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kanene-yaaay · 4 years ago

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Tickle me, princey

Kanene’s note: This fic is basically: Virgil is a bratty Lee, Roman is a competitive Ler and none of them are going down without a fight xDD.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Lee!Virgil and Ler!Roman (Kind of. Because there is almost no tickles here, just teasing). Human AU.

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* This have about 2.500 words of Roman and Virgil just being teasy beans. ‘w’)b.

* PLEASE CHECK THIS AMAZING ART! IT’S INCREDIBLEE! <33

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! I didn’t proofread that one very well, so I will probably be correcting a few things later. Any advice is always very, very welcome!

* A versão em português brasileiro irá ser escrita, ainda. Eu espero! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Do something crazy today, take a good rest, be kind (especially with yourself) and drink water! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Roman cleaned his hands on his jeans before stretching his back and sighing in relief when a small ‘pop’ came from it. The pal from the nearby library was a cool person – not that he would ever allow the other to hear this, because, damn, people who called Roman cocky definitely haven’t met them yet – but equally precise in get on his nerves with as few words as possible, even though the florist didn’t care that much as his dramatics discourses tried to convince everyone he did.

Besides that, they was Patton’s friend and even more important, they made an accord with the Flower Shop’s owner and Roman was the one in charge to deliver their biweekly floral arrangement to the library’s decór. However, today Roman managed to win their discussion and therefore a couple of podcast episodes read by them (What? Their voice was quite nice!!).

Roman ignored the small ring of the door’s bell as he entered the Flower Shop, looking around to be sure there was no clients before taking his position behind the balcony, internally thanking how chill Patton was with his employees using phone during the shift as long there wasn’t no one near, especially as he unlocked his screen and a new notification popped in front of him.

Butterflies went immediately crazy on his stomach.

[Message from Panic! At Everywhere]

[P: Hey. So, are you still ok?]

Virgil kicked his blanket out of his bed, already feeling a tad of giddiness spread across his body, a small smirk finding its way to his face without him even realizing. Today was the day. Since when he and Roman talked on the last week about boundaries to be sure nothing had changed and decided Saturday as a good day for their session the one with purple hair couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander, picturing and re-picturing what would happen, even though Roman always insisted to never tell him his plans, wanting to keep everything as a surprise, which definitely didn’t help at all the excitement running on his veins.

Their session.

Their tickle session. It was only eleven in the morning and Virgil could already feel his skin tingle just by imagine Roman’s fingers grazing, dancing on it, carefully looking for all his weak spots both knew so well before coming with an entire new technique that would make the other (almost, barely, hardly) want to jump out of his skin so he could escape from the maddening tickly sensation.

He was going to love it.

Also, it didn’t help that he spent the previous night and its following morning consuming all his favorite tickle content, dying on the spot (and on the reblogs) and skyrocketing his lee mood to the mountains.

Nevertheless, he tried to play nonchalant as answered the other’s new message.

[Message from Dumb(o)]

[D: Yes.]

[P: Cool.]

[D: You?]

[P: Yep.]

[D: Glad to know, Blushy Bug. Try to not alarm all of our neighborhood with your squeals and giggles before I get there, okay? ~

D: And yeah, plu-e-ase, continue with your so delightful tags on your reblogs, okay, Tickle me Emo? I’m learning so much new information with that. If only I would have an opportunity to use all of them today…]

Virgil snorted, one hand trying to hide his face as he attempted with all his might to ignore the flames taking over his cheeks as the teases sank and the memories from the day he conquered this nickname emerged from the deeps of his mind. So, Princey was already so over his head with being the ler this time? Thinking Virgil would be hiding his face on the pillow, squeaking and tittering helpless? Well, he would have a big storm coming, then.

Virgil got up, his footsteps leading him to the clean desk in the room, moving some of the objects so carefully chosen in order to get the perfect picture. Every single makeup brush lined, gleaming under the lens of his camera, away enough so the viewer would be able to realize all their individualities but close enough to create an impact.

Two can play this game.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent an image]

Roman clicked on it, eyes going immediately wide as he quickly slammed the cellphone’s screen on his red apron, his gaze running from a place to another to be sure no one was near or had seen the conversation or noticed the way his smile went from an ear to another.

[P: Nah. I’m too occupied choosing the perfect tools for today… I mean, there are just so many options, ya know? I especially prefer the smallest ones, their bristles softly running on my ribs, tracing their way across my tummy to get to the other side… yeah. That is the good stuff. Or maybe we could be experimenting the biggest ones today, letting them tease that spot right under my chin, the softness engulfing all the nerves… ]

Roman took a deep breath, realizing the other still typing.

[P: Anyway, don’t make a big deal of this, ‘kay? I know your imagination can be very fertile but try to not alert Patton with all your blush and twitching. You know he is a curious guy and will want to know why you’re so smiley. ;)]

“Pai amado, (Dear God) he is going to kill me.” Roman crossed his arms, using all his will to no start wiggling them to nothing, a sudden urge to sing some nursery rhymes making him begin to humming quietly as attempted to gather enough concentration to type a proper, cool reply.

[D: Is that so? So, the big, badass Virgil Storm is excited to get all his tickly-tickle-tickles today? Is he excited to become a so helpless, so adorable mess of giggles and squeaks? To be teased and tickled until he can do nothing but give me those lovely snorts and wiggly-wiggles? ~

Awww. So cute. ~]

[P: Yeah, I am. So what? Wanna do something about that, Sir Sing a Lot?

Ops, I forgot you’re at work rn. Tsc. Such a pity. Well, guess I will have to kill some time by looking at your precious collection of feathers, see if I find something interesting there.]

[D: You just wait for when I get home.]

[P: :)]

Virgil laid his phone at his side, hiding his face on the mattress, kicking just like he was some teenager in love from those generic movies. The squeals bubbled out from his lips, smiles blooming. He knew he probably was just digging his own grave, but, ha, as if he would fall without a fight. Plus, imagining Roman trying at every cost to keep a straight expression while reading his texts and then struggling to continue his work just as if nothing had happened, with that cute, excited smile planted on his face made a proud wave of power – and joy - hit him and that was a bonus which was worth it.

Then his phone vibrated, indicating a new notification and a new flood of shivers as he unlocked his screen, freezing for a couple of heartbeats with the length of the message.

[D: A poem for my dear Knightmare. ~

Once upon a time

There was a wiggley-wiggly lee

That just a few pokes

Made him giggle with glee

Some scribbles here

Some scratches there

You can tickle-tickle

He is ticklish everywhere!

What, you don’t believe me?

‘That much cute he can’t be!’

Well, then allow me to demonstrate

All the beautiful sounds he can create!

Give a few prodding on his ribs

And a quick digging on his hips

Some brushes on his toesies and feet

And don’t forget about these helpless pits!

(And hey, psst, if you squeeze his sides

The cutie, squeaky, wiggly lee,

Will be squealing in a happy delight)

This neck is also asking for tickly-kisses

He always denies, always desire

Add to that some teasy whispers

And watch his cheeks be set on fire!

Once upon a time

There was a bratty, smug lee

That just a few tickle teases

Can make him a blushy mess

Just like now, you see!]

[…]

“Have a nice day. Thank you for coming!”

Roman waved to the client who got out from the Flower Shop, taming the smugness which threatened to take over his features as he realized that even though an hour had passed, no answer to his last text had arrived yet. He was perfectly aware of how weak Virgil was for any sort of rhymed tease and a whole poem – not his best, he had to admit – dedicated to him? He could almost see the other shrieking, hiding his red face on the pillow, lost in a mess of quiet peals of laughter and curses. His smile got even bigger, swelled in pride. And, well, if he couldn’t help it but push his luck a few inches further, his fingers already halfway to typing a small, itsy bitsy, new tease to his favorite emo lee, how could someone really blame him?

[D: Oh, sorry. Did I make the scary Virgil too much flustered to talk? Awww, I will miss your sassy remarks deeply and sing a ballad in your honor at the funeral. ~]

He snorted at the amount of time the symbol of ‘typing’ appeared and disappeared on the conversation, using the ten minutes he took to be answered to organize a few sales signs on the glass in front of the store, gaining a dance on his step as the one-worded sentence shone on his phone.

[P: Bitch.]

[D: I have no idea of what you’re talking about. Is that something I said? I feel wounded.]

But a new thing popped up.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent a video]

[P: :)]

It seemed like hours passed, even if he knew the downloading probably didn’t really take more than a few pieces of minute for him to hit the play.

The focus of the camera took a few seconds to adjust, the image trembling and shaking before going still, the crystal clear form of a small light brown, slightly spiked feather twirling between Virgil’s index and thumb locking his eyes on the screen. A quick, quiet sigh could be heard before the tickle tool descended to the palm extended on a desk, stopping by Virgil’s pulse.

The bristles grazed the skin there as the feather began to move on slow strokes, going from the left to the right, left and right, left and right… calmly making its way up, changing to small swirls as it contorted the form of the hand, giving to each finger a light tracing before concentrating on the palm, drawing a spiral which approximated inch by inch to the center. If Roman wasn’t so quiet, - even holding his breath, - maybe he wouldn’t be able to listen the incredibly low, contained huffs of laughter on the background, a soft snort escaping and making both hands tremble as the bristles hit the center of his hand, dancing around the spot for a bit.

When it stopped, the tool was placed on the desk and then the camera started to move, stopping on Roman’s so very well-known golden with silver details box. Its lid laid next to it, letting its entire content to be proudly shown. The explosion of colors from the most diverse large, small, pointy, fluffy feathers took over the frame, however, a tiny piece of paper placed on the exact center of them was what captured his attention. The lens zoomed and focused, making him able to read the quick message written there.

“:)”

And then the screen went black. The video was over.

Roman could feel his face being almost split in half by his grin, his fingers hitting the table top in complete frenzy since they hadn’t to hold the device anymore, curling and uncurling as the one who couldn’t just stay still started to bounce his right leg, ignoring the redness he felt crippling down his neck.

“Roman?”

He fully shrieked. Both him and Patton startled and jumped a few centimeters in the air with the sudden sound. The florist slapping his own hand on his mouth, trying with all his inner strength to stop the bubbly giggles which flooded non stop from his lips

“Sorry for the scare, kiddo,” the shine on his eyes free of any guilt as Patton bit his own knuckles proved the contrary, especially when the rest of an awed squeal escaped from his lips, only making the other to giggle harder, eyes closed, blush deepening and nose scrunched. “Aww, your giggles are so cute!”

“Shuhuhush!!” The Flower Shop owner just smiled fondly, withholding his comments and patiently waiting for the other to recompose himself. When Roman looked at least a tad calmer he decided to make his decision to talk to him clear.

“I’m glad you’re in a good mood, Ro! I just wanted to remember today’s shift is already over. I need a bit of time to organize everything before the painter comes so we can discuss the new design of the Flower Shop. Thank you so much for the ideas, by the way! I can’t wait for you all to see the result! It will be so pretty!!” Roman’s wide eyes were enough of an explanation of why he wasn’t ready to go yet, probably having forgotten about their last month conversation. Although, the surprised look was away in an instant, a shine taking over his glare before he softened, locking his eyes with Patton.

“Of course, it will be, Patty-cake! With my magnificent ideas and your good taste, I really don’t think any other result besides wonderful and perfection will be possible!” He squeezed Patton’s cheeks and his friend stuck out his tongue at him, winning a quick poke on his ribs that made him squirms and yelp, quickly tittering and waving the other with his hands.

“Now shoo-shoo, go enjoy your afternoon!”

A devious smirk gleamed on Roman’s expression for a second. “You can count on it, Padre.” But then it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Thank you, my mighty hero in a shiny armor! May the universe let our destiny align again in the future.”

“See ya, kiddo!” He replied, his tune also full of joy, watching the one with red hair going away, a happy bounce on his steps.

[…]

Virgil picked the phone in the first ring. “Roman, something happened?”

“Nope,” the purple lover sighed in relief, all the tension getting out of his body and being replaced by confusion, “nothing happened except that a handsome, incredible someone got out from his work earlier than expected and might be heading his home by now.”

That made Virgil shot up, biting his lower lip, butterflies freaking out. “No.” It was his whisper.

“Oh, yes. ~” Roman practically purred on the speaker. “any last words, my dear, defenseless Giggly Storm?”

Virgil just giggled and Roman had almost forgotten how that sound only was enough to spread an explosion of a warm, good feeling on his chest. “Aw, and here I was thinking I would have at least some challenge today. ~” He continued to tease.

Silence.

“Go check your messages, Princeypie.”

And then he hung up. Roman fondly rolled his eyes, running to check the new notification on their conversation.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent a photo]

It was Virgil, sitting on his bed criss crossed, one elbow resting on his thigh as he took the picture on the body mirror on the other side of the room, a strong blush very visible on his face half hidden by the device, wearing a short and Roman’s red crop top. A new message popped right under the photo.

[P: Get your butt here and tickle me, Sir Sing a Lot.’]

This emo was going to be the death of him.

[D: Aww, I don’t even get a smile?]

[P: You gotta work for those, Princey.]

Virgil definitely did not jump nor yelp as he heard the low, dangerous tune of an “evil” laughter echoes in the house coming from the living room, the sound of the front door being closed making his flight instincts kick in.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Virgil was already halfway to the most far away room where he could escape, trying to keep his reputation as he heard another set of footsteps quickly getting ground and following right behind him. Laughter and squeaks mixed in the air.

“Because I will.” Roman answered.

#Very teasy #Teases #Lee!Virgil #Ler!Roman #Virgil is a brat and Roman is one as well #Ticklish!Virgil #Sanders Sides tickles #Sanders Sides tickling #Kanene's Fanfic #Kanene's Art #Kanene's fic #Brief self tickles #Feathers #blushy bois #Writing this kind of fic is very fun and sdfghertcvgbhn kind of silly as well #Virgil: Tickle me// Roman: Okay// Virgil: *NYOOOM*#I still don't know how to tag this dfghjsdfghdcf #I feel like my writing is a bit weird nowdays but yeah I'm still proud of this!

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softer-ua · 4 years ago

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I have no idea what Bakugou would have done if Izuku died in the sludge Villain accident. They had a lot of strong unresolved emotions, I just can't fully visualize it, the only thing I have clear is him trying to latch onto anger, but that would burn out fast because the Villian was trapped and the heroes did their thing (Winning, which at that point he believed everything was) so I don't know what would he do. Sooo...could you please give us your insight? Please :D

I’d love to give my insight! Thank you for asking!!!🥰

It would depend on which sludge incident, the one where Deku ran to save Katsuki or the one where Deku was on his own? 🤔 I’ve got ideas on both lol

Buckle up this is gonna be a long one, and it’s not a fun ride

For the first I think Katsuki would latch onto anger and be a self hating righteous little monster for the rest of eternity. Because obviously he’s never getting therapy.

If he can blame himself for AM’s retirement and his parents can blame him for getting kidnapped than I have zero doubt the Entire Bakugo family would blame Katsuki for Dekus death. That family loves to victim blame, and Mitsuki would have a field day with chart topping world’s lowest blows like

If Katsuki hadn’t been hanging out in an alley and had gone straight home the villain wouldn’t have got him

If Katsuki hadn’t just been randomly blasting the heros wouldn’t have had to divert their attention to the fire

If Katsuki hadn’t been so weak(what’s the point of that flashy quirk if you can’t even save yourself)

Going with him to make him apologize to Inko (trying to imagine this feels like my brains touching a hot stove, it would be a thousand times more horrible and scarring than being forced to apologize to his Idol and teach for being kidnapped)

If hs Katsuki didn’t have the tools to block out his mother and broke down over a 50 year old man retiring, then poor ms Katsuki doesn’t stand a chance against being forced to bare the blame in someone’s actual death, especially not Dekus. Plus whatever destructive aftermath Katsuki created.

Did you have to blow up the entire alley way??

Katsuki would also never stop blaming those heros, even if the villain was captured they lost what really mattered, Dekus life.

They should have stopped the villain before Deku ever showed up

They should have never let Deku cross the line

They should have saved him

I think his fear of being weak would have been magnified by 10000. And it wouldn’t be a stretch for me to believe that witnessing that kind of hero failure so personally would be his villain origin. But even if it wasn’t, I think 10 months of stewing in grief, rage and self hate at such a young age would leave some very permanent scars

He’d habitually train to the point of self harm(reminder to check in on your fitness bros)

He’d never ever let someone close to him again (he didn’t want Deku close to him in the first place and look at how bad it hurt anyway)

He wouldn’t give a shit about any heros opinion anymore, if it’s not about how he can get stronger than any would be mentor can fuck off

His ego would have taken a massive hit, he’s no longer trying to prove he’s the best

Instead he’s insuring it because he’s never losing anyone again

Even with that in mind I think the sports festival actually would have gone a lot calmer because he no longer gives a shit about showing off, he’s just fighting to test himself and Dekus the one who pushed Todoroki to the point anyone even knew he had a fire side(I always wonder how much longer Aizawa was gonna let that go on for) so he’d except his medal quietly so it’s possible the lov would never have tried to recruit him

I think he’d be a lot more proactive in helping his classmates get stronger

Just not in a cute tsundere way anymore, but in a “if you can’t keep up with me I will keep attempting to murder you until you drop out” way, because B List heros are not allowed to be a thing anymore

Eventually he would grow up to be the top hero and he revels in that victory by hating himself, his job, his coworkers, his family, and everyone and everything else. The best part of his days are the adrenaline highs and that’s not even a happy high, in a bad headspace it just makes you ansty and aggressive, still better than being a hallow husk of resentments

I wouldn’t be surprised if he eventually did kill a fellow pro for not meeting his standards. Depending on what the hero did to earn his ire would shape wether he went on to be the new hero killer or simply stopped being a hero himself in custody or more permanently

Now if the villain had instead been captured after being caught hiding in Dekus flesh suit things would have been very different than the above

Katsuki would definitely be traumatized at this news, so would most of their class and they’d probably do some kind of memorial deal, and over the course of a couple of days Katsuki would slowly descend into madness at watching his class act like they have ever given a single fuck about Deku

Then he would speedball into it, because how dare they grieve over him, non of them deserve to especially not him

He’d be angry for as long as he could, at himself and everyone else, but eventually that’d putter out without anyone stoking the fire, no one else blames his class for feeling sad and no one blames the heros for not existing on every single possible street corner

Maybe he makes it through UA. He’s not as hot head, not as naive, but teens hold grudges like no other, he can be mad at the world a little longer.

Throws himself into the work so he doesn’t have time to think. He’s going to be the best because Deku always believed he would be and if he’s not allowed to be sad than this will be his only way to honor the nerds memory.

But the thing about pain is that it demands to be felt.

Eventually his regrets and grief would come for him, in a year or in ten years doesn’t matter they will eventually claim the time and space they need with interest.

He’d probably meet his regrets first so that he can be mad at himself for a little longer

He should have let Deku be

If he hadn’t held Deku up after class maybe he’d have made it home

His last words play on loop growing distorted and more malicious as the years go on(fun fact about memory ! It’s easily manipulated because each time you remember something you’re actually just remembering the last time you remembered the thing! Basically your brain reconstructs the memory completely each time! Fuck it up once and it’s all down hill)

He regrets not ensuring that he’d have more than his flimsy memories to hold onto Deku with, he never realized he’d want to, never could fully conceive that he’d actually have to.

He should have been kinder

He should have been less of a coward and faced his own insecurities

He should have talked to Deku about so many things

He can’t just focus on what he did and didn’t do forever tho, eventually he’ll have to recognize the hole Deku left behind, his regrets will paint the picture of his grief

Maybe he forgets the exact date of Dekus birthday but he knows it was in the summer, he regrets not going to his last one and grieves never going to a next one.

He regrets not going to the funeral, of course he was sad, he’d been an idiot to think he couldn’t be

He regrets not visiting Dekus grave, and grieves over how long he’s been gone now

He regrets that he had to learn what the value of saving is by having lost, god how he grieves that loss

Without Deku Kaminari never hears that nickname, Kacchan died with Deku. He grieves over never hearing it again

He wonders if Dekus hanging out with Kacchan wherever he is, he wonders if this makes him crazy.

He grieves over Deku dying so young, so alone, so horribly. It gives him nightmares, he can’t imagine the pain of having all his organs crushed down from the inside, and yet he’s some how intimately aware of its possibility. He debates looking for the autopsy results, maybe if he confirms it was asphyxiation and not internal blunt trauma the nightmares will stop. But you don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.

He grieves over the dreams Deku never got to chase, and regrets ever playing a part in taking away the happiness a dream is supposed to have

He grieves over the Deku shaped hole in his life that seemed to grow with him despite only ever getting to know the knobby knees version, he can’t help but think with every achievement and milestone “you should be here”

He doesn’t hate his life, it just feels half lived.

Without Deku pushing his buttons and no god complex shaped alarm bells people were slower to reach out to him.

Without Deku to vouch for his good qualities people were a lot more hesitant to see them.

He still did make friends it’s just a shallower connection and he doesn’t make time for them

He becomes top hero but the victory feels hallow like there should have been more of a fight for it. Maybe he is crazy but it feels like it should have been Deku fighting him for it.

His saves are legendary and numerous, he’s never able to shake the feeling that there’s someone out there who needs him just around the corner

Between the nightmares and the anxiety clocking off gives him he probably gets less sleep than any hero before him, even Aizawa.

It was a short career

#softy answers #tw child death #tw child abuse #tw selfhate #tw grief #idk what else to tag #let me know if there’s any I should put up #I like talking about heavy topics but I want to help keep bnha a fun space for everyone #I am so sorry about how long I made this #I’m on mobile and idk how to make it do the read more thing

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yikestripes · 5 years ago

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Masquerade

Request: Can you write a Hotch x reader where the BAU team attends a ballroom party after helping a rich man from an unsub as thanks. Hotch meets the reader and they talk and dance all night. The reader is intrigued that Hotch is a profiler and at midnight she gives him her shoe and tells him to find her based only on that. Thanks!!!

here you go @lavenderblossom12 !!!! i hope you enjoy this !!! i actually had a ton of fun writing it and i usually have such a tough time writing for hotch. if it’s good maybe i’ll write a part 2 ;)

key:

(Y/H/C): your hair color

(Y/D/J): your dream job

(Y/E/C): your eye color

word count: 2.5k

“Hotchner,” Hotch answered with his usual monotone draw, narrowing his already narrow brow as he listened to whatever the caller was saying on the other end. “Well, I suppose that would be alright. Send me the location. Thanks.” He hung up and turned the phone over and over in his hands before looking to the ceiling.

“What is it, Hotch? Is everything okay?” JJ asked, concerned.

“The BAU team was invited to a masquerade party to celebrate our returning the Schaffer’s daughter,” He said, sounding unsure. He recognized the caller ID as soon as he saw the D.C area code, having spent extensive time with the family in pursuit of the most recent psychopath. They had gotten a location at the most crucial time, they had shown up right before the unsub slit the young woman’s throat. They apprehended him in a matter of minutes and were able to return the girl safely to her family. She had been the target in a war of spite between the unsub and her father, since he had personally fired him from his company 3 months later without any sort of rhyme or reason, beyond slow work ethic. He was furious and decided to get back at him by taking the most precious thing in his world; his 19 year old daughter.

“Well, that’s never happened before.” Reid said, looking confused. He hated parties, clubs, anything of the sort. The loud music made it hard for him to think and he had a tough time connecting with other people, his tangents tended to turn others off from him. Hotch remained unsure about agreeing so quickly, but decided not to press the issue. It was the right thing to do; it was, after all, partially in their honor. The team could deal with it for one night, not to mention they had been working especially hard and could use a single night to let loose and celebrate their work, especially since this case had been a win for the good guys.

It was set to take place that Saturday and although attendance was not required, it was recommended. This was to celebrate the return of a young girl and it was to thank them, so it was only right of them to go.

At least, that was the way Hotch was going to continue justifying it to himself, whether the team or anyone else understood or not. He was going to find a way to enjoy this party if it took everything in him, or even all the liquor at the open bar. Tonight was about relaxing. Every single person in his life never failed to remind him how uptight he could be, or how he could never relax. With all the things he’d seen since starting at the BAU, how could he?

He straightened his tie in the mirror of his small apartment and took a deep breath, before making his way to the ballroom where the party was being hosted. He had apparently been assigned to a table with the rest of the team, of which he was the first to arrive, and he eagerly awaited his fellow agents’ arrivals. Prentiss came shortly after Hotch, wearing a long red gown that accentuated her curves without trying to make a spectacle of herself, followed by Penelope, who was the complete opposite. Her dress was colorful and bright, just like her personality- and typical work attire. JJ wore a gown similar to Emily’s and Reid had gone with a classic all black suit. Derek was what he called “fashionably late”, sporting a suit that was similar to Reid’s, except navy blue as opposed to solid black.

It didn’t take a profiler to see what each agent’s outfit said about them; Reid didn’t want to be noticed, Morgan was impartial since he got attention no matter what he wore, and the girls’ dresses and makeup spoke more to their individual personalities. JJ was able to snag a babysitter for Henry and brought Will as a plus one, so she dressed more suited to being with someone. Classy and elegant, without attracting attention to herself. Emily was similar in the sense of class and elegance, but she didn’t bring anyone so attracting someone else was more of her goal with her dress and her overall demeanor. Hotch, on the other hand, didn’t have much of a motive for anything beyond looking nice and enjoying his time off from work and his typical worries, sporting a plain black suit with a classic red tie. Nevertheless, all the agents looked fantastic and it showed as they slowly eased deeper into the party.

Hotch excused himself from Reid as he went on about the periodic table, he wasn’t even sure how the prior conversation of the butterfly room on the second floor could possibly have any relation, but of course Reid found a way to bring something like that into a conversation. Hotch shook his head to himself as he approached, being only one of two who were at the bar, besides the bartender.

“I’ll take a Kettle One on the rocks, please.” Hotch took a long drag from the glass as soon as the bartender set it in front of him, earning him a small chuckle from the person beside him.

“Thirsty?” You asked, your eyes alight. The liquor went down his throat icy, forcing him to pause for a second before responding. He offered a small smile.

“Not quite.” He said quietly, looking down into the glass.

“Fair enough.” You took a sip from the wine in your hand as you looked across the room, throwing a lock of (Y/H/C) hair over your shoulder. Hotch took another sip himself before inching slightly closer to you.

“It’s a lovely venue.” Hotch said quietly.

“It really is. I came to a wedding that took place here about a month ago, for one of my best friends from college,” You paused to take another drag from your wine. “I gotta be honest though, I like what they did with the place now much better.” She set down the empty glass on the bar and the bartender filled you up without you saying a word. You took the glass in your hand once more, looking to Hotch.

“Is it safe to assume you’re one of the guests of honor this evening?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, how did you know?” Hotch asked.

“Well, you’re sitting at a table that is slightly apart from the other tables, and the other guests at your table who I saw you sitting with before are all glued to one another, seeming as if they’re the only ones they know here.” You said.

“Wow. I guess we do sort of stand out.” Hotch replied, taking another sip of his own drink, feeling the effect slowly loosen him up. He downed the last few swigs and offered you his hand.

“Care to dance?” Hotch was never the dancing sort, except when he went out with his ex-wife and/or coworkers. Haley enjoyed dancing enough, as did Hotch, but they never found the time to do so. However, tonight was about relaxing, and ignoring everything in him that told him not to at least try and enjoy himself. He was going to enjoy this party, he was determined to.

A blush crept up to your cheeks as you accepted his hand, entering the dance floor from the side. Hotch placed his hands on your waist, and you rested yours on his chest as you slowly swayed around the floor.

“So, tell me about yourself.” You said, smiling up at him. You had to hand it to him, he was extremely attractive, and his elusive smiles were something that clearly had to be earned, and you seemed to be doing a pretty good job so far.

“Well, uh, there really isn’t much to tell.” He said, looking around for something to trigger a memory as to what he could use to impress you.

“Come on, a handsome guy like you? I’m sure you’ve got some sort of exciting life.” Now it was Hotch’s turn to blush; he wasn’t used to hearing things like that.

“Well, I’m an FBI agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit, so I guess that’s pretty exciting.” He shrugged as your eyes widened, fascinated.

“That’s pretty incredible, I gotta be honest.” You said, closing your dropped jaw. He smiled again, somehow making him even more attractive.

“Thanks. It’s hard work, but it pays off. What do you do?” He asked, readjusting his hands a little higher on your waist. You couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed, but ignored it.

“I’m a (Y/D/J).” You grinned. Hotch brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, as blood rushed to your cheeks.

“Wow, that sounds exciting.” He whispered. The slower song had ended and led its way to a more upbeat song, and Hotch saw JJ dragging Will and Reid out onto the dance floor, followed by Morgan, Garcia, and Prentiss, who winked in Hotch’s direction.

You dropped your hands from his shoulders and grabbed his hand, leading him in the direction of your table where you had set down your wine glass previously. You took a long gulp, and turned your attention back to Hotch.

“What do you do for the FBI?” You asked, steadying yourself on a nearby chair.

“I’m a, uh, profiler. My team and I work together to create a profile of both a victim and/or the perpetrator, and use that to help solve the case.” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“That’s fascinating.” You said, in awe. That sounded like the coolest job you’d ever heard, definitely something straight out of a movie.

“I’m going to grab another drink, did you need a refill?” Hotch asked, eyeing your emptying glass. You paused for a second to check yourself, and see if another could cause you to embarrass yourself. You decided that if you paced yourself, you would be fine.

“Sure, chardonnay.” You downed the rest of the contents and handed the glass to Hotch with a sweet smile. You watched as he made his way to the bar, confident. Another man approached him, and sent a small grin in your direction before turning his attention back to the man you’d spent almost half the evening with, but you didn’t even know his name. That was the funny thing about these sort of corporate parties; names were almost never necessary, you have the most incredible evening, but never ruin the memory with names and empty promises. You were interested in the fact that the man had never even mentioned anything about names, numbers, or anything of the sort. You almost always had to bring up the idea yourself, whether it was after one glass of wine or several. Most usually wanted to sleep with you, something that usually became apparent by this time of the night.

Not with this man, however. He was sweet and sure of himself, but not so sure that he thought he could sweet talk you back to his apartment. He genuinely seemed intrigued by you, and you by him.

“That’s a pretty girl you’ve been chatting up, Hotch.” Morgan appeared at Hotch’s side, ordering himself another beer.

“Isn’t she beautiful? She’s intelligent, too. And miraculously interested in our line of work,” Hotch replied with a small laugh, taking a sip from his glass.

“You think there’ll be a second date?” Morgan asked.

Hotch sorta shrugged and didn’t answer the question, just picked up your wine and his kettle and was off to find you. Luckily for him, you hadn’t wandered far, just to look at some of the paintings that were hanging up around the venue.

“Your wine, my lady.”

“Why thank you, kind sir.” You giggled as you took a short drag, sighing in content. “I hate to say it, but the evening is almost over..” You trailed off, looking toward the giant clock on the wall.

“Wow, I didn’t realize it had gotten that late.” It was nearing 12:15, and the party ended around 12:30.

“Yeah.” You took another sip of your wine as Ed Sheeran’s “Photograph” filled the room. “This is one of my favorites, shall we?” He set his glass down on the table beside yours, took your hand, and led you onto the dance floor once again. This time, he allowed his hands to sit directly on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” He said with a shy smile.

“Thank you, so do you.” You giggled. This made his entire face break out into a grin as he lifted your arm, indicating for you to do a small spin. You dressed fanned out around you as Hotch brought you close again. You’d lost your footing amid the spin, not used to spinning in such high heels and after about 3 glasses of wine. You giggled a little bit more.

Hotch licked his lips as he took in the color of your eyes, (Y/E/C), sparkling and bright. He smiled a little and looked down at your lips, which were a lovely shade of pink, slightly parted. You could instantly tell what he was thinking, and closed the gap quickly. He stiffened in surprise, and then melted into it. You pulled away breathlessly, grinning from ear to ear.

The song ended faster than you would have liked, when you got a wild idea. It was something you’d always wanted to do, something you’d only ever seen in movies. There’s a first time for everything, right?

You pulled him down a little so you could whisper in his ear while leaning on him, taking off your left shoe.

“Come find me, Mr. FBI agent.” You whispered, pressing the shoe into his hand and walking away, purse in hand, in the direction of the exit.

Hotch’s eyes widened when he finally processed what had just happened, Morgan and Prentiss quickly approaching.

“What was that?” Prentiss asked, somewhat coherently.

“I… I have to find her.” Hotch said, staring at where you had sauntered right out of the ballroom, and beyond his reach.

374 notes · View notes

rurifangirl · 3 years ago

Note

oc asks💅💅

kayn🌸

If you had to choose a single object to act as a symbol for your oc, what would it be? Why?

kida🌸

How much has your oc traveled? Why is this? Would they like to travel more? Or are they perfectly fine with staying home?

rui🌸

How competitive is your oc? Is every little task something that they can win, or are they just in competitions for the fun of it? Is there anyone they’re most competitive with?

lyva🌸

What is your oc’s immune system like? Are they invincible to illness, or are they compromised completely from the slightest of dirt?

shou🌸

Does your oc do anything “just for the aesthetic”? Or are they completely practical in everything?

qiran🌸

How would you describe your oc’s voice? Do they have an accent? Do you have any voice claims for them?

naexi🌸

What topics does your oc know the most about? Are these obvious or would these be surprising to others?

evelyn🌸

How easy to annoy is your oc? Do they have common pet-peeves or are they stoic in response to everything? What is their reaction if the source doesn’t stop?

myst🌸

How would you describe your oc’s voice? Do they have an accent? Do you have any voice claims for them?

kerei🌸

What topics does your oc know the most about? Are these obvious or would these be surprising to others?

eris🌸

What is your oc’s vocabulary like? Does it match the way they talk? How would you describe their speech?

syndra🌸

What time of day is your oc most awake? What about most tired? Do they get up at the same time every morning without need of an alarm, or is their sleep schedule all over the place?

Ty for asking em my fave Scp 🤍/j

----------------------------------------------------------

Kayn💜-

Many things would work for his symbol tbh, Id say either a dog or a schyte?

There's many things he had great connections w, and for someone like him that cares bout litteraly anything and everything that is around him, It would be hard to settle down onto a specifical one.

Writing this, I feel like he'd choose a schyte, cus even though that's probably the least pratical thing he's good in, it's still a part of his character that Is sorta overlooked and probably gotta work on so-

----------------------------------------------------------

Kida💮-

She went into far more missions than Kayn ever did, and she did visit many places, other than sometimes resting in South Italy that Is.

She's mainly been used for abroad missions too, until the whole Japan thing started and she had to return back, and even if she stayed lil time there, she has a pin collection of every place, and occasionally shows it to close friends, and did It w Kayn after they got time to get along.

She also got the first pin, which her husband bought for her since she spent almost everything, and that does bring her some nostalgia bout It, in the good and in the bad.

Sometimes when she gets drunk, she'll start ramble bout every single embarassing moment she had there like it's nothin. And even when she'll wake up, Kida wouldn't do anythin to deny It.

Just, proudly stating that she did It.

----------------------------------------------------------

Rui💎-

They're mostly chill, kinda in everything, until it gets onto their interests.

They don't really care about being the best in a random task, like if that would change the world of something, but if that meant the safety/getting more gems, then oh boy, ya got the perfect contestant for ya.

But if they could be competitive w anyone, It would be with Naexi.

They just can't even pin point way, it just, is.

And also if you'd tell them that they had to kill someone for gettin a diamond, they'll do It. That's how far and competitive they'd get for It. So in that case, absolutely.

----------------------------------------------------------

Lyva📙-

She suffers normally of a morning sickness, and has to take some medication to treat some sounds she had even before getting into the gang, but other than that, she's pretty healthy.

I mean, both compared to the rest of the cast and ignoring some eating problems she had to get through of, but currently, she's doing just fine.

But she does have an allergy for some flowers, so during spring she has kinda an hard time alone.

----------------------------------------------------------

Shou🍵-

Like, yeah he does have many traditional outfits, but that's mainly because he's more tied up to his family traditions that, even if they hurt him in the past, he can't let go of.

But, those do look good and he likes wearing these kinds of outfits, so it's fifty fifty.

Though it's safe to say that, the outfit he wears normally isn't really practical, considering in which events he gets into, but for him It doesn't really matter.

Basically just the "be depressed but well dressed".

----------------------------------------------------------

Qiran🗡️-

They do have an accent, and probably the most prominent one out of the cast.

Considering they've also been travelling through many different places, learning their coltures and sometimes having to learn their language, Qiran doesn't have a specifical accent, just, a mixture of almost anythin.

Though, if ya could hear them, you'd also get they're Southern, in a way or another.

They also tend to shorten words whenever they can, just to go straight up to the answer.

----------------------------------------------------------

Naexi⚛️-

Absolutely almost any folk tail in human's history. They just have been so interested in that for even hundreds of years, she's just deeply sucked into them.

One thing they also really like to do Is revisiting them to their gang, and even clearing up some details in the meanwhile. Or even giving more fun facts, or how she personally interpretetated it.

She doesn't do It often to people, even to those they're close to, and mainly ramble about It to their dolls.

----------------------------------------------------------

Evelyn⚙️-

He's mainly the one to bully rather than the bullied, but it's safe to say that if ya could really annoy them, It would be poking their making, or weapons per say.

In the sense that, she's really proud of them, and having those being unrighfully judged onto their eyes is really, REALLY frustrating to see.

Plus, since they're thecnically the least powerful member of the gang, it's normal that they Hide that feeling pretty well, under some teasings to subdoly vent bout It.

So even teasing him about that makes them really annoyed, since you'd 'invade" the space they created for herself.

----------------------------------------------------------

Myst🎸-

Honestly, I can't blame myself enough for this, but, just Imagine Rainbow Dash's voice on him.

Yes I'm serious.

Just that energy that voice has onto her, the cracks and just, everything. Naturally It would be toned down by a LOT, considering she hasnt got a voice as childish.

Im not good w describing voices and should work on that tbh, but i hope this voice claim counts 😭😭

----------------------------------------------------------

Kerei🔮-

Magic/Spell related topic, since that's what he's most interested. He's got many interests, that can go to many different topics, but he doesn't have as much interest as that.

He knows especially many counter attacks and even some potions to defend himself during a real fight.

In his time w Myst, she helped him learning even more facts and through that, setting free Eris, so that would be It.

----------------------------------------------------------

Eris🌑-

It's a normal vocabulary? Like, a polite One for sure, since it's not used to the human world and didn't get enough habits to speak like a normal person would.

They just have that solemn touch to it, y'know?

It does match with how they speak though, even if sometimes they have an hard time understanding Myst's words, since he also likes to throw popular wordings n a little of dialect here and there.

Moon's trying its best.😭

----------------------------------------------------------

Syndra⛩️-

She's most awake during the evening, or night that Is, since it doesn't have that much of a good concept of time and will go with anything that goes for her.

Though surprisingly, she's hardly tired, because she doesn't want to seem that weak even to itself, so even if she's gonna be a lil dizzy, she's almost always gonna be there.

Especially to kick some asses >:D

----------------------------------------------------------

Tags undercut:

@a-chaotic-dumbass @spoopy-fish-writes @dopesaladlady @nadi-117 @damnfoxx @audre-falrose

8 notes · View notes

maplecornia · 4 years ago

Text

TAG GAMES

Tagged by: @kookaine and @kookings thanks for the tag gouiyz

NEW MOOTS TAG

relationship status: let's see...uhm single very single…and currently simping over too many 2D men--

fav color: purple (I just did a rant on this too LMAO)

three fav foods: any kind of noodles (whether it be pasta, ramen, etc), fruit, cinnamon rolls

song stuck in my head: 0X1 = Lovesong by TXT

OMG ITS JUST TOO BEAUTIFUL HOW CAN I NOT LOVE IT

last song I listened to: Candy (so good) by The Rose

last thing i Googled: "Wonderland kpop song"

time: 6:02 am

dream trip: Seoul, South Korea | Africa safari | Kyoto, Japan | tour around Europe

something I want: money

something I'm excited for: my senior year to start

nawl I'm actually just scared

CHECK-IN TAG

Why did you choose your username?

my nickname is maple and I love unicorns so...MAPLECORNIA. plus someone keeps taking maple so--

Any side-blogs?

Nope, I'm one of a kind ;)

How long have you been on Tumblr?

uhm Idk...maybe since 2016? Ig? I've only just started using it this year though

Do you have a queue tag?

Nope

Why did you start your blog?

I originally started to promote my art after hearing other artists did that, but then I started writing fics on here because I wnated to reach a larger audience. Plus posts are pretty on Tumblr and I like the people here ^^

Why did you choose your icon?

because I'm boushie.

No, its because i didn't want to have another idol on my pfp like other blogs, I wanted it to be pretty but also represent me as a writer and who I am. I'll probably keep it forever but then again I'm likely to change my mind.

Why did you choose your header?

It looked pretty and fit my theme so...that's that

What's your post with the most notes?

Probably the first chapter to my bts ot7 fic, it can be found here

Hehe shameless promotion plug 💃

How many mutuals do you have?

DAMN uhm idk...I'm pretty sure I'm following everyone who's following me so ig 33.

How many followers do you have?

How many people do you follow?

84 🚶‍♀️

Have you ever made a shitpost?

excuse me, no I haven't because everything i say is important

nawl I do it all the time

How often do you use Tumblr each day?

often

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog before? Who won?

No, but if i did I would definitely win newbs

How do you feel about "you need to reblog this post"?

If its for a collab or something I get it but otherwise…

Bish sit down I do what I want

Do you like Tag games?

Yes they are VERY fun 💞

Do you like ask games?

Yes, I like interacting with my audience...i just hope I get more asks soon

Which of your mutuals do you think is Tumblr famous?

@hyuckworld and/or @kabira

Do I have a crush on a mutual?

ofc, I love them all

PICREW TAG

use this link to create your picrew

So like wasn't sure what to do for this but here ya go! Find it at the link here ;)

PLAYLIST TAG

Shuffle all the songs in your library and list the first ten!

Boulevard of Broken Dreams (Green Day)

Drama (TXT)

Relax Moment (Suran)

Give it to me (Agust D)

All I Ask of You (Phantom of the Opera)

Begin (BTS)

Dawndididawn (DAWN ft. Jessi)

Why Try (Ariana Grande)

I want you back (Jackson 5)

You Make Me Back (Woosung)

WRITER TAG

Which element writer are you?

The answer can be found here

TAGGING

@wonniac @words-in-purple @hyuckworld @kabira @taemin-jaemin @chanyeolism @soobmint @itz-okay-to-not-be-okay @cypherchuu (only do it if you wanna lmao) + anyone else who wants to do it

#WHY DID THIS TAKE FOREVER AGH #anyways it was fun LMAI #i tagged a lot of peeps #but whatves #now they knkw i exist ig #OMG SO MANY TYPOS 💔#anyways im tired so imma sleep now

10 notes · View notes

riversofmars · 4 years ago

Note

Instead of chess prodigy au 13 I raise u 13 teaching and playing four person chess w the fam on a game night after they got mad at her during 51st century scrabble for putting Raxacoricofallapatorius. 👒

Time to start working through some of these prompts :D Combining these two, changing both slightly, but hope it works for you. Plus, it’ll be the set up for another prompt that I’ll write at a later date cause it’ll take a bit more work lol. But just so you know, this one will get a continuation! <3

Rating: G

Wordcount: 1800

Read on AO3 or below

Game On

“That’s not even a real word!“ Graham exclaimed throwing over his scrabble pieces in protest.

“Of course Raxacoricofallapatorius is a word! It’s a place. I’ve been there, I…“ The Doctor retorted, feeling put out. It was a perfectly fine word and used up all her letters.

“You could be telling us anything and we’d be none the wiser.“ Yaz agreed with Graham. This should have been fun. Playing boardgames aboard the TARDIS, eating ice cream and popcorn and some weird alien kind of candy floss the Doctor insisted they had to try… But so far they had done nothing but argue over rules and it turned out they were all highly competitive people… this ridiculous game of scrabble was just the last in a long line of arguments.

“But…“ The Doctor protested but Ryan shook his head as well, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Doesn’t seem fair.“ He pointed out.

“Right, okay, how about a different game then?“ The Doctor suggested shoving Scrabble back in its box. “Game of Life?“ She suggested, returning Scrabble to the pile.

“No.“ Ryan shook his head again.

“Monopoly?“ The Doctor held up the game hopefully.

“Definitely not.“ The Fam retorted in unison.

“Our friendship wouldn’t survive that.“ Yaz huffed.

“Four person chess?“ The Doctor picked up another box in a last ditch attempt.

“How do you even play chess with four people?“ Graham threw his arms up.

“Actually, it’s not even that complicated, I can teach you!“ The Doctor exclaimed, excited that it wasn’t a “No“ straight away.

“Sounds like a made up game to me.“ Yaz huffed. “You could be making this up so you can win, you are a terrible loser.“

“No, really, I’ll have the TARDIS pull up the rules!“ The Doctor offered.

“Fine, last chance!“ Yaz decided taking the box off her. “I’ll set it up, we read the rules without you interrupting, offering alternative advice or distracting us. You can get more popcorn.“ She shoved the empty bowl at her.

“Okay, great, yup, just, when it says about turn taking…“

“You’re doing it again.“ Graham sighed and the Doctor held up her hands.

“New bowl of popcorn, coming right up!“ She clambered across pillows and blankets, out of the console room, heading for the kitchen.

“I’m really regretting suggesting this…“ Yaz shook her head to herself and started setting up the game while Ryan unfolded the rules pamphlet.

Suddenly, there was a crack of electrical charge and a woman teleported right into their midst. Her wild curly hair was fizzing with energy and she shook it out like a dog the rain.

“This looks cosy!“ She grinned as she looked around, snacks, boardgames, pillow fords, all in all the very image of wholesome family fun.

“What? How…“ Yaz stuttered, they were at a loss for words.

“Hello Sweetie.“ The woman fixed her eyes on Graham after accessing her surroundings. “New body, is it?“ She sauntered over and before he could protest, she grabbed him by the collar and kissed him. “What killed you this time? Daleks? Cybermen? Don’t tell me it’ll be me at a later date.“ She raised her eyebrows at him and he just looked back at her dumbfounded.

“I’m not… uh…“ Graham started. Did she think he was the Doctor as Jack had done?

“What is it, Sweetie?“ The mystery woman asked with a frown, taking his face in her hands.

“River?“ There was a loud crash as the Doctor dropped the bowl of popcorn upon her return to the console room. She stood in the doorway paralysed, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Ryan and Yaz exchanged confused looks. Did the Doctor know this woman? How was she even able to get in here?!

“Doctor?“ River frowned and let go of Graham.

“Why does this keep happening?“ Graham groaned, wiping the smudges of River’s lipstick off his mouth.

“So sorry, darling.“ River gave Graham an apologetic smile. “Old habits die hard and I did not expect that.“ She raised her eyebrows at the Doctor who now slowly made her way over.

“River, how are you here? What…“ The Doctor tried to wrap her head around her wife’s sudden appearance. She had’t seen her since Darillium and she hadn’t really expected to see her again either. She’d hoped, of course, that she might run into a younger version of her wife again at some point, but she had never expected her to just pop in out of the blue. Her mind was racing, going at a hundred miles an hour trying to work out how River could possibly be here. It was probably a good thing too, because if she had stopped to consider the fact that she was actually here and allowed herself to feel for a second, she probably would have broken down in tears.

“Is that really how you’re going to be greeting your wife when you have those very kissable lips at your disposal?“ River smirked, tilting her head in amusement as she looked the Doctor up and down.

“Your what now?“ Ryan wasn’t sure he had heard her right.

“The old ball and chain. Of course she’s never mentioned me, has she?“ River chuckled shaking her head at her wife.

“You have a wife?“ Yaz exclaimed in shock and Graham huffed:

“Seriously? Even your WIFE mistakes me for you?“

“Why did you never tell us?“ Ryan asked.

“It’s kind of a long story… people usually need a flow chart.“ The Doctor slowly found her voice again.

“Now, how about that kiss?“ River smirked, crossing the distance between them.

“River, you can’t be here.“ The Doctor pulled her sonic out and scanned River before she could get into her personal space.

“She can if she is your wife.“ Graham pointed out. “Have you been hiding from her?“

“No, I mean, you really can’t be here.“ The Doctor insisted as she checked the readings. “You’re older than you should be.“

“Always the charmer.“ River chuckled. “Not bad for three hundred, eh?“ She looked around to the Fam and gave Graham a wink who promptly blushed.

“Three hundred?“ Ryan echoed in disbelief.

“No, no, it’s all wrong, you were two hundred when we went to Darillium, then you went to the Library, so…“ The Doctor scanned her again but the sonic just confirmed it, she was older than she had been the last time she saw her.

“Ahh, now now, spoilers.“ River tutted and took the Doctor’s sonic out of her hand and returned it to her coat pocket.

“What?“ The Doctor said dumbfounded.

“You’ll find out soon enough, you know how it is.“ River gave her wife an apologetic smile.

“Why are you here?“ The Doctor asked slowly, the penny dropping. This was River after she had been to the Library. Not a data ghost, the scan confirmed it. She was alive and older than she had ever seen her. The Doctor couldn’t allow herself to rejoice just yet, even if this meant their story wasn’t over yet. She had to find out what she was doing here first.

“Two things really.“ River replied with a smirk. “I was ever so curious about your new regeneration. When Jack told me, I had to come and see for myself. He wouldn’t tell me what you looked like now, I guess he did that on purpose.“ She flashed Graham another smile who was just shaking his head to himself. This woman knew Jack as well? There seemed to be an awful lot about the Doctor’s past they didn’t know.

“What’s the other thing?“ The Doctor frowned, growing a little suspicious.

“Well, I did pop in for games night on purpose.“ River revealed with a smirk. “You see Jack and I, we’ve both been missing you terribly… and thought how about we also play a game?“ She grinned and pulled a TARDIS blue envelope from within her coat and handed it over. “A little game of chase? Tag, across time and space so to speak?“

“River…“ The Doctor’s voice grew firmer, she had a bad feeling about this, she did not like the look of mischief in her wife’s eyes. A look that she had come to know very well over time. The very idea of River and Jack together…

“Now, now, Sweetie, don’t get cross, we haven’t even done anything… yet.“ River smirked and reached out, straightening the collar on her wife’s coat. “Unless, you know, you being cross with me leads to some form of punishment, cause I’m all for that.“ She hummed flirtily, leaning closer.

“River!“ The Doctor snapped, blushing deeply which only seemed to encourage her wife further.

“I hope I’ll be seeing you soon, Sweetie.“ River smirked and pressed a light, playful kiss to her lips. “It’s a date.“ She tapped her fingers against the envelope in her wife’s hand playfully and gave her another, firmer, kiss for good measure. “See you guys around.“ She turned to the Fam, giving them a quick wave. All three of them just stared at her utterly dumbfounded. When she didn’t get a respond she turned to the Doctor and grinned: “Catch me if you can.“ She hit the button on her vortex manipulator and disappeared into thin air again.

“What was THAT?“ Yaz was the first to speak.

“You’re married?!“ Graham exclaimed still not quite over the fact that he had just been kissed by the Doctor’s wife.

“What’s that she was saying about a game? And what’s that letter?“ Ryan asked trying to make sense of it all.

“This is trouble…“ The Doctor answered as she hurried over to the console while ripping open the envelope. Games night had just taken a very exciting, but also very wrong, turn.

“She said she was your wife but who is she?“ Graham asked as they all hurried to join her by the console. The board games were long forgotten about.

“That was Professor River Song.“ The Doctor answered almost automatically. “Born Melody Pond, daughter of some of my best friends and child of the TARDIS. Also known as Melody Malone. Part-time crime author and detective. Professor of archeology at Luna University. High-end mercenary, trained assassin… The woman who married and killed me in the same day… And somehow managed to defy her own death yet again!“ The Doctor turned to the TARDIS console and punched in coordinates as she read the letter. “And now, she has teamed up with one of my oldest friends to play hide and seek across the universe, causing mischief just to get my attention… God, I love that woman.“ The Doctor laughed. “And I am going to kill her when I find them! Questions?“ She launched the TARDIS into the time vortex and turned to the Fam awaiting their responses.

“I wouldn’t know where to start…“ Graham just shook his head.

“Probably won’t be playing four person chess then…“ Ryan mused.

“I think I’d like to see that flow chart now…“ Yaz sighed, trying to wrap her head around it all as they plummeted through the vortex towards their next adventure.

#Doctor who #fanfiction #prompt #river song #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #space wives #river x thirteen #thirteen/river #yowzah #the fam #fluff #humour #femslash

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currentfandomkick · 4 years ago

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Marinette did not sign up for this pt2

forgot to post this before i passed out last night. part one here ao3 here

It was almost four years into being Ladybug when the Justice League made contact.

In that time, she and Chat had built the miraculous team and they both knew each members identities, but swore them all to not seek out one another’s identity. (Though Alya was Alya and had Carapaced figured out on his first outing… convincing her not to reveal that to him took a bit. The girl was determined, but Marinette follows Fu’s rules to the letter (as much as she can) and that meant Secrets Stay Secret damnit.)

Not contacting the JL themselves was partially due to some fallout the Mayor and Parisian government with a (dissolved) Justice League’s branch. It was well before her team’s time. Something about collateral damage and if her miraculous could fix damage dealt by JL members or not playing some role in that too.

She decided it was a good thing when two years later she found a fucking dagger with a large bouquet on her balcony. It became a regular occurrence for special occasions—birthday, winter holidays and on Easter (she didn’t even know why on that one. Her parents aren’t Catholic. Maybe Murder Robin was, or thought she was?). She would just find some weapon with flowers somewhere in her room. She had no fucking clue what Murder Robin (Alya found articles where the ‘new’ Robin was cited as likely having killed multiple people in Gotham and just, yikes) or his friends or even her father (Fucking Batman, the Ghost of Gotham) might have meant by leaving it, but it was clear they had her address, knew which room was hers, and could do a lot of damage if she toed the line. She wasn’t testing any of those ‘no contact rules’ after that.

Hiding a dagger and various other weapons (so many knives and throwing stars) from Maman by giving it to Fu and later passing it off as an eccentric gift from him to her for always helping him out was… an adventure when Fu was still Master Fu. She hopes Murder Robin doesn’t find out about that bit. She has no clue how he or his family (not hers, hers are in Paris with her. Hers at least tried to talk to her, tried to listen and did make time for her. His family? Complete strangers she may share DNA with.)

She (logically) should be terrified that Murder Robin knows her alias and secret identity are the same person; if he’s really one of the world’s greatest detectives’ kids, why wouldn’t he know? Batman must have known for years—why else would Murder Robin be able to find her? the DNA scan was in a closed match system to just Paris. And she knew there was no way Goddamn Batman, Ghost of Gotham, would hang around Paris long enough to get dragged into the system for him to have a ping.

He just did not want anything to do with her or her city’s trouble since it wasn’t his. She wasn’t his. Wasn’t wanted by him. That was fine—he has enough to worry about in his hell city.

Sending Murder Robin out to do his dirty work?

Not fine.

Her team and her were… managing the Hawkmoth situation. Keeping it from spilling out of Paris since Startrain. Goo-guy managed to give them a break—people can grab akuma that aren’t meant for them and become much weaker akuma than if the akuma reached its target. Same with the few that could grab an akuma in the air. It meant when akuma went out, some citizens were willing to bear Hawkmoth’s wrath for a bit—even groups taking turns sometimes—to prevent someone from getting akumatized until Ladybug could purify the akuma or Chat Noir could destroy it.

And for akuma battles, well, she has more than just her and Chat, Luck (Creation) and Destruction. Viperion gave them multiple chances to change costly choices in battle. Bunnix fixed the ones that Viperion couldn’t. All oversized opponents fell to Ryuko and her mastery of the elements, even if she can’t always make it thanks to different schools and tight schedules. Miss Sting was chosen by Marinette—Aurore was easy to lean on for news team reports and media appearances that Ladybug and Chat Noir don’t have the time or energy for. Plus, Aurored needed the anger management, so win-win. Don’t even get her started on Pegasus or King Monkey always being ready at a moment’s notice and how they both started joining Nino and Alya’s parkour dates that have morphed into group hangouts in last two years. Seriously—if she knew where she needed to be, Max was ready to answer her call. If she knew more chaos would work as a distraction, long live King Monkey, the Great Distractor.

Then there’s her emotional support in the field (besides her chaton), Carapace. He’s a great shield in battle, good with civilians and quick to defend. He’s also big on mental health (something their team sorely needed). How Nino managed to get turtle headphones, Marinette doesn’t know. She does know she nicks them from him regularly as Ladybug for team hangouts and when she needs to clam down on patrol.

Then there is her civilian bestie, the one who convinced her to stay as Ladybug, Alya Cesaire, aka Rena Rogue and the Ladyblogger. Rena Rouge is by and far one of her favorites to talk about potential Hawkmoths with, and work out akuma prevention techniques with. In the battlefield she was one of the first to strike (even if that’s not how she should be using the flute, Marinette has no room for judgment given how she uses all of her Lucky Charms.) Alya always posted and circulated anti-akuma tips and altered the Ladyblog to have each icon for known miraculous mean something.

Marinette was nothing but supportive of her friend, even if the blog is a behemoth to maintain and resulted in Alya retiring as her Deputy (Rose took over gleefully as Deputy). She liked that the Ladybug was for news, and the Cat for if an attack is ongoing. The Butterfly tracks akuma sightings before an attack, and was a bit on the nose in her opinion, but it’s effectively mapped out areas where Hawkmoth’s lair is or has an opening, giving them an area to investigate and patrol more heavily. The Turtle offered guided meditation videos and yoga sessions (somehow always on-going), while the Fox was for group chats and various akuma-related support groups. The Peacock offered mental health resources, and was constantly growing. The Bee was for self defense videos and sat next to Dragon for akuma survival tips. The Snake was one of her personal favorites, advice on calming down with guided breathing if someone feels close to being akumatized, and she’d used it herself more than once. The Horse was the one she’s the least familiar with, for shelter routes that she never used. The Monkey held a number of fun distractions, videos and memes uploaded by her followers with art and songs, and was overall very light hearted.

Marinette is proud of her team.

Though it doesn’t mean there aren’t days she’s waiting for it all to unravel, or for an Older Bunnix to appear again and tell her they have to undo the day Marinette’s identities were compromised. But that is a always an apocalypse event option only. Chat Blanc still haunts Marinette’s nightmares, and Alix’s too. the Princess Justice timeline haunts Alix since she lived it in real time, but it’s Adiren’s nightmare come to life in multiple other akuma attacks. Apparently if Marinette is akumatized, she brings about a second Reign of Terror so encompassing, it made Robespierre’s look like a child’s drawing of what a reign

It was during another Syren event when things went from workable to a slow boiling unbearable. All but Alix were transformed and fighting minions to clear a path for Ladybug to get to the main akuma.

Imagine her frustration when Aquaman and Aqualad appeared behind her while she was scouting on the outskirts, and both refused to make any eye contact, practically kneeling in water to her and making themselves a target. When they should be able to read the room and see that the battlefield isn’t the place for this.

“Oh Great Paschalítsa” Aquaman began, “I understand your hesitance in this matter, given the Miraculous and Atlantis’ history,” Aquaman continued as she dodged yet another minion further ahead and kept working her way to where the akuma was, ignoring his speech. “But I ask that you do not sink—”

Marinette gave up on her current task to ensure there wasn’t some international incident of Ladybug letting Aquaman be captured by akumas or something. She’d never head the end of it if she didn’t.

But now they were surrounded. Aqualad at least kept his attention on the task at hand (re: keeping minions from spotting her) as they all worked out a way to escape, even if he wasn’t looking anywhere near her. Apparently Aquaman got the message (finally) and did the same as his sidekick(?) after Aqualad made a few gestures she wasn’t paying attention to. She does have an akuma item to break and akuma to catch and purify.

The pair did manage to act as decent bodyguards and distractions while she worked out the kid’s item and how it connected to their fixation—no swimming until their grades up meant all of their gear but a whistle was taken away. One Lucky Charm and convoluted plot that merged fighting in 3-D, a pair of scissors and a lot off kicking off underwater buildings later, and Paris was back to normal.

She managed it without talking to Aquaman once. She could give quick directions to Aqualad without toeing the line—he wasn’t part of the Justice League and was known to operate in the ocean alone when Aquaman wasn’t there.

“Great Paschalítsa,” Aquaman began and Marinette wanted him to go off and leave her alone. Him and Aqualad. “As king of Atalntis, I humbly offer my aide in whatever has caused you and the great Mávri Gáta to show yourselves to the world.”

What was with all this formal speech? Marinette thought they knew French, or well, Alya mentioned it said they did in their bio, but it clearly wasn’t the kind her class used for projects. And Marinette was exhausted, frustrated, and now did not have a good and convenient target for her rage (re: akuma that drowned Paris) and well…

Well, she blew up. A bit. But can you blame her?

They wouldn’t take the hint. (Silence means Fuck Off).

“Look,” Marinette whirled on them, ignoring her team’s shock and not even going in for the celebratory ‘Pound it’. “I told Murder Robin—“ the pair winces at the that wording. Good. They knew who she meant then.

“—that I won’t get involved with anything involving our dad.”

She didn’t miss the sharp intakes from her team. Chat knew, only due to a freak out over being left a freaking sword one time and she panicked, okay?

“And I meant it. Just because Batman felt guilty or something,” She doubted it. Ghost of Gotham doesn’t feel anything and can apparently take out entire buildings on occasion. (Even if she was pretty sure that was someone filling in for him, she wouldn’t discount it either.) “That Doesn’t mean I’m going to change my mind on the matter—My team has got this. And we don’t need a handout four years too late.”

They had to. Fu was gone (For three months now. Three months Marinette held the weight of being The Guardian on her shoulders alone. She had to have this. She wouldn’t trust random elements sent by Mr. ‘I accept my murderous son and ignore the one in constant peril that blew herself up twice to save Paris.’

“Bug out.”

She knew her team would have questions, but Chat could answer them for now and Miss Sting would be able to handle any questions if any the media tried anything. Bright side of having the main Miraculous Team journalist as Rena with a determined hacker Pegasus; if it was personal to the team, the pair made sure it was never there.

Later at JL HQ

Aquaman walked up to Batman once the meeting was over. Batman knew the man had something on his mind and that it was related to himself—why else would he keep looking at him during the meeting? Whatever was troubling the Atlantian, Bruce could only hope it wasn’t emotions. That was really, really not his department… Jonn was much better with issues like that.

“Batman, may I have a word?”

Batman nodded, quick to follow the other out into a more private room.

“It has come to my attention that your daughter and you have a, uh, tricky relationship.”

Batman raised an eyebrow, as his relationship with Cass was doing well… he thought. Maybe he should visit her more? She was doing fine on her own and was always warm to him when he visited her in China on her missions against the Triad. Perhaps he should see if she was open to working with him on a case on that, or see if she wanted to come to Gotham again.

“And I don’t mean to judge here,” Aqua man continued, obviously nervous. “But uh, apparently your current Robin is well aware of her existence.”

Batman raised an eyebrow under the cowl. “Black Bat and Robin are close.”

The way Aquaman’s face contorted indicated nothing good. “Your other daughter.” The man paused, waiting for Batman to understand. “Ladybug.”

Bruce… Bruce froze. “I don’t have another daughter.” Not to his knowledge.

Aquaman ran a hand through his hair. “Well apparently ‘Murder Robin’ has met her,” Aquaman said with air quotes of all things. “Years ago.”

Bruce felt his heart stop. Damian’s… adjustment into the family had not been easy. And a few years ago Damian was much more… willing to do things against the Batcode, things that had him thriving in the League of Assassins. Things that changed a person. Things he’d need to ask this Ladybug—his daughter, another surprise child—about.

“And given that a Ladybug being active has always been a sign of a potential apocalypse—“

Batman’s red flags began flashing. Hard. His child was in danger and fighting a potential apocalypse event. Without his help. Without Batman’s resources.

“I assume Ladybug is a mantel.” Bruce hoped she had a mentor, someone to ease her into hero-work.

“Yes.” Aquaman looked… hesitant then. “Were it not for one Ladybug’s mercy, my people would have died when Atlantis was sunk by her equal, the Black Cat’s user. It seems this time they’re allies this time, against the Butterfly—I, Batman, are you alright?”

Bruce was not okay, at all. There is an ongoing apocalypse event, a daughter he never met stopping it (how old was she? Was she Damian’s age or older? Younger? He didn’t want her to have to live with this life, but she was and was doing so without him, without his help, without someone he knew she could lean on for support) and apparently his youngest son was well aware of this and did nothing to help. Did not even tell him.

He was going to have words with Damian.

“Excuse me.” Batman turned to leave. He has a son to interrogate, research to do, and a daughter to find (beg forgiveness for not getting to her sooner, and help her) on top of the usual workload. A Bat’s work is never done.

Wonder Woman who stopped him while he was reeling with this information, her grip too solid on his arm, and unlikely to break.

“It is not wise to rush in.” She began, appealing to reason in the hopes of keeping a panicked “Batdad” from making the situation worse. “From what Aquaman has told us, she does not welcome your involvement,” she said slowly, hoping it would sink in. “The Ladybug Miraculous has always been an agent of creation, of healing.” Diana hoped that would set her friend’s mind at ease. Ladybugs were notorious for their battle prowess and strategies, yes, but first and foremost their duty was to undo damage. “Ladybug herself will have much on her shoulders if her role is anything like my mother’s when she was among the Chosen, and adding yourself to the equation before her adversary is defeated will only serve to distract her from her goal.”

Batman remained tense, but didn’t struggle against Wonder Woman’s grasp. Good.

Green Lantern was the next to approach, as planned. “So why don’t you focus on your family in Gotham before rushing into meeting this kid,” Green Lantern—no, Hal suggested. “We’ll work on finding out what’s causing this possible apocalypse. You get your house in order.”

Bruce heard the words that weren’t said. Find out what your ex-assassin son did your demi-god daughter and make sure he doesn’t screw up anything further.

“That is not—“

“Batman.” Wonder Woman squeezed his arm. “This is not a suggestion.”

Cold curled in Bruce's stomach. His daughter was in danger, fighting against a potential apocalypse, and he was told to sit this one out. When it was personal. (His daughter who he needed to meet, to learn about, to see what made her tick and work out how to help her wherever she might need it. His daughter who he had lost years with.)

(They were ordering him to lose more time with her.)

“You are benched from League activities until this is sorted out.” Wonder Woman continued, as though she hadn’t just gutted Bruce. “I will take lead on Ladybug’s case. My people have much experience with her and the Black Cat as allies.” It was Diana that was smiling then. “Perhaps Mother’s connection will convince her to allow our aide.”

Green Lantern nodded along. “And when I’m not with you guys, well, GL core is in charge of keeping things not-apocalypse-y across the universe and keeping it from spiraling. And Miraculous tend to like the whole Balance thing, so it shouldn’t be too much for me to help out every now and then with them too.”

Bruce twitched where he was. He wasn’t going to win this. Not by a long shot.

But they were taking Aquaman and a Green Lantern. Granted, at least it wasn’t Guy. But a Lantern. Over him. When it involves his family.

He had to get his house in order quickly.

Damian would say he was quite pleased with himself that day. He managed to decide the type of weapon that would help his sister defend herself against others best, given her profession as a seamstress, he was annoyed he hadn’t thought of it sooner. Selecting the type of needle to give her, and to ensure they could be used for fabrics to give her a reason to carry them on her person, was crucial however.

She had rejected his other offerings thus far, though he could hardly blame her. This would be his seventh attempt. He did hear it was a lucky number from somewhere… and he had gotten better since his last attempts at understanding the type of person she showed herself to be and the type of person she wished to be seen as.

The Swiss dagger on his first attempt was too bulky and not hidden enough for a style of fighting she should strive to cultivate. His second attempt was an ear dagger which were easier to use and she could add additional force with her thumb. He thought it was better protection for her, and it was small enough this time to be kept in her purse. Much better than his first attempt. Only from her pictures he knew it wasn’t ever in her purse.

He had failed to find her an acceptable apology gift that offered her the protection she needed. The third was when he moved to a larger blade, hoping the thin rapier could be hidden well enough as decorative or as a fancier fencing tool than standard. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility given her closeness to an Olympic level fencer and this ‘Adrien Agreste’ who often partnered with Tsurugi. He was glad she had taken to displaying it at the least, though Adrien claiming to have given it to her left a bad taste in his mouth.

His sister wished to not have it known she had her own weapons then, he could handle that. His fourth attempt was going to be a butterfly knife but given legal restrictions that he had come to realize she would follow (as idiotic as they were) he changed it to a classic Swiss knife. He did see this carried on her person on occasion, but not often. He looked into more easily concealed knives and gifted her a ballpoint pen knife—it looked like a pen and he made sure to customize it to resemble the pens in her room (he took a sample for reference) and did see her often carrying that one, though by active attempt or chance he couldn’t gather. He decided she would need a long range item next, and gifted her a small variety of throwing stars (and a knife or two, she seemed to favor possible close combat weapons of those he gave her). He noticed that none of these were carried on her person (he may have bugged them with trackers to figure out her preference) and they rarely left her room.

That was why he concluded that this time needles that she could use for sewing or battle were his best bet. Finding a way to walk that line was proving challenging.

Father came in while he was making his selection. He did find it odd Father hadn’t mentioned her to the rest of the family, but it could be that he wished her a more peaceful life. Damian would not disrespect his father’s wishes by bringing her up.

“Damian, we need to talk.”

Damian furrowed his brow, running over what could warrant that tone. He came up empty.

Father did move closer and see he was looking at needles this time. And showed surprised.

“For Okhti Al Kobra,” Damian stated, hoping his father wouldn’t be upset at him recognizing her. He knew now it was better for her to be apart from them, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do what he could to help her protect herself. His older sister deserved better.

Father did freeze at that.

Had Damian displeased him? (He wouldn’t… wouldn’t send him to back. Damian knew that. But that look… it brought back the boy that wondered when he’d be tossed aside by the Great Batman for no longer being a good solider.)

“Father? I know you don’t like to speak of her but.”

“You, you’re getting her needles?” it was a question. He didn’t get why.

“Yes, my last presents seemed inadequate. She has taken to the penknife, but only sometimes. She keeps the Swiss on her sometimes too—haven’t you been keeping an eye on her social media? She posts a disgusting amount. I figured given the boutique it wouldn’t be unacceptable for her to carry needles on her as a weapon and tool in the future, should anyone else discover our connection.”

Bruce stared Damian, waiting for him to finish.

“She does keep the flowers I left her, though she does react oddly. The first time she was very pale.” Looking back, it was likely fear. She was a civilian after all… “However I believe she has come to accept that even with distance, she is still a Bat by blood and as such, should remain vigilant.” Damian hoped his report was adequate.

“She… how old is she?” Father’s tone was softer then. but the question didn’t make any sense.

“Father, you should know how old she is.” Damian waited for the man to respond.

He didn’t.

Damian furrowed his brow. “Father, you do know who she is, right?”

“Ladybug.”

Damian blinked at that. He had no idea who that was, but he knew an alias when he heard one. “She’s a civilian—when did she—”

“Damian.” He stilled at that. “How old is she?”

Damian straightened then. “She was twelve and a half when we first met. She will be sixteen in two weeks.” Damian glanced at his abandoned screen. “She enjoys design.”

“Her, her name.” His father looked… lost.

“I, we don’t revel secret identities?” Damian was a bit lost. Father should know of his sister. They were only two years apart. She was from before his father’s training became serious. He should know of her, at least. And if he didn’t, wasn’t it a betrayal to her if he revealed who she was without her permission? Whenever he tried to visit, she was always elsewhere, and he couldn’t very well show up as Damian Wayne. That would reveal the family and she didn’t need to know that. Didn’t need that burden.

“She knows she’s my daughter.” Father sounded…desperate.

“She knows she is Batman’s. I didn’t reveal your identity, or the family’s.”

“I…”

Damian took a deep breath. He didn’t want to betray his family. Or further hurt his older sister. “I believe that we should speak to her before discussing her identity. It… it should be her choice.”

Father looked pained at that.

“I assume you don’t…” No, father would not know how the first meeting went… right?

Father said nothing before leaving.

Damian wondered if he should visit her sooner. He eyed his cart and got her a set of weaponry needles, knitting, and a set made for seamstresses with small hands. He hoped these were to her liking. Perhaps he should add white heather (Protection) and purple hyacinth (I’m sorry) in addition to the zinnias…. Or just give her two with the zinnias mixed between them, as Damian reasoned the heather and hyacinth wouldn’t looks the best together. Yellow (daily remembrance) and scarlet (constancy) zinnias with heather (protection) and some greenery should be fine, and purple hyacinth (I’m sorry) mixed with magenta (lasting affection) white (goodness) and perhaps a white daffodil (stay as sweet as you are) with a filler of some sort would work well. She accepted his apologies (albeit in flowers) before, and he hoped he had proven he was paying enough attention to her for her to see that he meant it.

He was glad he hadn’t killed her that day.

Now he had research to do to help his sister.

He missed Brown as she slipped out. And completely missed finding out she was messaging Todd, Drake and Cassandra the news: there was a missing Bat into design, goes by Ladybug, and Bruce has no clue what her identity is.

Cass didn’t send anything in response.

Jason stated he would find her before Tim.

Stephanie was just excited for another girl in the group. Little sister in need of help? Count her in—being Spoiler versus being Batgirl was a world of difference. Having a team made it easier, and it shouldn’t be too hard to convince the girl to give it a shot, right?

Thanks for waiting. part three here

tags: @heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06

debating which bat will find her first (in person), so feel free to state any preferences, and thanks for the comments and kudos--it really does help with working this idea out.

#maribat #my writing #my fic #marinette did not sign up for this #how do i tag #long post #bio!dad bruce #sugar not salt #angst #misunderstanding time

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

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Pocky Challenge

Kinktober Day 10 ~ kink: biting/marking

pairing: switch!sero hanta x switch fem!reader

warnings: smut, cursing, ya know the drill

word count: 3,833

a/n: this is my first time writing for sero so LMAO IF I GET HIS CHARACTER WRONG DONT @ ME, anyways I hate yall for making me write smut as the first thing for so many characters........ but this is super cute and we love an story with bakusquad so eAT IT UP. also its a switch because yall were on god 50/50 for dom or sub sero

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Sero Hanta prided himself on being a reasonably laid-back guy. He knew when to light the fire under his ass, but most of the time he was chill.

Many people go as far as to say they’d never seen him freak out. That was also true, as Sero tried to be as level headed as possible, even when facing grave odds. So it was no surprise that when he was freaking out, everyone panicked.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN Y/L/N IS COMING TO MY ROOM?” Sero screamed as he desperately tried rearranging his neat house. “I CAN’T LET HER SEE MY HOME LIKE THIS?!”

“Do you think y/l/n thinks Sero doesn’t live here?” Kaminari staged whispered to Kirishima who knocked him in the ribcage with his elbow.

“Sero, I think you need to calm down! I’m sure she’s not going to judge! Is there anything we can do to help?” Kirishima asks, his hands going to pick up shoes Sero had left outside of his closet.

“I’m not going to fucking help out,” Bakugou rolled his eyes as he scoffs. Kirishima rammed his elbow into Bakugou’s ribcage.

“WHY WOULD MINA INVITE HER OVER?!” Sero screams as he moves around the home in a whirlwind. Tape shooting everywhere and the desperate words of Kirishima were being entirely muffled.

“Well, Mina said she is very tired of us bozos, or something like that. Plus, y/l/n is her best friend.” Kaminari says throwing an arm around Sero who was panting. Desperate to see what marginal thing he could fix. “I think your house looks great!”

“Yeah, super manly!”

The three of them looked over at Bakugou who had his arms crossed, face twisted into a scowl. “It’s okay.” He muttered and Sero nearly collapsed in relief.

The front door then swung open, Mina marching in with a large grin as you followed in afterward. A pack of pocky in your hands. “Alrighty, my dumb babies,” Mina proclaimed thrusting a box in her hands forward. “Who’s ready to lose at some trivia?!”

“Let’s hope there isn’t any academic stuff in there, huh raccoon eyes.”

“I told you Kacchan, nothing you say hurts me!” Mina cackles as she sat down, and Kirishima had to restrain Bakugou from fighting the pink girl.

“Nice house, Sero!” You exclaimed looking around with a bright smile. “I haven’t seen it in a while.”

Sero nearly faints in Kaminari’s arms as the six of you sink to the ground. Mina screaming the instructions and the teams. Sero froze as you sank next to him, smiling broadly as you shifted the boxes opening towards him, “Did ya want one?” You ask.

“I really LOVE POCKY!” Sero yelps and your grin fades and everyone stared at him. Sero wheezes at the encouraging thumbs up Kirishima and Kaminari flash him. The hard facepalm by Bakugou, and the smirk from Mina. You are oblivious though. You laugh, shaking your head, once again offering the box. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure we can’t ask her to leave, this is embarrassing for me.” Bakugou hisses at Kirishima who shakes his head.

“Leave him alone, it’s not every day you’re eighteen and in love with a beautiful girl.”

Sero laughs a bit too loudly at something you say. He flushes and begins choking on the chocolate covered pretzel.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“No, you won’t!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Sero glances over at you. You were in what was a rather intensive battle against Kaminari. Both of you arguing over what was the right answer because, “I know what I’m talking about, and you’re the idiot here!”

“KIRISHIMA!” Both of you shouted at the same time. Kirishima choked. His hands waving to calm down his a bit too passionate about trivia partners. “WHO’S RIGHT?!”

“I told you, I have no idea what the names of the CareBears are!” Kirishima said, scratching his cheek.

“Thirty seconds!” Bakugou snaps, eager for this time to tap out as they have because no one on their team knew anything apparently.

“KAMINARI, I’M TELLING YOU CAREBEAR IS PINK WITH A DAMN FUCKING RAINBOW!”

“NO, CARE BEAR IS YELLOW WITH A SUN!”

“HOW DOES THAT EVEN MAKE SENSE?! WHY WOULD THE SUN BE ASSOCIATED WITH CARING?!”

“OH, I DON’T KNOW? SUN GIVES VITAMIN D! WHICH MAKES YOU HAPPY!”

“YOU’RE SO FUCKING DUMB!!!”

“Care Bear is pink with a rainbow, final answer.” Kirishima groans as you scream in victory.

Sero freezes as both you and Kaminari snap their attention to him, after all, he had the answer. “Y-You’re correct!”

“DAMNIT SHITTY HAIR, WHY DIDN’T YOU LISTEN TO DUNCE FACE?!”

“The vitamin D thing really turned me off.”

“...touche.”

Sero sighed as everyone got up, it was well past three a.m., and your team had finally won. Sero didn’t even have time to stand up before everyone was gone. Shouts of goodnights filling the house. As well as Bakugou complaining about not being able to get the proper hours of rest he needed. All while Kaminari made fun of him.

“They clear out really fast.” You state from besides Sero, and he freezes.

“Oh… ye-yeah they do that a lot!” Sero grins over at you. He savors in the fact that you seem comfortable around him. Your shoulders caving as you groan.

“Well, thanks for hosting! You guys are definitely a lot different to hang out with than Uraraka and co.”

“R-Really? It’s not like this?”

“Well… we don’t have a Bakugou to bully as you guys do, so no!” You giggle and Sero laughs. Both of your hands moving for the Pocky in the box.

You both freeze as it’s the last one, and Sero yanked his hand away, face blushing. His voice stammering out an apology as you laugh it off. “It’s okay, we can share!” You state, and Sero watches as you place the chocolate pretzel between your lips. “Come on.” Your muffled voice states.

“W-Wait, what?”

With a grin, you take the pretzel out of your mouth, a crooked grin on your face. “You have heard of Pocky Challenge, right?” Sero nods his head, of course, he has! At this point who hasn’t? “Play it with me?”

Your words are innocent enough, but the gleam in your eyes, and the feeling in your smile makes Sero moan. His hands slam over his mouth, face flushed red, and embarrassed pants leaving his lips. Your eyes only gleam brighter as you shift closer. The snack swinging in-between your teeth.

“I mean, unless I’m reading into things wrong, you do like me right? If not I’ll totally forget this!” You say, your hands touching the tops of his thighs. A seductive smirk on your face.

Sero nods his head, breathes escaping his nose harshly. Too fast to be normal. Too fast for Sero Hanta! He watches as your fingers raise the pretzel up to his mouth, shaking it slightly as you grin. “Open wide.”

And he does.

Sero quivers under your weight as the two of you take another bite. His heart feels like it’s about to rip out of his chest as another bite happens. He can feel your breath hitting his chin. He almost snaps the Pocky. Sero groans as you crawl closer, your lips so close it’s frustrating. The smell of perfume overwhelming him as you’re one more bite away.

Then it happens, your lips pressed against his. You jaw moving as you chew, and Sero forgets how to breathe as you crawl onto his lap. His hands trembling against your skin. Sero feels like fainting as your arms wrap around his neck, your hips shifting to sit better against his lap. It’s too much to handle, it’s too much for him to take in as you move.

Sero pulls away panting, and you grin as you kiss down his neck. Sero moaning as your teeth bites into his skin. “I win.” You whisper against his skin and Sero gawks at you. Unable to think of anything to say as you continue sucking and biting on the same spot. A lecherous moan escaping his lips as your hip easily rolls in rhythm with your love bites.

“D-Does this, shit, does this mean you like me?” Sero squeaks under your mouth. You pull away from his neck, and Sero groans. The spot you were paying attention to feels rough and sore, and most definitely throbbing.

“I’ve liked you since our first year, Sero.” You state, your lips pressing against his own softly. “You’re the one who’s catching up here.”

“B-But I-I, oh my god!” Sero groans. Your mouth is back over his jugular. Your teeth nipping, nibbling, and biting over the sensitive skin. Sero throws his head back overwhelmed by your increased passion. His breathing is heavy as your lips and teeth continue their assault. His senses are overwhelming as you shift towards his collarbones. Your hips now rocking against his. Sero moans as a particular roll has him now completely hard.

You take notice in it as you pull his shirt off over his head, your grin devious as your lips press against his once again. “You have no idea how long I wanted to do this.” You sigh as your fingers run up and down his toned skin. “You’re the worst at focusing on someone.”

“I-I’m sorry!” Sero squeaks as your canines drag against his chest, your arms pushing him down. His back hitting the cold floor. Sero can feel his cock twitch as your mouth never stops biting its way down. He can see the purple bruises and teeth marks everywhere. The entire display of dominance making him thrust his hips against your own.

A moan escapes your lips. A sound Sero only heard in his wet dreams, a sound he could only imagine. A sound he very much so loved as you continued down. Your teeth biting down on his nipple.

“Y/l/n!” Sero squeaks, his hands attaching to your waist as you giggle.

“I’m leaving your body in hickies, I think the least you can do is call me y/n.” You tease, your eyes staring into Sero’s soul as you leaned down, your tongue swirling around his nipple. Sero squeaks at how erotic it looks, something he never imagined to happen ever.

He grunts as your lips trail further down, your fingers ghosting over his hard cock. He watches with wide eyes as you groan. “Hanta, I don’t think you even know how beautiful you are.”

Sero freezes as your hands unbutton his shorts, and he lets out a low hiss as you remove the fabric. Sero pants as the tented materials of his underwear capture your attention. “Aw, are you excited to see me?” You giggle as Sero laughs.

“I’m going to say yes,” Sero teases, and you grin.

“I was wondering where your personality went.” You giggle, and your fingers hook around his waistband. “May I?”

“Please?”

Sero watches with almost pure fascination as your fingers peel away his boxers. His cock springing out, and your hand grasping it firmly within your fist. “Now,” You say with a sigh. “I know you’re excited and all, but as you lost, you’re not allowed to come into my mouth.”

“Wait, what--y/n!”

Your mouth envelopes around his hard dick. Sero hisses as his fingers lock around your hair. His hips unconsciously bucking into your throat. The sound of you gagging fills his ears, and it’s a sound that has Sero cursing everything in existence. Your mouth slides up and down his length. Whatever you’re not easing down your throat is being stroked with your hand.

Sero head slams against his floor, pulling you against his length. You choke slightly, relaxing your jaw and throat as you take on more. His hips work in rhythm with your mouth, allowing for the two of you to feel comfortable as you go down on him. Sero trembles as your hands squeeze his balls firmly in your fingers. His eyes rolling as you massage them.

“Fuck, y-y/n, I needa… SHIT! I need to--” Sero’s hips are frantic in your mouth.

You gag as he hits the back of your throat at full force. Tears springing into your eyes as you try adjusting to having his length down your throat. You grasp his waist as you open your mouth larger, his hips snapping into your mouth with no mercy.

The simple excitement of the man you’ve had a crush on for the longest time sends pressure through your body. The liquid heat of your arousal soaking through your panties.

You moan around his dick, his hips relentless in their conquest. Your eyes can barely keep themselves open on Sero as he fucks your face. “You’re so amazing, y/n.” Sero groans as dick spasms within your mouth, and you choke around him. Fire erupting in your lungs from the lack of oxygen, but it feels so good.

You felt the head of his cock hit the back of your throat as you pulled away despite his grip on your hair. “Don’t be thinking you’re going to be able to come!” You pant, your chest heaving as you try to gain your air back.

But you shriek as Sero sits up, and in one smooth motion as you on your back. Arching against the floor, you hiss at the cold feeling as Sero’s mouth lavishes your skin.

“What are you gonna do to me?” You gasp as Sero bites down on the skin behind your ear.

“Whatever you want,” Sero growls. You sigh as your hands come and press against his chest, his black hair tickling your skin.

“I want you to hit me,” You start, and Sero freezes against your skin. “I want you to bite me, and I want to be breathless.”

You remain still as he pulls away, his black eyes filled with worry and lust. “Are you sure? T-This is my first time, and… well, I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Your fingers touch the back of his head and pull his bruised lips towards yours. You kiss him sweetly, making his chest still as you pull away. “The only way you could ever disappoint me is if you never use your tape on me.”

Sero laughs, pressing his nose to your neck.

“Alright, y/n. I’ll try, no promises I’ll be any good.”

“Oh, you special baby, we both know you’ll have me screaming your name tonight.”

Sero pants his head shaking as he nips your neck. “If you keep saying such crude things I may come even before getting inside you.”

“That would be amazing for me!”

Sero groans but his hands grasp your breasts and squeeze, making your laughter die on your lips as you moan. “H-Hanta.”

“How I see it, you’re not in a position to be laughing at me, babe.” Sero almost mocks. His teeth biting down hard on your collarbone, and you shriek at the pleasure shooting down your body. “I don’t think I can hit you, not tonight at least. But I will make sure you’re bitten and breathless before I’m done with you.”

Your heart hammers in your chest as Sero’s mouth sucks harshly on your tender skin. Your body pressing into his as you moan loudly. “Yes, that feels so good!” You flush as his teeth mark your skin. Sero wasting no time to shift over to an unmarked area of your skin to make more indentions and bruises. Your button-up shirt gets ripped apart. Buttons flying as Sero continues his conquest lower and lower.

Your breathing staggers as Sero marks your breasts. The paler color of your breasts, in comparison to the rest of your body, made the love bites stand out. Sero simply shoving your bra down. You groan as your arms circle below you to remove your bra. Laughing slightly as his teeth attach onto your nipple. Sero mimics your earlier motions, his eyes locked on your burning face.

You shudder as he pulls away with a wet pop, and you stare as he pulls down your skirt, your black tights in his way.

“Do you mind if I--?” Sero asks. His hands grabbing the wet crotch and tearing the fabric in two, your shocked gasps ringing in his ears.

“HANTA!”

But his fingers sink into your waiting cunt, and you pant as his fingers thrust in and out of you. They curl slightly, and your almost shriek makes Sero grin widely.

Your body thrashes on his pumping fingers, and Sero laughs. His lips pressing against your inner thighs. Your head throws back as his teeth sink into your soft flesh, and your hands slam on the floor as you cry out his name.

“You’re so pretty, fucking yourself around my fingers,” Sero states with a grin. His mouth still pressing into your trembling legs as you place marks against your legs. “Such a pretty girl.”

“Hanta, I sw-swear to god!” You moan as your hips roll against his fingers, and Sero laughs.

His fingers pull out of you now throbbing sex, your eyes heavy as you glare at Sero who stands up. Your eyes widen as his tape wraps around your wrists, pulling you to your feet. “You see, I’ve been imagining this day for a very long day, and I’m not fucking you in my living room, sweetheart.” Sero sighs, biting down on a purple bruise on your neck, and you whine loudly. “You had high expectations of me this first time around, and I won’t disappoint you.”

You whimper against his chest. Your thighs rubbing together to release what little tension you could get rid of. His fingers grasped your waist, and you were then hoisted up onto your feet. Your bondage arms slammed between both of your chests, as you groan.

His lips are back on yours, and you shudder as he begins walking down to what you assume is his room as he tosses you on the bed. You move to shift better on the bed, but Sero flips you onto your stomach. Your face turns red as he bites down on your ass, and you slam your face into the mattress.

“Did that embarrass you?” Sero chuckles against your flesh, and you moan in affirmation. “After all that teasing I was expecting you to be a bit tougher to crack.”

“I’m not a brat!” You exclaim. Your body shuddering at the feeling of the tip of his cock teasing your slick, throbbing entrance. “Just stick it in or else I will mount your dick for you.”

“You’re quite the talker.” Sero teases as he easily slides his cock in all the way. Your tangled moans are music to your ears as he began thrusting in and out.

Your breathing hitches as Sero pushes your chest into the mattress. His knees sinking into the mattress and the new angle furthering your pleasure as he thrusts in and out. His speed is almost too slow, and you grunt, shoving your ass back onto his moving hips, and Sero grunts.

“You’re so fucking tight, you need to wait.” Sero hisses, and you laugh.

“Like hell.” You say, your hips increasing in speed. Your tied arms supporting your arched position as his hands grip your skin. His grip will definitely leave bruises, and it excites you even more so as he slowly begins moving with you.

His speed and power overcoming yours, and soon all you can do is scream into the mattress as he’s ramming into you. Sero’s hips snapping deliciously into you. The sounds of your dripping sex resonating throughout the room.

“Mmm, you look so hot like this, baby.” Sero moans. You moan as Sero grinds his hips against yours, his hand snaking around your legs to press onto your clit.

You cry out when his hand comes down hard on your ass, your body nearly giving out as he did so. “H-Hanta!” You squeak, as his hand comes down hard again. Pleasure pained screams fill the room and Sero grunts as his speed increase behind you. A grin on his face, his eyes fascinated with the way your ass shook with his spanks and thrusting.

Again and again, he spanked you.

More and more, the pressure within you built.

The coil in your belly tightening as you struggle to keep from pouring over the edge. Lecherous mewls escaping your mouth as you back arches further onto the bed.

“You’re so fucking hot, y/n,” Sero grunts his fingers pinching your clit, and you sob into the mattress. You felt as if your ass was on fire, it was stinging in the most delicious way as he rammed into you. Sero seemed to be uncaring about how much your pussy was clenching around his cock. It never once interfered with his actions as his hips thrust into you. A rhythm that you could no longer keep up with. “Do you need to cum?” Sero pants and your head nods desperately against the mattress.

“Yes, I need to fucking cum.” You cry as he shifts his hips, and slams back into you.

You swear you can almost see stars as he does so, your eyes rolling back.

He’s found his g-spot, and he continues slamming into the same spot with a breathy laugh.

You’re breathing is hitching. Lack of oxygen burning at your lungs as he slams into it over and over. Shrill screams leaving your mouth as the pressure shoots throughout your body. Your body thrashing against his beating hips and hand.

You come as Sero leans on top of you, his mouth biting the crook of your neck.

Your scream is silent, and your cunt clenched around his moving cock and Sero grunts. His teeth biting harder as his hips continue pounding into you. His speed is unwavering as he chases after your orgasm. Cries finally are heard from you, as your pussy still flutters around his cock and Sero groans.

He unloads his hot seed in you, and you collapse as soon as he pulls out.

“Oh, my god.” You breathe heavily as Sero falls onto the bed beside you, his hands pulling through your hair.

“W-Was I any good?” Sero asks, trying to capture his breath.

“The best.” You say scooting closer to him, and Sero laughs as he cuddles you close.

“I like you, a lot.” Sero sighs pressing a kiss to your damp forehead. “Can I take you out on a date sometime?”

You look up at him, pressing a kiss to his lips, “I would love that…”

The two of you lay in your blissful silence, his hands slipping the tape off your bruised wrists. You smile as you’re able to wrap your arms around him, and the two of you stay. For however long.

“You really bruised me up, I have your hands printed on my ass.”

“...sorry, but you asked for that.”

“True, hashtag no ragRETS!”

“You’re so dumb.”

“Hey, as your girlfriend, I will warn you that you should have known about that a while ago!”

“Hm… true. Hashtag no ragrets.”

“‘Atta boy.”

#sero hanta #sero x reader #sero hanta x reader #sero smut #bnha sero #mha sero #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha #mha x reader #mha smut #burnedbyshoto does kinktober #bnha kinktober #mha kinktober

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 5 years ago

Text

The Switching Hour

A/N: it’s been just over a week since halloween but i finally got this piece done and i’m quite happy with it! :D i hope you guys enjoy and feedback is always welcome and cherished!! ilyyyy

masterlist | ask

word count: 8.4k

content: dramatic perfectionist demon!h, fluff, and a lil bit of smutty sexual tension

preview:

Her voice chimes up, prickly with annoyance and just the slightest bit of awe. “Are you always this picky when it comes to your Halloween costume?”

Harry rubs the material of a Jack Skellington pantsuit between his thumbs and forefingers, humming in absentminded disapproval at the flimsiness of the fabric. “Always.”

“Why?”

He drops the article of clothing, watching it sway back and forth on its hanger for a second before glancing up to meet her irritated expression, answering with a prideful undertone. “Because Halloween is the best holiday of the year and I’ve built quite the reputation for myself amongst my group. I always outshine and I tend to keep it that way, darling.”

Y/N rolls her eyes lightly, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. “Right, I forgot how competitive you are.”

“Actually, I like the praise,” Harry gives her a slow, sultry once-over, lips buckling with a sly smirk, “but you already knew that.”

Her arms tighten instinctively across her body.

Harry goes back to filtering through hangers, scrunching his nose in distaste at yet another Dracula ensemble. Drac never even wore a cape, he preferred tapered vests. He was the one who taught Harry how to style flared pants centuries before they came into fashion. With the way humans stained his cherished outfit designs, he’d be rolling around in his grave right now if he had one. He wasn’t even a vampire— just a crossroads demon with a very peculiar taste in beverages.

Y/N toys with the visor of an astronaut helmet, staring at her warbled reflection in the grey plastic and sighing with defeated boredom. “Why don’t we just get the Purge masks and go?”

Harry gives her a look of incredulous disdain. “And cover up one of my most prized assets? I’d rather let a hellhound disembowel me again.”

///

Harry was aiming to be an angel.

Well, not literally. Hell forbid it, in his opinion. Most of them are wound so tight, they wouldn’t be able to fly if they tried.

Plus, he actually quite enjoys being a demon. Immortality, flexible work hours, free range of the human world, and not to mention a pretty sick gig with the sorcery. It’s a sweet deal, once you get past the decades of excruciating torture and training, of course.

So no, he’s not aiming to be a literal celestial being. Rather, he’s planning to be one for Halloween on behalf of Y/N’s approach to switch identities as a couple’s costume.

The idea had stemmed from when they had been walking around Party City a few days prior, trying to gain inspiration for the annual costume party a friend of Harry’s is hosting.

Y/N hadn’t really been keen on going, despite the invitation being extended to her through Harry. She felt like she never really fit right with her boyfriend’s inner circle and it was for an obvious factor: they were all demons.

She’d only ever gotten along with one demon before (granted, she’d only ever put effort into befriending this single one) and she was perfectly fine with that number. It isn’t that Harry’s friends treat her coldly in any way (they were pretty welcoming, much to her surprise), but she could practically drown in the awkward tension that milled whenever they had to interact. She stuck out of place in a painfully obvious manner and she refuses to force herself into bonding with them; it would just make the situation a whole lot worse.

The connection remained as a polite acquaintanceship, and from what Y/N could tell, both parties are more than happy for it remain as so.

Either way, Harry had managed to sway her into accompanying him. She wanted to give out candy to the children from the complex and he wanted her to be his plus-one, so a compromise was settled. They would hand out candy from six in the evening until eight, then get ready and leave for the party at nine.

After agreeing upon the terms, they’d spent well over forty minutes in pursuit for their costumes at the store.

The choices they had weren’t very compelling, according to Harry.

He outright refused to be a vampire, warlock, or werewolf— the overuse of the genres made them tacky. He’d rather be caught dead (a second time) than have to wear a cowboy hat, so that was a bust on Y/N’s part. No aliens, no zombies, no Frankenstein (which he filed under zombie and it was an entire five minute bicker session between them before Y/N finally let it go with an exasperated sigh).

No superheroes. He’d cycled through all of them already, including Black Widow. He looked great in a bodysuit, if he does say so himself.

Historic figures were a bore considering there isn’t anything truly scary about King Tut, other than his crippled foot and untimely demise. Animal costumes are for children, as well as ghosts and ghouls. Mummies were too messy.

Due to his selectiveness, they ended up circling the store five times, coming up empty-handed. Y/N had stopped giving him suggestions after he’d used a release spell to make her drop the Elvis wig she’d been inspecting.

Her voice chimes up, prickly with annoyance and just the slightest bit of awe. “Are you always this picky when it comes to your Halloween costume?”

Harry rubs the material of a Jack Skellington pantsuit between his thumbs and forefingers, humming in absentminded disapproval at the flimsiness of the fabric. “Always.”

“Why?”

Y/N rolls her eyes lightly, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. “Right, I forgot how competitive you are.”

“Actually, I like the praise,” Harry gives her a slow, sultry once-over, lips buckling with a sly smirk, “but you already knew that.”

Her arms tighten instinctively across her body.

Y/N toys with the visor of an astronaut helmet, staring at her warbled reflection in the grey plastic and sighing with defeated boredom. “Why don’t we just get the Purge masks and go?”

Harry gives her a look of incredulous disdain. “And cover up one of my most prized assets? I’d rather let a hellhound disembowel me again.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He pulls a pirate costume out from the metal rack, eyeing it judgingly. “You don’t get crowned best costume every year without being dramatic.”

The outfit holds a decent aesthetic with the passable material and colorful gems. The embroidery on the cosmetically tattered vest holds up and there’s no stingy parrot accessory in sight, though the cheap plastic sword is a bust. He’ll have to rummage through his storage and find a real one (probably the one he used during the American Revolution). If he’s lucky, maybe it’ll still have some dried blood on it.

With a bit of smudged black eyeliner and a pair of silver hoop earrings, he just might strike gold at the party.

Best of all, the costume gives him an excuse to show off his broad chest (not that he needs one, but the fact that it adds to the genuinity of the look is a win).

“Harry, look.”

The giddy hilarity in Y/N’s voice draws his attention upwards from examining the purple buttons on the potential candidate.

She’d clad herself in a bright red glittering cape that goes down to her knees, the button of the collar a large pentagram and perched atop her head is a pair of bedazzled devil horns about five inches in height each. In her hand she holds the rest of the costume— an attachable pointed tail and a three foot tall blood red pitchfork.

“What do you think? Kinda reminds me of someone, but I can’t quite place my finger on it.” She looks up in faux thoughtfulness, tapping her chin for effect.

Harry’s cheeks twitch with a grin of endeared amusement, dimples blinking. “I think you look absolutely adorable. Although...”

He trails off as he drift towards her, tugging lightly at hem of the cape, looking past his girlfriend towards the array of other devil costumes. He reaches for another, pulling it out and holding it up for consideration, shrugging his brows suggestively. “I think I’d rather see you in this skimpy little red dress and fishnet stockings.”

Y/N’s eyelids droop into a stern scowl. “And I’d rather not have my ass hanging out in front of all your friends.”

“That’s the whole point, minx.” Harry holds the hanger up in front of her, humming admirably as an image swipes over the front of his eyes of her prancing around in a pair of glossy red-bottom heels, a pentagram choker, and some bold cherry-colored lipstick. “Just wanna show off my girl.”

Y/N shoves the garment back towards him, tone cocky and pointed. “If you like it so much, why don’t you wear it, then?”

He lowers his arm, slinking his head slightly to the side and tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, the edges of his mouth twitching cheekily. “I don’t think all my bits and pieces would fit inside these stockings properly.”

She unclasps the pin that holds the cape closed, pushing it off her shoulders as she sing-songs her words teasingly. “Won’t know until you try it.”

Harry puts the articles of clothing back into their designated spot. “You’re no fun.”

His focus dances to a few hangers down, a random twinkling nabbing his curiosity. He moves the surrounding pieces away with the back of his hands to get a better look, a smile creeping across his face at the fit.

“Hey, babe. What d’you think of this one?”

Y/N glimpses up from fiddling with the bendy devil tail, scoffing in entertained delight at the sight before her.

Harry stands with his elbow propped on the top of the metal clothing rack, his legs crossed at the ankles with the tip of his worn tan boot tapping at the sleek black floor beneath it. He’s decked himself out in full angel attire, a light-up, wire-supported halo flashing brightly above his head, alternating patterns between quick bursts of yellow light and longer, drawn-out fading. The wings across his back span about four feet in total, strewn with white and gold holographic feathers, some covered in glitter.

“I think you look dashing.”

Harry pushes off the metal rail, the whole set-up quaking a bit under his strength. He ambles over until he’s right in front of his girlfriend, holding his arms out to his sides grandly. “I think I look dashing, too.”

He then turns his torso to the side, propping his chin on his shoulder and batting his lashes, going for a faux effect of adorable pureness. “Personally, I feel like I’d blend right in.”

His eyes suddenly ink black, dark veins protruding under his waterline and snaking their way down his cheekbones. “I’m as innocent as they come.”

Y/N glances up at the ceiling with pretend mild annoyance, irises focusing back on Harry with the left corner of her lips curved, her sentence deadpan. “I beg to differ.”

Harry drops the act, a look of insulted shock painting over his features as he carefully removes the halo headband from his quiffed curls. “You don’t think I’d play off being a good angel?!”

Y/N reaches over his shoulder and gives the tip of one of the fluffy wings a signifying tug. “Frankly, I don’t think you’d get past the gates. You’d get smited on sight.”

He gently grabs the hand that was playing with a gold polyester feathers, sifting his fingers between her’s and thumbing over the back of her knuckles temptingly. He cocks his head sideways a tad, stepping forward until his chest is ghosting over Y/N’s, the air of his sultry words just barely caressing her lips. “Maybe you could sneak me in, then?”

Y/N squeezes his digits playfully, snorting softly. “And why would I do that? So you can wreak havoc in the dining hall?”

Harry releases a boyish giggle, the edges of his eyes crinkling as his nose scrunches. The childish grin slowly melts into a brazen smirk, teeth gnawing at the inside of his lower lip as some very explicit scenes bounce around the inside of his skull. He shakes his head lightly, making a low mm-mm sound to hint that he has other plans in mind.

“Want you to sneak me in so you can take me up to your room. Show me around a bit— beginning of the universe memorabilia sounds interesting.”

“Yet something tells me prehistoric rocks aren’t why you’d want me to sneak you up to my room.” She gives him a knowing stare, the pad of her thumb toying with the glossy black surface of his painted index nail.

“Well aren’t you a clever little thing?” Harry leans in closer, his lip piercing grazing the skin along her jaw, settling nice and snug right against her earlobe. Her blood feels like it’s boiling.

His whisper send tendrils of electricity revving across her temples and down her neck.

“You’re right, though. Honestly, I just wanna fuck you on your bed instead of mine, for once. Make you whine and whimper for me to let you cum, all right under your dad’s nose. Make you stain your sheets and leave a few nail notches on your headboard.”

“Harry, we’re in public...” Y/N’s urgent murmur is warm against his neck, causing him to whine deeply in the back of his throat as the heat washes down his jugular, leaving his ears tingling.

His voice is thick and full of gravel as he answers. “I know, makes it so much hotter.”

He pauses his breathing for a heartbeat and Y/N gets the sensation that he’s analyzing her. She then feels him press a conceited grin across the back of her jaw, his two front teeth nipping at her earlobe tauntingly. His tone is heavy with arrogant certainty. “You’re wet.”

She digs her nails into his knuckles, looking down at her feet out of embarrassed instinct. “Shut up.”

He ignores her request. “I’d have to muffle those pretty sounds you make— we both know how loud you are. Would cover your mouth with the palm of my hand while I spread your thighs with my hips and fill you up with my cock until you feel it at the pit of your tummy. I’d run my lips across your stinging nose and hot cheeks, hushing you and mumbling dirty things against your skin. Telling you what a good girl you are for me and how tight and warm you feel. How good you’re taking me and how cute you look all sweaty and needy, trying to keep quiet so no one finds out you snuck a demon back home, all because you wanted to get your brains fucked out with everyone right outside the door.”

A sudden prickling slithers up the back of Y/N’s neck, her muscles tightening in heightened anticipation. “Someone’s watching us.”

Harry’s arm wraps around her waist, the hand holding the halo sliding over Y/N’s hip and maneuvering her out of sight of the prying eyes he can feel burning into his broad back, piercing right through the material of his leather jacket. He glimpses over his shoulder, catching a snapshot of the culprit peeping into their exchange: an elderly woman, partially hidden behind the black and orange tensile decorations, staring at them with disgust.

Harry mumbles a quick basic spell under his breath. “Dis.”

Push.

The aged woman spontaneously jars forward, stumbling out of sight down the aisle she’d been loitering.

Harry cranes his neck back towards his girlfriend, a happily satisfied smile staining his lips. “Took care of it.”

Y/N’s wide, astonished gaze leaves the empty space where the target had been, zoning in on her boyfriend with alarmed outrage. “You just shoved an old lady!”

His giddy grin immediately drops into a confused frown. “And?”

Harry didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to go wider, but she puts rest to his doubt.

“And?! She could be hurt!” She immediately slaps his hand off her hip, releasing their conjoined fingers and smacking her palm across his chest as a repercussion for his actions (though he barely feels it).

He rolls his eyes at her theatrics. “She’s fine! It was a light graze.”

“It was a satanic spell!”

“She was intruding!”

“Oh, and that warrants you pushing her down the aisle?”

There’s a halt in the argument, followed by Harry’s eyes darting across different points of Y/N’s face— her tinted lips, her creased brows, her slightly flaring nose, and her faintly glowing eyes. The look in them is intense and begrudging.

He hadn’t even realized his lips were parted in aroused surprise at her vehement outburst— she always looks so hot when she’s mad. He licks over them lightly, willing them closed and exhaling loudly through his nose. His eyebrows jolt upwards with salacious intent, the corners of his pursed mouth following suit. “Are y’gonna spank me for it, then?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” Harry pecks the tip of Y/N’s nose and steps sideways, purposefully leaving just enough space for Y/N to squeeze between his chest and the clothing rack.

A swift peek at the designated aisle confirms that the woman is indeed fine (just a little bewildered) and Y/N is finally able to move past it, though still grumbling condemnation.

She pulls at the thick clear straps of Harry’s fake wings thoughtfully. “We still haven’t found any costumes.”

“Speak for yourself. I think I’m gonna go as Captain Jack Sparrow over there.” He hooks his thumb towards where he’d hung the pirate costume while he tried on the angel props.

Y/N squeezes the cushioned bedazzled devil horns, an idea dawning. “What if we go as each other?”

Harry raises a single brow, intrigued. “Well, that’s an idea.”

“It’d be a cute couple’s costume!”

He removes the wings from his back. “I dunno. I quite like my pirate costume. I look great in black liner.”

Y/N pouts, though he doesn’t think she notices, which makes it all the cuter. “Pleaseee?”

He lightly tugs at the collar of Y/N’s striped t-shirt. “I could be persuaded...”

She huffs. “Why are you such a handful?”

He taps the pad of his index finger against the faint hollow at the center of her throat. “I’m more than a handful and you’re well aware of that.”

She forces herself to keep a tab on the electricity threatening to brim into her irises. “Please?”

“Say it again. Love the way your voice sounds when you’re begging.”

She narrows her eyes at him, irked (and slightly aroused, though she’d never admit it) at the way he’s being so crude. “Pretty please?”

The sensual touches at her neck halt, the atmosphere suspended for an elongated second. “Pretty please...?”

His tone suggests he’s waiting for her to utter something more, eyes waltzing with pompous appeal at the way she’s stroking his ego.

Y/N grinds her teeth, jaw muscle visibly ticking. When she speaks, her voice is low and timid. “Pretty please, Daddy?”

The amusement swimming in the amber specks around his pupils translate across the ends of his mouth. “Sounds like a plan. Cliché, but I’ll bite.”

She clears her throat to break the puncturing sexual tension. “We just have to figure out the outfits to wear with the accessories. It can’t be that hard, right?”

Harry smiles confidently, dozens of combinations of clothing already buzzing around his mind. “You leave that to me, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t disappoint. He brings the rest of their costumes home the next day after three grueling hours at the shopping mall, carrying two frosted plastic covers over his shoulders (as well as an exhausted yet triumphant expression) when he saunters into the living room.

Y/N falls in love with her fit before it’s even fully out of the bag.

It’s a two-part velvet design and it’s absolutely dazzling. The main statement piece of the garment is the actual pantsuit: flared cuffs that cut perfectly just below her ankles, the soft fabric a pigment mix between a bright red and deep maroon. As the eyes draw upward, the suit ombrés into a murky black; by the time one’s sight gets to the bando-style top, the color is solid. The accompanying second half of the outfit is a blazer, tinted the same shade of maroon and covered with carefully embroidered crystal clear gems, resulting in material that both absorbs and reflects any light that hits the jacket, giving it bewitching juxtaposition. The cuffs and grand folded collar are lined with elegant glittered lace— a small detail that makes a world of a difference.

The beauty of it draws attention, clutching it effortlessly and Harry knew it would match her ideally the moment he laid eyes on it at the store.

He even managed to work an aspect of his little skimpy dress fantasy into the mix: the red-bottom heels. They compliment the look down to the detail with the chic, dark glossy surface on top and the flashy red lining along the underside. The model of the pumps is sleek and tapered, made to give an air of sensual confidence to anyone who dons them.

He doesn’t regret a single cent of the thousands he’d spent— the way his girlfriend’s eyes are twinkling with enamored awe makes it more than worth it.

Y/N had been rendered speechless as she passes the pads of her fingers gingerly over the plush velvet, almost as if she’s scared it will disintegrate if it wrinkles. Her voice is a stunned murmur. “Jesus, Harry...”

“You like it?” He sets his own protective carrier down along the arm of the couch, the blurred plastic keeping its contents hidden.

She holds the top portion of the pantsuit up to her chest, trying to imagine how it’ll look with her hair and makeup done. “Like’ doesn’t even come close.”

Harry smiles shyly as he takes the spot beside her, chest fluttering at the notion of making her so happy, fingers rising up to mess with the hoop piercing hooked along his eyebrow— a bashful mannerism. “Good. Always love making your eyes glow like that. Metaphorically speaking.”

Y/N laughs lightly at his joke, face shimmering with a certain loving warmth that makes his insides stir.

Harry drops his hands into his lap, leaning a bit to bump her shoulder jestingly with his. “Where’s my thank you?”

Y/N returns his gesture, hugging his gift to her stomach gratefully. “Thank you. You spoil me rotten, honestly.”

He ducks his head down to press a lingering kiss to her temple, inhaling her scent of lavender and cherry blossoms and baby powder and another odor he can’t quite place but it reminds him of a time in his life long ago when he was happy and fulfilled and loved. “I’d do anything for you.”

“You better stop before my eyes start glowing non-metaphorically.”

Harry’s full-hearted chuckle chimes the air like a thousand bells. It dies down slowly, his forehead pressing against her cheekbone, the tip of his nose brushing across her skin in a caring manner. When he speaks, his voice is gentle and raw. “Can I have a kiss?”

Y/N bobs her head, craning her face towards him, their noses bumping. She flushes her forehead to his, gazing deeply into his irises as they twinkle with delicate admiration.

Contrary to the usual, there’s no lascivious teasing or suggestiveness in Harry’s behavior; just simple, subtle affection. And the fact that he’d asked permission makes it sweeter. It’s intimate moments like these that make her cherish giving love a chance.

She buttons her lips to Harry’s tenderly, feeling him sigh dreamily through his nose. It’s not a messy kiss, there’s no desperate sexual drive behind it. It’s homey and mellow, like a hug from someone long lost.

It lasts a solid ten seconds before Y/N draws back, dwindling the singular kiss into a dozen tiny pecks across Harry’s cheeks, nose, and eyelids until his face is puckering up at the feathery sensation, lashes fluttering open sleepily.

Y/N sponges her lips between her boyfriend’s brows with finality. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She attentively eases the cover back over her expensive present, zipping it closed and making sure the metal bit doesn’t catch on the cloth. She lays is out across her lap, already glancing over Harry’s shoulder investigatively, trying to make out what he had bought for himself.

“So what’s yours look like?” Her hand stretches out towards the costume with the intent of undoing the zipper.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Harry’s fingers come town over the top of her own, smacking them away humorously.

Y/N’s head reels back quizzically, insulted.

He shrugs his brows ominously, one of his large, ring-clad hands streaming across the bag protectively. “It’s a surprise.”

“That’s not fair!” She exclaims adamantly, though the giggles escaping her are doing a horrible job at backing her claim. “You got to pick mine and I can’t even take a peek at yours?”

Harry defends his secret with another playful slap at her insistent hand as it attempts to reach below his arm. “You know how much I love edging.”

Y/N slumps her shoulders dramatically, the weight of the mystery already itching the back of her brain. She doesn’t know how she’ll be able to put up with it for the next couple of days. “Can I at least see the shoes?”

Harry shakes his head, an evilly delighted simper coiling onto his face. “Nope.”

“Unbelievable.” She snips, crossing her arms over her stomach.

“‘Good things come to those who wait’ and all that.”

He’s having way too much fun with this.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him challengingly. “I’ll have my way when you’re asleep.”

He belts out a laugh. “Over my undead body.”

With that, Harry springs up from the couch, jetting towards the stairs that head up to the top floor of the condo, the forbidden costume in tow.

“Hey!” Y/N vaults up to chase him, well aware of all the possible hiding places scattered upstairs. It’ll take her ages to find it; by the time she does, it would already be past the date.

Harry has a decent amount of time ahead of her, his lanky legs taking the steps two and even three at a time, easily leaving her in the dust. How he keeps from slipping on his jack o’lantern socks is beyond him.

Y/N scurries up the spiral staircase after him, both of their airy giggling bouncing off the intricate metal railings and dark hardwood panels.

Harry stumbles into their room and slams the door shut behind him with a simple spell, the lock magically flicking shut. He’s laughing so hard his stomach aches, whipping around on his heels to keep alert as he backs into the room, picking his brain for a proper enchantment. He mumbles the invisibility incantation out of breath and half-snickering, but gets it out nonetheless.

“Fallax flamma, ignis de potentia, et in abscondito, ego ignire te evanescit.”

Cloaking flame, fire of power and concealment, I ignite you to vanish.

A blinding red and blue flame engulfs the entirety of the plastic cover, extinguishing almost immediately, leaving behind no trace evidence of the object he had under his arm moments ago.

And without a second to spare, the door flies open, Y/N rushing in with a victory elating her features. “Gotcha—!”

Her head swivels from side to side, confusion furrowing her brows as she takes in the image of her boyfriend’s empty arms, alongside his smug, self-satisfied expression. “Where’d it go?!”

Harry creases his brows to mimic her own baffled appearance, mocking. “Where’d what go?”

She ignores the dig. “You can’t possibly have hid it that fast! Not unless you used…”

Realization floods her face. “Cheater!”

“It’s not cheating, it’s called using my resources.”

“Cheater!” Y/N reiterates, lunging forward and koalaing her arms and legs around Harry, sending him stilting back and crashing into the mattress, the duvet rising up in a puff of fluffy black cloth.

His back bounces three times against the bed yet she manages to stay latched on, her knees digging into his hips as her hands fumble to pin down his wrists.

He fights back, wriggling from side to side to try and shake her loose, kicking up his legs wildly in hopes of teetering her off. “This is wrongful punishment, I didn’t even get a fair trial!”

Y/N ducks down, running her soft lips over the spot where his neck meets his jaw, knowing full well it’s one of his most ticklish places. She whispers her words warningly. “Let me see it.”

Harry can’t help the high-pitched, half-suppressed laugh that escape him, jitters coursing through his bones, stemming from the area where her mouth rubs along his heated skin. He wills the bubbly shrieks to die down, teething at the ring that adorns his bottom lip, eyes alight with pure ecstatic energy. “No.”

Y/N shrugs off his refusal, her supernatural strength proving valuable as she manages to keep her boyfriend stretched to the sheets. “Fine, then. Guess I’ll just have to torture it out of you.”

Harry sticks his tongue out at her mockingly, the ruby gem piercing glinting in the faint, grey evening light streaming in freely through the large glass wall that overlooks the city skyline. “Guess you will.”

Her method backfires almost immediately.

Harry’s sneaky ways and matching inhuman strength accomplish to outmaneuver her. After a fair share of complaining grunts, palms slamming against cheeks, carefully coordinated pinches to side, and a somewhat harsh tug to her hair, she ends up splayed over the mattress beneath him, heaving shallowly as he traps her forearms against his chest, nimble fingers wrapped around her wrists.

Harry kinks his brows up boastingly. “How’s that, then? Taste of your own medicine.”

Y/N squirms excessively, but slipping free seems unlikely. “I could totally kick you in a really sensitive place right now, but I won’t.”

He calls her bluff, words sticky and warm against her chin. “It’s in your best interest not to considering you’ve taken a liking to bouncing on it.”

She yanks at her arms almost savagely, snapping her head sideways to avoid him taking a piss at her as her irises flare up a pale neon blue.

Harry ends up getting his way. The costume remains unseen until the night of the Halloween party, hidden in some tear in the universe where he knows she won’t be able to find it.

It remains in its magical alcove until Harry summons it out after his shower, hanging it on an unused towel hook on the marble wall.

He gives it a calculating once-over, chin propped on his loose fist, elbow supported by the wrist of the arm he has swung across his torso. He sways ever so slightly, the towel clinging to his hips dangling dangerously low on his structured pelvis. His wet curls caress the back of his neck, mopping over his small ears and itching his brows, resulting in Harry combing them out of his face with his fingers and sighing lightly.

He taps absentmindedly at the center of his plump lips, running the pad of his index digit along the ridges of his bottom one, feeling the smallest bit off since his piercing is lacking in its rightful spot. The things he does for the authenticity of the look.

The hand across his stomach clenches and unclenches thoughtfully as he chalks up the details of the full costume in his head, cracking each of his knuckles one at a time with his thumb as he dwells on his ideas. He can never seem to stay still when he’s plotting.

He glances down at his nails, smiling fondly at the white lacquer Y/N had painted on them to go with his theme. He knows the suspense has been killing her and it amuses him to no end.

Harry rummages through the bathroom cabinets, retrieving his hair drier along with his favorite mousse. Y/N’s makeup bag also makes it onto the counter, as well as his Dove Fresh Cucumber deodorant, cologne, and a pair of dangley pearl earrings he’d acquired as a gift centuries ago from a French noblewoman more than willing to give him what he wanted (in more than one sense).

He knows exactly what his costume is going to look like now and he doesn’t waste a second in beginning preparations.

On the opposite side of the door, Y/N thinks quite the contrary— he’s taking forever to get ready, the minutes wasting away just like her patience.

The plan had gone as intended, to an extent. They’d handed out candy to all the children that had come and she’d even weaned Harry into buying a cute jack o’ lantern bowl to set the mood. She enjoyed seeing all of the creative costumes the kids had conjured up; she thinks her favorite was probably the ten year old girl dressed like Thanos from the Avengers movies. Y/N’s favorite part had been the gauntlet, which had carried different colored Jolly Ranchers in place of the Infinity Stones. Quite clever, if you asked her.

There was an incident with a twelve year old who gave them attitude for their choice in the candy they gave out, but Harry handled it before Y/N could even react. He’d crouched down to her level, mumbled something unintelligible, and then from what Y/N could see in the split second that it occurred, flashed her his demon face. The preteen fled without a single word.

He had pushed himself back up with his palms to his knees, brushing past Y/N into the apartment, grumbling under his breath. “Entitled miscreants.”

No more kids ventured towards their door after that.

She had been the first to get ready, well aware of how long Harry tended to take when preparing himself to go out.

He casually suggested that it would go by faster if they showered together, not to mention it’d “help the environment and what not,” though she knew his intentions would likely set them on a detour. He was playfully insistent, however, and she ended up having to shove him out of the bathroom with his underwear already half off.

After she had cleaned up and blow dried her hair accordingly, she left the bathroom to him, deciding to finish getting ready in the bedroom to avoid being late (and also because she knew he wasn’t going to let her see him putting on the costume).

“I know we have an eternity to live but try not to fill it all up with your showertime.” She’d quipped as she drifted past him on her way out of the foggy, humid washroom.

A sudden tug at her towel had sent her hands fumbling, just barely managing to keep her chest covered. Harry’s snickering had bounced off the shell of her ears. “I make no promises.”

Now Y/N sat on the large bed, distractedly rocking her heels back and forth against the thick-carpeted ground, running her fingers over the silky velvet fabric of her flared pantsuit as it bunches around her thighs.

She isn’t one to brag or boast because she had been wired to be humble, but she doesn’t think she’s ever looked better. The suit fit her perfectly, all of the seams and cinches falling exactly where they should. The jacket was loose enough to be comfortable but snug enough that it hugged her shoulders properly, not to mention the inside was made of velvet, as well. The wide-legged portion of the fit stopped just below her ankles, giving away to the shiny, midnight-tinted glassy shoes. She’d practiced her walk for about ten minutes.

Her hair is parted to the side, the front section pinned back from her face to showcase the makeup she’d applied. She’d tightlined her eyes with black kohl eyeliner and a red lip pencil she’d had to make due with (which she’d ducked into the bathroom to get, disappointed when she didn’t see the familiar plastic covering hanging anywhere along the walls) and applied the bright red lipstain Harry had gotten for her.

Around her neck lays a delicate gold chain, Harry’s large ruby ring glittering at its center. He always loved seeing something of his on her and he always joked about how this specific act was a vintage antic that dated back to the nineteen twenties; girlfriends would wear their boyfriend’s rings around their necks as a symbol of love. The first time he’d mentioned it, she had fallen head over wings for the idea— fallen for its simple yet deep meaning. And it just confirmed to her that under the layers of the hard exterior he donned, Harry was a hopeless romantic at heart (despite the fact that his no longer beat).

Y/N thumbs over the big stone encapsulated in the aged gold band, sighing restlessly through her nose as the pattering of the water echoes through the walls of the bedroom. He’s probably taking this long on purpose and she has half a mind to stalk in there and drag him out by his wet curls, but she refrains. His surprise better be worth it.

The water spout creaks to a stop, the only sound resonating in the bathroom being Harry’s faint humming to Thriller as the door to the shower cracks open loudly. Fucking finally.

Y/N scampers onto her feet, nearly breaking an ankle as she forgets her choice in shoes. She heads towards the washroom door with an attentive stride, rapping her knuckles on the wooden door lightly, voice tinged with irritation. “Are you done?”

Harry chimes back, tone full of airy, cocky humor. “Not quite. Still balls-naked, but I suppose I could go like that, if you want me to. Don’t mind it.”

“Just get dressed already, would you? You’re taking forever.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of being ‘fashionably late?’”

Y/N growls in exasperation, crossing her arms and pacing back and forth in front of their bed, trying to reign in her nerves. Going to a party where she barely knows anyone is bad enough, but Harry isn’t easing her woes any by being a little shit.

On the other side of the wooden door, Harry is finger-combing mousse through his hair as he harmonizes to Monster Mash, twirling strands here and there around his index finger to accentuate the ringlets just the way he likes. He flips his head over, mussing up the roots to ensure the soft volume and fullness he’s so known for. He always takes his hair seriously— a residual mannerism from when he had it shoulder-length for almost a decade.

Blow drying doesn’t take long and he’s buttoning up his top before he knows it, leaving the last three buttons undone to expose his swallow tattoos and upside down cross necklace, the antennas of his butterfly inking peeking out from the edge of the open shirt, along with the curved tips of its wings.

He fishes out a couple of products from Y/N’s cosmetics pouch as he wiggles his toes into his new shoes, zipping them up with finality and leaning in closer to the mirror for the makeup application.

Once he’s finished and everything has been returned to its rightful spot, he spritzes a few pumps of his Tom Ford cologne across his flexing necking and down his jaw, capping it and giving himself a thoughtful once-over in the mirror. He’s proud of what he’d achieved.

He murmurs a spell, retrieving the halo and wings from the magical storage facility he’d placed them in, fitting them onto his costume and humming in approval.

The door to the bathroom swings open, startling Y/N enough to trip up her angry loitering.

Harry steps through the frame of the door, completely decked out in his attire for her to witness in its fully glory. “Let the switching hour begin.”

Y/N can’t stop her jaw from dropping in astonishment.

Harry looks incredible— breath-takingly ethereal, to say the least. She scans the look from bottom to top, taking in every detail slowly, feeling almost as if time had slowed down around her.

It starts with the footwear. They’re a pair of glossy, bright white heeled boots, silver metal tips adorning the front of the shoes. She’s never seen anything like it and knowing how dramatic Harry can be, she wouldn’t be surprised if they’re custom.

The boots disappear under the flared cuffs of the off-white, wide-legged pants he is sporting, the fabric ironed and crisp, complimenting his height. They’re high-waisted, ending just above Harry’s navel, the front embellished with two parallel rows of gold buttons, each engraved with a capital, Roman-font letter G that glints under the soft, buttery low light of a single lamp.

His top is probably the statement piece of the layout. It’s a baby blue long-sleeved button-up blouse with a frilled collar and cuffs, the buttons decently-sized opal crystals that shimmer holographically with every movement. The fabric of the cloth presents a similar effect, the material frosty and see-through with reflective, multi-colored sparkling fibers sewn in. The shirt is tucked into the high waist of Harry’s pants, fitting loose and flouncy around his torso, the twinkling faintness of the thread juxtaposing the darkness of his tattoos in an unexpected yet flattering manner. It hugs his shoulders and back tightly, muscles rippling the cloth in a way similar to how a stone wrinkles the surface of a still lake.

The layers of the collar ornament Harry’s sharp jaw and grace the intricate pearl earring dangling from his right ear. She takes notice of the inversed cross necklace resting at the center of the valley that is his chest, glinting with a type of poetic irony. His fingers are garnished with his usual plethora of rings, his two blocky initials hugging his second middle finger and pinky amidst an array of gems and carvings.

Though the dazzling clothes and expensive jewelry are eye-catching, Y/N can confidently say Harry’s makeup is the real caviar of the entire look.

White liner runs across his waterline and over the crevices of his top lashes, opening up his eyes and making the olive tone of his irises pop more than usual. Glitter has been strewn across the curve of his cheekbones and faded up onto his temples, the holographic flecks of pastel blue, baby pink, and snow white glued down securely and glimmering under the flickering light-up halo. The lustery specks have also been combed into his fluffy, soft curls with a dash of gel, twinkling like a billion little stars. Evenly-spaced rhinestones decorate along the curve of Harry’s thick eyebrows— a final touch of grandeur that pairs adequately with the rest of the accessories.

Harry lifts the palms of his hands upward expectantly, giving a slow twirl and showing off the glitzy wings (which mold into the look effortlessly). “So, what d’you think?”

Y/N puts all of the pieces of the costume together in her brain, attempting to process it all at once and being rendered utterly speechless. The broadness of his body— the thickness of his chest, how his biceps and back muscles strain the dainty material of the top, his towering height with the heels, his sharp, defined features— contrast the delicateness of the fit, but it somehow it works. It somehow makes heat pool at the pit of her stomach and makes her ears crackle with spurts of electricity.

All she manages to croak out is a quiet, tender, “You look pretty.”

This sends Harry into a round of light-hearted giggling, his smile more blinding than any of the flashy props he carries. He glances down, zoning in on the metal tips of his boots to avoid her noticing the blush invading his cheeks. He pushes it down, scolding himself for being so mushy.

He clears his throat lightly, giving a quick glimpse over her own costume. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Y/N instinctively looks down at her outfit, grabbing the excess fabric around her thighs and curtsying jokingly. “Thanks, my boyfriend picked it out.”

Harry tilts his head to the side, his two front teeth digging into his bottom lip, eyebrows jolting knowingly. “He has great taste.”

Y/N steps closer to her boyfriend, draping her arms over his strong shoulders, the corners of her lips twitching. “Yeah, but he takes centuries to get ready. That’s kindof a trade-off.”

Harry’s hands coast onto his girlfriend’s hips, squeezing jestingly as he draws her body flushed against his, the golden buttons of his pants cold against the ombréd cloth of her pantsuit. “He sounds like an ass.”

She wobbles her head from side to side as if mulling over his comment, eventually nodding in agreement. “He is.”

His jaw falls open into a shocked smirk, raising his eyebrows in silent objection. “Is that so? Why do you stay with him, then?”

Y/N’s palms glide down the taut muscles of Harry’s arms, the pads of her fingers pressing into his skin suggestively. “He’s got a few redeeming qualities.”

Harry’s heavy lashes dust over the tops of his cheeks, catching a few stray particles of glitter that shimmer alluringly in the dim lighting. His forearms suddenly tighten harder around her waist, pulling her so close she can feel his groin pressing into her thigh. His tone is slathered with arrogant self-assurance, the ghosts of the words dancing across her stinging lips and her eyes nearly roll back as whiffs of his intoxicatingly delicious scent numbs her sinuses.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Y/N has a hard time swallowing, feeling her voice lodge in her throat as he begins brushing his lips up and down her jaw. “I’ll keep that to myself.”

Harry chuckles deeply and she can feel the vibrations down to her bones. “S’okay, I’ve got an idea of what you meant.”

“You sound awfully confident.”

“I speak from experience.”

Y/N moves her face back a tad, noticing that her fingers had somehow ended up tangled in the chain of his necklace, tugging at it so hard it's bruising Harry’s throat. He doesn’t mind it— he liked the burn.

He ducks down further, wisping his mouth over her’s, groaning lowly in the back of his throat when he sees her lips are stained with the tempting red color he’d picked out. “Your mouth looks so pretty like that. Bet it’d look even better skimming down my chest and over my thighs.”

His hold has her leaning back so far she’s now balancing on the tips of her toes, her chest heaving slightly against his. “Bet it would.”

Harry reaches one hand up, cupping her jaw with his fingers, his thumb rubbing slowly over her bottom lip, watching the color transfer faintly. “Wouldn’t mind some of the glitter on my face ending up across your inner thighs, either.”

A small whine strains the back of Y/N’s throat at the image of Harry’s head ducking between her legs over and over, the white liner smudging under his eyes due to sweat while her damp skin rubs the glitter off his cheekbones, his ringed fingers clamping over her plush thighs as the light from the moon bounces off the glossy surface of the white nail polish.

Harry presses a warm, sloppy kiss to the center of her jugular, her knees quaking as heat surges through her veins. “Some of it on your fingers, too, from pulling at my hair.”

He slowly dips his thumb past her lips, it’s weight heavy on her tongue. She acts on impulse, closing her mouth around it and sucking drunkenly.

Harry’s teeth skim along the side of her neck, a breathy purr of, “That’s my good girl” simmering her nerves.

Her words are muffled and weak, but she manages to get them out into the open. “We’re gonna be late.”

It’s not that Y/N doesn’t want to because, fuck, she wants to, but she knows that Harry would leave her a disoriented mess for the rest of the night, and it’d be pretty obvious. The last thing she wants is his friends teasing her about it— the mortification would be eternal.

He sighs grandly against her throat— which nearly sends her crumpling to the floor— and reluctantly pulls away.

Harry knocks his forehead against her’s, his sparkly lashes dusting her eyelids as they barely conceal the puncturing sexual hunger glinting in the amber flecks around his pupils. “You’re lucky the pantsuit is a one-piece or I’d have you riding my face right about now.”

With that, he refixes her crooked demon horns atop her head, retrieving the cape, clip-on tail, and pitchfork from where she’d placed them on the bed. He tangles their fingers together and yanks a very hazy, unbalanced Y/N towards the door.

She stumbles after him in her heels, gaining enough footing to avoid rolling as they descended down the stairs, the sounds from both of their shoes pounding hard inside her temples. Harry hands her the rest of her costume, grabbing his favorite navy blue trench coat from it’s hook next to the entryway and shrugging it on, carefully working his hands through the sleeves to keep the frill detailing from bunching up. He pats down his pockets to make sure he has his keys, fishing them out with his index finger as he unlocks the front door.

He steps off to the side for Y/N to go through first, kissing her cheek chastely as she brushes past him with a tiny, soft, “Thank you.”

“Of course, darling.” Harry follows her lead, turning back to lock the door to their apartment, checking the knob the same way he’s done his entire life.

Y/N loops her arm around his as they walk towards his car, the chilly air rustling her velvet jacket and drying the light sheen of sweat that had accumulated across her hairline. The moon hangs calmly amongst the stars, illuminating the high points of Harry’s face in a very fitting heavenly manner, the soft sounds of chirping insects and hooting owls setting a comfortably spooky tone for the rest of the night. A few straggling trick-or-treaters are turning in for the night, exchanging happy halloween’s and heading towards their complexes.

The beeping of the car rings across the still air along with the quick flash of the headlights. Harry opens the door for Y/N, just as he’s always done, helping her get settled into the passenger’s seat. He then leans down a tad through the frame of the door, fingers tapping at the hood of the car, eyes half-lidded in a sly simper.

“Just thought I’d tell you in advance, you might wanna get the situation between your thighs settled before we get to the party. I’d be able to smell how wet you are from a mile away.”

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sandalaris · 4 years ago

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TIme Themed Fanfic Asks: Thursday, Friday, Fortnight and August! 💖💖💖

Thursday: have you ever written a high fantasy concept?

For fanfiction? No. Original work? I did once. I really wanted a fantasy novel where the Chosen One had a magically designated protector, because killing a baby is oh so easy. So I wrote a story where the MC was the protector and she couldn’t be killed as long as the Chosen One was too young to start his quest. I had this cool scene where her heart started beating again (her body became “frozen” in the moment the Chosen One took his first breath. She could walk, talk, fight, etc, but she didn’t age or breath or burn energy or basically anything that meant her body was aging past that second) and how weird it felt to actually process sensations and such again.

Friday: most self-indulgent fic you have ever posted?

All the Little Pieces would be my most self-indulgent fic. It’s a seven fandom crossover set in the Walking Dead with way too many characters, lol. Finding connections and/or throwing different characters together has been a blast, as has letting the characters carry themselves forward in what is basically a no-win situation. Plus, I get to break down characters based on how I think they’d react to a never ending traumatic situation and watch them either fall apart or carry on.

Fortnight: what wip do you plan on posting next, if at all?

Answered here! :D Basically, I have no clue, but there are too many fics for me not to be posting something next.

August: are any of your fics associated with certain genres/artists/songs/etc?

No really. Music is a big part of my motivation process, but it’s more like “Throw it on shuffle and get lost in my head” thing than any sort of actual tie between the songs and what I write. There are songs that remind of me certain characters and relationships, but I don’t have specific playlists for fics or anything. I do avoid certain types of music if I’m writing certain types of scenes, but its a light avoidance, nothing too strict or anything. Huh, I just realized that I probably use music as background noise, something to drown out my surroundings and put me into a kind of bubble. This ask made me realize how much fun it is to associate songs with characters and their various arcs. XD

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disengaged · 4 years ago

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alright this might be a bit of a weird ask but. seeing all ur posts on hockey teams n whatnot makes me Interested in hockey but i have absolutely no idea about the majority of it like all the positions n shit so. where do i start

not weird at all omg !!! it's probably one of the only sports i enjoy, cuz it's super easy to understand and very active :'-) 💘💘💘

i've written out a basic guide to rules, penalties, and positions below the cut:

(ITS SO LONG IM SORRY SJDNDKNDNDJDN I GOT EXCITED)

ok first off: the object of the game is to score the most goals :-) yayyy! nice n easy. it gets a little more complicated when you start looking at things like points, stats, player rankings, etc in the NHL, but you don't have to worry about that right way.

each team normally has 5 players on the ice at a time (3 forwards, 2 defence, plus a goalie).

there are also referees around! the NHL has 2 refs and 2 linesmen for every game, but community leagues/kid's teams would prob just like.... hire a teenager and pay em $50... yknow...

sometimes we have what's called a powerplay, which means one team is serving a penalty, so one team has more players than the other. (e.g: "a 5 on 4 powerplay", which means there are 5 guys playing against 4 guys. easy stuff.)

(ok now let's talk abt rules, penalties, and positions...)

----

ICE HOCKEY RULES

short version, i promise!! first, you kinda gotta know what the rink looks like (this diagram looks complicated but i swear it's not skdjskndj):

to kick off the game, (& every time the game stops and starts again), a faceoff has to happen. this means two players get in one of the 5 faceoff circles, the ref drops the puck (aptly called the puck drop lmfao), and they do that little swipe with their sticks. you gotta love it !!

from there on, it's really pretty simple:

the only person who can grab the puck (closing hand on puck) is the goalie

you can't shoot the puck out of the rink or move the goal ("the net") on purpose

you can't raise your stick above shoulder height to smack the puck out of the air (called "high sticking"). if you score a goal that way, it doesn't count

when your skates crosses the blue line (#4 on the diagram) before the puck does, you're offside. (if only one skate is over the line, you're "onside")

icing happens when you're on your side of the center line, but you shoot the puck all the way across the ice and it crosses the goal line (#7 in the diagram) on either side of the net. when that happens, the game stops and another faceoff has to happen in the offending team's zone (#6 on the diagram). HOWEVER, icing won't be called if the goalie is outside of the crease (#10), if the other team just lets it happen on purpose (lmao), or maybe if the ref says it was an attempted pass.

if you were about to score, but another player tripped/yanked/whatevered you (or knocked the net outta the way), you get a penalty shot! this means the other players clear outta the way & you get to take a shot on the other team's goalie >:-)

GOAL HOLES lmaoooooo why r they called that + a fun infographic

stick side low

glove side low

glove side high

stick side high

five hole! (hardest place to score)

WHAT IF THE GAME IS TIED AT THE END?

the game goes into sudden-death overtime! this means the timer is set for 5 minutes, and whoever scores first wins

if no one scores in overtime, the game goes into a shootout! this means the teams take turns taking penalty shots (3 each)

if that STILL doesn't end the game, the shootout continues until one team scores and the other team doesn't match it... ta-da !!!

FIGHT RULES (per the NHL):

the ref blows a whistle, everyone else has to stop what they're doing and go to their bench

the players have to drop their gloves

they can't remove their helmets before the fight starts. (if it falls off while they're getting whacked that's fine, but taking it off beforehand is a minor penalty)

the fight is allowed to keep going until one player hits the ice, or the refs decide to stop it

both players automatically get major penalties, plus any other penalties that apply. (this site explains it really well!!)

(in community leagues and kids' leagues, fighting is either not allowed at all, or it's a lot less regulated... it could really go either way lmao. in 2021 we know that concussions = bad, but back in the day... hoo boy!!)

---

PENALTY BASICS

3 types: minor, major, and misconduct

penalties are basically decided on severity/degree of injury, etc

a standard minor penalty is 2 minutes and it's served in the penalty box. if the other team scores during this time (the powerplay), the penalty ends and the player can hop back on the ice.

examples of minor penalties could be high-sticking, tripping, elbowing, hooking, slashing, roughing, boarding etc ... like. if a player is acting shitty but didn't do any real damage, that kind of thing

there's also a thing called matching penalties (aka coincidental penalties), which means both teams have a player in the box at the same time. in that case, they usually just keep playing 4-on-4, and the penalty keeps going even if a goal is scored. (except if the game was already 5-on-4 before the matching penalty was called, in which case both teams would be allowed to make substitutions to keep shit moving lol)

there are also double minors or triple minors, which just means 2-3 minor penalties all at once lmao ... so a player could be stuck sitting in the Shame Cube for 4-6 minutes, and if the other team scored, it would only cancel out one penalty at a time

a standard major penalty is 5 minutes in the box, and the player can't get out early if a goal is scored. (if there are matching major penalties, both teams sub players in)

fighting is always a major penalty!!! other examples could be spearing, boarding, butt-ending, charging, clipping, or cross-checking

misconduct:

there are 3 "subtypes": misconduct, game misconduct, & match penalty

a misconduct penalty means 10 minutes off the ice, & the team can sub a guy in. if the player returns and then get another, they can get ejected from the game lmao

misconduct calls also usually come with a minor penalty (called a 10-and-2), which is served at the same time. so like ... the player with the misconduct has to leave for 10 minutes, the substitute joins the game, and then a separate player is picked to serve a 2-minute minor penalty in the box

if you get a game misconduct penalty the player is ejected from the game. their team replaces them, plus there's usually a major (5min) penalty served by a different guy. (you also still get charged with 10 or 20 penalty minutes, which go "on your record")

you can get a game misconduct penalty by getting 2 misconduct penalties, butting into a fight/joining a fight (called "third man in"), leaving the penalty box early, or if you board someone & they get a head/face injury

a match penalty is serious shit but they're less common, i'm just gonna drop screenshots if you wanna read:

(also here's a handy chart off wikipedia lmao:)

----

POSITIONS

ok this is gonna the MOST basic guide lol. here they are on the ice:

2 types:

FORWARD = center, right wing, or left wing. job is to score. they're usually smaller and faster than the defense players.

DEFENsE = right D or left D. usually physically larger, their goal is to protect their zone.

GOALIE: ok everyone knows what the goalie does lmao

they all have different jobs and skills specific to their positions, which you can find on this site in really great detail!!

---

ok, we're done !!

i think this should cover all the basic areas of ice hockey... there's definitely a lot more to it if you feel like doing more research (like how the NHL draft works, the different players and teams, the different divisions etc), but i hope this will be enough to get you started ..... it's also fun to watch even if you don't understand all the rules imo, i could probably sum all of this ^^ up by saying "ten players, two goalies, put on skates, chase puck, put puck in net" LMAO.

i genuinely love ice hockey so much, it's such a huge part of my personal sense of culture & community :'-) if you have any more questions, please feel free to ask em and i'll do my best to answer !!!

#asks #anon #this turned out rlly long but i tried to keep it super simple !!!#hockey is great !!!!#best sport in the world imo. i am biased but it's true #hockey

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bonniebird · 5 years ago

Text

The Girl Next Door (Part Four)

Masterlist

Hvitserk x Reader

Thank you @honestsycrets for letting me borrow your marco gifs :D

“So are you going to tell me what went on?” Ubbe asked quickly. Hvitserk had been avoiding talking to him all evening. Ubbe managed to find him back at the bar the next morning, cleaning up the bar.

“Nope.” He replied. Ubbe watched as Hvitserk swept down the bar and frowned.

“Shouldn’t (Y/N) be doing that?”

Hvitserk froze, eyes snapping up to Ubbe who raised his eyebrows. He’d asked around and found out what Hvitserk had done. After the mess at the bar the night before he needed to be sure he was in the know.

“I’m not letting her work here anymore. Last night was…”

“If you say a fucking close call Hvitserk. That was your own damn fault, you couldn’t tell them to fuck off you had to shoot somebody!” Ubbe scolded. Hvitserk scowled at him before continuing working.

“What’re you going to tell Aslaug?”

“Why do I have to tell her anything. My bar, she doesn’t want to know how we make our money. Just get Ivar to take (Y/N) somewhere.” Hvitserk grumbled as he paused for a moment.

“But you like her. She likes you.” Ubbe said carefully. He knew Hvitserk had liked you since highschool, his worst kept secret, Ubbe had a sneaking feeling he was the only one of his brothers that didn’t have a crush of some sort on you.

“That doesn’t fucking matter Ubbe! Look at what happened! There's a reason none of us settle down.”

Ubbe sighed, shaking his head. Hvitserk was losing it. At least, he needed a break. Realising he couldn’t get through to him Ubbe headed home.

*****************

Sigurd groaned as he opened the front door. Half dressed and exhausted from his gig the night before. “(Y/N)!” He said with a wide smile, perking up when he saw you. “Ivar’s out with Aslaug but you can wait if you’d like.”

“Actually I’m here to see Hvitserk. I have a few ideas for his bar.” You explained, holding up some of the papers in your hands and showed him the plastic tupperware tub in the other.

“I think he’s down at the bar. I could give you a lift. If you wanted?” He asked, still sporting a cheerful smile as he spoke.

“Sure, that’d be great.” You said as you followed him upstairs. You headed into the living room while Sigurd jogged up the next flight of stairs to his room. The front door opened and shut and Ubbe bounded up the stairs.

“(Y/N), hey, you waiting for Ivar?”

“No, he’s with Aslaug, I had some ideas for Hvitserk and Sig said he’d give me a lift down.”

Ubbe had a funny look on his face as he sighed and nodded. “ He mentioned he urm… wanted to talk about you working there.” He didn’t say anything more as Sigurd rushed down the stairs. He greeted Ubbe who rolled his eyes and shook his head. Margreth would be waiting for him to call so he excused himself and left.

“There’s something weird about… the bar and whatever Hvitserk and Ubbe do.” You said quietly. Sigurd had led the way to the car and started driving. Of course he picked the long way and babbled about his music for a while, showing you a few songs he liked.

“You probably shouldn’t ask many questions. Just do what Hvitserk said and you’ll do great.” Sigurd said hesitantly.

“I just feel like they’re hiding things from me. Ubbe and Hvitserk don’t give straight answers. You and Ivar don’t seem like that…” You babbled. Sigurd felt sorry for you. When Aslaug had agreed with Ivar that you could work with Hvitserk the house was in a chaos of arguing, not that anyone would ever tell you.

“I’m not like them. Thay have a lot of secrets. A lot of things to hide.” He admitted. He couldn’t smile, even when you looked over at him. It felt horrible to disillusion you. “They mean well and if they’re acting weird it’s just because they want to protect you.

“What could they be doing that’s so bad?” You asked wearily. You couldn’t imagine Hvitserk doing anything awful. Sure he was a bit of a flirt and you’d always been disappointed that you never got a chance to be one of his girls, but he was Hvitserk, sweet always happy and fun loving Hvitserk.

Sigurd didn’t say anything as he pulled up outside the bar. It had been a while since he had been down. He didn’t answer you. Eventually you hugged him goodbye and thanked him for the ride. His cheerful demeanour found its way back to him.

Entering the bar you found Hvitserk sat on one of the barstools, nursing a drink with his head in his hands and a lit cigarette between his fingers.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Sigurd gave me a lift down. Ubbe said that you didn’t run the restaurant anymore but I thought maybe it’d be a good idea?” You rushed to put the paper and box of food in front of Hvitserk.

He sighed and stared at them for a moment. Now was the time to tell you to leave. It wouldn’t take much to have you never talk to him again. Off you’d go with Ivar, maybe Sigurd he’s always had a thing for you. He wouldn’t see you again. You wouldn’t see him again and that would be better for you. Glancing up at your face he realised you were watching him nervously. He could just as easily reach out, stroke your cheek, lean in and kiss you slowly, move his hands down your back with gentle touches. He could kiss tantalisingly slow down your neck and then. He cleared his throat and grabbed at the box. A neat burger sat in it.

“You have the kitchen out back. You could just do some simple food and open… more often. I’m sure you’d have some new regulars.”

It was sweet. The way you really thought this was a real bar. He wondered how he’d managed to make you so naive when it came to him. Taking a bite of the burger before he had to shoot you down he groaned. It was good. You had to be good at cooking too.

“It’s good but I’m not sure it’s what people come in for.” Hvitserk muttered as he licked his fingers.

Your brow furrowed. He knew the look on his face. It’s the same look Ivar got what he knew he could win an argument. “Well, I wouldn’t need your help, I’ve got everything written out here.” You slid the papers over to him and Hvitserk sighed. Your research was extensive you’d found a chef that knew the Ragnarssons and you had done enough research that Hvitserk couldn’t think of how to get out of saying yes.

“What about a trial? It’s quite a bit of money to pump into something that might not work.” Hvitserk countered. At least now he’d have a way to shut it down. He’d just have to get Ubbe to make sure it flopped.

“Really!” You said with a bubble of excitement that seemed to light up your face. Before he could do anything you’d hugged him tightly. He could smell your shampoo, it made him think of those nights, years ago, that you’d stay over. You’d all build a fort and watch movies all night, Ubbe would get bored but You, Sig and Ivar would be determined to stay up. You could never make it through the night, often falling asleep against him. He’d spend so long thing how lovely it was to watch you sleep, stroking your cheek, hoping his younger brothers would leave the two of you alone.

He quickly pushed you away and smiled. “I’ve got to fix some stuff in the kitchen if you’re going to use it.” He said quickly and moved away. He hoped saying yes meant you’d leave but you followed him.

“Can I help?” You asked hopefully.

“No it’s just fixing the lights.” He muttered, quick to put distance between the two of you.

*******************

Ivar prowled into the living room. He’d gone to your house and you hadn’t been home. So naturally you had to be waiting for him.

“Where is she?”

“(Y/N)?” Sigurd asked as he looked up from his guitar. He looked over his brother who was leaning against the doorway, crutches in his hands as he frowned. “She’s with Hvit.”

“Why?”

“She wanted to show him something.” Sigurd said and turned back to the music he was trying to write.

“So she just spends all her time with him now?”

“It is where she works.” Sigurd pointed out. With a scowl Ivar slapped off to his bedroom, slumping down on his bed.

His room was smaller than his brothers but he didn’t mind. Aslaug had spent so much time perfecting his room. His bed was a little higher so he could sit easily. It also meant he could lay in bed and watch out of the window without any trouble.

His desk was built into the wall and he had state of the art computer and screens tumbling about it. His piles of no longer needed college books sat in piles around the desk.

The cupboard that doubled as a wardrobe was messily spilling clothes across the old wooden floor.

The floor above had Hvitserk, Ubbe and Sigurd’s room. Plus a bathroom that the three had to share, it was always a mess. Ivar had his own just across the hall. Aslaug got the largest room in the attic. It was so light and airy, warm and comforting. Sometimes Ivar would go up and stay all day.

Ivar had found the fact that you clearly liked Hvitserk to be highly amusing and when he’d started messing with you. It had been fun. But now. There was a chance that you might actually get somewhere with Hvitserk. He didn’t want that.

“Hey Ivar.” Ubbe called as he knocked on the door. Ivar meerly grunted, not bothering to sit up as Ubbe entered.

“Hvit needs some stuff from the store. He’s fixing up the bar. You want to come?” Ubbe asked. Ivar glanced up at his brother without moving. He could see from the state of his shirt and the hickeys on his neck he’d been with a girl most of the day. The unpleasant scent of cheap perfume stung his nose and he guessed it was Margrethe.

“I was going to watch here for (Y/N).”He answered as he set his head back against his bed.

“She’s at the bar. Maybe you could take her out to dinner or something, maybe a movie?” Ubbe offered. He sighed when Ivar gave him a condescending look before scoffing.

“Hvit wants her to gohome before he tries to fuck her doesn’t he?” Ivar waited for Ubbe to answer but all that came out of his brother was a loud snicker.

“He’s not as bad as Bjorn. He’s just a little distracted and under pressure.” Ubbe muttered. Ivar heaved himself up and reached for his crutches as he stood.

“He’s an idiot.”

“You got him in this mess Ivar!”

The trip to the store was quick. Ubbe rushed around grabbing everything they needed and Ivar leant on the huge flatbed trolley. It took Ubbe twenty minutes to find everything and Ivar added a few bits he found interesting. Then they were on their way again. Ivar wondered why Ubbe and Hvitserk didn’t just move closer to the bar. They were forever driving across town to the bar or the warehouses.

Ubbe pulled up right next to the door. “Will you go in and get Hvitserk? You can have the car if you want, or I could call you a taxi?” Ubbe waited and Ivar shrugged.

“Yeah. If we go out somewhere (Y/N) will probably drive.” He muttered, disinterested as he got out.”

“Is it ok? I don’t know if I’m doing it right?” Your voice came from the back. Ivar frowned and followed it.

“Yeah babygirl you’re doing great, don’t worry.” Hvitserk encouraged.

Ivar shoved into the room and rolled his eyes. You were fixing something, tongue stuck out as you frowned in concentration. Hvitserk smiled as he watched, glancing over at Ivar.

“Ubbe wants you.” Ivar snapped and Hvitserk raised his eyebrows. “(Y/N) we’re going to see a movie.”

“Oh? Did I forget? I’m sorry Ivar!” You said as you climbed down off the counter. You hugged him and smiled when he scowled. He didn’t want to admit he felt… odd that you were spending more time with Hvitserk. He just wanted to torment you both a little.

“It’s fine. We can go now and have dinner. Ubbe’s giving us the car. If Hvitserk gets the stuff out of it.” He glanced at Hvitserk who took a deep breath before speaking.

“Of course I can go and help him Ivar. I um… I’ll see you later.” He added the last part as he glanced at you, brushing past Ivar who deadpanned until he left.

“We should go or we’ll be late.” Ivar muttered.

#hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk ragnarsson imagines #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #bonniebird #the girl next door

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