#no i did not get nemesis' braid wrong

[ubububububusgoround]

Gallerian and Nemesis keychains + papercrafts !!!!! by me (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠)

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Make me

Sirius Black x fem!reader

in which James planned you a blind date with your nemesis

requests are open!

word count: 2,1k

warnings: language, drinking

...

"I'm so tired of all the boys. I swear, there is not even one normal man here in Hogwarts." you grumbled despairingly as you landed on the couch in the common room next to James.

"Oh sweetheart, so I take it the date didn't go as planned?" he chuckled.

You covered your face with your hands and loudly exhaled.

"Well, we did go to Hogsmeade but instead of Honeydukes he took me to Scrivenshaft's quill shop. Stop laughing, this isn't even the worst part. He then kept blabbering on about some new type of rainbow ink that he, in his own words, just has to buy."

At least James tried to not laugh as much as he desired to, though you wouldn't blame him - because what the actual fuck.

"Oh, I just love hearing of your escapades, Y/N. Such a shame, though; me and Lily are desperate to find another couple to go on double dates with." he smiled while pouting his lips mockingly. You punched his arm with surprising strenght.

"Just no more guys like Mr. Rainbow Ink, please." you laughed.

James looked as if he wasthinking of something and after a moment of silence, his whole face lit up and you knew that whatever he thought of was no good.

"Just leave it to me, 'kay? I'll find the perfect guy for you and arrange a blind date."

"Fuck no." you said immediately, knowing that James would singlehandedly mess up.

"No, no, just hear me out, okay? I will take this job seriously, in my own interest. I promise not to make a joke out of it."

You rolled your eyes in answer but didn't argue further.

"Plus, I think I have the perfect candidate."

At that moment, you should've already known that something will go really, really wrong.

...

Three days later, James already had everything planned out and was nearly jumping with excitement. Well, you didn't really share that feeling. But for some reason, seeing your childhood bestfriend so invested in finding you the best match made you soften and not argue that much.

"You know that this Friday is the Celestial ball, right? So, your date will pick you up at five and please, dress nicely so he doesn’t change his mind. Yeah, that's probably all you need to know." he gave you a wicked grin.

"Why the secrecy?" you raised an eyebrow at your friend.

"Nothing, just making sure it's an unfiltered experience for you."

“At least if he turns out to be another idiot, I have an excuse to get hammered.” you grinned.

“That’s the spirit!” James bumped your shoulder excitedly and you couldn’t help but smile at his childish happiness.

But when you tried to think of even a single person with whom he would set you up, your mind went blank.

Who are you gonna be, stranger?

…

In preparation of the upcoming ball, Lily and Dorcas braided your hair into a sort of messy half-up-half-down hairstyle and you girls shared quite a laugh when they tried to get you into your very - very - tight dress.

With your black high-heels on, you examined yourself in the mirror. Your Y/H/C hair looked so sexy tied liked that and you decided to go with the same messy vibe regarding your whole look. From the smudged black kohl lining your eyes and the bold dark-red lipstick to your floor length burgundy dress with black lace adoring its edges. Oh, it might have been just a bit too slutty for such an occasion, but you didn't mind at all. You and Marlene always enjoyed wearing things just a smudge out of pocket.

You also liked shy boys stuttering when they looked at you. You hoped your escort would be one of those. You grinned at the thought and left your room with a light step.

"I see you take this date seriously." James nodded at you approvingly as he watched you approach him in front of the Great Hall.

"Yeah, yeah, dream all you want." you rolled your eyes. "Where is he?"

"Darling, getting all pretty and dressed up for me today, aren't you?" a voice purred behind you and it affected you in the same way a bucket of icy water would.

Oh no. Oh fuck no.

"Are you fucking serious?" you gritted your teeth at James and he paled when he saw the murderous look on your face. He better.

"Darling, he’s with Lily, remember? He wouldn’t be fucking me. But you, on the other hand… You know how my usual dates go."

You turned to face that ridiculously handsome face of Sirius Black. That fucker was you nemesis since the moment he saw you on the Hogwarts Express sharing a booth with James. It didn’t matter to you that James found a guy bestfriend – you were okay with sharing the same pedestal with another – but Sirius, on the other hand, just purely despised you for it. So after two yers of trying to settle this tension between you two, you gave up and started to treat him the same way he did.

And that nickname, that god-forsaken nickname; it drove you crazy and you both knew it.  

”I’m not spending even a second of my time on this… existence.” You spat at James instead, wisely ignoring that egoistic shit and silencing all your witty retorts. In your fourth year, you once wrote an entire list of those retorts, spending all your nights sitting crouched over that one piece of paper with anger flowing freely in your veins.

Obsessed much? a small voice in your head whispered.

“I think that if you give this a chance-“

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Angry already, darling?” Sirius purred and your knuckles turned white from you trying so hard not to break his perfect nose.

“Wipe that smirk off of your face before I do it for you.” You have been such a fool for trusting James to do just one thing right. Now you would do anything to be here with any of the guys you were previously complaining about. But instead, you were left with the only person you truly hated. So much for an unfiltered experience.

“Oh, are you gonna kiss me, Y/N?” Sirius smiled even wider.

“This was probably not a good idea.” proclaimed Lily as she approached you three.

“Probably not.” James nervously tugged at his hair.

You and Sirius were just staring daggers at each other. And after deciding this staring contest was fucking ridiculous, you just turned on your heel and began walking back up the stairs.

“Oh, darling, leaving so soon?” Sirius shouted at you and every head in the hallway turned your way. You turned around and bared your teeth at him, not caring that you probably looked like a wild animal.

“Stop fucking calling me that.” Your voice was cold as you took the tree steps it took to reach him. Even though Sirius was towering over you, you felt as if you were looking down your nose at him.

“What, darling?” he puffed, one corner of his lips turning up. He was toying with you, you knew it. And you hated that he knew it, too.

“Yes.”

“Or what?” Sirius stepped closer and you felt the tips of your shoes touching his. With every rise of your chest you could feel the fabric of his shirt.

Before you could say anything back (which would be hard because, apparently, your mind just went blank at Sirius’ closeness), James tugged at your elbow and walked you to an alcove nearby.

“What the fuck, James?” you spat at his accusingly. He winced at your words as if you had hit him.

“I just- Well, I don’t have to justify my gut feeling to you, but I think you guys should get over your hating phase and start acknowledging the chemistry between you two,” he whisled slowly at that, “So please, hate me all you want tomorrow. But tonight, just give him a chance.”

You looked over his shoulder back to Sirius. He was talking to Lily and it wasn’t a smirk on his face but a soft smile that has not even once been aimed at you. That fact made you queasy. You knew he wasn’t always an asshole – it was only in your presence that he got so riled up. But, you thought, it would be nice to be smiled at just like that.

“Okay. But just tonight.” You were surprised by your own words. Were you an idiot for saying that? You didn’t know.

“Thanks,” James sighed, relief lacing his words. He took your elbow again and brought you back to the group.

“I’m gonna get myself a drink. Maybe two.”

Lily giggled at James’ words and grabbed onto his arm and the two of them hurriedly left. That meant you and Sirius were left alone, which was very, very dangerous. You started walking to the bar without looking back at your escort, because all you really needed at that moment was a strong ass drink.

“Firewhiskey, right?” Sirius asked you when he caught up to you. No matter how fast you tried to go, he infuriatingly and casually kept his pace next to you.

You raised an eyebrow at him. In answer, he shrugged. “I just know.”

You tried to shake off the feeling that embraced you after realizing he somehow knew your favourite hard liquor.

 You also didn’t know how to react to the fact that Sirius paid for his and your drinks that some students smuggled into the party for a laughably ridiculous price.

As he handed the cold glass to you, your fingers touched, just barely. You told yourself your heartbeat was quick because of your temper, no other reasons.

“I don’t think you realize just how angry you make me.” You smirked ironically at Sirius, the alcohol already burning sweetly in your throat.

“I have that much of an effect on you? I should be flattered.” Sirius retorted. But it was not an angry answer, just…. A playful one. And you had no idea what to do with that.

“Don’t think you’re all that, Sirius.” You rolled your eyes. “Should I ckeck for a poisoned drink? Or a love potion?”

You knew you were dancing on the edge of a very sharp knife. But somehow, that made it much more fun.

“Don’t think of me so poorly, darling. As if I needed a love potion to get you on your knees and beg.”

“In your dreams, Black.”

“Yes, in my dreams, darling.”

You froze at that. Was he actually impying he dreamt about you being on your knees, begging before him? But of course he did, that arrogant prick. He always had to feel superior.

But that didn’t stop the blood from seeping into your cheeks - but you blamed your blush on the firewhiskey.

So in answer you just took another sip of your drink. Were you an idiot for flirting with him? But were all those quarells of your shared pasts actually any different from flirting? You’ve never been so confused.

“You really aren’t making this any easier.” Sirius mumbled but instead of your eyes he looked around the room. Thank Merlin the music was so loud that any awkward silences were swallowed up by it.

“As if you are?” His eyes met yours and you had to fight the instinct to fight with him, to get closer to yell at him - or get closer to kiss him?

Instead you got yourself another drink, just so you could do something with your hands.

“Slow down, tiger. Didn’t think you actually hated my presence so much you would rather get hammered.” Sirius mockingly frowned and before you could react, he snatched the glass from your hand.

“Give it back, you little fucker.” You growled and tried clawing at his raised arm. But he was a lot taller than you and to be honest, your attempts were just meaningless.

“Make me.” And maybe it was that crooked smile of his, or how good he looked in his suit or how soft his hair looked in the dim lights, that made you reach on your toes and kiss his infuriating dirty mouth that made you want to combust most of the time.

How was it possible that his lips were so intoxicating but the words that usually came out of it were so infurating?

But you forbid yourself to think of all those things. Instead you now easily reached for his hand and grasped your glass, snatching it from Sirius’ weakening grip.

“Made you.” You smiled. The bewildered look on his face was worth it. “I didn’t fluster you, did I?”

Sirius gave a startled laugh. “You clever little vicious thing.”

And he leaned into you, his nose touching yours, your breaths mingling. “Now do it again.”

[silentglassbreak]

What if the reader and Noah have been training together with Ash, doing kickboxing and all that. They haven't hung out together, but one day, Noah invites the reader over. They find out that they have more in common than they realize.

You can make this cute, romantic, fluff, smutty...you do you :)

Ahhh mi mayor amor, this ask holds a special place in my heart. I trained martial arts for a long time. This sounds like a lot of fun. Now, I will forewarn you, I’ve never done a reader perspective fic before. I’m nervous. The Y/N thing scares me, but I’m going to take a crack at it. Honest feedback is appreciated! After writing notes: I'm so FUCKING evil. :)

Ratings: Explicit

Warnings: Hehehehehe.......

Vices

“Damn it!” My hand tapped the leg cinched around my throat, my mouth guard nearly choking me as I struggled.

The grip loosened and I rolled backward over my head, fist punching the mat beneath me. The Dutch braids my hair was in was faltering, and I stared at the man in front of me.

“What the fuck am I doing wrong?!”

“Calm down, Y/N. You’re going to get this.” Ash, despite being covered in a thin layer of sweat, was smiling warm at me, trying to calm my frustration.

“We’ve been at this for twenty fucking minutes, dude! I keep getting locked the fuck up!” My hands gestured in front of me, my backside rested on my heels.

“You’ve only been doing Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu for three months. You’re still learning. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He moved to stand. “You want to take a break?”

I stood as well, leaning down into my stance. “No. Let’s go again.”

Ash quirked a brow, defeated, and shook his head, bending down as well. Before I could reach for him, a voice echoed from behind me, disrupting my focus.

“You’re too tense. You need to shake off some of that rage you got there, doll.”

I snapped my head over, inadvertently whipping myself in the mouth with the end of my braid.

Noah stood, tall and sweaty, leaning against one of the heavy punching bags lining the back wall of the room. A towel was draped over his left shoulder, his water bottle in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“If I wanted your opinion, dick, I would’ve asked for it.”

He threw his hands up defensively. “Just trying to help.”

Scoffing, I turned back around to ready myself. “Sure. I believe that.”

If there was anyone in this gym that I considered a nemesis, it was Noah ‘Dickwad’ Sebastian. I couldn’t fucking stand him. He was arrogant, unbearably fucking tall, and insanely fucking irritating.

We met for the first time when I joined the gym three months ago. He had been training here only six months longer than I, and from the beginning, he was constantly poking a fucking stick at me. It didn’t make sense, and I didn’t fucking care.

I learned through whispers in the gym that he was in a band, so when I googled him and learned what he did for a living, I wasn’t impressed in the slightest.

So what if he could sing? Didn’t make him any less intolerable. He wouldn’t sing too well if I stuck my foot down his throat, anyway.

Had I added a few of his songs to my workout playlist? Maybe. That's beside the point.

Ash wrapped me up in the arm bar yet again, my wrist screaming at me to tap out before it snapped in two. My fingers tapped his leg, and he released me.

“Alright Fireball, that’s enough for one day.” He stood, walking over to his corner where he kept his bag and water.

I noticed Noah had left, so I relaxed, straightening my shirt and making my way over to my own bag next to Ash.

“What am I doing wrong, dude? Seriously?”

He shrugged. “Honestly? You’re just off right now. Did something happen today?”

Rolling my eyes, I sprayed water into my mouth. “My bitch of a mother called me this morning.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That angered you?” His question was sincere. I didn’t share a lot about my personal life with my gym mates.

“It did.” Was all I gave before I slung my bag over my shoulder and slipped my slides on.

He nodded in approval. “Trying to train angry never works. It makes you unfocused. That’s why we do breathing exercises beforehand.” He placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “Try to let it go. We’ll work on it more tomorrow.”

His words calmed my fried nerves ever so slightly, and I grinned at him.

“Thanks Ash. I’ll see you then.”

-

Life really fucking blows sometimes. The last week had been a shit show and a half, and I was exhausted. I hadn’t been back to the gym because work had kept me busy, then I got rear-ended, totaling my ‘98 Corolla, and had been dodging calls from my Mom every hour like clockwork.

Needless to say, when I stepped foot into the gym, the smell of perspiration and mat cleaner was like a breath of fresh air.

My eyes searched, noticing an unfamiliar class going. I spotted Ash, whose eyes flashed over to me before he halted his spar, and jogged over.

“Hey, you okay? Haven’t seen you in over a week.”

I nodded. “Rough few days, but I’m good now.”

He smiled, but a look of concern crossed his face.

“Gosh, Y/N, I’m sorry, but we’re not running regular classes this week. There’s a tournament on the weekend, we’ve got to train our competitors.”

My mood fell, my shoulders going with it. I needed the relief. I needed to train.

Ash saw my eyes, and a sympathetic look crossed his face. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called.”

I shook my head, waving a hand. “No, no. That’s okay. I totally understand.”

He chewed the inside of his lip, peering around the room. A sly smile perked up on his lips.

“Come here.” He motioned for me to follow, which I did, kicking my sandals off before entering the mat, giving a quick bow.

When we rounded the corner into the back of the gym, my feet halted just before the line of bags. Only one person was there, gloves and shin guards on, practicing his combinations.

Oh hell no.

“Y/N, why don’t you spar with Noah?”

My jaw dropped as he stopped mid-hook, pulling an earbud out. “What’s up?”

His chestnut brown hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes were widened slightly. I suddenly felt very exposed, only in a sports bra and fitness leggings.

“Would you be willing to spar with Y/N?”

Noah’s eyes made a show of looking me up and down, a devious grin creeping over his face.

“Oh, of course.”

I snorted, looking at Ash. “Are you insane?”

He shrugged. “You’re my only two not competing. It gives you a way to train.”

Holding up a hand toward Noah, my voice raised several octaves. “How am I supposed to spar with him?! He’s a fucking tree!” I motioned to my own height. “I’m only five fucking three!”

Ash’s eyes narrowed at me, clearly not amused with my tantrum.

“Listen, this is the only solution I have for you this week. If you don’t want to, totally fine.” He interlocked his fingers. “But I think it would be good for you.” He glanced between us. “Both of you.”

And just like that, he left.

Noah stared at me now, waiting for my decision. I just shook my head and snarled. “Fuck this.”

Turning to leave, I heard his voice call after me. “Yeah, figured you’d be too scared.”

I froze mid-step, craning my neck to look back at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I get it. I’m intimidating.” He was unhooking his shin guards, tossing them to the side.

“Are you, now?” I turned back around, arms crossing over my chest.

His gloves went next, falling next to his bag. “Obviously.”

“You’re way out of my weight class, Noah.”

He smirked. “Calling me fat?”

I rolled my eyes. What a fucking douche.

“You have an unfair advantage with your long noodle limbs.”

He sucked his teeth, taking a short drink of water. “Having fun insulting me today, huh?”

“Doesn’t change the circumstance.”

“You joined martial arts for self defense, right?”

I jutted my hip out. “So?”

He set down his bottle, running long tattooed fingers through his damp hair.

“So, you think every attacker is going to be the same size and weight as you?”

This gave me pause. He had a point.

I let my bag fall casually off my shoulder, holding my arms up in defeat.

“Fine.” I stepped forward to the middle of the mat. “You want to spar? Let’s do it.”

His eyes sparkled, which made my breath catch for a second, as he walked over to me.

His long form bowed forward as I did, before we bent down in our stance.

It was as I expected; infuriating.

His arms could nearly wrap me around twice. His legs were surprisingly strong, his thighs much more muscular than I had originally anticipated. I kept having to tap, which was making me angrier with each match.

“This is bullshit!”

He hopped on the mat, keeping his blood flowing. “You’re overthinking it. Going rigid.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Fuck that. I’m just too fucking small for this.”

He shook his head, eyes locked on my face. “You’re not. You need to let go. Quit thinking about it so hard.”

We restarted, and I let his words soak in. Feeling my heart beating, my lungs breathing, I let my body instinctively take over. Noah’s thighs wrapped around my waist, but I managed to wrap and arm between them, breaking his grip. Before I could celebrate my victory, he wrapped an arm around my neck, holding me in a reverse choke.

I had to stop and think. Lifting my arm, I found his neck, and locked in tight, causing him to double over, and his arm to slip.

I flipped away from him and stood back up, hands out and waiting. He grabbed me, but I was faster, sprawling low and taking out his right leg before wrapping his ankle in a crushing grip.

I felt his fingers tap my leg three times, and released him, squealing in excitement.

Jumping to my feet, I clapped my hands together, smiling wildly.

“I fucking did it!”

He laid flat on the mat, breathing heavily, and gave me a weak thumbs up. I stood over him, bent at the waist, and smiled as sugary as possible.

“You okay Daddy Long Legs?”

He lowered his eyebrows and licked his lips. “I like when you call me Daddy.”

Snickering, I stood up, reaching a hand out for him to use to stand up. Once on his feet, he padded over to his water bottle.

It had already been an hour, when I had the sense to check the time.

“Damn, I’ve got to get home. The cat needs to be fed.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Same time tomorrow?”

I smirked, shouldering my bag. “If you’re not too scared.”3

-

After three training sessions with Noah, I could feel my perspective of him begin to change ever so subtly. Sure, he was still a perverted douche, but he was also a really dedicated sparring partner. He was always on time, he was interested in my progress, and gave some pretty honest feedback about my technique.

Did I hate seeing him every day? No. Not exactly. I didn’t want to go as far as to say I enjoyed his company, but maybe I wore my nicer sports bras to the gym? Maybe my braids were pulled a little tighter because he was rough with them? Maybe I wore a light mist of body spray before I got there?

Maybe.

So, to my disappointment, come Wednesday, our fourth day training together, he wasn’t already there when I walked in. My face fell when I rounded the corner, expecting to catch him warming up on the bag. I had come to look forward to our banter back and forth prior to training. I also looked forward to watching him hit the bag, but I knew that was just because of his form. It was…exceptional.

Considering he could be stuck in traffic, or had a prior engagement, I decided to start warming up without him.

I made quick work of wrapping my hands and slipping my gloves on before starting my music and assaulting the bag in front of me. I let my mind wander while I pushed each combination out, using my emotions to channel the force.

Before I realized, I had listened to nearly half of my workout playlist, and there was still no sign of him. My head glanced around, and a deep feeling settled on my chest.

As much as I didn’t like the guy, it would’ve been nice for him to mention he wasn’t coming today. When I saw him yesterday, he didn’t say anything about skipping today. I couldn’t ask him myself. I didn’t know his number or any way to reach him.

Deciding it wasn’t worth the irritation, I stepped back from my bag, and began removing my gloves, tucking them back into my bag. As I did so, a flash flew by my peripheral vision, and I stood straight, noticing him.

Noah had walked - no, stomped on to the mat, flung his bag down, earbuds already in and blasting loudly in his ears, and hastily grabbed his gloves out, slipping them on.

I just stood, staring at him, leaning against my respective bag. He paid me no attention, not even glancing in my direction. Something had him pissed. His face had turned a harsh shade of crimson, only darkening as he went at the bag, his voice letting out sharp exclamations every so often.

Carefully, I took three steps closer, touching the bag next to him, eyes searching all over for a sign of what made him so angry. What had happened? Noah was one of the coolest cucumbers I had met in a long time, never bothered by seemingly anything.

Who had hurt him?

Deciding to chance it, knowing he couldn’t hear me, I let my fingers lightly touch the bag he punched during one of his ten second breaks.

For the first time, his eyes looked at me, and were almost black with the rage they held. It made me startle, my eyes widening.

“Noah?”

He rubbed at his ear with his glove, making one earbud fall out. “Not today, Y/N.”

His words didn’t leave room for pressure or questions.

Unfortunately for him, I’m not one to heed a warning.

Narrowing my eyes, I took a step forward as he raised his gloves again, standing between him and the bag still swaying.

His shoulders tensed, and he lowered his gloves, glaring at me.

“Move.”

I crossed my arms, and raised an eyebrow.

“Or what?”

“Or I will move you.”

Pursing my lips, I contemplated this. He could, if he wanted to.

“No.”

“Y/N, I’m not asking.” His voice was deadly.

“I’m not moving. Not until you talk to me.”

He furrowed his brow, incredulous. “About what?”

“What has you so upset?”

He bared his teeth, irritation rising. “Since when do we talk? You don’t even like me.”

Uncrossing my arms and opening myself a bit to show I wasn’t trying to be a complete pain in the ass, I shrugged. “I don’t dislike you.”

He scoffed, slipping his gloves off. “Since fucking when?”

“Since you turned out to be more tolerable than I originally thought.”

He shook his head, taking a long gulp from his bottle. “Thanks, doll. Appreciate that.”

Still raging, but slightly more approachable, I took a step toward where he stood at his gym bag.

“C’mon Noah. Maybe sparring will make you feel better?”

He waved at me, disregarding me. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Because…?” I leaned closer to where he was bent over the bag, unwrapping his hands.

“I don’t want to talk about it, alright?”

Standing up straight, I adjusted my sports bra, which I noticed his eyes caught.

“Then grapple with me.” My solution was simple.

After a moment of careful consideration, he eventually stood back up, staring as I made my way to the middle of the mat.

We bowed, and he leaned down, hands up. “I’m not holding back today.”

I smirked. “Please don’t. I want it all, baby boy.”

This triggered him, his hips dropping to the mat in a hard sprawl, arms wrapping up my waist, dropping me like a hot rock on my back. The air rushed from my lungs before I could prevent the grip he held on my torso. His arms squeezed me in a hard choke, but I wasn’t tapping today.

I managed to get a hand under his left thigh, bending it back at a long angle, making his grip falter just enough to get turned around in his arms. My head slipped loose, but he was back on me. Impossibly strong hands gripped my left thigh, flipping me onto my back. My legs instinctively wrapped around his midsection while he tried to get a grasp on my forearm, to which I squirmed, putting pressure on his rib cage with my legs.

A heavy, deep growl escaped his throat, which made my thighs involuntarily twitch around him. I don’t think he noticed. He was angry, fighting something other than myself at this moment.

His arms came up under mine, and he lifted me off of the ground, and dropped me back into my ass hard, popping my legs open.

My limbs sprawled out on the mat, my breath coming heavily, I looked up at him, wide-eyed. He kneeled over me, hair hanging off of his face in sweat-soaked tendrils, threatening to touch my forehead.

We sat there while I watched the darkness in his eyes dissolve, his breathing getting more and more even. The scowl on his face softened for a moment, and I couldn’t help when my hands reached up to grip his sides, squeezing in a hard grasp.

Noah was hurting. I didn’t know why. Something or someone had hurt him. And here, in this moment, I had him.

We knew so little of each other. Only having spent time in this safe haven together, we had bonded over the last few days, and I knew I was the only person who could relax the fire raging behind his chest right now.

“Noah?” I whispered into the space between us, fighting the urge to touch his face.

“Thanks.”

I quirked a brow. “For what?”

“Being here.”

Smiling, I pressed my fingers harder into his sides. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did. You don’t even know it, but you did.”

I did know, but hearing him say it gave me a small flutter in my chest.

“Anytime.”

I tapped my code into my phone, and opened the Uber app. Zipping my sweater against the cool spring air, I began the process of searching for a driver to take me home.

“Hey.” I turned to see him walking out behind me. “Headed home?”

I nodded. “Yeah, just got to wait for a driver.” I waved my phone for show.

“You have to call an Uber? Where’s your car?”

Shrugging, I looked back down at the app that stated it was still looking for a driver.

“Got totaled last week.”

He walked over to me. “Damn, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No big deal.”

His eyes bounced between me, and the parking lot where his shiny black Navigator sat under the moonlight.

“Want a ride?”

I shook my head. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can get an Uber.”

He smiled, all sense of his earlier anger wiped clean. “I promise I’m cheaper.” His keys twirled around his long fingers.

I smirked, and closed my app. “Alright.”

The drive to my house wasn’t long, but before we even made it out of the parking lot, he looked over to me. “Hungry?”

I was leaned back, sending my mother a text. “Uh,” I locked my phone. “I mean, I never eat heavy after a workout.”

He nodded. “Same. But there’s a Yogurtland up the street?”

My lips pinched together. “What’s that?”

He turned out of the parking lot, but still managed to stare at me. “Frozen yogurt?”

I just threw my hands up. “Never had it.”

The look he gave me was as if I was insane. “You’ve never had frozen yogurt?”

“Isn’t it essentially just ice cream?”

He shook his head. “No. Not at all. It’s better.”

“Pfft. I doubt that.”

He turned into the parking lot of the yogurt place, and enthusiastically jumped out of the truck. In the few minutes it took for us to get there, I had been working my Dutch braids out, letting my dark hair loose, waves set in from the style. Letting myself out of the truck, I stopped short when I noticed him standing in front of the store, staring at me.

“What?”

He had the smallest, most amused smile tugging at his lips. “Your hair.”

I walked toward him. “What? Is it all fucked up?” I started tousling it, pulling at the tangles.

“No. It looks nice. I’ve never seen it down.”

I thought about it. I always kept my braids in at the gym. I wasn’t trying to have it ripped from my scalp.

“Oh.” A hot blush crept up my neck. “Thanks.”

I slipped in the door past him toward the counter. He proceeded to spend five whole minutes explaining flavors, toppings, mixes, and syrups to add.

After I finally elected for a simple vanilla with raspberries on top, and he went with chocolate with Oreo pieces, we found a small table and sat down.

He watched intently as I tried it, waiting for a reaction. I was pleasantly surprised.

“So?” I glanced up at him. “What do you think?”

Swallowing my spoonful, I nodded. “I’m impressed. Still like ice cream better.”

He rolled his eyes digging into his own cup.

“So,” I started, mixing my raspberries in. “you think you’re ready to talk about it?”

He stopped, his spoon halfway to his mouth, and eyed me curiously. “Why do you want to know?”

My yogurt was already starting to melt. “I’m just wondering. You were pretty upset tonight.”

He just nodded, looking into his cup, pushing the Oreos around. “I was.”

“You don’t actually have to tell me. I just know from experience that it usually helps.”

“Does it?” He still wasn’t looking at me.

“It can. Especially with someone who doesn’t know about it.”

I watched as his throat moved when he swallowed. “I’ve got a friend…” He stopped. “Had a friend. He passed away a couple years ago.”

I just sat, watching him, giving him space.

“We released a song with his band. It was a tribute sort of thing.” Dropping his cup, he leaned back. “Anyway, it came out about a week ago.”

He had stopped speaking, fingernail picking at the cuticle on his thumb.

“And it made you upset?”

“It hurt.” The sound of his voice was a soft echo, the words catching behind his tonsils.

The overwhelming temptation to stand up and wrap my arms around him gnawed at me as I watched his eyes well up, his face twisting to try and push them back down.

Instead, I settled on reaching a hand across the table, slipping my fingers around his wrist.

His eyes gazed up at me, and he gave me the most heartbreaking smile.

“I’ll be alright. It was just a gut punch, you know?”

Grazing a thumb over his tattoos, I stared at him deeply, attempting to convey my condolences.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Noah.”

A sniffle cleared the air, and he lifted a hand to make quick work of wiping his eyes.

“Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate it.”

-

After yogurt, I made it a point to make sure Noah had my cell number in case he ever needed to talk. I almost regretted it, as he had been sending me memes nearly since we parted ways last night.

When I stepped into the gym, the energy was fervent. Fighters rolling around the mats in all directions, preparing for the approaching competition.

I made my way to the back, now quickly becoming a normal routine, and hid my excitement when I was met with chocolate brown eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile.

Noah was sitting on the mat, stretching his long limbs, so I quickly set my bag down and joined him. Each time I would change positions, a finger would come up to poke me in the side, making me almost fall.

“Knock it off!” I swatted at his hand, an involuntary giggle escaping.

“Just making sure you’re loosened up! I’m not taking it easy on you!”

I shook my head, standing back up straight. “Is that what yesterday was? Because I think my tailbone is bruised now.”

He cackled. “You want me to rub it for you?” He threw a wink at me, and I felt my insides spasm.

“Not necessary. Just remember, I’m a lady.”

He scoffed loud. “Yeah, and I’m an acrobat.”

My jaw dropped. “Oh, you’re in for it Sebastian.”

We had been grappling for longer than normal, each round both of us wanting more. We would laugh when we made the other tap out, mocking each other playfully, forcing the other to be even more savage during the next match. Our bodies were both broken out in a heavy sweat, slipping over each other and leaving a wet sheen on the mat.

"Motherfucker!" I squealed when he pulled me up in another arm bar while I kicked my legs up, trying to hook onto him anywhere I possibly could.

"C'mon doll, tap out."

I snarled at him, trying not to jostle my arm too much. My hips fought for leverage, but his legs over my stomach made it impossible to lift myself.

"You're not getting out of this, Y/N. Tap out."

"Fuck you!"

He chuckled. "If you insist."

Fucking perv.

After another two minutes of struggling, I finally huffed and tapped his shin. He released me instantly, popping up on his feet.

"Sorry, doll. We need to work on that one." He sprayed water in his mouth and I glared at him from where I sat on the mat.

"Quit calling me doll."

He smirked, walking over to hand me my own water. "Why? You know you like it."

I snorted. "No, I fucking don't."

"You do."

Rolling my eyes, I kicked at his legs. He just laughed at me.

Plopping down on the mat next to me, he bumped my shoulder. "You're improving a lot, you know."

I smiled. "Thanks. I feel like I am."

"The arm bar is the worst. I can barely get out of them myself."

Leaning back on my hands, I stretched. "Ugh, I should get home."

Rising up on my feet, I made my way over to my bag.

"Oh."

This made me turn around. Did he sound...sad?

"What?" I asked him while wiping my forehead with a towel.

"I was just having fun." He stood, walking to his bag and mirroring my actions.

This made me smile. "Same time tomorrow?"

He pulled his lips to the side, thinking about something he wasn't saying out loud. I ignored it, now wiping the sweat from the back of my neck.

"I mean, or we could," He hesitated, grinning and looking nervous. "hang out?"

I dropped my towel back in my bag. "Hang out?"

"Yeah, like last night."

"You want to get yogurt again?"

He shouldered his bag, and I did the same. We walked toward the edge of the mat, bowing out.

"We don't have to. Could get pizza?"

"Mm, I don't eat heavy after a workout."

He nodded. "Right." We made our way out of the gym. "We could...go to my place?"

My eyebrows shot up, surprised. "Your place?"

His eyes popped open wide, just now realizing what he had suggested, and how it sounded.

"I just mean to hang out! We could like, order food and play video games or something?" His words came out rushed, nearly stumbling over one another.

I smirked, pulling my hoodie over my head to protect from the chill. "I'm a sweaty mess."

"So am I." Noah took a step into my space, eyes looking down at me. "Doesn't bother me."

Ending up at Noah Sebastian's house was not on the agenda for today. Somehow, however, I stood in his living room, eyes darting around, hand firmly grasping my gym bag.

"You want something to drink?"

I snapped out of my trance and looked at him. "Uh, sure."

My feet followed him while he listed off the options. "I've got water, Gatorade, green tea, and Dr. Pepper."

Opting for water, he reached into the fridge and tossed it at me, grabbing one for himself and motioning for me to follow after him. He lead me up a tall, wrapping staircase down the hall to a bedroom at the end. The room was obsessively clean, making me feel wrong just stepping foot inside.

"This is it. It's not much." He ran a hand through his hair, spreading his arm out toward the room.

His words were comical, given the room was massive. A large, king sized bed the centerpiece. A rolling trunk sat on the floor at the edge, and his comforter and pillows were black. Tucked into the corner was a computer desk with a double monitor gaming setup perched on top. There was a loveseat futon sat on the side of the room with a small table sitting in front. Various anime figures adorned the surface of the table, and LED strip lights hung along the perimeter of the room.

"I didn't, uh," His face was turned up in a grin. "really think about what we would do once we got here."

Taking a careful step into the room, I smiled back at him. "Food?"

His eyes widened, and he pulled his phone from his pocket. "Right! What do you feel like?"

Attempting to ease the awkward tension, I walked over to the couch and sat down. "I'm pretty simple. Anything works."

He was scrolling, looking at his screen. "Sandwiches?"

I leaned back on the couch, nodding. "Sure."

After about an hour, we had fallen into a comfortable rhythm of him sitting in his computer chair, and me on the couch, while he chatted between bites of his sub.

"We've only been back from tour for like, two weeks?" He set his sandwich down, wiping his face with a napkin. "We haven't made plans for any more shows yet. We need to take some time to prepare the re-release of the album."

I was chewing my food, being wildly careful not to drop anything on the couch. "Have you decided when it will be released?"

He shook his head. "It's more up to the label, but it's not ready yet anyway."

"The last album was good."

His eyes became almost glittery, hearing what I said. "You've heard it?"

"I listened to it once or twice." I smirked, trying to hide my face with my sandwich.

"Just the last album?" He had me. He knew I was bluffing.

"Well, I pulled you up on iTunes when I realized you were a musician."

His tongue darted out of his mouth, licking his bottom lip. "Which is your favorite song?"

Without thinking, I spoke. "Dethrone."

The shit-eating grin that crawled over his face had me giggling nervously.

"I like working out to it."

He stood, crumpling the paper from his sandwich and tossed it in the garbage. He flopped down next to me on the couch, only inches between us. I set the half of my sandwich on the paper laid out on the table.

"Well, I'm glad you like our music." He was balancing his head on his palm, triumphant smile on his face.

"Are we just going to talk about you the whole night?"

"Oh, you want to talk about you? We can do that."

I leaned back. "Like?"

"Favorite movie."

"The Crow."

He quirked a brow, but didn't question further.

"Favorite TV show?"

"Buffy The Vampire Slayer."

He laughed at that. "Seriously?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Don't hate on Buffy."

He threw his hands up in defense. "Hey, it's a classic." He tapped a finger on his chin. "Favorite place?"

"Place, as in...location?"

"Or whatever it means to you."

I had to think about this one. "My room."

"Really?"

I just nodded. "It's mine. I have it set up exactly how I like it. My roommate is mostly who decorated the rest of the apartment. It's nice, but my room? My room is all me."

Tightening his lips, he gave a look of approval.

"Fair enough." He took a moment to think. "Favorite food?"

"Ah," I stretched my arms out. "Probably Japanese."

He smiled. "Yeah? Same."

He took a while to think over his next question, really working on it.

"Favorite anime?"

Uh-oh, he caught me.

"Oof." I averted his gaze. "I actually don't really watch anime."

I expected a more energetic response, but instead he just said, "No? Why not?"

I shrugged. "Could never get into it? I watched one all the way through, but I couldn't find another that interested me."

"Which one?"

"Tokyo Ghoul."

His eyes lit up. "That's my favorite." He reached over, grabbing a PlayStation controller off of the table and switching it on. When the device surged to life, the background showed an illustration of Ken Kaneki in his ghoul mask, red eye bleeding.

I smiled. "It's the only one that held my interest."

"You've never tried Attack on Titan?"

Shaking my head, I looked back at him. "Never heard of it."

"Want to give it a try? It's dark. You might like it."

"Sure."

He took a few moments to get the show prepared, and I took the opportunity to finish my sandwich, tossing the paper out.

"You want a blanket?" He turned the room light off, turning the LED's up to a warm white light, giving the environment a comfortable feel.

"I'm okay, for now."

He sat down, keeping at least half a foot of distance between us, and began playing the show.

I wanted to pay attention, I really did, but his hand was resting on the couch, fingers splayed out right next to my leg, and it was all I could think about. His eyes were trained on the TV, which made it harder not to stare at him. His features were so striking; eyes a deep brown, hair pushed back and hanging lazily, tattoos littering nearly every inch of his skin. I felt myself salivate while wondering where all he was tattooed, and if I would have the chance to see them.

In an attempt to distract myself, I began removing my braids, taking a second to shake my hair out before I ran a hand through it, trying to get comfortable. I tucked legs underneath myself, my shorts making me feel more exposed than I would've liked.

That's when I felt his eyes on me, covering every inch of me. His fingers were so subtly slipping closer to my thigh on the couch. I tried breathing, but keeping a steady pace was impossible when he was staring.

How far could we take this? How much did I want to allow?

I shifted casually, clearing my throat, and letting the skin of my leg brush his hand. I watched as his eyes shot down to the connection, not moving an inch. His fingers were cool against my warm skin. I leaned back on the couch, pressing my leg closer to him.

His hand slipped, then, up the side of my leg, coming to rest on the top of my thigh. I felt my lip twitch, so I leaned into his hand, pressing my skin into his palm.

When I finally dared to look over, he was staring directly at me, face unwavering, looking absolutely ravenous.

The tension struck me, ripping a cord inside my chest. I wasn't going to sit like this forever.

I leaned forward, taking hold of his shoulder, and pulled my face impossibly close to his. His eyes roamed over me, contemplating his next move. The hand he had on my leg was now wrapped around my back, holding me in place as I stared at him, waiting.

I counted six calculated breaths before he finally leaned in, pressing his lips to mine, and I took my time inhaling his scent. He smelled like the woods; earthy and pine mixed with salt.

The hand he had holding my back pulled, pressing me closer to him. I opened my mouth to allow his tongue to slide across my teeth, licking into my lips. A low moan escaped me, and it was like a switch had flipped.

His mouth was hungrily attacking mine, using the same energy he typically exhausted back in the gym. His arms flipped me back, landing me on the cushions, and pressed himself against me.

I hooked my left leg on his hip, using steady pressure to keep his waist pushed flush to my body, my hips grinding against him.

Humming into my mouth, he pulled his face back, studying me for a moment. I laid, mouth open and breathing heavily, staring up at him.

"You're so fucking sexy, you know that?"

Rolling my eyes, I leaned my hips up, pressing against the hard bulge in his shorts. "You seem to think so."

He hissed, applying the same pressure back against me. "I have for a while now."

"Yeah?" I let one hand snake down between us, pressing against his cock over the fabric. "Now that you have me here, what do you plan to do?"

A soft, whispering whimper left his lips. "I've got some ideas."

He crashed his lips back down, nipping and biting at my lips, and began making his way down my jaw. His teeth grazed my pulse point, licking a stripe up my windpipe.

"Well," I breathed out. "you going to act on those ideas? Or just lick me all day?"

His head snapped up, and the darkest, most mischievous grin graced his features, which made a chill run up my spine.

"So fucking glad you asked."

[im-not-corrupted]

For the Soft Prompt: hope platonic pairings are ok because 7 for our favorite sisters Aloy and Beta sounds very fluffy

Platonic pairings are more than okay!!! Especially when the platonic pairing is the Sobeck sisters, who I love dearly. I'm not sure if this counts as soft, but hey, I did my best. Hope you enjoy!

Find the soft fic prompt meme here!

--------

7. late nights

"Bee," Aloy said, her voice cutting through the quiet like a blade, and Beta jumped, shutting down the holoshow she had open on her Focus.

She hadn't heard Aloy coming, though she supposed that wasn't much of a surprise. Her sister knew how to keep herself quiet, undetected, after all, though she still should've heard the sliding of her bedroom door.

Still, her heart raced in her chest when she spun around to find Aloy stood in the doorway of her bedroom, blinking at her blearily. Her hair was a mess, out of its usual braids and twists to resemble something more like a birds nest now, wild and untameable. The sight made her laugh slightly, and her sister's eyes narrowed further.

"Uh--hi," Beta greeted, somewhat sheepishly.

"What are you doing awake?" Aloy asked after a moment. A furrow appeared between her brows as she stared at Beta, and it looked so remarkably like concern that Beta had to look away for a moment. She still wasn't used to it--to being treated with kindness. To being treated like she was a person, and not a tool.

It was getting easier now, though. With Aloy, and everybody at the Base.

She took a moment to check the time, her Focus telling her it was 2:34AM. 2:34. She grimaced a little, glancing back at her sister. The time passed her by completely, slipping between her fingers like sand. It was easy, in a place of metal walls and artificial light, to lose track of it.

"Oh, sorry," she said quietly. "Did I--did I wake you?"

Really, the chances of that were slim. Aloy's door was always closed, and Beta was fairly sure she was being quiet.

There was still a pang of guilt in her stomach at the idea, though. Aloy had returned to the Base only a day earlier, exhausted and sporting fresh injuries that made Beta panic initially. She didn't want to be the reason Aloy didn't get the rest she so clearly needed.

"No." Aloy shook her head, walking further into the Control Centre they'd turned into more of a common room. She came to sit down beside Beta, who shifted to make room for her. "Just--couldn't sleep."

She understood that. After everything that happened with the Zeniths, after Aloy's fight with Tilda and the discovery of Nemesis...Beta still struggled to sleep, even now. Her mind was too full of thoughts, traces of panic lingering in her blood.

It didn't seem right, that those fears may weigh down on Aloy too. She was Aloy, after all. Always so on top of everything. Fearless. Beta's anxieties didn't fit her, didn't quite make sense.

She looked closer at her sister. At the weariness in her shoulders, the exhaustion in her face and the circles below her eyes.

Maybe she was wrong. Aloy was just as human as the rest of them, after all.

At the very least, she could help with that. She hesitated a moment before pulling up the show she was watching before Aloy interrupted. Second Time Around, naturally. Though she'd seen this a hundred times before, enough to memorise most of the lines, it was familiar enough to be of comfort.

"Do you...want to watch this with me?" she asked quietly. At Aloy's surprised glance, she gave a little half-shrug, anxiety suddenly curling in her stomach. "You don't have to! Obviously. Just...sometimes helps me to, to take my mind off things? It's fun. Maybe you'll be able to sleep afterwards."

Beta thought it'd be nice, too, to have Aloy watch it with her. They rarely ever spent time with one another, these days, with Aloy delving into various ruins on Sylens's direction, or rallying the tribes for the next fight.

She didn't mind. They were all doing their part. It would just be...be nice, to spend more time together.

Except Aloy hadn't seemed interested, the last time Beta mentioned it. And maybe she was foolish for bringing it up now. She looked away from her sister, grimacing slightly. "Of course, it's probably stupid. You'll want some time to yourself, after--"

After the Horus fight. After leaving Seyka in the Burning Shores. After running around the world trying to save everything.

Aloy placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, a soft and welcoming smile on her face. "Bee," she said, and Beta fell silent. "I'd love to. Is this...Second Time Around? You mentioned it once."

Surprised, Beta stared at her wide-eyed. "You remember that?"

"Yeah. And I'd like to see it with you."

Warmth bloomed in her chest, and Beta beamed at her.

In the next moment, she moved herself closer to Aloy. They were pressed against each other now, her sister so much warmer than her, and Beta brought up the show again, sharing it to Aloy's Focus. "Great!" she announced. "You'll love it."

Aloy smiled back. "I'm sure I will."

[electricbluebutterflies]

Kabby + ❛ i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. ❜

Post-s2-grayspace, PG-ish, also on ao3.

And here he’d thought she couldn’t get worse.

Marcus would not describe himself as someone who enjoys routines, but… he does, and most of his have been blown to hell in the past few weeks for various reasons, and one of the few things that held was his longtime nemesis and her strength of personality, and then that changed too, and then before he could process the change it got worse and she got sidelined, and now…

Abby has always been a nightmare, but right now she’s a cocooned nightmare with demands and he’s the only person self-destructive enough to keep an eye on her.

It has been two days of relative quiet, not enough for it to feel right at all but he’d spent almost all of the first one asleep next to her and he’ll process the strangeness of that situation later but-

Unfortunately for him, today she’s lucid and has processed that moving around is not going to be comfortable for another few days. Again, the only justification he has for sticking around is the number of failed sacrificial suicide attempts he’s had recently, and this feels like it’ll become another one, and-

They need to make this normal fast before one of them does something that can’t be undone, a possibility that looks all too likely with the two of them stuck in a small space until further notice. They’ll either finally kill each other or – possibly worse – screw, and both of those have been fun daydreams over the years but neither is actually a good idea and-

“I’m trying to fix your hair so hold still.”

Normal, Marcus thinks. As if they’ve ever pulled that off for more than five goddamned seconds and even that’s been painful.

“I don’t remember asking you to,” Abby hisses right back, and he’s seen that glare wound lesser souls but he’s been on the receiving end enough times to be immune so too bad and-

“You haven’t bothered to since-“

“You think that’s a valid reason to suddenly care about my grooming?”

“I am trying to distract you!”

And failing, clearly. Failing enough he wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to bite him again and yes the last time seemed like a plausible accident but the next will not be and-

“I did not ask you for that.”

“You don’t ask anyone for anything,” he mutters. “You try to do everything yourself and you end up-“

“Like you’re any better. At least I have people who care about me.”

And there are days he suspects a lot of that may be because of her preferred necklines, he thinks and will never say because he does like having all of his appendages attached to his body, but-

“So we’re both terrible at this. Maybe we can do better.”

“By each other?” she laughs. “You really are having a midlife crisis.”

She is… not and never wrong, and her ability to see and slice through him sure is something, and-

“Is that the worst thing in the world?”

“To the extent that you’re going to make it my problem, yes.”

He has no such intentions of burdening anyone with this, he wants to say, but-

Yes. Yes it will completely become her problem, because they’re what remains of a leadership structure and he cannot do anything without her and he’s accepted that need for the balance she gives him and-

“I don’t want it to be a problem.”

“What you want has a real habit of not-“

“Can you please just shut up so I can braid your hair?”

“I didn’t ask you to-“

“You aren’t physically stopping me, so-“

“Fine,” she sighs, and thankfully from this angle he can’t see what he knows is a good visual, and-

Oh, she’s going to be the end of him one way or another, he’s known it for thirty years and he’s more sure of it now than ever.

She does not manage to stay still – he’s pretty sure she’s incapable of it, she’s active in her sleep too and he has the bruises to prove it – but she’s at least still enough for him to twist her mess of hair into something that will stay out of her eyes, and it’s such a small goal here, and-

“Is that comfortable?”

“I can’t see what you did, so…”

“Reach back and feel?”

She does, starting at the top of her head and working down to the tips of her hair, down to where his fingers still linger and the slightest brush of skin is everything and-

“Actually not bad,” she murmurs. “You do occasionally surprise me.”

“I try.”

“Normally not good surprises, but…”

“Can you stop hissing for a minute and-“

“I’m trying to get used to this new version of you. Let me be weird about it.”

He’s trying to get used to it too, and he’s tempted to make a comment about how she has no idea what it’s like in his mind, but…

They’ll both get over this. Eventually. First they have to be what they are a little longer, apparently.

[mimiteyy]

🍕🥊❤️✂️🙌💀🍩

TETHYS LORE DUMP NOW

OKAY LETS GOOO

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

Fish! Sirens keep certain kinds of large fish (that I have yet to design) as livestock-- Tethys possibly had a job related to that, or related to hunting. Sometimes cooked, sometimes not, especially since they haven't been able to easily get on land in decades.

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Can't think of any specific activities so I'll go more general/personality. She loves diving headfirst into Situations without acknowledging her own safety first. She hates waiting for things to resolve on their own if she feels she can intervene. Very impulsive, at least once she's provoked.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

Probably a peaceful moment with her family, before everything went wrong. Her braiding her kid's hair, her wife Delphine nearby. An afternoon with good, chill vibes. Tethys probably looks back on times like that a lot and it Hurts.

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

SPEAKING OF! That would be the day she lost her family. Pirates in this universe have ways to raze underwater villages, equipment to dive down themselves and fight... Did you know sirens float to the surface when they die?

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

I've entertained the thought of her having a brother she hasn't seen in years, but none currently!

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

Fire. (Not a huge fear, but one that makes sense for her.)

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

Captain Whitlock. He's the pirate captain responsible for destroying her village and ruining her life. She's now dedicated her life to tracking him down, taking back an important magical artifact he stole, and killing him.

OC Ask Game

[nightlychaotic]

An Eye for an Eye

“GET BACK HERE!” she yelled, staring after the thief who just stole the necklace she’d just stolen from her hands. They turned towards their nemesis. “WELL? You’re a hero, aren’t you? Stop them!”

“I- O-Okay?”

She looked at him, giving a small shake of her head in a sort of 'go on' motion to spur him on. He gave her one more confused look before taking off after them.

“The audacity that some of these low level thieves have absolutely astounds me,” she said to herself, watching Nightwing run after the petty thief with a small grin before making her way to the roofs.

She followed him from the rooftops, trailing him as he caught up to the thief and stopped them.

She’d give them points for boldness but would deduct more for severe stupidity. Really stealing from her while she was standing next to Nightwing. How desperate did you need to be to try that? Honestly. There was no way he was going to escape. Nightwing was the better option for them.

She dropped down silently behind the two, as Nightwing finished tying them up and grabbed the necklace from them. She took a few steps before launching herself into the air and over the vigilante.

“I’ll take that back,” She said, plucking it from his hands as she vaulted over him landing softly with a small grin.

“Aren’t you a good little bird,” she purred, flicking her eyes up to meet his. “Thank you for this. I would hate to see it end up in the wrong hands,” she told him, pocketing the necklace.

“How do I know those wrong hands aren’t yours?”

She gave a soft laugh. “Believe me. You would know by now if they were.”

“I can’t let you have that.”

“You’ve already caught one thief stealing it tonight, think you can catch another?”

“I know I can.”

She smirked, closing the distance between the two of them, tilting her head up slightly as she looked up at him. “So confident. I like that. Well then,” she gave him a push as she pulled her baton out. “Catch me if you can, oiseau chanteur,” she challenged, carrying herself up to the roof and taking off into the night, her laughter trailing behind her.

—---------------------------------------

Nightwing glanced around, trying to figure out where she’d disappeared to, grinning as he felt the soft tap on his shoulder, turning, catching only the brief flick of her braid as she moved.

She laughed, ducking arounf him, making a break for her escape as he caught the end of her braid, the small tug, stopping her short as she whirled around to face him.

“Playing dirty now are we?”

“Something tells me you weren’t playing fairly to begin with?”

“Now it isn’t my fault you aren’t creative enough to figure me out. Most aren’t.”

He closed the distance between the two of them, slowly backing her up until her back hit the bulkhead wall. He leaned forward, planting hand and braid on the wall next to her head as he leaned forwards.

“Caught you,” he whispered.

“So you did. What are you going to do now?”

“Well I do believe you have some stolen goods on you?”

“Going to search me? I wouldn’t have thought you the type,” she mused, grinning at the faint blush that colored his cheeks as she said that. “I am sorry to disappoint you but you won’t find the necklace.”

“Is that so?”

“You’re more than welcome to try.”

He snaked his hand into hers, intertwining his fingers with hers, as he leaned closer. “You know, there is one piece of jewelry you seem partial to. Is there a story there?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You aren’t?” He asked as he pulled away, quickly slipping the ring off her finger as he did so, blinking at the flash of green light as the skintight leather catsuit and long braid he was accustomed to vanished into shoulder length hair falling into her face, and a blue dress with heels. She hissed as he backed away, before shaking her head.

“Who’s the thief now?” she asked, the dark look on her face betraying the light tone of her question. “Give that back. Now.”

“Why? What is this?”

“Something that doesn’t concern you and you shouldn’t be handling.”

“And yet you should?”

“You are getting into dangerous territory,” she warned, stalking towards him, heels clicking against the roof with each step. “So,” she said, coming to a stop in front of him. “I’ll ask you one more time.” She struck, knocking him down and pinning him to the ground. “Give me my ring back. Please.”

“Make me.”

“An eye for an eye then, Songbird,” she said softly, not giving him time to react as she pulled his mask off. “Dick Grayson- Well isn’t this a surprise, Songbird. I would have never guessed.”

She tilted her head to the side slightly as she leaned closer.

“Like what you see?”

She gave a soft laugh. “Have for a long time. Your eyes are even prettier than the photos. Anyways, thanks for this,” she told him, holding up the ring as she pushed away from him, slipping it back onto her finger and transforming once more into Lady Noire as she walked away.

“Sneaky kitty,” he laughed. She stopped, turning to look back at him.

“Not my fault the little bird is so easy to distract with pretty words.”

"Pretty words? Or the gorgeous woman who was on top of me?" he asked, grinning at the bright blush on her cheeks.

“Flattery will get you everywhere sometime.”

“Oh I know.”

“I had fun tonight, Songbird,” she said, smiling as she turned away. He watched as she hopped up onto the railing around the edge of the roof, glancing back at him one last time. “Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“What?”

“A name for a name. Let’s do this again sometime, oiseau chanteur. I’ll see you around, Dick,” she said, shooting him a wink as she flipped off the railing disappearing into the night."

“See you around, Marinette.”

[separatist-apologist]

acotar men as star wars characters?

Okay I'm peeking at my inbox. If you sent me something fun/nice, just know not everyone did and I am avoiding it because it is a MESS. So I'm wading through right now, Star Wars always feels safe to me.

Instead of like, characters, what about like, what KIND of characters?

Starting off strong-

Rhysand- Utter Sith filth. I'm sorry to the Rhys stans out there but this man is SWIMMING in darkness. Also, and you can't tell me I'm wrong, but a fic where Dark Sith Rhys slowly corrupts light Jedi Feyre is immaculate, a god tier idea and if someone writes it, you better tag me in it

Cassian- Resistance General ride or die baby. Means justify the ends and definitely ground forces 100%. He's looking at the pilots with narrowed eyes, like, put a blaster in this mans hand (Or a vibro sword hnnng) and unleash him.

Azriel- Sorry babes. Stop thinking with your pussy. He's too comfortable with genocide if he's been personally wronged and for that, he's an Inquisitor. Yeah he started as a Jedi but Azriel is corruptible. The Jedi were weak, they FAILED him. They deserve to be hunted mercilessly through the galaxy and Azriel loves doing it. This man is also washed in blood and darkness.

Eris- Politician from a core world. Bathed in money, doesn't care about the outer rim or their problems. Definitely using his political office to further his own goals. Sides with whoever is in power, very adaptable.

Lucien- Resistance pilot. Brash, impulsive, and likes to cause problems, Lucien is the first to ask permission to blow something up. Also prefers a blaster, not much for hand to hand combat. Prefers range, distance, and a well fitting vest.

Feyre- Sweet bean Jedi slowly corrupted over time. Tired of war, of the endless fighting, of how nothing ever seems to be resolved. Personal tragedy x 1000. Leaves the order, breaking their heart. Find out later she's teamed up with Rhysand. Everyone is v nervous about it.

Nesta- THE resistance General. Badass x 100000. No one can tell her anything. BRAIDS ON BRAIDS ON BRAIDS. Immaculate without trying. Ice Queen but everyone respects the fuck out of her. Put Cassian on his knees and left him there without a look back. Isn't impressed with all these pretty flyboys.

Elain- politician but dedicated to her people. Fashion sense is ELITE, no one can touch her wardrobe. Knows the power of a careful turn of phrase, of one well timed word. Drafts legislation in her sleep, is very good at getting the support of those who should be her political nemesis. Occasionally likes to talk shit with Eris in the nosebleeds. What the fuck is Palpatine wearing today?

Tamlin- nerf herder. Is he scruffy? Yes. Is there sand in his boots? 100%. Is he free? Yes.

Emerie- Unshakable Jedi Master. Sits on the council with Yoda, eyebrow game unmatched. Always know when you've annoyed her. Hasn't taken an apprentice in years, everyone wants her attention. Cool white lightsaber.

Gwyn- Nightsister dedicated to her home. Keeper of their magick + the sacred knowledge of their people. Bathed in darkness because that's her home and not necessarily because she's evil. Dathomir just be like that. Pet spider, she can make anything sweet.

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 103 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Fame agreed to an interview with Vogue to get back at her former best friend and current nemesis, Bianca Del Rio, and Raja witnessed a suspicious interaction between Violet and Tatianna at the Galactica casting.

This Chapter: New York Fashion Week kicks off with model mayhem, a savvy and beautiful journalist, a cocktail party, and some unexpected carnage.  

***

“Your phone?” Bimini looked over her shoulder, a young brunette model standing behind her. She was stirring a big pot of oatmeal, the kitchen filled with girls at varying stages of awake. “Well I’m sure it’s here somewhere-“ She was cut off, as noise erupted from the hallway.  

“Shit.” Bimini dropped the spoon, rushing out to see two girls fighting just outside the bathroom.

She was never having kids. Ever

“Girls! Girls!” Bimini forced herself between them, beyond grateful that she hadn’t put in earrings “Break it up!” 

She couldn’t understand them, both girls shouting in some Eastern European language, trying to get past her to get to each other, “Ow! No hair pulling!”

Bimini was definitely asking for extra compensation once this was all over.

Fashion Weeks were usually chaotic, Elite flying girls in from all over the world to see if they could make it on the America market.

This Fashion Week, however, seemed like it was going to be especially chaotic, since the apartment was completely overbooked, girls sleeping on air mattresses and couches because construction had been severely extended on two other apartments and by the time anyone realized how bad it was, every hotel from here to Newark was completely full.

“Okay! That’s enough!” Bimini finally got them apart, really wishing she had taken the time to make that bathroom schedule last night, when Gigi peeked around the corner into the hallway.

“Bimini?” Gigi bit her lip, an unsure note in her tone. “I think the oatmeal is burning.”

“So stir it!”

“Okay!” Gigi’s head disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and for a second, Bimini felt bad for almost snapping, Gigi so sensitive when it came down to it.

She was just about to go back to the kitchen to salvage the oatmeal, and see if Gigi needed reassurance, when she heard a loud groan coming from the living room. Bimini walked in, hoping not to see another disaster. Thankfully, all she spotted was one of the models, turning their suitcase inside out.

Tia was wearing a tight, distressed denim dress, fishnet tights, long braids with beads spilling over her shoulder.

“Everything okay sweetheart?”

“No.” Tia threw some of her hair over her shoulder, her nails long in a way Bimini knew Sutan would never allow her during a replacement casting week, but not every agent at Elite was as diligent and focused on details as hers was, and some houses did like their girls to have more personality. “I can’t find my portfolio!”

The majority of the models that resided with them were new hires, girls who had yet to make their big break, or any break for that matter, so they were in New York to fill in whatever holes showed up, Tia one of them.

“Come have some breakfast,” Bimini tried for a reassuring smile, knowing how important it was for the models to have at least something in their stomachs, “And I’ll help you look after.”

***

“It’s true!” Shea exclaimed, grinning at the beaming smile on Miss Fame’s face. “That’s why I pitched this story, even though everyone told me you’d never agree to it in a million years.” 

“Well…I suppose you proved them wrong,” she said, with a conspiratorial wink. They were sitting on the white couch in Fame’s office at Galactica, a full breakfast spread on the coffee table, a few pieces of fruit on Fame’s plate.

“I heard that!” Shea laughed. Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure why she had been so nervous leading up to this interview. 

Miss Fame was known as an ice queen, and she had been overly formal for the first few minutes, but once they started talking about her inspiration for this year’s runway (along with Shea’s personal favorite Galactica shows from past seasons), she’d loosened up completely.

Shea had been prepared to spend days cracking through an icy exterior only to have Fame melt the second the words ‘aubergine silk’ slipped from her lips, beaming with pride at the mention of their 2012 spring line.

Fame was funny, present and interesting, her blue eyes following Shea’s with complete attention. She was also beautiful, not a hair out of place, blonde strands touching her chin, perfect red lips slightly parted. Her hands were adorned with jewels and folded neatly in her lap, a red sole peeking out from underneath her heels, Fame wearing sparkling white without looking like a bride. 

“Another reason I was obsessed with that show,” Shea said, “is that, in a way, it was like an anniversary show for you, right? Since you were in the American View show in 2002?” 

“Yes, that’s true,” Fame agreed, nodding and taking a small sip of her coffee, the cup not the standard white porcelain Shea was used to seeing in corporate offices, but instead what looked like handmade ceramic. Fame put it down, thinking for a moment before thoughtfully adding, “It was quite an honor to be in that show.” 

“You know, I must admit, as much research as I did for this, well before the assignment was approved…” At this, Fame smiled again, making Shea feel brave enough to continue, “...though you’ve discussed the show itself, I’ve never actually heard you discuss the lead-up…” 

“Well…” Fame paused, furrowing her brow, and for a second Shea worried that she’d spoiled all their built-up trust by prying too deeply too early. “It’s not an easy thing to talk about.” 

“Right. Of course,” Shea agreed quickly. “And of course you don’t have to if you’re not comfortable.”

“It’s not that, exactly. It’s just that…” Fame moved on the couch, recrossing her legs to the other side. “It seems rather petty to talk about our runway show being canceled when so many people died.” 

Fashion Week in 2002 had been unlike any other in history. Halfway through the week, when 9/11 devastated New York City, all of the remaining shows were canceled - for obvious reasons. And Miss Fame was right. To frame that cancellation as some kind of horrible loss could seem tone deaf at best and utterly insensitive at worst. 

“No one would think you were comparing it to a national tragedy,” Shea said, “But you must have invested quite a lot of time and energy into it, since that would have been your first show.” 

“We did,” Fame said, drumming her fingers on her leg, her red nails beautiful against the white. “And fortunately for us, we’d done this absolutely stunning photo shoot with all of the looks ahead of time, because we were preparing to give booklets out at the show, but those photos ended up being the basis of our first website instead.”

“I assume that’s what made Vogue take notice?” Shea asked. Vogue’s editorial board had very quickly arranged for a big group show to feature some of the young designers who’d had their events canceled, the show that became the famous American View show that launched Galactica. 

“Yes, it was…and also, I did know someone working at Vogue at the time who I’m sure put in a good word for us.” 

Shea nodded, trying not to give away in her expression that she knew the ‘someone’ Fame spoke of was Bianca Del Rio. Besides Miss Fame’s infamously reserved approach to the press, one of the reasons Shea’s colleagues said she’d never do this interview was her close friendship with BDR, now editor-in-chief of Marie Claire, who’d managed to snatch every exclusive with Fame for the past 7 years, at least. 

Shea also knew though, that since Bianca had shown up to the Galactica holiday party with Miss Fame’s then-assistant on her arm, that the two of them hadn’t been seen in public together once. 

Shea wasn’t an idiot. She knew damn well that something was going on, and if that something helped her get the most plumb interview of the year, she wasn’t above using it—something she was certain that BDR would do herself if she could. 

“When we heard about the show, of course we were beyond thrilled and grateful to even be considered, much less selected to participate. I still remember putting together the lookbook for them,” she said with a chuckle. “We thought it was such an insane longshot. But they liked it, and…the rest is history.”  

“I honestly can’t believe that you managed to create such iconic looks for your very first runway,” Shea gushed, eyes sparkling. She knew she was laying it on thick, but Miss Fame appeared to be fine with it—probably because everything she said was true. Galactica’s 5-piece mini-collection had been the undisputed star of the American View show, and when they won the first CFDA Vogue Fashion Fund two years later, not a single soul was surprised.  

“I had a lot of creative energy built up inside of me, and Raja…people don’t realize what a shrewd editorial eye she has. How clever she is. I think she’s still one of the most innovative minds in fashion today—I’m extremely fortunate to have crossed paths with her when I did.”

“I’m sure she feels the same way.” 

“I hope so!” Fame replied with a silky laugh, adding, “Because I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.” 

*

The first time Nicky met Shea, they were at Gustavino’s for a Dior launch party, after which a group of them ended up at some little after-hours club in Chinatown, where they partied well into the early morning. She couldn't remember exactly, but she had vague memories of them making out at one point. However, the next time they saw each other, it was nothing but professional. 

They’d crossed paths a few more times while she was with Tory Burch, and Nicky was always very impressed with Shea’s charm, sharp sense of humor, and edgy fashion sense. She almost laughed when she saw her today, because it was by far the most conservative outfit she’d ever seen on her—it may as well have been a Chanel suit complete with pillbox hat and string of pearls. 

When Nicky entered Fame’s office to bring them another round of coffee (and to remind them that they needed to leave shortly for Bryant Park), Fame looked surprised. 

“Is it 10:30 already?” she asked, looking at the delicate antique watch on her wrist. “Where has the time gone?” 

“Time flies when you’re talking to your new bestie,” Shea said, and Fame let out a girlish laugh. 

“I suppose so!” 

“Well, we’ll let you besties know when the car is downstairs,” Nicky said, shutting the door behind her to find Violet pacing around. 

“How did she look? Stressed? Anxious?” Violet asked, wringing her hands. 

“No, she looked…quite content, actually.” Nicky shrugged, and Violet groaned. “Are you okay?” 

“No!” Violet said in a whisper, shaking her head. “This is a terrible idea. Fame’s just trying to get back at Bianca, and-” 

“Well, it seems alright,” Nicky said. She truly understood Violet’s concern. Ever since learning how deep the rift really was between Miss Fame and Bianca Del Rio, she’d also been on the lookout for potential problems. This Vogue exclusive was a very obvious revenge plot, given the deep animosity between BDR and Anna Wintour. But Nicky also knew that Shea was a consummate professional, and Miss Fame seemed to be enjoying her company far more than she anticipated. She was certainly more relaxed than Nicky had ever observed her in a televised interview setting. “They were both smiling and laughing, I don’t think you need to worry-” 

“Okay…okay, that’s…weird. But good. I guess.” Violet sighed. Not worrying was probably impossible for her, poor girl. “Now we have to focus on getting her downstairs so that we’re not late for Iris van Herpen.” 

“We won’t be late. I just gave her a warning-” 

“We can’t be sure. Traffic is supposedly out of control today. I’m gonna check on the car again.” Violet walked back around to her desk, picking up the phone to call the driver. 

“I know it’s bad, but breathe. Worst case, we’ll get on the subway.”

“What?” Violet looked up, a horrified expression on her face. “Yeah. Right. We’ll get her on the subway,” Violet’s tone was as dry as the Sahara desert. “And how are you going to explain the stench of urine? Immersive performance art?”

Nicky snorted with laughter. “I’m going to use that someday, for sure.” 

***

Violet walked into the party, looking around in an attempt to spot Fame’s blonde head. Her boss didn’t need to see her, or more accurately, didn’t want to see her, but Violet still needed to stay close by, had to wait the customary 15 minutes to make sure that everything was okay before she left.

She wasn’t sure if it would be needed today though, Shea and Fame having a suspiciously good time together, Violet wondering to herself several times throughout the day if someone had body snatched her boss. Sure, it looked like Fame, but Violet had never seen her so interested in someone, so willing to share her perspective with someone who was essentially a stranger—and worse, a stranger in the press.

Violet was dead on her feet, her ankle aching in her high heels, but she had still told Nicky to go home, that she’d take care of this. Nicky had tried to protest, but Violet didn’t want her to burn out, couldn’t deal with it if Nicky went down the same road as Courtney. Besides, she knew that there must be dozens of parties Nicky would rather go to than one with their bosses.

Violet was considering whether or not she would have time for a glass of champagne, if it’d be wise to try and dim the pain with alcohol, when she heard a familiar voice say her name.

“Violet!”

She turned around, spotting Sutan who was walking towards her, a big smile on his face. He was a sight for sore eyes, so wonderfully familiar and known. He wasn’t wearing his usual suits, Sutan making a pitstop at home to change into the tightfitting shirt with swirling shades of red and blue that he was wearing.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Sutan pulled her into a one-armed hug, holding his drink to the side as he pressed a kiss against her cheek. “What a delightful surprise.”

“Hi,” she smiled, biting her lip and trying to remember if she had seen any cameras, if she could steal a kiss from her boyfriend's lips, when she noticed that someone was standing right behind him.

Karl Westerberg had his arms crossed, a bored expression on his face. He was wearing a burgundy suit, a streak of white in his hair. It reminded Violet of Cruella De Ville, a cartoon villain from one of the few movies she had actually liked as a child, something equally sinister about Karl, though the white did suit his appearance.

“Do you have time for a drink?” Sutan pulled back, his free hand gliding down to her elbow, his fingers closing around it. “Karl and I only just hit the bar-”

“Umh,” Violet looked around, remembering that she was supposed to keep an eye on Fame. “I-” Where was Fame? Her phone was silent, but that didn’t mean that everything was okay. “I have to-”

“Sutan,” Karl drawled, “It seems like your girlfriend has better things to do than hang around with us.” 

Violet knew she hadn’t made the best impression on Karl at the Christmas Party, the pain in her foot absolutely killing her during that whole disastrous night, but she hadn’t expected the bitter tone from him, hadn’t imagined the blatant display of disinterest. 

“Ow, don’t be like that.” Sutan laughed, completely ignoring Karl, who was looking directly at Violet, not an ounce of excitement on his face. “You’re not busy, right lovely eyes?” Sutan squeezed her elbow, an almost pleading tone in his deep voice. “Just one drink.”

Violet knew Sutan was leaving for Europe, knew that in 5 short days she wouldn’t see him for three whole weeks. She didn’t want to intrude, didn’t want to have Karl as an enemy, but she wanted to miss out on time with Sutan even less, so she took a deep breath, looking up at her boyfriend.

“I can have one drink.”

“Yay.” Karl interjected, completely deadpan as he emptied his cocktail. 

*

Detox was considering whether or not he wanted a third whiskey, when he heard his name being yelled.

“De!”

No one called Detox ‘De’ except his friends, and as he turned around, he saw Fame come towards him.

“Famie, hi!” Detox smiled, making sure to hold his drink away as he leaned in for a hug, barely pressing his lips against her cheeks as they exchanged kisses, careful not to mess up her makeup.

“Where’s Juju?” Fame looked up at him, her blue eyes searching his face. Sometimes, in moments like this, Detox had to commend Fame for her skincare regimen, her face still so close to the one he remembered from over 15 years ago.

“At home.” They had originally intended to go together, a party always a good excuse for some adult time, but when Juju had returned from the salon, she had gone directly for the couch and plopped down. When Detox had asked her if she needed to go change, Juju had told him to suck her dick, Owen gasping in delight at his mother’s language. “No emergencies, don’t worry.”

He wasn’t usually the one to reassure Fame—that was the girls’ job—but he had heard through Juju who had heard it from Raven that Raja had thought Sutan called about some problem with their mom, so he wanted to make sure that she didn’t start to make up chaos scenarios about the pregnancy, an anxious Fame a disaster to be around. 

“Good,” Fame released him, taking a step back, Detox only now realizing that there was someone behind her, standing patiently at her elbow. “De, this is Shea, Shea, please meet Matthew Sanderson. Editor of OK! Magazine and one of my dearest friends.”

“Hello,” Detox held his hand out to the elegant, slightly familiar girl, unable to place her exactly but going with the flow, though he was unsure why Fame was introducing them. Fame didn’t network, that part of Galactica’s success up to Raja and Pearl. If anyone wanted anything, they came to her, so this was very out of the ordinary.

“Shea is a journalist with Vogue. She’s doing a profile on me, and covering our show this week for the magazine.” Fame punctuated her statement with a benign smile. 

Ah. Detox bit the inside of his cheek, swallowing his smile. There it was. The reason Fame was acting so out of character.

Detox knew that the girls were fighting, knew that Fame and Bianca had dug deep in their separate trenches, but this, this was just the juiciest, most delicious retaliation, the drama soaring to brand new heights. 

Bianca would actually shit bricks when she saw the headline in Vogue—and Detox couldn’t fucking wait. There was no way Juju wouldn’t be sleeping when he returned from the party, but he knew that she would forgive him for waking her up, when he shared the latest development in the petty war between their friends.

*

“And that’s why I’ll never ever drink another ounce of absinthe.” Sutan grinned, enjoying the sounds of laughter from the group he was standing with as he finished his story. A casting director he knew in passing started their own story about one too many margaritas. Sutan tried to follow, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was looking at him.

He tried to be discreet, casting a glance around the room, when he saw Violet standing against the wall, her brown eyes resting on him.

“Hey man,” Sutan tapped his neighbor on the shoulder with an open palm, speaking in a low tone, “I’m grabbing a smoke.” He didn’t wait for a reply to leave, Violet drawing him in like she was emitting a siren call.

She was beautiful as always, something so delightfully prim and proper about her when she was dressed up in full assistance mode, the dark desire to mess her up and make her beg briefly rearing its head.

“Hey.” Sutan leaned against the wall next to her, looking out at the crowd, knowing that Violet wouldn’t appreciate it if he acted too familiar with her.

“Hey.” The corner of Violet’s mouth crinkled upwards, a smile playing on her lips. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Sutan couldn’t help the shocked expression, Violet’s words not at all what he was expecting.

“Mmh.” Violet nodded. “Fame told me I’m dismissed for the night, so I’m going home.”

“Home?” When Sutan had bumped into Violet, he had expected her to spend the night, to get the chance to have some time with his girlfriend since the universe had decided to throw them together.

“Are you just repeating everything I’m saying?” Violet looked up at him, one of her eyebrows raised, a displeased frown on her face.

“Yes.” Sutan caught himself, realizing what he had just said. “I mean no. I mean. Are you going home? Seriously? I thought you were coming back to mine.” Saying it out loud, Sutan could hear how pathetic it sounded, how wistful his voice was, but he couldn’t help it. 

He wanted it, and he wanted it badly.

“Are you ready to leave?” Violet tilted her head towards the party, and Sutan looked out at it.

“No. Maybe, I don’t-” He wasn’t ready to leave, wasn’t anywhere near being able to get out, since he was still cleaning up after the Raven incident. Telling stories of past parties, shaking hands and sharing drinks probably didn’t seem like work from the outside, but it was work, getting invited to the right art shows, the right restaurant openings and the right club launches the exact thing that saved an agent's reputation when something like a Raven debacle went down. “I can try to be quick, but-”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Violet got on her toes, pressing a quick peck into his cheek before pushing away from the wall to leave. “I’ll see you.”

Sutan reached up, touching his cheek, a wave of regret washing through him as he watched Violet walk away.

He knew they had plans later in the week, knew that he’d see her before leaving for Europe, but he had to admit that it stung like hell to feel like he had just been dismissed by his own girlfriend.

*

Raja was chewing on her straw. It was a terrible habit, but it was either that, or spewing the venom she had brewing in her gut.

Raja had just seen Violet walk away from her brother, the wounded look on Sutan’s face grating on her nerves. She knew that some people thought she was overly sensitive, that she and her twin were too close, but Raja couldn’t stomach seeing Sutan hurt, her heart breaking when he was upset or distressed.

Sutan loved Violet, or at least, he believed that he loved her, and while it seemed like Violet was being truthful with her brother, Raja just couldn’t get the brief scene between Violet and the model out of her head.

No straight girl looked at another woman like that, no straight girl blushed that prettily, looked so shy, acted as awkward as Violet had.

Raja didn’t know what Violet’s angle was yet, didn’t know what long con she was playing, whether she was using her brother for fame, money or simple connections still unclear.

Part of Raja had wanted to tell Sutan immediately that Violet was bad news, but she hadn’t found the way in yet, didn’t know how to make Sutan understand that she was protecting him instead of ‘just spreading untrue rumors Raja,’ her brother stupidly loyal to the people he deluded himself with.

Raja bit through the straw, the black plastic digging into her tongue. She’d make a plan, and force her brother to see that Violet couldn’t be trusted. 

***

Trixie pushed the door to his office, flicking on the light and stepping inside while unhooking his fanny pack so he could throw it on the couch.

He didn’t need to be here, the office completely empty, but he had to check his emails, and since Katya had fallen pregnant he couldn’t concentrate when she was home, all his attention going directly to her.

Trixie walked over to his desk, expecting a few bits and bobs to have gathered there during the day, all kinds of samples, paperwork and trinkets collecting at lightning speed. What he hadn't expected was a thick white paper folder, bits of fabric sticking out of it.

Trixie picked it up, a small smile on his lips. When Violet had turned in her initial pitch for Raja’s Met Gala look, he didn’t think they’d get it back so soon.

Raja had obviously been restless and nervous, since she had to have taken it home with her to go over it, Fashion Weeks sometimes doing that to her.

Trixie opened the folder, his smile disappearing as he flicked through. 

Raja had crossed out the majority of the reference pictures, thick red sharpie notes and circles littered all over the pages, covering Violet’s careful handwriting. 

It was never a good sign when Raja tore something apart this much, and while Trixie hoped she had just looked at it while she was in a bad mood, it became more and more clear that it wasn’t the case as he finished reading Raja’s feedback.

Trixie was disappointed, but if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t that surprised. It seemed like it had been a collective decision amongst his designers to have Violet attempt to design for Raja, and while he did listen to his staff, Trixie had instantly been weary of the idea.

It didn’t have anything to do with Violet’s diligence or her work ethic, Trixie completely confident that she could handle almost anything he threw at her, but at their core, Raja and Violet had polar opposite design aesthetics.

Violet’s work was so delicate and refined, almost dream-like in its softness, the already ingrained signature palette and style so rare for such a young designer, Violet’s voice crisp and clear, but it didn’t fit Raja.

Raja was edges and jewel tones, deep saturated colors and outfits that made her look like a boss bitch no one dared fuck with, balancing on the edge of modesty and sex. Jovan was much more in her wheelhouse, but they always butted heads when they had to work directly, Jovan refusing to compromise his visions.

Trixie put the folder down. He could give it back to Violet, could give her a chance to get it right, but he didn’t want to. Violet would twist herself into a knot over it, maybe even compromise what she did best in a misguided attempt to do what she thought was needed.

Trixie made a quick decision, grabbing a pink sharpie to write out Aurora’s name, three layers of handwriting on the paper.  

He’d give the concept to his newest hire, the British punk twist that he knew Aurora could grow into probably exactly what Raja needed. 

[whumpinggrounds]

Ursula the Sea Witch

all right day two of @whumptober2021 and i am trying the prompt “talking is overrated” + “choking” for my beloveds Liam and Delilah

tagging @hearse-song, @brutal-nemesis, and @whumpy-writings, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

CW: choking, noncon drugging, psychological whump if that’s a thing, brief ableist language, tiny whumper, big whumpee, crying, angst, noncon touch, intimate whumper, creepy whumper

Facedown on the ground, all Liam can see is the wood floor of the cabin under his nose. He can tip his head back a little to keep his forehead from resting flat on the ground, but he doesn’t have enough clearance to really see any of his surroundings except for the panels below him. Still, Liam tries to pay attention, as if anything he can see is going to help him. The light coming through the windows is clear and harsh – is it morning? Afternoon? He’s been asleep for so long he’s not sure, especially now that so much of his rest comes unnaturally. He’s learned to dread the strange, bitter water that Delilah pours oh-so-carefully down his throat.

Or, he mostly dreads it. Sometimes being asleep is so much better than being awake that he gulps the water gratefully and hopes that when he wakes, the nightmare will just be over.

Now would be one of those times. His limbs are his own, his body and mind are his own, but Liam is utterly trapped by the weight of Delilah perched cross-legged on the middle of his back. She presses his bare chest firmly against the boards, which are cold enough to make him want to squirm. Even if Liam could throw her off, he woke up this morning to a brand-new manacle locked around his ankle, one that’s bolted right into the cement of the chimney. He might be able to stand without her on his back, but he wouldn’t get far.

Much more pressingly, Delilah has a belt in her hand, and the leather of it is pressing gently into the thin skin of Liam’s throat. Swallowing hard, he feels his Adam’s apple bob uncomfortably against the wide leather strap. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been sitting like this. It feels like a long, long time. 

“Hey, Eric? We’re gonna play a game.” Above him, Delilah’s voice sounds playful, light.

Throat working in quick, shallow pants, Liam moves his mouth soundlessly for a moment, not even sure what part of that he should address. Finally, he goes with the most basic. “My name isn’t Eric,” Liam whispers, so desperately confused he wants to scream. “I-”

Right then, his voice cuts out, because Delilah hauls hard on the belt, and Liam is left choking, gagging, desperately trying to suck in air that won’t come. He’s never felt this before – this raw desperation, the tearing need for oxygen that can’t, won’t, isn’t coming. Feet beating uselessly against the floor, his hands come up to scrape fingernails uselessly against the smooth leather, but almost as soon as they do, Delilah is relaxing her stranglehold, sighing.

“Wrong,” she informs him. One fingernail is tracing nonsense patterns on his spine, and the sensation of her sharp nail against his bare skin makes Liam shudder against the cold wood floors. “C’mon, Eric. It’s not hard. What’s your name?”

“I-I don’t know who you think I am, but my name is Liam-”

The feeling of the belt cutting into his throat is the worst one that Liam knows. It’s not just that his air is cut off – it feels like it’s being taken from him violently, like his throat is closed and his chest collapsing, lungs burning in instantaneous protest. The pain of having his neck crushed is almost secondary – an ache that makes him heave out wracking cough after wracking cough as soon as Delilah releases her hold.

“Wrong again. You’re not very good at this, Eric.” She reaches up, tousles his hair. “It’s a good thing I love you.”

“I don’t know who you are-”

More gagging, gasping, choking. “Fuck,” Liam gasps, as soon as she lets up, and with a put-upon sigh, Delilah chokes him again.

“Princes don’t swear,” she tells him, when she finally lets go, when the red and black dancing spots are finally receding from his vision.

It takes everything in him to maintain his composure, to keep from breaking down and screaming or cursing or crying, but as Liam heaves in choked, jagged breaths, he curls his hands into tight fists and forces the word out slow and careful.

“…p-princes?”

Liam’s voice sounds thin and reedy to his own ears, exhausted and unfamiliar. He wants to demand an explanation, wants to throw her off his back and force her to tell him who she thinks she is – who she thinks he is. More so than that, he wants her to understand she’s made a mistake, it’s not him she wants, and she needs to just let him go.

But Liam doesn’t have the words or the breath for that, and even if he did, Delilah doesn’t want to hear it.

“Don’t play dumb, silly.” Delilah’s hand cups his cheek. “You’re my prince. You’re my Prince Eric, and I’m your mermaid, Ariel.” Her voice takes on a dreamy tone as she slides her palm down the side of Liam’s face. Sour fear turns Liam’s stomach.

She’s not confused. The girl on his back is fucking crazy.

Swallowing hard, and then gagging at the pain in his throat, Liam tries to think. He needs to play along at least a little. It’s clear from the last few minutes, and the bruises forming on his throat, what will happen if he doesn’t. Trying to think carefully, he clears his throat and then has to squeeze his shaking hands into fists to keep from cursing at the pain. Wetting his lips, Liam tries to speak. It takes him a few tries to get words out.

“P-Princess Ariel,” he begins carefully, and on top of him, Delilah lets out a pleased giggle. She bounces a little in place on his back, and it should hurt, but she’s so damned light. So damned light and yet he still can’t get away from her. “Princess, um, Ariel, I think you’ve made a, a mistake?”

The leather rests snugly against Liam’s throat, making him squeeze his eyes shut, anticipating the pain. Delilah doesn’t pull – not yet – but the warning is clear as the belt tightens just a little further. “A mistake?”

“I…I don’t, um, think I’m the prince you’re looking for?”

There’s one moment when Liam thinks she might be listening to him, one breath of pause in which he lets himself hope. Then he feels the belt tighten.

Liam kicks and hits out with his fists, but there’s nothing to do. His hands come up to try to haul the belt off, but she has it cinched around his throat, and he’s left thrashing uselessly, panting without air, fingernails leaving long furrows in the skin of his neck. The pain is everywhere and it is searing – cutting through his lungs, burning up his throat, making his head ache so fiercely his vision swims. Liam bucks against the floor, heaving, but Delilah uses the belt like a leash, holding her body on top of his, and every contortion only makes the noose grow tighter. It goes on for what feels like forever. It goes on so long that Liam is sure he’s going to die.

When Liam’s vision is so black it’s almost gone, something changes. There’s a loosening, an allowance for a tiny breath of air. Liam sucks it in like he’s trying to drink the ocean through a straw, and that sets off a long and agonizing round of coughing that nearly sends him into unconsciousness – every time he brings in a new breath of air, it’s stolen by a cough, all relief denied. By the time he’s aware of himself, he has tears running down his cheeks, painful sobs heaving through his swollen throat. The leather still rests tight against his skin.

“F-fuck,” he hisses, and then screams as the belt firms inexorably against his trachea, fast and unforgiving as a striking snake. This time, when she stops, he lets his forehead thunk hard against the wood floor. Liam lets himself bawl, tears coming fast and hard, each hiccup and sob tearing through his bruised esophagus like a personal insult. It’s hard enough to breathe without worrying about the tears and the snot – and then Delilah starts to pull the belt taut again.

“N-no!”

“Princes don’t cry like this, Eric.” Delilah sounds faintly disgusted. “This is icky.”

A high ringing starts in Liam’s ears as he thrashes. Somewhere distantly below it, he can hear a horrible gagging, a choked-off grunting gasp that he knows must be coming from him. It’s an animal sound, a plea for air with no interruption from higher order thinking. He goes so much faster this time, vision swimming, lungs seizing, and when the blackness rushes up to meet him, Liam can’t do a thing to stop it.

_

Gasping and spluttering, Liam comes to with a feeling like drowning. There’s water in his face and his mouth, cold and alarming, so he sits up fast, but the motion makes his head spin. Groaning, he grabs at his face, trying to steady himself.

Information comes to him in stages. He’s alive. He’s awake. He’s soaking wet. His body hurts, his head hurts – every part of him hurts, but nothing else comes close to touching the searing ache attacking his throat. Gingerly, he prods at his neck with one finger, hissing at the immediate spike in pain. Every breath feels like he’s swallowing sandpaper.

“Eric! Eric, are you alright?”

Liam looks up and there she is – Delilah, in all her delicate glory, her long brown hair braided back from her face, her tiny hands clasped rapturously to her chest. When she looks at him, her blue eyes are wide and almost dazed. She smiles, her elfin face alight. “Eric?”

Letting his head sink into his palms, Liam tries to take a deep breath, but it won’t come. He can’t get air into his lungs, or at least not far enough to make a difference. He can only breathe shallowly, so shallowly that even now he still feels like he might pass out.

The girl in front of him weighs probably half what he does, and she’s out of her mind besides. Big strong Liam, college lacrosse Liam, works-out-every-day-but-Sunday Liam, could not, should not, cannot be held captive by this glowing little girl.

But there’s a manacle around his ankle and not nearly enough air getting to his muscles and his brain. He feels so helpless he wants to cry, but he has to keep the tears small, silent, manly enough to escape Delilah’s notice.

“Yes, Ariel.” His voice comes out so battered, hoarse and strained, that for a moment, Liam doesn’t quite know who’s talking. “Thank you. I’m all right.”

Her hand comes to rest on his blonde hair, fingers running through it, and Liam can’t tell if the implication is that she’s protecting him…or possessing.

[m4gp13]

For those of you who made it through my laughably incoherent ethabaster think piece, here’s some hc’s, you’ve earned them:

- Ethan has sole possession of their one shared brain cell. Alabaster is not allowed to even look at it. This is because they used to have two but Al broke the good one trying to blow up something (probably Percy).

- If Al finds out Ethan left without some form of magical protection i.e. a sigil, a crystal, ground eggshells, he will be pretty much vibrating with nerves until Ethan gets back so he can give him a once-over.

- Alabaster’s from a very witchy family who all worship Hecate for many reasons that differ depending on which estranged relative you ask and they all kinda saw Al as the first coming of witch Christ so he had a lot of expectations at a very young age.

- Ethan knows this and tries to lift as much Titan army business off his shoulders as possible.

- He accidentally lifts too much off to the point where he is drowning in work and is now the one in need of saving. But does he tell anyone that if he looks at one more stack of demands from his mile long list of bosses he’s going to cry for five hours? Of course not don’t be ridiculous.

- Alabaster immediately hated Percy as soon as he heard the guys name but due to the arena stuff and telling Thalia not to k*ll him Ethan actually held a bit of respect for Percy which annoyed Al to no end.

-This was until the not-so-peaceful peace talk in tlo when Percy starts shit talking Nemesis and Ethan just internally goes “actually the witch bitch was right this guy sucks ass”

-However, under no circumstances will Ethan ever tell this to Alabaster; not because he values his pride (he has none) but because he knows the life of a demigod is short and he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his very short one hearing Al rub that one thing in his face for every single second of it.

- And I mean Every. Single. Second.

- So yeah he takes that to the grave and doesn’t even tell anyone in the underworld in case they tell Al when he dies and he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his afterlife with Al being a dumbass. (also yes Ethan got into Elysium, fuck you)

- (Actually I have another idea about where Ethan went post-life but that’s so far from canon it’s more of an AU than a headcanon so we’re gonna leave that out for now)

- Al thought he was the one in charge of the Hecate kids because he was the most powerful and the highest ranking in the army but he was Not. That was Ethan. The Hecate kids thought Ethan was their unofficial adopted baby brother but little did they know he was the mum the whole time.

- Ethan is the only thing standing between them and starving to death. He also does the younger kids hair and gives everyone with long hair super intricate braids that stay out of their faces during “field work”. Al thinks this is more of him trying to take the weight off his shoulders but Ethan knows that if he doesn’t do this shit no one will so he kinda has to. Not that he doesn’t like doing it. being helpful is his love language.

 - Because of their powers over the mist the Hecate kids of the army were notorious pranksters who were usually at war with the Hermes kids (wars usually declared by Al because he rolled a zero on self restraint) but none of them prank Ethan because “nooooo you can’t do him he babey 🥺”

- Ethan has simply decided that what the magic prank wizards don’t know can’t hurt them and just turns to his blind side whenever he sees them sneaking off the ship to get Micky D’s in the middle of the night to stay on their good sides.

- Speaking of the ship, Ethan thinks it’s the dumbest thing in the world that one of their most powerful demigod enemies is the son of a sea god and he actually has a pretty decent relationship with said sea god and their main base of operations aside from mt Othrys is a fucking BOAT. He tells Al all about his worries for the ship and while Al assures him that nothing that bad could happen he always makes sure that the ship always has the least amount of demigods on board at all times just in case.

- It takes all the strength Ethan has not to yell “TOLD YOU SO” at him when the ship blows up.

- Al probably either wears basic white boy clothes or typical witchy stuff (like moons and shit) depending his mood meanwhile Ethan found out about leather and just goes for it.  

- Every grunge/punk/emo/eboy/teachwear bitch aspires to be him and because he aint about all that “gender roles” bs he definitely goes about wearing cool egirl stuff too. Not just slightly feminine shaped jumpers but all the plaid skirts, fishnets and lace trimmed dresses he can steal afford and Al, despite his more basic fashion taste is here for it. You’ve never seen someone more supportive of their pals fits, get you a hypeman like Al. You deserve it. (Ethan is also not afraid to walk around in a full pastel gamer girl fit)

- (Also Al hyping up one Ethans fits in front of a Titan is the reason they were allowed to start wearing army fatigues instead of the whole ancient Greek armour on occasion)

- Ethan appreciates Al’s enthusiasm but he also kinda doesn’t get it. And he definitely doesn't do that “yeah you’re right I DO look good” thing because he just doesn’t know how. He’d always been a little self-conscious about getting a big head but then he found out about Nemesis and hubris and all that fun stuff, looked at his meager pile of self worth and said “ yep, this has to go”

- Al almost starts crying when he finds out and pretty much makes it mission to be such a good hype man that Ethan has no choice but to think of himself as a Pretty Cool Dude via absorbing the hype through diffusion. It kinda starts working but then Ethan [REDACTED] in tlo so we’ll never know what could’ve been.

- To nick a hc from someone ( hi @chromarozee-spam) contrary to his taste in clothes Ethan does ballet (he was a punk AND did ballet, what more can I say?) and while Al tries to support his hobbies he is genuinely afraid both for and of him. “For” because “holy fuck that looks painful are you okay?”. And “of” because “are you sure those are bones inside you because I don’t think bones are supposed do that?!”.

- Ethan tries to assure him that no his spine is not made of rubber, broken bones or otherworldly materials so can he stop bothering him during practice please?

- This does not stop Al from making a million protection wards and constantly asking his deck if Ethan is indeed a Being of this Good Green Earth.

- Eventually his cards pretty much just tell him that he is friends with one bendy heck of a boi and he needs to fucking get over it so he kinda just,, ,,,,, , does.

- Again with the hc thieving (this time from @altorringtons) Al learning to use a two-handed broadsword so he can guard Ethan’s blind side and back in a fight *soft noises* just them trying so hard to keep each other alive because they love each other and they care about each other!

- They also sleep in the same bed whenever they get the chance (fully clothed ya nasties, they’re kids) and they just hug each other soooo tight because they just need to know they’re alright cos they always get pretty banged up in fights against campers or just monsters that are too much like wild animals to recruit. (What? Me? Projecting my desire to be intimately held by the closest person I have to family with their arms wrapped not tight enough to make me uncomfortable but tight enough to make me feel loved? Never! What on earth are you talking about?)

- Because Al is super stubborn and prideful whenever they have an argument Al can’t really bring himself to say he’s sorry so when he’s ready to apologise he just climbs into bed on Ethan’s blind side and cuddles him because he knows Ethan is super worried about getting attacked on his blind side so it’s like he has a guard or a shield.

- Ethan on the other hand just calls him a Rock Boy in a derogatory way until he gets over himself and apologizes but he really does love the fact that Al knows that about him and accommodates that.

- The thing they fight about most is how “heroic” the titan army is. Kronos’ brainwashing worked on Al like a charm and he fully believes that they are the rebellion and camp is the empire. Ethan on the other hand wasn’t at camp long enough for Kronos or Luke to really do anything but it doesn’t matter because Ethan really doesn’t give a shit if he’s on the “evil side” cos he just wants respect and he’s willing to do what it takes without a second thought of how people see him. If he thinks he’s doing the right thing but on the wrong side he can live with that but Al needs to feel like all of his side is on the moral high ground because that’s what Kronos drilled into his brain.

- Ethan knows that Al delusional when it comes to the non-existent heroics of the army but eventually he just decides to let Al believe the titans lies because that’s easier for him even if it hurts Ethan to see him being manipulated like that.

- Due to Ethan not giving a shit on the humanity of his bosses he gets punished a lot more often and a lot more violently than Al because they know that Ethan already knows they don’t care about him so they don’t have to sugar coat him but Al still believes that they’re heroes and his mindset needs to stay like that to keep him obedient.

- Also because I am  a Cruel Person By Nature I hc Ethan’s mortal family (which usually just consists of his dad) as meeting a not very pg13 end at the hands of a monster who wanted to nible on Ethan a tad which pretty much scarred him for life.

- SO, at the end of the battle of Man Hats Are In when Al looks around and sees that his whole family (that joined the titans) are dead! oh no! How sad! At least he knows someone whose been through the same thing so they understand each other and can help each other through this tough time together right? SIKE!

- so yeah Al learns Ethan d-worded in the worst possible way at the worst possible time and just looses it from grief. Loosing his family was bad enough but finding out he lost the one person he thought he would be able to confide in and heal with immediately after just really rubs salt in the wound.

- When the survivors start re-grouping to find someplace to hide until the gods forget about them Al just wanders off because it’s all he can do to not break down on the spot.

- He’s just wandering in a daze for a while and most people just assume he’s high but he snaps out of it and gets into anger mode when Lamia starts attacking him because he finally has something to do and occupy himself with even though it’s hard not to think about his sibling especially when Lamia keeps talking like they never would have died if she’d been in charge which is why she should totally just kill him and lead their siblings instead.

- His desire to have something to keep his mind off his family and Ethan is the first thing he thinks about when Claymore re-alives and immediately starts talking about doing research (yeah because that’s what you need after a long stressful day of fighting monsters and literally dying).

- Ethan keeps trying to cross the veil and help, even if he just sends Al a pleasant dream to help him sleep but contrary to what you might think from the name, the veil is really hard to cross so Ethan just has to bite his nails and watch his friend suffer.

- It gets easier to watch after Al and Claymore pretty much adopt each other because at least he has someone but they do still get into pretty scary situations.

- When they were both premortem they got paired up for a lot of missions for the titan army and they usually just tried to pretend they were on a fun road trip around America when they could and make fun of mortal shit together.

- At one point they were in a motel and the last people accidentally left behind one of Claymore’s books about death and they found it the funniest thing ever. Between a pair of in which one of their mum’s regularly goes to the underworld and one has been there himself they find mortal ideas of the afterlife to be very amusing.

- Alabaster has decided he would not like to share this with the class (Claymore) thank you very much.

- Also when they’re doing their road tripping Ethan knows all the best places to crash, the cheapest food places and the local gangs don’t bother them because between running away from camp and joining the army he just wandered around a lot.

- Like he’d just hop on a random train, take a nap and figure it out when he wakes up; he made a lot of friends this way too as well as his taste in clothes cos he didn’t have a lot of money so he’d just DIY some second hand punk shit. Al thinks he’s the Gandalf of the demigod world because he just knows everyone who might help them and everywhere they could spend the night. He definitely tells his siblings about Ethan being the closest thing they have to a wandering wizard and they fucking love it.

- Also because Nemesis tends to not have a lot of kids Ethan was the only one of hers in the army and Al felt really bad for him because his sibling were his favourite part about the army so he tried to include Ethan in as much as possible with his siblings.

- As an unexpected result Ethan ended up with a small army of super powered children to sick on the people who keep making jabs about him loosing in the arena battle.

- Al sometimes thinks he’s given him too much power but also he will fuck a bitch up if they make fun of his pals so he sees where his siblings are coming from and yeah those bitches had it coming. He also has a copy of bitchcraft.

- Ethan’s dad was the type to play “Stay With Me” by Miki Matsubara on repeat for hours and Ethan would probably enjoy the song but he’s heard it so often that now it makes his ears bleed and Al sometimes tortures him with for fun until Ethan starts throwing shit.

- To steal another hc from @chromarozee-spam Ethan has a thing for cats and one time Al accidentally gave himself mistform cat-ears and Ethan could not stop touching them. Ethan was just craning his head back uncontrollably grinning so much his face hurt. Al can’t bring himself to be upset because Ethan rarely ever smiles since he joined the army.

- Al saw Ethan crying over one of those video’s where people put their hoodies on backwards and put their cat in the hood so he made a mist cat and bought him a hoodie. Ethan of course started crying again but it was happy tears instead.

- Ethan is fucking tiny while Al is almost a foot taller than him. He wouldn’t mind so much if Al didn’t exhaust every opportunity to rub it in his face so he just starts climbing all over shit (especially tall buildings) half to give Al heart attacks and half so he can be like “Sorry? What was that? I’m so high up I can’t hear you. Can you speak up a little? Maybe get a ladder? Or taller?”

- Also I don’t know why but I hc Al as Texan. Ethan gets told about this “Alabaster C. Torrington” guy who knows latin, incantations and other magical knowledge and expects some fancy British guy so when they meet and Al speaks Ethan gets whiplash so hard he fuckin chokes.

- Al is also very casual and Ethan is pretty professional so when he meets this magic general with a straight back and the first thing that comes out of this assholes mouth is some “Howdy y’all!!” bullshit he just dies on the spot.

- Also because Al is texan he is very sensitive to the cold (I’m about 80% sure that Texas is one of the Warm states) so when he has to do stuff in cold places like the labyrinth or new york (idk about that one to but in every film I’ve seen that’s set in NY it’s raining for about 90% of the time) he complains about being freezing all the time until Ethan helpfully reminds him that he can literally make fire out of nothing, surely he can find a way to warm himself up.

- Ethan is also sensitive to the cold because he’s basically malnourished but he’s been like that for a while and thinks it’s normal so he sucks it up until Al notices he’s always cold. Ethan tells him it’s fine but Al is basically a walking electric blanket so whenever Al cuddles him to keep him warm Ethan can’t help but melt because he’s so fucking warm and soft and have you noticed I crave intimacy?

- Ethan started studying Greek myths vigorously since he found out he was a demigod and when he died he kept an eye and an ear out for Al because even though he wouldn’t be able to do anything it still reassures him to know what’s going on, HOWEVER, he was almost filled with enough malice to rip through the barrier between the living and the dead purely to beat an ass when he hears Al’s little “I don’t bother reading about worthless monsters like you!” jab.

- Ethan is very jumpy and fidgety to the point where Al is genuinely concerned and while Ethan assures Al that nothing’s wrong Al is still suspicious. Ethan probably would have told Al about it if it was because of anything but Kronos but seeing that it mostly is, he doesn’t because Ethan feels like Al will just take Kronos’ word over his and he’ll loose the only person he trusts in the army.

- Al doesn’t find out about it until way after the war when Kronos’ brainwashing starts to come undone because by then his mindset is a lot less biased in the titans favour so he can see things that he just unconsciously ignored before and is able to put two and two together. When he does boy is it a trip.

- Ethan is really bad at talking about feelings and stuff so whenever Al gets upset over something and Ethan has no idea how to talk to him he’ll just get him some rocks. One time Ethan found out about those heart shaped valentine boxes that are normally filled with chocolates but people put crystals in them and that just became his go-to for when Al was especially upset. 

- Al is only slightly better at talking about stuff but he can still get Ethan to open up to him which is good because Ethan isn’t very materialistic so it’s hard to make him feel better by buying him things and because someone needs to get Ethan to express himself in an emotionally healthy way.

- Also because of this they just can’t tell each other they love each other. Like they’ll barely whisper it when the other is asleep because they’re just so bad at talking about feelings. It wasn’t that much of an issue until after the war and Ethan gets k-worded and Al is left alone and sobbing over all the times he never told his loved ones how much they meant to him.

- But because this is a headcanon list; fuck that, Al saved Ethan with some sort of magic bullshit and they talk about how much they love each other all the time now because they can’t stand the thought of one of them dying having never been told how much they are loved.

[that-sw-writer]

Hey, here's the idea! What if the reader is Hux's sister, she works on the steadfast or the supremacy, but gets transferred to her brother's command after Ren killed the previous person who held that position. So Hux is on edge cause he's scared Kylo will kill his sister next, while Kylo and her come to an understanding of both wanting to mess with Hux, through all sorts of shenanigans, Kylo and the Reader fall for each other? Much to Hux's dismay 😂

I love how this turned out honestly, it was such a good idea on your part!!

PART TWO

Word count: 3004

Warnings: implied sexual content, Hux getting Extra™️ stressed, borderline crack fic??

Notes: reader is Hux’s sister, but I’ve left it open to be either blood related or adopted so you can choose which you’d rather interpret it as!

Also if anyone wants a part two, drop the request in my asks because I’d be so up for writing that!

Sibling Rivalry

"You're late." Hux was impatiently tapping his foot as you arrived on the bridge of The Supremacy.

"Got lost, this place is way bigger than Steadfast." You huffed, scurrying to his side as you mockingly stood to attention.

"And the uniform?"  He simply raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down as he outwardly judged your appearance.

"This is how I always wear it."  You shrugged, not willing to change. You wore your standard First Order jacket which went down to your upper-thigh, with a belt cinched around your waist. But rather than the baggy trousers, you opted for a slightly tighter option which you felt were much more flattering, and comfortable. Not to the mention that you refused to wear the hat. Instead, you kept your hair tied back in a braid.

"Well, it's not standard issue. Tomorrow I expect to see you in the correct uniform." He hissed.

"Don't hold your breath, Armitage." You laughed, dryly, "last time I checked, wearing a different pair of trousers doesn't affect my ability to my job." You smirked as you shot him down, knowing that you were going to continue wearing what you were more comfortable in.

"Please don't be over-familiar Lieutenant Hux." He spoke to you in a pointed tone, and you rolled your eyes.

"Not embarrassed of me are you, brother dearest?" You teased him, but his expression remained solemn. Of course, this was normal for Hux, but usually when it came to you he would at least loosen up enough to take a joke.

Gently taking your arm he led you away from any prying ears, "Y/N listen to me, I didn't want you getting this promotion-" You immediately attempted to open your mouth and protest this, but he held his finger up to shush you, before continuing, "-I didn't want you to get it because Kylo Ren killed the last person to have your job, and I'd rather not have you be next."

Your mouth formed an 'o' shape, but no sound came out. Were you as afraid of Kylo Ren as everyone else? No. But you knew just how much your older brother hated the man, and you could tell that Armitage was just worrying for you.

Armitage had always been the golden child, prim and proper. You, on the other hand, you had grown up being the rebellious one, and that hadn't changed when you had followed him to the First Order. Although you were excellent at your job, you didn't much care for the strict rules, and part of you had always enjoyed winding your brother up by constantly rebelling. You didn't intend to change just because Kylo Ren had killed someone who had once been in your position.

"I get the message, Armitage." You flashed him a cheeky grin, "I'll stay out of trouble."

"Why do I fear that is simply not true." He pinched the bridge of his nose - he knew you far too well.

A week went by before you met the infamous Kylo Ren, and in that time you had prided yourself on making your brother's life more and more difficult every day. However, you kept doing your job and doing it well at that. You were popular amongst other officers, mostly because of the way you could get away with relentlessly teasing the General.

The day you met Commander Ren, he had attended a meeting which you and your brother were both apart of. Knowing that he was there and that he allegedly hated Armitage, you remained on your best behaviour. You would rather not have him hate you simply by association with your family name. However, you slipped up at the end of the meeting, unable to prevent yourself from teasing your brother when he walked himself into an easy joke.

"-and I expect to see you all training this afternoon in preparation for your upcoming missions."

"I don't think I've ever seen you step foot in the training room, General." You laughed, "how would you know if we're there or not?" A few sniggers rose from around the table, and immediately you felt Ren's eyes burning a hole in the side of your head. When you met his gaze you could read his expression with ease: curiosity. He wondered who would possibly speak to Hux that way, and who could possibly get away with it.

"Watch your tone, Leuitenant Hux." Your brother was bright red in the face, mostly because he was embarrassed that there was truth behind your words, and also because he knew that Ren was in the room.

You noticed the Commander's eyes widen slightly as he most likely put two and two together, you were just silently praying that he didn't decide to decapitate you just because you were related to his arch-nemesis.

On the contrary, however, he actually spoke and his words truly surprised you. "Perhaps the Lieutenant has a point, General. Sometimes it's best to lead by example." He had a deep voice and an undeniably attractive face... Maker, if Armitage knew that you found Kylo Ren in the least bit attractive he would probably eject himself into space. But then again, you did perhaps see it as an opportunity for some fun.

It didn't take long for your brother to adjourn the meeting after being mocked by not only you but also Kylo Ren. As you rose from your seat you moved to exit and walk by Armitage, but he grabbed your arm to hold you back for a moment.

"Y/N, I am at the end of my tether with you." He sternly told you, "why is it that you cannot simply do your job without the foolish comments? And Maker help me will I one day see you in the correct uniform?" He may as well have had steam coming from his ears. He looked as though he would spontaneously combust at any given moment, which only caused you to try and stifle a laugh which threatened to escape your lips.

"Hux, a word?" Kylo Ren's approaching voice saved you from your imminent scolding, and you both turned to face him.

"Not now Ren, I'm busy." Your brother snapped, but Ren was visibly unphased by this tone, something told you he was possibly even amused by it.

"Lieutenant Hux, not you." He nonchalantly clarified, and you furrowed your brow at him.

"Is there a problem, Sir?" You asked.

"So you'll show respect to Ren, but not me... typical." Armitage scoffed under his breath, and you simply elbowed him in response.

"Don't mind my brother, Armitage is just concerned that you'll kill me for being associated with him." You shrugged as your attention returned to Kylo.

"I'd sooner kill you than I would her, Armitage." Ren snorted, mocking the general as the two of you walked away from him. It was written all over his face that he couldn't possibly comprehend that his little sister and arch-nemesis were possibly about to gang up on him.

As you departed alongside Ren, you were both silent. Only when you left the bridge and fell into stride in the corridor did he speak.

"I didn't know Hux had a sister." He plainly said, and you exhaled a short laugh.

"Yes well, I don't do his uptight image any favours, so I think he tends to keep me a secret." You snorted, "not to mention he's convinced that you'll kill me just to get at him."

"Who's to say I won't?" Kylo Ren was clearly trying to get the measure of you, so that question was a challenge, you knew that.

"I'm still breathing, aren't I? If you were really going to kill me to get at Armitage you'd at least do it in front of him." You shrugged as if the whole threat didn't bother you in the slightest.

He hummed in response, changing the subject, "you're not much like Hux."

"I should hope not." You laughed, "I was always the fun one... much to Armitage's distaste."

"He doesn't seem to appreciate your sense of humour." He said this whilst giving a pointed look at your obviously incorrect uniform.

"Well, that's my brother for you. But correct me if I'm wrong Sir, you don't exactly strike me as the 'fun' type either." You raised an eyebrow.

"That depends on what you call 'fun.'" When he looked at you, you could have sworn you saw a mischievous smirk forming on his lips.

As the weeks went by, you and Ren spent more time together - rather, he seemed to spend more time around you. It was like he purposely timed his schedule to coincide with yours, and you weren't mad about that at all. The more time you spent with him, the more attractive he became, and stars you had been particularly enjoying watching him train most days.

You still spent much of your time pestering your brother, but even he had simply grown used to it by now. He made conscious efforts to sit and have an evening meal with you a few times a week, and despite all of his irksome mannerisms, you appreciated how much he cared about you.

"Phasma tells me you've been spending an awful lot of time with Ren in the training room." Trying to act nonchalant about it, Armitage casually brought his cup of caf up to his lips. You meanwhile found it amusing that he was indulging in gossip simply because it involved you and Kylo.

"Perhaps it's just a coincidence that we're there at the same time." You smirked at the mere thought of watching Ren when he's training, but you had to snap yourself out of it.

"I highly doubt that." He snorted, "I imagine he's waiting for an opportunity to strike you down."

"Are you perhaps being a bit paranoid?"  You raised an eyebrow. You found it amusing that your brother was so caught up in his feud with Kylo Ren that he hadn't for one second thought that Kylo might have been following you because he liked you.

"No, I'm telling you Y/N, he's dangerous. He has no redeeming qualities." He hissed.

"I wouldn't go that far." You shrugged, kicking your feet up onto Armitage's desk, much to his dismay, "he's hot, I'd call that a redeeming quality."

Now your boots on his desk were the least of his problems, upon hearing your words he choked on his caf, coughing and spluttering for a few moments. You were still sat calmly, smirking as you enjoyed watching his overreaction.

"You are to stay away from him Y/N, do you understand?" His face was redder than Kylo's Lightsaber at this point, and you weren't sure if he was angry at Ren for allegedly leading his sister astray, or embarrassed by your comment about Kylo being hot... perhaps a combination of the two.

"Don't hold your breath, Armitage."  You playfully winked at him before leaving his office.

"Y/N!" He called after you, "I'm serious, stay away from him!"

"Yep, I hear you." You sarcastically called to him, turning back around as you walked. Before you could straighten up again you collided with what felt like a brick wall, but when two hands took ahold of your waist to steady you, you realised who it was.

"Maker, why do I even bother?" You could hear Hux exclaim from his office, "Keep your hands off my sister Ren." He then yelled, turning tail and storming back into his office.

"Sorry, he just really hates you." You teased, "me not hating you is probably his worst nightmare."

Kylo usually showed up at random points throughout your day, but considering that this meeting with Armitage hadn't been on your schedule, it was truly surprising to see him. You were suspicious that the Force was somehow involved.

"And I assume he's asked you to stay away from me." He hummed as you walked side by side, heading towards your office where there was likely a stack of datapads for you to go through before turning in for the night. Kylo had taken to sitting in there with you and keeping you company whilst you worked. Somedays you wondered if he ever actually did any of his own work.

"You tell me, you were the one eavesdropping." You had a knowing smirk on your lips, whilst he looked like he had just been caught red-handed.

"I-uh, I didn't want to interrupt." He sheepishly said.

"Did you hear anything you liked?" There was a suggestive edge to your tone now. Whilst you found him undeniably attractive, there was also the added benefit of pissing off Armitage beyond belief by doing the polar opposite of staying away from Kylo.

He picked up on this tone and looked at you quizzically for a moment. It wasn't long before a mischievous grin appeared on his lips. "Something about my redeeming qualities maybe?" You had both stopped walking at this point, simply staring at each other to the point where you could have cut the sexual tension with a knife.

"Y'know, I just remembered that I need to go back to my quarters to pick something up." You eventually broke the silence, hoping that Ren would get the idea.

"Lead the way." He said, trying to keep his tone level as he remembered that you were both still out in the open.

Your quarters wasn't a far walk, but it felt like miles with the ever-building tension. You wanted nothing more than to finally see if Kylo Ren was as good in bed as he was in the training room. When you rounded the final corner, you pulled him through the blast doors without warning which sent him colliding into you, which you used as an opportunity to capture his lips in a steamy kiss - something you had both wanted to do for a long time.

He wasted no time in pushing you back against the nearest wall, his tongue eagerly exploring your mouth as you began to pull at his endless layers of clothing. Before you could remove too many layers, he was mumbling at you to show him where the bedroom was, and it was safe to say that you never made it to your office that evening.

After multiple rounds, Kylo spent the night, and when morning broke you decided to ditch your schedule and spend time in bed with him, just aimlessly talking.

"What is it about you?" He asked in his deep voice, "you're all I've been able to think about." He confessed.

"I noticed." You teased him, "following me around like a shadow."

"Coming from you, that's funny." He smirked. "I've been hearing your thoughts since you first got here, it's like you've been projecting them to me."

You realised just how many times you had thought about Kylo since you had first met him and on some occasions, you had definitely thought about him in less than appropriate scenarios. Although looking at your current situation, that had probably worked out in your favour.

"So what exactly is it about me then? Just that you can hear my thoughts?" You slowly began tracing your finger up and down his bare chest.

"I don't know." He mused, "I should hate you."

"What, just because of my brother?" You laughed, "you said it yourself, I'm not much like him."

"And I'd rather keep it that way." Kylo snorted, leaning in to kiss you again, but he was interrupted by a loud hammering at the door.

"Y/N you have missed three meetings this morning. So help me, you had best have a good excuse-" Armitage's angry rambling continued at the door, you and Kylo exchanging a look from your spot on the bed. With a heavy sigh, you moved to get up and dressed but Kylo placed a hand on your shoulder.

"I'll get it." He said, and you looked at him with a mischievous grin on your face.

"You're evil Kylo, you know that."

"Especially where your brother is concerned." He grunted, walking to the blast door wearing just a pair of loose trousers.

When the door swung open, Hux's jaw practically hit the floor, his face immediately turning a bright shade of red.

"Ren." He snarled, "what in the stars are you doing in my sister's quarters?"

"She needed a good excuse to avoid her meetings." He smugly looked at Armitage, clearly revelling in his sheer rage.

Slowly glancing over Kylo's shoulder, he saw you laying on the bed with the sheets pooled around your body to cover it, and if he hadn't put two and two together already, now it was staring him right in the face.

"Sorry Armitage, Commander Ren personally excused me from my meetings. Did you not get the message?"

"My sister..." He looked at Kylo, his words coming out as a low growl. "MY LITTLE SISTER?" This time he yelled, and you couldn't help but burst into laughter from your spot on the bed, burying your face in the pillow to stifle the cackles.

Kylo made a point of looking back at you, then to Armitage, then to you, then back to Armitage. "Yes, she was the last time I checked." He raised an eyebrow, enjoying your brother's blinding rage far too much.

"I swear Ren I am going to end your miserable little life in the most painful, unimaginable way possible, and even when you beg for death I will show you no mercy. I will-" Hux was jabbing his finger in Kylo's face, but he remained completely unphased.

"-ooookay Armitage, I think that's quite enough for today." Holding the sheets around your body you shuffled over and pushed your brother out of the room. Before the doors could shut you glanced at Kylo who just gave you a pointed look and small shrug, "oh, and I think I'll need the rest of the day off as well." With that you let the doors slam in Armitage's face, and fell back into Kylo's arms.

As you dropped the sheets and relaxed into the kiss, you could both hear Armitage's last yell as he stormed out of your quarters.

"Dead, Ren... DEAD!"

[fletchphoenix]

I’ll See You When I Fall Asleep

Hi All! This is Chapter 10 of the Varigo Coffee Shop AU! Also!! A lot of you have asked and yes, I do have an Ao3 where I cross-post called ‘fletchphoenix’ too! Anyway, thank you for all your support and onwards with the chapter!!

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Thunder rumbled and lightning crackled outside the window as Varian shook, holding a small test tube in his hands. Where even was he? His eyes weren’t adjusting properly, until the sudden flick of a lightswitch brought about a blinding light. Varian attempted to cover his eyes to block it out, his attempts not working in the slightest. He lowered his arms with a frown and glanced around the room as he regained his vision slowly. Nothing seemed right here - a fantastical vibe surrounded the whole room as he took in all the small details.

    The room was dank, the aroma of rotting wood filling the room which, coinciding with the light, made for an awful pairing that made Varian queasy. Uneven, cobbled floor made his feet slip slightly and he struggled to keep his balance as he felt himself feeling sicker and sicker. There was almost no natural light in the room either - only one half-oval window that sat above a creaky table, covered in journals and various scientific apparatus that he had used many times. A raccoon sat on the table too, snoring with a large sheet of paper lying underneath it. The cause of the bright lights were around six lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and now that his eyes had time to brace themselves, he could see it really wasn’t that bright, with an eerie mood being set in the room. Paper and chalk also littered the wall with frantic scribbles about something he didn’t understand. The sundrop…? He didn’t know. The thing that put him off..were the rocks.

  Black rocks shot out of the ground in clumps of two or three, reaching so high they almost pierced the rotting ceiling of the makeshift laboratory. He reached out and rapped his fist against the rock quietly - it seemingly was not breaking. Huh, invincible black rocks? Makeshift labs in an ancient house? It was strange how much they put him off, unease building in his stomach for some reason unbeknownst to him. His eyes set on a large figure in the middle of the room, covered by a towering sheet with small patches of different fabric scattered over the sheet. The stitching looked poor though, as though someone who’d never sewn before had done it. Come to think of it, his clothes were the same, a cyan shirt with a patch on the left arm that was significantly darker than the rest of the fabric. The shirt, however, was almost completely covered by a leather apron, also swamping the brown trousers that he was wearing, stopping shy from the top of his boots. It didn’t seem right for him to be wearing this. A frown crept onto his face as he rested his hands on the sheet, taking in a deep breath before pulling it away and revealing the thing it was concealing. A gasp left his mouth and he doubled over, taking in sharp breaths as the tears instantly built in his eyes. His head shot back up to stare at the sight in front of him.

  A hard, amber substance twisted in harsh turns, sharp spikes of it trailing high and curling at points. His boyfriend was trapped in the amber, his hand outstretched with a note in his hand, a clear expression of pain on his face forever. Tears welled in his eyes and rolled freely down his cheek, his shaky steps inching closer to the amber and his hands resting on it. “Hugo?” he whispered, unsure of whether his father could even hear him from his crystallised prison. 

  “Varian, what have you done?” Varian’s head snapped around to see Rapunzel, hands raised to cover her mouth in shock of the scene unfolding in front of her. She looked so frightened - but not of the amber, of him. She looked different too - blonde locks that must’ve measured over sixty feet were tied back into a mix between a ponytail and a braid replaced her brunette bob. She also wore a purple dress, akin to one an elegant princess would wear. He opened his mouth to say something, before being rudely interrupted.

  “This is all your fault.” Another voice. Eugene’s. He slowly moved from the darkness and placed his hands on Rapunzel’s shoulder, her turning back to wrap her arms round him in a fearful embrace. He glared coldly at Varian, as if he’d done something wrong. 

  More and more voices joined the symphony of blaming Varian, each declaration cutting deeper and deeper each time. He covered his ears, a futile attempt to try and block all of the noise out but it only got louder and louder. People he loved were calling him a monster. All except for..

  “Hugo! Hugo, I’m so sorry!” he cried out, forcing himself to raise his head and eyes darting around the room and staring at the prison of the boy he loved so dearly that he’d created. He couldn’t bear to look at his frozen corpse, too many people crowding and screaming at him about his faults. It was all becoming too much. The yelling, the closeness..he couldn’t handle it. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, moving closer and closer towards the floor. “Hugo!” 

  “HUGO! He yelled and sat up, grasping the bedsheets and letting out heavy, shaky breaths, startling the safe, sleeping form of his boyfriend beside him. His knees curled against his chest, trying to steady his breathing to no avail as his small form shook with every sob that left his mouth. Sweat formed a gross blanket over his skin, presumably from his body reacting to the panic he was feeling. What even was that place? Why did everyone look so different? Why wasn’t Hugo there? The questions flooding his head only caused more stress to take its toll on his body as his breathing quickened once again. 

  “Varian.” His boyfriend’s voice called from beside him, “Hey, can I touch you? Is that okay?” he questioned, Varian giving a small nod before Hugo’s hands rubbed soothing circles onto his back carefully in an attempt to help comfort him until he was ready to talk. Still shaking, Varian leaned in closer to his boyfriend, comfortably moving so they were laying down in a gentle embrace, swaying slightly as Hugo whispered sweet nothings to his boyfriend and placing kisses to the top of his head. “Hey, whatever it was, it wasn’t real. I’m here now and you’re safe. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  As he felt more comfortable and safe, he looked at Hugo’s face. Concern covered it - his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he held Varian’s hands in his own, peppering kisses over them. “I..woke up in a lab. I didn’t recognise it. It was covered with all there..black rocks that stuck out of the ground. And there was amber in the middle. You were stuck inside. Everyone was yelling at me and saying it was all my fault. It was terrifying, Hugo. I couldn’t breathe. I just..” his arms tightened around the blonde, gripping the fabric of his shirt. “I was so scared that I’d hurt you. That I’d actually lost you..I don’t want to lose you, Hugh. I love you too much.” he whispered against his boyfriend’s shoulder, the muscles underneath his shirt tensing tremendously in reaction to his words. 

  Hugo sat in silence, holding the boy closer to him and staring blankly at the wall. How..how could he respond to that? Amber..? Black rocks? He let out an exasperated sigh as he pet the hair of the younger boy. He’d never seen his boyfriend so distraught over a nightmare, the other gripping his shirt as they embraced. He reached for his glasses, putting them on before picking up his phone to check the time. 3:54am. Well, they weren’t going back to sleep anytime soon anyway, he decided before shuffling back in the embrace, resting his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders. “How about we put on one of those crappy romance films you love so much and make some hot cocoa? How does that sound, sweetheart?” The sight of Varian’s slight smile and a nod was all the confirmation he needed. “Okay love, you go make the cocoa and I’ll sort out the snacks. After all, you are the cocoa master.” He added with a chuckle before swinging his legs over the bed, pushing the fuzzy slippers Varian had randomly bought him one day onto his feet and striding down the hall to the living room.

  He set up a mini bed for them on the sofa, bringing over a blanket and pillows for the both of them. He knew Varian’s would go unused though, the younger would most likely opt to lay on top of him with his head on his chest, not that he was complaining. More pillows for him, he thought with a grin as he walked into the adjacent room to get some snacks. Passing his boyfriend, he decided on a wide variety, including candy, chocolate and some ice cream in case that’s what Varian decided to opt for. He glanced over at his boyfriend, whose attention was solely focused on making the perfect beverage for both of them. A lovestruck smile drifted onto his face as he strutted over, placing an unexpected kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek, throwing off his concentration for a split second. “Smells wonderful babe, keep up the immaculate work and maybe I’ll teach you the art of making the perfect vanilla latte. Who knows?” Varian chuckled, Hugo silently praising himself for making the boy smile at least a little bit before heading into the living room, an abundance of snacks in his arms.

  Carefully he set them out on the table, being sure to empty out a packet of cat food for Ruddiger into his ceramic bowl, the cat graciously jumping from his perch on the cat tower and beginning his meal. Hugo rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips at his peace offering being accepted so willingly by his arch-nemesis. Hopefully now the cat would let him spend some time alone with his boyfriend, letting them cuddle on the sofa and watch one of Varian’s….admittedly terrible romance films free from any intrusion from the attention whore. 

  He understood the cat’s worry though - according to Varian, he’d taken him in when he was a kitten and extremely malnourished, taking care of him. From then on, Ruddiger had been extremely loyal to Varian, never straying from his human’s side (because let's be real, Ruddiger owned Varian, not the other way around. That cat had almost everyone wrapped around it’s metaphorical finger and it knew that...terrifyingly well) even when he’d executed some very much illegal acts in the name of helping his father. 

  Hugo didn’t blame Varian for his past, loving the boy either way. His dedication was difficult for the other to understand. He’d never really learnt to form any bonds with...well, anyone. Having no parents and growing up in an orphanage that couldn’t have cared less about any of the kids there didn’t help either, even after Donella ‘adopted’ him, it still didn’t do anything. Varian was the only person he’d ever really had an official relationship with, the rest just being out of boredom and the complete and utter loneliness he’d felt because of the distance Donella had put between him and her. He never really had anyone there for him, so he’d just keep on using people for his own personal means and throwing them away without so much of a glance back with no remorse when he was finally done with them. He knew it was wrong - that he was hurting people who didn’t warrant it - but he just didn’t care at all at the time, because he knew he’d never see them again. Right? He guessed that was it - devotion never coming easy to him anyway, so of course it would be a difficult concept for him to grasp anyway. He let out a sigh and laid down on the sofa, pulling the blanket over himself quietly before scrolling through his phone and waiting for his boyfriend to join him.

  “Heya Hugh.” Varian called as he entered the living room, setting the mugs down on the coffee table in front of them beside the snacks before shuffling under the covers, sitting in between his boyfriend’s legs with his back pressed against his chest. Hugo reached out to grab their mugs and sipped the hot cocoa, making a slight moan of satisfaction. “Oh my god, this is so good, Varian!” he cried as he kept chugging the delicious drink, an arm wrapping around his waist, giving his boyfriend time to push it away if he wanted. Varian didn’t seem to mind, already turning on the film and beginning to eat his ice cream happily. 

  They sat in silence for a while, Varian watching his film and Hugo drifting in and out of sleep repeatedly. The only thing keeping him awake was the occasional sound of his boyfriend’s laughter or mumbling to himself at how ridiculous a certain character was being. It was kind of adorable listening to the younger man rant under his breath about something completely fictitious. He kept his gaze on Varian happily before a frown developed on his face. That dream Varian had sounded terrifying, if he was being honest, and it scared him to death. Just how much self loathing was the boy harbouring without even speaking up? Sure, he’d done some bad things in the past, but everyone had forgiven him for that, so why couldn’t Varian forgive himself? It weighed on Hugo’s mind, his nimble fingers tracing small circles onto the other’s stomach gently to keep himself grounded. 

  “You’re thinking so hard, I can almost hear the cogs in your head turning.” Varian commented, not even looking at his boyfriend as he kept his eyes focused on the TV. “If you’re thinking about what I think you’re thinking about, I’m fine. It was just a dumb nightmare that really spooked me at first. I was so scared of the concept that I’d lost you for good that I couldn’t breathe or even focus. I didn’t even know what I’d done or if I’d even done anything, I’d just accepted that yes, it WAS all my fault. What I did in the past was...well, it was atrocious in all honesty..but that doesn’t reflect who I am at all. You know who I am. I was just so lost without my father, and I couldn’t turn to my mother...I felt like everyone had turned their back on me and that I wasn’t even deserving of the very air I breathed. It’s gonna take me awhile to forgive myself for what I did to Rapunzel and Eugene and, well, everyone. But I’ll get there. Okay?”

  Hugo’s fingers braided a section of Varian’s hair as he spoke, taking in every word he spoke and giving it time to process, admiring his work mid-speech. “Okay doll, I just don’t want you thinking I’m gonna just..up and leave one day, y’know? You know about my old reputation in senior year..how I’d date around and leave a trail of broken hearts behind me but..I just want you to know I’m serious when I say I’m fully committed to you, okay? I adore you for all I’m worth. I’ve never met a guy as spectacular as you are, but I would never ask for anyone different. Varian, I really do love you.” Hugo confessed, subconsciously pulling the boy closer to his chest and shutting his eyes. “More than you’ll ever know. You’ve taught me...so so much about unconditional love and what it takes to be so in love you’d do anything for them so...thank you. Just- thank you.”

  “Aw, Hugo being sappy? Are you the real Hugo or are you an imposter?” Varian said with a grin and a laugh, leaning his head back before closing his eyes. “Let’s just watch the movie, babe...okay? I love you too, for the record.” he whispered back, intertwining their fingers. And thus, the boys slowly drifted into a deep slumber, wrapped in each other’s arms and ready to face whatever the universe threw at them.

Well, almost anything the universe threw at them.

  They awoke, limbs tangled, on the couch to a loud banging at the door. Hugo groaned, rubbing his eyes as he slowly started to sit up, Varian stirring too on his chest. “Who the fuck is here and why the hell are they banging the door so goddamn loud?!” he exclaimed, Varian removing himself from his boyfriend’s lap and heading towards the door. Hugo didn’t understand. Does no one in this modern age have any respect for anyone? All he wanted to do was cuddle his boyfriend on the couch all morning before the inevitable angry texts from Donella swarmed his phone.

  Oh shit. What if it was Donella at the door? Oh god. He’d ever introduced Varian to his side of the family (and quite frankly, he didn’t want to, considering how...dysfunctional it was. It wasn’t even officially a family unit, Donella only being a mother figure) and he didn’t want Varian to meet her when she was mad. Donella had a supernatural strength when she was mad - not even kidding, he’d seen her make one of the strongest men in the workshop, a man who had LITERALLY been nicknamed ‘Skullcrusher’ when he was in a gang for...obvious reasons, cry like a baby on the floor. It was a feat in its own right, however he didn’t want Varian to suffer through that same treatment. He hurried into the hall. “Hey Goggles?-” He froze.

  There was a woman at the door. Her ginger hair was tied into a neat bun, fringe falling and stopping just above her right eyebrow. She had the same eyes as Varian, except a slightly more vibrant, electric blue than his beloved’s,  along with freckles scattered all over her face, hands and what was visible of her arms. She was slightly taller than his boyfriend, still smaller than him, but nonetheless she still possessed some height over Varian. She looked exactly like the woman in Donella’s pictures, the one who used to be her old research partner...though who was she?

  He walked over and rested his hand on Varian’s back, leaning forward slightly to catch a glimpse of his face. He looked astonished and shocked - his mouth and eyes wide in amazement as he spared no mind to Hugo, solely focused on the woman in front of him. His hands shook slightly as he pulled them to his sides. “Mom..?” Varian hardly whispered, taking a step towards the woman, who reached her hand out to cup his cheek gently.

  “Varian-” She called out, a soft smile on her face and tears building in her eyes as she took him into a hug. Oh, yeah. Now Hugo could place the name, his eyes narrowing in disdain towards the woman before him. She was the one who had stopped Donella’s progress in the scientific field, stealing her research and disappearing to the other ends of the earth. She was the one who had ruined her life, and consequently, his too. Her eyes met his and she smiled slightly, extending her hand out to him. “Oh, where are my manners? Let me introduce myself, I’m Ulla. Ulla Ruddiger.” 

  His boyfriend’s mother was his motherly figure’s worst enemy.

  Brilliant.

[my-arlington-academia]

Serandy and Olifael part 3: Nari’s horrible return

Hey I’m back! ... I’m sorry.

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"S-Serena-senpai..."

Nari was looking away, her cheeks flushed from embarrassment. No matter how many steps back she took, Serena kept on getting closer and closer until she slammed her hand on the wall, next to Nari’s ear.

”Kyah! S-senpai! What’s going on?? Why are you being so violent with me?”

From Serena’s point of view this wasn’t violence. This was love. Oh Nari... you and your unstoppable mouth. No matter how much someone would beg, Nari would never shut up. Serena was provoked by that, the fact that someone wouldn’t obey her orders. It was frustrating and yet so charming.

She leaned in and whispered into Nari’s ear.

"Nari-chan... you aren’t a gemini, are you?”

Nari was confused, that’s it? That’s all Serena wanted to ask? No scolding, no punishment like usual? She was disappointed. Nari loved getting yelled at by Serena.

”N-no. I’m not a gemini, I’m a scorpio Senpai. But what does that have to do with anyth-"

"Shut it.”

Serena passionately kissed Nari with her passionate lips, passionate love and passionate hate towards geminis. She was so relieved that Nari wasn’t one of them. Disgusting. That would be horrible.

Horrible.

Hor-

"AAAH! NOOOO PLEASE GOD NO!"

Serena woke up covered in sweat. What the fuck was that?? Nari? What was she doing in Serena’s dream and why were they calling eachother like characters in a Japanese cartoon? Serena looked around her, it was her room. Thank God everything was just a dream and nothing else. Next to her, lying in bed was Andy who snuck in last night to sleep next to her girlfriend. Like all nights, actually. She was really worried for Serena’s mental state, not only today but in general.

"Serena...? *yawn* Are you okay sweetie?”

Serena hugged Andy, almost in tears.

"N-no! I saw her again in my dreams. That chatterbox monster, Nari! But this time we were high schoolers in a shitty anime... Why? Oh, why would this happen to me?? What did I do wrong for her to come back to haunt me?"

Andy hugged Serena back, trying to be as supportive as she could. This situation was really strange. For the past few days, Serena always saw Nari in her dreams. Nari was that 2nd year student in Arlington who went missing a few months ago. But in actuality... it was all a ploy orchestrated by Serena. Serena had pulled some strings to make some trouble happen in Egypt so that Nari would go back there for a couple of months. A couple of months that were extremely peaceful... Well, Trashy burned the building a couple of times but it was cool. Thanks to that some classes were canceled and Serena secretly thanked Trashy for her interventions.

The only people who knew about this were Serena and Andy, Serena knew that if she told Olivier what she did in order to get rid of Nari, he would get mad at her and rightfully so.

”Calm down Serena sssshhh. It’s going to be alright. Um... you know I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, but could it be that you have a guilty conscience? Maybe that’s why Nari appears in your dreams?”

Serena looked up at Andy, seriously taking in account what her girlfriend just told her. But no, that couldn’t be it. Serena? Feeling guilt for getting rid of Nari? Impossible. Nari was her arch-nemesis. It was absurd to think that after all these months Serena would suddenly start to feel guilty about her scheme.

”No... that can’t be it Andy. I would never feel bad for Nari. I think.”

”Aww come on, I know that you’re not as cold hearted as you pretend to be. Let’s just try to contact Nari, okay? Maybe you actually miss her a little bit.”

Did Serena miss Nari? Ridiculous but much more believable than feeling guilty.

"... Alright. Let’s do that."

Serena and Andy came down from the bed, they were changing into their school uniforms to get ready for class. That’s when someone barged in, looking extremely distraught. It was Rafael.

"Girls!!! Come quick! There’s 8 murde-"

Serena threw a pillow into Ralf’s face while Andy was covering herself with the blanket. Serena yelled at him in panic.

"What the hell Rafael? Can’t you knock first?? Turn around and explain yourself!”

Rafael turned around like instructed, facing the door. He was super gay for Olivier but he still covered his face with the pillow, just in case. He didn’t want Serena and Andy to feel uncomfortable.

"This is not important right now! There’s 8 murders in the Academy that ocurred this morning...”

Andy and Serena looked at eachother, horrified by the news. How was that possible? The security was so tight and the custodians always made rounds, even in the early mornings. Andy clenched her fists, still in disbelief.

”But... that’s impossible! One murder, sure. But 8 people have died?? There’s always guards in front of the entrance... and... and there’s at least one custodian on each floor to keep an eye on us!"

Rafael stood there, silent. Unable to explain the events. All he could say was...

”Oliver is waiting for us in the student council’s room. Come quick.”

There was no time to waste. Serena and Andy dashed out of their room and went out of the dormitory only to see a cruel scene unfold. A bunch of nurses were taking 8 people away into ambulance trucks. However, the 8 people were covered in white pieces of cloth. As if they were already dead. In the crowd, a blond girl with a pink flower in her braids was being retained by at least four people. They were trying to hold her still while she was screaming and shouting like a trapped animal.

"G-geez! How strong is this girl?! Someone call the remaining custodians to help us out! We can’t hold her forever!!!”

”Remaining custodians”? So, some of them had been killed as well? Or at least badly hurt. Andy and Serena tried to pass by the scene in a hurry but they couldn’t ignore the yells of the suffering young girl. Oh mother of god... It was the sweet and gentle Claire, trying to set herself free by punching and kicking.

"LET ME GO! I HAVE TO FOLLOW THEM AND MAKE SURE THAT THEY'RE OKAY!!! DON’T HOLD ME BACK!!! THIS CAN’T BE. THEY’RE NOT DEAD!!! THEY’RE NOT DEAD, OKAY?! STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE I’M CRAZY!!! I... I...”

Suddenly all of her strength left her body and she fell down on her knees, seeing that she finally calmed down the 4 students that were holding her let go of their grip. Claire buried her face into her hands, crying.

"N-No... they’re not d-dead... the doctors will bring them back with a b-blood transfusion and... and... CPR will definitely work... if, if not then there’s also a defibrillator... it’ll work haha... ah... ah... ahh..."

She started hyperventilating, her eyes were bloodshot and her hair and clothes were all messy. She then covered her mouth, trying to stop what was coming, in vain.

”BLRGH.”

She threw up on the ground, still hyperventilating in between each spew. Because of that she was almost unable of breathing. Two custodians ran to her, scared of her reaction. What if she chokes up and dies because of her own vomit?

"P-please! Young miss calm down! Breath in... and out... in... and out... yes, slowly.”

Thank god her breathing became stable again, she could’ve lost consciousness from the lack of oxygen. After emptying up her stomach she started crying in the custodian’s arms.

"T-those people w-were my friends... *hic* R-raquel was right next to me... *hic* how did I fail to do anything?! ...U-useless! I’M USELESS. W-when it comes down to real danger... I’m unable to do a-anything. I couldn’t save anyone... I’ve never saved anyone! Not a single person!”

Andy didn’t even realize that she was crying at the heartbreaking scene until Serena covered her eyes and pulled her away from the crowd.

"Andy, don’t look...”

It was meaningless, Andy was unable to see anything anyway. Her eyes were filled up with tears, distorting her vision. However there was one thing she knew. Even though Serena was trying to hide it and act though, she was crying too.

In front of the student council’s room, they dried up their tears and snot with their sleeves, no time to find handkerchiefs. And they stepped in. Four people were in the room, Olivier shouting at Trashy, Trashy looking scared out of her mind but doing her best to deny whatever Olivier was stating, Rafael trying to calm Olivier down and... Tadashi, sat on one of the chairs. Looking down, emotionless. It’s as if all trace of life had left his body.

Serena tried to ignore that for now and put her hand on Olivier’s shoulder, he turned away from Trashy and looked at Serena, annoyed and angry.

"Ugh. You’re finally here?! What took you so lo-"

Before he could finish, Serena slapped the shit out of him, knowing that he wouldn’t calm down anytime soon if this went on.

"Calm down! I can see that Tadashi isn’t capable of handling anything right now so you should try to stay calm and take over as the student council president! It won’t help if you lose yourself like this...”

She then looked at Rafael, who was frozen in panic.

"Ralf, next time something like this happens just hit the shit outta him without hesitation. Got it?”

”Y-yes, sorry. I’ll do so.”

Olivier looked at his reflexion in the window and sighed a few times. He still wore that stupid cat mask. Then with a clear mind, he went back to business.

"Trashy. Please be honest with me. You’re the one who committed those murders, aren’t you?”

Trashy was shaking, teary eyed and visibly afraid by not only Olivier but also the stressful situation she was in.

"N-no! I’m telling you I would never kill people in cold blood! I only do harmless pranks...”

Olivier clenched his jaw. ”Harmless pranks” she says. He opened a folder and took out a document from it.

"Trashy. So far you have committed: arson, fraud, larceny and forgery. So tell me what could POSSIBLY lead me to believe that you aren’t the culprit behind this... this... inhumane incident?”

Trashy stood up, slamming her hand unto the table.

”I’m telling you: I’m innocent! I would never kill E-Ellie, Alistair or any other person of this school!"

At those words, Tadashi who was silent this whole time started sobbing and holding his arms, as if he was hugging himself.

”N-no... Ellie... Alistair... Raquel... *sob* Please c-come back. I-I’m scared... *hic* I-I’ll be good so p-please don’t abandon me *hic* A-Axel I-I won’t give you detention ever again... and... and I-I’ll help you guys with your homework... *hic*"

Rafael, Serena and Andy rushed in to hug him, seeing that he was in despair. Olivier sighed and glared at Trashy.

"I told you not to mention their names. He gets like that whenever he hears it.”

”I’m so sorry...”

Trashy looked extremely apologetic. As Serena was holding Tadashi in her arms, she shot a quick side-glance towards Trashy, it’s true that she was very chaotic but... logic aside, proof aside, was Trashy really capable of doing such things? Serena wanted to believe in her so badly but it is true that she was quite suspicious. As she was asking herself hundreds of questions, two people barged in.

"Excuse us.”

A weird man dressed in all black, carrying a katana and... a normal woman were standing before them. Olivier walked towards them, as if he knew who they were.

”Are you... who I think you are?”

The man and woman smiled at eachother.

”That’s right, I’m Nadir. The detective.”

”And I’m Gen, the coroner. Nice to meet you.”

Nadir had a Maryland accent... whatever that was supposed to mean. He didn’t look like a detective at all though, why was he carrying a katana? And why was there a coroner with him? All the dead bodies were brought to the hospital already. Well, they might get resurrected somehow. It’s not like hope was completely lost. Or at least Andy hoped so.

”Um. Excuse me uh. Gen? I don’t understand why you’re here and not at the hospital, I mean your job is to check wounds and find the cause of death, right?”

Gen smiled innocently.

”Oh I’ve already done my job, it was all stab wounds from a kitchen knife. Now I’m here in any case we find other dead bodies or if someone else dies.”

”Uh... okay.”

Tadashi suddenly stopped crying, awakened from his miserable state by Gen’s comment.

"DON’T SAY THAT! How... How DARE you just call them ”dead bodies”?! They were my friends! And... and they might be saved!!!”

Gen looked at him with sorrow in her eyes. As if it was too late. Thankfully Tadashi was so angry that he didn’t notice that. She had a look that said ”it’s hopeless kid.” Serena tried to change the subject, knowing that Tadashi would blow up like Claire if he knew that they were already dead.

”Soooo... Anyway, who are the people that got hurt?”

Olivier gave her the list with the names of all the victims, knowing that if he said their names aloud, Tadashi would lose it again. As expected, all of Tadashi’s and Claire’s friends were on it. Neha Rao, Tyler Williams, the Novakova siblings and so on and so forth. They were all so close and yet the only people left were Tadashi and Claire... but why did only those 2 survive?

”You’re all thinking ”why did those 2 survive”, aren’t you?”

Nadir smirked at them with a know-it-all epxression that everyone hated. It seems like he had already made some research before coming.

”Well, we’re thinking that it must be because... either one of those 2 is the culprit or... the person who attacked their friends didn’t manage to finish their job and he’s after them.”

Everyone was frightened by the thought... Claire, where was she? Hopefully she wasn’t left alone, however, just in case they should go find her and stay by her side. What if the culprit took advantage of her mental state to strike? The only person in the room who didn’t think about that possibility was Tadashi, he was too blinded by anger and fright.

”You’re saying that either me or Claire could be the culprits? That’s total BULLSHIT! We would never even THINK about doing something like this! How could I... How could I ever do something like this to my best friend and boyfriend?!!”

That’s right, Tadashi’s best friend: Alistair. And his boyfriend... Axel. A really weird couple indeed, they hated eachother’s guts until really recently so why did they suddenly start dating? It was a complete mystery. It all started on april fool’s so everyone just assumed that they would end the joke pretty soon... 3 weeks later and the joke still wasn’t over.

Gen raised her voice, desperately trying to stop him from punching them in the face.

”Please calm down kid! We’re only stating the possibilities! Not saying that they’re true... but while it might not be you nor your friend, there is a high chance that the kill- um, culprit is a student. Even though some custodians were... hurt, no guards were harmed.”

Nadir nodded, strongly agreeing with his colleague’s words.

”That’s right. But first let’s go find that Claire girl, she might be in great danger at this rate. Do you know where she is?”

Tadashi shook his head, having no idea where the only friend he had left was. Luckily, Andy and Serena knew where she might be. They all ran to the nurse’s office, thinking that they would find an unconscious Claire who had probably collapsed from shock and stress. But she wasn’t there. Only the nurse remained, saying that Claire wanted to rest in her room. Serena grabbed the nurse by the shoulders and shook him violently.

”Are you kidding?! How could you let her alone in a situation like this?! Are you not aware of what’s happening right now?! And besides... isn’t Claire’s room... tainted in blood right now?!!”

The nurse pushed Serena away, slightly upset by her outburst.

”Who do you think we are? The room had been investigated and cleaned the moment the body was discovered. Also, she wasn’t alone. There was another student with her who promised me to follow her no matter where she went.”

Serena’s eyes widened. Oh god. Oh no. What if this student is the killer?! Catching on what she was thinking, Nadir grabbed the nurse by his shoulders and shook him just like Serena did earlier.

”Who was it?! Who was that student?”

”Ugh. Could you all stop grabbing and shaking me?! I don’t know what her name was but it was a girl with really messy hair. To the point where I would guess that she doesn’t even own a hairbrush.”

They all started running towards the dormitory while the nurse was cursing them under his breath. On their way there, they saw two students in the courtyard, on the ground. One covered in blood and the other one holding her in her arms while crying. It was Reckless and AJ.

”AJ!! Please wake up! Come on you gotta live... You still haven’t paid me for the tarot reading I did for you the other day!!”

AJ was still half-conscious, holding on to dear life.

”God... shut the fuck up...”

”No, don’t say that AJ!! What if those are your last words?! You can’t let your last words be something so vulgar! What am I gonna say to your parents...”

”I don’t... give a shit...”

Gen pushed Reckless away, looking closely at the young girl’s wounds all over her stomach. Reckless wiped a tear away, relieved.

”Oh thank God, thank you doctor! Please save my cash-cow- I mean... my dear classmate!”

Gen then immediately got up, wiping her bloody hands on her jeans.

”Oh no kid, I’m not a doctor, I’m a coroner. All I can say is that she has most likely 5 minutes left to live or so. Sorry but to be saved, she would need to be a billionaire or something. Y’know how it is in America.”

Reckless started crying again.

”God I fucking hate capitalism. Can we all just die from a nuclear bomb, please? Someone nuke us, anyone. Even North Korea is fine...”

Andy took out her phone, calling the ambulance in a hurry. Serena had never seen her girlfriend look so livid.

”Are you all crazy?! We should at least call the ambulance in situations like these! Reckless, why didn’t you call 911 sooner?!”

Reckless kneeled in front of AJ, looking apologetic while still bawling her eyes out.

”You’re right Andy... I’m so sorry AJ, if only I wasn’t a dumbass... Come on, don’t lose consciousness! Or at least tell me your blood type before you do! Maybe we can still save you...”

”B... positive...”

”*sniff* I’m trying AJ but you’re losing a lot of blood...”

”That’s not... *cough* what I meant... you fucking dumbass *cough*"

This all looked like a comedy skit to be honest. AJ’s blood type wasn’t even B, it was O. Was she so out of it that she made a mistake? Serena went through 8 stages of whiplash before the ambulance finally showed their asses on the murder scene. Unfortunately, AJ hadn’t seen her attacker and same thing for Reckless. In any case it was useless to stay there, the group rushed back to the dorms like they were supposed to a long time ago before they found AJ dying. Hopefully Claire was still okay... It was like running a marathon. Arlington was way too big than it needed to be.

[strikearose]

Wrong place wrong time

Okay, I’ve been obsessed over GioMis for the past few weeks so here’s a silly story with Thief!Giorno, Normaldude!Mista, Cop!Abbacchio and Chef!Buccellati.  You can also read it (clic) on ao3.

Napoli - a wonderful metropolitan city full of life, culture and history in the South West of Italy. A city full of hope and opportunities.

A city where it felt good - so good, to be back.

Guido Mista took a deep breath, completely unbothered by the mass of people rushing in the inside of the airport. Gosh - at least he had made it. He had successfully returned home - well, he had returned to the place he was willing to make his new home. Everything there was so bright, so shiny - upbeat!

The sun was dazing, the delicious aroma of Italy was tickling his nose, he was completely surrounded by pretty faces and dashing outfits. He was a simple man - all he wanted was to pursue a happy and cheerful life: eating pizza napoletana at lunch and going to the Stadio San Paolo when he'd saved enough money to watch a football game.

Bang.

Something suddenly brought him back to reality: someone in a hurry had just bumped into him and a long blond strand of hair whipped him in the face. Guido didn't paid much attention to the man who muttered a quick "Sorry" before resuming his path.

Well - he guessed that it was some kind of sign meaning that he needed to get going. After all, there were many things that needed to be done that day and it was already past noon.

Mista leaned down to grab his suitcase and go to the taxi stand - but he stopped on his track.

What the fuck?

Why was his luggage suddenly so light-weighted?

Panic seized the young dark-haired man as he tried to shake his arm, in vain.

The suitcase didn't make any sound, despite him clearly the small keychain at the effigy of his favorite band that he had attached to the handle. For god sake, that damn thing would make the most annoying tinkling song with every step he'd take - what the hell was happening?

He was just robbed - realization hit him hard as his thick eyebrows frowned. A pickpocket had ruined this marvelous new beginning on the very minute he had set foot in Napoli.

"Where the hell is that son of a...-," he stopped mid-sentence - the guy from earlier, it had to be him.

He hadn't had the time to look at his face, in what direction could he be heading now? What was he wearing again? Hell- all he could remember was the lock of golden hair - there was no split end and any dandruff in there.

And it smelled like fresh lavender.

There was no way he could find him among the crowd of tourists. Mista rummaged through his pockets and let out a sigh of relief when he realized that, at least, his wallet was still there. Feeling hopeless, his black eyes landed the wall clock that now indicated 12:18. before being drawn to a vibrant purple shape.

Adrenaline kicked in as he followed the form of that plum shirt to settle on a short blond braid.

Wait - it wasn't blond but golden blond.

That fucking thief! He could swear it was him.

"HEY YOU!," he roared in panic.

His scream managed to hit the bullseye. Despite the noise of the airport, it seemed to the poor Italian man that every pair of eyes instantly turned in his direction. Everyone was now staring at him with confusion, security guards and thief included. They locked eyes for a brief moment before the robber turned away and resumed his walk, with the utmost serenity.

What the...?

It was him, Guido was now sure of it. And there was no way he could alert the officers about what had just happened, he wouldn't have the time to - the thief had just left the airport entrance, he was going to get away with his stuff! So Mista did what any other football aficionado would have done if they were in his situation: he channeled his best Maradona impression and sprinted in pursuit of his precious belongings.

People were looking at him with puzzled expressions as he run through the crowd but it didn't stop the brown-haired man.

Hell no - he needed to get his bag back.

There was no way he was going to lose the few things he had bother to bring with him to a damn crook on his first day here.

Mista was now frantically running in the Calabria Avenue - the sun was at its' zenith and he was probably sweating like a pig but at least he had managed to reduce the distance between him and the thief. What kind of burglar could wear such flamboyant purple clothes? He had always imagined them entirely dressed in black, with gloves, dark hat and all that jazz. They didn't have the luxury to stand out, and yet, the man he was pursuing was walking at a swift and confident pace - as if he hadn't noticed Mista following him, as if he hadn't been urging him to stop for the last two minutes. But just as the Italian began to wonder whereas he had mistaken him for the real thief, the blond made a sudden turn and disappeared.

"Shit, where did he go?"

Guido was now standing in front of a crossroad - he could either go left, right or straight ahead even if it would take him further in the opposite direction of the city centre.

Well - desperate situations called for drastic remedies.

Eenie, meenie, miney - mo.

Chance was pledging him not to go left and Mista's life had been nothing but bad luck these last few months, so he decided instead to take that direction.

And there he was now, stuck in a narrow alley, facing the back of his nemesis.

The thief no longer seemed to be keen on ignoring his presence - he turned around to look right at his victim. And any profanity that had been dying to come out of Mista's lips instantly vanished before the sight that was in front of him.

He was strikingly... pretty.

He had the most delicate features - deep emerald eyes that were looking at him with curiosity, a straight and elegant nose as well as full (and probably well moisturized) lips.

In one word, with his halo of golden hair, he was the image of innocence itself.

"Is everything alright, sir?" - of course, his nemesis was the one who ended up breaking the silence. How dared he feign candidness so well?

Mista tore himself away from the contemplation of the purple jacket that had to be tailor-made to look at the suitcase laying on the stranger's feet.

"That's mine!," Guido said as he vigorously grabbed his precious belonging.

"I beg your pardon?"

Mista shot a furious look at the thief and shook the chain that was attached to the handle of his case.

It twinkled.

He was right about it: that guy was a fucking thief.

"See that ? That's an official Sex Pistol key ring. I bought it years ago on Ebay - it's a very limited edition."

The pretty con artist arched a perfectly manicured brow.

"You stole my stuff, you truffatore!"

Anger filled him more and more as he watched the blond man remained impassible. He didn't seem the least concerned by what was happening.

"I hadn't noticed, there must be an explanation." The thief paused for a moment and his jade eyes suddenly lit up. "Oh, weren't you at the airport earlier?"

Guido frowned, his hands clenching firmly his suitcase.

"Yeah - but don't you try to fool...-," the younger-looking man cut him off.

"I was there too. What flight were you on?"

What the hell was that question?

"I was in Roma but...-"

"L'Aeroporto di Roma–Fiumicino," the thief softly nodded his head, as if it made perfect sense. "I was there too, we were on the same flight then. The customs must have mixed up our bags. Well - they do look similar, don't you think?"

Mista carefully inspected the two suitcases - they were black and quite worn out. The only difference was the key chain and despite of that detail, they did look exactly identical to each other... As well as to the majority of those in Italy: it was the most common model of travel bags.

The frown on his face grew even more pronounced as he eyed the blond man standing before him.

Well - if he was a crook, he certainly didn't look the part.

He was way too elegant and good-looking to go through people's pockets for a living.

And his explanation somehow made perfect sense.

Guido finally let out a sigh and the man smiled courtly at him.

"I apologize deeply for the inconvenience, sir. May I now get my belongings back?," he asked Mista.

"Yeah, sure..."

Guido was now starting to secondhand embarrassment Shit - he had just chased after him like a madman for no reason since the guy hadn't done anything wrong.

Gosh - why did he always have to be so reckless.

"Uhh," the poor citizen cleared his throat after receiving his bag. "You haven't touch anything in there, right?"

His voice sounded hesitant and Mista cursed himself a second time. He must looked like such a nutcase.

"Yeah, I swear I..-"

A very familiar music suddenly cut him off and they both frowned.

Boogie Wonderland.

It was the stupid ringtone Narancia had set on his phone.

And it wasn't coming from his back-pocket, where he was sure he had placed it.

Figlio di putanna.

Caught red-handed, the thief (whose ears had turned bright crimson) obediently took out the Iphone of his inside pocket to hand it to its' owner.

"What is happening here?"

They both turned in direction of the new voice.

It was the airport's security service.

Thanks god - things were finally working in Mista’s favor.

"That guy stole my bag and my phone," the brown-haired man pointed to the thief who had recovered his perfect composure. How on hell was he able to do that?

"Police is on their way. We call them as soon as we saw you rushing out the airport. We thought you were some sort of dangerous lunatic."

The two guards then smirked when they saw who the felon was:

"Serves you right for picking on an olympic runner!"

**

13:45. Mista clenched his teeth when he saw the time on his phone. They've been waiting in the police station for more than an hour now.

And it was his first day in Napoli.

Gosh - why the hell did he have to be here? They've caught the thief, they knew what had happened - and it wasn't as if the guy would magically disappear in the blink on an eye. He had things - so many things - to do today and instead he had to be here. Stuck with the company of a pickpocket that looked too comfortable in such a situation. In the fucking police precinct.

He glared at the blond man sitting next to him who was reading an old Vogue edition.

The thief briefly raised his head and shot him a curious look.

"Is everything alright?", he still had that innocuous tone.

Mista stared at him with mild anger.

"Do you know for how long we've been sitting here? A fucking hour! Did they forget about us?"

The blond shrugged and turned a page:

"Well, this kind of thing always takes time. We have to be patient."

"How can you be so calm?," Guido exclaimed. "Wait, it's not your first time here, right? You're some sort of a professional pickpocket or something like that."

The gorgeous golden-haired man smiled and Mista frowned - it wasn't a compliment.

They were interrupted by the arrival of a police officier - thanks god! The man who sat on the opposite side of the table had some sort of washed-out green hair and Mista couldn't help but wonder if he truly didn't have a chin. But what really mattered was that out of the three of them, the thief still seemed to be the more relaxed.

"So, um," the policeman began in a weak voice. "You're here because of an attempted robbery near the Airport, is that correct?"

They both nodded in silence.

"I need your names to complete the report," he looked at Mista. "So, you are Mr...-"

"Mista. M-i-s-ta. And first name's Guido."

The constable carefully tipped it into the computer.

"And you are...?"

"Haruno Shiobana."

Mista looked at the thief in surprise, Haruno? What the hell - that guy didn't look Asian at all.

"You're.. a foreigner?," the policeman asked, puzzled.

"My family is from Japan. But my name might be difficult to understand, here's my id card for reference."

"Thank you."

They waited until the officer stopped tipping.

"You don't...," he was frowning. "...really look like your picture..."

'Haruno Shiobana' didn't seem the least affected by how dubious the policeman was.

"It was taken before I started dying my hair. Look." he placed his hands around his face to hide the blond strands.

Guido took this opportunity to take a closer look at the thief. There was no sign of dark roots so this guy was either lying about not being a natural blond, or he had a really skilled hairstylist.

"Oh, I can see it now!," 'Haruno' was granted his card back and Mista rolled his eyes.

Whatever - he simply wanted to get the hell out of here as fast as possible.

The officer cleared his throat and began his questioning:

"So... Do you often target tourists, Mr. Mista?"

...

What the fuck?

Guido opened his mouth wide. He didn't miss the smirk that the thief managed to conceal a few seconds later.

"How often do I what?," he shook his head in exasperation. "Hey! I'm the victim here. He is the thief, not me! I've done nothing wrong!"

Haruno snorted.

The officer looked at Shiobana and then at him.

His eyes lingered on the blond's immaculate tailor-made suit. Then on his leather shoes. And finally on the pretty face that was displaying nothing but a disconcerting serenity.

Then, he looked at him up and down - from his red beanie to that old vintage rock band sweater. Mista knew how nervous he must have looked in that moment but well - everybody would be in such a situation, right? Being trapped in a police station wasn't pleasant.

Especially after the last months he'd spent.

In the end he couldn't really blame the officer: he was sweating like a pig while Haruno's skin was simply glowing.

"I can't believe it - Giorno fucking Giovanna!"

The three pairs of eyes turned to the door where another policeman was now standing.

**

Mista quickly unlocked his phone (one-two-three-five-six-seven) to check the time while the two policemen were arguing - it was now 14:10. He didn't notice how Haruno (or 'Giovanna', or whatever his real name was) had peaked over his shoulder with curiosity.

"He said his name was Shiobana.", the first officer was trying to push back the newcomer who had already settled on the desk.

"He's a pathological liar. You can't believe anything he says. Let me take care of that."

The two men were as different as chalk and cheese. The new officer was exuding confidence and had that whole 'quit your bullshit' demeanor.

"But Prosciutto put me in charge of the case!"

"Then go make him a cappuccino or something." The grey-haired man rolled his eyes and took his cap off to place it on the desk. "I'll deal with Giovanna."

"You can't stole my case like that!"

Mista shot a quick look at Giovanna who shrugged in return.

"Inspector Abbacchio has never seemed to quite fond of me," he quietly told Mista for sole explanation.

Their discussion was cut short by the tearful departure of the green-haired policeman. The new detective was already reading the report.

Well, at least, Mista hoped that things would be over soon.

"So...", Abbacchio glared at the thief. "You had to pick on the first clueless tourist you could find, huh?"

Mista almost protested, feeling hurt. He wasn't a stupid tourist - he was even supposed to settle in Napoli on that very day.

Unfortunately for him, the inspector had a keen sense of perception: "You have something to say about that?"

He quickly shook his head and the 'questioning' continued.

"I can't believe you finally get caught right in the act - I wish I could have been there."

Giorno Giovanna didn't bother to answer - his arms were folded over his chest, he was looking calmly at the policeman. But from where he was, Mista noticed the fact that he was slowly taping the ground with his left foot.

Seems like they were both nervous now.

"Well, I'm waiting?"

Mista suddenly stopped daydreaming and raised his head as he realized that the officer was talking to him. He screeched his cheek: "Sorry, what were you saying?"

The policeman rolled his eyes in annoyance but still repeated:

"You want to press charges, right? I'll get the papers."

"Hmm yeah, I guess?"

Abbacchio stopped on his track and both he and Giorno turned to look at Mista as he had grown a second head.

"'You guess'?", his eyes were shining with sarcasm. "I'm sorry, you're not sure you want to?"

"No!", Mista almost began to stutter. "I mean, of course I do. But do I have to do it now? I've been there for almost two hours already, and I really need to go!"

He had arrived in Napoli at noon and he's been trapped in the police station ever since. There was no way he was going to wait here for another two hours - not when he still didn't know for sure if he was going to have a roof under his head for the night.

The policeman's jaw tightened. And Mista realized that Giorno hadn't taken his eyes off him for a while now.

Gosh - he wouldn't have complained about the attention in another situation, but it was putting some pressure on him.

"You have better things to do than getting the felon who fucking robbed you in the airport arrested?"

Inspector Abbacchio had always taken great pride of his gut feeling - he knew for a fact that Holy Giovanna was nothing but trouble. And right now, he definitely knew that there was something wrong too with the dark-haired young man.

"Well..," stammered Guido. "Not when you put in that way but..."

The policeman cut him off:

"You'll have plenty of time to go for a walk and take pictures later. I guarantee you that Giovanna won't kindly agree to come back here tomorrow. "

Mista shot a glance at the thief who almost looked offended.

"Can't you keep him here tonight?," he tried his best to ignore the daggers he received from the two others. "And I'm not a dumb tourist!"

Mista immediately regretted what had just come out of his mouth.

"What are you, then?" - it was Giorno's voice. Fuck him.

Guido didn't know if the latter was really invested in the discussion or if he was just being used as a mere tool of diversion.

"Hey!, you don't get to ask me questions!"

"You're right, shut up," the Inspector glared at Giovanna. "But that's what I'm wondering too."

And that was it - his stupid loudmouth had once again gotten him into trouble.

"I live here."

Abbacchio was quick to retort:

"No, you're not. I don't know you."

"Well - I'm living here starting today. This is why I have to hurry to see if I can still crash at my friend's for the night. "

Guido cringed as he realized that he had probably over-shared but the policeman wasn't even listening to him anymore.

"You're moving in today - and all you bring with you is a suitcase?"

Abbacchio wasn't glaring at the thief anymore, he was glaring at him.

He seemed to had caught Giorno's curiosity too as he was also staring at Guido, eyebrows frowned.

Mista now knew for a fact that he was fucked.

"Open it."

**

Giorno Giovanna was once again the one who ended up breaking the silence - of course it had to be him. His voice was as calm as usual, it was as if he didn't know that everything that had happened up to that point was entirely his damn fault.

"I swear that I didn't know what was in there, Inspector."

Guido wanted to shot him a venomous glance but failed once he realized how intense Giorno's stare was on him.

Gosh - he almost blushed when he met those deep emerald eyes. What the hell? That guy was a criminal.

"Why do you have a gun with you? And why the fuck didn't the customs arrest you?"

The three of them had turned pale at the sight of the ancient pistol.

"Well... It's not really a gun," he felt obliged to justify himself. "It's more of an old family memento, you know?"

His argument didn't seem to win over his audience.

"I'm not even sure if it works for real. My bisnnono told my padre that he got it from his zio but we're kind of estranged from them now. But well, I guess it's still a very valuable family possession?"

Abbacchio was still glaring at him so he quickly added:

"And I have a permit for it. It's in the bag. I mean - that's where I put it this morning. But then this guy..."

He pointed at Giorno but stopped mid-track when he realized that the latter was smiling at him. What the hell was that for?

"I mean...," he tried his best to ignore his quickening pulse rate - what the hell? no matter how dazzling and cute that smile was he was still a con artist for fucks' sake - and continued. "Never mind, I'll go fetch it."

The policeman flinched but remembered that he had safely put the gun inside a drawer as soon as it was taken out the bag.

"Here, see?"

He didn't bother to look at the paper the brown-haired man was handing him and snatched it out of his hands to bury it in the same drawer as the gun.

"I'm still not giving it back to you today."

Mista nodded - well, that worked just fine for him.

At least he was sure that he wouldn't get arrested for possession of a prohibited weapon as soon as he'd get the hell out of this place.

"I'll see by myself if what you're saying is true," the Inspector was scowling at him with suspicion. If it was up to him, there was no doubt that he would've thrown them both in a cell long ago. "And I'll do a background check. Where do you come from?"

"Roma," Giorno stated matter-of-factly.

Why the hell did he have to butt in? They were not discussing his case, yet.

Abbacchio raised an eyebrow at that.

"And where precisely?"

Giorno shrugged and crossed his legs, the policeman took out his notebook and Guido grew even paler.

There it was.

"Rebibbia."

The two men immediately raised their heads and looked at him, eyes wide open.

"You were in jail?"

**

Guido Mista was a simple man. He liked to go out, listen to music and mess around with his friends.

But his life wasn't simple - he was a constant victim of bad luck.

For instance, if he hadn't met this Giovanna - if the thief had chosen another victim at the airport, then he wouldn't be here now, forced to explain what had went wrong in his life to complete strangers.

It seemed to him that he was always in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

That night, he had simply wanted to buy a bottle of Martini and had taken the wrong shortcut - he had instead got mixed up in a sorrowful event. Four assholes were assaulting a girl - all Roma must had heard her screams of terror, but Guido was the only one who had somehow managed to approach the crime scene. He didn't know any of them - and although he liked to fight from time to time, he was clearly no match for them. What he had intended to do was to call the Police but he hadn't been discreet enough. The abusers had then tried to silence him and he had ended up smashing his bottle onto their heads. It was thanks to the cutting glass of his Martini bottle that he was still alive and that the attackers and the victim had ended up in the hospital.

But one of them must have been somewhat relevant because Guido was the one who had been sentenced to four years of prison for assault. He had been released after only two months spent in jail when the victim had finally gathered enough courage the testify.

Mista had tried to be a good person in a rotten city. And it had not worked out for him.

That was why he had such high hopes and dreams for Napoli - the city where he had innocently spent the best vacations of his childhood.

But it was his first day here and he was already in trouble.

Guido scratched his cheek as he basically finished telling the story of his life. Well - he had now over-share for good, that was for sure.

How embarrassing.

The silence that followed his explanation was heavy.

To be fair - it was quite an astonishing story.

The two other men in the room probably didn't know what to answer yet so they remained silent. And skeptic.

Then, Giorno once again decided that it's been dramatic for enough time:

"I believe him."

That dear Giorno - finally someone who understood that he was just always incredibly out of luck. Mista could have almost cried with relief if he hadn't recalled that everything that was happening was because of him.

"How sweet of you Giovanna, but no one asked for your fucking opinion."

The brown-haired young man glared at the Inspector. Why was it so difficult to make him understand that he was the most honest and unlucky citizen?

"Just do your background check on me then. I told you the truth."

"I definitely will," Abbacchio lifted the tip of his pen. "In the mean time... I'll keep your id card as well as your passeport. Don't leave the city for now."

"I just told you that I'm literally moving here today. I don't plan on vanishing into thin air or anything."

"Well, one's never too careful."

Mista was pretty sure that it was meant as a cutting remark for the thief but Giorno remained utterly unbothered. He was playing with his expensive watchband instead.

"Well...," the policeman cleared his throat. "Moving on - let's talk about the case now."

Mista let himself fall back on the chair, hard. He couldn't believe it. Even after everything that had happened, the detective had his head screwed on right.

"I still really need to go. Can't you just..."

"Bullshit," Abbacchio scowled at him. "We could have been done by now if you hadn't boasted about your life. I've listened to your non-sense for over an hour."

"An hour?," Mista turned pale as Giorno reached out his arm to show him the dial of his wristwatch.

15:47.

Holy shit.

Forget about meeting up with Narancia - he needed to ensure he still had a job now.

"Okay," the dark-haired man rose to his feet. "That's enough. I can't miss the job interview on top on everything. I still have rights, no? I really need to go."

Abbacchio's scowl was no longer having any effect on him.

Fuck him.

"You can't - if you go now, Giovanna's going out too."

Giorno was looking at him with interest.

Well - fuck him too.

"I don't care - I'm dropping the charges, okay? It was a misunderstanding 'cause we have the same suitcase." The look of surprise on Giorno's face was for once genuine. "And if you care that much about the tourists' safety.. Just reinforce the damn airport's security. That’s not my problem!"

If one look could kill, Mista would have never had the further opportunity to settle in Napoli. But it seemed that Abbacchio, for once, couldn't think of a clap back.

It wasn't as if he could handcuff him to the desk and force him to sign the complaint. Unfortunately.

The policeman looked in considerable detail at the punk who was already standing up, smoothing the creases of his pants, and the supposed victim, glaring at him.

"A job interview you say? Who could be dumb enough to employ you?"

It was Abbacchio's turn to grow pale.

**

Il Libeccio Ristaurante.

Your traditional family restaurant located in the midst of downtown Napoli. When his friend (and hopefully future roomie) had told him about the opportunity, Mista had hurriedly tried to find out more on the internet. And the Libeccio was the kind of restaurant which only had four or five star reviews.

He had contacted two weeks ago the owner - a welcoming man, who hadn't paid any attention to his police record and had offered him an interview followed by a trial period.

Today at 2pm. So he'd had the time to brief him for dinner-the rush hour.

It was past four o'clock when Mista passed the doorstep of the restaurant, followed by the grumpy policeman who had furiously insisted on escorting him.

Everything was just fucking great.

They were welcomed by a dark-haired man wearing a chef's hat and apron - and fuck, Mista immediately recognized the voice he had spoken to over the phone.

Shit - he wasn't expecting to have to face him so soon.

"Hmm, hi," he bowed his head sheepishly. "I'm Guido, Narancia's friend. I'm sorry I know we were supposed to meet earlier but so many things happened. I...-"

The Inspector behind him grunted and Mista understood that he'd better not start telling the story of his life all over again.

The chef looked at him inquisitively for a moment before addressing the policeman:

"I wasn't expecting to see you this afternoon, Leone. How did you meet the newest member of my staff?"

A sigh of relief escaped from his lips when he heard the words of his superior. God bless this man.

"It’s a long story," Abbacchio sighed and loosened up the collar of his uniform before approaching Bruno Buccellati. "Why do you keep on hiring people with that much issues?"

"He's a family friend."

The grey-haired man rolled his eyes - there was no way that Ghirga troublesome kid was family, even though he had to admit his shenanigans were as absurd as sometimes hysterical.

The chief turned to Mista and smiled warmly, as if he exactly knew how much of a tyrant Abbacchio was to anyone but him.

"Please don't mind what Leone had said. Napoli can really be impressive so I understand it took you time to find the place. Shall we start by a tour of the kitchen?"

"Yeah! Uhh, I mean, yes please. And thank you so much for disregarding how I was late and stuff."

Bruno nodded and motioned for Mista to follow him, but as they were leaving the entrance, the Inspector grumbled something about "fishy tourist" and the chef turned to face him.

"You seem awfully tensed today tresore mio. I'll help you relax."

Guido tensed as it suddenly came down to him that the reason why the police officer had been so adamant in following him there wasn't for the restaurant in itself.

And that was just an innuendo, wasn't it?

"I'm still on duty you know that."

Abbacchio's voice was gruff, but he still took place at the nearest table.

"I'm not offering you a drink, but some dessert. And why don't you take care of Guido's suitcase? Put it in the locker-room. "

**

Mista couldn't believe how lucky he was.

He was getting on very well with his boss (that man was a saint), the staff was welcoming and no one had commented on his sweater that definitely didn't respect the dress-code. God - they had even offered him the most delicious brushetta he had ever eaten when his stomach had growled in hunger and embarrassment.

Mista was now officially on trial until the end of the week - and it already felt like his future was so much brighter.

Luck seemed to be finally turning in his favor.

Once the tour was over and after he had taken the time to run water over his face and put on the waiter's uniform, the brown haired man was surprised to see that Abbacchio was still in the restaurant, savoring his pannacotta.

The doorbell suddenly rang and Guido almost fainted when he saw who had just appeared.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing here, Giovanna?" the policeman roared.

His exact thoughts.

**

18:24.

The waiter sent a hesitant look to the client who was reading the menu with attention. He still couldn't believe what was happening - just why was he here? Why was fate so keen on playing pranks on him? The blond man suddenly closed the card, ready to order. He swept the room with his emerald eyes until they landed on Guido.

And Giorno then had to audacity to wave.

There was no way he was going to serve that thief. Someone else would have to.

Mista promptly looked away in annoyance and went in search of a coworker to dump Giorno to. He might be the newbie there, the other waiters seemed cool enough to help. Unfortunately for Guido, the first person he came across was Buccellati coming back from the outside with a box of free vegetables.

"Need a hand chef?"

Bruno shook his hand gently. "No, thank you I'll be fine. Why don't you go attend to that customer instead? It seems like he's been waiting."

Shit. There was no way he could refuse. Mista had just managed to convince him to take him for a trial period - he couldn't let him down.

"Uh, sure," he screeched his cheek. "I'll go right now."

And there he was - serving the damn crook with whom he had spent half of the afternoon in the commissary.

"I'm glad you got the job." Giorno smiled at him, he almost looked sincere.

But Guido now knew better.

"It's not thanks no you. Why are you here?"

The blond man seemed surprised by the question.

"I was starving, I had an exhausting day.."

Mista clenched his fist and Giorno took notice of that.

"Fine, I was starving and I wanted to piss Abbacchio off."

The waiter was about to comment on how he was seriously pissing him off too when the thief motioned discreetly in the direction where his boss was standing. Buccellati was watching from afar his exchange with Giorno - and he was frowning. Crap.

There was no way he could let this saint man down, no matter how much it was costing him to serve the blonde.

It was some sort of divine test.

"So...,", he took his notebook out. "What would you like to order, sir?"

Giorno smirked but - thanks god - he didn't try to push his luck. He ordered a Caesar salad and the waiter returned to the kitchen with the promise of being back very soon.

**

The charming thief thanked him politely when he put the plate on the table, but if he was expecting Guido to wish him buon appetito, he was wrong.

"Don't you even think about stealing something."

It was a serious warning, he really needed the job but the blond rolled his eyes to heaven:

"Well what would you like me to steal? The knife? The chili sauce?"

Mista instantly removed the red bottle and put it in his uniform's pocket.

"And what if I want some hot sauce now?", Giorno's voice sounded annoyed and offended.

But how could you blame Mista for being careful?

"Spicy food is bad for the health so just eat your damn salad!"

Hell, in that moment Mista would have loved for Abbacchio to have stayed - the latter would not have let the thief out of his sight and Mista could have peacefully attend to the other table. But the Inspector had reluctantly agreed to return to the police station once Buccellati had intervened, not appreciating the fact that he was visibly trying to scare off one of his customers.

God - why did they have to make so painfully obvious who wore the pants in their relationship?

Anyway, all he had to do now was to ensure nothing would go wrong again because of Giorno.

Therefore, he had to place the other clients as far as he could from the thief's table.

**

Giorno only noticed the fact that he was being isolated when the third couple was sent off to the other corner of the room. Despite their plea to be near the window.

He stared icily at the waiter who grinned at him in return.

**

Guido was loving this job - he knew he was real good at it. It wasn't his first time as a waiter, and his performance (as the tips were demonstrating) had always pleased his employers. He was quick, remembered easily what today's special was and what was on the menu - and he was a smooth talker.

The old grannies, the hipsters, the teenagers who enjoyed music and tv shows, the impressionable timid girls - hell, even those who needed help on their first date: the brown-haired man knew how to get on anyone's good side very quickly.

The pretty brunette let out a chuckle as Guido wished her to enjoy her meal, bella.

It would be a lie to pretend that his looks weren't helping him with his work. Or with girls. And boys.

Mista shot a quick look at the blond thief.

Giorno huffed and glared at him.

**

The Libeccio wasn't that big so the thief ended up having company anyway. Mista was about to ask the two girls of the table near if they had decided what to order when he overheard their conversation.

"I hadn't seen him since High School but wow, Giogio looks as cool as ever."

'Giogio'? What a cute nickname. He was certain the blond man hated it with passion.

But 'cool'?

Mista took the time to recall the long eyelashes, the faint fragrance of lavender and the slender silhouette of the crook.

Nah - he wasn't cool, but more like really pretty.

The waiter felt his cheeks reddened when Giorno raised a delicate eyebrow at him. Shit, he had been caught staring.

He cleared his throat and walked to the blond's, faking sudden mistrust.

"Do you really need the little spoon for your salad?"

Giorno Giovanna might be absolutely charming, he was still a sneaky thief. God knew what he was planning to do next.

And there was no way Mista would fall for that act.

"I will need it for my dessert," said Giogio. "Because I'll take a scoop of chocolate ice-cream."

Guido took out the note-book to take his order but the pickpocket cut him off:

"Once I'll be done with my salad."

And he sure was taking his sweet, sweet time.

**

Giorno ended up paying for his meal twenty minutes after. He used his card and took a small minty candy from the box on the counter. Mista cleared his throat and politely opened and hold the door for him. In the end, the blond had nothing funny - he guessed that he was truly hungry after all.

And then, he felt it.

A very light touch on his back-pocket.

He fucking knew it: that guy was a restless criminal.

He wasn't going to fall for it a second time. "You!," he roared as he realized that... His phone was still in there.

"It was delicious, thank you," Giorno was now whispering. "I left a tip under the napkin."

The blond man winked at him and then he was gone.

**

Mista didn't rush immediately to the now vacant seat of the blond, no. It would have make him way too happy.

He managed to wait for two minutes before clearing his table and discovering...

A ten-euro bill, and nothing more.

He checked around the table, but that was it. Nothing else.

And the little spoon was still there.

Well - it wasn't as if he was really expecting to find his phone number.

**

It was way past midnight when Mista finally managed to throw himself on Narancia's sofa bed - he sighed happily. It had been a long day, filled with unexpected twists and emotions but he had made it - he was in Napoli. He had a job, Narancia was way too happy to have someone to share domestic chores with and he was even already starting to make new friends.

His team had invited him for a drink at the end of his shift and Guido had gladly accepted a few rounds of tequila.

His phone vibrated and Guido smiled and stretched out his arm. It must be Buccellati, his new boss, who he had found out earlier could be a real mama bear and had asked him to send a message once he'd get home safely.

But it certainly wasn't him.

What the hell?

Mista quickly opened the conversation he didn't know even exist between him and a certain "Giorno G."

How...?

Guido realized that he had sent (or rather that someone had sent for him) a picture to this number earlier. He almost chocked when he saw the selfie of the blond man taken in (he recognized the curtains) the restaurant.

When exactly had he managed to do that?

The waiter had kept him under close surveillance all the time.

The message he had just received was another photo - it was a very familiar bottle of chili sauce.

His phone vibrated again but this time it was a text:

"I knew you wouldn't notice."

Guido opened up his new contact info and saw that the thief had even taken the time to sent another selfie as his profile picture.

He replied to Giorno without thinking:

"why, just why??"

Giovanna almost immediately texted back.

"You seem like a lot of fun to be around."

"you fucking tried to rob me?!!!"

"You're too easy to fool Guido."

Well, he was right about that.

"Thanks for not pressing charges, I really appreciate it."

Mista paused for a moment and wondered whereas he was really texting a thief. And why he was doing that.

What the hell was happening to him?

"well, you returned my stuff and the situation was messy enough"

"and i still nailed the interview so"

"I'm glad you got the job."

"you already said it"

"I mean it."

Embarrassed, the waiter took another sip of beer. He and Narancia had also wanted to celebrate their newfound roomie situation once he'd gotten home.

"The chef is really good. I might go visit the restaurant again."

"you should, you're a good tipper"

"And you're okay as a waiter."

Mista giggled at that.

"u know i'm the best"

"I wonder what makes you think so."

Guido knew for a fact that he was drunk - there was no way he would ever text that to a thief if he was sober.

No way.

"well i always know what's on the menu"

"and next time, it'll be me-n-u"

Despite his state of drunkenness, Mista still cringed hard (very hard) at his joke.

And the fact that Giorno was taking what felt like hours to answer was making it even worse.

"Ahahah."

...

Well - maybe the blond was drunk too.

Or maybe (just maybe) he somehow enjoyed his pathetic attempt at flirting?

Mista nearly chocked on his drink - god, no.

There was no way he was really trying to flirt with that crook.

"There's something I'm wondering."

"?"

"The gun really doesn't work?"

"i dunno, i never actually try to put bullets on"

"why? are you into gangster and stuff"

"Ahah, I was just curious."

He still didn’t answer Mista’s question.

"wait, i should be the one worrying"

"Why do you say that?"

Mista hesitated one last moment before sending the message.

Fuck it - he had the excuse of being drunk.

"'cause you have to be on the fbi's most wanted list, it's illegal to look this gopd"

"good*"

"Thank you Guido."

The waiter raised an eyebrow, baffled.

Okay, it wasn't really the kind of response he was expecting.

"You're quite handsome yourself."

Mista started giggling again. Louder this time, because Narancia actually came out of his room to see if he was okay.

Of course not.

He was shamelessly flirting with the guy who had stolen his fucking bag at the airport twelve years ago.

"ya know, you r definitly on top of my to do list too"

The euphoria subsisted almost as soon as he sent the message.

What the fuck was he saying?

"uhhh"

Giorno was now taking his time to answer - it was a classic Mista move: ruining everything by being too much, straight away.

"sry, too soon?"

"No, it's fine. I just didn't know what to say."

Guido let out a sigh.

"sorry im a bit drunk"

"and often awkward"

Thinking about how much he had overshared in the police station was making him want to down another bottle.

"You're not. I think you're funny."

Oh caro, precioso Giorno - that guy really had to be send from heaven.

"I think I'll definitely go back to the restaurant now."

Guido found himself grinning like a moron at his phone.

Shit - he had to think of a witty come-back.

"well as long as u dont try to steal from me again i guess its ok"

"Aside from your heart? Nothing more, I swear."

...

"Gosh, sorry I'm so bad at it..."

Guido was at loss of words.

He couldn't wait to try all of his thief-themed pick up lines on him.

[lovelyparkers]

hard as nails (1)

hi hi 50k special!! this is gonna be either two or three parts and it's a lot different from what i've written before but i think y'all are gonna like this anyways so... i hope y'all do enjoy this

summary: being a teenage vigilante can be fun, especially when you're on the bad side and spider-man is your nemesis. 2k words

warnings: swearing, reader is a saucy and spicy little villain, peter is a blushing mess sometimes, angst, fight scenes!! violence!

you never expected to get in the way of queens well renowned hero—spider-man. that is until you had to relocate to queens from the bronx. it was...definitely a change from all aspects. your dad moved out with you, wanting a better place to go to school for you, since you had been leaving home very often for...you know, villainous duties. yet you were an extraordinary student, which led to you being enrolled in midtown school of science and technology. as well as having to scope out queens at night and having several run ins with the spider-man.

the worst part, you know you went to school with the masked hero because you frequently saw him entering the roof of the school in his suit. now you, you were way more careful and you worked alone, besides for a woman in her 30's who had taken you under her wing, trained you, and demanded you commit crimes for her and for yourself. she was the base operation and you did everything she asked, even when you moved, she moved. you were like her little goon. you excelled in combat and had unusually incredible strength due to being caught up between some dangerous radioactive weaponry in your sophomore year back in the bronx. you began junior year at midtown in queens, you made some friends, but knew to keep your distance. spider-man had become your main and pretty much only focus since you arrived. you know what they say, keep your friends close but your enemies closer.

you didn't want to hurt or kill spider-man, you just wanted to make his life absolutely miserable. that's how you worked, manipulate and mess with, not murder. you stole pretty much anything you could get your hands on because well, you were broke. you beat people up, robbed stores, manipulated civilians, and threatened people. yeah. your dad could barely afford meals for you both and lived in a very rusty apartment. but hey that's life and you were making it through. well, illegally. you told your dad you got a job at night in queens when you began showing up with money and clothes and food and god knows what else. it was a perfect alibi for a father who really didn't even give a shit.

and this spider-man, oh this lovely beautiful boy, was getting in your way. you were just trying to survive right? that and doing things for this mystery woman. and gosh did you want to find out who was behind the mask. it was obviously a boy your age. every night you tried to find him, meet up with him, talk and find out about him and of course, fight each other. he never hurt you though and you knew he had a soft spot for you. maybe it was your flirty nature.

and now you were on a rooftop at midnight, sitting with your nemesis.

"violet," spider-man called out, "nice to see you again."

your 'villain' name was violet because of the violet mask you bought from party city awhile ago. it was...fitting. and a pretty name that sounded so good coming from his mouth. you may have had a little tiny teeny crush on him. he looked fantastic in that suit and imagined what was underneath. little did you know he did the same about you. black leather pants and a black and violet zip up top matching your mask.

"hey spidey! catch any criminals tonight?" you asked.

"mmm none yet because you're out here."

"awe baby am i distracting you?" you walked over to him, close enough for him to rip off your mask.

"kinda," he replied, masked eyes slanting down.

"well tell me about yourself before you get in my pants. who is spider-man."

"wouldn't you like to know. is violet your real name?"

you scoffed, "do you think i'm dumb?"

"no i just- no."

you took your hand bringing it up to lay on his shoulder and slowly and teasingly dragged it over his abs.

"you're really ripped babe."

"don't babe me, you know i can take you."

"oh so you think you can take me? what about that one time i had you pinned down outside your school."

"how do you know i go to midtown," he asked in a panic.

"i knew it! so you do go there! i've seen you entering through the roof. watch yourself."

he grabbed your hand, locking it with his own. he stared at your signature red nail polish which made his head run wild.

"i've got you now. you watch yourself."

you twisted your wrist and swept a leg under his causing him to fall, but he caught you and brought you down with him. you fell on top of him with a groan.

"damn spidey. getting right into it are we?"

"shut up," he said and rolled over so he now had you pinned down on the roof.

he twisted his head at you, eyes focused on your face and you neatly done hair in two dutch braids. you noticed his distracted state and smirked pushing him over so now you straddled his waist and pinned his arms to the roof. just like before.

"still distracted i see?"

"well i cant help it sometimes. even though i'm supposed to hate you."

"awe spidey. you're so sweet. but you know i'm not gonna let you go."

you leaned down into him to whisper in his ear, "you're too pretty underneath me."

he strained his neck back, melting because of you, "stop," he demanded.

"no," you said jokingly then pressed a kiss on the cheek of his mask. you didn't know it but the boy was blushing underneath. you got up and let him get up to follow you. you walked to the other side of the roof, showing off your hips.

"don't get into any trouble tonight, whatever your name really is."

"sure thing babe."

he jumped off the roof backwards, watching you then swinging away.

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you arrived to school the next day with a little more intuition about the masked hero. his voice was distinct. it was higher than most boys, and you doubted he used a voice changer because it would have that staticky feedback. and you swore you had heard that voice somewhere, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

"hey y/n," peter parker, you chem lab partner said smiling and sitting down next to you.

you hesitated, "hi...peter."

you gave you a confused smile and opened his books.

you think you have your guy. huh. easy as that. you tapped your red nails on the desk.

you scribbled up a note to spider-man and well, peter. after lab and working closer with peter, you realized his demeanour and actions were very similar to spidey, further proving your hypothesis. you followed him to his locker, close behind him, and waited by a water fountain till he left his locker, then slipped the note in.

at the end of the day peter headed to his locker, opening it when a note fell out. he picked it up and looked around the hall. the note read:

hi spidey. i know it's you. and gosh it's about time. meet me on top of the tall apartment complex on grand central parkway tonight at 9. thanks petey xoxo, violet

it was written in purple ink and adorned with a red heart next to your name. oh shit. he was fucked.

when peter got home he was panicking. this villain went to school with him. a literal manipulative villain. and you were his age! he wondered if he knew you. you obviously knew him.

————————

peter showed up to the spot at exactly 9 pm to find you in your suit. upon his impact, you jumped up, running to greet him.

"oh peter! you made it. i'm so glad because i—"

he grabbed both of your wrists tightly and put his face in yours, "how? how did you find out."

you gulped, "you're not a very careful person peter."

he ripped off his mask, there was no point.

"look at me," he demanded and you gladly did. you bit your lip at the sight of his messy brown locks and stern brown eyes. was he always this hot when he was angry?

"you can't tell anyone. and i know that won't stop you, but guess what? every time we hang out and fight and you flirt or whatever, i could easily rip off that mask, what, is it from the dollar store? or—"

"party city," you cut him off.

"stop! listen to me! i could've easily ripped off your mask at any time. but i don't. i never do. you know why? because you're different. your funny and you don't actually hurt me but i have to stop you because you hurt others. and-and you're so cool but you're a villain. and you're really pretty even though i can barely see your face and...yeah. now that i know you go to my school, i know you're someone like me. you're just a troubled kid who got caught up in the wrong crowd. but you're the bad one. and i'm sorry and i like spending time with you but you can't do this to me."

you gulped again, looking down at your feet. you could tell he meant what he said. and like you had always promised, you never wanted to deliberately hurt spider-man. or peter.

"i-i'm so sorry. i shouldn't have—i'm sorry."

"it's okay, just promise me you won't tell."

you reached your hand up to touch his cheek, red nails stroking his skin, "i promise."

"thank you."

"i should go. i'm sorry peter."

you hopped off the roof and he watched you leave. you had to go meet up with your head lady who was named daria. she told you to expose spider-man and get him off your radar, but you made a promise and now you were kinda scared.

"so, did you find him?" daria asked.

you hesitated, "no, not exactly."

she walked over to you and slapped you across the face.

"i'm disappointed in you. you find him or else i cant deal with you anymore."

you just stood there.

"say something!"

"i cant find him," you lied, "it's impossible."

"you're lying. i know you are boyfriend girlfriend with him. it's all over the news. you get him tomorrow night. nothing more."

"yes daria."

you left her shady apartment and headed straight home, done for the night. she genuinely scared you and you were worried she was going to kill you if you didn't turn peter in. but you couldn't do that to him? could you?

the next morning during chem lab you were late. you joined peter at your table. you had a wicked purple and yellow bruise on your face, which peter took notice of. it was from daria.

"y/n oh my god, are you okay?" he asked pointing to your face.

"'m fine," you replied covering the bruise with your hand. peter watched your fingers cover the bruise. your painted, red, fingernails.