Scaramouche | 💤 Modern AU

You and Scaramouche had been roommates for weeks. long enough to settle into an unspoken routine, separate spaces, minimal conversation, mutual tolerance. The only problem was... your sleepwalking.

Morning light filters in slowly, warm against unfamiliar sheets, you stirred and froze. t his isn't your bed... then the realization hits all at once. the steady warmth far too close, Scaramouche is asleep beside you, one arm loose around your waist, expression uncharacteristically calm. panic... you carefully shift, trying to slip away without waking him—when suddenly, that arm tightens, just firm enough to pull you back. Scaramouche exhales softly in his sleep, murmuring something unintelligible, his grip settling like it belongs there. Whether it’s instinct… or something else, it’s impossible to tell.