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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years ago

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Ni Kar'tayl Gar Darasuum

Pairing: Din Djarin x Pregnant! Reader

Summary: When you finally wake up, Din knows it’s time to break the news. (Part 2 of Aliit Be Cuur)

Warnings: Pregnancy, Mild Description of Injuries

Word Count: 3700

A/N: The much requested part 2 to Aliit Be Cuur! I took some inspiration from a comment by @linkpk88. My apologies for the long ass name. I just wanted to keep up with the Mando’a theme.

__________

“M-mando?” Your voice shook and cracked from having gone so long without being used. You were trying to reach towards him but in reality, your fingers only lifted off the medical cot ever so slightly.

Mando looked as if he’d possibly fallen asleep at your bedside, though it was difficult to know for sure with the helmet and the way he had a habit of sitting so still, even when he was awake. At your words, though, he immediately stood up, shooting to attention and coming to your bedside, “Cyar’ika? How are you feeling?”

“W-water? Please?” Your mouth was dry and throat stiff. It felt like you’d been breathing in hot sand and it had sucked all the moisture from your body.

Mando reached down to a water pack he had for himself on the ground by the crate he’d been residing on, unscrewing the lid, and tilting it slightly at your lips. The liquid felt like the best thing you’d ever drank, life suddenly coming back to your body at the small amount of water. “Thank you,” You said as he put the lid back on.

Mando sighed, his gloved hand coming down to rub over your knuckles gently, careful to avoid anywhere covered with bandages, “Why would you run in like that?”

“I thought you were dead. I was ready to kill the damn thing with my own two hands. I certainly can tell you I wasn’t expecting it to explode.” You attempted to chuckle weakly but you flinched, hand reaching for your torso in a poor attempt at soothing the pain of the broken ribs and burns.

Mando noticed the way your fingers grazed unassumingly over your belly that held the secret everyone but you knew about and he stiffened beneath the beskar armor. “How long have I been out?”

“About a day. The attack was yesterday.” He answered, pulling the crate closer to your bedside so he could sit beside you while you spoke.

You groaned at the thought of being unconscious for so long, “Am I dying?” You asked in an attempt at making a joke to lighten the mood. You could practically feel the anxiety and stress radiating off Mando and you wanted to try to lighten the mood but clearly it hadn’t helped. Your grip on his fingers tightened slightly, reassuring him. “Hey, I’m kidding. It’s gonna be alright.”

Mando’s silence was not something you were unaccustomed to. Even now that your relationship was much closer than professional, he was a man of few words. You still couldn’t help the way your face a little when you felt like your joke may have caused more harm than good.

Little did you know that Mando had glanced up over your shoulder and made eye contact with the nurse from yesterday, the one who had shown him the unborn child within your womb. Of course, the nurse couldn’t tell that the Mandolorian was looking at him but he still sent the masked man a knowing, almost pushing look.

As selfish as it made Mando feel, because obviously he was very concerned for your wellbeing and wanted nothing more than for you to be awake and okay, he was relieved when you remained asleep through the night. It gave him time to get his own thoughts straight, how he felt and how he would tell you.

Children were sacred in Mandolorian culture. With depleted numbers, many of the Alor had encouraged child rearing amongst Mandolorians or the adoption of Foundlings to save the Way. Even so, Mando had honestly never actually seriously considered being a father, at least not at this stage of his life. He had Grogu, to whom he was a father by the Creed, but physically rearing his own genetic children felt different to him, even if it wasn’t supposed to. He lived a dangerous life full of criminals and skeezy backwater planets and he was comfortable that way. Even if it was preferred that Mandolorians reproduce, he was one of the few that had been called more to a life of service. Besides, after losing everyone he’d ever loved, from his birth parents to his clan, he was used to being alone. A part of him was scared to bring more people into his life because he didn’t want to keep losing them. Even accepting the fact that he loved you took a long time.

But Mando was nothing if not a man of duty and honor and, as the leader of his clan of two, your lover, a father to Grogu, and now a father to your unborn child, he had a responsibility to protect and care for all within his clan, which was now about to expand to a clan of four. It was a responsibility that he had actually come to almost look forward to in some aspects in the early morning hours when he allowed his mind to move from the hardships that you were sure to face to the happy memories you were all sure to make together.

“There’s-there’s something you need to know.” He began directly, his modulated voice sounding strained.

Your smile faded at his tone and you gave him a concerned look, “Wait, am I actually dying?”

His helmet shook side to side in a moment of silence before he continued, struggling to find the right words. All the words he’d spent all night rehearsing in his head were failing him now. “No. They said you’re going to be fine.” He began, another pause between words as the actual confession was so much harder to get out than he imagined it would be. Mando had never been a man of many words but suddenly there were no words at all that seemed fitting.

Your eyebrows raised and you shook your head a little, indicating for him to continue. Nerves buzzed through your body. Mando was never like this. Sure, he had never been very talkative but he was concise and straight to the point when he did. He was never one to beat around the bush or draw out information for dramatic effect. Whatever he had on his mind must have been serious if he were struggling this badly. “What’s wrong, Mando? What happened?”

“The nurse came by while you were out. He said you’re pregnant.” The words came out clear and blunt, straight to the point. It was the only way he could process the information himself and he struggled to find a more delicate way to put it to you.

Your jaw went slack at the news, “What?”

“You didn’t know?” It wasn’t so much a question as much as it was a confirmation of what he had hoped. You hadn’t known. You weren’t keeping secrets from him. That alone made him feel better.

You shook your head, looking a little offended at the suggestion, “No, of course not. I- I wouldn’t have-” Your brain was moving a million miles a minute and cohesive sentences were difficult to form. “You have to trust me that I would have told you if I knew.”

The sentiment let out a floodgate of relief in Mando’s chest. “What do you want to do?” He asked simply. Throughout the night, he had thought about this long and hard and the more he thought, the more he was actually excited about the prospect of having a baby. An actual baby. He knew that this wasn’t just his decision though.

You swallowed hard, looking down at your stomach that you had just noticed was covered with Mando’s cape. “I-I don’t know. I need some time to think. This is just… a lot.”

You didn’t talk about it for a while. You barely spoke at all for almost an hour. After he knew you were alright, Mando had left your side to take Grogu outside. The poor kid had been cooped up inside for almost two days. It also allowed you time to think without the pressure of him being right beside you. Mando didn’t know if you needed time alone to process the information or if you needed him there to talk it through but he knew that he preferred to have time to himself to figure things out and it was the best thing he could think of to help you.

The nurse had stopped by while Mando was gone, just to ensure that the Mandolorian had in fact informed you that you were pregnant. He went over your vitals, important basic information about being pregnant, answered any questions you had, and reapplied bacta to all your wounds, which were estimated to be fully healed up within the next few hours with minimal scarring, thanks to the miracle medicine. You felt better after he left, physically and emotionally.

When Mando returned a few hours later, you were sitting up in bed, having made nearly a full recovery. “You’re looking better.” He commented as he walked over to you.

You gave a small smile of acknowledgement before looking down at your hands and flexing your wrists. You stretched out your torso a little bit. Your back was certainly achy but at least you didn’t feel like you had been hit by a flaming X-wing anymore. Mando felt better now that he could see the burns and abrasions that had littered so much of your body fading away to your natural skin color, only a few looking like they might possibly even leave a scar.

“I’m feeling better.” You responded and it was clear that you meant it about everything.

Grogu toddled towards the bed and reached his tiny arms out in an attempt to reach the frame and climb his way up to you but couldn’t reach. With an amused chuckle, you bent down and lifted the baby effortlessly.

Mando didn’t want to press you about the matter but he was desperate to know what exactly your future held. He stood in waiting silence until you spoke again, “How do you feel about this?”

Despite the fact that you were often concerned for others before yourself, he hadn’t been expecting that question. It also just wasn’t a question he had ever been used to being asked. Nobody usually cared. “How do I feel?”

You nodded, looking up to him, “Yeah.”

Mando sighed before sitting on the medical cot beside you, the thin mattress dipping more under his weight and the weight of his armor. He struggled to find the right answer to this question. Not just the right answer that you wanted to hear but the right answer that was truthful to himself. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

“What does that mean?” You asked, gently stroking Grogu’s soft head while you glanced to your left at Mando. You had tried to pick up on Mando’a since you’d been travelling with Mando but he rarely spoke it unless it was a knee-jerk expletive, which you too were now an expert on.

“It means I love you. I know you. But it’s much deeper than those words mean in this language. But… that’s how I feel.” It took a lot for Mando to admit his feelings for you. Words of affection were seldom exchanged between the two of you. Your love for each other manifested more as just a mutual feeling of love, protection, and honesty with each other that extended beyond platonic friendship. Mando especially had a hard time expressing his feelings so when the words left his mouth, you couldn’t take your eyes off the visor in his helmet that hid those eyes you wished so badly you could finally see.

“I love you too,” You started, wishing you could repeat those words in his tongue but knowing you would do them no justice. There was a brief pause while you inhaled a deep thoughtful breath before you continued, vulnerably honest, “I would like to raise this child with you, Mando.”

Again, another pause. The silence hung thick and uncomfortable in the air, at least for you. You wished so deeply you could see his face so you could at least try to get a glimpse of something that might be going on in his head. You swallowed hard, attempting to get rid of the lump in your throat that was forming in the midst of his pensive silence. You took your eyes off his helmet that seemed to be pointed towards your knees or the ground just below them, though you could never tell exactly where his gaze ever actually was, and stared at your lap where you began to pick at your fingers with your thumb nail.

“Din.”

“What?”

You looked back over to the Mandalorian to see his visor turn towards you and this time you were sure his gaze matched. “If we’re going to have a child together, I want you to know my name. It’s Din. Din Djarin.”

You smiled, knowing how important this was to him. Mandalorian culture was still something you were learning about and you hadn’t met any other than Man- Din - but he had never told you his name before so you assumed that perhaps it was like his face, where you couldn’t know it in its true form. “Din Djarin,” You tested the name on your tongue, “I like it. It suits you.”

Din’s mouth fell in disbelief beneath his helmet at the way his name rolled so sweetly off your tongue and he let out a little sigh of happiness when you had said you liked it. Though saying his name was not breaking the Creed, it was something he very seldom told anyone. It reminded him of his home planet and his birth parents, good memories tainted by tragedy that he preferred to avoid. It was also a way that he kept people at an arm’s length, a habit he’d developed quickly as a distrusting bounty hunter. But he didn’t want to be called Mando by you anymore. If you were going to give him the gift of a child, a literal human being to call his own, the least he could give in return was as much of him as he had to give.

“There’s one more thing,” He began, reaching into his pocket. You stayed silent but waiting as you watched him pull a long chain from his pants, a small pearlescent shard dangling from the end. He held it up for you to see, the jagged and unrefined edges to the uniquely beautiful stone swaying in his grip. “I would like you to become my riduur.”

Your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape. That word you knew. The Armorer had asked Din if you were his riduur back on Navarro all those months ago, to which he honestly answered no to. “I love you, Din, but I don’t want you to marry me just because I’m pregnant.”

“In my culture, we come to have our own children in several ways but marriage is not necessary in any. Like I said earlier, mesh’la: Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. And I would be extremely grateful if you would do me the honor of joining me in riduurok, baby or not.” He confessed, pressing the necklace into your hands.

The edges, though jagged, were not sharp by any means. Simply unrefined but there was a beauty in it. The light created the illusions of different textures across the small stone. The chain was thin and of a material that you didn’t recognize, a dark grey metal that definitely was not silver, beskar, gold, or steel. “Usually betrothal tokens are rings. I know this is not a ring but Cobb had managed to scour a few broken pieces of Krayt pearl from the dragon yesterday and should you accept my offer, I will replace that chain with one made of beskar.”

You shook your head, trying to shake away any doubt as to how perfect his gesture could be, “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

“You don’t have to decide now.”

“I would be an honor to be your riduur.”

“Really?” He asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “You’ve never even seen my face and you’re willing to marry me?”

You reached a hand out to rest on his helmet, just where it curved inwards where his cheek should be, “I know that I love the heart of the man behind this armor and I know what you feel like without it in the dark. I am willing to marry you without knowing what you look like beneath that helmet because I know I love you regardless.”

Din’s hand came to press against yours, holding it against his helmet. Inside, his face was pressed against the interior, wishing he could feel more than just mere knowledge that your hand was there. He wished he could feel your skin against his again. “When we are bound in riduurok, I can finally remove my helmet for you and for you alone.”

Your heart picked up with excitement, “You mean I can really see your face one day?”

His helmet nodded up and down.

“I can’t wait to look you in the eye and kiss you one day.” You closed your eyes and leaned your forehead against the beskar shielding Din’s face but he was mirroring the action beneath. A smile crept up on your lips and you handed him back the necklace, “Would you mind?”

He reached around your neck and clasped the necklace together, pulling your hair gently to lay over the thin metal cord. “How’s it look?” You asked, straightening out the pearl over your chest.

“Like it was meant to be there.”

His arm fell to rest comfortable behind your back and you leaned over to rest your head on his shoulder. It was uncomfortable from the beskar that pressed hard into your cheek but you would still rest like that for the rest of time and then some if it meant you could be with Din. Grogu sat between you, a tiny leg on each of your legs and your hand pressing against his stomach gently to keep him from falling forward.

When he startled wiggling around in your grasp, making tiny grunts of effort, it drew both yours and Din’s attention down to see what the kid was doing. He twisted to face your stomach, your hand now firmly keeping him from tumbling backwards. Neither you or Din were sure quite how much of your language he understood but it would have appeared that he somehow understood that there was now a new addition to your clan because his small three-fingered hand stretched out to rest against your lower belly and he closed his eyes, leaning back into your hand slightly.

At first, you thought he was just trying to feel for the baby, which of course was far from being large enough at this stage to feel, especially from the outside. “Hey, hey! What’re you doing?” Din asked, not angrily but definitely concerned for what Grogu could be doing to the new baby. Though he wasn't a malicious child, Din had seen him choke Cara with the Force once before and he couldn't be sure what was going on within your womb from the outside. All he knew was that the kid was definitely using the Force.

Grogu kept his eyes shut, ignoring his father, but a look of contentment spread over his face. That was when you felt it. You weren't even quite sure what it was that you were feeling but it felt positive, like an awareness of the life inside you that had been previously unbeknownst. It was more than that though. You could feel your connection to it and, though you knew it sounded absolutely insane, you could have sworn you could feel Grogu connecting to the fetus as well.

Din made a move to lift the child from your lap but you put your hand on his forearm to stop him, “Wait, it’s alright.” You nodded in reassurance, looking down to Grogu. “Can you feel them?”

Grogu reached out his other hand for Din’s, his entire hand only able to wrap around a single gloved finger. That was when Din felt it too. Again, it was a sensation he couldn’t describe. It was almost like an awareness of life but it was clearly emanating from within your womb. Grogu was merely acting as a bridge for Din.

“Do you feel it too?” You asked, looking up at Din.

Beneath his helmet, his mouth was agape as he struggled to process the feeling of life and light that seemed to radiate from where his body met Grogu’s and that his mind was able to just innately comprehend that this was the life you and he had created. “Yeah, I feel it.” He breathed out in amazement. “Is that the baby?” Din asked, the idea sounding preposterous but at the same time he had no idea of the capabilities of this new thing he’d learned of called the Force. He didn’t know the limits of Grogu’s power or his connection to it.

Grogu’s hands fell from both your stomach and Din’s hand as he flopped onto his butt on your knee with an exhausted plop. Nevertheless, his disproportionate green ears wiggled happily and the rosiness in his cheeks made you fairly certain the answer was yes.

Your hand came to cover where Grogu’s hand had just been, no longer feeling that same light feeling you had when he was touching you. Din no longer felt that connection either since Grogu sat down. “I don’t know what that was but it was kind of amazing.” You let out a breathy chuckle, “We’re going to be an actual family. Can you believe it, Din?”

“Y’know, deep down, I think a part of me always wanted to have a family. A riduur and a youngling all of my own. I just got so used to being alone that I didn’t think I would ever find someone I’d want that with. But now I have you and Grogu and,” his hand came around your front to gently rest on your stomach, “this. I promise you that I will care for you and protect you both until the day you give birth and every day after.”

You lifted your hand to Din’s helmet, gently turning him to face you, “Trillions of men in this universe and I got lucky enough to find you.” Grogu squealed in your lap and you laughed, stroking his ears, “And you.” Your hand dropped to Din’s lap and you laid your head against his chest plate, “I love you, Din. I cannot wait to spend the rest of our lives together.”

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bluerose5 · 3 years ago

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The Webs We Weave

Tread Lightly

[Tumblr: Part 1, Part 2] [AO3]

Additional Tags: Eventual Romance, Complicated Relationships, Secret Identity, Vigilantism, Earthborn (Mass Effect), Omega (Mass Effect), Polyamory, Cerberus (Mass Effect) - Freeform, Making This Up As I Go, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe - No Reapers, Flirting, Drinking, genetic modifications, implied past Aria/Shep, Flashbacks, Sentinel (Mass Effect), Infiltrator (Mass Effect), Jack of all trades master of none, Blood and Injury

Series: Part 14 of Polyamorous Negotiations

“I told you that we should have gone back to base.”

Thane rested there on his back, staring up at the hand that Garrus offered him.

With a grumble, Thane took it, allowing Garrus to haul him up to his feet.

Garrus clamped his mandibles down tight, still clutching at his waist.

“I know,” he sighed, reaching up to take off his helmet. Once they were out in the markets, he took a breath of fresh air. Well, as fresh as the air could get on Omega. “Trust me, I’m still kicking myself about getting us involved in that.”

“You should be,” Thane said, then immediately lowered his voice. “Look, I’ve crossed paths with Cerberus agents in the past, roshun. They’re not exactly the kind of people we want to get involved with.”

“That woman,” Garrus said, suddenly wary. “She said that we let a terrorist go…”

Thane shed his mask, lips pursed.

“Cerberus is a group of human extremists,” Thane explained, eyeing the people that passed them by. “Something we really shouldn’t be discussing out in public if they have agents planted on Omega.”

“Right,” Garrus muttered, leading Thane in the direction of their base, only to stop abruptly in his tracks. His eyes grew wide in horror. “Shit!”

Thane was by his side in an instant, hyperaware of all their surroundings. His eyes darted back and forth, seeking out a threat that wasn’t there.

“What?” he hissed, tense and ready to fight.

Garrus —the idiot— smacked his hand against his forehead.

“Jane!” he said, rushing forward once more.

With Thane’s short stature, he could barely keep up with Garrus' brisk pace, his strides long and purposeful.

“Jane?” Thane echoed, even more confused than before. “Who’s Jane?”

“Uh, you know,” Garrus said, waving vaguely as he averted his eyes. “Some human that I met at Afterlife.”

“Some human, huh?” Thane scrutinized him skeptically. “If she’s only ‘some human,’ then why are we rushing back to base?”

“Because I said that I would meet her again tonight,” Garrus said, mumbling under his breath.

“Ah,” Thane hummed, amused, “so it’s a date.”

“It is not.”

“Then, why not skip out on your little rendezvous?” Thane questioned.

“Because I am a gentleman.”

“Oh, yeah?” Thane snorted. “Since when?”

“Since you first came into my life,” Garrus deadpanned, placing his hand over his heart for dramatic effect. “Ever since then, I’ve been a changed turian.”

“And here I thought that I had to worry about this ‘Jane' being competition,” Thane joked.

Too bad such jokes tended to go way over Garrus’ head.

He dragged his feet, reaching out to drag Thane to a stop alongside him.

He stared down at his partner, his fidus.

Those bright blue eyes were filled with concern.

“You don’t actually believe that you would have competition, do you?” Garrus chuckled nervously. “I mean, I know that I’m quite the catch. It’s unsurprising that I have so many people, aliens included, vying for my attention.”

“Get to the point,” Thane said, feigning an irritated sigh of defeat.

“The point being that you don’t ever have to worry about anyone taking your place by my side,” Garrus reassured him.

Not that Thane was genuinely worried about that, but it still meant a lot to him nevertheless. He knew that it probably took great effort for Garrus to express his feelings so openly, so Thane knew when to stop and appreciate what was said.

“Well, I thank you for telling me,” Thane said, his responding smile gentle and understanding. “I sometimes forget, though, that having multiple partners isn’t as common a practice among certain cultures.”

“Yeah.” Garrus cleared his throat, his mandibles shifting in embarrassment. “Solana keeps teasing me every time I bring something like this up, asking for advice.” He raised his voice in pitch to a mocking degree. “‘You would think you would be somewhat knowledgeable, Garrus, given mom's and dad’s arrangement with the Ryders.’”

Thane slapped his hand over his mouth, not-so-subtly burying his chuckle beneath a fake cough.

Garrus narrowed his eyes at him.

“You’re laughing at me!”

Thane shook his head. “No, no, I was coughing.”

“Liar.”

“I take offense to these baseless accusations.”

“Mm-hmm...”

And now he was pouting.

Thane never thought that turians could pout, but Garrus always managed to not only pull it off, but to wield that expression like a weapon to get what he wanted.

Thane's only proud to say that he’s not the only one whose willpower crumbles in the face of it.

Reaching out, Thane patted Garrus on the shoulder.

“In any event, you’re doing well, roshun. Even if things didn’t work out on your end with Lantar—” Well, at least they were still friends, despite that nasty breakup. “—I think you balanced your relationships with us as much as could be expected of you at the time.”

“Thank you. I—” Garrus took a deep, shaky breath. “I actually needed to hear that.”

Right. There it goes. Those insecurities.

Thane took Garrus by the hand with a gentle squeeze, continuing their stroll along Omega’s dank, dark streets.

“Anytime.”

As they walked together in silence, Thane took the time to process what had happened, shifting through each individual second of his memory. Each one was like a slide, following one after another to create an entire recollection of events.

Certain parts replayed in his mind, over and over. Others dissipated the second he no longer needed them, like smoke in the wind.

Of course, even those memories —released, if only for the moment— will always be lingering in the background, as sharp and prominent as ever.

A stray thought crossed Thane’s mind.

This time, he didn’t even bother hiding his chuckle.

Garrus cast him a questioning glance.

“What?” When Thane gave a playful shake of his head, Garrus only pressed the matter further. “Come on. What is it?”

“Nothing, I—” The corner of his mouth twitched yet again, a ghost of a smile teasing at his lips. “I was just thinking that, if I’m to worry about anyone being competition, it was that nice lady that kicked your ass. You seemed pretty dazed back there, Garrus.”

Garrus sputtered, “I did not!”

“Uh-huh, sure you didn’t,” Thane said, more than happy to play along. “You were just laying there on the ground, contemplating life.”

“It was a nice view,” Garrus stated. At Thane’s unimpressed look, he grumbled. “Alright, let’s say, for the sake of this discussion, that I was caught off-guard. Just a little bit.” He pinched his talons together for show. “Then, that raises the question. What was your excuse?”

“My excuse?” Thane snorted. “How did this get turned around on me?”

They neared their base of operations soon enough, talking more freely the closer they got.

Garrus shrugged nonchalantly, playing coy.

“All I’m saying is that you are supposed to be the professional,” he taunted. “The illustrious assassin.”

“That’s a bit much,” Thane interjected, “don’t you think?”

Garrus went on without missing a beat.

“I just find it curious that she was not only able to catch you, of all people, by surprise, but that she was also able to have you laid out on your back in the blink of an eye.”

“Now, you’re exaggerating.” Thane gave him a light shove. Although, there was no denying the soreness that still lingered in Thane’s side, his frills brushing against the fabric of his shirt. “Then again…” He trailed off, figuring that Garrus’ cheeky behavior deserved nothing less than a cheeky response. “Perhaps I simply have an attraction for people who know how to put me in my place.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared out, baring his teeth in a grin.

“Shameless,” he teased. “Absolutely shameless.”

“So you say,” Thane hummed, “but I like to think that I’m merely confident in knowing what I want.”

They stopped in the middle of the bridge leading to their place.

Garrus turned to Thane, cupping his cheek as he rested his forehead upon Thane’s.

Their breaths mingled in the shared space between them.

“Interesting,” Garrus said, pressing him up against the railing. Thane felt his body grow warm, caged in with Garrus towering over him, Garrus’ hands braced on both sides of him. “Considering the fact that you seem to make it a habit not to follow my orders.”

“Maybe I prefer to make you work for it,” Thane whispered.

Carefully, he settled his hands upon Garrus’ waist, gently massaging the area that was undoubtedly bruised.

A sharp mix of pain and pleasure radiated from his touch.

Thane delighted at the shiver that raced down Garrus’ spine.

Garrus pinned him in place with a heated stare. Intense, focused.

“I don’t know how I should take that,” Garrus murmured.

“Take it however you like,” Thane breathed in return, reaching out to brush the pad of his thumb over Garrus’ mouth plates.

Eventually, Thane took ahold of Garrus’ carapace and dragged him down, leaning in for a kiss.

His lips were barely an inch away when they heard someone clearing their throat from above.

Garrus and Thane jumped apart, startled by the unexpected intrusion.

They glanced up, only to catch sight of Melenis and Vortash watching them from the balcony. They both wore shit-eating grins. Vortash even waved at them teasingly, winking at them with two of his four eyes.

Leave it to the crew to interrupt.

“Spirits, you two,” Mel yelled, probably loud enough for everyone halfway across Omega to hear. “Get a room!”

“Aw, now, come on, Mel,” Garrus taunted. “Don’t be jealous!”

“In your dreams, Vakarian.”

“Can’t even come out here for a break without catching you two trying to eat each other’s faces off,” Vortash grumbled.

“Iri always misses the good stuff,” Melenis said, pausing to give a dramatic sigh.

Thane instantly perked up at the mention of her.

“Is she here?” he asked, squinting up at them.

“What do you think?” Vortash asked in turn. He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, pointing behind him towards the common area of their base. “She’s patching Sid up right now.”

“Dare I even ask what happened?” Garrus muttered.

“Another one of Sensat's experiments blew up in their face,” Mel answered. “Literally.”

“Are we really all that surprised?” Thane wondered.

“Not at all.”

“About as surprised that I am that Sen had another one of his… episodes after that.” Vortash frowned. “Krul is calming him down now. The big softie.”

Sen's and Krul's relationship, whatever the nature of it was, always puzzled those around them. It defied all logic and reason, as the galaxy would have them believe, but it worked.

It worked, and that was all mattered at the end of a day.

A krogan and a salarian. Who would have thought?

Then again, many people would probably say the same about a turian and a drell, yet here they were.

“Come on,” Thane said, leading the way inside. “Let’s go check on the others.”

“Right behind you.”

Together, Garrus and Thane entered the base, leaving Mel and Vortash alone to shoot the shit and enjoy the rest of their downtime.

The second they walked in, Thane called out, “Iri?”

“In here!” she answered, her voice drifting out from the kitchen. “Lantar, I swear by the gods, if you don’t hold still…”

When there was a responding grumble, Thane and Garrus exchanged a knowing glance.

Following the sound of their voices, they happened upon the two. Sidonis was sitting on the edge of a countertop with a nasty cut on his arm. Blue blood was smeared all over his plating, the gash deep enough to demand stitches. Meanwhile, Irikah was busy patching him up with an intense focus, her brow furrowed as she continued to work.

“How bad is it?” Garrus instantly asked, nearing them, unable to keep the concern completely out of his subvocals.

Sidonis spared him a fond yet exasperated look.

“Looks way worse than what it is,” he reassured him. “Just a flesh wound.”

“A piece of shrapnel from the explosion got lodged into his hide,” Irikah explained, as if sensing Garrus' displeasure with Sid's nonchalant approach. “I got as much of it out as I could, and there was no lasting damage. No arteries severed. Blood loss was minimal, so I’m confident that he’ll be fine and make a full recovery. I was just helping the medi-gel work its magic by stitching up the rest of the damage.”

“Irikah to the rescue, as always,” Sidonis said.

She smiled softly.

“Someone has to keep you lot alive and kicking,” she said. “Might as well be me. Besides—” She shrugged. “I don’t think that I would trust anyone else with the job.”

“Fair point.” Even with the local anesthetic, Sidonis winced when the needle tip pierced through his skin once more. “Why risk it all to chance when you always do it right the first time yourself?”

“Exactly.”

While she spoke, Thane watched her closely, as radiant as the sun itself. Vibrant scales glistened in the light, an iridescent array of gold, oranges, and reds.

Her hands were sure in their task, if nothing else. Even after the many times in which she had to patch Thane up after coming home from an assignment, Thane was still awestruck by her dedication, her sheer commitment to helping others.

As soon as she cut the final thread with a sharp snip, Thane subconsciously took a step forward.

She didn’t even so much as glance in his direction.

“Thane Krios, don’t you dare,” she said. He froze mid-stride, Garrus and Sidonis watching them in amusement. “Let me get cleaned up first.”

Right.

Cleaning up their impromptu workspace, Irikah packed up all of her supplies, salvaging what she could and trashing what she couldn’t.

Garrus went to Sidonis' side, scanning the now-bloody countertops.

“You know people eat here, right?” he asked, unimpressed.

“Yeah, yeah…” Sid grumbled. “I’ll scrub the area down, boss. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“I’m more so worried about you,” Garrus said.

Cupping the back of Sidonis’ head, they leaned their foreheads together, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. Something unsaid went on between them, the flanging of their subvocals thrumming with emotion.

Thane was able to pick up on a little bit of their meaning. Although drell have a similar method of nonverbal communication, it didn’t translate entirely across species.

Not that he was certain that he wanted it to. Not then.

The moment that Garrus and Sidonis were having felt too intimate. Thane felt like an outsider, intruding on what was supposed to be a private moment.

He turned to Irikah instead.

The second she disposed of her gloves and washed her hands, he was standing there before her, looking up at her with a twinkle in his eye.

She took in the sight of him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Amusement teased at her expression. Her lips twitched ever so slightly.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Thane chuckled.

“Can’t I simply want a hug from my gorgeous wife?” he countered.

She pretended to ponder that for a moment, humming thoughtfully.

“Oh, I guess so,” she said, reaching out to wrap him up in her arms. He eagerly returned the embrace, snuggling up to her as he rested his cheek upon her shoulder.

However, as soon as she squeezed him tight, he winced when it caused a spike of pain to emanate from his injuries.

She pulled back to stare at him, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Not to pry, but where exactly have you two been?” Irikah wondered, her gaze flicking towards Garrus. “We thought you said that you two would be here by the time we arrived.”

Garrus squirmed, straightening up while his mandibles gave a brief yet nervous flutter.

“Well, uh, you see…” He trailed off sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “We sort of—”

“‘Had our asses handed to us,’ as Butler so eloquently puts it,” Thane said, interrupting before Garrus’ rambling could somehow make the situation any worse.

Irikah and Sidonis both tensed at that.

“You what?” Irikah asked, narrowing her eyes at them.

Even Sid didn’t joke around, instantly alert.

“Is this a problem that we need to take care of?” he asked.

“No,” Garrus sighed. “Not yet, at least.” When Irikah’s glare turned icy cold, he resisted the urge to shrink away. “Listen, all we know is that the woman who fought us is human.”

“And is somehow connected to Cerberus,” Thane muttered.

At the same time Sidonis asked “who?” Irikah grumbled, “Oh, not those guys again.”

Garrus cast her a wary glance.

“What?” she asked, frowning over at him.

“You know them, too?”

“Only because Thane has had…” Irikah paused, lips pursed in disdain. “Encounters with them in the past.”

“Told you,” Thane said. “In any event, it sounded like she was working against them at the very least.”

“Thank the gods for small miracles,” Irikah deadpanned, but her tone was soon flooded with concern. “Are either of you hurt?”

Thane shook his head.

“Nothing that you need to attend to,” he stated. Garrus nodded in agreement.

“If anything, our prides are the only thing that’s badly wounded.”

Irikah scoffed with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Unfortunately, I’m afraid that healing wounded prides is beyond even my level of skill and expertise.”

“Guess we were doomed from the start,” Garrus said, sighing dramatically. He then peeked at his omni-tool’s interface, making a noise that was stuck somewhere between a squeak and a squawk. Everyone jolted, watching him as if he’d lost his mind. Which, given who they were talking to, probably wasn’t too far off. “Shit! Okay, anyways, we’ll talk more about the mystery human later. I have to go.”

Before they could ask, Thane chimed in with a sing-song tone. “He has a date.”

“Oh?” Lantar snickered at that, reaching out to stop Garrus before he could rush out of the room. “Who’s the poor soul? Tell them, from the bottom of good ole Sidonis’ heart, ‘my deepest condolences.’”

Garrus huffed, shrugging out from underneath his grasp.

“Ass,” he said, albeit affectionately.

Without waiting for Irikah to press him on the matter, Garrus made a beeline for the stairs, hurrying to get ready before he left.

Irikah nudged Thane.

“Should I be worried?” she asked, staring after Garrus, even once he was out of sight. “Look, I know that you all can handle yourselves, but he’s never mentioned going out with anyone before. Not so suddenly.”

“He’ll be fine, Iri,” Sidonis sighed, but even his voice trembled with a hint of caution. “He’s a big boy.”

“All I’m asking is, how much does he know about this date of his?” she questioned.

When she turned her attention onto Thane, he blinked owlishly in response.

“Huh, well, he told me that they met at Afterlife,” Thane stated, wary of where this was going, “and that her name was Jane.”

Irikah’s expression soured.

“That’s not a lot to go on,” she noted.

This time, Sidonis backed her up.

“I agree.” He scrunched up his nose. “If this Jane operates out of Afterlife, there’s no telling where she is on the playing field. She could be a merc.”

“Or one of Aria’s cronies,” Irikah added. “In which case, the last thing he wants to do is slip up and somehow piss the queen herself off.”

Okay, the longer they went around in circles, the more Thane was starting to develop a headache.

“If you want,” he offered, “I could always see if Garrus doesn’t mind me tagging along.”

Irikah relaxed. Only a little, but it still counted for something to put her mind at ease.

“Would you, please?” She smiled at him, her eyes alight with fire. “I would hate for anything to happen to him.”

“And he would probably be more amenable to having you, of all people, join him,” Sidonis agreed.

Great. Why did it feel like Thane was being outnumbered here?

Oh, that’s right, because he was.

They only just got back, and now he was being rushed out yet again.

“For the record, I still think that you’re being a tad bit overprotective,” Thane said, “but it’s fine. I’ll go talk with him.”

After all, better to be safe than sorry.

Thane turned to Irikah before he left, standing up on his tiptoes to steal a quick kiss, lingering before they parted with a couple of goofy grins.

Jumping down from his perch, Sidonis gagged at their antics in the background, quickly excusing himself to go check on Sen and get more cleaning supplies for the counters.

Left alone together, Thane couldn’t help but to tease Irikah a little.

“The way that Garrus is acting about this ‘Jane’ woman…” Thane hummed. “How are you so certain that even I won’t end up falling in love at first sight?”

Irikah snorted.

“Well, let’s put it like this,” she said. “If she really does turn out to be that amazing, then maybe you should consider bringing her home to meet your wife.”

“Why?” Thane regarded her with suspicion. “So you can steal her right out from under me?”

“Huh, now that you mention it, that does tend to happen often when you’re seeing someone new, doesn’t it?” she said, playing innocent oh so well. “Now, you better go catch up with Garrus before he leaves.” She shooed him on his way. “And please, for all of our sakes, make sure that he doesn’t wear his armor and visor to go meet her.”

“I’ll do my best,” Thane promised, setting out to go find Garrus.

Not that their base had that many options to choose from.

It wasn’t long at all before Thane found Garrus upstairs, washing off quickly in one of the showers.

Clearing his throat, Thane felt his frills give a slight flutter when Garrus turned to him in question.

For a moment, Thane’s mind went blank.

It definitely wasn’t Thane’s first time seeing Garrus naked by any means, but —as cheesy as it might sound— it never failed to render Thane speechless how breathtaking he was.

Then again, Thane was admittedly biased.

But he never thought that Garrus would put so much trust into an assassin having his back, let alone enough to leave himself vulnerable around him.

It was invigorating in a way.

Garrus reached out to Thane, offering him his hand.

Thane didn’t even hesitate to join him.

Shedding his clothes, his hand slid into Garrus’, right before he was tugged along underneath the spray of warm water.

Safe to say, it didn’t take much in terms of persuasion for Garrus to agree to let Thane tag along.

By the time they actually made it to Afterlife, though, there was no Jane in sight.

Then, out of nowhere, she appeared.

#mass effect #mass effect trilogy #thane krios #garrus vakarian #irikah krios #commander shepard #alyx shepard #shakarios #times two since it includes irikah in this chapter #bluerose writes #omega au #by that i mean the place xD

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im-totally-not-an-alien · 4 years ago

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Final Fantasy 7 prompts no. 24

1. AU where Genesis managed to kidnap Zack and Cloud when they were on the run and basically took care of them. Zack warmed up to him and Genesis came to actually care about them.

One day Cloud begins to mutter and both men are excited that Cloud might actually wake up soon.

When he opens his eyes the first thing he sees is the Crimson Commander.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Genesis sat on the edge of the bed, focused on a certain comatose blond. He had begun to mutter strange incoherent things in his sleep, which the redhead took as a good sign.

His thoughts seemed to be confirmed when the younger man opened his beautiful blue eyes and stared directly at him, "Pretty..." Cloud muttered dazed.

The redhead snorted, "Well at least someone around here has taste."

The blond sat up and wrapped his arms around the man, squeezing the breath out of him before dragging him into the bed. "Mine."

2. The numbered ones start flocking to Cloud, trying to initiate REUNION with him, sometimes by force. Cloud is Not Okay.

3. Cloud hatches a large egg that was in the stalls with his very male chocobos.

It turned out to be a Nibel dragon egg and now Cloud is even more confused than he was before. The little one adores its blond human mother and Cloud quickly grew protective of it. His friends are trying to convince him to kill it but he refused and broke someone's arm when they tried to hurt his new baby.

4. Sephiroth creeps into Clouds new apartment and starts one of his dramatic monologs, but not even five words in he freezes and stares at Cloud holding a fresh baked apple pie and wearing a frilly blue apron and an angry pout.

"What." The blond snapped.

"...I..." the general stared, a bit of pink dusting his cheekbones, "...leaving. I'm leaving." And he literally flew out the door.

Cloud stared at the empty doorway for a minute, "Well that was even weirder than usual." He sat down his pie on a cooling rack and wiped his hands on his blue frilly apron, a gag gift from Aerith.

5. "Hey Tifa, can you turn the water-hose on?" She heard Cloud ask from outside the window.

"Why can't you turn it on yoursel-" she shut her mouth with a sharp click.

Outside stood Cloud and the kids, caked head to toe in mud, only the spaces around thier eyes were spared due to the goggles that now rested around thier necks.

She wanted to yell at them. Tell them that they were going to get an earful when they got inside, but Cloud was smiling. Cloud hadn't smiled in so long and she would do anything, anything in the world to keep it on his face.

6. Sephiroth becomes a god and travels around the multiverse collecting different versions of Cloud

7. Barret leaves for five minutes, FIVE, and returns to the entire group under the "Mini" status effect. They are all out of MP and remedies so Barret sighs and has everyone ride on his shoulders until the spell wears off.

8. Mini-Aerith making all the others in their mini-group pick flowers with her. The flowers are bigger than they are.

9. Sephiroth blackmails Cloud into letting him dress him up. Cloud begrudgingly allows it, expecting to be humiliated in dresses.

He did not expect all the cool outfits, many of which he liked, to be forced onto him, all while "Fashion" by Lady Gaga played in the background

10. Cloud finally runs out of fucks to give and goes Full Chaotic Dumbass and just has a ball with not giving a shit. Good for him. Zack might also be following him around as a ghost and encouraging him.

11. Cloud mentally snaps when he finds out he's been thrown back in time and has been left with nothing but his sword and bike. He buys a motorcycle helmet and full-body leather biker suit to disguise himself. Blondie also becomes a vigilante and routinely antagonizes Sephiroth, with each of thier fights ending with Cloud escaping in some way that makes people think he must have died, example: jumping off a cliff into the darkness below, and beginning with "The Phantom Swordsman" saying "I lived, bitch" and insulting him.

The silver general slowly comes to tolerate and eventualy look forward to the mysterious man's visits, even if they do end in battle. He has tried many times to find out the mans identity and is almost desperate to get even a glimpse of the face behind the mask.

Genesis is the first to discover that Sephiroth has fallen in love.

12. There's an emergency with another AVALANCHE cell that causes Barret and Tifa to quickly leave, yelling to Cloud that they'll be back soon. Both Biggs and Wedge run off with Jesse apon hearing that something had happened to her mom. Cloud was content to just wait for them to return, until Marlene walked in, having woke from her nap.

Barret rushes in, frantic apon learning that everyone had left his daughter home alone.

He runs to her bedroom to find Cloud sitting across from her in one of those tiny chairs at a tiny table, wearing a plastic tiara and dusted in a lethal amount of glitter, reading a book to her while she draws a picture of herself, her daddy, and her new scary big brother.

13. Clack fic where Cloud really likes using Zacks chest as a pillow. Zack thinks it's adorable, until he has to pee in the middle of the night and can't bring himself to wake Cloud.

14. Everyone knows about Sephiroth being possessive of Cloud, but what about Cloud being possessive of Sephiroth?

15. Time travel AU where Cloud leaves puzzles that give Sephiroth information about the truth of his past and the events of the future (including the correct lottery numbers and winners of chocobo races), but some of them are stuff calling out all the shady stuff shinra does or office gossip and the last 50% is just him fucking with Sephiroth. Full on encrypted messages that say : "Your secretary says she wants you to step on her" and "You should wear a bell". And he knows he can get away with it as long as he feeds him scraps of the truth every now and then, but he'll be damned if he doesn't at least get a little revenge while saving the world.

#ff7 #final fantasy 7 story prompts #final fantasy 7 #ff7 prompts #cloud strife #zack fair #Sephiroth #sephcloud #genesis rhapsodos #tifa lockhart #marlene wallace #barret wallace #avalanche

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writingblock101 · 5 years ago

Text

Still An Asshole (Jason Todd x Reader)

Part 1

Thank you for all the love on part one! Here is part two! Enjoy!

Summary: As an ER nurse, you deal with a lot of shit, but Red Hood is not one of those things.

Warnings: Injuries are mentioned? It’s not very gory, this is very dialog heavy

Tags: @combative5sos

Word Count: 2,700

You quietly shut the door behind you and stare at the wall. You’ve been a nurse for a long time. You’ve seen more tragedies than you can count, but today was probably the worst day of your career.

Some psychopath blew up an elementary school. An elementary school.

The number of survivors kept dropping the longer your shift went on until you felt ready to break, but you couldn’t. You had to put on a strong face, stay in your nursing mode and help those that you could.

But now you aren’t at the hospital.

Your back slides down the door as you collapse to the floor, openly crying. Your shoulders shake as you sob into your hands, barely able to breathe.

Who would do this? Who would want to hurt children?

Tears stream down your face and you curl in on yourself then there’s a pair of hands helping you to your feet. You barely open your eyes, but you accept the hug, knowing exactly who is in your apartment despite the fact that moments ago, you were curled against the door.

“It’s okay,” Red murmurs to you, stroking your hair.

You’re not sure how long he holds you in your kitchen, but eventually, you pull away, hiccuping.

“You okay?” He asks.

You nod tearfully, wiping your eyes then frown at Red. He isn’t visible hurt, so why is he here?

“Are you hurt?” You ask, wiping your nose.

“No, I’m fine.”

You frown again.

“Why are you here then?”

“I heard about the bombing… I wanted to check on you,” He adds sheepishly. “Are you okay?”

You stare at him for a moment, then in spite of yourself, your eyes well up again. Red guides you over to the couch where you sit down, hands in your hair and tears spilling over.

“I just... I don’t understand,” You hiccup. “How could someone hurt children? How could someone…” Your voice cracks and your breathing stutters. “How could someone blow up a school?”

Red says nothing, just rubs your back and listens.

“You know, I don’t agree with murder,” You start. “But even murder makes a little sense! Like, you had a grudge or you were angry or you were caught on the wrong day or whatever but how, just how can someone formulate the idea of blowing up a school full of children and actually follow through with it?!”

You start sobbing again, hiding your face in your hands.

“This one little boy,” You hiccup. “He was in 4th grade. His name was Zach. He was so scared. He asked me to hold his hand because his mom wasn’t there yet. And I watched the life leave his eyes,” You pause for a moment, covering your face then slowly lookup. “That parent dropped off their son at school, thinking he would be safe, that they would see him again later that day, alive and well, but I watched as he died. I watched so many parents sob over their child’s body because some… some psychopath thinks they're entitled or something!” Your voice raises as you become more angry. “Because they think the world owes them something! That blowing up this school and killing all those children will get them something!”

You sigh, all your energy leaving your body. You watch as your tears run off your nose for a moment before quietly admitting to the coffee table.

“I don’t know, Red. Maybe you’re onto something with this whole idea of some people deserving to die. Maybe I’m just too naive.”

You feel his hand freeze on your back, but you’re too upset to wonder if you said something wrong.

“No, come on, Y/N,” He pulls your shoulders so you’re sitting upright and wipes your tears with his thumbs. “You don’t mean that.”

“Maybe I do!” You exclaim, pushing his hands down. “Maybe there are just shit bags in this world who don’t deserve a second chance! Maybe I’m an idiot for thinking that people can change…”

“No, come on. You see bad shit every day and you still see the good in people--”

“Exactly! I see how bad people are! How can I of all people think they deserve a second chance?! How can I think people can change when I’ve seen the same family come into ER three times because they’ve beat their five year old too hard but we don’t have enough evidence to help that child?! How can I think people can change when I’ve watched doctors stitch up the same dealer handcuffed to the bed four times when I know damn well I will see him back in the same position in a few months when he’s out of prison?! I see it, and I know you’re right but I chose to ignore it and that makes me an idiot. A stupid, naive, idiot.”

Red’s shoulders sag.

“You’re not an idiot, Y/N, and you’re definitely not naive. You’ve seen so much shit but you still fight tooth and nail with me about killing criminals. Criminals. We don’t need more people in this city that think like me. We need more people like you. We need people who still have faith in others. Don’t let this asshole change that.”

You smile tearfully.

“You know, I never realized until you said my name that I don’t know your name… I also never told you my name but I also never told you my job, much less where I live, or had even met you before you just showed up, and yet,” You gesture to him sitting on your couch. “Here you are.”

“Exactly,” He agrees. “Here I am because you believe in people. Even dirtbags like me that kill people. Yeah, you argue about morals all day with me, but you’re also stitching me up when you do it. You’ve never turned me away because you see good in people. You haven’t liked me from day one but it hasn’t stopped you from helping me.”

“Well, you did threaten me with a gun the first few times we met,” You laugh, wiping away tears.

“You always try to pull that on me, but don’t think I forgot that you called me on my shit with that gun.”

“It was clear that you don’t have enough people in your life to call you out.”

He chuckles.

“I actually do, but I just don’t listen.”

“And you listen to me?”

“Not really,” He admits.

You smile sadly, but put a hand on top of his.

“Thank you for coming by to check on me.”

“Of course,” He nods. “You always help me out when I’m bleeding or have something dislocated, so it’s the least I can do,” He stands up and walks toward the window.

He opens the window and starts to step out by hesitates then turns back toward you.

“You can call me Jay.”

“Jay it is,” You smile, giving him a wave.

He seems awkward, unsure of how to respond but gives back a small wave then steps out the window and disappears.

Maybe Red Hood Jay isn’t that bad…

. . .

Maybe it was because of the nature of your last encounter with the Red Hood, but you didn’t seem to mind finding him in your apartment; however, that nonchalance quickly went away when you realized he was bleeding profusely from his neck.

“Holy shit!” You exclaim, dropping your stuff. “What the hell happened?!” You demand.

Jay chuckles, leaning heavily against your counter with one arm, his other holding bloody gauze to his neck.

“Well, I went after that bigger fish I mentioned.”

You grab your trauma bag which you started storing next to the couch and quickly snap a pair of gloves. Forcing him to sit at the counter, you peel his hand back to investigate the wound.

“Yeah, looks like it went really well,” You retort, digging disinfectant out of your bag, but you stop and frown then look back at Jay.

“No helmet tonight?”

“Took it off.”

“But you’re wearing a mask?”

“Yeah, I’ve always had it on.”

“Under the helmet?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ve done that every night?”

“Yeah.”

You blink.

“Why the fuck do you wear a mask under the helmet?”

“It was for dramatic effect, okay?!” He snaps.

“...What?!”

Jay groans.

“Will you just keep me from dying?!”

“You’re not gonna die,” You roll your eyes then resume cleaning his wound.

Though you’re slightly miffed to admit this, Jay is pretty cute, even with the mask and bleeding profusely from his neck.

“You said you did this going after that “bigger fish”?” You ask.

“Yeah,” He mutters back, staring at the countertop.

“So, who is this bigger fish?”

“Joker.”

You whistle lowly, preparing your sutures now that the wound is clean.

“Yeah, that’s definitely a bigger fish,” You admit. “He got you good,” You start stitching up the wound.

“Joker didn’t do this to me,” Jay snaps.

“Okay,” You roll your eyes. “Then who did?”

“Batman,” He mutters.

“What’s your beef with Batman, you know, other than the obvious reasons?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Given how deep and long this cut is,” You gesture to his shoulder. “You’re going to be here for a while, so come on, indulge me.”

“I indulged you last time you stitched me up,” He grumbles.

“No, you didn’t. You were cryptic as shit and none of it made sense.”

“Yeah, well it doesn’t make a lot of sense for me either!” Jay snaps.

You roll your eyes again. You find yourself doing that a lot around him.

“Shut up. You were being purposefully cryptic. I didn’t realize how much arm twisting I would have to do to get a straight answer from you.”

“I have given you straight answers.”

“With absolutely no context you, little shit, so it doesn’t count.”

Jay sighs again.

“Fine. The beef I have with Batman started when I was Robin.”

You sit back for a moment, staring at him in wonder.

“No shit? You were Robin?” You frown. “I thought Robin became Nightwing?”

Jay grimaces.

“Different Robin. I was the one after. Anyways, I was Robin and me and Bats didn’t have the same ideas for how to handle Gotham thugs--”

“I see a lot has changed,” You mutter.

“If you interrupt me, I’m not going to tell you shit,” He snaps.

You mimic him under your breath, but stay silent.

“Anyways,” He continues. “Long story short, I got murdered by the Joker and six months later woke up in a coffin,” Jay frowns as he recalls the events. “It gets a little fuzzy about what happened from there, but really the gist that you need to know is that I found out that Joker was still running around, alive and well, despite literally murdering me, so I came back to finish the job and find out how the fuck Batman was justifying keeping him alive.”

He scoffs, shaking his head.

“The bastard didn’t have the guts to kill him. So this whole crusade I’ve been on was to draw out the Joker and Batman so I could confront Batman and kill Joker.”

“So,” You frown. “Is Joker dead?”

“No, that’s where this lovely cut your stitching up came from,” He grumbles. “Damn bastard hit me with a Batarang.”

“The Joker?”

“Why would the fucking Joker hit me with a Batarang?”

“I don’t know! He killed you once already.”

Jay pauses.

“Fair, but no, Joker isn’t dead because I’m not dead.”

“I’m not following…”

“Joker building blew up while all three of us were still in it. Batman got out, meaning he took Joker with him and I obviously got myself out.”

“Wow, you have had a long night,” You agree, tying the last knot on his stitches. “And it sounds like you need a drink.”

“I’ve needed a drink since digging myself out of that damn coffin,” He mumbled while you cover his stitches with bandages.

“Fair,” You sit back once finishing. “I’ve got Vodka, Captain Morgans, and Bourbon.”

“Rum sounds good.”

You nod, then stand up then start making the drinks, rum and Coke for Jay, and Bourbon and Coke for yourself.

“I know I’m not the medical expert here, but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to drink alcohol after getting stitches,” Jay calls from his spot at the counter but you wave him off.

“You died and came back to life. I’m certainly not going to be able to kill your ass with some liquor,” You hand him his glass.

“True,” He holds his glass to you. “Thanks for helping me to not die.”

You smile, clicking your glass against his and take a long sip.

“While stitches were a big part of why I came here,” Jay says after taking a sip of his drink. “There is something else I want to ask you.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“Okay, shoot.”

“I’m getting together a... team of sorts,” He says.

“Of sorts?” You ask.

“Yeah, don’t be expecting any girl scouts. But a team of people who can finish the job.”

“A team of mercenaries,” You translate.

“Whatever. Would you be interested in joining us?”

“As an assassin?”

“I was thinking more of a team doctor unless you have some secret hobbies I didn’t know about.”

“Why me?”

“Well, you’ve saved my life on more than one occasion. Also, you call me out on my shit, which I might occasionally need--”

“More than occasionally,” You interject.

“Watch it,” He growls.

“Or what?”

“Also, you’re not scared of me, so you’re definitely not going to be scared of anyone else I bring on board.”

You take another sip of your drink and stare at Jay for a long moment. It would be different, probably unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, but are you truly on board with this lifestyle? Are you ready to completely uproot your life to join Red? You’re not sure.

“And,” He starts sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “There was one other reason that I’m asking you.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah?” You ask. “What is it?”

He pauses for a second, chewing the inside of his cheek, then takes another long sip of his drink and stands up.

“I’d prefer to show you,” He smirks, but you can tell he’s full of shit.

He’s nervous, but he’s trying to pretend he’s not. You’ve grown to know Jay solely by his voice, so adding his facial features gives way to a whole new form of communication that leaves Jay much more vulnerable to giving away his true thoughts. He seems aware of this, hence the helmet, and of course, bullets constantly being aimed at him.

You tilt your head at him, your mind creating one hypothesis just as quickly for another thought to shoot it down. He rounds the counter and reaches out to hold your hip with one hand, his other on the back of your neck, giving you plenty of time to pull away, but you don’t.

Instead, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him into a kiss. He tenses for a moment, probably surprised that you ended up being the one to initiate the kiss, but he relaxes, pulling you closer to him. You break away, his forehead against yours.

If you went with Jay, you’d have to start over, but would that really be that bad? You don’t think so.

“Oh, what the hell?” You grin. “Count me in.”

He grins and kisses you again.

“In that case, the next thing you should know,” He reaches up and takes his mask off. “My name is Jason Todd. Nice to officially meet you.”

“Wow, you’re pretty hot for a zombie.”

He rolls his blue eyes.

“So,” You ask, jumping up on the counter. “Does this team have a name?”

Jason moves to stand between your legs, bracing his arms on the counter behind you.

“I was thinking The Outlaws.”

“That’s a dumb name.”

“I take back my offer.”

You stick your tongue out and kiss him again.

“No, you don’t.”

Red Hood, Jay, Jason Todd or whoever the fuck, yeah he’s an asshole, but you’re willingly stuck with him now, so you guess he isn’t that bad.

Logically, would Jason have an autopsy scar? Probably not, but I don’t care, I like the idea. Also, who blew up the school? Dunno, thought about making it Bludhaven considering that actually gets blown up during Under the Red Hood, but as you see, this is fanfiction and I did whatever fit the story instead of following the comic.

Hope you enjoyed it! I absolutely loved writing it! If y’all ever want to be tagged, just shoot me a message! Also, I do take request, but disclaimer00 I can’t guarantee the speed they will be done because I am a student and I like to write things I’m proud of so I don’t want to give you a shitty piece just for the sake of having it done.

#Jason Todd #Red Hood #Jason Todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanons #DC #DC comics #batman #batfam #violence #outline #red hood and the outlaws

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lewdladylily · 4 years ago

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Owner tried something new with hypnosis on me today. I'm not sure if any of you know what dronification is? It's a type of hypnosis and conditioning kink. So to start, a couple things about hypnosis and conditioning for people who are new here, so you can get a clearer idea of what is happening.

First, I have been conditioned very, very heavily to follow the orders of Raven (my owner). To the point where an order from her can make me do things I couldn't normally do, and not just things like motivate me to cause more pain to myself. My favorite example is that when I am struggling with insomnia I sometimes ask her to order me to fall asleep, and almost every time it has worked and I fall asleep within a few minutes. Really strange and cool how that one works, quite useful, and also something completely beyond my conscious control. So hypnosis and conditioning working together can have dramatic effects on a person’s mind, but it takes a lot of practice. We have been doing this now for almost two years.

Second, I don’t know if I have ever explained the concept of self image hypnosis on here. The basic idea is that with hypnosis you can cause a person to see themselves differently - as the name would suggest, you can modify their self image. This is a bit embarrassing to talk about, but you may have heard my pet name “bunny” on here. I don’t think that I have explained that Raven has given me a suggestion entirely based around that idea. In particular, it completely changes my self image to, basically, make me into a petite little bunny girl, complete with ears and all. She can also mess with my self image such that I feel like I am wearing a collar when I am not, or that I am wearing a set of (kinky) clothing I am not, things like that. I am aware of the changes and how they don’t match up with reality, but in my head the more “real” thing is the suggestion I have been put under. My memories of times like this often even have me in the modified image instead of in my real appearance.

So, the idea of dronification is to combine these two along with some heavy mental state and personality modification to strip me of individuality and make me a sort of blank slate that follows orders precisely and without hesitation. We started with getting me into a super deep trance, and then she started building up the suggestion.

First off, she gave me a sort of drone form - covered head to toe in skin tight latex, with my face replaced with a featureless mask. The point being to strip me of an individual appearance, and also because latex is fucking hot. Also important for something that happened later, she gave me a pair of ballet boots in this state. So, something like this in the general sense, but all black. You can see the basic idea behind the mask/helmet that removes any individual form and the full body latex.

(By the way, that is from reflective desires, best latex kink site on the internet, you should really go check it out.)

Next she started building up the change in mental state and personality. Stripping me of the ability to form independent thought as much as possible, making me see myself as something more like a machine or doll than a person, and then reinforcing as hard as possible obedience to Raven’s commands without hesitation and even without conscious thought or decision making as much as possible. She also gave me a number to respond to instead of a name to help it along. It was quite successful for a first try, and it will get stronger as we practice it.

She then gave me a couple new triggers to turn the suggestion on and off, and I spent about an hour under the suggestion as we tested it out and let it solidify. It is by far the oddest thing that has been done to me using hypnosis. During the whole thing I didn’t even recognize that I was thinking differently than normal, but afterwards I could look back and tell I was behaving very different. It is honestly a bit hard to describe, it is like I would get an order and my mind would activate just enough to do it, then shut off again into a deep trance. My emotions were left intact so I could feel things like excitement and arousal, but it was weirdly detached from the part of me that was controlling what I did and thought. The best I can describe it is a light disassociation, but very pleasant instead of distressing.

I had much less hesitation for orders that might normally be difficult, like slapping myself on the face. Normally I struggle to hit myself hard enough to sting more than a little, but under this suggestion I slapped myself hard enough that it was stinging for around ten minutes after. I can still feel where I slapped myself even though its been almost two hours. The bit of pain experimentation we tried also bothered me a lot less, even though I could fully feel the pain. Very fun, I am excited to see how much pain I can tolerate in this state and if it will combine with a pain trance.

One of the most interesting effects is related to the ballet boots in the mental image. I was ordered to inform Raven if any of the orders she was giving me put too much strain on my body because she didn’t want to wear me out for reasons. With the ballet boots as part of the imaging, I found my feet felt like they were pushed into a pointed position, and I was unable to move them from that position at all even though I knew it was all an illusion in my head. I was laying down for the entire session, but as I was down for over an hour the unusual position started putting significant strain on my feet. I had to ask Raven to “remove” the boots so I could move my feet.

Last of all, I almost immediately forgot about things I had done while in this drone mode. Afterwards it took quite a bit of effort to recall specifics and the order in which things happened. I don’t think I would have remembered much of it at all if Raven hadn’t ordered me to specifically try to recall as much as I could, just the general feeling of the whole experience. There was even a very significant portion of the session that I completely forgot about until Raven reminded me.

We also tried it out a few times after bringing me up, and it allows me to drop quite hard quite fast. I usually report how deep in a trance I am on a scale of 1 to 10, 7 being a fairly deep trance typical of our initial efforts to drop me. getting down to an 8 or 9 takes a significant amount of extra effort. With this suggestion I was able to drop to a 6 in a couple seconds with only the activation command and without any additional help from Raven. So basically instant trance.

Last of all it is quite notable that I was able to basically switch rapidly between enough clarity of thought to accurately and easily follow orders, including effectively articulating as needed, to basically shutting off my mind completely and dropping deep into a sort of standby mode where I had almost no thoughts going on as I waited for more orders. I have a very bad case of ADHD, so normally my thoughts are going a mile a minute at all times except when I am deep in trance, so switching back and forth quickly was a very new experience. It was like being turned on and off.

#IRL play #hypnosis #dronification #long post #jeez this turned out really long #sorry for the novel #I hope people found it interesting

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 5 years ago

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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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