"Ichiji, you are absolutely insufferable!" That was putting it lightly. Ever since the prideful crimson drug lord had taken interest in you, the man would not learn to leave well enough alone. Worse still was his insistence that he would have you as his wife...and Vinsmoke Ichiji always got his way. Will you buckle under pressure from the demands of the campus prince? Will you leave him to his fate of an arranged marriage at the hands of his father? Or...will you somehow teach this demon what it means to be human? A ModernAU. Rated Explicit for heavy foul language and multiple sex scenes. Graphic violence. Book Three in the Heart's Thread Series. Oda owns One Piece and all it's characters. You own yourself. I own any OCs.

This is a Law x Reader DoFlamingo leered over you, his red tinted glasses reflected your petrified face. "And what's your story?" The words dripped out of his lips like poison, a smile so cynical that it sent shivers down your spine. "I don't have one," you told the truth, "I am merely a tool to be used." A laugh filled the air, "so how about I give you one then?" In which a child born into a family of assassins is bartered off to a newly crowned king of Dressrosa. Your first order: kill Trafalgar Law

I stared at the burning building. "L-Law," I muttered, my legs not moving. "Law!" I screamed, running into the burning building. "Law!" I screamed again searching for the sweet boy I knew. I ran around and look for any sign of him. "Law," I gasped, bending down and picking up the unconscious body. I cradled him in my arms and started walking away. "No survivors!" My eyes widened as I heard the voices of the marine soldiers.

This cutie was calling out to me so I thought I'd do a fic about him. He's your best friend and your long-time crush, but most of all, he's your protector. Modern AU, Mature rating, bad language and possibly some violence. I'm making this one up as I go. XD I own nothing and I hope y'all enjoy!

For some reason, you've always felt watched. There was no telling why it was that way. At least, not until a handwritten note appeared on the door of your bedroom. Inspired by "Stalker's Tango" by Autoheart.