The Witch makes a bet, Fae!Price shows he can’t be trusted.
It's a beautiful day. Although it usually is. Your ancestors bargained for the patch of Summer your garden occupies ages ago. The front of your house may be battered with the rain of the city, but out back its warm and sunny. You drag a wicker table and stool out to sit in the garden, enjoy the sun. A pitcher of sunshine tea and rose jam cookies act as your company.
You close your eyes, face tilt towards the sun, letting it warm your bones. Your magic purrs like a pleased cat at the ambient energy. You should air out the house.
Price watches you from the fence, it seems he's shown up late. Just in time to enjoy your comfort though. Your pleased little smile, the way your lashes rest against your cheeks, the warmth of the sun radiating off of you. You look like something out of a dream, your shawl pooling at your waist, haphazardly draped over your elbows. He wonders if it's raining on the other side. You prefer that shawl when it rains.
He whistles to draw your attention. Your eyes open slowly, lazy with sunshine as you smile at him. He leans against the gate, coaxes the ivy to cushion him from the iron, and returns your smile.
"Aren't you a pretty picture," His eyes drag over your form now that he's sure you're watching.
"It's a nice day," You tell him, his eyes crease, smile more sincere.
"Wouldn't know, it's cold over here." You hum, nodding a little. You stand from your seat and brush your skirt back into place before going in to the house. It's a funny quirk you have, disappearing in the middle of conversations. Price wonders if it's just him or if you do this to your clients as well. You return with another stool and set it on the other side of the table. A second tall glass is placed next to the pitcher.
Price takes a step back from the gate as you walk towards it. You stop and seem to take another moment to think through what you're doing. He wonders what goes through your mind sometimes. You're so smart, so stuffed full of knowledge. He'd love to help you empty it out, stuff you full of something more deserving.
"Would you join me for a snack?" You ask, voice just at the edge of unsure, "Just until the cookies are gone?" It's conditional, time sensitive, it's hardly a debt, but it's an ask, and you feel the weight of a tether hook between you two. It doesn't hurt as much as you'd thought it would.
Price's hand unlatches the gate and swings it open, and you think you've made a terrible mistake as he crosses your threshold with all the hungry grace of a wolf.
You settle your jumping heart beat, when he doesn’t immediately reach to devour you. He’s almost peaceful as he latches the gate behind him, shaking out the sting of iron from his fingers. You know better than to trust the fae, you know better than to trust him.
“You mind if I smoke?” He asks, settling on the stool you’d brought out for him. You shake your head.
“No, be my guest.” He smiles at you, and you hurry to take your seat again as he tugs a cigar from his pocket. You pour his glass full of tea, topping up your own while you’re at it. Your stomach churns nervously, the sun suddenly too hot on your prickling skin. What would your mother say if she knew you’d invited a strange man into the garden? Past all your wards, past the threshold that’s taken generations to build... She’d be pissed.
Price shakes a match to snuff it, and lowers his cigar with a river of smoke. You do your best not to stare, not to appear too watchful of him if only so he doesn’t think you rude.
“I’m not going to eat you,” He must have caught you staring.
“It would be very rude if you did,” You tap your finger against the table as an outlet for your nerves. Price hums, non-committal.
“You’re warded to hell and back,” He says plucking a cookie from the top of the floral patterned plate, he looks it over, inspecting the sweet before popping it in his mouth, “wouldn’t be able to do it even if you were under my teeth.”
You think his estimation of your abilities is rather flattering. Not that you doubt your own magic, but you’re fairly certain nothing would protect you if you were that close. It’s a nice thought, but you’re desperate to tell him he’s wrong.
“As if you wouldn’t try it even with the wards.”
Price smiles, hardly turning his head to look at you. You’ve never seen smoke like the kind that wisps off his cigar, heavy. It falls from his lips when he smokes it, threading between his teeth like water. You wonder if it’s the smoke, or just the atmospheric weight of him. Price’s presence pressing down everything that isn’t eager to oppose it.
“I like to think I have more self control than that,” He tells you evenly, “How about a bet? Your wards against my will power.”
“Not a very good bet.” You grumble.
“I have confidence in both,” He taps the ash off his cigar, crushing the loose embers under his boot, “you have my word I won’t hurt you, won’t even put a penalty on the wager.” You hum. Not entirely tempted to engage with the offer. Especially when it sounds like Price has no clear “win” scenario.
Either your wards break his bite, or he doesn’t do anything to engage the wards. Even a loss for both of you doesn’t net him any gain. He loses a friendly witch, and suffers the consequences of a major brief in guest behavior.
“Whats the wager?” You ask, suspicion in your voice. You’d try harder to cover it, but you want him to hear. You don’t trust him.
“One minute in my lap,” He holds up a finger to emphasize the number, “No penalty, no prize, let me show you how strong you are.”
You don’t like the heat in his eyes, don’t like the longing in your skin to be touched by him again. You bite the inside of your cheek, worrying it as you think. Sounds easy enough, sounds short enough that you could get away if you really needed. They’re not empty compliments either, the fae can’t lie. So why does Price’s confidence make you nervous? You nod your head once, a short jerk, and push up from your stool. You stand in front of Price, and he pats his thigh.
You settle on his lap and his arm loops around you, holding you tight against his chest. You try not to shudder, feeling him turn his head to keep the smoke he exhales off of you. He brushes hair away from your neck, and you tip your head to keep away from the burning end of his cigar, baring your neck for him. “Atta girl,” He tells you low in your ear. You don’t know what you expect when his nose presses against your rapid pulse. His beard tickles your neck, makes you shiver and shake with anticipation as he seems to rest there and just... breathe.
You do your best to keep your mind on your own breaths, the short and rapid rise and fall of your chest so stark when you can feel the broad, calm, expansion of Price’s against your back. His lips just brush your skin, his exhale touches you more than them, but all you can think about is his mouth. The teeth waiting to gobble you up just behind those maddening lips. You shift in his lap, trying to find some give in his iron grip, a way to wiggle your throat away from his teeth. You still, eyes going wide at the hard press of his cock under you. Heat rushes through you, your face feels hot, can he feel the heat that bursts over your skin from where he’s pressed against your neck?
“Price,” You breathe, try to breathe. He hums, drags his nose further up your neck to bump against your jaw.
“Just a little more, witch.” He tells you, his grip on you tightening to keep you from wiggling out of place.
He releases you and you tumble off his lap, fingers digging into the dirt to ground yourself. Everything is too bright, the blood rushing in your ears too loud. Price stands from his seat, his shadow looming over you as you tremble on the edge of something.
“I’m rescinding my welcome,” You tell him, feeling the tether break. Price hums behind you, snuffs his cigar on the plate holding the cookies.
“You’ve been a gracious host,” He responds evenly, his voice dragging over your skin like silk before he’s gone and you’re left alone in your garden.
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Other than ASL, which characters do you like in One Piece? Whether it’s design, story role, personality etc.
I have SO many favorites in one piece it’s kind of difficult to choose lmao
Storytelling wise, outside of ASL and the main crew, I’ve really enjoyed Bonney and Law! Bonney especially with the recent arc in the manga :’) she’s so loved…….
(We don’t talk about Bonney’s canonical design. Or, at least, I won’t. Also whoops I forgot law’s other knuckle tats,,,, ignore that)
Otherwise I also really enjoy Robin (but I’ve drawn her already for another ask hehe) and Koala? But completely for story reasons. I would say there’s probably not a single female character in one piece whose design I fully enjoy just because at times I am convinced that Oda has never actually seen a woman before. But their stories are so incredibly compelling,,,,,,
Visual design wise I kind of enjoy Koby and Helmeppo and how they’ve changed over time! And I absolutely adore Jinbei and Brook and Chopper! Design wise I actually probably most enjoy brook and jinbei, and maybe post time skip zoro? I just think they’re really neat,,,
OH. AMD GEAR 5TH LUFFY. I CANNOT BELIEVE I ALMOST FORGOT GEAR 5TH LUFFY. that is just. Chefs kiss. EXCELLENT DESIGN
I think probably part of the reason I enjoy sabo so much is that he’s the only character design that just like. Fully appeals to me. Like I love his character design soooo much it is unreal. But also because he’s such a unique design among the characters (being about the only character with as much screentime as he has that dresses up as a noble) it’s difficult for me to find other characters that I enjoy so much visually. As reprehensible as nobles are in the story of one piece, I tend to especially enjoy characters that are more formally dressed,,,, honestly if they extended that sort of aesthetic to the entirety of the revolutionary army I would probably have a lot more favorite characters lmao
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