#but I'm enjoying my ironing board

[navybluetriangles]

.

[sysig]

Game time >:3c (Patreon)

[pepperyduck]

this is love ft. kento nanami

a/n: a few sappy slices of life with my main man :3 enjoy as i dig up motivation to finish kinktober. 18+ mdni!

"honey?" kento's voice is muffled through the door as he calls out to you, "everything okay?" the door rattles as he tries to open it, knob jingling.

"uhm, yeah! everything's fine!" you nervously shout, much too loud, and rush to unplug the iron that had melted your husband's favorite shirt. you panic and yelp when the hot iron scorches the side on your hand, throwing the stupid device to the ground in a clatter.

"why is the door locked—are you okay?" he asks, voice becoming more concerned as he hears the movement inside.

"i'm—i'm fine! promise! just give me a minute!" you're rushing into your shared master bathroom to run cold water over your hand, and kento’s using a screwdriver pulled from thin air to break into your bedroom. tears well in your eyes when you catch the sight of kento seeing his favorite shirt burnt and melted to his own ironing board. "i’m so sorry…"

in reality, he doesn’t care about the shirt—he’s already at your side to inspect your burnt hand. after a few seconds, he speaks.

"did you try to iron my shirt for me?" nanami asks, a small smile on his face, "you didn’t have to do that." he turns off the faucet and takes a small towel to dry your hand off.

"i tried to, i’m sorry—i didn’t know it would do that." you apologize, looking down at the cold tile flooring in defeat.

"oh, honey." he coos, "it’s only a shirt."

"have you seen your father?" you ask your son, yū, who’s sat at the dining table, eating breakfast. he shakes his head no, and when you look at your daughter, mayu, she does the same.

"jeez," you grumble to yourself, bedroom slippers pattering down the hallway as you go to search for your husband. saturday mornings were his time to sleep in, but realistically, he never slept past 9am. and currently, it was nearing 10am.

you check everywhere. he isn’t found in the bedroom, living room, his office, the garage, the patio or in the little garden he kept. upstairs, downstairs, everywhere, he isn’t there. and when you check in your bedroom for the last time, you hear a soft buzzing coming from the bathroom. upon entering, you see your husband bent over the counter, leaning close in the mirror as he shaves his stubble with an electric razor.

"there you are—when did you get that?"

kento had always been a clean shaven kind of man, going to a barber shop once every two weeks for his straight razor shave. it hadn’t even crossed your mind he didn’t go after work yesterday.

but when he looks at you—you burst out laughing. he’d shaven most of his beard off, but a few fuzzy patches remained on his cheeks, along with a mustache grazing his upper lip. peach fuzz and a few knicks litter his chin. this was the first time you’d seen him unable to do anything perfectly. and he looks ridiculous.

"is it really that bad?" he groans, pouting when you wrap your arms around yourself in a giggling fit. you shake your head, although your unforgiving laughs are a testament to the opposite.

"no—no, let me help," you say after calming down.

after gathering a new razor and some shaving cream, you sit atop the counter and your husband stands between your legs. kento is surprised how flawlessly you shave his face, without creating any more marks or cuts. you giggle and kiss him, getting some shaving cream on your face.

"ken?" you shout from the kitchen, where you’re sat, working on your dissertation. it’s been a long road of blood, sweat, and many, many tears; but you’re finally getting towards the end. about to earn a doctorate.

"yes, darling?" kento replies, walking into the kitchen on queue, his timing impeccable.

"can you read over this paragraph, please?" you kindly ask of him, pointing to your most recent written paragraph. he leans over you, planting one firm palm on the table, the other on your back; his eyes read along the sentences and his fingers tap along your spine.

"ah," his finger becomes more focused on a certain word, "wrong 'there', honey."

"no it's not..." you instantly retort, squinting your tired eyes to read over your writing. and you're right, it was the correct one the first time. this was his version of teasing you. but kento couldn't keep up the face much longer before he's giving in with a shit-eating grin you didn't see that often. "you're funny." you groan as kento stands back up.

after reading over the paragraph for about the nineteenth time, you notice kento silently slipping you some tea before turning back around to keep himself busy with cleaning. you absentmindedly take a few sips, then some more...and you find yourself becoming more and more sleepy...

and you're out like a light, forehead pressed directly against the table as a puddle of drool forms on the papers below. kento already has a warm blanket straight from the dryer to drape over you, and you stir just enough to get comfy on your arms.

kento knows that his back will hurt in the morning, but he sits around the corner of the table next to you, settling his head into his arms to drift off to sleep alongside you.

music of your taste plays rather quietly in the kitchen. you stir the pot of soup and inhale the flavorful aroma that wafts through the air.

kento sets two bowls next to the stove, then rummages through your silverware drawer to find two spoons. the kids are at their grandparents for the weekend, it's only you and your husband, converted into the duo you were long ago.

you step away from the stove to go fill up two glasses of wine, the brand kento had as his favorite had slowly turned into your favorite over time, too.

kento fills up the two bowls to the brim of the delicious food, grinning on the inside at the simplicity of it all. just you and him. he lids the pot with the matching glass top and makes his way over to the table.

you set out place mats for the both of you, then place the wine glasses in their prospective areas. kento places the bowls on top of the mats as you grab the spoons from the counter.

in the kitchen, your bodies subconsciously dance around each other. carefully, in perfect tune and pace. delicate steps of a routine formed over so much time together.

in the universe, your souls are tied, striding alongside one another in each lifetime repeated.

and this, is love.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Cheetah

Hello everyone!

So for once this isn't a request, but more something who was walking in my head rent free and I just had to write it.

I don't know a lot about motorcycle to be honest but i made some research, so if there is some incoherence, I'm sorry!

Also I start to translate the English in Spanish before stopping, because in the end almost everyone is supposed to talk in Spanish and I'm really bad at it (I only can command something to eat and drink).

Please let me know what you think about it and enjoy ♥

TW : Moto accident, Angst, Injuries and a little bit of autodestruction maybe.

“Come on Cheetah, everyone’s waiting for you!”

You sigh softly, putting the picture you were looking at in your bag. It’s a picture of your ex-girlfriend and yourself, during your happy days. It’s been three months since the breakup and you are still mourning the end of your relationship like if it was the first hours. You still feel numb and if like someone is constantly crushing your heart in their iron grip. It’s not getting better, and it probably never will. Ona was, is, the love of your life and it’s just impossible for you to recover from it.

Falling for Ona was easy. You met her when you were both 20, even if you come from Palma de Mallorca and not Barcelona. You are a athlete too, so it wasn’t hard to cross her path at one of the Spanish awards. Patri Guijarro was there too and like you she comes from Mallorca, so she introduced you both and the rest is history.

When Ona moved to Manchester, you follow her. You find a team to train your motorcycle and your skills there. You were still young but promising on the circuit and you didn’t have trouble the find someone to help you getting better. And better you get. Just like Ona in Manchester United, you easily improve your skills and became one of the best in the world. Sure, you were sometimes away from home and Ona for your competitions, but everything was perfect.

When Ona came back to Barcelona, you flow back with her too. Some of your team came with you, some other didn’t but you can’t hold it against them. You find people to replace them and continue to race on the top of the leader boards.

The breakup didn’t come from nowhere, you can’t say that. You knew how much Ona was worried when you race, scared that you hurt yourself. You never had a big injury until now. But just after Christmas, you were implicated in an accident and Ona had trouble to concentrate in something else than that since that day.

It wasn’t your fault honestly; you just weren’t able to avoid the motorcycles already lying on the road. So, you made a gliding flight and had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder, nothing too serious. But Ona was in Barcelona while you were in Qatar, and it took almost two hours for you to be able to call her, even if you make everything possible to have your phone back.

That’s what pushed Ona to break up with you.

“I can’t keep focusing on your future death while I’m in training or supposed to be concentrated on something important, Y/N/N. I’m so sorry.” was what she told you.

Can you blame her? No. Did she told you it was because she doesn’t love you anymore? No. Did you try everything to make her change her mind? Yes. You even told her that you will stop your sport. But she’s not with you anymore and it hurt like hell.

“Hi Cheetah!” make one of your opponent when you arrive in the garage, where the motorcycles are stored.

“Hola” you mumble back.

Cheetah is your nickname, because of your speed and the feline way you stand on your bike. But it’s especially Ona’s favorite animal. You wonder if she’s still looking at your race sometimes. Probably not. You never asked Patri who became your friend with the years, the girl never talked about your breakup either. You like it that way.

One hour after, you are on your bike, ready to start your race. Your helmet is a notch off from what security recommends, but you prefer to wear it like that. Ona had forbidden you to do so and you had accepted her request without flinching. But Ona isn’t here anymore, and you have no one to care about.

Well, your brother who is in your team maybe. And probably your parents, but even if you love them, they aren’t Ona.

The qualifying rounds put you in fourth place at the start, but after a daring overtaking you manage to get gain the third place. The weather is great honestly, a little bit sunny maybe but it’s better than the rain. You are in Italy after all.

The fight for the second place is hard, your opponent always manages to stand in your way to keep you from reaching it. It starts to frustrate you, even if your team keeps telling you in the helmet to take no risks. You don’t listen to them, still being careful not to make faults though, you don’t want to have any penalty against you.

“Lenta, hermanita por favor!” (Slower, my little sister please!)

You hear your brother’s voice but don’t listen to him either. He will probably kill you for it after the race , but if you manage to get the second place, it’s worth it right? Winning is the only thing that you have left. The only thing that makes you feel a little alive.

That’s why you don’t hesitate to take other risks to get the second place. Plot twist, you shouldn’t have.

It’s the first time since you’re a teenager that you lose the control of your motorcycle, but it’s a strange feeling. You feel yourself flying and the helmet getting ripped off your head during the crash. After that it’s all black, you just have little moments of consciousness from time to time.

“No no no no no! ¡ Y/N No me hagas esto! Respira por favor!” (Don’t do that! Breath please!”)

That’s your brother voice. You don’t know where you are, you hear people screaming and probably running next to you. But you are too tired. Falling asleep now probably will help you feel better, right?

“Sigue luchando. Piensa en Ona." (Keep fighting. Think about Ona.)

Ona? You think about her every single second of the day. You are surprised by this statement, but it has the advantage to wake you up a little. Your brother usually never mention your ex-girlfriend, knowing how much the breakup is destroying you.

“Alright we take her to the ambulance, now!”

If you were able, you probably would have rolled your eyes because of the strength that this man screamed with. You are not even able to open your eyes though, and you hate the way you feel your body not responding to what you want. But your head hurt and soon you are asleep again.

The next time you are awake, it was way quiet. You hear your parents and your brother, but you have to make a big effort to understand what they are saying.

“She called her name several times in the ambulance, but she’s asleep since”

Well, that’s embarrassing. It’s useless to wonder which name you called, there only is one woman in your head after all.

“Did you call her?”

Your mother.

“No. Y/N would have probably hated me if I did.”

Is he right? Maybe. You’ll think about it later.

“She has the right to know how Y/N is.”

Point for your father.

“I’ll call Patri instead.”

Well, it’s probably better that way. Patri is one of your best friends and if Ona wants to have news of you, she will ask Patri. But once again, she probably has no interest about your health anymore.

You fall back asleep again soon after that.

Patri’s face is white when she reaches the gym of FC Barcelona Femeni. It’s not Ona who realized it first, your ex-girlfriend is focused on her exercises next to Mariona.

“Patri you alright?” Pina asks, looking at her friend with worry.

Everyone raises their gaze on the girl, but she’s only looking at Ona. And Ona knows, right there. She gulps and stand up, her hand shaking.

“What happened?” Ona asks quietly.

But Patri takes her by the hand to take her out. She doesn’t want to explain to Ona what happened in front of the others. She doesn’t know how the younger one will react at the news, and she’s scared of her reaction to be honest. Every single person in the team know how much Ona is sad about your breakup, even if she’s the one who chose to have it that way.

“Y/N had an accident during the race” Patri starts, looking at Ona with attention. “I don’t know what her injuries are or anything else. But she has that awful crash, and they came with the ambulance and those kinds of white curtains.”

Ona knows what the curtains are for. It’s to protect the dignity of the runner in the case of a serious injury… or worse. Very worse. Her face passes from white to green.

“Is there a video from the crash?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to…”

But Ona doesn’t listen. Like you, she’s stubborn. She wants to know. She needs to know. She doesn’t know when the accident happened, but the video of it is easy to find on social media. She doesn’t react at all during several seconds and Patri wondered if Ona’s mind crashed, too.

“She loosened her helmet” Ona whispers at first.

“What?” Patri frowned.

“She loosened her helmet! She loosened her helmet and now she’s probably dead!”

Ona’s shouting and Patri prefer that, but it’s surprising. Ona isn’t the kind of girl who shout usually. She puts a comforting hand on Ona’s arm before talking.

“We don’t know that for now” she tries, with a comforting voice.

“Haven’t you seen the crash? Haven’t you seen of hard her head hit the ground? She didn’t move after that! At all!”

Patri doesn’t know what to answer at that. Ona’s right and she regrets to have inform her so soon, without having news of you. Or your brother, who had kind of a crush for Patri before realizing that she’s as gay as you are. You still tease him about it years later.

“I’ll try to call her brother, ok? But for now, let’s get out of here.”

When you wake up next time, you have enough strength to be able to open your eyes. You don’t know what time it is, but the sun is shining behind almost closed blinds. There is someone on a chair next to you, but you are disappointed to realize that it’s only your brother. Not Ona.

“Hola” he whispers when he realizes that your awake.

You only answer with a grunt, unable to talk for now. You feel sleepy again, but you want to talk with him a little bit.

“We are at the hospital. Do you remember what happened?”

You close your eyes briefly to make him understand that you remember. Your throat feels too scratchy to talk for now. You’ll learn later that they have to intubate you to keep you alive.

“You’re lucky you’re alive, I’ll kill you a second time if you weren’t. They want to get you back in Barcelona tonight, are you okay with that?”

You don’t answer right away. Why can’t they keep you here?

“The team think it would be easier to be somewhere where they speak Spanish. And we will be closer to Mama and Papi.”

Your brother seems to understand your questions. It’s a great thing that you are both so close. You close your eyes again now and he nods before taking your hand in his. You don’t really care where you are taking care off after all.

“You can sleep now. You need to rest to get better, ok?”

You squeeze his finger softly before closing your eyes for good now, falling asleep again. You are still asleep during the transfer to Barcelona and when you wake up again you are in the Spanish’s city hospital.

Once again, it’s your brother who is here when you open your eyes. He changed his clothes but he’s still here, reading a newspaper with his feet on your bed.

“Don’t you have a house?” you groan.

He rolls his eyes after having looked at you for two seconds. Maybe to realize that he wasn’t dreaming. He threw carefully the journal next to you without putting his feet down, but everything is still blur.

“I can’t read it” you whisper.

“The Spanish’ motorcycle prodigy almost died in an awful crash yesterday. Her condition remains alarming” your brother read for you.

He’s angry. You don’t answer anything, what should you say anyway? You know that it’s your fault, if you were a little more careful nothing of that would have happened. You know too that you aren’t on the point to die, your brother wouldn’t have scolded you if that was the case.

“What are my injuries?” you ask without looking at him.

He sighs loudly before answering.

“You have broken ribs, a broken tibia, your cheekbone too, your elbow is in pieces, your shoulder has been dislocated again and you have a massive concussion. They thought that you have something broken in your spine, but it’s just a massive bruise. Oh, and you have other bruises almost on every part of your body, when it’s not burn because of the asphalt. They had to put stitches somewhere on your head and your brow bone too.”

you stay silence for several seconds, completely stunned. These are massive injuries, you know it. It will probably need a lot of time to heal all of them and that mean that you will miss the end of the championship. You were on the top 3, and it’s an awful disillusionment for you. You were already picturing yourself on the podium at the end of the season.

“How many time am I supposed to stay in bed? Before starting my rehab?”

He frowns softly, not expecting this question.

“They don’t know for now if you elbow will be well enough to start racing again”

“Of course it will be” you snort.

“No” your brother answer. “It’s serious, Y/N. You maybe won’t be able to drive a motorcycle again. On a circuit at least.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t have the choice. This is all I have left now.”

Your breakup was awful for you, but it was for your family too. You weren’t always careful with you, but Ona pushed you to be reasonable and stayed in the track. Now you don’t have anyone to hold you back. Ona was the only one you were listening. You don’t listen to anyone now. Only your Abuela when she when she emotional blackmails you. But your loved ones try not to use that card too much to not burn it.

“You have to stop that. You still have people who care for you. The Oldies do, I do, your friends do. I know that the breakup sucks, but you can’t play with your life like you do.”

“Piss off” is all you mumble back.

Because you know he’s right, but what are you supposed to do now that he’s here with you and you would give ten years of your life to swap him with Ona? He doesn’t answer anything, knowing that you’re out of arguments and that you know he’s right.

“Did she… Did she call you?”

“She didn’t have to” he answers after a moment of hesitation. “I called Patri as soon as we were in your hospital room in Italy.”

This hurt a little more, to be honest. You are not aware that Ona was with Patri every time she received a call or a message from your brother. You sight softly before closing your eyes. Your head starts to hurt like hell, which is probably normal for a concussion.

You wake up several hours later and you already know that it’s the night. There isn’t any noise coming from outside your room and no light from outside. But there is someone sitting on the chair next to you.

“Ona?”

It’s seems almost impossible, but it’s definitively Ona. You are able to recognize her silhouette in the dark after all these years passed with her. Even if you haven’t seen her in the last three months.

“It’s worse than anything” she mumbles, looking somewhere near your broken leg.

“What?”

“Not knowing how you are. I thought that break up with you will help me to stop worrying about your races, but it’s worse every time. I almost called you or messaged you before every race just to hear your voice, but I just couldn’t. And then I learned about your accident, and I have to live with the thought that you were dead for several hours.”

She raises her eyes on you, and you have trouble to support her gaze, even if you are in the dark.

“I’m sorry” you finally say.

“Really?”

She seems unconvinced and she has every right to be. She knows you, better than anyone.

“Well, I’m sorry that you were worried because of me. But as you see, I’m alive.”

She rolls her eyes and let her back go against the chair she is sitting on. You still feel strange, without knowing if it’s because of the drugs or because you are dreaming. You don’t have really anything to lose, so you ask.

“Is it real life?”

Ona looked at you with an obvious surprise on her beautiful face. God you missed her so damn much.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it real or am I dreaming?”

“Are you making the move where you ask me if I am an angel?”

You stupidly laugh before regretting it, your ribs protesting hardly. Ona seems alarmed when you groan in pain, putting your non-injured hand on it.

“I’m ok” you whisper, taking several small breaths, the big one would have been too hurtful.

“You are not” Ona mumbles.

She’s right.

“It’s less painful than the thought that I lost you.”

She sighs once again and looks at her fingers before shaking her head softly. You wanted to grab her hand, but she’s on your bad side and your arm is in that awful cast.

“Tell me what I have to do to have a second chance, Oni. I’ll do every single thing you’ll ask me. I swear. Please” you beg when she stays silence for several seconds.

“What if I ask you to stop your stupid moto?”

There is a challenge in her voice, and you know why. One time, she told you that she’s not even sure that if she asks you to choose between her and your sport, you’ll chose her. At that time, you didn’t know that she was serious, you thought that it was something she wasn’t thinking and said due to the fight. How wrong you were.

“I’ll do it” you answer without any doubt.

She seems surprised, looking at you with two big eyes. You have always loved Ona’s eyes, some people said that brown eyes are the most common and expressionless. They never have crossed Ona’s gaze.

“I saw what a life without you is Ona and I don’t want that life. I want you and if I have to stop my sport, I’ll do it if you still want me.”

She sighs and rubs her eyes. She seems tired to be honest, but maybe because it’s the middle of the night and that she’s supposed to be asleep right now.

“I didn’t break up with you because I don’t love you anymore. I still do and I think I will for all my life. I need you to be a part of my life too.”

Her words are melody in your ears, but you feel like there still is something else. Like if something was restraining her.

“But…?” you mumble, looking for her eyes.

“But I can’t continue like this. I thought you were dead.”

She’s crying now and your heart hurt like if someone just punch it. You move in the bed, trying desperately to touch her or anything to try to comfort her. Your ribs and your legs burn awfully, and you ignore your elbow hurting in protest.

“Ona I’m so sorry, I swear” you say, managing to take her hand in yours.

The position is awful, and you wonder briefly if you can throw up even if you haven’t eaten anything since almost two days.

“I didn’t think it will hurt you that way. Please don’t cry” you continue.

She shakes her head softly, kind of laughing between her tears.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you left me. And you blocked me everywhere.”

That point hurts, too. You weren’t even able to look at her social media to have news of her, you were reduced to follow fan’s account of her.

“I just couldn’t live with you popping randomly on my timelines. It hurts too much every time.”

You nod and that the gesture who make your position too hurtful. You roll on your back, trying to hold your whine of pain. But Ona sees it anyway and frown almost instantly.

“Do you want me to call them to have more painkillers?”

“Are they ok with you being here? I don’t want them to make you leave” you admit with a law voice.

There is a beam of silence.

“I won’t leave your side” she says in a comforting voice.

You want to believe that she means it for like all your life. But having her tonight is what you have best for now. So, you nod, closing shortly your eyes when she rings the nurses. The door is open only a minute after and you open your eyes again when you hear Ona’s voice.

“I think she’s ready for more painkillers” the brunette says.

“I will give some to you” the nurse says to you before adding something in your intravenous. “What hurts?”

“Everything” you admit softly.

She nods and gives you a smile in sympathy. You look at her doing her things, missing Ona’s small winces at your admission. The nurse starts to talk again when she’s at the door, ready to leave.

“You will feel better like this. After that it will be great if you try to eat something. You will be sleepy for now though.”

Your eyes fly to Ona who is already looking at you. She said that she will stay by your side, but does she meant while you sleep too? She probably has training or somewhere to go. A match to play? You don’t know which day is it anymore, the painkillers are starting to kick already, making you confuse.

“Ona” you manage to say.

“Sleep, Hermosa. I’ll be here when you wake up, ok?”

Two weeks after, you are finally leaving the hospital. You still have to leave in a wheelchair, much to your disappointment. But with almost half of your body injured, there is no way that you are able to walk with crutches.

The only positive thing is that the person who is pushing the wheelchair is Ona and that she managed to make it funny, sliding on it in the hospital’s floor. Your brother is following with your suitcases, smiling softly while watching both of you.

After learning that you will be alright, you parents went home in Mallorca two days before you were authorized to go home. They proposed to you to come back to Mallorca with them and you have to admit that you miss your island, but there is no way that you are somewhere Ona isn’t.

When you felt better, you had a very intense and long discussion about your relationship, both of your feelings, what you both expect from that said relationship and where you want it to go.

Ona is the one who will look after you on daily basis, but sometimes your brother will need to take you to your appointment when Ona is away or training. The end of the season is soon here, but there still is the Olympics this Summer so she has to prepare herself intensively.

Your girlfriend’s here, one month after, when you are in the doctor’s office for the worst moment of your professional life. Sitting next to you, she’s holding your hand when the doctor looks at you with an awful sorry face.

“I don’t know where to start” he begins, playing with the sheets on his desk.

“Just go straight into it, Doc” you sigh softly.

You know already that you will hate what is going to be say. Ona’s fingers stroking your hand help, but your heart is still beating faster than ever.

“You are making good progress, I saw that they removed your cast on your feet, but we are really concerned about your elbow. We don’t think it will be fit enough for you to be able to start motorcycle in a professional way anymore.”

You were waiting for it, but it’s still hurt to hear that. Motorcycle is the only thing you knew since you were a teenager, you never thought about doing anything else in your life. You swallow softly before passing a hand on your face. You did everything you can to be able to start again, followed every advice your team gave you. But it’s not enough.  

“I don’t know what to say” you finally mumble, looking at an imaginary point somewhere on the desk. “It’s all I know; I don't know how to do anything else.”

“I can pick you an appointment with our psychotherapist if you want to. It can help.”

“Can we leave? I’ll tell you if I want one”

For now, you just want to get out of this office and be able to breath some fresh air. Ona helps you to get up even if you don’t need help anymore. You suppose it’s a way to comfort you. You are glad for her. She doesn’t say anything while you are getting out of the building, but she doesn’t let your hand go when you lean against the railing once outside.

“What am I going to do, Ona?” you whisper softly.

She let go of your hand now, but it’s only to pass her arm around your waist and hold you close.

“Whatever you want mi Amor. It’s ok not to know now, but you still have a bunch of possibilities. We will figure it out together, yeah?”

She kisses your cheek, and you close your eyes, letting yourself being cuddle a little more. It’s not the same feeling that the one when you lost Ona. You know there is different exit doors, you just have to find the good one. Ona will be your light in the dark.

Several weeks later, you are in France. Not for a race, but for playing the WAG for your girlfriend who is playing the final today. She introduces you to others girlfriends/wife of her teammates and you get along great with everyone. You watched every single game in the stadium, and you were able to see Ona several times in between. You missed her and she was worried sick to let you alone at home, but you are pretty fine.

You are famous in the world of sport so it’s not a surprise that you are not able to skip some interviews while going to the stand to attend the finale.

“Y/N” said one journalist when he puts her microphone under your mouth, with an awful French accent. “You announced your retirement sooner this month because of your massive injuries. How are you feeling?”

“I’m still sad about it, of course. It wasn’t my choice and I think it makes it harder but I didn’t have the choice. I’m sad not to be able to finish the championship this year, I was really well ranked, but you know…”

You shrug, thinking that’s between his accent and yours, people on social media will have a great fun.

“Do you think you will come back in the motorcycle world one day?”

“Not as a racer obviously, but why not. I still need to figure what to do with my life, but first I have to heal correctly.”

“Thanks for your answers” he smiles. “Do you have a favorite for today?”

“Spain, obviously” you smile back.

“Have you a favorite player?”

You almost roll your eyes at that. Your relationship with Ona is a common knowledge for everyone, you are not hiding yourself. You both weren’t as famous before and you were posting without really thinking about it.

“Oh, I don’t know… Number two is pretty great” you smirk, looking at the jersey you are wearing.

You hear someone giggle in the background, and you are pretty sure to recognize Irene’s wife waiting for you with Mateo. You soon say goodbye to the journalist to find your place in the stand. You are sitting next to Ona’s family obviously and your family made the travel too. They are sitting next to other Majorcans people, Cata’s family and Mariona’s brother and mother aren’t far away neither.

When Ona smiles at you during the national anthem after looking around to find you, you smile back and say “T’estimo” to her. You know that she can’t hear you, but she easily can read it on your lips.

You don’t know what the results of this game will be, like you don’t know what you will do in several months. But you know you will be fine, because you will be with her.

Ona is your forever and you don’t want another.

[moonsaver]

Vena jugulară

War carries many things home. Jiaoqiu finds hunger. You find cures.

Warnings/tw; yan!jiaoqiu x reader, cannibal!jiaoiu, descriptions of gore, blood, veins, flesh, all of that nitty pitty, (slightly) suggestive scene, war, ooc definitely, rushed(?) etc..

A/n: 3.4k words. Not that big tbh. I kinda wanted to get it over w/ and thats all. I hope you guys enjoy. I kinda did.

- reader is a nurse who previously assisted Jiaoqiu on the battlefield to help wounded soldiers. I have mainly kept them gn, but i might have slipped up here and there.

"Doctor."

"Hm?"

Jiaoqiu hums and turns slightly to face you. His hands continue to fold the bandages. You eye the stain that's rusting on the off white shade.

"Another one."

"As usual."

A few men carry a stretcher into the tent soon after; dirtied from the filth of war. The stretcher has a man writhing and groaning in pain, but presumably passed out. His leg is injured.

Well, rather, his leg is torn.

A long tear. From the bottom of his knee, just shy of the curve, to the top of his foot. The flesh is almost cartoonishly pink, decorated with blood leaks and torn veins.

Jiaoqiu doesn't flinch, immediately getting to work, registering the anesthesia while guiding you to fetch rubbing alcohol and other surgical equipment. You silently oblige, as the other men leave, dredging on with their heavy boots riddled with mud.

A few moments later, as the last stitch tugs at the skin, Jiaoqiu sputters. You look up at him, concerned. A scruched, disgruntled look on his face, eyes still closed. You look down to see the slightest bit of mara leaking from the body.

"Even if I shall put him back together, what are the chances he may survive?"

He whispers, more to himself than asking you. You stay silent. You stare at his mouth, slightly covered in saliva, most likely from his sputtering.

He continues coughing a few moments more, handing the needle over to you as you hurriedly finish up a knot, then immediately leave to stand by him, shadowing him in worry as he continues coughing for a moment.

"Sorry. I choked on my spit."

You nod, before leaving and proceeding to finish up the work, leaving Jiaoqiu to catch his bearings.

You feel almost traitorous when you have such thoughts, however,

You've noticed an awful lot of things about your senior as of late.

His fur that's seeming to fray, split and gather on almost every surface, making it hard to disinfect and keep things sterilized for the most part. The stressful, or rather constrained look on his face when another soldier is sent his way – soldiers with flesh bursting at the seams of tight skin, blood flowering around the scene. The constant choking he feels from the heavy, thick scent of iron, and more spit dribbling down his chin.

Although, you feel it may be something else.

Granted, you don't ask. You hand him your handkerchief, and continue normally. You don't, however, miss the dilation of his usually thin pupils whenever he stares down at the man on the table. Like a starved predator upon a feast.

His eyes catch yours, too. Both of you stay silent.

–

"Hm, how.. disappointing."

You hum, Jing Yuan reverting to his pondering state, as you beat him at another round of the board game he'd invited you to.

"Battle strategies are your thing, General. I'm almost surprised. Are you letting me win, by any chance?"

Jing yuan laughs, a deep, curt sound that bubbles from his chest.

"Nurse, I would know how much fairness and certainty means to you."

"Hmm.. really,now?"

Your hand grabs his wrist, gripping onto the small guards of his arm, as you catch him trying to steal one of your pieces,

"Touchè".

You huff, letting go of his wrist, his hand languidly placing back the piece, before he repositions to lean the side of his head on it,

"Perhaps your instincts from then still remain."

"Mara struck are awfully dangerous."

"I've heard plenty. And seen, too."

"One tried to stab me with an empty syringe when I turned my back for a second."

Jing yuan hums, his hand hovering over the board decisively,

"Quite peculiar, such a trait."

"Strange indeed."

Jing yuan makes his move. It's time for you to think, now.

You lean slightly over the table, observing and calculating your moves. He continues to speak,

"Were you not infected as was the Chef?"

"Not sure why.."

You mumble out, fingers gently perched on a piece as you contemplate the move.

"You must have. That fever struck you for a month."

Your thoughts stop for a moment. Jing yuan almost smiles, watching the tension of your fingers over the piece,

"It's.. hard to remember what happened."

Your other hand creeps up to wrap around your waist, under the table. Something still faintly aches, but you aren't sure if you can fix it now.

"Chef cared for you quite arduously. That was the last time I'd seen a fox like him so ruffled."

You look up and click your tongue, as Jing yuan's fingers teeter around the pieces. He stays still and smiles, playing it off.

"I was the only one who could assist him. It's a given."

"Hm.. I've been driven to a corner."

You chuckle softly, jing yuan's eyes turning contemplative as you move your piece into position.

"Ah-ah, not so fast."

You blink, looking up at the General as he tuts, your hand hovering over your piece. Did you make a mistake?

He leans over, his hand reaching over to pick a stray hair off of your shoulder. It was short, and pink. Fur.

His hand retracts and languidly dusts it off his finger to the side. Ah, you realise,

"Must be Jiaoqiu's."

"I'd be surprised if it wasn't."

"I have been watching over that pink-haired girl.."

Jing yuan chuckles softly, shaking his head,

"He seems quite irritable since then."

"He's.. clingy. Ever since I.."

He hums, his golden eyes calculative as he decides his next move.

"What a shame."

You yawn, the settling winter thawing under the new sun making the atmosphere more comfortable than chilling, leaning back on your arms.

"I can never understand that man.."

Jing yuan makes his move, and waits for you, as he takes a sip of his tea.

"Foxians are quite interesting."

"Hm?"

Jing yuan's words pique your interest, as you slightly perk up,

"Really? What of it?"

"They react differently to mara."

The board is abandoned by now, as you listen intently, leaning forward,

"Do you know how mara works?"

He sets the ceramic cup down, the liquid in it ebbing gently from the motion.

"Foxians of his lineage have tendencies to act far too soon on their desires, from even a smidge of exposure."

..is he lying?

"It was a strange event he decided to treat such wounds in his past. With you on the line beside him."

"But, I was already working there before him."

"Indeed. That is why I.."

He stays silent for a moment. A small chuckle leaves him, as he shakes his head,

"You should be more cautious."

You blink for a moment, simply looking at him. Under the golden sunlight, it's hard to look away.

Wait.

You look down at the board, as he steadily gets up,

"Wait, you- stole the pieces-?!"

----

You sneeze, and cringe immediately.

Jiaoqiu's unreadable expression is pointed at you, as you look to gauge his reaction. You've always hated the taste of his medicine.

It was more peaceful than anything, other than the looming threat of catching the attention of your "mentor" (or as he insisted). The occasional thick scent of chili and sizzling meats settled into the air, along with the gentle draft of early spring, hints of the winter's cold lingering in the crisp air in the atmosphere. You sniffle and shift in your seat, as Jiaoqiu approaches you.

"Try."

He places a bowl of noodles in front of you. You eye it suspiciously.

"It took me a while to prepare. So don't waste it, disciple."

You look up at him, warily. His closed eyes and sly grin greet you back.

You eye the dark, rich broth that would have had your mouth watering just a few decades ago. The perfectly cut noodles paired with an assortment of seasonings of all kinds – cut meat, hints of vegetables, boiled eggs. It was perfect.

But you couldn't taste it.

Truthfully, after you became sick, nothing tasted the same as it used to.

Your palette must have dulled. You could barely taste anything. It was as though you ate the same food, everyday, every month, every year, with no change in sight. Jiaoqiu's made a bit of a personal mission to try and challenge your dull palette.

"Jiaoqiu.."

You start, softly trying to protest,

"[Name]."

He sits down across you,

"Do you remember when I first served this?"

He leans forward, his chin cradled on his interlocked fingers, knees pressing onto the table. There's a faint smile on his face.

You sigh,

"Yes, back when.. I had a terrible fever, which just wouldn't leave."

"Mhm. It was the only reason you had the energy to walk around."

You continue staring at the dish. A hint of sentimentality at least seems to spark some appetite in you.

"Hm, too soupy isn't it?"

You comment, looking back up at him

"We aren't scarce on resources anymore, are we?"

"You could learn to not alter a few recipes for sentimental value."

"And what? Feed you that ashen bowl of noodles with barely a scrap of meat or any spice?"

You sigh,

"..alright."

You pick up the stationed chopsticks from the side, and stir the noodles slightly. Jiaoqiu's smile widens, as he watches you.

"The broth looks.."

"Remember when your fever wouldn't go down at all? The high temperature was so stubborn."

You shudder at the reminder. You still remember it – the searing burn of the medicine you hastily applied, the following high temperatures and sweat, the constant discomfort of being so unutterably weak you couldn't even sit upright.

You suppose he doesn't like when you nitpick. You resign yourself to eating it quietly.

–––

The sheets are soft, and cold as your bare back settles against them, your head gently hitting the soft pillow behind you. Your fingers absentmindedly trail down to the bandages on your abdomen, tracing the tight-binded edges of it.

Jiaoqiu's back is turned to you as he readies a concoction. One of many he's tried to use to "fix" you.

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling. You would have felt more awkward, more embarassed about having to lay almost half naked in your 'mentor's bed, but considering the recent flare up a few days ago, you couldn't care less.

Jiaoqiu walks around the expanse of the bedframe, and gently settles down on the other, empty side. He placed the paste on the nightstand, as his fingers reach down to undo your bandages.

There is something tender, you think, about having to lay bare under someone who has seen something so ugly, yet persist regardless. Under his fingers, where your flesh seems to either rot, or bloom. Something beautiful, if it weren't for the past pains of war still haunting you two. Something tender, if it weren't for your own flesh rotting into you.

His nose scrunches up a bit as your wound is exposed at the removal of the wraps. Foxians, especially of his kind, tend to have sensitive noses. Specifically for blood, if it makes sense.

Your age-old wound has shriveled and ached for so long, you almost wonder if it's alive on it's own. How have you been? You almost ask, every time you see it for yourself. The tainted flesh almost searing every time another paste, another cure, is desperately smeared on it. Almost as though it is offended.

Jiaoqiu stays silent, for a moment, his eyes slightly opened as he stares down. His hands have moved to your sides, as though framing your outline.

They move up, slowly, as though encasing your ribs. They expand with each breath, skin stretching and moving with the flesh alive underneath. His face slowly dips down, as if in prayer. His lips ghost the dip between your lower ribs, in ancient reverence. You wonder if he might break you open and eat your heart from the cages of your bones.

His lips trace down ghosting over the edge of your skin, where the previously infected part begins. He inhales, slowly, before speaking.

"I don't know how to fix this."

You stay silent. Your hand comes up to the side of his face, his hair tickling the back of it,

"Jiaoqiu. It's alright."

"It isn't."

You watch his face retract, his troubled gaze on your wound. The flesh has been marred and sunken.

"This isn't something you can fix."

He moves, the bed dipping as his weight shifts, the side of his face resting on your chest, one of his hands moving to your stomach, the back of his fingers grazing your skin as it moves up to the centre of your ribs.

"Bitter, sour.. distasteful.."

He murmurs, his fingers absentmindedly tracing your skin,

His face shifts, his lips resting just above your heart,

"Your blood smells like poison."

You still for a moment. His teeth graze your skin. The hot, damp breath wets your skin.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your heart beats in his ears. He longs to feel it in his mouth. His other hand, still on your side, shifts, the fingers digging into your skin.

For a moment, you wonder what the scene will reel out as ‐ your limp body, a feast under his hungry mouth. Your arteries stringing from the cave of your flesh to his mouth like a bridge, thin veins scattering and puzzling themselves in the crevices of his teeth. You hope he doesn't devour you.

For now, he resigns himself to your skin. His teeth bite. They do not draw blood yet.

---

Jiaoqiu has had more peace, recently.

Here he sits, behind you, entangling the thin stems of flowers within themselves, braiding a flower crown. His nose scrunches, and his ears flit slightly whenever you hand him a fragrant one. You chuckle whenever he comments on it. His head leans forward and rests on your shoulder, as you continue to page through recipes in his book. Medicinal ones.

"Ah, look. It's stained here."

"Hm, gunpowder?"

Jiaoqiu asks, his tail swiping your back, the curled end of it tickling the side of your face,

"I think so."

You continue paging through the recipes, before stopping on a page.

Ah. There's blood.

"Dear, how did that happen?"

Jiaoqiu muses, his fingers paused as he looks at the blood stained page.

"I wouldn't remember."

"Hm.."

The blood smells sweet, despite having sunken into the page almost decades ago. It carries a hint of vitality, still. At least, in his foxian sense.

You turn the page.

---

"Jiaoqiu!"

"Not now–"

"The nurse..!"

Jiaoqiu stops in his tracks, taking his eyes off of his station with slightly furrowed brows, towards the person who's abruptly entered,

"What is it?"

"They're ill! They've fallen to the‐"

Jiaoqiu rushes with those few meager words, swiftly walking past as he asks where you are.

Unfortunately for you, you were trying to gain your bearings on the wooden floor.

This entire month of war specifically, had torn you both down to shreds. Your inventories were looted, leaving you with scarce medicine and many maimed to look after. The enemies were bolstering their presence harshly, and closing in furiously.

Upon stumbling on a rare sight of a wounded enemy soldier, you leaned down to check if they carried anything useful – medicine, maps, anything, when you realised in your haste you should have checked for their pulse first.

And it was in that moment of realisation did you feel a sharp plunge and sting, as the soldier's arm swiftly swung and stabbed you with a small knife.

You wanted to scream, but the overwhelming pain of the intrusion, the visceral splitting of your flesh far outweighed the need to scream. You jerked away, weakly, but hastily, retreating, leaving the enemy with their last bout of energy to laugh bitterly at you.

–––

Jiaoqiu still smells poison on you.

With war came many things. A lost locket on the vast field. A lonely sword in the quiet of the night. A child asleep in front of the door, forever waiting their parent.

And with war, came your eventual poisoning.

Perhaps it was the weapon. Knives edged with venom. It could have made for a lethal weapon.

But something felt odd.

Jiaoqiu's face presses into the warmth of your stomach.

Bitter. Sour. Distasteful. Rancid. Rotting. And Defiled.

Jiaoqiu's mind often wanders to wine reds. The pulling of sinew arteries, the sharp cut of a blade through flesh. The slow leaking of myoglobin or blood through the cutting board.

Sometimes, it had wandered while he tended to patients.

Blooming flesh, at incineration of skin due to sharpnel, or burnings. The vigorous pumping of the heart at the sight of blood draining down slowly, outside it's confinement, ever so oblivious to the lethality.

Jiaoqiu had craved flesh. Flesh beyond the slaughter of a Lamb, of a Cow, of any animal.

Flesh, right under the safe confines of human ribs.

Sweet, sweet viscera of the Liver. The expanse of Lungs. The tightly wound cartilage right above and below the muscles. Bones that leaked marrow.

The heart.

But he hadn't dare consume.

With war, came hunger.

Hunger he had not experienced like any other. Hunger that devoured him whole. Hunger so vast he could feel his insides churning and dissolving for the capacity of the appetite he would need to fulfill.

A hunger for you.

Poisoned, and permanently so. It's safe to say his attempts to 'fix' you, weren't necessarily innocent.

He shifts, his face moving to your neck, nose tickling the edge of it as his lips linger on your nape. Unprotected spinal cord. His canines expose and gently press on the tender skin, the pressure increasing, waiting for the breach of the skin.

You laugh, airy and sweet.

"What are you doing?"

Jiaoqiu retracts, slightly. Staggered, shallow breathing as he struggles to restrain himself.

He stays quiet. You grow nervous at the strange silence.

"Jiaoqiu?"

"[Name]."

His head turns slightly, eyeing the open recipe book on your nightstand. The night's gentle breeze wafting through the open window agitated the pages, slightly uncovering the blood-stained page for a second.

"What is it?"

You quietly ask, sensing the slight tightness in his voice,

"You poisoned yourself."

Your breath hitches, a shock rendering your body paralyzed for a second.

What?

You shift and turn to face him. His eyes are open, staring endlessly into yours. You break into a cold sweat, his slitted eyes almost cutting through you. Your heart beats harshly in your chest, as your breathing staggers slightly.

"Jiaoqiu?"

"While concocting that medicine for yourself.."

He whispers, his hand pushing down on the pliant bed as he leans forward, making you lean back in turn,

"What are you–"

"In your haste, did you ever think to use the right ingredients?"

He's towering over you, as you look at him, eyes almost blown wide, pupils dilated, breathing heavily. You don't notice it until you realise how out of breath you feel, despite the chill of the night air causing chills on your skin.

"The.. ingredients.."

You stumbled into your tent, almost meeting the ground, your arm on reflex grabbing onto something sturdy, as you gasped and panted. Your other hand presses onto the wound on your abdomen, as you cry out, abruptly interrupted by a sharp inhale at the pain. Tears singe your eyes, but your heart is beating too loud, and you're too pained to cry yet. You grunt as you pull yourself up, your bloodied hands sifting through the cacophany of items on your own desk, shuffling in haste for something,

Eventually, you hurriedly concocted a simple but powerful herbal paste, smothering it onto the blaring and irritated, bloody wound, seeping and crying incessantly of blood into your hands as you lathered it onto the wound in great pain. You ignored the uncharacteristic burning of the paste, hurriedly trying to wrap the bandage onto yourself, before too much blood was lost.

"Do you realise? That paste.. if you messed up a single point in the recipe, you'd poison yourself. Each ingredient was selected to neutralize the other."

Erratic, shallow breaths leave you as he looks down at you. What have you done?

This is poison. This is the curse.

The curse you carried after the war. It was never mara that could affect you.

And it was the poison Jiaoqiu had longed to taste.

His face dives down into your neck again, his fangs ghosting your jugular vein,

"Do you realise what truly courses in your blood?"

A cold bead of sweat drips down from the side of your forehead. Death could possibly taste sweeter, you imagine.

"I can't wait to taste it."

And his teeth sink.

--

[renai-fr]

Perler Bead Flight Flags

Made these flight flag coasters a bit back, figured it was a good time to post 'em! I do enjoy Perlers, they're like pixel art but at the end I can hold them and stuff.

Crafting details after the break, if y'all want to make your own.

These are using the original 2013 flag designs/colors on a 14x14 board, with standard 5mm beads. If you wanted to do the current flag designs, they'd need a little bit of tweaking as many are more symmetric in the current art (and also, I'd recommend a 16x16 size, since then you have room to put the current art's border). You could also try out an odd-sized flag, 15x15 maybe, but the angles at the bottom will look a little off. Doesn't hurt to try stuff though!

I got most of the beads for these out of variety packs and various kits, which don't necessarily label the colors in them, but these are my best guesses to what I used:

Earth: Tan design on Brown base

Fire: Butterscotch/Orange on Light Brown base

Wind: Dark Green on Kiwi Lime

Water: Light Blue on Dark Blue/Cobalt

Lightning: Toothpaste on Parrot Green

Ice: Turquoise on Robin's Egg

Light: Cheddar on Creme

Shadow: Pastel Lavender on Purple

Nature: Kiwi Lime on Dark green

Plague: Red on Cranapple

Arcane: Pink on Raspberry

(Most of these came from the Multi Mix packs or the Neutral Colors/Fun Colors trays, but Cranapple in particular was catankerous to get ahold of. Fitting for Plague, I suppose! Anyways, there's some wiggle room on hue for a lot of these, too, I was just using what I had onhand as much as possible)

As for what I would do differently if I made another set of these? Well... I've gotten a bit better at getting the melt level consistent, so there's that. Learned the hard way that trying to melt two designs on the same pegboard, even if said board is big, isn't a good idea (and it's near-impossible to fix). Also, I was using one of the freebie folded pieces of parchment paper, so some of the coasters have creases... On non-ironing notes, I think it would be fun to take a stab at a micro-bead variant, since they support a higher dpi and all!

Anyways, if you decide to make your own set, please uh... I'd say ping me, but I'm not actually sure how that works here? I think it'd be cool to see 'em, that's all. Happy crafting!

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

A Deal | Vox x Gen Z Reader

A/N— Decided to turn my little drabble into a little series of one-shots based off of ideas I come up with and any requests y'all may have for it 💅🏻 ALSO a huge thank you to @writteninlunarlight-years for the idea that inspired me to kickstart the series! It's very much 'enemies to lovers' core (kinda, I guess?), but I have no idea how far this will go lol. Hope everyone enjoys this — sorry it took so long :)

Warnings: Reader is implied female, Valentino existing, mentions of souls being owned, reader is close to being an overlord

Word Count: 1,724

Summary: You were a growing threat — and what better way to keep an eye on said threat, than to have you start living under the same roof as three of the most influential overlords in Hell? This is only the beginning. . .

Since your arrival to Hell, things had been nothing short of interesting — from your offers that couldn't be refused, all the way to the demon's that warily approached or backed off when you were near.

It was quite the spectacle.

You were quickly rising within the ranks of Hell, from a mere sinner to damn near an overlord — for all the souls you claimed in a few short months. It was noticeable — your social climbing.

What you hadn't expected was two overlords reaching out in the same day, both itching for some sort of deal.

You'd heard whispers of the feared Radio Demon and practically laughed at the thought of people being scared of him — sure his smile was off-putting, but other than that, you didn't really see the hype.

So when he approached you outside of the Café you'd began to frequent, striking up casual conversation as if you were old friends, you quickly understood what was going on.

He was powerful. You were becoming more powerful. He offered guidance and you knew there was a 'but' coming.

When it dropped, you sighed, before sipping on your warm beverage.

"I can offer you guidance, and in return, I want your soul as a pledge of undying loyalty, my dear!" He made a hand motion, as if he planned on writing your name in the stars — could you even see the stars from Hell?

"I'm sorry — but other than guidance, what do I get out of it? I've done well on my own for the last six months."

Protection. Respect. Free housing. It had almost been tempting — especially the free housing, especially in that economy. . . But in the end, you had told him that you'd think about it.

In reality, you wouldn't.

Giving up your freedom for half the shit you could get on your own? He had you fucked up.

Then there was Vox; the wide open rival of Alastor. You'd actually seen him around, having been in a couple clubs he was coincidentally visiting at the same time.

When he approached you, it was three hours later and you were actively sending a message to the group chat of demons whose souls you owned, over Sinstagram. You were simply reminding them of the consequences if they took the food that CLEARLY had your name written on it.

You didn't care that you were sitting in a restaurant — if any of them touched that leftover sub quarter, you'd kill them, and not in a funny or ironic way. You'd actually kill them double dead with no return. 

When you looked up, he questioned your business with 'the fossil' and was met with a blank stare rather than words.

He clarified that he meant Alastor.

"Oh. I don't have any." You replied simply, reading the few messages that popped up on screen.

At the revelation, he was pleased and began listing off all of the things he could provide that Alastor 'would fail miserably at'.

Money. Protection. Respect. A sounding board for ideas. Anything your heart desired. All at a small cost of being under his surveillance almost 24/7.

That snatched your attention away from the two demons who began arguing in their native languages. Did you understand them? Fuck no. Would you be translating that later? Abso-fuckin-lutely.

"And what's in it for you?" You asked the TV demon. You didn't like the thought of being under surveillance and having little to no privacy, but his deal had already been sweetened by Vox not wanting your soul.

"Power all the way around. With my influence, you can be a billion times better than that staticky prick. You'll practically have demons begging on their knees."

"Tempting." You admitted.

"What do you think?"

"Eh, fuck it. Why the hell not?"

From there it was a flurry of events — you remembered eating, but then you were leaving with Vox and then quickly found yourself in a meeting room with the other Vees and shit you had to sign, stating that you wouldn't spill any details of the inner workings of any of the three companies.

Who did he take you for?

Once you read each document thoroughly, making sure it wasn't a contract for your soul, you signed your name on the tablets screen and sat back in your seat, pulling out your phone to begin translating the argument from the beginning.

"Great! Ground rules — our private spaces are off limits unless we explicitly tell you otherwise, that includes bedrooms, offices, and basically everything that isn't a —"

"Uh-huh, got it." You mumbled — snorting at the beyond creative insults that began to flood the screen in English.

"Listen—"

"It's my nap time, TV boy. If you can put this conversation in a text, do it." You sighed, stretching your limbs. They popped as you stood — who showed these fuckers how to make gifs of each other?

Oh.

You did. HA!

"You know I can kill you, right?" Vox questioned, his claws digging into the table.

"So could a really motivated duck — or a Canadian goose. Those things are straight out of Hell, Box."

"It's Vox." He growled.

Ooh spicy. "Whatever —"

"Can you be serious for five minutes?"

"Ok boomer."

His screen glitched and his claws dug further into the desk as he stared at you.

Velvette barked a laugh and looked away from her phone long enough to see Vox on the verge of malfunctioning, a smirk slipping onto her face. "Can we keep her? I like this one."

"This one's more tolerable than the last." Valentino mused, blowing his smoke into the air. He leaned forward in his seat, uncrossing his legs. "And we don't even know her name."

"The name's Y/N. Don't wear it out." You winked before turning around and exiting the door you had been ushered through, however long ago. The moment the door closed, you heard Vox angrily talking with Velvette and Valentino, who were much calmer than the TV overlord.

Oh, this will be fun. A good idea, for sure.

Thirty minutes later, when you were in the room Vox had told you was yours, both Velvette and Valentino followed you on Sinstagram before adding you to the Vees official group chat.

Your first week living with the Vees went by rather quickly — of course, you respected their privacy as requested, spending most of your time in your room or the common areas which mostly consisted of the kitchen, living room, and game room.

Still, you'd managed to piss Vox off three more times, and got Velvette and Valentino to join in without trying.

Velvette quickly picked up your terminology, calling Vox a boomer at any given opportunity. It pissed him off to no end. Valentino had only done it twice, mostly because they both spent a lot of time working and only interacted with Vox when he had the time to.

Within the first seventy-two hours, you noticed the weird obsession Vox had with Alastor and you sarcastically quoted a scene from a movie at dinner that night.

"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?"

And he had looked at you weirdly, pausing mid rant. Later you had to explain to the other two that it was from a movie — and who Agent Romanoff was.

Vox avoided you mostly, which you chalked up to him thinking you were annoying. Good.

By the end of the first month, Velvette had you chilling with her while she worked, usually with you being the sounding board for her ideas.

More often than not, you had good ideas.

That little fact prompted her to throw you a sketch book, telling you to get to work.

You were getting paid to be there, so whatever.

When you weren't with Velvette, you were declining Valentino's countless invitations to sit with him while he worked — you wanted nothing to do with that. Porn wasn't really your thing, even when you were alive, but you had a bunch of friends who were super into it.

Instead you went out alone, claiming you were getting lunch for yourself. You'd get lunch, after making a few deals with wayward demons who would thrive under your influence.

That one particular day, you hadn't noticed either presence behind you, until a fight broke out, causing you to turn around to see Alastor and Vox going at each other's throats — and not in an interesting way.

You somehow broke it up just after Alastor cracked Vox's screen.

"Why the fuck are you here?" You bit out harshly, directed at the two overlords who now stood three feet apart like scolded children, neither pleased to be there.

"You left without saying anything." Vox crossed his arms.

"You hadn't reached out, my dear." Alastor hummed, distastefully glancing over at the TV demon.

You groaned, throwing your head back. "Listen, get the fuck over yourselves! At this rate, I answer to Velvette, not the two of you boomers. Got it?"

Alastors eyes began to twitch as static filled the air, whereas Vox's cracked screen glitched as you walked away.

Later, when Vox approached you, you noticed that his screen was fixed. That was good.

"Got a minute, [Y/N]?" He questioned.

You looked up from the sketch book in hand and nodded, mumbling 'sure' as you closed it. You were tired from the long day.

So his next question caught you off guard.

"Why do you do this to me?"

"Do what?"

"Why do you purposely piss me off? You get along with everyone else, yet you call me names and disrespect my entire existence. Why?"

You sighed, not really having a real answer. "That's just the way I am, how I've always been. . . And in my defense, I call everyone names. . . Not just you. So, don't think you're special, Box—"

"— Vox —"

"I'm a bitch to everyone, just most don't realize it because their bitch scale broke a long time ago. Now, go. I have shit to do that doesn't involve stroking your fragile ego."

Vox wasn't sure what it was, but he knew he was going to keep a closer eye on you. What was so different about you?

You were close enough in biological age to Velvette, yet while there were similarities, there were so many differences. . . He wasn't sure what to think about any of it. Especially with you climbing up the power ladder.

[dreamyreveriie]

𐙚 DROWNING OUT THE NOISE — PERCY JACKSON .ᐟ ˚⋆. ˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ ꒰ golden retriever!percy jackson x fem!black cat!reader — a riordanverse fic ꒱

— ordered﹔yes / no - here!! — ingredients﹔fluffy whipped cream, use of y/n, purpose use of lowercase alphabet soup, probably not well proofread, lmk if i missed anything! — wc﹔1.2k+ // 9.2 min average reading time — recipe﹔read the order above :) — cassie's tea time﹔YAYYAYAY FIRST REQUEST!! <3 ik campers can't usually use their phones since it sends out signals to monsters and all but i wrote it so the hephaestus cabin made electronics that don't attract monsters and all!! i also didn't know what to put for the photos above sooooo

﹙the cafe // dishes // menu // barista board﹚

y/n always wore her headphones. it was like her shield, a way to drown out the noise of the world around her. social anxiety was something she'd battled for as long as she could remember, and the headphones were her safe place — a place she would retreat into whenever she could.

going to camp half-blood was supposed to be different. it was like the perfect place for misfits and somewhere she could finally feel like she belonged, according to her satyr protector long ago. but on her first day, she found herself reaching for her headphones more than ever. she kept to the edges, avoiding eye contact and hoping to blend into the background. it was ironic; she felt like a misfit in a place full of misfits.

but percy jackson had a way of noticing things. and he noticed her.

percy had always been the kind of person who made friends easily, especially being the saviour of olympus and a son of one of the big three. he had a laid-back, golden retriever kind of personality. so when he spotted the girl, always with her headphones on and keeping to herself, he was naturally intrigued.

"hey," percy said one day, walking up to her after archery practice. y/n looked up, startled, and pulled one side of her headphones off.

"hi," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"sorry, i didn't mean to startle you. i'm percy," he said sheepishly, offering her a friendly smile. "i've seen you around."

"y/n," she introduced herself, fiddling with the cord of her headphones.

"cool headphones," percy remarked, hoping he could ease the tension. "whatcha listening to?"

y/n hesitated, not sure why the percy jackson would be talking to her. she took off her headphones, handing them to percy. percy accepted them with a smile, putting them on as the music flowed into his ear. "no way, you listen to them too?? i swear, i've never seen anyone listen to this artist. i like your taste."

she relaxed a little, a small smile appearing on her face. "i adore them, they're my favourite band ever."

percy couldn't help but grin as she smiled, happy that she relaxed even a little bit. "mine too. what's your favourite song by them?"

days turned into weeks, and percy made it his mission to break through y/n's walls. he started inviting her to join him by the lake, offering her training lessons or sometimes following her around like a lost puppy as she chuckled. slowly but surely, she began to come out of her shell.

one sunny afternoon, percy noticed y/n sitting alone under the shade of a tree by the lake. she gazed at the water as she listened to the music flowing from her headphones. percy approaches her with a wave.

"hey, y/n," percy greets.

"hey, percy." she looked up, giving him a smile and removing her headphones.

"mind if i join you?"

she shook her head, and he settled in beside her. "what're you listening to today?"

y/n handed him her headphones, and percy listened for a moment. "i love this album." he hums before handing the headphones back.

"why d'you always wear your headphones?" percy decides to ask, dipping his hands in the cool water. they always spent their free time there together, not that any of them complained. they enjoyed eachother's company. "you don't gotta answer." he added quickly, not wanting to intrude her privacy.

y/n took a deep breath. "they help me cope. with... pretty much everything. the noise, the people. it all gets too much sometimes." she admits softly, looking down at the headphones in her hands.

percy nodded understandingly. "i get it. everyone needs something to help them through tough times, y'know?"

"yeah," she said softly, meeting his gaze. "i appreciate, by the way. for being so nice to me. i know i'm not the easiest person to be friends with."

"are you kidding?" Percy snorted, shaking his head. "you're awesome. you just need someone to see it."

y/n blushed, looking away as a shy smile played on her lips.. "yeah, maybe."

from that day forward, their friendship only seemed to grow even further. percy was there for her every step of the way, helping y/n find her confidence that she never knew she had. in return, y/n's calm presence helped ground percy's impulsive nature. they balanced each other out perfectly.

y/n realised how much she'd changed. she wasn't the same girl who hid behind her headphones. she still wore them, but now they were like a part of her rather than a shield.

"thank you, percy," she said suddenly as they sat at the beach.

"for what?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"for helping me," she replied, meeting his eyes.

percy smiled, reaching out to take her hand. "always. we're in this together."

it wasn't long before percy realised his feelings for y/n. he wouldn't admit it to himself, though. all of their hangouts by the lake and beach, the times where they'd listen to their favourite artists together, or the times percy had held her hand as he taught her how to wield a sword.. no, it couldn't be.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, a golden glow casting over the camp, percy found himself standing at the edge of the lake, waiting for y/n at their spot. she arrived, headphones around her neck as usual, with a smile that warmed his heart. a smile that y/n knew percy liked, so she wore more often. they sat together, side by side, in comfortable silence.

"percy," y/n said quietly, her voice barely audible over the soft push and pull of the lake's water.

"yeah?" he replied, turning to look at her.

"why are you so nice to me?" she asked, her eyes searching his.

percy took a deep breath, his heart pounding. "because... i like you, y/n. i like spending time with you.uou make everything better. and, well, i.. i think you're pretty amazing."

y/n's eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink. "you do?"

percy nodded, staring down at the lake as he blushed. "yeah, i do. and i want to be there for you, always. if you'll let me."

she reached out and squeezed his hand. "i'd like that, percy. I'd like that a lot."

percy felt a wave of relief wash over him. he had been so nervous about confessing his feelings, but y/n’s response made it all worth it.

y/n turned to percy with a thoughtful expression. "you know, i never thought i’d find someone who understands me like you do."

percy smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "you’ve helped me too, you know."

"how?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"you’ve helped me slow down, appreciate the little things. you’ve shown me that it's okay to take a break and just be in the moment. otherwise i probably would've hurt myself." percy laughed.

y/n laughed along with him, smiling brightly "i'm glad."

percy found himself looking forward to their time together more than anything else. he appreciated every moment when he made her laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her favorite music, and the peaceful silence they shared by the lake.

as they sat by the lake, y/n turned to percy with a serious expression. "you’ve helped me so much, percy. i don’t think i can ever thank you enough."

"you don’t have to thank me," he replied, squeezing her hand gently. "i’m just glad i could be here for you."

"i want to do something for you," she insisted. "anything. name it."

percy thought for a moment, then smiled. "just stay by my side and be yourself. that’s all i need."

— thank you for placing your order, and i hoped you enjoyed your meal! kisses from jvpiterzs <3 — cafe guest list﹔n/a

[gayferrari]

do u have favorite rarepair fics

THANK YOU FOR ASKING & sorry this took a while to put together! I DO. enjoy :)

Alex/Charles

I can feel the sun on you by @liamlawsonlesbian [Roman Holiday AU!!!! Prince!Charles / novelist!Alex]

differential equation [the time travel sex AU that's been on my mind for the past week]

now entering a world (from which you will never return) by @alpinelogy [ferrari teammates time loop AU]

Charles/Oscar; Arthur/Oscar. 2 libras by @beechersnope [accidental voyeurism pwp]

Carlos/George. the jetsam overboard by @testarossa [Mercedes teammates AU]

Carlos/James V. Repeating Representations @hamlettee [JV seduces Carlos to Williams in many ways]

Charles/Joris. last longer by venerat. [fic of all time if u ask me]

Charles/Nico. my kind's your kind by @monacotrophywife [meton/protege. sort of. fucked up]

Daniel/Jenson. golden boy's in bad shape by @redpaint. [driver Jenson/ bartender Daniel AU]

George/Toto. it's not about having someone to love me anymore by @drivestraight [omegaverse fuckedup workplace boundaries ft age difference galex]

Michael/Seb — iron-clad, iron-bound by @antimonyandthyme [omegaverse heat fic PWP]

Lewis/Jenson

last chance saloon by @ultrasofts [Jenson retires]

you pour and i'll say stop by @redpaint [f!Lewis, cheating]

Lewis/Bono

send vibrations by @sionisjaune [Bono gets stuck in Lewis's ear; background brocedes]

The contours of things by @fullwets [Bono/Lewis through the years]

trust exercise by @thelittlebirdthatkeptsomanywarm [THE ONE WHERE THEY ARE LESBIANS!!!]

Lewis/Toto. a better love deserving of by @sionisjaune [they fuck nasty about Lewis to Ferrari]

Mark/Oscar. YES this is a rarepair if you go by the size of the AO3 tag!!

but i found i'm bound [omegaverse PWP, A+ characterisation]

Call It What You Want (Call Me What You Need) by @elementalmoments [Oscar wakes up as a girl. Mark helps]

full fucking send series by @fastcarscuteboys [broadly follows 2023/2024 Oscar racing plot points]

rebirth by venerat [UST charged get together]

Mick/Toto. born and raised for the job by @freeuselandonorris [power imbalance like WOAH. hot :3]

Nico/Seb. Another ship that's definitely a rarepair if you go by AO3 tag size!!!

everybody wants to rule the world by @kritischetheologie [AM team principal Nico/driver Seb]

your other one evaporate by @sionisjaune [f/f AU and also Nico is the princess of Monaco]

square shaped smile, heart shaped mouth by @blorbocedes [the one where they're boarding school lesbians]

[BONUS!!!!!] Lewis/Max. This isn't a rarepair by any stretch of the word BUT it's a rarepair spiritually in my heart bc I never see discussion about it in my corner of F1blr and I wouldn't get to rec this excellent fic otherwise. the price of the prodigy by @saff-rons [sex as a bad coping mechanism :3 future fic]

(if I got someone's username wrong / missed somebody who's on tumblr hmu!!! if u like the fics drops the auhors a line!!!)

[justagirlwholikesadam]

The American: Welcome to Hogwarts

Remus Lupin x Fem! American! Reader

Prequel of The American: Welcome Back! -click to read

Summary: Entering their 5th year, Remus and his friends are told of a new student coming to Hogwarts. While dealing with problems of his own, Remus can't help but notice the new transfer student from America.

Warning: slow burn, bullying, issues of self esteem, suicidal thoughts, xenophobia against reader, name calling, the word mud blood is used a lot, very dark content.

A/N:I haven't read the books but I have seen the movies and read a shit ton of fanfic. I'm making stuff up as we go so my plot can work. There are some characters that I thought were real but where made up for fanfics. I hope people don't mind if i add them because i already wrote the chapter. I later found out while googling stuff abt The Marauders. I will be added them and other characters to my story with my own twist. With that being said, don't come for me if this character is doing this and that. Not sure how many chapters I'll be doing, really depends on the feedback. please read the tags before reading. Enjoy -L

Remus found himself staring at the tracks in front of him. His eyes studied the nails and the iron bars of the train tracks. He can hear the horns of the Hogwarts Express blasting indicating it’s near. It drowns out the sounds of the students and their families around him. He looks at the red and black train coming and Remus takes a step forward. 

Remus has thought of this a lot before, stepping in front of a train. Trains, buses and cars. Just one leap and it will be over. His fingers tighten over the straps of his bag over his shoulder as he thinks about it more. 

A quick death, what a wonderful relief. 

He hates having a full moon in the summer when he is away from Hogwarts. He didn’t have any of his friends during that time. They were off on vacation or doing activities with their families and Remus doesn’t have the heart to ask them to come over. His friends have done so much for him. He’s afraid of asking for too much and they will leave him for it. He doesn’t want to be alone. 

Remus takes another step forward getting a bit closer to the edge and as he looks ahead. His mouth slightly dropped open when he saw a man standing on the other side of the tracks staring back at him. The man stood there bloody, throat ripped open, slashes across his face and chest. Blood was gushing out from the man’s wound. He wore dark blue trousers and a white ripped collar shirt. The man lifted his hand towards Remus, reaching for him. With his finger, he pointed at Remus as blood dripped down from it. Remus feels the bile coming up his throat when the man try to open his mouth to speak. Blood came pouring out from his mouth and Remus stands there frozen in fear. Remus doesn't see a flash of red running towards him. 

“Remus!” He feels a force come at him making him take a step back from the edge of the platform. The train approaches, hiding him away from the bloody man. He felt Lily hug him and Remus shut his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her pulling her into a tight hug. He missed her so much this summer. He didn’t visited her like usual. He couldn’t. He was ashamed of himself. He tries to get rid of the sight of the man he just saw, he continues to hug her. Lily rubbed his back when Remus didn't pull right away. 

Lily Evans, was the first friend he made when he came to Hogwarts. She was the first to realize what he was and she was the first to not make him feel bad for being a werewolf. As times passed he was welcome into a group of three boys. They didn’t make him feel bad as well, they had even helped him by becoming animagus and stayed with him through his transformations.

“You haven’t written back to me all summer.” Lily said when they pulled away. The students around them started boarding into the train. 

“Forgive me, Lils. Rough summer is all.” Remus said as he grabbed his luggage by his feet along with Lily’s. She gave him a thanks and he just nodded. He wasn’t going to allow her to carry the heavy thing. 

Lily and Remus greeted the other students in their year as they walked to their usual compartment. Remus with ease placed the luggage on the top shelf as Lily sat down. Remus sat down with a huff beside her, next to the window, his favorite spot. Lily opened her beige shoulder bag and took out a brown lunch paper bag with the letter R written on it. 

“Mom, send you a snack.” Remus smiles as he grabs it from Lily. 

“She’s a saint.” Remus said as he opened it, taking a look inside. In separate plastic bags, he saw there were slices of green apples and a jam sandwich cut diagonally. There was even a small juice box. 

“Green apple, my favorite.” He comments. 

“Ugh, she likes you more than me.” Lily pulled out a bag of baby carrots instead of apples like him. Lily’s mom knew of Remus, he would visit Lily sometimes during break and the summer. Lily’s mom was always happy to see him and even called him a son at one point when he always offered to take out the trash or wash the dishes. Remus thought it was the least he could do since they had him over for dinners. Petunia wasn’t really fond of him, but he didn’t mind her. He ignored the names being aimed at him when he sat across from her during dinner. 

Remus chuckles at Lily then he takes the bag of apples out. “I’ll trade.” 

“You would really do that for me?” She asked him with a pout. 

“Hurry, before I change my mind!” Lily laughs and gives him the bag of baby carrots as she gets the bag of apples. 

Remus drops the baby carrots into his brown paper bag, saving them for later. He looked over at Lily when he noticed what she was holding out. He gives her a smile and grabs the slice of apple from her hand. 

Quickly putting it in his mouth,  he hummed at the sweetness of the apple as he chewed. Lily frowned and stopped mid-bite when she noticed Remus looking out the window. His eyes roaming quickly on the other side of the platform. 

“Looking for someone?” Lily asked and Remus looked over at her. He shook his head, telling her nobody. 

Lily is eating when Sirius and James come walking in. Remus rises up from his seat to greet his friends. Lily does the same. Remus helps Sirius with his luggage as James sits next to Lily by the door. Sirius sits across from Remus. 

He’s listening to Sirius ramble on about his summer, it was another horrid one. His mother had gone mad about tradition with the family. He was a disgrace for being a Gryffindor, but he was even more of a disgrace to his family when they found out Sirius doesn’t agree with the pureblood ideas. James and Lily are talking amongst themselves. Remus and Sirius just gave each a look, James was finally getting on Lily’s good side. 

Sirius hits Remus' shoes with his elbow that rested next to him. Remus had quite a growth spurt last year. He had his leg resting on the seat across from him.

“How was your summer, mate?! I sent you a letter, you know?” Sirius' cheeks grow pink and Remus notices it. 

“I’m sorry. I did receive it. I had a hard time answering back. Last moon was draining.” Sirius nods at him, understandingly. 

“Are you okay now?” He asks Remus. Sirius notices something odd with Remus when he doesn't answer right away. He didn’t like it one bit. Remus was usually cheerful whenever they came back to school. 

“Yes, Padfoot.” Remus answers as he leans his head against the window. Sirius decides to not push it and asks Remus about a book he was reading before summer break. He smiles when he sees Remus' whole demeanor change, Remus sat up and excitedly told him about it. The train lets out another sound and a few seconds later. The train began to move then after a few more conversations about Lily and James’ summer. One by one they started to doze off. 

Remus was sleeping with his head against the window. His body jiggled softly as the train kept on moving. He scratches his nose when he feels an itch in his sleep. Inhaling deeply, Remus’ eyes shot open when a scent hit him. The scent is new, it didn’t come from his friends. Remus felt a chill down his back, it was a strange feeling. He doesn’t know why he’s smelling it, the full moon has passed already. Why is the lycanthropy still residing in him?  Sitting up straight, he looks over at his friends. They are still sleeping, he wonders why Peter isn’t here. They have been taking the same spot in the train for five years now, so Peter couldn’t be lost in finding them. 

Remus felt his throat close up when the smell hit him again. He rose up from his seat, taking another sniff in the air.  He noticed the door was a bit open. He figured it was Sirius who usually forgets to latch the lock whenever coming back from the restroom. 

Remus decides to go to the bathroom and wash his face. He figured he was smelling things because he had a rough summer. He was barely sleeping at home. The nap on the train was the best sleep he had all summer. He shuts the door behind him then looks up and down the hall, it’s empty. The lights of the hallway were lit up, he saw most of the other people had pulled down the curtains for privacy as he walked to the restroom. Remus yawns as he walks inside the restroom and turns on the light. Rubbing his eyes he steps in front of the toilet to relieve himself. Letting out a small moan when finished urinating, he turns his head to the door. That fucking smell is there, he quickly walks to the door. He presses his forehead against it. Remus inhales the scent, it's on the wooden door. 

The scent of copper, the scent of a girl. 

Remus doesn’t realize at first but he breathes heavily, his forehead is pressed against the door as his right hand touches his chest and drops down to his lower stomach. He fist the sweater he wore on top of his uniform in his hand as he sniffs harder. When his fingers hits the zipper of his trouser, the urge to touch himself came over him. His eyes shot open and he quickly stepped away from the door. He stared at it, scared. This has never happened to him before. A scent that was making him horny, it was new to him. 

Remus knows this isn’t him, this has to be Moony. The wolf that resides in him. Moony should be gone by now but he isn’t. He leans against the wall of the bathroom and let's out a sigh. He shook his head as he looked down at his hands, he shut his eyes when he remembered how his hands looked with all that blood. He looks ahead at the mirror and whines when the background changes. He saw himself back again in the woods behind his house. 

“Stop it.” He hissed to himself as he looked away and started to push the button of the soap dispenser on the wall. 

Turning the hot water all the way up. He ignored the heat of the water as he washed his hands until it was pink and raw.  He kept telling himself, he had to scrub it away, wash the blood away. He looks ahead at the mirror and stares at himself. His eyes are staring at the new scar on his face. He hates his appearance, despises it. It’s just a constant reminder of what he is, a monster. His friends tell him differently but Remus knows he’s one. He truly is especially after what he did. 

Running his fingers through his hair, damping his sandy brown curls before turning off the light, he walks out of the bathroom. The hallway is still empty, he shuts the door and starts to walk back when he smells it again. His chest started to feel tight and he bit his bottom lip as he turned to face the other side of the hallway. 

He’s staring down the hall and he can smell it again. 

“Fuck.” He murmured when he saw that part of the train, usually students of House Slytherin, sits in. He steps forward carefully as he looks to the left. Most of the train compartments had the curtains drawn down, he stopped when one of the doors was slightly open. He guessed whoever was in there forgot to use the lock. 

‘Another Sirius.’ Remus tells himself as he looks inside. He sees a figure sleeping on the cushion seats, a leg hanging out. He frowns when he notices they wore jeans and sneakers. The person wasn't in uniform like them. Remus hears laughter further down the hall and quickly goes back. Last thing he wants to do is come face to face with a Slytherin. Making it back to his seat, he gently sat back down to not disturbed Lily who was leaning against James. He grabs the brown lunch bag Lily’s mom made for him. 

Remus quietly eats his sandwich as he stares out the window, watching the scenery. He never gets tired looking at the mountains and lakes as the train makes its way to Hogwarts. 

Shelley Mumps was the one who woke everyone the following morning. Remus had dozed off after eating his sandwich. He jumped out of his sleep when Shelley slid the door open with such force. 

“What happened?” James said in a sleepy voice as she shut the door and sat beside Sirius waking him up. 

“There's a transfer student. She's in our year.” Shelley said, looking at them. 

“Cool, can we go back to sleep?” Sirius said getting himself comfortable again against the wall. 

"She's American.” She added. Remus frowns. “They allow Americans in Hogwarts?” He questioned. 

“ Apparently because she’s here. Some of us saw her walking down the hallway. She was staring out the window. You should have seen the clothes she was wearing.” Shelley laughs and Remus looks away from her.

Lily just sighs at her friend. “What do you mean by that, Shelley?” 

“She had ripped holes in her jeans and her shoes looked dirty. She had this shirt with this ugly green army jacket. She looks homeless.”  Sirius was awake now and looked at Remus who kept quiet and stared out the window. 

“I'm sure, it wasn't that bad.” James said, clearing his throat as he sat up straight in his seat. 

“Oh please. The train is stopping soon. You’ll see her.” Shelley said before waving bye at them. 

“Tell me why you are still friends with her?” Remus asks softly, looking over at Lily.

“I have too, I share a dormitory with her.” Lily said, grabbing her bag as they felt the train stopped. 

They quickly got up and started to get their belongings. The students lined up and walked out the train. “Let's see if we can catch a glimpse of this girl.” Sirius tells Remus and James as Lily waved bye at them to find her other friends. 

Remus walked behind them as they walked to the waiting carriages. Leaving their trunks and luggage behind, they sat down. Remus looks around but has no luck in finding this ‘homeless girl.’ The carriages make it to the gates and they step down to walk towards the school, it was a five minute walk. 

“Peter!” James exclaimed and Remus looked over to see his friend walking towards them. 

“I missed the bloody train! My parents were furious. They had to drop me off.” Peter said with a sigh. Sirius and Remus shook their heads, Peter had a tendency of being late. They welcomed Peter with a hug.

“Did you hear the news?” Sirius asked. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Shelley gave me the full details on the new girl.” 

They walked together to the castle when they noticed a group of students standing by. 

“Oi!” James yells and a Ravenclaw boy, named Hems in their year, turns around. “What's going on?” 

“The American is with Hagrid.” Hems tells them as they get closer. Remus looked ahead to see. 

“Is she daft? What's she petting?” Remus hears another student ask. 

“Her name is-.” Someone said your name and Remus thinks it’s a nice name. He continues to look at you, trying to get a good look at your face. 

He can see Hagrid talking to you with a smile as you kept petting at the air but Remus can see the thestral you were petting. He could see its leathery wings flap for a second before circling around you making you giggle. Shelley was blowing your appearance out of proportion but it was exactly what he expected from a pureblood. He looks at you and he thinks your smile is pretty, that's what he noticed first about you. He looks at your clothes. You look casual. You look like a regular muggle, it reminded him of the outfit Sirius usually wears whenever going out to a muggle place. The green army jacket is a bit big on you. You wore a black shirt and blue ripped jeans. 

The thestral rubbed its head against your bookbag, you wore and Hagrid shooed the thestral away from you when it started to nibble on your bag making you laugh loudly. 

“What is she laughing at?” A student asked loudly. 

“You idiot, it's thestral.” Remus looks over and notices Severus with a group of Slytherins standing by. He was glaring at you as he answered. Remus noticed Hagrid leaning down to tell you something. You turn to face them and Remus sees your face for a second. Your eyes widened by the sight of them and quickly looked away before he could get a good look at you. 

“Two galleons, I’ll have her in bed by the end of the week.” Remus noticed an older student from House Ravenclaw speak out. Remus rolls his eyes when the group of students around him starts to snicker and begin to place their bets on you. He watches you walk away with Hagrid towards the school. 

“James? Sirius?” The guy said, looking over at them. 

“No, mate. I’m good.” James said before signaling his friends to keep walking. Remus doesn't want any part of it either. 

Sirius stops in mid step when one of them starts to laugh and yells out, “The American probably has diseases. You know they are sluts.” 

“15 galleons says she doesn't sleep with you.” Sirius said, making them stop laughing and look at him in disbelief at the amount of money he was placing. 

“You're on, Black.” 

Remus, James and Peter waited for Sirius to finish when he saw Severus and his friends walking away. James just glared at Severus and the long, dark haired boy did the same to James. 

“You really think she won't sleep with him?” Peter asked as they continued to make their way to the castle. 

“You have to be Shelley to sleep with them. I doubt she's like her.” Sirius said, shaking his head. 

Settling back down in Hogwarts was easy for Remus. He missed his bed and being around his friends. The atmosphere was different from back home. He wasn't alone, in Hogwarts he was surrounded by students, professors, and even ghosts. 

Getting ready for dinner, he spoke to Sirius about another book he got. Remus was fond of Sirius and even though they both came from completely different backgrounds. They were best friends. Sirius was the second person to figure out what he was. Remus had cried in front of him when he figured it out. Sirius didn't speak while Remus told him that he would understand if he didn't want to be friends anymore. Sirius just hugged him tightly. Hugged him until he calmed down. 

“You’re ridiculous. If you think, I'm going to stop being your best friend, mate.” Sirius spoke out after a few minutes. 

‘We’ll figure something out to help you. I promise.” 

Remus didn't believe it at first but when James and Peter figured it out he told them the truth. The three managed to become animagi behind his back and showed Remus when they accomplished it. He never felt so accepted before. They supported Remus during his transformations and mood swings when the full moon was near. They accompanied him in their animagi form to the Shrieking Shack then later carried him to Poppy Pomfrey. 

He was forever grateful for them. He really was so when he got too deep in his head and started thinking about dying and ending himself. He thinks of them. He thinks of Sirius, Peter, James and Lily. He thinks of his mom as well. 

He thinks about the time his mom would bath him when he was too hurt. She would feed him, dress him when he couldn’t move. His mother changed completely during the recent summer. She couldn’t look him in the eye and it broke him. His father who treated him differently already barely said a word. 

‘Oi!” Remus was deep in thought when James caught his attention. 

“You okay, Moony?” James said, walking towards him. They were in their dorm room, putting their stuff away when James saw Remus laying on the bed with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Yeah, Prongs.” James nods and sits beside him on the bed. Remus pushes himself up and holds himself by the elbows. 

“You know I wrote to you this summer. Like four times.” James said softly as Peter and Sirius were in the bathroom freshening up to go to dinner. 

“I know. I just-.” Remus feels James' eyes on him. “I don't know.” Remus lied. 

“Everything okay at home?” James whispered in a concerned tone, he knew about his life at home. Remus nods as Peter and Sirius come out of the bathroom laughing about something. 

“Ready to eat?” Peter asked as they put on their robes. 

“Yes!” Remus said getting out of bed, he looked over his shoulder to meet James' gaze who was still sitting down and staring at him. He did not believe Remus for a second. James drops it because he knows Remus hates being the center of attention so he drops it for now and says yes to Peter. 

Remus finds himself looking for you at the great hall but he can’t. He keeps his head down and listens to James and Lily talking in front of them as Sirius is talking with Marlene. Peter is next to him, trying to ignore Shelly who was talking about her summer. He was more interested in what's for dinner. 

“Welcome Students! Back for another year with us. I do hope everyone had a good summer.” Remus sighs as he looks down at the empty plate in front of him. The headmaster Dumbledore makes a few announcements about classes and a new teacher who will be teaching D.A.D.A. 

“Lastly, it gives me great pleasure to introduce a new student that will be joining us,-.” Dumbledore announces your full name and Remus repeats it in his head. He remembers your smile. It was so genuine, no one smiled like that to thestrals. 

“She’s from America, boys and girls. She will be studying with us. I want everyone to give her a warm welcome.” Remus looked up from his plate and looked over at the doors of the hall when it opened. He saw you wearing their uniform on. You stood next to Hagrid who urged you to walk inside. 

Remus claps along with his friends as you walk to Dumbledore and McGonagall, who had the sorting hat ready for you. 

“She looks like she's going to throw up.” Remus hears a Slytherin ahead of him joke. While you walked up the steps and sat down on the stool, facing everyone. Your eyes were looking down when McGonagall placed the hat on your head. 

The sorting hat hums as it rests on top of your head. 

“I feel it, young one. Don't you?” Remus saw you looking over at Dumbledore with a frightened look. McGonagall nods at you, easing your worries. You look down at the ground once more and your hands clasped on top of your lap. 

“Difficult choice, indeed.” The hat says. 

“A fighter!” The sorting hat yells, making everyone whisper. 

 “A protector!” Remus noticed the look on Dumbledore's face. 

“Oh- my, that is-.”  The hall quieted down when the hat stopped in mid sentence. 

“I know now! I see it!” The sorting hat crackled loudly. 

 “Slytherin!” Remus saw you lift your face to look ahead and Remus thought you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He took notes of your nose and lips. Your eyes and the way you looked so nervous made him feel bad. 

He looked away from you when the hall started to applause. McGonagall was kind enough to show you where the table was. You looked down at your uniform when you noticed the color had changed.  

He peeks between Lily and James and sees you picked the farthest empty seat from the table. He can see you take a deep breath as you look at the silverware in front of you when you sit down. 

Shelley is sniggering with an older student from Gryffindor who is sitting beside her. 

“What's so funny?” James asked. “She probably doesn't know what a fork is? Don't Americans eat with their hands?” The boy asked James. 

“That’s fucked up, lad.” Sirius says, eyeing him. 

“Look ahead, she's using them just fine.” Lily snaps before looking down to eat her food. Remus looks over and notices you have begun to eat as well. It was quiet after that, Remus ate and only looked over when he took a sip of his juice. They ignore the others who keep making jokes are your expense. They spoke about your hair and how you looked. Some thought you were hot while others thought you were ugly.

Sirius noticed how Remus was quiet. It was pretty normal for Remus to be quiet. Quiet Remus, who only speaks when spoken too but right now it was different. Sirius felt his best friend’s vibe completely off right then and there. 

Remus had different sides of him. He can be so quiet then be very cheerful and make jokes. Until the full moon comes, he becomes cranky and snappy. Sirius stabs his chicken with his fork as he looks at Remus. There’s a new scar on his face and Sirius doesn’t have the courage to ask him about it. Especially since he saw how Remus acted when asked why he hadn't responded to his letter. Something must have happened during the summer, Sirius thinks to himself. 

He noticed Remus looking over when he took a drink. He followed his gaze and landed on you. Sirius does a double take when he sees his younger brother Regulus walking towards you with his plate in his hands along with his cup. 

Regulus flashes you a smile. “Oh fuck!” A Gryffindor from the table whispered.

Regulus sits down across from you. “You ok?” Remus whispers when he sees it. 

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be? He’s with his kind.” Sirius says to Remus but he doesn’t believe that Sirius can just be okay. Remus knows the complicated relationship that Sirius had with his younger brother. 

It was a few minutes later when Regulus and you stood up. Plates are empty and Remus watches as you pick up the empty plate. 

“What is she doing?” A boy from the Hufflepuff table behind them says catching their attention and the voices in the hall become quiet. 

“Do we have to wash it?” It was a simple question that you asked. Remus gets annoyed at the fact that you get laughed out by the Slytherin table when you ask Regulus. 

Regulus shoots them a glare and shakes his head at you before telling you that there was no need. You can leave your plate there and the elves will get it and clean it. 

“Elves?” You frowned, and your eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“Like a Santa's elf?” Remus hasn’t heard the word Santa since he was a kid. 

Regulus tilts his head at you, he’s confused now. 

“She’s half blood then?” Remus hears the table start throwing ideas of what your blood is. 

“What the fuck is a Santa?” Sirius whispered to James then looked at Remus when James shrugged his shoulders. 

“Are  you sure that she’s in the right grade if she thinks Santa is real?” Someone asked loudly and people began to laugh. 

It had gotten to the point that the laughter behind Remus started to get to him. He didn’t find it funny at all that they were making fun of you. He wondered what did you know about magic, perhaps you didn’t know anything at all. His guess had to be that you were muggle born but he keeps it to himself because if he was right about you being a muggle born then you will have a difficult time, especially in house Slytherin.  

He knows what it feels like to be made fun of and he hates it. He gets bullied for his scar face. He gets bullied because he’s quiet. He gets bullied because he’s poor. 

He sees Regulus walking out with you from the great hall. He leaves a few minutes after saying he had a headache but he just didn’t want to hear the comments they were making. He decided to go to sleep early that night. 

He was glad he had a dreamless sleep. He didn’t dream about the man. It was morning and he saw you again walking with a younger student from your house to the great hall. Remus walks in with Peter and he sighs when he sees Shelly and Marlene there already, eating. He didn’t mind Marlene at all, she was kind and reminded him of the female version of Sirius. She was spunky and played quidditch with James and Sirius. 

“Morning, guys.” Remus greets them and sits down. While a Ravenclaw girl ahead of them rises up from her seat and runs to Shelley. 

“You won’t believe what I just heard!” The girl said to Shelley. 

“The American slept in the bathroom on her first night here. Her roommates are telling everyone. They heard her crying.” Shelley and the girl began to laugh. 

Marlene looks at the girls. “I don’t find that funny. She probably misses her home.” 

“Oh come on, Marlene.” Shelley said, waving her hand dismissing Marlene’s words. 

Before she can say anything James and Lily along with Sirius came in. “Morning.” They greeted their friends. 

“I’m not ready for classes.” James sighs as he sits down. 

“Guys, Penelope just told me that -.” Remus finally cracks and cuts her off when he slams his hand on the table loudly and looks over at her. 

“Would you shut up already? Enough making fun of the new girl.” He said and Shelley grows red from embarrassment of his sudden outburst. 

“You feel bad for nasty foreigners?” The Ravenclaw girl, Penelope asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I feel bad for anyone that has to deal with tossers like the both of you!” Remus said, looking at her and Shelley. He stood up from his seat ignoring James and Sirius calling out for him. He walks out the doors and goes back to his room. He paces around the room, coming to terms on what he just said to Shelly and the other girl. He felt bad for calling them that name but he just got so angry. 

How can people make fun of other people suffering, he asks himself. He had lost count on how many times he’s cried himself to sleep during his first year coming to Hogwarts. Being alone and afraid that someone will find out his wolf secret. He checks the clock on the nightstand and notices it's almost time for his first class. He grabs his books from his trunk and hopes he doesn’t see Shelley or the other girl.

He started to grow worried as he walked to class that Lily would be angry at him for calling her friend a wanker. He was surprised when Lily hugged him when they saw each other for the third class of the day. 

“I can’t believe her!” Lily told him when she unwrapped her arms from him. 

“Don’t tell anymore but sometimes I get homesick. I’m in tears in the tub.” She admits to him. 

“You know how I feel about bullies.” Remus tells her and she nods at him knowing all too well about bullies. She was a victim like him, she was bullied heavily in her first year for being a muggle-born and sometimes even now. 

When lunch began he was walking with Peter who didn’t say much about the incident and Remus was grateful for it. They talked about their class they had last period. As he walks in he sees you sitting with the same younger student. You were smiling and so was the kid. 

The kid had a book open in front of you and Remus smiles at your choice of writing utensil. You were using a pen instead of a quill and you were writing down on a regular notebook instead of parchment paper. 

The kid kept talking while you nodded and wrote frantically. 

Everything seems to be going well, Shelley had decided to eat with her friend, Penelope at the other table. James and Sirius came soon into the hall talking enthusiastically about quidditch. 

“Guys! Guys!” Remus flinched when a group of Hufflepuff students came beside him and stared ahead at the Slytherin table. 

Remus looks ahead as well to see what all the fuss is about. Lance, from house Ravenclaw is in his last year and everyone knows him for being a bully. He was pure-blooded so he thought everyone who wasn’t was beneath him. He usually picks on the muggle born and the half bloods from any house. Of course no one interfered because they didn’t want to get bullied as well. Lance’s blue eyes widen as he walks into the great hall and makes his way to the kid sitting across from you. 

“He’s such a twat for always picking on Ruben.” The Hufflepuff next to him tells the group. 

“Ruben is the kid?” Sirius asks and they all nod as Lance gets behind Ruben and pulls on his hair making him yelp. Remus has never seen someone's eyes grow hard so quickly. The smile you had on disappeared. The hall grows quiet when you stand up from your seat. 

“Get the fuck away from him.” It was not usual for Lance to have someone stand up to him. He was caught by surprise from your words. 

“What did you say?” Lance said with a disbelief chuckle. 

“Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. Him.” The great hall is quiet and Remus noticed a few teachers had risen up from their seats when they noticed what was going on. 

“What’s going on here?” McGonagall had walked towards the table and stared at Lance then at you. 

“Nothing, Professor McGonagall. Just having a chat with my friend Ruben.” Lance said, taking a step back while still staring at you. 

Ruben was almost in tears by the whole thing. Professor McGonagall walks Lance back to his table. 

“She just placed a death mark on herself.” One of the Hufflepuff near Remus said, shaking his head. Lance was staring daggers at you and you kept your eyes on him showing no fear, just hate. You didn’t take your eyes away from him until he sat down and spoke with his friends. 

“You might just win your bet. She got balls.” James says, turning back around to Sirius who turned as well to continue on with his meal. 

“What bet?” Lily asked the boys and they got quiet real fast. James being whipped for Lily ratted them out and she shook her head, telling Sirius how horrible that is. 

“I betted that she won't sleep with anyone, Lily!” The redhead girl shook her head as Marlene copied her. Remus kept silent as he glanced over the table and saw you grabbing Ruben’s bag. You and the kid started to walk out of the great hall after collecting your things.  

He was surprised when he saw you walking inside the classroom. You were a few minutes late for charms class. The professor grabbed the slip from your hands and pointed at an empty seat in the back. Remus almost drops the quill in his hand as you pass him to sit on his row. Remus usually stayed in the back because he was tall. A Hufflepuff girl, Nancy sat in the middle between you and him.

In the corner of his eyes he noticed you had taken out the same book as before and a pen. 

The Charm professor called out your name as he walked towards you. The student laughed when he told you that there is no pen and notebooks allowed only quill and parchment paper. 

“I’m sorry. Mr. Robinson. I‘m still learning how to use the feather thing.” You told him, looking up at him. 

“First, it’s called a quill and you're a witch now so you better start learning fast how to use it. Second of all, it’s Professor Robinson. Things are different here, Miss.” 

“Yes, Professor Robinson.” Remus looks away by the tone of your voice. You sounded so defeated. Professor Robinson walks away and continues with his lesson. Nancy leans over to you when you grab the quill from your bag and the ink. 

“Hold it like this.” She whispered to you showing you how to handle your quill properly. 

Remus goes back to write his notes, he hoped you realize not everyone in this school were mean. There were some students who were kind. Throughout the class, his eyes would glance over Nancy to you. 

After class Remus walks to the Gryffindor common room. Making it inside, he heard chattering and looked over to see Lily and Mary Macdonald. 

“Hey, Remus!” Lily said, waving him to come over towards them. They were sitting on the couch by the fireplace. Remus sits on the other side as Mary hands him a box of chocolates they were eating. His eyes widened and they giggled at his expression. 

Lily chuckles when Remus is wiggling his fingers trying to decide which one to take. James and Sirius came with their Quidditch uniforms on. Lily frowned when she saw them walking towards them. 

“I thought you guys had practice?” Lily asked and Remus looked over at them with a frown when they didn’t say anything. The guys just looked at each other for a brief moment. 

“Oh fuck, Sirius have nothing to say. It must be bad.” Mary said, trying to lighten up the mood but James and Sirius didn’t say anything. They sat on the couch across from them instead. 

“They canceled practice.” James said and Lily glanced over at Remus. It had to be more, James would be in tears if practice was canceled. He took quidditch very seriously. 

“Why?” Remus asked, grabbing another chocolate from the box. Sirius takes a deep breath. 

“The word is going around that the new girl is muggle born.” 

‘Shit.’ Remus says to himself. He was right. 

“She didn't know what it meant, they asked her about her parents and she told them they weren’t wizards. Those snakes dragged her by the feet to the quidditch field and slimed her while chanting mud blood.” Sirius said. Lily and Mary dropped their mouths open in shock. Sirius and James glance at each other. They were famous for their pranks. Being slimed in the field was a good idea but they didn’t like how you began to cry and how confused you looked about the whole thing.

“Never seen Professor McGonagall look so mad before. She started yelling.” James said, leaning back on the couch crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Did you see the new girl?” Lily asked and James nodded. “Yeah, the other professors had to help her off the field.” 

“Blimey.” Remus mumbled as the door of the common room burst open and Shelly walked in laughing with a group of students. Remus rolls his eyes when he hears your name being whispered. This year was going to be rough, he tells himself while popping the piece of chocolate in his mouth.

[messenger-of-babel]

Drinks and a Dream

Summary: Trying to escape the outbreak in Raccoon City, you find an ally amongst the chaos- might as well flirt a little. (Carlos Oliveira x fem! reader)

Word Count: 3.1K

Notes: Back to Resi! Some love for my boy Carlos, the remake did him so well. Mentions of injury, blood, and death, as expected of Raccoon City. It might be a little short because I'm wiped rn (who knew graduating university would be so labour intensive? 😮‍💨) We are literally on the home stretch now, I really hope that you all have enjoyed my writing so far, and thank you so much for your lovely feedback as always.

Enjoy Lovelies~! xx

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Blood. Screaming. Chaos.

You'd just come back home from work, tired from your shitty shift at the local newspaper. Your key had been shoved into the lock a little rougher than it needed to be, and the door swung open to slam into the same dent carved into the paper-thin walls. Bag thrown on the couch, shoes tossed carelessly across the living room to clatter near the doorway for tomorrow, and phone pulled out with take out on speed dial.

You'd just settled into watching the first thirty minutes of your comfort movie, half eaten pizza in front of you when you'd heard it. The undeniable screeching of tires and the shattering of glass that seemed to shake the frames of your cardboard constructed apartment. alarmed you had sprung from the couch, shoving open the window that groaned with protest as you leaned over the fire escape to see better. From your apartment on the fourth floor, you could make out the crumpled frame of a car, hood smashed into a light post like a crumpled piece of paper. You winced.

Something was always happening around Raccoon City. Not to say that it was always as spectacular as a car crash, in fact, you'd been assigned some boring historical piece on the Raccoon City Orphanage earlier this week. No, Raccoon City was a place just busy enough to keep the press rolling, but still so dull as to make every hour one to regret becoming a journalist. However, as the panic started, and the pitches of the screams outside swelled into a chorus, the cold pit in your stomach told you that maybe Raccoon itself had been the bad choice.

One moment you're thinking of who's going to be the sucker headed into the RPD the next morning to try and get a statement from the police about the crash, and the next minute you're the sucker rattling the bars of the closed RPD station, flipping off Irons as they board up the windows and begin to barricade themselves in.

It's not like you had to scramble down the creaking metal of the fire escape ladder as the upstairs neighbour, Mrs. Smith, falls from her window on the sixth floor to make a sickening painting on the pavement. Or the fact that somehow the city went from a shithole to a shithole on fire in what felt like only an hour. No explanation for the dead that suddenly reanimated and chased you through the alley ways. No explanation for the barricades at the city exit. No explanation for why or what or who or how.

There had been survivors of this of course. At the start at least. you'd been lucky enough to live downtown to a hunting store but even by the time you got there you'd only secured a half box of ammo strewn across the floor and a shotgun you'd had to pry off someone’s body. You'd done everything, anything to get out of this god damned city, to not get bitten or scratched or grabbed or whatever the hell it was making people rapidly decay. To not die.

Yet here you were, propped up on some buildings fire escape, ladder pulled up so no one can follow you up while you clutch at your bleeding shoulder. Who knew your biggest threat was the living? Some asshole had shot you instead of the zombie, their shaky hands betraying their aim despite you calling for them to wait so you could get clear first. Instead of that there was simply the bang, the scream, and the retreating footfalls of the survivor that had left you out of fear or guilt. Either fit.

The crimson spilled between your fingers in small trickles, warm and sticky. It burnt like crazy when you put pressure on it, and despite your brain telling you to press harder, that you needed to press harder to try and slow the bleeding, it became a conscious effort. Your palm subconsciously lifted every now and then to try and reduce the pain and discomfort, unable to commit to pressing down hard enough as the body's override kicked in. You considered yourself lucky, as lucky as you could be in this situation. The bullet could have gone into your neck, but maybe that would've been a kinder death than whatever fate awaited you when the wound inevitably got infected. You sigh and lean your head on the cold railing of the stairs. How messed up.

"Hey, up there. You alright?"

Your eyes fly open and instantly your free hand goes for the shotgun, propping it on your knee as you point it to the man who had called up to you. Other hand still trying to press on your wound, you shoot him a glare. He raises his hands in surrender, palms open as you scan him over with a critical eye. He was tall and stocky, gun slung over his shoulder and armed to the teeth. A mop of dark, unruly curls fell over his eyes, which looked you over with a sense of concern and wariness.

"Did you get bit?"

You purse your lips before shaking your head once. "Shot."

His warm eyes widen slightly. "Shot? who shot you?"

"I wasn't really asking their name when it happened."

He takes another step towards you, and you readjust the gun, warning him. He freezes, reaching out with his hands slowly in a soothing motion. "Hey, hey, take it easy. I'm with Umbrella. I'm evacuating civilians, you can trust me." he says slowly and calmly. "We've got a train heading out of the city, we can put you on it, you just need to trust me, okay?"

you could almost cry from relief hearing that there was finally a way out of this hell, that someone somewhere had come to help.

"What's your name sweetheart?" he calls out, approaching where you are with a little more confidence once your shoulders drop. You heave a deep sigh, chest suddenly feeling a lot heavier than you thought before, eyes taking a second more than usual to pry themselves apart after each blink. Despite it you still get the energy to call out your name, making a boyish smile flicker at his lips.

"I'm Carlos. I'm going to get you out." he smiles back, lowering his hands once you pull the shotgun to your side once more. His gaze scans over you, flickering around your figure. "Can I come up there? help you out with that shoulder?" he asks. You just nod, sighing through your nose as you get tired, and a small moment of silence envelops the two of you.

"I need you to drop the ladder to get up." he tries to coax, eyes trying to maintain contact with yours after each languid blink. You shift your own blurring vision to the ladder you pulled up behind you.

"What’s the password?" you mumble, a lightheaded smile twitching upwards for a second. Carlos is almost taken aback, the crows’ feet at the corner of his eyes crinkling upwards.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your ladder," he calls playfully, yet voice tinged with the same shade of worry as before.

"Close enough." you grumble, thudding your heel into the ladder and causing it to unfold again. you swear you only blinked once, but when you open your eyes again hes crouched next to you.

"Welcome back." he chuckles, and you have to stop your face form flushing as you take in his features up close. The sharp line of his jaw is visible as he turns his head to pull gauze and an alcohol pad out of one of his many pockets. His hair falls softly in front of his face, the stubble of his beard bobbing as the muscle in his jaw clenches. you're snapped out of the daydream as he places a broad palm over yours on the wound, pressing firmly and making you hiss. Unlike you from before, his hands are trained and deliberate, not easing up as they find the right pressure you were unable to.

"Sorry about that." he murmurs, eyes flicking to your face to see your reaction. He pulls back the shirt slightly, easing pressure only momentarily so his fingers can gently press on the inflamed skin around the wound. "Shit…" he whispers softly, other hand coming to feel the back of your shoulder.

"What?" you grumble, head lolling to the side to look at him, frown forming. His eyes meet yours, the hesitant glance still enough to send your heart fluttering. "Can't feel an exit wound." he winces, making the air in your lungs exhale in one long sigh.

"You've got to be shitting me," you mumble. He shakes his head, already packing his things.

"Come on, we've got some painkillers back at base and I'll have to get it out," he says, cringing as he imagines it. "we're not too far away, I can get you there before this gets worse."

He slings your gun over his shoulder, before dragging his eyes between your increasingly groggy state and the fire escape.

"You okay to get down?" He asks, boyish demeanour coming back. you lean forward slightly, eyeing the ladder before nodding.

"Fireman's carry okay?"

You head turns to him, where the grin has managed to stay on his face this time, albeit a little apologetic looking. "What?" you ask, eyebrows drawn together. He shrugs. "Sorry, it's the only way actually. Can't do bridal to get down the ladder unfortunately." without another warning Carlos strides over to you, one arm sliding under the bend of your knees and he kneels next to you, other coming around your middle to lift you onto his shoulder as you yelp.

"Hey!" you protest as he covers the distance to the ladder in two strides, and then he's climbing down. You must've slipped out of consciousness for another second, because the next blink that you register, he's patting your calves to wake you up. "There she is," he murmurs. "We're nearly there."

You groan, head light and dizzy. "You could've put me down; I got shot in the shoulder not the leg."

"I did. you folded like a pack of cards."

"Well why not bridal style then?"

"Who says you can't carry a bride like this?"

"Me."

"Well sorry, hot stuff. Need a hand free to use this." he says, and you hear the rattle of his gun as he shakes it in his other hand. "But on a good note, we're here."

When you had gotten into the transformed train station, he'd introduced you briefly to Mikhail, his boss who was running the evacuation operation. You'd just been able to nod weakly as Carlos set you up on a crate, ripping your shoulder sleeve more to get a look at the wound. Turning your head you could see the sticky mess it had made of your flesh, causing your skin to crawl at the metallic smell. "Is this going to hurt?" you whisper out to him. Carlos places a warm hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly. He offers up a small smile, the comforting curve of his lips betraying his words.

"It'll probably feel like hell."

He wasn't lying. While he'd been digging the bullet out of your shoulder, he'd made you bite onto some spare cloth they'd rustled up, although the flimsy material was hardly enough to block out the noises ripped from your throat. However, eventually it was done and he'd moved onto the more peaceful endeavour of wrapping it up, disinfecting the wound while you tried to catch your breath, sweat beading your forehead. "How you feeling, hot stuff?" he chuckled, catching your glare.

"I can't decide whether I'm pissed off or tired." you reply, throat aching.

"Probably both," he hums, tucking the bandage tight. "I know that I sure am."

You meet his eyes, and there’s a thrum that races across your skin. Maybe surviving wouldn't be that bad after all.

Carlos stays with you, and eventually the burning pain mellows out into a dull throb. "That's the stuff," you groan out, head against the brick wall with a light exhale. He chuckles looking down at you from his position beside you.

"Painkillers kick in?"

"Hell yeah they did." you mumble back, and it feels like the weight on your chest has lightened somewhat. You make small talk while his squad makes plans on evacuation the rest of the city. It bleeds from minutes and feels like hours, but you weren’t sure if that was the pain meds or Carlos himself. He talked in a smooth, low tone that had your tension melting instantly, smiling like he had known you all his life. he was friendly and optimistic despite the circumstances, and you couldn't help but feeling drawn to him and his persistent personality. The boyish grin he wore and the soft curling of his hair in front of his eyes made your pulse race, heart thudding every time your eyes met.

You both talked about basic things, like your favourite movies and meals. he rattled on about how much he couldn't stand the fake spray cheese, and you traded your childhood distaste of tomatoes. You weren't sure if it was the conversation or the blood loss to blame for the hazy glow that had appeared behind his head, or the tingle in your hands. That's when you make your next words, you can't help them when they slip out past your lips.

"We should go out some time," you tiredly say. "My friend lives in the next city over, runs a nice bar. I can get us some free margaritas." you shrug, dopey smile on your face. He gives you a stunned look, head whipping around so fast his hair flies. The sight makes you giggle, your filter slipping. "Come on, I'm not the worst company, am I?"

He regards you in silence before sighing softly, shaking his head as a smile creeps across his face. "Margaritas? Really?" he asks.

"Hey, what's wrong with them?" you defend. "Plus, they're free. You really gonna draw the line at margaritas?"

He chuckles, arm sliding behind your back to help support you. In your haze you can hear another soldier corralling the other survivors into a train cart, undoubtably where he's taking you too.

"I tell you what," he hums, a cheeky smile now flitting across his face. "If they're free, I might swing by." he grins at you. "And I might have you on my arm for that. Fair deal?"

Your head lolls arounds, the painkillers really starting to numb you out now. "Correction," you slur. "You're gonna be on my arm."

That pulls a bark of a laugh from him, as he helps you sit down in a train seat. He crouches in front of you, pushing your hair from your face and helping you sit up properly. The joking tone in his voice slips away a little as he regards you with soft eyes. "You're gonna be okay, sweetheart." he murmurs.

You can't keep yourself up properly, making him sigh and help you lie down. To him you look out of it, hair splayed out behind you and pupils dilated. He feels a stab of guilt, maybe he shouldn't have given you the painkiller that had the strong sedatives in it. However, to you, he looks ethereal. You smile, looking up at him to memorise his face before the claws of sleep fade over your vision. "See you on the other side, sweetheart." he grins at you, giving you a mock two finger salute. You grin lazily, blinking rapidly to stay awake. "Come find me for a drink, Oliveria." you say, tone beginning to taper off softly. When you fall asleep he makes sure that you're comfortable, stepping away as he hears the calling of Mikhail. He casts you once last glance, softly huffing to himself before he joined the rest of his team and Mikhail patted the side of the passenger cart, the train beginning to move.

When he goes out to continue his mission, his heart is still for the first time since finding you on that fire escape. Sure, you had been a bit forward, but he had found it endearing. He liked the way that your eyes sparkled when you smiled, and the way that your hair fell across your face. He respected how you had persevered by yourself until then, and it hadn't even been the zombies that had taken you down. There was a spark in you that he couldn't help but be entranced by, your fire sparking something in himself. He had ridden that content bliss knowing that in the midst of it all the carnage, life could continue on around it.

Yet that bubble got shattered the moment he had gottan the radio call from Jill, who should have been well on her way out of the city by now.

He could hear the panic in her voice even through the crackling of the comms. T looked at him in worry, glancing from the computer screen to Carlos' falling face. There was a certain type of dread that settled into his bones and froze his blood, stopping his heart when he managed to conjure up the sleeping image of you. You had been on that train too.

Words bounced around in his head, derailed, Mikhail, Nemesis...it all seemed to ring together in one droning sound. He can vaguely hear T calling him, Jill on the other side too. "Yeah, copy." he says into the earpiece before Jill cuts out.

"I've got somewhere to be," he calls at T, who waves him off with a nod. Carlos' steps are harsh and heavy as he finds his way out of the hospital. No matter how fast he walks he can’t get the image of you out of his head, alight with flame in your peaceful sleep. He had seen you just hours ago. He had patched that wound of yours and laid you down like it was a hospital. He had promised you that you'd get out.

Carlos lets his jaw clench, teeth grinding against each other as he hurries to the last location Jill had said over the line. When he said he’d see you on the other side, he didn’t think you’d go that far from him.

“They better have margaritas up there, hot stuff.” He mumbles under his breath as he reloads, anything to stop the shake of anger boiling in his fingertips. “Have one for me.”

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Dedicated to every big sister who needed a big sister. To Kirsten, Thank you for being mine ❤️

A lot happens in this chapter. New OC Staff in Spring and we travel back to the House of Wind, this time to meet with Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn. Fair warning: I never read ACOSF, everything I know about Gwyn and Emerie I read on Tumblr. If there is an ACOSF edit out there that only includes the parts with the Valkyries, please let me know.

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet.

Word Count 2900

Ch1

Ch 8 >> Ch 10

Chapter 9:

As the citizens returned slowly, Tamlin began rehiring the staff at the manor. This was always an uncomfortable feeling for me, to have people who waited on me and cleaned and cared for my home. This place was vast and ultimately belonged to the people of Spring, and I understood the jobs it created. Tamlin did pay them well, of course I insisted on that, but he had been for his entire reign, so it didn't need changing. 

“Good morning, Lady.” a small frame nymph with light teal skin and soft rosey cheeks greeted me outside my room. It caught me off guard, but her sweet smile relaxed me. “My name is Amara and Tamlin offered me the job of your assistant, if you would like?” She further explained, searching my face for any indication of favor. 

My shocked face softened, this is the life of royalty again, I am not ignorant to it, but it has been a while since I've endured this experience. “Hello Amara, it is lovely to meet you. What kinds of jobs are you hoping to perform here, exactly?” I asked with genuine curiosity.

“Well, Tamlin just sent me here to see what you needed. I like cooking and making large magical feasts that everyone enjoys. I'm not too fond of the clean up after, I can also sew really well..” she rambled and I listened intensely. 

“I would definitely appreciate the help in the kitchen,” I giggled, “tell me, what is your favorite meal to cook?” I asked and I began leading her towards the kitchen. 

“My favorite is making homemade bread, I even brought my own sourdough starter in my bag here!” She reached into her bag and pulled out a large heavy jar with the living yeast inside. How did she fit anything else in there?  

“Yum! You begin on the bread and I will clean up after you, how does that sound? Just tell me what to do.” She was awestruck as we entered the large kitchen now at her disposal. “Anything you need, you let me know and I will get it for you. I am excited to finally have some help around here.” I gave her a wide smile and she returned it. She squealed as she got to work, rummaging through the cupboards for the ingredients she needed. 

She sat me at the table with a cutting board and a knife, “Here, you can chop up the fruit to go with it.” She demanded, more out of excitement than disrespect. 

“Yes ma’am” I giggled and did as I was told. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

After showing Amara around the manor and to her room, one of the large guest rooms, as we planned to renovate the “servants quarters” to be bigger and more equal to that of the guest rooms, I prepared to complete the tasks I had originally planned for today. I hate the term “servants,” they are professionals hired to do a job I don't have the time or skills to complete myself. I left her to settle in and decorate her room to her liking. I had apologies to give out today. 

♡♡♡♡

I arrived at the door to the House of Wind and knocked on the large iron door. Feyre's sister opened it and gave me a disgusted look. 

“Rhysand and Feyre are not here, this is my home now and I would appreciate it if you would leave me be.” Nesta snapped.

“It's you I am here to see. We got off on the wrong foot. I am truly sorry for using Fayre’s pain against my brother, it was wrong of me, and I would like an opportunity to explain.” I requested, Nesta softened and proceeded to open the door further and gestured me inside. “The spell I used could not kill her, it was purely theatrics, I relied on my brother not knowing that.” 

“It was in incredibly poor taste.” Nesta scolded me. I could see the power she held, power she wasn't even fully aware of. She was strong, forced to be. 

“You're right.” I commended, “I would like to earn your forgiveness.” 

“And how would you go about doing that?” 

“I could start by teaching you how to protect your mind, you live in close proximity to a powerful and self serving daemati, I am shocked they haven't taught you themselves.” I followed her as she invited me to, and she led me to a large kitchen, where two other women sat at the table, a red haired priestess and a stunningly beautiful illyrian. 

“This is Gwyn and Emerie,” Nesta introduced us, gesturing to each girl, “and this is Rhysands sister, Sky? I believe,” I nodded at her. 

“I am sorry I didn't mean to interrupt. I can come back another time.” I offered. 

“It's fine, we were just talking about what a bitch Cassian is.” Gwyn giggled. Nesta glared at her, but she brushed it off. 

“Oooh! Okay I am invested, catch me up, which one is he again?” I still couldn't remember their names, but that was mostly due to my apathy for the Night Court clowns. 

Apparently, Cassian and Nesta were ‘mates’ but he sure didn't act like it. Gwyn and Emerie gave me a few stories of his cowardice and what they witnessed in how he treated her. I stopped them when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nesta begin to shrink in embarrassment. 

“It is not that easy to leave him. We are mated.” Nesta sighed. I could tell she wasn't happy, Cassian didn't love her, and she knew it. 

“Nesta,” a gentle command to request her eyes fall to me, “you hold the power to weave your own destiny. The mating bond means nothing if you do not want it to.” 

“But they said I would be shackled to him for eternity. That I would always long for him no matter how hard I tried to let go.” Nesta spoke softly, remembering the atrocities the Night court committed against her to force her into Cassian's grasp. She had fought so hard against it, but they broke her down. 

“That is called having a heart, sweetie, and also a bunch of bullshit used to manipulate you. You can sever the bond as easily as cutting a string, but truly the one who suffers the most is the male. Who cares? Let him suffer.” She had clearly never had the mating bond explained so bluntly to her. “All the mating bond means is that the cauldron, the mother, or the gods, whichever you choose to believe,” I waved my hand in the air dramatically, “would find it entertaining to see you two together. Weave your own fate out of spite. I fully believe you can.” I looked deep into her eyes, tears began forming in them, she wasn't used to hearing that what she wanted mattered. "No one tells Nesta what to do, not even the gods.” 

Her face shifted to a rage full understanding. The Night court broke her down because she allowed them to. They harnessed the little ignorance she had of Prythia and the love she held for her sisters to keep her contained. Not anymore. It was time she chose herself. 

“You need to get out of Night. That would be the first step. You are always welcome in Spring with me, but if that doesn't sit right with you I have made friends across all of Prythia, just choose a court and I will ensure your living quarters are prepared and properly warded to give you the peace and freedom you need. Just say the words and you will no longer be a prisoner of the Night Court.” 

Nesta looked at me, a quick spark of hope flashed in her eyes before she averted her gaze to her lap, deep in thought.  

My gaze fell on the illyrian woman sitting in front of me, something was off about her. Her wings. Her wings were clipped. “Your wings are clipped.” I blurted out in shock. I should've handled that with more grace. 

“Uh, yeah? I don't know any illyrian women whose aren't, save for royalty.” She sneered, gesturing to mine. Fair, my utterly useless brother couldn't even ban wing clipping properly. I'm sure he tried, but it was just performative nonsense once again. 

“Would you like me to heal them?” I asked, softer this time. 

Her face lined with confused disdain. “You can do that?” 

“Oh yes,” I reached into my pocket portal, and grabbed a purple potion, rejuvenation. “Here, it tastes like really bad wine.” 

She cautiously took the potion from my hands. “This little vial will pull my wings back together?” 

“Yes, unfortunately there will be a scar. I've had to use it after a gravier decided my wings made good toothpicks.” I said that too cheerfully, she shuddered at the thought. I didn't expect her to know what a gravier was, but she was smart and could deduce it wasn't a pleasant creature. 

“Admittedly, I am nervous, I heard what you did to Feyre. Why should I trust you?” Emerie eyed the vial and weighed the risks. 

“Would you feel better if I drank one first?” I offered reassurance, “you can keep that, you don't have to take it right now, or ever. I have the means to help and would like to give you the choice.” 

Emerie studied the purple liquid in the vial, was that hope that flashed in her eyes? She didn't know of a single illyrian woman who could use their own wings, she had dreamed of being able to soar the skies. Why have them if she can't use them? 

“Inside the vial consists of a mix of three plants, Heart of the wild, Golden Sansam and Dreamfoil. While exiled, I studied and excelled in Alchemy. As an illyrian myself I have found no indication of these plants causing any harm or adverse effects. I will remain close and watch for any signs if you would like…” I trailed off noticing Emerie wasn't really listening. The other girls watched her intensely. Emerie had been through so much, betrayed so often, and now it was a matter of putting trust in Rhysands sister to possibly regain use of her wings. 

“I never even learned how to fly..” she whispered, “I wouldn't know where to even begin.” 

I took her hand in both of mine, “I will teach you. You deserve this. Your wings never should have been mutilated in the way they were… it's time to fly.” I looked at her with bright eyes. Tears welled in hers. 

“What if it doesn't work?” The many different emotions were becoming too much for her. Hope, hope to regain what had been stolen from her. 

“Then I will scour the realms to find something that does.” I promised. I had the means and the power to do so. 

With shaky hands she removed the lid, Nesta and Gwyn looking on in shock. “Now spread your wings out fully, and hold them there for a minute or 2 after taking the entire vial.” I got up and walked behind her to see to it the potion would work. She threw her head back and downed every drop. 

“Ugh,” she winced, “you did tell me it would taste like rotten wine.” 

“My apologies,” I muttered as Nesta and Gwyn jumped up and ran to watch the magic. I held my hands no more than an inch away from the scars on each wing, careful as to not actually touch the sensitive skin, willing the magic of the potion to the correct spot. 

The scars down her wings began to reopen and tie themselves together. Gwyn reached for Emeries hand, without removing her eyes from the magic she was witnessing. She knew what this would mean to Emerie. 

“Okay, close them and stretch them a few times, slowly,” a gentle command. She did so. Just as I warned, the scars remained but the wings were fully intact. “Beautiful!, I would give yourself a few days before putting any weight on them. Stretch, flap, and soak them to prepare the muscles. I can return in one week, if you would like, to begin teaching you.” She flicked her wings forward towards her and she fell back, not used to them actually catching wind. Nesta and I caught her and stood her back up. She then ran to the large mirror on the wall and admired the powerful wings of hers. Stretching them, twitching them, giggling and crying at the same time. I could see tears welling up in both Nesta and Gwyn as they watched her, hearts swelling with happiness, as did mine. 

“Thank you! I never could’ve dreamed this would be possible!” Emerie turned to me with the biggest smile, wiping away the tears of happiness that flowed down her face. She stretched her wings out wide, with pride. And ran to us, gripping all three of us in a giant hug, encasing us in her wings. She looked up at me, resting a gentle hand on my cheek as I returned the gesture. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with happiness. “What do I owe you?” 

I was taken aback by that question. Why would she owe me anything? What a horrid place the Night court is to anyone who is not a citizen of Velaris. “To see your smile, and to watch you fly, would be the best payment of all. You owe me nothing but that.” 

She wrapped her arms tightly around my neck and I slid mine around her back, embracing her for a few seconds. 

“It is getting late, I must be getting home.” I commented pulling away. “Remember, soak, stretch, and flap.” She gave me a nod, still so happy she could barely talk. “I will return in one week. But do keep in mind, the Spring Court has always been a sanctuary for those escaping abuse, and if you ever need it, we will welcome you and all of your sisters with open arms.” 

“Ugh. I don't know if I could ever trust Tamlin. He treated my sister like his property and sold me and Elain out to Hybern. I'd still be human if it weren't for him.” Nesta grimaced. 

“You should hear the way your sister speaks of you, Nesta” I responded softly, almost a whisper, “All I am saying is that your sources might not be credible. And Feyre sold you out to Ianthe, after Tamlin explicitly warned her that Hybern spies were still hanging around. Tamlin and Lucien are both innocent in that regard.” 

Nesta was stunned, Feyre had blamed everything on Tamlin. But how was it any different than when Feyre blamed her for their suffering in the cottage? 

I bowed to the girls before opening a portal and taking my leave. 

♡♡♡♡

It was late when I arrived in the manor, all the candles had been snuffed and the staff had returned home for the night. I knew Tamlin would still be up waiting for me. With a flick of my wrist, all the sconces down the hallway to Tamlins office lit up. Fire magic wasn't my strong suit, but I still had it. 

He sat there reading something or another, I was exhausted and didn't care. “Welcome home, sweetheart.” A deep tired voice mumbled as he put down his book and looked up at me. Without saying anything I dropped myself into his lap. He held me for a few moments. 

“I'm tired of being a person,” I whined into his chest, “I want to be ‘baby’ now.” He continued to hold me, rubbing my back and resting his lips on my temple. We sat there like that until my stomach growled, in the events of the day I had forgotten to eat. 

“Let's go, we are going to get you a snack.” He stood up and carried me to the kitchen. There was no point in arguing with him, I just wanted sleep, but he was right, I needed food.

He sat me down on the counter as he looked through the fridge for something quick. He pulled out a charcuterie board immaculately designed by, I'm guessing, Amara. I didn't believe he would be able to put this together. He picked up a cube of pepper jack cheese and fed me, while giving me a gentle kiss on the forehead. 

“Her wings were clipped.” I whispered, “almost shredded entirely. The one thing my brother has claimed to do for Illyria, and he doesn't even feel the need to enforce it.” I was lost in thought, the images of her wings, my imagination filling in the blanks of little girls, screaming as their wings are stolen from them. He just listened, carefully. “I can't just relax here, safe in my own court, knowing these atrocities are happening to my sisters.” I looked at him with tears in my eyes. 

He brushed my hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “I have no problem welcoming them here, I have always offered sanctuary for people seeking safety.” 

“I know, I've already offered it,” I gave him a sad smile. 

“Just tell me what you need from me and you will have it.” He gave me another kiss on my forehead, and wrapped his arms around me.

Tag list: @ladythornofrivia @rcarbo1 @rin-u-pos @knoxic @lilah-asteria @littlefantasylover @julesvanslutta @thefatesofspring

[em1989ts]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆

five hargreeves x reader

work count: 3.2k

book summary: five hargreeves gets lost in time and your father forces you to go after him, leaving you to get lost in a completely different kind of solitude. after decades, you meet at the hands of the handler, except you're not exactly happy to work with him after what he did. the two of you agree to put your differences aside until you save the world. how hard could that be?

author's note: i'm finally getting into a rhythm with this story, three chapters in less than a week?? couldn't be me omg, though i did write this all in one day on the floor of my hotel lmao. not proofread or edited, please interact and i hope you enjoy!

There are two different kinds of people who attend family reunions: 

One that doesn’t start any conversation and holds an approachable aura, and one that starts making a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich. 

Five and Eight ignored their family as they stepped between them, making their way into the academy, leaving the adults puzzled and questioning what they just witnessed. The cuffs of their once neatly ironed and perfectly fitting pants were caught beneath their shoes, dragging mud onto the kitchen floors which Grace would eventually have to mop up. 

Eight pulled a wooden chair out from under the table, folding her hands together on the tabletop, waiting for her family to file into the kitchen and start bombarding them with questions. 

Of course she was happy to see them, she had missed them so much, but she found it hard to comprehend that they had all grown up without her. Feelings of anger arose in her for the thousandth time.

She hated Five for what he did. 

She hated Reginald for everything he’s ever done. 

Her fingernails had been digging into her skin. The screeching of her siblings wet shoes on the floor only irritated her further, her inner voice screaming for this dreadful conversation to commence.

The adults finally congregated in the kitchen, with Klaus sitting criss-crossed on top of the table. They all wore their funeral attire, yet Diego looked like a low budget vigilante. 

Five opened up the cupboards lining the walls of the kitchen looking for the necessary items for his sandwich. 

“What’s the date?” He asked as he set down a wooden cutting board and knife onto the table, “The exact date.” 

“The 24th,” Vanya responded. 

“Of what?”

“March.” 

Five quickly calculated how many days they had in his head. They had just enough time. 

“Good.”

Luther was fed up with Five’s lack of urgency to explain himself and sandwich making as he instigated, “So, are we gonna talk about what just happened?” All of the adults stared at Five waiting for an answer, expecting him to be the one to explain everything in his usual dismissive tone. 

Yet, he didn’t comment. 

He never looked up from the bread on the cutting board, prompting Luther to stand up with anger and say, “It’s been seventeen years.” 

“It’s been a lot longer than that.” 

The siblings all turned their heads to Eight, not expecting the statement to have come from her. The scoff however, they did expect. 

Suddenly, they jumped. The whoosh of Five’s blink that they hadn’t heard in years snapped their attention back to him. 

“I haven’t missed that,” Luther commented under his breath. 

“Where’d you go?” Diego asked as Five reached for the marshmallows above the cabinets, knowing that was exactly where Grace would hide them. 

“The future,” he answered as he blinked back to the end of the table, “It’s shit by the way.” 

“Called it!” Klaus remarked, playing with Eight’s braid as she sat there bothered. 

“I should’ve listened to the old man,” Five sighed, reaching into the fridge, “He knew. Jumping through space is one thing, jumping through time is a toss of the dice.” 

Five twisted open the jar of peanut butter and placed it in front of Eight. She glared at him. The smell of peanuts burned her eyes. She glared at him. Did he seriously credit Reginald for trying to warn him that day? Did he forget she went out of her way to try and stop him, she didn’t have to but she did. It’s not her fault he never listened to her but she was still right. 

Eight zoned out as Five complimented Klaus’s dress and continued to belittle the intelligence of their siblings. 

She didn’t want to listen any longer. She couldn’t bear the smell burning her nose, triggering her allergies. She couldn’t bear the wet clothes and drying mud on her skin. She couldn’t bear Klaus gently slapping her in the face with her braids. 

Only Klaus noticed as she disappeared into thin air, holding his hands out into the space where she once was. She had slipped through the dark shadow under the table and reappeared just outside the kitchen. The walls of the academy looked just as they did all those years ago. Climbing up the stairs slowly, Eight braced herself for the possibility she would bump into Pogo or Grace. Not that she was avoiding them, she just wanted to freshen up before their proper reunion. 

As she was making her way to her room, she traced along the cartoonish depictions of defensive plastered along the walls. She hesitated slightly before turning the doorknob into her old bedroom. 

There was no overhead light and her curtains were still drawn blocking the sun, so she left the door open a bit to let enough light in to look around. Her walls were black, absorbing as much light as possible. Books littered the floor in stacks, her bookshelves were filled to the max, unable to hold more literature. 

There were several candles around the room, as well as glass dishes filled with crystals, and ashtrays for incense. Grace was always worried the girl would burn the academy down one day, whether that was just her maternal instincts or her robotic programming, Eight never knew. 

She assumed there would be dust on everything, or maybe a few things would be sold or donated, but no. Everything was exactly how she kept it 16 years ago. Grace must have done some regular cleaning because everything was spotless. She wondered about how lonely she must have been. With her kids grown up and living their own lives. 

Eight had always wondered what her family had grown to be like without her. What happened to the academy after it had lost two members. Five had mentioned finding a book that Vanya had written in the apocalypse. He didn’t go into much detail, only saying she had revealed many family secrets, as well as the fact that Ben was dead.

Ben. 

She turned away from him as soon as he said it. Tears actually filled her eyes, and she couldn’t let him see that. Ben was her favorite sibling. The only person who she was comfortable sitting in silence with. They didn’t need casual conversation to fill their time together, they could simply sit with each other and read for hours. She never found out how it happened, and she never wanted to know. 

She went to close her door so she could change, and on the mirror that hung from it, she noticed a tear had snuck past her emotional walls and run down her cheek. It was gone in a second and she frowned and swiped it away. She locked the door and began to change into a clean uniform. 

Once she was fully changed and the dirty suit sat in a pile in the corner of her room, she walked over to the mirror to fix her tie before a blue light flashed in front of her. She jumped back slightly, even though she knew exactly who was intruding. 

Already changed into a clean uniform himself, Five stood before her, blocking the mirror. She shoved him aside so she could see herself and he moved to sit on her bed. 

“How much did you tell them?” Eight asked as she quickly did her tie. She could see Five looking around in the reflection of the mirror. 

“Enough for now,” he replied. 

He pulled out a prosthetic eyeball from his pocket. He had always brought up his concerns surrounding it, stating he believed whosoever eye it was would be the cause of the end of the world.  

“How are we gonna go about this?” Eight questioned, turning to face Five who stared at the eyeball as he turned it in his hand. 

“We start by attending our father’s funeral.” He sighed, placing the eye back in his pocket. 

She looked around for her dress shoes that went with her uniform, then she remembered she kept them underneath her bed to make space for more books. She knelt down on the floor and reached her arm under the comforter but couldn’t feel them. Lifting the blanket, she peaked her head under till she could see the leather shoes. 

Half her body was under the bed as she reached for them, until she felt a shoe on her hip, shoving her over. She heard a snicker and footsteps walking out the door. 

“Dick,” she grumbled as she retrieved her shoes and shuffled backward until she was free from the dark. She tugged her leather shoes on and made her way downstairs into the living room where she found Five and Vanya. 

She didn’t pay attention to their conversation. What she did notice was the very visible portrait of Five that hung in the center of the room that definitely wasn’t there before. 

How come he got a painting made specially in his honor when he was the idiot who ran off. If anything, Eight deserved a painting for unfortunately being lost in a noble sacrifice to help find him. Her look of disgust must’ve given her away, as Five came up to her and whispered, “Jealous much?” 

She glared and looked up at him, “Not when I burn it.” 

She hadn’t noticed that Vanya was no longer standing there, having already left to head outside for the funeral. The two teens made their way outside as well, forgoing the umbrellas, even though they had just changed into clean dry clothes. 

The funeral went exactly as one would’ve guessed it. Diego spoke out about how monstrous Reginald was, Luther obviously disagreed, and the two fought like toddlers over a crayon. Eight watched the scene, swatting Klaus’s hand away as he tried to move her further from the violence. It was a mess of disrespect all around, especially since the boys knocked over the statue in Ben’s remembrance during the brawl.

Eight scowled at this, she turned around and walked right back inside with Five following suit. 

Reginald deserved nothing. No kind words, no remembrance, nothing. What he deserved was someone to stick a cigarette in his muddy ashes. And that’s exactly what he got. 

~~~ 

After the funeral, everyone had pretty much decided there was no point in staying at the academy. Vanya had already called a taxi and booked it, feeling just as unwelcome as she did when she was thirteen, although Pogo’s kind words did make her feel a bit at home. 

Klaus had propped his bare feet up on the kitchen table while strumming an unplugged electric guitar. Eight and Five had been scouring the kitchen for any trace of caffeine. They flung open cabinet drawers and checked above the cabinets but could not find even the tiniest of espresso beans. 

Heels clicked against the floor announcing Allison’s entrance, “Where’s Vanya?” 

“Oh, she’s gone,” Klaus responded. Eight eyed him, wondering what exactly he was on at the present moment.

“That’s unfortunate,” Five signed, closing the cabinet and holding an empty jar, “An entire square block. Forty-two bedrooms, nineteen bathrooms, but no, not a single drop of coffee.” 

“Dad hated caffeine,” Allison reminded him.

“Well, he hated children too and he had plenty of us,” Klaus giggled as he cradled the guitar. 

Five and Eight gave each other a look that told the other they were done with the current conversation. They were both in withdrawal, they had their last cup of coffee the morning of their Dallas assignment. That was technically the same day, but these two teens needed caffeine to function. 

“We’re taking the car,” Eight announced as they both headed for the pair of keys hanging from the wall.

Klaus sat up concerned, “Where are you two going?” 

“To get a decent cup of coffee,” Eight said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, grabbing the keys off the wall.

“Do you even know how to drive?” Allison asked skeptically. 

“I know how to do everything,” Five said as he snatched the keys from Eight and walked right out the door. 

Technically, she didn’t know how to drive, so she had no reason to be mad. But with Five, everything he did bothered her. 

She followed him outside into the dark, wet alleyway as they got in one of Reginald’s expensive vehicles. 

Five started the car and drove through the city streets with ease. Eight reached for the radio but he quickly swatted her hand away. They did this about four times before she gave up.

“Griddy’s?” She asked. 

“Where else?” 

As they pulled up to the old donut shop, the memories of when they were younger flooded back. They used to come here all the time when they would sneak out. There was always that sense of thrill they got when they left their beds and ran here together and ate donuts until they couldn’t handle anymore sugar. Of course this wasn’t unnoticed, as Pogo always had an eye on them, but he knew the children loved this time together, so he never told a soul. 

The two walked in as the bell rang above their heads, and sat on the stools next to an older man who was the only other customer. 

Five impatiently rang the bell a few times, prompting an annoyed Eight to grab his wrist and pull it away.

She scanned the area. It looked exactly the same as it did over sixteen years ago. She wondered if that same lady was still working here. 

Her question was answered as the donut lady walked out from the back room and stood behind the counter, ready to take their orders. 

“Sorry, sink was clogged,” she apologized while getting out her pen and notepad, “So, what’ll it be?”

The old guy next to them ordered a chocolate eclair, and as she wrote that down she jokingly asked, “Can I get the kids a glass of milk or something?” 

Did she seriously think they were related to the trucker? Yes, yes she did.

“The kids want coffee. Black,” Five ordered. 

“Please,” Eight corrected him as she kicked him. She saw no reason to be rude to someone simply doing her job. 

As she nodded and turned around to get started on their orders, Five kicked back, causing Eight to kick back. They went back and forth a few times until Five grabbed her thigh to get her to stop.

“Quit it.” 

Eight stopped, but only because she was taken aback a bit by his action. 

Also because he totally started it. 

Eight stared at the countertop as she zoned out, not listening to the conversation where Five had gotten information out of the man next to him. 

Eventually, their orders were placed in front of them and the donut lady went into the back to get more change. The old guy was kind enough to pay for their coffees which they thanked him for, and he left, the bell signaling his exit. 

However, the bell rang once more, yet Five and Eight could see exactly who it was in the reflection in the bell on the counter. 

A swarm of commission gunmen entered, guns pointed directly at their skulls, yet the two teens sipped their coffee unbothered. 

“That was fast,” Five remarked, “I thought we’d have more time before they found us.” 

“Okay, so let’s all be professional about this, yeah?” One of the gunmen came up close, pointing his gun at Five’s head, “On your feet and come with us. They want to talk.” 

“We’ve got nothing to say,” Eight said, lowering her coffee cup from her lips. 

“It doesn’t have to go this way,” the gunman said, “You think I want to shoot a couple kids, go home with that on my conscience?” 

“Well I wouldn’t worry about that,” Five chucked quietly, wrapping his fingers slowly around a butter knife. 

“You won’t be going home,” Eight smirked as she disappeared into her shadow, before reappearing behind one of the men, snapping their neck, before disappearing again. Five blinked and stabbed a few here and there. 

Gunshots rang through the donut shop, glass flying everywhere, bullets ricocheting. 

Soon enough, every single gunman was taken out. It was inevitable, no commission agent was better than Five and Eight. 

Five had used his tie to snap the neck of one of them, which he retrieved and tied back on as he went over to the countertop. They both took turns cutting out their tracking devices, each cutting deep incisions into the other’s arm and fishing out the pill-shaped light. They may or may not have dug around a few seconds longer than needed, just to watch the other squirm in pain. 

The two of them walked out proudly, leaving their bloody mess behind for the donut lady and cops to find. 

Eight was about to walk up to the car when she noticed Five walked right past it. Confused, she sped up a little to catch up to him.

“Hello? Why are we ditching the car? Where are we going?” she questioned. 

“Vanya’s,” was all he said as we walked onto the sidewalk. 

“But we’re leaving a trace?” She reminded, as if Five was stupid.

“So,” he scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets and he stared straight ahead, “Our DNA is on those mugs and our blood is all over the counter top. It’s even on the fucking murder weapon. Either way, they won’t be able to find us.” 

“Fine,” she admitted, “Well then why are we heading to Vanya’s?” 

Five had had enough of her questions, which she could tell, yet she still wanted answers. 

“Hello?” she walked backwards in front of him, waving her hands in his face. He shoved her to the side and she retaliated by shoving him into oncoming traffic. 

He blinked before he fell in front of a car and reappeared in front of her, causing her to bump into his chest. 

He didn’t look too happy once she looked up at him so they continued walking. Eight asked no further questions for the rest of the walk.

Once they got into Vanya’s apartment, they sat down on the couches she had in her living room. Surprisingly, she wasn’t home yet, so Eight decided to take a nap on the couch while they waited for her to return home.

The cut along her forearm stung like hell yet she didn’t have the energy to go looking for a first aid kit. She kicked her shoes off and grabbed one of the throw pillows at the end of the couch, nestling her head on it.

Before she closed her eyes for good, she took a peak at Five, who sat in a chair and once again took out the eyeball, turning it, analyzing it.

She wondered what the hell would’ve changed about it in the last five decades as she slowly fell asleep. 

☂︎

~~~

tags: @groovydazephantom

[rimouskis]

could you explain more about what you view as the before era and what you view as the after? i need to learn my herstory

I think this requires a more detailed and educated/researched answer than I can give after an exhausting workday and an after-hours work event, but I'm going to do my best and also open up the floor in reblogs for people to chip in their thoughts

foremost: a DISCLAIMER that this post does not aim to shit on writers from the "before" era. there are many classic fics that I love and enjoy, even if I consider their characterizations to be "less accurate"* than the ones we have in the after era.

*aside to say: accuracy is based only off of literal media accounts we have of these men; we do not know them, we should not claim to know them, and they have had different comfort levels with the media knowing selective truths about their lives [sid out of choice, geno out of media xenophobia] than they did when these early fics were being written.

"before" fics (which I tend to refer to as "classic" fics, and had their heyday in 2012-2013 but continued up until 2016ish) tended to have more regimented roles for sid and geno. sid was usually the protagonist; geno was the love interest.

this came with a cascading set of characteristics assigned to each guy. sid was poor-little-meow-meow'd. geno was the pursuer in the relationship. sid usually bottomed. sid had the whole spacetoaster moment (he was the inspiration for the term, haha). there wasn't much a/b/o fic but sid was, like, the omega-fied one and geno was alpha-ized.

something I've been thinking about more recently is how 2012-2013 era sidgeno displayed signs of Migratory Slash Fandom. I don't think of MSF as an inherently negative/condemning thing, but I think it's a phenomenon that deserves to be mentioned/analyzed, yeah?

MSF thrives on big character differences.... like, grumpy/sunshine, sarcastic/broody, genius/empath. it's all about emphasizing disparate archetypes to create natural tension in a story. this works really well in most romance novels! I love it!

the issues arise when people try to make characters fit into these preset dynamics. and, frankly, when sidgeno first got big, we straight-up didn't know as much about sid and geno. I mean that. despite sid being EXTENSIVELY covered by media from age, like, 14, he was really tight-lipped compared to what we have now.

and geno was.... there. I don't mean that as a diss—he was INCREDIBLE, but the media totally passed him over again and again. or they helped contribute to stereotypes of him being a dumb oaf who didn't know english.

aside: ironically I think that helped in creating sidgeno and not, like.... sidflower or sidtanger. geno was so "DIFFERENT" from sid (aka: russian, characterized by media as not knowing how to speak [in comparison to sid's highly curated media soundbites]) that it meant he was the best candidate for A Ship with sid.

a lot of the really big writers who got into sidgeno were fandom veterans with lots of experience in other big fandoms. to me, that means MSF had a hand in all this. and we should be grateful, because it led to the BOOM of hockey fic, and of sidgeno fic specifically. modern hrpf wouldn't exist without it.

that being said, those template ship dynamics, plus the media's attitude then towards sid and geno in its coverage, led to those characterizations of whiny soft sensitive boy sid who needed to be rescued even though he was the best hockey player EVER, and geno as the lumbering tall strong alpha not-that-bright Love Interest Man.

this isn't to say every fic was this way, or that this is BAD. I, uh, love poor-little-meow-meow-ing sid and omegafying the hell out of him. what I'm saying is that it was a near-ubiquitous characterization across the board.

that all changed in 2016-2018. I personally wholly credit sevenfists, though I imagine it's more nuanced than that, but: my blog, I make the rules here. I don't know if sevenfists was psychic or just highly observant and absolutely excellent at reading people (and that's basically the same thing, right?), but characterization shifts began taking place in fic....

and the coolest thing happened, in that those characterizations were seemingly reinforced by more media coverage. the back to back cups brought with them TONS of interviews with and media about the team, and sid and geno in particular. the coolest part of it was that sid had loosened up a LOT and geno had gotten more comfortable (and had gotten a reporter firmly on his side).

the interviews about sid post 2016 were just SO different. so much information started coming out, and a LOT of it conflicted with Ye Olde Characterizations. as it turned out, sid was deeply one of the boys. he was funny. everyone liked him. he loved hosting. he was insanely comfortable around almost everyone, including strangers, because he's a little freak who's kind to everyone. he can make smalltalk like no one's business. he's kind of gross. he likes to giggle and be in on jokes and get into the thick of it. he isn't some blushing virgin bride sold off of mario's doorstep, yeah?

and geno, too, was finally getting the coverage he deserved. and his personality was both fortified by age and better shown to us through media. as it turns out, he isn't some happy go lucky oaf. he's mercurial and intensely aware of what others think of him (and he CARES). he's sensitive and thoughtful but also can lash out at random times. he has a wicked sense of humor that he uses as a defense mechanism and as a surefire way to get people to like him, which matters to him. and, as everyone says, he is SMART.

if you had to boil it down, I'd say that post-2016, it became clear that SID is the confident one and GENO is the insecure one. and fic caught onto that with a miraculously fast pace. also: they're more alike than they are different, but I still think romance inherently feeds off of difference and tension, so we still exaggerate things to make the stories ✨WORK✨.

I'm not going to give examples of pre- and post- era fics, because I don't want to point any fingers and say someone was doing characterization "wrong." that's not the takeaway I want anyone to have here.

fandom attitudes have changed. it's been 10 years since that first wave of fics, and while I don't think that's very long, it's a hell of a long time on the internet, and in a niche internet community. what was once the standard for fics (and what was well-read, and what people gravitated towards) was different. not worse—different.

I think it's fair to say the "after" era of fics is more "accurate" to what we know of sid and geno. it's also fair to say that this is only the case because we have a WEALTH of information, character-revealing interviews and videos and anecdotes, that Ye Old Authors could only dream of getting.

I really love the story of how everything has changed, and it's a fabulous microcosm of fandom evolution and how approaches to fanworks have changed and grown with fandom, and I think it's all so so cool.

[pumpkinroll]

history class ⊹₊ obey me! thirteen x f! reader︱one shot (1.3k) ⊹₊ tags⟢ 18+ only, dubcon, public sex & some exhibitionism, fingering/oral on reader, use of “my girl” & “good girl”, some dirty talk, established relationship, pervy levi (just a cameo)

“Eh? Who are you!?”

You couldn't remember the last time Thirteen actually showed up to class willingly.

She rolled her eyes and let out a dramatic sigh, “I'm allowed to be here y'know!” 

The reaper plopped into the seat next to you and opened her textbook, huffing, “I can come and go as I please, I just felt like coming today! Nothing wrong with that. Hmph.”

You cocked an eyebrow, wondering what she was really up to, before opening your own textbook to today's history lesson. You patiently waited for the professor to start as he fumbled around up front trying to get the projector started.

“Just saying, don't try to copy me if we have a pop quiz, you're on your own.” You shook your head and turned your attention back to the professor, who was already drawling into the lesson.

He never failed to make minutes seem like hours. 

You turned your head slightly to glance at the beautiful reaper, wondering how she was holding up.

To no one's surprise, she was already fast asleep on her textbook, snoozing away without any care in the world. You love her — but even you fail to see why she bothered to come today.

At least the two of you were furthest in the back, the professor paying no mind to anything other than what was on the board.

“Mmm…mmmff…just a little…more…” Thirteen murmured. You glanced to see some drool on the corner of her mouth and a not-so-angelic look on her face. To be fair, that's rarely a thing to begin with.

Leave it to Thirteen to have a wet dream during class.

You peeked around hoping no one heard her and luckily all seemed well. Levi who was in front of you was thankfully engrossed in his game.

Gently you shook Thirteen’s shoulder and woke her up, looking none too pleased.

“Hey, c'mon! I was having the BEST dream, what the hell!” she whisper-shouted, shuffling around in her seat, her thighs rubbing together. “You were so close — !”

“Excuse me!?”

Thirteen crossed her arms and shot you a pouty look, “It's been a while since we fucked, don't tell me you haven't had any urges lately!?”

“Thirteen!”

Mortified you looked around once more, hoping no one heard her, noticing Levi ever so briefly stopped playing his game before continuing. He was probably just changing to a different game; at least that's what you told yourself to feel better.

“Ugh, Thirteen, we can talk about this later!”

“No I want to talk about this now. I've barely seen you lately, I miss you, you're always so busy...” A perfectly manicured hand rubbed your thigh with a feather-like touch. Teasing. Just the way you love it — it then clicked and you caught on to what she was up to.

You bit your bottom lip before taking a quick shaky breath. 

“That's not f-fair…” your voice cracked, “Let's just talk after classes later and —” 

Her hand moved higher up your thigh, beneath your uniform skirt. “Can you really wait until later? Can you resist this?” 

Lime green eyes scanned the room quickly and in a flash she pulled her top down, revealing big soft bouncy breasts and perky pink nipples to match.

Fuck.

She smirked and shook her breasts, “Your favorite yeah? — Ugh, Levi I'll cut off your balls with a rusty sword! Turn around!” Thirteen covered up quickly before anyone else noticed, grumbling about the otaku in front of her before turning her attention back to you.

“Anyway…” her hand resumed rubbing light sensual circles upon your upper thigh, getting dangerously close to the aching spot between your legs. “I just want a small taste. Just stay quiet and enjoy it alright?” 

You let out a small sigh and nodded, feeling crazy for going along with it but feeling a thrill from it at the same time. Thirteen always did have that intoxicating power over you. She, ironically, always made you feel so alive.

“That's my girl~ ♡” she murmured, her finger pressing softly against your clothed clit, making you squirm in your seat.

You tried to keep your attention on the professor, hoping to not rouse suspicion to the back. You thanked Diavolo's decision for the enclosed desks at the academy also wondering how many others have used this to their advantage .

Thirteen tried to follow your lead, resting her cheek on her hand as the other one beneath the desk continued rubbing up and down along your slit, relishing the sweet damp spot that's formed.

She slowly added more pressure against your cunt, feeling the pool of stickiness seep through the thin fabric, covering her fingers. A small giggle escaped her lips before finally pulling your drenched panties aside, rubbing her thumb against your naked swollen clit.

A barely audible moan escaped, you felt your face burn as you tried to keep your focus on the lesson.

Why did you ever agree to this!?

Your legs betrayed you and opened further on their own, letting her delicate fingers toy around your sopping wet cunt, another small moan slipped between your lips.

This is way too dangerous.

Reaching down, you reluctantly pulled her soaked fingers that were pumping into you, away from your cunt.

“W-we should s-stop…s'too good—” you feebly spoke.

“What? No way…” Thirteen glanced towards you and waved her wet fingers before sucking your essence off them, “Yummy as always. Definitely not enough for me nor you.”

“But — ”

Unfortunately, the reaper swiftly and quietly slipped beneath the desk, propping herself between your slick covered thighs. Her hot breath tickled your exposed swollen clit.

Oh no. 

Oh fuck. 

There was no getting out of this. Not unless you wanted to get caught by everyone. 

Panicking, you peeked around before glancing back down at the lewd sight between your legs.

“Such a good girl, look at this pretty wet pussy,” she licked her plum stained lips, holding eye contact with you as her warm slippery tongue slipped between your folds. “Mmm...'could eat you all fucking day.”

You bit your lip as hard as you could, daring to not let a single sound out no matter how much you wanted to.

It had been ages since she went down on you and you never imagined this would be how she would do it, never imagined how fucking good it would feel. So fucking naughty and dirty but so sinfully good.

At this point, you had no idea what the lesson was about, you could only focus on the way Thirteen deliciously wrapped her lips around your sensitive clit, sucking and licking while her fingers fucked you to a new height of pleasure. 

“Your cunt is so delicious, ” she mumbled, flattening her tongue and lapping along your slit.

You closed your eyes and panted as quietly as you could, unable to stay silent anymore, your mouth slightly agape.

Opening your eyes again, you briefly saw Levi gawk in your direction — undoubtedly knowing what you two were up to. You didn't care anymore, you knew the pervy demon would keep quiet.

You stared at each other for a few seconds as you continued lewdly panting before biting your hand, closing your eyes, and putting your head down on the desk. Fuck you were so so close. 

You rocked onto Thirteens tongue, aching for release. 

“Mmm,”

Grabbing the back of her head you continued rubbing your clit against her tongue before finally reaching your peak, squirting into her mouth as a small groan escaped you. 

You continued panting as your eyes fluttered open, riding out your high. Luckily there was still no one aware of what was going on in the back of the room.

Well, except Levi, who you could see was jacking off beneath his desk and very shortly let out a satisfied grunt. Figures.

Once again, Thirteen swiftly made it back into her chair, wiping her mouth as she grinned and looked to you.

“See, that was great right? Let me know if you want to go again.” She teased, giving a flirty wink. 

You let out a satisfied sigh and fixed yourself up before cleaning your chair just as the bell rang for the next class.

“You know damn well I do. We're going back to my room.”

Thirteen squealed and grabbed your hand as the two of you rushed out the academy to get back to the house of lamentation.

divider by sister-lucifer

[erinwantstowrite]

Hihi I wanted to say thank you ! Bit random but your fic has helped me realize that it’s okay to just have fun with writing a fic and it doesn’t have to follow any rules or such.

I used to only write main ideas for fics I wanted to write but was always too nervous about messing up or it sounding dull that I never managed to follow through, but while reading LoF and such, it’s helped me see that it’s a lot more relaxed than I thought it to be. I can happily say I’m writing my own contribution to the Spidey in Gotham niche and yeah I just wanted to thank you <3

And a a little question of how you decided on all the suits for your AUs ? Like Peter’s jacket in LoF or that INCREDIBLE venom AU suit (it looks so cool)

Ahhh that's so cool!! I really really love that!! Writing is supposed to be fun and crazy and adventurous! You write for yourself first, forget about what could be "cringe" or "lame" to someone else, and go for it! :) I hope your writing journey takes you far and you see many places to write about!

And I've always been fascinated by character design. It started with my first ever anime, Fairy Tail. The designs can be cheesy or fanservicey but I loved that they never really made sense in a set of time or era specific, and that they were always interesting, if a little cooky.

Designing suits is a pain in the ass, but fun. It's a lot of looking at artwork that I really enjoy that other artists made and seeing what I think the character I'm designing for would like the most- or looking at fashion from all different walks of life. It's also a lot of keeping in mind a characters story, the themes of their life, etc. Details, details, details.

I decided on the jacket that Peter wears in LoF because, well, he needed a jacket. It's getting colder and his regular jackets weren't going to cut it for the whole "secret identity" thing. So far in Peter's life, he'd been wearing what is "practical" to have and not what he wanted to have. In LoF, he's starting to branch out in his identity as Spider-Man. He looks up to Jason in a way (thinks he's cool) so I figured he'd want to wear something like Jason. He got the new jacket and he ended up wearing a domino mask too- something to symbolize that his time in Gotham is starting to change him. It's no coincidence that he gets these items and the same chapter, he ends up finally at the Batcave.

But with him designing the jacket, making it his own, and even putting an Iron Man patch on one sleeve? It means he's still himself, Spider-Man, and he's still got his home on the mind. It just also happens that Peter cares about Gotham now, too.

As for the venom suit, I took influence in the Venom designs I saw from the comics or fanart (I didn't make a board, so I can't pull up the exact refs right now), and also looking at other Spider designs from the Spiderverse movies. I kept it mostly the same suit I designed for LoF Peter, just with darker hands (as to say, blood stained), claws, a harsher/more vibrant red, etc, as a way to say that he has not moved past the kid he was when he was first bit, and Venom changed him for the worst. :)

I have more suit designs (such as LoF Peter's suit changing over time) but I can't share them yet,,,, They're technically spoilers,,,, RIP,,,,