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pangtasias-atelier · 3 years

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The Summoner’s New Drug

This was originally conceived as a joke between me and tumbyrumblings except I kinda wrote a lot and kept going lol. Though I feel like I wrote a whole lotta nothing despite this being 4k words abjsbjbbs

Please know that any inaccuracies is cause I meant it that way lmao. Story involves the obvious three characters at ridiculously large sizes

"They're brownies," Corrin softly chimes in from his seat in the corner, his downcast eyes focusing on his warm chamomile tea instead.

"And what exactly is so special about these…" Grima trails off with a grimace. A plate of freshly baked brownies held in Kiran's hands, Grima eyes them warily as if concocted to destroy him.

"We have nothing like that in Phoenicis," Tibarn stands behind Kiran. He inquisitively glances down at the baked goods. A quick sniff relays enough information on his lack of knowledge on the dessert. "Chocolate huh. Those Begnion pigs loved that stuff,"

"Unsurprisingly, Corrin's the only one to really know about this kind of stuff," Kiran gives a small sigh before going on to inform them. "They're brownies. A nice little gooey, fudgy, chocolaty sweet. And they're special because I baked them myself! Doubly so since they're pot brownies,"

Upon the sudden adjective, Grima and Tibarn both turn towards Corrin. "I've never heard of that word before," He curves his tail closer to himself, not exactly appreciating the attention.

"They've got weed in them," Kiran clarifies. With a lack of a reaction, he divulges further. "You smoke it to feel good but you can also use it in food?" All three of them simply stare at him with morbid curiosity, none of them understanding the summoner. He lets out an exaggerated sigh before placing down the tray of goods. Grabbing a notebook he roughly sketches out the plant.

"Ah, you mean bud," Tibarn is the first one to respond. "I didn't think you'd know of such a thing. I used to enjoy it from time to time with Ulki and Janaff growing up,”

"That's the devil's grass," Corrin adds, now eyeing the brownies warily.

Kiran holds back a small snicker. "Oh come now; this is nothing so morbid like that. It's perfectly harmless and it makes you feel pretty nice,"

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Familiar with it, only in a different form, Tibarn shrugs his shoulders without a care. Grabbing one of the brownies, he merely takes a simple sniff before heartily chomping into the delicacy. “Mmm, you’ve outdone yourself,” Tibarn takes another quick two bites to finish it, a content thumbs up thrown Kiran’s way. “Heh, don’t mind if I take another one, right?” His eyelids drooping, Tibarn doesn’t wait for a response; instead he grabs two at once, one in each hand. He lets out a small, breathy chuckle. He stares at his hands while he continues to munch, as if each digit contained limitless knowledge possessed by Ashunera.

"Who cares about a weed concoction? It is yet another pointless distraction meant to please you pathetic worms," Grima skulks about as ever. Unwilling to partake in merriment enjoyed by others, he keeps his arms crossed.

“I guess you’re right,” Kiran sighs. He turns his back towards Grima. “Alfonse did like these, so I should save some for him if you won’t eat any,” As he goes to walk towards the plate, Kiran already has a grin forming on his face while he waits for his plan to work.

“That pathetic princeling has no need or right of anything that is yours,” And work it does as Grima barrels past Kiran in a frantic rush to reach the brownies. Only wishing to deny someone else enjoyment, Grima angrily takes a bite of the brownie. Chocolate smears his lips. “Much less anything that is mine,,, ooh,” The sweet brownie dances on his tongue. A faint blush forming on his face, Grima’s shoulders lose their tension as they slack. “Perhaps I was mistaken. This weed thing is good,” Grima licks the chocolate smeared all over his teeth, desperate to not let a single gram go. “What was I even complaining about?” Grima’s eyes turn a bit red, the effect seemingly instantaneous.

“I think I’ll pass,” Corrin remains in his secure little corner; he continuously passes concerned glances at Tibarn and Grima.

“Oh come on. It’s not even bad for you,” Having already gotten two out of three, Kiran becomes pushy, pushing the drug onto Kiran. “They’ve only got a small amount” Standing over Corrin’s seated form, he towers over the petite dragon.

“I’m…” As Corrin mulls over on what to do, a voice suddenly pops into his head. ‘You know, my wife Nancy has a saying. Tell ‘em Nancy!’ Corrin’s mind is perfectly silent for a fraction of a second as it waits for another voice to join in. ‘Just say no!’ Corrin stares at the brownie in Kiran’s hand, his willpower marginally renewed from the voices of ghosts not from his world.

Seeing Corrin push back, Kiran pipes up more. “Everyone else is doing it. Just be cool about it,” Holding the brownie right in front of Corrin’s face, Kiran keeps a neutral expression. “Just try it,”

“Fine,” He brushes a bit of his hair to the side as he responds. Corrin trepidatiously accepts the brownie from Kiran, as if it were going to explode in his hand. His stomach churns and toils. He takes a few deep breaths to psyche himself up. Lifting the confection to his mouth, he takes a lil nibble of it. He nods his head in agreement, his body gently swaying to the side in clear enjoyment of it. “This is actually good,” He still takes small nibbles of it but each consecutive bite is always a bit larger than the last. A puff of air comes out his nose in a definite sign of contentment. By the time he finishes his first brownie, he grabs another one to peck at. He makes himself comfortable as he lies down on the couch. He stares at the plain empty ceiling. His mind relaxing, a myriad of shapes and colors that he never knew existed bounce around on the ceiling.

“You guys hungry?” Asking as innocuous as he can be, Kiran already knows the answer to his own question. “You boys wait right here, I’ll be right back with some snacks,” A chorus of hmms sound out as he saunters out the room. Kiran grabs the already prepared cart of food placed right beside the door. Waiting a few minutes, afraid to perhaps come off as too prepared and give something away, he comes right back inside after his self imposed time is up. “I figured you might be a bit peckish, so I got some snacks for you all,” Grima TIbarn and Corrin alike are all too faded to give much of a response besides another round of humms. Kiran doles out snacks to them, the three hungry men snacking away.

His plan on introducing the drug working exactly as planned, Kiran goes onto phase two. Not planning to crack down on them with unjust and pointless laws meant to harm minorities and benefit those in power, the second part of his plan is fundamentally the exact same as the first part; introduce more and more of the drug and let things take their natural course. As natural as the course can be with him being in charge of it all now.

All three perfectly chill and calm ever since having their first taste of weed in Askr, as befitting the effects of marijuana, they all feel another much more important side effect. Well, important to Kiran. The munchies. Addicted to it, all of them are constantly doped up on dope. They simply laze about throughout the entirety of their day, their days now filled with weed and food. Completely lacking awareness from being high all the time, they easily allow it. The pot brownie the gateway drug into other variants, Kiran introduces them to gummies, weed beverages, before even having most of their food contain it once their bodies build up enough of a resistance to it. Marijuana ice cream, weed milk, weed infused lobster, weed mac n cheese, weed gravy, anything and everything, upon hearing it contains weed, Grima Tibarn and Corrin clammer to try it. The more weed in their system, the fiercer the growing pit in their stomach demands food, the munchies taking a tighter grip on their bodies.

Their trim bodies gain an inkling of a pot belly, a trim sliver of pudge forming on the lowest part of their abdomen. That promptly thickens with a bit more time, said sliver of pudge blossoming into a full fledged gut, their arms gaining a bit of circumference all around as do their legs, their appendages getting a bit closer and compressed to their chunky middle. Over time, their usual outfits grow snug in places never before; shirts tighten around their swelling middles, pants constrict their jiggly thighs, and sleeves compress their flabby arms. Too faded to care, their addled brained minds preferring to fixate on satiating their cravings, they simply adorn their tight clothes even as those seem more akin to rags as their burgeoning bodies outgrow them near completely. They lack a single concern in the world with Kiran providing them all the weed and food they could want. Lazing and grazing about their only objective each day, all three’s activity spike down to near nonexistence. The only activity they get is shifting around a few times a day and the semi occasional walk to another location to space out and enjoy their environment, like the castle’s gardens or the lake. But even that minimal effort of movement begins to die down over time, their widening waistlines proving too taxing to bother themselves.

Moving past fat to obesity, Tibarn’s upper figure is the most prominent part of himself. A veritable gut rolls down his tree trunk thighs. The lowest roll of flab nearly reaches all the way down to his swollen calves. Each ponderous step Tibarn takes, the few that he has to, causes the great flabby beast to sway to and fro before undulating from the deep, heavy breaths he takes afterwards from the exertion. His defined pecs look like they never existed on his figure, two pendulous sagging breasts plunging to the side of his mountain of a gut. His arms are wider than the average heroe’s thighs, the doughy sagging arms constantly at an angle from the upper rolls of his torso. His once angular face lacks any sort of severity to it, Tibarn’s now cherubic face taken up by his puffed out cheeks and multiple squished together necks. His ass respectable in its own rights, the shapeless mounds for an ass sag down.

“About..” TIbarn takes a moment to catch his breath, his cheeks puffing out. “time,” Seated on a couch, Tibarn’s immensity takes up the entirety of it, his girthy love handles oozing out onto the armrests. Not a single space left on the seating, his gut rolls off of it and his thighs. The couch sags at the center from his crushing weight.

“Can’t keep you waiting for too long, big guy,” Kiran places a hand on Tibarn’s sprawling gut before rubbing slow circles on it, the immensity of his flab caving in from the slight pressure. “Brought you your favorites,” Handing him a tray consisting of meat, meat, and some more meat, Kiran places it on the titanic shelf of his chest. Kiran also hands him weed gushers. He pats Tibarn’s gut, the mass of fat wobbling in return. Tibarn promptly digs in as soon as his overly laden arms reach the plate of food.

Heading towards Corrin, the once constantly worried dragon is much more relaxed and chilled out. Used to some manners, he continues to sit at the now comparatively tiny table in the room. His body filled out everywhere, his plush rotund body bulges out with fat all over. One chair can no longer withstand his crushing weight, so now he sits on an entire three, the sides of his ass spilling off the sides of them. The inner rivets of his thighs curve inward from the fat piled onto them only for his great gut to smother the entirety of them under its weight. His flab digs into the table, his plush fat seeping above and below it despite it not being as massive as Tibarn’s. His breasts somehow retain a sense of form to them, his juicy, plump chest resting atop his gut.

“How’re you doing?” Kiran comes up from behind, placing a gentle hand on Kiran’s should as he walks around his obese form. “Hungry or anything?”

“I’m fine,” Corrin lets out a small sigh, his fat face giving a contented smile. His nose perks as the wafts of what Kiran is carrying reaches his nostrils. More weed arriving, Corrin’s gut involuntarily grumbles, a deep cavernous rumble shaking his entire body. “Actually,” Corrin pauses, embarrassed to admit his needs.

“I got you covered,” Kiran ruffles the top of Corrin’s hair. He places a plate atop his buxom chest. A spread of food, all of them contain fair amounts of weed. Knowing Corrin will wait a few seconds before stuffing himself, Corrin goes to check on Grima.

The fat fell dragon sitting on a mattress, the cushion offers no real purpose besides customary, Grima’s massive ass oozing off the edges of it. His titanic door crushing thighs remain plastered onto the mattress. The wide, gargantuan appendages spread over the entirety of the mattress. His gut nowhere near as exaggeratedly big as his lower half, the doughy mass of fat rests comfortably atop his thighs. His generous chest lurches forward down onto his heaping stomach, his line of neck rolls and chins resting above said chest. His fat addled arms are at a constant angle from the jutting fat from both his torso and his arms. “And why am,” Grima lets out a groan to catch his breath. “I last?”

Kiran wasting no time waiting, he steps to the side of Grima with a plate ready as well. “Cause I knew you could hold on a bit longer for me. And besides, I'm here right now aren't I?” Kiran places a plate full of nothing but sweets. Each confection is chock full of cannabutter, exactly to Grima’s liking.

Stepping back, he takes an appreciative look of all three’s bloated bodies. Not quite yet immobile, their bodies holding out a bit longer than expected, Kiran’s brain whits as he imagines their obese figures even bigger, said image only a matter of time.

The time coming very quickly, it doesn’t take much longer for the three of them to find themselves unable to get up. Unconcerned from before when moving was already taxing, they display the exact same lack of concern on the same day they can’t get up. And still, they continue to eat and grow. What is once the beginning somewhat resemblant of a body immobility eventually turns into shapeless immobile blobs. Clothes go completely forgone, the amount of fabric needed to cover a single mountain of a gut astronomical. Furniture gets swallowed under their lard, mattresses and couches alike unable to withstand and withhold copious amounts of flab. Space diminishes. With not one. not two, but three pathetically food addicted and weed addicted men, their ever flowing flab presses up against not only itself but against each other with only so much space in the room to go around. So much fat swaddling their entire forms, legs and arms become useless, the appendages becoming buried in a sea of flab. All too eager to keep on eating, the bulging walls are of absolutely no concern when their fat builds and pushes against all four corners of the room. Flab busting down a wall and seeping out in desperation of more room only earns a sigh of relief from them with more breathing room. The ever increasing rolls making up a chin eventually seem to meld together. A tire of fat forms around their fat faces. A handful of heaping rolls lining their stomach become two handfuls into even more, more and more fat piling on top of their corpulent frames. Where once a room was sufficient to house all three immobile piles of lard, soon it becomes a room plus a hallway. Then it turns into multiple rooms before half an entire wing is necessary. Eventually, they take up the entirety of said wing only to require even more space with their ever constantly fattening forms. Soon, the entirety of Askr castle becomes uninhabitable with the looming threat of the three blobs burying the castle under a cascading blanket of lard.

Askr castle now entirely devoid of any sign of people besides three blobs, the only sound one can hear is the churning of overtaxed machines as they perform their best to keep feeding their users. One machine per person is no longer sufficient, each of them requiring two to sate their black hole of a stomach. In what is presumably the throne room, a location Kiran can only guess from how big his heroes’ have gotten, what with any and all furniture destroyed and smothered by their fat, Grima’s big bloated body greedily guzzles away at his liquid food. His hands and legs are equally smothered under titanic fat rolls. His pale blubbery legs have absolutely no definition or shape to them, the oozing oceanic thighs splaying out on both sides around him. A sea of rolls making them up, each thigh alone rivals the size of an average room. So much fat stacked on top of fat, they even give Grima some height to his billowing, massively wide frame. Not that it means much when he’s over six times as wide as he is tall. His ass melding into his thighs, there is no distinction on where exactly they separate from his thighs. The back wall of the throne room bulges outward from the substantial weight pressing onto it. The side wall is already destroyed from his thighs. His stomach able to house, well a house, the big lake of fat comfortably slots itself in between and atop his thighs. His breasts divot down to the sides of his gut, each of them alone larger than an actual person. Tibarn visible in Kiran’s peripheral vision, at least one of the three immobile blobs visible even when far away from the castle, it takes Kiran a whole 50 meters to walk from the center of Grima’s body to Tibarn’s center.. Tibarn the unfortunate one to be stuck in the middle of the three, he took the role with gusto. Unwilling to let himself be outdone, his body gushes outward onto Grima’s and Corrin’s. So immensely fat, three tubes are stuck inside his mouth at all times, his fat cheeks cascading down onto his shoulders. A multitude of chins stacked on top of each other, the rings of fat sag all the way down to where his plunging chest is. Each breast so massively bloated with fat, his great big tits reach far down his stomach. A great feat considering Tibarn’s stomach alone could fill up a library twice over. So many rolls riddling his stomach, they all blend and mix in with his overtaxed thighs and ass, Tibarn’s body hard to tell where each part ends and another starts. His thighs mostly smothered by his absolutely mountainous stomach the appendage somehow manage to look comparatively small despite their overwhelmingly large size. Kiran walks another 55 meters to reach Corrin’s gut. Corrin the runt of the three, his body still puts a pack of elephants to shame. His body once holding out on keeping a semblance of a figure, now he is nothing but a bunch of fat laden rolls of a blob. His arms completely useless, the two rotund cylindrical columns of fat splay out to the sides of his engorged body. His back fat and neck rolls encroach his face, a bit of his hair obstructed by the growing mass of fat. On the right, most of his body takes up the entirety of a single wing where they first got addicted to weed. So massively big that he alone takes it up, Corrin’s gut and thighs are equally impressive. Able to cover far more than a dozen mattresses, his tonnage goes where it pleases, overtaking the few furniture not crushed under one of the three’s weight.

Returning from his own world, Kiran sighs with pleasure. Buying out an entire store, he holds a mere fraction of his pull. “I brought some more weed for you all,” He speaks into a small mic, the three unable to hear him from the gushing sounds of their guzzling without a speaker placed by their sinking faces of fat. The mere mention of the drug gets all of them going, the poor machines whirring even harder as they greedily suck on their slop of feeding tubes. “This is the life,” Kiran smiles to himself with a few stretches to prepare himself for the taxing climb of three mountains of fat.

Later in the day

“Kiran, don’t tell me you gave them even more of this weed thing to them?” Pacing back and forth in his new room in some other smaller, remote castle, Alfonse exasperatedly sighs as he slumps back in his chair.

“I went to check on them. See how bad the weed has been affecting them. Which is why people shouldn’t be taking drugs,”

Alfonse’s eyes shoot wide open from Kiran’s lecturing tone. “Y-you gave it to them! And you keep giving it to them! There is absolutely no lesson to be had here. No moral. No aesop. Nothing. Besides!” Alfonse points an accusatory finger at Kiran, staring up at them even as Alfonse goes to stand up. “There is no way such a drug normally exists. You had to have enchanted it,”

“And what about it?” Kiran noncommittal shrugs. He goes to sit in his chair, far too pleased with himself even as Alfonse berates him.

“Th-then!” Alfonse momentarily stops. His brain wracks itself as it tries to figure out what to say now, not expecting Kiran to purposefully admit being at fault. “Then stop acting like you’re innocent! You gave some to Kaden and Keaton and now this castle is soon to be overtaken by two blobs! They fill up the entire west wing now. Kaden’s chest is so huge that they could crush a wagon! And Keaton’s stomach could crush three of them! And if you’re admitting to being at fault then you need to fix this right this instant!” His entire chest heaves as he finishes his impassioned beratement. He finds himself standing right in front of the seated Kiran who only has a far too amused grin on his face.

“You’re wrong about that,”

“Huh? About what?” Alfonse’s eyes keep steady as they glare at the summoner.

“It’s not going to be two blobs,” Kiran stands up. He stares down at Alfonse, right in front of him. His steely eyes grin down at the confused prince, Alfonse’s body suddenly yelling at him to run only for his feet to remain plastered to the ground. Kiran whips Alfonse around, pressing him against himself. Producing a brownie out of nowhere he tauntingly holds it in front of Alfonse. “It’s going to be three,” He whispers in Alfonse’s ear. A single bead of sweat rolls down the side of his head as his arms and legs thrash about. His struggling slowly dies down the instant the brownie reaches the inside of his mouth, Kiran holding his hand against Alfonse’s lips. Feeling Alfonse’s body begin to slack, Kiran slowly lets him go.

“Ugh I…” With lidded eyes, Alfonse looks at his hands. “I feel so chill,” A little burst of giggling ensues as he drapes himself onto the couch. His flat stomach lets out a small little grumble. “I feel kind of hungry,” Grumbling to himself, he gently holds his stomach in hopes of soothing the pain.

“Here, I have some snacks for you,” An angelic smile now adorning his face, Kiran caresses Alfonse’s hair as he hands him some snacks. “I’ll go get you some more just in case too,” Walking off, Kiran goes to bring him the entirety of the kitchen’s stock.

Alfonse succumbing to the same fate as the others, Kiran has him working overtime in order to catch up. Stuffed to the brim with food all hours of the day, that is nothing compared to the copious amounts of weed he feeds him every half hour. So aggravatingly hungry, it takes only a few weeks for Alfonse to find himself immobilised by his crushing weight. Unaware of ever being angry from the use of weed, he can barely find himself begging for more of it before Kiran supplies it to him alongside another feast or two or three. His fat body is as plain as his once thin body; fat simply cakes itself onto it all over. No exact body part is a standout from the rest even as his body fills the entirety of his room only to take up a whole wing by itself, a sea of fat spreading all around with only Kiran able to tell that the body belongs to Askr’s prince. Making sure to give him a rough time, it all works out for Kiran as Alfonse soon grows to be fatter than Kaden and Keaton combined, the poor kitsune and wolfskin each taking up only a quarter of the smaller castle compared to Alfonse’s three fourths.

Kiran rests on top of Alfonse’s numerous chins, the cascading folds sufficiently enough for him to comfortably rest. He sighs contentedly as the whirs of three feeding machines fill his ears, Alfonse requiring two now. “Pretty soon you’ll need even more, fat ass,” Chuckling to himself Kiran grins from ear to ear. A good portion of Alfonse’s fat taking up his vision, Kaden’s and Keaton’s crushing weight take up another significant portion, the two of them needing one feeding machine. But it’s the sight in the far background that brings him the most joy. Off in the distance, the distinct sight of three blobs looms over the landscape. Askr castle entirely now no more, the great structure would be unable to contain a single one of them, much less three. A mountain itself an apt comparison to each of their bloated figures, Kiran simply grins himself as he thinks about his visit to them tomorrow, a great climb comparable to Mount Everest only done thrice in one day awaiting him. Though he considers it more than worth it, wondering just how big they can further grow, all of them happy to do so.

#My writing #SSBHM #male weight gain #maleweightgain #immobility #fat emblem #feeder emblem #fat!heroes #fat!Grima #fat!Tibarn #fat!Corrin #fat!Alfonse #fat!Kaden #fat!Keaton

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chibimyumi · 4 years

Photo

Redesign Prompt RESULTS!

Alright, thank you everyone who has voted, the results are now in! Overwhelmingly our winner is Ranmao 🐈!

First of all, I need to insert a few caveats here. Unlike with Victorian fashion, I do not have years and years of studying of Qing dynasty-fashion behind me. So whatever results I show here are the product of a fortnight of reading up and meticulous studying of contemporary photographs. a.k.a. I am merely scraping the surface here. But! I do promise that everything shown here is done to the best of my ability to be responsible as a content provider.

Now without further ado, let us dive into Ranmao’s current design, the blatantly obvious inaccuracies, and how I propose to redes...ign... her outfit while keeping the original intact as much.... as possible???? Heck, this is not even worthy of being called a ‘redesign’, this is straight up designing from scratch!

Hair

Let us start with her bangs. Her bangs are in fact surprisingly accurate, as late Qing dynasty women would wear their bangs in a variety of Bettie bangs trimmed well above the eyebrows. Having sides of the bangs growing longer framing the face was usual too, though they would be cut slightly thicker than Ranmao’s. Though, we don’t know how much hair Ranmao has, so I see no reason to alter it.

Twin braids are very much associated with the “China doll look”, but they seem to have been branded into our image of the “Chinese Girl” because it was the go-to look for unmarried women in Republic China (which is many years later than Ranmao’s time, and also has more surviving images.)

In Ranmao’s time, unmarried girls would either wear the bottom part of their hair down, or have everything tied into a single braid behind them. Girls who preferred a more feminine look would often decorate the sides or the top with flowers or other ornaments depending on their wealth.

Yana’s notes say that the flower in Ranmao’s hair is a Chinese peony, which is also called the Empress of Flowers in Chinese as well as Japanese culture. I could find sources on how the peony was the symbol of the Empress of China, and how one better avoid wearing any type of peonies around the Empress herself for fear of being suspected of disrespect. But I could not find any evidence of such flowers being banned for other people, so presumably it was more an ‘unwritten code of politeness’ rather than fashion law.

Hence, I kept the pink peony design for Ranmao, and decorated them in the way Qing women would have.

Neckline

By far the most interesting thing I learned from this redesign attempt was that the “mandarin collar” - the thing that pops up first in most people’s minds when thinking about Chinese fashion - was in fact not at all common.

In this academic work on Chinese fashion history, Finnane writes that the ‘high collar’ was “not a common feature of costume before the twentieth century.” Instead, most costumes would have had a round neckline.

Finnane, Antonia. Changing Clothes in China : Fashion, History, Nation. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. p. 93

The ‘high collar’ gained popularity in early 1900s in China after the Europeans brought with them the beauty standard for high collars, as well as slim-fitted silhouettes. The Chinese increasingly adopted this type of collar and the slim silhouette (the well known ‘china dress/qipao/cheongsam’), and the relatively many early photos that survived helped engrave this stereotype into our minds.

Sleeves

I do not think it requires any mention, but 19th century Chinese fashion did not include boleros... For many of the original designs of Ranmao I can sort of see where Yana got that image from, but this bolero-look truly beats me.

The sleeves worn in the late Qing period were relatively wide, though they were starting to slim down over time. Late Qing women enjoyed much more flexible clothing rules than earlier Qing women, and the width of the sleeves was in great part determined by personal preference, season, but mostly one’s wealth.

Needless to say, the larger the sleeves the more fabric and embroidery it would require, and thus more expensive. Also, the wider the more it would get into the wearer’s way.

I don’t know how much thought Yana put into Ranmao’s original design in relation to her function as elite bodyguard, but considering how the original has zero practicality and only serves to maximise Ranmao’s attractiveness, I have no qualms about giving Ranmao fairly large sleeves too. Besides, let us assume that Lau is responsible for providing Ranmao with clothes. Illegal money tends to fill the pockets quite deeply, I don’t think he can’t spare a few pounds for big sleeves.

Wider sleeves would expose much of ‘a lady’s precious skin’, as such a more fitted layer would have been worn underneath. (The sleeves under the wider sleeves obviously did not have to be orange-ish. This was merely coincidence that both my redesign and the visual source have this colour.)

Silhouette

The figure hugging silhouette x Chinese clothes was - as mentioned above - not at all a thing in Ranmao’s time. In fact, the accentuation of the “female curves” was considered very inappropriate if not downright ugly in the Qing dynasty.

Finnane, Antonia. Changing Clothes in China : Fashion, History, Nation. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. p. 94

Yana’s notes mention that the thing Ranmao wears is just an European corset and that that is the only thing ‘English’ about her attire.

Well... I don’t know where the idea that Victorians wore corsets on the outside comes from, but I myself admittedly was fooled by this a few years ago too... I promise you all now however, Victorians decidedly did not wear their ‘bras’ on the outside. I think even now this look is considered rather ‘questionable’ by most people.

Instead, Qing dynasty clothes were mostly cut wide and straight, loosely dangling around their bodies offering maximum comfort and space. You feared Ranmao killing you in her corset? Now tremble before her now blessed with maximised agility.

Trousers

Well... I considered ‘translating’ Ranmao’s attire to 2020 standard like I did for O!Ciel, but that would not be Tumblr-filter approved. Skirts so short they could be mistaken for a belt are nothing too surprising today, but wearing one with a split that deep is probably a bit too revealing even by today’s standards.

By the late Qing dynasty, men and women, rich and poor alike predominantly wore trousers. Long robes (skirts) were definitely in fashion too, but they were reserved for those who could afford to not have much agility. If you were a farmer, robes would not have been your first option. Perhaps the way long skirts were viewed by the Qing Chinese was not unlike the way we see them now; ‘more classy’ ‘more feminine’ and ‘less convenient’, but not the only way to express femininity.

In these pictures below we can see relatively rich women, married and unmarried alike, all wearing trousers.

Ranmao is predominantly a fighter, and as trousers are plenty feminine in Chinese fashion culture, I don’t see why she would not choose to wear trousers instead of a restricting long skirt. Hence I gave her a pair of trousers.

Shoes

Like I said before, “the shoes are correct...” But the anklets definitely are not!

Golden or silver anklets are something that are worn by very, VERY young children in China. Even to this day it is customary among many Chinese people to gift newborn children at least one piece of pendant, bracelet or anklet, for it is believed to bring the child luck. More practically, this piece of jewellery will become the child’s first piece of property then, which can be sold later SHOULD they ever run into a financially difficult situation.

These anklets or bracelets would not be removed from the child unless they have outgrown them, which happens fairly quick. Ranmao who is probably full grown should have outgrown them at least ten years ago. Hence, seeing these things on Ranmao would probably make it look like she is still wearing diapers or bibs.

Chinese people would likewise not have worn shoes barefoot. Instead, they would have worn cotton socks which were mostly white.

DOUBLE HAMMERS

HERE COME THE WEAPONS! Luckily Yana wrote the following note or I would never have guessed what they are for my knowledge about Chinese weapons is next to nothing.

“These are【SUPER】heavy. They are weapons called 双錘 (double hammers) and they in fact exist. I heard these were used by power-type warriors.”

So, I googled 双錘 and it turns out that the type Ranmao is holding do indeed exist! But... only in fiction and theatre.

The hammers that were used in actual combat were either very thin and long, or short and plump. Such hammers were one of the most primitive metal weapons in China, and quickly fell out of favour among Chinese warriors when more practical weapons such as the metal spear, sword and bows were invented. The hammers mostly retained their value because of their weight in heroic tales and myths about legendary warriors and deities.

I don’t have the full details, but apparently according to some legends or myths, one of such big-ass hammers could deal a force of 200kg, and thus 400kg combined. Regardless of this being realistic or not, it sure does sound very cool! It is therefore no wonder this primitive weapon retains its popularity even today.

Nowadays when these hammers are used, they are either the blown up theatrical versions, or the smaller versions for the sake of preserving martial arts.

I had a bit of a dilemma as to which version to give Ranmao, but in the end I settled with the short and heavy ones because I wanted to keep the idea of this small and innocent looking girl wielding solid metal balls. Two cheer-leading sticks would simply not have the same weight, figuratively and literally.

Alright everyone! Did you enjoy my response to your votes? I hope you did ^^ Non-European fashion history really is not my strong suit, so my deepest apologies if I messed anything up.

Pray tell if I did, I am always happy to learn ^^

#Ran mao #ranmao #ran-mao #redesign #redesign prompt #art #my art #fan art #fanart #fan-art #Chinese clothes #UGGHGHHGHG non-European fashion REALLY is not my strong suit #BUT I learned a lot and I had fun!

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canonicallyanxious · 3 years

Text

“i’m really glad i met her.”

Druck | Fatou/Kieu My | 1.3k words

Inspired by the following prompt from anonymous:

kieutou and meeting the parents? (Possibly featuring more of kieu my's mom's cooking?)

Slight deviation in that i don’t imagine this as the first time Fatou meeting Kieu My’s parents, but rather what a meeting between them on Tết [Vietnamese Lunar New Year] might look like. hope you enjoy!

[disclaimer: my depiction of Tết in this fic is based on my own experiences and is not meant to be representative of everyone’s experiences. That said my family is from South Vietnam not North Vietnam - where Kieu My’s family is from as far as I can tell - so while i did my best to leave the specific details vague there might still be some inaccuracies. My apologies if this is the case!]

Kieu My seems nervous on the way back to her place. It’s not hard to spot if you know what you’re looking for, and at this point Fatou likes to think she knows quite well. They’re sitting side by side on the bus, shoulder pressed warmly against shoulder and thigh lined up against thigh, and it should be comfortable but there’s a certain way Kieu My’s holding herself, so careful Fatou can feel it from the places where their bodies touch. Fatou takes her hand, squeezes it in an attempt to reassure her; and Kieu My smiles back at her but her leg is still bouncing up and down so Fatou knows it didn’t work, not quite.

Fatou brings Kieu My’s hand up to her mouth and brushes a gentle kiss over her knuckles. “Hey,” she says. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Kieu My shakes her head a little, as if attempting to clear her thoughts. “I just, um… I’ve never done this before.”

Fatou frowns, confused. “I’ve met your parents before.”

“No, I meant…” Kieu My tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, looking down almost bashfully. “I’ve never brought anyone home for Tết before.”

“Oh.” Honestly Fatou doesn’t fully understand how significant that must be for her. She can’t, really; she didn’t grow up with the Lunar New Year like Kieu My did. But a little over a month ago Fatou’s parents had invited Kieu My over for Christmas Eve and she remembers how overwhelmingly huge it had felt to treat Kieu My as one of her family, even if it had only just been for just a night - and even after nearly a year of being together, months of weekend dinners with her parents and gentle teasing after Fatou came back all flushed and smiling from a date. She can only imagine how Kieu My must be feeling now.

Kieu My glances at her, smiling a little self-deprecatingly. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?”

“No,” Fatou says. “But it does make me feel very special.”

Kieu My lets out a surprised-sounding huff of laughter and knocks their shoulders together. “Don’t let it get to your head, Miss Jallow.”

“Too late,” Fatou says breezily, leaning over to press a kiss to Kieu My’s temple. It’s brief, but it seems to be enough; her shoulders relax against Fatou’s, just a little.

They get to Kieu My’s flat about half an hour before seven in the evening, putting their shoes neatly by the door before fully entering like they always do. It’s bright in here, fresh flowers adorning the side table by the door and all the lights turned on as if the whole place was waiting patiently for their return. From the living room Fatou can hear the faint sound of a Vietnamese program playing from the TV, and though she can’t understand the words by now she easily recognizes the up and down lilt of the voices, enough that the very sound of it feels comfortably familiar to her.

She likes the way it feels in Kieu My’s home. It’s warm like it always is, not just in the air but also in the smell, vaguely fragrant with an undercurrent of incense smoke beneath it all, and the soft yellow lights, and how much of Kieu My’s family she can see in everything around her. The graceful paintings hanging on the walls; the pieces of old wooden furniture, the age of their surfaces a clear sign of how well-loved they are; the shoes arranged in neat rows by the door. There’s a whole world that lives here between these walls. Fatou never tires of learning about it.

They walk into the kitchen where Kieu My’s mother is standing at the stove. It smells incredible in here, like she’s been cooking all day which according to Kieu My isn’t even that implausible - most years she’ll take a whole day off from working at the store just to prepare for the eve of the Lunar New Year. The dinner they have the night before Tết is one of the most important meals of the year, Kieu My’s said before.

Her mother looks up with a wide smile as they enter. “Welcome, Fatou! It’s good to see you again.”

“Thank you,” Fatou says as Kieu My walks over to kiss her mother on the cheek. “I’m really glad to be here, dinner already looks amazing.”

Kieu My’s mother beams. “I was so happy when Kieu My said you could come tonight. She should be more like you, more respectful to your elders.” Here there’s a mischievous glint in her eye, and Fatou knows she means it as a joke. Kieu My knows it too, from the roll of her eyes even as she wraps her arms around her mother in an embrace.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” Kieu My says. “Do you need help with anything, mom?”

“Got it all taken care of,” her mother says, turning back to the stove. “Go get ready for dinner, I think dad will be home soon.”

Kieu My glances at Fatou and raises her eyebrows, a silent question: will you be okay in here?

Fatou smiles slightly, and nods. Visibly reassured, Kieu My leaves the room.

There’s quiet, for a bit. Fatou debates with herself whether she should stay in the room or go wait at the table or offer to help like Kieu My did a few moments before. She doesn’t know what the preferred response would be. In the end her indecision leaves her standing awkwardly in the same place, playing with the hem of her shirt as she tries in vain to think of something to say.

Her silent agitation must be noticeable to Kieu My’s mother even across the room. She glances at her, then down at Fatou’s hands in her shirt. “I like your outfit.”

Fatou looks over at her, a little taken aback. “Oh, thanks.” She pulls at the hem a little self-consciously. “Kieu My told me red’s kind of the color of Tết so… thought I’d dress for the occasion.”

“You look so nice in red,” Kieu My’s mother says with a nod. “Such a warm color against your skin.”

Fatou can feel her cheeks warm. “Thank you.” Strange that that’s the only thing she knows how to say right now.

Kieu My’s mother turns to face her, meeting her gaze steadily. Fatou wasn’t lying before, they have met several times already. But she understands a bit better the nerves Kieu My was feeling earlier, because they’re hitting her all at once now. She knows how much Kieu My values her mother’s opinion, and she knows it’s not for no reason. Her mother is short, shorter even than Fatou, but there’s something in her eyes that seems so sharp and perceptive, so understanding even of all the things Fatou can’t bring herself to say out loud. Almost like she can read her mind - see right through her. It’s a little intimidating.

“Did Kieu My tell you how important Tết is for our family?” she says. “It’s the biggest day of the year for us. Really important for us to be at home together.”

Fatou swallows. “Kind of, yeah.”

She smiles. It makes her eyes soft, and warm.

“It’s good Kieu My brought you home this year,” she says. “It’s only right. We have to greet the new year together, right?”

Something swells up in Fatou’s throat, something she has no name for. Somehow she hadn’t been expecting to hear something like this.

She doesn’t know how to say that out loud. Instead she says, voice a little unsteady, “I would be honored to.”

There’s no answer to that. But the silence doesn’t feel unkind. It’s hard to imagine anything from Kieu My’s mother feeling unkind. Especially not now, when the smile on her face has turned so gentle.

“I…” She falters. Takes in a breath; tries again. “I’m really glad I met your daughter.”

The smile that answers her is so bright, so full of life. Fatou thinks she can see where Kieu My gets it from, just a little.

“Yes,” her mother says. “Me, too.”

#druck #kieutou #fatou jallow #kieu my vu #sarah does writing #sidenote: writing about parents is so hard rip #kieutou prompt fill

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funkii4-blog · 3 years

Text

Some trans!Kyoya headcanons of mine for y'all

Keep in mind you don't have to agree on or adopt these, these are just my personal takes on the concept. And there may be some inaccuracies about the whole transmasc thing because I myself am cisfem and don't know a lot about the experience.

He was lucky enough to begin T at an earlier age (14-15, I hc him to be 15 in Fusion) so his voice is a tiny bit deeper already by Fusion. It does still remain relatively high throughout the series, though.

For a large part of the series, no one knows about it but him; not even Benkei.

However, Madoka accidentally finds out following the early events in Fusion ep.11 when Doji interrupts the end of his battle with Gingka. I really like to think they end up keeping the secret between themselves for a while and they become close friends behind the scenes over this (and it’s adorable).

The initial detail that pulled me into this headcanon upon my rewatch was that aside from that weird ass fantasy frame from Fury (you know the one), which isn't even canon, he isn't shown bare-chested at all that I can remember. He is seen without a shirt on in Fusion ep.11, but is bandaged up at the chest.

(Yes, I do know that does not apply to the manga, I’m specifically referring to the anime for this.)

I noticed that his outfit in Fury is a lot tighter than his initial Fusion/Masters outfit, so I imagine he got his top surgery somewhere between seasons two and three and rocks the tighter outfit since he no longer needs to bind by this point.

In the first two seasons, he binds while battling and around a lot of other people but in more casual environments he does not.

One thing I immediately picked up on was his absolute open hatred for physical affection. While this was most likely a trauma response if anything at all, it could also have been due to risk of further dysphoria; but again I haven't dealt with the transmasc experience head-on so I’m not one to talk.

#beyblade #beyblade metal fusion #metal fight beyblade #mfb #kyoya tategami #transmasc headcanon #trans headcanon

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amuhseen2003 · 3 years

Text

SANDERS SIDES KARAOKE: GOTHIC LITERATURE MUSICALS EDITION

Okay, so after four years of being in the Sanders Sides fandom, I’m going to attempt to write some headcanons. Here we go.

Since it’s well-known in fanon that the sides do have karaoke sessions, imagine what would happen if they sang musicals based on gothic literature.

Roman’s happy because broadway, duh, Logan is happy because it’s canon that he enjoys gothic literature since he dressed up as Frankenstein’s monster for Halloween, same reason for Virgil and Patton’s happy that his family is bonding. He made extra cookies for the occasion. He’s dangerous like that.

(I headcanon that when Thomas had to write analyses of gothic literature novels for school, Virgil, Roman and Logan would work together to come up with stuff and write the best essays in class and Patton would be so proud of them)

I’m not going to count Les Mis because I’m not too sure if that counts as gothic literature and whilst the Hunchback of Notre Dame is indeed gothic (trust me I read that in a plane once. An entire, like, ten pages is dedicated to describing the scenery) I don’t think it became a broadway show.

Now this isn’t like their usual karaoke nights, no sir. Just idly remaining in the living room won’t do. Where is the gusto? The pizazz? The accolade winning extravaganza? The-

“We get it Princey, can you just get on with it?” - Virgil

No, this type of singing can only be accompanied with an atmosphere that will do it justice. To the imagination they go and with Logan’s (who has practically memorised every single one of these books and is not geeking out at all) input on how the novels describe each setting, Roman creates very intricate landscapes for each song.

When they sing ‘Alive’ from ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ Roman thought that it would be really cool for Patton to play Mr Edward Hyde since Hyde is literally the human id and Patton, being the embodiment of morality, is literally the superego (although to be fair, Patton is also shown to be quite childish and impulsive since he’s also the base of Thomas’ emotions and Hyde is impulsive because he’s a way for Jekyll to act on his own emotions - especially since the only crime that Hyde does in the book are him over-reacting with his anger by beating a man to death. And in the novella, Jekyll writes that he and Hyde are like father and son and that Hyde is actually younger than Jekyll is, he does have that sense of childishness that Patton has only instead of that childishness being good and helpful, it’s bad and hurtful. Plus in the soundtrack of Alive, whilst Anthony Warlow does sing about how good being evil feels like, he also sounds like he is crying tears of joy of being able to be himself, the first words post-transformation being freedom and anyways these are supposed to be fun headcanons not analytical headcanons so I digress…)

Anyways Patton is happy to play the villain because “look kiddos, Roman conjured up this really swell cape” “the correct term is cloak” “and check out this top hat and cane!” and he’s just belting out the words and froliking around Victorian London without a care in the world, making his cape swoosh in the wind.

“Patton I would advise you not to take your shoes off. This is nineteenth-century London with people dying of cholera by the dozens, your feet could catch a myriad of infections.”

“Worry not, specs, the scenery is merely an illusion. I would never allow for our dear padre to succumb to the villain of illness”

“Aww, thanks kiddo (cue Patton’s sunshine smile) now where was I? IT’S THE FEELING OF BEING ALIVE! FILLED WITH EVIL AND TRULY ALIVE!”

They have Logan sing ‘I Need To Know’ because a doctor of science singing about wanting to expand his knowledge and having that thirst to do whatever it takes to get said knowledge. That is a Logan Sanders song right there. At first he’s like “why do I have to sing. I was happy enough giving directions and helping you with the scenery” but Roman creates this big scientific library that could rival the one from Beauty and the Beast/ laboratory from that’s practically the identical to Jekyll’s lab in the book and he’s like “Fine” like he isn’t enjoying himself. He is. They all know it. He’s not fooling anyone

Patton and Roman sing ‘Bring on the men’ together (yes, whilst wearing dresses) whilst Virgil and Logan drink apple juice from those big british beer glasses in the mind-scape created Red Rat (which Logan is quick to point out doesn’t exist and is vocally upset at how the musical adaptation added unnecessary romantic subplots with Lisa and Lucy when the book itself only had three background female characters who were only there for like one paragraph. He’s even more upset at the other inaccuracies with the book like how in the play Jekyll creates his formula as a cure for mental illness and Hyde was accidental whilst in the book he did it because he wanted to indulge in sin without fearing the consequences and Hyde, whilst not being exactly what he wanted, was actually created on purpose or how in the book Hyde only kills one man and in the musical he kills practically everyone except for the one person he did kill. Virgil pats him on the back with sympathy). Roman and Virgil are sniggering at the sexual euphemisms at the end of the song whilst Patton’s confused. She just seems really enthusiastic about food.

Roman sings both parts of ‘Confrontation’ by himself. He gets a standing ovation.

He also does ‘Transformation’. The problem is that he was so good at sounding like he was in complete agony and near death that they had to stop the song prematurely because Patton was getting upset. Don’t worry, Pat gets lots of cuddles by Roman afterwords.

(You know what I might do some sides reacting to The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde later because 1. It’s my favourite book and 2. All four of them would have very interesting takes on it)

From the Frankenstein musical Virgil plays the criminal from ‘Say Amen’ because he wants to (seriously, the guy’s first words in the song are ‘I curse the day that I was born into a world so black with hate’) and Logan plays Victor Frankenstein but Patton refuses for his son to even pretend to be executed by the noose so they have Roman play a man wearing a british executioner outfit with a foam sword and the creative side just bonks the anxious side on the neck with it. Logan despairs about the historical inaccuracy from his place in the stands whilst Patton is cheering next to him. Patton also hands him an extra jumper to keep him warm in the Switzerland cold.

“Patton, I am grateful that you are thinking of my health but no one in eighteenth century Switzerland wore bright blue jumpers with cartoon kittens on them”

“Really, Logan, are you paw-sitive?”

“I would like to change places with Virgil. Immediately”

Roman and Logan turn ‘Birth to my creation’ into a duet because Logan enjoys the scientific aspect of it and Roman can’t resist the drama (of course). He goes all out. He makes Victor’s lab perfect to the smallest detail (and cheers when Logan’s eyes start lighting up and he does that cute clappy thing when he’s excited), he conjures a storm and makes lightning strike at the best moments of the song. He even creates a ‘wretch’ (what Victor calls the monster in the book. I’ve heard that it’s name is Adam but all I remember from the novel is Victor calling himself god and the creature his Adam) to lie on the table.

“And we didn’t even have to go grave-robbing for it. Or drop out of University.” - Roman

“No matter how many times I wanted to.” - Virgil

Roman and Virgil do most of the songs from Dracula. The creative side creates this huge, expensive-looking window-balcony thing with glass double doors and billowing silk curtains so that he could dramatically sing ‘the longer I live’ whilst the wind blows through his hair and he dramatically drapes himself on the balustrade so that the light from the full moon hits his figure just right. Patton’s close to crying.

Logan is very eager to give as many facts as he can about nineteenth-century mental institutions for ‘The Master’s Song’. He gets really into the history behind certain treatments and different cases. Roman plays Renfield and the others play doctors.

Virgil is super into Dracula’s castle during ‘Life after life’. He and Roman duet that song wearing all-black. Logan tries to help Patton’s slight fear by telling him the history behind different pieces of architecture.

Patton plays Christine during Phantom of the Opera

Roman, Virgil and Logan sing ‘A story told’ from The Count of Monte Cristo around a circular table in a dimly lit tavern. Patton takes pictures and drinks hot chocolate in the sidelines.

#sanders sides #sanders sides headcanon #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #lamp #calm #lamp/calm

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hetalia-has-a-secretary · 3 years

Note

how would the allies react to their autistic s/o having a special interest on their country's history?(:

Awe- okay this is just a cute ask in general! I think they'd all be pretty flattered if anyone, regardless of their health or state of being, would love it! Like, that's a LOT of stuff to remember! At some points they're like "OH YEAH! That happened!" Also, there is a couple articles about autism and the special interests they can have and how they can use it to their advantages!

Allies with an autistic S/O with special interest in the countries history!

America:

He's pretty flattered! I mean- look at all the heroic stuff he's done!

He has SO MANY history books and his S/O has an infinite library card.

Like it doesn't matter the questions his S/O has either.

He really loves talking about his history. Especially because there was so much trial and error.

It's also very interesting to hear Alfred's own opinions of his own history. Like, he was there. He knows exactly how to describe the very smell of George Washington! (Which was not cherries!)

He'd even let them see some of the weapons, or antics he owns from throughout the year!

If they need space though, they shouldn't be afraid to ask him. He gets it.

He will also be totally cool with helping them find ways to help incorporate it into their day if it helps! Audio books are nice, he might even parade around in an old outfit, making jokes about how the clothes still fit.

England:

He's very glad to be of any form of assistance!

No matter how well, or how much information you retain he's very impressed! Let alone flattered!

This also makes him feel a little more self love as well.

If they're that interested and actually enjoy his history, why shouldn't he?

Will ask his S/O if they'd be interested in a trip to a museum. But don't be surprised if he points out any inaccuracies or misconceptions.

He just wants his beloved to know the truth. Even if it's a touchy subject.

Maybe they'll be interested in some history classes? If not that's cool too! He has book. And I mean a whole library at his home so- yeah.

If his S/O needs a way to use their interest to help get through the day england can teach them how to do things the old fashion way. Kind of like experiencing history first hand!

France:

He has the definition of an ego boost. He already really loves his country and is more than happy to (romanticize the crap out of) teach or show his S/O some of the most famous places in France!

They could literally ask him what France's National bird is (A Gallic Rooster, apperantly?) And he'd go on a 15 minute play by play of why, when, how, and where!

Do not worry, let him get his fancy performance out of his system and he'll start acting a little calmer. Unless you like seeing a sparkling France dance around!

His pride and joy though, really is the architecture and clothing throughout the years.

Would also LOVE to read to you any books you can't read since most of his stuff is in french!

Be prepared for some funny translations though!

Let's be honest, seeing France parade around and dance with a broom stick while he talks about art is probably the best way to get through a rough day. He probably doesn't mind helping his S/O keep focus so long he gets to show off...

China:

They've literally hit the jackpot when it comes to someone who likes to ramble about his culture and history, cause MAN does he have a lot of it!

He's literally just a walking librarian, and probably remembers most, if not all of his past.

Will but you books and stuff on his history for gifts, and will even get them pretty oriental looking shelving.

Careful, he can be a gift giver, no matter the price.

Once bought them a tea set that was so old it came with a certificate of authenticity, and a booklet of information.

He will also show them some stuff from his personal collection as well! Don't worry about accidentally breaking the stuff he hands them either- he wouldn't let anyone, not even himself, touch the stuff he doesn't want to risk breaking anyway.

They can look at those, just no touching.

His house is literally a museum. Just point out an object and ask. He'll have a nice history lesson to share with them, and it makes him feel important.

Since his house is pretty old fashion, he can find hundreds of ways to help get through the day if his S/O needs it. Would literally dress up for them, and let them wear his clothes if it makes them happy.

Russia:

Confused TM

You wanted to know more about him???

Literally just, why?

Once he sees how eager his S/O when learning anything about Russia's past he gets a weird fuzzy feeling inside. He's not use to it, and doesn't really like it so his sunflower is probably going to have to avoid the topic until he's ready.

That might take a minimum of a month, but if his S/O is careful and starts out with small things like, how vodka was made, or the history of the sunflowers, they can coax it out of him a little at a time.

Once he realizes they have no I'll intentions, and are genuinely courious that fuzzy feeling comes back, but this time he can enjoy it.

He's surprisingly really good at making his history entertaining. Though his S/O needs to prepare themselves for goosebumps Because Russia has a niche for story telling, and that includes the pitch and tone in his voice.

Like, letting him teach you about his history is like watching a well thought out play!

For Russia, this is not only a bonding experience, but a really good way to practice his social skills, and he wouldn't want to practice with anyone else but S/O!

It might be a struggle, but Russia would probably be the only who wouldn't want to incorporate much of his history into their daily routines. He's more concerned with it scaring them off... But audio books are an option!

Okay! I had like, 3 paragraphs worth of a rant, but I figured I'd just site the articles I read that helped me with this. So if anyone has any better ideas for some of the Headcannons (preferably if you're autistic and see any inconsistency or have a better idea in general) let me know, because I want my Headcannons to work, but I want them to be accurate as well! Same thing goes for if I have a site noted, and the organization is no good, let me know! I want to learn these things for future references! I did like these two because get the views of parents/researchers/ and people with Autism.

https://sparkforautism.org/special-interests-in-autism/

https://www.autismparentingmagazine.com/autism-children-special-interests/

#hetalia world stars #hws #aph #hetalia american #hetalia england #hetalia france #hetalia china #hetalia russia #hetalia

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bitchin-beskar · 3 years

Text

December 9th

Rating: T

Warnings: Fluuuuuuuff (cause why not), tinyyyy bit of angst, but it’s only because Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon are mentioned.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 519

A/N: I’ve only ever baked (1) pie in my life, so... I apologize for any baking inaccuracies. I tried to stay away from any specifics, and besides, I’m much better at making cheesecakes. And fudge. Great, now I’m hungry. Also, there may be a part two to this later down the line if there’s a challenge that fits with it.

Prompt: day 9: baking a pie from @acdeaky’s December writing challenge!!

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment!!! I love hearing what you guys think!!!

You jumped as a pair of arms slid around your waist, causing you to drop your rolling pin right into a pile of flour, the particles flying up into the air and attaching themselves to your clothes.

“Sorry.”

You huffed, leaning back against your boyfriend’s solid chest. “You’re lucky I haven’t bothered getting ready yet, otherwise, you’d be in big trouble, mister.”

“You’re not ready?”

You’d think Marcus was joking if not for the serious tone of his voice. You turned to look at him, somewhat incredulous. “Babe, you don’t seriously think I’m going to wear this to the company party, do you? I’m not exactly dressed up right now.” You gesture to your outfit with a flour covered hand, but Marcus just grasps your wrist, pressing his lips to your palm.

“I think you look gorgeous.”

You feel fluttering in your stomach, the same feeling you get whenever Marcus compliments you. He’s never shied away from letting you know that he thinks you’re the most beautiful creature on the planet, even when you don’t feel like it.

“You may think that, but I’m hardly going to show up to a Christmas party full of your coworkers in sweats, Marcus.”

He chuckles, before the grin slowly slides off his face. “Um, about that...”

You frown, brushing your hands off before cupping his cheeks. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Your mind starts racing, trying to figure out if something’s happened and you just missed it. “Do you not want to go?”

“No, it’s not that.” Marcus shakes his head. “I found out from another agent today... Jane and Lisbon are going to be there.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Seriously? What are they doing here? Shouldn’t they still be in, oh, I dunno, California?”

Marcus slowly shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. But...”

You place a finger over his lips. “I know, you’re not exactly thrilled to be spending a lot of time around them. I don’t blame you, and I doubt any of the agents you work with would blame you if you didn’t want to go tonight.”

“I kind of have to go, sweetheart,” Marcus starts, and when you open your mouth to insist that no, he probably wasn’t required to attend a Christmas party, he continues. “But I love that you want to give me that out.”

You reach up and kiss Marcus, feeling his soft smile against your lips. “I love you. Now, I really need to finish this pie. I’m going to make sure it’ll be the best damn pie in existence, and I only have a couple hours.”

You turn back around to keep working on the pie crust, with Marcus watching over your shoulder.

“Why does it need to be the best pie in existence? I didn’t think you were a huge fan of pie?”

You frown in concentration. “I’m not. But I am petty, and I want Jane and Lisbon crying over how good it tastes.”

You can feel as Marcus begins to chuckle, his chest vibrating against your back. “You’re amazing,” he whispers into the side of your neck, his arms tight around your stomach.

“Thanks, I try.”

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yet-another-fan-girl9 · 4 years

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Inhuman (1)

Summary: All beings in the universe have a soulmate except for Midgardians. People can hear their soulmate in their heads. For almost five hundred and fifty years, Loki believed that he had no soulmate until 1513 when a Midgardian princess was born. Will fate be kind to them or will the universe tear them apart?

Warnings: violence, language, hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy), maybe some AOS season 2 spoilers(?)

Word Count: ~3400

A/N: Yay! The re-write is here! I changed it so now there are flashbacks and stuff and the chapters are longer! I’m also posting this chapter a day early because of reasons. Anyways, enjoy!

[New York, New York, March 2024]

‘Soulmates?’ You had never heard of the concept.

‘We are destined to be together. The universe made it so.’

You shot up in bed, a light sheen of sweat covered your body. Loki’s words replayed over and over in your head. You hadn’t heard his actual voice in so long but it was still as clear as if he was speaking to you now. It had been twelve years since you had seen him in Germany and he had tried to take over.

‘We are destined to be together.’

The words echoed in your mind. ‘Destined’ huh? Well, if you’d learned anything from the past four hundred and eighty-six years that you were not with Loki, it’s that the universe does a shit job at keeping you together. You ran your fingers through your hair, easily smoothing out the tangled mess. It was too early to think about Loki.

You slipped out of the silk sheets that covered your king-sized bed in your two-level, top floor Upper East Side penthouse. You were very proud of how far you had come. The view was amazing. You could see some of Central Park from one side and the stereotypical New York skyline from another.

As you walked out of your room, you caught your reflection in one of your full-sized mirrors. And that was definitely a nice view. When you came out of Terrigenesis almost five hundred years ago, you quickly discovered that you were now the blueprint for a perfect person. Straight, white teeth, surprisingly tameable hair, and clear, unblemished skin were some of the visually obvious changes. In addition to your perfected looks, you had increased senses, healing, strength, endurance, and your favorite, pain tolerance. Oh, and don’t forget you basically look twenty-five forever.

You checked your phone while you made breakfast in the kitchen downstairs. There were a couple of emails from your employees on their latest jobs. You opened one from Max, your right-hand man. You were reading over some job offers he had handpicked for you when you got a text from the man himself.

Bringing up some donuts!

Max was the only person from work to have access to your penthouse. He was your best friend. The two of you had met when you were at Afterlife nearly fifteen years ago. He was an Inhuman as well. All of your employees were Inhumans, using their specialties to carry out their jobs. Max had the power to change surfaces. It was a strange power, but he had learned to make it very useful. He could cause his pursuers to slip on the suddenly ice-like ground or climb up a glass skyscraper.

“Hello, bitch! I brought donuts!” Max called from the elevator.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Max walked in holding the goods. He always wore eccentric color-coordinated outfits. Even the times you saw him in stealth mode, he had to have some lace or frill somewhere. Today he wore a mixture of neon green and pink with matching eyeliner.

“Are Cosmo and Wanda disguising themselves as your clothes?” you asked.

“Haha,” he deadpanned. “I knew you were going to say something like that. You’re so fucking funny. Soo…” He plopped the three large donut boxes onto your kitchen counter. “Have you heard of the Avenger’s new quote-unquote recruit?”

“Um, I think it’s your job to keep tabs on heroes.” You opened the nearest box and happily pulled out your favorite donut.

“Okay. Number one: I’m not speaking to you as your right-hand, right now, but as your friend.” He held up his finger. “Number two: it’s not really a job if I do it in my free time anyways. You’re paying me to do something that I do on an hourly basis.”

“You stalk the Avengers on an hourly basis?”

“No? Anyways, number three: it’s Thor’s brother. It’s your Loki.”

“What the fuck?” you choke on your donut. Max was the only person who knew you that you and Loki had a history. And that’s all he knew. Nothing about soulmates or all that shit. “What the fuck, Max? Did you try to use donuts to soften the blow? Stop laughing.”

“I-I wish I had caught that reaction on camera,” he said in between fits of giggles.

“Haha,” it was your turn to deadpan. “Fuck, man. I guess we just have to double our efforts to keep ourselves off of their radar.”

“Do you think they’ve forgiven him for New York?” Max composed himself.

“I mean, they must have if they’re letting him join the team.” You chanced another bite of your donut.

“But lots of people haven’t.”

“Lots of people still haven’t forgiven Barnes,” you pointed out. You didn’t know when or why Loki had attacked New York. That Loki was nothing like the man who you had grown to love back in the 1500s. But you were nothing like that girl either.

“Have you chosen a new job from the list I sent you?” he changed the subject.

“No, not yet, and you have a little…” you motioned to the corner of your mouth.

Max got the hint and wiped some powder off of his mouth. You noticed the sprinkling of grey that was mixed into his curly black hair. He displayed the last fifteen years proudly while you remained unchanged. Max was the closest you’ve been to someone in a long time, and just like everyone before him, you would outlive him. But you would remember him. You remembered everyone. You remembered everything.

Right now, you thought of Agnes, your first real friend. She was your handmaiden and you had met right before everything went to shit. She had helped you cope after you underwent Terrigenesis, although you hadn’t known what it was back then. She had helped you run away and even died for you. You had only known her for nine years, but you compared everyone to her. Max held second place, right after Agnes.

“I think we should take the Senator’s offer,” Max said, jolting you out of your memories. He pulled up the offer on his iPad. “One million to off his upcoming competition.”

“Damn,” you whistled. “He’s desperate, isn’t he? Is there a deadline?”

“No, but I assume we should get it done quickly.”

“Send over the info.”

🌹

You shoved the flower into Jake Morano’s mouth. Blood from the bullet wound in his forehead trickled down until it turned the perfect, white rose red. You snapped a quick photo on your burner phone to send to the Senator as confirmation. With a huff, you looked around the apartment. Mr. Anderson had put up a fight, although it didn’t do anything to deter you and Max. A few glass awards were in pieces on the hardwood floor, family pictures were shattered, and the wall behind you held a couple of bullets from Anderson’s gun.

“All good?” Max asked from his location by the computer. He was deleting all footage of you being there. And everything else, just to be safe.

“Yep.” You walked over to him, your boots making a satisfying clicking on the ground, and proudly displayed the picture of the dead body. “Got the confirmation picture for the Senator. How’s it coming?”

“Almost… there. We’re good to go.”

The two of you left in your favorite black Lamborghini. Unfortunately, you actually had to drive places now that Gordon was dead. You followed his advice, though, and bought a plane along with four other sports cars, a helicopter, and a couple of motorcycles. You knew how to operate every single one of them. What else were you supposed to do except for establishing your contract killing empire?

🌹

Loki stood in the middle of his assigned room with his hands on his hips. It certainly was much nicer than the last prison the Avengers had kept him in. They may say it wasn’t a prison but the twenty-four-hour surveillance from Stark’s new AI said otherwise. Even though it was nicer than the shitty glass cylinder from twelve years ago, it was empty. Thor had shown Loki the few things in his room: books, photographs, and his own goddamned merchandise.

Would Loki have his own merchandise one day? Everyone was redeemable as shown by Romanoff and Barnes. Maybe there would be plastic replicas of his helmet? No, Loki thought that was stupid. Only heroes got merchandise and heroes had to show up to events and sponsor health drinks or whatever the fuck they do. Heroes had to be nice.

Nothing good ever came from being on Midgard. Most recently, there was his father dying, although what followed was worse. Before that was the attack he had been forced to make on the city. And the first time he had ever come to Midgard had ended with disappointment and heartbreak.

Loki sighed and waved his hand to conjure green and gold accents, sheets, and blankets. At least there was color in the room now. No doubt the AI had reported that he had used his magic. He hoped it had also told them that all he did was improve the room, he didn’t need anyone talking to him at the moment.

“Good afternoon, Reindeer Games,” the AI echoed through the room. Loki glowered at the sound of Stark’s nickname. “There is a meeting in Conference Room Five that the entire team is required to attend.”

Loki hadn’t the faintest fucking idea where the conference rooms were. He left his room and caught sight of his brother and the Valkyrie. The God of Mischief followed the pair down to where the meeting was taking place. Did he really want to go? If he wanted to be part of the team he would have to. He preferred the Revengers, though. While it had lasted. It was smaller.

Everyone was sitting around the long table. Of course, Loki would be the last to arrive. Stark and Barton both glared at him when he entered. Understandable. Romanoff remained impassive, but Loki knew she would bash his head in the first chance she got. Rogers had to remain positive that Loki could be redeemed because if the Norse God could redeem himself, then so could Barnes. Bruce had warmed up to Loki on the journey to Midgard. None of the newer members of the team outright hated him, but they were still cautious around him.

Loki found himself sitting in between his brother and Bruce. Stark went up to the screen at the front and everyone fell silent.

“This is Jake Morano.” The screen turned on to show a dead man with a rose stuffed in his mouth. “He was going to run for Senator against this guy.” The screen changed. “This guy is William Anderson, a very corrupt Senator. In the last month, Morano began to gain a lot of support including a sponsor from us. Well, a sponsor from me in the name of the Avengers.”

“Are you implying that Anderson killed Morano?” Rogers asked.

“I’m saying that Anderson hired someone to kill Morano.” The screen changed again to display multiple bodies left with a rose in their mouths. “I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. do a quick search of bodies with roses found in their mouths and we found a shocking amount of similar deaths. The first ones dating back to the nineteen twenties. More recently, some of the deaths have happened at the same time on opposite sides of the globe. Deaths include, but are not limited to, shooting, stabbing, poisoning, drowning, burning, missing organs, being found stuck in a wall, and looking like a suicide. They all have a white rose soaked in blood in their mouths.”

“Are you sure it isn’t a serial killer?” Wilson questioned.

“Yeah, it’s probably not the same guy,” Romanoff pointed out. “Especially if it goes back to before Steve looked like that.”

“It’s gotta be an organization,” Barnes guessed. “Been around for a while, a couple of deaths happening at the same time, and one constant MO.”

“Loki?” Everyone looked at the God of Mischief when Stark said his name. “You’re technically a part of this team now. What’s your opinion?”

“Barnes is probably right,” Loki said after a moment’s hesitation. “The locations are all over the place and there are many different ways the victims met their demise.”

They nodded and Loki returned to silence.

“Alright, game plan.” Stark clapped his hands. “We have to get Anderson into an interrogation room. Round one is the good cops: Steve and Sam. When he doesn’t crack, and he won’t, we up the intensity. Nat and the Manchurian Candidate will do some intimidation. If he still doesn’t crack we can send in Wanda, or even Reindeer Games if she’s not comfortable, to search his mind.”

“Are all Midgardian politics like that?” Loki heard the Valkyrie ask Thor after the meeting. Thor only shrugged so she turned to Bruce.

“I mean, I haven't been here in a while but it’s always kinda been fucked up.”

Only an hour after the meeting, Anderson took out one million dollars in cash. Stark tracked him to a small cafe where he was going to, no doubt, pay the assassin. The team rallied, but of course, Loki wasn’t going. Apparently, he wasn’t ‘cleared’ yet. The only other people staying behind were the Valkyrie, Thor, and Barton due to a recent injury.

Loki went to his room to sulk, although he told everyone he was thinking. He didn’t want to be here. Maybe he wanted to go somewhere that reminded him of home with tall buildings that reached the sky…

🌹

"Hello, (Y/N)." Loki’s voice was as smooth as it was in your head, but it was different. The only way you could describe it was that it was solid. It felt less intimate. Like he could bless others with his words, but it was more special because he was here.

"Loki," you breathed.

"You look more beautiful than I ever could imagine." He stepped closer.

You touched your hair self-consciously. There were multiple knots, and it probably looked like one of those bird nests the dogs always knocked out of trees. You had woken up in a hurry and your hair being trapped in the hood of your cloak probably didn't help.

Then it occurred to you that you were wearing only your nightgown, and you tightly wrapped your cloak around yourself. Loki wouldn’t hurt you, but no man has seen you in an outfit so revealing. Still, you took another step closer.

"I do not know what to say." Fortunately, your voice didn’t shake or waver as you had feared, but Loki could probably feel your nervousness.

You both took a final step closer. You reached up and cupped Loki's face in your hand which tingled slightly when you made contact. You admired his sharp features and bright blue-green eyes. Then you shivered in the cold winter air. Loki noticed and pulled you into a hug. You leaned into him and felt a shiver, a different, better shiver, shoot through your body.

“You’re real.” Your soft voice was almost lost in the biting wind. “I was so scared that I was dreaming.”

Another goddamned dream about Loki? You groaned into your pillow and pushed a few damp strands of hair away from your face. Why now, all of a sudden? Was it because he was so close? Just a few hours upstate in the Avenger’s compound.

Pushing the dream aside, you stretched and got ready for the day. You had sent the photo to the Senator, who you had learned was very fucking corrupted, and he replied with a location. That changed your plans a bit, you hadn't physically met a client in decades, but it was for the better for multiple reasons.

The first reason was that the cafe he had chosen was next to a flower shop where you got your supply of roses. The second reason was that it meant his apartment would be empty. While you went to get the money, and eventually kill Senator Anderson, Max was going to rob his house. It wasn’t something you’d usually do, but honestly, the shitty asshole deserved it.

Your lips were painted red and you wore your usual boots and a leather jacket. Your regular hair was hidden behind a pink and green wig, courtesy of Max. A baseball cap and large sunglasses further hid your appearance. Though if somebody knew your face, the hat and glasses did nothing. There were multiple knives hidden on your body as well as a handgun tucked into your waistband and a pocket pistol in your, well, pocket.

As you walked into the cafe, Izzy, the auburn-haired florist, nodded to you. She had Botanokinesis, plant manipulation, so your supply of white roses was never low. Every once in a while, Izzy would take a job but she had told you she was very happy in her shop.

You noticed the Senator immediately. He still wore a suit and the sunglasses did nothing to hide his identity. There were two young women behind the counter and you suspected that the four other ‘customers’ were too buff not to be the Senator’s security. Anderson had his back to the door which meant you would have to get past his security to get out. You zeroed in on the black briefcase on the ground by his feet.

“Senator,” you greeted and sat down across from him.

“You can’t possibly be the one I talked to,” the asshole replied. “You’re just a girl.”

“Well of course I couldn’t be,” you rolled your eyes behind your heavily tinted glasses. “My boss is too busy and smart to meet you in public.” He didn’t notice your sarcasm. You pulled out the burner phone and showed him the messages as proof. “Now, I’m also busy so if we can get this over with?”

“Sure, darling.” He put the briefcase flat on the table and pushed it towards you.

“Open it.” Even though small boobie traps wouldn’t hurt you much, it wasn’t a piece of information you wanted to give him.

Anderson sighed and complied. Then you turned it around to quickly inspect the contents. One thousand one hundred dollar bills. Hello Mr. Franklin. You nodded in satisfaction and comically rubbed your hands together to inconspicuously grab a knife that was hidden up your sleeve.

“Thank you, Senator. That will be all.”

You closed the case, stood up, and plunged your knife deep into his left carotid artery. As his security descended upon you, you pulled the knife out and his neck satisfyingly squirted blood. The Senator collapsed with his hands clutching his wound desperately. The pool of blood rapidly grew underneath him.

The two baristas screamed behind the counter and the Senator’s security drew their guns. You flipped the small table for cover as bullets pierced the cafe’s window behind you. Perfect. Just a bit more.

You pulled out the handgun from your waistband and with practiced ease, shot three of the four goons. The last one got the bloodied knife to the face. You elbowed the already damaged window and it finally broke, raining glass down on you. Ignoring the small cuts, you jumped out of the cafe through the window as a familiar red and gold suit landed in front of you. Why the fuck were the Avengers here? What about Loki?

You darted into Izzy’s shop and she played her part well, screaming that you had run out the back when you had actually gone into the side room. You listened as the Avengers followed her directions. One person, maybe it was the Black Widow, stayed behind to help calm down the seemingly hysterical Izzy. If she wasn’t so happy at her shop and she didn’t want to work directly for you, she could be a great actress.

You rolled back the rug on the ground to reveal a metal trapdoor. You entered the code to unlock it and climbed down into the darkness. Behind you, you heard the trapdoor’s magnetic lock click back into place. Two centuries ago, you had tunnels dug underneath Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens for easy getaways. If you went… that way, you would end up in Sandra’s souvenir shop which was a couple of blocks away from your penthouse.

With a million dollars in one hand and a handgun in the other, you walked down the concrete tunnel.

Taglist:

@kaithehero @liliannyah @andreasworlsboring101 @oatballsoffury @aberrant-annie

#inhuman #loki x reader #loki x soulmate reader #loki #mcu #marvel #avengers #Captain america #steve rogers #iron man #tony stark #hawkeye #clint barton #natasha romanoff #black widow #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch

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theresnosafeharbor4myships · 4 years

Text

TITLE: Sleepy Holloween

A/N: This Ichabbie Halloween fic is pure fluff and cuteness. No plot to be found here, just flirts and enjoyment.

“I’m sorry, Emily. I had to wait 300 years for a virgin to light a candle.”

An orchestra played an epic few bars of music, a drumroll sounded, and Abbie turned the TV off as the credits started to roll.

“Well, Crane, what’d you think?”

He turned to Jenny, who was cuddled up with Joe on the opposite end of the couch. “It was…palatable.”

Jenny gave him her blank stare of disbelief, and Joe smiled knowingly, but it was Abbie, who’d stayed tucked into his side for the duration of the movie, who prompted, “Come on, tell us what you really think.”

He glanced down at her, noting her sincere, if amused, look. “Is this, in all honesty, a children’s film?” he asked, genuinely perturbed.

“Well…not small children,” Joe supplied.

“And what is considered ‘small,’ Master Joe? I dare to presume there are parents who’d rather not expose young minds to witchcraft and the occult. It’s difficult enough for the four of us to manage it—but to appropriate it for entertainment on our youth…”

“You mean to tell me children in your day didn’t watch real life horrors worse than a little Halloween fantasy?” Jenny countered, forceful but kind. “That they weren’t exposed to hangings and gunfights and war? Not to mention the treatment of slaves.”

Crane looked duly reprimanded. "I suppose I can see where…times have altered enough that All Hallow’s Eve fantasy films are less traumatic than real life has been known to be.”

“And that’s your only comment on the film?” Abbie asked.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Certainly not. The inaccuracies in this movie are quite numerous.”

“Here we go,” Joe murmured good-naturedly, eliciting knowing smirks from the Mills sisters and a slightly offended look from Crane.

“To begin with, most cabins in the 17th century would be much smaller than the one Binx and Emily shared, and they likely would have slept in the same room as their parents, perhaps even in the same bed, depending on their economic status.”

“Oh! We’re starting at the beginning,” Jenny teased, extracting herself from Joe and stretching.

Crane tilted his head at her in disdain but continued as Joe and Jenny rose to take their leave. “By dawn, the entire town would have been roused and already about their day. The witch Sarah would not have had the opportunity to lure young Emily to her demise at daybreak.”

“Speaking of a break, we need to head out,” Joe explained, waving at them as they headed for the door.

“Good luck, Abbie,” Jenny threw over her shoulder, smirking as they exited the house.

Abbie smiled and waved, content to stay securely tucked into Ichabod’s side for a few more minutes, even if she had to listen to another historical inaccuracy rant in order to do so.

“You get three,” she stated.

He peered down at her questioningly. “I don’t understand.”

“Tell me three issues you had with the movie. Only,” she held up her hand against his coming dispute, “three.”

“Very well. One: If the witches had spent 300 years in eternal damnation, should they not have recognized that ridiculous man dressed as the devil wasn’t him? We’re supposed to believe they think Lucifer takes on human form, has also left the depths of Hades—the place they’ve just escaped from—and lives in a modern home with a wife and a dog?”

“Everyone’s gotta live somewhere,” Abbie teased, earning her a classic Ichabod glare.

“Two: When the sisters are chasing those poor children, Witch Winnifred mocks young Max’s words, ‘it’s just a bunch of hocus pocus.’” His professor’s finger came up, and Abbie did her best to refrain from smiling at him. “Regardless of the fact that ‘hocus pocus’ is a sham-Latin phrase that jugglers employed in the 17th century—not to mention a common stage name both they and magicians used—how would she have known he said such phrase since he hadn’t yet lit the black flame candle, and therefore she wasn’t in this realm?”

Abbie nodded, considering his point, but refrained from answering, instead holding up three fingers to remind him he was about to round home.

“And three: Since the sisters only returned for one All Hallow’s Eve and they spent it chasing those children around all of Salem, how in Heaven’s name did Witch Winnifred know what a driver’s permit is? It took me months to get mine, and that only after you spent every waking hour explaining the 21st century and all of its advancements and gadgets to me and teaching me how to master the iron horse.”

“Fair enough,” she conceded, mildly entertained by his nitpicking, though she couldn’t help adding, “It is a fantasy film, though.”

Ichabod looked pleased she agreed with him and nodded. “I do admit, it was a bit of fantastical fun though,” he allowed, his voice calmer now that he’d aired some of his grievances. “Quite comforting to know others fight the tyranny of evil, even if it is merely make-believe. Will we watch this every year?”

“It’s a requirement in this house. And since you live here too now…”

“Indeed I do.” He lifted an eyebrow, a flirty smile teasing his lips as he kissed her.

“Come on.” Abbie patted his thigh as she pulled away from him. “It’s time to get ready. The kids’ll be here soon.”

*****

“Abbie…are you coming down?” Ichabod called up the staircase.

“On my way. You dressed?”

She heard him mumble something about ‘infernal style,’ but then his voice carried up to her. “Yes, and most anxious to see your costume.”

Abbie didn’t know what to prepare for, either in terms of what costume he’d chosen or what he’d think of hers. She couldn’t help hoping he’d appreciate her outfit choice even more than he had her Beyonce get-up from last year—which he’d enjoyed just fine. She recalled how his appreciative gaze roamed from her full head of faux curls, across her face where she’d applied a classic but simple make-up style, lingered a few seconds too long on her lips before dropping down to her neck where her ‘Queen’ necklace caused him to smirk approvingly at the statement before sliding down to her unusually low-cut shirt, which provided a rare and revealing view of her cleavage. His eyes lingered again, then traveled down the length of her body to stare at her shorts with the bling on the pockets and her bare legs. After a few moments, he suddenly seemed to remember himself, and his eyes snapped up to her face where her knowing smile made him a bit embarrassed to have gawked at her so.

This outfit didn’t reveal her attributes in the same way, but she’d bet money it’d please him all the same.

She smoothed down the sides of her costume, then started down the stairs. Ichabod came into sight, standing tall, proud, regal, and ramrod straight, and she nearly tripped over her own feet. His hair had disappeared beneath a white sailor’s cap with a black bill and gold trim. The white jacket with epaulets on the shoulders and gold buttons running down the middle made his blue eyes shine even brighter than usual as he heatedly watched her descend the stairs. A single, thin, gold ribbon encircled the jacket’s wrists and striped down the sides of the white pants he wore, the entire uniform making him appear nobler and even taller than his 6 foot-plus frame.

She’d never expected to see him in a contemporary costume, having long since given up trying to get him to wear anything modern, and she had no clue what had possessed him to go military for Halloween. But he certainly didn’t disappoint, and she suddenly wished she had one of those old handheld folding fans ladies used to carry around to cool herself off with.

Ichabod watched Abbie float down the stairs, mesmerized by her costume. She’d pinned all of her hair up, leaving a single, thick curl falling over her shoulder. Her dress, a deep green that complimented her beautifully flushed brown skin, had long sleeves that ended with a frill of off-white lace at her forearms. The court neckline, cut down nearly to her armpits, highlighted the length of her neck, her collarbones, the glow of her skin, and her bust. The dress’s bodice, an inset corset also in off-white, contrasted beautifully against the dark green of the rest of the dress and emphasized her petite frame and small waist. From her hips, the dress flared out and down to the floor, her tiny feet hidden beneath its layers.

She looked stunning, as though she’d stepped out of the Revolutionary War era with him. He knew his gaze lingered in awe, but he couldn’t stop himself. He’d admit he loved seeing Abbie wear her modern-day clothes—blue jeans, form-fitting shirts, a silk robe, a tank top and short shorts to bed—though Heaven knew they all left little to the imagination, which he was both forever grateful for and infernally distracted by. But seeing her like this, resplendent in Colonial couture, left him speechless and mesmerized as she came to stand in front of him.

Abbie recovered first. “Hello there, sailor,” she cooed, a full smile gracing her face.

Ichabod mentally shook himself out of his stupor and swallowed hard. “Ah-ah, it’s Captain,” he corrected, pointing to one of the stripes gracing the left side of his chest.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, impressed. “O Captain, my Captain.”

“And no other’s,” he assured her, his voice dropping low. “Abbie….you look…” While his words trailed off, his hand started at her wrist and slid up her arm, over her shoulder, across her bare collarbone.

“Colonial?” she supplied, delighted her endeavor to please and surprise him had elicited this effect.

“Well, yes, but I was going to say 'magnificent,’” he explained as he tipped her chin up and kissed her, his other hand finding her waist.

He felt her smile against his lips, and he pulled away, then changed his mind and gave her another peck before taking her hands in his and a step back to drink in the sight of her once more.

“You seem very pleased, love.”

“I am,” she confirmed, smiling, watching his eyes roam over her again. “I wanted to surprise you with a little something from your…previous life.”

“Mission well accomplished,” he affirmed, tugging her towards him with their still-clasped hands. He leaned in close to kiss her neck. “Though I can’t wait to take this off of you,” he whispered against her skin.

“Ah,” she gasped, simultaneously easing away from him and pushing him away, though her hands remained on his chest. “Don’t start; it’s much too early for that. Besides…” Her eyes roamed heatedly over him again. “I need some time to enjoy you fully embracing the military style of today.”

“Mm,” he hummed, taking a step back from her and holding his arms out wide for her perusal. “So this suits you?”

“It suits you,” she returned cheekily. “It pleases me.”

He arched one brow. “How much, we shall find out later.”

“Indeed,” she agreed in a teasing tone, mocking his go-to affirmative.

One side of his mouth turned up, amused. “Shall we get on with the festivities, Mistress Abbie?” he asked, changing the subject before things got too out of hand. Heaven knew he’d need to try to keep things neutral in order to make it through the rest of the evening without ravishing her.

“Mistress? You know…that designation doesn’t mean the same thing now as it did before,” she informed him as she headed towards the kitchen.

“No? What, pray tell, does it mean now?”

She reached into the cabinets for the bags of candy she’d bought, handing them to him. “It usually refers to a woman in a relationship with a married man.”

“Has this generation found no end to the butchering of the English language? In my day, a mistress was the head of her home, holding a position of control and authority; it was a title of respect. It boggles the mind how a term of female empowerment has been subverted such that it now refers to something…tawdry.”

“Agreed; your definition is much better,” Abbie stated, pulling the large orange bowl with black bats all over it from another cabinet, setting it on the island between them. “You can call me Mistress, if you feel the need, with the understanding that you’re referencing the original meaning. How’s that sound?”

“But you are my Mistress,” he said matter of factly.

Abbie splayed her arms wide, gripping the countertop, and stared at him questioningly, waiting for him to explain himself.

“You’re the head of the household. And respected, of course. But you’re also a woman in a relationship with me, a married man.”

“But you’re married to me. That’s not…tawdry,” she mocked his phrasing again.

With a glint in his eye, one side of his mouth quirked up. “Not yet…but the night’s still young, my mistress Abbie.”

She shook her head, amused and not a little warmed by his flirtations, the smooth way he breathed her name sending heat dancing up her spine. “You’re incorrigible. And if you don’t stop, this will be the last time you see me wearing this costume.”

“That is the idea.”

Needing levity, she pointed to the bags of candy in front of him. “Will you open those and pour them in this bowl while I go turn on the porch light? Light on means free candy. Light off, kids skip the house.”

Ichabod tipped his sailor’s hat at her. “Your wish is my command, Mistress.”

“Mmhmm.” Though her heart thrummed wildly, she threw him a disbelieving look as she headed to the entryway, her dress swooshing around her as she moved.

She chosen her costume to surprise her dashing husband, but truthfully she enjoyed the dress herself. It made her feel feminine and stately. Not that she’d want to wear the layers and corset-style bodice every day—thank God she’d been born in the 20th century—but it was a nice change. Her childhood and her profession hadn’t allowed for many of life’s pleasures so she’d always made a point to have fun on Halloween as an adult. Choosing a costume each year—the range varying from Wonder Woman and a mermaid to a Greek goddess and Beyonce—gave her the opportunity to pretend she was someone else, imagine all the fantastical lives she could live if given the chance. It’d become one of her favorite holidays, and she hoped Ichabod would come to love it and all the ways to celebrate it too.

He’d certainly taken to it more this year than last. He’d huffed and chuffed as they’d searched the Spirit Halloween store the previous year, becoming more horrified by the evil nature of most costumes and more offended by the lack of creativity of women’s outfits with each passing aisle. After perusing the entire store, he’d resolutely decided on a colonial figure, which really hadn’t required a costume at all, and wouldn’t budge. This year he’d suggested they choose costumes separately. She’d thought he’d just rather avoid the pretense of shopping for an acceptable get-up when he knew one couldn’t be found to appease his colonial sensibilities, but he’d deliberately surprised her, just as she’d done for him.

“Why are these called 'fun size’?” he called out to her.

She saw him warily eyeing the miniature Snickers bar he held and smiled, making her way back to the kitchen. “Because they’re smaller than average.”

“Hmm,” he rumbled with uncertainty, tossing the candy back into the bowl before he realized he had an audience. His eyes landed on her again, taking in the exquisite dress and the beloved woman wearing it, and his expression changed. “I’m most certainly of the opinion that smaller than average is 'fun size,'” he teased, dropping a kiss onto her temple as he grabbed the candy-filled bowl and made his way into the living room.

Another 15 minutes passed before the doorbell rang with the first trick-or-treaters seeking candy, and the two jawed on about their day: the pumpkin carving fun they’d had with Joe and Jenny before they’d watched Hocus Pocus, how they’d each selected their costumes with one another in mind, how they’d spend the upcoming holiday season, and what they’d do with any candy left over if they didn’t give it all away tonight.

Sitting closer to the front door, Abbie got up to answer it, and Ichabod sprang up to accompany her. She unlocked the deadbolt and reached for the doorknob when she felt his hand upon her arm, restraining her.

“Hold on a moment, Fun Size,” Ichabod’s voice rumbled from behind her as he curled himself around her and slid his hand down her arm to cover hers. “A captain must ensure his mistress is safe at all times.”

She smiled at his flirtation as he peered through the window at the top of the door, a full head above her own height. “Such chivalry,” she preened.

“Tis my duty,” he corrected.

“And your pleasure.”

“You’ve no idea,” he informed her, leaning down to kiss her bare neck. But before he could, Abbie ducked beneath his arm and out of his embrace.

“Not as of yet,” she taunted, throwing him a brazen smile and opening the door with one hand, grabbing the candy bowl off the entryway table with the other.

A small princess, Thor, and a clown stood on the porch, candy baskets held aloft as they all chimed ‘Trick or Treat!’ together.

Abbie grinned at the excitement on their faces and graciously dropped candy into each of their bags, waving as they skipped away to the next house.

“My, I do see the joy of celebrating All Hallow’s Eve in this fashion.”

His voice came from behind her, and she turned a bit to see him watching the children roam around on their street in a myriad of costumes: dragons, superheroes, monsters, pumpkins, fairies, and Disney characters.

“No wonder children enjoy it so immensely.”

“And you, Captain Crane?” she wondered, happy seeing the delight on his handsome face. “Are you enjoying it?”

He peered down at her and smiled contentedly. “Yes,” he affirmed, wrapping his arms around her waist. She leaned back into him as they stood in the doorway waiting for their next visitors, and he dropped a kiss on the crown of her head, causing them both to smile. “Yes, I most certainly am.”

41 notes · View notes

brynfelan · 3 years

Note

Not a ship, but cute friendship. Just Mikan and Souda, I feel like they would bond and relate easily cause of their past.

Souda just calls her “bestie!” “Best friend!” and Mikan gets flustered. Souda hugging her when she’s feeling anxious, or death glaring anyone who’s bullying/making her uncomfortable.

Mikan gets use to having a best friend and she just wants them to be hugging all the time. Her learning to trust him. Also scolding him when he gets hurt. Her bandaging him up for whatever reason. Falling asleep on him. Omg..she probably doodles on his arm when she’s feeling super anxious

And Souda would do anything for her. She needs girl products? Souda is at the store getting them. She needs to practice giving shots? Souda is there even tho he hates needles. It’s lab day and she can’t go in cause she forgot to wear pants? Souda is sitting in the bathroom holding her skirt while she uses his jumpsuit to do the lab.

Annnd of course both of them opening up to each other, and trying their best to comfort each other. But all they need is the other to hold them while they cry.

Just..I think their friendship would just be adorable.

Souda in the background hyping her up when she’s learning to stand up for herself.

oooohhh this is so cute. i’d never even considered this before but you’re so RIGHT.

it starts because soda accidentally hurts himself while fixing up a machine, and he goes to mikan immediately like “hey i think i just nearly lost a finger mind helping?”, but he does it constantly and they end up becoming really good friends that way? like, mikan starts talking about stuff she likes besides medicine, and soda’s just there hyping her the FUCK up.

she starts to apologise for rambling too much and he’s just like “fuck that, keep talking i wanna hear about this. don’t apologise for talking about something you love”

also i would go one step further with the skirt/pants situation. soda has shit to do that day too, so he trades outfits with her. she’s wearing his jumpsuit (which he washed yesterday, because mikan started telling him about all the icky shit that lives in your clothes when you don’t wash em), and he just goes about his day in her full get-up. everybody thinks it’s hilarious but he’s just like “my friend needed to wear pants, i was wearing pants. i can’t see what’s funny about this, i look damn great” and he comes to meet her after her lab and she was originally having a real stressful day but the instant she sees him prancing about in her outfit she absolutely loses it.

also, soda 100% calls hiyoko out for being a bitch and says that there’s no excuse for treating someone innocent that way. and then mikan learns to stand up for herself too! while soda’s just there in the bg like “fuck yeah look at my bestie go!”

now mikan isn’t shy about needing tampons or pads, but she ran out and she really doesn’t wanna have to risk going to the store. what does soda do? he’s immediately on it, and comes back to mikan with both sanitary products and chocolate, sugary drinks, fruit, painkillers, a heating pad. he basically googled a period survival guide and bought everything on it. and then they sit together and watch some dumb medical drama where mikan points out all the inaccuracies in it and it’s great.

they’re really just the epitome of mlm/wlw solidarity.

#rae-arts777 #okay this is so cute #i love this so much #you're a gem for bringing this to my attention

7 notes · View notes

mypersonalrambling · 4 years

Text

Passion Warfare

Warnings: Violence, Sexual themes, Language, Smut, Angst

Word Count: 11087

Pairing: Alex x Reader, Bill X Reader

Requested: By @walkxthexmoon :). I hope you enjoy this piece. Thank you for being patient during this process!

Author’s note: This took awhile for me to finish. It’s been one the more challenging pieces to write because I know next to nothing about boxing. I wanted to make sure the sequence of events was as close to reality as possible, although there still may be some inaccuracies.

Summary: AU Alex Hogh Andersen and Bill Skarsgard are well known Scandinavian boxers. The two know nothing of each other until an encounter has them realize they both want the same woman.

.......................................

Today is the only day Alex hasn’t been in training. The two of you are watching his last boxing match on TV. Alex repeatedly states he needs to watch his matches over and over, to learn what he could have done better. He isn’t one to let things go when it comes to boxing. Anything he could improve on he was going to. Even when he has no upcoming matches he’s in the gym training close to every day. This isn’t a complete shock though, you’re ex-boyfriend, Bill, is also a boxer and it was the same way. You realize that if you are going to continually date boxers then your life will consist of always being second to the ring.

Unlike Bill, however, Alex is more flexible, understanding, giving you time and attention. Alex and you aren’t even dating and he makes time for you. Bill hardly ever did and the two of you dated for four years. You met Bill before he’d made it big. He wasn’t training much in the beginning then he won his first match and things went crazy from there. Bill blew up seemingly overnight. He went from fighting a couple of times a month to only fighting three or four times a year, to give him time to prepare. “You okay, Babe?” Alex questions, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, just daydreaming is all. What were you saying?” Alex looks concerned but he lets it go. He knows if you aren’t ready to talk about something, there is no use prying.

“See right there, I should have put my weight on my left leg instead of my right leg. I wouldn’t have fallen back when he hit me,” he points his finger at the huge screen, rewinding the recording for what felt like the hundredth time.

You try to appear interested but you’ve heard this all before. It makes you nervous, knowing the relationship could take a turn, ending up how it did with Bill. “If you’d kept your weight on your toes, it would have given you more leverage to block, but also allowed you to maneuver out of the way.”

“See that’s why I like you. You don’t mind watching and listening to my critiques. Plus you’re able to give tips. No one else is ever interested in this. They all complained and always asked to be doing something else.” Alex rests a hand on your thigh, rubbing circles with his thumb. Though you would rather be engaging in other activities, you take any time spent with him.

“Yeah, I’ve been around it for so long that I’ve picked up on some techniques.” Alex knows your ex was a boxer but you’ve kept him in the dark about who it was. You made a promise to yourself to not tell him in case he ever met him or worse fought him.

“I remember you saying that before, but you’re with me now. I’m not going to be like him. I know I train all the time, but I still make time for you, right? I know there are times like this where we’re watching the last match so I can improve but we’re still together. How about we go out to dinner tonight? That little place on the corner is open late. They have the best Chinese food.” You shake your head yes, appreciating the gesture. He may not always have time, but he makes up for it with nice gestures and letting you know how much he cares for you.

The two of you spent the next few hours watching and rewatching his match. He virtually fills an entire notebook of improvements to be made. He would take them to his trainer, Leif, tomorrow so the two of them could come up with a game plan to incorporate the adjustments needed for Alex to become better.

By the time you arrive at the restaurant, the dinner crowd was slowly filing out. This made the dinner more intimate, able to focus on each other. Alex isn’t extremely well known but enough at least one person usually comes up to ask for an autograph when the two of you are out. Conversation flows freely, the two of you are able to talk about anything. Alex pays attention to the littlest detail when it comes to you. He grasps onto everything you say. “I love listening to you. I could listen to you talk about your passions forever. You invest your time into such important issues, it makes me wonder why you would ever put up with a simple boxer like me.”

“You’re not just a simple boxer. You care about important issues as well. And if you don’t think I feel the same way about listening to you talk about boxing then you’re mistaken.” You reach over to rest your hand on top of his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The food was magnificent, you forgot how delicious food could be when it wasn’t frozen. The end comes way too quickly, however much to your pleasure Alex invites you to stay the night.

By the time you awoke he was gone, the first thing you do every morning is to make a cup of coffee. Alex had preset the coffee machine to have a cup ready for only a few minutes ago; the steam still rising out of the cup. He left a sweet note on the kitchen counter next to the coffee machine, “Thank you for spending the day with me yesterday, Doll. I’ll be back around three and I made reservations at your favorite place. Be ready by five, see you soon, have a great day.” The note is signed with the letter A accompanied by a smiley face.

Since today is one of the only two you didn’t have to work, you decide to get Alex a little present. The first thought you have is to grab his favorite dessert, for after dinner. However, since he was training you decide to get him another sweet treat. There is a lingerie shop a few blocks from you. You make the short trek to the shop, eager to find the perfect piece. Considering Alex’s favorite color was red, even his boxing uniform had to have red in it, you look for any ensemble with red.

Walking into the shop, the choices are overwhelming, so many colors and styles. You want a piece that is simple, but elegant. Understated is usually your go-to, although today you are feeling adventurous. Suddenly a dark, red ensemble catches your attention. It was simple with lace cups, flowy at the bottom, yet would accentuate all your amazing assets. He would never know it was under your clothes until he was getting ready to take them off of you.

Alex keeps to his word and is home by three. He looks worn out, you’re unsure if he will even still want to go to dinner or if the only thing on his mind was sleep. “You’re looking rough, tough workout?”

“Yeah, it’s been kicking my ass. My trainer wants to continuously get me into better shape for any upcoming fights there may be in the future. Let me rest for a bit, I’ll hop in the shower then we can head to dinner.” He throws his bag on the floor by the door. You knew it would be there until the next morning when he stuffed even more clothes into it.

“Are you sure you aren’t too tired? We could always reschedule.” Of course, you want to go however, you know the toll training has on his body. You learned long ago plans would inevitably be canceled more than kept. A moment of thought crossed his face but soon is replaced by exhausted determination.

“No, no I’m just needing a moment to relax. A massage might help,” a smirk spread across his face.

“You know if that happens we won’t make it to dinner. Now go take a hot bath.” He makes his way to the bathroom. You take this opportunity to change into the lingerie and the outfit for the night. You hope he invites you to spend the night again or at least accepts the invitation if it comes to staying at your place. Alex comes out not too much later looking like a new person. He practically looks as if he hadn't been training all day. “You look refreshed.”

“The bath helps, but probably not as much as a massage would have.” He winks always having to make a cheeky comment. He is never one to hold back when it came to sex or jokes about sex. Usually, he would make the comments at the most inappropriate times, only loud enough for you to hear.

“Maybe if you’re good. I’ll give you one after dinner.” Your eyes take in his entire body. It’s difficult not to stare when he is standing completely nude. He isn’t shy about his body, not that there was a need to be, he has a relatively perfect physique.

“Oh yeah? What do I have to do to get one?” He and you have slept together a few times that never stops you from being amazed at how good he looks. His body is defined from all the training, his muscles becoming more prominent by the day. “Helloooooo, you know it’s not polite to stare?” He says, waving a hand.

“Sorry, you just look so good. Dinner is a pretty good start, may add more stipulations later.” You throw clothes at him, signaling for him to get dressed.

“Well, that’s not fair. How am I supposed to be good if there are no guidelines?” He makes a show of nonchalantly putting his clothes on. Knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep your eyes off of him. His playfulness is one of the many things you like about him.

“Life isn’t fair, you should know that. Now come on, let's go or we’ll be late.” He finishes getting dressed, and you know he isn’t done with the teasing. It would be an all-night event.

The dinner goes successfully, the conversation flowing freely, and the food is delicious. It’s a small hole in the wall joint that makes the best pasta around. Alex and you can barely keep your hands to yourselves. The two of you are sitting on one side of a quaint booth. Throughout dinner Alex keeps a hand on your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze here and there. As you suspect he skips dessert, knowing if he didn’t, it would mean an extra hard workout the next day.

Alex drives with one hand on your thigh. His skin is hot against yours. He always seems to have his hand touching some part of you. It feels peculiar to be with someone who is openly affectionate. You are used to a minimal amount of touches or caresses. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, you aren’t the best at showing affection. He drives you back to your apartment, the anticipation killing you. He parks out front waiting for you to initiate, “Do you want to come in?”

Alex didn’t take long to say yes. It’s easy to see the lust in his eyes. Now you’re standing in the bathroom staring, hoping he likes the lingerie you chose. Although, you know Alex likes you in anything. He’s told you plenty of times you could wear a garbage bag and he would love how it looks on you. He was the type to just appreciate having an intimate moment together. When you finally open the door you see him lying on the bed propped up on his elbows, “Wow, you look…….exquisite,” he pauses before the last word.

“You think so? I picked red because it’s your favorite color.” You sit down straddling his lap, running your hands through his hair, watching as his whole body relaxes. Moving your hands to his shoulder, beginning to knead them giving him the much-needed massage. As you begin to stand up, Alex lets out a frustrated humph. “Take off your shirt and lie on your stomach,” you say motioning the action.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, turning until he’s lying face down. Grabbing the oil that’s set on the nightstand, you kneel on the bed so you’re straddling him. You generously pour oil on to his back, already able to feel how tense he was. Even though this is a foreshadow of the night's events, you want to do your best to make him feel better. You work slowly, making sure to knead every tense spot. “Ughhh, your hands are magic. I swear it doesn’t even feel this good when a professional does it. Have you ever thought about changing professions?”

Though you know he is only joking, it has crossed your mind a couple of times. Every single partner you’ve been with had suggested it to you. You did plan to massage his entire back, however, Alex couldn’t wait for the end. He flips you over about partway through, “Sorry Doll, can’t wait any longer.” You’re able to feel how hard he is and begins to grind while he’s on top of you. He presses you into his chest, trying to get as close as possible. The two of you spend the night getting your own type of workout that would have him extremely tired for tomorrow’s training.

You work the next couple of days, they go by in a blur. You and Alex talk a bit on the phone, just to check-in. You‘re excited to go see Alex train today, it is one of your favorite things to do, watch hot, sweaty men beat the shit of each other. By the time you get to the gym, Alex has already been training for three hours. You find Alex has been utilizing the heavy bag and speed bag. One to improve his speed the other to improve accuracy and technique. Currently, he is hitting the speed bag. His arms moving at such a fast pace, it was practically impossible for you to be sure how he could see the bag to hit it properly. Leif is giving improvements as he went, Alex taking and utilizing them promptly.

Two hours later, Alex is finished for the day, he tells you to wait while he takes a quick shower so he doesn't stick all the way home. You sit outside the locker room, scrolling through your phone until someone coming out of the locker room catches your eye. Doing a double-take, your breath hitched. It couldn’t be him, he is usually in Sweden, why would he be here in Denmark? You try not to stare, but your eyes are glued. You must have made a noise because the next thing you know, his eyes are locked on yours. You wish he would walk away without saying a word. The two of you haven't talked in months and now isn’t the time to do so. He doesn't seem to feel the same because he makes his way to you. “Hello, Y/N,” his voice is strained.

“Bill, what are you doing here?” Your heart is racing, what if Alex came out? How would you explain this to him? You’ve kept Bill from him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He isn’t one to not show his protectiveness over you; it would be even worse after finding out Bill was your ex.

“I train here now, closer to my new apartment.”

“You have an apartment here?” Shit, he even moved closer to you. It seems impossible to get away from him. Bill and you didn’t end on the best terms. “Why did you move here?”

“I moved because my trainer quit and I found out this place has the best trainers. I couldn’t just go to any trainer. They need certain qualifications. What are you doing here?” He is agitated, his jaw set, his nostrils flared, his hands were balled at his side.

“Just waiting on my friend. They train here as well.” You know that isn’t the whole truth, however, it isn’t a lie. Neither you nor Alex set a title for your relationship. Without a doubt, you know Bill wouldn’t accept that answer. He is never one to leave things alone.

“They...are you waiting on a boyfriend?” His fists clench even tighter, inevitably knowing his nails would be leaving marks on his palms.

“No, it’s not a boyfriend.”

“Then who?”

“It just...doesn’t matter. I don’t have to tell you. We aren’t dating anymore.” Now you are beginning to get angry. Who did he think he is? Acting as if you were still part of his life anymore. He didn’t have the right to know your life. He lost that right when he failed to put any effort into the relationship.

You shift from side to side, hoping Bill would leave before Alex came out of the locker room. It would cause even more problems than you’re already facing. Much to your dismay, Alex pops out seconds later.

He makes his way over to the two of you, “You ready to go? Who is this?” Alex knows who Bill is. He’s too popular for Alex not to know that he is also a boxer.

“I’m Bill and you are?” Bill’s voice is overly sweet although his facial expressions gave his true feelings away.

“Name’s Alex, how do you know Y/N?” He isn’t any better at hiding his emotions than Bill is. It makes you wonder if all boxers have that issue.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Bill states.

“Pretty sure I asked you first.” Distain seeping through Alex's voice.

“I’m Y/N’s ex-boyfriend. We dated for four years. Surprised she hasn’t mentioned me.”

“Oh, she has, most of it not good I’m afraid.” It wasn’t necessarily true, you did speak about the good times you shared with Bill, however, you let Alex know upfront about your apprehensions of dating another boxer.

“Oh really?” Bill’s eyebrows raise in shock. You would do anything to disappear at this moment. You never wanted to have them in the same room together, let alone having a conversation with each other.

“Yeah, she’s much better off now. Anyway, we need to get going, don’t we Babe?” Alex slips his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. If either Bill or Alex could get away with it, you were sure either of them would throw a punch.

“Yes, yes, we have a lot to do.” The reality is Alex and you would go separate ways tonight. Though you know there would be a long conversation about the events of today. And you knew there is a high probability he is going to be very upset at the fact you never mentioned Bill’s name.

“Of course, I’ll see you around.” Bill gives a forced smile before Turning the other direction and walking away.

“He’s your ex? I’ve seen him here for the past couple of months. He’s here almost every day that I’m here and I’ve been training beside him, not knowing this is who you’ve been talking about all this time. I thought he was an arrogant bastard before. Now I know he is, all the shit he put you through.” Alex runs his fingers through his hair, giving the ends a little tug. He isn’t one for confrontation, outside of the ring of course. Although he isn’t able to hide his emotions, you know that he would never actually hit someone without being provoked.

“I’m sorry, I just thought it would be better if you didn’t know, for this reason. You’re in the same sport, you were bound to run into one another. And he can be a little cocky at times. Well maybe really cocky, but this right here is what I wanted to avoid.” Your voice squealing at the end, unable to fight your anxiety any longer. “Please can we just go.” Your whole body feels as if it would implode at any second, your entire body shaking.

To no surprise Alex takes you home, leaving you to think about the events over and over; wondering if there was any way to avoid it. Then you realize, nothing you did would have avoided this. If they hadn’t met today, they would have met at some point at a match.

You lay in bed until you’re unable to keep your eyes open. You knew you had to wait until your physical exhaustion overtook your anxiety-ridden mind.

Meeting Alex happened by accident. You went to the gym to find Bill, however, you ended up funding Alex. Seeing him in person was completely different. You kept up with all the up and comers, Alex being one of them. He stopped his training session just to come to talk to you. “Hello, I’m Alex. What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/N.” You were unsure of his intentions. Bill was nowhere to be seen. You hoped he didn’t come out anytime soon.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the cheesy line. “Sorry that was so bad, has that ever worked on anyone?”

“Got your attention didn’t it? So it can’t be that bad. You looking for someone might be able to help you find them.”

“Uh, just a friend, doesn’t look like they’re here though.” you hoped Bill didn’t pick this time to show his face. Maybe this was the sign you needed to not go back to him or more attempt to have him take you back. Alex is confident but hadn’t crossed the line into cocky. You awoke in a sweaty mess. Of course, your dreams are filled with the two of them. You couldn’t even get a break while asleep. Looking at the clock, you sigh in relief when you realize there are still a few hours to sleep. Turning on a podcast, hoping to take your mind in a different direction.

The morning arrives all too soon. You make your way to work thankfully it was a short shift. Meaning you would have time to go see Alex train for a bit.

The moment you walk in your heart stops, Bill is training next to Alex. All this time you’ve never seen him, now he’s appearing everywhere or so you felt. Walking over to Alex, he stops to greet you, “Hello Doll, how was work?”

“It was good, nothing exciting happened. Looks like you’re training hard. How much longer do you think you’ll be?”

“Maybe an hour or two. You can always wait for me at my apartment if you’d like.”

“I can wait. I like to watch, you look good when you’re all hot and sweaty.” There is just something so hot about seeing sweaty men that turns you on. It makes you wonder if that’s the only reason you continue to date men who are involved in extreme sports.

You watch as Alex gets into the ring with Leif. Leif was a former world champion boxer, now turned trainer after he became too old to compete. Both put on the required equipment, appearing determined. Leif’s fighting style is an out-boxer whereas Alex is a swarmer. Alex isn’t short, but he tends to be smaller than most of his opponents so he has to overwhelm them. He is very good at bobbing and weaving. He’s fast on his feet, easily able to evade most other fighters. Alex usually gets hit countless times before he can land a solid punch.

Alex invades Lief’s space, immediately trying to close the space between them. Leif, however, is more of an out-boxer, wanting to put more space instead of less. He easily steps out of Alex’s reach, returning to a defensive stance. Alex knows exactly the offensive steps to corner Leif. Alex backs into the corner letting Leif come to him. Leif steps forward, leaving enough space Alex would have to step forward to hit him. Alex keeps his gloves to his face, shuffling until he can throw a hit. He misses, this doesn’t stop him from pushing Leif backwards until he is against the rope. This gives Alex ample opportunity to land punch after punch. The two seperate, Leif informing him of everything he needs to improve on.

Watching him box is so sensual to you, the way he concentrates, the way he calculates moves. His strength and power showing through, making you want to jump him right there. Your shifting must have been noticeable because Bill caught your gaze, his mouth set in a straight line. Bill begins hitting harder, faster, knowing you’re watching. Your shifting worsens, the desire between your legs growing. Your mind wanders to both of their bodies pressed against yours the only thing on their minds is your pleasure. The two of them working together to make you feel nothing but pleasure. Their hands roaming your body, lips pressing against your skin leaving marks to be discovered later, A grunt pulls you out of your daydream. By the look on Alex’s face, you must have been staring at Bill.

Excusing yourself you head to the restroom to splash water on your face. The coolness doing nothing at first. The desire between your legs isn’t any better, no amount of shifting was helping. Sitting down on a bench, giving yourself a moment to get your thoughts straight. Time escapes you until a message from one of your friends pops up making you realize Alex should almost be done training.

Once you are done, you make your way back to the training area. Much to your relief Bill is gone. Alex begins to gather his belongings, giving you the side-eye. You watch as he gathers his gear, not once looking at you. Usually when he’s done the two of you make plans for the rest of the night. He doesn’t say anything but you know what he must be thinking, “I wasn’t staring at him,” You blurt, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“ No one said you were.” Alex does his best to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“I was just daydreaming.” you sound defensive, knowing you’re giving your guilt away. “I...I…didn’t mean to. Alex, he and I dated for years, it’s still difficult to see him.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I don’t want to lose you to him. I like you Y/N.” This is the first time Alex truly sounds like he’s letting his emotional guard down. It’s enough to break your heart. This is the first time you realize how much of your past relationship you’ve brought into this one. From the start you let your apprehensions be known about dating another fighter. You can’t believe it’s taken this for you to understand. Alex has been fighting against Bill this entire time. If you didn’t let past things go this would never work out with Alex because you would never let your guard down enough for him to truly win.

“You won’t, Alex it’s...he was a part of my life for so long.” This situation is bringing up all your buried emotions for Bill. However, this is just what you need to work through the suppressed feelings. Alex is a genuinely kind person, someone you didn’t want to lose. “I’m sorry, I should have never brought my pain from my past relationships into ours. I know right now there is nothing I can say will make it better, but I am sorry.”

“I know Y/N, I know.” You remain quiet, letting the moment settle. The tension didn’t alleviate much, however, Alex drives to his apartment not willing to part with his routine. Many words aren’t spoken but that doesn’t stop the two of you from sharing one of the most passionate nights since you’ve met. Alex makes a show of letting you know the type of person you’re with now. A person who rarely puts himself above others, someone who never lets you forget how important you are to him. The night left you feeling more secure than you’ve felt in a while.

The next few days went by like usual. When you aren’t working, you are at home or with Alex. Before this you had failed to recognize the routine Alex and you have fallen into. It makes you feel empty when there’s deviance. Everything has been going smoothly until you are at Alex’s apartment on a Friday afternoon. The television has been on in the background for most of the day. Paying it no mind until Bill’s face came onto the screen. “I challenge Alex Hogh Anderson to a match for the Scandinavian Championship title.”

“That asshole thinks I won’t.” Alex jumps up from the couch, rapidly pacing in front of the television. “Knew I couldn't stand him, he thinks I’m scared. I’ll show him,” he declares, punching the air a few times, getting into his defensive stance. “He’ll wish he’d never challenged me.” Alex has yet to sit back down. The news keeps replaying the segment. After hearing and seeing the smugness of Bill’s challenge a few times, you shut off the TV unsure of anything to say. Alex took this as guilt from you, “You’re awful quiet, did you know he was going to do this?’

“Of course not Alex, I don't talk to him. The last time we spoke was at the gym. I know you can beat him, but this is exactly what he wants from you. He wants you angry, he likes to know that he can get under your skin. Don’t give him that satisfaction. He’ll never let you live it down, he’ll always have that power over you.” You’re still in shock. Bill had always been competitive and cocky, you just now realizing how much. The nerve he had to challenge Alex, only because you’re with him, making your blood boil. Did he think this would win you back? Part of you wants to message him, but you know it was useless. And would only irritate Alex more. Alex calls his manager to let him know he isn’t going to back down from the challenge.

On your way home, you wonder if this is worth it. Being with boxers is exciting, of course, but there always seems to be drama, no matter what. You don’t know how much longer you will be able to handle this. Is dating them worth this? You could find someone with a different profession, maybe a teacher. Someone who’s career doesn’t involve fighting or competitiveness. Although in your heart you know that would bore you to death.

Lying in bed you will your mind to rest. Nothing would be more satisfying than sleeping for the rest of the night. Thoughts of Alex’s answer float through. You can only imagine the anger that will seep through his press talk. Alex has an almost perfect public image, he’s very knowledgeable about the art of remaining composed just enough for the camera’s yet having enough showmanship to attract the eye of new potential sponsors. Images of Bill and Alex flood your mind. The thought of them fighting made you sick to your stomach. Deciding there is nothing for you to do at the moment, you grab your favorite book, knowing eventually it will help you fall asleep. Before you know it you awoke to a book flung onto the floor, your phone buried under the covers, and a sore shoulder from falling asleep in the most uncomfortable position.

You barely heard from Alex during the next few days. He’d send a text now and then, telling you he was training harder for the next few months. He promises you he isn’t upset however your gut is telling something completely different. Without evidence to support your irrational thoughts, you let the situation be for now. Bill messages you after the broadcast asking to meet and talk. You type and re-type a message a hundred times, yet no words seem right. Nothing good would come of meeting with him. If anything it would make matters worse. You know Bill would only apologize for the behavior then continue to not change. Bill tends to be impulsive and you are sure he is only doing this to attempt to get you back. He has learned something because he isn’t blowing up your phone. Bill used to be relentless, hardly ever letting things go even when you begged him.

After a week of little communication, Alex finally messages you stating they have a date for the match. It’s five months away, giving both enough time to prepare. You are nervous for Alex; Bill is bigger and has more experience. Both of them are competitive with a bloodlust for winning. The fight would not be easy for either, it would take a complete knock out for the other to win. Messaging back you ask if the two of you can spend time together.

A couple of hours go by before he responds. “I don’t have much time. I’m training once if not twice a day now. But I can squeeze you in. I feel bad for not seeing you lately. Would you mind meeting me at the gym? N’ bring an overnight bag. If you want that is.”

You respond with a simple, be there as soon as I can. Instead of packing your normal overnight back with extra clothes to change into after sex, you only pack the essentials. It isn’t that you don’t want to have sex with him, however, you know from the sounds of his training schedule, he would be lucky to stay awake for longer than a couple of hours.

Arriving at the gym, you take a few deep breaths to prepare yourself encase Bill happens to be there as well. Thankfully, Bill is nowhere in sight. Alex looks in even better shape than he generally does. His six-pack defined the lines sculpting a perfect shape. His arms are more prominent, the veins popping out when he clenches his fists. Even his jaw seems more defined, though you doubt it’s true. “Hi, Alex,” you keep your voice monotone, not sure how his mood is at the moment.

“Hello, I'm glad you could make it.” A smile breaks out across his face. His demeanor would have you thinking, nothing rocky has happened in the past few days.

“It’s quiet here today, generally more people are training.”

Alex must have read your mind because he goes quiet for a minute, “Yeah, Bill took his trainer to a different gym so we could train without the other seeing all of our moves. Both of us would have been too focused on watching the other to learn their style rather than focusing on bettering our own.” He goes back to punching the bag in front of him, hitting the same spot over and over. This has always been one of his best strategies, able to land multiple blows with force to the same spot.

You sit down, enjoying the view. Alex trains for the next few hours, you occupy yourself by scrolling through your social media feed, wandering the gym, and attempting to hit the punching bags as you’ve seen Alex do. It makes you laugh when you can’t hit the bag more than twice in a row. You know there would be no boxing career in your future. Towards the end of the session, your stomach lets itself be known. Leif and Alex look over both give a small laugh. “Sounds like someone is ready to go. Let’s end it here for today. No training for tomorrow, you need a rest day with these extra workouts. I scheduled a massage for you in the morning, take it easy. I mean it,” Leif states giving a side-eye to both of you.

Alex doesn’t clean up at the gym, wanting to get home as soon as possible. The two of you hop in the shower, you give him a mini massage of your own. Neither of you bothers to take Leif’s advice, by the time you are finished it was difficult to move. You can’t imagine how he must be feeling. It doesn't take much effort at all to fall asleep or stay asleep.

You wake up feeling more refreshed than you have in a long time. Alex is still sound asleep, snoring loud enough to wake the neighbors. Since it is the first time in a while you are awake before him, you decide to fix his favorite healthy breakfast. He stumbles out just as you’re finishing, “Mmm, smells delicious. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“ I know, but I wanted to. You deserve a day of rest and being catered to.” You sit a plate in front of him. He shovels a couple of mouthfuls in while still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “What time is your massage?”

“Eleven, I believe. It’s only an hour though then we can spend the rest of the day together.”

“What do you suppose we do with the rest of the day? I was thinking we could watch a couple of movies, maybe eat some popcorn, and just relax. I don’t want you to be too tired to train for the rest of the week.” Many more things pop into your head that you would much rather be doing, however, Alex needs to focus on his workouts to prepare for this fight.

“Sounds like a great day to me. This is delicious by the way.” By the time you finish cooking your food, he’s almost done.

“Thank you, now go hop in the shower before you’re late to the massage.”

“I would much rather you be the one giving me a massage.” He finishes the rest of his food before hopping in to take a quick shower. You clean the kitchen before taking a shower yourself so you can go to the store and grab a few snacks. You make sure they are healthy so he'll be able to eat snacks without feeling guilty.

Alex trains harder than you’ve ever seen him in the past couple weeks. Most days he is in the gym with only an hour or two break. While he’s gone you set up the living room for the most comfortable possible way to lie there all day. You hop in the shower before throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a large t-shirt.

He returns home, not much later looking somewhat relaxed. “How was the massage?”

“It felt great while she was doing it, but now I’m sore. I’m gonna get some ibuprofen. Then we can spend the day watching movies.” He moves slowly, you feel bad, wondering if he should just lie in bed instead of on the couch with you. Though you know either way he is still going to be sore.

The rest of the afternoon is spent watching a variety of movies. Everything from pure romance to the bloodiest scary movie. Although some movies go unwatched because the two of you are too busy catching up. You choose to stay the night, not knowing when the next time this will happen. It’s easy to get back into sync with the other as if your routine never strayed.

The next four months continue in this pattern. You see him maybe one night a week for a few hours. You do appreciate the effort and any time you can see him. Many times you think about going to watch him train at the gym, but didn’t want to distract him. Only once did you visit him while training, however, that was to only drop off some extra workout clothes. He gave you a quick thank you, see you later before rushing back to training.

Next week was the big press conference where Bill and Alex would trash talk, weigh-in, attempt to intimidate the other. Neither of them is the type of person who is easily intimidated. There is a high chance you are terrified enough for everyone. Alex could talk shit with the best of them, but so could Bill. The only difference was Alex was better at keeping his composure. Bill has a difficult time not showing his emotions on his face. This whole process was eating you up inside. You are with Alex but Bill is still important to you as well, though you hated to admit it. He was your first love and you’re unsure if you’ll ever be rid of feelings.

In the next few days, you feel as if you are going to jump out of your skin. Your anxiety was so terrible, hives began to break out on your legs. Great, you thought, just what you need, another thing to worry about. You’ve been using every coping skill available to you. Some worked more effectively than others. You can’t wait for this to be over until then you are going to put your focus on the positives. Alex invites you to stay the night, even though the two of you will most likely be sleeping.

The day of the press conference finally arrives, your nerves on edge. Alex leaves early in the morning, wanting to ensure he has enough time to make last-minute touches to his speech for the conference. You make the short drive to your apartment, giving yourself enough time to raid your closet. You want to make sure you have something appropriate to wear. Another part of you wants to dress alluring to throw Bill off his game.

You settle for a compromise between business and alluring. You pick a blue dress, Bill’s favorite color, that hugs your body perfectly. A small part of you is uncertain whether it’s the best idea to try and attempt this. There is a chance this could backfire and would anger Alex even more than he already will be. These last few months have been hell for the two of you. Alex barely had any time for you, you were even lucky to receive a message from him. It’s been a long, lonely road, one you hope to never go through again.

When you arrive at the conference, the place is already packed. The fans wait impatiently for it to begin. Alex makes sure to have a seat up front for you but off to the side so you aren’t grouped in with the fanatic fans. He knew how quickly things could become chaotic. You sit calmly, scrolling through your phone, answering the few messages from friends about the fight. Your best friend has been by your side, listening to you complain, talking you through the overthinking and doing their best to keep you sane. The stage is set so the moderator is in the middle of the stage with stools on each side. The closest two are where Bill and Alex will sit. Far enough apart the two wouldn’t be on top of each other, but close enough when things become heated, they could be in each other’s face.

Finally, the moderator comes out on stage, “Is everyone ready?” Almost the entire crowd screams “YES!” at the top of their lungs. Nervousness washes over you, your stomach instantly began to hurt. “Alright, alright, here they are. Bill Skarsgard, a two-time champion and Alex Hogh Andersen, a first-time contender!” They work their way up to the stage, each sitting on opposite sides of the moderator. Bill scans the crowd, his eyes becoming glued to you the moment he sees you. You’re able to see his breath hitch for just a second. Alex watches the interaction, a moment of displeasure crosses his face. Someone who didn’t know Alex very well wouldn’t even notice, but you did. He knew you only wore the dress to tease Bill.

The press conference is one of your most favorite parts of boxing challenges. There is just something thrilling about watching the two trash talk, doing their best to agitate the other. The conference starts calmly, however it doesn’t take long before the two can barely contain their disdain for the other. Every few minutes your eyes lock with one of them. The longer Alex sees you in the dress the more irritated he becomes.

Both give and take little jabs at each other. Before long the two are in each other’s faces, close enough you’re sure spit was hitting the other every time they spoke. Bill did some of the best trash-talking, that was until the very end. Alex let the crowd die down as the conference was coming to the end, “I would just like to thank everyone for allowing me the opportunity to be a part of this. I most want to thank my gorgeous girlfriend Y/N. You know her, don't you Bill? Well, maybe not so much anymore.” Bill’s face turns red, clenching his jaw, and tight fists at his sides. If there hadn’t been cameras and a thousand or more witnesses you’re sure Bill would have punched him right there. The crowd goes silent, everyone waiting for Bill’s response, however instead Bill walks off stage.

After the conference, you meet up with Alex for just a brief moment. The two of you sit in his car not saying a word. You decide to break the silence, “Really Alex? You just had to bring up the fact I’m with you know. There was no reason for that.” You know you shouldn’t be as pissed as you are, but you felt he crossed a line.

“Yes because I knew it would get to him. I couldn’t think of anything else at that moment. He deserved it, after all, he said to me. But you’re right I should have tried to think of another comeback.”

“I’m sorry, I overreacted. I know it’s hard to think on the spot when you're in front of that many people. This whole thing is ridiculous to me so it seems everything puts me on edge.” You grab his hand, rubbing your thumb over the back. The two of you spend the next hour talking about all the activities you’re going to do after the match. The one thing you agreed on is a vacation, it didn’t even matter where.

The match is finally here. You aren’t sure if you’re calm because your anxiety has passed beyond feeling anxious or if the fact the day finally here, you are excited for it to be over.

Alex messages you, “Good morning. Can’t wait to see you.” He must have gone to his trainer to prepare. Nothing would make you happier than being able to relax, Alex told you after this fight, he was going to take it, at least easy for him.

When you arrive, the only people there are the crew and the building personal and of course Alex and Bill. You walk to Alex’s locker room to see him and Leif going over last-minute strategies. “If he backs up, keep moving until he’s in no position but to fight. Don’t let him maneuver past you, his defense will be thrown off.”

“Okay.” Alex’s voice gave away his true feelings. There was a barely distinguishable shake in his voice.

“If that isn’t an option, try to stay back until he tires himself out. Use his strategy against him.” Alex shakes his head, looking focused.

“Hey, Alex.” Your voice is meek not wanting to interrupt them, but you doubt they would have stopped talking anytime soon.

“Y/N, you’re here early. Thought you wouldn’t be here until a little later.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to see you before the fight. I can leave and come back if you’d like.”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m happy you’re here.” He walks over, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in for a kiss. “I do have to prepare though. Can she stay?”

“No, I want all of your focus on preparing. Sorry Y/N.” Leif did sound genuinely apologetic. It makes you wonder if Alex had told him who Bill was to you.

“I understand, I’ll see you after.” Leif did inform you there is a lounge to sit in if you didn't want to leave. You decide to stay so you won’t have to fight the crowd coming in again. You sit down on the couch, grab your book out of your purse and begin to read.

A couple of hours later you take a break, checking your phone, ignoring all of the texts flooding your phone. You know most of them only want to discuss the fight. Getting on Twitter you see the championship is trending, everyone debating on who they thought is going to win. It’s split fifty-fifty; some thought Bill would win due to the fact that he has more experience. Several thought Alex would win due to his fighting style and determination.

The lounge remains empty, much to your enjoyment. You didn’t have the energy to talk with anyone especially knowing it would only be about who you thought would win. Only a few members of Bill’s team would know your relationship with him and would take too much energy to explain you’re here for Alex.

Around an hour before the match, you change into a custom made jersey dress. It’s red and black with Hogh Anderson on the back. You didn’t tell Alex about it, wanting to surprise him. You opt to go to the locker room for hopefully a short, encouraging pep talk. Alex’s eyes grew huge when he saw you in the dress. “You like?” You grin, giving him a little twirl.

He closes the space until you’re pressed into his chest. “Very much so,” he leans in to press his lips against yours. It’s as if no one was there besides the two of you. He pulls away first, “Now that’s what I call a good luck kiss. Sorry to cut it so short, but it’s almost time.”

“Of course, I’ll see you afterward. Good luck baby.” You whisper the last part in his ear.

Walking towards the arena you scan until you see Alex’s family. You and his mom converse, that is until Valter notices you are sitting beside him. “Hello Y/N, long time no see.”

“Uh...yeah, been busy.” Your brain pauses unsure of what to say. It crosses your mind to ask one of Alex’s family members to switch seats, but you aren’t going to let him get the best of you.

“I bet dating a boxer is difficult. Although you would know since you’ve dated two. Funny how you left one just to date another.” Heat shot to your face, is he really going to talk about this here. Bill let it be known you’d hurt him, but maybe even more than he let on.

“Really? Are you seriously going to talk about this now? It doesn’t even concern you.” Valter doesn’t seem fazed. He turns back to his family, acting nonchalant.

Soon Alex and Bill walk out of their locker rooms, followed by their teams. The crowd erupts in cheers. It takes a few minutes for everyone to settle down. The announcer, Jesper, stands in the middle of the ring, the crowd quiets down to a murmur. He faces the camera informing the fans in person and at home, the fight would soon begin. Alex and Bill are in their respective corners, both turn to face the middle, their teams hyping them up. “Welcome to the Heavyweight Championship of the World. In this corner, we have Alex Hogh Anderson.” Jesper reads off Alex’s stats, a mixture of boos and cheers arise from the crowd. “AND in this corner, we have the returning Scandinavian Champion, Bill Skarsgard!” Jesper then reads Bill’s stats from the previous year.

The referee then steps in announcing there will be twelve rounds, lasting three minutes and explains the rules to each contestant. Both appear focused, only one thing on their mind, winning. Alex and Bill stretch, jump and wait for the bell to ring. Shortly after the bell rings signaling the beginning of the first round. Alex makes the first move, trying to get Bill pushed into a corner, Bill maneuvers himself out of the way. Alex tries once more to no avail. Bill analyzes the situation waiting for the right moment to take his first swing at Alex. His fist collides with Alex’s left cheek, stunning Alex. The arena erupts in cheers, the excitement of the first hit landed. It doesn’t take long before Alex regains his composure, starting his method of attempting to corner Bill. He isn’t able to accomplish this before the round ends. They go to their corners, taking a break, their trainers reminding them of techniques.

The next few rounds continue in the same fashion. Alex and Bill, both get in their punches. They become more and more exhausted as the match goes on. There are many instances where it looks as if they are cuddling in the ring. It makes you giggle if only the two actually liked each other that much. Bill is usually the first one to push away, giving him the best chance of trying to catch Alex off guard and get a few hits in. This only works a couple of times. It doesn’t take Alex long to learn Bill’s strategy.

By the time the final round arrives the anticipation is killing you. Both have gotten their fair share of hits in. At this point, it seems to be anyone’s game. As much as you hate to admit it, you are surprised Alex has been able to keep up with Bill. The differences in strategies add a level of learning for both of them. They have to try and gauge the other’s next move though it’s different than what they themselves would have done.

Bill lands a few punches making Alex unsteady, blood dripping down his face. Alex dodges Bill’s assault for the next thirty seconds. Regaining his composure Alex comes back twice as hard, pushing Bill until he has nowhere to go but in a corner. Alex lands punch after punch. Bill is only able to block a few, his efforts to push Alex back appear useless. The timer continues to count down until only ten seconds are remaining. The crowd shouts along with the timer until it hits zero. When the bell signals the end of the round, Alex backs away, leaving everyone to see Bill’s bruised and bloody face. Bill slumps down unable to move. Alex looks more shocked than anyone.

Medical personnel and Bill’s team swarm to give him the appropriate medical attention. Once he regains consciousness they go to their corners, their teams help them rehydrate, take their gloves off, and wipe off the sweat. The energies exuding from either side are vastly different. Cameras are instantly in the ring, ready to interview them. They interview Alex first, giving Bill time to have his wounds cleaned. After the interviews are over, the crowd disappears slowly. You remain in your seat until there is almost no one left. You hope it’s enough time for Alex to have time to rest.

Arriving at the locker room, you’re surprised to see it empty besides Alex and Leif. The two are reviling in the win. Walking a little closer you can hear what they’re saying, “I told you that I knew you’d win. That’s your first knockout Alex and against a previous champion. It’s no easy feat. I’m proud of you Alex.” Leif hugs him, giving him a few pats on the back.

“Alex,” you announce wanting to get his attention, but not wanting to interrupt.

“Y/N, I can’t believe I won,” he says bewildered, making his way towards you. The two of you stay in the embrace not wanting to let go. It’s been so long since the two of you have had time to just enjoy the other’s presence. Leif excuses himself, letting Alex know they would celebrate tomorrow so he could have the rest of the night to relax. “I want to thank you, Y/N. You don’t know how much your support means. It’s one of the only things that kept me going. You know I’m gonna take it easy for the next few weeks and give you all my attention.”

“Alex, I’m just happy it’s finally over. I know the risks of dating a boxer. Of course, I was going to support you. I am happy you won.” You lean in to kiss him. You are happy he won, however, the relief of it being over overshadowed the win. He doesn’t seem fazed, not wanting anything more than to be with each other. “Here let me help you with your wounds.” He sits down while you gather the supplies.

He flinches when you first apply pressure. It doesn’t take long since most of his wounds had been tended to during the match. A soft knock causes you both to turn. Bill is standing near the door. “Hi, I just want to say congrats on the win and sorry for causing all of this.”

“Thanks, man. You did a great job, surprised I won actually.” You knew that had to hurt Alex to admit, but he was trying to play nice with Bill. The tension in the room was thick, almost suffocating.

“I’m sorry for starting all this Y/N. I shouldn’t have challenged him just because I was jealous. I was upset about losing you, especially to another fighter after you said you didn’t want to date me anymore because training took too much of my time. I was having a hard time letting you go,” Bill says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thank you for apologizing. I’m just glad it’s over. I will admit the process was exhausting and the match was entertaining.” What you want to say is the match was provocative. The two of them fighting, their sweaty bodies pressing together. The imagery brought heat between your legs.

“Y/N?” Alex questions raising his hand in front of you. “You not staring at Bill again?” He asks smirkingly.

“I...uh…” You’re at a loss for words. There is no way you are going to be able to explain your way out of this.

“Again?” Bill appears confused, but also intrigued.

“Oh, yeah a few months ago before this all started. When you first began training at the gym. She blurted she wasn’t staring at you. Can’t help but wonder what goes on in her head.” You’re starting to panic, how are you going to get out of this?

“Oh did she. I bet I know what’s going on in her head.” Bill has known you much longer than Alex, giving you time to confess some of your deepest sexual fantasies.

“Oh yeah?” Alex stares inquisitively.

“She mentioned a few times a fantasy of hers was to have a threesome. I assume you already know about how hot she gets from watching us box.” Bill’s voice is laced with cockiness.

“She’s mentioned the latter, but never the first part.” Alex raises an eyebrow at you. The tension in the air soon turned from awkward to sexual. Alex makes his way over to you first, Bill follows soon after. Alex stands behind you, placing kisses to your neck. Bill is more hesitant waiting for permission from you. Giving him a reassuring nod, he shuffles forward placing a hand on your waist. Looking into his eyes feelings of lust come rushing back. Bill pulls you closer to him leaning down to kiss you.

Alex’s hand slips under your dress, fingers grazing over your covered core. Instinctively you tangle a hand in Bill’s hair, bringing back the last time the two of you were together. He follows Alex’s lead, bringing a hand under your dress to knead and pinch your nipples. You tug at the bottom of Bill’s shirt wanting it off, you want anything standing between you and the two of them gone.

They follow your hint, the three of you racing to get clothes off. You stand back looking at the two of them: cocks hard, dripping precum, their bodies bruised from the fight, their eyes almost black from dilation. Making your way to them, dropping to your knees, grabbing both cocks in each hand. Both men let out a slew of cuss words, their hands naturally tangle in your hair. Bill’s cock is long and slim, whereas Alex has more girth, both beautiful.

Quickly you move your head until your lips are almost touching Alex’s tip. You lick a long strip up his shaft, teasing, knowing he loves it. After a few short licks, you take him in your mouth until his tip is reaching the back of your throat. Your pace is moderate, not wanting him to come too soon. Popping him out of your mouth, you switch to Bill. With no hesitation, you take him into your mouth. It’s more difficult than you could have imagined trying to concentrate on two people at once.

Bill pulls you off of him, pulling you so you are standing. He attaches his lips to your neck: sucking, biting, sure to leave a mark. You’re so focused on him you fail to notice Alex dropping to his knees, only noticing when you can feel his hot breath against your thighs. Alex gives you no mercy, leaving many marks behind. Bill soon switches his assault to your breasts. The feeling is so overwhelming, you can barely keep your knees from shaking. Thankfully both of them have a grip on you.

With no warning Alex wraps his lips around your clit, sucking, using his tongue to draw circle eights. You feel fingers running along your pussy, collecting the quickly forming juices, though it isn’t until they’re slipped in, you realize it’s Bill’s fingers. Bill is still working on making as many marks as possible along your torso. Sweat begins to form on your forehead, a tightening in your stomach, you are grasping at the air. Your orgasm rushes over your body, both men holding you up until you regain your composure. Once they’re sure you can stand for yourself, they move away.

Alex searches for anything to throw on the floor. He finds and throws a couple of towels down, hoping to cover enough space to lie down without being on the cold floor. He lies down waiting for you to climb on top of him. You hover above him, so you can align yourself. A moan escapes your lips, loving the feeling of having him inside of you. You move your hips in circles, Alex’s hands resting on your hips. Your high is close approaching, so fast you almost forget Bill is standing there. “Come join us.” You whimper.

Bill looks unclear of where he should place himself. “I have lube in my bag,” your breathing is labored. A puzzled look crosses his face, but not for long. He digs in your bag finally finding it at the bottom applying a generous amount to his fingers before running a couple around your puckered hole. Bill inserts his fingers slowly, stretching you until he’s sure you’ll be able to take him. You’ve never been so thankful for almost always carrying lube in your overnight bag.

Alex stops thrusting so Bill can inch into you. Bill takes his time when he’s fully in neither of them move. You thought you’d felt fullness before with just one of them, this, however, is one of the most breathtaking sensations. “Please...move.” Your voice is weak and pleading. Alex thrusts first setting the pace of long, hard strokes. Bill attempts to copy Alex’s movements so they were thrusting at the same time.

The feeling of two cocks thrusting at the same time was euphoric. It’s nothing that you’ve ever felt before, practically too hard to explain in words. Their strokes switch to short and fast, Alex hitting that sweet spot inside of you each time. The two finally are able to sync, pleasure building, becoming too difficult to hold off. Alex brings his fingers to your clit, rubbing circles, applying pressure wanting to feel you come around them. Bill’s lips are pressing against you, surely leaving more marks.

Your second orgasm was approaching hastily, your body still tired from the first one. Your eyes are barely open waiting for the high to wash over you. Alex knows one thing that will get you off pretty much every time you’re that close, “Come for me Princess,” he feels your muscles tightening around him, “That’s it, come Princess.” You love being told when to come. There’s something powerful about someone else controlling it.

It’s your turn for a slew of curse words to escape your lips. Your second orgasm of the night hits you like a truck; your legs shake uncontrollably, your hands grasping at Alex’s chest, your walls clenching around them. Both keep thrusting through your high, you can tell they’ll come soon after. Bill comes first, his cock twitching, spurts of come filling your ass. Alex comes soon after, holding your hips to his.

The three of you lie there catching your breath. You would have never imagined this happening especially after the events that took place. You’re the first to move, gently sliding forward until Bill’s cock slips out of your ass. When you stand up, all you can feel is come dripping down your legs. Alex hands you one of the towels he’s been lying on. Once you’re cleaned up, you sit down on one of the benches. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that.” You say in a gleeful frame of mind.

“Me either,” Bill states. Alex gave an affirming nod. “So what now?” Bill asks, still processing the events.

“Well I don’t know about the two of you, but I’m starving,” you announce throwing your clothes on. They begin to clean up as well until there’s no trace anyone has been in the locker room, let alone had sex. Bill decides it’s best to home, not wanting to push his luck any farther.

Alex and you end up at his apartment and order food. You had planned to talk with him about the situation however you decide you're not up for that discussion right then. You replay the night’s events in your mind over and over. You don’t know where this leaves the three of you, but what you do know is having a threesome was more mind-blowing than you could have imagined. You fall asleep wondering what the future has in store.

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