#just more pieces to this modern au puzzle

[satosuguwifee]

Under His Dominion — Sukuna Ryomen x F!reader

wc: 2487

Contents: Modern!au

Credits for the beautiful fanart: innaillus

Tokyo, Japan

Y/n was returning from yet another tiring day at work, her head pounding thanks to the shouting she received from her boss who didn't seem to recognize any of her efforts in any project or solutions she presented that could improve the company.

“I don't think this life is for me,” her voice is calm and thoughtful, but clearly carrying a weary tone with it. “Unfortunately I can't quit this job, after all, how would I pay my bills?”

A snort escapes her lips as her hand clutches the umbrella over her figure, as her boss's request to work overtime has caused her to miss the bus she uses to get to and from work. Soon, an echoing gunshot could be heard, and a chill ran through her stomach as the sound seemed very close.

'Just what I need…'

The woman thought as she walked faster along the wet sidewalk, which seemed to increase her panic, until she managed to turn around just in time in an alleyway when a flash was seen in the distance and the sound made her recognize that it had been another gunshot. You hid behind a dumpster, closing your umbrella and reducing any noise you made as the sound of gunfire and car tires dragging on the street grew louder.

Prayers came from her trembling lips, pleas not to be found came out shakily until the noises became more distant and disappeared into the city beyond.

Y/n waited a few minutes to be sure before emerging from her hiding place, relief etched on her face for mere seconds before her eyes caught sight of a tall figure at the end of the alley, staring at her menacingly and silently. In the dim light of the streetlamp, she could see wounds on his strong, tattooed arms where his blood dripped and fell to the wet ground.

“A brat like you shouldn't be in such a dangerous place.” he says, his voice hoarse and deep as he watches her with his one eye, blood-red glaring at her figure.

“Well, I didn't want to be…, but today the stars aren't in my favor. And apparently not in yours either.” She said, still watching him guardedly, but feeling an urge to help this stranger. Maybe she was crazy for good… “Let me help you.”

“You'd better not come any closer,” he says, still in a threatening pose as he glares at her. “I'm not the kind of guy you'd want to get close to.”

“I insist, I'd feel bad if by any chance your body was shown on the TV news.” she says stubbornly, taking steps towards him before crouching down in front of him and rummaging through her handbag for some gauze or bandages that she always carries in emergencies.

Y/n soon found a piece of gauze, using it to clean the wounds on his left arm and taking the opportunity to notice the tribal tattoo present, wondering if there was any meaning behind it or if he had just done it because he thought it was pretty. Her hands quickly wrapped a new piece of gauze around his bicep and then covered it with the adhesive plaster, smiling at her work.

Then she lifted up his shirt, her eyes widening as she saw the wound which, from the shape, she could deduce had been caused by a gunshot. Her mind connected the facts, perhaps he had been hit by a stray bullet in the midst of the previous battle between gangs that always took place there.

“Unfortunately, there's not much I can do about this one,” Y/n says, but at least she puts another piece of gauze over it so that the rainwater stops falling on the wound and reduces the chances of contamination. “You'd better get to the hospital before it gets any worse.”

Unbeknownst to her, the eye of the man she is caring for is on her figure, silently studying her. He thought about how naïve or even idiotic this creature seemed to be standing there, without even having a clue who he was. Do you do that with all the strangers you meet? He seemed puzzled by this.

He smoothed his own pink hair with his free hand, pushing back the strands that had stuck to his wet face while he had a small smirk on his lips. The man certainly hadn't expected such an encounter, but there was no way he was going to complain about being treated by this mysterious woman.

After that day, Y/n never even saw a trace of the pink-haired, ruby-eyed man, preferring to believe that he arrived safely at his house, the next morning even watching the newspaper to make sure he had a chance of being alive.

'At least I did my bit to try and help him.'

She thought as she grabbed herself a coffee, taking a sip of the hot, bitter liquid that would give her strength for the rest of the day she would have to face. Soon she was running around the company, carrying documents and more documents that needed her boss's signatures or to accompany him to his meetings as his secretary.

And it was in one of these meetings that Y/n got the biggest surprise of her monotonous day: the same guy she had helped a few days ago was there, sitting in the 'big boss' chair and looking at both her and her boss.

“I didn't expect you to show up here, Mr. Sukuna.” her boss says in surprise, then clears his throat and looks nervous for some reason. Well, he is very intimidating, both because he's tall, muscular and because he's wearing an eye patch to cover one of his eyes, which I'm sure he no longer has, given the large scar.

“I've just come back from my trip, you don't need to take over my position now that I'm no longer away.” His eyes move towards the secretary, analyzing her meticulously before a small smile forms at the corner of his lips. “You weren't here when I was away.”

“I've been working here for a few months, my name is Y/n L/n.” Well, obviously they hadn't even bumped into each other in that huge company, if they had, she would have recognized him immediately the night before.

Sukuna nodded at her, with the same smile and without looking away from her before turning his gaze to her boss and signaling him to leave, which was immediately obeyed.

“So you're one of my company's employees? I must say that's quite a pleasant surprise, Miss L/n.” He then leaned back in his leather chair, drumming his fingers against the wood of the table. “Since you're the one who accompanied my replacement, could you update me on the new data collected from the partner companies, hm?”

Y/n feels his cheeks flush at the menacing sweetness in her voice, but he quickly remembers that he's in his work environment and nods before walking over to him with the tablet held in his arms.

“With pleasure, Mr. Sukuna.”

At the end of her shift, Y/n was packing up her briefcase to finally go home while chatting with some of her coworkers when they all stopped talking when the 'big boss' stepped out of the elevator, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants and his gaze scanning the surroundings as if he were inspecting the place.

Then he stopped as soon as he saw her, walking towards her as if he were some kind of God before stopping in front of her, making it painfully obvious the huge difference in size between the two of them.

“Miss L/n, I'd like you to come with me for a moment.”

Soon all eyes were on both of them, and at that moment she could feel her whole body sweating with nervousness. Had she given him some wrong information? Had her superior made up lies about her to ruin her reputation? These were the questions running through her head as she followed him into the elevator, feeling the tension in that tiny cubicle and gently adjusting the collar of her white dress shirt.

Then, finally, they reached the building's parking lot, and she stopped in her tracks when he also stopped in front of a luxury car, pulling a cigar out of the inside pocket of his suit before lighting it and staring at her in tortured silence.

“What can I do for you, sir?” Y/n asked robotically, holding the strap of his briefcase in front of her stomach, resembling the pose of a stewardess and drawing a deep laugh from the older man.

“There's no need for such formality when it's just the two of us.” He pauses to take another drag and then blows out the smoke. “I want to thank you for yesterday, so please come to dinner with me.”

It was more of a demand than a request, and the woman swallowed as she hesitated for a few seconds whether or not to accept. Then she nods as she sees his intense gaze, which makes him nod in the direction of the car, making his message clear. Y/n then goes to the back of the car and waits for her boss's boss to get in. She just hopes it's not such a fancy place.

She definitely had to bite her tongue thoughtfully, because my God, the place they were in reeked of money! Okay, she's exaggerating a bit, but she'd never set foot in there with her retirement money! She even felt sorry for eating the food on her plate, it was all so luxurious.

“You can eat as much as you like, Miss L/n.” He demands, taking a sip of the wine in his glass and she quickly nods before cutting off a small portion to eat.

“W-wow, this is delicious.” She says impressed, quickly wiping her mouth with her napkin before placing it on the table as if she was afraid it would break. Well, she was practically all tense, as if any touch of hers could break everything from there. “But nothing beats the hot dog on the corner, that's for sure.” She whispered to herself before eating another piece, looking up at the 'big boss' who was watching her.

“Really? Well, why don't you show it to me sometime, hm?”

“Oh, I don't know if street food would appeal to your refined palate.”

“I'm always open to new options, Miss Y/n.” Sukuna cut her off with a smile before taking another sip of the red liquid as if putting an end to the discussion.

They then sat in a pleasant silence, with Y/n enjoying the food of royalty and Sukuna watching her in silence, discreetly admiring her small features, such as her inviting pink hair, eyes and lips, making him smile and take another sip of the drink in his hand.

After a pleasant hour, Sukuna guided his guest through the chic hall with his hand on her waist, feeling the soft, natural curve of her body against his slightly rough palm. He soon went to the reception desk and, instead of paying the bill, just showed his ID to the woman who quickly stiffened when she read the name on the document.

“Thank you for your visit Sir, have a good night.”

Y/n was confused by this, but didn't even have time to digest the information when she felt his hand firmly squeeze her waist as he led her into the parking lot, making her shiver.

And as quick as a wink, they were on the streets of Tokyo after she gave him her address. After all, she wouldn't deny him a ride because it was already very late and dangerous for her to catch a bus… She also had a love of life! Her eyes were fixed on the view, staring dreamily at the buildings and imagining herself in them, sipping a glass of champagne, wearing a black silk robe and being hugged by a hot husband behind her, which made her giggle to herself without realizing it.

However, she was snapped out of her fantasies when she felt a brush against her knee and realized it was Sukuna's hand as he shifted gears when he stopped at a red light.

“I run that restaurant.” he says, turning to her and seeing her confused look. ”I don't owe you any satisfaction, but you seemed intrigued at that moment by the waitress.”

'She was so easy to read?'

Y/n nods and clears her throat while trying to ignore the slight warmth his hand caused against her skin without even touching it. It was something electrifying, something inexplicable. But she didn't even have time to think about it because he soon put his hand back on the wheel when the traffic light turned green.

“Thank you for dinner and the ride, sir.” The woman thanked him as soon as he stopped the car in front of her house, smiling at him and then unbuckling herself. “See you tomorrow at work.”

As she was about to open the door, she shivered as she felt his hand on her shoulder, holding her for a moment. Just as she turned her face over her shoulder towards him, his thumb brushed gently against the apple of her cheek, holding it in place.

“I didn't do it for you to thank me, brat.”

He purrs softly, bringing his face a little closer to hers and gently brushing the tip of his nose against the other cheek, feeling something in himself with the faint sweet smell of her, how it was soft and suited her. Sukuna let out another low, deep laugh as he felt her body stiffen at his touch, at his power over her.

“Mr. Sukuna, I don't want to mix things up.” Suddenly she pulled away just as he was about to kiss those plump lips he'd been staring at all through dinner. “You're my superior, please. I'm sorry if you took this dinner as an opportunity, but it wasn't. Excuse me, please.”

Y/n then turned and opened the door, allowing Sukuna to smell her hair one last time before she practically ran out of her apartment. He stared unblinkingly at the route she had just taken, snorting softly and feeling his cock already semi-hard from the fantasies he had had about them in his car.

However, seeing that she wasn't a woman who opened her legs to just anyone, not even him, made him respect her a little before he made his way to his mansion, and he couldn't get her out of his mind.

Continue?

[angelsrcute]

⌗ DARLING, CAN I BE YOUR FAVOURITE? 𐙚˙⋆.˚

ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡ 𝐍–𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 !! ; Dom!Alhaitham + Sub!F!Camgirl!Reader ➜ cws: Degradation, Riding, Exhibitionism, p ➜ v, Use of lube, Modern au, Overstimulation. ᡴꪫ‎

꒰ † ੭ — For the event!

Alhaitham who gets a new roommate, you. He assumed you were just a busy person since you both never talked to eachother, which he could relate to, but little did he know that you were the cam girl who he sometimes jerked off to.

Alhaitham who noticed you acting weird these days. Alhaitham who finally pieced the puzzle together, why your room had looked so familiar. You talked about moving to somewhere else and even about him in your streams.

Alhaitham who was amused by your fantasies, couldn't help but smile. It was quite the situation he found himself in. Alhaitham who barged into your room one night while you were streaming.

"You're such a naughty girl, you know. Talking about the things you want your roommate to do to you." Your eyes teared up, and your moans grew louder. You couldn't believe this was finally happening, your skirt hiked up while he fucked you. His energy was so much, as if he could go on forever. You couldn't even feel your legs as you neared your second climax. The camera showed the world, some enjoying it while some were jealous, that it wasn't them. You cried out his name as you reached your peak, only to be met with another round. Alhaitham didn't let you rest, instead, he instructed you to ride his cock, his hands on your waist guiding your movements, "Such a good girl you are, you can come for me one more time, can't you? C'mon, don't whine, someone even gave a donation, don't disappoint them."

Alhaitham who offered you a warm bath and cuddled you afterward. He whispered in your ear, "Don't do your streams anymore. I'll pay for your necessities. Your pretty body is only for me to see, got it?”

[spid3namy]

♡　　i always want you when i'm (coming down) 　　♡

ft. geto suguru

cw: 18+ , fem!reader, modern au, mentions of weed & alcohol , praise, unprotected, fwb ( kind of but not really ), pet names, confessions, riding, mdni.

words: 3.2k

the air was muggy. there was so much smoke that filled up the room but it didn’t matter. not when you tasted so damn sweet. sure, you had a ton of weed in your system and it was mixing around with the alcohol you had been drinking earlier. and yeah, you would never do this on any other occasion but right now, it didn’t matter.

you two had been smoking for a few hours now. 

it had first started with passing a blunt to one another, laughing and drinking as you two talked about who the fuck knows. ya know, the usual; then you had jokingly offered to just blow the smoke into his mouth instead of him having to take a hit of the drug. 

and to your surprise, he agreed. without a moment’s hesitation, he had pulled you onto his lap to give you a better angle of being able to blow the smoke into his mouth.

one thing led to another and now you two were making out; a half finished blunt perched between his fingers while the other rested on your hip gently. you tasted sweet; even though you tasted mostly of alcohol and the weed you two were smoking.

that didn’t matter to him, though. you still tasted sweet to him. and he loved that about you; he was almost positive that you knew that. you must have known since he refused to stop kissing you. 

but your lungs were burning. whether from the drug that was in your system or from lack of air, you didn’t really now. but it didn’t matter. when you finally pull away for air, his eyes lock onto you; they are bloodshot and droopy ever so slightly. 

“aw.. pullin’ away so fast?” geto asks, a hint of mockery and teasing in his tone. he takes a drag of the blunt that was still perched in his fingers. he blows the smoke out after a few moments and gives you a cheeky grin. “don’t tell me you shy now, doll..” he was still teasing you and you knew it. 

bastard.

the sound of his voice made you let out a small giggle; you body sways from side to side slightly. it was clear that you were feeling the effects of the substances you had allowed into your body; if you hadn’t already been feeling them, of course.

you watch as he takes a hit of the blunt, lips parting slightly in awe as you watched the smoke leave his mouth so.. perfectly. your lips were red and slightly swollen from the feverish make out session you two just had. the realization almost made him want to laugh but he didn't.

you loved kissing him; loved how his lips felt against yours. they fit together like puzzle pieces. not that those words would ever leave your lips.

you two had a somewhat interesting relationship. you two were friends. ones who made out all the time and had sex sometimes. but you never really put a label on it. just.. friends. or smoking buddies to be more accurate about it. you make sure to remind yourself that this was not any sign that he wanted a relationship with you. this was merely a way to relax from the stress of the world outside. 

here, in his living room, was a safe space. one where you didn’t need to worry about anything other than each other.

you blink out your thoughts when you feel smoke on your face; he must’ve taken another drag of it. you give him a lop-sided grin before taking the blunt from his fingers.

“‘m not shy.. jus’ needed some air ‘s all” you tell him, finishing off the blunt before putting the butt of it into the ashtray with the rest of them. this had been the fourth one you two had shared.

“what? you like kissin’ me that much, Sugu?”

a giggle leaves your lips along with the smoke in your mouth, your eyes focused on him. 

geto had his eyes locked onto you the whole time, watching as you laugh and sway from the effects of the drugs and alcohol you had consumed. it was cute, frankly. 

he leans into the couch more and rolls his eyes, though there is not real indication that he was annoyed with you; just a playfully gesture more than anything else. he thought you were adorable. 

in more ways than one.

though, he doesn’t believe you when you mention that you aren’t shy. he could just see it in your eyes that you were most definitely shy. at least.. on any normal day you were. 

“you seem pretty shy to me, doll.” he says, letting a smirk form on his lips before he leans closer to you, his other hand now resting on your hip. “and maybe I do enjoy kissin’ you.. guess we’ll never know the truth though, hm?”

you let out a snort and lean forward slightly; your chests were now pressed together. your hand comes up to touch his shoulder lightly as both of your legs rest on each side of his hips, pressing light kisses onto his jawline.

“careful there, Sugu.. keep talkin’ like that and we might have to kiss ‘gain” 

your tone is teasing as you press another kiss onto his jawline, sitting up and giving him a cheeky grin.

“want another blunt, my dear?” 

a small shiver runs up his spine at the kisses you gave him. he wouldn’t admit it to you ( and your ego ) but he fucking loved when you kissed him like that; when you pretended that he was yours. but he wasn’t. 

well.. not in the romantic sense. 

“‘s that ‘possed to be a threat?”

his eyebrow raises slightly as he smirks lightly. though, if you two did kiss again, he wouldn’t mind it. not when you tasted so damn sweet.

“come on.. roll another one up, sweetheart.”

you press a kiss onto the corner of his mouth before sitting up, leaning backwards towards the coffee table. you can feel the way your back pops slightly from the action. not that you really minded. 

you grab the bag full of weed and rolling paper before turning your attention back over to him. you roll your eyes playfully and poke his cheek lightly.

“don’t be so damn desperate, Sugu.”

you fill the paper in your hands up with the weed before your eyes lock onto his dark colored ones. your tongue lightly poking out and licking the paper before you pushed it together. 

the action was so seductive. enough to cause his dick to twitch lightly. he mentally curses himself for the way his body reacts to watching you roll up a blunt. sometimes he wished you weren’t so damn seductive without even trying all that hard.

“c’mon.. open wide for me, darling..” you lift the blunt up to his mouth, holding a lighter in your other hand.

geto lets out a small laugh as he rolls his eyes. the way you spoke to him was enough to bring his dick to its half hardness. he tried to be annoyed with you but when you looked at him with those doe eyes of yours, he knew it was all over for him.

he doesn’t hesitate and opens his mouth slightly, allowing the blunt to rest between his lips gently. his dark colored eyes stay locked onto your face; his lips curving up into a slight smirk.

a small giggle leaves your lips as you light the blunt. your hand holding his chin up lightly; the touch alone sends a small shiver up his spine.

“ooh.. good boy” you coo, the words seeming almost teasing as you set the lighter back down onto the coffee table. 

you allow your chest to rest on his once again, kissing his jawline before moving to his neck. the smell of weed quickly fills up your nose; your shoulders relax even more as you let it over take your senses.

geto lets out a small hum in response to the praise. feeling the blunt being placed in his mouth, he takes a deep inhale; smoke filling his lungs and his body immediately starts to relax in the next moment. 

he wouldn’t admit it but he loved when you called him a good boy. and his dick loved it just as much. but he would die with that secret. 

his hands gently caress your hips, loving the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. he swore he could feel every fiber of skin there. you felt so damn perfect on top of him. it made him wonder how you would look if you rode him. 

he lets out a small breath and he slowly exhales a large amount of smoke. he could not allow those thoughts to fill his brain right now; not when he was already struggling to keep his dick under control. 

the feeling of his hands on your skin causes a small shiver up your spine but you chose to ignore it. 

your mouth nipping and sucking dark marks onto his skin; you were always more confident when you were high. you marked him up like he was yours to mark up.

but he didn’t seem to mind it. 

if you were sober, you wouldn’t be doing this. wouldn’t even be on his lap right now. but you weren’t sober. you had marijuana and alcohol in your system, the two forcing a confidence in you that you weren’t really familiar with. 

you didn’t care though; you liked how it made you loosen up. how it made you not worry as much as you usually would.

"watch your hands, pretty boy" you purrs, sitting up and grabbing his wrist lightly. you move his wrist towards your mouth, taking a hit of the blunt before you blow the smoke towards his face lightly.

his eyes stay focused on you the entire time; he watches as you leave marks onto his skin. the feeling of it causes him to let out a content sigh. 

he honestly would be lying if he said he didn’t love this confidence you had. especially since you would never do anything like this when you were sober. you were usually much more shy; much more reserved. 

"oh I will, doll. but you should watch your mouth." Geto teases, letting his hand wander to gently caress your thighs.

you roll your eyes lightly before taking another hit of the marijuana, keeping the smoke in your mouth. your hands soon come up and pull him closer, pulling him into a feverish kiss.

you gently transfer the smoke into his mouth, a buzz going through your body. you allow your tongue to lick around his mouth, your hips rolling against his. the movement is slow and calculated, just enough to make him need more.

and it worked. because he did need more. 

geto lets his eyes half close as your tongue and lips move against his own. the taste of you mixed with the weed they just finished makes him dizzy. 

his body relaxes under you as you roll your hips against him. his hands grip at your thighs, loving the plush feeling under his fingers. 

you hum and roll your hips again, the kiss between you two turning more feverish with each passing second. geto’s eyes nearly roll back into his head when you grind against him again. you were driving him crazy and it was making him dizzy.

when you pull away from the kiss, he nearly whines at the loss of contact. you let out a small snort and roll your eyes playfully, grabbing the blunt from him and take a drag from it.

“don’t fuckin’ tease like that, doll” 

geto barely recognizes the sound of his voice as he speaks. it was so hoarse yet so whiny all at the same time. it was so weird for him. 

but you had that effect on him.

and he fucking hated it. yet he loved it all at the same time. not that he would admit it of course. he had too much pride to do so.

you give him a grin as you blow smoke into his face, rolling your hips against him once again. you were still teasing, he knew it. knew that you were doing this on purpose. and if he didn’t like it so much, he would’ve gotten pissed off with you at the fact that you insisted on teasing him. call him greedy, he didn’t care. 

“c’mon.. do somethin’ to me.. don’t leave me hangin’ here, doll”

you let out a snort and roll your eyes, finishing off the blunt before you set the butt of it with the rest of them. he sounded so desperate. it was quite cute. not that you would admit that to him.

you allow a hand to reach up and grab his chin, pressing your lips against his once again. he immediately kisses you back, pulling you closer to him and groaning lowly. he must’ve been real pent up with the way he was practically whining for your touch. for more of you. 

not that he would admit to you. he had way too much pride to ever admit that. 

his tongue presses into your mouth, licking around and gripping your hips at the way you tasted. it was sweet yet had a bit of marijuana mixed in with it. and he loved it. loved how addicting you were. 

geto allows a hand to reach up your shirt, lightly brushing a thumb over your nipple. you let out a gasp in his mouth; you hadn’t been expecting his cold hands to touch you like that. he grins and pinches the growing bud, loving the way you whimper and squirm around on his lap.

you pull away from the kiss, your hands reaching down and pulling your shirt over your head as you stare down at him. geto is staring at you almost star struck. it was cute.

he never failed to look so interested in you no matter how many times he saw your body.

“fuck, doll, you’re gorgeous” 

he leans forward and presses his lips against your neck, sucking dark marks onto your skin. you moan and allow your hips to roll against his, your fingers tangled into his hair. he continues his assault on your neck before he moves down to your chest. 

he presses light kisses on your breasts, his hands on your hips to help you grind against him more. it was starting to make him lose his mind. you let out a small whine, needing more than what he was giving you. it was like he was teasing you on purpose and you didn’t like it. not when you needed him so damn badly. 

“c’mon, Sugu.. don’t fuckin’ tease”

geto lets out a chuckle at your impatience, finding it rather cute; he doesn’t seem to waste anymore time though. he helps you out of your shorts and panties, throwing them somewhere in the living room before he shifts out of his pants and boxers.

you stare at him for a while, your mouth suddenly becoming dry. geto chuckles and grabs your chin gently, pressing a light kiss onto your face.

“go on, doll.. don’t be scared”

his words are so comforting. odd for him.

but you don’t dwell on it too much. you lift yourself up slightly, grabbing ahold of his hard dick before you slowly sink down onto it. a gasp leaves your lips at the stretch. 

he groans and holds onto your hips, almost as though he was trying to restrain himself from forcing you all the way down to the base. you hold onto his shoulders, legs already trembling as you sink all the way down. you had barely done anything and your body was already shaking.

you weren’t sure if that was good for him or bad for you. 

didn’t matter.

you sit still for a while, just allowing yourself to get used to the girth of his cock before your legs slowly lift yourself up. you rise up until only the tip is in before you slam yourself back down, moaning and gripping onto him tighter.

he lets out a groan and keeps his hands on your hips, keeping you steady. you soon lift yourself up again, slamming back down and letting out another moan.

and quickly, the sound of skin slapping and your moans fill up the room. 

geto has a good hold onto your hips, helping you move. his eyes are fixated on the way that your cunt sucks his dick in. he was completely mesmerized by it.

“look at you, princess.. doin’ so fuckin’ good for me”

his voice is deep and it barely registers in your brain; the pleasure you felt making you too fucked out to even answer. 

he lets out a chuckle before he shifts positions, laying down onto the couch before he starts to thrust into you. you cry out and grip at him and the couch; you needed something to keep you grounded.

his hands are firm on your hips, fucking into you like some sort of dog in heat. 

you didn’t seem to care though. not when you were practically begging him for more. 

“look at ya.. lookin’ so fucking pretty under me like this. such a good girl.”

his voice comes out as a coo, his thrusts becoming rough with each second. your hands grip at his back, whines coming from your lips; drool slowly starts to roll down the corner of your mouth and onto the couch under you. it was too much. 

and it was making you so close to cumming. especially with the way he was hammering into you.

“g-gonn.. cum”

he lets out a chuckle at your attempt at talking; he knew just how fucked out you were just by the way you looked. it was cute. he doesn’t seem to say anything though, just continues to fuck into you. his hands come down and start to rub at your clit.

you cry out, his name falling from your lips as you cum. he grins cheekily and continues his movements, feeling his own orgasm starting to creep up on him. 

“good fuckin’ girl.. gonna make me cum”

he leans down and presses his lips onto your neck, his hips stuttering slightly as he keeps moving. you whine, sensitive from the over stimulation. 

and before you knew it, geto is spilling his cum into you; his hands gripping at your skin rough enough to leave bruises.

“love you so fuckin’ much.. such a good fucking girl for me.”

you let out a whine, trying to push him away from the weight he was currently trying to push onto you. the two of you stay in that position for a little while until he finally gets the strength to pull out.

“want another blunt?”

“you love me.”

he stares at you and scoffs, rolling his eyes. he knew you were going to say that. he had gotten caught in the heat of the moment, that's all it was.

“no i don’t.”

“well, i love you.”

“... what?”

“let’s get another blunt going!”

[moeitsu]

The Dark Tide Siren!Arthur Morgan x Reader Modern AU Ch 7 - Bound Beneath a Sirens Song Summary: With a storm looming on the horizon, the air crackles with an undeniable energy—every moment, every touch is charged like lightning waiting to strike. When Arthur invites you to take a swim, how could you possibly refuse? After all, it’s just a swim... what harm could come from that? wc: 11k tw: none! Swim Back! ↞ ﹏𓊝﹏ ↠ Sail Ahead!

AN: Longer chapter, got a little carried away. But reader finally gets to kissy on her fishy :3 (also like 80% of this takes place underwater, so pls don’t read too much into the logic of it)

tag list: @photo1030 @v3lv3tf0x @ireallyhonestlydontcare @shygamergirl01 @cloudywithachanceofcrisis @sevikaspuertoricanwife @abducted-cowz @ilovethatforyousworld @gatodebiquini @onyxlune @bomdada

I was searching for trouble and I knew it

The pull toward him was undeniable, like the tide dragging me into deeper waters, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to fight it. There were a thousand reasons why I should pack up my things and head home, but none of them were strong enough to make me leave. Every day, his voice echoed in the back of my mind, a secret siren song ringing in my ears, impossible to ignore.

I told myself this was an adventure—something new, something extraordinary. When in my life would I ever experience something like this again? But deep down, I knew it was more than that. He wasn’t just some fascinating creature to be studied, he was a person. A complicated, intriguing, wonderful person who had been through hell and somehow still found the strength to trust. Over the past week, I had watched him transform before my eyes, shedding his fear and anger like an old skin. Seeing that change unfold lit something warm and dangerous in my chest.

I knew I was going down with this ship, but I refused to raise the white flag in surrender. 

Not when he had come so far. Not when I had seen the way his shoulders relaxed when he listened to Mary-Beth ramble about her favorite books, or how he watched Tilly’s hands with quiet fascination as she scribbled down notes and hypotheses, pausing only to tap her pen against her lip in thought. He was still wary of the men, his trust slower to form, but he was trying. And that effort—it meant everything.

Tilly pestered him with inquisitive, practical questions, always seeking to unravel the mysteries of his existence. She wanted to know what he remembered about his mother, about his people, about the depths of the ocean he had never been free to explore. She wanted to see his lights up close, to hear the cadence of his native tongue, to piece together the puzzle of his biology with a scientific curiosity. At first, Arthur was hesitant, his answers clipped, wary. But I was always there with them, and at times, it felt like he looked to me for permission. A gentle smile, a small nod, and his face would soften just slightly, his bioluminescence flickering to life.

It was as if I was telling him, Go ahead. You’re safe to be yourself here.

Mary-Beth, on the other hand, was smitten with his personality. She had a habit of chatting his ear off, switching from one topic to another with the ease of someone who never ran out of things to say. She talked about her love for writing, about her life back at college, and the not-so-secret crush she had on a certain fisherman at the facility. And Arthur—he listened. Really listened. He hung onto every word, his curiosity evident in the way he tilted his head, the way he asked his own questions. It was clear that as much as we were fascinated by him, he was just as eager to understand us.

And for the first time in his life, he was free to learn without the shadow of pain and fear looming over him.

It was the end of the week. The summer sun was sinking low in the sky, bathing the outdoor section of Arthur’s tank in molten gold. The facility had closed to the public not too long ago, and the girls would need to head home soon. The warm eastern wind carried the briny scent of the ocean, filling my lungs with something grounding, something familiar.

I, for one, did not plan on leaving with them.

There was a part of me that longed to dive into the unknown. To explore someone who, in ways I couldn’t yet explain, felt just a little bit like me. Every day, the pull had grown stronger, the ache sharper. I wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or something more—but tonight, I could no longer ignore it.

Mary-Beth was carefully braiding a section of Arthur’s sandy blond hair, her fingers moving with practiced ease as she wove small strands together. Arthur sat comfortably with his elbows resting on the platform, arms crossed as his long tail floated lazily in the water, the gentle sway of it almost hypnotic. Tilly, stretching her legs with a sigh, checked the time before nudging Mary-Beth.

“We better get moving. My mom doesn’t like when I’m late for dinner.”

Mary-Beth groaned dramatically, her lips forming an exaggerated pout. “Oh, come on, Tilly. It’s Friday! We’re young adults—we should be spending our weekends staying out late, having fun! Can’t we stay with Arthur a little longer?”

“Ouch, guess I’m just chopped liver,” I muttered with a laugh, shaking my head. Though, in truth, I didn’t really mind that they preferred Arthur’s company. Because it meant I got to spend time with him too.

Arthur chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his chest as he gave them a reassuring smile. “It’s not like I’ll be going anywhere,” he said, amusement dancing in his glowing blue eyes. “We can pick up where we left off when you girls come back. Go home, get some rest—study up on those science books so you can teach this old fool some new tricks.” He added a playful wink, making Mary-Beth giggle as she gathered her things.

I stood as they did, walking them to the door, dragging my feet ever so slightly. The anticipation in my chest was a restless thing.

And then, finally—the door shut behind them with a heavy thud. Their footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing softer until they disappeared completely.

And just like that, it was just us.

Arthur and I.

This was what I had been waiting for all week—just a moment alone with him, without the others, without distraction. But now that it was here, now that the opportunity had fallen right into my lap, I wasn’t exactly sure what to do with myself.

I wanted to talk to him, to ask him questions, to know him in ways no one else had. But I had already spent every day listening to his stories, absorbing the pieces of himself he was willing to share with the others. And yet, there were still so many things I desired to know. More personal, more intimate details about his life that I had no business prying into.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I barely registered the way Arthur tilted his head at me, eyes searching mine.

“You alright, darlin’?”

The smooth timbre of his voice pulled me back to the present, washing over me like the tide pulling in.

I blinked, offering a small smile. “Yeah, I was just thinking.” I hesitated for half a second before adding, “Mind if I hang out for a bit?”

His eyes lit up, and it wasn’t just the setting sun catching in the water.

“Sure,” he said, shifting slightly as he regarded me. “This ain’t gonna get you in trouble, though, right?”

He had a point. There was no reason for me to stay after hours. But surely, I wasn’t breaking any rules. Not really.

I smirked. “Only if I get caught.”

Arthur huffed out a laugh, the sound warm and familiar, as if we had known each other for years instead of days. I realized just how much I needed to know him. Not as some scientific marvel, not as a myth brought to life.

But as Arthur.

As I moved toward the edge of the ledge, letting my legs dangle in the water, Arthur followed without hesitation. It was as if we were tethered by some invisible thread, an unspoken pull drawing us together. He stopped just before reaching me, lingering in that space between caution and longing, his hesitation palpable. I could see the gears turning in his mind—how close is too close?

I reached out, offering my hand in a silent invitation. And when he took it, I felt the warmth of his palm against mine despite the coolness of the water. He pressed himself against my legs, his chest firm and solid, his heartbeat strong beneath my skin. Wet arms came to rest on my thighs, soaking through my shorts, but I barely noticed. The moment was too charged, too fragile, as his gills fluttered against my legs, I parted them slightly as if breathing him into my embrace.

He was so close now. Close enough that I could study every detail of his face—the faint scar hidden beneath his short beard, the dimple at the base of his nose, the way his lashes curled like delicate brushstrokes. Freckles dusted his cheeks and shoulders like constellations etched into his skin, mapping stories I would never fully know. His second eyelids, faint but visible, reflected the soft light filtering through the water, a feature evolved to protect his irises, and yet, he still looked at me with such openness. His lips were smooth, and when he parted them, I caught the glint of sharp teeth, a stark contrast to the tenderness in his gaze.

Content had settled over his handsome rugged features. 

“Arthur.” His name slipped from my lips, quiet but sincere. And before I could stop myself, the question that had been lodged in my heart finally surfaced. “Are you happy here?”

I felt him tense, his body stilling against mine. He took a slow, measured breath, but there was no avoidance in his gaze, no flicker of hesitation. Only the truth.

“Happy is... a foreign word to me,” he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of a lifetime of uncertainty. “I like it here, but it’s not exactly what I’d call… home.”

The word sounded strange coming from him, like he was tasting it for the first time, unsure of its meaning. My chest ached.

“It’s a bit lonely when you’re all workin’,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Quiet. But it’s a nice feelin’, like I can just be.” He shrugged, as if that small solace was enough, as if it didn’t matter.

A sigh escaped my throat before I could swallow it. “I’m sorry, Arthur, I wish there—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, sweetheart. You’ve given me more freedom than I’ve ever tasted in my whole miserable life.”

I smiled at that, but it was a poor attempt to mask the tightness in my chest. I wanted to do more for him. I wanted to erase every wound, every scar of his past. Show him true happiness, not just some artificial slice of freedom. 

“Besides,” a slow, knowing grin tugged at his lips, revealing more of those sharp teeth. “If you had never brought me here, I never would’ve met you.”

His hand—webbed, calloused, yet impossibly gentle—lifted to my face, his fingertips tracing the curve of my cheek with aching reverence. Like he was afraid I might dissolve beneath his touch, fade into the air like seafoam.

“And I’m happy when I’m with you.”

The words settled between us, sinking into my bones, heavy and undeniable. I should have said something back. Should have acknowledged what was happening between us.

But I couldn’t. Because if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to pull myself away.

Arthur held my gaze for what felt like an eternity, a storm of emotions swirling between us like the eye of a cyclone—hot and cold currents colliding, the pressure building, pulling us into a dance neither of us dared to break free from. It was unspoken, this tether between us, but I felt it with every pounding heartbeat, with every inch that closed between our bodies.

“Would you swim with me, my girl?”

My breath caught. The words barely registered, not because I hadn’t heard them, but because of the way he said them.

My girl.

It rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, like it was already a truth neither of us had acknowledged yet. My stomach twisted, and a rush of warmth bloomed across my cheeks under the golden light of the setting sun. Arthur watched me, eyes shimmering with mischief, but there was something else there too—something deeper, something that sent a shiver down my spine.

“S-swim?” I squeaked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Arthur chuckled, the sound low and rich, like I had just recoiled from something ridiculous—like he had asked me to eat a raw sea urchin instead of simply taking a swim. “Yeah. If you can ignore the sharks and stingrays, it’s practically paradise,” he teased, tugging at my hands as if I might just leap in fully clothed without a second thought.

The meaning of his request finally sank in. My pulse kicked up a notch. This wasn’t what I had planned when I stayed behind with him, wasn’t how I thought I’d fill my time. I had imagined more talking, maybe more of those easy laughs he shared with the girls. But this—this was something different. Something thrilling.

I’d be in the water with him. In his natural element.

A voice in the back of my head stirred, whispering a reminder of what Lenny had said about siren courtship. His bioluminescence, the purring, the gift-giving—he’s in mating season.

I shot those thoughts straight to hell.

This wasn’t about that. This was just swimming. Nothing more. Nothing dangerous. What harm could be done?

Right? Right. 

A grin broke across my face, excitement bubbling in my chest as I practically sprang to my feet.

“I’ll go change into my wetsuit.”

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ *

I bounded down the corridor, my heartbeat matching the quick, eager rhythm of my steps. Excitement thrummed in my veins, bubbling up inside me until it felt like I might burst. This is happening. I could barely contain myself, giddy at the thought of what was to come. To see Arthur as he was meant to be—in the water, in his element. To watch the way the water broke for him, how effortlessly he moved, commanding the space with just the flick of his powerful tail. The thought sent shivers down my spine, a thrill unlike anything I had ever known.

I was so lost in the fantasy that I didn’t notice the electrical closet door swinging open until I nearly barreled straight into a solid chest.

“Woah!”

Hands gripped my shoulders to steady me, and I blinked up to find John staring down at me, brows raised in surprise. “Hey, uhm—didn’t realize you were still here…you going for a swim or something?” His gaze flickered down to my wetsuit, to the towel in my hands, then toward the hallway that led to Arthur’s tank. His expression shifted, concern knitting his features. “Shit, is Arthur alright? Did something happen?”

I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. Just like John to assume the worst. He always played it cool, pretended not to give a shit, but deep down, I knew better. The fool had a heart bigger than his ego—not that he’d ever admit it.

“Arthur’s fine,” I assured him quickly. “I’m just… going for a little swim. That’s all.”

John’s eyebrows shot up, but before he could grill me on why exactly I was voluntarily diving into the water with a half-siren, I cut in.

“What are you still doing here, anyway? You hate working late on Fridays.”

He sighed, exhaustion lacing his tone as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Hosea asked me to check on the generators. Since we got that big storm coming this weekend.”

Right. The hurricane. I had been so wrapped up in Arthur, in my own tangled emotions, that I had almost forgotten.

“Oh, right. Hurricane Eliza.” I rocked back on my heels, clutching the towel to my chest, suddenly feeling exposed. “I heard she’s gonna be a real beast.” I tried not to sound uninterested, but all I really wanted to do was turn back to Arthur. 

John hummed in agreement, but his eyes lingered on me a beat too long, as if he could see straight through my flimsy attempt at nonchalance.

A quiet laugh rumbled from his chest. “Yeah, uh—I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

He turned, heading back down the hallway, but not before shooting me that look. The one that said he wasn’t buying it.

“John! Uh…” I swallowed hard, nerves creeping back up my spine. Why did I feel like I was a child getting away with something? “Please keep this between us. I-I’m just—” I fumbled for the right words. Just what? Just going for a swim? Then why did it feel like I had been caught sneaking off to do something much more nefarious?

John smirked, dragging a finger across his lips like he was sealing them shut. “Your secret’s safe with me. Have fun with your shark boyfriend.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “He’s not—”

John was already strolling away, ignoring my rebuttal. “If he tries anything, I’ll gut his ass personally,” he called over his shoulder, his voice echoing down the corridor. 

I laughed, shaking my head. “Think I’ll take my chances, Marston. Seeing as you still can’t swim!”

Without turning around, he raised a middle finger in the air.

Grinning to myself, I clutched my towel a little tighter and turned toward the hallway that led to Arthur’s tank. My heart pounded for an entirely different reason now. This was finally happening.

The moment I stepped onto the platform, my heart clenched with a brief flicker of doubt. Would he still be as eager now that I was actually here? But before that worry could take root, the surface of the water broke, and Arthur emerged with effortless grace, resting his arms on the ledge like he had been waiting for me all night.

“Took you long enough,” he teased, his voice a low rumble beneath the gentle crashing of the waves beyond the facility. “Was startin’ to worry you changed your mind.”

I grinned, shaking my head as I tossed my towel onto a plastic chair. “Like I’d pass up this opportunity,” I mused, reaching for my flippers. “Spoke too soon about getting caught. Ran into John in the hallway.”

Arthur hummed in acknowledgment, but his attention was already elsewhere. I followed his gaze down to my feet, watching the way his expression softened with curiosity. Slowly, he reached out, his webbed fingers glistening under the golden light as they ghosted over my ankle.

I stilled as he lifted my foot slightly, his thumb brushing over the sharp ridge of ankle bone before gliding downward in a slow, deliberate motion. When the back of his claw traced up the arch of my foot, I couldn't help the quiet giggle that escaped me, my toes curling instinctively.

Arthur's eyes flicked up at the sound, his lips twitching with amusement before he focused back on my foot, turning it this way and that as if studying an artifact he couldn’t quite make sense of.

“Why do you wear these?” he asked, finally shifting his attention to the flipper I had yet to put on. He tapped the stiff rubber with his claw, brows furrowing.

I chuckled, slipping the other one on. “They’re flippers. I can’t swim like you do. My feet aren’t smooth or streamlined, and I don’t have the muscles like you.”

Arthur’s lips parted slightly as he mouthed the word to himself. “Flippers,” he repeated, testing the sound on his tongue before looking back at me. “So these make you more like me?”

His question sent a strange warmth through my chest. There was something so earnest in the way he asked, his fingers trailing along the length of the fin as if he were trying to understand what it meant for me to move through his world.

“Essentially, yes,” I murmured, a small smile playing at my lips. “They’ll help me keep up with you.”

Arthur let out an exaggerated snort, giving me a pointed look. “Darlin’, that’s a bold statement.”

Grinning, I kicked my foot out of the water, sending a spray into the air. He flinched slightly, watching the droplets rain down before glaring at the stiff black rubber with playful disdain.

“That’s just insulting.”

I laughed, adjusting the strap on my other flipper before sliding a pair of goggles over my forehead. Arthur cocked a brow, tilting his head as he eyed them.

“Ain’t even gonna ask,” he huffed, but then his tone shifted, growing more serious. “How long can you hold your breath?”

The change in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. The playful banter faded, replaced by something quieter—something deeper.

I swallowed, my fingers tightening around the edge of the platform. How long could I hold my breath? I was about to dive into his world, a place where he was strong, fast, in control. The thought sent my pulse skittering, but I forced a steady breath, meeting his gaze head-on.

“Less than a minute,” I admitted, though I knew it was probably closer to thirty seconds.

Arthur took in the information with a slow nod, his ocean-blue gaze flickering downward to the depths of the tank. The water reflected against his skin in shifting ribbons of light, making him look even more otherworldly. “Just stay close to me, alright?”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

Pulling my goggles over my eyes and nose, I inhaled deeply, letting my lungs expand before slipping off the ledge. The cool water embraced me instantly, a rush of sensation flooding my senses as the world above blurred into nothingness.

And then, through the clearing bubbles, there he was.

Arthur moved—no, glided—with an effortless grace that no human could ever hope to match. The full arc of his powerful tail cut through the water like a blade, propelling him forward with a strength that sent ripples cascading outward. The bioluminescent blues and purples that traced his scales shimmered like stardust, catching the fractured light that filtered down from above. His tail fin, a broad, elegant half-moon, unfurled behind him with each movement, undulating like the slow, hypnotic pulse of a jellyfish. The way it rippled through the currents, fluid and weightless, was mesmerizing—a dance like the ocean itself was draped in silk.

For the first time, I was seeing him as he was meant to be. Free. Powerful. Impossible. A gateway into a world unknown. He belonged to nobody, and no man. 

His sandy blond hair drifted around his face in feathery strands, framing the rugged lines of his features, softening the sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones. His gills flexed slightly, expelling a faint trail of bubbles as he moved, blending into the swirling currents. And then there was his smile—devastating, knowing, teasing. It was the kind of smile that made the world tilt, that made my stomach tighten with something warm.

He belonged here, in the water, in the vastness. And yet, as his ocean-blue eyes met mine, glowing faintly beneath the surface, I couldn’t help but feel that, somehow, in this moment—he belonged with me, too.

Arthur reached for me, and without hesitation, I took his hand.

Webbed fingers curled around mine, warm even in the cold water, and with the smallest tug, he guided me deeper. The tank transformed before my eyes—the artificial world of rock formations and coral structures now seemed vast and infinite from this new perspective. Schools of fish darted past us in flashes of silver, weaving effortlessly through the currents.

But I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

Arthur twisted effortlessly, rolling onto his back so he could watch me, his tail propelling him smoothly as I floated just above him. Watching me with that same toothy, teasing grin. 

I kicked my feet, feeling the resistance of the water as my flippers sliced through it, but it was nothing compared to the sheer power he held in every movement. His tail moved in slow, deliberate strokes, adjusting his speed with fluent precision, allowing me to drift above.

I suddenly wished I had a tail like his—to feel the strength coiling in my muscles, to move through the water with that same primal ease. To command the currents as if they were an extension of myself. But I was clumsy in comparison, merely paddling while he swam with the mastery of something born from the deep. And yet, he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he looked amused, watching me with a quiet adoration, like I was the marvel here—not him.

For the first time in my life, I felt truly weightless. Suspended in the water, drifting between reality and something almost dreamlike, I had never felt so free. Despite the vastness around us, Arthur was the only thing keeping me tethered.

Then my chest tightened. A sharp, familiar burn spread through my lungs. Shit. Has it been a minute already?

With my free hand, I pointed to the surface, signaling to Arthur that I needed air. But instead of guiding me upward, he pulled us deeper. My stomach dropped. A chill slithered down my spine as his grip on my hand remained firm. What is he doing?

I tugged, trying to free myself, but his hold only tightened. Panic began to set in, my heart hammering wildly in my chest. No… No, no, no! My limbs burned, my body screaming for oxygen. The water suddenly felt too thick, too heavy. It was crushing me, swallowing me whole. 

He shook his head.

A bolt of horror shot through me. No? What the fuck do you mean, NO?!

Was this some kind of sick game? Had I been a fool to trust him? My mind raced with a thousand possibilities, each one darker than the last. What if I had just made a terrible mistake? What if everything we shared had been a lie? What if Arthur wasn’t what I thought he was?

Was he going to kill me? Am I going to drown? 

Just as the last ounce of my strength gave way, just as I thought I was about to give in to the burning need to draw breath and fill my lungs with water, Arthur pulled me against his chest. I expected him to kick his tail sending us upward, to break the surface in a powerful burst. He had asked how long I could hold my breath, surely that wasn't to plan my demise in a timely fashion.  

But instead, he did something I never could have anticipated.

His hands came up to cradle my face, his touch gentle even as I writhed against him. His bioluminescent veins pulsed with soft light, a delicate glow between us. His eyes, deep and steady, locked onto mine, silently urging me to trust him. But my mind was blind with panic, lungs burning as they gave out. 

Then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to mine.

A kiss? Now? My mind screamed at me to pull away, to fight, to swim for the surface before it was too late. I felt it crawling under my skin, a desperate need for air or I was going to die!

I gasped but instead of choking, instead of water rushing into my lungs—

I breathed.

A rush of oxygen filled my chest, sharp and startling, like drawing the first breath of life. Arthur's lips parted against mine, his tongue slipping past in a way that was less about hunger and more about necessity. He was giving me his breath, sharing something vital and instinctual, something so intimate it sent a shiver down my spine and ignited each of my nerves in white hot fire.

I inhaled, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I clung to him, taking in the air he offered me in desperate, greedy gulps. My lungs burned, but not from lack of oxygen—it was the lingering ache of panic, the rawness of fear ebbing away, replaced by something deeper. Something calming. 

Relief. Arthur never meant to let me drown. He was never going to harm me. I silently cursed myself for not trusting him. But this was something I never would have expected. 

The rhythm came naturally after a few moments. A slow, controlled exchange. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Arthur matched me, his chest expanding against mine, his gills flaring as he cycled the air between us. Drawing in enough breath for both our lungs. Somewhere in my frantic attempt to survive, my goggles had been pulled off, floating aimlessly somewhere behind me. 

Now, nothing separated us. No barrier, no confusion. Just the warmth of his lips and the steady strength of his body as he held me in place. His breath kissing every pore. 

My arms wound around his neck instinctively, fingers tangling in his billowing hair. I could feel the powerful ripple of his muscles as he kept us suspended in the water, his tail moving in slow, effortless sweeps. His veins pulsed softly beneath his skin, casting an ethereal glow between us. It was mesmerizing, hypnotic even. 

I consumed him like a fire that devours, drawing him in deeper. Seizing his lifeforce. Claiming it as my own. Taking. 

The air he breathed into me was unlike anything I had ever tasted. It was liberating, pure—like petrichor. When the earth is warm with rain-soaked soil after a summer storm. Rich and electric and unmistakably him. It filled every aching part of me, chased away the fear, replaced it with something that left me dizzy.

This wasn’t just survival. This was something else entirely.

Arthur wasn’t just giving me air—he was threading himself into the very fabric of my being.

With every inhale, he poured into me like the tide rushing into a hollowed-out cave, filling the spaces I didn’t even realize were empty. A piece of him—vast, ancient, and arcane—flooded through my heart, echoing through its chambers, coursing through my veins in a heady, intoxicating rush. It curled into the hollows of my lungs, wove through the sinew of my muscles, and settled deep into my skin. Clinging to me like the saltwater after it dries.

It wasn’t just breath. It was him.

He invaded me, not with force, but with something far more meaningful—an offering, a communion. A sacrifice. Reaching inside me his presence wrapped around my very cells, touching every inch of me in ways I had never imagined. It was like swallowing starlight, like sinking into the depths of the ocean and becoming part of it, losing myself to something endless and infinite.

I felt the ocean’s pulse, a steady rhythm thrumming through me. It was life, boundless and eternal. And gods above, it was mighty.

With each exhale, he didn’t pull away—he gave as much as I would take. As much as I needed to calm my thundering pulse. Traces of him held me, saturating my body with something more than air. He left himself in the marrow of my bones, in the pulse of my wrists, in the spaces between each heartbeat.

I was no longer just breathing. I was becoming. 

Somewhere in the tangled mess of our situation, I hadn’t noticed Arthur bringing me back to the surface. When we finally broke through, the rush of cool ocean air kissed my cheeks, sending a shudder through me. I felt like I had just stolen something forbidden, something ancient—like I had partaken in a divine secret that was never meant for human hands. As if I had slipped past the gods unnoticed, grasping at eternity, daring to hold onto something beyond biology, beyond comprehension.

And still, despite the overwhelming weight of what had just happened between us, my instincts took over. I gasped for breath, gulping down fresh air, grounding myself in reality—even as I mourned the loss of that impossible intimacy. I pushed myself back onto the platform, slumping onto my back with a heavy huff, my limbs trembling from the lingering adrenaline. I barely registered Arthur rising beside me, his own chest rising and falling in deep, measured breaths.

Poor thing. I really did steal the breath from his lungs. Literally.

The thought sent a dizzy rush through me. Had I gotten too carried away? Had I taken too much? I wasn’t even sure what too much meant in this situation. My mind reeled as I tried to make sense of it, to unravel the impossibility of what we had just shared.

“Holy shit,” I exhaled, still trying to steady my racing heart. “Arthur, why didn’t you tell me you could do that? I thought you were trying to drown me!”

I pushed up onto my elbows, my gaze locking onto his face as he hovered in the water between my legs. He looked just as disoriented as I felt, the glow in his veins pulsing slow and steady, like the aftershocks of something neither of us could fully comprehend. He blinked up at me, his gills fluttering slightly as if he was still catching his breath, too.

“M’sorry,” he murmured, his voice softer now, more careful. “I asked how long you could hold your breath… I—I thought you knew what I was doin’. I never meant to scare ya, sweetheart.”

His eyes held nothing but sincerity, and yet I still couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?” The words came out sharper than I intended, my emotions still tangled up in the lingering panic.

Arthur flinched—not physically, but I saw the way something in him pulled back, just slightly. The guilt in his expression sent a pang of regret through my chest. He truly hadn’t meant to frighten me.

“I thought humans did it all the time,” he admitted, scratching at the back of his head. “I’ve seen ‘em press their mouths together, sharin’ breath. Never really understood why, though… Since you’ve got plenty of it up here.” He waved a webbed hand through the air as if the concept itself was baffling to him.

This caught my attention. I stared at him, dumbfounded, my heart giving an odd little stutter. Oh, Arthur. I sat up fully now, moving closer to the edge as his words sank in. He’d seen humans do it before? It took a moment for it to click, for realization to dawn over me like the slow crest of a wave. Oh. He’d seen humans kiss.

“Oh, honey, that’s not—” I hesitated, rubbing my temples with a sigh. How the hell do I even explain this to him? “It’s not the same when humans do it,” I tried again, my voice softer now. “We’re not actually sharing breath. Not like that… not like what we just did.”

Arthur tilted his head, his brows knitting together in confusion. He was trying to understand, I could see that much, but I was probably upending his entire perception of human behavior in real-time.

“Then… why do you do it?”

I let out a slow breath, trying to piece it together in a way that made sense. “It’s called kissing. It’s a way humans express affection. Like a silent conversation… a way to say things without words—like ‘I care about you,’ or ‘I want to be close to you.’” My fingers curled against the damp fabric of my wetsuit. “When two people press their mouths together, they’re sharing a connection, and sometimes…” My voice faltered, realization creeping up on me as the words formed on my tongue. Gods above. It hit me that we had just done practically the same thing. “...sometimes even a little piece of their soul.”

Arthur was completely still. His eyes, dark and fathomless, locked onto mine like the pull of the tide, widening ever so slightly as his pupils expanded. A shiver ran through me, the weight of his gaze so intense it felt like he could see straight into my core.

Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, he moved closer.

The water rippled gently around his body, his movements slow, deliberate. He mirrored the way we had sat together earlier, but this time, he braced his hands on either side of me, his arms caging me in a way that sent a deep warmth curling in my stomach. The space between us was nonexistent, the air suddenly thick, charged with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Kissing…” Arthur repeated the word, barely more than a murmur, tasting it on his tongue.

I could almost see the gears turning in his mind, the way he was processing everything I’d just said. And I knew, with startling certainty, that he was thinking the same thing I was.

What we shared underwater… was far deeper, far more intimate than any human kiss could ever be.

“Yes, kissing.” My voice came out softer than I intended, and I swallowed against the sudden tightness in my throat. Fuck, why did I feel so nervous? He was so close I could taste the salt on his breath, feel the warmth radiating from his skin despite the cool water between us. Those deep, knowing eyes never left mine, watching me like he could read every thought flickering through my mind.

“Th-there’s many different ways to kiss,” I went on, my voice betraying my nerves. Why the hell am I even telling him this? “It’s not always on the lips. You can kiss pretty much anywhere on the body.”

His pupils dilated slightly, the dark pools nearly eclipsing the striking blue of his irises. “Anywhere?” His voice had dropped an octave, rougher, like sea water pulling back before a crashing wave.

I nodded, feeling heat creep up my neck. “And it’s not always between partners. Parents kiss their children, relatives kiss their loved ones, some people kiss their pets.” My fingers fidgeted, he was so close now I could feel the smoothness of his chest as he drew breath. “You can even blow a kiss.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed slightly, his expression shifting from something unreadable to pure confusion. “Why would someone do that?”

A soft giggle bubbled up my throat, his curiosity catching me off guard in the best way. “People do it when they’re beyond each other's reach. A way of sending your affection through the air.”

Feeling emboldened, I reached for his hand—broad, webbed, strong but gentle beneath my touch. His skin was cool and smooth, glistening in the fading light. Slowly, I lifted his arm and guided the back of his hand toward my lips.

“When you blow someone a kiss, you have to bring it to life before letting it go,” I explained, my voice barely above a whisper. Then, without breaking eye contact, I pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the wet space of his palm, exaggerating the smacking sound just enough to tease him.

Arthur went completely still.

I felt the tension coil in his muscles, the way his fingers twitched slightly against my own. When I pulled away, my eyes flickered to his face—and oh. His cheeks were tinted a deeper shade of pink, a faint but undeniable flush creeping along his cheekbones. Was he… blushing?

I bit my lip, suppressing a grin as warmth curled in my chest. I had just made him blush.

Arthur blinked, looking between his hand and my face like he was trying to make sense of what had just happened, like he was trying to feel something beyond the physical sensation lingering on his skin.

“There,” I said proudly, admiring my work as if I had just painted something delicate and unseen across his palm. “Now, you blow it away.”

I gently turned his hand toward the ocean, the sky now fading to a deepening indigo as the sun traded shifts with the moon. The first stars flickered to life above us, their distant glow reflecting in the water, shimmering against Arthur’s iridescent skin. Then, slowly, I blew on his palm, a soft breath carrying the invisible gift away.

Arthur inhaled sharply. His gills flared at the gesture, pulsing with some unspoken emotion.

I released his hand, but instead of pulling away, he brought it to my face. A breath hitched in my throat as the rough pad of his thumb traced over my bottom lip, dragging slowly, reverently. The touch was featherlight, but I felt it everywhere.

His fingers trembled slightly. His eyes burned with something deeper than curiosity now—an insatiable hunger, a deep, aching longing.

I heard him swallow before he spoke, his voice barely rising above the whisper of the roaring waves, rich and weighted, like he was holding himself back. “…and where does the kiss go?”

The words rolled over me, sweeping me into the depth of his need. Arthur’s gaze searched mine, pupils blown wide, his entire body coiled with restrained tension. We were already so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath, hear the tremble in his voice.

“To someone you love.”

It mattered little to me which one of us closed the distance—only that we did. The moment our lips met, the world fell away, as if time itself had paused to bear witness. The moon, ever watchful, seemed to still the tides, holding her breath in quiet admiration, offering her silent blessing.

Arthur kissed me with an aching slowness, as if savoring something precious, something fragile. His lips were warm, firm but yielding, and impossibly gentle. Nothing like before—when he was breathing life into me. No, this was different. This was the slow unraveling of restraint, the surrender to something we had long denied. The intertwining of unspoken desire, of aching need.

The ship was sinking. And I finally raised the white flag.

A shiver ran through me as I brushed my tongue against the fullness of his bottom lip, teasing, testing. He groaned—a deep, guttural sound that sent heat pooling low in my belly—and parted his lips for me.

The first stroke of his tongue against mine was devastating, deliberate, and utterly alien. Silken and warm, but textured—each ridge on the top of it dragged against my own, sending sharp, electric pulses straight down my spine. It was longer than I expected, sinuous and impossibly agile, exploring me with a slow, unrelenting hunger. I gasped into his mouth as he curled it against the roof of mine, the friction sending a deep, aching thrill through my body.

He tasted of salt, like the sea breeze just before a storm, rich and heady with something darker beneath—the faint scent of musk, the wild pull of him. My fingers reached up around his neck, one hand cradling his jaw. Desperate to keep myself tethered as I drowned in the sensation of him, the way he felt—all sharp edges and smooth restraint, barely contained.

Arthur kissed like he knew what his touch did to me, like he had been waiting to unravel me, to steal the breath from my lungs and make it his own. 

And I let him. I let him take me.

The soft bristle of his beard scraped against my skin, leaving a tingling warmth in its wake, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. His fingers skimmed my waist, pressing just enough to anchor me, as if afraid I might slip away. 

All I could taste was him. All I could breathe was him. Arthur, steady and unshakable, yet trembling with want. The only thing that mattered in this moment was us.

I didn’t need to open my eyes to see the glow of his bioluminescence. Its colorful shimmer lit up the space between us, painting the darkness behind my eyelids in swirls of deep indigo, flickering like a living halo. 

The heat of his body pressed against mine, damp and feverish, as he surged forward, rising from the water.

The platform was firm beneath me as he eased me down, his weight settling just enough to trap me beneath him. Then, suddenly, I felt it—before I even heard it. A low, resonant purr, vibrating deep in his chest and pouring into mine, rattling through my ribs like the hum of something ancient, something meant to lure and ensnare.

And like the vibration of his purr I could feel the need exuding off him in waves.

His lips crashed against mine, no longer gentle but desperate, fevered. His tongue, ribbed and serpentine, curled around mine, stroking, caressing, dragging across every sensitive nerve like he wanted to learn me by touch alone. The sensation sent a sharp pulse of need straight to my core. I moaned into his mouth, but he swallowed the sound, pressing closer, devouring me with each frantic kiss.

His bioluminescence pulsed in time with his heartbeat, casting a rhythm of shifting blues and purples against my skin. His fingers, slick with seawater, traced up my sides, leaving a cool trail that burned in contrast to the heat pooling between us. I wrapped my legs around him as strong hands curled against my waist, squeezing the tender soft flesh. 

Powerful hips rutted against mine, the hard press of something unmistakable beneath his scales sent a shudder through me. Mixed with the slick proof of his arousal, the sensation was maddening. And I had no doubt he could smell my own—if not taste it.

The kiss turned messy, wet, tongues tangling in a frantic battle for dominance neither of us cared to win. My nails scraped against his shoulders, feeling the shifting muscles beneath his damp skin, and his purr deepened—a growl mixed with something more animalistic. He nipped at my bottom lip, tugging just enough to make me whimper, then soothed the sting with another slow, dragging stroke of his tongue.

I was drowning in him, in the salt, the heat, the way he tasted like the storm rolling in over the horizon. His hunger was intoxicating, and I met it with my own, chasing every kiss, every desperate movement. 

Breath became an afterthought and the only thing that mattered to me was more.

We lay together like this for what felt like eternity, our breaths mingling in the humid air, bodies still pressed close, reluctant to part. My fingers traced lazy circles over the damp skin of his back, memorizing the ridges and dips of muscle beneath the glow that pulsed gently through his veins. Every flicker of light felt like a whisper, a secret between us.

And then he pulled away. I whimpered softly at the loss, my body instinctively arching toward him, unwilling to break the connection. A shimmering string of saliva still tethered us before he reached up, swiping his thumb over my swollen lips, his touch almost possessive.

His sapphire eyes—drowning in pools of endless black—studied me like I was something holy, something to be worshiped. His pupils had expanded so wide they reflected the moonlight itself, making him look less like a man and more like something wild that had crawled out of the deep to claim me.

He leaned in, breath warm against my ear, voice a low, husky murmur. "Did I do good?"

The words alone were enough to make me tremble, but then he nipped at the shell of my ear, his sharp teeth scraping before soothing the sting with the soft press of his lips.

I could hardly form a thought, let alone a coherent answer. His mouth was relentless, lips dragging over my throat, finding sensitive spots with an infuriating precision, nipping and sucking until I was gasping, grasping at his shoulders like they were the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. My wetsuit suddenly felt suffocating, unbearable. If he didn’t stop, I would shed it and take him right here, consequences be damned. It hardly mattered if our bodies could even fit—all that mattered was the heat, the need, the way he was unraveling me with every touch.

"Good—" I managed, the word rasping from deep in my throat, thick with want. "Doesn’t even begin to describe it. There are no words, Arthur. That was—"

He whispered something against my skin. A soft murmur, thick with devotion.

It made me pause. Whatever he said wasn’t English, and it certainly wasn’t human. The sound was rough, like the shifting of stones against the ocean floor, but it carried a melodic cadence, a fluidity that sent a shiver rolling through me.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows, my pulse hammering as I searched his face. "What do those words mean?"

Arthur slowly eased himself off me, sliding back into the water with a grace that reminded me he was not just a man. He belonged to the sea, to something vast and untamed, yet here he was, staring at me like I was the only thing anchoring him to this moment.

I followed him to the edge, pausing as my fingers hovered above the water.

He said the words again, softer this time.

"It has a few meanings," Arthur admitted, his gaze sweeping over my face, studying me with the quiet intensity of a painter capturing his muse. His throat tightened around the words, as if it hurt to speak. "My Ma used to say it to me when I was a kid, before I was taken."

I swallowed thickly as he held my gaze, and then he spoke the translation, each word sinking into my chest like a vow, like a promise meant only for me.

"My hearts will follow you to the end. Into every horizon."

Giving me little time to react, Arthur wrapped his strong arms around my waist and pulled me back into the dark waters. The shock of it stole my breath, the sudden cool embrace of the salt water wrapping around me like silk. The only light was his pulsing glow, shifting hues of deep indigo and soft cerulean, casting shimmering patterns against my skin. Above us, the stars blinked in quiet witness, scattered across the sky like tiny echoes of his bioluminescence that flickered beneath the waves.

I looked down, my breath hitching. The water was so dark now I could barely see the tips of my toes. An endless unknown stretched beneath me, and for the first time, I felt the tendrils of fear creeping in. My pulse pounded against my ribs, instinct screaming at me to retreat, to find solid ground.

But then I remembered his words. What they meant. What they implied. There was no turning back. I was being carried on the wind, letting the current take me where I needed to go. All I had to do was trust him.

Tentatively, I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling the way his body moved against mine—fluid, effortless. It was like he could sense my hesitation, my uncertainty, because before I could voice it, he pulled me closer.

"Arthur…"

His warmth was a stark contrast to the cool water, his broad chest expanding with each measured breath. I could feel the steady exhale from his gills as they brushed against my thighs, sending a strange, almost soothing sensation through me. He held me tight, one strong arm wrapped securely around my waist, keeping me anchored to him, to this moment.

"There’s something I want to show you," he murmured, his voice low and steady, the promise of something unknown lingering in his tone.

"But… I—I can’t—" My throat tightened, the weight of the ocean pressing around us, reminding me of my limits. I wasn’t like him. I couldn’t breathe down there.

Arthur didn’t even let me finish the thought.

"Hush, darlin’," he soothed, his lips grazing the shell of my ear before pressing against my temple. His voice was a whispered vow, a quiet command laced with reassurance. "Let me be your breath."

Before I could protest, he sealed his lips over mine, the kiss deep and consuming, and I felt it—his breath flowing into me, warm and intoxicating. A strange sensation, like the ocean itself had bent to his will, filling my lungs with something alive.

And just like that, the fear ebbed away.

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ *

It took a few tries to get used to Arthur breathing into my lungs. At first, it felt unnatural, like my body was rejecting the very thing keeping me alive. My nervous heart devoured each breath like a greedy little sea snake, twisting around my chest, tightening, constricting. But Arthur was patient. He never seemed to mind.

I tried to hold it longer, to prove I could endure, but it was as if he could sense my discomfort before I even knew it myself. He never let it reach the point where panic crept in, never let my lungs burn from the inside out. The moment he sensed my struggle, his strong fingers would find my chin, tilting my face toward his. And then, with a quiet kind of reverence, he would seal his lips over mine and breathe life into me.

And, like before, he was never the first to pull away. Arthur let me take as much air as I needed, as many breaths as it took to steady the wild thunder of my pulse. There was no impatience, no frustration—only trust. A trust unlike anything I had ever known.

I was completely and utterly at his mercy.

The water was darker than I had ever seen it. A thick, endless abyss stretching in every direction, swallowing everything beyond the faint glow of the facility’s underwater lights. They cast eerie, shifting beams, just enough for monitoring water levels, but not enough to truly see what lurked in the depths.

And there was so much lurking.

Every creature we passed seemed to materialize from the void, slipping through the water like ghosts from a world I was only beginning to understand. I knew these animals, had studied them, cared for them. But here, under the shroud of darkness, they felt different. Unfamiliar. As if I were a trespasser in their domain.

A particularly curious stingray drifted above us, its broad body gliding effortlessly through the water. I looked up—and nearly choked on my own scream.

The pale, ghoulish underside of its body loomed above me, its strange, human-like mouth and vacant eyes staring down with an uncanny, haunting expression. My body acted before my mind could catch up—I jerked violently, nearly kicking Arthur square in the chest, my limbs flailing in pure, unfiltered panic.

Once again, he calmed me with his breath. His warmth spread through me, steadying the frantic rhythm of my heart, and I felt it—the quiet shake of his chest, the vibration of something light, and effortless. Laughter. It bubbled up his throat, muted by the water, but I felt it, a tingling hum against my lips before we pulled away.

His fingers found my wrist, strong yet careful, guiding my hand upward. With a slow, deliberate touch, he traced his thumb along my palm, unfurling my fingers one by one.

The stingray hovered just above us, its massive wings rippling like silk through the water. And then, with a slow, ghostly glide, it brushed its velvety skin over the tips of my fingers. Like a whisper, like a greeting.

I had touched stingrays before, plenty of times in the shallow touch-tank, where children giggled and splashed, reaching out to feel the slippery softness of their skin. But never like this. Never in their world, where the touch was theirs to give. It wasn’t me reaching out—it was them, exploring me.

He lifted his hand in front of me, and what he did next sent warmth blooming deep in my belly. With deliberate care, he hooked our index fingers together—a silent sign, one I recognized instantly. Friend.

My chest tightened at the realization. Not only had Arthur remembered that fleeting moment we shared when he was bleeding out on the beach, but he had learned the gesture. He had taken it as his own, stored it away like something precious, something worth keeping.

A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down, curling my finger a little tighter around his.

I made a quiet promise to teach him more later.

Arthur pulled me forward, guiding me through a submerged tunnel. The familiar structure clicked in my mind, recognition settling in my bones. We were entering the back section of the tank—the place away from prying eyes, from tourists pressing their faces against glass. This was his sanctuary. Where he spent his time when he wasn’t with me or the girls.

Curiosity sparked in my chest. What does he want to show me down here?

We swam deeper, the water thick with shadow, but I trusted his grip, the steady pull of his hands as he led me forward. And then, nestled within the rock and kelp, I saw it.

A small cave. A hidden space tucked away in the depths of the tank. I wasn’t sure how I knew—but I did. This was where he slept.

Something about it felt lived in, personal. The flattened kelp was arranged in a circular shape, almost like a nest. It wasn’t just a hiding place. It was his. I could picture him here, curled up in the quiet dark, unguarded, safe. For the first time since I had met him, I wondered what it felt like for him to rest. Unguarded, unshackled, away from cold prying eyes. To just be. 

Arthur pulled me inside, his arm wrapping instinctively around my waist as his bioluminescence flared to life. Light bloomed from his skin, illuminating the space in shifting blues and purples, and what I saw nearly stole the breath from my lungs.

The rock-like walls were etched with various drawings, their rough surfaces covered in markings that varied in detail and size. Some depicted the sea life he shared the tank with—familiar outlines of stingrays, sharks, seals and fish. Others were delicate sketches of underwater plants, their flowing tendrils stretching across the stone like living things.

Curiosity tugged at me, pulling me away from Arthur’s side. I swam closer, reaching out to trace my fingers over the carvings. The grooves were deep, uneven, reminding me of ancient cave drawings. He must have used his claws, carefully etching each image into the stone, leaving behind proof of his existence in this lonely place.

Behind me, Arthur was searching for something, his large hands sifting through layers of kelp. He reached beneath the safety of his makeshift bed, pulling out something dark and solid. But my attention was still on the walls, my heart hammering as I took in every detail of his underwater art.

Then, Arthur waved a hand, pulling me from my trance. I turned to him just as he pointed toward the farthest side of the cave.

And I released my breath.

There, among the sketches of fish and plants—was me.

It was a simple drawing, lacking the fine details of his other works, but it didn’t matter. With the rough material he had to work with, it was still a masterpiece. My heart ached at the sight of it, at the thought of him carving me into the walls of his world.

But it was what he did next that truly unraveled me.

Arthur lifted a webbed palm to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his skin. Then, with a small smile, he released a stream of bubbles toward the drawing—just like I had taught him. An expression of affection, a gesture so sweet it made my chest tighten.

I could have kissed him right then and there. Well, I tried to.

But this gentle giant, ever concerned for my well-being, misunderstood my intent. The moment our lips met, he must have thought I was seeking air. He held me there for a breath longer, and though I wished I could stay pressed against him forever, he was already wrapping a strong arm around my waist, propelling us forward with effortless strength.

I barely had time to process what had just happened before we were darting out of the cave, leaving the warmth of his sanctuary behind.

Arthur still held something tightly in his other palm, and as he guided me through the darkened waters, I realized we were heading somewhere new.

The temperature dropped, the light fading into near blackness.

The deep sea exhibit.

Once we reached a spot he found satisfactory, we floated in utter stillness. The silence of the deep pressed around us, thick and all-encompassing, making me acutely aware of my own heartbeat thrumming in my ears. The nerves crept up my spine again, cold and slithering.

It was pitch black.

I couldn’t see my own hands in front of me, couldn’t even make out Arthur’s features except for the faintest shimmer of his dimmed bioluminescence. He was holding back, keeping his glow subdued, and I had no idea why.

Why did he bring me here?

Then, all at once, his light flared to life.

The sudden brilliance stunned me, a galaxy of blues and purples bursting from his skin like a supernova in the dark. But it wasn’t just him, his radiance set off a chain reaction.

And the void around us moved.

At first, I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me, but then I saw them—hundreds of creatures emerging from the abyss, answering his call.

Arthur was a beacon, and the deep-sea life responded to him like moths to a flame. Lanternfish flickered in and out of sight, their tiny lights winking like stars in the midnight ocean. Jellies pulsed with ghostly luminescence, their delicate tendrils undulating as they drifted past. Squid, cuttlefish, sea angels—so many creatures I couldn’t begin to name—came to life before my eyes, weaving in and out of the glow like spirits caught between worlds.

They surrounded us in a slow, mesmerizing dance, silent sentinels bearing witness to whatever was about to unfold.

And at the center of it all was him.

Arthur’s radiance was breathtaking, his skin an ever-shifting nebula of color and light. But it wasn’t just his appearance that captivated me—it was the way the ocean responded to him, how it bent to his presence, how even the wildest, most elusive creatures drifted close as if he were something sacred.

He was neither fully man nor entirely mythical. He was something else entirely.

Something that felt indescribable. And in that moment, in the hush of the deep, I understood this pull toward him for what it truly was.

Love.

The solid object he had brought with him turned out to be a large oyster shell, its rough surface barely catching the faint, shifting glow of his bioluminescence. Holding it steady in one hand, he traced a pointed claw along its lip, prying it open with slow, practiced ease.

I watched him with quiet reverence as his fingers slipped inside, moving carefully, deliberately, as if retrieving something precious. When he finally pulled his hand free, his fingers curled tightly around whatever lay within—his fist closing around it with such purpose that my breath crawled up my throat.

A pearl. It had to be.

The empty shell drifted downward, spiraling slowly to the bottom of the tank, forgotten. Arthur didn’t watch it sink. His full attention was on me.

His hands found mine, and the moment our fingers met, my pulse thundered. Heat raced through my veins, my entire body suddenly hyper aware of the weight of the moment, of the way the water seemed charged around us. Before I could even find the words to ask what he was doing, his hand rose, his palm pressing gently against the curve of my neck.

Then, he breathed into me. Warmth spread through my lungs, steadying me, grounding me, but this time, it felt different. Because when he pulled away, his lips still so close I could feel the lingering press of his breath—his mouth moved.

Arthur was speaking. The realization sent a shiver rolling through me. And then I heard it.

His voice.

It was nothing like the deep, gravelly tone I knew from above water. Here, in his element, it was something else entirely.

A melody.

A song, resonant and fluid, shifting in pitch like the ebb and flow of the tide. It wasn’t just words—it was music, a chorus of sound that wrapped around me, kissed the deepest parts of me. It filled my chest, soaked into my bones, made my skin hum with the rhythm of it.

It was haunting. And heavenly.

Tears pricked at my eyes. I didn’t even understand the words, but I felt them. Like a current pulling me deeper, like a promise whispered between waves. And in that moment, I knew—he wasn’t just speaking.

He was singing to me.

Arthur opened his palm, revealing the pearl nestled against the warm glow of his skin. Its milky-white surface shimmered beneath the shifting blues and purples, catching the light like a tiny piece of the moon itself.

A gift. For me.

My heart thundered, a deep, resounding pulse that seemed to echo through every fiber of my being. My mind raced, recalling everything I had learned about his kind—about the significance of this. Gift-giving was a siren’s way of accepting courtship, of expressing mutual desire, a bond far deeper than mere affection.

Did sirens mate for life? Could they have more than one? Am I his first?

Why, of all creatures, did Arthur choose me?

The questions crashed over me like waves against the shore, relentless and unyielding. But then I looked at him. And every uncertainty melted away.

His gaze, luminous and breathtaking, held nothing but certainty. The sweetest smile tugged at his lips, his blue eyes alive with glowing radiance. There was no hesitation, no doubt in his expression. Only him—only us.

His lips moved again, shaping the words I now recognized, a melody that sent warmth cascading through me.

My hearts will follow you to the end.

Emotion swelled in my chest, thick and all-consuming. I reached for him, wrapping my fingers around his, closing the pearl between our palms—sheltering it, protecting it. Safe from the darkness of the tank, from the weight of the unknown, from all the uncertainties that once held me back. It was ours now, cradled between our touch, a silent vow sealed in the space where our hands met.

Arthur had brought light into my life, breath into my lungs, and adventure into my soul.

And as I pressed my lips to his, I knew—I would follow him too.

Into every horizon.

AN: Listen, lets just ignore the fact that aquarium tanks are absolutely NOT built like this. And we’re also gonna pretend that the reader can see underwater bc I forgot to add the goggles. OH WELL. We're getting creative. With the way everything is going, I'm hoping that the reader gets to fuck her fish man (husband) by chapter 9. YOU GO GIRL!

Also enjoy these inspo pics from that last scene. Utterly gorgeous creatures!! (CR to frida.yolotzin on instagram!)

[zosin-ya]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5 - ʟᴀᴛᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜰᴜɴ

Summary: After your shared exam was finally over, Law invites you to the party, showing a more relaxed side of himself. As the night progresses, his boldness starts to emerge, especially after a few drinking games and making out session in the bathroom.

a.n.: Ikakku as the bartender, Shachi being drunk and Penguin somewhere drunk as well. Enjoy! (4,5k words whoops got a bit carried away)

tags: One Piece, Law x Reader, Modern AU, University AU, Penguin and Shachi as Laws flat mate, Law on a sick motorcycle cuz its hot

[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

“You invited her?! Dude, nice!” Shachi exclaimed, holding up a hand for a high-five.

Law just stared at it, unimpressed, and ignored the gesture. He didn’t really feel like it was something to celebrate. Sure, he was glad you wanted to come to the party, but beyond that? Whatever. He was more relieved the exam was over and had gone well. The fact that you’d be there too? Casual excitement—nothing to make a big deal about.

"Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your party?" Law said, towel-drying his damp hair while still dressed in his sweatpants. He had a bit of time before he needed to pick you up. After giving you the address and realizing how far the nearest bus stop was from the party, he suggested giving you a ride.

“Boo, you’re such a buzzkill,” Shachi grinned, throwing on his jacket and grabbing his keys. “Better bring a better mood to the party.”

“Whatever."

“Aigh, see ya later!” Shachi called over his shoulder, before heading out the door.

Law watched him leave, glad for the silence settling in the apartment. He took a deep breath, finishing up getting ready, and tried to shake off the exhaustion...or was he nervous?

While Law was casually getting ready, you were in a whirlwind of chaos. It wasn’t that you were nervous—okay, maybe just a little. Who were you kidding? You were a nervous wreck. It had been a while since you went out with someone, let alone to a party full of strangers. At least Law would be there, a familiar face in the crowd. But speaking of Law, you really had to hurry—he’d be there soon.

Minutes later, the doorbell rang, just as you managed to pull yourself together. Grabbing whatever you might need, you hurried to the door and opened it, greeted by Law, who looked pretty much the same as always. His hair was a little neater than usual, but what really caught your eye was the extra helmet he was holding.

"Hey, you ready?" he asked, his tone as casual as ever. You nodded, quickly closing your apartment door behind you, and followed him outside…while your keys were still on the kitchen counter.

"Thanks again for giving me a ride," you said with a smile, tugging your jacket tighter against the chilly night air. Law shrugged, as if to say it was no big deal, and handed you the extra helmet.

"You know how to backpack?" he asked suddenly, and you blinked, confused.

Backpack?

Seeing your puzzled look, Law grinned and nodded toward his motorcycle. "Sitting behind someone on a motorcycle."

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "That’s kind of a cute term. But no, I haven’t done that before."

Law gave a small nod and stepped toward his bike. "No worries, it’s easy. I’ll show you."

He straddled the motorcycle first effortlessly, then waited as you climbed on behind him. He knew it took a little getting used to the first time, but thankfully, the ride wasn’t too long. “You can put your feet here,” he instructed, pointing to the foot pegs. “Hold on tight to me, and lean with me when we hit the curves. That’s all there is to it.”

You gave a quick nod and pulled on your helmet as Law did the same. Before you could adjust it, he turned around and snapped your visor shut, then clicked his own into place. You watched, before he fired the engine to life with a throaty roar.

Feeling a bit unsure, you leaned forward slightly, gripping the sides of his jacket with a tentative hold. Law noticed and stopped for a moment, then without warning, he reached for your hands and pulled them tighter around his waist, making you grip his chest and fall against his back. The sudden closeness made your heart race.

“I said tight,” he teased, his voice laced with amusement. “Don’t want you falling off.”

A light, embarrassed chuckle escaped you as you adjusted your grip, hugging him more securely. “Right, got it,” you murmured.

With a grin you could almost hear, Law revved the engine, and moments later, you were off.

 “Come, this way,” Law said, nodding toward the faint sound of music already seeping into the air. You followed him while you two left the bike at a parking spot, feeling the buzz of anticipation as you approached the building. The party was tucked away in the basement, and as you descended the steps, the volume of the music grew louder.

The moment you stepped inside, you were hit by the heavy, stuffy air mixed with the distinct smells of alcohol and something you couldn’t quite place. The crowd was already thick, bodies swaying to the rhythm in the dark colorful lights, and despite the chaotic energy, there was something about the atmosphere that started to get you in the mood.

Law seemed familiar with the place, confidently navigating through the room. “Want to take off your jacket?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied, handing it over to him. When he pulled off his own leather jacket, though, something caught your eye. For the first time, you noticed the tattoos that stretched beyond his knuckles, trailing up his forearms. The black ink swirled in intricate patterns, with just a hint of it peeking from beneath the sleeve of his black T-shirt.

Suddenly, you felt a rush of heat. Was the room always this warm, or was it just you?

Law turned to you and gestured toward the bar, silently suggesting to get a drink. You nodded with a suddenly shy smile and followed him through the crowd. You had to admit, the party was surprisingly well-organized. The lighting, the music, the setup—everything looked pretty impressive, especially the bar. Apparently, the engineering students knew how to throw a party.

When you reached the bar, a young woman with dark, curly hair held back by a bright yellow headband greeted you with a warm smile. Her eyes landed on you first, then shifted to Law.

“Hey, Law! Glad you could make it!” she said cheerfully.

“Pleasure's mine, Ikkaku,” Law replied, giving her a friendly smile. It was clear they knew each other. You stood there, a little shy, but smiled politely.

“Oh, hi! I’m Ikkaku! I don’t think we’ve met before,” the woman said, extending a hand toward you. You shook it and introduced yourself, instantly being taking in by her radiating smile.

“Y/N, nice to meet you.”

Law watched the exchange, a small smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t too worried about you meeting Ikkaku. Unlike Shachi and Penguin, who could be a bit much at times, Ikkaku was a breath of fresh air. She radiated confidence and had a feisty side that Law respected very much.

“So, what can I get you two?” Ikkaku asked, leaning forward with a grin. “First drink’s on the house.”

“You got the northern vodka by any chance?” Law asked, leaning slightly forward with a casual air. Ikkaku’s grin widened, clearly in on it. Of course she had it, especially since Shachi had specifically brought it for the party. He’d stashed it under the bar, trusting Ikkaku to keep an eye on it and only serve it to close friends. After all, it wasn’t cheap or easy to come by.

“Sure do. With soda?” she asked.

“Yes, please, but for the love of god, mix the drink like a human this time,” Law said, causing Ikkaku to laugh along.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she teased, shaking her head with a playful grin as she turned toward you. “And for you, Y/N?”

You placed your order, and she got to work, carefully mixing both drinks. As promised, she kept it reasonable, not trying to drown either of you in alcohol. Law kept an eye on her as she poured, just to be sure she didn’t pull any tricks. The memory of getting absolutely trashed on the first he came here flashed in his mind—along with the unpleasant experience of throwing up into his helmet. He was careful not to repeat that disaster tonight.

With your drinks, you both decided to move to a quieter table, away from the crowd. Setting your glasses down, you slipped into an easy rhythm of conversation.

“So, you said your friends were here too?” you asked, leaning in a bit closer.

Law hummed in response, casually leaning back as his eyes scanned the crowd. His long legs stretched out below the table, brushing your knee ever so slightly.

“Yeah,” he said, finally nodding towards a corner of the room. “See the guy over there trying—and failing—to juggle the beer pong balls? That’s Shachi. He’s studying engineering, good friends with Ikkaku, the bartender.” His gaze shifted to another spot. “And that’s Penguin, the guy in the beanie. You’ve met him before, right? We live together.”

You chuckled at the sight of Shachi fumbling with the beer pong balls. “Penguin seemed pretty nice when I met him. Shachi, though… definitely can’t juggle.”

“Nope,” Law said, grinning as he took a sip of his drink. His eyes drifted back to you, and for a moment, he found himself quietly studying your face. It suddenly hit him how stunning you looked tonight, the soft light from the party casting a warm glow over your features. The way your eyes sparkled when you laughed, or even just how you looked at him—it was captivating. He found himself lingering in the moment longer than usual.

Why was his heart racing suddenly?

You broke his trance by asking, “Kind of in a mood of beer pong, are you good at it?”

It caught him off guard a bit as he came back to reality, but only for a second. A playful grin spread across his face when he heard your suggestion. Was that a challenge?

“Maybe. Wanna find out and lose?” His voice had that teasing, competitive edge. Law could get fiercely competitive with games like these, a trait he knew well enough to admit. He didn’t just want to win—he needed to.

“Oh, I don’t plan on losing,” you said boldly, ready for a challenge.

Law raised an eyebrow, the spark of competition fully lit and enjoying your bold anticipation. “Alright, game on,” he said, pushing his chair back and standing up, already mentally preparing to take the win—or go down swinging.

You and Law made your way to the beer pong table tucked away in the corner, where Shachi was struggling to pick up the ping pong balls. He kept fumbling, his coordination long gone thanks to the alcohol he’d consumed. Law, amused by the scene, stood back with a lazy smile and simply watched his friend, leaving you to step in.

“Here, let me help,” you said, handing the ball directly to Shachi. He blinked up at you in surprise, clearly thrown off by your pretty face. But when he spotted Law next to you, the gears in his foggy mind slowly turned. As much as his drunken state allowed, he pieced things together.

"Law! There you are!" Shachi greeted, pulling him into a sloppy, brotherly hug, clapping him on the shoulder. As he did, he leaned in closer to him and grinned, whispering into his ear, “You didn’t tell me she was hot.”

Law rolled his eyes at Shachi’s comment, a flicker of both annoyance and amusement crossing his face, but he didn’t bother to respond. Shachi, still riding the high of his drunken state, flashed you a wide playful grin.

"You guys wanna play?" he asked, already grabbing the cups with a clumsy enthusiasm.

You shared a glance with Law, and something unspoken passed between you, before you stepped closer to the table.

The game kicked off. You helped arrange the plastic cups, filling them with something light, cautious not to overdo it too soon. Law handed you the first ball with a subtle smirk, one that made your pulse quicken. He was watching you intently, his gaze lingering just a bit longer than necessary as you lined up your shot.

With a flick of your wrist, the ball sailed effortlessly into the cup. You grinned, teasing him with a playful look. “Try to keep up,” you taunted lightly, savoring the first little victory.

Law raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into that faint, knowing smile. “Alright,” he said smoothly, before taking his first cup in one clean motion, his eyes never leaving yours as he emptied it.

For a moment your mind went blank, those stormy eyes locking with yours so intensely completely threw you off guard. You had a feeling Law knew what he was doing.

Shachi, playing the part of an overly enthusiastic referee, was more of a distraction for Law than anything else. He cheered only you on and did his best to throw Law off, witch loud coughs and "Look over there"s.

Every time Law stepped up to take his shot, there was an obvious tension in the air. He wasn’t just throwing the ball; he was challenging you with each toss, silently daring you to keep pace. And while you landed a few solid shots, Law’s precision was undeniable. Even when he had to hold on on the table, the alcohol clearly starting to catch up with him, he still managed to sink the ball into your cups with impressive accuracy.

By the time your side was completely wiped out, Law still had three cups standing. You huffed in mock frustration, but deep down, the competitiveness had only made things more fun.

Shachi clapped his hands together, grinning like an idiot. “Rules say you’ve gotta finish the winner’s cups!” he teased.

You sighed defeated, “Fine, Law. You win.”

As you reached for one of his cups, though, Law’s hand shot out, stopping you. His fingers brushed against yours, sending a small jolt of electricity through you. He held your gaze for a moment, before he spoke up. “Let’s share it. I’d rather not have to carry you home wasted.”

The teasing edge in his voice made your stomach flip, but the offer itself was unexpected. Law was competitive by nature, and Shachi knew he usually liked to rub his victories in. This time, though, he was...different.

You accepted his offer with a small smile, taking one of the cups while Shachi gleefully grabbed the last. Shachi, clearly impressed, raised an eyebrow at Law. “Wow, Law. Didn’t expect you to go soft on her.”

Law just shrugged, his eyes flicking to you briefly before he downed the rest of his drink. “She made it a decent game,” he said with a casual smirk, though the look he gave you was anything but casual.

“Another round?” Shachi asked, grinning as he set down his cup, already eager for more.

You shook your head with a soft laugh, feeling the alcohol making your head spin just a little. Even Law seemed to be feeling it, though his cool demeanor didn’t falter. He looked at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a slight, teasing smile. “Maybe next time.”

As the night continued, Shachi separated from you two, wanting to go on a dance battle with Penguin. You watched him stumble away with an amused grin, and leaned against the beer pong table. "He's pretty fun."

Law leaned beside you, arms crossed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, he’s chaotic, but he’s great." It was something Law probably wouldn’t admit when sober. He valued his friends more than anything, but he wasn’t the type to be openly affectionate.

“How did you guys meet?” you asked, seizing the moment. Law seemed more relaxed than usual, probably thanks to the alcohol and the lively party atmosphere. His eyes remained fixed on his friends, who were currently tearing up the dance floor, before he turned back to you.

“We’re childhood friends,” he replied, rather casually.

Your eyes widened slightly, a warm feeling spreading through you. There was something undeniably sweet about hearing that. Law, already sensing where this was heading, scrunched up his face and quickly looked away.

“Don’t—” he began, but it was too late.

“Aw, that’s adorable.”

“God, here we go,” Law groaned, rubbing his eyes in mock exasperation. But despite his feigned annoyance, a grin tugged at his lips.

"Sorry, I had to, you’re so secretive it’s nice to get to know more about you." you said with a grin. "Hey, how about we play a question game? Taking turns?”

The suggestion piqued Law's interest. It was a good idea, and honestly, he was relieved that you came up with activities instead of him. He wasn't the type to take the lead with things like this.

"Like 'Never Have I Ever'?" Law asked, thinking of the drinking game. You hesitated for a moment before nodding, even though you knew it would probably loosen you up more than you intended.

After returning to the bar and ordering some diluted shots from Ikkaku—not wanting to black out too soon—you both sat back down at the table. Law took the first turn, thoughtfully considering his question. He didn’t want to embarrass you; it was just a fun opportunity to get to know you better.

"Never have I ever… cheated on an exam," he said with a smirk.

As you lifted your glass to your lips, Law shot you a mock judgmental look, causing you to laugh.

"What? The professor left the damn room for twenty minutes."

"You don't have to justify it," he chuckled. "I didn't say anything." He watched you down your drink, his eyes lingering on your lips.

"Alright, my turn," you said, thinking for a moment. "Never have I ever… slept with my ex."

Law lifted his glass, and this time, you gave him a playful judgmental look. He shrugged before he downed his shot.

"What? I'm not proud of it," he admitted with a wry smile.

"Why did you do it, then?" you teased, leaning in closer with a grin.

Law scrunched his eyebrows and sighed, rubbing his face as if the memory itself drained him. "No clue. It was a bad decision, and I’m definitely not making that mistake again. Not with her."

His tone made you even more curious, and you mentally noted that his relationship with his ex hadn’t been the best. You couldn’t help but wonder what had happened between them—and what kind of girl Law had dated in the first place. He was so guarded when sober, often keeping his walls up. Yet here he was, relaxed and open, at least for the moment.

"Okay, my turn again… never have I ever… stalked someone online before a date." Law asked, and leaned back in his seat.

You acted without thinking, your hand already lifting the glass. But as realization hit, you froze mid-motion and looked at Law with wide eyes. He raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer, clearly intrigued by your reaction.

You remembered how you’d stalked Law’s Instagram before your first study session together at the café, and the embarrassment started creeping in. But it was too late now—you downed the drink and set the glass back on the table.

"Why did you hesitate?" Law asked, narrowing his eyes at you suspiciously.

"What? I don’t know what you mean,"

"Cut the crap, tell me,"

The alcohol made your tongue loose, and you couldn’t help but admit the truth. "Fine... I may have, possibly, looked you up online before we met for the first time. Maybe. Just... a little."

Law leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this. Being a private person, he let the silence stretch between you two, deliberately creating a sense of pressure. It felt like an interrogation.

You shifted uncomfortably. "I just... Look, you were a random delivery guy. I didn’t trust that you were actually a med student. You even know where I live, and remember how you picked up my uni ID?"

Law listened, nodding slowly, his expression unreadable.

"I kind of panicked," you continued, running a hand through your hair. "I thought maybe you were just pretending to be in med school to... I don’t know, lure me in. Since you knew I was studying medicine." You sighed, feeling a bit ridiculous now. "Sorry, I was just anxious."

You braced yourself, half expecting Law to lecture you—or, worst-case scenario, leave the table and leave you sitting there alone at the party. But what you didn’t expect was for him to give you an amused smile, followed by a low chuckle.

"Smart girl," he said, surprising you. "Makes sense. Anyway, your turn."

"Wait, you don’t mind?" you asked, blinking in confusion.

"Probably would have done the same if i was a chick living alone and inviting a random stranger to meet up."

"Wow you make me look like a loser." You laughed an rolled your eyes, to which Law shook his head with a grin. "Just laying out the facts, now go on, your turn."

You continued your game with Law, enjoying the lighthearted fun, until eventually, nature called. All that liquid had to leave your system, and you asked Law where the bathroom was. He motioned for you to follow him, leading you to a small unisex bathroom. He waited outside while you quickly headed in.

As you finished up, you suddenly became aware of how dizzy you felt from the alcohol. You were still able to walk and talk without slurring, but your head was spinning badly. Gripping the sink, you took a moment to steady yourself, trying to calm the whirlwind in your mind. The dim bass from the party music in the background only seemed to make the dizziness worse.

Meanwhile, outside the bathroom, Law leaned against the wall, checking his phone. You’d been inside for a while, and he was starting to get concerned. He debated whether to check on you, but worry quickly got the better of him. Knocking gently on the door, he called out, “Y/N, hey, you okay in there?”

He listened closely but didn’t hear a response. Anxiety bubbled up inside him, and he knocked again, louder this time. “Y/N?”

Finally, the doorknob turned, and you opened the door, holding your head. "My head is spinning. Give me a sec," you mumbled, stumbling slightly as you leaned back against the wall for support, slowly sliding down against it.

Law was quick to react. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him for privacy, and crouched down next to you. "You need some water?" he asked, his voice calm but filled with concern.

You shook your head slightly, the dizziness still overpowering your senses. Maybe the drinking game after beer pong hadn’t been the brightest idea.

He watched you for a moment, taking in the way you sat there, trying to compose yourself. Silence fell between you two, but this time it was comfortable. You leaned your head back against the wall, Law sitting next to you, mimicking the gesture.

Your gaze drifted back to him, and as if by fate, your eyes met. The dim lighting softened everything, but his grey eyes still seemed to cut through the shadows, intense and focused. He really was something, you thought, as your gaze unconsciously dropped to his lips.

Without realizing it, you began to inch closer, noticing how Law didn’t pull back. In fact, he seemed to lean in as well, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. Your heart raced, the moment stretching longer, making it almost unbearable.

Law swallowed, hesitant for a split second before his hand lifted, gently cupping your chin. His touch was careful, as if he was afraid of breaking you.

The space between the two of you disappeared, you could feel his breath on your skin as he tilted his head slightly, bringing your lips closer to his. Unsure of what to do, but not wanting to stop, you let the moment happen.

The second your lips touched, your eyes fluttered shut.

At first, the kiss was light, almost tentative—neither of you rushing it. But then, you moved your lips softly against his, and Law followed, matching your pace. The hesitation faded, and the connection deepened as you both let yourselves get lost in the moment.

Laws hand traveled from you chin to the back of your head, suddenly grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you in closer. You grabbed his T-shirt instinctively and let the kiss get more heated. Your breath was going heavy, desperate for air, yet neither of your two wanted to break the kiss.

Without pulling apart, you managed to somewhat clumsily get on your feet. Law walked you back against the sink, his lips still attached to yours, as he grabbed your thighs and effortlessly lifted you up. Sitting at the sink was pretty uncomfortable, but your mind was busy with other things. Your hands traveled down from his chest, to his belt, blindly trying to loosen it impatiently.

And Law seemed to be on the same page, he let his inked hands disappear under your top, fumbling with the clip of your bra. The air was thick with tension as you two made out and tried to rip each others clothes off.

Laws zipper was already open and his belt hung lose on his jeans, while he was kissing your neck sloppily and pushed your top upwards, trying to get more of your sweet flesh.

While you two were in the heat of the moment, you completely forgot that you occupied the only existing bathroom at the party. The impatient knock of someone at the door reminded you what you were doing.

"Hey, I gotta piss, hurry up!"

Both of you froze, feeling like being caught in the act.

Law sighed in frustrating and let his head hang low, while you pinched the bridge of your nose. Great, getting cock blocked by a random stranger.

"In a fucking minute!" Law shouted back, and slowly let go of you, letting you hop of the sink. Both of you adjusted your clothes quickly and gave each other a disappointed look. It was great while it lasted.

Law walked ahead, swinging the door open with a bit more force than necessary, revealing the unfortunate person who had been banging on the door. The guy stood there, confused, clearly piecing together what had been happening inside. Law gave him a cold glare, making it obvious that he was pissed off and didn't really care the guy probably knew that you two were making out in the bathroom. You, on the other hand, followed Law out, feeling too embarrassed to meet the guy’s eyes.

As you walked away, still flustered, you spoke up quietly, "Hey, I’m still feeling a bit dizzy... I think I might call it a night." You rubbed your arm shyly, not wanting to seem like you were bailing, but the dizziness was still lingering mixed with exhaustion.

Law nodded in understanding, brushing a hand through his hair as he sighed. "Yeah, let’s leave," he agreed, his tone softer now. He placed a hand on your back gently, guiding you away from the noise of the party, and the two of you headed for the exit, leaving the chaotic atmosphere behind.

[Next Chapter]

tag list: @mars-mizuko @tadomikiku (Comment to be added 🖤)

[moonstruckme]

hey, i love your writing so much!! can you do something with remus where reader is really upset over doing bad on an assignment and he comforts her. i had an essay today and i KNOW i failed😭😭i fr need a remmy

Thank you gorgeous! I hope you did better than you thought <3

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 831 words

Remus can feel some sort of upset building inside you. You’ve been quiet ever since dinner, a glumness accumulating around you like a thick fog. He’d call it a sulk if your usual kindheartedness didn’t seem so intact. But every smile is thin-lipped and you’re making painfully slow progress on your section of the puzzle, your eyes too often going cloudy and distant, off to somewhere Remus can’t follow. 

“Think I’ve got one of yours,” Remus murmurs, pushing a puzzle piece towards you. 

You take it with a low hum of thanks. 

He watches as you put it in your pile. His section of the puzzle isn’t coming along much better; he’s too worried about you to focus. You’re teetering on the edge of some sort of fracturing, he can feel it, and he doesn’t know what to do or how to make it better. 

He tries a new tactic. “Do you feel like some dessert, love? I might nip to the corner store for a sweet.” 

“Sure, that sounds good.” The smile you give him this time is more a grimace than anything else, and then you’re pushing yourself up from where you sit on the floor. “I’m going to go to the restroom.” 

Remus watches you go with a hollow ache in his chest. During dinner, you’d gotten an alert on your phone, and the change had been instant. Your shoulders had drooped at whatever you’d seen, your lips parting and then pressing determinedly together before you’d set your phone on the table, face down. Remus didn’t ask, and you didn’t seem inclined to bring it up. But whatever it was has clearly stuck with you. 

He gives it a few minutes before he follows. You could actually be in the bathroom, but he doubts it; he thinks he knows where you’ve gone. There’s a small gap between the bed and the wall in your bedroom, just barely big enough to walk in.

That’s where he finds you. Slouched in the corner as if you’ve misbehaved. 

“Hey,” he says softly, cramming into the space in front of you. He places his feet on either side of yours, your drawn-up knees slotting between his calves. “Why’re you hiding from me?” 

You’ve got your face covered with your hands, and your voice muffles into them when you speak. Still, the evidence of your crying is audible. “Because I know I’m being stupid.” 

“You’ve never been stupid, not once in your life,” Remus replies lightly. He takes your wrists in his hands, letting his thumbs run over the sensitive skin. “If you tell me what’s wound you up so badly, I can tell you if it’s stupid, but I doubt it is.” 

You lower your hands without his asking. It takes a good deal of self-control not to crumple at the sight of you. Your face is blotchy, a terribly sad downturn to your pretty lips, and when a tear globs and drops from your eye, Remus feels like someone’s thrust their hand into his chest and squeezed.

“You’re too nice to tell me if I’m being stupid,” you say, a teasing note to your voice despite your sorry state. 

Remus goes with it. He nods, faux serious, and gives you a look of great solemnity. “If any stupidity comes to light, I promise to laugh at you for the rest of the night.” 

You start to smile, but it crumples halfway through. “I really messed up.” 

There’s no joking to his seriousness now; he feels his brows bunch as he rubs a path up your forearm, desperate to soothe you. “How, sweetheart?” 

“I did really badly on my essay,” you whimper. “I know it’s dumb to cry about but I just—I really wanted to do well.” 

His heart swells with sympathy, though there’s a bit of relief that comes with it. “That’s not stupid,” he promises you, working his hand up your arm to your shoulder. It’s halfway to a hug, and you lean towards him a little, craving the comfort. “To some people, it might be, but you put so much pressure on yourself about these things.” He kisses your knee. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed, lovely, but it’s going to be okay.” 

You shake your head, sniffling. “The grade’s already in. There’s nothing I can do.” 

“I know,” Remus says apologetically. He moves closer, looking into your eyes so you can see the sincerity in his. Your chin wobbles. “It’s done, but you’ll be alright. You’ll still graduate, get a job. In a year from now you won’t even remember this.” 

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. You’re still weeping, but it’s slowing. He sets both hands to your cheeks. “You did your best, sweetheart. Keep trying. You’ll be okay.” 

“Promise you won’t leave me if I fail this class?” you joke.

Your efforts win a rare smile. Remus scrunches his nose against yours. “Promise. It’ll take a lot more than that, you’ve got me all settled in.”

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 10

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki  @helightknight21@dylsw@ria-s-writes@sleepymothafterhours@sukunasstomachtongue@cosmic-lovr@imm0rtalbutterfly@kyo-kyo1

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Chapter 10: After Hours

The days bled together, each one a repeat of the last. I woke up to the same white walls, the same sterile air, the same suffocating silence. The routine felt like a never-ending cycle: eat, therapy, argue with the therapist, meet with Selene, get high, fuck, then retreat back to my room to sleep off the guilt. I didn’t even have the energy to fight the monotony anymore. It was easier to just go through the motions.

Every morning therapy session felt like a war zone. I hated it. The words they said to me, the questions they asked, the way they looked at me like I was some broken puzzle piece—they all gnawed at me, and I fought back with every ounce of bitterness I had left. I wasn’t ready to confront anything, especially not the damage I’d done to myself and the people around me. Not yet.

Selene had become my secret escape. She wasn’t anyone I trusted, but in a place like this, trust was a luxury I couldn’t afford. She provided the pills, the numbness I craved. It wasn’t the same as the chaos I used to embrace, but it was the closest I could get to escaping this damn place.

When we hooked up, it was just another way to drown out the noise in my head, to feel something—anything—other than the crushing weight of everything I’d been running from. It didn’t mean anything, not really. But it was a distraction. A temporary release.

One week in this hellhole, and I was already suffocating. The days felt like an eternity, and I found myself yearning for the moment I could leave. But each time I thought about leaving, about going back to the chaos I used to live in, I remembered the mess I’d made of myself. The last thing I wanted was to drag anyone down with me.

I closed my eyes, blocking out everything. 

This is what I deserve,

 I told myself.

 I made my bed.

But deep down, I knew I wasn’t just here because of my choices. I was here because I didn’t know how to deal with everything that had happened. And I hated myself for it.

I was in my afternoon session, the clock ticking endlessly in the background. Mrs. Henry sat across from me, her sharp gaze dissecting every inch of my expression. I didn’t care. I stared back, unblinking, waiting for her to say something.

"Are you high right now, Sukuna?" she asked again, her voice calm, almost too calm. I could tell she wasn’t going to let me off the hook that easily.

I shrugged, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair, arms crossed over my chest. "No," I shot back, my tone colder than I meant it to be. "How would I be high, Mrs. Henry? I’m not medicated. I'm an addict. Isn't that how it works?" I could feel the bitterness seeping through, like it had become my default setting, something I couldn’t turn off even if I wanted to.

Mrs. Henry leaned forward slightly, her gaze still unwavering. "You don't have to act tough here, Sukuna. You're allowed to be vulnerable," she said, like I was just another patient in a line of many she’d tried to fix.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not trying to act tough," I muttered, though I could feel the defensive walls rising in me. "I'm just telling you how it is. You think this is me acting tough? This is me, trying not to lose my mind in a place where no one gives a damn."

Her silence only pissed me off more, but I kept my face blank. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break down. Not now. Not ever.

“Let’s just cut to the chase,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “Ask me the usual questions.”

Mrs. Henry didn’t even flinch. She kept her gaze steady, her tone measured. “Are you high?”

I rolled my eyes and bit back a sigh. “No,” I said, for the second time, just as quick and just as smooth.

The truth, though, was a different story. I was high—just enough to keep my hands steady, my mind quiet. But I needed Selene right now, more than I needed to be honest. So I wasn’t ever going to say yes.

Not to her. Not to anyone.

Mrs. Henry didn't press me any further. She knew the game I was playing, but she couldn't call me on it—not yet, anyway. She jotted something down on her clipboard, her eyes still fixed on me like she was waiting for me to slip up.

"Alright," she said, her tone still annoyingly calm. "Have you been using any substances recently, Sukuna? Specifically, Xanax?"

I could feel a familiar itch in the back of my throat, the need to lie, to deflect, to make sure she didn’t get any closer to the truth.

"No," I said again, as easily as I had the first time, my voice steady, maybe a little too steady. I forced myself not to flinch under her gaze, knowing that if I did, she’d be all over me like a hawk.

I wanted to leave. I needed Selene. She was the only one who could get me out of this fog, who could give me something that made all of it bearable. I could already picture her face, that grin she always had when I showed up, and the promise of relief she always offered.

But I wasn’t going to give her that. Not yet. I’d just lie and lie until I couldn’t lie anymore. The truth? I couldn’t deal with that right now.

"Anything else you've been doing to cope with everything going on?" Mrs. Henry asked, clearly trying to dig a little deeper.

I stared at her, my jaw clenched, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of seeing me crack. "No. Nothing else," I said, the words falling from my lips like they were rehearsed.

I was running out of ways to keep pretending. But if I kept pretending long enough, maybe I could still feel like I had control. Just a little bit longer.

Mrs. Henry raised an eyebrow, not surprised by my response, but still taking notes, as if this was just another layer of the facade I was building around myself.

"That’s understandable," she said, her voice even, "But sometimes, connecting with others here can help with the process, Sukuna. You don’t have to go through this alone."

I almost scoffed at her, but I stopped myself, keeping the anger in check. I didn't need to give her more ammo.

"I'm not alone," I replied coldly. "I’ve got my family. I don’t need therapy buddies to deal with my shit. That’s not gonna fix anything."

I knew I was being defensive, but what else was I supposed to do? Letting someone in would mean they'd see the cracks in my armor, and I wasn’t about to give anyone that kind of power over me—not in here.

"Your family, huh?" she probed, her eyes narrowing just a bit. "Are they the kind of family that supports you through this?"

I glanced away, irritated.

 I don't need her judging me.

 I shook my head slightly. "Doesn’t matter. It’s just... easier when I’m not trying to pretend like everything's fine. I'm dealing with it on my own, and that's it."

The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t here for this. I didn’t want to talk about my family or what I needed from them.

 All I wanted was to get through the day without feeling like I was suffocating.

Mrs. Henry didn’t push it any further, which made me wonder if she knew she wasn’t going to get anywhere. But I couldn’t stop myself from wondering—if I really was alone, what would happen if I let someone in? What would happen if I stopped pushing everyone away, stopped lying about how fine I was, stopped pretending I didn’t care?

I shoved the thought out of my mind quickly, the familiar tightness in my chest taking over again. 

No. Not now. Not ever.

“Tell me about Jin.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I froze. My chest tightened, my mind grinding to a halt. Jin? Who told her about him? How did she know?

My palms started to sweat, my shirt sticking to my back as the room suddenly felt ten degrees hotter. My mouth went dry, and for the first time in the session, I couldn’t think of a single word to say.

Everything blurred, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. All I could focus on was that name—his name—echoing in my head like a curse.

The mention of Jin hit me like a punch to the gut. My entire body tensed, a rush of heat and cold sweeping through me all at once. 

How the hell did she know?

I gritted my teeth, trying to regain control, but my hands were shaking. I clenched them into fists, digging my nails into my palms to distract myself. 

I can't break. I can’t break.

"Who told you about Jin?" I growled, my voice hoarse, as if the words were being dragged from my throat.

Mrs. Henry didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away. She just stared at me, unblinking, waiting for me to answer. It was as if she knew exactly how to push me, to get under my skin.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as sandpaper

Fuck.

I didn’t want to talk about Jin. I didn’t want to think about him. Not now. Not here. 

Not when I’m like this.

"Answer me," I snapped, my voice rising, cracking slightly at the edges. "Who the fuck told you?"

She didn’t answer. She just waited, her calm demeanor unnerving. "It’s not about who told me, Sukuna," she said softly, but there was something in her tone that made me freeze. "It’s about you. It’s about how you’re still carrying that weight."

I felt a lump form in my throat, my chest tightening with the familiar, suffocating pain.

 God, not this again.

Jin. My fucking twin. The one person who knew me better than anyone. The one person I could always count on. And now he’s gone, and I’m here... spiraling in a place where everything feels wrong. Where I can’t breathe, where I can’t fix it, and where every memory of him feels like a betrayal.

I wanted to yell, scream, or throw something, but I couldn’t. I was trapped in this room, in my own mind, drowning in guilt and rage and fucking grief. 

Why am I even here?

"I don’t want to talk about it," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Just let me fucking be.

But Mrs. Henry didn’t back down. She leaned in slightly, her eyes sharp, but with a gentleness that pissed me off. "That’s part of the problem, Sukuna. You’re not talking about it. You’re burying it all inside, and it’s eating you alive."

My breath hitched, the walls around me crumbling just a bit. I hated how right she sounded, but I wasn’t going to let her see that.

"I’m not... I’m not burying shit," I hissed, my jaw clenching as I stood up from my seat. "Just drop it. Just fucking drop it."

But her eyes never left me. And even though I wanted to walk out, to escape, a part of me knew I couldn’t

 I couldn’t outrun this anymore.

She sighed, her expression softening just slightly, like she was treading carefully now. “Alright,” she said, switching gears. “Tell me about your brothers—Choso and Yuuji.”

I exhaled, long and slow, the tension in my shoulders easing just a bit. 

Finally, A safe topic.

I leaned back in my chair, relieved that she switched topics. 

Choso and Yuuji... 

It was like a breath of fresh air compared to the mess of Jin. I had to admit, even if I didn’t want to be here, talking about them didn’t feel like total torture.

"Choso’s... he's my responsibility, the kid I’m supposed to look out for," I started, trying to steady my voice. I felt a weird kind of warmth in my chest when I thought about him. I wasn’t used to it, but there it was. "He’s been through a lot, too. We both have. After... everything with Jin, I stepped up. Trying to give him something solid, you know?" I paused for a second, wondering if I was saying too much. But I kept going.

"And Yuuji... shit, Yuuji’s like a kid brother I never asked for, but somehow ended up with. He’s stubborn, and sometimes I want to strangle him, but he's a good kid. I Want to be better. I’m just trying to keep him from making the same mistakes I did, even if he doesn’t listen half the time."

A laugh escaped me, though it wasn’t really a happy one. More like a bitter one, like the sound of frustration.

"I don’t know," I muttered, looking down at my hands, the weight of the conversation starting to press on me again. "They’re both better off without me dragging them down. Hell, Yuuji’s better off without me around. Choso... he deserves better too."

Mrs. Henry studied me, her gaze unwavering as always. "You’re doing your best, Sukuna. You’re not perfect, none of us are, but you’re still here for them, aren’t you? They care about you."

I felt my chest tighten again, but I pushed it away. 

No, they don’t. 

Not really.

"Yeah, I guess," I mumbled. "But I’m not the guy they think I am."

I rubbed my face, trying to force down the feelings clawing at my insides. 

I’m not the guy anyone thinks I am.

She didn’t respond, just let the silence stretch out between us. And in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to shut it all out, to just stop thinking, stop feeling. 

But I couldn’t.

She stared at me for a moment then asked, “Tell me about your Grandfather.”

 I felt the tears on my face before I could even stop it. I wiped my face but the tears kept coming.

I felt a lump form in my throat before she even finished asking. 

Grandpa. 

It was like she dug her hand into an old wound, one I’d been trying to close off for months. I couldn’t help it—the tears came, stinging my eyes before I could even stop them.

I wiped my face, frustrated that I was so damn weak. But I didn’t look away. I wasn’t about to give her that satisfaction of seeing me completely unravel.

"I can't... I can't talk about him," I muttered, voice rough and thick with the emotion I was trying to choke down. 

Grandpa 

He was the only one who ever truly gave a damn about me, about Jin, about Choso and Yuuji. Hell, he took care of us when no one else would. And then, just like that, he was gone. Gone too damn soon.

I could already feel the ache in my chest, the empty space he left behind. "I don’t... I can’t. It’s too much," I said again, my voice quieter now, more fragile. I could barely even look at her.

Mrs. Henry didn’t say anything right away, and for a second, I thought maybe she was going to press the issue again. But then she just nodded. "Okay," she said softly. "We’ll move on. When you’re ready, Sukuna."

It was hard to swallow. To think about how I’d never truly be ready. I didn’t want to be. Talking about Grandpa meant feeling everything again—the guilt, the rage, the confusion. And I wasn’t sure I could handle it.

I turned away, pretending to focus on the clock ticking on the wall, but the weight of the conversation hung over me, making it harder to breathe.

 I wasn’t ready. Not now, not ever.

The room felt like it was closing in on me. My chest tightened, and I could barely catch my breath. 

Jin.

 His face flashed in front of me like a damn haunting. 

Why did I do it? Why did I let him die?

I felt the bile rise in my throat just as I realized I was going to lose control. I pushed the chair back and stumbled toward the bin in the corner, barely making it in time. My stomach twisted violently as I emptied whatever little was left in my body. The tears mixed with the vomit, and I didn’t even know where one ended and the other began.

When it stopped, I collapsed against the cold, sterile floor, my body shaking. I could barely breathe, the air thick with panic and grief. My arms wrapped around me instinctively, like I could hold myself together if I just kept tight enough.

But I knew it was a lie.

My body trembled, but my mind—

my mind was a fucking mess.

 Jin’s death. Grandpa’s. The guilt. The weight of it all. How could I even keep living with this?

"You didn’t save him,"

 I muttered, my voice cracking, barely audible. 

"You were too weak... too scared."

The sound of the door creaking open reached my ears, but I couldn’t look up. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.

"Sukuna," Mrs. Henry’s voice was soft, like she was trying to approach a wild animal. But it wasn’t working. 

Nothing worked.

I pulled my knees tighter to my chest, shutting my eyes, trying to block it all out. But I couldn’t.

 I couldn’t. 

It was always there.

She came closer but stopped just out of reach, probably sensing the distance in me. "This won’t fix itself, Sukuna," she said gently, but it felt like a slap. "You can’t keep running from it."

I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. The only thing I could hear now was the deafening silence in my mind, the pounding of my own heartbeat, and the deep, gut-wrenching ache of what I’d lost. What I was losing.

Maybe I was right. Maybe I was already too far gone.

I DIDN’T LEAVE MY ROOM FOR TWO DAYS

I heard the door creak open, and I stayed curled up in my bed, wrapped in the blanket like it could shield me from everything. I couldn’t move, couldn’t look at anyone. The guilt kept swirling, suffocating me. My thoughts were too loud—

too loud to escape.

 I killed Jin. I could’ve stopped him. I should’ve been there.

Mrs. Henry’s soft footsteps approached, and then I heard the bed creak as she sat beside me. She didn’t try to touch me, didn’t push me to look at her. She just sat there, quiet, waiting for me to speak.

I kept my eyes shut, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill again. I couldn’t face her. I couldn’t face anyone.

"Sukuna," her voice was calm, but there was a tenderness there I didn’t expect. "You can’t keep doing this. You have to talk about it. Holding it all in... it’s not going to fix anything."

I bit my lip, trying to keep it together, but my chest felt like it was caving in. I finally spoke, but my voice was hoarse, cracking, barely a whisper.

"I killed him," I said, the words tasting like acid in my mouth. "I killed Jin. I could’ve stopped him. I should’ve been there... but I wasn’t."

She didn’t say anything at first, just let me breathe through the wave of guilt and grief that hit me. I could feel her presence next to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up.

"Jin made his own choices," Mrs. Henry said softly, her voice steady, but somehow it didn't feel as harsh as it should. "You couldn’t have known what would happen, Sukuna. You’re carrying this weight like it’s your fault, but you need to understand... it’s not. You’re not responsible for his death."

I shook my head, the tears falling freely now. "I was supposed to protect him. I was supposed to—be there."

She sighed, a long, patient breath. "You can’t change what happened. No matter how much you want to. But you can change how you’re handling it now. You’re not alone in this, Sukuna. You have people who care about you, who want to help."

"Who?" I choked out, bitterly. "Who the hell cares? Jin’s gone. My grandpa’s gone. All I’ve done is fuck up."

Mrs. Henry was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, her tone soft but firm. "Sukuna, you're not alone. I know it feels like the world is falling apart, like everything’s broken beyond repair, but that’s not the truth. You have people who care, and you can find a way to make it through this—

but you need to let them in."

I stayed quiet, feeling the weight of her words. I didn’t know how to let anyone in, not after everything. Not after what I did.

I wanted to say something back, but the lump in my throat wouldn’t let me. I wanted to argue, to scream that I didn’t deserve their help. But there was something in Mrs. Henry’s voice, a quiet strength, that made me hold back.

She was right. 

I couldn’t do this alone.

But 

How could I let anyone in again?

Mrs. Henry stayed beside me, her voice calm but steady. “Sukuna, you need to breathe. Look at me,” she said gently, but I couldn’t. My chest was heaving, my breaths shallow and erratic. My hands were shaking as I clutched the edge of the blanket like it was the only thing keeping me tethered.

“Focus on my voice, Sukuna. Just listen to me.” Her tone softened further, soothing in a way that cut through the chaos swirling in my head. “You’re safe right now. Nothing is going to hurt you. You need to breathe—slowly. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

I tried, but the panic had a stranglehold on me. My head was spinning, and I felt like I was sinking, spiraling deeper into the pit I couldn’t climb out of.

Mrs. Henry shifted closer, her presence firm yet non-threatening. “You can do this. Start small. Breathe in for three seconds, okay? Let’s count together.” She started counting, her voice steady, unwavering.

“One… two… three. Now exhale. One… two… three.”

I gripped the blanket tighter, forcing myself to follow her rhythm, though it felt like my lungs were burning. Each breath felt like a fight, but slowly, painfully, the dizziness started to fade.

“That’s it,” she encouraged. “Keep going. You’re doing great.”

Tears blurred my vision as I finally managed to draw in a deeper breath, though it came out shaky. My chest still felt tight, but the suffocating weight began to lift, just a little.

“Good,” she said softly. “Now, I want you to name five things you can see in the room. Can you do that?”

I hesitated, my voice barely above a whisper. “The… the blanket.”

“That’s one,” she said patiently. “What else?”

“The wall,” I muttered, my eyes darting around. “The chair. The… clock. And… the bin.”

“Good,” she said, nodding. “Now, four things you can touch.”

“The bed,” I said, my hands still gripping the blanket. “The blanket… my shirt… and the floor.”

Her voice remained calm as she guided me through the exercise, helping me ground myself. By the time I’d listed the last thing, my breathing had slowed, though my chest still ached with the weight of everything.

“You’re okay,” she said, her voice gentle. “You’re here, and you’re okay. I know it feels impossible right now, but you’re stronger than you think.”

I shook my head, the tears falling freely again. “I don’t feel strong,” I admitted, my voice breaking. “I feel… broken. Like I can’t fix this.”

Mrs. Henry stayed quiet for a moment, then said softly, “Broken doesn’t mean beyond repair. It means you’re human, Sukuna. And humans can heal, even from the worst of it. But you have to let yourself try.”

I didn’t respond, but something about her words stuck with me, even as I buried my face in my hands. Maybe she was right. Maybe I could try. But it felt so far away, like the light at the end of a tunnel I wasn’t sure I’d ever reach.

              TIME SKIP 2 DAYS

It didn’t take long for me to fall back into the routine. Two days later, I found myself back in Selene’s room. The dim light and faint smell of perfume mixed with something sharper—a scent I couldn’t quite place but was starting to associate with her. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, her legs crossed, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips as she eyed me.

“You look like shit, Sukuna,” she teased, tossing a pill bottle from one hand to the other. “Rough couple of days?”

I leaned against the doorframe, my arms crossed, trying to ignore how my hands were already shaking. “Are you offering or just here to waste my time?”

She laughed, that low, mocking sound she always made when she thought she had the upper hand. “Always so charming.” She tilted her head, studying me. “What do you need?”

“Same as always.” I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. My heart was racing, my skin crawling. I hated needing her—hated how easy it was for her to control me with just a damn bottle. But the withdrawals were eating me alive, and right now, I’d do whatever it took to quiet the noise in my head.

Selene patted the spot on the bed next to her. “Come sit, then. Let’s talk business.”

I hesitated, then walked over, lowering myself onto the edge of the mattress. She shifted closer, her knee brushing against mine as she placed the bottle in my hand. I clenched it tightly, like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

“What’s the catch?” I asked, glancing at her. There was always a catch with her.

Selene’s grin widened. “No catch. Just some… companionship. You’re not exactly hard to look at, you know.”

I rolled my eyes, twisting the cap off the bottle. I shook two pills into my hand, then stopped, my mind flashing back to Mrs. Henry, to the therapy sessions, to Yuuji’s face when I woke up in the hospital. For a split second, I considered throwing the pills away, walking out of the room and never coming back.

But then the gnawing ache in my chest returned, the unbearable weight pressing down on me. The thought of facing another night without relief was enough to push me over the edge. I swallowed the pills dry, ignoring the burn in my throat.

Selene watched me, her expression unreadable. “You know,” she said after a moment, “you don’t have to keep doing this. Killing yourself slowly isn’t as poetic as you think.”

“Spare me the lecture,” I muttered, leaning back against the wall. My head was already starting to feel lighter, the sharp edges of reality beginning to blur. “You’re not exactly a model citizen either.”

She shrugged, lying back on the bed. “Fair point. But at least I own it. You? You’re still pretending you don’t want this.”

I didn’t respond, letting the silence settle between us. The pills were kicking in now, the world fading into a dull hum. Selene reached over, brushing her fingers against my arm, and I didn’t pull away.

“You’re a mess, Sukuna,” she said softly, her voice almost gentle. “But I guess that’s why you’re here.”

I closed my eyes, letting her words wash over me. She was right—I was a mess. And right now, I didn’t care.

Selene straddled me, her nails tracing lazy patterns over my chest. It was becoming routine now—therapy in the morning, sneaking into her room after, getting high, fucking, and pretending none of it mattered. Rinse and repeat.

I should’ve been using my time here to get better, especially after my little breakdown in front of Mrs. Henry. Instead, I was right back to the same shit that got me here in the first place. I guess that’s just who I am—someone who runs from the hard stuff, diving headfirst into the chaos to drown it out.

Selene tilted her head, her messy bangs falling into her face as she looked down at me. “You’re awfully quiet today,” she said, her voice a mix of teasing and curiosity.

I shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Not much to say.”

She laughed, low and husky, leaning down until her face was inches from mine. “You’re always full of shit, you know that?”

“Maybe,” I muttered, placing my hands on her hips. The Xanax was working its magic, dulling everything until it felt like I was floating. Selene pressed her lips to mine, and for a moment, I let myself get lost in her.

I wasn’t sure what this was between us—something transactional, something toxic. It wasn’t love, that much I knew. But it was an escape, and that’s all I wanted.

When we were done, she rolled off me, lighting a cigarette as she stretched out on the bed. The smoke curled in lazy tendrils toward the ceiling, and I stared at it, my thoughts swirling.

“You ever think about what you’re gonna do when you get out of here?” she asked, exhaling a long plume of smoke.

I laughed bitterly, running a hand through my hair. “If I get out of here, you mean.”

Selene smirked, passing me the cigarette. “You’ll get out. The question is, what then? Back to the same old shit?”

I took a drag, letting the nicotine hit my lungs before answering. “Probably. What else is there?”

She shrugged, her expression unreadable. “Maybe you could try being a better person. Get your shit together for real this time.”

“Funny coming from you,” I shot back, handing the cigarette back to her.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Fair enough. But seriously, Sukuna. You can’t keep running forever.”

“Watch me,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

Selene didn’t push further, just lay back against the pillows, her cigarette dangling from her fingers. I stared at the ceiling, wondering if there was even a point to all this. Therapy, the pills, the bullshit self-reflection—none of it felt like it was working.

I should’ve been getting help. Instead, I was stuck in this cycle, spinning my wheels and going nowhere. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe this was all I was good for.

Selene’s fingers traced over the tattoo on my arm, her touch light but intentional. “Who’s Y/N?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

I stiffened beneath her, the name pulling me out of my haze like a bucket of cold water. My chest tightened, and I swallowed hard, trying to keep my expression neutral.

“No one,” I muttered, my voice rough. “I don’t got a girl.”

Selene raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Then why’s her name inked on your arm, huh?” She smirked, tilting her head. “Doesn’t seem like ‘no one’ to me.”

I glanced down at the tattoo like I was seeing it for the first time. Y/N. The black ink stood out starkly against my skin, mocking me. When the fuck did I even get that? My head felt foggy, the Xanax dulling everything but the faint stab of panic creeping in.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. “I don’t even remember getting this.”

Selene laughed, the sound low and throaty as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against my neck. “Must’ve been important enough at some point,” she teased, pressing a kiss to my jaw. “Or were you just drunk and stupid like usual?”

“Drop it,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

She pulled back slightly, her smirk fading as she studied my face. For a moment, I thought she might actually listen, but then her lips were on my neck again, her hands sliding up my chest.

“Relax,” she murmured against my skin. “I don’t care who she is. Or was. You’re here with me now, aren’t you?”

Her words made my stomach churn, but I didn’t push her off. I let her continue, let her kiss me, let her try to distract me from the weight pressing down on my chest.

But the name lingered in the back of my mind, a bitter reminder of everything I’d been trying so damn hard to forget.

Selene’s lips hovered near my ear, her voice low and coaxing. “I could be her for you,” she whispered, her words weaving around me like smoke. “Just for one day. Whatever you want, Sukuna. I don’t mind.”

Her fingers danced over my chest, light and deliberate, and I could feel the weight of her gaze, searching for the cracks in my armor.

My throat tightened as her words sank in, dragging up feelings I’d buried too deep to face. 

Be her? She didn’t know what the fuck she was asking for. Y/N wasn’t just anyone, and she sure as hell wasn’t someone you could play pretend with.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I stared at the floor. “Don’t,” I muttered, my voice low and strained. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Selene tilted her head, feigning innocence, but I could see the spark of curiosity in her eyes. “I’m just trying to help, Sukuna,” she purred. “You’re clearly hung up on her, and I don’t mind stepping in. Let me take the weight off, just for a little while.”

I hated how tempting it sounded.

 The idea of forgetting, even for a moment, felt like a lifeline in this hellhole. But it wasn’t real. Nothing about this place, about her, was real. And deep down, I knew it wouldn’t help. If anything, it’d make things worse.

“Why would you even want that?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. I finally looked at her, my jaw clenched.

She shrugged, her smile not reaching her eyes. “Maybe I like the challenge. Or maybe I just like you.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “You don’t even know me.”

Selene leaned in closer, her lips brushing against my cheek. “Then let me.”

I hesitated, my thoughts a chaotic mess. 

Part of me wanted to say yes, to let her pretend, to drown in the fantasy for a day. But another part of me—probably the part that still gave a shit about Y/N—knew it was wrong. Knew it would only make me feel emptier in the end.

“Selene,” I said, my voice hoarse, “just stop.”

She froze for a moment, then pulled back, her expression a mix of frustration and disappointment. “Fine,” she said, standing up and smoothing her clothes. “But don’t come crying to me when the weight of whatever this is crushes you.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. All I could do was sit there, the ghost of Y/N’s name burning on my arm and in my chest.

I stared at Selene, her words echoing in my head like a challenge I was too weak to resist. 

Fuck it, 

I thought. Just this once. Just to see if it’ll dull the ache.

My jaw tightened as I muttered, “Fine.”

Her smile was instant, victorious, as she climbed back onto my lap, her hands cupping my face. “Good,” she purred, her lips brushing against mine. “I’ll take care of you.”

I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t want to think. Thinking meant remembering, and remembering meant feeling. I couldn’t afford to feel right now.

She kissed me, soft and slow at first, testing the waters, before deepening it. I let her. I let her press her weight against me, let her fingers trail over my skin, let her pretend to be someone she could never be.

It wasn’t the same. It would never be the same.

But I let myself fall into the lie for a moment, closing my eyes and imagining it was Y/N. The way she used to look at me, the way her hands used to fit against my chest, the way she’d whisper my name like it meant something.

Selene pulled back, her eyes searching mine, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’re so tense,” she teased, running her hands down my arms. “Relax. Let me make you forget.”

Forget? 

I wanted to laugh. There was no forgetting her. No forgetting the tattoo burned into my skin, the memories etched into my soul. But I was too tired to argue. Too tired to fight.

“Just… do what you want,” I muttered, leaning back against the wall.

She didn’t need to be told twice.

As she kissed me again, I let myself go numb, focusing on the moment instead of the weight in my chest. But no matter how hard I tried, Y/N’s face stayed in my mind, her voice echoing in my ears.

And when it was over, when Selene curled up beside me, satisfied and smug, all I could feel was emptiness.

Just this once, I’d told myself. But even once was too much.

I slowly got lost in the sensations, my thoughts slipping away as Selene’s hands roamed over my skin. Her lips moved across my neck, her breath warm against my ear. For a moment, I let myself sink into it—the touch, the heat, the false comfort.

My body reacted, but my mind drifted elsewhere. I felt her, but I wasn’t really there. Each kiss, each touch, blurred together, and in the haze, I saw Y/N’s face instead.

Her laughter. The way she’d roll her eyes when I teased her. The sound of her voice when she said my name like it actually mattered.

Selene’s lips brushed against mine, pulling me back to the present, but it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t the person I wanted, even though I’d told myself I didn’t want Y/N anymore. 

Liar.

“Relax,” Selene whispered, her hands sliding down my chest.

I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the ache creeping into my chest. I focused on the sensations—the way her fingers dug into my skin, the way her body moved against mine. For a while, it worked. I felt the tension melt away, replaced by something easier to handle.

But as much as I tried to let go, as much as I tried to drown myself in Selene’s touch, I couldn’t fully escape the weight pressing down on me. It was like a shadow lingering in the corner of my mind, refusing to leave.

What the fuck are you doing, Sukuna?

The thought hit me like a slap, but I pushed it away, letting myself drift deeper into the moment. 

It’s just this once. Just to feel something different. Just to forget.

Selene’s nails raked across my back, pulling a low groan from my throat. For a second, I thought it might work. For a second, I thought maybe I could lose myself completely.

But when she whispered my name, the illusion shattered. It wasn’t her voice I wanted to hear. It wasn’t her I wanted to touch.

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, grounding myself in the sting. Selene didn’t notice. She kept going, and I let her, because I didn’t know how to stop.

By the time it was over, my body was drained, but my mind was anything but. As Selene curled into me, her breath steady and content, I stared at the ceiling, feeling hollow.

I’d wanted to forget, but all I’d done was remind myself of what I’d lost. Of what I’d ruined.

[cafulur]

Modern Personal Assistant Labru AU ✨📋🐉

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

- Laios is a renown animal/monster expert (not sure yet if this is modern as in no monsters or just a modern version of their realm w/ monsters included)

- he does most of his research independently, occasionally working alongside small groups of other scientists

- a new animal species / monster mutation emerges that completely captures the world’s and Laios’s interest. As one of the top zoologists / monsterologists in the nation, he gets requested to head the first ever research on this unknown creature.

- something about this species is so bizarre that in addition to studying it, Laios is suddenly also having to do press conferences to explain to the masses wtf is going on.

- … except he kind of can’t. the first time he gets on the mic in front of a bunch of people, one reporter asks if there is concern for reproduction as we’ve only found two females of the species. Laios goes on a 20 minute rant about the egg laying process they recently discovered and how according to x-rays of the eggs they do not require a mate to reproduce but appear to still seek and thrive off of community. A conference that should’ve had enough time to answer dozens of questions ends with him only have answered two and a half, as he greatly struggled to be succinct and not derail into mile long explanations. But to Laios, every detail counts!! They’re all important pieces to the puzzle!

- his boss pulls him aside— “listen, you’re the only person on the planet at the moment who has the most knowledge about this thing. if you’re going to also be it’s’ spokesperson, you need to handle your PR better and read the room. we’ve assigned you an assistant to help with any future public appearances.

- enter Kabru, works in public relations, usually political, and is all too comfortable with addressing the masses. local elections just ended and so as a PR specialist he’s being assigned unconventional work by his management company during this downtime, which includes a rambly scientist with zero social cues or ability to read the room.

- Kabru sits down with Laios at a café a few days before the next conference and they run through a little practice session. Kabru clears his throat and acts as a reporter.

- “So, Mr. Touden, how long do you expect the research to go on for before we know if we can integrate this species into our local environments? Is it even safe for us to be near them?”

- “it’s not a question on whether or not it’s safe for us but whether or not it’s safe for them. they seem to be flighty little guys, and don’t even agitate or fight when provoked. but something about the oils from human skin damages their feathers, they have almost the same texture and composition as paper. it’s really fascinating actually, they somehow appear to be resistant to water but our oils break them down very quickly, and so we’re thinking they might thrive better on reserves people can’t access. but that’s also not exactly ideal due their apparent difficultly living in captivity and small spaces, as well as the potential need to migrate. closing off their environment may actually—“

- Kabru knows deep, deep down in his heart of hearts that he needs to cut the man off right then and there, show him how he could be more concise and clear with his words, and maybe not ramble so much. but Laios is positively glowing with both wonder and genuine concern for this creature, and Kabru cannot help but be completely captivated.

[amuromi]

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 7.7k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ I would just like to thank the girlies for showing me the light of the Dominican-French Connie headcanon. Truly a beautiful thing that you’ve all created.

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! modern!au, hurt/comfort, previously established relationship (childhood sweethearts to exes), pet names (baby, mami, mamita), oral (f!receiving), mentions of birth control, untranslated Spanish, ooc!Connie (canon is only a suggestion)

It’s late, just on the cusp of twilight. The sun is setting behind the skyline in flecks of amber light, flickering over the culdesac like a dwindling candle. Soon the streetlights will come on, buzzing in bright halos over the cracked pavement of the basketball court. It’s so strange to see the changes that had gone unnoticed in years prior suddenly become glaringly obvious. The old pavement of the basketball court has always been cracked and faded, dandelions pushing up between the rivers of dirt that worked their way through the broken concrete. The green paint has long since been washed away along with the white lines and red free throw lane. Somebody–probably the same person that tagged the mailboxes up the street–has made an attempt at renewing the paint job, wobbling lines of spray paint marking out half court and the foil line. The rest of the park is just as neglected, having never been updated since its first installation. The swings are old and rickety, creaking under the slightest weight, and all the plastic pieces of the playground have been bleached pale under the sunlight. But it’s still standing. 

All the pocketknife etchings in the picnic tables and sharpie scribbles on the underside of the tallest slide. This park has always been well-loved. There are memories tucked into the cracked asphalt and carved into trees. Some aren’t even tangible, just the wisp of a thought tucked to the back of your mind that comes loose when you hear just the right song at just the right time. A car driving by with the windows down, in the stifling heat of midsummer. Mostly just bass rattling through the frame of someone’s hoopty as they ease down the block just as it starts to get dark, hollering at someone loitering by the stop sign at the end of the road. Hear just the right baseline at just the right time throws you back to somewhere easier. When the biggest worries in life were getting home before the streetlight turned on. 

Age came through and shattered that simplicity. First crack was sacrificing half the summer to a job at some pop-up carnival that closed as soon as school started, then school started getting serious the closer it got to graduation, and that ceremony sent everybody off in their different directions. Like pulling out threads of a sweater until it starts to unravel. Mikasa went one way and Armin another. Eren stayed local. Coming back together has been like finding a dusty puzzle at the back of a closet and hoping it still had all its pieces. Mikasa graduated the same time as you, but Armin and his big brain still have two more years to go for his bachelor’s. Sasha is fresh out of culinary school and looking to set up something local, a little restaurant somewhere in town. 

What started as a throwaway story post that you expected nobody to see or care about–a simple “back where it all began” when you decided to walk to the park at 1AM–had turned into a rallying cry that brought everybody out of the woodwork. Now, after all the new neighborhood kids have gone home, the park is still full of people. A bunch of twenty-somethings too big to be messing with all this playground equipment. The streetlights buzz to life as the sky goes black, bugs crowding around the yellowish light, but no one moves to go home. You’re all grown. The only thing that can tell you to go home now is a half exasperated text from your Momma wondering how long you plan to be out of the house for. It’s still early enough in the night–hardly past nine–that you don’t need to worry about getting called home because you’ve been out of the house for too long or some other nonsensical reason. And even that won’t bother your Momma who’s out living her own life now that you’re older. Something about a weekend trip with her friend Mr. Vick, which you know from childhood, is something she calls all her dates, like it’s an inside joke that she still goes out and has fun. “Acting grown,” as you’ve always called it. 

And besides your Momma, you don’t really need to worry about much of anything right now. With a degree under your belt, this little return to living at home is only temporary. A brief stop while you’re waiting for everything with your new employment and the leasing office of your apartment to clear. Soon you’ll be working your own little corporate job with an office and everything, and you’ll have your own place away from your Momma’s house, too. Life is sweet and seeing all your old friends is making it sweeter, but there’s still that barest hint of bitterness lingering on the back of your tongue. No one has mentioned it, too busy focusing on who’s here rather than who’s not, but there is one glaring piece missing from the little jigsaw of your old group of friends. One soldier that didn’t answer the call of duty. 

Mikasa and Historia are over on the swings, Eren and Jean are playing one on one on the beat up court, and Sasha and Armin are sprawled out on one of the jungle gym platforms. You’re comparatively alone, sitting at the picnic table all by yourself. It’s like something frozen in time. The same chipped paint and rusted bolts. In so many years, it seems like none of the kids have added anything else to the splintered collage you all left behind. There’s still the little lopsided heart that Historia etched out after being convinced that no one would care if she defaced this particular piece of public property. She was always a stickler with things like that. But the park belongs to you guys more than it does anyone else anyway. It’s always been the property of the kids and it’s almost sad that they haven’t added their own touches in the time since you all graduated. Maybe they’ve hidden their tags in different places. On the underside of the jungle gym written in sharpie, or the frame of the swing set etched into the creaking metal. 

After a while, the sound of sneakers scuffing on concrete pauses just long enough for a shadow to cut across your line of sight, eyes half closed as you rest your head on the table.  

“Don’t tell me you’re tired,” Eren teases. He somehow looks the same as you last saw him yet so much different. He’s bulkier and his hair is longer. He’s sweating, looking sticky as honey under the golden haze of the streetlights as he smiles down at you. 

“M’not tired.” It only sounds the slightest bit fatigued as you mumble the words into your folded arms, but you’re not. You slept in today and even when you woke up you only got out of bed sometime in the afternoon. You’re as well rested as can be, but longing is making you a bit lethargic. Something about a watched pot never boiling. Each minute has stretched to a small eternity as you stare up the ridge of the slight hill that flanks the park. The road is mostly invisible from where you’re sitting but you keep hoping you’ll see someone coming down the dirt path worn through the grass. Eren follows your eyes then kisses his teeth, pushing your shoulder as if to break you out of a daze. 

“If he shows, he shows. Don’t sit here waiting for him.” Eren at least has the sense not to sound pitying. It’s not like he’s had the smoothest relationship in the past four years either. He’s been on and off with half a dozen girls since graduation, never seeming to settle down with any one of them. Eren is lucky he’s easy to like because he’s never been hounded by any disgruntled ex and it gives you hope for your own past, but that candle you’ve been holding is burning lower and lower everyday. Soon it’ll hiss out in a puff of smoke and that’ll be that. Another door closed, another chapter ended. 

“C’mon, you’re not ’bout to spend the night over here looking sad. Come by my cheerleader while I break Kirstein’s ankles.” Eren has always been something like a brother. Older by a couple months, always pretending he was more mature and had all the answers. Usually he’s no more insightful than you, but he means well and tonight it’s a welcomed distraction. You sit at the edge of the court on one of those rickety benches that rocks and sags under your weight, hooting each time one of them scores just so Eren can huff about you “only cheering for him.” By the time they’ve played themselves out everyone has gathered at the edge of the court. 

Armin has settled between your legs, shoulders knocking into your knees as you card your fingers through his hair. It used to be longer. Back in middle school he had a thick mop of hair that matched Mikasa’s. They’ve both shorn off their hair to something more cropped and manageable now, still matching somehow. Historia is leaned up against your shoulder, half-asleep but perking up now that Sasha has started talking about food. Something about everyone coming over to theirs tomorrow for brunch. It’s getting late enough that getting up early is starting to sound like a chore but the promise of a home cooked meal courtesy of your favorite chef has you setting an alarm in your phone. Jean sinks one more shot from half court before wiping his face on his soiled shirt and agreeing to call it a night. 

Home is only a couple minutes away, the path lit by merging rings of light pouring down from the streetlamps. The pavement strewn with grass clippings is far less intimidating than walking around campus at night. Here you know house 13 is Ms. Emma’s and the blue car parked on the corner belongs to Mr. Leroy. There’s nothing haunting the streets but a stray cat that meows at you as you split off from Historia at the end of the block. She lives in the next neighborhood over–where the sidewalks aren’t as cracked and the houses not so weathered–and you watch her drive off until her tail lights disappear around a corner. Your phone pings as the group chat erupts with the obligatory “I’m home” texts. You send your own before turning in for the night, trying not to mull over the missing name in the text chain. 

Morning comes in shades of pink and electric buzzing as your phone vibrates through your alarm. It’s early or at least earlier than you’ve gotten up in a while, but Sasha is already up and texting, reminding everyone that food will be ready by noon. There’s a pang of nostalgia as you get ready in the bathroom that saw you through so many formative years. It smells like your Momma now that you’ve spent so long living in dorms instead of at home. Her perfume and hair products, the sweet smell of vanilla and cocoa butter that clings to nearly every room of the house. Even your own perfume mimics the comforting scent as you spritz yourself in a generous cloud before stepping out for the day. 

A pair of sunglasses sits low on the bridge of your nose as you make the drive to Sasha’s new apartment. She moved out soon after she finished culinary school. A modest apartment that isn’t too far from the restaurant she works at. It’s humble but it’s hers, and you’re proud to see how well life has been treating her. A notification from Sasha pops up as you check your lipgloss at a stop light, asking you to run to the store for her. Something about running out of eggs. Historia chimes in a moment later asking if any of the liquor stores are open so she can make mimosas. You turn right at the next light and bemoan the lack of cars in the parking lot of the grocery store. It’s not so early that no one’s on the road but you hate to be that person rolling up into the store before everyone’s settled into the work day. 

Just make it quick, you tell yourself as you pass through the doors. There’s an immediate gust of frigid air conditioning that raises goosebumps over your skin as you grab a basket. The store is nearly empty as you meander towards the dairy section. There’s a lady pondering over avocados as you pass through the produce. About as old as your Momma, though her hair is finely peppered with streaks of gray. There’s a vague familiarity to her that comes with growing up in the same place. She might’ve been your old daycare lady or a secretary at your elementary school. You push your sunglasses a bit higher on your face, trying to hide behind the wide lens. It’s too early to navigate through a half recalled stroll down memory lane. She barely glances up as you pass, but you still take a sudden interest in the speckled pattern of the tiled floor, skirting past a display of tomatoes until you can dip around a corner. Halfway down the line of aisles you see an old classmate working the seafood counter. There’s a moment of hesitation before he nods at you and you return the gesture hoping that will be the last of the familiar faces you see until you get to Sasha’s place. 

By the time you make it to the self checkout you’ve only seen three more people in the relatively large store. No one that you knew, luckily. The scanner happily chirps to not forget your receipt as you tuck the eggs into your reusable bag, the motion interrupted as you hear a familiar song ghosting past your ears. It’s quiet, muffled, sounding like you’re only hearing it from a distance. It draws your eyes despite the machine reminding you to remove all items from the bagging area. There’s no one behind you to stir up a fuss about you lingering too long at the register, half lost in a memory. In fact the only other person in the self checkout area is a man that looks devastatingly familiar. Even with his back towards you, you could pick Connie out of the biggest crowd. His hair is a bit longer now, grown out of his militaristic buzz cut, and his shoulders have gotten broader since you last saw him, but it’s him. 

The music is coming from him, of course. A relic from a bygone era of your life, a song older than either of you that his mother used to play. A comforting sound from those awkward years of middle school. It’s faint but you can hear the soulful belting of the love song even from a distance. It sends you back to the time when you first met Connie. He’d been on the fringes of your life throughout childhood. That friend of a friend that you’d never formally met until your sixth grade English class when he was sitting next to you and cheating off your answers. It took a few months before you realized he was an ESL student and suddenly cheating wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

The register chirps at you to pick up your groceries and grab your receipt and you nearly drop your bag and break your eggs in your rush to leave. Connie glances up from his own scanning at the sound of the commotion. It’s only a cursory glance from the corner of his eye but you see the recognition spark immediately. His whole body goes rigid, suddenly lined with tension at the mere sight of you. It’s too early for this kind of confrontation. Four years suddenly seeming too soon to see him again. You’re halfway to your car before you consider that he might not have recognized you. You try to rationalize that he could’ve just been bothered by some random woman staring him down while he’s trying to get groceries. It makes the lack of any notifications on your phone make more sense. The Connie you knew would’ve been texting you, then calling if you didn’t answer quick enough for his liking. He wouldn’t have let you walk away from him so easily. But, after so long, the Connie you knew only exists in memories. Like the song you only remember as a melody, no true words, just sounds and a feeling. 

It’s so strange how a day can sour so quickly. The bubbling happiness of getting to see your old friends has dissipated to a rueful melancholy. You get to see every friend but one. 

Masking your upset is easy when you can blame your lack of enthusiasm on the early hour despite having gotten more than enough sleep. Sasha puts you to work anyway, nudging you towards one end of the counter with a bowl and instructions to scramble the eggs. There’s a debate between Jean and Armin over adding milk to the mix, then Historia starts another over how much cheese qualifies as too much. Sasha bats all their hands away with a spatula, tossing in more cheese with a petty grin as you lament that you’re just following the chef’s instructions. You find yourself humming the song Connie had been playing as you cook, struggling to remember the words in Spanish. 

If anyone notices your overindulgence in the mimosas, they don’t question it. Historia seems happy to play mixologist as she measures out generous amounts of champagne colored with a splash of orange juice. By the fourth glass you’re feeling fuzzy and warm, like floating in a sun-dappled cloud. Mikasa’s shoulder is a nice place to rest as you drift in and out of the movie Armin put on. Some long, pondering art house film that you’re sure wouldn’t have been any easier to understand if you hadn’t only been half conscious through the whole runtime. The morning tastes like maple syrup and melted cheese. Sweet and savory as you try to ignore the soured note of your shopping trip. You try to imagine what might’ve happened if you hadn’t tucked tail and ran, then decide it was better that you had left in such a hurry. Connie had seen you but he decided to go back to what he’d been doing, ignoring you as if you were a stranger.

By the tail end of the second movie you’re sobering up and thinking of an excuse to duck out early. Sasha is back to banging around in the kitchen, cooking a late lunch, or maybe an early dinner, but you don’t have the energy to pretend to be upbeat for much longer. It isn’t quite sadness. That already came and went years ago. But it’s a strange aching like an old injury flaring up with the rain. Some time to yourself will help clear your head as you obsess over every second of the momentary interaction. Had that been a frown at the corner of his mouth or was it simply a trick of the light? Had he even considered following after you or was he glad to watch you go? The alcohol had dampened the anxiety but with each sobered moment it came roaring back to the forefront with a vicious ferocity. 

You make up some excuse about cleaning the house before your Momma gets home from her weekend getaway, ducking out of Sasha’s apartment to a chorus of disapproving whines. There’ll be other days together. You’re staying at home for at least another week and you weren’t moving so far that visits would be out of the question. Fifteen minutes was barely a drive at all, just a quick shot up the road from the high rise you’d closed on. They’ll be able to suffer one evening without you while you get yourself in order. 

Connie is all you can think about as you drive home. Him and the way he’d looked at you in the store. Like you were a ghost, a memory meant to be forgotten. And really, you have no right to be mad because isn’t that what you’d done to him? You’re strangers now. Hadn’t talked in years. What would you even say if you did? You consider the park as you drive past, but the sky has turned a steely gray and you’re not feeling like getting rained on in the name of nostalgia. It smells like lawn clippings and petrichor when you get out of the car. It’s still warm despite the storm clouds, a sticky sort of heat that ruins hair and melts makeup. The first crash of thunder comes rolling through as you lock your car, and you nearly unlock it just as fast when you notice someone sitting on your front step. 

The porch is outfitted with a cute set of chairs your Momma got from a yard sale a while back but Connie has decided to sit on the steps. He looks up at the sound of your approach and you try not to notice the way the hazel color of his eyes have shifted with the weather. They’re pulling more brown than green in the muted light of the storm as he watches you stomp past him. You hear him scrambling to follow after you even over the jangling of your keys as you rush to unlock the front door. But the porch is small and he’s already there by the time the deadbolt clicks out of the way. The weight of the screen door lifts from your back and the cold glass is replaced with the warmth of his breath skirting over the nape of your neck. It’s the closest you’ve been in years, too close to slam the door on him as he follows close behind you. He shuts the door like he lives here, locking it behind him with a sort of finality. There’s still the back door for you to escape out of and you’ve hopped enough fences to circumvent the enclosure of the backyard, but you aren’t about to let this man run you out of your own home. 

There’d been a draining sort of grief settled over you before but now it’s turned to boiling anger. He’s always been a bit desperate for your attention, though he looks a bit confused to be standing in front of you now. His eyes glance around the front room, taking in every detail as if he wanted to commit it to memory. It had been so long since he’d last been in your Momma’s house and you imagine it felt like wiping clean a window to allow the light through, the haze of dirt and lost memories removed as he breathed deep a smell that must’ve lingered in the back of his mind the same way the scent of his cologne lingered in yours. There’s an awkwardness to him that sits far too foreign on his large frame. His hands are shoved into his pockets, deep enough that they’re pulled just low enough for a peek of elastic to poke out over the waistband. You try not to focus on the strip of skin showing above the band of his underwear. If you look too long you’ll get lost in your head and you can’t let nostalgia cloud your judgment when he’s standing in the middle of your Momma’s living room uninvited, looking so fondly at the pictures of you she has framed on the wall. 

Connie seems to know you’re about to speak before the words even leave your mouth because his hand catches your chin. He tilts your head up to look at him as his thumb brushes over your lips, smearing your lip gloss just as soon as your lips part. 

“Not yet, baby,” he says and you can tell he talked to his mom recently. He’s got that little twang to his voice that he gets after speaking Spanish for an extended amount of time, the accent he outgrew somewhere in middle school slowly creeping back into his voice. You hate that you recognize it. That you wonder what he said to his mom, if he mentioned you. She used to keep a picture of the two of you in her wallet. The same picture your Momma still has framed somewhere. She took it down years ago when you’d come home in the middle of the semester with tears in your eyes, babbling about breaking up with Connie. But she never got rid of it, she said you’d regret it someday. Now, you were slowly starting to understand her insistence on preserving the sweet memory. 

The two of you were laid up on a couch, squished together even though you were small enough that there was more than enough space to spread out a bit more. One of your arms is tucked under your head while the other is laid over Connie’s back as he drools on your chest, leaving a wet spot on your shirt. You can still remember the sights and smells of that day. It was the first time you’d been invited to one of his family gatherings. 

His cousins had loved you, prattling on in a quick rush of Spanglish that you tried your best to follow as his mom kept handing you plates of food. Connie stuck close to your side the whole day, translating the slang that you missed and stealing your food when he got hungry. 

So many of your memories with him were so precious. It seems almost impossible that it had all come crumbling down so quickly. All it took was one phone call for your world to come crashing down because he couldn’t even give you the respect of doing it face to face. Maybe because he knew he wouldn’t go through with it if he could see your teary eyes. He always hated seeing you cry. Even just a pout would have him jumping to fix the problem. Any problem but your broken heart. You almost want to push him away as he leans his head against yours but it feels so good to be in his arms again. Almost like nothing has changed. But it has, and you aren’t about to let him pretend like it hasn’t. 

“Not yet.” He says again and this time he kisses you, stealing the words out of your mouth. It isn’t the kind of kiss you’d been expecting, though you truly hadn’t been expecting one at all. It’s deep and searching as if he’s trying to pour every kiss he’d missed giving you in the last few years into one. It feels like drowning and breathing all at once. As if you hadn’t realized you were starving until he gave you food and told you to eat. He tastes sweet, like cake. 

“You can be angry,” he promises between breathless kisses. “Later, you can be angry. But right now, let me pretend I never let you go.” But he had, and it hurt, and you are angry. Yet your hands are pulling him closer. 

“Not here.” He says between kisses, urging you towards the hallway. He remembers which door is yours–second on the left–even after so many years away. It’s damning how well Connie knows his way around your childhood home. He’s spent countless hours within these walls the same as you. It was like a second home for him. Now it’s like he never left as he guides you towards your bed. It isn’t the luxurious queen size you ordered for your new apartment, just a modest double that was just big enough for the two of you. Usually with room to spare because Connie never did like to sleep on his side of the bed. He doesn’t make an attempt at taking up any space after he sits you on the edge of the mattress, retreating towards the door as if he’s suddenly scared to be this close to you. 

It’s a mutual feeling, the excitement and hesitance. It’s like being lethargic and hyper all at once, locked in some shuddering equilibrium that will go off kilter the moment one of you makes a wrong move. So Connie stays pressed up against your door, hands back in his pockets like that’ll be enough to keep his hands off you after he’s already got the taste of you on his lips. He never was one to be satisfied with just a kiss. 

There’s nothing hiding his eagerness as you catch the shape of his dick pressing through the gray fabric of his sweatpants clear as day. The sight is enough to lead you down a well-worn path. It’s easy to go along with his wish, to pretend he never left, when you’re surrounded by the familiarity of the past. It’s like you’re eighteen again, watching Connie fight back tears as you tell him you’re leaving for college. It was the beginning of the end yet you can’t find it in yourself to regret it. College had been the right choice and you’re not sure what your Momma would’ve done if you told her you weren’t going to your first choice school just to stay close to a boy. Even if that boy was Connie. But that doesn’t matter right now. Later, he said, you can be mad at him later. Right now you want to forget all the lost years and unspoken emotions standing between you. 

There’s a bashful hesitance as you shrug off your shirt, trying not to think of how long it’s been since he last saw you like this. You look different, surely, but Connie doesn’t seem perturbed. His mouth falls open as if he hadn’t expected it to be that easy to get you undressed. Of course you should be a little less forgiving, more steadfast in your anger, but that can all come later. For now, you’re nearly tripping over your feet to get your pants off. Connie stays pressed up against your door, hands solidly in his pockets, but his eyes are greedy as they rove over your undressed form. Light eyes drag down your body, taking in the way your bra strap slips off the curve of your shoulder and your panties are slung low around your hips. It’s mismatched, nothing special, but Connie licks his lips and bites back a smile. 

“Show me.” He sounds breathless. “Show me what I’ve been missing, baby.” There’s a soft thud as he head falls back against the door. His eyes are half lidded, lashes fluttering as his eyes take in your state of undress. The slight gravel to his voice has your knees knocking and cheeks warming, and suddenly you don’t feel as confident as you did a minute ago. Connie smirks, a soft laugh falling from his lips. “Don’t be shy now, baby. Lemme see.” 

There’s an awkward tremor to your hands as you slide your panties off, thighs closing as soon as you kick them off your ankle. Connie clocks you immediately, sucking his teeth at your coy behavior. 

“Uh uh, mama. Spread your legs. Lemme see.” There’s something so familiar in his voice, that slow drawl as he looks down at you, that has your body reacting before you can think. Your legs slide open and Connie groans. “There she is. So pretty, baby.” 

He finally pushes off the door to come closer and the sight of him rushes over you like deja vu. It eases your nerves, the familiarity of it all. It’s been a while but not so long that your bodies have forgotten each other. Connie fits between your legs the same as he always did. Falling to his knees the instant he’s close enough to touch. His hands slide up the inside of your thighs, pushing your legs farther open, before dipping over the curve of your hips to pull you to the edge of the bed. 

“Missed this,” Connie says as he buries his face between your legs. “Missed you.” The words are spelled out with his tongue as he laps at the wet heat hidden between your thighs. His short hair still prickles against the palm of your hand as you look for something to ground you as he takes his time to reacquaint himself with your body. He’s mumbling a litany of English and Spanish that hums against your clit as he sucks the sensitive bud between his lips, tracing the shape of his name like he never left. The way he’s gripping your thighs, tight enough that his fingers are leaving dimples in the soft flesh, it feels like he wishes he hadn’t left. 

There’s regret and possession radiating from him as he eats you like a man starved. He catches you watching him as your nails scratch at his scalp, hazel eyes sparkling up at you as you squirm on his tongue. He’s looking at you like you’ve hung all the stars in the sky as you cum. He groans loud and long, eyes rolling as your legs try to snap shut. He lets you, loosening his grip on your thighs just enough to feel your legs lock around his head. Connie has the nerve to look perfectly happy to suffer the suffocation as he keeps sucking at your clit. It’s not until you’re pushing him away, whining about “too much,” that he comes up for air. He’s got a dopey smile on his face, your slick shining on his cheeks and chin. He licks his lips and kisses the inside of your thigh, leaving a shiny, heart-shaped mark. He does it again and again, a trail tracing up your stomach before he buries his face against your chest, tongue tracing hot shapes across the pebbled peaks of your nipples. He’s mumbling something, low and barely coherent as he sucks marks into the plush skin of your breasts. 

“–me.” It’s a slurred mess on his clumsy lips, his attention divided between spouting his little mantra and tracing the shape of his name against your collarbone with the tip of his tongue. “Only me.” He says it over and over. Only me, only me, only me…

“Tell me, baby,” he says, suddenly crowding over you. He’s pushed you up the bed so your head is resting on your mountain of silk-covered pillow. “Tell me it’s only gonna be me.” His voice, usually deep and dulcet, has risen to an almost whimpering tone as he blocks everything but himself from your vision. The bulk of his arms crowds your periphery, keeps your head from moving as he sits nearly nose to nose with you. He’s close enough that you can reacquaint yourself with the pattern of his hazel eyes, easily parsing which flecks are green and which are brown. “Tell me.” 

There’s still a shy hesitance as you thread your arms around his neck, but it’s less about the sudden proximity and more about the sudden outpour of emotion shaking itself awake, like frost melting in the sunlight. Connie has always been familiar even after so long apart, but the emotions he dredges up have been buried beneath years of hurt and the intensity of it all bursting through the wall you’ve carefully built around your heart is almost enough to drown you. Tears come unbidden, burning at your lash line and threatening to make your mascara run. 

“It’s always been you,” you promise him. “It’s only ever gonna be you.” It wipes the slate clean. Anyone you’d been with, anyone he’d been with, in the years of distance are wiped away with only a few words. They didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered but the two of you. Connie nearly drowns you in his next kiss, tongue dancing over yours as he groans into your mouth. You can taste yourself as he sucks at your tongue like he’s trying to reacquaint himself with every facet of your body. It’s a shared sentiment as your lips find that beauty mark at the edge of his jaw that you always pressed fluttering kisses to. He laughs, low and breathless, returning the favor as he finds all those favorite places he liked to put his lips. It’s soft and loving, staving off the inevitable as his dick ruts between your legs. Each thrust has his leaking tip pressing wet kisses against your clit, adding to the mess he’s already made between your legs. His hand is clumsy when he finally reaches between your bodies to guide himself home. 

“Fuck.” The word comes out as a languid drawl as he fills you to the hilt, reaching to hitch one of your thighs around his waist. Your body remembers the shape of his, bending and bowing with the practiced motions, but you can still feel the changes. Connie has bulked up since you last saw him and he was already a pillar of corded muscles the last time you’d touched him. You can feel the softer parts of your body pressing against the hard contours of his muscles as he wraps himself around you. His arms curl under your back, pulling you closer until your hearts are beating in tandem, chest to chest as he stretches you to your absolute limit on his dick. 

“Bésame,” Connie groans, nosing under your chin to lift your mouth to where he needs it. He hovers a hair’s breadth away from your lips, each panting breath mingled with yours. “Bésame, mami.” He says again and you realize he’s waiting for you to kiss him. You’re happy to close the gap he’s left, letting him swallow all the little noises you’re making. It’s reminiscent of the days before when you had to be quiet so your Momma could at least pretend she didn’t know what the two of you were doing behind closed doors. But she isn’t home now, so you’re free to make as much noise as he can draw out of you as he rocks his hips against yours. He isn’t going for speed. Instead Connie fills you with slow, deep strokes that stir up your insides and make you feel him in your stomach. It punches the air from your lungs, leaving you to breathlessly slur his name as your nails leave marks across the broad expanse of his shoulders. 

“That’s right, mami.” His teeth scrape against the shell of your ear. Each gruff sound slipping past his lips echoes in your head as he presses his nose against your temple. “Mark me up. Quiero ser tuyo.” 

“Tú eres mío.” You say, leaving sticky marks along his neck, lipgloss and spit shining between the beads of sweat. Connie groans as you nip at his pulse, hips stuttering as he pulls you impossibly closer. 

“Eres mía, mamita. Dilo, mami, dime.” He’s slurring his words, each one bleeding into the next as Connie fucks you into the mattress. You’re on the cusp of mindlessness as he reaches between your bodies to find your aching bud, nearly too far gone to understand what he’s saying. It’s only because it’s him, only because you’ve heard it a thousand times in what feels like another life, that you know what he wants to hear. 

“Soy tuyo,” you whine as he spells his name on your clit. “Soy tuyo, lo sabes!” 

“Yo sé, mamita.” His voice is damning. You can hear the smile in his tone as he grinds his hips in deep circles, drawing out the inevitable as you teeter on the cusp of a blinding orgasm. It burns low in your stomach, thrumming at the base of your spine as he kisses your fluttering eyelids. 

“Mírame.” He says, tone just short of begging. “Mírame cuando tu vienes.” When you open your eyes, all you can see is Connie. His half lidded eyes and parted lips as you cum with a choked cry of his name. He spits out a gruff “mierda” as your legs lock tight around his waist, keeping him locked in place as your body writhes underneath him. You can feel your muscles tensing, toes curling and back arching as pleasure sings through every inch of your body. You vaguely feel Connie’s fingers fumbling clumsily across your arm, pressing and squeezing like he’s looking for something. When he doesn’t find it, he sits up, lifting your body with him as he sits back on his knees. It draws forward the vague memory of when he used to poke at the little plastic bar in your arm; your birth control. It’s gone now, having run its course in the years since you’d last seen him. 

Still, you keep your legs locked tight around him. 

“Tu turno,” you pant, circling your hips until Connie reaches to hold you still. 

“No puedo, mami. Tienes que dejarme salir.” He says, patting your thighs where they’re still wrapped tight around his waist. It only makes you squeeze tighter and Connie groans, falling on top of you as you tighten around him. 

“Está bien, papi,” you whisper, rubbing soothingly at the marks you’ve left on his back as Connie nearly vibrates with how hard he’s trying to focus on not cumming inside you. Neither of you had been worried about protection before and you’re not worried about it now as you flex your legs, catching Connie by surprise as you roll the two of you over until you’re on top. 

“¿Lo quieres?” You ask, but his hands are already loosening, no longer holding you still. He paws at your thighs, nodding sheepishly like he isn’t sure if he’s truly allowed to want anything from you. He shouldn’t, not after what he did, but that’s a problem for later. All the anger and confusion can come after he does. 

“Dime,” you say just to tease him. It looks like he’s on the cusp of insanity, lips poured and eyes glassy as he stares up at you like you’re the only thing that matters to him.

“Te quiero!” He barely gets the first syllable out before you’re moving. Red lines appear on his flushed chest where your nails scrape for purchase against his muscles, pressing him into the bed as you bounce on his dick. Fatigue is creeping in, singing each stroke with the sting of overstimulation as the pleasure begins to burn away. But Connie’s close. You can tell by the way his vocabulary has shrunk to only a few desperate words, mainly your name, as his fingers dig into the bruises he already left on your thighs. 

“Hazme acabar,” Connie all but whines. “Estoy cerca.” He sits up suddenly, almost knocking you over as his arms wrap around your waist. He’s holding so tight that he nearly squeezes the air from your lungs as he cums with a hoarse shout of your name. It’s thick and graveled, resonating in your chest as he holds you against him. He’s gripping like you’re going to disappear the moment he lets go, looking at you like this’ll be the last time. Later, he kept saying. Later is now as you feel him spill inside you. 

“Lo siento,” he whispers against your lips as he steals a final kiss. It sounds more like a goodbye than an apology and the finality of it digs out the hollow that has been sitting in your chest all these years. When Connie pulls away it suddenly feels like no time has passed at all, like it’s the beginning of the end all over again. Later is now but the anger you felt before won’t come. Instead all you feel is desperation as you cling to him, sticky with sweat, as he lays you across the sheets and kisses your forehead. You can feel him trying to leave again. He carefully detangles himself even as you try to hold onto him, pressing deceptively sweet kisses to your lips as you whine for him to “please, stay.” It’s like he doesn’t hear you as he slips from the bed and pulls on his sweatpants. But when he leaves the room you don’t hear the telltale sound of the front door slamming. Instead, you trace the sound of his steps towards the bathroom, hear the faucet turn on. A few moments later, he’s back. 

“Don’t cry, baby,” he coos as he wipes away the mess he’s made of your body. “If you wanna be mad at me; be mad, but you know I can’t stand seeing my girl cry. No llores, mami.” He insists, wiping away the tears along with the sweat and cum slipping from between your legs. That had been an impulsive decision. One that will have to be dealt with eventually. Later, you think distantly. You can deal with that later. Right now you’re more worried about Connie. He sits sheepishly at the edge of your bed, offering his shirt for you to wear. It feels like a peace offering as you pull it over your head. It smells like him, it smells like home. You watch Connie fumble in his pockets until he pulls out a ring, one you recognize in an instant. 

It wasn’t one of those cheap Pandora princess rings that every girl in your grade got as a promise ring. It was something far more precious. You’d seen his mom wearing it for years before it suddenly appeared in the palm of his hand all those years ago when he asked you to be his forever. He hadn’t wanted to take it back when you broke up. Even as he broke his promise, he wanted you to keep the ring. It’s cold when he slides it back on to your finger, but it fits like it’s always been there, like these last few years had only been a few moments instead of a small eternity. It felt strange to let go of everything so easily. All the pain, all the anger. It shouldn’t be that easy but everything slides back into place as if it is. Everything is different now, yet still the same. You’re different, he’s different. But it reminds you of something your Momma said about distance making the heart grow fonder. She could never muster any trig anger towards Connie because she said this is what you needed. A brief interlude to become your own person after years of entwining yourself with Connie. Now you understand what she meant by all that. It’s too soon to tell if it’s worth it but you suppose you can worry about that later. 

[newnlovesjennie]

make love as soft as cinnamon

sanji/reader

cws: w33d usage

tags: fluff, modern au, smoking together, make out sessions, getting high, lightweight sanji and lightweight reader

☆⋆。𖦹✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩°‧★☆⋆。𖦹✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩°‧

given your boyfriend’s compulsion for smoking cigarettes, you were quite taken aback when discovering that sanji had never tried smoking anything else. sheepishly, he admitted he’d been a faithful subscriber to nicotine and nothing more, not even the special green leaf his friends so deeply love.

(cigarettes were so 1900s. i mean, did he not see the anti-smoking ads that were rampant in the 2000s? did they not have that in france…?)

so when you proposed smoking it with him for the first time, he was slightly reluctant, though he eventually accepted. if you had to guess, it might’ve been because he was afraid of embarrassment. you two had just started dating, after all.

once his shift at your neighborhood restaurant the baratie ended and you secured the buds needed, you two were nestled together on your shared bed, blankets sprawled underneath your knees.

you were crushing the bud with your fingertips, while sanji insisted he could roll up, due to his experience with rolling cigars. you giggled and reminded him how much an eighth costed in this economy, and how he should leave the preparations to the experts.

blunt rolled and placed in between your fingers, you flicked open his lighter and took a hit. passing it to sanji, you cherished the burning sensation as it went down your throat and encompassed your whole body, filling you with heat. embarrassingly, it had been a while since you’d been high, so the affects were immediately kicking in, as you could feel your legs become lighter and your mouth get dry.

sanji passed it back, face slightly tensed from the foreign taste and feeling. you took another hit, letting the leaf do its course through your system, tingling your body in just the right ways and making your head all fuzzy.

after a couple hits, you looked up to see your boyfriend’s state, and suppressed a laugh from erupting. he was completely stupefied, eyes staring at the wall, red as his nosebleeds. his mouth was parted, lips slightly dry, as you could see his brain trying to process everything around him.

you dragged your fingertips under his chin, brushing against his facial hair and snapping him back to reality. he gave you a dopey smile, causing you to laugh even harder. your limbs were feeling lighter by the second, so you opted to nuzzle your head into his chest, with your arms around his waist. he rested his chin on your head, hands coming up to ruffle your hair, saying “you feel extra fluffy, (name)-chan…. i wanna lie like this with you… for a really long time….”

rubbing your back, you felt his hands attempt to massage and hold every part of you, as if his hands had a magnetic pull to you. you lifted your head, to meet his dazed out expression once more, before his lips crashed into yours.

the instant relief was felt by both parties, the cottonmouth fixed. sparks began flying like it was your twos first kiss, the shared warmth between your bodies becoming a comfort. you felt weighed down by something heavy, like a pile of molasses, and it was his kiss that kept you solid.

he flipped you over, your back to the bed, and his arms caging over your shoulders. “i should’ve figured this would make you horny”, you laughed. he literally melted into your next kiss, and your hands interlocked like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

he swallowed, noses brushing, “i wanna feel all of you… all of you, is that okay? let me feel you, love, for the rest of the night….”

pt 2?

[xyfleurian]

✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ the stars shine with you

Chosen Pairing : Caitlyn Kiramman x Vi

CaitVi Week Day 2 Prompt : Modern AU CaitVi

Word Count : 1,042 words || ao3 link

Ficlet Song : stargazing - the neighbourhood

“What's your favorite star?” Vi asks Caitlyn, the two of them laid down on a picnic mat.

“Betelguese.”

“Why?”

Caitlyn pauses, considering a handful of reasons on why it would be her favorite. There were multiple, like how Betelgeuse was a supergiant, how it was one of the stars in the Orion constellation, how it was once one of the brightest stars in the night sky, and how it was now nearing it's demise as it explodes into a supernova. She doesn't exactly remember why she liked the star, just that she did.

“I don't really know,” she finally answers, expecting the other woman to laugh at her for liking something without knowing why. 

But Vi only smiled at her, her expression relaxed as she gazed into the blue hues of Caitlyn's eyes.

“That's alright, you don't need a reason to like something. Or someone, for that matter. Sometimes you just do,” Vi replies, as she gazes at Caitlyn longingly.

Caitlyn felt shy against Vi's gaze and so she looks back up to the sky, looking for another constellation that she recognizes. They were two college students in different majors, yet somehow their paths crossed. Vi was in astronomy, Caitlyn was in journalism, but an article assignment about the night sky had led her to meeting the woman beside her, the woman she could feel staring right through her as of now.

“What about you? What's your favorite star, Violet?” she asks, voice low as she braves herself to look at Vi again.

“Polaris,” Vi answers, still looking at Caitlyn with a smirk on her lips. It seems she was now aware that Caitlyn was shy with her, and it has her amused.

“Why?”

“Because it points directly to the North. I know you won't believe me, but I got home by following Polaris once.”

Caitlyn was skeptical, and yet she bit the bait. She raised an eyebrow at Vi and asked, “Really?”

“No, I'm shitting you, cupcake. Can't really see stars in our city. You know, light pollution,” Vi replies, chuckling at how gullible Caitlyn was.

Caitlyn pouted as she rolled her eyes at Vi, wondering how she even believed that stupid claim. She shifts to lay on her side and Vi does the same, the two of them scooting over to get closer with each other. It was unnecessarily close, and they finally heard the song playing from Vi's phone. The phone had been blaring some music for a while, but they didn't notice as they were too distracted with each other. This song, however, just fit their current situation. Close, but not close enough.

Silence envelops the two, letting themselves bask in sounds of the night and the soft music from Vi's phone. It looked like they were simply looking at each other, but it was more than that. It started with stealing quick glances, letting the other stare for a while, and now they bask in each other's gaze. They knew well what to call it, but felt that it was too quick to call it as it was. Love.

“Can we stay like this for a while?” Caitlyn asks in a whisper, the reflection of the stars shining in her eyes.

Little specks of white distracted Vi as she got lost in Caitlyn's eyes, but she heard the request and nods. She wouldn't say no, she couldn't, she wanted this moment to last longer. Longer that it should be, longer than this evening. 

The tune was distracting, and it wasn't long until they both decided to listen to their own impulsive hearts. The two got even closer, their lips fitting together like puzzle pieces as Vi leaned in. Caitlyn let Vi lead, their lips locked together for a more seconds before they parted. They shared a smile, returning to their former positions like they haven't shared their first kiss.

Caitlyn's hand reaches for Vi, the back of it caressing the latter's cheek. It wasn't long before Vi caught her hand and lovingly held it into her own, looking at Caitlyn with the most lovestruck gaze she could ever have. Caitlyn knew she was in deep, both in trouble and in love. It was there that she realized that she had completely fallen in love with Vi, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Caitlyn complains, and Vi immediately wonders if she had done something wrong.

“Like what, cupcake...?”

“Stop making me fall for you. My heart can't take it,” Caitlyn answers lightheartedly, easing Vi's panicked heart. When Vi registers her words, however, she gazes at Caitlyn in disbelief and hope.

“I'm afraid I can't do that, Cait. Says here you're stuck with me,” Vi declares, placing Caitlyn's hand on her chest so that Caitlyn could feel her heartbeat. 

“Cheesy.”

“You're the one who said you're in love with me.”

“Doesn't change the fact that you're the cheesy one. You always pull out these dad jokes out of your arse,” Caitlyn replies, her posh accent stronger this time and Vi audibly snorts at how she spoke.

Vi found Caitlyn silly when her accent slips in without her knowing, and it was even sillier when Caitlyn used her own slang. Vi couldn't always tell what most of them meant, but she knew what Caitlyn meant this time. Once again, the two of them laid in silence after they shared a fit of giggles, Caitlyn's hand still feeling Vi's heartbeat. It was slow, like hers, keeping up with the beat of the new song that Vi's phone played.

It was there where they realized that the rush of being in love didn't have to come in suddenly, it didn't have to show itself at first sight. It could be slow until it was able to reach its end, like the stars in the sky before they vanish. Moreover, love was sometimes fast, sometimes not. It doesn't make your love matter less because it came slow, and it doesn't glorify your love because it came fast. The differences didn't matter, just that they were here, together, young and in love.

It was worth more than the universe to Vi. To her, Caitlyn was, is, and will always be her universe. Until eternity reaches its end.

[exielimon]

Something wormed it's way into my head like a month ago and guess what? I can't get it out. I now have a modern AU and you have to deal with me giving the boys silly highschool nicknames. For example:

Four, aka The Ant

(613 words ahead)

"wait- you went to Central Hyrule High School too??"

Legend asked from the desk, his station a mess of tools and trinkets and oil he'd clean later.

"Why you surprised? It's a public school" Four answered the question with another question.

"Well, I don't know, you're my superior in mechanics but you were probably my classmate" Legend murmured, nose touching a tiny piece of the car radio he was trying to repair.

"Nah, I'd remember another Link." Four quipped, still under the car he was working with, not even turning his head to speak. "You were there too?"

"Well I was always on competitions and went traveling very often because of that. I thought I was published in the school news?" Leg and murmured, a bit self consciously.

"Oh, sorry, I never actually read those things" Four finally popped his head out from under the car.

"Oh, don't worry, I'd rather you never know" Legend reasured, embarrassment creeping into his cheeks.

Four went back to his work and stayed silent for a couple minutes, then he got out from under the car and opened the hood.

"Can you pass me my backpack? I brought a piece from the store yesterday..." He didn't trail off, he started muttering under his breath while analyzing the insides of the engine like a puzzle to be solved.

Legend saw the backpack at the side of the desk, that wasn't really the safest place, where oil could spill over and stain it, but Legend tried to not do that, so he guessed it was like Four was trusting him. There wasn't much space for keeping things away in a little house workshop either, so it was understandable anyway.

He made to lift the backpack and was immediately surprised by the thing refusing to separate from the ground. However, Legend was strong enough and with a bit more of effort he usually makes, he grabbed the thing and carried it over to Four.

"What do you have in this, rocks? Gods it's heavy"

"A motor actually" Four accepted the pack and, to Legend's secret surprise, lifted it easily with his non dominant hand to open it with the dominant one. "And my tools"

Sure enough, there was a goddess be damned motor in the bag.

"How do you have so much strength and so little height?" Legend blurted out, not really catching himself.

Four burst out laughing and Legend tried to think of that to lessen the warmth at the tips of his ears.

"Well, I've been in this since I have memory. My grandpa taught me, this is his workshop. Actually, people in highschool said I was so little I worked like an ant. It kind of stuck though a couple years."

"Wait really?? I remember hearing that name in the hallways! I laughed a lot, secretly obviously" Legend exclaimed that one shut up you ant! he heard a lot on the hallways was hilarious.

"Oh, yeah it was really funny, friends held it over my head for a while" Four chuckled as he connected the motor. Legend went back to his work with the radio.

After a few more minutes, Legend started laughing.

"You ok?" Four asked, chuckling too because Legend's laugh was a bit contagious.

It took a bit for Legend's giggling to calm down enough to apologize "sorry, sorry, it's just... ant" and he kept giggling.

Four was smiling too, it had been a while since he heard the nickname and he never let anyone but two specific people call him that, but Legend was a good guy, it was fine.

Wow did he really just make a new friend over mechanics and old nicknames?

Thx for reading!

[https-furina]

"your order is complete!" this order is for @nervocat:

"Thought I'd put in something for your event hehe :33 What about Neuvillette with a small latte and foam? I'm curious to see what you come up with.. 👀 (Sorry if I did anything wrong.. this is actually my first request for anyone 😭😭. I'll also probably read this when I'm back if you're done with it by then, but take your time!!)"

neuvillette + gn!reader | platonic, modern!au | 1.1k words notes. uuuuu nervo... this man would give the best hugs convince me otherwise... this is actually the second time i’ve ever wrote for him <3

thirsty? see our café menu before you order! | order receipts

throughout your whole life, there has always been only one man by your side. you never seemed to have any qualms with each other, fitting together like slotted puzzle pieces and sometimes your friendship even stood against the tides that was your families bombarding you with "you'd look so good together!" that you would both simply groan and roll your eyes in response to; his older sister furina was exceptionally good at bring this up every time you came over for dinner when you was kids.

as you grew older however the two of you grew in distance, finally entering that adult world you dreamt so much about when you hid together in forts made of blankets and pillows, snacking on your stash of sugar. neuvillette got into law school, making him much busier than you and you'd opted for art school, much more interested in the creation of theatrical props and stages. going to two completely different schools put a halt on how much time you could spend with each other.

it's the middle of winter and finally your schedules have cleared up enough to allow you both to meet under the roof of a local café, the large glass windows slightly steamed due to the temperature difference outside but the warm, golden lights creating the most comforting environment that you would never need to gaze beyond what is around you. the smell of coffee and freshly baked treats is strong and slightly overpowering but nonetheless a welcoming difference from the paints and glue you suffered with daily.

you've always claimed you wasn't heavily attached to your childhood best friend but the moment your eyes catch sight of the tall male entering the building, his long silvery hair tied back in a loose ponytail because it gets in his way - but heaven forbid you suggest he cuts it - and a pair of slim glasses perched on his nose, you raise to your feet so quick you go dizzy for a few seconds. the static wears off to reveal him stood before you, undoing the buttons of his trench coat and unwrapping that familiar scarf from around his neck; ah yes, it's the one you brought him last christmas.

his violet eyes glance at you, a pleasant smile decorating his pale face as he hangs his coat on the back of his chair before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into the fluff of his sweater. he's warm, dressed appropriately for the weather as always and you relax under his touch, your arms looped around his waist and you rest your head against his chest. this hug was very much overdue and with the stress of exams, it's exactly what you both needed.

"have you ordered yet?" his deep voice rumbles suddenly over the sounds of cups clinking and idle chatter. you shake your head in response, reluctantly pulling away from the broad-shouldered male and he lets out a content hum, pulling his wallet out of his coat pocket, "what do you want? my treat today."

a slither of a smile creeps onto your face as you settle back into your chair, unwilling to argue against the male as you tell him your preferred order. there's a mild grin on his face, your order hasn't changed at all since you were younger and you almost wish you could retort sarcastically but he says nothing, leaving to go to the counter. part of you feels willed to follow him, unhappy with the concept of him paying but you knew just how stubborn neuvillette could be, a small sigh escaping your lips as you take the moment to admire the dark oak aesthetic inside the café.

neuvillette returns shortly after holding a tray in his black leather gloved hands, placing it on the table as you flash him a thankful smile. he settles opposite you, unstrapping his aforementioned gloves as you focus on your drink, taking a sip of it happily and closing your eyes for a split second.

"how's law school been treating you?" you find yourself asking him the dreaded question first, your eyes watching how his minorly calloused hands open his bottle of water and you can't help but think he really hasn't changed a bit since you were kids, always much preferring water to any other drink people tried to shove his way. neuvillette almost groans, raising the bottle to his lips as he takes a small sip.

"i have so much material to revise at all times, this is the first time i've been out of my accommodation in a while," he admits with a taut frown pulled onto his face. he was always one to prefer the outdoors, granted the weather had to be nice, "and it is as ever dull outside as some of my lecturers are to listen to."

you can't help but laugh at his words, picturing just how boring law professors must be. perhaps you would fall asleep if you had to listen to their drawl but neuvillette was extremely academic so you imagine that despite this complaint of his, he listens intently in every class just like he did in high school. you have faith he'll pass law school with flying colours.

"what about art school?" it's his turn to ask about your academics, tilting his head in curiosity as he looks over at you and you wonder if this setting seems a little too formal for you both, "i've seen some of your works on instagram."

"the local high school's drama class is doing romeo and juliet for their annual play and they've hired us to design the set. we're being graded on it but people in my class keep re-enacting scenes whenever we finish a prop." you groan, resting your chin in your hand as you attempt to look outside through the window to your left, it's still fogged up but it was an attempt nonetheless. neuvillette lets out a deep chuckle.

"think of it as quality control," he comments playfully with a small smile etched onto his otherwise sincere face, it draws a smile onto your face too at your best friend's words, "they're just checking the authenticity of your works before they're used for the real thing."

despite months of not seeing each other after years of being inseparable, everything seems just the way the pair of you had left it, leaving you content and fuzzy inside at finally being able to spend time together again. even though the two of you have definitely matured a little, those two toddlers cuddled up and sharing a beanbag in the library are still very much present and as the stress of exams, revision and all nighters designing stage sets wash away, you both come to realise just how much you needed to see each other again.

© https-furina 2023 | please do not copy, re-upload or translate my works on any form of media. heart banner by @/cafekitsune.

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 | 𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬

⬷ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞┊ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ┊ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

pairing: minho x felix (minlix)

genre: dancer!minho/artist!felix. brothers best friend troupe. college au. age gap (abt 4 years). minho pov. extremely dark themes throughout, including smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

word count: 3.2k

the playlist 🗡️

a/n: I've written sooo much of this recently, I'm literally on chapter 10 already!! 😭 I have plans to probably make it 15 chapters long, which I feel like is a good length for the type of story and narrative im fitting into once piece. I wanna make sure all of the loose ends are tied off in a perfect kinda way before I move onto the next project. ☺️ this is the first chapter where we get some TRUE backstory on what really happened between minlix during the time when they were growing up... there's some insinuations in this chapter that will make a lot more sense later on in the story haha... but for right now, I hope you guys are enjoying slowly putting the puzzle pieces together~ 💗

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

̶﹒⊹﹒ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴜsᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ғʟᴀʀᴇ  ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ sᴏᴍᴇʙᴏᴅʏ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ！،، 🌌  𖥻 𓂃 ʙᴜᴛ ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ ɪs ᴀɴ ɪɴᴅᴇx ғɪɴɢᴇʀ  ᴘʀᴇssᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘs╰╮ 🌑

  After the night of the party at Felix’s place, Minho never uttered another word about it. As soon as he had stepped into the door of his shared dorm with Chris, and his best friend saw the defeated grayness of his face — the stormy crimson rage in his eyes — Chris quickly figured out what had happened. 

  But Chris never dangled it over his head that he had been right the whole time. Instead, he just gave Minho a long hug and said goodnight to him. 

  Minho’s other friends acted similarly, pretending that everything was fine and that they definitely hadn’t heard rumors about the party that night and what had gone down at Felix’s Dorm.

  So instead of focusing on the past and shit he couldn’t change, Minho threw himself into his studies. He and Hyunjin had a big project they were working on together for one of their fall semester exams, which took up most of his time. And when he wasn’t spending hours at the studio practicing on campus, he was at his apprenticeship gig, teaching young middle-schoolers classical and modern dance styles. 

  Lee Minho was a very busy man, that, everyone knew. And he also knew that the more cloudy his mind was with dark thoughts, the more he’d push himself. The more he’d work, work, work, until one day… he'd face an ugly burnout. 

  But for right then, he was completely fine. Surely, the burnout was very far down the road… 

  He couldn’t help but hear the rumors, though. About Felix and his crazy friends and the times he was caught having sex with all kinds of people around campus. Minho even saw it with his own two eyes once — when he stopped at the cafeteria to grab a quick bite for lunch before heading to his critical dance theory class. He noticed movement in the very back corner of the place, and there… Felix was. 

  Blond locks disheveled, immaculately dressed, and dripping in pearls and light violet hues. There was a girl with fire-engine red hair right beside him, seemingly resisting the urge to climb onto his lap at that moment. They were making out like there weren’t at least a hundred people around them and it wasn’t an open, public space.

  Felix had his hands wrapped in the girl’s firey hair, and the purple against the red of their aesthetics caused a shocking display of colors in Minho’s mind. But mostly, he tried to ignore it all. Just like everyone else around him was doing. So he quickly grabbed his food and escaped from the cafeteria as fast as he possibly could. 

  There was no use sticking around to watch another person stick their tongues down Lee Felix’s throat. There was never any use in crying over spilled milk. 

  “Minho— what the fuck has gotten into you? You keep misstepping on this part when just a few weeks ago you were doing fine.” Hyunjin said a week later, frustratingly running a hand through his dark locks. They had been in the practice room on campus for most of the day, tirelessly running through the choreo for their routine. The exam’s deadline was in a week and they couldn’t afford to laze around until then. 

  Taking a long swig of his cold water bottle, Minho pressed his back against the practice room’s mirror, offering his friend a deep frown. “I’m sorry Hyunjinnie, I just— I don’t know, haven’t been myself lately…” 

  He let his voice drawl on into the silence after that. Because they both knew the catalyst for why that was. The practice room grew quiet after that since it was just the two of them what with it being so late on a Friday night. Everyone was busy partying outside the campus grounds or in their dorms sleeping off the stress of exams. 

  “Is it… Felix?” Hyunjin asked, slowly sitting down beside Minho and taking out one of his fidget toys from his gym bag. The guy always had at least five on him at all times — claimed it helped calm him down when he was stressed. Spinning the pink and black fidget spinner between one hand, he reached over and squeezed Minho’s knee in a comforting gesture. “You know, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But it’s just that… we’re all kinda worried about you. We just wanna help as much as we can.” 

  Turning his head to look at Hyunjin, Minho noticed the way his friend's dark brows were wrinkled with concern. The way his eyes sparkled as they searched his face, pulling for any answers he could find there.

  “I know, and I’m really sorry. It’s just… I guess, I didn’t expect to see him again, after such a long time. Chris never talked about him or where he was planning on going after high school, so it kinda came as a shock.” Minho said slowly, trying to find the right words as he shrugged nonchalantly. But the feelings he had were anything but nonchalant.

  “Are you mad at Chris for not telling you? I mean, it is kinda weird that he never really mentioned his younger brother, but I suppose that’s because he felt there was no need to. It’s not like you and Felix were best friends growing up, right?” 

  Even though Minho knew Hyunjin was right, his words still hurt. Hurt like ice picks digging into his heart, ripping it to shreds with each bit of truth and reality. 

  Even still, Minho could feel the wallowing sadness bubble up inside of him. “Y-Yeah… we had an… interesting relationship growing up. He was always seen as the annoying, little innocent younger brother. We didn’t hang out that much, but the times that we did— it was nice, I guess.” Minho found himself playing with the battered hem of his oversized t-shirt, completely avoiding Hyunjin’s gaze. Because Hyunjin was perceptive like that and could read anyone like a book with just a single glance. 

  Hyunjin let out a long sigh, slumping against the mirror behind them. “I think I understand, though. To some extent. It must feel weird, seeing him again after so many years, and to have him be so changed,” Minho watched, as Hyunjin’s long fingers spun the fidget in his hands over and over again. It was relaxing for Minho too, even if he wasn’t the one playing with it. “He’s the opposite of how you always knew him, you know? That’s gotta hurt in some way. I’m sorry, Min, that’s a lot to deal with.”

  Minho’s eyes trailed over to the studio’s windows, noticing how dark it was. How late it was becoming. He could just barely catch a glimpse of the moon shining high up in the sky, already halfway across the sky. “It’s not just that, though… sometimes, we’d hang out without Chris. When he was out of town for a school field trip or some dumb shit like that.” Minho’s voice came out as quiet and soft as a dove’s feather. Almost like, if he said it too loudly, the whole campus would hear and berate him for details. 

  There was a long bout of silence after that. It felt like a confession that he had never made before. He could feel Hyunjin tense up a little bit next to him, just from knowing that this was extremely sensitive information and vital to the situation at hand. 

  “Does… Chris know about this?” 

  Of course, that’s the first thing Hyunjin would ask. Always putting others first. It was a sensible thing to wonder, too- since Chris was their best friend and Felix’s younger brother. 

  “Not really,” Minho whispered, swallowing against the dry lump that was starting to form in the base of his throat. He could feel his heart slowly constricting in his chest at the topic change. He was fine talking about their childhood and shit, but not… that part of it. “I mean, yeah— he knew we sometimes hung out when he wasn’t around, but I don’t think he realized how… impactful that shit was to us.” 

  He was still staring out the studio’s nearby window, still studying the half-crescent moon. And the more he looked at it, the more he was reminded of… his face. Milky, like the moon, shining always and— 

  “When you say impactful… what do you exactly mean by that?”

After Hyunjin's question, there was a long bout of silence. As Minho's thought paused in his head, and he weighed his options... tell the truth, or keep lying about the past once again? In the end, he chose the former. 

  “I mean like, we fucking fell in love with each other.” 

  After that admission, the air in the studio suddenly constricted. Like a bowstring, everything drew taught and frozen. And just like that, Minho was turning his attention back to Hyunjin. Studying the look on his face. For a moment, he was entirely surprised, and then that melted into gentle understanding. 

  “And I’m assuming Chris never knew about that part?” Hyunjin simply asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow as he spun the fidget in his hands a little faster. 

  Letting out a sardonic kind of cackle, Minho flashed his friend a fake, bright grin. “Yeah, because it’s definitely not weird that an eighteen-year-old was in love with a fucking thirteen-year-old.” He gave Hyunjin a thumbs up, trying to brush it off like it was simply a funny joke. But in actuality, it was a lot deeper than that. 

  Hyunjin stopped playing with his fidget then, reaching out with one hand and taking ahold of Minho’s. He squeezed it tenderly, forcing Minho’s attention back onto him. Hyunjin’s face melted into sympathy, eyes dancing with a myriad of emotions. “I’m sorry, that must’ve been a lot to deal with. But really, the age gap isn’t that absurd. I mean, I knew plenty of couples growing up that had even bigger ranges than you guys.” 

  Minho squeezed Hyunjin’s fingers back, noticing how the feel of human touch was keeping him grounded in reality at that moment. Helping to stop his heart from beating out of his ribcage and chest. “I know. But it just… it felt different between us. I don’t know, it’s really hard to explain. We just— we bonded over our shared depression and love for video games and art and—” 

  “Sounds like you guys had a lot of similarities.” 

  “Yeah. And now… it’s the opposite.” 

  Slowly, Hyunjin began drawing senseless shapes across Minho’s palm. And Minho knew why he was doing it — Hyunjin could always understand when Minho needed help, needed someone to guide him through returning his thoughts to normal. 

  “I can see that. I think, you probably liked Felix for who he was back when you were growing up. That innocence, and how it sounds like he looked at the world with rose-colored glasses on,” Hyunjin started in a quiet tone, tracing hearts on Minho’s skin and making the older man giggle a tiny bit. “But now, he’s changed a lot and it feels like a bucket of ice water was just thrown over your head. Even still, you have to remember that you’ve probably changed a lot too— you’re not the same young boy that Felix fell in love with. And five years is a big gap of time to have not seen each other, so you have no idea what Felix went through during your absence to have such a metamorphosis in his adult life now.” 

  And just at the mere thought of Felix going through such bad hardships in his past that he turned out to be so degenerate and crazed in university, Minho could feel his entire body tightening up. He squeezed Hyunjin’s hand, practically feeling his racing pulse in the pit of his throat. 

  “Oh fuck— I hope nothing like that happened to him. I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do if—”

  Hyunjin squeezed his shoulder tightly, bringing him out of his reverie of panicked thought. “Min, stop. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. But what I meant is… He’s probably experienced things that have made him change into the person he is today. Try to understand things from his point of view." 

  Minho leaned his head against the mirror at his back, squeezing his eyes shut. And as soon as he did, he saw visions of Felix. Of being in high school alone back in their hometown, suffering all kinds of shit at the hands of the cruel kids there. He didn’t want to imagine it, but he also couldn’t be naive. He knew the kinds of people that lived in their small coastal hometown in Busan. He knew how mean the kids at school could be, how merciless. And Felix probably had walked in there as a beautiful beacon of light. Minho didn’t even want to imagine the kind of shit he was probably put through at high school alone. 

  “He threatened me when I was leaving his place during the party. He told me to never come back to his dorm.” Minho blurted out, clearing his head of the depressing visions of Felix growing up. Instead, he focused on the way the younger man had looked at him that night, near the elevator. So full of rage and anguish. “He was so fucking angry with me— and goddamn it but I was so mean to him.” 

  “Having a shitty college house party be the first time you guys hang out in almost five years probably wasn’t the best idea,” Hyunjin said slowly, finally pulling his hands away from Minho and focusing back on his fidget. “It’s understandable why you two would be on edge with each other. There’s a lot of water and shit under the bridge.” 

  Carding a few fingers between his hair, Minho pulled at the roots as he held his head in his palms. “Hyunjin he was teasing me at the party with his friends— he was trying to fucking make me jealous, I swear to God.”

  “Well… did it work?” 

  “I— I guess… I don’t know!” He burst out, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. “Sorry, I just… I hate feeling this way and not knowing what to do about it.” 

  Hyunjin let them sit in the quietness of the practice room for a little bit after that, allowing Minho to collect his words and thoughts. Minho could slowly feel his breathing regulating again and his heart beating at a normal pace once more. 

  “So then does that mean… that you still love him, Min?”

  Staring down at his clasped hands, Minho studied the way his hands were so calloused from dance practice. He did as much as he could to help the problem — exfoliated and moisturized — but nothing seemed to work except taking a break from dance. Which was never going to happen. 

  “No,” He finally said, shaking his head slowly. But even as the words left his mouth, they didn’t feel quite right. “I mean, it would be stupid for me to. We’re both so different from who we were during our childhood. And we're too far apart in age and maturity."

  Hyunjin shrugged slowly before he shoved his fidget toy away in his duffle bag and took a long swig from his Pocari Sweat bottle. “I mean, it really isn’t that far-fetched. At your core, you guys are still the same people. You just hang out with different friends and lead different lives these days. But you’re still interested in the same things as before— art and video games and whatever other shit.”

  “Hyunjin, no. It’d be fucking weird. I’m a senior and he’s a freshman. I'm going to be graduating in under six months and he just started. There’s no way in hell I’m dealing with that bullshit.” 

  Just then, Minho’s friend finally stood up from his spot on the hard, wooden floor. He gathered up his things and then offered a hand out to Minho. Taking ahold of it, Hyunjin hoisted him up and offered a slow grin as Minho grabbed his bag. 

  “You guys are both adults now. That kinda taboo shit you felt back in the day is irrelevant now,” Pulling out his car keys, Hyunjin started leading them to the front doors of the studio. Hyunjin shared a dorm with Changbin that was about a twenty-minute drive from campus. “So my advice on everything? Just go with whatever your heart and mind wants. If that’s to never speak again, great. But if that means something more… I’d say, do it.” 

  Minho offered him the best smile he could muster at that moment, completely depleted of all energy and emotion. “Thanks, Hyunjinnie. You’re the best and I’m glad you’re such a good friend and listener to my crazy problems.” He said, squeezing Hyunjin's arm just as they made their way outside into the chilly autumn air.

  “Now we should both go home and get some rest. We need to replenish our energy for that stupid exam next week.” Hyunjin said, stepping over to the nearby parking lot and unlocking his electric Toyota Camry. “Oh, also— I’m gonna be gone all weekend. My family’s celebrating my grandma’s ninetieth birthday back in our hometown in Jeju.” 

  “Have fun and take it easy Jinnie. I’ll see you on Monday for another ball-crushing week of practice.” Minho shouted across the parking lot, giving Hyunjin a wave as his friend rolled his eyes sarcastically. 

  And then Minho was watching Hyunjin pull out of the lot and drive off. Suddenly faced with the silence of only his presence, he realized how heavy his shoulders had felt before talking about everything. Just like that, Hyunjin had helped him tremendously. Without Minho even realizing it, he had been holding onto a lot of shit for the past few weeks. Seeing Felix, and going to the party that night, definitely stirred up a lot of murky feelings inside of him. 

  Sure, nothing was solved and he still had a lot to process and work through. But the fact that he was even strong enough to get it out of his system accounted for something. 

  As Minho walked back to the dorm that he shared with Chris, he decided to fling himself into the work of perfecting the choreo for their exam. That way, once Hyunjin came back from his weekend trip, they’d be all ready to go for the final few practices. 

  Besides, distracting himself from everything with a long weekend in the studio would do Minho a lot of good. 

  Help him take his mind off of it all. 

  Take his mind off of thinking about Felix and what they used to be and what they could’ve been and— 

  Yes, dancing would suffice as a therapy.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

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[mxssful]

Crow!Band AU

Literally no one asked for this but @wishforhome @inquisimer and I enable each other I guess?

A little intro to the crowlycule band au. Modern? Fantasy? Do not look closely at the lore, it does not make a lot of sense. Two rooks, three assassins (also spite?), except they're all in a band, and they're all sort of in love. Viago is a bassist. This is spiralling very quickly.

She’s lost in the translation of an old tablet when she gets the call. She’s— somewhere, in the Vinmarks, the coordinates are irrelevant, holed up in Solas’ temporary field office (a tent). She likes her job, being out here, hunting for things, occasionally talking to people, dragging herself through a cave or two, trying to put pieces together, — everything part of some complex puzzle she needs to painstakingly put together to paint a whole picture. She’s good at that sort of thing. Puzzles. Probably because she relates to them— all those little pieces that don’t make sense until you put them just right.  (There’s a song there, somewhere.)

Rosa taps her foot along the beat of the music blasting from the old, battery-powered radio she commandeered from Solas a few days ago. She’s been trying to educate Solas in the finer aspects of modern music, to varying degrees of success— mostly he sighs, and complains about all the screaming and agonizing instruments of metal or the soulless quality of pop music, but they had almost gotten somewhere when she played orchestral rock. 

(They don’t speak about the ska incident. They just don’t.)

Varric got her this job. More like— Varric had thrown her at this job, or these series of jobs, citing his bad knee for the reason why he couldn’t go traipsing through the wilderness. Horrible lie, that one, his knees are fine— she thinks maybe he thought this would be good for her, or maybe that he was trying to fuck with his old friend by saddling him with Rosa, but it’s likely it was both at once. Varric is good at that sort of thing too. People. Gambling. 

She gets the call when she’s trying to figure out if this is a transitive verb or not— which could derail the whole thing, and point to a different area altogether, and they could miss the ruins, and then Solas would be on her ass about it forever.

She doesn’t hear the call.

“Rosalie.” Solas always calls her that— professional distance, just the slightest bit of contempt. She knows how to imitate the exact tone, it makes Varric laugh when she does it. We are not friends, Solas reminds her constantly, just coworkers, but maybe he’s just pissed at the time he fell asleep and she drew on his face.

“Yeah?” Rosa says, lost in the words and the beat and the ever-present storm inside her head.

“Your phone is ringing.”

She’s surprised she has any service at all, it’s been more or less spotty for several days— this suits her just fine, she likes it like that, more or less involved in the world, but maybe always a little gone. Sort of keeping an eye on things, sort of haunting the narrative. 

Rosa picks up the call without checking who it is— Varric, she assumes, asking if she stole his lighter when she went on this latest expedition (she did) (she will pretend she did not) (she will say she never saw a lighter in her fucking life).

“Yeah?” She says.

“Do you still play?”

It’s not Varric on the phone.

Something— tangles, stabs, knots, releases, all things at once at that familiar voice. She hasn’t spoken with him in two years; they haven’t been fighting, it’s just, she thinks, Viago never really forgave her for leaving, and she didn’t know how to apologize for being the way she is, so they just… didn’t speak. And now it’s been two years and she feels the weight of them all at once, like this stupid stone tablet (it’s actually kind of interesting) weighs somewhere near her heart.

Of course she still plays. More acoustic, these days, than anything else, calluses strumming nylon strings easily, ignoring Varric’s warning glances whenever her mindless little songs transform into something sweeter whenever Marian comes around. She likes doing this, playing the soundtrack to people’s lives. Maybe she just likes fucking with Varric.

“Yeah,” Rosa says, and she does not say I have missed you like a limb or you are still my favorite person in the world or I am sorry I kissed you and then I flipped you off and told you to get wrecked, bitch, before getting on a plane or I still think of you as my best friend.

“Can you be here by Friday?”

She makes some quick calculations. That gives her three days to finish this expedition— they’re close, she can tell, but they can always put it on pause if need be. It’s not like the ruins are going anywhere. Three days, and she’ll have to maybe take a train, and a plane, and a bus, and she’ll sleep when she can, and she’ll make do, because if he calls her— she goes. That’s sort of how it is.

Must have been hard for him to call her.

“Yeah,” Rosa says. Nothing else— hangs up.

He’ll be mad about that, probably, but Viago is always mad about something or another whenever it concerns her, like she’s too much and not enough at once. That’s whatever really, just the natural state of things.

He called her, so she’ll go.

[ails-of-ardor-au]

Okay…. Where to begin…

PLEASE NOTE: Any and all ideas, insight, constructive criticism, and support is welcomed!

This is not a project I intended to make, really, and not one I intend to put too much energy towards. Community activity is very much welcomed, and polls will be common to let you guys decide which details are added or nixed, however I will retain the final say on most matters. If something you’ve suggested doesn’t make the cut immediately, likely it either just didn’t fit or I’m saving it to puzzle-piece in somewhere else! Either way: very sorry.

Likely this will end up just being a hodgepodge of my personal ideas, tastes, and desires being implemented in a somewhat cohesive restructuring of the canon Warrior’s story in a way that feels satisfying, with heavy influence from you guys as an audience! ^^

Let’s see where this takes us, and see where it goes!

[LORE DUMP MASTERPOST] (to be added)

Things I’d like to explore:

The Clans’ ancestor worship

The true extent of StarClan’s power and sway over the living world

Assigning meaning to prefixes and suffixes, while still allowing for more “fun” and “modern” names where possible

The way apprentices earn their full names, and what that truly means for them: not only as an individual, but as a part of their society, community, and culture

Independent Clan cultures, i.e. what truly differentiates them from their neighbors

How time is tracked and kept

The long-term effect Brokenstar had on ShadowClan and his direct followers

Things I’d like to keep roughly the same as canon (though likely expand on):

Very little, admittedly…

The rough job system (leader, deputy, meddie, warrior, queen, apprentice, elder), but likely with each being broken down into specific tasks

The naming system of the cats themselves (kit’ to paw’ to suffix’ to star’) and the naming of the Clans staying… well, “the Clans”

Big canon story plot points, even if some get shuffled around

Things I’d like to add:

More queer rep

More disabled rep and how the Clans might adequately support these cats

Ways for the cats to relax and have fun! Such as holidays, popular games, the potential for plays, etc… A society driven solely to work is not a sustainable society, after all

A true connection between Scourge and Fireheart, not just something retconned in

Things I’d like to change entirely:

Shifting the “no kits” rule from medicine cats to leaders (see: the Kinless Leaders au)

The deal with the Dark Forest and StarClan, and how the two both operate independently and interact with the living

Moth Flight

The “medicine cat” role being renamed to “cleric”

The way the Three’s powers actually work

The family tree. Enough said.

The timeline, and several character’s ages

BloodClan (how/why it was started, where it fits into the world and story, how they operate, their influence on Clan culture, Clan culture’s influence on them, etc etc)

This list will probably change and grow over time! ^^