#Modern au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lulublack90 · 3 days

Text

Prompt 24 - Modern AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 23, word count 937

Sirius gripped his coffee as though it were a lifeline. It was the biggest, strongest coffee he could find, watered down with copious amounts of milk. He took little sips as he logged into his computer at work, brought up his list of tasks for the day and slowly began muddling his way through.

He’d gone out last night with James, against his better judgement, not that it took much persuasion on James’s part. All he had to do was bat his hazels at him, and Sirius was putty in his hands.

He’d been having a great time, downing drinks, shaking his arse to the vintage jukebox and then woken up in some fit lad’s bed, hence the massive coffee and the mind-numbing hangover. He’d crept quietly out of the little flat and stumbled his way down the harsh concrete steps that smelled like weed, piss and, for some bizarre reason, hairspray. Sirius had rushed home, hopped in the shower, changed his clothes and hurried to the coffee shop on the corner. He couldn’t even remember the man’s name. He put it out of his mind, reasoning that he’d never see him again anyway.

It took an age for the little digital clock on his computer screen to blink to 12:00 and signal lunchtime.

Feeling the need for greasy food, he went to pull out his mobile to order a McDonald’s when he realised he didn’t have it. He checked all his pockets and his bag. It wasn’t there. The panic had just set in that it had been stolen at the bar last night when his computer alerted him to a new email on his personal account.

‘Hi, erm, I guess Sirius. Sorry, I didn’t get your name last night 😬.

So anyway, I have your phone. You must have left it here when you snuck out this morning. (You are not sneaky, by the way! Like an elephant in size nines!) But yeah, anytime you want to come by and get it is fine. I’ll be in all day. Crap, I hope you get this email, or I’ve just got myself a new phone. It’s actually a big upgrade to mine. On second thoughts, it’s mine now, mwahaha 😈!

Thanks

Remus Lupin.’

Sirius stared at the words for a few minutes, taking them in, before picking up the work phone from his desk and phoning himself.

“Hello?” A voice on the other end answered. “Hi, I’m not Sirius. He left his phone at mine last night.”

“Hi, Remus. It’s me. Sirius.” He added in case he hadn’t realised.

Well, I guessed when you used my name. I highly doubt anyone in your phone book knows who I am. Especially ginger toss pot number 1. There’s more than one ginger toss pot?” Remus snickered.

“Wait, how do you know that, and how did you get my email address? Have you hacked into my phone?!” He felt outraged. How had he even gotten in, though? It was password-protected.

“Sirius, 6969 is not a strong password. Plus, I could see where you’d jabbed at the screen to unlock it. You really need to clean your phone.” Remus went on.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” He paused for a second, trying to rein in the snarkiness. “I don’t finish work until 5. Is it alright to come over after that?”

“Sure,” Remus answered. “I’ll be in.”

“Great, thanks.” Sirius forced a smile on his face so Remus could hear his sincerity.

“Who’s Specky Dick Nuts? Because they’ve been blowing up your phone all morning before I woke up and found it. They seem to have stopped now, though.”

“Oh, that’s my best mate James. Oh shit, if he’s gone quiet, he’s probably tracking my phone. Er, be prepared. He probably thinks I need rescuing.” There was a loud thudding on the other end of the line.

“Er, I think your friend might be here,” Remus whispered into the phone.

“Put me on speaker so I can talk to him.” He heard the faint click as he was put on speaker and the sound of Remus unlocking the four locks on his door.

“Hi, you must be James,” Remus said.

“Where is he?!” James’s voice was stern and full of concern.

“James, mate. I’m fine. I’m at work. I just forgot to pick up my phone this morning. This is Remus, by the way. He kindly let me know he had it.” He prayed that was enough to call off the Potter inquisition.

“Oh, cool. Hi, Remus.”

“Hi, James.”

“Sorry, I thought you were some lunatic. And you were keeping him prisoner.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Happens all the time.” The phone line was filled with laughter, and Sirius had to hold his receiver away from his head.

“Hey, James, can you take my phone, seeing as you’re there?”

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks, Remus.” He managed to say before James hung him up. He felt oddly dejected for some reason but brushed it off.

When he came back from lunch, he found a new email, this time from Remus’s actual address.

‘Can I take you out on a date?’

It said. Sirius felt a surge of joy and so replied.

‘What do you have in mind?’

‘Dinner? Movie? Massive shagathon?’

Sirius choked on his own spit at Remus’s reply. He coughed as he typed back.

‘Jesus, Remus. Are you always so forward?’

‘What can I say? You made an impression 😉.’

‘Yeah, go on then.’

And that was how Sirius found himself for the second morning in a row in Remus Lupin’s bed. But this time, he didn’t sneak out.

88 notes · View notes

aha-my-villainous-thoughts · 2 days

Text

Lil modern Ed wip, inspired by NY Street fashion photography. I'm still backpacking (currently in Bahol) so enjoy a grainy ass photo of the babygirl in question.

It occurs to me I haven't drawn this guy in his canon leathers that much... should probably fix that.

Outfit inspo source

#ed teach #modern au #ofmd #our flag means death #the villain's wips #speedpaint #ofmd fanart #ed teach fanart #blackbonnet #edward teach #gentlebeard

115 notes · View notes

neteyamsmoon · 2 days

Text

Welcome to vegas, baby

~ Summary : You heard Las Vegas is an amazing city so why not get a trip to it? You also heard there live hot guys only, but didn't expect one to take care of you.

~ Warnings : moderu au teyam, human reader, fingering, physic insecurity (reader), masturbating (nete<3)

~ Word count : 1.9k+

~ Translations : tìyawn - my love

~ Author's note : This was so rushed and idk if there even is a plot 🙏 forgive me!! Neteyam pic belongs to sullytey on tiktok and divider to @cafekitsune

ꨄ︎

Welcome to vegas baby

I want you come and pay me

Give me the money, give me diamonds, give me rubies baby

Give me a best trip

I wanna go shoppin'

Get on your knees and beg me please to let you in me

"Vegas" (I wanna ride) by Joseline Hernandez

"Hey there, sweetling!" Neteyam shouted in direction over the loud music that was buzzing in your ears. You turned your head towards the voice, not knowing the owner of it was actually talking to you.

Neteyam smirked when you looked around, desperately searching for the one who called. He made his way through humans and na'vi, finally passing by to you. He didn't come to you just yet, he didn't want to seem a creep.

Instead, he ordered you another drink, just like the one you were close to finishing. After you swallowed the last drop of the sweet pink liquid in your glass, the bartender brought another one your way. You didn't expect a new drink, possibly free. Maybe he wanted to get under your skin but he was also na'vi.

Las Vegas is a place for everybody, na'vi or human. But this place is more populated by na'vi cause now tell me who, as a human, would be in their right mind to live here. Exactly! Nobody. Here the na'vi's are hot, well built and simply sexy. That's why most of them were single, nobody could get to them.

You straightened your back and when the bartender passed by, you stopped him.

"Excuse me!"

The bartender stopped in his tracks and turned around to you, leaning forward and supporting his weight with his arms by the counter.

"I didn't order this-" "I know. Someone ordered it for you." your eyes widened as you took in his words. You couldn't think of someone who would actually buy you a drink for nothing.

You nodded slowly, quietly muttering an 'okay' as he left. Though, who were you to say no to a free drink? You looked around one more time before you picked up the glass, bringing it to your lips and letting the pink colored fluid go down your throat as you savoured its sweet taste.

From afar, Neteyam was stroking himself, thinking of how your hands would feel around him. He couldn't help but stroke his cock faster, feeling himself getting closer, the simple thought of you pleasuring him only adding fire to his fuel.

He closed his eyes, biting his bottom lip to prevent his moans from getting heard. Neteyam came all over his hand, drowning it in his sticky seed. He brought his hand up to his face, watching his cum stick to his fingers. Whenever he tried parting them, he saw how they were connected by a thin line of cum.

"Fuck" he muttered, quickly zipping up his jeans and going to the bathroom, keeping his dirty hand inside his jacket pocket. Entering the bathroom, he turned on the water and brought his hand closer, watching the mess on it disappear under the pressure.

As his hand was finally clean, he looked around for some napkins but there weren't any. He closed his eyes in frustration before he inhaled through his nose, letting out a breath through his mouth. With the other clean hand, he threw his shirt over his head and dried off his hand. Now that his shirt was wet, he didn't even bother bringing it with him anymore. Instead, he just threw it away in the bin as he looked at himself in the mirror.

Now as a young adult, he was good looking. Starting working up from 16 really did help him. Now, he looked magnificent. He had a God-like body with rock hard abs, a back so large that sometimes he had trouble passing through door frames, thick thighs, and huge arms. But his favorite part of his body was his chest. He could say he outgrew his own mother. Others said it was just genetics but Neteyam had massive pecs. If he ran, they bounced. If he jumped, they jiggled. Whatever he did, there was movement.

He flexed his arms in the mirror, watching his muscles bulge at his action. When suddenly, he turned his head to the side and saw you. You were standing there, with your phone lifted up almost at the level of your face. You've been taking pics of him since you misunderstood the toilet signs and accidentally entered the men's bathroom. Neteyam wasn't the one to back down, and neither were you.

"Like what you see?" he turned to you, flexing for your little phone to collect and keep. Now you couldn't ignore the wet patch that was forming on your underwear, your folds were already leaking with arousal and of course Neteyam could smell it. That's why he continued flexing just for you, letting his lips tug upwards and form a smirk on his handsome face.

As any other normal being, your eyes drifted to his ample chest. Now you were offended. He couldn't possibly have them bigger than you... could he?

"What? Are you jealous I got bigger tits than you?" Neteyam joked, letting his arms fall to his sides as he eyed you, his piercing yellow eyes mixing with your different ones.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his words, quickly moving your gaze somewhere else, allowing it to wander anywhere but him.

"Don't have to be mad-" "At least I have nipples."

Now it was your time to speak and to offend him. According to what the scientists told the world, na'vi don't have nipples. Or maybe just the females do because they have to feed their kids but men? Nuh uh.

You thought he was gonna flirt with you, be something like "then show me yours" but no. He had his head tilted to the side, smirking down at you as he crossed his arms over his chest, pressing his pectorals together to make you even madder than before.

"Do you want to see?"

Your eyes widened at his bold question, and your cheeks got a new shade of red. He just... he asked you to show his nipples to you, to prove to you that he has them too.

Because you're crazy and don't think rationally in these kinds of moments, you nodded frantically.

"Yes, yes. Show them to me."

He got on his knees in front of you and pulled you closer, his hand wrapping around your entire forearm.

While crouching, he was still taller than you so him pulling you so abruptly towards him made you crush into his chest. You could swear your eyes almost fell out when you saw his perfect pectorals bounce at the sudden movement. You swore yours never bounced like this, and you felt like crying because of that.

And as if he could sense that, he pulled you into his chest. Neteyam knew where your head would end, but pretended to not. Your head came right in between his pecs and you felt the warmth of his body enveloping you whole.

"Now, don't cry. Show me how much you love me." he gently pulled away from you and took one of his pecs in his hand, bringing you closer to it as he pointed his hard nipple towards your mouth.

Without thinking twice, you wrapped your lips around his waiting bud, sucking and twirling your tongue around it. Neteyam moaned and threw his head back, his hand coming to tangle in your hair at the back of your head, guiding your movements but also holding you there. He was gentle with you as you were with him, but what would happen if you weren't?

Out of curiosity, you slowly bit down on his nipple. Neteyam's grip on your hair tightened and you were abruptly pulled away. There was a thin line of saliva connecting your lips and his nipple.

"You want to play dirty, tìyawn? Fine. I can play dirty too." Neteyam stood up, lifting you up to his chest as he did so. He walked over to the sink and placed you on the edge, making you part your legs so he can make room for his. One hand lingered on your nape as with the other one he held you by your chin. He looked at you in the eyes, his now intimidating gaze making you feel smaller than before.

"Look at you..." he whispered, "...such a tiny little thing, with such a dirty mind." you wanted to get mad at him and shut his mouth but the way he was talking, the way he was holding you, it was just too much. And it felt too good.

He leaned forward, his face just inches from yours. You could feel his warm breath caress your face as your eyes fell on his lips, so untouched and dying for any kind of attention. You wanted to dance with his lips, you wanted to fight with his tongue and in the end, you wanted to be there for him. Forever and always.

Neteyam was looking down at you with such adoration in his eyes, like he saw Eywa herself. His pupils were widely dilated till there was no gold left and his tail was swaying slowly from left to right, every now and then brushing against your leg.

You took the initiative and crushed your lips against his blue ones. You thought you had an advantage and could dominate him by kissing. But when his large hands engulfed your waist and squeezed your flesh, you felt dizzy. The world was spinning around you as his tongue fought against yours, seeking for dominance. You could tell he was a big dom.

When you finally gave in and let yourself be dominated by him, you felt one of his thick fingers slip inside you. You moaned into the kiss and could feel the smirk on his lips. He allowed you to pull away and you took a deep breath, refilling your aching lungs.

"Feels good, hm?" he smirked down at you, bent down to ghost his spit slicked lips right above your ears, sending a shiver down your spine.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he pumped his long finger in and out of you, asking for more. You arched into his touch, now chests pressed against one another as your breath came heavy, mouth struggling to stay closed as soft mewls left your lips.

"I-I'm close..." your voice was music to Neteyam's ears. Nodding his head, he resumed thrusting his finger in and out of you, feeling your tight walls accommodate the size of his digit.

"Come on, let go. Cum for me. Cum on me."

You could feel yourself getting closer, and more vulnerable. From the independent woman that travelled all alone to Las Vegas, you turned into a little whore, needy for the attention of a man twice your height who could keep you down with one hand.

A loud moan escaped your lips as you painted his hand in your juices, walls clenching around him. Neteyam pulled out his finger and brought it to his lips, sucking and licking your aroma off of it.

"That was... the best I ever experienced." you let out a breathless laugh, looking around you and searching for a way to get down from the sink.

Out of nowhere, two large hands wrapped around your waist and hoisted you up in the air, before lowering you back on the ground. Neteyam smiled down at you and leaned in closer, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

"You should stay for a while. We could get to know each other better, you know?"

101 notes · View notes

justjams7787 · 22 hours

Text

middle aged salary workers au!!

#jjk fanart #jujutsu kaisen #satosugu #gojo x geto #geto x gojo #utahime x shoko #shokohime #shoko x utahime #modern au #work au #au idea #sketches

70 notes · View notes

notforsoul · 2 days

Text

reverse transmigration AU (feat. modern fashion choices)

#liushen #liu qingge #shen yuan #scum villian self saving system #scumbag system #svsss #svsss fanart #my art #transmigration AU #modern au #you are not immune to propaganda

88 notes · View notes

omgwhatchloe · 1 day

Text

something modern au i must see is when arthurs chilling in his room then john walks in too see what hes doing.

then a second later dutch does too.

then hosea does too. then tilly.

then its just a family gathering in his bedroom and he cant get them out.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #red dead fandom #arthur morgan #john marston #modern au #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 moden au #dutch van der linde #hosea rdr2 #hosea matthews #red dead two #tilly rdr2 #tilly jackson

70 notes · View notes

faetima · 3 days

Note

I NEED A PART TWO TO SAFETY SCISSORS STATTTT. WHAT ABOUT SCARAS POV??? IS HE DENSE??? I need the reader to DIE and scara finds out and hes zcrushed and RAGH ANGST RAGHHHGHGGRR

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 . . .

. . he just keeps losing everything again and again and again.

// tws ; slight cursing,, ; gn reader ; modern & high school au, hanahaki au

a/n: THANK YOU SM FOR HTIS IDEA OMG ILY

link to safety scissors !!

in his dreams, everyone else was irrelevant.

it was only him and you, you and him.

but now, with you gone, he could only wish his dreams were reality.

if only he wasn’t so fucking dense, if only he saw the way your eyes followed him whenever he was in class or in the halls or in the park or anywhere.

he wished he saw the adoration in your eyes before they were dull, showing the everlasting sign of death.

he wished he saw how your eyes lit up whenever he entered the room before they were blurred and bleary with the cloud of death.

he wished he saw how your eyes followed him like contrails before they were staring blankly at the ceiling of your house.

why did he have to be like this?

if he had just told you his feelings maybe you wouldn’t be dead.

maybe he wouldn’t have lost you.

but maybe life was a losing game for him. he didn’t even have the chance to win—he just lost everything again and again and again until there was nothing left for him.

he lost his mom, his childhood friends, everything.

even you.

—

he remembered that in middle school he had been assigned a project with you.

the moment he heard your name with his, he felt the unusual sensation of butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

at the moment, he had just wished you would disappear so that these fucking feelings would go away.

he regretted thinking that so, so much.

karma just kept eating him up and spitting him back out.

—

you and him had both been working on the project, and one thing had led to another and he had suddenly wound up with your left earbud in his ear.

scaramouche wanted you to hate him, wanted you gone.

so he scrunched up his nose in disgust, trying to act indifferent to you and your feelings.

“you listen to this fucking stuff?” he spat, hoping you couldn’t see through his guise.

you had just stayed silent, switching the song.

scaramouche could almost hear the silent cracking of your heart.

—

acting indifferent wouldn’t help anything.

scaramouche should’ve known from all the mistakes he’d done in the past that indifference would go against him, it would never help him.

but he had still acted uncaring anyways.

you were dead now, and all because he decided to act apathetic in order to hide his own feelings for you.

—

he had a memory that, once, in class, you were both seated together. in what seemed to be a haze of nervousness, your leg bounced up and down as you took shaky breaths, anxious and flustered by the fact he was sitting next to you.

scaramouche didn’t know what to do.

maybe if he acted bitter and shit you would stop liking him and these stupid fucking feelings would go away, right? it had always worked in the past, so it wouldn’t fail him now.

but it did. it faltered and failed him and now he regretted it all.

“can you stop that?” his sharp voice cut through the deafening silence of the classroom like a butter knife. you had glanced up, your eyes meeting his. scaramouche’s hands were clenched into fists, cold and clammy from anxiety.

wait, why the fuck was he nervous?

he took a shaky breath in, hoping this angry guise was working. he tried to scowl at you, watching as your eyes filled with the lightest layer of tears, making your eyes look like glass.

“sorry,” he silently watched as you apologized, immediately dropping your gaze down to the desk. scaramouche felt a soft pang of regret, but decided to ignore it.

“whatever,” he spat out, rolling his eyes. his neck and face were burning and his ears had the lightest tint of pink to them. scaramouche prayed that you didn’t notice how flustered he got.

—

maybe if he had confessed, you wouldn’t be gone now.

but no, he just had to keep losing everything again and again and again and again.

he broke into a coughing fit, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth.

and, as scaramouche lowered his hand, a singular purple petal fluttered onto his palm.

#✦ -- scaramouche #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche #light angst #angst #how to write angst #modern au #hanahaki #hanahaki au #hanahaki disease #high school #shy reader #scaramouche x shy reader #part 2 #modern #high school au #gn reader

118 notes · View notes

luizd3ad · 2 days

Text

Game Time | Poly!Bartylus x GN!Reader One shot

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Barty Crouch Jr x GN Reader x Regulus Black

WC: 700

TW: polyamorous relationship, Modern AU, light talks about killing Sims, no use of Y/N, this is just fluff

Author's Note: Honestly I just got this idea bc my sims hyper fixation is coming back. The little bit of French that’s in here I got from google please tell me if it’s wrong.

Summary: Regulus comes home to you and Barty playing the sims.

Someone tell me to stop making theses for ever fic please. I won't listen but someone should still tel me.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

Regulus had spent the day with Sirius, just catching up.

They've been finding it harder to do so since leaving Hogwarts so they try to make it a priority to see each other as often as possible.

He did enjoy spending time with his brother but right now all he wanted to do was go home to his partners.

You and Barty were like a breath of fresh air to him after his social battery was drained. Just being in the presence of both of you was enough to make him feel better.

Regulus finally crossed the threshold to his shared flat. He took his shoes and jacket off at the entrance and put them in their designated places.

But then he noticed the flat was quiet which was rare considering Barty lived there.

“Mon amours? I’m home?”

Regulus called out looking around the flat curiously.

No one was in the living room. He didn't hear anyone in the kitchen.

He started walking down the hall that held their shared bedroom and the guest room/ office when he heard them.

“Angel, I love you but you're wrong!”

“Watch it Crouch! Or you'll end up in the basement next..”

Regulus was only slightly taken back when he heard his partner say that to their boyfriend.

Honestly it wouldn't be the first time he heard them say something like that.

Barty then gasped and started shirking something about ‘Never feeling so betrayed’ which was something Barty would say often.

Regulus took a deep breath mentally preparing himself and then opened the door to the office, he couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle at the sight in front of him.

There they were, the loves of his life hunched over the computer playing the muggle game that Remus had shown them.

‘The Sims’ he thinks it was called, but he couldn't quite remember.

“Barty.. Did you take the ladder out of the pool again?”

Barty then gasped as if the thought was inconceivable.

“What would make you think such a thing, angel?”

“I mean other than the fact that you've done it before? The sim’s name is Bartemius Crouch and he looks exactly like your father.”

Barty then giggles looking proud of himself.

“Leave him there he deserves it.”

Barty says with a wide smile.

Regulus chuckles a little louder this time and shakes his head finally catching the attention of his partners.

You and Barty both turn your heads to look at Regulus.

You send him a big smile and say.

“Hi my love, how's Sirius?”

“Sirius is fine. Now what are you two doing?”

Regulus say still standing in the doorway of the room.

“I'm trying to show our darling boyfriend that there's more to The Sims than killing the people that you wish you could kill in real life.”

“And I'm trying to show our angel that killing people in the game is the most fun you can have.”

“Wait, so you make the characters people you actually know?”

You and Barty look at each other and then look at Regulus with raised eyebrows.

“Obviously.”

Barty says looking at Regulus like it should be common sense.

“Wait so you have a character of me?”

“Of course we do.”

You say then turning back to the computer clicking on the mouse a few times and then waving Regulus over to show him a big house with sims of the three of you.

“Is this supposed to be our house?”

“Yes. Unfortunately we’re not all technically dating on here, since that's not an option.”

You explain while Barty crosses his arms while pouting and saying.

“Which is stupid.”

Regulus just smiles at Barty and kisses his head.

“It’s okay mon beau because we’re dating in real life.”

Regulus says while running his hand through his boyfriend's hair.

You and Barty spent the rest of the night showing Regulus your favorite parts of the game.

Regulus found himself having a good time whether it was just because he got to spend time with the two of you or because he actually found the game entertaining he didn't know nor did he care.

He was just content and happy to be there.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

70 notes · View notes

cocrante · 1 day

Text

Boothill picks up Robin with his moto and knocks on the door, but Sunday opens it, scanning him from head to toe disapprovingly everything he sees: from the leather pants to those things that look like chains... Are they necklaces? What are they??

Robin going down the stairs as quickly as she can, looking beautiful in a pastel dress with a matching purse. She gives her brother a kiss on the cheek, promising not to be late, and disappears on the horizon, tightly embraced to her boyfriend.

Sunday, extremely worried, thinks he's taking her to some shady place, maybe to something clandestine like he saw on TV 😭😭 but instead they're just going to see a movie, the cheesiest romantic comedy ever. When they come out, Boothill takes her to dinner, and they share a strawberry milkshake, one of those where the straw forms a heart

#modern au #robinhill #honkai star rail #probably i like this ship just bc i like how sunday reacts about these two lmao #this trio is perfect

54 notes · View notes

yumeneko-hb · 2 days

Text

キスマーク💋(2024.4.26)

Boromir, who thought a lot of hickeys by Aragorn were insect bites, finds out the truth a year later.

#boromir #aragorn #aragorn x boromir #modern au

59 notes · View notes

b1eeding-sun · 1 day

Text

It pisses me off so bad the sheer lack of disability rep in people's fma modern aus so I made this because I think I'm actually going to commit acts of violence if I see one more au where Al is able bodied or Ed has both arms.

More information about the au below the cut

I did a bit of research on prosthetics for this because I'm not an amputee so I don't have any personal experience with prosthetics. Ed's leg is fairly standard as far as electric above the knee prosthetics go but he has a leg cover so it resembles his automail from the show. (he probably has other options too so he can change them out as he pleases) Ed also doesn't have an arm prosthetic. From what I can tell there's not many options as far as prosthetics go for people who've lost their arm at the shoulder and I'm gonna be honest I don't think Ed would really want a prosthetic arm until modern prosthetic technology is more similar to what is available in the FMA universe.

I haven't exactly decided what Al has but whatever I do decide will have to be genetic because he inherited it from his mother. I'll definitely have to do some research on what might have symptoms that are kinda the real life equivalent of Al's situation in the show. I also forgot to mention he has insomnia. I wasn't sure how to adapt the Al is a sweet little kid stuck in a suit of armor that scares people thing but you win some you loose some.

Please please please ask me questions about this au I really want to talk about it :000

Edit: oh my god this post was a pain in the ass to get formatted correctly but hopefully it's fine now

#concept art #digital art #art #drawing #digital illustration #the art is the weapon #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist 2003 #edward elric #alphonse elric #modern au #fma brotherhood #fmab #fma #fma fanart #fma 03

44 notes · View notes

kjack89 · 22 hours

Text

Dial Drunk

5 times Enjolras bailed Grantaire out of jail, and one time, well...

The door of the holding cell clanked open and as one, the nine men sitting inside glanced up. “Alright,” the booking officer said in a bored tone, glancing down at his clipboard. “Bail’s been posted for arrestees Bahorel, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Enjolras, Feuilly, Joly, Lesgle and Prouvaire. You’re free to leave after you sign out at the front desk.”

There were a few grumbles as the men started to get to their feet, but Enjolras remained resolutely seated, his brow furrowed with a frown. “What about Grantaire?”

The man in question chuckled darkly, tilting his head back to rest it against the wall of the holding cell. “Is that actual concern for me that I hear, Apollo? I could die happy.”

Enjolras ignored him. “Pontmercy was supposed to post bail for all of us,” he said instead, aiming his words at Courfeyrac as if the man was somehow still responsible for the actions of his former roommate some five years after they had stopped living together.

Courfeyrac just shrugged. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I mean, we all know Marius is a bit of an idiot, maybe he miscounted.”

Combeferre shook his head. “I’m probably wrong and should defer to the lawyers amongst us but I thought I remembered reading something in one of the articles about reforming pre-trial detention that an individual can only post bail for 8 detainees at a time.”

“And so I must’ve drawn the short straw,” Grantaire sighed. “Story of my fucking life.”

Bossuet clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder. “On the other hand, you could take it as a compliment that Marius thinks you’re the one most likely to survive an extended stay behind bars.”

Bahorel snorted so loudly the bars of the cell almost rattled. “Sorry but literally not a single one of us would survive an extended stay behind bars.”

“Speak for yourself,” Feuilly said. “I know how to whittle.” At the blank looks he received, he huffed a sigh and added, “So I can make a shank. No wonder none of you would survive in jail.”

“This is making our goal of prison abolition seem oddly self-serving,” Joly murmured in an undertone to Jehan, who stifled a laugh.

Combeferre cleared his throat. “Not that I’m not sympathetic to Grantaire having to be stuck in here, but I’d just like to remind everyone that since Marius posted bail, we’re technically now here voluntarily.”

“Yeah so GTFO,” Grantaire said with a grimace masquerading as a smile. “Let me rot in peace, etcetera.”

Enjolras looked like he wanted to argue more, but Combeferre muttered something in his ear and he made a face before filing out of the cell. “Serious miscalculation on Marius’s part with this one,” Courfeyrac said brightly as he followed everyone else out. “Because God knows you’re going to complain about this for the rest of all time.”

Grantaire gave him the finger and Courfeyrac winked as the officer closed the cell door behind him.

Sighing again, Grantaire sat upright, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck before settling back against the bench. “You need anything?” the booking officer asked.

Grantaire shook his head. “Nah,” he said dismissively. “Not my first rodeo. Hopefully I won’t be stuck overnight, but I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Oh, yeah?” the officer said with mild interest.

Grantaire nodded. “Central booking at the 16th Precinct is a piece of shit,” he said brightly.

The officer barked a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He gave Grantaire a long look. “Should I ask what you were picked up for previously?”

Considering the answer to that question was a vast litany of misdemeanors (and felonies reduced to misdemeanors) that the boys in blue tended not to appreciate, Grantaire hesitated. Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer at all by the crackle of the officer’s walkie-talkie. “Just a moment,” the officer told him, heading out of the booking area and Grantaire let out a sigh of relief as he slumped on the bench.

“You’re free to go,” the officer said upon returning, and Grantaire looked up, surprised.

“Really?”

The officer nodded, opening the door to the holding cell. “Bail was posted. So I guess you’ll have to save your rap sheet for the next time you’re in here.”

Grantaire snorted a laugh. “I’d say there won’t be a next time, but…”

He ducked out before the officer could respond to that, making his way to the front desk, stopping in his tracks when he saw Enjolras leaning against the desk, clearly waiting for him. “What’re you doing here?”

Enjolras straightened. “It didn’t feel right leaving you in there,” he said with a shrug that didn’t quite come across as nonchalant as he’d probably intended. “And I happened to have some cash on me, so…”

“Between this and being worried about my welfare, you’re gonna give me the wrong impression,” Grantaire said.

“Guess that depends on what impression you’re getting,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire’s eyes flickered to his and away again, feeling suddenly tongue-tied. Enjolras cleared his throat, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Anyway, we should get to the Musain to debrief.” He glanced at Grantaire. “Unless you’ve got something better to do.”

Grantaire just shook his head, and gestured for Enjolras to lead the way. “After you,” he said, his voice low, and together they walked out of the precinct, their arms just brushing against each other as they headed to meet their friends at the Musain.

— — — — —

“Jesus Christ,” Enjolras muttered as the booking officer removed the handcuffs from a sheepish-looking Grantaire. Well, as sheepish as a man sporting the beginnings of a pretty impressive black eye could look, anyway. “Here,” Enjolras said roughly, holding an ice pack out to Grantaire. “I posted your bail as well.”

“Thanks,” Grantaire muttered, taking the ice pack and wincing as he pressed it against his eye.

Enjolras pursed his lips as he gave him a once-over. “Any other injuries I need to worry about?” he asked.

Grantaire just shrugged. “Nothing that won’t heal on its own.”

“Because that’s reassuring,” Enjolras sighed, rubbing his forehead, but when he looked at Grantaire again, there was something almost soft in his expression. “You didn’t need to do that.”

What he could see of Grantaire’s expression tightened, just slightly. “You didn’t hear what that guy called you.”

He said it calmly, evenly, but his hand automatically balled into a fist at the memory. Enjolras reached out automatically to rest his hand on Grantaire’s fist until it relaxed. “It doesn’t matter what he called me,” he said, his voice low. “I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can,” Grantaire scoffed. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Enjolras just shook his head, running his thumb across Grantaire’s bruised knuckles, a testament to the fact that despite the black eye, he’d emerged from the fight victorious. “I should’ve brought another ice pack,” he murmured.

Grantaire just half-smiled, twisting his hand so that he could lace his fingers with Enjolras’s. “It’s fine,” he said softly. “It doesn’t really hurt at the moment anyway.”

Enjolras cleared his throat and looked away, but he didn’t try to untangle his fingers from Grantaire’s. “Well,” he said, “we should, uh, get out of here.”

“Before they realize you have about a half dozen outstanding warrants for your arrest?” Grantaire asked with a smirk, his voice quiet enough that only Enjolras could hear.

“You’d be amazed what having a multi-million dollar settlement pending against the city will do to the police’s willingness to bring you in,” Enjolras said with a smirk. “Not that I want to test that, of course.”

“Liar,” Grantaire said, grinning. “But better safe than sorry, I suppose.”

He started toward the door, pausing when Enjolras didn’t immediately follow. “Thank you, by the way,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire glanced back at him.

“Anytime,” he said simply. “Thanks for bailing me out.”

Enjolras gave him a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated. “Just don’t go making a habit of it,” he warned. “One day I won’t be here to bail you out.”

“Only because you’ll probably be locked up with me,” Grantaire said.

“Well,” Enjolras murmured, not quite able to stop his smile, “you’re not wrong.”

— — — — —

Grantaire rested his elbows against the bars of the holding cell, his arms dangling into what was technically freedom on the other side. The booking officer, some new guy he didn’t recognize, gave him a look but didn’t say anything, which he took as a small victory, and he allowed himself a small smirk.

A smirk that faded as soon as he saw Enjolras, escorted by another officer. “No dice on bail?” Grantaire asked, seeing the look on Enjolras’s face.

Enjolras shook his head. “No, they’re going to go through the whole arraignment rigamarole. I’ve already let Pontmercy know.” He made a face, casting an irritated look at the booking officer who was pretending not to listen to their conversation. “Apparently they take battery of a police officer pretty seriously these days.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Grantaire muttered. Enjolras sighed and Grantaire gave him a look. “Don’t even start,” he warned. “This wasn’t about you not being able to take care of yourself—”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” Enjolras interrupted, his voice tight. “I’m well aware that cop would’ve bashed my head in if you hadn’t intervened.” He shook his head and sighed again. “I was going to say thank you.”

“Oh,” Grantaire said, managing a tight smile. “You’re welcome.”

Enjolras just shook his head again. “You still shouldn’t have done it,” he continued, “because honestly, I’m not worth all that—”

“You are, though,” Grantaire said, in a tone that brooked no argument. Enjolras scowled and Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Fine, then why don’t we make a deal?” he said. “I’ll stop defending you when you stop bailing me out.”

“At the rate you’re going, I won’t be able to anyway,” Enjolras said sourly. “Not without putting up some major collateral.”

Grantaire shook his head. “And I’m definitely not worth that,” he said.

Enjolras’s eyes met his. “You are, though.”

For a moment, it looked like Grantaire might argue. Instead, he reached for Enjolras’s hand, bringing it up to kiss his knuckles through the bars of the holding cell. “No touching,” the booking officer barked, and Grantaire rolled his eyes as he reluctantly let go of Enjolras’s hand.

“Will you be at my arraignment?” he asked.

Enjolras shrugged. “Someone’s got to post whatever bail amount the judge decides,” he said.

Grantaire half-smiled. “In that case, I’ll be the one in the front.”

“Pretty sure that’ll be the judge,” Enjolras murmured, grinning when Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I promise.”

“It’ll be the only thing that gets me through spending the night in here,” Grantaire told him, and it was Enjolras’s turn to roll his eyes, though there was obvious affection in the motion.

“Pretty sure Bahorel was right,” he said. “You definitely wouldn’t survive in jail.”

Grantaire just shrugged. “Only if you were in there with me.”

Enjolras shook his head, reluctantly backing away toward the door. “Still time,” he said, and Grantaire’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you dare do anything stupid while I’m locked up in here.”

Enjolras just smirked. “See you tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder as he left, and Grantaire sighed, though there something strangely content in the noise, despite, or maybe because of, the circumstances.

— — — — —

Grantaire didn’t meet Enjolras’s eyes as he rapped his fingers impatiently against the front desk at the precinct, waiting for them to bring him his personal effects. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” Enjolras asked, his voice tight. Grantaire looked pointedly at the conspicuous clock on the wall and Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “Exactly, it’s 2 in the fucking morning. I have a 7 o’clock meeting, which you knew damn well, so why you had to go pick a bar fight with some guy twice your fucking size—”

“So sorry to be an inconvenience to you,” Grantaire drawled, slurring his words just slightly. “Can’t imagine what it must be like to have made plans that get interfered with by someone else’s priorities.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “Are we really doing this here and now?” he asked.

Grantaire just jerked a shrug, not meeting his eyes. “Do you have something better to do?”

Enjolras sighed and scrubbed a tired hand across his face. “I’m sorry that I had to cancel tonight,” he said, with as much patience as he could seemingly muster, considering the circumstances. “But I needed to get this proposal done ahead of the meeting tomorrow, and I don’t really see what the big deal—”

“You never do,” Grantaire interrupted, still not looking at him. “That’s the problem.”

“You knew going into this—”

“Just like you knew going into this that I’m a drunk and a disaster,” Grantaire interrupted, finally looking at Enjolras, his expression hard. “Well, congratulations, Apollo, it looks like we both knew what we were getting into and yet somehow, we’re both still disappointed.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “I’m not,” he said tiredly. “I’m not disappointed, Grantaire, because that would require me to actually expect better from you, and I learned my lesson on that a long time ago.”

Grantaire just grinned, a horrible, twisted grin. “Right back atcha.”

The officer returned with Grantaire’s belongings, and Grantaire grabbed his phone, wallet and keys, returning them to his pockets. Enjolras took a deep breath, but whatever he clearly wanted to say seemed to stick in his throat, and he looked away. “C’mon,” he said instead. “Let’s go home.”

Grantaire nodded once, shoving his hands in his pockets as he slumped after Enjolras, neither man touching the other.

— — — — —

“He’s not technically under arrest,” the cop told Enjolras as he led him back to the holding cell. “But that’s because we couldn’t really mirandize him when he was passed out.”

Enjolras eyed Grantaire, sprawled across the bench in the holding cell, and sighed. “So once he’s coherent, he’ll be charged with, what, drunk and disorderly?”

The officer nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced at Enjolras. “Look, it’s not my place, but, uh, maybe look into getting your friend some help?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras murmured, his expression drawn. “Maybe.” He sighed and turned. “Guess I’ll go preemtively pay his bail—”

“Apollo?” Grantaire croaked, and Enjolras sighed again.

“Give us a moment?” he asked the officer, who just shrugged.

Enjolras crossed to the bars of the holding cell, his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. “Tell me,” he said, his tone clipped, “were you trying to get hit by a car by passing out in the street, or would have just been a fun little side effect of this spectacular attempt at blowing up your life?”

Grantaire groaned as he forced himself into a sitting position. “Honestly don’t remember if it was deliberate or not,” he muttered, swaying slightly as he blinked unfocusedly at Enjolras.

“There are easier ways of killing yourself,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire managed a small, sharp smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve considered those as well.”

Enjolras’s expression tightened and he looked away. “You used your one phone call for me,” he said.

Grantaire shrugged. “Didn’t know who else to call.”

“Probably anyone besides your ex.” Grantaire flinched and Enjolras sighed before telling him, as firmly as he could manage, “This is the last time. Do you understand?”

Grantaire barked a dry, humorless laugh. “If there’s one thing I can promise, Apollo, it’s that this won’t be the last time.”

“Maybe not for you,” Enjolras said. “But I’m done. So the next time you get picked up for a bar fight or public intoxication or whatever suicidal shit you decide to get yourself into next time, call someone else.”

He didn’t wait for Grantaire to answer, just turning on heel to leave him in the holding cell while he went to go pay his bail.

One last time.

— — — — —

The phone rang, and rang again, and Grantaire’s grip on the phone tightened. “Come on,” he muttered to himself. “Come on, pick up, pick up.”

But the phone just rang until the tinny, robotic voice informed him that no voicemail had been set up for this phone number, and he heaved a sigh as he hung up, a headache blooming in his temples that had absolutely nothing to the better part of a handle of whiskey that he’d worked his way through that evening.

“Nothing?” the booking officer asked, and Grantaire ground his teeth together at the fake sympathetic tone.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’, and he scrubbed a hand across his face before heading back to the holding cell.

The booking officer trailed after him. “Do you, uh, want to try calling someone else?”

Grantaire just shook his head. “No,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest as the officer opened the door of the cell for him. “I’ll try again later. He’s probably asleep.”

The officer glanced up at the clock that showed it was barely 10pm, and he shook his head as he closed the door after Grantaire. “Your choice,” he said with a shrug.

Grantaire sighed heavily as he slumped down onto the hard metal bench, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach for an absent glass or bottle of beer, or else for a hand that used to be his to hold. His throat felt tight and he swallowed hard, tilting his head back to rest it against the wall of the holding cell.

He closed his eyes against the tears that he could feel prick in the corners of his eyes, though he honestly didn’t know if he was crying because Enjolras hadn’t picked up, or because there was a part of him that still thought that maybe, in the morning, he would. One more time.

#ExR #Enjolras x Grantaire #Enjoltaire #Enjolras #Grantaire #Les Amis #fanfiction #Les Miserables #modern AU #5+1 things #developing relationship #established relationship #and because it's me #former relationship #mild angst

50 notes · View notes