#modern au back from the dead somehow-

[eryanlainfa]

He'd like to finish that damn group project first. Guys, focus !

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, some mature themes (in that it vaguely references past smut), allusion to past abusive dynamics/child abuse

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2.7k words

Somehow, Sirius’ hand is cold even underneath the covers. 

Remus wakes with it like a cool weight in the center of his chest, fingers curled slightly with sleep. The other boy’s arm is cast over you, stretched out like Sirius had been determined even in sleep to keep you both close. 

You’re considerably warmer, sandwiched between the two boys in the large shirt you’d thrown on to slink into Sirius’ room in the early hours of the morning. You’re all crammed in tight on Sirius’ bed, chosen because it’s still intact whereas yours is now only a mattress on the floor (Remus hopes you don’t need to explain that to anyone in charge of your lodgings). Remus’ leg is only just balanced on the edge of Sirius’ mattress, and Sirius himself is lying with his backside pressed against the wall, cheek resting on the mattress as he’d evidently given up on trying to share the pillow at some point in the night. The sunlight coming in through the window plays prettily over both of your features, and Remus’ chest warms with something like—wait. There’s sunlight. Coming in through the window. 

He nearly falls out of bed reaching for his phone. 

You make a soft sighing sound, rolling forward into the space he’s left. 

“Remusss,” Sirius mumbles. “Stop moving.” 

“We need to get up,” says Remus, breathless. His voice croaks with sleep. 

“Hm?” 

“Up, up.” He pats both of you on the shoulders before devoting his efforts to Sirius, tugging the sleeping boy upright. Remus has chosen correctly, because you rouse on your own, sitting up on your elbows with a squinty, confused look Remus really wishes he had more time to admire. “We’re on in forty minutes. Did nobody set alarms?” 

You sit all the way up now, eyes going wide. “We are?” 

“Did you not set an alarm?” Sirius asks him. “I was counting on you two for that.” 

You shoot out of bed without an answer to your question. “My phone’s in my room.” Now that you mention it, Remus thinks he can hear a faint chiming coming from the room next to Sirius’. These walls must really not be very thick. You look at Remus, very much awake now. “Forty minutes?” 

“Forty minutes,” he confirms, trying to tamp down on his own panic in an effort to avoid exacerbating yours. 

You nod. “I’m going to stretch. Meet outside in ten?” 

“Alright.” Remus gives you a small smile. He doesn’t blame you for not thinking to return it as you rush out the door. He turns his attention back to Sirius, still looking half caught in a dream and like he might return to it at any moment. “Oi.�� Remus gives him a hard look. “I have to go get dressed. Can I trust you not to fall back asleep?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sirius rubs his eyes. “I won’t miss the bloody Olympics.” 

“Good,” says Remus. He starts backing towards the door, trying to look stern while silently praying there’s no one in the hall to see him in his underwear. It had been one thing in the dead of night, but now… “Ten minutes. Get some stretching in, especially that ankle.” 

Sirius seems to come a bit more awake, lips stretching in a grin. “Yes, Coach.” 

Remus ignores his flirty eyes, though his face feels distinctly pink as he steps out the door, making his way quickly to his own room. He’d gotten a tad bossy the night before, not harsh but certainly directive, because it had seemed at times that you and Sirius were too timid to take steps by yourselves and damn it—Remus had waited long enough for what was about to happen. So out of impatience and necessity, he took charge. Sirius’ particular enjoyment of that came as a not-unpleasant surprise. 

Remus dresses quickly, grateful he doesn’t need to stretch as you and Sirius do. He fills the time instead by fetching tea and coffee from the dining hall. They don’t have any fancy coffee syrups for Sirius, but the spoiled twat will just have to make do. He finds you where you said you’d be exactly ten minutes later, already knocking anxiously on Sirius’ door. 

“Here you are.” Remus passes you your drink of choice. “He’ll be nearly ready, just give him a moment.” 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Sirius gripes from inside, sounding characteristically cheerful after a rushed wake-up. 

“Oh. Thank you.” You take the drink from Remus, looking down at your other hand. He follows your gaze, and you’ve a drink carrier of your own. Three drinks identical to the ones Remus has brought. 

A little laugh tumbles out of him. “Where did you find the time to get those?” 

“Drinks are always my job.” You shrug, smiling a little. You look nervous, tension sewn into the muscles of your shoulders and preventing your happiness from reaching your eyes. Remus has the urge to drag you back into bed and soothe it out of you. “I went first thing. Had to rush my makeup, though.” 

Since dragging you to bed doesn’t seem particularly timely, Remus settles for an ardent kiss to the top of your head. He takes the other drink carrier from you. 

“You look lovely,” he says, meaning it. Your hair is smoothed away from your face, your makeup simple but dramatic, bold sweeps of eyeliner and color across your lids. Underneath your sweats he knows you’ll be wearing your costume, and the overall effect is bound to be mesmerizing enough that Remus hopes he can pay attention to your routine. “Extra drinks never hurt anyone.” 

“Alright!” Sirius’ door whooshes open. He’s made up similarly, formidable slashes across his eyes and face set in determination. “Let’s go.” 

He takes his coffee with a brief thanks. If the flavor isn’t to his liking, he doesn’t complain. This ritual, the stretched-taut tension of going to compete, should feel like coming home to Remus, but he can’t help but feel a bit odd. 

If he’d taken the time to imagine what waking up next to you and Sirius would be like, it would probably have gone a bit slower. Soft rousings, lazy kisses, maybe a fond argument about who had to get up to get tea before you all decided to stay in bed just a little while longer. Not, perhaps, quite so much of this rushing, with none of you talking to each other and Remus fighting to keep up as you and Sirius speed-walk towards the competition. 

He’s just caught sight of the boards when Sirius stops short. You falter beside him. Both you and Remus trace his gaze back to where two people, a man and a woman, are advancing on him with a steely resoluteness Remus knows but can’t place. 

“Sirius Black.” The woman seems to be leading the charge, a stormcloud of dark hair and hateful eyes. “Horrid, ungrateful child!” 

Remus blinks. The movement feels slow and dumb. You snap out of your stillness, taking several steps forward—not just in front of Sirius, but towards the woman. 

“Get out of here.” Your expression is as fierce as Remus has ever seen it. The woman’s stare catches on you for a moment, a frigid flicker of annoyance, then dismisses you. “What makes you think you can just—”

“Thousands of pounds on skating lessons,” she seethes, the cold hiss of her voice somehow louder than anyone else’s. “The best tutors, private training facilities, and after all that you neglect to invite your own family—” 

“He doesn’t have to invite you to anything,” you snarl. 

Family, thinks Remus. Yes—the dark hair, the cool, scornful eyes—this woman is Sirius is his cruelest form. His mother. 

“Sirius doesn’t have to go anywhere with you,” you go on, fervent. “You lost that privilege, both of you, you—”

Sirius never talks about his family. Ever. What does it mean, that they’re here? The way you’re speaking to them—you know them, you’ve met before, but there’s certainly no kinship there. 

“—need to leave. Leave him alone—” 

“Quiet,” Sirius’ mother spits. Her voice is like the twigs of a barren tree rattling against each other in the wind, harsh and grinding. 

Remus looks at Sirius. He doesn’t at first know why, realizing only after he does it that he’s waiting for the other boy to stand up for you. To move his body in front of yours, fiery and protective, the way he always does. But Sirius looks rooted to the spot, his expression frozen and eyes just slightly widened. A weight sinks into Remus’ gut as he remembers what you’d told him the night after he got in Sirius’ face for the first and only time. 

It’s not my place to tell you about what his life has been, you’d said, hedging. You can shout at him all you want, but just stay away from physical stuff like that.

Remus looks at Sirius’ mother, all cold fury as she tries to get closer to her son. You, continually stepping into her path, eyes blazing like some goddess of guardianship and inner strength. And Sirius, as passive as Remus has ever seen him. Afraid. 

“That’s enough.” Remus hardly recognizes his own voice when it comes out. It’s harder than any he’s used as your coach, harder even than the one he’s used on himself. Sirius turns to him in surprise, but you keep your eyes on the woman in front of you, unyielding. “No one,” he says, “no one, regardless of their relations, comes in here and harasses my athletes. You will leave, or you will be escorted out.” 

If possible, the woman’s expression grows colder. “How dare you. My husband and I are—” 

“You two,” Remus ignores her for a moment, softening his voice some to address you and Sirius. You turn now, eyes flickering to Sirius first as if to check he’s okay, “go get ready by the boards. I’ll meet you there in just a moment.” 

There’s not much left for you to do to get ready, but Remus knows better than anyone the importance of having a clear head before competition. Neither of you need to be here for this. 

Remus waits as you nod, going back to Sirius and looping your arm through his before continuing towards the boards, keeping yourself purposefully between Sirius and his mother all the while. Remus watches you go, and then he turns to face Mrs. Black. 

Remus has never gotten to kick anyone out of a rink before. It’s a significant mood-booster. The way Walburga—he’d learned her name when she’d shrieked it at the staff no less than a dozen times, endeavoring madly to gain some favor from her surname, which Remus had never heard before Sirius but in Walburga’s mind apparently ought to have the lower classes bending over backwards—had screeched and threatened as she and her husband had been dragged out was almost enough to make Remus regret sending Sirius away so he couldn't witness it himself. But, of course, Sirius is always better off with you. 

Evidence of this arises as soon as Remus finds you. You’ve both shed your sweats, your matching costumes and makeup making you look nearly a mirror image. Sirius’ head is cupped between your hands, your foreheads bent together as you whisper to him ardently. 

“Fuck. Them.” You push your forehead into his. 

“Yeah.” Sirius’ brow is furrowed, his eyes closed. “Fuck them.” 

There can only be a minute or so before you’re supposed to go out and perform, but Remus hangs back. Letting you have this, he thinks, might prove more effective than anything he could say. 

“They don’t deserve you,” you tell Sirius firmly, “they never did. You’re here because of your hard work, not because of anything they gave you.” 

Sirius takes a breath. Pushes it back out. “I know.” 

Remus’ heart gives a painful squeeze for the both of you. As though by some sixth sense, Sirius looks up, blue eyes landing on his. 

“They’re gone,” Remus says. You let out a breath, expression easing, but Sirius only nods. Remus draws closer. “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” Sirius replies. He turns, catching sight of the staff member coming to tell you it’s your turn. “Let’s do this.” 

Remus watches you two go out onto the ice, hoping he looks more confident than he feels. He doesn’t doubt your ability to perform well—he never could, after all he’s seen from you these past several weeks—but you’re angry and Sirius is something else, neither of you collected enough to summon the focus you need to pull this off. Remus forces himself to take a deep breath as you finish your loop around the rink and come to a stop in your starting position, telling himself he’ll be happy for you no matter what. 

He should have had more faith in the both of you. 

As soon as the music starts it’s like the confusion of the past few days is wiped away entirely. You’re the same as you were, as you’ve always been, gliding alongside each other like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. The only difference is that the energy between you that’s always been there has shifted ever so slightly. Still love, but fuller now. Actualized. 

Your costumes, gauzy layers of deep indigo, billow behind you to create the impression that you’re actually painting on the white canvas of the ice, each step a brushstroke done with intention and artistry. You and Sirius sweep around each other, undulating and circling and drifting apart before coming back. Your blades hit the ice after each jump like a crash of cymbals, perfectly on beat. 

Towards the end of the routine, Sirius takes your hand in his. You start to circle him, backwards, one skate off the ground. Remus tenses as Sirius lowers himself into a squat, looking at you down the length of your arm. There’s not so much as a flicker in either of your expressions as he lowers you all the way. 

Remus draws in a sharp breath of cold air. 

You adjust beautifully, your training taking over to guide you through a move you’ve never practiced, back arched and skirt fluttering in front of you. You go through a few rotations that way before Sirius lifts you up and propels you seamlessly into a spin. The death spiral finishes out flawlessly. 

For just a second after your spin, you catch Remus’ gaze, eyes smiling as if to say, See?

He beams. 

Remus is still beaming when he meets you in the kiss and cry, feeling soppy and ridiculous and overwhelmingly proud. 

“That was brilliant,” he says, taking you by the shoulders when you make it to him first. You’re smiling too, radiant, eyes sparkling as sweetly as the day he met you. He squeezes you warmly. “Brilliant.” 

He catches hold of Sirius next, cupping his neck with both hands. The other boy’s eyebrow twitches, a sheepish smile coming to his face. 

Remus laughs, “Prick,” and kisses him in the center of his forehead. 

You make an ill-contained squealing sound, throwing your arms around them both. “I knew you’d do it,” you say, putting your lips to Sirius’ cheek, overflowing with happiness. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

Sirius gives a short laugh. He’s no doubt enjoying the onslaught of affection, but he rolls his eyes anyway. “Yeah, sure. Just ask next time.” 

[littlexdeaths]

stage tech eddie munson x actress reader

warnings: 18+ only here folks, modern!college au, dry humping, little bit of kissing, just two ‘friends’ practicing, ami’right?

a/n: shoutout to both @keeksandgigz and @hippiegoth97 for hyping me up and encouraging me to finish/post this. also full credit to keeks for giving me the idea for that one specific eddie line in here hehe. you are both angels and ily 🫶🏻

“eddie, i don’t know about this…” you hesitate, silently praying he can’t hear your quickening pulse due to your close proximity. “this isn’t too weird?”

it’s a precarious position you’ve found yourself in, straddling the lap of one of your tech crew. and if anyone were to peek their head in the auditorium they would think something much more scandalous was taking place.

but between the two of you, this was just a friend helping out another. even if the utterance of the word friend made you want to shrink inwardly.

because you felt way more than friendly feelings towards the guy seated beneath you.

“hey, it’s alright… just,” he pauses, hands carefully slipping around your waist to coax you fully onto his lap. “there— see? i don’t bite.”

but eddie’s cheeky grin does nothing to slow your accelerated heart rate.

“besides, if you can’t do this with just you and me… how do you expect to do it in front of an audience?”

he gestures to the sea of empty seats, but the unyielding reassurance in his eyes has you relaxing fully onto his lap.

“there you go,” he mumbles, glancing down at the pages of your open script beside him.

while you fully knew what you were in for when you auditioned for this show, you didn’t exactly expect yourself to be thrust into the role of leading lady veronica sawyer.

you had been gunning for the role of ditzy, but adorable heather mcnamara— but were utterly surprised to find yourself cast in the role of veronica instead. but it was a challenge you were more than willing to take on. 

so when eddie (amongst the rest of the cast and crew) had seen you struggling during beginning rehearsals for dead girl walking— he of course offered to help you work on your confidence outside of scheduled rehearsals.

while his intentions were mostly pure, he can’t deny that having you in his lap was making him feel things he would be too ashamed to admit aloud. he just hopes his lower half can keep itself in check for the next hour and a half.

you blow out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, allowing your hands to rest fully on his shoulders. you can feel his muscles contract beneath your fingers when he sets your script back down on the stage floor.

“so, from the full steam ahead line?” he asks.

but you’re suddenly rendered speechless when the dimmed stage lights reflect the deep flecks of gold in his eyes.

oh you were so royally fucked.

“u-uh, just before that?” you suddenly break his intense gaze but your next move has heat soaking into your limbs.

you slide your hands down the front of his chest, only stopping when you reach the hem of his t-shirt. your eyes flick back up to his in a silent question, to which he just nods. 

“gonna ride me till you break me, right?” he grins, his hand gently squeezing your hip in a reassuring manner. 

but his words send a shock through your system and without thinking you quickly rip the soft fabric up and over his head.

it hits the stage floor with a silent thud and before he can react your lips are on his neck. light as feather when they trail down the base of his throat, the encouraging, yet snarky words of your director now flooding through your head.

i want passion, give me horny teenage aggression!

so when you suddenly shove him until he’s lying back on the stage, you can see the flash of surprise that flits over his features. but you somehow miss the way his cock stirs beneath his jeans and the hunger that reflects in his eyes. 

“sorry, you okay?” you whisper between kisses down his chest and eddie swears he’s gone to heaven.

“yeah— yeah, shit. keep going.”

you bite back a small smirk at the breathless hitch in his voice but continue your descent down his torso. you can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath your lips and the faint tinge of sweat on your tongue. 

it takes all of your remaining resolve not to lick over the dark ink that swirls across his hip bone, but you are suddenly reminded of exactly where you are and why you are even doing this in the first place. 

focus. 

but when your fingers carefully card through the patch of hair just below his navel to reach for his belt buckle— it’s eddie who has to pull himself together.

while you’ve been attempting to count the beats of the instrumental break in your head, you soon realize you’ve gone on a little longer than originally intended. but eddie hasn’t bothered to correct your mistake.

the male was far too enamored with how good your lips feel against his skin. your eyes flick up to meet his ever darkening gaze as you sit back up, tossing your head back with your arm stretched high above your head.

“full steam ahead— take this dead girl walking.” you sing.

“h-how’d you find my address?” he stutters.

“—let’s break the bed, rock this dead girl walking…”

eddie’s a little stunned before he can deliver his next line at the subtle roll of your hips. the male merely leans up on his elbows to bring you closer as he tries to look anywhere but your chest.

that spark of confidence has re-ignited within you and eddie can’t help but feel a surge of pride fill his chest as he watches you in complete awe.

“no sleep tonight for you, better chug that mountain dew,” you tap your thumb against his jaw when you cup his cheek, fully immersing yourself in this moment with him.

he nods almost frantically, echoing JD’s breathless sentiment as his warm palms envelope the bare skin of your thighs. you gladly push one of his hands up higher beneath your pleated skirt, until he’s nearing the curve of your ass.

every movement and graze of his skin feels natural, like his hands are meant to be on you. it had never felt like this when you rehearsed with jonathan, that feeling of red hot desire was always missing whenever he gripped you tighter. 

but when eddie continues to pull you in, it ignites a flame deep within you, one that you never expected anyone to stoke again. 

you playfully tap your palm against his cheek in a mock slap and guide his dominant hand to tug on the loose strands of your hair.

“touch me there and there and there…” you gasp, yanking open the snap buttons on your blouse. 

eddie’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when he takes in the lacy pink fabric of your bra, unable to tear his gaze away as you start to rock your hips down into his. 

when you feel the bulge that’s now entirely pressing against your clothed core, it only encourages you to guide his hands up to completely envelope your breasts. 

any remnants of the blocking and choreography have completely left your mind as you both desperately grind against each other. 

the male meets your thrusts with almost perfect precision, his fly catching on your clothed clit in a way that has your whimpering in between breathy lyrics. 

those sparks that have been building up inside you are about to completely burst into a raging fire, threatening to swallow you both whole if you aren’t careful. 

“— wait, wait!” he all but groans when your lips press against his jaw. 

his body seizes up beneath you, all in an effort to stop himself from completely busting in his jeans. each drag of your hips feels too good and the pretty noises you’re making have him wondering what you’d sound like moaning his name instead. 

control yourself, munson.  

eddie is panting by the time you finish belting out your final note, your body practically slumping forward against his bare chest. he cradles you a little softer, fingertips gently trailing over the bare skin of your back. and it has a shiver running down your spine.

when he finally speaks, he can’t hide the titillate lilt in his voice. 

“… so, you wanna run it again?”

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄

summary: coming home after a stressful week, you're practically dead on your feet and ready to fall asleep then and there. luckily, your boyfriend's got you covered.

pairing: tattoo artist! scara x gn! reader

a/n: fluff/slice of life; betcha didn't see this one coming, contrary to popular belief this au is still alive; at the request of many, here is more soft modern au scara (not proofread bc it's almost 3 am and we don't question that)

modern au masterlist || genshin masterlist

With heavy feet you dragged yourself up the stairs to your apartment, hand coming up to cover a yawn every other step. Your week had been a stressful one, leaving you with little time for chores, hobbies or seeing your boyfriend, and you were just about ready to fall into bed immediately.

When you cracked open the door, the first thing you noticed was the light coming from the living room and kitchen. Did you leave them on this morning? Crap, that wouldn’t help your electricity bills.

But then you also heard shuffling and the clatter of plates and cutlery, which caught your attention. Not expecting an intruder to make themselves at home in your kitchen, you calmly kicked off your shoes, expecting to be met with the sight of an unmistakable bob cut and familiar silver piercings working away on your countertop. From under the neckline of his black shirt you could make out the top of the tattoo decorating his nape.

The hands currently plating what appeared to be your dinner -one of your favourites, you noted- twitched momentarily when you launched a sneak attack, wrapping your arms around Scara’s waist from behind. His surprise was gone just as quickly though, and from where your head rested against his back, you could feel him huff just as well as you could hear him.

”It would suit you right if I dropped your plate, you know,” Scara scolded you, though his bark lacked any and every spark of bite. Peeking around him to check if his hands were empty, you took the opportunity to plant a lingering kiss on the nape of his neck, feeling his skin go hot under lips immediately.

“Sorry, but I’m tired and I haven’t seen my lovely boyfriend allllll week, I couldn’t help myself,” you mumbled into his tattoo, not quite ready to part with him yet. “I missed you.”

“…I missed you, too, idiot,” your boyfriend sighed, pronouncing the nickname the same way someone else might call you ‘darling’. “C’mon, if you let go of me for a minute, you can change clothes and sit on the couch sooner, alright?”

That was how you knew Scara was aware of how beat you were. Eating on the couch was reserved for special occasions only, but it always put you in a better mood immediately. There was only one problem.

“Listen, Scara, I haven’t been able to do much cleaning this week. The state of my couch—“

“-has already been taken care of.” The way he finished your sentence was all the clues you needed to know he was rolling his eyes at you. “If you’d stop imitating a thistle you’d also know that.”

Detaching yourself from him, you took in your living room for the first time since coming home and almost didn’t recognise it from when you left it this morning. While your offences throughout the week hadn’t been major in and of themselves, over the course of a week, all the items you had discarded on the nearest surface while rushing through had piled up.

Now, however, you couldn’t have guessed you ever left it in that state, all your belongings back where they were usually to be found. Setting the plates down on the cleared coffee table, Scara picked something up from the couch and threw it at you before you could even reel in your mind long enough to thank him. Somehow you actually managed to catch the dark blue hoodie with frantic hands.

“I’m taking some of my others back, but you can keep that one for now. God forbid you wear your own shit for once.” Knowing him well enough, it was no secret to you that he actually loved giving you his clothes, the glint of bashful pride in his eyes betraying him every time. Plopping down on the couch, he turned to look back at you, hands making shooing motions towards your bedroom. “Go wash up and change before the food gets cold.”

However brash Scara’s words may sound to others, your heart fluttered all the way up to the smile that tugged at your lips. Clutching the fabric to your chest, you rushed to the bathroom to speed through your routine and change into comfy pants. As soon as you poked your head through the neckline of his hoodie, a familiar scent enveloped you and for the first time in what felt like forever, you found yourself calming down for good.

When you returned to the living room, you found that Scara had already flipped through the streaming service to the show you watched together but hadn’t managed to catch up on.

Handing you your dinner, you ate in comfortable silence, save for one or the other sarcastic comment Scara had to offer.

With your plates empty and back on the table, it didn’t take you long to crawl over to your boyfriend, cuddling up to where he occupied the corner of the couch. Only minimal complaints later were you resting with your head against his chest, legs tangled together over the length of the couch. The hand that wasn’t holding you close by the waist was instead running up and down your spine in soothing motions and it had you yawning into his neck more than once, eyes fluttering shut against your will.

“If you’re tired just go to sleep,” Scara mumbled into the crown of your head, shifting slightly so you could rest against him more snugly. “You worked hard this week, don’t force yourself.”

“But I wanna spend more time with you,” you drowsily answered into the material of his hoodie. 

“Hah, you really are an idiot,” he sighed once more, but not even your half-asleep self could miss the thumb gently stroking over your cheek. “I’m off work tomorrow, so dream about what you wanna do. Now go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I love you,” came your hushed reply as you held onto him tighter.

You didn’t feel the kiss placed carefully against the top of your head or hear the whisper filled with affection, but they must have followed you into your dreams, for they were sweeter than any.

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit. do not feed my writing to an ai.

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[mononijikayu]

you're my relief — ryomen sukuna.

GENRE: modern au; smut with minor plot;

WARNING/S: smut, romance, relationship, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, rough sex, p to v sex, fingering (female receiving), oral sex (female receiving), orgasm, profanity, pet names (babe, etc), characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, short cause i was just thinking about sukuna and wrote him like this;

WORD COUNT: 2.5k words.

NOTE: guys listen sukuna coming home and being overstimulated from interacting with people and work, i just??? yeah, that's the theme for today. like, can you imagine he's just finding his partner on bed trying to reach pleasure and he's just like oh okay i guess relief is here for both of us - anyway, that's just what i think. i hope you enjoy my nonsense anyway

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if you want to, tip! <3

HE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT YOU WERE DOING ON THE OTHER SIDE. All he wanted was your comfort after a long day. He wanted to be able to comfort you too after a long and challenging day.

Yet somehow, he could feel it. Something was off. The air in your room is heavy, the evening’s quietude broken only by the soft rustling of sheets as you adjust on the bed, entirely unaware of the tension building just beyond the door.

Ryomen Sukuna, for all his arrogance and unflinching demeanor, has spent the better part of the last week buried in tasks that, by their very nature, he despises. The weight of his responsibilities at the company and the lack of relief claw at his resolve, leaving him restless, frayed, and desperate. He'd been wanting to rest, to fuck. He wanted to feel good.

But this is isn't what he had been expecting.

He hadn’t meant to walk in on you. Not like this.

But when Ryomen Sukuna catches even a glimpse of you, your beautiful body laid bare, your fingers trembling as they disappear between your voluptuous thighs. They entered in and exited out over and over again, your moans echoing softly in lowly pants. You weren't getting off and it was frustrating you.

It had been a few days since you and Sukuna had last made love, and the distance had been palpable. Your schedules were chaotic, tangled in the demands of work and new projects that seemed to stretch every waking hour thin.

It wasn’t hard to feel the ache of longing between you both, the way your gazes lingered a little too long or how your touches seemed to convey unspoken apologies for the time spent apart.

Tonight, the air felt different. Heavy, charged with something unsaid yet undeniable. Sukuna returned home late, his broad shoulders taut with tension, only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight before him.

You.

Laid bare across the bed, your body twisting and turning as your fingers disappeared between your thighs, your lips parted in soft whimpers that filled the otherwise quiet room. The dim light bathed your skin in a warm glow, and the sheer vulnerability of the moment sent a surge of heat straight through him.

He froze in the doorway, his crimson eyes narrowing as he took in every detail—the way your back arched slightly, the soft sheen of sweat on your skin, the desperate little gasps that fell from your lips. It did things to him. Things he couldn’t put into words, but they burned low in his gut and tightened his chest all the same.

There was something inside him that just snaps. All at once, the exhaustion, frustration, and tightly coiled restraint unravel. It was that birth of pleasure effortlessly echoing through his belly. You don’t hear him at first, lost in your own world, but his voice, guttural and low, pierces the haze.

“I want you… so badly.”

Your breath hitches, your fingers stilling mid-motion as you whip your head toward the door. Your eyes widens. Your boyfriend, he's home. And he's standing there, the usual sharpness of his gaze softened by something raw, something desperate.

You barely have time to process before he strides over, the door clicking shut behind him with a quiet finality. His knee quickly pummels through the bed as he climbs onto it and leans forward to you. You could see his bulge forming below.

"Sukuna—" you begin, but the words die in your throat.

Your boyfriend moves closer to you onto the mattress, his larger hands gently replacing yours, cradling your trembling body with surprising tenderness.

“Tch, babe.” Sukuna’s deep voice finally cut through the room, dark and dripping with hunger. “Is this what you doin' today?”

Your eyes snapped open, a mix of shock and embarrassment flashing across your face as you stilled. But Sukuna was already moving, stalking toward you with the predatory grace of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

“No, don’t stop.” he growled, his lips curling into a wicked smirk as he knelt on the edge of the bed. His hand reached out, capturing your wrist and guiding your fingers back where they had been. “I want to see you fall apart. Don’t hold back now, not when you’re like this.”

His gaze burned into yours, molten and unrelenting, as he leaned down to press a kiss against your trembling thigh. “Missed this, didn’t you?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver up your spine. “Missed me?”

You could only nod, your breath hitching as his hands began to roam, his touch firm yet gentle, possessive yet reverent. Sukuna’s smirk deepened, his crimson eyes never leaving yours.

“You have no idea, babe.” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear as his lips trail fire down your neck. His touch is reverent yet urgent, as though grounding himself in the feeling of you. “No idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

And just like that, Ryomen Sukuna unravels completely, consumed by the need to feel you, to lose himself in the one thing he knows will put him back together.

Sukuna’s weight presses against you, a delicious combination of strength and heat that sets your nerves alight. His pleasure ridden crimson eyes drink you in, his lips curling into that sinful smirk that’s equal parts predatory and adoring.

Sukuna’s lips trail up your thigh, his kisses slow and deliberate, the heat of his breath teasing your sensitive skin. His hands roam your body with a confidence that leaves you trembling, every stroke of his fingers igniting a fire that burns through you.

"You're so damn beautiful like this." he murmurs against your skin, his voice deep and rough, laced with unrestrained hunger. His sharp teeth nip at the tender flesh of your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“Could’ve just called for me. I would’ve dropped everything.”

His words make your cheeks flush, but you’re too lost in the moment to feel shy anymore. Sukuna presses himself between your legs, his tongue darting out to trace over the spot where your fingers had been moments ago. The sensation is electric, your back arching as a moan escapes your lips.

"Keep those hands right there, babe." he orders, his crimson eyes glinting with mischief as he glances up at you. "I want you to feel exactly how good I make you."

You do as he says, your hands gripping the sheets beside you as he works his tongue against you, slow and thorough. The pressure of his mouth, the way he alternates between teasing and taking what he wants, it’s all too much and not enough all at once.

"'kuna." you gasp, your hips bucking slightly against his mouth, but he holds you in place with a firm grip. His smirk is smug as he looks up at you, his chin glistening with your slick.

"That's it, babe." he growls, his voice vibrating against you as he licks and kisses with a devastating precision. "Let me hear you. Let me know how much you missed this."

You’re trembling beneath him, your body teetering on the edge, when he suddenly pulls back, leaving you gasping for more. Before you can protest, he takes the initiative.

Ryomen Sukuna climbs over you, his powerful frame caging you in as he captures your lips in a searing kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, the intimacy of it sending another wave of heat through you. It takes a while before you both part. He just takes his time, making out with you and taking your breathe to boot.

You groaned against his lips as his fingers trace the base of your breasts and then your nipples, feeling the sensitivity of your body succumb to him. He could all but grin against each and every pull of your lips.

“You don’t know how long I’ve needed this." he murmurs, his voice gravelly, resonating deep in your core. His fingers trace along the curve of your hip, slow and deliberate, igniting a fire with every touch. “How long I’ve needed you like this—bare, needy, ready for me.”

His words make you shiver, your body arching into him instinctively. Sukuna lets out a low growl, his hand sliding down your thigh to hook it over his hip, pulling you impossibly closer. Almost immediately, he had taken your breath away.

The tension in him is palpable, the weeks of overstimulation and repressed desire evident in the way his breathing quickens, the way his fingers tremble slightly as they trail over your skin.

His mouth is everywhere—on your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. He was leaving a trail of kisses and nips that make your breath hitch and your skin red with pleasure.

“So soft." he mutters against your skin, his voice a reverent whisper before it dips into something darker. “So perfect.”

When he finally captures your lips again, the kiss is deeper, hungrier, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that leaves you dizzy. He presses his body into yours.

The heat of him searing even through the thin fabric separating you. His hand slips between your legs, his fingers grazing over you with a teasing lightness that has you gasping his name.

“Already so wet for me, babe.” Sukuna growls, his lips curling into a smug grin as he watches your reaction. “You like this, don’t you? Being completely at my mercy.”

You can barely nod, your words caught in your throat as he presses harder, his movements precise and calculated. His other hand pins your wrists above your head, his sheer dominance sending a wave of heat through you.

“I want to hear you.” he demands, his voice dropping an octave. “Don’t hold back from me. I want to know every little sound I pull from you.”

Your moan spills from your lips before you can stop it, and Sukuna’s smirk deepens, his control slipping as his own need overtakes him. He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers.

“That’s it. Give it all to me. Let me drown in you.”

And then he’s everywhere, his hands, his mouth, his presence overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. Sukuna isn’t just taking; he’s devouring, his movements precise yet desperate, his need for you breaking him down into something raw, something unguarded.

And when he finally embraces the whole of you, it’s not just physical—it’s a surrender, a merging of every pent-up emotion and desire he’s been holding back. In that moment, Ryomen Sukuna is entirely yours, and you are entirely his.

But you wanted more and more.

You wanted to be full of him.

You wanted to be overwhelmed by him.

“'kuna.” you whisper, barely audible, but it’s enough.

The sound of his name spilling from your lips is like a match striking against dry tinder, igniting something uncontrollable within Ryomen Sukuna.

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t hold back. In a blur of motion, he’s on you, pressing you down into the mattress with a growl that vibrates through your very core.

“You feel so good, babe. So so good.” he snarls, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue.

It was as if he needs to devour every part of you to keep himself from unraveling completely. His calloused hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, pinning your wrists, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

And then he’s there, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance, thick and unrelenting. You gasp, your body arching instinctively as Sukuna pushes forward in one fluid, devastating motion, filling you completely.

The stretch is overwhelming, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that has you crying out his name. Sukuna groans, deep and guttural, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he stills for a moment, savoring the way your body clenches around him.

“So tight, babe.” he rasps, his voice dripping with raw desire. “You’re perfect. Made for me.”

He doesn’t give you much time to adjust, his movements swift and unrelenting as he begins to thrust into you, each stroke hitting deeper than the last.

His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he takes what he’s been craving for so long. The sounds of skin against skin, his ragged breathing, and your breathless moans fill the room, a symphony of raw, unfiltered passion.

“'kuna—” you gasp again, your voice breaking as he angles his hips just right, dragging a cry from your throat that only spurs him on.

His lips find your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he growls. “Say it again.”

“Sukuna!”

He groans, the sound reverberating through you as he picks up his pace, each thrust harder, deeper, more desperate. He’s utterly consumed by you. He always will be.

All of his usual composure, all his confidence, all that snark, it was completely shattered as he chases his release. Everything about him is surrendered to you. As his body moving against yours like he’s trying to claim every part of you. And you were taking everything of him too.

“You’re mine, babe.” he growls, his voice rough and possessive, his hand sliding up to cradle your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” you manage between gasps, your body trembling as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak. “Always yours.”

And with that, Sukuna loses himself in you like a wild animal chasing his prey. His thrusts growing erratic as he pulls you over the edge with him, the two of you shattering together in a moment of raw, unrelenting passion.

As you scratch his back with a loud moan, he doesn’t slow down, even as the waves of sensual echoes crash over both of you. He rides you through the aftershocks of your slick, unadulterated pleasure as you moan, tears pouring from the edges of your eyes.

As soon as his fingers wipe away your tears, the onslaught continues. His body relentless, his growls low and feral as he prolongs the high for as long as he can. The drool on your lips pouring out as much as your eyes echoing stars of pleasure in a hazy.

"'kuna, so....so good!"

“Look at you, babe.” he murmurs, his voice a mix of arrogance and adoration as his hands tighten on your hips. “Falling apart on me so perfectly.”

You can only whimper in response, your body trembling beneath him as he finally begins to slow, his thrusts becoming deeper, more deliberate.

Each stroke draws a shiver from you, the lingering sensitivity of your body no match for the way he moves. It was slow, yet unrelenting, as though savoring every second he’s inside you.

His forehead presses against yours, a rare intimacy in the midst of his primal hunger. His crimson eyes, half-lidded and heavy with desire, lock onto yours, holding you captive in their intensity.

“You feel too good, hgh....” Sukuna rasps, his voice thick with strain as his hips grind against yours, drawing out every ounce of pleasure he can. “Too perfect.”

He doesn’t stop, can’t stop. Not when he’s this close. You feel the way his body tenses, his breathing growing more ragged as his movements grow erratic.

His hands grip your hips tighter, anchoring you beneath him as his pace falters, his control slipping with each passing moment. The slapping of skin was the only melody harmonizing with the moaning coming from you two. Everything felt too good, too all in-compassing for you to care about anything else.

“S-So close, babe.” he groans, his voice breaking into something raw and guttural as his body finally gives in.

He buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he spills into you, the warmth of him flooding your core. The sensation is overwhelming, his release trailing down your thighs, a tangible reminder of his possession.

He lets out a low, shuddering breath, his forehead still pressed to yours, his body trembling as he comes down from his high. His hands relax their grip, one sliding up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he exhales deeply.

“You’re my pretty babe, aren't you, hm?” Sukuna murmurs again, softer this time, his voice tinged with satisfaction and something almost vulnerable. He lingers inside you, unwilling to let go just yet, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

The room is quiet save for the sound of your mingled breathing, his body still heavy against yours as he finally begins to move, careful and gentle.

It was easing you both from the intensity of the moment. His touch remains firm yet tender, a stark contrast to the ferocity with which he claimed you moments ago.

And though his movements have slowed, his eyes remain locked on yours, still burning with a hunger that promises this is far from over.

“You drive me insane.” Sukuna admits, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss far gentler than you expected. “Do you even know what you’ve done to me? How you consume me, hm?”

His hand slides down to rest on your abdomen, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin as he lets out a low, satisfied sigh. The weight of him, the heat of his body, feels grounding, as if he’s anchoring himself in your presence.

“You’re everything, babe.” he says, his tone softer now, though no less intense. “Everything I need, everything I’ll ever want.”

For a moment, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing, his forehead still pressed to yours, his body still intertwined with yours. Sukuna’s lips curl into a faint smirk as he lifts his head to look at you, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek.

“You’re mine.” he repeats, his voice steady, possessive, but laced with something deeper—something almost tender. “Always mine.”

And though he’s still buried inside you, still radiating that overwhelming dominance, there’s a softness in the way he cups your face, a vulnerability he only ever shows to you.

“You okay?” he asks, surprising you with the sudden shift in tone. His crimson eyes search yours, his thumb brushing your cheek with an uncharacteristic gentleness.

“I’m okay, 'kuna.” you whisper, your voice hoarse but steady. "I feel happy. Missed you, you know?"

"Missed you too, babe."

Silence settles between the two of you, a comforting stillness broken only by the sound of your shared breathing. Sukuna, for all his sharp edges and domineering presence, softens in this moment.

He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, pressing warm, lingering kisses against your damp skin. The heat of his breath and the gentleness of his lips send a shiver down your spine.

He doesn’t speak, just holds you closer, savoring the way your bodies fit together so perfectly. He knows he should take a day off tomorrow. You deserve that.

He’s seen the way your eyes light up when he’s fully present, how much you cherish those rare moments of closeness beyond the physical. He knows he hasn’t given you enough of that, and it tugs at something deep within him.

You deserve better, he thinks. Better than just this, better than the fleeting moments he steals with you. He owes you tenderness, affection, the kind of care that lingers long after the passion fades.

But before he can say anything, your voice cuts through the quiet, soft and hesitant.

“Want more of you, ‘kuna.” you mutter, your voice muffled against his chest, shy and unsure.

His breath catches, and for a moment, the world seems to still. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words.

A smirk starts to curl at the corner of his lips, but there’s something deeper in his gaze now—something softer, something that makes his chest ache in a way he isn’t used to.

“More of me, huh?” he teases, his voice low and rough, though there’s no mistaking the warmth that laces his words. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips before murmuring. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

You avert your eyes, cheeks flushing, but you don’t deny it. Sukuna chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates against your skin.

“You’re lucky I don’t mind, babe.” he says, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your flushed skin. “Because if you want more of me, you’ll have it.”

You giggled. "Well, I already have all of you from the beginning, don't you think?"

He snickers. "You're such a sly cat, aren't you?"

"Hm, but yours too."

His lips find yours again, slow and deliberate, as if to prove his point. And as his hands begin to roam, his movements unhurried and deliberate this time, he silently vows to give you everything you need—not just tonight, but always.

Because you weren't just his relief. You were his everything. And you will always deserve everything, even all of him. Because that's how love is. Love is the relief in different forms that makes life best.

[crowlyne]

Cant stop thinking about emperor sy au...

Thanks to sy's modern knowledge of historical palace dramas and encyclopedic knowledge of pidw along with him having max stats on luck and charisma he survived the succession war (and somehow becomes an emperor? He is still confused on how he got it. Its not that he cut down his fellow princes nor did he scheme to get the emperor position but hes the only legitimate option left). SY doesnt have any experience on ruling kingdoms however (or anything really) but thankfully SY got an economics degree in his past life so hes not a fish out of the water.

Although the imperial rule doesn't affect the cultivation world directly, they're still impacted in the form of trade and manpower. The power to empower and cripple sects is in his hands. Ever since SY declaring SJ as his long lost brother CQM received a lot of lucrative trade. SQH is appreciative but hello?? He didnt write any long lost family members on SJ! So he got curious and begged the sect leader to send him instead of SJ to meet the emperor for trade discussion, and thats how he met his fellow transmigrator.

SY made him cough up all of his authorial knowledge and found out about OPM and HHP, although its already too late to save SXY as LBH has been born. Needless to say, HHP's coffers are running thin these days. With them having less money their manpower and support from noble families are slowly diminishing, the maintenance and security of the seals fell to disrepair, and SY (in disguise) with SQH's cultivation expertise managed to free TLJ. A few brief expositions later, TLJ and ZZL thanked both of them and slipped back go the demon realm. News of their freedom got out and HHP is scrutinized and support dropped even further than before.

SY did manage to visit QJP regularly to visit his brother and consequently, meeting LBH a number of times (making LBH absolutely smitten with him and considering joining the nonexistent imperial harem). With SJ more assured in his position (also maybe SY's promise of him always having a place in the palace and his family and less people being hostile towards him had an impact) SJ had less frustrations and projections to subject LBH and his students to. He still doesnt like the beast but his stupid brother (an emperor!) doted on him like a favored child so he tried his best to ignore him instead.

Things were going well until the immortal conference where instead of SQH orchestrating the attack, its TLJ and ZZL trying to get a hit on HHP's OPM and dragging LBH back to demon realm kicking and screaming. LBH is presumed dead.

SY found out of course but he didnt know the details (SJ remains tight lipped and insists that hes dead and thats all he should know) and thought LBH fell into the abyss and SJ pushed him like the original plot and grew depressed of thinking of his brother that he grew fond of turn into human stick. Also considering LBH's going to merge the realms and conquer the human kingdoms under one rule he might not have long either, he is, after all, a human male which by the novel's rules itself, a cannon fodder.

Years passed and the demon army, under the demon emperor LBH, conquered other human kingdoms and eventually showed up on SY's kingdom's doorstep but not for the reason SY's thinking of.

SY found himself still alive (!!!) and married (???) with LBH for alliance. CQM stays unmolested and unburned for years to come. SJ, however, remains a sour pickle with this whole arrangement, but at least hes left in peace.

Bonus :

LBH loves to roleplay as a concubine whenever he dropped by SY's palace. When SY visited the demon realm however, LBH loves to show him off that the demons thought of him as a concubine instead (much to SY's embarassment)

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 10

Source for pic

Trouble 10

Word Count: 4546

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I feel like this story just keeps going from bad to worse! But bear with me, please! I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it. Chapter 11 will be NSFW and will end with a cliffhanger, just a heads up!

Masterlist

Just in case people missed this, I can't stop raving about @laidenbreecatchall art for Zoro! Just look at him! *sigh* Okay, back to the story:

This can't be happening. It can't. It's all a bad dream, and you're bound to wake up soon, drenched in sweat and tears. It has to be a nightmare. 

Because the alternative is too terrifying. 

“Tremble for me, Kitten.” He purrs against your ear, his breath sickeningly hot, as the fingers he has wrapped around your neck squeeze with a gentleness you wouldn't associate with a psychopath. “I get so turned on by seeing you scared.”

Gross. Sick. Disturbing. 

Why does nobody come to your aid? The club is packed, doesn't anybody sense your distress? You try to move your head around in the vain hope of making eye contact with someone - anyone - but he just squeezes tighter. His chuckle is low, and somehow, you still hear it perfectly, even with the loud music thumping away in an infernal rhythm. 

“Nobody is coming to help you, Princess. To everybody else, we look like a couple.” The hand that's gripping your wrist, holding it tight against your waist, pushes further, and you feel him pressed against your back. “To everybody else, you look like you're mine.” 

He moves his lips, placing wet kisses along your neck as you sob softly. There's barely enough strength in you for more than that. You're terrified. Fight or flight instinct? How about frozen in fear? And what does he plan to do to you? Kidnap you? Abuse you? Kill you? 

You try to turn your head to the side to get a glimpse of who he is because you can't shake the feeling that you've heard this voice before. You know this man. But the movement only makes him squeeze your neck tighter, and the only thing you glimpse is a black beanie. 

“Not yet, Princess. You're not ready to see me yet.” He tuts softly and inhales your hair with a lewd groan. “Now… you know why I'm here, right? You misbehaved. You let the cop stay the night; you let the cop touch you; you let the cop kiss you.” He growls as he delivers the sentences, and his hand grips your wrist tighter. You're starting to lose feeling in the tips of your fingers as he seems to be cutting off your circulation. “I don't want to do this, Kitten, but I need to punish you. You need to learn.”

He sounds upset. Almost as if he's actually sorry he has to do this to you. 

“But first…” He removes his hand from your neck, but it's as though a phantom limb is still pressed against your throat. The power and terror he exerts over you are unthinkable and terrifying. Then, you feel a weight in your pocket, and he sighs against your ear. “Here's your phone back, Princess. I got it from our kitchen drawer.” Our? “You can't shut me out. You won't change your phone again. Got it?”

You stay still, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Your heart is thumping in such an insane rhythm that you wonder how you're not having a heart attack right now. 

“Do you understand?” His free hand climbs your nape and grips your hair. When he pulls, you gasp and nod stiffly. “Good girl.” Another purr makes your ear vibrate, and you tremble from the heat of his breath against your skin. 

His feverish touch travels from your nape to your neck, then to your clavicle, his nimble fingers gathering the fabric of your clothes as he exposes the flesh of your shoulder. Another involuntary shudder makes you tremble as you plead silently for one of your friends to come find you. 

“You will do as I say and stop indulging the cop. Sever the connection, Kitten, or I will. And you won't like it.” His lips hover over your shoulder, and the hand on your wrist keeps squeezing. The bite of the bracelet is harsh and unforgiving, making your blood run cold. 

“It would be the simplest thing. He gets called to an emergency and simply gets shot…” The stalker's chuckle sounds unhinged. “Boo-hoo. Another cop killed in the line of duty. No one would blink an eye.” Your lower lip trembles, and your heart constricts. He’s capable of hurting Zoro. And if Zoro dies, it's your fault. “But you'd know why he died. Do you want that, Kitten?”

“D–don't hurt him.” You whisper, and it's unlikely he heard you over all the loud noise of the club. Even so, for you, it seems as if the music is coming from a faraway place. 

“That is entirely up to you.” He sighs, and you close your eyes. “Your punishment, Princess.” Then, his massive gloved hand covers your mouth as he sinks his teeth deep into your shoulder. You feel a sharp sting of pain traveling down your arm and back. Tears sting your eyes and your sobs drown in a muffled whine against his hand. The pain is blinding and hot, and you're pretty sure he's drawing blood. 

A stark realisation hits you just as he removes his teeth from your flesh, his tongue collecting droplets of blood as he eases the sting. 

He's marking you. 

“Mine.” He growls, and a tear rolls down your cheek. 

You feel helpless, violated, and terrified. 

“You won't disobey me anymore, Kitten. You won't misbehave anymore, and more importantly, you'll get rid of the cop.” His hand leaves your mouth as he fixes your clothes to cover up the bite mark. “Or I will. Don't forget it.”

His other hand releases your wrist, and you let out a ragged breath as your fingers twitch from lack of circulation. 

He's still pressing against you. 

“You're almost ready. We'll be so happy together, Kitten.” Your head slumps forward when he presses his lips against the back of it in a mockery of affection. “Don't disappoint me anymore.”

Then, just as swiftly as he approached you, he leaves. You turn quickly on the spot, trying to get a glimpse of your tormentor, but you only seem to catch a sliver of white. 

Was it hair? Clothes? The reflection of the lights? 

Or just your tears playing tricks on your mind? 

With trembling fingers and uneven breaths, you dislodge the bracelet that seemed to mould into your skin. The redness is daunting - it will bruise. Another whimper makes your lower lip tremble as you try to keep your wits about you. 

You need to calm down. You need to act like nothing happened. 

Zoro will be here any second now, and the stalker's threats were very clear. He'll hurt Zoro. He'll get rid of him if you don't push him away - whatever that might mean, so your plan to tell Zoro everything just went out the window. 

You need to keep him safe. At all costs. 

“Miss, your drinks are ready.”

A gasp leaves your lips, and you nod at the bartender. You’re still massaging your wrist, trying to alleviate some of the redness, but it's not disappearing. It's just getting worse. 

The way your heart is beating out of sync is a testament to how scared you still are. You need to compose yourself. New plan: take the drinks to the table and immediately excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Then maybe you can leave, claiming to be sick. You can't disguise the bruising on your wrist, though. Thank heavens the bite on your shoulder is hidden. 

With a steadying nod, you pick up the tray of beverages and make your way to the booth. 

Leave the drinks. Bathroom. Excuse. Home.

It's simple. You can do it. And then you can work out a plan. Maybe you can make an anonymous tip to the police about your stalker. Would that work? Or beg Ichiji again for protection? Even if you have to grovel? Maybe ask your father where he stores his rifle and take matters into your own hands?

You try to ignore the fact that just the stalker’s presence left you frozen in fear. It's highly unlikely you can fight for yourself. Who are you trying to kid? 

Leave the drinks. Bathroom. Excuse. Home.

You repeat the words like a mantra, but as soon as you set the tray on the table, you feel a touch on your waist, making you immediately flinch and hide your arm behind your back. 

“Hey, Troublemaker.”

“Zoro!” The moment your eyes fall on his, all your resolve crumbles. He can help you, you know he can. 

“Get rid of the cop… Or I will.”

“He gets called to an emergency and simply gets shot.”

No. You can't tell him anything. 

Not yet, at least. Not before you have a foolproof plan to protect him. Can his captain help? Surely he can. You just need time to think this through. You need to shake away the fear and think with a cool head. 

“Are you alright?” Zoro's eye scans your face. It's most likely still red. Your eyes still feel watery, and you're sure he's picking up on those signs. Zoro's hand still lingers on your waist, so you shuffle away from him and force a smile, your arm tucked behind your back. 

“Yes, Zoro. I'm fine. Did everything work out with the bomb threat?” You step away from him and distribute the drinks with just one hand, your jaw clenching with the fakest smile you've ever produced. 

“Not really, it was a freaking mess.” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Most of the time, these things are fake. Someone wants attention and pulls one of these, thinking it's funny. This time, it was a real threat.”

A small gasp leaves your lips as you lock eyes with Zoro again. A real bomb? But… Does that mean it wasn't the stalker who planted it? Or does it mean it was him, and he's just showing you again how seriously he can play? 

How easily can he hurt Zoro?

“Another cop killed in the line of duty.”

“Shit.” You exclaim, and Zoro nods while reaching for a beer from the tray. After a sip, his expression softens, and he reaches for your waist again. 

“Come here. We can talk later - we need to talk later - but for now… just come here.” 

Your heart thumps louder than the music, and you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. He's still watching. 

“It would be the simplest thing…”

You take a step back to avoid Zoro's touch, your smile faltering as you try your hardest to keep a neutral expression. 

“Trouble?” Zoro reaches again, and it's like your chest is exploding as you avoid his touch once more. “You're running again.”

The faintest flicker of pain darkens Zoro's gaze, and you bite your lower lip just to keep it from trembling. 

“I'm not… I… I have to go to the bathroom.” And before he says something else, you rush towards the dimly lit corridor that leads to the bathrooms, but before you can take refuge inside, you hear Zoro call your name. 

He’s following you. 

You pretend that you don't hear him and press on, hastening your step. 

“Wait!” He calls you again, and you raise your hand to push the door open, unshed tears are already pricking the back of your eyes. Would it be simpler to just tell him everything and hope for the best? 

“You'd know why he died.”

You can't tell him. 

“Trouble, stop!” Zoro nearly growls, his hand wrapping around your injured wrist in an effort to stop you. Instant pain shoots up your arm as you let out a hiss and a grunt. Stopping and turning towards him with a pained expression on your face, you almost let out a sob. 

Zoro releases you instantly, his hands shooting up in a defeated position while his brows scrunch, searching your face for any clue as to why you reacted like this. 

“I barely touched you.” Then it happens fast, and you don't have time to react. 

Zoro's eye lowers as his gaze settles on your bruised wrist. You see it widen, his pupil dilating as realisation washes over him. 

“What the fuck?” The music seems farther away in the bathroom corridor, yet it still vibrates low, making your chest thump in the same rhythm as the electronic tempo, but the buzzing in your ears doesn't come from the loud noise. 

You've been caught. 

“Who the fuck did this to you?” Zoro takes a menacing step forward, and you can physically feel the way the air shifts. You have no time to react when he grabs your arm again - avoiding the bruised area - and inspects it, revulsion and fury contorting his expression. “Tell me, Trouble. Now.” Zoro's tone brooks no arguments. He sounds deadly serious. No. He just sounds deadly. 

“I–” You take a deep exhale and try to release your arm from Zoro's grasp, but it doesn't budge. His eye jumps from your face to your arm like he can't stand the sight of the bruise, but can't stand to look away either. “It's nothing, Zo!” You force a laugh, and it sounds fake and high-pitched. “I bumped into someone earlier and almost fell. The guy grabbed my wrist to keep me from falling, and the bracelet dug into my skin.” Another fake laugh. “You know how clumsy I am.”

That was believable. You think. 

Zoro's jaw clenches and unclenches, and he snaps his neck, rotating his head as he also takes a deep exhale, a gesture meant to calm himself down. 

“Lie to me one more time, Trouble…” 

“I'm not–”

“You are! That's not an accidental bruise! Stop trying to fucking gaslight me. What the fuck is going on? Who the fuck do I have to kill?”

Shit. Fuck. Shit. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

“You're being dramatic, Zoro, it really is nothing, I–” 

“You stop showing up, you look like a ghost, you don't eat, you're scared, jumpy, you run from me and avoid my touch. Yet yesterday, you clung to me as if I was your lifeline.” Zoro takes another step forward, and now he's almost flush with you. 

Safety. He's safety. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

“And now this? Let me in. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

You can't. 

“Zo…”

“There you guys are! Come on! We're going to sing happy birthday to Nami before Luffy raids the fridge and eats the cake by himself.” Usopp says, without really realising he’s intruded on a private conversation, but you couldn't be more thankful to him. 

You take the opportunity while Zoro's distracted to actually run away from him, confirming his earlier affirmation that you're running and not caring one bit. 

He can hate you all he wants. He can even be hurt with you. 

You just can't bear it if he actually ends up hurt. 

Or worse. 

Dead. 

-*-

The thumping music stopped just for Nami. The DJ got the birthday melody playing, and the whole club is celebrating your friend's birthday, even the ones that don't know her. 

You can't stop a small smile from spreading on your lips: everybody loves Nami. 

You somehow managed to lose Zoro amongst the hordes of people - he's big and bulky, so that gives him more trouble to manoeuvre around the crowd - and as soon as Nami blows out the candles, just after she and Vivi share a sweet kiss, you hug her and make up a quick excuse to leave the party early. 

Then you flee the club without another thought. Not even caring if you don't have a ride home or if you didn't say goodbye to your friends. 

You just need to get away from Zoro and his questioning. 

The slight night chill and the difference in temperature make you shiver, though another buzz from your phone assures you the tremble comes from something other than the cold. 

Yet, before you take two steps, his voice makes you stop. 

“Stop running from us.” It’s Zoro. “Stop running from me.” He sounds exasperated and conflicted. 

Your shoulders slump forward as you inhale deeply. He's relentless, and he will get to the bottom of this if he keeps pushing. And you can't allow that. 

Even if it will destroy you. 

“Tell me what's wrong, Trouble.” You turn to face him, and your knees wobble. Zoro's eye is full of anguish. He runs a hand through his hair and paces forward - everything in his posture is desperate. “I don't know what else to do to help you. I've tried being tough, I've tried giving you space, I'm trying to be understanding… Trouble… meet me in the middle. Please.”

You can't do this. You can't. He looks so broken, so helpless. And this could be easily remedied if you just told him what's going on. 

But you can't. Because you know the Stalker will kill Zoro. And you can't bear that. You'd rather be scared and trapped for the rest of your life than risk Zoro's. 

Zoro sees you struggling and takes full advantage of it, trying to sway you by cupping your face as he forces you to look at him. 

“Let me in.” He pleads with a whisper. 

Closing your eyes, you open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your voice was stolen. The lump in your throat grows, and so does the pain in your chest. 

There's no other way. 

“You got it all wrong, Zoro.” Your voice sounds foreign and affected. Still, you now focus your gaze on Zoro's scar. Not his eye, you can't bear that. “I'm not interested. I never was.”

Zoro's hands twitch slightly as his brow furrows, but you barely give him time to process your words before you deliver more pain. 

“You just can't take a hint, can you? I'm trying to get away from you, but you keep pushing. I don't care for you like that, Zoro.”

You have to close your eyes to keep away the moisture and to prevent acknowledging Zoro's pain.

“Gosh, stop being clingy and needy. Leave me alone. That's all. I'm fine, I just need you to give me space.”

Zoro's hands part with your face torturously slow. You don't look him in the eye anymore, clenching your fists to prevent them from shivering violently. 

But you stand your ground. 

You need to push Zoro away. He needs to be safe. Even if your heart is shattering. 

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

He stopped touching you, but he didn't back away. And as your eyes raise to meet his, you can see steely determination where before was only despair. 

“You heard me: Bull. Shit.”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

Fuck. 

“I'm dead serious, Zoro. This was fun and all, but I'm done. Leave me alone.”

You turn on your heel, trapping a sob behind clenched teeth and fighting back tears. 

“Is this how you want to play? I can see what you're trying to do, Trouble, and it's bullshit.”

Bzzzz. 

You shouldn't read it. 

Yet you do. 

Unknown: Try harder, Kitten, or I'll make him go away permanently. 

“I’m not playing at anything. You don't matter.” The words leave your lips in the form of a whisper, but they linger in the air as if they were poisonous gas. Your insides twist and turn, and you feel nauseous. 

“Say that again, Trouble.” You barely hear him, not only because of all the ringing in your ears, but also because his hurt is drowning the words. 

Bzzzz.

No, no, no. You can't. 

Bzzzz. 

You have to. 

“I said–”

“Turn around and say it to my face.”

A sob claws its way up your throat, and you swallow it back down. You need to keep it together for now. 

With a slow turn, you face Zoro's disbelief, willing your heart to slow down, trying to keep your own emotions at bay before you collapse in tears. 

“You don't matter.” You repeat the words, and the way Zoro's face turns from disbelief to pain is immediate and heartbreaking. “I was just having fun, but I didn't expect you to become so obsessed with me.”

You aimed to hurt, and it worked. 

Zoro takes a step back as his eye faces the ground. The way his chest rises up and down with heavy gasps almost brings out the tears you're trying so hard to suppress. 

“Goodbye.”

You turn and hasten your step, wanting to get away from him as fast as you can. 

“Fine.” Your steps waver for a second when you hear Zoro’s voice, before you return to your uneven stride. “Fine! I'll back off. But I know you're lying to me.”

He doesn't say anything else, and you don't want to acknowledge the pain you heard in his voice. The pain you caused. Because your own pain is unbearable and immense. 

And now you've pushed away the one person who would help and protect you unconditionally. 

Bzzzz. 

Unknown: That's my good girl. The punishment worked. You're almost ready. 

-*-

Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

Zoro grits his teeth as his eye follows your shrinking form, watching it disappear into the dark horizon. Every freaking instinct tells him to follow you, but you've just pushed him away with everything you've got. 

‘You don't matter.’

“Fuck!”

“Hey! What's going on?” Usopp places his hand on Zoro's shoulder, and he sighs, running a desperate hand through his hair. 

“Nothing.” Then Zoro spots Kaya buttoning her jacket. “You leaving?”

“Yeah, I'm taking Kaya home, we have an early day tomorrow.” Usopp looks around and spots your disappearing form. “Where's she going?”

“What did you do?” Kaya interjects, hands already placed on her hips with a menacing scowl to back up her tiny, aggressive stance. Usopp’s brow raises at his girlfriend, and then he mimics her stance, his gaze also demanding answers Zoro doesn't really want to give. Zoro grits his teeth again, trapping a growl against them. He's so pissed, he can't even think straight. 

“I didn't do anything!” He answers, exasperated. “Fuck! Usopp, can you give her a ride home? She just fucking left.”

Usopp nods, and Kaya jogs a little, trying to catch up with you before you gain more distance from them. So Zoro starts walking towards the club again before you come back, wanting to avoid another confrontation. 

“Thanks.” He pats Usopp’s back and goes inside to say goodbye to his friends and grab his stuff. 

This shit’s not over. You may think you've pushed him away with your performance, but all you did was reel him in more. Zoro had his suspicions, but now he's sure. 

Someone is messing with you. And though his brain is telling him that someone is connected to Lucci and the store clerk, his heart is trying to push that possibility away. Because that fucker is dangerous, and Zoro's hoping against all hope that he didn't set his eyes on you. 

Or Zoro’s going to have to murder someone. 

Zoro's jaw keeps clenching as he drives towards the station. Even though he has the night off, he can't stay still. He's going to present his suspicions to Captain Mihawk and then forge a plan to protect you. Even if he has to drag your ass to the station and lock you in a cell. 

He'll fucking do it. 

Anything to keep you safe. 

You're not going to spend another fucking day terrified of something you won't even tell him about. 

‘You don't matter.”

Like shit, he doesn't. You can lie to him all you want. 

He'll never give up on you. 

-*-

It's barely after midnight when Usopp and Kaya drop you off at home. They have to get up early in the morning, so they couldn't party  late, and you told them you weren’t feeling very well. 

Neither of them pressed because they could clearly see the tears you were trying so hard to fight back. And you're sure they both know that you're crying because of Zoro, seeing as it was him who told them to give you a ride. 

They just don't know that you were the asshole who brought the pain to both of you. 

As Usopp’s car disappears down the driveway, you bolt the lock on the front door and place a chair against the doorknob, knowing deep down that it won't keep the stalker away, but still aiming for a sense of safety you know you won't achieve. 

You do the same to your room, discard your club clothes, and finally look in the mirror to see the mark he left there. Your eyes widen as your trembling fingers run over the bruise: you can clearly identify the teeth marks, there's still caked blood around the wound and it's already turning a dark bruise colour.

You choke back sobs as you disinfect the wound and dress in your pyjamas. Outside, the weather seems to match your mood as you start to hear the gentle pitter-patter of the soft rain against the window. 

You feel drained and exhausted. You were, once again, pushed into a corner. Never have you felt so trapped, helpless, and lonely. All the earlier fight, the will to try and find ways to get out of this predicament, left your body along with the hurtful words you delivered to Zoro.

‘You don’t matter.’

Gosh… he’s everything! But if it takes breaking you both apart just to save him, then you’ll do it over and over again.

Tomorrow is another day, and maybe after some serious consideration, you’ll know what to do.

As you curl up in your bed, trying to stay awake, but already knowing you'll succumb to exhaustion after having cried your heart out, you glance at your buzzing phone before closing your eyes. 

Unknown: Such a good Kitten. My beautiful Princess. My love. Sleep. I'll watch over you. 

-*-

You wake up with a jolt, feeling that something is amiss. You look around, your eyes darting to every shadow and every corner because your room feels wrong. Yet, you find everything in the same place. The shadows are still, and the room is quiet. 

Your heart thrums against your chest, and you take a deep breath to try and calm down. It must've been a nightmare. 

Patting your nightstand, you grab your phone. 01:15. It's still so early. Why did you wake up so suddenly?

And then you notice it. At first, it's just a red blur standing in your nightstand, but then, as you focus your wet eyes, they widen in fear, and you clasp your hand over your mouth. 

There's a single red rose in the nightstand. He's been in your room. 

He was near you. 

A sob disturbs the quietness of the night, and almost immediately, it gets drowned out by a loud thunderclap. And then, you see something else. 

Trembling fingers reach out, and you grab the small paper: it's a photo. And when your eyes adjust to the image and your brain processes it, you stay frozen in place, your breath held in suspension as more tears flood your eyes. 

It’s a polaroid of you sleeping. Your brows are furrowed, and your cheek is wet, but what steals your breath is the huge, veiny, tanned hand that's gripping your hair in possession. The word ‘mine’ is scribbled in red across the picture in a distinct claim. 

He was in your house. 

He was in your room. 

He touched you. 

And you didn't even notice.

Taglist: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall

Liked this story? Like my writing? Consider buying me a Ko-Fi, please!

[leftneb]

Curiositas aka sirens!AU

in which Lando is a siren with species dysphoria and Oscar is the defintion of Just Some Guy, who happens to get caught up in Lando's mess. and obviously they fall in love along the way etc etc

I first posted about this idea over 2 months ago and I'm happy to announce that there is now a fic in the works!!! which will likely take at least another 2 months because goddamn the concept outgrew itself (as you can tell by the fact charles and max also, like, exist now) it's sitting at ~8k words rn, which is by far the longest thing I've ever written in my life already, but story isn't even close to being finished, so yeah it'll take a while lmao

for now though I have some character designs and lots of thoughts, which I'd like to share :3

ramblings about their individual designs and details below the cut!!

and massive thank you to my dear partner @lailau7904 for not only holding my hand through writing the fic so far but somehow being even more insane about this whole AU than I am???

LANDO

main character (and POV holder) his design isn't based on any real fish, closest resemblance is to a fake fishing lure (reference provided)

very little scarring despite sirens' hunting culture, some tiny cuts and scratches around the top of his tail from smuggling pretty stones and shards of glass

absurdly bright green scales (I really could've made him fluorescent but I think that would be overkill) which is absurdly shit for stealth purposes but good for catching the attention of potential victims

vague triangle shape language but in a semi-elegant way

doesn't eat fish and would rather not eat human either

MAX

fills the position of a leader in his and Lando's colony, inherited the role in his late teens but grew up to it pretty quickly

shark motif, all sharp and angular shapes, visibly intimidating

lots of scars collected during hunts, wounds covered over by red scales from Charles

his scales are pretty dark but they shine blue when the light hits them just right (plus Charles' scales are a bright red lmao, which is a bit suboptimal for stealth but he thinks it's worth it)

CHARLES

koi fish motif, soft and round shapes

no scarring at all

has known Max since they were kids but actually didn't meet Lando until their 20s despite Max and Lando being childhood best friends

considered legally dead by monegasque officials (this has lore reasons which I'm not about to spoil)

GENERAL NOTES

the AU plays in a modern setting, altough sirens are very behind on human technology

their gills are on the side of their ribs! they can also all breathe with their lungs above water

funky scales patterns on their torsos around "modified" areas such as their gills and back fin

they have no hands but don't let that fool you! I was simply too lazy to draw any, what you would see if I did draw them tho would include:

webbing between fingers!! matches the colour of fins

longer, and more solid, claw-like nails

wrinkled palms and fingertips

I really wanted to make Max and Charles' torsos more life accurate but could not be arsed, they all have Lando's body type, aka I've accidentally twinkified Charles and Max lmao

by now you might have noticed that there's no design for Oscar, and as much as I really want to make a siren design for him that would have some pretty heavy lore implications so I'm... hesitant to do so

other people on my sirenification waiting list are:

George Russell and Alex Albon (for the 2019 rookies circle to be complete)

Franco Colapinto (based purely off vibes)

the whole grid really god I'm so ill

for the record Logan is a human in this AU but he IS present fuck you James Vowles

you may have also noticed the papaya version I labeled as McLaren themed (this one is also the highest quality image I have in this thread if you're gonna do any zooming in please do it on this one,,,,)

all throughout writing and drawing I couldn't help but think about another banger siren!Lando fic: Salt Skin by @strawberry-daiquiris! in which Lando has orange slash papaya scales, which I just had to draw honestly

a lot of my design process was also inspired by a piece by @dumbf1sketches (it's somewhere in the pile of other gorgeous art in that post)

bonus underwater version of all of them because it wasn't bright enough for me to feel good about it being at the top but it's still like, the main colour example to my brain

TAGLIST(S)

AU @mintraindrop @cx-boxbox (I know the og post is from actual ages ago but you two were interested so I humbly offer you these crumbs)

ART @santongkabayo @cyclonixi @alto-the-avocado @loquarocoeur

people that put up with my ramblings on dc @lyslsstuff @peppysinc @girlrussell

[zosin-ya]

Topic 8 - [ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

Summary: Surviving on instant noodles, you order takeout in the middle of exam prep—what you didn’t expect was your delivery guy to be a ridiculously hot, tattooed biker. Even more surprising? He’s a fellow med student at your university. As good as it sounded, he had a complicated past with an obsessive Ex who starts to target you.

tags.: One Piece, Law x Reader, SFW & NSFW, slow burn romance, Modern AU, Penguin and Shachi as flatmates, fashion-designer uncle Corazon, Laws parents, Laws crazy Ex, Strawhats as your friends (+ Bonney), protective Law, mentioned of his dead sister, also mentions of Laws trauma

a.n.: I pulled this story out of my ass and it’s rather spontaneous how I write the story. If you have ideas, I’m open to them 🖤

status: [ongoing] last updated Nov 20th 2024

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 - ʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴅᴇʟɪᴠᴇʀʏ

An awkward encounter with the handsome delivery guy, who hardly speaks to you, yet somehow makes your heart skip a beat with his pretty face.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2 - ɪᴄᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴇʀ

Law was at your door once again, this time out of breath and visibly stressed. You offer him something to drink, which sparks a conversation that eventually leads to an exchange of numbers.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3 - ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ

At the café, you met up for a study date and saw a more relaxed, yet still exhausted, side of Law. Penguin showed up, clearly curious as to why Law was hanging out with someone from his university—especially since he rarely spent time with those people.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4 - ʙᴏʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ

Penguin couldn't keep his mouth shut about Law meeting you, which led him and Shachi to bombard him with questions. It was just a study date, right? No big deal. His flatmates quickly realized how oblivious he was. Or was he just denying any meaning, trying to protect himself from another crazy relationship.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5 - ʟᴀᴛᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜰᴜɴ

Law invites you to a party, and after a few drinks, the two of you start to loosen up around each other. So much that the bathroom becomes a short lived make out spot.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 6 - ʟᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴏꜱᴇ (n.sfw)

After you forgot your keys at home and had no where to stay, Law casually offers his apartment for the night without any second intentions. Though the heat from the make out session still lingering in the air.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 7 - ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ɪᴛ (n.sfw)

You meet Laws kind-hearted uncle, Rosinante, and learn more about his complex family history. What was supposed to be a casual, cozy game night with Law quickly takes an unexpected and more intimate turn.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 8 - ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀᴍᴇɴᴛ

A girl you've never met before, starts a chit chat with you during an uni event, you being immediately drawn in by her friendly, outgoing nature. Before you knew it, she invited you to a small party where she hinted you could make some valuable connections. Little did you realize, networking with a biker gang wasn’t exactly what you had in mind for boosting your CV.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 9 - ᴄʜᴀᴏᴛɪᴄ ɢᴀɴɢ

You dearly needed a girl's night with your friends after all what had happened. Law came to pick you up, yet got dragged into the chaos of a spontaneous party with your friends. Someone save this guy.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 10 - ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇ? (n.sfw)

This day should have been special, with you and Law celebrating your academic milestone together with friends and family. Yet, Laws private and closed off personality shots back at him, causing you to break down.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 11 - ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ

It had been weeks since you had talked to Law, feeling drained from the past events. You needed time to figure the relationship out, which caused you to run away from talking completely and be confronted with a storm, none of you were ready to face.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 12 - ɴᴇᴡ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴꜱ (n.sfw)

Trying to mend the damage he had caused, Law makes an effort to open up to you this time. He shared pieces of his past, including hobbies he’d long buried. He never anticipated that attending Zoro’s Kendo tournament with you would reignite an old spark within him—or that it would stir a newfound desire to impress you.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 13 - ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴀʟʟɪᴇꜱ

Two unexpected intruders—familiar faces no less—show up at your door, shocked to find you inside. Hired to break into what turned out to be the wrong apartment, Kid and Killer aren’t prepared for your defiance. Mustering all the courage you have, you scare them off and waste no time alerting Law, who doesn’t take kindly to their mistake and pays them a visit.

[drmaddict]

My best friends brother is... a cliche thing to do (modern!AU)

Summary: (Y/n) is Aegons best friend. Yet she has a thing for his brother Aemond. Somehow the three of them make it work.

Wordcount: 2.687

"AEMOND?", shouted Aegon in shock.

"I was really drunk, okay?", sighed (Y/n). She would like to forget everything. By the gods, it had only been a kiss. A drunken kiss. But she didn't want to forget that kiss. She didn't want to forget the hands, that had felt so warm on her back. But Aemond was out of her reach. He was... She wasn't good enough. Absolutely mediocre at everything. Aemond was stubborn. So stubborn that he had made something of himself. Law student. Top of his class. Black belt in some martial art she couldn't pronounce.

Aegon nudged her. "Why are you looking so sad?", he asked with a slight pout on his lips.

She wiped her face. "I don't know either. Hormones?"

"You like him.", he said sulkily and plopped down next to her on the steps of the entrance hall.

She sighed. "I think, I just like the version of me, I imagine at his side.", she mused aloud.

Aegon sighed in annoyance. "No, you fancy him. Don't make everything more complicated than it is."

He picked at one of the cigarette butts lying around from last night.

(Y/n) reached for it and through it away. Aegon looked after it.

"Even if I did. He's got a girlfriend anyway.", she muttered.

"They broke up two months ago.", Aegon clarified. "I mean... You could have someone far better.", he stated. "FAR better... But... Argh! By the gods, just ask him."

She looked at him, dazed. "Would that be... okay for you. You're my best friend and I don't want anything like that-"

"I'll be fine.", he interrupted her immediately. "But you have to promise me that Blaspheme Gosip Friday will still be our day.", he sulked.

"With mocktails and everything.", she mumbled and put an arm round his back.

"And Barbie films.", he nodded.

She nodded with a grin and rested her head on his shoulder.

"He'll probably just laugh at me anyway and everything will stay the same."

Aegon let out a loud snort. "He sighed your name,  when he jerked off. Don't worry about it."

(Y/n) furrowed her eyebrows. "And how would you know that?"

Aegon was still chuckling. "There's another old air vent here. I hear everything from his room." He turned to her with a grin. "He listens to Dolly Parton." You'd think his cheek muscles were about to tear, the grin on his face was so big.

(Y/n) grinned. "All metalheads listen to Dolly. She's an icon."

"You listen to Dolly Parton?"

"It's Dolly.", she stated, as if she couldn't believe the question was really being asked.

Aegon just shook his head. "All right... How long have you fancied him?"

She pressed her lips together.

"(Y/n)?"

"Since we were like... You remember when he came back from that martial arts camp?"

"That... That... Since you were THIRTEEN? Why didn't you ever say anything?"

She wrapped her arms around her legs and hugged her knees to her chest. "Because we were such good friends and I didn't have many friends. Besides... I liked him more or less. When he was... He was pretty mean for a while. I thought he was arrogant then and tried to block it all out, but later... The last two or three years... well, it just came back. And last year... You went to rehab and... I didn't know, who to call when my ex just left me in the middle of nowhere and Aemond picked me up... I don't know. He was so nice and somehow the new short hair looked so good on him and... Never mind. A week later he introduced everyone to his new girlfriend... I don't know. I'm going to get another coffee."

She stood up, turned round towards the entrance and stopped abruptly. She wanted to drop dead. A bewildered-looking Aemond stood in the doorway.

"What is it?", Aegon asked, turning round as well. "Ohhhh..." He cleared his throat. "Have fun."

He stood up quickly. He briefly stroked (Y/n)'s back and punched Aemond in the shoulder as he passed.

Both of them, now alone, just stared at each other.

"Morning.", (Y/n) began far too quickly.

Aemond nodded. "Morning.", he replied curtly. He straightened up.

"How... How long have you been standing there?", she asked uncertainly.

"Since... Dolly.", he admitted, looking past her with flushed cheeks.

She nodded. "She's a cool woman."

"Does a lot of charity work.", nodded Aemond.

"Built a library.", (Y/n) agreed.

Aemond breathed a sigh of relief. "I was with Alys for quite a while back then.", he said curtly. "We were both freaks. It was a good fit."

"And now you're not?"

He shook his head. "She was... I was distracted and she found someone else."

"I'm sorry about that."

"It was only a matter of time."

They lapsed into silence again. Aemond was about to hint at going back into the house, when Aegon stepped out again, annoyed.

"For Fucks sake.", he groaned. "You've both more than clearly heard, that you want each other. You made out so much yesterday, that (Y/n)'s lips are almost falling off today and you still can't get it right? Are you fucking kidding-" He interrupted himself and took a dramatic breath. "You guys go upstairs now and fuck like hell." With that, he turned round and went back into the house. "And gods be good if don't I hear anything! Make an effort, little brother."

They both looked after him in bewilderment.

"How about breakfast first?", she asked cautiously.

Aemond nodded. "I'll get changed and get the car keys.", he said quickly and disappeared.

6 months later

The door to Aemond's room was pushed open. "It's Friday. I got her to...day... Wow."

(Y/n) immediately threw a blanket over them both, but it didn't help to hide the leather band around Aemond's neck, on whose ring she was currently holding him.

"Aegon!" she shouted angrily.

He just grinned. He looked at the two of them with as much joy, as if he were a child in a toy shop with a black american express.

(Y/n) stood up, albeit naked, and pushed Aegon out of the room. "I'll come in a moment."

"Oho. One of you two is definitely coming-"

She slammed the door shut. Aemond was lying on the bed, resigned but with his head held high.

His eye was closed and he breathed in and out in a controlled manner.

(Y/n) sat down carefully next to him and ran her fingers through his hair. He buried his face against the side of her thigh and breathed in her scent.

"Shit.", he mumbled choked.

"Everythings good. He-"

Aemond wrapped his arms around her stomach and pulled himself closer to her. She understood immediately. "Shhh." She brushed the tears from his face.

Normally, they had time to bring him slowly out of their world. He had never been ripped out of it as quickly and abruptly as today. "I'm here.", she whispered. Her hands ran soothingly over his back. And his head.

They heard a knock at the door. "We need a little longer. I'll be come, when we're done.", she called through the door.

Surprisingly, there was really no more interruption.

She stayed with him, until he had fallen asleep. She gently kissed his forehead and tucked the blanket around him.

She got dressed and quietly slipped out of the room.

Aegon found her in the kitchen. "I had two more hours.", she grumbled.

"Sorry.", he smirked, but immediately became surprisingly serious. "He dropped because of me, didn't he?", he asked quietly.

(Y/n) nodded. "Please leave him alone about it.", she begged him.

"Hey, you know I've already been whipped black and blue."

"And you hated it. You should check out the doms, before you let them get to you."

Aegon nodded. "Speaking of which. I met someone.", he muttered sheepishly.

"Really?", she asked, surprised. He hadn't said anything.

Aegon nodded. "His name's Cregan. Takes me seriously and all." He bit into a biscuit. "And he... He doesn't whip me, he rewards me. Remembers how I drink my coffee and shit... And bends me into a pretzel. The man is like a bear. I'm telling you.", he grinned.

"Your first soft-dom.", she smirked.

Aegon sighed. "And hopefully my last. He's great... I hope it stays that way."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed."

"Thanks."

He pushed a coffee towards her. "Do you want to be with him, until he wakes up."

"Honestly, I do.", she confessed.

"Good. I always hate it, when I wake up alone.", he mumbled.

She rubbed his shoulder.

"But we'll go out for brunch tomorrow.", he decided.

"Where they have those cheese bagles?"

"Where else?", he grinned.

She nodded with a smile. "Okay."

She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and a snack bar and made her way back to Aemond. She just smirked when she heard Aegon's "You guys and your stupid water."

Back in the room, she snuggled up next to Aemond and ran her fingers through his hair again. His eyes fluttered open.

"Hey.", she smiled at him.

He just grumbled and buried his face against her stomach again. "How long?", he mumbled under his breath.

"As long as you need and want.", she explained.

"Is he laughing?"

"No. He understands."

"Sure.", he replied sarcastically.

She just held him as she continued speaking. "Aegon's approached a number of doms in the past. Had more bad experiences than good. He gets it." She kissed the top of his head. "A joke or two and he should he done."

Aemond hummed, but continued to bury himself against her belly. She hummed softly a song she'd heard in the morning.

"Love you." Aemond murmured at one point, so softly that she almost couldn't hear him.

She looked at him in surprise. He had literally squeezed his eye shut. His shoulders were tense. They hadn't said it often yet.

"Love you, too", she whispered back.

His body relaxed immediately. His breath left his lungs almost in relief. It was as if he expected her to laugh at him every time and explain that it had all been a cruel joke.

She stroked his collar. He trembled slightly under her touch. "Do you want to take it off?", she asked cautiously.

He shook his head. "Not yet.", he sighed.

When it came to his collar, he was like a cat that needed to go to the vet. First he made a show of putting it on and then it was almost impossible to get him out. It grounded him. It calmed him down. But some days he almost tore it off himself with the thought that he wasn't a real man, if he liked such things.

"You let me know.", she whispered.

Their relationship had grown insanely fast. She didn't know if it was because they had known each other for most of their lives or if it was just a good fit between them.

Both Aemond and Aegon had to get used to the new situation. It hadn't exactly been easy to convince Aegon that she wouldn't just throw him away like the old toy, while she tried to show Aemond that she really wanted to spend time with him and have this relationship.

It got to the point where Aegon just threw himself on the couch with her on one of their first little dates and commented on the film that was playing.

They had a very long and, for Aegon, very emotional conversation that evening that she really wouldn't forget him. They were still in the middle of the conversation when Aemond had plonked a weekly schedule on the table and started writing in their appointments and allocating Aemond-time and Aegon-time.

"Here.", he had simply hummed and sent Aegon a photo of the plan. "Can we please be alone now?"

Their routine levelled out and the two became calmer.

Aemond opened up to her more and she showed him the sides, some of which not even Aegon knew.

For example, her preference for having competent men whimpering beneath her.

They lay in bed until late in the evening. They dozed, cuddled and talked about all sorts of things until Aemond was completely grounded again.

(Y/n) was already sitting in the café when Aegon joined her. He grimaced as he sat down. "Holy-", he hissed softly, then put on a bright smile again.

"Hi." he said cheerfully.

She grinned. "Cregan?" she asked, amused.

Aegon looked dreamily at the cup of coffee she had already ordered for him. "I think I'm in love."

She grinned. "Shall I book something for the wedding?"

"You're going to be my maid of honour."

"Not Aemond?"

He shook his head. "How did it go with him?", he asked the counter question.

"Quiet evening." she simply shrugged her shoulders.

"Good... I'm sorry, by the way."

"Just knock next time, okay?"

"Okay.", he smiled. Suddenly his gaze settled on something behind her. "Holy-" He reached for her hand. "Margret Waters!", he whispered.

(Y/n) immediately turned round. Margret had tormented both (Y/n) and Aegon when they were still in middle school, and not just once.

"That's... A lot of lip filler.", she realised.

"That's a lot of filler everywhere.", Aegon clarified. "Her face is twice as wide as it used to be."

"And yet you can still recognise her. That's strange."

"It's the aura of absolute evil.", he stated. "And that comes from me."

She grinned. "Is that?"

"Aaron the arse cramp. Yes.", Aegon grumbled. Aaron had involuntarily outed him in front of everyone.

"Get your impotent arse over here.", they heard Margret say.

"For fucks sake!", Aaron hissed at her. "With your facial goulash, don't be surprised that no one can get it up with you."

Aegon beamed. "I think I'm very happy right now."

(Y/n) shook her head with a grin, as a pale hand placed something next to her.

They both looked up and saw Aemond.

"Forgot your wallet.", he muttered. He looked at Aegon. "You want to get it out now?"

Aegon just shook his head. "My arse is too sore for that." Aemond grimaced, but Aegon went straight on. "Besides, I've just found something much better, than your little, spicy necklace.", he explained, nodding in the direction of the couple, who were still arguing

Aemond looked at the two. "Is that Margret Waters?"

"Yup."

"What's she done to her face?"

The two squabblers realised they were being watched.

"What?", Margret nagged.

Aemond didn't even flinch. He simply raised his hand. "Margret... Aaron. How did it go after the LSD trial? Still having problems?", he asked impassively, glancing briefly at his crotch.

Aaron's look could have killed.

"I hope your delicate flower here was worth the compensation."

Aemond approached him menacingly. "Do you really think you can mess with my family, without paying for it?" he whispered. Aaron looked at him in amazement.

"Get out of here.", Aemond hissed.

"Come on. Get away from this madman." Aaron tugged on Margret's hand, who allowed herself to be pulled along in annoyance.

Aemond turned back to the two of them. "I'm off already.", he nodded.

"Wait!", Aegon said, pointing to the seat next to (Y/n).

"What exactly did you do with Aaron?", Aegon asked uncertainly.

Aemond just shrugged his shoulders. "I helped supervise the study he took part in for a little cash. I remembered him and what he said about you. That you're only good for getting your arse fucked. I might have added some subliminal messages to the music file that was playing in the background... They really tak a hold with LSD." He pursed his lips in amusement. "It seems to me he hasn't figured out what he needs to do to get his favourite toy working again.", he explained impassively.

"Sometimes you really scare me, brother."

He waved him off, but looked cautiously out of the corner of his eye at (Y/n), not knowing what she would think.

But she only reached for his hand. "You're a softy after all.", she smiled.

"Don't tell anyone.", he grumbled and let her give him a quick kiss.

[deadbaguette]

Crack AU treated seriously: Diomdes goes to Ithaca with a twist

So this would generally be your typical Diomedes going to Ithaca AU. Presumably after getting exiled (? Is there a better word for it?), instead of going to modern day Italy he goes to Ithaca under the impression that he’ll see Odysseus there. But, of course he doesn’t because The Odyssey is happening. The twist that makes NO SENSE and is just purely my want to see my platonic rarepair happen (Telemachus and Neoptolemus/Pyrrhus), and the twist is: for whatever reason, Neo is there with Diomedes. Don’t ask why because I could not explain to you a good reason to make this happen lmfao

Story elaborated below but it’s a little long be warned

I like the dynamic of Neoptolemus and Diomedes, mostly because in so many ways as soldiers Diomedes foils/contrasts Achilles but in so many ways parallels his son. Diomedes gets on begrudgingly with Neo, and I could go on a whole other rant on a different post about some fake dynamics/scenarios for just them, but the main point in this post is that Neo somehow SOMEHOW tags along with Diomedes. They reach Ithaca together and meet Penelope and Telemachus.

They greet Diomedes and Pyrrhus with good courtesy, but the elephant in the room of “hold on where tf is your husband??? he was so eager to go back to you guys???” is very present. One way or another Penelope explains the situation, that being Odysseus is absent/mia (much to his own dismay) and the suitors all trying to wed Penelope. Diomedes is sad obv (I’m not gonna go super big into the angst right now) but he tries to brainstorm with Penelope on solutions for her predicament. Since Odysseus was his closest friend (more than friend for me personally but u can interpret it as platonic if u want) and he knows that Odysseus would want what’s best for his wife and son, they think of a solution that can the guarantee of their safety as of now until they hear news of Odysseus. That solution is fake marriage bcs I am a bit of a sucker for that troupe.

But back to Neoptolemus because he’s here too, I want him to bond with Telemachus what with their dads not being here (one’s dead one’s absent). Neo is like way stronger than Telemachus so at first he thinks he’s a bit of a wimp (keep in mind they’re like both teenagers, Neo’s life was just kinda fucked up), but over time they get along better. Pyrrhus’ relationship with Odysseus is a little complicated, so while Penelope and Diomedes might share all the good stories/parts of Odysseus with, Pyrrhus got off to a slightly rocky start with him lol. What with Odysseus taking him away from his mom and basically all the war shenanigans (war crimes), Telemachus for the first time has a whole and humanized version of his dad. It’s more than what the suitors have said out of malice and jealousy, the things Neo has told him have opened up the trickery/cunning side of Odysseus more than he’d known before. He’s jealous that it seems like everyone knows more about his dad than him, but he’s grateful to have someone his age who would view Odysseus more like he would: an annoying dad/uncle??? (Neo vehemently objects to this, and Odysseus would too. “You’re not my fucking dad!!!” “Holy shit thank the GODS for that!!!”)

All in all, happy family. Odysseus returns home to Penelope and Telemachus, and now two surprise guests too. Telemachus has like 3 kinda parents now (Diomedes might be more like an uncle) and a kinda brother/friend/??? I love my little delusional found family. Odysseus is more than a little surprised, considering this IS Neoptolemus. Kid did a 180° in terms of personality in Troy and then ANOTHER 180° somewhere on Ithaca at some point. Or maybe more like a 90° turn in terms of personality, I imagine Telemachus is the most sane of the family and it is much to his dismay.

And when they all eventually die (Diomedes won’t ascend to godhood here I want him to be in the underworld with the rest of the fam) they’ll live happily in the underworld and Pyrrhus can catch up with his dad and mom.

[scary-grace]

one way to live (not recommended) - a shigaraki x f!reader oneshot

Tomura doesn't spend a lot of time thinking about his one and only ex-girlfriend, but winter always brings back the memories a little more strongly. When he runs into you again, ten years after the breakup he instigated, he's not opposed to seeing where things go. After all, he hasn't changed much -- but you have.

This fic is for @deadhands69, who prompted me with #8 from this list: but me I'm not a gamble/you can count on me to split. I went a little into the weeds on this one, so if it's not your speed, please let me know and I'll write you a new one for this prompt (or you can pick another!) I apologize for the wait. Modern AU, no quirks, 4k words, angst.

Tomura wakes up facedown on his keyboard to the sound of ping after ping going off through his speakers. For a second all he can think about is how much his neck hurts, so much that he might actually message Magne for the name of that chiropractor she keeps going on about. Then he remembers what he was doing before he fell asleep and sits up in a hurry. “Fuck!”

He was streaming. He was streaming, with hundreds of people watching, and he fucking fell asleep in the middle of it. Tomura thinks about apologizing for a split second, but given the number of pings still going off as he sits up and blinks sleep out of his eyes, the chat isn’t exactly mad about it. Tomura looks a little closer.

MD_DEVICE self-care livestream whennnnnn

my man’s avatar has been doing the funky chicken for three hours and I can’t look away

f in the chat if you think he looks cute when he’s sleeping

bro go to bed

seriously go to bed

sleeeeeeep

i will pay you to log off and go to bed

whose name were you saying just now

The longer Tomura spends reading through the messages, the worse it gets. Three hours? People were debating whether he looked cute? He doesn’t see a single F in the chat, but somebody’s sent him money to log off and go to bed. Multiple people have sent him money to do that, like he’s an e-girl who has to catch up on her skincare routine or some shit. But as annoying as that is, the last question in the line-up is worse. “I wasn’t saying anybody’s name. I don’t talk in my sleep.”

bold words for a guy who’s been dead to the world for the last few hours

Tomura knows that username. “Dabi, get the fuck off my stream.”

lol no

whose name were you saying again?

Now that Tomura looks, Dabi’s username isn’t the only one he recognizes. He sees Twice’s username, and Dabi’s, and Toga’s. Tomura’s mod is supposed to kick them out if they show up in his streams. Speaking of Tomura’s mod – he pulls up a direct-message and messages Spinner. get rid of them. why didn’t you wake me up?

I tried! What was I supposed to do, come over to your house? Spinner must be multitasking, because Dabi’s, Toga’s, and Twice’s usernames vanish in quick succession. People were still watching. I figured it was a bit.

Tomura catches a glimpse of himself in the corner of his screen. His eyes are bloodshot, he’s almost definitely been drooling, and there are keyboard imprints on one side of his face. What the fuck kind of bit could he possibly have been running? Whatever. It won’t matter as long as he gets out of this fast. He faces the camera again. “Since you all want me to go to sleep so bad –”

sleep

sleep

sleeeeep

whose name were you saying

^

^

^

^

 “We’re going to finish this later,” Tomura growls, fighting the urge to yawn. “Thanks for sticking around for – that – and remember, the enemy’s gate is down.”

He cuts the feed about two seconds after he says his stupid catchphrase, then slumps back in his chair and yanks his headphones off. His head hurts. His mouth tastes like garbage. Spinner sends over the earnings report from the – fucking hell, seven-hour stream, and Tomura sees that he can apparently make as much money drooling on his keyboard as he can actually playing the game. Somehow that makes him feel even more like shit. He looks stupid when he sleeps. Everyone was probably laughing at him. He doesn’t need to go back through the chat log and check.

Messages start popping up on his screen, this time from his groupchat with his friends, all of whom he’s pissed at right now. Toga’s first up. Don’t be mad, Tomura-kun! We only logged on because Spinner said you were sleeping in there.

Don’t throw me under the bus like that! I was just asking you what I should do!

You look like shit. When was the last time you went outside? Dabi sends that, then sends another message, rapid-fire. Were you seriously saying your ex’s name in your sleep?

What? Tomura’s face heats up so fast that it’s a miracle he doesn’t burst into flames. If this had happened five seconds earlier while his video was on, he would have nuked his account. Twice chooses this second to chip in. you can’t pine for a girl you dumped. I’m kidding! Pine away! Pine until you start sprouting cones!

I’m with Dabi, sweetie. You look like shit. Magne sends a heart along with that message, like that makes it any better. I think you need to get some outside time. What do you all call it?

Touching grass, Toga says. Tomura-kun go outside challenge.

Tomura’s not going outside. It’s fucking cold.

That sounds like a you problem, Dabi texts. Get your crusty ass outside or

Or what? Tomura’s pretty sure he’s got nothing.

A new name pops up in the chat. Or I’ll make the party do a side quest before they can break your sleeping curse, Compress says. Tomura swears. Go outside.

Compress is the DM for this round of D&D, and he’s not as much of a hard-ass as Dabi was when he was running it – but Tomura knows damn well that he’s not screwing around. And there’s no way Tomura’s spending another session sitting off to one side under a stupid sleeping curse while everyone else gets to play. if I go get coffee will all of you shut up?

Take a selfie! For proof! Twice insists. If you get coffee you can stay awake while you pine!

Tomura’s not fucking pining. He levers himself up out of his chair and goes looking for his jacket. And his scarf.  And his shoes. It takes him so long to find any of them that he starts wondering if his friends don’t have a point about how long it’s been since he left his apartment.

While he searches, his friends keep messaging. I logged on late. Was he really talking in his sleep?

Not really talking. Mumbling. Except the name.

HER name. Toga sends a Star Wars gif for some reason – some old guy saying he hasn’t heard something in a long time. I haven’t thought about her in forever! did we ever find out what happened to her?

Tomura finds his jacket, then his shoes, and glances back at the screen to see the rest of his friends answering in the negative. He closes the message window, powers off the computer, and heads out the door. By the time the elevator hits the lobby, he’s already regretting leaving his apartment. The doors to his apartment building are glass. Even inside the lobby, it’s way too cold.

But he said he’d go outside, and he’d send proof. Tomura steels himself, steps outside, and starts down the street. There’s a coffee shop two blocks away. Maybe he won’t even stick around to buy coffee. He can just go inside, take a selfie, and go home. Tomura checks his phone while he’s waiting for the traffic light to change and sees that his friends are still lighting up the groupchat. It looks like they’re debating whether it’s more embarrassing to say your ex’s name in your sleep or during sex. Most people are saying sex, but Toga’s arguing that saying someone’s name in your sleep is worse. Sex is just sex. If you’re talking about them in your sleep it means they’re on your mind the rest of the time too.

Tomura’s not weighing in on that conversation, but he sort of wants to set the record straight. You aren’t always on his mind. He doesn’t think about you all that much. Sure, the two of you dated for a couple years, but that was at university, almost a decade ago – and Tomura’s the one who ended it. He just thinks about you a little more at this time of year. You always loved the cold, almost as much as Tomura hated it. Just one more thing you didn’t have in common.

That’s not why Tomura broke up with you, though. The two of you were different people, but Tomura would have gotten bored with somebody exactly like him. The important thing was that you understood each other, that you didn’t try to make each other something you weren’t. You never asked Tomura to be anything except who he was. Tomura felt safe with you, like he’d never felt safe with anybody. Safe to have whatever feelings he was having, knowing you’d be there for him no matter what.

You never asked Tomura to be something he wasn’t, but that didn’t matter. Your last year at university, things started to go wrong for you. You needed help, and Tomura couldn’t be who you needed him to be. It wasn’t in his programming to be there for you the way you were there for him, and he didn’t want to stick around and watch your resentment grow with every time he let you down. He’d rather leave first than watch you fall out of love with him. So he did.

He should have known you wouldn’t take the breakup lying down. I never asked you to do anything like that for me, he remembers you saying. I just want you to be here. Is that really so hard for you?

This isn’t some in sickness and in health thing, Tomura said. It’s not that serious.

He saw you flinch, and he knew he’d hurt you. Hurting you made him feel sick. It was serious to me, you said, your voice shaking, and you turned away. My mistake.

It was serious. Too serious for where Tomura was at back then, no matter how much he loved you. He felt like shit afterward, and when he ran it by his friends, they didn’t exactly help. Spinner made it pretty clear he thought Tomura was nuts. Dabi made a point of telling Tomura there’s no way he could do better than you. Twice pitched a fit because you were the only person who’d watch Star Wars with him, and you were never going to talk to any of them ever again.

The only person who sort of got it was Toga. Something about the right person, but the wrong time, and that made sense to Tomura. Maybe if the two of you were older it would have been different. Tomura usually tells himself that, when he thinks about you. It wasn’t on him. It was just bad timing. The fact that he’s never dated anybody since is bad timing, too.

He thinks about you a little more in the winter, but maybe he’s been doing it a little more than usual this winter, because he’s been thinking on and off about looking you up. Not for any real reason, just to see where you’re at. What you’re doing. If you look the way he remembers you, or if you’ve changed so much he can’t recognize you. If any of the dreams you used to talk about ended up coming true.

By the time Tomura gets to the coffee shop, his hands are basically numb, and the coffee shop is jam-packed. He has to get a lot further into the personal space of the person ahead of him in line than he wanted to, but he’s not going to freeze his ass off by standing there with the door open behind him. The person who gets in line behind him apparently didn’t get the memo about the door, and Tomura snaps at them without glancing over his shoulder. “Stay outside until there’s room.”

The door shuts, and Tomura faces front. There are so many people in here that the windows are steaming up, and the air would probably smell like sweat if it didn’t already smell so much like coffee. Tomura’s only consolation is that the baristas look just as done with the whole thing as he is. Hopefully the line will move fast.

It moves pretty fast, fast enough that Tomura’s hands haven’t warmed up by the time he reaches the head of the line. He also hasn’t been checking the menu. It feels stupid to order black coffee for ¥600 when he can make it at home for free. He scans the menu, trying pick something he won’t hate before the person in line behind him decides to murder him for taking too long, and settles on – “A hot chocolate,” the barista repeats. “Really?”

“Is there a problem or something?” Tomura snaps. “It’s on your menu.”

“No problem. What size?”

He’ll be cold on the walk home. Tomura orders the biggest one, and orders it extra-hot so his hands won’t freeze. The price is ridiculous, but Tomura can’t make decent hot chocolate at home. He only knows – or knew – one person who could do that. He reaches into his coat pocket for his wallet. Then his other coat pocket. Then both back pockets of his pants. The barista is drumming his fingers on the counter, and Tomura can hear discontented mumbling from the line behind him. This can’t be happening. He left his apartment specifically to buy coffee. There’s no way he forgot his fucking wallet.

Except that’s exactly what happened, because he can’t find it anywhere. “You can pay with your phone,” the barista says. Right. Tomura yanks his phone out of his pocket, but his hands are still frozen, and he loses his grip. The phone hits the tiles corner-first and a web of cracks spreads across the screen. “Wow –”

Tomura swears and scoops it up. He drops his phone all the time, but the screen doesn’t usually do that. “It still works. Give me a second –”

“No chance. There are other customers waiting –”

“Add a peppermint mocha to that hot chocolate. Same size.” The voice of the customer behind Tomura in line sounds weirdly familiar. “I’ve got both.”

The barista starts typing in the order, and Tomura turns to argue with the person who’s trying to pay for his drink, only for every last thought in his head to evaporate. The person behind him isn’t some stranger who’s trying to move the line ahead. It’s you.

You nudge past him to pay for the order, and you give your name for it, in case there was any doubt in Tomura’s head about who you are. There wasn’t, really. You look like you used to, almost. Your voice sounds almost exactly the same. The gestures Tomura sees as you take out your card to pay, the way you hesitate way too long over the tip screen before giving one that’s too big, are almost familiar. You look like Tomura remembers, except more like yourself. Which is –

“We should probably go this way,” you say, and Tomura snaps out of it. “Right now we’re holding up the line.”

“Yeah.” Tomura follows you to the pickup area. He’s expecting you to say something else, something about how you recognize him, but you don’t say a word. Maybe he’s the one who changed, or else you’re pretending not to recognize him to teach him a lesson. “So, uh – I don’t know if you remember –”

“Tomura? Yeah,” you say, and Tomura’s face heats up so fast that he has to look down at his phone to hide it. “I wasn’t going to say anything, in case it would be awkward. Is your phone okay?”

“It’s fine. The screen’s just fucked up.” Tomura burns a few seconds poking at it, trying to get himself under control. People run into their exes. It happens all the time, probably. People probably run into their ex-girlfriends who they still liked when they broke up with them, who were hot to start with but somehow got hotter in the ten years since the breakup, every goddamn day. “I’m fucked if it doesn’t wake up soon. I have to send the League a selfie to prove I left my house.”

Tomura’s probably said stupider things, in worse situations. He just can’t remember when they were. “You’re still close with the League?” you ask. You sound interested. “That’s really nice. I’m not close with anybody from school.”

It’s Tomura’s fault. Most of your friends were Tomura’s friends first. Somehow he doesn’t think telling you about how he and the League hang out at least once a week and usually more is the right move here. “Have you lived here the whole time?”

“No. I moved away for a while. But I always figured I’d end up back here.” You smile slightly. “Sometimes I think things happen when they’re supposed to.”

Things happen when they’re supposed to – like Tomura running into you, the same day as he got caught napping on a livestream and saying your name in his sleep. Toga’s going to lose her shit when she finds out about this. “So why’d you come back now?”

“A few reasons. Work, mainly,” you say. “Did you move away at all?”

“No. Stayed. Everything’s here.” Tomura keeps trying to revive his phone. If he looks at you, he’s going to stare. “Where’d you go?”

“You don’t have to ask me that,” you say. “I know you hate small talk.”

“If you know that, then you should know I’m only asking because I want to know,” Tomura says. “After we – uh, after. Where did you go?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” you say. “They’ll be done with our drinks way before it’s over. What are you going to do about that selfie if your phone doesn’t wake up in time?”

“Tell them I went but it broke.” Tomura’s already resigning himself to spending the next D&D session stuck under the sleeping curse, but it’s almost worth it – definitely worth it – if he got to run into you. “Look, is there somewhere you have to –”

“I can take a picture of you and text it to you,” you say. “That way you’ll have the evidence on your phone as soon as you get it working again.”

“Do you know my number?” Tomura asks without thinking. You give him a weird look. “What? Are you telling me you didn’t block me?”

“If it’s the same number you had back then, I still have it memorized,” you say. You glance down, searching through the pockets of your winter coat. The coat looks sort of familiar to Tomura. Maybe you had it when the two of you were together. “The League probably won’t buy it unless you’ve got the drink with you, right? So we should wait until it gets here.”

Tomura nods. It’s a great plan, except that he’s not going to be anywhere close to done talking to you by the time the drinks get here. He manages to coax some life into his phone, drops it in his pocket to conceal the evidence, and asks as bluntly as possible. “I just finished up a stream, so I’m free for the rest of the day. If you don’t have anywhere else to be, we should talk.”

You blink. “Why?”

“I want to hear the long story,” Tomura says. You look surprised. “I have stories, too. So we should –”

A barista shouts your name, and you turn to retrieve the drinks before Tomura can finish the sentence. He doesn’t love the interruptions, but it’s loud as hell in here, so he can forgive it. You hand Tomura his drink, then raise yours to your mouth for a sip. You’re holding it in both hands, and that’s when Tomura sees it. That’s the only reason he sees it. You’re wearing a ring on your fourth finger. On your left hand.

He can’t keep the shock out of his voice, and he’s damn lucky that he speaks before anything else has time to hit. “You’re married?”

“Engaged. The wedding’s in December.”

It’s January. “It takes that long to get married?”

“If you’re planning a big wedding, then yeah,” you say, and sigh. You shift away from the pickup counter, towards the door, and Tomura follows you, even though the impulse to jump out the coffee shop’s front window and go into witness protection is growing stronger by the second. “His family’s – traditional. If doing things in style makes them happy, it’s not that hard to put up with.”

Tomura thinks it probably is, or else you wouldn’t look that tired when you talk about your wedding. Shouldn’t you be excited talking about your wedding? Or maybe Tomura’s just reading what he wants to read on your face, instead of the truth. That for you, running into Tomura is the same as running into anybody else. That his heart’s the only one that skips a beat when he makes eye contact with you. That you’re fine, that you’re happy. That the four years you spent with Tomura didn’t matter to you at all.

“So,” you say, into what Tomura’s realizing is an awkward silence, “should I take this picture?”

“Uh, yeah.” Tomura’s planning to just stand there, staring into the middle distance and trying not to look like he’s had the wind knocked out of him, but you shift him around so he’s standing with his back to the coffee shop instead. You take one, two, maybe three pictures. “That’s enough. Thanks.”

“I��ll text you,” you say. Your phone vanishes into your coat pocket, along with the hand that’s not holding your drink. “Stay warm, okay?”

You’re leaving. Tomura’s not anywhere close to done talking to you. He doesn’t care that you’re married or engaged or whatever the fuck, he still wants to know – what happened to you, where you went, how you ended up here. He tries to think of something to keep your attention, to make you turn back around and look at him, and realizes with a sick rush of guilt that this must have been how you felt, when he was breaking up with you. Searching for something that would get a response and coming up permanently empty.

He finally finds something, when you’ve almost made it to the door. “Hey. Thanks for – uh, the drink. It was good to see you.”

The old you would have said any time. You’d have said it was good to see Tomura, too, and maybe you’d have slowed down a step, let him catch up. Instead you incline your head. “Goodbye, Tomura,” you say, and then you’re gone.

It’s freezing, but Tomura has to walk. He can’t stay here. He hits the street, then spends too long trying to figure out which direction you went, like an idiot. What is he going to do, chase after you? All his stupid thoughts about looking you up – what did he think was going to happen if he saw you again? Tomura doesn’t know, but it wasn’t this, and it should have been. Why wasn’t it? Whatever it is, he can deal with it at home. Tomura drinks half his hot chocolate, burns his tongue, and sets off into the cold.

By the time he’s slammed the door of his apartment behind him and found his wallet sitting on the kitchen counter, he’s gotten a text from you, with two pictures of himself attached. You must remember what the League is like about proof, because you framed the picture so well that Tomura’s friends won’t be able to accuse him of editing his face into an existing shot. But Tomura can’t send this picture to his friends. He can’t send it to anyone. Anybody who looks at it will see exactly how Tomura feels.

How does he feel, really? He doesn’t know, but he knows he had it backward, all this time. He left you. Ten years ago. He even ghosted you to make it easier – for him or for you, he’s not sure which. He might think of you more in the winter and have been thinking about looking you up and have felt his heart race when he saw you again and say your name in his sleep, but he’s over it. Tomura’s been over it, because he left you.

So why does he feel like you’re leaving him?

[acaaai-t]

and it was all yellow.

[modern au! scaramouche x gn! reader]

cw: angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of cheating, breakups, reader likes yellow

“Let’s live together when we get married! Oh oh, and we can get cat too,” you exclaimed. “Or a dog, if you prefer.”

“No kids?” a smile tugged at the corner of his lips at your bubbling excitement.

Your nose scrunched up at the mere thought of having children. “No, no kids,” you said, shaking your head.

Scaramouche laughed, the corner of his eyes crinkling up as he looked at you, eyes filled with just pure adoration and love for you.

“Our bedroom can be painted.. hmm..”

“What about yellow?” Scaramouche suggested. “It’s is your favorite color after all.”

You clapped your hands together, eyes lighting up with excitement. “Ooh yes! Great idea. Let’s go look at furnitures, please?”

“I still think you’re thinking too far ahead,” he mumbled, yet nevertheless, he took your hand and guided you out the living room.

“It’s never too late to start planning,” you said, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his lips.

…

“Mmm, no. Too… blue.”

“How about this one?” the sales lady gestured to a simple pastel couch placed upon a soft plush carpet. “This one just came in, part of out newest collection of furniture.”

You looked at Scaramouche, who had an unpleasant expression on his face. He didn’t seem to be a fan of the colors—nor the shape of the furniture itself. You turned back to the sales assistant and gently shook your head.

She looked slightly disappointed at your rejection, but she quickly led you to another set of kitchen setups, all the while explaining the benefits provided and how nice it looks. You ran a finger over the waxed surface of the wooden dining table. A cloth of yellow and white checkered pattern lay over the center of the table, a vase of yellow daffodils sitting atop of it.

Yellow.

For as long as you can remember, it’d always been your favorite color. You’ve taken quite the liking to sunflowers recently, and coincidentally enough, they were a beautiful shade of yellow too. Scaramouche knew—he somehow always knew—and made sure to surprise you with bouquets of fresh flowers every once in a while, the giant sunflower being the centerpiece.

Scaramouche knew you, inside and out. The good and the bad. He’s seen through with you through your worst and your best. He knows exactly how to cheer you up when you’re feeling down, via a long cuddle session; how you like your coffee, always black with a splash of vanilla creamer; the people you love and hate; that you adore the color yellow.

Never was there a day where Scaramouche would hear himself say that yellow was lovely color. For some odd reason, ever since he was a young child, he’d always hated yellow. But after meeting you, it’s as if yellow had been completely painted in a new light. Everything yellow he saw, he saw you in it. Splashed across the sunset, blooming in a field under the stars—you. You were always there.

“Do you like it?” Scaramouche asked.

You met his eyes and smiled. “Yeah.”

…

“Yeah, its… true.”

You said nothing.

Scaramouche shifted uncomfortably in his seat at your silence. You kept your eyes trained on the nearly dead daffodil leaning helplessly against its ceramic cage. The petals had begun falling off, you noticed. When had that happened? Just a couple days ago everything was fine. It was healthy and thriving. Happy.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Did he think that such a measly apology was enough to compensate for your broken heart? Nothing Scaramouche did or say could soothe the burning ache that hollowed you from the inside-out. He’d been playing with your emotions for nearly two weeks now. Had it not been Scaramouche slipping up, you would’ve never caught on that he was being intimate with someone else that wasn’t you.

Tears brimmed, the water tension so close to falling. You blinked, and it broke, tears trailing down your cheeks. Does he feel anything seeing you cry? Does he regret his actions? Will he hate himself for what he’s done to you? You gritted your teeth. Even if he begged for you to stay, you won’t waver. It’s his loss.

You sniffled and wiped away your tears. It’s useless. Crying won’t reverse what’s been done. “Whatever,” you muttered, pushing away from the dining table. Your heart aches, but you pushed the pain aside and slowly collected yourself.

The place that you’d once shared with Scaramouche—a place that you once dared called home, was now nothing more than a painful reminder of what once was yours. A place where you’d spent creating countless day and nights painting up a paradise where you’d raise your children with your husband. Everything you’ve done was futile. It’s over.

It was bitter. The process of packing your belongings as Scaramouche remained at the dining table was cruel. Everything you wanted to take only serves as nothing more than a taunt to your now dead relationship. Everything you ever loved you shared with him, and now, you don’t think you’d ever be able to look at them in the same light anymore. Your hands hovered over a pot of crocheted sunflowers sitting above the fireplace. Crestfallen, youfelt your heart twist once more.

In the end, your tiny backpack was only filled with everyday essentials. You swallowed back a cry and dialed a friend as you prepared to leave this god forsaken place.

“Hey Xiao,” your voice was quivering.

Scaramouche stiffened up at the mention of your friend’s name. You didn’t see it however, for your back was turned to him. He wanted to stop you from leaving, to stop you from stepping out the door. But he refrained from doing so. He chewed anxiously at his bottom lips. Don’t leave. Please. He wanted to say. I’m sorry.

Yet he did nothing, only squeezing his eyes shut, listening to the sound of the door slamming shut. When it was finally just him alone in the apartment, he buried his face in the palm of his hands and cried.

The yellow curtains fluttered gently, and the last petal of the daffodil fell.

✩ ·┆ masterlist┆ >> part 2 <<

notes—

— quick life update: haven’t played genshin in a year now, and it’s college application season so i’m going to start stressing; sorry if i disappear again it will keep happening, unfortunately

© acaaai-t — do not plagiarize, repost, or translate

[lokisprettygirl]

Right Person, Right Time (Modern Daemon x Female Reader) (18+) (Non Canon Au)

Read chapter 1 here

Chapter 2

Summary : Daemon takes you to his bed, in the way you wanted and didn't want at the same time.

Warning: 18+ , Mention of infidelity, death, smut in later chapters, reader has self deprecating attitude

If it was possible to die from embarrassment, you would have been dead by now, perhaps you were overreacting because it has been barely 5 seconds since you had uttered those god awful words --

“Good take me to your bed then.. i don't want to be alone tonight "

Yeah you did that and the man next to you, the man that you had the audacity to insult just a few moments ago, the man whose last name wasn't something you had bothered to ask, the man who had heard you very clearly just now and had gone completely quiet on you, so quiet that you could hear your heartbeat.

He was not even giving you a moment of grace towards your undignified manner, you'd have preferred to hear a sharp no instead of the awkward silence that had clouded the compact space of the elevator and it was suffocating you... suffocating - 

And Thank Goodness your floor had arrived.

Now all you had to do was move out of this building and never see him again. Perhaps get out of the city and then the country while you were onto that.

As you were about to step out, his arm came in front of you and he pressed the close door button so you looked up at his face. God he was close, too close, you could smell him and he didn't smell awful. On the contrary, he smelled fucking fantastic but then his manly scent reminded you of Marco and you wanted to disappear again.

“That's not my floor lady” He said to you so you gulped in response, his mouth curved into a smile before he stepped away from you.

“So you heard me huh?” you asked as you crossed your arms.

“You were too loud and too clear” you huffed internally as he responded in that smug manner.

You could just say no right, though you asked for it, there was still time to get out of this situation, why get him involved in your tangled mess of a life? 

You wanted to say something but as you watched the elevator moving up you didn't really say anything, you didn't want to go back to your apartment. Too many memories, too many imprints of Marco over there. You had to survive the night somehow and you found yourself unable to do it all alone. He had made you so weak and so non fucntional.

“Ummm don't take this the wrong way but what I said just now- ” you chuckled to hide your embarrassment so he raised his brow “What I'm saying is that...I just..i ummm..i .. when I said that i –”

“Ssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhh” you turned your head to look at him as he shushed you, his lips formed a pout when he dragged the sound of the shushing as if he was speaking to a petulant child. Okay he had a nice set of lips, pink, and they looked soft and..well at least you weren't rebounding with some junkie hobo you thought. Not that there was anything right with this situation either.

As the elevator stopped finally at the top most floor and the door opened, you noticed another door and he stepped forward to enter the passkey, that door then opened straight into a -

“Lobby? You have a Lobby of your own?” You asked him as you followed him and looked around in wonderment, he smiled as he noticed the wide eyed look on your face. 

“Perks of the penthouse”

The lobby had a narrow corridor on the other end that lead towards the main area of the penthouse, he guided you to his supposed living room and you stared at him as he took his leather jacket off and dumped it on the couch before he unhooked the glasses from the collar of his white t-shirt and placed it on a side table, he then disappeared into one of the rooms and came back shortly after.

“You're ruining my carpet, dry yourself up” He threw the towel in your direction so you caught it swiftly before it could hit his shiny expensive carpet.

“Thanks..I guess” as you dried the dripping water from your hair you watched him strut his way behind the bar in the corner of the room, a part of you still wanted to run but then the thought of going back to the apartment and being all alone with nothing but the memories of you and Marco felt dreadful.

Two years and it meant nothing to him, you meant nothing to him, of course you didn't, you wanted to take out your phone and check if he had called or messaged but then again, every thought of yours circled back to the moment of him fucking someone else behind your back. Someone very hot and attractive.

“What's your choice of poison, love?” You heard Daemon's voice so you sighed and walked towards his couch to sit down.

“Anything would do in this moment” you answered him but had to grimace internally as he returned with two glasses of scotch on the rocks. When you said anything, you didn't mean a literal shot of gasoline. He offered you the glass so you took it and sipped on it because you had no other choice, the couch sank in as he sat down next to you so you scooted a little farther away from him..

“So ummm how do you afford all this.. generational wealth?” he smirked as you questioned him, you were so judgemental and assuming but for some reason this trait of yours didn't annoy him as much it would have if it was attached to someone else.

“Yeah, sort of, but I also work for it” he told you honestly so you chuckled in what seemed to be a very condescending manner.

“But you're home, at 5 in the afternoon?” you said to him as a matter of fact.

“I mostly work at nights..” 

“Doing..what exactly?” 

“I own businesses..clubs, bars, pubs, hotels, that sort of thing” he answered in a way that made you feel as if he was trying to sound humble about it but it didn't help his case, he was bragging and he was bragging hard.

“Anything you own that I might have heard of?” you asked him so he gave you a smile. That's what he had been waiting for.

“Dark Sister..the nightclub”

You almost spat out your drink as he said that, that stupid fucking place, that place was important to you, that's where you had met Marco for the first time, and he often took you there to unwind after a long week.

“You own that.. like the whole club?” you asked him, surprise evident in your voice. 

“No I just own one sofa in there..ofcourse i own the whole thing” 

“Ohhh ..i ..i didn't know that..i have been there..quite a few times.. never saw you there..do you even go there?” 

“All the time. There's a world outside your hot lover's arms you know? You never really got out of it did you?” you glared at him as he said that. What was this developing energy between you two?  It definitely wasn't positive to say the least but it didn't seem completely negative either. Up until this moment and for so long you two had been only nice with each other or polite would be a better suited term but this passive aggressive conversation didn't seem that way.

“Well.. He does have great arms, big.. manly arms, comforting arms…warmmmmm” your voice choked on your tears as you thought of him and as much as he despised hearing the praises of your cheating ex he understood what you were going through in the moment and he didn't want to add to your misery so he grabbed the tissue box from the coffee table and passed one to you.

“Thank you” you mumbled as you grabbed the tissue to wipe your dripping tears. Fucking Marco, he had ruined your life forever.

“Look i.. when I said I wanted you to get me into your bed-” 

And he interrupted you.

“I have a great bed, wanna see?” He spoke so you opened your mouth to say something offensive but you did want to see the bed after seeing that carpet.

“Fine..I'll see YOUR bed” you gestured to him with your fingers, air quoting the term dramatically to come across as uninterested.

As he led you towards his bedroom you looked around and sighed, you wanted to find something to complain about, perhaps messy clothes all around or dirt in the corner but it was squeaky clean thoroughly. You didn't know why you were behaving this way with him, what was this? Couldn't have been sexual tension.

And the king sized bed did look amazing, almost made you want to lie down but then the bed reminded you of Marco, everything reminded you of Marco. 

You sighed as you walked towards the bed and then turned to look at him.

“Okay let's do this ..no expectations..no promises..no attachment..no strings whatever right? It's just one night” you blinked your eyes to affirm your point so he chuckled and stepped towards you.

“You're a strange kind of woman, you know that?” he said as caressed his own chin as if he was assessing an anomaly.

“Way to compliment a woman you're about to fuck” 

“I’m not going to fuck you sweetheart..just sit down and relax” he said as he grumbled.

Okay you took that as an offense.

“Why ? Why can't you fuck me..am I so unfuckable? Would you rather fuck a hot stripper from your club or something? Would you fuck me if I was hot? Or a stripper? Or a hot stripper? What is wrong with me? Do tell me” His brows furrowed as you blabbed nonsensically. Now that you were focusing on it, his brows didn't really have.. brow hair ..his head was a different story though. Way too much hair. Thick and bushy, and curls at the bottom -

He suddenly walked towards you so you took a step back and hit the foot of the bed which made you sit down involuntarily.

“I do not own a strip club FYI, but if I did I'd hire you and you're right given the chance I'd certainly fuck this very hot, very fuckable stripper” he leaned down and placed his palms on the bed around you on as he spoke. Hazel eyes, he has hazel eyes mixed with green, you had never really noticed before.

He had a way, strange way of .. complimenting you and insulting you at the same time. So different from Marco, honey dripped from his mouth whenever he spoke to you.

“Then why won't you do it?” you asked him, your voice soft and vulnerable so he looked down for a moment and then looked right into your eyes again.

“I want to.. don't get it twisted but I’m not going to fuck a grieving woman, when I have a woman like you in my bed i like to think that I'm all she's thinking about in the moment. I'm not going to be inside you and have you wishing it was that lothario instead” he said to you before he stepped away, your eyes welled up and you didn't even try to control it this time. That lothario was the love of your life, it was just your luck that you weren't his.

“Why did you bring me here then?’ you asked him as you stood up so he crossed his arms.

“Because you didn't want to be alone.. and you're not alone right now, are you?”  he mumbled in a no nonsense tone and you didn't know what it was, it wasn't as if he had said anything profound or magical but the kindness in his tone made you break down right then, you sat down on his bed and wept as hard as you could. It was sinking in finally, you'd never find a man to love you again and you'd definitely never find anyone like Marco. 

He watched you for a moment, well a few moments before he walked towards the bed and laid down next to you, though maintaining an ample amount of distance from you. This morning when he woke up he definitely didn't imagine in his wildest thoughts that the pretty girl from his building would be crying profusely in his bed by the end of the day. A small part of him that he had killed long ago wanted to scoot closer and comfort you but he restrained himself.

No expectations, no promises, he had to live by that. For his own sake.

After what felt like hours when your sniffling died down you propped yourself on your elbows and stared at him, 

“Well ..you were right about one thing..this is a mighty good bed” he couldn't help but smile as you said that, as if you weren't bawling your eyes out just a minute ago..

“I only do the best darling” 

“Okay ummm..i.. would like to just keep my head down here and close my eyes for a moment -” 

You said to him so he immediately got up and grabbed your arms to pull yourself up as well.

“Change up first, you can't sleep in wet clothes and especially not in my bed you dummy” he said to you as if he was your father so you crossed your arms, you were just starting to find him tolerable.

“I'll just go to my apartment” you said to him so he sighed and walked towards his closet to grab a comfy tee and shorts that he hardly ever wears.

“Change and you can go” he commanded. Who did he think he was? A kind and known stranger who worried about you getting sick in your drenched clothes? Well fuck his kindness.

“I'll change when I'm home” you argued, at this point you were just arguing for the sake of it.

“No you won't..you'd collapse on your door, won't even make it to the bedroom” he argued further.

“If I change I'm sleeping in your bed ..you can find another..bed somewhere in this huge penthouse of yours” 

“Fine with me” 

You huffed as you grabbed the clothes from him and went to the bathroom to change quickly, you were glad the shirt was loose enough so he wouldn't notice that you weren't wearing your bra.

As you came out he stared at you, you wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

“You find this funny?” 

“No..You just look so silly is all” 

“Blame your stupid clothes” 

He brought his hands up as if surrendering and accepting defeat finally so you decided to not say anything further. 

As you sat down next to him you turned your head to look at him.

“Thank you ..for the clothes and the bed and your company and everything else” you said to him as politely as you could amd you really meant it this time. He tilted his head as he noticed the hint of tears in your eyes.

He could tell you were going to be a trouble for him.

“Okay” he mumbled before he got up and walked towards the couch to lie down. 

You didn't want to be alone so he wasn't going to leave you alone. 

As your head hit the pillow and eyes closed you only saw the image of Marco fucking that hot brunette with fervent passion. It was burned in your memory now and you knew you'd never be able to unsee it no matter how much you wanted it but you could worry about that tomorrow, tonight you weren't alone so you didn't have to wallow in self pity.

“Daemon?” You called out his name so he hummed in response.

“What is your full name? I never asked -” 

You heard the sound of faint chuckling coming from him before he answered. 

“Targaryen..Daemon Targaryen” 

Targaryen.. Targaryen... Targaryen..where had you heard that name before, you had heard it somewhere and then suddenly it dawned on you.

You knew him. No that wasn't right, you knew about him.

😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

Note : What does she know?

Taglist @unofficialavenger90 @kimberleyneko-blog @m-riaa @anukulee @erebus-et-eigengrau @littledark11 @silhouetteofher

[amywritesthings]

did i cross the line ?

pairing: armin arlert x f!reader ( attack on titan ) word count: 1K+ warnings: 18+ for overall context; au - modern universe, slight dubcon due to intoxication, alcohol, college party, eren yeager being a shit, implied slow burn friends to lovers, ✨ tension author's note: i was drinking wine and wrote this up in 30 min?

You don't know how you ended up here -- tucked away in a closet of a fraternity house you want no part of, barely finding your breath as trembling hands hold either side of your face like you're something precious; something that can break.

You smell the distinct scent of cheap beer and a mirage of other liquors mixing with your own minty tooth paste. Your head is spinning, but you're sober.

Sometime between getting the panicked text from Armin ( i don't know why i'm getting dragged to this thing ) and seeing Eren's first private Instagram story ( look at @/aarlert getting insane! ) you had packed up your bag and save your friend from total embarrassment.

If this is Eren's doing, then he's been begging to drag Armin to Titan Frat for months now -- some bullshit excuse of wanting to prove that Armin can be fun, but you've always thought Armin was fun.

He's your favorite person; your best friend since the start of university. He's funny. He's compassionate.

He's much too hard on himself, constantly worrying, but you like to think you both cancel out one another's anxieties.

His roommate, Eren Yeager, liked to joke that he was in love with you. You didn't quite believe it -- couldn't, not when you have your own deep-seated crush in the back of your mind.

So somehow between making your way into this chaotic house where people dance, drink, and fuck the way through the hallways like they're on a world-ending marathon, you find him: his yellow-blonde hair is a dead giveaway, wipsy and faded at the nape of his neck. He's holding a red cup looking wildly out of place in this sea of extroverts wearing a faded flannel and band tee. You noticed he left his glasses at home, so you can only imagine how poor his eyesight is.

"Armin!" you shout over the music, and he turns on instinct. His eyes find yours, narrowing then widening. The relief passes like a crashing wave, as if you're the soothing balm to his nerves.

"What -- What are you doing here?" he yelps, abandoning his red cup to a table full of forgotten cups. His hands reach for your face, rendering you speechless.

Armin doesn't even like to bump shoulders, much less touch you. He's staunchly unaffectionate physically with a gift of gab -- he'll tell you how much he adores you, how important you are to him, but he's not the touchy-feely friend.

Still, you're stunned when his fingers run along your cheeks, cupping your face.

"I saw Eren's story," you say over the music, trying to lean closer.

His brows knit. "What?"

"I saw Eren's story!"

"I can't really hear -- hold on!"

Dropping his hands from his face, he quickly searches your sides -- there -- and grabs your hand. Again, the sudden proximity of him is knocking off your axis.

He navigates the hallways like he knows where he's going, cautious to protect you from touching the couples making out against walls, totally oblivious to the world around them. He covers your elbow, your shoulder, as if he's your own personal bubble.

Careful.

Always so goddamn careful with you.

He tugs on a bedroom door. Locked.

Armin groans, before trying another more slender door.

It's a closet, empty and seemingly refurbished. His gentle blue eyes, stormy from consuming liquor, look to you.

"Is this okay?"

"To what, talk in?"

"Yeah," he exhales, his pale cheeks peppered with a pink hue. "Pretty sure all the other rooms are occupied."

Huffing a sigh, you slip into the closet and turn. "Armin, you practically smell like a liquor cabinet."

"I know," he sheepishly confesses, closing the door behind him. He's only slightly taller than you, but not by much. "Eren, he..."

He's pushy, is what you imagine he wants to say.

Constantly badgering poor Armin to conform to things he isn't interested in just so he has a buddy to pledge with for rush season this year.

"Are you okay?" you softly ask, and Armin lets out a tiny huff of a laugh.

"Of course I'm fine," he mumbles. "You're here now."

Even in the small light of this closet you see his eyes widen, realizing he said it out loud. You try not to laugh, lips pursed together to avoid it, but he laughs for you.

"Shit," he exhales. "Okay. I stand by what I said."

"Yeah?"

"God, yeah, are you kidding?" Armin asks with a cute scrunch of his nose. "You make everything a thousand times better."

You lean against the wall, laughing softly with him. "Well, I appreciate that. Are you sure you're okay? On a scale of one to ten--"

"You don't have to take care of me," he reassures, moving closer to him. "You always take care of me. I-- I should be taking care of you."

Blinking twice, you look up at him, but he's busy staring at your lips.

"Min?"

"Uh-huh?"

"What's going on in that empty head of yours?"

"A lot, actually, if you can believe it," he admits. "So... so much, but I can't..."

Armin's always had difficulty verbalizing what he wants. What he's thinking. You've always been so patient, allowing him to unravel the ball of yarn in his head until the red string straightens itself out.

His hands slide up to your face again, as if magnetic. You make the smallest noise of surprise, but it isn't unwanted.

"I kept seeing all of those people," he murmurs, leaning in closer. His breath tickles your face. "Kissing, touching, in the halls of this damn place... all I wanted to do was to text you."

His thumb runs along your cheek like he's craving to know you, memorize you, the way he's memorized every note in your shared classes.

You make no sudden movement, as if the trance will somehow awaken Armin from this new warpath he's carved for himself. "Why didn't you?"

"Because I can't really see the buttons right now," he admits with a tiny, embarrassed laugh. "But you still came for me, like you knew I wanted you."

Oh.

That's a loaded double entendre.

Your eyes round, watching as he leans closer.

"Min?"

He doesn't answer right away.

Instead, Armin drops one of his hands to run a gentle finger up your arm -- it's subtle, the manicured edge of his fingernail running deliciously against your skin.

Like he's afraid to touch.

He's always so afraid.

But so are you.

"The things I wish I could do," he exhales, his nose ever so lightly brushing against yours. "Things I could do -- if you'd let me."

[yournightmary]

Roommate!Ellie HCs

content warning:: fem!reader, modern!AU, mentions of weed, being drunk and creepy men

AN:: Hi! I’m really glad (surprised) you all liked my last one:) I’m taking requests, only smaller things though:( still trying to get a hang of the whole writing thing.

part II here!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who was so desperate to save some money that she posted a roommate ad online. First 10 people were total creeps, then there were like 5 different guys that thought it was some kind of a sexual offer. But then you reached out.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who at first was really nervous to meet you, a little scared about you actually being a 40 year old white man.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who hid most of her nerdy stuff because she was afraid you would make fun of her or find her weird. Stuffed all of her funko pops into her closet and shoved her posters under her bed :(

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who for the first like 2 months wouldn’t be found dead in the same room as you. And if by some miracle she was, she would be so painfully awkward. She was scared that she’ll make you uncomfortable somehow, but you were just like ??? you thought she was really nice and cute??

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who spent most of her time at Jesse’s babbling about how funny and cool and beautiful you are. She felt a little bad about it, you were just her roommate after all. A roommate she was crushing on like a middle schooler.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who stopped laughing at the ‘and they were roommates’ jokes, instead she would get embarrassed and immediately think about you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who finally got the balls to befriend you when one time Dina and Jesse paid her an unexpected visit.

“Do you uh-… you wanna hang out with us?” She asked you awkwardly, fiddling nervously with her fingers. Her heart was racing and her hands were so clammy… god what was happening to her?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who absolutely loves watching dumb tv shows with you. I’m talking Love Island, Kitchen nightmares, Big Brother- all that crap. One time she watched a new episode of your favorite show without you and felt so bad about it… and about faking her reactions while rewatching it with you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who doesn’t really care about skincare but always watches you do your routine. She just uses a cheap face wash and a plain moisturizer and somehow her skin is clear like glass. Whenever you ask her to let you do her skincare she’ll act like she doesn’t want it, but inside she’s literally giggling and kicking her feet.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who always looks at you walking around the apartment with heart shaped eyes. No matter if you just woke up and your hair is a mess or if you just got back from a party and are stumbling drunkenly into every corner. She thinks you’re effortlessly beautiful, end of story.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who is naturally messy, but not in a bad way? She just has a lot of clutter around, little trinkets and doohickeys she found god knows where.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who breaks at least one mug a week. She’s really clumsy and the fact that you’re all that she can think about doesn’t help.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who felt like a teenager that got caught smoking cigarettes when you found out she smokes weed. She was already high by the time you came back from work and almost got a panik attack. You had to babysit her until she got better.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who loves when you call your small shared apartment ‘home’. It just stirs something deep inside her and puts a grin on her face.

I’ll probably make a part 2 when I get more ideas:3