confession sunk in. He let go of her wrist, his hand wound into a fist as he looked out at the treeline of the forbidden forest. He stayed that way for a few moments as y/n stood before him, silently begging him to say something.

"Dumbledore," he breathed out finally, his voice straining with the effort of evenness, "you made the unbreakable vow, with Dumbledore?"

"I had to Theo, it was too important. They can't take any risks. Not until everything is done. I wanted to tell you, more than anything. I still want to-"

"Do you suppose he's ever made Potter make one?" Theo turned to her, looking as though he was about to set them both alight.

Her explanations fell dead on her tongue. They both knew he hadn't. Both knew what Dumbledore was scared of when it came to her.

"I didn't think so either," Theo conceded to her silence, his voice turning hollow. y/n felt something within her crack at the truth of his words. He was wrong, or at least she wanted him to be.

"It's different."

"I'm not sure it is," Theo countered, and he knew he was right in saying it.

Because it wasn't any different. The difference was trust. They were using her up and once they were done they would spit her out, or worse. He wasn't going to be able to sleep easily now.

"You should get to bed, I'll see you at practice tomorrow," he huffed, staring out to the forest again.

y/n stood there for a moment, hoping she could think of something to make it better. But as Theo lit another cigarette, the only thing she felt was tired.

[bat-mom-writer]

Rage and Redemption Part 5

Bruce Wayne X adapted reader

Summery: you lose your parents in a fire, Bruce adapts you and you are swallowed up in your anger and sadness of you're parents death. Bruce tries getting you to eat, leading to an odd dinner.

Rating: angst, curing, but fluff

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

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Next few days passed with an uneasy tension in the mansion. You've retreated into yourself, not speaking much, not causing trouble either. You felt a strange mix of emotions, a cocktail of anger, grief, and a hint of something else—fear. Fear that maybe Bruce was right, that maybe you were just acting out because you didn't know how to deal with the pain of losing your parents.

But you couldn't let him in. You couldn't let anyone in. So you buried yourself in your little library, reading book after book, trying to find a way to make sense of the world that had been turned upside down. The words on the pages swam before your eyes, a sea of ink that offered no answers, only more questions.

The mansion was eerily quiet without your outbursts. Alfred moved through the halls with a grace that belied his age, serving meals with an unyielding calm. Dick would occasionally peek in on you, his eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of concern. But you'd just glower at him, and he'd retreat, leaving you to your solitude.

One evening, you heard a faint knock on the library doors. You ignored it, lost in your thoughts. But it persisted, a gentle reminder of the outside world that waited for you. You sighed and called out, "What?"

The door opened, and Alfred peered in, his expression a careful mix of concern and composure. "Miss," he said softly, "It's time for dinner."

You looked up from your book, the words blurring together. "I'm not hungry," you said, your voice flat.

Alfred's gaze remained on you, his eyes filled with a gentle concern. "Miss, you have barely eaten in days," he said softly. "Your health is important."

You turned away from him, the floor quietly creaking as you shifted your weight. "I'm not hungry," you repeated, your voice a little more forceful this time. The shadows in the room seemed to deepen, the silence stretching out like a chasm between you.

But Alfred didn't move, his eyes never leaving yours. "Mr. Wayne is waiting," he said gently. "He's concerned about you."

You felt a spark of anger at the mention of Bruce's concern, but it flickered out quickly, replaced by the cold emptiness in your chest. "I don't care." you mutter, not bothering to look up from your book.

Alfred sighs, his eyes filled with a mix of disappointment and wistful emotions. "Very well," he says, turning to leave.

The door clicks shut, leaving you once again in the cocoon of silence that had become your refuge. You can't help but feel a twinge of something—regret?—as the sound of his footsteps fades away. You toss the book aside, the thud it makes against the floor echoing through the room. It's not fair, you think. Why should you care about what he says? He's not your father. He can't tell you what to do.

But the truth is, you do care. You care about the way he looks at you with those piercing eyes that seem to see right through your anger to the hurt that lies beneath. You care about the way his voice softens when he speaks to you, as if he's trying to coax a wild animal out of its hiding place. And you care about the fact that despite your best efforts to push him away, he won't let you go.

Alfred's footsteps echoed down the hallway as he made his way to the dining room, the weight of his concern for you evident in every step. He found Bruce sitting at the head of the long, polished table, his eyes focused on the untouched plate of food in front of him. The room was dimly lit, the only sounds the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner and the occasional clink of silverware on fine China.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said, his voice a quiet interruption to the silence.

Bruce looked up from his plate, his eyes dark with worry. "Has she come out?"

"I'm afraid not, sir," Alfred replied, his gaze flickering to the floor. "Sir, I'm concerned for her health," he continued, his voice laced with a gentle urgency. "Ever since she arrived, she has barely eaten."

Bruce sighed, pushing his plate aside. He knew Alfred was right. "I'll talk to her," he said, pushing his chair back.

"Sir, she's seems agitated at the moment," Alfred said, his tone one of gentle warning. "Would it be wise to confront her now?"

Bruce's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "It's important she knows we're here for her," he said, standing up. "I won't force her to eat, but I need to check on her."

"Very well, sir," Alfred said with a nod.

Bruce made his way up the grand staircase, the soft carpet muffling the sound of his footsteps. Coming down the hall, he comes to your room. He slowly opens the door, your room and bed cleaner sense you spent most of your time in the library. 

He approaches the double doors on the far side of the room that lead into your library. His hand hovers over the doorknob for a moment, as if gathering the strength to face the storm that might be waiting for him on the other side. Then, with a gentle touch, he knocks—once, twice, thrice. The sound echoes through the room, but there's no immediate response.

He waits, his breath held in the quiet. Then, slowly, the door begins to swing open, revealing the warm, buttery glow of the reading lamps that cast a cozy light over the book-lined walls. You're sitting in the floor, book held up to your face, but it's clear from the way your eyes dart back and forth that you're not reading. You're just pretending.

You didn't want to look at him, didn't want to see the disappointment in his eyes or the pity that was sure to be there. You just wanted to disappear into the world of words and ink, where your pain didn't matter.

But Bruce didn't give you the luxury of hiding. He crouched down in front of you, his eyes level with yours, if he could see your face. The light from the lamp cast shadows across his face, making it difficult to read his expression.

"Hungry?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to cut through the silence like a knife.

You kept your eyes on the pages of the book, not daring to meet his gaze. "No," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bruce watched you, as if looking for something deeper than the words you offered. "You've barely eaten," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You need to take care of yourself."

"I said, no," you repeated, a little louder this time, your eyes still glued to the book.

He knew you were hurting, could see it in the way you held yourself—tense and closed off. But you were like a clam with a pearl of anger nestled deep inside, and he wasn't sure how to coax it out without causing further damage.

"Alright," he said, his voice measured. He takes a seat on the floor next to you, the plush rug soft under his tailored pants. You feel the warmth of his presence, the faint scent of his cologne, and the comforting solidity of him so close. "But I'm not going to leave you here alone like this," he continued, his voice a steady beat in the quiet room.

You felt a strange mix of frustration and comfort at his presence. You wanted to be alone, to wallow in your anger and pain. But at the same time, his nearness was like a warm blanket you hadn't realized you'd been craving. You could feel the tension in your body slowly unraveling, the fight draining out of you like water from a cracked dam.

"Whatever," you say, still pretending to read, the word coming out as a huff of breath. You didn't know what you wanted, only that you didn't want to talk about it. Not with him, not with anyone. The book in your hands was a barrier, a wall of words that kept the world at bay.

Bruce, seemingly unfazed by your dismissal, picked up another book from the bottom shelf. He thumbed through the pages, his eyes scanning the words as he settled in beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. The simple act of him reading alongside you was a declaration of patience, a silent promise that he wasn't going anywhere.

The minutes ticked by, the only sound the rustling of pages as you both pretended to read. But you couldn't focus. The words blurred before your eyes, a jumble of letters that didn't make sense.

Alfred's knock was like a gentle nudge, a reminder that the world outside of this library sanctuary hadn't disappeared. You glanced up, expecting to find him standing in the doorway with his usual air of unflappable calm. But instead, you saw a look of surprise flit across his features, his eyes widening slightly before he schooled his face into its usual stoic mask.

"Master Bruce," he began, his gaze flickering from Bruce and the book in his hands.

Bruce looked up, his eyes meeting Alfred's, a silent conversation passing between them. "Could you bring my dinner here, Alfred?" he asked, his voice steady.

Alfred nodded, "Right away, sir. Will you be having anything, miss?" he asked, his eyes lingering on you.

"No." you said curtly, not looking up from your book. The word hung in the air between you, a stark rejection of the comfort Alfred offered.

The door clicked shut, leaving you and Bruce in the quiet embrace of the library. The silence was filled with the distant tick of the grandfather clock and the scent of old books filled your nose, a comforting aroma that seemed to whisper of better days.

"I know what you're trying to do," you said finally, your voice a mix of accusation and defence. You peered at him from over the top of the book, watching his expression. His eyes, usually so sharp and focused, softened slightly as he turns attention to you.

"And what's that?" he asked, his tone even.

"You're trying to act like you care," you accused, your voice sharp and accusatory. "And you think that by sitting here with me, you can somehow fix me."

Bruce's eyes didn't leave yours, the smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth. "Is that what you think?" he asked, his voice low and measured.

You felt the anger bubbling up again, a volcano ready to erupt. "What else could it be?" you spat out.

Bruce set his book down, his movements deliberate and calm. "Maybe," he said, "I just enjoy reading. Maybe I thought you could use some company."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "I like reading alone," you said, picking your book back up. But the words blurred together, a jumble of letters that held no meaning.

"Me too," Bruce says, going back to reading but not moving. His presence was a constant reminder that you weren't as alone as you wanted to be. 

Then Alfred returned with the dinner tray, the aroma of chicken and garlic mashed potatoes wafting through the air. The smell was heavenly, making your stomach growl despite your earlier protests.

Bruce put his book down again, his movements deliberate, and took the tray from Alfred's hands. "Thank you, Alfred," he said. The butler nodded and retreated, the door closing with a soft click that seemed to echo in the vast library.

You watch as he starts to eat, his strong hands deftly tearing the chicken apart, the juices glistening under the soft light. He uses a fork to scoop the creamy mashed potatoes into his mouth, the sound of his chewing somehow comforting in its normalcy. Your stomach rumbles, a traitorous reminder of the hunger you've been trying to ignore. You're torn between anger at his intrusion and the undeniable draw of the food. You quickly turned back to your book, pretending to read the same sentence for the third time.

"You know," Bruce says after a moment, his voice interrupting. "Alfred's quite the chef. He can make anything taste like it's from a five-star restaurant. Like this chicken here," he adds, holding up a piece for you to see. "It's one of his specialties. Moist and tender, just how I like it."

You leaned on your side farther away from Bruce, trying to put more distance between the two of you. You didn't want to admit how good the food smelled or how hungry you were. You didn't want to admit that his presence was comforting, or that maybe, just maybe, you needed him here. "I'm not hungry," you lied, your voice a little too high.

Bruce sighed, setting his fork down. "You can't ignore your body forever," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Your health is important, not just to me, but to yourself."

You remained silent, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the room. The shadows danced on the walls, the flickering light playing tricks with the shelves of books. You felt his gaze on you, but you didn't look up, focusing on the pages that held no answers to your turmoil.

"I know you're not okay," Bruce said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "But that's alright. I'm not asking you to be."

"Then what are you asking?" you say, your voice a challenge, eyes still on the book.

“To eat," he repeats, his tone firm but gentle. He holds out the plate to you, the steam from the food curling up like a beckoning finger.

You hesitate, the aroma of the meal teasing your nose, making your stomach growl even louder this time. You can't remember the last time you had a proper meal. You can feel the weight of his gaze, his patience a tangible force that seems to press against you. It's like he's willing you to accept the offer, to let him in, just a little bit.

With a sigh that feels like it's been bottled up for days, you set the book aside. It lands on the rug with a muffled thud, the sound echoing the finality of your decision. You take the plate from him, the weight of it surprisingly heavy in your hands. The chicken, golden and glistening, looks perfect, but the idea of eating it feels like a betrayal to the anger that's been fueling you. But you're also tired, so very tired, of feeling empty and alone.

Bruce watches you, his eyes unwavering, giving you the space to decide without pushing. He's close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body, and it's a stark contrast to the coldness you've been holding onto so tightly. You stare at the plate for a long moment, the silence stretching out like a tightrope between you.

"I… don't think I can," you murmur finally. The words hang in the air, a confession of weakness that feels like it might shatter the brittle shell you've built around your heart.

Bruce's smile fades, his eyes searching yours. "You don't have to," he says, his voice gentle. He takes the plate from your unresisting hands and sets it aside. "But why don't you," he pauses, his gaze never leaving yours, as he rises to his feet, "why don't you come with me?"

You look up at him, the question in your eyes mirroring the one in your heart. "Where?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"To the kitchen," Bruce says, standing and offering you his hand.

You stare at it for a moment, contemplating the implications of taking it, of accepting his help. But your body moves before your mind can fully process the action, and you find yourself standing, your hand in his. His grip is firm and warm in your own cold hand.

He leads you out of the library, his steps purposeful. The mansion seems to shrink around you as he takes you through the corridors, the portraits of ancestors watching you with silent judgment. Each step down the grand staircase is a step away from the fortress of anger you've built. The chandelier above casts a warm glow, the crystals throwing rainbows across the polished marble. The air feels different down here, lighter, as if the weight of your grief has been left behind in the library.

The kitchen is indeed a place of warmth and comfort, bringing warth back to her face. The smell of baking bread and something sweet fills the air, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Alfred looks up from the dishes he's washing, his eyes filled with relief at the sight of you.

"Master Bruce, Mistrese," he says, his tone a mix of formality and affection.

Alfred nods at Bruce, understanding the unspoken request. He wipes his hands on the apron tied around his waist and gives you a small smile. "I'll be just outside if you need me," he says, with warmth in his voice.

The kitchen is a world away from the cold, silent library. The counters are gleaming under the soft lights, and the warmth of the oven radiates through the room.

Bruce crouches down in front of you, bringing his eyes to your level. His gaze is intense, but there's something in it that feels safe, like the warm embrace of a blanket on a cold night. "Now, do you have something in mind that you would like to eat?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble.

You swallow, feeling the lump in your throat that has nothing to do with hunger. The question hangs in the air, a simple request that feels like it's asking for so much more. You look around the kitchen, the gleaming surfaces and neatly arranged ingredients a is set apart from the chaos you've been feeling inside. "I don't know," you admit, your voice small.

Bruce's hand gives yours a gentle squeeze. "Alright," he says, standing up. "Let's see what looks good."

He opens the fridge, the light spilling out to illuminate the neatly arranged shelves. You look around at the shelves filled with a variety of foods, the smell of something sweet and warm reaching out to you.

"We have eggs, cheese, ham," Bruce says, listing off ingredients. "What would you like?"

You blink, the coldness inside of you retreating just a fraction at the mention of something so trivial. "Pickles," you say, seeing the jar on the shelf.

Bruce's eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn't question your choice. He simply nods and takes out the jar, placing it on the counter with a clink. "Pickles it is," he says, his voice a mix of surprise and amusement.

You feel a twitch at the corner of your mouth, the beginnings of a smile that you hadn't felt in what seems like an eternity. The act of choosing something so simple feels like a victory, a declaration that you're not entirely lost yet.

Bruce opens the jar of pickles with a pop, the sound echoing in the quiet kitchen. He pulls out a fork and offers it to you with a small smile, his eyes holding yours in a silent challenge. It's a simple act, one that feels almost normal in the midst of the chaos of your emotions.

You take the fork, your hand trembling slightly. The cold metal feels foreign against your skin, a reminder of the reality you've been trying to ignore. You pluck a pickle from the jar, the brine dripping off the spear as you bring it to your mouth. The taste is sharp and sour, a jolting sensation that seems to cut through the fog of your emotions.

Bruce watches you, his gaze never wavering, as if he's willing you to feel something other than anger and sadness. You bite down on the pickle, the crunch echoing in the quiet room.

"Good?" he asks.

You nod, taking another bite. The pickle is crunchy and sour, a welcome change from the bitter taste of grief. "It's fine," you say, acting as if you didn't find it to be really good. But the truth is, it's the best thing you've tasted in days.

Bruce nods, then pulls out a chair for you at the kitchen island. As you sit, he opens the fridge again and pulls out a carton of milk. "How about this?" he asks, holding it out.

You eye the milk warily, but then nod. He opens it and pours you a glass, the white liquid making a satisfying sound as it fills the glass. You take a sip, the coldness soothing your dry throat. It's sweet and creamy, a polar opposite to the pickle's bite.

Bruce takes a pickle for himself, popping it into his mouth with a crunch that echoes through the room. He doesn't use a fork, just his fingers, and you watch as he chews thoughtfully, the muscles in his jaw working. It's strange, watching him eat something so…ordinary. You've seen him at dinners, his manners impeccable, his movements precise and calculated. This, this is different. It's human, and it makes him seem…vulnerable.

"It's not as good as chicken," he says, his voice a little wistful as he gets himself a glass of milk. "But it's not bad."

You manage a small, genuine smile, the corners of your mouth tugging upwards despite your best efforts to keep the wall up. The act of eating something feels rebellious, like you're claiming a piece of your life back from the grief that's been trying to swallow you whole. You take another sip of the milk, feeling the cool spread through your chest.

Then you hear it—the sound of the front door opening, followed by the quick footsteps of someone coming in. "Hey Bruce," Dick calls out, his voice echoing through the mansion. "Thought I'd help you with the case—"

The kitchen door swings open and in comes Dick, dressed in his usual attire, the shadows of his own past etched on his face. He stops in the doorway, his eyes widening in surprise as he takes in the sight of you and Bruce sitting at the island, the jar of pickles between you. For a moment, his face registers confusion.

"Pickles and… milk?" Dick says, his voice tinged with amusement as he sets his keys down on the counter, the clatter breaking the quiet of the kitchen. "For dinner?"

You feel your cheeks heat up at the sight of him, the embarrassment of being caught in such a childish act. You look away, focusing on the pickle in your hand.

"I was hungry for pickles," Bruce says, his voice casual as he takes another one. The lie is smooth, but the way his eyes crinkle at the corners gives him away. He's trying to make you feel better, to ease the tension that's thick in the air.

"Bruce, you can't-" Dick stops mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight of you finally eating something. He looks at the jar of pickles on the counter, then at the two of you, and his expression morphs into one of understanding. He doesn't need to know the depth of your pain to understand that this moment is significant. "You," he says, his voice gentle, "can't have pickles without ketchup."

Your head shots up with surprise as Dick strides over to the fridge, his movements swift and silent. "I for one, can't eat pickles without a bit of ketchup," he says, his voice light and teasing. He opens the fridge door and pulls out a bottle, setting it on the counter with a thump.

The sound jolts you out of your thoughts, and you look at Dick, then at the bottle of ketchup. "You can't be serious," you say, trying to keep the smile from your face.

"Oh, I'm dead serious," Dick says, grinning. He grabs a plate from the cupboard, his movements quick and efficient. "It's a classic combo," he says, his voice filled with mischief. "Also think about," he pauses, his eyes lighting up with an idea, "When you have a cheeseburger, you have the pickles, and have ketchup. What's so different here?"

Your smile widens, the first real one since the fire. "The whole burger."

Dick opens his mouth, but stops. "Okay, fair point," he concedes, the smile on his face not reaching his eyes, "but it's still good." He takes the ketchup bottle and squeezes a dollop onto the plate. 

You watch as he takes a pickle and brings it to his mouth. His eyes close in pleasure as he takes a bite, the sound of his chewing the only thing breaking the silence. "Mmm," he moans, his eyes snapping open to look at you. "Like a cheeseburger, but without the the cheese… or burger."

The absurdity of the situation hits you, and you can't help but laugh. It's a small, choked sound, but it feels like the first time you've taken a deep breath in days. Bruce's eyes light up, his own smile growing as he watches you, and for a moment, you forget about the pain, about the anger, about the gaping hole in your life where your parents used to be.

Dick's smile reaches his eyes now, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing as he joins in your laughter. "See?" he says, holding out the plate to you. "It's not so bad."

You slow your laugh, taking a pickle and dipping it into the ketchup. The coolness of the sauce coats the sourness of the pickle, creating a strange but surprisingly delightful fusion of flavors. You bring the speared pickle to your mouth, the tartness mixing with the sweetness in a way that seems to mirror the complexity of your emotions.

The act of sharing this simple, absurd moment with Bruce and Dick feels like a lifeline thrown of fresh air. For the first time since the fire, you feel connected to something, someone. As you chew, the taste of the pickle and ketchup mingling on your tongue, you find yourself looking at Bruce, his own smile now a little more relaxed. There's something in his eyes that you can't quite place, a warmth that feels like the beginnings of acceptance.

"It's not bad," you repeat. You take another bite, the laughter still echoing in your chest. The kitchen feels alive around you, the air charged with a sense of camaraderie that you didn't know you craved.

Dick nods, his eyes shining with something that looks suspiciously like pride. "Told you," he says, popping another pickle into his mouth.

"Alright, Bruce," Dick says, holding out the plate with the ketchup-laden pickles, a playful glint in his eyes. "Don't be a party pooper."

Bruce chuckles, the sound deep and warm, as he takes one, the tip of the pickle lightly coated in ketchup. He brings it to his mouth and takes a bite, his expression thoughtful. "It's… an experience," he says, his voice laced with amusement.

You watch him, the way he's trying so hard to be a part of this, to be there for you, and something in your chest loosens just a bit. The three of you sit there, sharing the odd dinner, the tension slowly dissipating like the last embers of the fire.

The sound of the front door opening again pierces the moment, and you tense. But then, Damian strides into the kitchen, his eyes narrowing when he sees you sitting there with Bruce and Dick.

Part 6

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

Thank you for your request: (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

@xokainatxo Maybe something inspired by the video where Tom Holland and zendaya where he is protecting he from the paparazzi 🫣

A Shield Against the Storm-Drew Starkey

The night had been a perfect one, dinner at a quiet restaurant, laughter echoing between you and Drew as you enjoyed each other's company. But as soon as you stepped out of the restaurant, the atmosphere shifted. The flashing lights hit you in a blinding, chaotic wave. The paparazzi had been lying in wait, and in an instant, you were surrounded by cameras, voices shouting your name from all directions.

“Y/N! Over here!” “Drew! Who’s the lucky lady?” “How long have you been dating?”

You tried to ignore the noise, but your heart raced, your hands instinctively reaching for Drew’s. He gave you a reassuring squeeze, pulling you closer to his side as he led the way through the crowd. His strong, protective presence was comforting, but the panic you felt from being surrounded by so many people started to creep in.

It was moments like this, when your vision was blocked by flashes and hands reaching out, when your personal space was invaded by strangers that you wished for a moment of peace. But that peace was nowhere to be found as a mob of fans suddenly swarmed forward.

“Y/N! Can you sign my poster?” A fan shoved a poster right in your face, blocking your view entirely. You flinched back, trying to catch a glimpse of Drew, but the crowd of fans seemed to multiply, pushing even closer.

Your heart pounded as the fan’s posters and cameras became an unintentional barrier between you and Drew. You could barely see him through the sea of flashing lights and outstretched arms.

"Drew?" you muttered under your breath, trying to stay calm.

Drew had always been protective of you, but tonight, something shifted. He noticed the panic in your eyes as the fans crowded around you, each one pushing a little harder, eager to get their moment with you. The line had been crossed.

"Get back," Drew’s voice was a low growl as he stood in front of you, his body a shield against the encroaching crowd. But it wasn’t enough. The fans, not hearing him, kept pressing forward, posters still shoved in your face, and cameras snapping in every direction.

Drew’s patience wore thin. His jaw clenched as he grabbed one of the posters and pushed it aside, his hand now gripping the arm of the fan who had shoved it in front of you. His voice came out sharper now, more forceful. “I said back off.”

The fans hesitated, sensing the change in Drew’s demeanor. But the paparazzi were relentless, still snapping pictures, not even giving you a second to breathe.

In one swift motion, Drew pushed through the crowd, his hand gripping your waist as he pulled you closer to his side. His eyes locked on the paparazzi that were still crowding in, not caring about your comfort or your space.

“MOVE!” Drew’s voice was louder this time, a warning shot aimed at both the fans and the paparazzi who had become too comfortable in invading your personal space. Without hesitation, he pushed through them, shoving anyone who got too close.

For a moment, it was chaos, people stumbling back, cameras clicking wildly as Drew held his ground, making sure you were safely tucked against his side, away from the frenzy.

“Stay close to me,” Drew murmured urgently, his arm wrapped tightly around you. He pushed another fan out of the way, his movements protective, commanding, and forceful.

You felt your heartbeat slowly steady, but the intensity of the moment hadn’t quite passed. Drew’s presence was the only thing that made it feel even remotely safe. With each step, he kept a firm grip on your hand, guiding you through the madness until finally, he reached the car waiting nearby.

Once inside, the doors slammed shut, muffling the outside world. Drew let out a deep breath as he collapsed back against the seat beside you, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Are you okay?" Drew asked softly, his eyes scanning you for any sign of distress.

You nodded, your chest still tight from the adrenaline. "Yeah…just a little shaken up," you admitted, trying to calm yourself down. “Thank you for stepping in. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Drew softened, his protective nature never wavering. “No one is ever getting that close to you again, not if I can help it,” he said firmly, his voice almost possessive.

You could see the tension still in his features, the protective anger that burned behind his calm exterior. It wasn’t just about keeping you safe; it was about protecting your peace, your sanity. The last thing he ever wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable or unsafe.

“I mean it, Y/N,” Drew continued, his eyes locking onto yours. “You deserve to feel safe. Not just with me, but always. I won’t let anyone get in your space like that again.”

You smiled softly, feeling a rush of warmth spread through your chest. Drew had always made you feel safe, but in moments like this, it was clear how far he’d go to protect you.

“I know, Drew,” you whispered, squeezing his hand in return. “I’m lucky to have you.”

He leaned back in the seat, his hand still holding yours, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your skin as the car slowly pulled away from the scene.

The paparazzi might always be there, but tonight, you were reminded that with Drew Starkey by your side, you’d always have a shield against the storm.

[daceydeath]

Crashing Waves (Part 1)

Pairing: Pirate San x Reader Word Count: 5k Genre: Fantasy AU, Slow Burn Romance Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Alcohol

I thought that I knew love. But it was just the waves crashing over us ~ Waves by The Dear Hunter

You sat quietly on the dock watching the last of the dusk's light sink beneath the horizon, you often came to the ocean at night. You never really understood the sway it had over you but it gave you a sense of calm and peace to listen to it to watch the waves rise and fall the soft whispers it gave to you each time you were near it. Although you had been warned a hundred different times by your father and friends to stay away from the docks it was the only place you could go tonight, the king tide making it far too difficult to get to the small rocky cove you often visited. 

Come home child, come home to me.

The sailors and merchants all ignored you, having slipped out of your corset and hiding your hair beneath a hat you didn’t look like a lady of the night and there was no way you looked wealthy enough to bother so most, probably, assumed you were an urchin scrounging for anything you could to get by. There had been chaos within the town that day swelling and frothing like the seas during a storm which had left the streets empty and most of the ships with their gangways stowed to prevent anyone untoward coming aboard. Only one colossal ship that sat docked on the furthest berth away from the other vessels but again you didn’t really care you just made your way past it and sat with your feet dangling above the water your pants hiked up to your knees to prevent them getting wet.

Earlier you had been sitting in the tavern listening to your friends prattle on about pirates stealing women away to sell to foreign lands or taking them as prizes to spend the rest of their lives at sea but you were yet to hear a single shred of actual evidence of this. Pirates, mercenaries and soldiers were often the same thing; it just depended on who was paying them. If they worked for themselves they were pirates, if they could be bought they were mercenaries and if they could become loyal they were soldiers. The line between was pretty damn thin in your mind. Each drink had made you more uninterested in their stories and increased the longing you felt to be alone so while they continued to dance and drink you slipped away to find solitude beside the waves of the highest tide this year.

“What are you doing here?” a stern voice asked from behind you making you jump slightly then frown deeply in disappointment.

“I’m watching the waves” you replied honestly annoyance clear in your voice, not even looking back at the man who had interrupted your peace.

“Sounds like a ruse to spy on us” he muttered bitterly, his footfalls getting closer to you, his boots clunking against each of the old boards that had been worn smooth with time and salt as he moved.

“I don’t know or care who you are sir, please just leave me alone” you continued, turning your body to sit against one of the large dock posts so you could see both him and the ocean. His face was still half in shadow but you could tell he was someone important. The gold chain that hung across his chest and the glittering rings on his fingers showed wealth but the sword on his belt warned of potential danger.

“Then why are you so close to my ship?” he demanded coldly, his scrutiny obvious as the waves began picking up and started to bob his ship slightly in its mooring, the breeze fluttering the sails on the boats docked.

“Because your ship is docked where I sit, you decided that not me” already being tired from a long day and probably one too many drinks. You had little emotional strength left to even pretend you care if he was offended or angry. His presence was irritating you when he could have just ignored you. He remained silent studying you as you turned back to the sea watching the waves even out once more. 

“You're not curious who I am? Not afraid of me either?” he queried, seeming perplexed about his whole encounter with you, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword although you still didn’t flinch.

“No, I’m not” you admitted quietly, closing your eyes and leaning your head back against the old wooden post. After a few more minutes of nothingness he left presumably to his ship which loomed between you and the shore blocking the view of the town you lived in. Once the darkness finally fell you stood and wandered back towards your family’s home fully aware that a different man was following you, his feet moving almost silently as he remained shrouded in shadow everytime you passed by a street lamp that bathed the ground with an eerie amber gold light. 

“I know you are there” you breathed stepping into a dim alleyway beside the apothecary. You heard the steps pause and then a quiet sigh as he stepped into the dim light only a few feet from you “Did your friend ask you to follow me?”.

“He didn’t understand why you didn’t care about the danger you were in, or whether you did and you really are a spy” he replied in his musical voice the only thing you could discern since he was covered head to toe in black, his raised hood covering most of his face. 

“He’s either paranoid or he thinks that your reputation precedes you so much that a small town woman knows who you are” you challenged leaning against the dirty bricks as you accepted that perhaps you should have listened to just about everyone and not visited the docks.

“Did you not see the logo on our ship? Do you not know what it means?” He asked a touch softer as if he suddenly noticed how you were dressed and how you looked he stepped forward and you realized how tall he was, although his lithe frame made him seem young.

“I saw it but I don’t know it” you admitted tilting your head “my family work on land we don’t know anything about pirates”.

“How do you know we are pirates then?” he asked but you could hear the smile that was likely gracing his face. 

“Big ship, paranoid captain who wears expensive looking jewels, tall assassin looking man who follows his orders. Do I need to keep listing things off?” you smiled right back daring him to deny any of the things you mentioned.

“Alright you are clever I’ll give you that. Why do you spend time at the docks if you work in the town?” He pressed lowering his hood to allow you to see him. Even in the low light you couldn’t help the way your eyes widened. He was beautiful, longish dark hair framed his sharp featured face like a gilded frame making it almost impossible to look away from.

“The ocean has always called to me, I sit beside it every night it calms me especially when I have a little too much to drink” you whispered, still staring at him unashamedly you could see the cogs turning in his head deciding how he would proceed with you.

“I’m Seonghwa” he bowed his head respectfully, seeming pleased that you were so openly staring at him.

“Well Seonghwa nice to meet you” you offered your hand for him to shake noticing the grace with which he moved.

“Come by the ship tomorrow before noon I want to show you something” his eyes twinkled as he smirked at you before turning away and disappearing from sight. Still dazed from meeting Seonghwa, you continued home knowing that he was no longer following you.

“Why would I want to do that?” you mused thinking that he was already gone disappeating into the inky darkness.

“Because now you’re curious” he laughed softly his voice fainter than before.

“Fucking cloak and dagger bullshit” you muttered stepping back out of the allyway and into the street to continue towards home.

“So was she spying?” Wooyoung nonchalantly asked his feet up on one of the chairs in the galley.

“Nope she’s just a normal girl” Seonghwa chuckled watching Hongjoong frown deeply “Had one drink too many and needed some air”.

“She can’t be just a ‘normal girl” Hwa, when I spoke to her she got annoyed and the waves started when I left her alone and she calmed down. The waves stopped, that isn’t normal” Hongjoong insisted irritation in his tone.

“True but either way she wasn’t spying” Hwa smiled crookedly before moving towards the doorway “Oh I invited her to the ship tomorrow so you could always ask her yourself”.

“Who’s coming tomorrow?” San piped up entering the galley from the other end plopping himself down beside Wooyoung to begin eating.

“Mystery girl” Wooyoung cackled, watching as Hongjoong’s frown intensified, staring at the place the Seonghwa had just been filling.

“I don’t get what’s so special about her” Mingi mumbled from the spot he had been sitting in watching the discussion before him.

“Hongjoong thinks she's one of those sea imps but she can’t be, she lives on land” Yeosang whispered back in between mouthfuls of dinner.

“Dipshits” Hongjoong rolled his eyes stabbing at his food viciously.

“Were you at the docks?” your roommate Mara narrowed her eyes at you looking you over for filth or injury.

“No, I went to the cliffs above the cove. The tide was too high tonight to get down to the rocks” you lied shamelessly ripping the bread she had saved for you into pieces before popping it in your mouth.

“Well you still smell like salt” you nodded slowly going back to the book she had been reading her eyes skimming the rest of the page in silence.

“I have smelt of worse things. I heard there were pirates that docked today” you started your words half garbled by the bread filling your mouth “The whole tavern was talking about them”.

“That’s why I told you to stay away from the docks” Mara sighed defeated before looking over at you unimpressed. “You never pay attention to anything do you? There was a notice put up just about everywhere that there were pirates seen just past the headland and they were probably headed here and you didn’t even see them did you?”.

“Sorry Mara” you bowed your head unwittingly, annoying her by just being yourself again, you couldn’t help that you didn’t pay attention to every stupid thing that happened in town.

“Finish your bread and go to sleep” she grumbled putting down her book and turning out the lamps.

When you woke up, Mara was already gone, probably having left for the market for work. It gave you a chance to clean up and change before venturing to the docks to see if Seonghwa had meant what he had said about showing you something. Donning a simple pair of dark jeans and a green tunic you slipped from the house unnoticed, taking only an apple, some bread and some biscuits to last you until you could return home again. You wanted to take your bicycle to make the trip quicker but you knew that would lead to you being recognized and you didn’t want to be stopped. You were too curious about this thing that the beautiful Seonghwa wanted to show you even if you were unsure you could trust him.

It was close to noon by the time you slipped yourself through the docks and approached the ship, the ostentatious decorations on the hull making it much more noticeable in the daylight, the solid brass and copper engines that sat just above water level were something you had never seen before and the gigantic red A that was stitched into each sail and painted on the hull gave little doubt of the owners intentions. Walking up the gangway you stopped one step before you would be considered onboard the ship waiting until one of the men on the deck noticed you.

“Uh who are you?” a pretty man who looked far too etherial to be a pirate asked you his broom halting mid sweep when he saw you.

“Where did you even come from?” a broad man with a striking face asked moving to step in front of his shipmate waiting to see what you would say his hand hovering near his waist.

“Seonghwa asked me to come” you smiled nervously looking at him. He looked like he could intimidate anyone he chose to but there was something in his actions that made you feel safe instead of fear.

“Ah you came!, welcome to my home, well our home” Seonghwa’s sothing honey laughter made itself known before he gracefully stepped into view.

“Hello again Seonghwa” you bowed your head but didn’t move. You knew you had to be expressly invited in before you assumed anything with pirates; it was only polite.

“Come I will give you the tour” he beckoned you onto the boat which you gingerly stepped onto the once moving vessel now standing completely still which made the two crew members look at each other subtly, something crossing between them that you didn’t understand.

“Lead the way then” you stepped towards him as he moved back through the darkened doorway into the belly on the ship.

“They were Yeosang and San. The others we will probably find along the way” he hummed showing you the galley, the armory and the crew quarters finally walking you past the cannons on your way towards what you could only assume was the captain's quarters.

“So should I assume that what you wanted to show me is probably the captain” you mused looking at a cannon with interest. The gleam of the silver barrels showing that they had seen little action.

“Yes and no” Seonghwa conceded with a sly smile tugging on his lips.

“Shall we get this over with I’m getting hungry and I left my lunch on the dock” you sigh knowing that although it is unlikely a trap you will probably have to talk to the annoying man again.

“Captain” Seonghwa knocked sharply on the door to the quarters waiting for a sign to enter.

“Come” a loud voice called letting you know that it probably was the same man from the night before. 

“This is the one I was talking about” Seonghwa announced, swinging open the door and carefully pushing you through the opening, stepping in behind you and almost blocking your exit. Despite the large windows the room remained dim, large heavy curtains blocking out most of the light that was trying to illuminate the room. Three men occupied the space, a tall man who looked you over with slight confusion, a serious looking man with floppy dark hair and a smaller man who you recognized as being the jerk from the dock the night before. He sat at the desk, his hands holding a large looking glass and a necklace which he had been by the looks of it appraising, because pirates you guessed.

“Hwa said you aren’t a spy” he started placing the necklace down on the dark wooden table.

“I told you that already” you interrupted tilting your head and narrowing your eyes at him. “Last night when you interrupted me”.

“He also tells me you are brazen, stubborn and headstrong but that the sea calls to you” he continued unfazed by your words.

“Well he must be quite the spy himself if he gleaned all that from one conversation and followed me most of the way home” you conceded, shrugging indifferently as you looked around the room. A large bed sat against the windows, its canopy made up of more dark heavy fabric that probably helped to muffle the sound of the waves at night, papers and books littered all the other flat surfaces and large paintings of sea creatures covered the walls. One painting on the wall lit up with its own lamp caught your attention, not just for the overly ornate gilt frame but because it was something you were sure you had seen before perhaps in a dream or in a book. It was of a woman, her face hidden in her reddish hair in a simple white gown that had been painted as though she was simply suspended underwater.

“He should have said infuriating” the captain clapped back bringing your attention to him once more.

“You haven’t even introduced yourself why would I owe you anything more than what I am giving you, Seonghwa at least has manners” you mutter looking up at the large ornate ceiling that is decorated with vivid images of sea monsters. A kraken looming ominously above the desk.

“I’m Captain Hongjoong, this is my navigator navigator Jongho and my medic Yunho” he nodded to the two men in turn “I apologize for my poor manners would you grant me the grace to start the conversation again” his voice was resigned but held an air of annoyance. 

 "Do you like my ship?" he asked, tilting his head as he scrutinized you for the second time in 24 hours.

"She's very impressive, but I still do understand why I'm here Captain Hongjoong" you tilted your head in return not letting your eyes drop from his.

"Seonghwa says you are called to be the sea, is that true?" he continued narrowing his eyes slightly, the others who you had seen and a couple who you hadn't had managed to all make their way into the room sitting or leaning in various places but all looking at you. You stood silently mirroring his posture unconsciously as you weighed up your answer.

"Has this got anything to do with that?" you pointed your thumb in the direction of one of the paintings hung on the wall with scraps of paper pinned around it. "Because I find peace by the ocean but I am no sea nymph".

Hongjoong glared at the painting on the wall, not answering you immediately. The silence strained and became more intense as the seconds passed by. His crew looked almost nervous as they looked between each other and then back to their captain.

"But yes the sea calls to me" you added quietly, making Hongjoong's eyes widen as they snapped back to your face, the frustration in his expression melting away to reveal a look of awe.

"What does it say?" he breathed almost inaudibly.

"Home" you murmured, feeling Seonghwa's hand find your back as you swayed slightly, the ship beginning to rock beneath your feet.

"We will not hurt you" Hongjoong instantly stood his chair scraping noisily against the wooden floor "No one on this ship would ever cause you harm you have my word I know it must be telling you otherwise".

Danger child, he is a danger

"Why would you ever harm me? I'm no one, not even worth a ransom" you looked up again meeting his eyes, your head suddenly swimming like you had been drinking absinthe again. The words circling your brain continuously. "How do you know what she says?".

"Hwa" Hongjoong yelled but you had closed your eyes, or maybe the lights had gone out but either way you felt something hard and warm crash into your front before your face hit the floor. The room was not only spinning but raising and falling the sensation making your queasy.

"Thanks San" Seonghwa's faint voice echoed in your head before you could no longer hear.

"The fuck just happened? Is she dead?" Mingi blurted, looking bewildered as San scooped you into his arms and moved you towards the captain's bed as carefully as he could as the ship rocked violently.

"Does she need a doctor or do you think you can manage?" San whispered to Yunho who was already checking your pulse in your wrist.

"She's breathing and her heart rate is normal, if she doesn't wake up in an hour maybe" Yunho hummed, placing the back of his hand on your forehead "Can someone bring me some water?". Jongho dashed from the room as quickly as he could trying not to trip on anything that had fallen from the captain's desk as the sound of books falling to the floor thudded behind him.

"I can't be the only one confused about her knowledge of the painting though right? You said that it was a one off original, that it was incredibly unknown which is why it had to be stolen" Wooyoung sounding more hysterical than he probably wanted to. "How would she know about it! and why is it so fucking rough right now?".

"She could be mistaken but she knew it was about sea nymphs" Yeonsang added, squeezing Wooyoung's shoulder to keep him calm while pressing themselves against the wall so they had something to hold onto while the turbulent movements of the ship unsteadied them.

"The diary said it had been hidden for more than 150 years, that no one had laid eyes on it in almost 100 of those years. She looks like she's not even 25". Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows confused by the whole thing, the swinging overhead lamp throwing bazaar flashes of light over them all.

"She's going to wake up in a second stop being so loud" Hongjoong grunted holding the edge of his desk knowing that the rest of the ship would probably be a complete mess from the short burst of waves.

"There you are" San smiled softly, his eyes creasing up as your eyes fluttered open.

"You had us worried for a second there" Yunho joked, his voice soft as he placed a wet cloth against your forehead Jongho still holding the bowl of water so it wouldn't spill everywhere.

"I'm sorry?" you mumbled your voice sounding far away even to your own ears.

Safe keep you safe

"You fainted" Yunho smiled, his voice still soft as he continued pressing the cloth against your skin he watched your breathing for a moment before dipping the cloth back in the water "Can you sit up or would you rather roll on your side? I need to put this on the back of your neck".

"Are you a doctor?" you blinked slowly trying to lift yourself from the soft thing you were laying on "Did I hurt anything when I fell?".

"San caught you so no you have no injuries" Yunho nodded to San who took hold of each of your wrists slowly pulling you into a sitting position while Yunho placed the cloth on your neck.

"Thank you San" you murmured weakly, noticing a pink flush dust his cheekbones.

"What happened? Did you hear anything before you fainted?" Hongjoong asked from his desk where he remained leaning against the shiny dark wood. You continued blinking slowly, registering that you were lying on his bed in the same room as they were all in with you moments ago.

"That's none of your business" you swallowed shakily, turning to look back at San who looked openly worried at the way your arms trembled in his hands. "I would like to go home now".

"Not until we know you won't faint the moment you stand up" Yunho soothed wetting the cloth again "can you hold this against your chest please? I can close the curtain so no one can see you".

"Please" you whimpered watching San lean across to pull on the fabric for Yunho.

"Do you want me to leave?" San whispered his voice was soft watching you fumble with the lacing at the top of your tunic.

"No it's alright" you half smiled, feeling your face heat up as Yunho moved your hands away, his long fingers deftly untying the knot and loosening them enough to slip the cloth under without exposing you.

"I need to get off this ship" you mumbled meekly looking up at Yunho then to San tears beginning to prick at your eyes.

"I will carry you off myself if I have to" San continued whispering to make sure only you heard him. "But you need to feel less overheated and look less pale first".

"Woo, can you get me some candy? Sweets might help her feel better" Yunho called through the thick dark burgundy fabric causing shuffling and noise to erupt on the other side after another few minutes of silence a hand thrust through the fabric holding a bag of what looked like marshmallows.

"Eat a few please, the sugar should help" Yunho hummed.

"Thank you mystery candy baring hand" you called hearing a loud bark of laughter follow your words. After half a dozen marshmallows Yunho placed his hand back against your forehead nodding to San who pulled open the curtains for you.

"Try standing slowly" Yunho instructed, standing in front of you as San remained behind you. Your legs felt a little shaky but nothing too bad as you placed your weight on them bouncing on your toes softly. "Good I think you will be alright now".

"Thank you for your help Yunho" you smiled, relieved that you would be able to get as far away from their captain as you could.

"I'll take you back up to the deck if you want" San looked hopeful as you turned your head to look at him.

Safe be safe

"Please San" you murmured ignoring the others as questions started being thrown in your direction.

"Will you come again?" Seonghwa's honey voice poured into your ear.

"I don't know" you looked at him keeping your voice as level as you could "I was nice to meet you all".

San led you towards the deck with Yunho following you both just to be safe as you slowly descended the gangway you felt a surge of relief come over you like water pouring from a bucket over your head. Picking up your pack which you had stowed behind some creates you fished out your apple biting into it before looking back up at the ship. San and Yunho were still there although now the others had joined them looking almost ominous as their silhouettes stood tall against the light behind them. Nodding once you walked back along the dock the salty air blowing your messy hair around you.

"Well that went shockingly bad" Seonghwa sighed leaning against the railing as they watched you disappear between the other ships.

"Oh yeah the only thing that would have been worse was if we kidnapped her" Mingi rolled his eyes.

"She will never set foot here again" Jongho laughed, nudging San who looked slightly confused.

"I've never seen you that soft before what happened?" Wooyoung quizzed rounding on San who just shrugged before leaving to return to his cabin knowing damn well it would be a mess from earlier.

"You had to see that the waves came and went depending on her though right?" Hongjoong insisted.

"Yeah but I don't think it will be easy to convince her to come with us. She seems desperate to be away from us, well some of us" Seonghwa conceded watching San's retreating figure.

"Well we will just have to convince her then" Wooyoung bounced cheekily smirking at them before scampering away after San.

You decided on the walk back you would stop into the apocathary to see if Salvia had anything that could quell the unease that you were still feeling. The bell rang loudly as you stepped inside the calming scent of dried herbs and lavendar filling your lungs as you walked towards the counter.

“Via?” you called stepping around the counter and towards the back room. “It’s me”.

“Little possum what are you doing here? You aren’t working today” Salvia blinked looking at you through the steam of the large pot she was boiling.

“I know, I’m just feeling really weird so I wanted something to make it go away” you continued peering into the large brass pot to find an interesting combination of plants and muslin bags tied with string.

“Hair tonic” Via explained as she stepped towards you her hand outstretched to feel your face “What are your symptoms?”.

“I feel nervous, queasy, and hot” you listed as she scrutinised you “Oh and my legs have been shaking like I’ve been running for hours.

“Hmmmm” Salvia hummed looking puzzled for a moment before going over to one of her store cupboards and pulling out a box marked with large red letters. “Take two bags in a cup of tea now, then before bed. It’s probably your moon time that’s causing it”.

“But I’m not having that right now” you swallowed as she bustled to the stove to lace the kettle on the heat and get you a mug.

“No but it will probably start soon and this is common before it in a lot of women” she smiled softly picking up the teabags and placing two in a bag for you and two in the waiting mug.

“You are a life saver Via” you smiled crookedly “You should put that on the sign Salvia the Savior”.

“That might get us more customers” he nodded sagely before pouting the water from the now whistling kettle into you cup to let it seep. 

“So what’s with the pirates at the dock?” you asked as casually as you could “That ship is gigantic”.

“I would steer clear of the docks for the time being” Salvia warned seriously “That crew is infamous for their cruelty and violence”.

“Hold on why would pirates like that be in our town?” you frowned “what could they want with anyone here?”.

“Could be just suppliess, could be looking for a place it hide. It’s not important. They are murderers for hire who have no humanity” Salvia almost spat as she glared at the brewing tonic.

“It’s alright Via, I’m not planning to run away with the pirates I just didn’t even know they were there until I saw the massiv ship” you blurted quickly hoping that she would calm back down and let you finish your tea without a full lecture.

“I know you’re a good girl” Salvia conceeded smiling at you in a very motherly fashion “now take your tea and I’ll see you tomorrow”.

a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies. I have recently struggled to find any motivation to write and it has been hard but hopefully after Christmas and a proper rest period I will be back to my normal self. As always your likes, reblogs, comments and encouragement mean so much to me xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

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[sassenach77yle]

Outlander 7x16 "A Hundred Thousand Angels"

I COULDN’T GO to sleep. I’d given Fanny her tea, provided her with suitable cloths—not at all to my surprise, she already knew how to use them—and talked gently to her, careful not to raise any more of her personal ghosts. When Fanny had come to us, Jamie and I had agreed that we wouldn’t try to question her about any of the bits of memory she dropped aloud—like the bad men on the ship and what had happened to Spotty the dog—unless she seemed to want to talk about them. I thought she would, sooner or later. Bree and Roger had agreed as well, though I could see how curious Brianna was. Fanny had mentioned Jane now and then, offhandedly, but in a way designed—I thought—to keep a sense of her sister alive. Seeing her distress tonight, though … Jane was much closer to her than I’d thought. And now that I’d seen Jane’s face … I couldn’t forget it. Knowing only what I did know about the girls’ lives in the brothel in Philadelphia was upsetting; I really hadn’t wanted to find out how they’d come there. I still didn’t … but I couldn’t keep the worm of speculation at bay; it had burrowed into my brain and was squirming busily through my thoughts, killing sleep. Bad men on a ship. A dog thrown into the sea. A pet dog? A family—if Fanny and Jane had been with their parents on a ship that encountered pirates … or even a wicked captain, like Stephen Bonnet

… I felt the hairs rise on my forearms at thought of him, but with remembered anger, not fear. Someone like him could easily have taken a look at the two lovely young girls and decided that their parents could be dispensed with. Faith. Our mother, Fanny had said. I’d looked more than once at the miniature in the locket—but it was too small to show anything more than a young woman with dark hair, maybe naturally curly, maybe curled and dressed in the fashion of the times. No. It can’t be. I rolled over for the dozenth time, settling on my stomach and burying my face in the pillow, in hopes of losing myself in the scent of clean linen and goose down. “It can’t be what, Sassenach?” Jamie’s voice spoke in my ear, sleepily resigned. “And if it can’t, can it not wait ’til dawn?” I rolled onto my side in a rustle of bedding, facing him. “I’m sorry,” I said, and touched him apologetically. His hand took mine automatically, warm and firm.

“I didn’t realize I’d said it out loud. I was … just thinking about Fanny’s locket.” Faith. “Ach,” he said, and stretched himself a little, groaning. “Ye mean the name. Faith?” “Well … yes. I mean—it can’t possibly … have anything to do with …” “It’s no an uncommon name, Sassenach.”

His thumb rubbed gently over my knuckles. “Of course ye’d … feel it. I did, too.” “Did you?” I said softly. I cleared my throat a little. “I—I don’t really do it anymore, but for a time, just—just every now and then—I’d think of her, of our Faith—out of nowhere. I’d imagine I could feel her near me.” “Imagine what she might look like—grown?” His voice was soft, too. “I did that, sometimes. In prison, mostly; too much time to think, in the nights. Alone.” I made a small sound and hitched closer, laying my head in the curve of his shoulder, and his arm came round me. We lay still, silent, listening to the night and the house around us. Full of our family—but with one small angel hovering in the calm sweet air, peaceful as rising smoke. “The locket,” I said at last. “It can’t possibly have anything whatever to do with—” “No, it can’t,” he said, a cautious note in his voice. “But what are ye thinking, Sassenach? Because ye’re no thinking what ye just said, and I ken that fine.” That was true, and a spasm of guilt at being found out tightened my body. “It can’t be,” I said, and swallowed. “It’s only …” My words died away and his hand rubbed between my shoulder blades.

“Well, ye’d best tell me, Sassenach,” he said. “Nay matter how foolish it is, neither one of us will sleep until ye do.” “Well … you know what Roger told me, about the doctor he met in the Highlands, and the blue light?” “I do. What—” “Roger asked me if I’d ever seen blue light like that—when I was healing people.” The hand on my back stilled. “Have ye?” He sounded guarded, though I didn’t know whether he was afraid of finding out something he didn’t want to know, or just finding out that I was losing my mind. “No,” I said. “Or not—well, no. But … I have seen it. Felt it. Twice. Just a flash, when Malva’s baby died.” Died in my hands, covered with his mother’s blood. “But when Faith was born, when I was so ill. I was dying—really dying, I felt it—and Master Raymond came.” “Ye told me that much,” he said. “Is there more?” “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But this is what I thought happened.” And I told him, about seeing my bones glow blue through the flesh of my arms, the feeling of the light spreading through my body and the infection dying, leaving me limp, but whole and healing. “So … um … I know this is nothing but pure fantasy, the sort of thing you think in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep …” He made a low noise, indicating that I should stop apologizing and get on with it. So I took a deep breath and did, whispering the words into his chest. “Master Raymond was there. What if—if he found … Faith … and was able to … somehow bring her … back?” Dead silence. I swallowed and went on. “People … aren’t always dead, even though it looks like it. Look at old Mrs. Wilson! Every doctor knows—or has heard—about people who’ve been declared dead and wake up later in the morgue.” “Or in a coffin.” He sounded grim, and a shudder went over me. “Aye, I’ve heard stories like that. But—a wee babe and one born too soon—how—” “I don’t know how!” I burst out. “I said it’s complete fantasy, it can’t be true! But—but—” My throat thickened and my voice squeaked. “But ye wish it were?” His hand cupped the back of my head and his voice was quiet again. “Aye. But … if it was, mo chridhe, why would he not have told ye? Ye saw him again, no? After he’d healed ye, I mean.” “Yes.” I shuddered, momentarily feeling the King of France’s Star Chamber close around me, the smell of the King’s perfume, of dragon’s blood and wine in the air—and two men before me, awaiting my sentence of death.

“Yes, I know. But—when the Comte died, Raymond was banished, and they took him away. He couldn’t have told me then, and he might not have been able to come back before we left Paris.” It sounded insane, even to me. But I could—just—see it: Master Raymond, stealing out of L’Hôpital des Anges after leaving me, perhaps ducking aside to avoid notice, hiding in the place where the nuns had, perhaps, laid Faith on a shelf, wrapped in her swaddling clothes. He would have known her, as he’d known me … Everyone has a color about them, he said simply. All around them, like a cloud. Yours is blue, madonna. Like the Virgin’s cloak. Like my own. One of his. The thought came out of nowhere, and I stiffened. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.” What if—all right, I was insane, but too late for that to make a difference. “What if he—if I, we—what if Master Raymond is—was—somehow related to me?” Jamie said nothing, but I felt his hand move, under my hair. His middle finger folded down and the outer ones stood up straight, making the sign of the horns, against evil. “And what if he’s not?” he said dryly. He rolled me off him and turned toward me so we were face-to-face. The darkness was slowly fading and I could see his face, drawn with tiredness, touched with sorrow and tenderness, but still determined. “Even if everything ye’ve made yourself think was somehow true—and it’s not, Sassenach; ye ken it’s not—but if it were somehow true, it wouldna make any difference. The woman in Frances’s locket is dead now, and so is our Faith.” His words touched the raw place in my heart, and I nodded, tears welling. “I know,” I whispered. “I know, too,” he whispered, and held me while I wept.

24 Alarms by Night~GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE

[collegeishardbutwritingisharder]

Male Yuu! Reader (Platonic Yandere) Part 2

The part 2! Let's hope that I can put the rest of the story into this! If not, then my bad! Note after nine months: I did not fit the rest of the story in here. Not even close. There are going to be so many more parts. I apologize for being gone for so long. I hope you all enjoy this and put down in the comments: which dorm you all would like to see next? That will definitely help me in the long run.

I felt a panic attack starting to form in my chest. Kidnap me? Keep me safe? From what!? I started to hyperventilate and fell to my knees.

"(Y/N)!"

Grim rushed to me and started to snuggle into my chest. He started to purr to calm me down. Thankfully, it was working. Focusing all of my attention on the rhythmic purring did wonders for my nerves. I got my breathing under control and cleared my mind.

"All right. I'm good."

I looked down at Grim with a weak smile. I needed to get business.

"Who... exactly are looking to keep me safe?"

Grim looked uneasy before spilling names.

"Basically everyone. Riddle wants to hide you in Heartslabyul. Teach you all of the rules. He said something about a Jabberwocky. I don't remember everything exactly. Riddle can be very boring."

Grim started snickering while I gulped. The Jabberwocky was a dragon-like beast, or at least in my world. How could Heartslabyul have a Jabberwocky? Or am I the Jabberwocky? Eh, that doesn't make sense.

"Then Leona said that you didn't need rules. What you needed was your pride to keep and protect you. He was yelling with Riddle, Floyd, Vil and Sebek for hours on end. It was funny to watch him struggle to get his way."

Pride... Pride... Leona kept saying that I needed my pride to protect me. Did he mean a lion's pride? Ohhhhh, this hurts my head right now.

"Azul and the tweels argued that you need to be underwater. Something about you drying out. Azul also talked about having an underwater garden to keep you in."

Oh boy, I wonder if any of Azul's failed debtors are in that garden as well.

"Kalim talked about how his family was expecting you at Silk City. He threw a tantrum when the others tried to tell him no. He nearly tried to drown Ramshackle with Oasis Maker!"

That... sounds about right. Kalim didn't appreciate it when I told him no before my brain washing.

"Vil wants to... basically make you into a doll. Or at least that's what it sounded to me. He was very passionate about keeping your beauty preserved. Rook agreed full heartedly. They both were so weird."

A lump formed in my throat. Did... Did I play in that idea just earlier? Is that why Vil picked a photo shoot?

"Ortho was there, talking about how the prefect had to start in the perfect place. Idia was there from his tablet, showing off some diagrams of some weird looking temple."

"Temple? Like... For the ancient gods?"

"Yeah! Just like those!"

That doesn't comfort me.

"Horton was there as well but... The only thing he did was watch. It was unsettling. Every once in a while, I was pretty certain a lightning strike hit the dead tree out front."

Great. If Malleus has his own plan, I'm dead. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO AVOID A TOP FIVE MAGICIAN?! I took a deep breath to calm myself down once again.

"Okay. Now that I have more information. It's time for a game plan. NRC is no longer a safe place for my existence anymore. Time to find a new one!"

I got up from my bed and rushed to one of the storage rooms. I started to search and quickly found the maps. Sometimes when I had free time, the ghosts and I looked over all of the maps and saw how the cartography of Twisted Wonderland has changed over the years. We even found one of the current Twisted!

I grabbed the current one before taking it back to where Grim was. I rolled it out and quickly got some pins. I started to stick them into different areas.

"Sunset Savanna is a no. With Leona as a prince, he'll send out troops to find me with no problem. Coral sea is also a no mainly because we can't breath underwater. Hmmmm, Shaftlands is Vil and Cater's territory. People know them there and would most likely send pictures of me. Scratch that, no matter WHERE I am, if Vil or Cater send out a bounty for me, people will take pictures of me."

I kept muttering to myself and apparently, I was boring enough to put Grim to sleep. His sleep comments were really comforting to hear. I haven't seen him in so long. I put my hand on his head and started to scratch behind his ears.

"Sweet dreams, Grimmy. I'll try to figure out a way to get us someplace safe."

I quickly put the map stuff away before crawling into bed myself. I know that I shouldn't be letting my guard down right now but... I need a night's sleep at Ramshackle. An actual comforting place. I wrapped Grim in my arms and held him close to my chest. Finally, sleep started to claim me.

When I reopened my eyes, I wasn't staring at Ramshackle's ceiling. The roof was much too tall and too dark. I'm in Diasomnia, aren't I?

"Human! You have risen from your slumber!"

I flinched at Sebek's loud tone. Yep, I'm in Diasomnia.

"Quickly! Stand up! We must get you ready for Waka-Sama! He is expecting you for breakfast!"

Sebek grabbed my arms and pulled me up. Grim fell flat on the floor, successfully waking him up.

"Mrow! What's happenin'?!"

Grim was put on alert and surveyed the room.

"This ain't Ramshackle!"

"OUT, YOU DISGUSTING CREATURE!"

Sebek kicked Grim to the wall. Grim let out a screech of pain. I quickly ran to his side and picked him up.

"Grim! Are you okay? What's wrong with you, Sebek!?"

I turned to Sebek and gave him the biggest glare possible. He flinched and had a pitiful expression on his face.

"No, no, no! Please don't be upset with me, (Y/N)! I'm only trying to protect you!"

"The only thing that needs protection is Grim from you! I'm leaving!"

Sebek snapped back to his guard mode and gripped my wrist.

"I cannot allow that. That... feline... must be confusing you. I'll take care of him for you! Silver can help you get ready!"

Sebek pried Grim out from my arms before taking him to the window. He held Grim outside of the window frame. Grim still hadn't recovered from the kick.

"Sebek, don't!"

Sebek dropped Grim without hesitation. I rushed over to the window to only see that we were in one of the highest towers over seeing a bunch of brambles.

"No... Grim..."

"Pest taken care of! Now, I'll go get Silver."

I was mildly frozen. I couldn't bring myself to leave the window sill. I was half tempted to fall out of it as well. Just to see if Grim was really down there. A hand grabbed my arm and led me away from it.

Silver gently guided me to a mirror before walking into the closet.

"Hmmmmm... Here it is. Father did get you a proper uniform."

Silver walked back in with a Diasomnia uniform but there were some modifications made to it. The spools of thread that they have normally on a belt were weaved into a white cape that reached halfway to my bicep. The other thing is that my cap looks like Malleus'. Without the little horn details that Silver has.

"There we go. I hope that you like the cape. It was my idea."

Silver started to help me with the uniform. The shock was just starting to wear off. I tried to move away from Silver and get my original clothes back. I'm glad that I changed out of the fancy clothes that I accidentally stole from Vil before bed.

"Hey, hey... Stop moving. I want to make sure that your clothes are on properly."

Silver gripped my wrist and was quick to immobilize me. I forgot that Silver was training to become a knight. Diasomnia was a dorm full of strong magic users and strong people in general. Bad dorm to be stuck in.

"There we go. Now, let me get the rest of the uniform on."

Silver finally finished before he let me move once again. I tried to reach the door but he just linked our arms together.

"Now, now. I understand. Sebek informed me about the creature. You don't need to worry about it anymore. If you want, after breakfast, you and I can take a nap in your room. Just to calm you down."

Silver started to walk to where breakfast was. I tried to break free from him a few times but I couldn't get him to budge one inch. The doors opened and there was Malleus sitting at the head of the table.

"Silver and my little bat!"

Lilia fell from above and landed in front of Silver and me. He grabbed both of us in a hug and squeezed us tightly.

"Hello, Father."

"Ummm..."

"Thank goodness, you've arrived! Malleus was starting to worry. Come along, little bat! Take your seat."

Lilia gestured to the chair at the foot of the table. Silver unlocked his arm with mine to let me walk to my chair. I looked around the room and noticed the door on the other side of the room. Although there was one problem. Whose name was Sebek. He stood there with a proud smirk, taunting me it felt like.

I turned away from Sebek and met Malleus' gaze. It felt as if Malleus wasn't even blinking. A small push was given to me, from who, I don't know, to get my legs working. I walked to my chair and sat down. There was no food on the table which confused me. I thought it was breakfast.

"Child of Man."

I twitched my head from looking at the table to looking at Malleus. His gaze really made me feel weak and powerless.

"Yes, Horton?"

"It's a pleasure to be able to feast with you this morning. It has been quite some time since we've been able to see you last."

I only nodded my head. He was right. I've been held captive for a while. Which caused a question to pop into my head.

"Yeah, well, I've been busy with other people. Sorry for worrying you but how did you know that I came back to Ramshackle?"

"Oh, silly, little bat! Your dear big brother visited Ramshackle every night since you went missing! Just in case, you've finally decided to return home!"

Lilia answered for Malleus but that caused a shiver to run up my spine. Grim didn't mention that Malleus was visiting every night.

"Were you hurt?"

Malleus' question was sudden and it felt out of the blue. My head snapped up to look him in the eyes and it caused me to think for a bit. I don't think that I was hurt. I mean, Deuce and Kalim did cause me discomfort when they hugged me but I wouldn't count it as harm.

"No... I don't believe that I was harmed."

"Oh, little bat. You shouldn't lie to your family."

Lilia budded into the conversation once again. Floating over to Malleus.

"He... lied to us, Lilia?"

"I didn't, Horton!"

"Sebek! Silver! Calm your younger brother down."

"Yes, sir!"

Sebek and Silver moved. Silver picked me up and caught me in a hug before sitting down in my chair. Sebek then pulled out a handkerchief and tied it around my mouth.

After being sufficiently muzzled, Lilia continued with his story.

"(Y/N) was first hurt by Professor Crewel! That ungrateful professor continuously calls my dear sweet child a mutt! Little bat, I want you to know that you are so much more than a lowly mutt."

Lilia looked at me with such a warm gaze that it mildly made me forget about the position that I'm in.

"So, the nickname 'mutt' isn't a good one..."

"No, Malleus. It's basically calling him incompetent."

Malleus's eyes widen before slamming his fist down on the table.

"How dare he! Doesn't he know that the Child of Man is more competent than most on this campus?!"

"I know! Humans can hold such weird judgements of one another. The next people that hurt him were those Heartslabyul first years that he enjoys to hang out around."

"Hmmmmm, I did notice how they would always drag Child of Man into their dangerous antics before."

"Mmmhmm! They've been hurting our dear human from the very beginning!"

Lilia then continued to recall all of the different slights that people have done against me. All of the different schemes that I was pulled into, the overblots, Floyd's mistreatment during the healing process, the Scarabian kidnapping, and the one that made no sense to me, the Pomefiore photoshoot.

"Thank you, Lilia. Now, Child of Man, please. Let us enjoy breakfast."

Other Diasomnia students then walked through the doors that Sebek was originally guarding. They were carrying silver dish trays and were quick to set them down before taking their own posts along the walls. Sebek also took out the handkerchief out of my mouth. The food looked really good, which meant that Lilia didn't cook it. I tried to get my arms free to get food but Silver still hadn't let go of my arms yet.

"Ummm, Silver. Buddy. I kind of need my arms to be able to eat."

The only response that I had gotten in return was light snoring. Silver had fallen asleep with me in his arms. Normally, I thought people would loosen their grip when they fall asleep. But obviously not Silver.

"Allow me to assist you, (Y/N)!"

Sebek shouted before pulling up a chair next to mine. I felt the eyes of all the Diasomnia students watching me. Sebek cut through the pancakes that they had made before putting some up to my mouth.

"Now, open your mouth, Human."

Sebek's tone was soft for once. What is happening? Why is everybody acting like I'm an infant!?!?!?

"Open. Your. Mouth."

Sebek's harsh tone came back along with a glare. I shook my head before gritting my teeth together.

"Don't be insolent! You should be thankful that your real family is here to protect and care for you now! Unlike those false 'brothers' that abused you. Now. Let me help you with breakfast."

I kept my mouth shut.

"Awwwww, there's no reason to be fussy. Let's see. Ahhhhhh."

Lilia put his hands on either side of my jaw before pressing on it. It was quite painful and I regretfully opened my jaw. Sebek then took advantage of my pain and fed me. I tried to spit the food out but Lilia changed tactics and forced my jaw closed.

"Chew it all up! As your father, I'll have to get used to feeding you like this! Especially if you keep choosing to be fussy over nothing!"

Lilia sounded so happy while force feeding me. I was feeling very cramped with three people all around me. Eventually, I gave up and started chewing the food myself. Anything to stop the dull ache that was beginning to form in my jaw.

"Ahhh!"

"Sebek."

Sebek lowered the fork from my mouth before turning his head to Malleus.

"Yes, Waka-Sama?"

Malleus stood from his own chair and walked over.

"I want to feed the Child of Man."

I looked at Malleus with wide eyes. Sebek only nodded his head before leaving his chair for Malleus to take his seat. Malleus took the chair before picking up the fork himself.

"Ahhhhh, Child of Man."

Malleus had such a soft look in his eyes that made me feel safe? In a weird way.

"Ahhhhhh."

Malleus put the fork with the pancakes in my mouth.

"It feels nice to take care of your younger brother, doesn't it, Malleus?"

"It does, Lilia. Is this how you felt when taking care of Silver and myself?"

"Oh, yes! Taking care of those who are the most dear to you is the best feeling in the world! Make sure you treasure these moments, Malleus. They fade much too quickly."

After what felt like three hours but was actually around ten minutes, breakfast had finally concluded. The Diasomnia students, who were just watching, took the plates before leaving.

"Now. I overheard from earlier. You and Silver were going to take a nap together, right (Y/N)?"

"That was the plan, I think. Although, I don't know how much Silver is going to want to take a nap now."

"I'm always willing to take a nap with you, (Y/N)."

I jolted a bit. I didn't notice Silver waking up. I guess he really is the King of Naps.

"Perfect! Then I suppose that having a little group nap wouldn't be a bad idea! Malleus, Sebek. Are you two willing to join us?"

"I would gladly attend."

"If Waka-Sama will take a nap, then I must be there to ensure his best sleep!"

I started to think fast. Trapped in a cuddle pile won't help me get out of Diasomnia in the slightest.

"W-W-Wait a minute!"

My shout got all of the attention, which was exactly what I wanted.

"I-If we take a nap now, you guys will have to get up in a matter of minutes for class! I-I'd rather wait until you guys will be able to hang out for longer!"

The quartet of Diasomnia students just stared at me for around thirty seconds before Lilia's face gained a smirk.

"Awwwww, my baby~! So worried for your brothers' education and your own father's as well! You're such a sweet, little boy! Alright, we can wait until classes are done for today."

Lilia then clapped his hands and two other Diasomnia students appeared out of the shadows. I jumped at their appearance. Lilia then cleared his throat to address the two students.

"Please escort my little bat to his room. He will need to stay there while classes are happening. Last thing that we would need is one of those brutish students from one of the other dorms stealing (Y/N) away from his true family."

"Yes, Vice Dorm Leader Vanrouge!"

Silver let go of me and I stood up. The two students flanked me, making sure that there was little to no room for me to run away. I just gulped before walking towards where I thought that my room was located.

"We're so happy that you've finally come home, (Y/N)!"

"The whole dorm was worried sick when the rumors of you being kidnapped by the other dorms came around. Dorm Leader Draconia and Vice Dorm Leader Vanrouge were so lucky to have found you!"

"Not to mention how lucky we are! We get to spend some time with our brother too!"

The students kept talking while I tuned them out. What type of hypnosis spell went over the entire campus? Could this be some sort of attack from RSA? Although that doesn't really sound like something that they would do.

"Hold it!"

One of the students grabbed me before I opened the door to the room I was in originally.

"Huh? What's wrong?"

"This isn't your room."

I slightly tilted my head.

"But this is the room that I woke up in?"

"This is Sebek and Silver's room. Your room is elsewhere."

"Follow us please!"

The first one started to walk up a bunch of stairs while the other stayed behind me.

"This room was prepared by Dorm Leader Draconia himself! He tried to make sure that it was to your liking!"

The student in front of me opened the door to what was a near replica of my Ramshackle room. If it wasn't for the fact that the view from the window showed the outside of Diasomnia, I could have swore that I was transported back to Ramshackle.

I took a few steps forward to observe the room. I wasn't expecting for the door to be shut and locked behind me. I rushed over and tried to get it to budge.

"Hey! This isn't funny!"

"Sorry, Little Brother! We all were specially instructed by Dorm Leader Draconia and Vice Dorm Leader Vanrouge to keep this door shut while we're at classes."

I stared at the door before letting go of the knob.

"We wish that you would be able to walk around Diasomnia but the threat of another dorm finding you is too large right now."

I didn't respond before just flopping down on the bed. I thought about my morning so far.

"Grim..."

Tears started to stream down my face. Anguish and anger wrapped around my heart. I clenched my fists together and started to punch the pillow while huge tears were unleashed. After a minute of just punching, I started to take deep breaths before wiping my face clear of tears. I will get out of here. For Grim!

As soon as my little pity party was done, I got up from the bed to take a look outside. The tower was quite high. I felt my fear of heights kick in and I backed away from it. I think I'd rather live here than escape that way. I decided to explore the room a bit to see if I could find something else to help me escape.

Malleus did a really good job at replicating my room, I'll give him that. Although there are a few minor adjustments. For example, the attached bathroom, the Malleus, Lilia, Silver and Sebek plushies on my bed, and what appears to be a family portrait of all five of us on the wall. They're really selling the family idea, aren't they? How did they even get a portrait like this?

"What a poor little boy."

"Who would keep him trapped in a tower?"

"Just like a little princess."

I heard new voices that I've never heard before. I started to spin my head around trying to figure out where they were coming from. Three small balls of light. Red, green and blue.

"Hello? Who are you?"

"Why, we're the good fairies!"

"Please child. Explain as to why you're stuck here in such a... dreadful place?"

I thought of the best way to explain my situation.

"Well. People who I thought were my friends decided to kidnap me. 'To keep me safe' they say. Although I've never felt more trapped in my life."

"That just won't do! Listen up, boy! We'll help you out! We can give you three blessings! But you must use them wisely, okay? They will only work once."

I nodded my head. If there's one thing that I pride myself on, it's my wisdom. The red fae started to glow brighter.

"My gift shall be the gift of free falling. This will prevent any injury from falling."

The green fae was next.

"My gift shall be the gift of speed. Use this to outrun your pursuers."

Finally, it was the blue fae's turn.

"And my gift shall be the gift of invisibility. For a short period of time, your entire presence will be hidden from existence."

I gave the faes a light bow.

"Thank you so much."

"It's no problem, child. We hope that our magic will be of great assistance to you. I hope that our paths will cross again one day."

We said our goodbyes and then the faes disappeared in a poof of sparkles. I had to use these gifts wisely. I do only have one shot after all. It might be best to use them later. I don't know Diasomnia's layout well enough to plan a good escape route.

My best plan of action right now is to play along with their delusion, despite how much it would kill me. Play nicely, you get the upper hand eventually. Although now, I wish that I had asked if memories of me would be erased for the time that I would be invisible.

To pass the time, I decided to take to the bookshelf. Maybe I could learn something that would prove a use to me. A majority of the books appeared to be children's books. Despite those being quite entertaining, they weren't exactly helpful for knowledge. Although there was one that held important information.

The book was called 'Be Careful, Titinia!'. It was an entire book on things that can hurt faes or weaken them. The main things that I took note of were iron, salt, ash wood and sweets. I want to avoid using iron since it causes them direct harm while salt and ash wood only weakens their powers. Sweets can be used as a distraction.

"I don't know why I thought that they would leave a book to help me escape. They aren't dumb."

I spent the rest of the time contemplating. My life, my decisions and that stupid, STUPID fall. This is what spurred all of this unnecessary panic. At long last, a knock broke me out of my thoughts.

"(Y/N)! We've finally returned from our classes! You should have seen all of the other sniveling humans! They were so pathetic! They were crying out for you. Although, I must admit, I was annoyed by such displays. As if they thought that they were worthy of being with you."

Sebek walked in, followed by Silver. He seemed to be very proud of what he was relaying to me.

"Sounds stifling."

"Oh, it was! Such whiny creatures!"

I took a deep breath before getting into my role. I think that it would be beneficial if I played nice.

"D-Do you want a hug? I want to help cheer up my Big Bro!"

Sebek and Silver looked over at me with huge eyes. It's like they weren't expecting me to say that. A bright, pink blush appeared on Sebek's face before he started yelling.

"OF COURSE, I WOULD ENJOY PHYSICAL CONTACT, MY YOUNGER!"

Sebek then wasted no time in throwing himself at me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and started to snuggle under my chin. I think that I even heard little gator squeaks coming from him.

"A-Am I allowed to join in the hugs?"

Silver looked a bit desperate while looking at me with fearful eyes. It was like he thought that I was telling him that I hate him or something.

"Of course! You're my big brother as well, Silvy!"

Silver then also gained a blush and a soft smile. He seemed to have enjoyed the nickname that I just came up with.

"Hey! If he gets a nickname, what's mine?!"

Sebek looked up at me with a pout. This is reminding me of taking care of toddlers instead of dealing with kidnappers.

"Hmmmmm."

I closed my eyes while I was running through the nicknames that I could come up with.

"Tic Toc Croc?"

Sebek wrinkled his nose at that name.

"Or maybe Bolt?"

Sebek gave a smile at that one.

"Bolt it is!"

Silver got behind me and pulled me flush against his front. So, now, I was sandwiched between the two guards. Sebek let out slight squeaks while Silver was just lightly snoring in my ear. Their warmth and the noises became a form of white noise that started to lull me to sleep.

"Awwwww, what a cute sight."

Lilia had arrived and spoke in a whisper. He jumped onto the foot of the bed frame to look at us.

"My little bat looks so sleepy~ Why don't you just close your eyes while I invite Malleus? We can have that nap that we planned earlier."

I tried to keep my eyes open to the best of my abilities. Silver actually started to sway which in turn, rocked me back and forth slightly. Lilia came back with Malleus.

"Little bat! I told you to close your eyes and sleep!"

Lilia yelled in a hushed tone. It was clear that he was slightly annoyed with me but didn't want to risk waking up Sebek and Silver.

I shook my head.

"I wanted to be awake to see Malleus."

Malleus' eyes widened a bit before he gained a huge smile.

"Child of Man..."

I think that I actually saw a few tears start to form in Malleus' eyes. He then walked over and joined us in our cuddle pile. Lilia let out a laugh before joining us as well. The amount of warmth and constant soft sounds made it even more impossible to keep my eyes open.

"Shhhhhhh~ Just close your eyes, little bat. We'll all be here when you wake up~"

I felt Lilia's fingers gently close my eyelids and from there, I was asleep. I don't know how long we napped for but when I woke up, I was the last one awake.

"Little bat! Did you enjoy your little nap? I sure hope so because Papa has a lot of plans for you!"

"Papa?"

I never even called my Dad papa.

"Yep, that's me! If you ever need something from me, call out 'Papa!' and I'll be there as soon as possible! Either way, we must continue on with our plans!"

Lilia was quick to leave the cuddle pile. Sebek and Silver were still holding on to me, almost as if they were afraid that I was going to disappear.

"Did you have sweet dreams, (Y/N)?"

Sebek was looking at me with a huge smile. It seems that the nap had really refreshed him.

"Y-yeah, although, I don't think that I really had a dream."

"We all have dreams, Child of Man. You probably just don't remember it."

Malleus was the second to get up from the cuddle pile. He also looked quite refreshed.

"Silver! Do you remember where I put the stroller?!"

I felt myself blanching at that statement. What does Lilia need a stroller for?!

"Father. I really don't think that (Y/N) needs a stroller."

"But what if he gets tired on our walk?!"

"I can carry him for you, Master Lilia!"

"Hmmm, that's an option. What would you prefer, (Y/N)?"

"I think that I would prefer if Bolt would carry me if I got tired."

I let out a noise of surprise when Sebek suddenly tightened his hold on me.

"Oookay, but next time, I'll make sure to bring the stroller. Just in case of Sebek not being there with us!"

Finally, Sebek got off of me which made it easier for me to get off of Silver. Although Silver didn't make it such an easy feat.

"Uh, Silvy? D-Don't you need to get up and ready for this walk as well?"

"Hmmmmm, yeah."

He finally stood up and took me with him. I tried to get up on my own feet but Silver was still holding me. It caused me to trip over my feet multiple times.

"I thought that we would be walking."

"We will be."

"Then... Can I walk?"

A slight blush appeared on his face before he set me down.

"I... apologize. It's just...I felt very comfortable with you in my arms."

"It's okay, Silvy."

It really wasn't. But sadly, I have a part to play. Man, if only Vil could see me now. Eeehhhh, on second thought, if only past Vil could see me now. I don't think I want to see present Vil anymore.

"Alright, boys, let's get a move on! We have to start our walk now or else we're going to be late for dinner! I don't want my children hungry for long."

Lilia walked out the door, leading the way that we're going to take. Malleus walked up to me and looped his arm around mine.

"Come along, Child of Man. Lilia will outpace all of us if we wait any longer."

I only nodded before I started moving. I ended up tugging on Malleus slightly before he matched my pace. Sebek and Silver closed the door before catching up to Malleus and I. It took us ten minutes to catch up with Lilia. Well, catch isn't the right word. Found is a better one for the fact that we had to roam the hallways of Diasomnia. We ran into so many Diasomnian students, who seemed to be more than excited to see me. Some even gave me hugs or other forms of affection.

"There you kids are! I was worried for a second that someone came in and stole (Y/N) away!"

"If there was someone so foolish enough to even attempt at taking my young kin, I would have boiled their insides before ripping them to shreds."

I gulped at Malleus' words. Having someone who is part dragon be possessive over you is worse than just having a human be possessive.

Finally, after playing the waiting game for so long, we continued on with our walk and we went outside of Diasomnia. The environment surrounding the castle was, as usual, spooky but perfect for a get away. We made it slightly deep into the forest before I decided it was time to use the other faes' gifts. I started to slow down a bit before stopping completely.

"Hmmm, what's wrong, (Y/N)?"

I took a deep breath before answering Silver.

"Just needing to tie my shoe, Silvy! I would hate to trip and fall after all!"

"Let me, (Y/N)!"

Sebek moved before I could bend down. What was the most interesting part was the fact that he untied my shoe to just redo the knot. I debated in my head to wait for a different opportunity. I decided to wait for only a little longer.

Sebek stood back up and gave me such a proud smile. I nod my head before giving Sebek my own smile.

"Thank you, Sebek. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome, (Y/N)!"

Sebek turned back around and I started to take the back of the group. I watched Lilia talk animatedly while Silver was trying to avoid falling asleep. Malleus kept his posture straight and focused on our path while Sebek was scanning the forest.

They were distracted. I try to activate Blue's invisibility. I watch as blue magic sparks start at my fingertips and go down my entire body. I couldn't even see me! Using the fact that I was now invisible, I started to walk away from the group as fast as I could. I was about twenty feet away when I heard this.

"AH! (Y/N)! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"What do you mean, Se- LITTLE BAT!?! WHERE DID YOU GO?!"

They had no idea where I was but I still had some way before I could reach the mirror. I start running and I know that I'm making a bunch of noise at this point. Sebek, Lilia and Malleus obviously know where I am based on noise.

I turn my head and see Lilia nearly grabbing the collar of the Diasomnia uniform that I was wearing. I let out a small scream as I dodge his grasp.

"Little bat! It isn't wise to make me mad!"

I was so preoccupied with Lilia that I nearly got hit by Sebek's baton.

"STOP RUNNING, HUMAN! BEHAVE FOR YOUR FAMILY!!"

Sebek's eyes were blazing with fury. I had to make a decision quickly. I remember that Green gave me super speed and tried to use that. I saw green flashes on my feet. Next thing that I knew was that it felt like my feet were flying out from underneath me. I was moving faster than I could really control it. I nearly ran into twenty different trees.

I felt the ground shake and noticed that Silver had actually sent a spell into the ground and it was erupting beneath me.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). But I can't let you escape."

The spell caused an explosion beneath me, sending me flying into the sky. I let out a scream, my fear of heights kicked in. I heard Sebek scolding Silver for using such a spell on me.

I quickly get my brain under control and focus on using Red's free fall. I saw my body flash red and I felt more confident. I then started to glide through the air trying to get to the mirror, I could see it. I heard an air whistle and noticed that Malleus was flying straight for me.

"(YYYYY/NNNNN)!!!!!"

I narrowly avoid Malleus' dive and quickly land on the ground in front of the mirror. I watched as I blinked blue, green and red to signify that the gifts had ran out. I looked around, noting how close the four of them were before rushing into the mirror. Once in the Hall of Mirrors, I look around before choosing a mirror to hide away in.