#this ship is the ship of dreams (and devastation) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

last-herondale · 2 months

Text

Almost Pt. 2

Bucky POV (W/ FemReader)

Angst, heartbreak, sadness

Tw: some mild curse words

AN: Hellooooo. I had an idea for a part two! Two fics in one week? Who do I think I am? 😳 anyway here is Bucky’s point of view on what happened after part one! Will link below! Maybe this will be a new series? Idk feeling ambitious 🤣

Part 1

Part 3

Enjoy 🤘🏼

It had been six weeks since Steve’s party. Six agonizing weeks of silence. Forty-two days of not hearing your voice. One thousand and eight hours of not seeing you smile at my stupid jokes. Sixty thousand, four hundred, and eighty minutes of not seeing the light dance in your eyes whenever you saw me enter the room. Three million, six hundred thousand twenty eight, and eight hundred seconds since I saw you walk away from me during that party after confessing your love for me.

You said you needed time. I respected that. I understood that.

After you bared your soul to me, I told you what I thought you needed to hear. That I wasn’t good enough for you. That you deserved better. It was difficult to stand there and see the light die from your eyes as I said these things. It was painful to see you cry, knowing that I had been the one to cause you that pain. But it was devastating for me to realize that despite how much I loved you, how much I cared for you, that the words I said were still true. Agonizingly so.

I expected that this type of honesty would destroy our friendship. Even though I still held out hope in my selfish mindset that we could continue on like we had in the past. Spending our free nights together, laughing, joking, having fun together, sharing memories, crying, hugging, everything we used to do…

But of course, those dreams had not come into fruition.

When you volunteered to be shipped out of the country for a mission the day after Steve’s party, I knew it was to get away from me. And despite my frustration and worry about you leaving on some dangerous mission without me in the state you were in, Steve assured me that you would be fine. He didn’t know the extent of what happened, but Steve being the inquisitive son of a bitch he is, he was able to connect some of the dots at least. Surprisingly he didn’t lecture or judge me. I was expecting to get an earful from him about how I treated you, led you on, and hurt your feelings, but in return I got nothing.

The mission was only supposed to last for two weeks, but as the days grew longer, the whole team was on edge when the two of you didn’t return. Steve kept communications with Tony, and he would pass along the messages to the rest of us. “They hit a snag. They are safe but they are bunking down for a bit.”

I felt like I was on pins and needles. I just needed to know you were safe, that you were okay. I must have looked worse for wear around the tower, because even Nat noticed and had a conversation with me in my room. It was a little strange. Having her back in my apartment, alone, her fiery gaze still as piercing as it was when we were together. But those feelings I held for her were gone. Something else lingered there, a fondness for the time we had, but nothing more.

I knew she was your best friend, so I assumed you told her everything about what happened at the party, but when she came into my apartment with a stern gaze on me, arms crossed and all, all she said was.

“I don’t know what happened the other night at Steve’s party, but you need to stop moping and get a grip.”

“I’m fine. Stay out of it,” I said with an icy tone.

Nat just rolled her eyes and jabbed a finger at me. “If you don’t feel anything for her, then stay away or get your shit together. She cares about you too much to walk away from you, Bucky.” Nat’s voice grew softer as she thought of you. “Whenever she comes back, and she will come back, she needs to heal. She cannot continue to be your emotional support puppet. It's draining her, James. Every time she returns from hanging out with you I see less and less of her return. She cannot continue to give you all of her heart when she is receiving none of it back.

“So for her sake, please, let her go.”

It was a hard thing to hear, but it was necessary. I stopped driving myself mad with when you would return. It was difficult, maddeningly so, but after another week I was able to distract myself enough with other things… other people. I did a few missions here and there, nothing that took me out of the country, but it filled some of the time I had to think about you.

I spent time with Nadia, the girl I had gone on a few dates with, the girl I had broken your heart over. Our relationship was purely physical. She was another distraction, someone to pass the time with. She didn’t seem to mind the distance I put between us. We weren’t exclusive by any means, and she was free to explore all of her options, but that was as far as that would go. Not that I could ever tell you this, even though I wanted to.

That was the shittiest part of it all. I missed you. Constantly. I missed talking with you about every single part of my day. I missed hearing about your day, or the silly little thoughts that swirled in your curious head. I missed spending my weekends with you, staying up until the sun rose, seeing you curled up in a ball on my couch, sleeping so peacefully. The ache in my chest never ceased, but I was able to drown away the thought of you for moments at a time.

And then you returned.

It was like a blow to the heart, seeing you standing in the kitchen, casually making yourself a bowl of cereal. Your skin seemed tanner than when you left. Clearly you had been somewhere where the sun kissed your skin for long periods of time. You looked beautiful, even just in your morning casual wear. You hadn’t noticed me yet. I was frozen in the entryway, trying to think of something intelligible to say to you, when Steve walked in through the other way. He too had not noticed me yet, his skin also sunkissed and a bit long.

I opened my mouth to speak, but before any sound could come out, I watched as my best friend slid his arms around your waist, turned you around in a swift and gentle motion, and kissed you. Ice filled my veins and it felt as if a rock had dropped in my stomach. I staggered backwards a bit, hiding myself more in the darkness of the archway as I saw the scene unfold.

Steve was kissing you. His hands were gentle around your waist, and although you were taken by surprise in the moment, you stood on your toes to be more on his level. You cupped his face and smiled. You were smiling. You looked…happy.

I slipped away back down the hallway and into my room before I could see more. The image of my best friend kissing the love of my life was burned into my mind. I sat on my bed in a disgruntled mess, fighting the strange waves of feelings that were swirling in my body.

You were finally back. You were safe. At that I was able to release the tension in my chest that I had been holding since you left. And then… Steve. What had changed during those six weeks you were gone? Was it serious? Did you love him? Did he love you? These questions paced back and forth inside of my brain until I was nearly dizzy.

It was the memory of Nat’s voice that stuck out amongst my own thoughts. “Let her go.”

You had been happy in that kitchen. Steve was a good man, too good to play with someone’s feelings if he didn’t truly feel something for them. Steve was good for you. That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? The reason why I broke your heart in the first place? To set you free to find someone that would love you in all the ways I was incapable of doing. Why was I mad that you had done that? Why did I want to punch Steve for kissing you?

I clenched my fists as I sat on the bed. My body shook with so much emotion. In the torental storm that was my mind, I tried to focus on one memory. The only one that mattered. That night on the balcony. You had stood there, hair swirling in the breeze, more beautiful than the night sky. And you said it.

“I’m in love with you.”

The words calmed me. The memory of that night grounded me. Your tears. Your sadness. Your anger. I caused that. “I’m in love with you.” That is what you told me. And even though I wanted to scream it back, to shout it from the roof that I loved you too, instead I denied you. I threw it back in your face to save you from what I am. I hurt you, and this was my punishment. Seeing you pick up the pieces of that love that I shattered and give it to someone who would nurture that love.

I sat there thinking and thinking, until my head was pounding. I laid down on my bed, the image of you kissing someone else burning in my head.

“I’m in love with you too,” I muttered to myself.

Then, as tears began to silently fall down my face, I began to laugh.

#reader x marvel #marvel fanfic club #fan fic author #fic writing #james bucky barnes #fem reader #marvel #bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #heartbroken #angst #angst prompt

255 notes · View notes

moris-auri · 25 days

Text

Heaven is not fit (to house a love like you and I)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Baela Targaryen

Summary: The war, bloody and devastating, is over. Having bested his uncle over the God's Eye, Aemond returns to King’s Landing and to his elder brother.

But his victory is short-lived when Aegon dies in 131 A.C. without an heir. After more than a half year of peace, the realm is thrown into chaos once again. Made to choose a bride after having the ruby studded crown of Aegon I placed on his head and made King, Aemond chooses his cousin, Baela Targaryen.

And Baela Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, grows more than fond of saying "Fuck the realm."

WC: 8k

Beta'd by @vampire-exgirlfriend ILYSM Alex ❤️❤️

Warnings: NSFW 18+, spoilers for Fire and Blood (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

The title sits like ash in her mouth, lingering on her tongue like sour, spoiled wine. It had ever since her arrival nearly three days prior; carried from the ship that had brought her from Driftmark to the Red Keep, she has done little else but think about it, over and over and over again.

Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Her conviction only grows stronger each time the thought comes, her conviction that becoming his wife and Queen is the very last thing she wants. That Aemond is quite possibly the one person in all the realm she despises. She has still not forgotten the things he'd said and done in the past, the half-sullen, half-angry boy he'd been in their youth. She has not forgotten the words he had spat so cruelly in the tunnel the night he claimed Vhagar just after her mother's funeral, the same night Luke cut out his eye. Has not forgotten his toast to Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey the night her father took Vaemond Velaryon's head, nor has she forgotten the manner of Luke and Arrax's deaths over Shipbreaker Bay.

She's had dreams sometimes of what it would have been like to be Jacaerys' queen, late at night when she could not find sleep and spent half the night tossing and turning in her bed. Dreams that were hauntingly vivid, things of what could have been if he had survived the Gullet. Glimpses of what it might have been like if war had not broken out, damaging the realm so much it was near irreparable in some places.

But he had not.

None of them had, save for herself, Aemond, Rhaena and little Aegon.

If only her uncle were here to see the utter ruin of their House, what their family had become. The Crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided.

Divided indeed.

It's almost laughable, she cannot help but think, letting out a faint, mirthless huff of laughter, how the might and entirety of House Targaryen- a line going back to the Dragonlords of Old Valyria, was now all but wiped out in less than five years. And over a chair no less.

"I've been looking for you, girl."

The sound of her grandfather's voice from behind her drew her back to the present, his tone sounding sterner than she can ever remember it being.

"You've found me, grandfather," she said testily, resisting the desire to roll her eyes as she stood, still facing the windows of her chamber that overlooked the city, arms crossed over her chest, fighting the urge to shout her fury.

His voice came again, but she didn't catch whatever he said. Except for one word.

Husband.

"I won't do it," she says as she shakes her head. She crossed her arms over her chest, not caring in the slightest if he thinks she seems petulant as she squashes the desire to toss her head back and laugh, instead savoring the bite of pain that ricochets up her arms when she presses her nails into the skin of her palms. "Let Rhaena wed him."

Silence.

She immediately regrets it, feeling the guilt rise inside her, chasing the anger away like a tide. She knows as well as he does that the pit of snakes and rats that the royal court is would eat her twin alive and spit out her bones. "He's a kinslayer," she says instead, a not so small trace of bitterness lingering in her voice, "Or have you forgotten how he murdered Luke?"

"I have not. But he is king now." her grandsire reminds sharply, disapproval rolling off him in waves. "This realm has seen enough war and bloodshed, child."

Baela feels her cheeks heat at the chastisement, clenching her hands into fists at her sides again. "I won't do it," she repeats, but she can feel how futile her protests are even as she says it. She doesn't want this fate; the fate of so many women before her. She feels her eyes begin to sting then, the unwanted thought of what a Queen's duty was bouncing around inside her head, bile rising to the back of her throat. Would her fate be the same as her mother's? As Queen Aemma's?

Corlys sighs, the sound almost as heavy as the hand he places on her shoulder. "You'll be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, girl. Be grateful."

"Be grateful?" she says incredulously as she whirls around to glare at him, her anger returning stronger than it had before. "Be grateful? For being bartered off like a chest of riches?"

His face tightens, his hand falling back to his side. "Be grateful," he adds gruffly. "That the king has chosen you."

She snorted derisively. "As if you gave him any other option. I know he only chose me because you dangled me before him like bait." She hisses the words at him spitefully, eyes narrowed. "I wish Father had killed him," she added vindictively as an afterthought.

"Enough of this," he grounds out, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "You will. For the good of the realm."

"Fuck the realm." She says again. A final, futile effort to stop this.

"Baela!" His voice grows in volume, in frustration, all but bordering on a bellow. She doesn't so much as flinch, bold and willful thing that she is. Her mouth twists, blood roaring in her veins. She opens her mouth, but closes it just as fast when he sends her a warning glance.

You will marry him.

"Now," Corlys cleared his throat. "He requests your presence in the Small Council chamber."

"Now? But I'm-" she glanced down at herself, a thread of panic entering her voice.

"You look fine," Corlys said, as if he could sense her panic. The reassurance in his voice does little to calm her, though, made clear in the look etched on her face. "Now come," he said, steering her forward with a hand against her back.

She's barely been in the room for a minute before she feels the weight of Aemond's gaze land on her, the burning intensity of it making the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She swallowed then, tucking away the unsure part of herself, pushing back the sliver of self preservation that reared its head in recognition that she was no longer the only dragon in the room, the sliver that felt like she could potentially even be prey when in his presence. The eyes she fixed him with then were hard, the weakness she resented shoved down deep within her, eagerly ignored.

She cannot help but admit how much he looks like a king in that moment, with his spine as stiff as a board and his hands clasped together before him in an almost penitent manner that was at odds with the unreadable expression on his face. The blank, carefully crafted expression on his face that made her feel disconcerted, wary and ill at ease at not being able to tell what he was thinking or what he was feeling. Did he hate this farce as much as she did? This plan to mend the shattered, broken shards their family had become? Or did he want it more than he let on?

And if he did, why?

"Cousin," her soon to be husband says from where he sits at the head of the long table, his hands clasped together in front of him. "Sit," he murmurs, the command clear when he gestures towards the vacant chair to his right. She does so without a word, but not before glancing at her grandfather, who only nodded at her with a look of pride on his face.

"Cousin," she returns once she's situated, her tone bordering on saccharine and falsely sweet as she forces herself to remain at ease, to remain calm and not spit a slew of curses at him when the rage in her eyes did not affect him in the slightest.

She ripped her gaze away from his face, sliding upwards before stopping, her lips parting as her gaze landed on the crown situated atop his head, the crown that had once sat on his brother's head. The sole ruby in the center winks in the light, the valyrian steel surrounding it looking almost black despite the sun shining into the room.

"What are your plans for the ceremony, Your Grace?" her grandfather interrupts after a long moment, elbows resting on the edge of the table as he leans forward.

Her gaze drops back to Aemond's face at the sound of the low hum he lets out in response to the question, watching as he presses his steepled fingers against his mouth, as if in thought. "In the Old Valyrian way, of course," he responds, casting a fleeting look her way, his gaze searching, before averting his eye almost nervously.

‘Let him be nervous,’ she thinks almost vindictively, feeling her mouth twitch in response. He says something else that she doesn't catch entirely, listening with one ear as they speak of other things pertaining to the realm that she knows she should care about but cannot bring herself to truly care about.

Not yet at least.

Her mind drifts to thoughts of her father as she tunes the sound of their voices out, knowing without a doubt how he'd make no attempt to show or let his obvious disapproval at this be known if he were here. Pain lanced through her at the thought of him, chased by the knowledge that he would never speak again. That she would never see his face or hear his voice again - not in this life, at least. Not when he was nothing more than a decaying corpse at the bottom of the God's Eye now.

"What say you, cousin?" Aemond asks as he leans closer to her, the sound of his voice dragging her back to the present. "The way of our House? Or the way of the Seven?"

"Excuse me?"

"For the ceremony," he repeated steadily as he met her gaze. His expression had gone unreadable again, save for the slight tightening around his mouth, the sound of his fingers drumming against the table drifting towards her.

Baela felt her cheeks go hot as her eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by the question. She swallowed her sudden apprehension as she opened her mouth to respond, a memory of the day her father had married Rhaenyra in the traditional Valyrian way resurfacing.

He was asking her what she wanted.

She hesitated a moment before biting her lip, her heart pounding behind her ribs. She stiffened her shoulders as she looked up at him from under her lashes, her mind made up. If she was to do this, she'd do it in a way she knew would've made the Rogue Prince proud.

"The Valyrian way."

The day of her marriage comes a week after her arrival and she wants nothing more than to scream. The bedchamber that is hers now has been a hive of activity for the last several hours, the space full of chatter from a handful of different voices, namely those of the seamstresses and the Dowager Queen.

She has seen neither hide nor hair of Alicent Hightower since she stepped foot into the Keep over a week ago, though she had heard far and few in between whispers from the servants. Spun tales of a bereaved, grief stricken Dowager Queen who had retreated to her bedchamber after losing almost everything but the son that now sat the Iron Throne.

She had not put much stock in them before, but the sight of her soon to be good-mother is more than enough to make her believe them. She remembered the woman who had sat at her Uncle's left, glowing and resplendent in rich green and gold, hair laying across her shoulders in a sheet of burnished auburn waves.

There is hardly a trace of that woman now.

Now Alicent Hightower is pale, drawn and almost ghostly. Her hair is done plainly, an unadorned braid wrapped around her head, her dress a shade of black that seemed to swallow her whole, making her look slight and diminutive. That had been another thing she had heard, her complete disavowal of wearing anything made in the colors of her House, and as much as she does not want to pity her soon to be goodmother, she cannot help it.

Drawn from her reverie, Baela turns her head at the sound of the head seamstress clearing her throat, her gaze falling to the final part of the ornate robes the woman held in her hands. Resisting the desire to roll her eyes, Baela made a motion with one hand, beckoning the woman forward without a word.

Rhaena only had to take one look at her face as soon as the final clasp on the bodice was closed, no doubt catching the steadily heightening agitation brewing like a storm cloud in her eyes, a wordless communication passing between them. "Leave us," she says sharply as she stands from the chair she had been sitting in since early this morning, the hem of her dress soundless on the flagstones as she neared.

If there was one good thing to this, it was that she still had her sister at her side as a pillar of support. Everytime she had thought about it, about being alone in this cesspool with only the distant attention of her grandfather, she felt dread churn low in her stomach. And so it had been the one thing she'd refused to budge on. 'If I must do this,' she had said to their grandfather the second night, the look in her eyes daring him to argue with her, 'I will have her with me.'

Baela shot a fierce, withering glare at the servant who wavered by the door, the order to get out burning in her gaze. "By the gods-" she mutters the instant the chamber is fully empty, her chamber now, she thought belatedly as she rolled her shoulders in an effort to lessen the tension. She could already feel the weight of the robes she wore bearing her down like an anchor, stifling and heavy; as did the ornate headpiece, brought from Dragonstone on such short notice. She reached up to tug on it, only to let out a startled yelp when Rhaena smacked her hands away with a glare. You'll mess it up, her sister's eyes seemed to say.

Baela scowled at her as she rubbed at the now stinging skin, but let them fall to her side nonetheless, her head twisting to the side a minute later at the sound of knocking, followed by a voice partially muffled by the thick wood of the door. "Are you ready, Your Grace?"

She let out a breath as she dropped her hands to her sides. She was not ready, and she doubted she ever would be but she raised her voice nonetheless, just loud enough to let her reply carry the distance to where the servant could hear her clearly. She glanced down one final time, inhaling a breath as she steeled herself silently, the thump of her heart as loud as a drum in her ears.

"You look beautiful, sister," Rhaena murmured, as if she sensed the conflict raging beneath her skin.

"As do you," Baela said as she shot her a grateful smile, squeezing her fingers gently. She let go of Rhaena's fingers a minute or two later as she pulled away, smoothing her palms over the stiff cloth, exchanging one last glance with her before stepping past her and out into the corridor.

The ride to the Dragonpit was torturous, and she hated it.

Her previously half pleasant mood was gone, having vanished like smoke what felt like ages ago, replaced with irritation and the steadily growing urge to snap at someone, despite the fact that it was only herself and Rhaena in the wheelhouse, a fact she cannot help but be grateful for.

"If I must suffer one more-" she all but snarled as she grit her teeth each time the wheels of the wheelhouse jostled over the uneven streets the closer and closer they got to the Dragonpit. Or what was left of it, half demolished as it was now.

Her hands dropped to her lap, resting one over the other as she began twisting the gold ring around the fourth finger of her left hand in a nervous tic.

"At least we're almost there," Rhaena murmured half under her breath from the seat across from her, an attempt at placating her, leaning forward to rest a hand on her arm. Baela made a wordless sound of agreement in her throat as she turned her head to the side, blinking every time sunlight filtered in through the star-shaped holes. Rhaena opened her mouth to say something else, but Baela had turned away, in no mood to hear another word.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, save for the jubilant sounds of shouting from the people lining the streets on either side of the carriage. "Gods above-," she grumbled out in relief when she felt the wheelhouse rock to a stop, seeing stars as she raised her hand to her eyes to block out the glare of the sun, the sight of their grandsire standing hardly more than a foot away, the Velaryon seahorse stitched out in silver thread, bright against the dark hue of his tunic.

"Grandfather," she greeted shortly as she stepped down, ignoring the hand he had extended towards her, exhaling when both her feet were flat on the ground.

"Granddaughter," he said gruffly in response as he set his hands on her shoulders, tilting his head to look her in the eye. She squinted against the sun as she tipped her head back to look up at him, caught off guard by the odd look in his eyes, one that she did not know what to think of.

"If only Rhaenys and Laena could see you now," he murmured, his words doing little except to startle her further, "They'd be so very proud of you. I know it."

Blinking in surprise at the mention of her mother and grandmother, Baela felt the pricking, tell-tale sting of tears in the corners of her eyes as his words sunk in. She opened her mouth as if to speak, a question on the tip of her tongue, but he turned away before she could.

She knew he grieved for his wife as she and Rhaena did, mourning her in his own way. He fell silent again, the look in his eyes turning into something more scrutinizing, as if he was studying her. "His Grace is waiting," was all he said, his voice turning brusque once more, brooking no room for an argument. Baela watched him go silently, the broad width of his back filling her vision as he ascended the steps of the Dragonpit before disappearing inside.

"Ābrazȳrys." Her husband's tone is cold and flat, carrying nary a trace of affection- not that she expects him to have any.

Husband.

It still felt more than strange to call him that, the sole word as foreign to her as anything, even though it's been a month since their marriage. No matter how fervently she wishes to forget, she can still remember some parts of the ceremony as clear as day. She doubted she ever would now, not with the way they all but clung to her like shadows in the back of her mind.

The feeling of the dragonglass Aemond had pressed to her lip and to the skin of her palm. The sharp pain that had followed it and the iron smell of the blood that welled in its wake. The look in his eye when he had drawn the Valyrian glyph for fire on her forehead. The look on his face when she had done the same to him, the glyph for blood standing out as red as garnets against his skin.

"What do you want?" she demands of him, knowing what he'll say anyway. She braces her weight on her elbows as she looks towards where he stands in the doorway, not missing the way he's still wearing the same tunic he had been earlier.

Aemond frowned at her words, a crease forming between his brows. "We must do this for the realm-" he starts to say, his voice now carrying a steely edge. "Our duty-"

He was standing close enough for her ears to pick up the breath he let out, the sound long and slow- a sign of his growing agitation. Baela fought the urge to smile as she half turned on her side to face him, her shift slipping down her shoulder. "Damn the realm," she said viciously as she all but bared her teeth at him like some wild beast.

Even with the urgings of the Small Council, as well as those of her grandfather and his mother, she had hardly, if any desire to know him. "I do not want you here. So go away," she repeated, her voice little more than a snap now, doing her hardest to ignore the heat crawling up her spine, more than acutely aware of his stare, feeling the heavy weight of his gaze burning into her skin. "You're more than welcome to go slake your lust elsewhere, husband."

He retreated a step or two at her words, a wounded look darting across his face.

"Another day," he said finally, when she didn't relent, making his way towards the door.

She ignores him anyway.

"Cousin."

Rhaena's head lifted at the sound of Aemond’s voice, eyes trailing to fall on his expression.

Even from this far, she could taste the tension all but oozing from him like wine overflowing from a cask, his brow furrowed, his mouth turned down in a frown, as if something was troubling him. He looked half out of place in her chamber, looking rather like an inkblot, the dark of his tunic and his breeches standing out against the lighter, paler colors.

"Ae-"

No, she could not call him Aemond- not anymore at least. He was the King now, and her sister's husband to boot. "Your Grace," she says cautiously, setting aside her book as she rises to her feet. "Is there something I might-"

He cuts her off before she can finish speaking, his eye darting around her chambers before settling on her face. "Your sister," he all but blurts out, before clearing his throat, spots of color infusing along his cheekbones. "Baela," he amends as he twists his arms behind his back. "I…I do not know what to do. She-"

Rhaena tilted her head as she studied him, her gaze as sharp as a knife's edge, more than aware of how he seemed almost nervous, her good-brother, flustered in a way she cannot remember ever seeing from him- not even when they'd been children.

"What have you tried, Your Grace?"

"I-" he seemed to stumble over the word, glancing up at her before dropping his gaze downward to his feet. Rhaena watched as he removed his crown, holding it with one hand as he ran the other over his hair, sending the pale silver-gold strands further into a state of dishevelment.

"My sister is being unfair," she admitted, feeling a faint pity for him. "But she is headstrong, willful and proud. She always has been."

"You do know her best," he murmured quietly as he met her stare, a sliver of light skirting over his face in a way that illuminated the smudged, half-moon shadow under his eye. Her pity for him grew, though she kept it to herself as she nodded wordlessly, gaze dropping down to his boots, a slew of thoughts churning in her skull.

"If I might speak freely, Your Grace?"

He nodded, the bobbing of his almost eager in a way. "Please."

Rhaena hesitated. "She likes hawking," she said finally as she bit her lip in thought, "And riding. We used to do it on Dragonstone when the weather was favorable."

He nodded again, humming as he listened to her, a resolve growing in his eye.

His eye met hers then, an unspoken agreement passing between them. Baela would no doubt be angered by this, but her anger would fade, it had to- for the good of the realm. Rhaena let a half rueful grin form on her lips, practically able to hear the sound of her sister's voice in her mind, seething and laden with fury, as well as the saying she had taken to like a fish to water.

Fuck the realm.

"Thank you, goodsister," he said lastly, half turned towards the door. Rhaena dipped her head, the sound of her braids sliding over her shoulders filling her ears.

She could only hope that it would work.

And it does.

As one turn of the moon becomes two, then three, the change within the Keep grows more than noticeable with each day that passes, much to the relief of them all.

They have been married for four moons when Baela enters his chambers, crossing the room in several short strides to stand before him, arms folded behind her back, tapping the heel of her riding boots on the flagstones, her stare lingering on the sight of his bowed head, unused to the sight of him without the crown, his hair falling loose and unbound over his shoulders. She does not blame him though, not really, not when she knows the weight of it.

"Will you take me flying? On Vhagar?"

Aemond's head lifted at the sound of her voice, grinning softly at the sight of her before him. "Hello to you too," he murmured as a greeting.

"Well?" she asked again, more than a little impatient now, rocking forward then backward on the balls of her feet. She could not help but think of her own dragon then, pretty Moondancer, who had perished during the fall of Dragonstone, and even thinking about her now felt like a shard of glass embedded in her chest, like a phantom limb, the pain of which would never truly go away.

Aemond's stare only seemed to grow sharper the longer he held her gaze, searching and almost intrusive in a way, as if he meant to cut her open from the base of her throat to navel, and Baela cannot help but shiver faintly at the thought of it. “Why do you want to go so badly?” he countered, voice laden with suspicion as he stands, unfolding himself from the chair behind the desk with a languid, effortless grace.

“Can I not wish to spend the day with you?” She grins, her tone taking on a teasing edge as she stared down the bridge of her nose at him. Or tried to at least, the action made all the harder by the inches he had over her. He only hums as he raises an eyebrow, standing near enough to where the ends of his boots touch her own.

She can practically feel the heat bleeding through his clothes, the blood of the dragon running hot indeed, she muses. His breath fans across her face softly, still smelling of the baked apples soaked in honey they'd broken their fast on hours before.

"I cannot simply abandon my duties to go flying. The realm-"

She huffs a laugh, raking one hand through the braid Rhaena had been successful in wrangling her curls into. "Fuck the realm. It can spare you for half a day. I am your wife and I wish to go flying with you." She says as she stares at him, daring him to protest more.

"Very well," he relented with a sigh, turning his head to the side to glance back to the stacked parchment on his desk.

She fought the desire to grin victoriously.

Her lips parted slightly at the sight of Vhagar before her, little opaque wisps of smoke coming from her nostrils as she slumbered.

Since the war had ended, she'd taken to sleeping more and more, her chosen resting spot the patches of now flattened grass just beyond the city gates. One of her eyes opened as they neared, the great orange pupil surveying them.

Aemond's shoulder brushed against her own as he moved forward, "Lykiri, Vhagar," he murmured as he laid his hand flat on her snout, the sight making the sliver of affection that had lodged in her chest grow, warmth pooling low in her stomach.

Aemond stretched out his other hand to her, the look in his eye almost gentle. "Come."

Baela stared up at him, hesitating for a moment, before she edged forward, keeping one eye trained on Vhagar as she slid her hand in his, letting him pull her up. She let out a sound, one as close to unbridled delight as Vhagar began to lumber forwards, each flap of her wings sending them higher and higher into the sky. She let her eyes fall shut at the feel of the wind whipping through her silver curls, lashing like shards of ice against her cheeks, the space all around them empty save for clouds and the blue of the open sky stretching as far as she could see.

It was peaceful, flying on dragonback this high up, so much so where she could almost forget anything and everything that was happening miles below her. Her breath hitched in her chest at the feel of Aemond tightening his hold on her, the arm he'd wound around her waist before they'd left the ground growing almost impossibly tighter, constricting like a serpent.

The aquiline slope of his nose nudged against her cheek as she half turned her head to the side, the sound of him muttering something against her skin drowned out by the shrill whistle of the wind, his words faint enough for her to miss, too distracted as she was by the sound of his breath against the shell of her ear. By the steady rise and fall of his chest behind her and the feel of his lean frame, a hard line at her back.

"Look," he rasped, his voice coming louder this time as he raised a hand from the ropes, applying the faintest bit of pressure on her face to turn her head forward again. They were still flying, but it wasn't the city under them anymore. Instead it was the coastline and the familiar waters of Blackwater Bay, the almost dirty gray hue of the water lit gold by the sun, and her eyes widened at the sight before her.

It was beautiful.

Startled, Baela shrieked when Aemond's hand tightened on the reins, angling them downward into a nosedive. She let out a sharper sound when Vhagar leveled, angling to the right, one wing brushing the water's surface and sending a spray of water into the air.

Full of exhilaration, she felt a laugh bubble up in her chest, blood roaring in her ears.

Oh, how she had missed this.

They had returned to the Keep just after the sun had set, the almost rose hue that had made the houses and buildings of the city all but glow fading as the sky darkened to the familiar indigo of the approaching twilight, the two of them windblown and stinking of dragon.

The servants had needed no further warning before a line of them entered one after the other, bringing in bucketfuls of steaming water. Baela had watched them fill the gleaming copper tub almost impassively, arms folded across her chest as she had waited until the last one had left before turning her focus back to where Aemond had sat in one of the chairs situated around the hearth.

His hair gleamed, shadows from the flames highlighting the angles and lines of his cheekbones, dancing across his face. She drew herself up tall, spine going taut like a drawn bowstring as she stared at him, desire pooling low in her belly.

"Aemond…" she crooned from where she stood, still wearing the black dragon riding robes she had earlier, her desire clear. "Are you going to fuck me now, husband?"

His head snapped towards her, half startled. His eye narrowed, lust warring with suspicion on his face, his fingers flexing against the arms of the chair. "You-"

"Are you deaf as well as stupid?" She cannot help but say snidely, watching his pupils dilate as she loosened the lacing on the front. "You're too far away." Come closer, she does not say.

He shot to his feet, not needing another word of encouragement. Baela shivered as he stalked towards her, the almost predatory hunger burning in his eye. He had the singular ability to make her feel exposed now, cut open and laid bare before him.

Weak.

Soft.

A mockery of everything she was. Everything she wasn’t.

His jaw clenched each time she took a step backwards, the predatory look in his eye morphing into something more dangerous, a wicked smirk cutting across his mouth as he followed her, stopping when the backs of her legs hit the bed.

His hands fell to rest on the curve of her waist, standing out stark and pale against the night-dark fabric of her riding tunic. Baela pushed at his chest slightly, scarcely daring to breathe as he drew even closer, resting one hand on her neck. Her fingers closed around his wrist loosely, every brush of his thumb over her skin making her breath catch in her throat.

She felt warmth heat her cheeks, taking the opportunity to look up at him from under her lashes, wondering if he could feel her pulse thrumming under her flesh. She watched him as he took a half step closer, his eye darting from her eyes to her mouth and back again. It almost seemed like he was just as nervous as she was, but she did not put much stock into it.

She trembled, half out of fear or something else she could not name, tentatively flattening her hands to his chest, feeling the muscle lurking beneath the surface shift under her palms as she stilled, the sound of her heartbeat echoing in her ears.

He pushed at her riding clothes roughly, sliding the fabric down her arms before tossing the garment away blindly, his breathing seeming to grow shallower as his face lowered to loom mere inches from her own, his fingers disappearing into the curtain of her curls before kissing her again. Baela moaned against his mouth, her fingernails leaving half moons in the leather of his tunic.

He let out a low noise as her legs lifted then, wrapping around the narrow line of his waist, the sound hovering halfway between a snarl and a groan that had the coil at the base of her spine tightening. "You are a wicked temptress," he groaned again, eye closing at the feel of her pressing kisses to the side of his neck.

She reached for his eyepatch then, fingers stilling mere inches from it, an unspoken question in her eyes.

Aemond nodded, wordlessly bobbing his head, his hand splayed flat against her back.

Her fingers brushed over the raised skin of his scar, skirting upwards to slip beneath the square of leather before gently tugging it from his head. The sapphire in his eye socket was more lovely than she wanted to admit, glittering at her as it did now in the low light.

She traced the planes of his face, her touch gentle and as soft as a feather. Was he surprised by it? Surprised that she could be gentle with him? That she wanted to be? Her eyes slide over him, all but devouring the way he is almost beautiful. She kissed him again, her lips brushing across his own.

Aemond hisses quietly, a breath rattling from between his clenched teeth as she does. The sound is as loud as a dragon's roar in her ear, and were it not for the near-nonexistent distance between them, she's more than certain she would not have heard it.

His eye followed the path of her fingers, watching as they dropped lower and lower before coming to rest at the laces of his breeches, nostrils flaring with each breath, the sensation of her fingers brushing feather-light across his stomach almost too much to bear.

She glanced up at him from under her lashes, a half coy smirk lifting one side of her mouth up.

Tormenting him. Taunting him.

His eye trailed up again, the sight that greeted him made his cock ache all the more. He pressed closer, his lips dragging down the line of her throat, vaguely aware of her fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulders, the distraction of her kiss overpowering any rational thought he might have previously had.

"Only a dragon can love a dragon, Aemond. And you are mine."

Aemond moans in her ear at that, his fingers tightening on her hips, bruising almost. He could barely breathe, dizzy and almost breathless as the potent, rich smell of her all but ingrained itself into his senses so very thoroughly, like an insect burrowing into the ground. “If you want me to stop,” he rasped, feeling his heart slamming against his ribcage, “Tell me.” His voice was a low murmur in her ear, his breath fanning hot by her ear as he trailed his hands down her sides.

“No,” she breathed, trying to press closer to him, feeling his cock hard against her belly. “Please, Aemond-” She nipped at his skin, a barely noticeable scrape of her teeth against his pulse point, grinning as she felt it jump beneath her lips. She kissed him again, and again, feeling her pulse fluttering under the thin as parchment skin of her wrists and her throat.

Aemond only chuckled, the vibration from it rolling through her, only to choke out a moan a second later, the noise weaving and twisting with hers.

They are married five moons when she blocks his exit from the council room with a hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump, thump, thump of it beneath her fingers.

She bit her lip as she held her breath, keeping her eyes trained on his face. "I'm with child."

His eye goes wide at her words, wider than she's ever seen it. She shifted on her feet, feeling the half elated sensation in her chest fading the longer he didn't speak.

"Truly?"

"Yes," Baela nodded, feeling the giddiness grow stronger, unfurling low in her belly like a ship's sail. "The maester confirmed it this morning."

A buoyant smile splits his face cheek to cheek. It was not the smirk she had all but grown used to seeing, a genuine one that stretched his lips, making his eye crease.

"Baela."

She stilled, the thought that this was the first time he's called her by her name echoing in her head as she turned to face him. "Say it again," she demanded.

"Baela," he repeated, drawing the word out slowly.

Between one blink and the next, she all but launched herself at him, twisting and coiling around him like a serpent around its prey. She thinks later that it was in that moment she could almost love him.

The news does not stay between them for long, and soon enough a feast is hastily prepared in celebration.

Glancing at Aemond from the corner of her eye, Baela could feel the tension thrumming under his skin, all but radiating from him in waves where he sat beside her, one hand curled loosely around his cup, his other tapping an almost agitated rhythm against the cloth covered table, the line of his shoulders stiff and his posture unrelenting.

She leaned closer, her hand grasping his arm as she arched upwards, ghosting her lips over his ear. "Dance with me," she murmured boldly, delighting internally when he stiffened at the contact.

"You know I abhor dancing, ñuha jorrāelagon."

Aemond’s voice is barely more than a whisper, low and hushed, in that manner that is entirely his own. It is a trait of his that she has grown rather fond of, his ability to not be one to speak when he did not need to, choosing instead to stay silent and observe those around him like a bird of prey.

"And you are-"

Her gaze sharpened, daring him to say it.

"Forgive me."

He must have sensed her irritation as not even a minute later she felt his hand settle on her thigh, the warmth of his palm bleeding through the fabric of her dress. She huffed under her breath, lips pressed together tightly. "I might," she says nonetheless, knowing full well the effect her words would have on him.

Sure enough, his hand tightens on her thigh, his touch turning slightly painful. She can feel the weight of his attention on the side of her face, not having to even turn her head to be able to tell his eye is heavy-lidded, his pupil no doubt swallowed and dark now.

"Do you think they'd notice? If we were to depart," she murmurs innocently, offhandedly, keeping her gaze straight ahead, pressing her lips together to repress a smile when the sound of his breathing changes, growing ragged and hoarse with each second.

They have been married for six moons now, and it is the first time she does not wake up alone.

"Good morning," she breathed quietly, watching as Aemond cracked an eye open, his breath little more than soft huffs of air against her face.

"You're watching me," he noted, his voice low and rasping, still carrying miniscule traces of sleep.

"Perhaps I like watching you, husband," she said in return, brushing a loose strand of hair behind his ear, letting the earthen smell of him envelop her then, the heat he radiated making their bed almost stiflingly hot.

His mouth twitched at her words, faint and almost hardly noticeable. There was a softness in his eye as he looked down at her, thumb swiping as light as a feather across her lower lip. “Gevie,” he murmured as he cradled her face between his palms,, the golden glow behind him caught in his hair, setting the pale strands alight.

"I love you," She breathed as she tugged his hand away from her face. She twined her fingers with his, turning his hand over to trail a nail over the lines in the center of his palm, lifting it to her lips, watching his expression as she did, knowing deep down that there was no going back.

Not now. Not ever.

More time passes, the months going by one after the other, her belly swelling until she cannot see her own feet. She has few visitors, not that she minds, having her twin and Aemond beside her more than enough. Though there had been times she'd been seconds away from snapping at him out of ire.

He is locked within the council chambers- has been since that morning, a fact that she is more than grateful for, to be honest. It is only Rhaena and one of her handmaidens now, both of them hardly breathing a word.

"Rhaena," she forces out, fighting to keep her face blank at the sharp bite of pain in her belly. "I think-" she does not have to say another word, watching with wide eyes as her sister scrambles to her feet.

"Should I-"

Baela nods, a single, sharp dip of her head.

She squeezes her eyes shut as she lets out a guttural breath from between clenched teeth and wishes the pain would stop.

"Push, Your Grace," the midwife ordered, not unkindly. Baela only glowered at her as she gritted her teeth, nostrils flaring with each inhale and exhale she took.

"Where is he?"

"He's outside, sister," Rhaena soothed, squeezing her fingers lightly. "Waiting."

"Bring him here," she growled, uncaring of the way the midwives exchanged slightly uneasy looks with each other. "Do it!" she all but snarled at them. They did, scattering like a flock of birds, one of them moving brusquely towards the doors.

"Aemond."

He moved towards her quickly, half settling beside her. "Ñuha jorrāelagon," he murmured as he clasped her hand in his, pressing his lips to her brow.

The midwife comes forward again, mouth opening to speak, though Baela hardly hears a word as she closed her eyes, hearing Aemond's sharp inhale of breath as she squeezed his hand, her nails leaving reddened marks in the shape of half moons in his skin. Time seemed to tick by as slow as a snail's pace before she let out another breath, her chest rising and falling quickly as she half slumped against his chest, tendrils of her sweat soaked silver hair clinging to the skin of her neck, hearing the wailing of not one babe two split the quiet like a crack of thunder.

"Twins, Your Grace."

"Let me see them," she said as she held her arms out.

"She looks like your mother," her grandfather says later, the tip of his finger tracing over her daughter's face from where he stood beside Rhaena. "Does she have a name yet?"

"Laena," she says softly, "Her name shall be Laena. For my mother." She half turned towards Aemond, a question lingering in the depths, "And Aegon for your brother?"

Aemond shook his head. "No," he echoed, feeling his throat tighten, "not Aegon. Daeron."

"Daeron," Baela murmured in agreement. "It's a strong name for your heir."

"It is," he agreed, albeit weakly from where he stood over her, his eye flicking from the newborn boy cradled in her arms to the girl resting in Rhaena's arms opposite him. The boy who was the spit of Aemond, right down to the shape of his eyes and the slope of his nose.

His son.

His daughter.

Twins.

He swallowed as he took a half step closer, keeping his eye trained on them. "May I?"

Baela's head snaps upward at the sound of his voice. "Are you truly asking to hold your own children?" she asked, an incredulous expression spreading across her face. She let out a laugh as he sent her a more than unamused look. "I jest, husband."

He only frowned at her, hardly looking convinced, but let it go anyway.

She shifted against the pillows, careful not to jostle their boy too much as she sat up straighter. "Here," she said, softer this time as she placed Daeron in his arms. She watched them carefully, not missing the way Aemond stiffened, watching with rapture as his son's eyes opened, already a light shade of purple.

"He has my father's eyes," she noted, drawing a finger over the skin of his cheek, meeting Aemond's gaze when he glanced up at her, a look in his eye that she'd never seen before.

Rhaena had been right that day, she couldn't help but think as she grinned at him. He had been trying to be a good husband to her, patient even when she rebuffed and refused him those early months, refusing to budge over and over and over again.

Or maybe she had been too prideful, too full of her own hubris and too blind to admit it.

#my fics #aemond targaryen #baela targaryen #house of the dragon #prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction

149 notes · View notes

brainrotcharacters · 8 months

Text

Lifeline

ship: opla luffy x reader

summary: Luffy sees you hanging over the edge of the ship, holding nothing but a piece of rope in your hand.

a/n: remember when I said my meltdown felt finished? So that was a fucking lie. I wrote a comfort fic instead.

tags: sfw, one piece live action, reader is a devil fruit eater, suicide attempt, angst/comfort, friendship, the Strawhat crew is a found family, Luffy fulfills the caregiver role

Everything was set into place. After such a long time, you finally controlled one part of your life.

Ending it.

You were going to do it during a clear night sky. There was the sounds of the winds against the sails of the Going Merry, and the lapping of the ocean waves against its magnificent hull. Usopp took great pride in keeping the ship in peak condition― it was easy to keep filling his mug with booze as he boasted about the ship, and it didn't take long for him to weave belowdecks to find his puke bucket.

Nami and Zoro were more difficult to put under, until a comment misheard by one of them led to another drinking game that ended with both of them unconscious under a table. Sanji helped you get them to bed, but when Zoro wrapped a massive arm around him, he was as good as pinned to the mattress with them. You ignored his pleas as you slowly exited the room, moving two barrels of dried meat in front of the door. Sanji's kicks are strong enough to break through wood, but the idea was to delay his movement, not stop him.

The rope in your hand strained as you lean further over the portside. Your feet remained on deck, but the rest of you teetered dangerously beyond the edge. As a Devil Fruit eater, you had a death wish, setting out to sea. Now you were proving everyone right.

"What are we looking for?"

Goddamn Luffy. You couldn't think of how to put him under, and now you were out of time. Luffy descended the ratlines at your right, eagerly squinting into the inky black ocean. "Are there any dolphins? Are they awake at night? I couldn't hear them from up at the crow's nest."

"Luffy..." you loosened your grip on the rope, the literal lifeline that kept you anchored to the ship. "Leave me alone for a bit, please. Sanji needs help with Nami and Zoro. They've been drinking."

"Sanji can take care of them." He planted his sandaled feet on the bulkhead, detaching from the ratlines. "He takes care of all of us. Even you."

Oh, the bastard. A forced, empty laugh escapes your mouth. "I feel the need to ask. Can you tell what I plan to do?"

He blinked slowly, and that's when you suspected he might succeed to persuade you against it. "Yeah. By the way, if you jump, I'm jumping in after you."

This time, you laughed more genuinely. True; in the short time that passed since you first joined, you knew Luffy had that type of personality.

Luffy smiled, simply happy that he heard your real laugh. The you that was his friend was still in there somewhere. "Y/n, please give me your hand."

He lifted his own, palm facing up. All things considered, he could use his ability and yank you back. But he wasn't that kind of captain―wasn't that kind of person.

"I'm out of place, captain." You keep your attention fixed on the ocean. It was easier than seeing Luffy's face. "I don't have much to offer anyone on this ship, least of all you. Joining you was a mistake."

"You don't mean that." Luffy had seen a similar devastation before. Nami, back when they helped free Coco Village from Arlong. "We like having you here. We all want to keep sailing with you."

A scoff splintered your throat on the way out. "What's your point?"

Luffy shifted on his feet, confused. The point? "You said you're out of place. Then, we'll make a place for you!" He thought they were already doing that, anyway.

He watched your grip on the rope slacken further. Only an inch of rope left before you fall to your death. Luffy scowled. "What about your dream?"

You roll your eyes, even as they prickle with tears. You say over your shoulder. "Someone else will be born and have the same dream. Let them fulfill it."

Luffy stopped himself from complaining about how lazy, how defeated of a thinking that was. Think like a captain. He told himself. "Y/n, no one else will pursue your dream the same way you would. That other person will do one thing differently than you, and you wouldn't be able to scold them for not following your lead. Because you chose to jump tonight."

The stars shimmered on the ocean surface tonight. You couldn't see where the sky ended and the sea began, only that it was dark. And Luffy was a red and blue and orange beacon within your reach.

"They won't..." You swallow the image that formed in your head. A child who didn't know any better, deciding to change one key element of your dream for the hell of it. "They won't pursue it how I would."

"Right." You heard Luffy take two steps closer. "So come on, Strawhat. Take my hand."

You find the strength to turn your head. Luffy's hand remained lifted, open and welcoming. Especially to the undeserving.

He offered you a tender, genuine smile. The softness reached his eyes. "We both know that when you take my hand, I will help you. All of us will help you, Y/n. But only after you reach for my hand."

He was cruel, your captain. This was him asking you to continue living. To continue suffering, to continue feeling pain. With him. With everyone. The annoying thing about Luffy was that he believed his crew has each other's backs, and actively made sure it became true.

Zoro was half asleep, but he still protected the back of Nami's head when they both fell on their asses under the table. Sanji complained about Zoro's weight on him, but still made sure his and Nami's necks were at comfortable angles. Usopp embraced everyone good night and sang garbled songs about how he found his courage with the crew, on his way belowdecks. When the singing stopped, the puking began. Sanji and you had chuckled to overhear it.

Goddamnit. You think to yourself, twisting fully and grabbing Luffy's hand.

Your captain grinned, pulling you close. His arms were solid as they braced around your middle, hand grasping your shoulder from behind. His face was buried in your hair, his next words muffled. "There we go. The crew is complete again."

#one piece live action #one piece #luffy #opla #opla luffy x reader

480 notes · View notes

a-staphaios · 2 months

Text

Oliver Fog - The Representation of Trade Unions Post-War

When most people talk about Oliver Fog, it’s never through an analytical lens. He is mostly used for the sake of shipping and sibling headcanons. And if his backstory is ever addressed, it’s normally taken wrong. Oliver isn’t a character who just hates work. In fact it could be argued that he is a microcosm of trade union representatives in his time period.

First I must discuss the importance of trade unions on Oliver’s character especially of 1953. I say 1953 because Oliver mentions that he has not worked overtime for 211 days in his anecdote. Trade unions at the time were much more powerful than they were today, and had much heavy tight links to the UK Labour Party, which was undoubtably much more left wing than it is today. The leader of Labour at the time was Clement Attlee who, while no longer Prime Minister, was one of the most influential socialists in UK history and helped to set up the NHS. I bring this up due to Attlee’s influence on the country and left wing politics as a whole, and as a civil servant, Oliver would have been aware of him.

Let’s now take a look at Arsenal. Oliver says he was a fan of them as a child since they were a popular team, but for that we must look at Arsenal’s history to find out how old Oliver would have been. Seeing how Oliver turns 15 in 1952, he would have been born in 1937, just before the outbreak of WW2. Highbury Stadium was build in 1939 and the Football League was suspended for the duration of the wartime period, meaning that it was impossible for Oliver to have seen them at a young age. The earliest he could have seen the team by walking out on his own was at the age of 10. At this point in his life, Oliver would have lived through the death, devastation and brutality of a wartime period and how it left Britain bankrupt.

Arsenal’s red colour palette is also telling due to it being his favourite team - red is a colour that politically means left wing ideologies, and in the UK is a reference to the Labour Party, as well as its anthem The Red Flag, a socialist song about the labour movement. It’s possible that the fact Oliver’s favourite team being Arsenal was picked especially for this comparison, but at the same time it might just be me leaning in too far.

Oliver has a persistent want of an eight hour work day in reference to the social movement prevalent after the Industrial Revolution, where working hours were long and children were exploited for labour. While the UK to this day doesn’t have an eight hour limit to the work day, there have been major strides, and it was first accomplished in 1889 by the founders of the modern day GMB union. The fact Oliver specifically becomes part of this social movement is telling of his feelings about rights. There’s also his hatred of overtime, which adds onto this.

Oliver’s rant to A Knight could also be alternatively read as a rant on a predatory structure or system.

I’m not even supposed to be here! I’m just a boy, but because of your dreamed-up notions of purpose and responsibility, I was forced to become a Fogwalker. I never wanted to walk amongst the fog. I’m terrified of it… I just want to… I just want to stay alive.

Oliver is without hope at the beginning of his anecdote, lost in not knowing why he so readily took up the position of the Fogwalker. By the end of it he’s become aware of his true beliefs.

The Fogwalker is one who steps into the fog and brings light to others. Fundamentally, it’s a joke like any other, mundane as tightening screws or scooping manure. But that’s not all it is. My father once walked through the fog to bring me hope. On that day, he did the same. “This is my responsibility, and it is our responsibility.” […] On that day in 1952, he also brought hope to the people of London. The hope of survival.

Personally there are a few hints that Oliver falls along left wing ideology such as socialism. This could be especially true of his beliefs in social activism of his attitudes towards labour rights. Let’s take a look at his new garment.

Version 1.8’s location is Russia, presumably in the 1910s before the Russian Revolution that would later set up the groundworks for the Soviet Union, so already the fact the garment comes out in this version specifically is telling. This garment set as a whole is called ‘Constructivism in Concept’. Constructivism is a theory where people acquire knowledge through experience and conversations, not through just seeing things, which could be reflective of Oliver’s anecdote. The garment itself is ‘See You At The Workers Club’. Workers’ clubs were something set up in the USSR and was a place for workers and their families to relax and also a place for propaganda. It was also sponsored by trade unions. I had to use Google Translate for the writing on the sheet metal, and the text reads, roughly, “let’s protect the eight hour working day”.

It’s easy to interpret Oliver as a microcosm through what he does and what he says. As a whole, he is a complex individual, a traumatised overworked teenager.

#reverse 1999 #oliver fog #analysis tag

149 notes · View notes

hashtagartistlife · 10 months

Text

more doodle dumps

1&2: post 686 devastation

3: catching up on ishweek.... prompt was edelweiss

4&5: initial text post from @/falseichiruki on twitter

6: dumb little korean meme that i hichirukified

7&8: i need ichiishi to do what I only want my favourite ships to do: kill each other

9&10: idk what can i say these gingers have an authority kink

11&12: this little au situation thing came to me in a fever dream.... idk i just think it'll be screamingly funny

13&14: more witch x familiar au (used templates for these)

#bleach #ichiruki #ishihime #kurosaki ichigo #kuchiki rukia #artist life #bleach art life #bleach fanart #inoue orihime #ishida uryuu #bleach art shitposting

693 notes · View notes

yaut-jaknowit · 10 months

Text

The Monarch

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 3543

Summary: You’re staying on the mothership with who you thought was your lover. It was the mating season. Before your hunter goes off, he tells you that. You’re left heart broken and in shock. When he doesn’t return in a reasonable time, you leave the quarters and wander the ship. You find yourself at a private area. Out comes her.

Author Note: I told myself I would never make a pink Yautja (just my own preferences) but here I am, making another mommy Yautja to love on.

Masterlist

Ao3

“You’re nothing but a burden.” World shattering words. Gut wrenching words. Words that leave you devastated. No ground to stand on. Nothing to stable yourself.

Your mate, your everything, the person you dropped everything for to be with. He… he, god. No. He couldn’t do this. This wasn’t real! You had to be dreaming. Why would he say that to you? What led to this moment to be dropped nothing more than a pack of potatoes? You were too overwhelmed to think properly. To show any emotion besides a dropped jaw and just to stare into harden eyes. Eyes that used to soften when they found your form.

There was nothing soft or gentle about your giant. No. All of it was gone. Gone from existence.

“Why?”

It’s all that you could muster in the fog clouding your thoughts. Your hands shook at your side, trembling with uncontrollable anxiety. Blood rushed in your ears, the only sound you hear clearly. You just stared into his eyes, not a clear thought between your eyes.

He scoffed, mandibles pulled tight to show his disgust. “You are ooman. You not understand Yautja way. Breeding season, you are of no use to me.”

When you thought it couldn’t get worse, the universe willingly showed how wrong you are. How could a shattered heart break even more? You stumbled a couple steps away from him to hold onto the back of a couch behind me. Even that barely gave you any stability in this moment.

“But-but we, you, how….” All you wanted to do was break down and sob and do everything in your power to keep him. What did he except from you now? What were the next steps to proceed?

The now unfamiliar Yautja kept his head high with pride and arms firmly crossed over a chest you were laying on last night. Last night. Everything was fine last night. Just any normal night. Nothing to show the next morning your mate would abandon you.

He grunted before turning around, putting his back to you and walking away. His claws lightly clicking against the metal floors. Your vision went blurry as he left, unfocused. Mind blank as you tried to make sense of the situation. Then, you fell to your knees with a hearty sob. One that shook you to your very core. You released everything.

For hours, you leaned all your weight against the back of the couch and cried your eyes out. Even after your voice grew hoarse and hurt, you didn’t stop. Now, what were you going to do? Here you were, stuck on an alien ship, with no way back to earth. Your mate abandoned you for… for others. It’s not like you ask or buy a ticket home. With no Yautja to protect you now, you were fresh meat to the younglings or freshly blooded to screw with you. You weren’t going to last a week before someone went too far.

Your pride didn’t allow you to even think about asking your… your ex mate about helping you home. He already just abandoned you without a second thought. Why the change? Why had it changed? You roughly wiped at the tears rolling down you sticky, salty cheeks. More came to wet the skin there. It was pointless until your emotions finally run dry.

A hopeful, hopeless thought kept you there for an unknown amount of time. Maybe he would come to his senses and come back. Anything to give you an ounce of hope this was all a dream, a nightmare. But he didn’t come back in a reasonable amount of time. That made your chest ache somehow more.

That’s when you pulled yourself up by your pants, took a deep breath, and ventured out. Since, your mate decided to up and leave you out of nowhere, there was an unpredictable aura to what he might do to you if he returned and found you. There was nothing in the honor code from truly stopping him from killing you. You were prey. A small part of you didn’t want to believe it but now, you were thrust upon the world of predators as meek prey. Now, you had to survive all by yourself. Out in a world that was fully against you. Just that thought made you want to break down crying again.

The predators that you scuttled past could smell your sorrow, a nasty smell. Many of them already had a distain for the fact you were on the ship. None of this new to you. It was a small uproar at first. But your mate, oh your mate, he defended you and did what had to be done for your sake. Which was claim you as a pet so no one could touch or cause any sort of harm to you.

That’s why this whole change in behavior didn’t make sense.

Your feet carried you as your mind just wandered to all spectrums of the situation. All you were trying to do was reel in some sort of survival plan for the new future. All you had to was survive. Could you do that? Was it possible? You took a shuttering breath and dipped down an empty hall. As you did this, you felt the piercing eyes of predators slowly leaving your trembling frame. The weight finally being lifted off of your shoulders.

From there, you just lumbered along. Not in any rush or hurry. Not paying much attention to the surrounding area. Not caring about what could happen.

One of the wall’s of the hall turned to glass, revealing the vast void of empty space. Stars in distant galaxies sparkled, shining bright like diamonds. There were no nearby planets that you could make out. The sight made you shiver harshly. Here you were, nothing more than a bundle of atoms in a galaxy that didn’t give a shit about you. You were going to die.

So be it. You sat down, back to the wall and gazed out to the galaxy. Despite being dangerous and unforgiving, it was stunning. The stars and colors that the galaxy held took your breath away. Part of the reason you said yes to joining your mate and leaving your planet behind. Look where that got you know. At lease before you die, you can say you’re the only human to go this deep into space. Let alone see this far into the universe. You couldn’t help the shy smile on your lips at the thought.

As you sat there, you smacked your lips together and realized how thirsty you were. All the crying has made you dehydrated. Could you even make it out of the mess hall alive without him? Would you accidentally run into him? If you did, what would h-

A shadow casted over your tiny frame. Fear entered your body like freezing water. Your breath got caught as you didn’t know what to do. Should you dare to look, risk the wrath of a stranger, see the person possible for murdering you? Or just let them have their way and go?

Massive, dark green and mixes of browns, feet could be seen at the edge of your vision. Double shit. You were dead. The feet shifted then you felt a heavy weight settle down next to you. A deep, gruttle groan vibrating the air. All you did was pin your eyes on the ground and refused to move. Or wish death upon yourself.

The new form leaned back against the wall, same as you. Their shadow still blocked out some of the light on you, even sitting next to you.

Finally, you peeked look and felt like you were to shit yourself. Her eyes were already on you, as if she was waiting for you to sneak a glance. Her head wasn’t fully facing you, just looking out the corner of her eyes. You swore you saw an upper mandible quirk up once the two of you eyes met. A massive female was sat comfortably next to you, as if it was completely normal. She was adorn us beautifully created and wrapped clothing and jewelry. You immediately recognized her.

How could you not? A figure that was incredibly posing for just her title. But it wasn’t just that had you trembling in terror. We’ar-ow. Monarch of this mothership. Monarch. Who was sitting next to you without batting an eye about your presence. At this point, you swore there was beads of sweat rolling down your face.

We’ar-ow peacefully rested, eyes now gazing out into the vast universe her kind explores and hunts through. Though, she showed no interest either in a good or bad way, you scrambled to your feet. A swift, unsteady pace started to put as much di- “Wait.” The voice of battle worn yet gentle leader commanded. Despite not being one of her kind, all of your muscles froze. Nothing would listen to the instinct to dash away to somewhere safer.

There was soft tink sound of her metal jewelry behind you. Nothing major nor did a creeping feeling of dread grow. Which told you she hadn’t gotten up to chase you. Maybe she turned her head? Oh, you felt the stare of a predator now.

Claws tapped against metal. “Sit,” We’ar-ow commanded with a voice that held no room for arguing. It sounded like she didn’t even need to try. Like the tone was built in, intergraded since she was a child. Everything atom in your body shuttered; and gave in. You timidly turned back around and found her patting the spot you were just in with a massive hand. Hands that could easily tear your head from your shoulders without much hassle.

Your lungs wheezed quietly as you timidly stepped back over to her, giving yourself an extra foot. Then, you slowly lowered yourself onto the ground.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed how much she towered over you. Not reaching her midriff in this state, probably worse when standing next to each other. Why does she want you here? Your mind was running a thousand miles per minute trying to come up with a reason on why. But nothing logical came to mind, just thoughts of her luring you in to kill you. Even that doesn’t make much sense, yet here you are.

The massive female drew her hand back into her lap and stilled. From what you could feel – not daring to look, she was focused on what was outside the window. You could hear your heart pounding wildly in your ear. The only sound you could hear as you sat tense and rigid. A terrified animal resting next to a predator.

Through the overwhelming sound of blood pumping, you heard that tale tell sign of extra air. “You are that pet I’ve heard much about.” A flare of anger surged through you before a cold dose of water splashed it out. Calm, it’s okay.

Despite her speaking directly at you, you didn’t dare to respond, let alone look at her. “You know it is dangerous to be without your master, correct?” Shit, a question. Nervous of doing something wrong, I just dipped my head. Your mate had warned about going anywhere without him on the first day here. Being a pet gave you protection but some Yautjas don’t believe that humans deserve to be in the presence of them.

She hummed, voice deep and grumbly. “You reek of sorrow.” More of a statement than a question. Right, their kind have a great sense of smell. That meant she could smell everything. Once more, you didn’t say or do anything, afraid of angering her.

Chuckling, guttural in sound. We’ar-ow presence grew incredibly close, suddenly. Her warmth radiating off of her to soak into your skin. You couldn’t help but flinch. An arm raising to cover your head as if that would do a thing against her. “You are pet. I cannot harm you,” she reminded you like that would help your situation.

Almost, you scoffed and were close to opening your mouth to a make remark. One that would cost you your life. Instead, you held your tongue and waited for her to lose interest in you.

“Oomans are strange creatures. So diverse in personality and culture. Why do you k-ri? Why do you sorrow?” Those are questions that required words. Words you didn’t want to speak. Why was she so interested in you? We’ar-ow is an old monarch. She’s had to seen hundreds of humans before. So this whole interaction confused you.

A lump in your throat prevented any sounds from being voiced. Probably for the better.

There was a heavy huff next to you. “I asked you a question. Answer.” Oh, you were so screwed, incredibly fucked. She didn’t even have to pull the title card to have you even more petrified.

You finally were able to swallow the major part of the lump down and nervously cleared your throat. “N-no reason,” is all you can get out. Not daring to spill your trouble to the monarch of this mothership and clan.

She growled at your lie but didn’t move. “I hear your lie,” like a mother scolding their child. Nothing more needed to be said to know that was the wrong route. You flinched by curling into a ball and protecting your head with a terrified yelp. Words that could sound like ‘sorry’ could barely be made out behind your arms and legs. “Speak the truth. I’m curious what had upset a pet to run idiotically through my ship without their master.”

Nothing could move you from your ball. You swallowed once more. “I-I,” you started, immediately stumbling over your words. We’ar-or growled lowly. If it wasn’t for the earlier command earlier, you would’ve been up and out quicker than she could blink. You squeaked and curled up tighter.

“Speak clearly and firm. You make yourself prey by acting like one,” she said, eyes boring into your skull. You didn’t need to see to know this.

You gave a timid nod and breathed in. Gaining a few drops of courage from her words, I straightened back but couldn’t find it in myself to look at her. “My-my master, he abandoned-“ your heart ached at the reminder of what he told you earlier- “me. Told me I was a burden then left.”

Her response was a deep hum before the silence engulfed us again. You didn’t know if that was better than hearing her talk. All you could hear was your heart pounding and the air circulating through the vents. You had to stop yourself from curling up again. Don’t act like prey. Was it better to act argonaut or to be prey surrounded by predators?

“Abandoned you say? Disgusting. He took you into his care, you are his responsibility. I warned him, to ensure this is what he wanted. Dishonorable to abandon you,” she spoke, voice hardened with disgust. Like, she cared about the situation. Did she? Why would she? You found it in yourself to turn your head and looked at her. Her eyes finding yours immediately. “Now, you’re a pet without a master…” Now, you flinched and bowed your head

Rough, textured fingers pinched your chin and lifted your head. We’ar-ow turned your head this and that way. Her piercing eyes studying you. She bummed while in thought before dipping her head for a second. “So be it. You will be my new pet. I’ll challenge that pathetic male just to ensure he cannot say I stole you. Even if he dared to accuse that to me, I would best in a match.” Your heart felt like it exploded in your chest. The monarch… Oh my god. She just-no-I huh?!

You find your voice. “Why?” Immediately, you tried to bow your head again. That was incredibly rude. But her hand simply kept it raised. “Sorry.”

We’ar-ow chuckled. She wasn’t angered or offended. Relief flooded your veins. Almost, you almost relaxed but kept vigilant. After your mate had broken your heart, you weren’t going to be so naïve anymore. The female Yautja leaned in, long tresses slipping over her shoulder. Her hot, moist breath fanning over your face. “Because, I’m the Monarch.” You shuttered. And she was right. She needed no reason to give for taking what she wants. Even if it lands her in a battle.

Her hand was still on your chin and keeping your face towards her. You desperately wanted to pull away, shy away, but she didn’t let you. It seemed like she wanted to make you squirm and sweat under her gaze. “And I take what I want.” That sounded everything besides arrogant. It was truth. Both of you knew it without a doubt.

Your throat bobbed with a nervous swallow. “Okay,” you whispered, barely above silence. One of her upper mandibles quirked up. Her eyes scanned up and down your body before a look of disgust falling over her features. Her free hand pinched at the fabric hanging off of your shoulders that made up your shirt. Clothing that your ex-mate had created for you.

“This will have to change. You reek of that male. No more,” she stated firmly. For once, you agreed with her. It would be a good change, possibly for the better. Though, the pet thing will never sit right with you, you’ll have to work with it.

“And some jewelry. I will not have my pet look so meek or low status. You are pet of Tourk’on Clan’s Monarch. Keep your chin level and be proud of who owns you,” We’ar-ow offered for advice. You timidly looked into her eyes and held the longest eye contact before. It earned you a chuff and a smirk. “Good pet.” Praise that sent your heart fluttering. This time, in a good way.

With the hand not holding onto your chin, she ran a deadly claw down your temple, over the crest of your cheek bone, and down to your jawline before falling over. “You are mine now. I won’t abandon you like that scum male.” Fuck, that caused something deep inside of you to ignite. Yet, you kept your guard up. Your trust had been broken, harshly and without care less than two hours ago. You still ached. You still hurt. But, a small part of you desperately wanted to have what you had with your ex-mate again. It would be difficult to move on after everything that has happened. You could do it though. You have made it this far in a universe destined to kill you.

Then, a yawn broke the scene. You ensured your teeth were kept covered, something you were taught. We’ar-ow slightly pulled back before laughing and shaking her massive head. Today has worn you down to the bone. “Tired, my pet? Already?” You believed yourself to be crazy to think you heard a teasing tone in her voice.

Before you had a chance to do or say anything, two sturdy, thickly corded arms slipped underneath your form. You were simply lifted to be curled against a chest. By god’s grace. You felt like you were dead or dreaming because she didn’t just pick you. God, did she? You looked down. It was her arms holding you to her body. The Monarch was carrying you. Carrying you. She was holding you in her grasp. Her powerful, lethal legs started a path to the designation in her mind. Wherever that might be.

Through the halls of a ship We’ar-ow ruled, the Monarch carried you like a sack of potatoes. All the Yautjas that crowded the halls either stared or did a double take. Many mandibles dropped. Almost an uproar of whispering between everyone sounded the moment the two of past. We’ar-ow didn’t even twitch a muscle in response. As if she was expecting this to happen.

After an elevator ride to the highest floor on the ship, one you’ve never could even dream to be on, she stepped into her room. Or what you believed as hers. We’ar-ow dismissed everything and head straight to a room off to the side. It was around twice the size of your ex-mate’s bedroom.

Off in one corner was an hugely oversized dog bed, more considered a normal bed in your eyes. A large bowl was set close by to said bed, filled with clear liquid. Toys and such, like cat or dog toys sat neatly on the mattress covered bed. Blankets and furs as well.

We’ar-ow didn’t let you have much time to take in the room from her arms and brought you over to the bed. You were placed down. It was heaven. Your body sunk into the fabric as it swaddled you. She stood above you at her full height, apposing and known as fatal. Her piercing eyes pinned on your form and nothing more. “I will let you sleep before retrieving you at a later time. I will change your old master to a duel and win you over.” If this was anyone else, it would be arrogant and boastful. This wasn’t just anyone. We’ar-ow has set out a plan of action she will proceed with.

No if, and, or but’s about it.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #We'ar-ow #A new yautja has appeared

687 notes · View notes

mlbigbang · 6 months

Text

2023 Ladynoir Fic Rec List

It’s the end of the year which means it’s finally time for the ML Big Bang’s yearly fic rec lists! We’re really excited to bring you our contributors’ favourite fics started this year to supply you with plenty of reading material while you’re waiting for the Big Bang fics’ publication in January.

all of your flaws and all of my flaws (are laid out one by one) by @coffeebanana

Ladybug and Marinette have both been acting strangely since Monarch's defeat, and Chat Noir would give anything to know why—to be able to help them. He just…didn't expect his answers to come when Ladybug drags him to his father's statue in the middle of the night along with a bag full of spray paint.

This fic explores the aftermath of the season 5 finale and provides some badly needed hurt/comfort, lovesquare communication, and vandalism ; )

with this ring by @thelibraryloser

She thought “you and me against the world” had sounded like lopsided odds before, when she hadn’t even dreamed “you against me” was a possibility. Or maybe she had dreamed it, but at least in those dreams he’d had cold blue eyes and a stark white mask. The villain she’d fought today had looked at her through her partner’s own bright green eyes. It wasn’t meant to be this way.

It tore at my heartstrings! It deals with a unique Ladynoir 'enemies' premise in a beautiful way

Let Me Count the Ways (aka Chat Noir's List of Ladybug's New Habits) by @sariahsue

Chat Noir thought it might be a good idea to start keeping a list of all the strange things Ladybug had been doing lately. It might help him to figure out what it all meant. There was the stumbling, the stuttering, the blushing. It had appeared out of nowhere. No, that wasn't quite right. It had all started when they were dancing at the gala, when she'd been so nervous that she tripped over the perfectly flat marble floor and smashed her face into his chest.

Like Smoke from a Furnace by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

Marinette and Adrien give up their Miraculous. Ladybug and Chat Noir never meet again.

It's hard to categorize this. Is this a ship or is it gen? It's strictly Adrienette because they're married. But pre-reveal. It forks after Kwami's Choice and asks the question: How would LB cope with LB and CN never getting their miraculous back after Kwami's Choice? But the story's title seems to indicate that this is kind of a "forbidden Ladynoir" fic because it's an allusion to the potentially devastating effects of "looking back" when you shouldn't. I've read this fic like a dozen times and am completely obsessed.

telepathy by @thelibraryloser

There’s a certain amount of telepathy created after several years fighting beside someone. It’s a mix of chemistry, history, and probably a bit of actual magic, and it comes down to this: Chat Noir usually knows exactly what his Lady is thinking. So, when a bike messenger hands him a three digit number written on a piece of hospital stationary, he knows exactly what Ladybug is asking him to do. He just can’t believe it.

soft and sweet and much ladynoir! <3

A 'Super' Guide to 'Super' Dating by @mysticraven20

When Ladybug just scrapes into the top 10 of Paris’ favourite heroes list, she asks her partner and her best friend for help. After they decide she’s not personable enough, which in result, makes her unapproachable, Marinette goes out to try and become one with the public by writing her very own dating blog. As the blog turns into an overwhelming hit, Marinette finds herself in an awkward position, once again falling for the guy she’s always longed for; a guy who has started his own search for love following her ‘Super’ guide to ‘Super’ Dating.

I just love the idea of Ladybug writing a dating column as she tries to find love in the city.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #fic recs #fic rec list #ml big bang #ml big bang 2023 #ladynoir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #love square

293 notes · View notes

mrsfancyferrari · 4 months

Text

My Dream

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pairing: Monkey D Luffy x Y/N

Content: You remembered the reason why you joined Luffy's crew.

A/n: Part One is Here! Sorry if this is too long! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing this! <3

Taglist: @justmeandmyimagination123, @panj53, @petalpetal, @junkie05, @hayden-maximoff, @animadi888, @justlizz444, @bluebreadenthusiast, @tojisloft, @brokenangstyheart

In the depths of your slumber, you were awakened by a peculiar odor that permeated the air. The pungent scent, a mix of decay and exhaust fumes, seemed to engulf your senses as you slowly opened your eyes.

Confused and disoriented, you realized that you were lying in your own bed, yet something felt amiss. The realization that the smell was not a dream but rather a reality sent a shiver down your spine.

As you gazed around, the familiarity of your surroundings slowly dawned on you. The walls adorned with familiar artwork, the dresser that held your personal belongings, and the soft glow of the alarm clock on your nightstand all seemed to indicate that you were indeed in your bedroom.

However, the unsettling presence of the pollution-induced scent remained a constant reminder of the unsettling reality that awaited you outside.

"What's that smell?" you wondered, realizing that this was not the first time you had encountered this odor.

As you pushed yourself out of bed and made your way towards the door, a feeling of trepidation washed over you. With each step, the scent grew stronger, confirming that it was not just a figment of your imagination.

The ship, once bustling with activity and filled with the lively chatter of fellow crewmates, was now eerily silent and devoid of any signs of life. The absence of footsteps and the absence of human voices only added to the sense of foreboding that had been building within you.

It was as if a ghostly presence had swept through, leaving behind only the haunting scent of decay and emptiness.

You hesitantly turned the doorknob, and as the door swung open, your eyes were met with a shocking sight.

In front of you was an island full of smoke, pollution, and death. The once vibrant landscape now lay in ruins, with barren trees and toxic air. The sky was an ominous shade of gray, obscured by a thick layer of smog that choked the life out of everything it touched.

It was also the same country that destroyed yours, leaving a trail of devastation and irreversible damage to the environment.

As you took in the apocalyptic scene before you, you couldn't help but wonder what the crew were thinking, bringing you to this desolate wasteland.

"Hello again, Y/N," a voice said beside you, but before you could see who it was, you felt your consciousness slip away.

As your vision faded, you couldn't help but feel a mix of confusion and fear. The voice that spoke to you was unmistakably familiar, but it belonged to someone who shouldn't have been there - someone who had been pronounced dead years ago. . . .

"Hey guys! Do you think Y/N is still sleeping?" Luffy questioned, remembering the sleepy face you had before you passed out on your bed.

"Knowing her, she probably woke up as soon as we left," Nami chipped in, letting out a silent sigh.

"What do you mean by that?"

Nami said, concern evident in her voice. "She's been sneaking out at night these days. I don't know where she goes or what she does, but it's been happening for a while now."

"I don't know, but it's definitely strange," Luffy replied, his brow furrowing with worry.

After what felt like hours, they made it back to the ship, exhausted and disheartened by the sight of the desolate wasteland they had encountered.

Luffy ran straight to your room, hoping to find you there and put his worries to rest. However, as he opened the door, he was met with an empty room, devoid of any signs of you. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and a sinking feeling of dread washed over him.

"Guys, have you seen Y/N?" Luffy yelled to anyone in particular, his voice filled with urgency and concern.

"No," he heard Nami say from the upper deck. "I haven't seen her since we left the island. I thought she was still sleeping in her room."

"Luffy! Luffy!" Chopper yelled as he ran towards Luffy from his doctor's room. "I found something strange in my room. It looks like a note."

He took the paper and read it, his eyes scanning the words hastily. The note revealed a cryptic message, written in your handwriting, that sent shivers down his spine. It read, "Don't follow me.'"

Luffy's heart sank as he read the note. He placed his straw hat on his head, the weight of worry settling upon him. Without a moment's hesitation, he declared, "I'm going after her."

"Wait Luffy, you can't go alone," Nami said, leaning against the railing. "We have no idea what you might be walking into. Let's gather the crew and come up with a plan together."

"No, this is for me to do alone. I promised her that I would protect her and now this happened," Luffy said, his voice filled with determination. "I won't let her face whatever danger she's in on her own. I'll find her and bring her back safely, no matter what."

Nami sighed, "At least take this," Nami threw a paper which looked ripped, it was a Vivre card, a special type of paper that can lead someone to a specific person.

"It's Y/N's Vivre card. It'll guide you to her no matter where she is. Just promise me you'll be careful, Luffy."

"How do you have it?"

"I may have been cautious about her at first but she's grown on me, she reminds me of me when I was younger," Nami said, "Just bring her back," she added.

Luffy took it with a determined expression, his mind set on finding you and ensuring your safety. "I will, Nami. I promise," he replied, his voice filled with unwavering resolve.

With a burst of energy, Luffy leaped off the ship and dashed into the dense forest, his rubbery limbs propelling him forward. The leaves rustled under his feet as he followed the pull of the Vivre card, his determination fueling his every step.

Nothing would stop him from finding you and bringing you back safely; he would traverse any obstacle in his path to fulfill his promise. . . .

"Wake up little girl!" A voice shouted.

You jolted awake, gasping for air as the cold water soaked through your clothes. Blinking away the disorientation, you found yourself surrounded by darkness. Panicking, you realized that you were trapped in a small, damp cell with no way out.

Fear gripped your heart as you wondered who had brought you here and what they wanted from you.

Laughter filled the room, echoing off the cold stone walls, sending shivers down your spine. The sound was chilling and sinister, making your heart race with terror as you desperately tried to make sense of your situation.

"Looks like the little girl is awake," a male voice said, his tone dripping with malicious glee.

You then felt your chin being grabbed and pulled, forcing you to look up into the eyes of a sinister figure. The dim light revealed a twisted smile on his face, revealing his sadistic intentions.

The thing that terrified you the most was that the man was missing an eye, but not like Zoro's. Half of his face was ruined, scarred and disfigured, giving him a grotesque appearance that sent shivers down your spine.

It was clear that this man was capable of unspeakable horrors, and you couldn't help but fear for your life in his presence.

"We know where you're from," he started, his voice rough and menacing as he moved his hand around your face, tracing the features he described. "Bluish-dark curly hair, mole beside right ear, and sun-kissed skin," he continued, a sinister smile playing on his lips.

"We destroyed your country around a week ago, thinking we killed everyone, then we got intel that one survived," he whispered, his voice filled with sadistic pleasure. "And now, my dear, we found you. Don't worry, we have big plans for you. You will pay for not dying with the others."

As the man's cruel words sank in, tears started to fall without your command. Each tear was a testament to the fear and anguish that filled your heart. You tried to suppress your sobs, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing your vulnerability.

But the tears continued to flow, a silent protest against the injustice of your situation.

Once again, your tears betrayed you, refusing to be controlled. They continued to flow, silently defying your will as they bore witness to the overwhelming despair that consumed you in this moment of unimaginable terror.

It reminded you of when you were with Luffy yesterday.

Luffy. You're sorry I was only able to leave a small note but you hoped he would listen to you and leave you here. They are nothing to what you have defeated.

The laughter continued, "Do you see that! She's crying! Good, Good! You should be terrified of us!"

As the man revealed your tears, another ice bucket was poured on top of you, sending a shock of coldness through your body. The chilling sensation only intensified your fear and made it harder to control your trembling.

You desperately searched for an escape route, but the sinister figure's grip on your chin tightened, leaving you feeling trapped and helpless in the face of the horrors that awaited you.

"How does that feel little girl? Wouldn't it feel better if you had died that day instead of living through this?" He taunted.

"Because of you, I got this so if you think that because Boss said to be gentle with you, don't think I'm going to take this easy," He said, pointing at his face.

"Hey! Boss is coming soon!" A voice yelled from behind the voice, the tone made him sound like he was terrified.

Startled, the man let go of your chin, letting it drop down, and reached for a towel as if you were a disease.

"I'm not finished with you just yet," The man said, smirking.

As the man finished his tormenting words, he turned and left with the rest of the guards, leaving you alone in the cold, damp room. The sound of their fading footsteps echoed in the silence, leaving behind an eerie sense of abandonment and the chilling realization that you were truly alone in this nightmare.

You struggled against your restraints, pulling at the ropes until they cut into your flesh. Your body ached, your mind raced with desperate thoughts of escape, but no matter how hard you fought, the bonds held strong.

It was a cruel reminder of the powerlessness you felt, a stark realization that there was no way out of this nightmare. Your heart sank, and tears welled up in your eyes once more, as the weight of your helplessness settled upon you.

Just as despair threatened to consume you, you heard the sound of footsteps growing louder, echoing through the empty corridor.

You heard thuds once in a while, but you dismissed them as servants bowing on their knees to the boss.

Luffy. I'm sorry that I was defeated this easily. I'm not worthy to be part of the future King of the Pirates crew if I'm like this. It wasn't you that I was destined for after all.

"Y/N! There you are!"

The familiar voice made you look up with your remaining strength, and through blurry eyes, you saw your closest friend, Luffy, standing at the entrance of the room.

But you must have been hallucinating, for there was no possible way that Luffy could have found you in this secret, heavily guarded location. The harsh reality sunk in, and you realized that your mind had conjured up an illusion of hope in the midst of your despair.

It was then that warm hands touched your cheeks and you flinched, afraid that they were going to hurt you.

"Y/N, open your eyes."

With trembling hands, you listened to Luffy's voice and slowly opened your eyes, meeting his gaze.

A wave of warmth enveloped you, spreading from your cheeks to the rest of your body. It felt like a gentle embrace, melting away the coldness and fear that had consumed you.

In that moment, you realized that Luffy's presence had a calming effect on you like no one else. His infectious energy and unwavering determination had always managed to lift your spirits and dissolve any worries or anxieties that plagued your mind.

Then and now.

"L-Luffy," you whispered with a hoarse voice, tears welling up in your eyes.

You couldn't find the words to express how grateful you were to have him by your side, but the look in his eyes told you that he understood everything without you having to say a single word.

Luffy smiled brightly before letting go of your cheeks, his eyes filled with a mixture of joy and relief.

"You know you gave us quite a scare when you weren't in your room," Luffy explained as he squatted down to untie the ropes around your wrist.

Even though your hands were finally free, you couldn't bring yourself to move from the seat. The weight of what you had been through still hung heavy on your shoulders, and you found solace in the familiar presence of Luffy by your side.

You then felt a hand slide behind your back and one under your legs, effortlessly lifting you up as if you were weightless.

"W-wait! I'm wet!" you protested, realizing that you were drenched from head to toe.

Luffy chuckled, unfazed by your statement. "Don't worry about it," he replied, his voice filled with reassurance. "We'll dry you off at the ship. Right now, the most important thing is that you're safe."

You kept quiet as Luffy started walking, his strong arms cradling you protectively.

You then remembered that you were in a secured, hidden base full of guards. How did Luffy even manage to find you?

"Luffy, what happened to the guards...." Your question was answered by the unconscious bodies that greeted you as you left the room.

The guards were clearly knocked out, yet there were no bruises or marks on them. It was as if they had simply fallen asleep.

You looked back at Luffy, who seemed to be focused on finding the exit.

The only thing you were thinking about was. . .

He's so strong. You don't deserve him. He's the sun while you're a rock floating in space. You can't get too close and if you do, you'll get hurt. Maybe you should have died with your country.

"Y/N, don't." The sudden statement made you jump as you looked away from Luffy.

"Don't what?" You replied, acting clueless.

"Don't belittle yourself. You were caught off guard and still fought hard."

From the distance, you saw the exit leading out of the base, and you remained quiet, uncertain of how to respond.

Was he a mind reader as well?

As you got closer to the exit, you were able to make out clearly the expression on the face of Luffy.

Worried but yet disappointed.

When you left the base, you covered your eyes, your eyes barely able to adjust to the brightness of the day. How long did you stay in there for?

"Can you let go now?"

There was no change in Luffy's expression, but he did glance at you this time instead of at his surroundings.

"I won't run away, I'm not that stupid."

With no words said, Luffy gently placed you down on the ground but didn't move far away from you.

You wobbled a bit, but you managed to regain your balance by grabbing onto a nearby tree. The rough bark scraped against your palms, grounding you in the present moment.

You looked up to see Luffy looking around, his gaze scanning the surroundings for any potential threats.

"How did you find me?" You asked as you found the strength to keep standing up, still feeling a bit shaky.

He pulled out a paper out of his straw hat, which seemed to be moving towards you. "I followed you with this Vivre Card," he said, a determined look in his eyes.

"Nami gave it to you?" You asked as you looked at the exterior of the base, taking note of its fortified structure and hidden entrances.

Luffy nodded, his gaze focused on the paper in his hand. "Yeah, she said it would lead me straight to you no matter where you went."

You couldn't help but feel slightly grateful for Nami's foresight and resourcefulness in ensuring your safety.

"Why did you write that note?" Luffy asked seriously, his voice filled with concern.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before responding, "I wrote it because I needed to protect you. I didn't want you to get involved in the danger that surrounds me."

"You know that we're here for you, no matter what it is," Luffy stated. "We're a crew, and we face danger together. Protecting each other is what we do."

"I know," you said, hardly paying attention to him and more to the building.

The only way to ensure that no one comes out of this alive is to make sure everyone dies. There is no other way to deal with the pain they caused you than to put them to death.

"Y/N, look at me," Luffy said, holding your shoulders to face him. "I understand that you're hurt and angry, but taking revenge and causing more pain won't solve anything. We can find another way, together."

"Punch there," you said, pointing to a part that was sticking out of the base.

Without hesitation, Luffy stretched his hands, his rubbery arms extending towards the brick as he prepared to deliver a powerful punch, leading to the destruction of the building.

As Luffy's fist connected with the brick, you noticed a blankness in his gaze, as if there was no spark of consciousness behind his eyes. It sent a chill down your spine, making you question whether this was truly the same Luffy you knew and trusted.

"So why did you just do that?" You confronted him, taking a step forward towards him.

Luffy's eyes widened as he looked at the hand that punched the building with curiosity. As if he didn't control it at all.

"I- I," Luffy couldn't even finish his sentence. This hand has never moved without him telling him to. What did you do to him?

"I- what? How would you understand the pain I've felt because of them. They deserve to die!" You yelled, not caring about the tears that were spilling.

"Y/N..."

"Don't, I thought you understood me but now it seems like we're not the same," You muttered, turning around from him.

"Y/N, listen,"

"No, you listen Luffy, I don't know if you recruited me because you pitied me or because you liked me but I am clearly not built for the life of a pirate."

You hesitated on what you wanted to say last, knowing that if you looked into his eyes, you wouldn't be able to speak anymore.

"I think it's best that we should go our separate ways from now on,"

You thought that he would understand your situation. They killed your family, your friends, everyone in your country. How could you let them live after that?

When you heard no response, you took that as your answer.

As you started to walk away, the forest in front of you began to blur suddenly, and as a result you lost your balance, collapsing to the ground. Your body gave in to exhaustion, and you collapsed onto the ground, the weight of your fatigue overwhelming you.

"Y/N!" you could hear the pain in his voice, as Luffy rushed to your side, his eyes filled with worry. . . . .

You woke up feeling an ache on your neck and you felt tired, not able to remember how you got here. As you tried to stretch and alleviate the discomfort, you realized that your surroundings were unfamiliar. The room was dimly lit, and the air felt stale. Panic started to set in as you struggled to piece together the events of the previous night.

What had happened? How did you end up in this strange place with a nagging pain in your neck?

"Oh! You're awake!" A voice said from the door, its voice was high pitched. You turned towards the sound and saw a small figure, who wasn't even half the height of the door, standing in the doorway, holding a tray of food.

Relieved, you realized that the unfamiliar room was actually the doctor's office. Chopper, your loyal friend, switched on the lights and rushed to your side as soon as he saw you awake.

"I was so worried," he squeaked, his voice filled with concern.

"What happened?" You tried to say, your voice croaky and hoarse as you tried to sit up.

Chopper gently helped you into a more upright position and explained, "You were hit with a kind of poison. The impact caused you to go unconscious immediately, which is why your neck is hurting. Luckily Luffy was there with you."

"Luffy?" You repeated.

That's when your memory came rushing back to you.

"How does that feel little girl? Wouldn't it feel better if you had died that day instead of living through this?" He taunted.

"Because of you, I got this so if you think that because Boss said to be gentle with you, don't think I'm going to take this easy," He said, pointing at his face.

"Y/N, listen,"

"No, you listen Luffy, I don't know if you recruited me because you pitied me or because you liked me but I am clearly not built for the life of a pirate."

You hesitated not what you wanted to say last, knowing that if you looked into his eyes, you would be able to speak anymore.

"I think it's best that we should separate from now on,"

"No," you muttered into your hands, your voice barely audible.

"You know we were all worried about you when you disappeared," Chopper said, handing you a glass of water.

"We thought we had lost you. But Luffy found you in the building and carried you all the way here after fighting all of the bad guys. It's a good thing he has that incredible strength."

Feeling parched, you took the glass and drank the whole thing immediately, feeling the cool water soothing your dry throat.

As you finished, you looked at Chopper with a renewed sense of gratitude and said, "I'm sorry for getting you guys worried."

"No, it wasn't your fault that you got kidnapped - oh no, Luffy said to not mention that!" Chopper squealed, covering his mouth with his hooves.

"It's okay, I feel better already," You said, trying to prove that you were strong enough to even lift him but you failed without even lifting him up an inch.

"Just focus on resting, Nami will bring your dinner when it's time," Chopper stated, gently trying to extricate himself from your grip. "You've been through a lot, so it's important to take care of yourself and let us take care of you for a change."

You nodded, releasing your hold on Chopper.

Though before he left, you asked him a question, "What time is it Chopper?"

"It's 5PM, why?"

"Oh it's nothing,"

This means that Luffy will be at his favourite spot in one hour so you had time to plan what you were going to say to him.

You knew that a simple apology wouldn't be enough to make it up to Luffy for all the hurtful things you had said. You needed to find a way to show him just how much you truly cared and how sorry you were for your actions.

"No, you listen Luffy, I don't know if you recruited me because you pitied me or because you like me but I am clearly not built for the life of a pirate."

Why did you have to say that? It's not like he would actually like you, you thought to yourself.

Thinking more, you couldn't bear the thought of dragging Luffy down or becoming a burden to the crew, so you believed it was better to distance yourself from him at the time.

Unable to think for much longer, you decided to leave the room and get some fresh air, with the help of a pair of clutches. As you stepped outside, a gentle breeze brushed against your face, helping to clear your mind and calm your racing thoughts.

You wobbled and eventually made your way to the front of the ship, where the Thousand Sunny's head posed majestically against the backdrop of the open sea. The sight filled you with a renewed sense of determination as you took in the vastness of the ocean, reminding yourself that you were part of something greater than yourself.

As your eyes adjusted to the light, you saw a figure sitting on the Thousand Sunny's head. It was Luffy, his back facing you as he stared out into the horizon.

A mix of emotions flooded your heart - nervousness, sadness, but also a glimmer of hope. This was your chance to pour your heart out and make things right with him.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through your leg, causing you to lose your balance and stumble forward.

You managed to catch yourself before falling completely, but the pain in your leg intensified. As you looked up, you saw Luffy quickly turn around, his eyes widening in shock as he took in the sight of you stumbling.

"Y/N?"

"Luffy," you muttered, not even realizing you started crying.

The tears streaming down your face mirrored the mixture of emotions inside you, and you desperately tried to hold back the sobs as you struggled to find the right words to say.

A hand stretched out to you and you took it immediately. Luffy, with a concerned expression, quickly but gently guided you to the top of the Thousand Sunny's head, offering you support as you struggled to regain your balance.

When you made it to the top, you took a moment to catch your breath and wipe away your tears.

When you looked closer at Luffy, you realized that he was in a worse condition than you. His whole body was wrapped with bandages, evidence of the intense battle he had fought. He fought for you.

As you caught your breath, you noticed that Luffy's hat was covering most of his face, and it seemed like he wasn't even looking at you.

With your hands still together, Luffy started talking first, his voice filled with concern. "Y/N, what happened to your leg? Are you okay?"

You slightly chuckled, "Can you worry about yourself for once?" You gestured towards Luffy's bandaged body, emphasizing that he needed to take care of himself too.

"Ahh, yeah, this doesn't hurt at all. After all, I did it to save you," Luff answered, looking up to immediately have eye contact with you. No thoughts in those eyes just like before.

You was shocked by the action that he took, which made you look away in order to gain even just the slightest amount of confidence to glance back at him.

"Y/N?"

You turned back to see Luffy pouting, "Yes Luffy?"

"Are you really going to leave me?" Luffy hesitantly said, slightly squeezing your hand that he was holding for comfort.

It broke your heart in half. In a moment of sheer emotion, you took his empty hand into yours and squeezed it tightly in your hands.

It was now or never.

"Luffy, I didn't mean any of the things that I said on the island. I want to stay with you guys forever. I'll train hard to be worthy of the crew of the future King of the Pirates." You paused, "Only if you'll have me."

Luffy grinned like he had already achieved his dream. "Of course I'll have you forever!"

The moment you heard that, you mirrored his expressions and couldn't help but smile. Nothing could bring you down from the moment you heard that.

You hugged him tightly, feeling a rush of relief and happiness wash over you. In that moment, all doubts and worries melted away as you held onto each other, knowing that you had made the right choice. The bond between you and Luffy grew stronger, and you knew that together, you could conquer anything that came your way.

As he slowly let go, both of you remained less than 10 centimeters away from one another's faces, unable to say anything to each other and just gazing at each other's facial expressions.

Your eyes flickered to the scar on Luffy's face, a constant reminder of his battles and the sacrifices he had made. As you continued to gaze into each other's eyes, the tension grew, and you felt an irresistible pull towards his lips.

It was as if the world around you had faded away, leaving only the two of you in that intimate moment.

"Ah! That's where you are Y/N!"

Nami's voice made you both jump and instinctively you tried to move back from Luffy though his hand on your back kept you in place. Maybe it was because you were one step from falling off the ship or maybe he liked the position you two were in.

"Hey Nami, is there something that you want?"

"Yeah! You were supposed to be in the doctor's room but it seems like you're busy," Nami teased.

"It's not what it looks like-" He would never like you anyways.

"Luffy!"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you try that thing that Usopp and Sanji taught you? I'll be going now, enjoy your time together," Nami chuckled before leaving the front deck.

"Oh yeah! I almost forgot!" Luffy said, looking back at you with determination.

Taking your hands off his shoulders, he grasped them tightly in his own hands and squeezed them tightly against his.

"Can- Can I kiss you?"

When those words left his lips, you had no other thought in your mind except to surrender to the overwhelming desire that consumed you.

With a nod and a racing heart, you closed the distance between your lips.

As your lips met, a surge of electricity coursed through your bodies, igniting a fire within you both. It was a gentle yet passionate kiss, filled with longing and tenderness. Time seemed to stand still as you melted into each other, your lips moving in perfect sync.

Every touch, every brush of your tongues, sent shivers down your spine, intensifying the connection between you. The world around you disappeared, and all that mattered was the intoxicating taste of each other's lips.

In that moment, you knew that this kiss was just the beginning of a love that would transcend any obstacle, solidifying your bond with Luffy forever.

You were the first to move back, slowly pulling away to catch your breath. Both of you were left breathless, your faces flushed with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

"That was... unexpected," you muttered, still clinging onto him, trying to process the intense emotions that had just flooded through you.

It was a moment you never saw coming, yet it felt so incredibly right, deepening the connection between you and Luffy in ways you couldn't have imagined.

Luffy laughed at your embarrassed face, his laughter echoing through the ship and breaking the tension. "Unexpected, huh?" he chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"So how long have you been practicing?" you asked, teasing, as you playfully nudged Luffy's shoulder.

His laughter only grew louder as he shrugged nonchalantly and replied, "Who needs practice when I'm going to be the King Of The Pirates?"

"So you practiced for one day then?" you said, raising an eyebrow at Luffy.

"Yeah, practicing with Usopp and Sanji was the worst!" Luffy sulked, "but doing it with you is way better!"

You blushed at Luffy's words, feeling a mix of embarrassment and warmth.

"Do you want to try again?" you asked shyly, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked into Luffy's eyes.

A mischievous smile played on his lips as he leaned in, his reply coming in the form of another electrifying kiss that made your heart soar.

The second kiss was even more intense than the first.

It was filled with a newfound confidence and a deeper understanding of each other's desires. As your lips met again, there was an undeniable hunger that consumed you both. The world around you faded away once again, leaving only the two of you in this moment of pure bliss.

And as you broke apart, breathless and wanting more, you knew that this second kiss was a testament to the love that would continue to grow between you and Luffy, defying all odds. . . .

"You know what? I think I have found my dream,"

"What is it?"

"It's you, you're my dream."

"What? That's a silly dream,"

"I want to be by your side forever Luffy."

"You're right," Luffy said with a grin, his eyes filled with affection. "And I'm never letting you go. You're not just my dream, you're my reality."

You couldn't help but smile, feeling overwhelmed with happiness. "And you're my reality too, Luffy," you whispered, your words laced with love and certainty. . . .

163 notes · View notes