#connection terminated au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-common-cowgirl · 7 months

Text

Greater of Two Evils -Part 3

Summary: When you’re unable to share your brother’s happiness, you end up in the hospital. All hope is lost when the greater of the two evils in your life comes to your “rescue.”

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen/Reader

Warnings: DD;DNE, Modern AU, Non-Con/Dub-Con (heavier on non-con), Physical Violence to Reader (choking, manhandling), Mentions of injuries to reader, Feelings of hopelessness, Elitism, Forced Pregnancy, Forced Proximity, Breeding/Pregnancy Kink, Non-Consensual Arranged/Fabricated Relationship, Dom vibes, Rough/Painful sex, Unprotected sex

Word Count: 5K

A/N: Quick reminder that this is a dark fic! Reading dark fics in a modern setting can feel more real so please, read the warnings carefully before reading further!

Masterlist

A week passed with no so little as a text from Aemond. With your current condition, you weren’t sure if the silence on his end was a good thing or not. Sure, you looked up other options. A way out. A way to terminate the pregnancy… but then Aemond’s words loomed over you like a dark cloud. Coming back to you all at once, the second you even thought about escaping him.

“-your entire family and most of all, your brother is ruined. I have my finger on the trigger right now.”

What could you do? What should you do? Aemond hadn’t contacted you in over a week. Maybe he just wanted to scare you and leave? Forget about you. Oh Gods, you hoped he had forgotten about you.

Your brother nearly pranced into the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab a drink. From your vantage point on the couch, he looked happy, giddy. You tried to hide further behind your laptop, pretending to be busy with the schoolwork you should be doing and not stressing over anything.

Don’t give him a reason to be suspicious of you.

“Hey! Wanna hear some great news?” He interrupted your act at homework.

You sighed and shut your laptop on your lap, looking up to your brother with thinly veiled disdain. “Sure.”

If he noticed your discontent, he did not speak on it. “That trade deal, last week, remember? I was trying to get through parliament? It passed!” He smiled widely toward you, as if that was a reason you should be ecstatic too.

Your lips formed a crooked smile, trying to hide the fact that you did not care nor did you see the reason you should. “Huh, that’s great.” Then you remembered, a week expired memory of Aemond telling you that he blocked the trade deal flashed in your memory and your blood ran cold.

Why did it pass? What did he want now? Was I wishfully thinking this was over?

Your brother’s smile faltered, “Shouldn’t you be excited? That’s a win for us.”

He snapped you out of your spiraling dread. “Us?” You looked up to your brother, slight anger rising in your heart though you were too afraid to show it.

He nodded, moving closer to you, towering over you on the couch. “Look at what I’m doing for this family. Be grateful for my sacrifices. Do you know how many nights I stayed up past midnight trying to speak to my connections in parliament to get the trade deal to pass? Do you know what this means for us? For me?”

He speaks of sacrifices as if he was the sacrificial lamb I am.

You narrowed your eyes up at him, feeling emboldened by the anger bubbling up inside you. Your brother had no clue what it was like to sacrifice…anything. So he lost sleep? So what. You lost your sense of self, your dignity, your freedom. And again, all he lost was sleep.

“Honestly, I don’t care what a trade deal means for you. I don’t care how it’ll boost your standing in the company.” Your brother looked shocked at your words, you continued to glare up at him. “Because you don’t give a shit about me. I lost all respect for you when I realized you had none for me.”

Your brother stuttered, looking shocked. “I’ve given you everything. I love you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You have a fucked up way of showing it-”

Before you could realize what had happened, your brother grabbed your wrist and painfully jerked you up to your feet, although, you were not prepared to stand and lost your footing once he let you go, falling to the group, hitting your head on the glass coffee table and shattering it underneath you. Your laptop that was on your lap fell amidst the shuffle and your weight landed on the top of it.

Once you realized what happened, you felt blood trickling down your head, wrist, forearm. Your brother paid no attention, leaning over you, so close to your face as he spat angrily, “You are nothing without me.” He grabbed the already bruising wrist and jerked your body closer, scraping along the glass. “No one in this family is anything without me. Never forget that.” His voice was low, possessive, demonic. He shoved your wrist away and walked from the scene he had caused.

You were left in the living room, trying to make sense of what happened and what you should do. You looked at the wrist he had grabbed, now turning purple and swollen. You felt the blood falling from your head to the white, fur rug that was underneath the shattered coffee table’s frame. You went through the motions numbly, standing up, grabbing your phone, laptop, walking into your bedroom and grabbing your wallet, stuffing those three belongings in your school bag and walked out the door.

You knew you needed to seek medical attention, feeling the faint sting of your wrist breaking the absolute numbness you felt, and alongside that stinging, you began to feel dizzy. You called an Uber, thankful the driver didn’t ask questions or speak as you stared ahead after directing him to Sunspear Foundation Hospital. You only answered the questions they needed to know, the nurses, remaining quiet when three nurses came in and asked you if you were in a domestic abuse situation, asking if you knew you were pregnant from the mandatory pregnancy test you had to take upon arrival. When the social worker came in, she asked if you were safe at home.

Were you? No. Did you tell them the truth? No.

A nurse knocked on the door, the sting in your wrist still painful as you were denied all pain killers due to your condition, instead, you moved to sit up, using the non-swollen wrist. “Come in,” you said meekly.

She stepped in, just barely, trepidation in her proximity. “Uh miss? I have a visitor here for you-”

You furrowed your brows at her, wondering who would even know you’re here-

Aemond appeared from behind the nurse and moved to thank her before shutting the door to your room and looking down at your bandaged self lying in a hospital gown. His remaining eye was hard to read, he was hard to read. He set you on edge and given what had just happened, you knew the monitor connected to your finger sensed your pulse quicken.

He glanced up to the rising numbers and decided then, to sit down next to you. Eye raking over your bandages without even a hint to what he was thinking, feeling. Being near him set you on edge. And the question you didn’t need answering popped in your mind.

How did he know I was here.

In theory, you knew. You knew he was well connected. You knew he had eyes on you. You knew that he always knew what you were up to. But here? Even at a hospital you couldn’t escape his eye.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was even, cold, deep. It terrified you.

“Um-” You began, for some reason wanting to protect your brother. It was unfortunately second-nature for you at this point.

“Don’t fucking ‘um’ me. Was it that wastrel you consider a sibling?” His voice was no longer even, it had an edge to it. It reminded you of the movies, when the man who loved the woman saw her hurt and was ready to kill for her given the word. It would have been romantic….if it wasn’t Aemond.

“Yeah,” you croaked, moving your uninjured hand to your bandaged wrist to play with the bindings. “He- He didn’t mean-”

“I don’t fucking care if he meant to or not, you’re not allowed there again.”

You looked at him, truly looked at him for the first time in a week. He was still in his suit. It looked like he had just come out of a parliament session. His hair was pulled into a low ponytail behind his head, only a few strands had been pulled out. His tie looked like it had been previously tight, now loose. He looked like he was slightly disheveled, not a usual look for him.

Did he drive all the way from King’s Landing once he found out I was in the hospital? Did he care about me? Was he worried?

You shook those ideas from your head as quickly as they came. Aemond was not a man to care about anything.

He’s worse than your brother. He’s another shark. You’re just another small fish in his pond.

“Do you hear me?” His voice cut through your thoughts, you hadn’t realized he had been talking. Blame it on blood loss or sleep deprivation at this point. Blame your attention span and your wild thoughts on both please. Blame both on anything but a sound mind. “You’re staying at my flat in Dorne until the wedding.”

You furrowed your brows, “No I’m not. I’m going home.” Blame your boldness on both too. Your heart sank as you realized what you had said, now growing anxious at the reparations you would pay for speaking back.

His eye remained neutral. “I’m not letting you go back there. Not after what he did to you.”

Why do you even care?

“Besides, It’ll give me more time to see you-” He tried to reach his hand up to grasp your uninjured one but there was another knock at the door. You told whomever it was to come in and Aemond’s embrace left your hand thankful as the doctor stepped into the room. She explained you had a sprained wrist, along with other minor cuts that would heal hopefully without scars thankfully to her using medical glue instead of stitches.

Finally, she smiled at the two of you as if you were a happy couple, giddy with joy at the prospect of a child. Maybe Aemond was…. But she told you that she went ahead and scheduled your follow up with a midwife in three days from now. “I know it’s a bit early for you to see them, but given the events of today, I’d like you to get started on your appointments with the prenatal care providers to ensure that both you and baby,” she pointed to your flat stomach underneath the hospital gown, it made you want to hurl, “are alright.”

She stood and shook your uninjured hand, then Aemond’s as he thanked her happily. She informed you both that the discharge nurse would be around quickly and you could leave then get some “much needed rest.” Dread pooled in your stomach as you realized you wouldn’t be able to rest where you were going, into the jowls of the beast.

The discharge nurse was quick, Aemond was quicker to help you out of your hospital gown (thankfully not bare to him as you kept your underwear and bra on), and he diligently, like an obedient and sweet partner, led you through the hospital, out into the warm night to where his black sports car sat parked. Even like a gentleman, he opened the door for you to sit. His engine roared to life, you glanced into the backseat, remembering the position he had you in a week ago on that leather fabric.

On top, pretending I was in charge, much like right now. Though, I’m never in charge right? It’s only the facade.

His flat was fifteen or so minutes from the hospital, maybe five from your brother's. It was big and spacious, much like your brother’s expensive flat. But where your brother had the flat furnished bright and modern, Aemond had his furnished dark, old academia style. It screamed “Old Money” and you nearly laughed at how drastically different Aemond and your brother were while also sharing a single central attribute; they were both terrible people.

“You are sleeping in here tonight,” Aemond walked through a doorway to a bedroom, assuming you would follow… and you did. You looked around the dark bedroom, a King sized bed in the middle topped with dark coverings. There was a bathroom and walk-in closet off of it. It was a master suite. It was Aemond’s room. He deposited your school bag beside the bed. “I see you didn’t bring anything but a broken laptop and your wallet. You’ll need clothes.”

You fidgeted with your clothes you had on now. They were comfortable, you could sleep in them but Aemond walked into the closet, turning on the light and stifled through his clothes. You knew he wasn’t going to give you space. He’d force you to sleep in the same bed with him in his own clothes. He owned you. He knew you were too scared to say one simple word: ‘no.’

He walked out of the closet with a large T-shirt. It had a band’s name on it. “Here,” he offered and you took it.

That was it… a t-shirt.

“In the morning, we can order you more clothes for here but for now, you can sleep in this.”

“Clothes for here.” He’s serious about me staying.

A chill ran up your spine, uneasiness rose in your throat.

Just for tonight, you told yourself. He can’t hold me captive.

You looked over at Aemond who disappeared into the bathroom. From your vantage point, you could see him stripping his fine clothes in the wall length mirror and folding his clothes and setting them atop the hamper. You thanked the Gods he kept his dark boxers on.

Or can he? Fuck. What will he do if I don’t stay?

The word stay echoed in your mind, remembering the time in your childhood where you were teaching your Northern Riverlands Waterdog to stay. He was one, you were nine. He’s dead now… he stayed, obediently; as you commanded… in the Riverlands until his death. Was that your fate with Aemond? Pliant? Agreeable? Quiet? Like an obedient hound?

As Aemond emerged back into the bedroom, towering over you, you gulped your fear down and the truth of it all came bubbling up.

If I don’t change, if I dont stick up for myself… that answer is yes.

“Are you going to change?” Aemond asked, breaking you from your haze. You looked up to him, briefly wondering if he heard your thoughts until you remembered the t-shirt you were grasping for dear life in your uninjured hand.

“Uh…yeah.” You stepped past him, making your way to the bathroom. You shut the door behind you, breathing a sigh of relief that Aemond allowed you to have privacy to change. You pulled your shirt off as quickly as you could with a sprained wrist, wincing slightly as the soft fabric of your shirt drug along some of the wounds that were bandaged. Your shorts came off easier. You kept your underwear and bra on and managed to get into his shirt. The shirt was large, you swam in it, however, it barely reached past your bottom and anxiety crept up your neck as you realized how much skin you were going to bare to his prying eye.

Slowly unlocking the door and stepping out of the bathroom, Aemond was already sitting in the bed, his legs hidden underneath the dark covers as his back rested against the headboard. He looked over to you, eye raking up and down your body as you stared ahead to the place next to him where he intended you to sleep. Your words to yourself came flooding back into your mind.

If I don’t change, nothing will.

“I don’t feel comfortable sleeping in your bed tonight.” You mustered up all the courage you could possess, forcing yourself to make eye contact with him. He only scoffed and threw the coverings over his legs off. Standing up and striding toward you like a predator and you, prey. You felt the urge to cower given the happenings of today but you fought the urge. Before you knew what was happening though, Aemond grabbed around your waist, hoisting you over his shoulder. You kicked against his stomach to no avail, tried hitting his back until you remembered your wrist was sprained and sharp jolts of pain shot up your arm. You croaked in pain, trying to grab your wrist instinctively but before you could grasp it, Aemond threw you into the soft plushness of the bed: where he intended you to sleep.

He moved to hover over you but you kicked up at him angrily. He dodged your foot, grabbing it mid-kick and gripped your ankle tightly, mirroring your brother several hours ago, yet not as harsh. He glared down at you, and you up at him. Emboldened by your fear, fueled by courage you were forcing. You wanted to spit in his face; you had half a mind to do it. Aemond glanced down, an idea flashing across his features and before you could act to defend yourself he reached down and ripped your lacy bikini bottom underwear from your core, exposing you now that the shirt was bunched up around your waist. He let go of your leg and stepped two paces backward, eye still drawn on you as he held your torn underwear in one hand. “Consider that your punishment for thinking, even for a second, I’d let you out of my sight.” Making you sleep without underwear as a punishment; what did that mean for you?

You scoffed and pulled the dark comforter over your lower half to cover yourself and Aemond started walking around the bed toward his side. “Seems like an easy thing to do considering you’re lacking half,” you mumble as you turn on your side, back to Aemond and pull the covers all the way to your neck.

“What did you say?”

Your blood runs cold, you hadn’t realized he had heard your snark but he did…and his tone was dangerous.

You feel the bed dip a split second before you feel his hand roughly grab your shoulder to pull you onto your back and face him. All your courage and anger wiped from you as you stare up, wide-eyed at his expression; one akin to hatred.

“What. Did. You. Just. Say.” He grits out between clenched teeth. You think momentarily that he might slap or punch you as a hand behind his head slowly raises but that notion in your head dissipates as the hand closes around your neck; constricting oxygen and blood flow. You reach up to remove his hand with your injured and uninjured hands, clawing at him but he does not move. Your head starts becoming light.

“I was going to be a gentleman tonight, give you the rest you so deserve… but it seems you’re in need of a lesson.”

You can barely register the words as your vision starts to become blurry. Just as you’re certain you’re about to pass out, Aemond releases your throat. You cough, sputtering up and drooling as your eyes glaze over in tears. You run a hand along your throat and the skin is painful to the touch. You’re unaware of Aemond as you try to recover your body from the blood and oxygen loss to your brain. You feel dizzy still, the feeling is not ebbing. Absent-mindedly, you try to sit up in search of a deeper breath and Aemond takes advantage of your upright position to rip his shirt off you, unclasping your bra and throwing it behind him, into the void of the room.

You feel his hands on your breasts and realize he’s still kneeling on the bed in front of you, slotted between your legs covered by the comforter still. You move to push his hands away from you but he grabs your wrists in one hand and pushes you against the bed.

“Be a good girl and take your punishment willingly. I might even give you some rest tonight if you’re good.” His fiery breath is on the shell of your ear and your eyes are screwed shut in pain as his grip on your sprained wrist sends jolts of torture through your body. You squeal hoarsely at it and he takes notice, releasing your wrists. “Keep your wrists above your head and that won’t happen again.” You nod without hesitation, thankful for the pain to begin to fade.

Aemond’s hand engulfs your right breast. You feel him kneading it in his large palm, then flicking his tongue against your nipple until it stiffens to a peak. His tongue is nice, soft and warm. Maybe if you thought about that, softness, you’d enjoy it - what’s to come. He moves to the other breast, repeating the action until both of your breasts appear to his liking. He sits back, marveling at your bare chest. “Open your eyes.”

You can’t do it, can’t obey. Your eyes remain screwed shut.

You hear him scoff, most likely rolling his eye as you feel him move just beneath the covers to the apex of your thighs and slapping you harshly on your bare center. You whimper and give in, opening your eyes. He’s clad only in his boxers, just as he was before he choked you but for some reason, seeing Aemond towering over you in only his boxers makes fear gnaw on your nerves. You look up from the tent in his boxers to his face. His remaining pupil is black now; he looks like a demon, here to steal your soul.

“I am going to fuck you,” he says simply, slipping out of his boxers and discharding them beside the bed. “You’re going to thank me for servicing you so well, understood?” You look down to the ruddy tip, leaking of precum, straining hard against his own skin; like a caged beast.

“Understood?” His tone was one of a teacher or a parent after scolding a child. You looked up to him and nodded; unsure if you didn’t want it at all or wanted him to shove that glorious cock into you.

No, no you definitely don’t want that.

“You’ll also thank me for giving you my lineage.” He moved the comforter from your lower half, exposing your entire body to him. “Not every woman gets to carry a Targaryen in their womb. You should be honored.” He slotted himself between your legs, bending them at the knee and spitting down to your core. This would have been a hot, passionate coupling if he hadn’t been Aemond and if he hadn’t just said what he did.

You pushed the back of your head deeper into the pillows, wanting to escape this hellscape as you slowly came to your senses. Everything came back to that fucking thing.

He ran the rigid edges of his cock along your pussy, up to your clit. It sent sparks along your belly but died before they could ignite anywhere else. Your fire was burnt out, any semblance of arousal died the second he reminded you that he put his semen inside of you and that it unfortunately took root.

His aching cock caught along your entrance and he pushed against your rejecting walls. You knew he was well endowed, the biggest you’d ever taken, but gods, you hadn’t realized just how large his cock was until you didn’t want it. Maybe the fact your walls tried to push him out made him seem larger than he was but you nearly screamed when the head of him pressed harshly against the wall of your cervix.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling out slightly, only to push into your refusing cunt again. You whimpered against his second push. His body fell to encompass your own, burying his head into the skin of your neck, breathing his flames against your artery.

“You should really give in to me. It’ll make it a lot easier for you-”

“Why,” you bit out against his ear without much breath, “you’re going to fuck me anyways. Why do you care?”

Aemond raised, just enough for you to see his smirk and eye over your pained expression. “You’re absolutely right.”

His hips snapped harshly against you, stealing the breath from your lungs. You felt cramping begin in your abdomen from how harshly he had begun to take you. “Gentle-” you pleaded as you screwed your eyes shut and pushed his chest with your uninjured hand. “Please.”

You heard him huff above you, “Why? Like you said, I’m going to fuck you anyway. Why should I be gentle for you when this,” He accentuated that word with a thrust that made your whole body freeze in pain. Your muscles when taut and he half-moaned. “This is what I want. How I need it. How I like it.”

You pushed harder against the smooth, solid planes of his chest, “I- I’m carrying your child-” It was the first time you said it out loud, first time you admitted to yourself the truth you couldn’t bear. Now, more than ever, felt like a great time to make it an excuse. “Please- be gentle with me.”

Your voice was so small, cracked with emotion as tears began to form in your scrunched waterline… but it got the message across.

Aemond stopped completely, still nestled inside of you. He felt your walls ease as he ran a hand up the curves of your body, stopping with his hand cradled along your ribcage. Your eyes softened until you felt the urge to look up at him through your tears. His expression was soft, contemplating over your nude figure.

He leaned down, taking your breast in his mouth, groping at the base near your sternum gently. You felt another hand more to your clit, gentle pressure moving along the pearl.

His sudden change surprised you but nothing caught you off guard more when his head moved up from your breast to your face and kissed your parted lips hungrily. Tongue slipping past your lips. It was awkward, you didn’t kiss him back, still shocked at his sudden change.

He pulled from your mouth, rutting gently now into your walls that had begun accepting him with his ministrations. “I’m sorry,” he kissed your neck, “you’re my delicate river. I do need to be careful with you.”

You furrowed your brows, looking sideways at him. Scared to speak but also so confused, “I’m not yours, Aemond.”

He smiled and kissed you again, hand moving down to your stomach. “You’re carrying a part of me inside of you. I’m with you, always. How are you not mine?”

You turned your head away, trying to escape the gnawing pleasure that was now betraying your body. Aemond moved his head to your hair; silver locks intertwining with the falsely dark locks of your own dyed head. “You’re so perfect. You always have been, haven't you?”

He angled his hips to brush against your spot, you felt your body betraying you, allowing him into your most intimate part now with grace and fever. Your walls relaxed completely, growing wetter and wetter. You felt your heartbeat quicken, perspiration began to pool on your forehead.

“C’mon sweet girl,” he tweaked with your nipple, “give in to me.”

“You’re a monster,” you breathed quickly between the pants you were trying to conceal.

“Y’know you love it. Even if I am.”

“You are.”

He hummed to himself, rising up and hitching one of your legs over his shoulder, reaching deeper than before. Still playing with your clit as his thrusts became quicker but still gentle. “Then what does that make you then, huh?” He smirked from above you, “Because gods- the way your cunt is starting to clench around me, I know you’re liking my cock, loving it. You love this extension of me, you wanton whore.” His words were brash, harsh…but he spoke in reverence. “Gods-” he moaned, “and I’ll teach you to not just love this extension of me, but all of me.”

You felt your peak nearing but not being able to reach the summit as his bed-room talk was absolutely insane. “I’ll never love you.”

Your breasts bounced along with his thrusts, he smiled down at them in reverie before his lone eye met yours. “Keep telling yourself that, my beautiful river. See who wins.”

He pinched your clit harshly and thrusted up into you with a gentle fever that had you tumbling over the edge. You saw stars as your back arched off of the bed. Body and mind betraying you as you gave in to him. Your cunt clamping down on his member and your blissed out expression, along with a half-scream you weren’t aware you made had him toppling over the edge, hips faltering in their pistoning as he shot his load against your already seeded womb.

Panting, he laid gently atop you, caging you in with his sweaty body as he came down from his high. His hand came up to caress your hair. He began planting sweet, chaste kisses on the side of your face. No, no they would have been sweet if they weren’t from Aemond but your mind dissociated as his softening cock still laid within you, his lips on your face, his hand in your hair…his child in your womb.

You kept thinking about what he called you, during the act.

“My beautiful river.”

At least he saw you for what you were. Your roots, your homeland, your personality.

A river flows, leaves where and who it once was, changes course, cuts through the land unapologetically.

You took a deep breath, staring into the abyss of Aemond’s dark room.

Be a river.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! As always, comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated but not necessary!

Taglist: @croatianprincess @toodlesxcuddles @drwstarkeyy @gemini-mama @iloveallmyboys s @boofy1998 @ammo23 @zenka69 @lokiofasgard12

#fanfic #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #gameofthrones #aemond targaryen #smut #game of thrones #dark aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #aemond smut #house of the dragon aemond #aemond one eye #aemond #hotd aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #dark smut #dark fic

253 notes · View notes

piosplayhouse · 3 months

Text

Outline for modern genderbend svsss au where they're all trans milfs (except for Binghe who is trans still but not a milf) cinematic universe:

[Act 1] Shen Yuan was on his path to a teaching degree at age 22~23 and began shadowing high school tenured teacher Shen Jiu (no relation, they just have the same last name and hate it) where he changes a young Binghe's life by protecting him from bullying and just generally being a better teacher than sj. Right before Binghe's last year of school, sy's health takes a sudden decline, he's hospitalized, and he has to postpone his degree. Through a miscommunication, Binghe believes that sy was fired for having too much contact w Binghe and is now somewhere else- devastated, he enrolls at the prestigious, yet secretly abusive, uni that sy had pushed him to apply to, with the goal of becoming successful enough to pull strings and give sy whatever he wants

[Act 2] While hospitalized, Shen Yuan staves off boredom by being terminally online. Through this, he meets and quickly becomes unlikely friends with 40 something year old mid tier author Shang Qinghua. Sqh offers sy an admittedly unglamorous job as her editor since he's pretty much given up on his degree at this point, as well as a place to stay away from his family when he gets out of the hospital. Sy accepts and after moving in, gets to know sqh, who is a trans woman who transitioned in her 30s when her first big book deal put her in a stable enough position to do so. Sy realizes she is also trans; the two gradually make sqh's newest work a bestseller and she's suddenly inundated with publishing and movie deals. Happy times. Meanwhile, Binghe becomes a demon (frat boy)

[Act 3] Sy hits 30, now comfortable in her cushy job as sqh's editor/agent. Unfortunately, she is tragically diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after her birthday. She undergoes a double mastectomy and luckily fully recovers with a strong support network, but the stress has taken its toll on her and her health and she begins going grey early. Binghe, now also a girl yippee, received unexpected inheritance money sometimes during uni and used it to become a highly successful businesswoman with connections throughout the education, political, and publishing spheres (because she remembers shen yuan was a big reader and wanted to be a lit professor). Now on the hunt for her old teacher, she's tipped off to her new life by business partner gilf-fucker Mobei Jun (38) who recently started seducing sqh

misc: in her 20s sqh made some quick cash by donating sperm, so biologically she is actually probably a grandma at this point

99 notes · View notes

buff-muffin · 3 months

Text

When it comes to the ASL brothers one “what if” situation I can’t stop thinking about the idea of. What if Sabo named dropped his brothers to Dragon at the grey terminal fires. Like in that scene where he clung to Dragon’s arm and spoke of his hatred to his own blue blood, what if he added in a plea of like “please save Ace and Luffy. They’re my brothers”

Cause like, I don’t know much about Dragon, I’m just wrapping up Zoh and heading to WCI. But he runs a fucking army so he’s not stupid. The name Luffy. Mentioned on an island in the east. As well as Garps home island (and maybe his too idk?) are enough connections to think. Hey, there’s a good chance that’s my fucking son.

But as I said, I really don’t know him well enough to tell if upon hearing this news would he be a “grrr I have a job to do. he will be fine. business bla bla bla >:[“ or maybe a “my sons a fucking child I need to make sure he’s ok >:0” I do think a small parallel scene to loguetown arc of like Luffy meets dragon would be hella cool (maybe he got lost from the bandits in the fire and Dragon beat up a pirate trying to hurt him) and they just stare for a moment before dragon points the way silently and Luffy runs off cause how tf do you pull the I’m your father card when your son is literally being traumatised right this very second.

But even if that DIDNT happen. When they eventually pluck a dying Sabo out of the water like a fucken grape. Dragon would know Sabo has more family there then just his parents, he had brothers. Would that result in Sabo being dropped back with them? Or maybe he gets his memories back earlier when Ace first makes a name for himself??? Would Dragon do his fucken research or at least encourage Sabo to early on in revolution school to find out what was left behind???

I SWEAR I NEED TO HURRY THE FUCK UP ON ONE PIECE SO I CAN START MAKING UP FICS AND AUS CAUSE I NEED TO MAKE THIS A THING BUT I NEED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT DRAGON TO KNOW WHAT IS AND ISNT A STRETCH OF HIS CHARACTER. RAAAAAAAA

#no major spoilers please I am but a humble screaming at 1am girl #am I offering up this idea on a silver platter for others? kinda #I just kinda wanna know what people would think dragon would do #but without like spoiling the actual show #monkey d. dragon #asl brothers #revolutionary sabo #monkey d. luffy #uhhhh #au idea #fic idea?#I refuse to believe dragon wouldn’t not care about Luffy #but he was also raised by Garp #so tough love is also an option #rambles #one piece

62 notes · View notes

nylonfizz · 4 months

Text

WARRIOR CATS INFECTED AU!!

CHARACTER SHEETS!!

Shadow, wind, and skyclan have merged due to the outbreak to hopefully make taking care of thunderclan, the main clan infected at the moment easier. Thunderclan cats are to be captured when able to, and terminated if showing any signs of infection. This has proved easier said than done the to the unpredictable and violent nature of the infected in later stages.

Connection with starclan has been compromised due to it being too dangerous to travel to the Moonpool. Though some cats have claimed to see a starclan cat wandering the clans, most of these claims are from Shadowpaw.

CONTENT WARNING FOR STAGE 4 INFECTED

#my art #nyloon art #digital art #fanart #artist on tumblr #warrior cats #warrior cats au #warrior cats infection #warrior cats infection au #warrior cats thunderclan #warrior cats shadowpaw #warrior cats tigerheart #warrior cats rootpaw #warrior cats bramblestar #warrior cats bristlefrost #MLP infection inspired!!

65 notes · View notes

matrixbearer2024 · 3 months

Note

Hello! I just found your amazing writing, and I am utterly in love with the way you write Vox in the college!Reader AU! Your writing really gives life to the characters and its world!

The relationship between Reader and Vox seems so chaotic and funny!

I have a question about the messages. Do they have the "seen" mark? Because I just thought about Reader going through a blackout on their town due to intense rain or something and Vox just not being able to send any messages anymore.

It's not even Reader not answering the messages. Just the messages not reaching them and Vox going full panic because how will he reach Reader now?

Sorry if I wrote anything wrong, English isn't my main language.

Have a good day/night!

Hahahaha it's okay! I don't think I've really expounded on it in the AU but Vox literally being stuck connected to Reader's devices means they don't really need internet to chat! As long as those said devices have power(like let's say a fully charged phone) they can message each other without using the web and just going through the App Vox made. The messages do have a 'seen' function but I didn't think to mention it cuz- as you guys might've noticed- the TV man is terminally online and tends to answer straight away when you chat him up. You on the other hand just check to see if the notification was from his app before you answer- or you just forget to open it because you were busy doing stuff.

I'm really glad you like my series anon! I hope you stick around as I just grow the world and write about it more :)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #vox #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox x you #get off my screen series #Lmao #Vox would probably just be like: eugh rain #you forget he's not waterproof sometimes #Do you clean your face using windex??#It's a hilarious conversation for sureeee #though you have a buddy to help deal with the boredom until the power comes back

55 notes · View notes

rarepears · 1 year

Note

Sad ideas time: when Shen Yuan transmigrates, so does his sickness. When Mu Qingfang inspects him pts Qi deviation, he discovers most of SQQ's cultivation is focused on suppressing a terminal illness, and must have been for a while. all he and YQY can think is that SQQ knew and has been hiding it purpose for... Well, basically as long as they have been peak lords, if not longer.

TRULY SAD TIMES!!!

For bonus sad times, Shen Yuan has some illness (like cancer) that causes him to bruise like a peach. With this "qi deviation" and the sudden appearance of all these bruises, Mu Qingfang and Yue Qingyuan assume that some sort of talisman illusion just failed because there's no way for all these bruises to appear in front of their eyes all of a sudden! Shen Qingqiu must have been concealing them!

Mu Qingfang says that this type of illness is triggered by [insert rare life situation that Yue Qingyuan's brain can't help but connect to the Qiu Manor and slavery]. The goods news is that Mu Qingfang has medication to control the disease; the bad news is that the cure is extremely rare and involves an ultra rare ingredient that's presumably extinct by now totally not heavenly demon liquid gold.

[More in #shen yuan transmigrated with his illness; mu qingfang and yue qingyuan comes to the Wrong Conclusions AU]

#svsss #svsss au #the scum villain's self saving system #mxtx #svsss ideas #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #yue qingyuan #mu qingfang #THIS ASK IS SO GOOD!!!!!!!#shen yuan transmigrated with his illness; mu qingfang and yue qingyuan comes to the Wrong Conclusions AU

400 notes · View notes

lullabyes22-blog · 7 months

Text

Mel x Silco - Happy Ending AU - A Drabble Thing

Based on this ask by @elviriel <3

Part of an AU meta of the Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO universe.

tw: pandemics, terminal illness, death

cw: sex, angst

"When I am gone, you will have many who will offer their love. Take their love, but never trade on it. Love is not a currency. Love is a gift, and a gift given is a gift given freely.

I cannot give you mine, not any longer. But know that it was real. It was true. And it was yours."

Given the fraught relationship these two have with love and trust, I truly believe it would be a long time coming. For a woman like Mel, love has always been conditional. It comes at a price: trade of power for power. Her mother may have loved her in her own way. But it was a love contingent on her worth as a Medarda.

Ambessa promised her the world... but only if she could prove herself in her mother's eyes.

With Silco, love is nothing but a petty conceit. He's known betrayal and disappointment from those he once called family, and from those who claimed to love him. So he doesn't put any stock in it. It's just a word that people use to control others. If need be, he'll weaponize it. He'll say anything, to get what he wants.

And what he wants most, is Zaun's ascendancy.

But somewhere along the way, Silco's and Mel's lives entwine, and feelings begin to creep in. Certainly, there'd have to be a level of mutual chemistry between them—cerebral, verbal, physical—if they chose to flout their cities’ conventions and tie the knot despite vehement protests from their respective political parties.

Baseline: Mel likes Silco. He's not a good man, but she's drawn to his brilliance. He's an incredible tactician and a shrewd politician. And the more she sees of Zaun, the more she admires him for what he's built. His ruthless streak unnerves her with memories of her own mother, and yet it's offset by his capacity for intense tenderness. For Jinx, for the future of Zaun, even, if in a twistedly wry way, for her. Despite coming from two diametrically opposite social strata, their tastes are surprisingly well-aligned. They have a keen appreciation for art, music, fashion, philosophy. He denies it, but she thinks he's a fine dancer whenever he lets himself cut loose. And, when they're not trying to best each other in conversation, their silences are comfortable.

As a husband, he's not half-bad. He's attentive, in a hold-the-door-for-you and pull-out-your-chair sort of way. He's perceptive, and knows almost intuitively when she's tired or unhappy in need of a distraction. In an indulgent mood, he'll leave queer little tokens on her pillowcase or in her trousseau, like a funny note from a fortune cookie or a pretty dried flower or a small gemstone. And he's got an appreciation for her intellect that goes hand-in-hand with his admiration for her beauty. He'll notice when she uses a special perfume with the same astuteness as when he catches a coy innuendo or a well-timed pun. Sometimes he'll even smile when she's not looking, a crooked curve to his mouth, gone as soon as it's there.

But love?

There's something there, for sure, this quiet warmth that grows between them. Something that's a little like amusement, and a little like fondness, and a lot like family.

But she'll never put a name to it. Naming things brings them to life. Like a curse.

The Medarda bloodline has enough curses to go around.

As for Silco?

Baseline: he likes Mel, too. Granted, she began as an unforeseen complication. He didn't anticipate falling into a relationship with a Topsider, much less a member of the Council. Still, the gains far outmatch the costs. He gets to make a mockery of Piltover's hypocritical, stagnant elite. He gets an inside connection to the very seat of their power. He gets a gorgeous woman on his arm. Mel’s mind is an endless wonderland of strategy, she's got a tongue dipped in sterling silver, and that body is a gilded marvel. She can be a proud bitch, sometimes, but she's got a secret sweet streak that she's at pains to keep hidden. Marriage was never part of the plan, but now that he has it, he's got few complaints.

As a wife, she's an unexpected boon. She's no homebody by a long shot. He's never once seen her set foot in the kitchen; nor does he care to. Cooking's not his thing, either, unless it's a cookie-baking night with Jinx. They have staff for that. But when they do entertain, she's a consummate hostess. She's a deft hand at managing her social calendar and his own. She dazzles at every event. Half the chem-barons would give their left rib for one dance with her; the rest fall over themselves just to catch a glimpse. And, she's got a wicked sense of humor. Behind closed doors, he's had more than one glass of whiskey ruined by her sly commentary on the partygoers.

But love?

Let's cut that word out of the picture entirely. It's a fairytale; a fantasy. Zaun has no room for either.

Yes, sometimes, at night, when she's curled up against him, her soft breathing stirring the hollow of his throat, he'll feel a bite of possessiveness and think, Mine. But, the next morning, it's a fleeting memory, lost in the heady rush of conquest.

He's got a city to run. There's no room for foolishness.

Less for love.

And then Zaun is struck by the Ash Plague.

It's a mutated variant of Grey Lung, a disease that ravages the respiratory system, causing progressive weakness and eventual death. The victim’s skin turns gray and papery, and lesions erupt everywhere, like the flesh is sloughing off their bodies. Their lungs blacken and their coughs fill with blood. They grow progressively weaker, unable to do much more than lay in bed, struggling for breath.

Silco doesn't catch the sickness. His constitution is stronger than most, thanks to years spent working in the mines. And he's a careful man, washing his hands and covering his mouth whenever a new outbreak occurs. The Shimmer microdosage also boosts his immunity, making him less susceptible to common diseases.

Jinx, likewise, seems to have been blessed with an immune system forged of steel. She catches the colds and stomach bugs that go around the Lanes, but the Ash Plague slips by her, like a black cat in the night.

Mel, on the other hand, is vulnerable as a newborn.

She's possessed with a fine constitution. She takes scrupulous care with her hygiene. But her lungs have always been delicate. It's why she's seldom in Zaun without a mask. When the first cases are reported, Silco makes arrangements to escort her back to Topside, where she'll be safely ensconced in her private apartments, and guarded by a veritable battalion of doctors.

But on the day they're to sail, Mel comes down with a fever.

Silco doesn't panic. Not immediately. But by the time they've returned to the Undercity, she's already coughing, a wet, hacking sound that has him summoning Singed.

And that's when things go sideways.

When Singed examines her, his face darkens. He looks at Silco and says, "I am sorry."

The Ash Plague has a near-total fatality rate. The strongest of victims might last three months. The weakest, a fortnight. There is no known cure. Singed suggests an experimental Shimmer cocktail: a compound that should boost Mel’s immunity and buy her more time. But the odds are long.

"How long does she have?" asks Silco.

"Six weeks. Perhaps eight. It's hard to tell."

"What can I do?"

"Keep her comfortable. Make her last days happy. She is strong. With luck, she may even pull through."

Jinx, of course, takes the news poorly.

"It's not fair!" she shrieks, tears streaming down her cheeks. "We can't let her die! She's family, Silco! You have to help her! We can't just sit here and let her die! You gotta do something!"

But what can he do?

For days, he sits by Mel's bedside. He's seen her sleep before. But not like this. Her breathing is labored. Sometimes, she hacks, and a bloody spume froths from her lips. The lesions are appearing all over her body, like a child's drawing of the sun. The fever rages on, no matter how many icepacks Singed prescribes.

When the fever is particularly bad, she'll murmur. A single word, again and again: "Mother."

Ambessa has already received the news. Due to the Plague's severity, Zaun is under lockdown. No one may come in, and no one may leave. Not unless they wish to be quarantined, and see the Plague spread to other lands.

Ambessa threatens to declare war on Zaun if they do not let her through the ports. But her warnings fall on deaf ears. She may be a fearsome general, but she is nothing in the face of a pandemic.

Ambessa curses, and rages, and swears her revenge on Silco.

"She should never have married you, you blasted snake!" Ambessa snarls at him, over the speaking telegraph. "But you had to drag her down, to your hellpit, where your fucking plague will do your work for you, won't it? Well, when the time comes, you can bet your life that I'll be there to cut your heart out and feed it to my hounds, and—"

At this point, Silco hangs up.

But her words haunt him.

You had to drag her down, to your hellpit...

He says nothing of the conversation to Mel. She's barely sensate, lapsing in and out of fever dreams. If he's lucky, she'll stay awake a few minutes. He'll spoon broth past her lips. But most of her feeding comes through tubes. The Plague is cruel, eating away at her lungs. She grows thinner by the day, the bones in her ribcage and hips like fragile branches. He'll lay beside her in bed, feeling each racking breath she draws.

Sometimes, she'll look at him and smile, murmuring, "Silco."

And then she'll close her eyes and sigh, and sleep.

When she's lucid enough to talk, she asks, "How is Jinx?"

"She's worried," he tells her.

So am I, he thinks but doesn't say.

"Tell her not to be."

"How can she not be, Mel?"

"I'll be fine," she says. "Don't worry."

She closes her eyes and falls asleep again.

The Plague rages on. Silco devotes more hours to Mel's caretaking.

And her time grows shorter.

In the afternoons, Silco takes to reading to her. He'll select a book from his shelf, or hers, and read a few pages. She seems to enjoy that, so he does it more often. The story of a soldier who finds a magical thimble. The legend of the Lady of the Lake. A romance about two star-crossed lovers. Fantastical tales as far removed from their reality as possible. Other times, poetry is her fare of choice, and Silco will recite the verses in slow, smooth cadences. He's not a bad reader, though his voice doesn't quite suit the tone of most of the poets' works.

There is one in particular that Mel enjoys. Each time he reads it, she sighs raptly. After he's done, she'll say, "Read it again?"

He'll kiss the inside of her wrist, and promise to read it the next afternoon.

Inside, he'll wonder if there'll be another.

Mel is dying. He can see it. Her skin grows grayer by the day, the lesions deepening in color. Her breathing is getting shallower. And when she talks, it's only to aspirate a few words. He's helpless against the tide of inevitability. It's an opponent he can't corner. Can't negotiate with. Can't kill. And the harder he tries to hold back the waters, the faster the tide rushes in.

She's dying.

But he keeps coming back, every afternoon, with a book under his arm and a bowl of soup in hand.

"Read the poem again," she'll say, her eyes half-lidded.

"And again," she'll repeat.

"Just a one more time," she'll rasp.

Sometimes, Jinx will join him. She's deeply agitated by Mel's illness, but determined to put on a brave face. She'll bring a pile of throw-pillows and her toolkit and sit at Mel's bedside, tinkering quietly with a new contraption.

"I'm working on a present," she'll tell Mel, with a wobbly smile. "It'll make you better."

"That's lovely, Jinx," says Mel, closing her eyes. "Thank you."

And then, barely a beat later, she's asleep.

Silco takes his daughter's hand and squeezes it. They trade a wordless glance.

She's dying, thinks Silco.

She's dying and there's nothing I can do.

But he still comes every day. He reads her books. He holds her hand. He brings her tea and hot-house hyacinths and anything she desires. In the evenings, Jinx keeps vigil, her gift blossoming beneath her hands in slow-motion. It resembles a flower, an intricate copper-plate bloom with furling petals. But she tells him it's meant to be a music box.

"To sing her to sleep," she says, and her smile is sad.

"It's beautiful, Jinx."

"Not yet. It's not done. Once it's ready, it'll sing to her, and she won't have to die."

But she is dying, he thinks.

She's dying and Jinx's music box cannot save her.

I cannot save her.

One evening, returning from his duties, he finds the door to Mel's bedroom ajar. He creeps closer, barely within the ambit of the lamplight, and finds a scene that has his heart skidding to a stop.

Mel is sitting up.

She is in her favorite dressing-gown, a ruched silk-and-chiffon number in pale cream. Her dark skin has gone a mottled gray. She is coughing, softly, the wet sound threading through the room. There's a handkerchief pressed to her mouth. When she lifts it away, there's a red stain on the cloth.

She is smiling.

"...That's why you married him?" Jinx's voice floats over. "Because he quoted a stupid poem?"

Mel chuckles, the once-melodic sound coarsened by suffering. "Not just any poem. The one I liked best. The one that was... mine."

"What d'you mean, yours?"

"I'd read so many poems growing up. None were meant for me. They were... generic. Like a suit. You know, a man goes to a tailor. He says, 'Make me a suit. Make it black. Make it sleek. Make it smart. For the ladies.' And then he wears it. Maybe it fits, maybe it doesn't. It doesn't matter. Because the suit doesn't matter. It's a costume. An... illusion."

"What does that have to do with the poem?"

"When Silco quoted that poem... that poem I'd always felt was mine... it wasn't like he'd tailored it to a passing fancy. It was like..." Her breath shivers out, "...he lived it."

Silco stays hidden behind the doorway, listening in, spellbound.

"Huh," says Jinx. "I think I get it."

"It was a gift, you see," Mel goes on. "In those eight lines... I saw myself. I saw our future."

"What was the poem, again?"

Mel closes her eyes. "It's a short one. I've memorized it."

Then she recites a poem Silco knows well. The same poem he has read to her, day in and day out, since her illness.

"'Had I heaven's embroidered cloths/Enwrought with golden and silver light/The blue and the dim and the dark cloths/Of night and light and the half-light/ I would spread the cloths under your feet/ But I, being poor, have only my dreams;/ I have spread my dreams under your feet;/ Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.'"

Her voice falters. She's breathing hard. Her lashes flutter.

"Oh," says Jinx, softly.

"The poem is about an unequal match. A man and a woman. From two different worlds. Two different social strata. A love that can never be."

"You and Silco."

"Me and Silco," Mel agrees. "We could never be. Not by the laws of our respective societies. And yet we are married. We are together. Because we chose to defy expectations. And when we stand together, we are stronger. More than the sum of our parts. That's what the poem is about. A defiant love. A love that dares to be."

She's quiet a moment. She coughs. Her shoulders shiver.

"He loves you," says Jinx, quietly. "I know he does. Even if he won't say it."

"That's the beauty of the poem," says Mel, smiling. "I don't need him to say it. I feel it, every day, when he wakes me up with breakfast and sits by my side. Every time he reads me this silly poem over and over. It's his love letter to me. And I will treasure it. For as long as it's mine. Until the day it isn't."

Jinx's voice quavers. "You can't die."

"We all die, Jinx." Mel coughs again. She draws a sharp, shuddering breath. "But we do it... on our own terms. As best as we can."

Silco watches from the doorway. He can't breathe. His lungs have filled with icewater.

Mel coughs again. Her voice is barely a whisper. "Jinx. Do you mind... if we stopped talking now? I'm tired."

"Yeah. Okay." Jinx sniffles. "We'll talk more tomorrow, yeah?"

"Tomorrow," agrees Mel. She lays back on her pillows. "Goodnight, Jinx."

"G'night, Mel."

Jinx stands up and walks away. Silco sees the glisten of tears on his child's cheeks. But he cannot go to her, not right now, because Mel is still awake. Jinx has already lost so much. How much more loss can such a fragile girl bear?

He backtracks hastily before Jinx crosses the door, and pretends to have just come in. Jinx throws herself into his arms, and he holds her close. She cries a little, but soon composes herself.

"I have to finish my gift," she tells him. "It's almost done. It'll save her. I just have to figure out a few kinks, and it'll be perfect."

"Of course," says Silco. He's numb, unable to tell her the truth. He can't. "Go on. Work on your project. I'll take over for tonight."

"Thanks, Silly."

Jinx goes on tiptoe to peck his cheek, then races off.

When he returns to Mel's bedroom, he finds her asleep. She looks more peaceful than she has in days. Her favorite book lays facedown beside her, the spine cracked.

He sits down by her bedside, and stirs a fingertip through the book's pages. There's a loose scrap of paper tucked inside, a bookmark. He pulls it out. It's a folded square of parchment. He's seen the handwriting before, all looping lines and arcing flourishes in elegant cursive.

Mel's.

The note is brief.

Beloved,

This morning, I woke with the scent of your cologne on the pillow, and knew that you had come and gone, and left this parting gift: my favorite book, opened to my favorite poem. You always remember, even if I have not the strength to say.

And so, before the strength leaves me, I must leave you with this final gift:

When I am gone, you will have many who will offer their love. Take their love, but never trade on it. Love is not a currency. Love is a gift, and a gift given is a gift given freely.

I cannot give you mine, not any longer. But know that it was real. It was true. And it was yours.

Mel.

Silco reads the note three times.

His chest feels like a blade has cut his black heart in two.

He folds the note and returns it to the book. Then he sits, watching Mel sleep. She's fading fast, the plague ravaging her body, leaving only a ghost behind.

His fingers find hers, and clasp them gently.

"Thank you, Mel," he whispers.

He waits, the night passing slowly, his heart aching with each of her labored breaths.

After that, it happens quickly.

She wakes briefly in the early hours. Her eyes are fever-bright, and her skin is papery. The lesions are stark, deep-violet against her skin. She reaches for him, and he takes her hand. He can feel her, waxing and waning between life and death. Her pulse stutters, and her breaths are short, broken snatches.

She says only one word.

"Silco."

"I'm here," he soothes.

"Mother."

"She's not here. It's only me."

"Silco."

"I'm here. You're safe. Rest."

"Love..." she murmurs. "...love."

"I know," he says. "I know."

Her eyes close, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. She's slipping away, her spirit a candle guttering out. And yet, finally, there is a peace on her face that he hasn't seen in weeks. She is dying, yes, but there is a beauty, a lightness, a grace. Like a heavy weight has been lifted from her shoulders. She is treading softly, at last, into her dreams.

Silco leans in. He kisses her brow, her lips. His forehead, cool on hot, touches hers.

"I love you," he tells her. "And I always will."

Her smile is sweet and soft.

Her eyes close, and her breathing evens.

It stays that way, as the night bleeds away, and the sun fills the room.

The next morning, Silco finds Jinx working on her gift, the metal petals unfolding and unfurling. There's a delicate clockwork mechanism, with a single lever. The music box is beautiful, a work of art, a marvel.

"Look!" Jinx cries. "It's almost done! Just a couple more kinks, and then we can wake Mel up with it, and she'll be all better!"

Silco looks at the device. Then he looks at his daughter. She's staring at him with such hope, such joy, her eyes glowing fiercely. Her faith is unshakeable.

She doesn't understand that some bargains are more ironclad than others.

"She's not going to get better, Jinx," he says, quietly. "You have to let her go."

Jinx stares at him, her face crumpling.

"No," she whispers. "You can't say that. She'll get better. She has to. She promised."

Silco shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Jinx. But Mel's not going to make it. Not this time."

"But—"

"Singed and the doctors have tried everything. The Plague has taken hold. It's spreading. She'll only linger in pain."

"I can fix her! I just need a couple more days!"

"She doesn't have a couple more days, Jinx. She's fading. You have to let her go. She's going to die."

Jinx's face is wet.

"No," she whispers. “No no no.”

"Jinx. I'm sorry. She's gone."

"But she said—"

"I know. But it's not something we can fix. No one can. It's out of our hands."

Jinx is silent.

"Go to her," says Silco. "Tell her goodbye."

And Jinx goes.

When she comes back, her eyes are gleaming red. She's clutching her music box, which has finished unfolding into a magnificent metal bloom, the petals unfurling like a rose. But her smile is wobbly, and her hands are shaking.

"Mel liked it," she whispers. "She said it was the best gift she ever got."

Silco holds her tight.

"It's okay, Jinx. We're going to be okay."

"Are we?"

"I'm sure. I promise."

She sniffles.

"Y'know... for a sec... I thought..."

"What?"

Jinx lifts her head, eyes locking with his.

"For a second... when I was lookin' at Mel... I coulda sworn her lesions were smaller. Like... she was getting better."

"You're imagining things, Jinx. You're tired."

"Yeah."

"How about I read you a story? Something nice and easy, to get your mind off things. Would you like that?"

"Uh-huh," says Jinx. She nestles against him. "Read me that poem. I wanna hear the poem."

"What poem?" Silco says, as if he hasn't heard the words a thousand times, in a thousand variations.

"The one Mel talked about. While you were eavesdropping at the door. Peeping Silco."

Silco bites down a bittersweet smile.

"You knew?"

"I saw you duck out. I wasn't born yesterday, y'know. You're lucky I didn't call you out on it."

"You could've."

"And miss out on the juicy gossip? As if. Read me the poem, Silco. Please?"

"All right."

So Silco and Jinx settle together on the pillows of his couch, and Silco recites the poem, the words rolling from his tongue as if they were his own.

"Had I heaven's embroidered cloths/Enwrought with golden and silver light..."

The poem is brief. But it resonates, like a crystal chime, striking at his heart.

"'...Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.'"

"I like it," says Jinx, after a quiet minute.

"It's not your thing, though. Poetry."

"Maybe it could be. You think I can write poems? About Zaun and stuff."

"You can do anything, Jinx. If you put your mind to it. You just need practice."

Jinx falls asleep in his arms, and Silco sits in the silence, his fingers idly smoothing her hair.

Then he goes to check on Mel.

He's braced himself for what he'll find, and yet he is still unprepared for the sight.

Mel isn't gone.

She is sitting up in bed. Her skin is still gray, and the lesions are still present. But her eyes are clear. Her breathing is steady. She looks at him, and smiles.

"Silco."

He is silent.

"Jinx showed me her music box. It's ... extraordinary. I've never seen anything like it."

Silco steps closer.

"How are you feeling?"

"The same. But..." Her smile grows, "...a little better, I think."

Silco frowns. He can't quite trust what he's hearing. Can't believe what he's seeing.

Because Jinx was right. Her lesions are less pronounced. Less angry. Her skin holds a warmer hue. Her breathing is easier.

"I don't understand."

"Nor do I," admits Mel. She pats the sheets, "Sit with me?"

He does.

She reaches for his hand.

He does not give it.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"How are you feeling? Truly?"

"I told you. Better."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Perhaps I'm fighting it off. Or perhaps—"

"Or perhaps what?"

Mel gives him a coy smile. A fleeting flash of her old self.

"Perhaps I've crossed over and returned. I'm not certain. It felt like... a dream. Like the world was made of glass, and I was drifting. But a voice was calling to me. Telling me I was safe. Telling me I could stay, or go to my dreams. The choice was mine. And I chose."

"You chose what?"

"To stay. With you." Again, she reaches for him. This time, he doesn't deny her. "I don't know how. And I don't care. Because the dream wasn't worth it, without you."

Silco's throat is a knot.

He says nothing. He urges her to lie down again, and she does.

"Sleep," he says. "I'll be back later. And we'll talk."

"I love you," she says, with a sleepy sigh.

He doesn't say it back.

He cannot be sure if this is a dream or not.

Instead, he summons Singed. The doctor examines Mel carefully.

"There's a remarkable improvement in her condition," he notes.

"What do you mean?"

"Her vitals are stabilizing. She's regained color. Her breathing is stronger."

"Is she cured?"

"Not yet. But it's possible."

"What does that mean?"

"It means..." Singed hesitates. "She's been granted a reprieve." A beat. "As have you."

Silco scowls.

"There are no reprieves. Only hard bargains."

"It appears your bargain has been struck. Whether you meant it or not. She's made her choice. And she's staying."

Silco turns away, unable to rein in his emotions.

"You think she's safe?"

"With our treatment? It seems so. The Plague has retreated. She's no longer terminal. In a month, maybe two, we may see her through it. She'll have some scarring. But she'll live."

Vertigo nearly overtakes him.

He'd been ready to say goodbye. He'd prepared for her loss. He'd steeled himself against her passing. And now?

He's not prepared to feel his heart beating again.

"Thank you, Doctor," he says with terse formality. "Keep me apprised."

"Of course."

Singed leaves.

Silco is alone, and he is reeling.

Hard bargains. Harder truths. And yet, somehow, by the grace of something he doesn't believe in, Mel is here. And she's going to live.

It's more than he deserves.

But he'll take it.

The next weeks bring more change. The Ash Plague continues its relentless ravage of the city. More are afflicted, and many more die. Zaun is locked down. Shops and factories are shuttered. People hunker in their homes, waiting, praying for the end. But Singed's serum is making inroads. More are recovering, albeit slowly. The disease is not gone, but it's in retreat.

And Mel is regaining strength.

Day by day, her lesions heal. Her color returns. Her energy. Her appetite. By the month's end, she's well enough to rise from bed. Silco has one of the guest rooms in their suite remodeled into a sun-room, where she can spend her afternoons, surrounded by plants and art. The view is the Undercity, and the sky, a bright jeweled dome.

Mel resumes painting. Silco has a small easel set up for her, and brings her supplies: acrylics, charcoals, watercolors. Sometimes, she paints flowers and fruit. Other times, the cityscape, or portraits of Jinx. The girl's gift adorns the table, a magnificent centerpiece. From its copper heart pour the sounds of Zaun, a tinkling aria of notes raised in celebration and defiance.

Silco is a constant visitor. Sometimes, he'll bring one of her preferred philosophical treatises and read aloud. Sometimes, a newspaper, so she can keep abreast of the political landscape in Zaun and Piltover. He'll discuss the articles with her, and they'll brainstorm strategies, and Mel's eyes will grow bright, her tongue sharp, her mind a diamond-faceted brilliance.

Other times, he'll bring her tea, and a new book. They'll read together, a few chapters a day. He'll listen to her talk about the book's themes, its characters, its symbolism. She's an animated analyst, full of incisive ideas, and he's fascinated, and more than a little aroused.

He keeps the desire to himself. Her body is not yet fully recovered. The Plague has left her weakened.

He will wait, until she is strong again.

In the evenings, they have dinner together with Jinx. His daughter has taken up residence in the guest room next door, and often, they'll eat in Mel's bedroom, playing cards and swapping gossip on the chem-barons and Councilors. Jinx's wild tales always make Mel laugh, and, sometimes, the two women double over bubbling with hysterics, while Silco sits in contented silence, taking in the beautiful sight.

After the third month, the Plague is receding. The Fissurefolk bestow thanksgiving to Janna. Theories abound. Perhaps it's the Shimmer compound. Perhaps a quirk of genetics. Or perhaps, says Mel, a miracle.

"Doubtful," says Silco.

"Hey, stranger things have happened!" Jinx insists.

"Like what?"

"Like me and you and Mel," she says. "Bein' a family."

He can't argue with that.

The third month stretches into the fifth.

Mel is well enough to resume correspondence with her colleagues in the Council. Her desk is awash with missives inquiring after her health. There are a dozen invitations to tea, and twice as many invites to dinners and parties. Then there is the intimidating crest of the Medardas on a red-bordered envelope.

Mel is reluctant to answer it. Ambessa's threats have not abated. And Mel has no desire to confront her mother.

"Not yet," she tells Silco, "There is work to be done between our cities."

Silco agrees, and leaves her to it.

Week by week, their disrupted rhythms smooth back into a semblance of normality. The Plague is contained. The chem-barons are slithering out of their strongholds, and Silco is needed to keep them in line. He spends more time in his office, and less time hovering by Mel's side. But they send each other a brisk succession of messages, and he drops in to see her daily.

He's just returning from a meeting when one of his messengers finds him.

"Boss. There's a letter from the Missus."

Silco unfolds it, and skims through it.

Urgent.

You're needed at home.

It's a shock, to read the word.

Home.

Home is his office, and his desk, and the clutter of his plans and maps, and the view of Zaun from his window. But his home has also become Jinx's and Mel's laughter, and the burnished warmth of the sun-room, and the gleam of Jinx's music-box, and the floral lilt of Mel's perfume.

And now, this summons.

His pulse spikes, and he rushes home, his blood thundering in his veins.

Has the Plague come back?

Has Mel relapsed?

But, when he gets to the penthouse, the space is quiet. The lights are dim. He heads to Mel's room, and finds her door ajar.

He enters.

It's dark, the drapes closed. The room smells of hothouse hyacinths.

"Silco."

Her voice comes from the bed. He sees her, lying under the covers, and his heart drops to his toes.

"Are you all right?" he demands.

"Better than all right."

Her voice is low. Musical.

Aroused.

"What's wrong? Why the summons?"

"Come here."

He does.

She's reclined on the pillows.

The bedcovers are pulled to her breastbone, revealing only the tantalizing slope of her neck and shoulders. Her face, in the dark cloud of her unbound hair, holds an alluring glow.

She looks...

"You've been ill," he begins, cautiously.

"No longer. I'm well."

"But—"

"Silco," she whispers.

And her voice is a siren song, her lips a dark temptation. He's leaning in, and she's rising to meet him, and then their mouths find each other, the kiss slow, deep, drugging. He feels her arms loop around his neck. Her fingers curl through his hair. And then she is drawing him down, tugging at his clothes, pulling him closer, until he is braced above her.

"We shouldn't," he gasps one final time. "Not until you're—"

"Stronger? I am."

"But—"

"Shhh," she murmurs. "No more talk. Only us."

She's naked beneath the covers, he discovers, as his hand slips into the sheets. Her skin is deliciously hot, and the seam between her thighs is slick as melted butter. Her eyes hold a heavy-lidded radiance, and he is caught, a fish on a hook, a drowning man, powerless against the pull of the tide.

"Mel," he groans.

"Shh."

He lets her drag him under. He's already lost, his thoughts unraveling, his will dissolving. And she is exquisitely sensitive, arching and curling beneath his questing hands, his teasing fingertips, his ravenous mouth. He savors the way her breath catches as he parts her, caressing her with his thumb. She moans, a melting croon, and he dips his head and tastes her, his tongue teasing the silky nub of her clit. Her fingers claw into his scalp, holding him there, and he delves into her, drinking the sweetness of her need, the music from her throat, the symphony of her joy.

When he rises over her, she's trembling, her skin sheened, her eyes molten.

"Yes," she breathes.

He sinks into her, inch by inch.

She sighs, her body stretching to welcome him, and the hot, liquid squeeze makes him groan. He pauses, gathering his self-control.

"Don't stop," she says. "More."

And then he is moving, the rhythm a languid glide, his body making itself heavy on hers, her palms starfishing his spine. They've done this before, numberless times. But this is different. So different it's almost a dream. A fantasy. When he kisses her breasts, she arches her neck, and he laves her nipples, suckling gently, until she is keening.

"Silco..."

He's going slow. Slow, because he doesn't want to hurt her. Slow, because he wants to remember every detail. How her eyes are liquid gold, her mouth a swollen bruise, her body a sleek mold to his own. She flows with him, skin-to-skin, a river with a hundred secrets, and he wants to know them all, to learn her inside out, to drown in the dark velvet of her: heat and honey and salt.

Her breath is catching.

"More," she begs. "Please."

"No," he rasps. "Slow. Don't rush it."

"I can't—I can't—"

"Slow."

But he's not much better, the fulcrum of his control teetering. His muscles are coiling, his mind sluicing down black headwaters. She's so tight, the grip of her a sweet torment. He can feel the gathering tension in her body, the fluttering spasms that presage her completion, the way her nails are scoring his skin, her breaths sawing frantically.

The heat of her is a burning sun.

Mine, he thinks, with a surge of sudden fierce elation. Mine.

They've changed rhythm somehow, and he isn't sure if it's hers or his, only that they're grinding against each other, the pressure an unbearable sweetness, the friction sparking a fire through his nerves. Mel's breaths come wet and shaky. One broken sound, a gasp that is nearly a sob, escapes her. She is crying, tears streaking her skin, delirium reducing her words to a single whisper.

"Please," she begs. "Please."

Silco doesn't speak. He can't.

So he gives her what she needs.

He rocks harder, faster, driving her deeper into the sheets, her body a pliant curve, her legs locked around his waist. The headboard is rattling against the wall, a dirtysweet percussion. And the room is full of their cries, a ragged duet spiking into crescendo and then softening, softening, softening into a single, shuddering gasp.

Afterward, they lay entwined.

Mel’s body, dewy with sweat, is fused to his. Her hips stir lazily. He's still half-hard, but for the moment he's sated, the blissed-out aftermath resonating through his bones. He kisses her forehead, and she nuzzles his jaw.

"Well," she murmurs, "that was..."

"Good," he says, and she laughs, a breathy, satisfied purl. Stretching beneath him, she winds her legs round his, tracing his back with her palms. He's a canvas of old scars. Always has been. But now a few cicatrices linger on Mel's own skin: on her left cheek, below her collarbone, upon her right breast. Silco kisses each one, like a benediction.

"My warrior queen," he murmurs, tracing the mark on her breast. "The scars are badges of your valor. You won the battle."

"Did I?"

"You survived. That's more than I could ask. More than I deserve."

"Sssh." She lays her finger against his lips. "I'd never have, if you hadn't taken my hand."

He kisses her: slow, savoring sips.

She breathes, "I heard, you know."

"Heard what?"

"That night. When I was... fading. You said you loved me. That you'd always love me."

His pulse trips.

"Did..." Her lashes dip. "Did you mean it?"

He can't lie to her. Not anymore.

"Of course I did."

"And now?"

His eyes lock with hers.

"Always," he says.

"Then it wasn't a dream. You called me back." She smiles. "The poem took care of the rest."

"Poems don't save lives, Mel. Only progress can."

"Poetry opens the doors of possibility," she insists. "And sometimes, the best poetry is the poem that you live."

He has no answer to that.

So he kisses her, a hot, deep, hungry kiss.

Her eyes flutter shut, and she sighs.

"We have much to do," he says, a husked warning.

"Mmm. I know. My mother’s missives..."

"I meant us." The kiss deepens: a promise. "The missives can wait for another day."

Her answering smile is a thing of beauty: a bright golden blossom that unfurls like Jinx's gift.

"Tread softly," she teases, "because you tread on my dreams."

Silco only kisses her again, their bodies folding together in the dark.

He doesn’t need to tread far.

His dream is already here.

#asks #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward (never forget)/xoxo #forward but never forget/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda #arcane mel #mel medarda #silco x mel #melco

66 notes · View notes

fandomsoda · 7 months

Text

concept:

The multiverse has somehow collapsed due to a severing of the connection between it and the creators’ (our) universe

Ink and Anti-virus (I hope people remember him-) somehow survive and patch themselves up with/are desperately doing everything in their power to keep everything together by compiling scrambled remaining source code back into some semblance of a world and the most core characters of the multiverse. This of course has less than stellar results and everyone is just existing in this messy, fucked up, altered state while Ink tries to keep everything from falling apart while he figures out what’s eclipsing the connection.

Dream, Nightmare, Error, Killer, Cross, and most recently Blue have been “reconstructed” but everything is messy and glitchy and imperfect, the world they exist in is empty and vast, and brighter times don’t necessarily seem to be ahead. Error is absolutely in the worst shape out of all of them, but everything’s just slightly wrong with everyone.

very much something that might turn into a new project of mine, will update as I think of things, just yeah-

#text post #soda rambles #concepts #undertale au #utmv #future project draft; please don’t steal or copy #but being inspired by this post is perfectly fine /gen #connection terminated au

40 notes · View notes

chic-a-gigot · 2 months

Text

La Mode nationale, no. 14, 6 avril 1895, Paris. Notre patron découpé. Jaquette-collet. Bibliothèque nationale de France

Details & Explications du Patron découpé.

L'élégant modèle que nous donnons en patron découpé se compose de cinq morceaux (The elegant model that we give as a cut-out pattern consists of five pieces):

No. 1. — Le devant, ouvert jusqu'à la taille et avec pince; un cran indique le raccord au côté. (The front, open to the waist and with darts; a notch indicates the connection to the side.)

No. 2. — Le côté. (The side.)

No. 3. — Le dos, formant godet comme le côté; deux crans indiquent le raccord au côté. (The back, forming a cup like the side; two notches indicate the connection to the side.)

No. 4. — Collet; un cran à l'épaule indique la place où il doit s'arrêter (Collar; The back, forming a cup like the side; two notches indicate the connection to the side.)

No. 5. — Le col-revers; un cran indique le raccord au cran du devant. (The collar-lapel; a notch indicates the connection to the notch on the front.)

—

Ce charmant modèle de demi-saison se fait en drap beige, orné de bandes de velours de teinte plus foncée; il est ouvert devant jusqu'à la taille; le petit collet formant jockey s'arrête à la ceinture du dos, qui est très ajuste, un grand col-revers encadre la jaquette et vient se terminer à la taille.

Ce modèle est donné sans manches (se reporter aux manches données précédemment avec d'autres patrons de jaquettes).

—

This charming mid-season model is made of beige cloth, decorated with bands of velvet in a darker shade; it is open in front up to the waist; the small jockey collar stops at the back belt, which is very fitted, a large lapel collar frames the jacket and ends at the waist.

This model is given without sleeves (refer to the sleeves given previously with other jacket patterns).

Métrage: 3m,30 de drap en grande largeur.

#La Mode nationale #19th century #1890s #1895 #on this day #April 6 #periodical #fashion #fashion plate #pattern #découpé #description #bibliothèque nationale de france #dress #jacket #cape #collar #devant et dos

24 notes · View notes

local-void-creature-izzy · 3 months

Text

Reversal Nova

(Here is what I have created so far in my Reverse AU)

A alternate universe where the roles are swapped, whether for the better or the worse...

Sonic: Dr. Boom, a hedgehog skilled in speed and mechanics. He was actually a kid, Robotnik took under his wing. He had a natural talent for inventing and machinery, but Dr. Boom saw potential in power such as the chaos emeralds to advance the machines, Robotnik didn't approve of this answer terminated all Dr.Boom's work. Feeling betrayed, the Hedgehog ran away and turned against the world that deemed him unworthy to advance it to a era of peace and freedom.

Shadow: Nocturnal Eye, partner of Dr. Boom and Leader of the alien race: Black Arms, on the planet. He seems relatively harmless to the unsuspecting eye, but he is a master of illusion and chaos energy.

Tails: Dr. Cosmos, a fellow technician and mechanical genius who sides with Dr. Boom. His machinery is known to be quite efficient and reliable, a master of words and creating machines that act as mimics around other mobians. Truly a terrifying feat for someone of his age.

Amy: Vermillion, Teller of the Future and Leader of the "Rosebuds" a group of warriors who can see into the future and protect the present to prevent disasters from occurring.

Eggman: Ivo Robotnik, Hero of Station City and the world as a whole, uses his mechanical prowess and power of lightning to defend the innocent from the hands of Dr. Boom and other villains that follow suit. Has a short patience and can be easy to annoy with petty insults tho.

Rouge: Carmine, guardian of the Master Emerald, and last of the Bat Treasure Hunters, a tribe of bats that would hunt treasure and steal from the rich to give to the poor. Has to deal with an annoying an Echidna that is also a treasure hunter with a strange connection to the emerald and tries to take it for himself.

Knuckles: Titian, an independent echidna treasure hunter, skilled in many forms of combat and is quite a people person, he has fierce personality which causes him to bump heads alot with Carmine, all he wants is understand why he feels so drawn to the Master Emerald, sure he always takes the Chaos Emeralds but that isn't the case this time, if only he could get Carmine to believe that.

Silver: Ivory, a prince from an alternate dimension that tends to interlap with Robotnik's, when it does, he tends to stick around and offer aid where he can with the help of his powers of ice.

Blaze: Lustre, a time traveler from the distant future that is both in distress and at peace given its destroyed state, has the power of Umbrakinesis and Aerokinesis, allowing her to use wind and darkness together to create bendable space matter for combat

Metal Ivo: A robot version of Robotnik created by Dr. Boom, a silent robot but he very much as attitude towards his enemies

Infinite: Zero the Jackal, member of the Rosebuds. He is able to harness the power of the purple chaos emerald and create illusions as a distraction while he disarms his opponents. Joined the squad because he is in search of his missing partner, Gadget the Wolf, who disappeared several years ago

Surge: Beryl the Tenrec, another member of the Rosebuds and childhood friend of Vermillion, knows why she created the Rosebuds and sticks by her through it all. Is raising a younger brother she adopted in all this chaos, and can harness the powers of lightning

Scourge: Jules Terios Hedgehog, Dr. Boom's twin brother, he fights on the side of the heroes and is the main reason Dr. Boom truly hasn't killed anyone yet and why no one tries to kill Dr. Boom. Jules hopes one day he'll get his twin back

Eclipse: Arcane "The Ultimate Hope" , the Nocturnal Eye's aka Spectre's younger brother. Created by Nocturnal Eye's hands, Arcane is symbolized as a beacon of hope, not only for Spectre and the Black Arms on the planet, but also for Dr. Boom. He is torn as he wishes to live life on the planet but is bound by his duty to his older brother.

Maria: Maria R. Lunae, a woman of unknown origins. No one knows who she is or where she came from, all they know is her research revolves around the Black Arms, protecting the leader that resides on the planet and a young alien from the Black Arms that tries to blend in with society (Eclipse)

27 notes · View notes

luvrsux · 9 months

Text

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒙

❝ 𝒅𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌 & 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 ❞

other chapters

➠┊word count: 7.7k

➠┊characters: trafalgar law, shachi, penguin, ikkaku, roronoa zoro, portgas d. ace, sabo, nami, monkey d. luffy {mentioned}

➠┊cw: mentions of alcohol use, mentions of marijuana use, arguing, minor swearing, angst

➠┊modern au !!

𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒑

❛ after you two finally sealed the deal in laws car, you and law have been dating for quite some time. you two built a strong connection and strong love for eachother for a few months, but relationships aren’t perfect… ❜

{colors for dialogue may switch when other characters are introduced}

»•» song choice: whats up - malcom todd «•«

・❥・

Girl I wanna play the game

Baby you know what's up It's always been the same

Cause you just need my love

And I need you to stay

Baby you know it's hard I'll make it go away

You hummed the song playing before you in a chair. You had a loving smile plastered on your face while gazing at the person in front of you playing music beautifully. You were caught in a complete trance, and nothing could rip you away from it. The Earthy scent of marijuana flooding the room, the people sitting around you, nothing could rip you away from giving your new boyfriend the attention his voice deserved.

Law performed his small band in front of you and his other friends in his basement. You and the raven boy have been in a relationship for roughly a few months or so, and each day has been better than the last. Law, surprisingly, took you on frequent dates and surprised you in your window at night whenever he pleased. You couldn’t have asked for a better partner, and here he was. You’d been attending his little performances every weekend to show your appreciation, sometimes even after school during the week. Not only did you fall in love with the man himself, but his music was nearly impossible to not get hypnotized to.

You sat next to one of Law’s band members, who would be in the performance in front if Law hadn’t taken the spotlight in singing, Ikkaku. She pulled the rolled-up drug out of her lips and exhaled.

“So you and Law have been dating for a little now, huh?” She asked with a sluggish smile and rose eyes. You finally disconnected your trance from him and paid attention to the intoxicated vocalist, the music playing in the background.

“Oh, yeah we have” You smiled proudly. Ikkaku nodded slowly and nudged your shoulder.

“Aren’t you one of a kind then. I’ve been trying so hard to get that loser a girlfriend since freshman year” She giggled. You reciprocated and turned your head back to the singing boy.

“I guess I am. I’m honestly surprised” You gushed. You never would’ve thought out of all people, Law would pick you as a partner in crime.

“I remember the day he told us he got a girlfriend, it was hilarious” Ikkaku smiled. You raised an eyebrow, remembering that Law never told you how his friends reacted to the rather big news.

According to the girl, everyone was baffled. Especially since it was you, of all people. They’d assume you were popular and well known considering the jock you were latched onto throughout the halls of Grand Ocean. Upon hearing the news, they treated it as of Law survived a terminal illness or a train wreck. You couldn’t help but giggle at Ikkaku’s explanation, that could’ve been fabricated to her own amusement.

I thought that you would want my hand but now

I love you can't be sad

Go be free I'll get on with no dread

I'll find a new focus to free me

I thought that you would go away but we would always feel the same

More dummy more money you think the things you show me are so funny it's not funny

Law began the song's iconic guitar solo. The way his hands fluently plucked the strings with complete ease made your cheeks flare up. The music made goosebumps trail up your spine and body. Law had his eyes shut and a prideful grin on his face as his solo filled the entire room with his sheer talent. You slowly grew a beaming smile, all the way to the very end.

You clapped your hands and gave a small cheer at his talent. You caught a glimpse, even through the colorful LED lights and slight clouds of transparent smoke, of his happy smile with your loving support—which he appreciated more than anything. Law pressed his lips close to the mic and performed the last verse.

I thought that you would want my hand but now

I love you can't be sad

Go be free I'll get on with no dread

I'll find a new focus to free me

I thought that you would go away but we would always feel the same

More dummy more money you think the things you show me are so funny it's not funny

Shachi hit the last note on the drum and Penguin let go of his guitar that was supported by a strap once the song concluded. Law ran his fingers through his damp locks that were caused by his own sweat. He had a smile as soon as you lifted your relaxed body to jump on his own. His chest was slightly moist but you didn’t care. You absolutely adored his performance like any other.

“You liked it?” He chuckled, supporting your body with his arm and holding your cheek with his palm. You looked up at his steel eyes with excitement.

“Duh, of course! You always do amazing” You giggled. Law planted a chaste kiss on your lips in front of everyone. Law loved one main thing about you, and that was how you weren’t afraid to publicly display your affection towards him—in a moderate manner, of course. You heard Shachi playfully gag from behind.

“You two are gross…” Penguin sighed, leaning over to another person in the basement to grab ahold of the rolled, smoking drug.

“Get a room!” Shachi said, cupping his mouth with his hands to project his voice louder.

Obviously, you two both heard the teasing boys loud and perfectly clear. Law had a smile on his face as he continued to leave kisses on your happy lips, all while pulling up a loving middle finger to both Penguin and Shachi.

“Alright, lover boy” You cooed, pulling your body away from your boyfriend. He took your separation as a chance to finally pull off the instrument on his body and place it gently on its designated stand.

“Have somewhere to be?” Law asked as he watched you step down from the mini, hand-made stage and to grab your jacket you immediately tore off from the high temperature of the room.

“I do, yeah” You responded. Law stood closely next to you while you situated your belongings in your palms.

“I’m throwing Ace’s birthday party at my place. Nami and Sabo are helping me set it up” You explained. You finally turned your body to the raven boy that had his hands on his hips.

“I see, I can give you a ride and help out if you’d like” Law offered. Your face grew a happy smile knowing you’d be able to spend more time with your lover like you always yearn for.

“Of course, baby” You sang, kissing his cheek in the process. Law chuckled and ruffled your hair, turning his body to Ikkaku who was in the middle of rolling a new round.

“Meet me outside in a few, just need to grab my things” Law informed, snagging the freshly rolled drug from Ikkaku and receiving an angry punch in his thigh in the process.

You hummed and waved the room goodbye, to which you were quite fond of by your frequent visits. You thought Law’s friends were a pleasure to be around, despite the fact they were barely sober half the time. You always reeked of the iconic smell back at home and prayed your mother didn’t catch on. She loved Law and she’d hate to find out he actually did a few things here and there that people wouldn’t take too kindly. You didn’t want to be the one to jeopardize that.

Luckily, you wouldn’t have to deal with that. On this current weekend that dwelled upon you, your mother was out on a business trip that would pay her more money than usual. You thought it’d be perfect to celebrate your dear friend’s birthday on the day you had zero supervision.

There you stood outside of Law’s car, dowsing your body in your handy perfume to dull the pungent smell of weed. As soon as your body smelled more like strong chemicals than the infamous drug, you stood there satisfied and waited for your tall, tatted boyfriend to arrive.

“Sorry, that idiot Shachi moved my keys and we spent ages trying to find them” Your boyfriend huffed after he bolted to the car. You had been standing beside the vehicle for a few minutes and figured Law had been so high, he'd forget about your newfound plans. You giggled.

“I thought you passed out. I was ready to hijack your car” You watched him walk to the driver's side to finally unlock the doors.

“Just because your car is bad doesn’t mean you have to steal mine, sweetheart” He laughed. He placed a hand on the headrest to turn his body towards the back window. You watched him pull out of the driveway, and this position was oddly attractive to you.

“Hey, my car isn’t that bad! Respect your elders!” You crossed your arms. Law just replied with a chuckle and turned his body to proceed down the road.

Now, in contrast to the first few visits you had in Law’s car, he had a tender hand squeeze your thigh each drive you had with him. Each time you felt his printed hand on your thigh, you formed a sheepish smile with tinted cheeks. You’d gaze at it like it was painting in a museum each car ride. Sometimes, Law would rub your thigh as a silent way of saying ‘I love you, and I got you’, and you’d feel a fuzzy blanket form around your body each time. Sure, Law displayed a stone-cold, nonchalant attitude in front of anyone, including you, but he did the subtle things that made you feel loved.

“How many people are going to be at the party?” Law asked. You were locked on your phone that you were mindlessly scrolling onto to pass the time. You hum and click your tongue at Law’s question.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the majority of the school came. I invited everyone” You replied. Law blew a raspberry with widened eyes, seemingly not expecting an answer like that.

“Good luck cleaning that up, (F/N)-ya” He reminded. You shrugged, fully aware of what the aftermath may look like but your mother wouldn’t be home until after the weekend came to a close so you had plenty of time to tidy up the reckless mess.

“You’re coming, right?” You asked, turning your head to the focused driver beside you.

“Yeah, I will. Just for a little, I don’t do parties” Law sighed. Law didn’t want to go at all but considering his partner was going to be there, probably intoxicated, he had no other choice but to go.

“Party pooper…” You muttered.

“Don’t make me cry, (F/N)-ya”

Law finally pulled up to your home only to see two other cars in front you were familiar with, unlike your boyfriend beside you. His overprotectiveness completely washed over, making the grip on your thigh get firmer. You giggled, admiring his protectiveness.

“Relax, it’s just Nami and Sabo. I gave them keys to my place just in case I was late” Those words eased up Law’s tension.

You both exited out of the car and into the house. Law was right behind your tail, keeping a comfortable distance. Although he had his hands in his pockets and his head turned away, you knew he always had his guard up to protect you. You secretly gave a sweet smile before entering the building.

“(F/N)! You’re here!” Nami, who was standing straight up on your kitchen island hanging decorations, gleams at your entrance. You gave the orange-haired girl a happy wave.

Sabo comes cautiously down the stairs with a box of what seemed to be more party supplies. He placed the box down beside the couch, wiping off his forehead and exhaling.

“Good to see you, (F/N). Oh, and you too Law” Sabo greeted. Law only hummed nonchalantly at Sabo’s greeting. Your eyes trailed to a tall, bulky, green-haired man sprouting from the same steps Sabo was once on.

“Zoro?” You asked. He cluelessly looked in your direction and just waved his hand.

“Oh, yeah I brought him along to help with the heavy lifting and stuff” Nami finished hanging the decorations up top and plopped on her bottom on the island.

“Awesome! Now we have two tall guys helping out” You giggled, turning up to your tiresome boyfriend behind. Law placed a hand on your head before he strutted passed you.

“Let’s get to work. Party’s in a few hours” He says, lifting the party box on the counter to lift the lid off.

Everyone agrees and proceeds to finish decorating the house from top to bottom in decorations. Each piece of decor was a shade of red or orange for Ace’s typical color pallet. On the very front, big shiny lettering displayed ‘Happy Birthday, Fire Fist Ace!’ and under displayed an ‘18’ at the bottom. All that was left was food, drinks, and, of course, the guests.

“Sanji should be coming with the food soon. Zoro is getting the booze” Nami stated. You happily clapped your hands together in excitement, knowing that your dearest friend would be through the roof of happiness by this party.

“Why do I have to get the booze!?"

“Because you’re always drinking, moron! Be useful!”

“I have been, you witch! I might as well have skipped gym day today with all this heavy lifting I’ve been doing!”

“Oh, shut up! You’re lucky I’m not even compensating you that much for the drink run”

“You what!?”

You giggled at the big brother, little sister troupe Zoro and Nami displayed. You felt a hand turn your body to meet a bigger, taller one. You looked up to see your exhausted boyfriend standing in front.

“I’m gonna head out and study for my medical exam. I’ll see you at the party, okay?” He held your hands from below. You exhaled, the sight of those dark circles was concerning to you.

“Are you sure you won’t overwork yourself? You’ve been studying for this exam forever. You’ve barely gotten sleep!” You trailed your thumb to his dark eyes. Law carved a side smile.

“Relax, I’ll be fine. I wanna pass this, that’s all” He grabbed your hand that lingered on his face to give it a quick peck.

“I’ll miss you…” You murmur. Law plants a soft kiss on your forehead and ruffles your hair once more.

“I’ll be here soon, don’t worry. Be safe” He gave you one tender embrace before pulling away to leave the house. You gave him a small wave, slightly pained to see him go so soon.

“You two must be really happy with each other,” Nami says from behind. You hum and turn your body. Nami was far from wrong. You smiled proudly.

“Of course, he’s the sweetest if he’s not a sarcastic prick” You giggle. Nami smiles, sliding her body off of the marbled island.

“I honestly thought you and Ace would be together, not ever Law” Nami giggled, stretching her body.

You couldn’t help but exhale a nervous laugh, not really sure of what to think by that statement. You were sure you strictly displayed your and Ace’s relationship as sibling-like. On top of the fact, you took pride in your relationship with Trafalgar.

“I’d rather die than be in a relationship with that idiot” Is all you could muster up. Sabo and Nami exchanged laughter at your comment. You decided to brush off the discomfort for now.

Law, not even a few feet off the steps, heard the conversation from beyond the door. Nami’s comment made his heart sting just a bit, already slightly on edge of your inseparable relationship with the fire fist. He just exhaled and proceeded to his own car to make his merry way back home.

・❥・

Law found himself staring at a blank notebook page with a cracked open textbook that’s been sitting on the same anatomy page for over a half an hour. He had his clouded head resting on his palm, tapping his mechanical pencil on that same blank page. Law barely studied for his upcoming exam, mainly because it wasn’t necessary, but also because his brain was preoccupied from you.

The boy found himself wondering why of all people you chose him to be with and not Ace. Law wasn’t the insecure type, but based off of Nami’s judgment and assumption, it left him a pit of despair. He loved you, dearly, but he couldn’t help but wonder why he got to have this type of relationship with you. He internally began to make a venn diagram of him and Ace with their talents and attributes. So far, Ace slowly exceeded. To prevent his mind from going further into the trenches, he drew a quick sketch of your own side profile—knowing it from the back of his hand. He smiled, seeing how it progressively began to look more like you. His heart was truly full of nothing but you, aside from music and art of course.

Law’s phone finally buzzed.

(F/N) - 8:46 P.M

[Attachment: 2 Images] how does this outfit look???

There you sent two images to Law of yourself. One of which was, what he thought, your adorable face, and the second was the single weakness Law had upon seeing it. You wore a dress that wrapped around your body beautifully and Law felt his cheeks burn up several degrees. He felt his thumbs tremble before beginning to type a response.

Law - 8:48 P.M

thank god i’m going or else everyone would be gawking over you

(F/N) - 8:49 P.M

never saw you as the jealous type <;33 i’ll see you soon, luv i love you

Law smiled at your message, completely at ease by your simple notification. All his negative thoughts began to wash away knowing you loved him just as much as he loved you. Finally, Law began to scribble down words that were relevant to the medical field.

Meanwhile, you were welcoming guests inside. You wanted everyone to arrive before Ace did, and you had the perfect plan for it. No one spoke a word to the jock about his surprise birthday party just as you asked. Sanji was cooking in your kitchen, despite him already bringing platters upon platters of food. He insisted, all while rather flirtatiously, to you that’d he cook a bit more considering Luffy would be running around. Zoro already helped himself to some alcohol but that was no shocker to anyone. The last few stragglers came in until nine o’clock finally struck; the official time of the party.

“Alright everyone hide!” Nami instructed with her powerful voice. Everyone scrambled behind tables and the couch while you dialed the number of the birthday boy.

“Hello-“

“Ace Ace! Please come over now! I think a wolf broke in and I need your help!” You shrieked. Your tone made the party guests believe you for a moment before they realized it was fake. There might as well be an actual wolf.

“Wha-!? Seriously!? I'm on my way, just stay locked in your room or somethin’” Ace said frantically. You held in every bit of laughter in your system to avoid giving away your award-winning act.

“Hurry! I hear it coming up the stairs!” You say, finally hanging up the phone.

“Was that actually necessary?” Zoro said, sitting on a still on your kitchen island sipping on a glass bottle of beer. You glared at him.

“Yes, now go hide. He’s speeding down here as we speak” You pointed your finger. Zoro groaned and sluggishly leaned against a wall that was a fairly long distance from your door.

You peeked through the window that perfectly displayed your front yard. You could see familiar headlights in the long, night distance and scrambled to shut off the lights.

“He’s coming! Everyone be quiet!” You whispered.

Your hands yanked the party popper off a nearby table and held it in your hands. Your body hugged the wall right beside the door, intentionally avoiding where the door would slam against from Ace’s hands.

He burst the door. The sudden shockwave made your body flinch, you thought you almost gave yourself away for a moment. Ace was met with complete darkness, not to mention an intact house despite your cries for help. He expected the place to be in shambles.

“(F/N)!? Are you okay!?” He yelled out. At the sound of his worrisome voice, lights beamed at his freckled face as well as pieces of colorful paper from the party popper you carried.

"Surprise!"

The crowd cheered off in different pitches and volumes. The “audience” clapped and cheered, some even latching onto the man himself who was baffled, to say the least.

“What is this…?” Is all the brunette could say.

You giggled and wrapped your arms around his body. Your giggles, as well as your safe body, made Ace holler in laughter. Ace finally adjusted to the sudden shock and realized it was nothing but a false alarm.

“I was wondering how a wolf would come in if the door was closed” Ace spun your body around in circles before placing you back on your feet.

“You did all this?” He asked. You nodded, picking off bits of colorful paper off of his shaggy hair.

“Yep! All afternoon! Happy Birthday, idiot” You nudge his toned arm. Ace gave you a ruffle of your hair, similar to your boyfriend, and filled the room with more laughter.

The music was now blasting its way down your entire neighborhood, letting all the peaceful sleeping households know the party only just started. You raised a drink in the air with Ace and cheered, but little did you know that wouldn’t be your only drink of the night.

About an hour into the celebration, you were growing slightly tipsy, but you could still speak coherently and control your thoughts. The door opened, revealing a familiar presence you have been missing for hours.

“Laaaaaaw~” You sang, latching your entire body on the raven boy. He chuckled, supporting your loopy body with an arm. He was met with chaste, sloppy kisses on his cheek and lips.

“Hey, hey…” He pulled you off by your shoulders to get a better look at your slightly intoxicated face. He planted a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Missed me that much?” He smiled. You nodded profusely.

“Always” You giggle.

You pull Law into a larger crowd. Seeing the immense crowd was a one-way ticket for his social anxiety to flood his insides, already wanting to bolt out that very door he walked into. Law signed up for this the moment his hand turned that same doorknob, though. Besides, he did this for you and only you. He promised to only stay for about an hour or so.

But Law felt himself wanting to leave earlier. Your clinginess only lasted so long until your body became glued to the man of the Party; Portgas D. Ace. Law drank bottles of beer to fit in, but realistically only had a drink or two. He watched from afar to your friendliness to the birthday boy. He felt himself wanting to smash the bottle in hand and swing it over someone’s head from his pent-up anger.

“I can’t believe (F/N) isn’t dating Ace! I thought they were together until she posted that she’s going out with that Trafalgar guy!”

“I know, right? They’re still cute though”

“But I thought Ace and her would’ve been the cutest!”

“You’re not wrong!”

Those words would be jumbled around over the course of the night Law stayed. He had to faintly hear almost every conversation about it on the sidelines. All his insecurities came flooding back from a small cooldown, but this time you weren’t there to help it relax. In fact, Law felt like you only made it worse.

As soon as he caught a glimpse of you with your arm around Ace’s broad shoulders sharing the same bottle, he felt like he lost it. He threw his bottle somewhere on the table, completely soiling whatever was in its radius.

To be frank, you were drunk out of your mind. What started as a slight buzz turned into a complete blackout. You weren’t thinking. If you were sober, you’d hate to be this close to Ace but nothing stopped either of you. Ace was just as, if not more, intoxicated as you were. Although, neither of you did anything with each other besides drink and obnoxiously sing the lyrics of the songs loudly playing around you.

You felt your arm have a sudden, firm grip around it and detach your arm away from the drunken jock. You yelped. Ready to start throwing punches at whoever grabbed you, you realized it was none other than Law himself. He dragged you upstairs where no one stayed, and the music was beginning to muffle out. The hallway was dark and mellow. You had a loopy, dumbfounded face while Law had eyes ready to murder. He held a strong grip on your shoulders.

“(F/N)-ya I-“

“Babyyyyyy~ I missed youuuu~ Where have you been?” You slurred, swaying your body left and right before you leaned your face against his. Law quickly jolted his head away, which was completely new to you. You raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, what gives? You don’t like my kisses anymore?” You puffed out your bottom lip dramatically before coughing out a fit of giggles.

“Stop, you’re so drunk I can smell it off of you,” Law said, completely unamused. You rolled your eyes and pressed your back against the wall.

“Whatever, whatever. What’s upppp~? In the mood to make out or somethin’?” You winked. Law scoffed, his patience wearing dangerously thin.

“Stop it, (F/N). Please” He said sternly. The fact he didn’t use the iconic nickname he gave you made you pause, but still wobble on your own balance.

“Look, you’ve been glued to Ace all night and… I need you to cut it out. Get some rest while you’re at it” Law said with a pained sigh. You burst into a fit of laughter. The jealous boy couldn’t help but lift an eyebrow.

“You’re funny, babe! C’mon, it’s his birthdayyyy~” You said, your body almost collapsing on itself the more you tried to stand still.

“(F/N), people are starting to think you’re cheating on me with that guy. Relax a bit, would ya? Please, I know your room is this way-“

Law tried extending a hand to escort you to your room, but a sloppy hand slapped it away. Law stared at you with hurt, yet angry, silver eyes. You couldn’t even make out his own face from the immense alcohol intake, but you could make out his words. You glared at him.

“Stop being such a party pooper, Law. I’m trying to have fun!” You scolded.

“Excuse me? So you dancing and being with him all night long is having fun? I’m right here!”

“And? It’s his birthday! Can I have fun just this one day, jeez!” You began to sound like a pre-teen yelling at their parents. Law felt like he was about to burst a blood vessel.

“I get that, (F/N)-ya but you're being ridiculous”

“Well, if you’re so bothered by it then just leave! You don’t even like parties so just leave me alone and let me have my fun! I set up this party, y’know!”

Your words might as well be a harpoon the way it plunged into Law’s heart. He stared at you with widened eyes, not saying a single word. Law couldn’t even give you the benefit of the doubt of the fact you were drunk off your mind so whatever you were saying was deemed fabricated and false because of how distraught he was by your words. The words didn’t hurt him as bad, though. What made everything a hundred times worse for the boy was your angry, careless expression to go along with it like it didn’t phase you a second that you shattered his heart.

“So can I go now?”

After those words, Law pushed passed you with zero remorse left. You were left there in the hallway, whose atmosphere was now filled with despair and animosity, all by yourself. You glared at Law with each step he took downstairs.

The crowd made its way for Law. His steps could bash someone’s skull in and his demeanor gave off the vibe he was about to murder anyone that dared spoke a word to him. Everyone grew quiet once the loud, slamming sound of the door echoed in the room. You stood up top on the steps with a careless smile.

“C’mon! Who said this party was over!?” You shouted, raising a fist. Everyone cheered to your voice as if nothing happened. As if you didn’t unknowingly ruin your relationship.

The rest of the lively night was a blur. The more you took, the more you began to lose control of your body and became blackout drunk. The last thing you remembered was screaming Happy Birthday over cake and everything went dark. To your surprise, you woke up in your bed the following morning.

You never thought sun rays could burn your eyes so bright in the morning but here you were. Wincing like a vampire as soon as you realized the bright morning sun flooded up in your windows to peek through your curtains. Your head was on the verge of exploding from the grueling headache. You winced as you sat up from your bed to realize you were still in your party attire, minus the absence of your heels.

“Fuck, what happened…” You murmured.

You didn’t hesitate to slip your body into more comfortable clothing compared to the tight dress causing more discomfort in your distressed state. Your legs were wobbly and weak but you still managed to make your way down the steps. The living room was not only several times brighter than your room but also looked like a hurricane went through it. A happy, morning Sabo was slowly cleaning up the place while the birthday boy was snoring on the couch with drool.

“Sabo?” You said groggily. Sabo flinched at your voice and quickly exhaled.

“You scared me, (F/N). Slept okay?” He asks with a smile, carrying a full black trash bag. You nod slowly, making your way to the messy kitchen.

“Last night was pretty crazy, huh?” Sabo hummed. He made sure his voice was quiet for you and Ace.

“I barely remember it…” You murmur. The main thing you focused on was grabbing a crisp bottle of water to soothe your body at least a little.

“I don’t doubt it. You were pretty crazy” Sabo gently placed the bag by the door with the rest of them. He began to continue cleaning the place little by little.

“I’ll help out,” You say, grabbing the wooden stick of the broom to sweep the floor from the party.

You two silently cleaned the place from top to bottom. The party aftermath left about five full bags of nothing but trash. You dusted your hands together and shared a high five with Sabo now that the place was clean.

“Free of any evidence” Sabo chuckled. You nodded.

Nothing prevented you from slapping your hand against the slumped boy's cheek to wake him up. Ace didn’t budge until your force grew harder and harder. He groaned and flailed his arms around to push you away.

“Okay, okay I’m up!” His eyes still closed, he sat up from the couch and palmed his eyes. You gave one last light smack beside Ace’s head.

“Morning”

You sat in the seat across from him, yawning. Ace finally fluttered his eyes open with a scrunched-up face.

“What even happened last night?” Ace said groggily. Sabo sighed, ready to explain the chaos he caused.

“You were off the rails with (F/N)” Sabo replied. He turned his body to a growling coffee maker.

“Why are you two here, anyway?” You asked curiously. Ace just replied with a dumbfounded shrug. His response didn't surprise you a drop.

“You two were the drunkest people here, so I stayed to put you both to bed after I forced everyone out. The police were almost called by your neighbors” Sabo chuckled, pouring a steaming hot cup of coffee in a mug.

“Jeez, I guess I threw one hell of a party” You giggled. You flickered your eyes around to see a tall, raven-haired, tattooed boy but nothing. You thought Law would’ve stayed to nurse your hangover but to your surprise, he wasn’t there.

“Where’s Law?” You abruptly asked.

Both of the brothers exchanged eye contact like they knew the answer. Ace said he wasn’t going to be the one to say it through Sabo’s eyes, and he sighed in complete defeat.

“He… left long before the party ended. He seemed pretty upset”

You raised an eyebrow, completely dumbfounded. You traced back the entire night but could only see your moments with the hungover boy in front of you.

“Upset? Why would he be-“

The air in your lungs is suddenly squeezed out by your terrified gasp. Sabo jolted and Ace just looked completely concerned. It finally clicked. The angsty conversation you had with your boyfriend flickered in your brain enough for you to piece it together. You rose up from your seat so quickly, that you grew slightly lightheaded. Your head whipped around your surroundings.

“Wha-? What’s wrong, (F/N)?” Sabo shifted his body away from the kitchen and immediately to you, looking like you’d been attacked by a ghost.

“My phone! I need my phone!” You shrieked. Ace groaned, your voice piercing through his brain.

“I’ll help look. Ace! You too!” Sabo said sternly as if he was a mother of ten kids.

You, as well as the two brothers, scurried around to find your missing cellular device that could’ve been absolutely anywhere. Thanks to your foggy memory and reckless drinking habits, your phone was tucked away in an absurd hiding place that Ace ironically found. You gleamed at the mere sight of it, snatching it off his tired hands.

“What’s wrong anyway? Never seen you so passionate about your phone” Ace said, scratching the back of his head.

“I think I just ruined my relationship while I was drunk out of my mind…”

You frantically turned on your phone and saw that Law hadn’t messaged or called you once all night. That simple sight made your hopes plummet and your heart shatter. You realized this was entirely your fault and looking back at the argument made your heart sink even further.

“Sabo,” You said sternly. He felt a shiver run alongside his body. “Please tell me I didn’t do anything with Ace. Y’know, like…?” You said, insinuating anything that wasn’t platonic. Sabo frantically shook his head.

“No, no! Of course not! All you did was share drinks and be annoyingly loud” Sabo reassured. You exhaled in complete relief knowing you had the control to prevent anything from happening.

“If I so much as kissed that moron I would’ve jumped off a bridge”

“Same here, asshole!”

You quickly opened Law’s contact and didn’t hesitate to call his number. You realized it was rather early in the morning for him to be awake but it didn’t hurt to try. You felt like crying as soon as you heard his voicemail instead of the loving voice you desperately longed for in this current situation. You tried again, but the same fate occurred. You collapsed on the couch once again, sluggishly sitting there in complete defeat.

“No use?” Sabo asked. All you could do was give him a slow nod while you typed out a message to him for him to see when he awoke.

(F/N) - 6:56 A.M

hey law we need to talk. i remember what happened and i really need to talk to you. call me as soon as you can i love you..

The last message was something Law read over and over. Truth be told, Law didn’t sleep since he left your place full of anger and frustration. As soon as he got home, he let out a few tears that not even his guitar could dry. He sat on the corner of his bed in quiet sobs, not really wanting to throw you away by your drunken words. Despite that, your words still pained his already shambled heart past its extent. He couldn’t sleep. He knew the moment he’d shut his eyes, your words would only replay through his eyes.

So Law broke nightfall to now stare at your two messages. He read the ‘I love you’ and reconsidered your relationship with him. He figured that if that were true, you wouldn’t have said what you said back at the party. He didn’t want to talk to you—not yet. Law watched your caller I.D buzz until the line disconnected. Even if he did answer, he wouldn’t know what to say to you, let alone your physical face. He desperately wanted to grab the phone and cry to you about his feelings, but that sense of vulnerability petrified him more than anything as well as the fact that talking to you wouldn’t help his wounds. Law silently told you he wanted space.

Sabo and Ace ended up spending the entire day at your place to comfort your current lovers quarrel. They kept you good company in playing games with you and spending brotherly time together but that didn’t erase Law from your overthinking brain.

5:34 P.M. - You sat on the couch with a fuzzy blanket wrapped around your body. You stared blankly at a movie displaying in front of you on the big screen TV. Sabo was on the other end of the couch mimicking your demeanor, the only difference was he was actually intrigued with the movie.

“Ace, while you’re there can you pour me somethin’ to drink” Sabo called out from the living room. You could hear Ace sigh.

The room began to flood in with the buttery aroma of freshly made popcorn. Granted, it was made from the microwave but it was still delicious. You let out an audible sigh. Sabo noticed your distressed state never vanished all day since the morning. He’d catch you checking your messages to see if Law messaged you under your nose, but nothing. Your inbox was filled with notifications that didn’t matter to you. You only worried about your boyfriend.

“What am I gonna do at school tomorrow?” You asked. Sabo hummed while he averted his attention from the TV to you.

“With Law?” His question made you hum and nod. You couldn’t maintain eye contact with the blonde, but you could tell he was concerned. The aroma grew stronger when Ace plopped in the middle of you two with a steaming bowl of popcorn. Ace shoved a fist full into his mouth.

“Talk to him, duh” He muffled out. You rolled your eyes at the oblivious jock.

“Not as easy as it sounds, Ace” Sabo added. Ace pointed the bowl towards his brother while chewing on his mouthful of popcorn. “If he’s ignoring her online, what makes you think he’ll welcome her with open arms in person”

“I guess, but think of it like this” Ace grabbed the remote that lingered on the glass coffee table innocently. Ace paused the movie that was playing, which you weren’t even paying attention to, panning his attention between you and his brother.

“If he’s ignoring you online, he can’t ignore you in person? Hm?” Ace felt like he was the smartest person to ever walk the planet while you and Sabo gave him eyes that said otherwise.

“Ace, I’m sure he’ll just ignore me in person. Plus, I don’t want to embarrass myself” Sabo hummed in agreement.

“Besides, I think (F/N) must’ve hurt him so bad that he needs time to recover” Sabo hit you where it hurt and you flickered your eyes away in embarrassment. Sabo cringed. “Sorry, (F/N)… Didn’t mean it that way-“

“I get it. No reason to sugarcoat it…”

The two sat in silence for a moment. They equally felt bad for your current situation and seeing you hurt only pained them more. Sure, Ace was an oblivious, one-track-minded guy but he still cared for the people around him—especially you. Sabo was in the same boat.

“I think you should give him some space until Tuesday or so…” Sabo recommended and you couldn’t object.

“What did you even say to him anyway?” Ace abruptly asked. He leaned back against the couch with his arms spread. He rolled his head towards you.

Ace’s question made you realize you kept whatever you told Law a secret. This entire time they’ve been clueless of the actual situation and assumed it was pretty bad for Law’s ghosting absence. You felt cold and bare, despite being wrapped in warmth, when you opened your mouth to explain.

“I barely remember, but he said he was uncomfortable with how I was with Ace last night and I told him to just leave…” Is all you can manage to describe the quarrel. You saw Ace cringe at your explanation, knowing that he was a major part of it. Sabo was left somewhat speechless.

“To be honest, I figured that was the case” Sabo spoke. You shrugged in defeat.

“Yeah, that’s sort of embarrassing…” Ace exhaled, rubbing his back as a nervous stim. “Does he know about our relationship?”

“I’ve told him numerous times but I guess I was just too clingy because I was drunk and it was your birthday”

“Well, take this as a learning experience to never drink like that again” Sabo laughed. His slight sprinkle of humor to the painful situation made a soft giggle escape your lips.

“First and last time…”

Suddenly, the doorknob from behind began to jiggle and rumble. A shiver went down your spine, wondering whoever this was trying to break into your home. Your delusions began to take over and the only person you could think of popped out of your mouth as the door swung open. Your legs moved on their own to an abrupt rise from your seat, the blanket pouring onto the floor.

“Law…?”

The door revealed an exhausted, tall woman sighing in complete relief to be in the comfort of her home. She tossed her keys by the steel bowl beside the door where the rest of the keys lingered. Your body relaxed at the sight of someone you didn’t expect to see, while the two brothers smiled in delight.

“Hey mom…”

You say lowly. Your mother smiled, seeing the surprise of both brothers in front of her. She hugged them both ever so lovingly, leaving a tighter embrace around your disappointed body. You were happy to see your mother, of course, but you oddly expected the raven-haired boy instead to come out and spin you in his toned arms.

“What are you boys doing here while I’m gone?” She said, her voice spewing a bit of animosity towards you. You remembered she strictly told you to not have anyone over unless it was an emergency.

“(F/N) was helping us study for a really important exam before Christmas Break. Sorry if you didn’t want anyone over” Sabo saved your skin to your mother, who had eyes ready to pull you by your ear to lecture you. You silently thanked him.

“Well, I expected nothing less from my little scholar” She giggled.

“Why don’t you two stay for dinner and I’ll drop you rodents back home. Sounds good?” She gleamed, her hands placed on her hips.

You hear the two agree with excitement. You sighed, hoping your lovingly warm mother's cooking would warm your tainted heart. You decided to cover the lover's quarrel with your mother to keep that perfect picture in her head. That is until the dreading thought of you two breaking up occurred. It was all you thought about. It’d make your stomach turn and your throat tighten at the mere thought. It’s only been a couple months or so, but you loved Law more than anything. Knowing that you were the very cause of your perfect relationship only made you want to crumble before everyone.

That night you lay in the comfort of your bed, imagining what would happen in the familiar hallways of the building you were scheduled to arrive to the following morning. It’d be exactly like how it was the very first time you met the boy. You didn’t expect him to hold you in that tight, warm embrace he’d usually do whenever you were stressed or overwhelmed. He wouldn’t kiss you with those lovingly soft lips with an arm on your back that silently spoke; ‘I’ve got you’. He’d push passed you like you were a stranger with those mysterious, steel eyes. Only this time, those eyes had more sadness and sorrow buried within them than before.

The imagery flashed before your eyes, and in your, what you thought would be, peaceful slumber. You didn’t have high hopes of getting good enough sleep that night. With your body coiled in a fetal position and your arms tucked in your chest, you can only think of saying one thing.

“We’ll be okay, Law…”

← prev ┊ next →

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔

✎ ❝ idc law smokes weed because just LOOK at the people hes surrounded with. anyway ive been slacking so much so im sososososos sorry but YAYYYY ITS OUTTT since im more than halfway, im thinking of making a new novel long after this one is over so if you have any suggestions id love to hear it!! thank you so much for the massive recent support, i genuinely love everyone that enjoys my work YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST!!!!!!!!! ❞

All licensing and ownership belong to Eiichiro Oda

#fanfic #op x reader #one piece #x reader #law x reader #one piece x reader #trafalgar one piece #law fanfic #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #op law #angst

57 notes · View notes